#sorry I made hat man kinda hot. it was an accident

[hikertrashprincess]

Day 19

1/20/24

We woke up and got slightly chastised for putting our tent in the wrong area. We packed up and headed to the ranger station to see if we could find a ride. We talked with Susan for a while. She had a few ideas but suggested we talk to Ranger Steve after he finished his phone conversation. When he came in he was so sorry about the previous day’s misadventure. We weren’t too torn up about it- in the end we came to hike in Florida, and we spent a day hiking in Florida. He gave us a list of the people leaving that day and suggested we ask around for a ride. He said he’d give us a ride later that day if we hadn’t found a ride by the time he finished the buggy tour.

We asked around, but although people were very friendly, everyone had packed their cars so full they didn’t have room for hikers.

Finally we went inside the ranger station because it was extremely windy which made it very cold. Ranger Steve came back and said another ranger would give us a ride because “he owed him.” A few minutes later we got in the car with Ranger Luke.

He even stopped at a Racetrack (a gas station store) to get a resupply. As I was paying I heard a commotion. One of the employees was telling a man “those are for the ice cream and you can’t just take those!” He didn’t speak English very well and just kinda walked away. What was odd was when I got closer I realized he had a black coffee and then left with an entire cup of maraschino cherries from the sundae bar.

We continued in our journey and finally arrived at River Ranch, which was guarded by a man in a cowboy hat and a gate. Ranger Luke was not sure he could drive in, so we got out and thanked him for the ride.

We went into River Ranch, which was a very large resort for rich people to pretend they’re cowboys, and also happens to have the Florida Trail run through it. It also had hoards of children running around unsupervised and a bunch of very expensive stuff.

What was cool was there were bison, llamas, and ponies along the street.

We found the area where the hikers had congregated. We went to get hot chocolate, which was overpriced and only half full. We hung out with Hamilton and Highlander, moving around to follow the sun in an attempt to stay warm.

Finally we moved inside and hung out with Flo, Wildflower, Reboot, Hamilton, and Highlander.

We got a pizza and headed out. On the way we saw many bachelorette parties. It also seemed like the resort must have a bunch of golf cart accidents since almost everyone was driving their golf carts to the saloon.

We walked along the road, which was a big scary, until the trail turned off the road. We walked for a while and turned back immediately when it became marshy. We set up camp and went to sleep. Hamilton and Highlander went back shortly after, and set up camp somewhere nearby.

[cyborg-franky]

Hi! First of all, I love your writings 😍 I’m a big Zoro fan so I was wondering if you could write me a headcanon for Zoro x female reader (who is also one of the straw hats). About a ‘not yet in a relationship, but secretly liking each other’ Maybe about seeing each other naked by accident? Or something else that’s fluff and/or NSFW. I’n not sure if I’m doing this right though 🙈 I’m kinda new to Tumblr so I’m still figuring everything out haha. I’m sorry if this is not how requests work 😳 Let me know if did this wrong. Thank you anyway ❤️

Here is little scenario for you, I enjoyed this one and thank you for the kind words <3 Zoro x Fem!reader N/SFW - but not super spicy just some nakey bits.

Knocking on doors was a foreign concept to Zoro, no matter how many times some members of the crew would try and get him to be more careful what rooms he barged into. This sadly also included the locking doors behind him, even the bathroom. And it was exactly those reasons why you were naked and heading around the corner to enjoy a hot steamy bath and bumped into the naked swordsman.

You bumped into Zoro and bounced back, the floor slippy due to him already having made the room damp, you yelped from the shock and how you were about to slip over, he reached out and grabbed your arm. The sound that left your mouth from the almost accident and seeing the man you'd become close to ass naked was an ugly sound. His arm was still around you, keeping you balanced. He was holding your naked body while naked himself. It took so much willpower not to sneak a look down past his chest. You coughed and pushed his chest with your hands moving away. "Z-zoro why didn't you lock the door?" You snapped and turned away from him, scrabbling to find a clean towel to cover your chest, unaware of how he looked over your backside a nod of approval. "Thought everyone was in bed" You guessed that was a good enough answer... but it didn't help the blush across your face. You pulled a towel to you, closing it over your chest but still feeling naked. "Nice tits by the way" If you hadn't been red before it was that comment that caused you to steam up. "T-thanks"

"Look, we've just seen each other ass naked, want to just bath together? I just finished running one for myself.." Zoro offered you, still stood there, everything hanging out, no shame, but the most handsome thing about him right now was that smirk and raised eyebrow.

"Well... I guess it would save water..."

[friendlylocalweebtrash]

Happy Accident: Ban x thicc!Reader

Prompt 37 “Wow. That outfit…let me help you out of it.” With Ban

A/N: Okay so I am definitely working on that Bakugo fic BUT I started this one first as a gift for a friend and figured that I would also post it here so that y’all have something to read while I work on the other one! I also have a Toshinori fic that’s finished and I’ll post that either before or after depending on how long it takes me to write the Bakugo one! Anyways this is like the smallest amount of backstory sorry in advance but hopefully you all like it!

Pairing: Ban x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, pure filth, cursing, light choking, marking (y’all I’m a sucker for the fangs), ummmmm I think that’s it!

Word Count: 4248, she’s kinda long, I’m not good at short works lmao

****************

You hadn’t planned on joining up with the Seven Deadly Sins, but Elizabeth was your best friend and after everything that had happened you couldn’t even think of letting her go off to Camelot with them alone. Not that you didn’t trust them to keep her safe, you knew Meliodas would die before he let anything happen to her, but still you worried. So against the wishes of your father you had packed your things and joined the Sins on their journey.

It was honestly nice to be around people other than the stuffy royals you were used to. Not that you had anything against your heritage, you just longed for something more…exciting, dangerous, something exhilarating. The Sins ended up being much more interesting than you expected too, and you quickly became friends with Diane. King and Gowther were much more reserved, but they were friendly enough. Of course Meliodas was the life of the party, and always cheerful. Then there was Ban. Charming, sexy, crazy Ban. At almost 7 feet tall he towered over you, and he used that to his advantage when teasing you. He would always catch you at the worst possible moment, caging you between his arms at the bar and leaning down over you like a predator. He loved the way your face would flush every time he got close to you. Truth be told, the man was already head over heels for you though he wasn’t even close to being ready to admit it to you. He may be an overly confident immortal being, but deep down he had a soft spot in his heart that he didn’t necessarily like to show. So for the time being he would be happy enough to flirt with you just to see that pretty blush dust over your cheeks.

You had only been in Camelot for a couple of days thus far but you were beginning to realize that the flowy dresses and skirts you typically wore were going to be a bit impractical for all the running around you were doing with the Sins. So one morning you asked Elizabeth and Diane if they would accompany you into town to do some shopping for new clothes. After a fun filled afternoon with your girlfriends you returned to the Boar Hat to try on one of your new outfits. It was a tad more risqué than anything you would normally wear as a princess, but you figured if Elizabeth could get away with wearing such a skimpy uniform then maybe you could stand to take a few risks too! The leather skirt was a bit shorter than you’d expected, barely hitting past the tops of your thighs and the way it hugged your curves it almost felt like it had been sewn specifically to fit your plush body. The deep red color complimented your skin beautifully, and the matching top fit you just as well. You had to admit that the new outfit did make you a tad bit self-conscious, you’d never shown that much skin before. The top was sleeveless with a deep plunging v-neckline and a corseted back. The small strip of skin showing between the high waisted skirt and top was definitely out of your comfort zone, but you really wanted to try new things, to reinvent yourself. As you stared in the mirror at yourself, fiddling with your hair and mulling over whether or not you should return the outfit you heard the creak of your door being opened and Bans’ voice drifting towards you. Crap! You thought as you whipped towards the door. No way in hell you wanted Ban of all people to see in such a skimpy outfit, at least not in this state, but you were frozen in place as he entered. “Hey y/n the Captain wants us all t-“ he freezes in the doorway, hand still on the knob as he stares at you wide eyed. His eyes rake slowly over your body and you can see the barest hint of red tinting the Fox Sins’ cheeks as he appraises you. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest and you’re sure he can hear it as he slowly approaches you. “Wow. That outfit…” he lets out a shaky breath, reaching to grasp one of your hands so he can spin you around and get the full view. When you’re facing him again he has a devilish grin on his lips. He brings the hand he’s holding up to his lips while the other snakes around your waist pulling you flush against him. He releases your hand only to place his index finger under your chin, titling your head up to meet his gaze as he leans closer, lips a breath away from your own as he asks, “let me help you out of it, eh?”

At this point he’s so close you don’t even think your heart is beating anymore, you’re sure you must have died and gone to heaven. But he’s still gazing into your eyes with a hunger so carnal you can’t even think straight, so you do the only thing that makes sense to you in the moment. You stretch up on your toes, closing the distance and pressing your lips hotly against his. Ban wasted no time in kissing you back with all the passion he had stored in him. Sure this wasn’t exactly how he had wanted it to go when you two got together at first, but to him this was a sign that he had waited long enough and now he needed to take action. He needed to show you just how beautiful you were to him, even if he didn’t deserve you, even if you didn’t want anything more from him after this, he just needed to feel you.

Your hands slide up the expanse of Bans’ chest, reveling in the contours of muscle. You’ve always admired his strength and how toned his body is but to finally be able to feel it after admiring from a distance for so long was unreal. Your hands continue up over his defined shoulders and his neck, nails scraping over the skin lightly. As your hands weave into his spiky hair, which is rather soft you notice, his tongue comes out to sweep across your bottom lip. At the same time his hands move down, squeezing your ass before gripping your thighs and lifting you up. The motion earns a small gasp from you and he quickly uses that to his advantage, letting his tongue slip past your parted lips to explore your mouth with fervor. Your tongues dance, fighting for dominance while you grip his hair and wrap your legs tightly around his hips. You can already feel how hard he is beneath the leather of his own pants and you roll your hips teasingly against him. Ban groans into your mouth nipping lightly at your kiss swollen bottom lip before moving down to place even more hot kisses on your jaw, working his way to the juncture where it meets your neck; stopping there momentarily to suck harshly, a dark hickey forming immediately. You arch into his touch, moaning softly as he starts sucking another mark below the first.

Ban walks over to your bed with you still wrapped tightly around him and sits on the edge, allowing you to straddle his lap while he continues his assault on your neck. Then you feel the light scrape of his fangs dragging across the sensitive skin of your neck and you draw in a shaky breath, your grip in his blue locks tightening. You feel Ban smirk against your neck before biting ever so gently at your flesh. Your hips roll against his involuntarily while a soft moan escapes your lips. “Harder, please Ban.” You breathe out. Ban can’t help but groan at your words, his cock twitching impatiently beneath his crimson pants. His grip on your hip tightens while his other hand moves up your back pressing you even further against his solid chest. As his fingers undo the ribbon on the back of your corset top you feel his sharp teeth biting down hard on your soft flesh and you cry out at the immense pleasure your body is deriving from the sting of his fangs. A new wave of pleasure ripples through you as Ban runs his tongue over the mark he just made, soothing it before he moves to leave another on your chest just below your collarbone. All the while his skilled fingers are unlacing your top while you grind against him lost in the sensations of his mouth and hands all over your body.

You’re a panting mess above him and Ban can’t help the way he aches for you as he leaves imprints of his sharp teeth all over your neck and chest. His own chest is heaving with desire as he finally undoes the ribbon on your top, pulling away from you so he can rid you of the tight leather garment. He takes in the sight of your generous curves, nearly drooling as his eyes rake appreciatively over your form. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling you into another searing kiss as his other hand travels languidly over the newly exposed flesh. The way his calloused fingers move softly over your skin has chills racing down your spine and heat shooting straight to your core. You know you’re already dripping wet and all he’s done is kiss you. Ban pulls back for a moment, lust blown eyes gazing tenderly into your own as his lips draw up into a soft smile. “You’re so fucking beautiful y/n.” You feel heat creeping into your cheeks at his tender words, but before you can respond his lips are back on your neck trailing soft kisses down to your chest. His hands come up to palm roughly against your breasts, thumbing over your sensitive nipples making them stand at attention for him. You arch into his touch as his lips travel further down before wrapping around one hardened bud, sucking lightly before laving his hot tongue over it. “Ban, please.” Your voice is breathless; you don’t even know what you’re asking for you just need more of him. He pulls off your nipple with a gentle pop before kissing back up your neck, pecking you on lips sweetly. He presses his forehead to your own, gazing intently at you as he speaks. “I love the way my name sounds falling from your lips babygirl. Let’s see if I can make you say it louder, yeah?”

Ban stands briefly before laying the two of you down on the bed, settling himself between your plush thighs. Your skirt has long since been pushed up around your full hips and at this new angle Ban has a perfect view of the black lace beneath it which is now soaked with your arousal. His hands caress your thighs as he stares down at you, drinking in your flushed cheeks and the marks littering your beautiful skin. He leans down to capture your lips in another heated kiss as one hand moves closer to your aching core, just barely grazing over your panties, but it’s enough for him to notice his effect on you. He kisses from your lips to your jaw before stopping right by your ear, nuzzling against you before whispering “fuck princess, you’re that wet already? I’m just getting started.” He licked along the outer shell of your ear before moving down your neck once more, fingers grazing teasingly along your clothed pussy. You’re practically panting at this point, aching for him to touch you more. Ban sits up, removing his jacket and then his pants before crawling back up your body to place a quick kiss to your lips. As he pulls away your eyes rake over his body and you can’t help but stare at the impressive hard on straining against his black boxers. “Like what you see babygirl?” you can only nod, your eyes still glued to his cock. You want to taste him so badly, feel the weight of him on your tongue. It’s as if he can read your mind, his fingers gripping your chin firmly, tilting your head up to look into his crimson eyes, a smirk plastered on his face. “Maybe later princess, right now I wanna devour that pretty little pussy of yours.” Your cheeks flush as he releases your chin, trailing kisses down your torso until he reaches the bunched up material of your skirt. He hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls your skirt and panties off in one go, tossing them haphazardly to mingle with the other garments littering the floor.

Ban is what you could call a pleasure dom. He gets off on getting his partner off, but man does he love to draw it out, to tease until they’re begging for release. Ban wants nothing more than to have you a dripping, moaning mess for him. To take you higher and higher until the only word that falls from your lips is his name. Which is exactly what he plans to do. Ban settles himself between your thighs, nuzzling against one before trailing kisses, hickies, and love bites from your knee all the way up to your hip bone. He hums against your skin, kissing and licking his way across your lower tummy before treating the other thigh with the same care and attention as the first. You’re whining and panting, hands balled in the sheets as he continues to tease his way up your leg, stopping just before he reaches you center. He marvels at the beautiful sounds you make, like a song made just for his ears. You cry out as his teeth sink into your thigh, feeling yourself drip with even more arousal at the mix of pain and pleasure. Ban was going to be the death of you. Writhing beneath him you pleaded with the fox eyed man, “Ban please, please, I-I need more- ah!” he silenced your begging by running his tongue up your dripping slit, collecting the juices there. He lapped lazily at your folds, enjoying how you cried out for him softly, relishing in the taste of you, all for him and only him. He pulled back for a moment, looking at you with hazy eyes. “You taste so fucking sweet princess, I could lick this pretty pussy all damn day.” You moaned at his words, throwing your head back against the pillows as he continued his ministrations, moving upward to circle his tongue around your sensitive clit. He sucked on it gently and you keened, hands flying to his hair and tugging hard. “Mmmm…” he moaned against you, doubling the pleasure you felt as he continued to suck. His grip on your thighs tightened, spreading them wider as his tongue trailed from your clit back down to your entrance. He teased it for a few moments before plunging his tongue into your wet heat. “Oh fuck, Ban. That feels so good.” Your hips began rolling against his face as he plunged his tongue in and out of your core with abandon. You could feel the coil in your lower belly tightening, you were close. “Ban I –fuck- I’m so c-close, please can I cum?” He smirked against your pussy, such a good girl asking for permission. He removed his tongue from your core, making you whimper until he replaced it with two long fingers, pumping them in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. “Yes princess, cum all over daddys’ fingers.” Ban began to pump his fingers faster, crooking them to hit that spongy spot deep inside you that made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm ripped through you, crying out Bans’ name like it was a prayer. His fingers slowed their pace as you came down from your first release, panting as you tried to clear the fog of pleasure washing over you. Had you ever cum that hard before? If you had you certainly couldn’t remember doing so. Ban removed his fingers from your spasming hole. You looked up in time to see him sucking the last of your release from his fingers, humming in approval as he gazed down at you.

You didn’t even feel Ban get off the bed momentarily to remove his boxers, you were still trying to steady your breathing as you felt him start kissing up your flushed body. His lips found yours and he cradled your face in his hand as you kissed. You could taste yourself on him and it immediately had that coil tightening in your belly again. Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to you. You ground your hips up against him, urging him to keep going, to fill you up and claim you. “Eager are we?” He teased as he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Ban lifted up slightly, lining his cock up with your entrance and running the head teasingly along your slit, collecting your arousal to help ease his massive length into your tight heat. “You ready princess?” You nodded up at him, biting your bottom lip before answering out loud. “Yes daddy, please, I want you to fill me up so bad.” He smirked down at you, bracing an arm beside your head. You both let out a loud moan at the feeling of the head pushing in, already stretching you deliciously. Inch by inch Ban eased himself in until he was buried to the hilt, allowing you a moment to adjust before he started a slow pace. His hips rolled languidly against your own, both of you letting out little gasps with every thrust. It was too much, you needed him to go faster. “Ban…” you whimpered in his ear, before taking the lobe between your teeth and tugging gently. “please I need you to go faster, I want you to fucking rail me daddy. Make me cum so hard, please.” Ban growled against your neck before pulling himself up, bracing his hands on the wood of your headboard. His breathing was ragged; cheeks flushed a beautiful red as he stared down at your writhing form beneath him. “Okay princess, but you may want to hold onto something.” He smirked at you before pulling his hips back only to snap them brutally back against yours going even deeper than before. Ban set a brutal pace, fucking into you mercilessly while you cried out beneath him. His hands gripped the headboard so tightly his knuckles were white and there beads of sweat dripping down his neck and chest as he rammed into your pussy over and over again. Your hands clawed at his chest leaving trails of red down the toned muscles. “Fuck princess,” he panted out between thrusts “you feel so fucking good squeezing my cock like that. You like how I fill up that sweet little pussy? I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard you forget your own name babygirl.” His words had you almost over the edge at this point, your body overcome with pleasure and dangling on the edge of release. You were so fucking close. Ban knew you wouldn’t last much longer with the way your walls were fluttering around his cock and honestly he didn’t think he’d last much longer either at this point. He removed one hand from the headboard, bringing it between your bodies to rub harshly against your clit. “Oh fuck! Don’t stop, fuck, I’m gonna cum!” Ban thrust faster into you nearing his own release. “Go ahead princess cum all over daddys’ cock. Fuck!I’m gonna fill your pussy up with my cum, fucking paint your insides and claim you. You’re mine babygirl.” The last part came out closer to a growl and had your orgasm slamming through you so hard your legs started shaking. A strangled cry left your lips as you rode out your high, Ban releasing right along with you. You could feel ropes of his hot cum filling your insides as your walls milked every last drop from his cock. Ban leaned down to nuzzle against your neck, pressing kisses to your flushed skin. You ran your fingers through his hair pulling him in for a soft kiss.

You stayed there for a few moments, both trying to catch your breath as you held each other close. You began planting kisses to Bans’ neck, nails grazing over his back. You felt the taut muscles in his back tense under your touch and suddenly you could also feel his cock, still nestled inside you, twitch and start to get hard again. Ban planted a kiss to your jaw before leaning close to your ear. “Careful princess, you keep that up and you might regret it.” He punctuated his sentence with a nip to your earlobe before trailing more kisses along your jaw. Feeling bold in your post orgasmic bliss an idea popped into your head. Raking your nails more harshly down his back you raised your lips to his own ear tugging gently on the lobe before whispering “Why don’t you make me, daddy?”

In mere seconds you were flipped onto your stomach, Ban grabbing roughly at your hips to pull your ass up into the air, his cock already teasing at your entrance again. Ban leaned his large frame over you, a trail of love bites forming up your back in his wake, before biting harshly at your shoulder. You hissed out a breath at the sensation, pushing your hips back against him, needy and wanting. “You asked for it babygirl.” He growled out as his fingers twisted in your hair pulling your head back and causing your body to arch further underneath him. His other hand had a bruising grip on your hip as he slowly inched his cock back into your slick folds. A loud moan fell from your lips. Fuck, you thought. He was hitting so much deeper from this angle and you immediately felt that familiar warmth growing in the lower region of your body. Ban pulled his hips back only briefly before snapping them forward and setting a brutal pace, rutting into you like his life depended on it. The room was filled with the sounds of both your moans, your skin slapping together, and the sounds of just how wet you were as he pounded his cock into you. You were sure the other Sins could hear everything but at this point you really didn’t care. You were so caught up in the feeling of Ban stretching you, his breath hot on your neck. Ban straightened up, momentarily releasing your hair so he could grip your other hip, doubling his pace as he thrust mercilessly into you. “That’s it princess, you take my cock so fucking well, you’re such a good girl for daddy.” Bans filthy words were emphasized with a sharp smack to your ass, causing you to cry out his name at the intense pleasure. Bans’ hand found its way into your hair again, pulling your body up and flush against his. He moved the hand in your hair around to grip your throat, squeezing just enough to bring you to the precipice of pleasure. “Oh god, Ban please I’m s-so close, fuck!” His other hand snaked around your front and down to your clit, his calloused fingers working your sensitive nub expertly. “Cum all over daddys cock princess, I know you want to, come on cum for me.”

“Fuck!” You cried out as white hot pleasure coursed through your body, blurring your vision with tears from the intensity of your orgasm. Bans’ released followed yours and he slowed his thrusts, working you both through your highs as you came back down to reality. After a few moments of panting and heavy breathing Ban pulled out of you gently, walking to the bathroom to find a rag to clean you both up with. When he returned you were face down on the bed, still trying to catch your breath. He kissed his way up your leg before cleaning up the mess he’d made and tossing the towel somewhere amongst your discarded clothes, he would deal with that in the morning. For now Ban crawled back into the bed, pulling you against his chest so he could wrap you in his arms. You nuzzled your face into his chest, leaving soft kisses along his skin. You were starting to drift towards sleep when you felt Ban grip your chin gently and tilt your face up towards his. “Hey, you know I love you, right?” His eyes were soft as he spoke, and there was a gentle smile on his kiss swollen lips. Your eyes teared up a bit at his words, you had always felt there was something there, you just didn’t want to get your hopes up. Yet here you were, wrapped in the arms of the man you’d grown to love since the Sins came into your life. You leaned up to connect your lips in a deep kiss, smiling softly back at him. “I know,” you whispered as you placed your hand against his cheek. “I love you too Ban.” The two of you fell asleep in your bed that night and every night after, always wrapped in each others arms.

[egcdeath]

secret santa

pairing: ransom drysdale x f!reader

a/n: this is so self indulgent. SO SELF INDULGENT. more self indulgent than anyone will ever be able to comprehend. before u all read this, i want u to know it was originally supposed to be about training ransom at a job, but then i realized that i nothing about 1. working at a coffee shop and 2. training an employee. also, i am the worst at writing dialogue. so i didn’t write a lot of dialogue LMAO enjoy :)

also, half of this was written at 1 am. just a warning

warnings: coffee shop au, enemies (kinda) to lovers, a lil fluff, not really angst but bitter feelings, kinda slow burn and then all the sudden a fast burn i’m sorry 😭

word count: 2.6k

You woke up to the sound of your alarm rumbling your bedside table sometime around the asscrack of dawn, and rubbed your eyes with a groan. Sometimes, you really couldn’t stand your job, but bills didn’t really pay themselves, did they? You rolled out of bed, and began your dreaded morning routine before heading out to start your opening shift at your local café.

Somewhere between warming up the espresso machine and taking out last night’s trash (which you shouldn’t have had to do in the first place), an older, yet expensive looking car pulled up to the front of the parking lot. You were a bit confused, as you’d never seen this vehicle, and it was quite clear that you weren’t exactly open yet. You watched as a tall man hopped out of the car, wearing a large peacoat and very unnecessary sunglasses. He approached the door, gave it a knock, then waited for you to come open it for him. Reluctantly, you made your way over, and in order to keep yourself safe, began to speak through the glass.

“Can I help you?” You asked in an annoyed tone, then gestured towards the piece of paper that labeled your hours on the door. There was no reason for any customer to be here this early. You looked up at the mystery man and made a rather intense eye contact with him. If this was any indicator of your crowd today, work was going to be far from pleasant.

“Yeah, I was told that I’m starting today?” He had a wicked smirk on his face, like he knew he was getting under your skin already. You hated people like him, and couldn’t believe that he could possibly be your coworker. On the bright side, he probably wouldn’t last long in the first place.

“Well, are you sure you’re here on time? I can’t see any situation where Melissa would schedule to open for your very first shift.” You commented with a furrowed brow.

“Eh, I kinda just figured I’d come in whenever. The girl in my bed was an early riser, so I thought to myself ‘Why not just come in now?’” He said casually.

“Your name?” You inquired, trying to keep your annoyance to yourself, and put on a customer service smile.

“Hugh, or Ransom,” he responded. You turned around, allowed yourself a huff and eye roll, then walked through the kitchen, and into the break room to check if he truly was a new employee, or just some random creep. Sure enough, a bright pink post-it note in very neat handwriting confirmed this man’s existence. You made your way back to the door, unlocked it, and let him in.

“Since you’re here, you should… set down the chairs,” you told him, less than entertained by his presence. You could just tell he was bad news. This Ransom guy was like the textbook definition of a red flag. He talked your ear off while you tried to get through your opening routine, some casual remarks about his last hookup, complaints about how he only got this job because his mother was a regular and good friends with your manager, and how he was threatened to get cut out of his grandfather’s will if he didn’t get employed soon, and what better way to spite your family than to mess up their daily coffees.

Eventually, a few more of your coworkers, along with your manager, Melissa, made it to the café before the morning rush began. You were sitting down at your typical barstool spot, and sipping an iced Americano when Melissa broke the news to you that you would be training the new employee. Upon hearing the news, you audibly groaned, and rubbed your forehead. There was no way that you could handle this man.

-------

During his first week, Ransom not only managed to offer (and successfully give) six customers his phone number, break two mugs, mess up more orders than even Euclid could comprehend, and spill straws a multitude of times all over the floor, but he began to flirt with you relentlessly. You had no idea why you’d become his new target of choice, when it was clear that he could have literally anyone he wanted. Maybe he liked that you were playing hard to get.

If you were being honest, you had to accept that he was handsome. And rich. And the definition of a fuckboy. And since you were being frank with yourself, you had to acknowledge that you were attracted to that ‘toxic and will treat you like shit’ kind of guy. You had a roster of ex boyfriends to prove that for you.

---

It was a pretty slow Tuesday afternoon, which meant you were sitting on your phone until a customer placed an order. Eventually, the little bell above the door chimed, and an older man came through, ordering a dark and bitter drink, then standing by the counter to wait. You began to restock lids while Ransom took care of making the drink, and once it was ready, you passed it over to the man. The man in question took a rather large sip, then promptly spat it out.

“What the fuck is this!” He roared, barely giving you time to react before he proceeded to toss the drink at you, spilling most of the hot content on your apron.

You gasped, gawking down at your scorched and ruined clothing, then up at the customer, who’d turned around with a huff and left, leaving a stream of strong language on his way out. You bit back tears at the whole fiasco, and cringed as both the steamy drink, and your salty tears stung different parts of your body. You turned to look at the barista, who had passed you along the drink, and were met with no other than the white devil himself. It seemed that all the blood had drained from his already otherwise pale face.

“Oh my god, this is all my fault,” he began remorsefully. “Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, running a hand through your hair, and shoving Ransom angrily while you more or less stomped into the staff bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and frowned before bringing up your bundled apron to your face and screaming into it. Stupid fucking customers. Stupid fucking job. Stupid fucking Ransom. It’s like he came to your job just to make it hell. You were tired of cleaning up all these messes for him, and honestly, you wish he’d just quit already. The longer you worked with him, the more tempted you were to pour sugar in his gas tank, then take a club and break all the windows in the Beemer.

------

For the next month, your brain was completely elsewhere at work. Your brain was constantly going back and forth with you between finding Ransom hot and horrendous. While the pair of you finished up closing one night, you heard your coworker begin to speak to you as you placed your hand on the keys in your pocket.

“I know you hate me, Y/N. I get it. What that guy did to you was awful, and yes it was my fault, but what else have I done to hurt you?” He asked, seemingly out of the blue. You weren’t even sure how to respond. Ignoring the man and demonizing him in your head had become almost a second nature. “I mean, I think we could’ve been good friends. Even though you seem to think I’m devil incarnate, I think you’re a pretty cool chick-“ he continued before being cut off by you.

“Why do you even care?” you burst out, “Ransom, you just don’t get it do you? You’re just.. a douchebag. I get it, you have your moments where you’re candid and open with people, but half of the time you’re talking, you’re objectifying someone. Or bragging about something you own. Don’t get me wrong, I could get past what you did to me on accident, but you seriously have to work on yourself,” the words just seemed to pour out without your control. “Goodnight, Ransom,” you said simply before leaving the café for the night.

——

Since that day, the tension between you and Ransom had evidently become more thick. Since he was finally finished training with you, you made sure to only speak to him if you absolutely needed to, and even then, you only communicated with him in brief and straightforward answers. Sure, it seemed like a small thing to be upset about, and sure, he’d apologized, but something told you that any excuse to stay away from Ransom was a good excuse.

Though he appeared to be an immoral and selfish man, he seemed genuinely sorry for all that he’d put you through. Occasionally, you’d be sitting in the break room and look up from your phone to see him watching you. When you’d make eye contact, he would look like he wanted to say something to you, but your petty ass would leave, or look back at your phone. He was bad news anyway.

Your boss quickly caught onto what was going on between the two of you, and usually, Melissa didn’t like to participate in petty drama, but your new sour mood was such a stark contrast from before, and it seemed to shift the whole mood of the café.

That afternoon, Melissa called for a team meeting a bit before closing, and suggested a family dinner along with a Secret Santa. She’d said something along the lines of ‘It’s been way too long since we’ve done a team bonding activity, and a gift exchange is perfectly fitting for the Holiday season.’ This did make you perk up, as Melissa had a great taste in restaurants, and you were always down for a good gift exchange.

Melissa then told everyone to write their names down, then put them in a decorative Santa hat. You and your coworkers obliged, then began to pass around the hat once again in order to draw a name. You really hoped to get Xavier. You had the perfect idea of something he’d love. As you drew a piece of paper from the hat, you imagined the matching pair of fluffy socks for a human and dog that you’d passed by during your last trip to Target. You began to unfold it, thinking of what color he might like the most, when you looked down and saw ‘Ransom’ drawn out in chicken scratch.

You tried your best to mask your annoyance at who you received, but on the inside, you were seething. You mentally cursed the universe out while you pulled on your coat, and grimaced to yourself once you got out to your car. How were you supposed to get this asshole a gift?

—-

The week leading up to the exchange went fairly well for you, although it was getting a bit exhausting to be so mad at Ransom all the time. You tried to be less harsh with him, considering you needed to learn more about him in order to get him a somewhat decent gift for your exchange.

He’d seem to have taken your conversation with him to heart, and began to talk less and less about other girls when he was working with you. He didn’t comment on how well your jeans fit you, and you noticed that he’d often overextend himself in order to help you with (pretty basic) daily aspects of the job. Ransom would ask you questions about yourself, and your family, and speak less about himself. If you were honest with yourself, he was becoming a better man. And the best part was, he seemed to be doing it just for you. The thought of which brought heat to your face.

—

On the night of the exchange, you threw on a hideous and scratchy Christmas sweater before picking up your neatly wrapped gift for Ransom. You truly hoped that he’d like it, even though it certainly wasn’t the most expensive item. You bid farewell to your cat, then went on your way to the restaurant. You had to admit, you were a bit late. So it should’ve been no surprise when you arrived, and found that the only seat left at the table was next to Ransom. You gave him a cordial smile before sitting down and ordering yourself a glass of Merlot.

Something about being so close to him was kind of riling you up. The strong timbre sent coming off of him was making your whole body feel slightly warmer than normal, and you tried to ignore this strange sensation while you talked and joked with your coworkers. At one point, Ransom leaned in nice and close to you, and began to speak to you.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as hideous as Karmen’s sweatshirt,” he whispered right into the shell of your ear. Maybe it was the wine talking, but that simple action sent a whole chill through your body, and made you flush even harder than you’d flushed before. You let out a little giggle and nodded in agreement, looking across the table at her very ugly sweater.

“To be fair, the whole point of this was to wear something really ugly,” you turned your head back to where it was before, only to find that Ransom had somehow moved even closer to you.

“I just don’t know where you find something like that,” he commented, gazing much too deep into your eyes. You swore you felt the room shift after he began looking at you like that. There was about a 20% chance that you’d be able to keep your panties on after this kind of exchange. Luckily for you, a waitress broke the tension for you, setting down a few plates for everyone, then bidding them farewell. Damn.

The food was amazing, and didn’t last very long, meaning that it was time to pass gifts around sooner than later. You watched as Amy received a gift card from Sophie, Emily opened a plethora of chocolates gifted to her by Melissa, and Xander whiffed a candle given to him by Kennedy, then, it was your turn. You glanced around the table before you felt the arm next to you reach down, then hand you an oversized gift bag.

“I hope you like it,” Ransom said with a shy smile. You casually felt your cheeks on your way to pull out the very large item. You found it was a very large, and soft, hand knit blanket. It looked like it could’ve cost a small fortune, and you immediately found yourself embarrassed.

“Oh wow. This is perfect! Thank you so much,” you grinned over at your coworker, who seemed to be blushing himself. “Well, I guess I should probably give you this then,” you chuckled awkwardly before passing him your wrapped package. He tore it open barbarically, then began to laugh. Of all the gifts in the world, you two had gotten each other somewhat similar items. Sure, it wasn’t hand knit with the love of some grandma who ran a small business on Etsy, but it was the thought that counts.

“I love it, Y/N,” he exclaimed, looking deep into your eyes once again. He ran his fingers through the soft fabric, then set a hand on your arm. In that moment, it felt like time stopped. It was just you two, sitting in a quiet room, enjoying the presence of each other. You don’t even know what had gotten into you, but before you knew it, you felt a nose pressed up against yours, and a billion butterflies erupt out of your stomach. You heard a few grimaces from your coworkers at the sappy, Hallmark-like moment but what could you say.

Maybe Ransom was not that bad after all.

[clownistyping]

A Witch & A Hick, Chp. 3

Little Secret

This chapter is just the two learning about each other and car problems lol.

Also warning for Elizabeth offering sex as payment lol, it doesn't happen. Also I do hc Lester living in a trailer bc its extremely common and realistic tbh.

Lester puts the truck in drive and looks at Elizabeth as he presses the brake, 

"I remember you said there's a town nearby, any chance we can go there to fix up my van?" Elizabeth asks as she pets the two dogs, 

"No need, they'll charge ya criminal prices. I can fix it." Criminal prices, he repeats in his head. 

"Oh come on, you've already done so much." Elizabeth says her face soft, 

"I insist! I can't just let them uh take ya money when I can fix it for free." He smiles and Elizabeth mirrors it. Lester gives from the brakes and drives towards his home, 

"I have a feeling there's something...more behind this." Lester gulps, 

"What made ya think that?" Lester nervously laughs and his hands tighten around the wheel, 

"That's how most men are, expect a favor for a favor. Though they often expect ya know." Lester blinks and cringes, 

"Aw that! I wasn't thinking anything like that, hell I wasn't even thinking about you doing anything." 

"I mean I'll do it." His eyes widen and he stops the truck again, 

"What?" He blushes and looks at the girl, 

"I'll get you off, I've done it before." 

"No no! I have to decline, I just ain't that kinda man." Lester nods to the woman who shrugs, he lied. He is that kinda man, he's had victims beg for safety with offers of sex. He always took it, but let's the girls fall back in the hands of his brothers. 

"Not that I don't find ya pretty!" He defends quickly and Elizabeth laughs, 

"You're real purdy, I just. I just can't." He sighs and Elizabeth notices how tense he is. 

"Thanks, for calling me pretty." She smiles, 

"I think you're real pretty too." She compliments Lester who blushes again, Lester has never talked to a stranger this long. Never had a girl call him pretty, never met her.

"Ya just sayin that cuz I'm given ya a ride." Lester chuckles and Elizabeth shakes her head, 

"Nope," she pops her P, 

"Everybody's beautiful in they're own way, just as nature intended." Lester blinks and remembers her van, the witchy collection in it. 

"Oh right, you're a witch!" Lester exclaims and Elizabeth nods, 

"How'd you know?" She teased and Lester laughs,

"How'd you even get in all that junk anyways?" Lester asks and flicks his hat, 

"It ain't junk. Don't be rude," Elizabeth smirks and Lester nods his head, Jonesey puts her head on Lester's lap. He pets the dogs head. 

"Sorry but, how did you ya know..start?" 

"My sister got me my tarot cards, she really showed me the basics of witchcraft. Our parents didn't really care all that much but never let us do it in the house. Guess that's why I moved out so early too." Elizabeth laughs, 

Lester pulls up towards a driveway of a trailer.

The trailer is a once white single wide, covered in vines and ivy. Bones hung from the porch ceiling, 

Elizabeth notices his front door was wide open, and in the yard were scatters of trash, car parts, bones and more. The windows were open but blinds were keeping the inside blocked. 

It looks like nobody lives there, as stray cats scurried under the trailer and hissed at each other.

"I'll be quick, I'll just unload your van and fix her right up in a jiffy." Lester smiles at the girl and gets out of the truck, Jonesey follows and Mac follows after her. 

Elizabeth smiles as she watches the two dogs sniff around and play, getting out of the truck her barefeet sink into the grass and dirt. She stretches, the truck wasn't entirely comfortable with Mac siting right on her. 

"Sorry for the mess, I don't really have guests." Lester says as he unhooks the van, 

"Its fine, I've seen much worse." 

"Nah, doubt it." Lester shakes his head and wipes his hands on his jeans, Elizabeth takes note of the depreciation joke he says. 

As Lester pops her hood and smoke rises from it, Elizabeth frowns. 

"That happened before?" Lester asks as he waves the smoke off, Elizabeth nods. 

"Yeah, I've had a couple engine problems. Mainly because of oil, but my light wasn't even on." 

"Yup, cars will do that. Just spring a problem on ya right as ya were doing fine." Lester grazes his hand over the engine and instantly finds the problem, 

"When's the last time ya changed the cooling fan?" 

"Never." 

"Cleaned it?" 

"Never." Lester sighs and Elizabeth frowns, 

"That bad?" He nods, 

"Your engine is busted, you're gonna need a new one." 

"Nooooo." Elizabeth groans

"Hey its okay, this happens all the time. It's just an accident." Lester tries to comfort the girl, she squats and hides in her knees. 

"Hey now," Lester gets on his knee and pats the girls back. 

"We can maybe order one from the next town over, but it'll take a while for it to come in since we're basically in the middle of no where." Lester then sits with the girl and he blinks when he hears a sob come from her. 

"Jeez darlin, it ain't anything to cry about." He says and Elizabeth looks up, her makeup more runny than before, 

"This is my karma! I know it is and- and I shouldn't be cryin-ing but-" she hides her face again and Lester stutters, 

"Aw no no, this ain't karma just an accident. Honest." 

He isn't entirely sure what else to do, seen plenty of girls cry in Ambrose. Ain't none of them cried like this. 

Crying about karma, hell if karma was real he'd be dead, he thinks and shakes his head. He gently pats the girls back as she sobs. The two dogs show up and sit around the two Mac places his head on the girls back. Pushing Lester's hand away, Elizabeth quickly hugs her dog.

After a couple minutes, her sobs stop and she looks up. 

"Im sorry Lester, I just. It's just been a lot today," she says and wipes her eyes, smudging her makeup. 

"Wanna talk about it?" Lester ask and Elizabeth looks around, noticing the sun is starting to set. 

"No, not right now. I'm just tired now, sorry for bothering you with my emotions and junk." 

"Ain't no bother at all, I'm happy to help." She shows a smile from his words as he stands, he puts his hand out and she takes it to stand. 

"I know, and thanks again. Do you think it's alright if my van stays the night? I'll try to go to another town in the morning and order an engine. I'll find a motel too." She says, trying to clean her face up from tears and makeup. 

Lester raises a brow, and Elizabeth shakes her head already knowing he'll offer his home. 

"Lester please you've already done so much for me! I promise that by tomorrow I'll be out of your hair." She says and Lester shakes his head, 

"Darlin, How about we both go into town order you an engine and when it gets here I can put it in. If you think I'm letting you sleep in that hot van for the night you're dead wrong." Lester stands up straight and crosses his arms, Elizabeth actually has to look up to see his face. 

"I've got a spare room, it's messy and mainly holds all my junk but it's got a bed, a desk and a closet." Lester says and Elizabeth takes a deep breathe, 

"Thank you," she says and Lester uncrosses his arms, 

"I mean it, without you I'd probably be kidnapped by some crazy guy. Unless you are the crazy guy." She jokes and Lester nervously laughs.

"I like to call myself unqiue." Lester jokes and Elizabeth laughs, 

"That you are friend, that you are." Elizabeth says and watches as the sun falls behind the trees.

After grabbing her needed things from the van, the two walk towards the trailer. 

The two walk onto the wooden porch, Elizabeth's hands grazing the bones hanging above, 

"Those are my people repellents, makes hikers skedaddle." Lester jokes and Elizabeth smiles, 

"They're beautiful," she compliments and Lester walks through the open door, 

"Yup, they sure are. I uh, I keep my door open so the strays can come in and relax and get away from the heat." He says and flicks on a light, it blinks a few times but turns on. 

The two are standing in the living room, the couches covered in fur and scratches. Clothes are all around and clean and unclean bones sit on the coffee table. 

But the recliner is free of fur, just a flannel on the back. 

Lester notices his playboy magazine on the coffee table and quickly snatches up the magazine, Rolling it up he laughs embarrassingly. 

"Sorry about that, again not often I get guests." Elizabeth smiles and shakes her head. From behind the two, Mac and Jonesey come running in. They jump on the couch and sit next to each other. 

"My house is there house." Lester pets Jonesy's head and smiles, putting the magazine behind the couch during this. He turns to face Elizabeth whose staring at the bones, 

"I'll show you to ya room," Lester walks to the right and opens a bedroom door, 

The bedroom filled with bones in boxes, books, clothes and random knick knacks. He quickly lifts boxes from the bed and pats the dust off. 

"My casa your casa." He smiles and Elizabeth places her stuff down, Lester stands in the doorway now. 

"Thanks again, Lester. I really appreciate it." Elizabeth puts her hand out and Lester looks down at it. It's so small, he gently grabs it and Elizabeth grabs one of the bracelets on her wrist. She brings it over her hand and onto his, 

"I can't not give you a gift." She says and lets him go, Lester looks down at the bracelet. A whole set of animal teeth with beads in between. 

"I- thank you. It's so purdy." He says and continues, 

"You're a real uh...what's it called?" 

"Freak?" He quickly shakes his head, and takes her hand again. Putting their wrists together with the bracelets, 

"Unique," he smiles, "You're a real unique girl." 

"Is it because I mess with bones and junk?" 

"Well that, and because you're real nice." Elizabeth smiles, 

"You're just as unique as me Lester." She says and the two look at each other for a second, wanting this conversation not to end but not sure how to continue. 

Suddenly from behind Lester, Mac barks. 

Elizabeth laughs, 

"It's past his bedtime, sorry he gets cranky when he's not in bed by this time." Lester let's the dog run past him and onto the bed, 

"Well, goodnight, um. Sleep tight?" 

"You too Lester." Elizabeth quietly shuts her door and Lester stares at the closed door. Jonesy whines from behind him, 

Lester turns to the dog and squats, he pets the dogs cheeks and smiles. 

"She'll be our little secret, right Jonesey?" The dog licks his face. 

[yoddream]

stitches | n.jm

pairing: jaemin x fem!reader

warnings: mention of blood, fluff

summary: watching baseball isn’t supposed to hurt, yet there you were

word count: 1186

requested: kinda? i asked what people wanted between this and hockey+jeno

a/n: yooooooo it’s finally here! so the idea was either doing this or a hockey version with jeno and a puck. i got this idea when my dad and i went to hockey game and a puck flew over the glass. nobody got hurt at that time, but it THEN reminded me of when i went to a baseball game and a kid got hit in the face with a foul ball. i’m working on a chenle story, another haechan story, and i’m gonna be rewriting like 90% of the bad boy jeno story because it got waaaaaay outta hand where i was like “this feels like when i started writing fan fiction at 14 and it was all over the place” so uh yeah. enjoy!

“C’mon, let’s find our seats before the first pitch!” your best friend, Melanie, said.

You and Melanie were at an L.A. Dodgers game. She was visiting you for your birthday, so the first thing on your list was to see a baseball game, or more specifically, right-handed pitcher Jaemin Na.

Jaemin was a smart, versatile, sneaky, and good pitcher. He switched up his pitching order every game, and he knew how to throw off every batter. He’d played infield and outfield when his teammates got injured in-game. His batting average was fantastic, hitting a home run almost every game. It didn’t hurt that he was cute, too.

Once the National Anthem was sung, it was time to play. You kept your eyes on Jaemin as he threw the first pitch, which was a perfect strike. Your attention never left his figure until the first half of the inning was over. Melanie teased you for your infatuation, but you just laughed with her.

You were thankful for the jumbotron, for it had zoomed in on the pitcher as he wiped sweat off his face while he was up at bat during the sixth inning. You turned to Melanie when she made a comment about “heart eyes.” Suddenly, there was a throbbing pain on your brow bone, and something was dripping into your eye, stinging it. Somebody was helping you stand and guiding you up the steps, and you could hear Melanie cursing behind you as you tripped a couple times with how dizzy you were.

“What happened?” you asked, dazed.

“You got hit by a foul ball,” she told you. Na hit it, and it flew straight towards your face.

“You’ll be checked by a couple medics,” a man’s voice stated.

You were stumbling to an unknown location, only one eye opened. People stopped and stared as you passed them, their gazes trained on the blood that was dripping down your face. Soon, you were brought to a room with white walls and an elevated cot. There were two medics standing there, waiting for your arrival. You sat on the cot and watched as they searched through their bags before pulling out cotton pads to clean your face.

“Geez, Jaemin did not hold back,” the one with black and blond hair stated.

“Of course he didn’t, Mark. He wants to keep up his home-run streak,” the other said. He had dirty blond hair and an accent that sounded similar to Jaemin Na’s.

“Do you two know him?” Melanie questioned.

“Unfortunately. Donghyuck grew up with him, so I was introduced when I started working for the stadium,” Mark explained. “Yeah, you’re gonna need stitches.”

“Can either of you do them?” you asked.

“No, it has to be done by the team doctor. We’ll bring you down.”

You were guided to the doctor’s exam room through a secret stairwell, thank goodness. Melanie was hot on your heels, not wanting to leave your side. You sat on yet another cot and waited for the doctor, thanking Mark and Haechan for helping you. Melanie sat next to you and was posting on her snap story about your injury, getting ugly angles of your face as you waited.

The doctor came in, and he stitched you up right away. He told you to check in at the hospital nearby to get them taken out in about a week. Then, a security guard showed up to escort you and Melanie to your seats. However, you turned down a hallway and ended up in a room.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you asked.

“Somebody wanted to speak to you,” he said before closing the door.

You and Melanie looked at each other, confused as to what was going on. Who could possibly want to talk to you? Was it somebody giving you a freebie for getting hit in the face with a foul ball? It was an accident, and if you’d been paying attention, you probably would’ve been able to dodge it, so it was your fault that you got hit.

There was a knock on the door, and then it creaked open. The two of you turned around to face your new company, and your heart started to race as you let out a gasp. Your eyes locked with Jaemin Na, who smiled sheepishly as he fully entered the room. He took his hat off to run his fingers through his black hair, and that was when you realized he was still in his uniform.

“Hi,” he said quietly. “I’m Jaemin, though it seems like you already know that.”

You looked to the jersey you were wearing and grinned. “Yeah, just a little. I’m Y/N, and this is my friend, Melanie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, though I wish it was under better circumstances,” he stated shyly.

“Okay, I hate to sound really rude, but your English sounds a lot better now than in interviews,” Melanie interjected.

The athlete blushed, and you hit her. He then said, “I, uh, maybe pretend I don’t know as much to get out of interviews? Mark has helped me with my lessons. You met him earlier, yes?”

You could hear Melanie stifle her giggles. “Yeah, we met him and Haechan.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry.” The three of you laughed, and then his eyes widened as it focused on something on your shoulder. “Is that blood?”

You looked down and whined at the stain on your jersey. “Damn it, there’s no way I’m gonna get that out!”

There was some rustling, and you looked up in time to see Jaemin unbuttoning his jersey, revealing a compression shirt underneath. It slid off his shoulders, and he held it out. You hesitantly took it from his hands, taking in the smile he sent your way when your fingers were wrapped around the fabric.

“There. A game-worn jersey to replace the one I ruined.”

“Holy shit,” Melanie whispered.

“I can’t take this!” you exclaimed.

“Please. I feel terrible for hitting you with the ball,” he told you.

“If I was paying attention, I would’ve dodged it.”

“Yeah, I was making fun of her heart eyes for you,” Melanie commented, and you turned to her with a glare.

“Why are you suddenly so chatty?” you snapped.

“Can I give you my number?”

You whipped around to a blushing Jaemin, who was trying really hard to maintain eye contact with you. You nodded and unlocked your phone before handing it over. He typed for about a minute before giving it back, and you looked down to see that he’d sent a message to himself.

“So I know I’ll see you again,” he said. “I have to go, but I’m glad I met you two.”

You couldn’t remember returning to your car, but as soon as the doors were closed, you looked to Melanie and squealed. You had Jaemin Na’s phone number and game-worn jersey. It felt like you were dreaming, but the throbbing in your forehead told you otherwise.

And if Jaemin couldn’t keep his hands off you every time you wore the jersey, well, it was a good thing you were dating.

[angelsandacceptance]

Are You There God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester

Harley and Chase sit at the table, a pile of books between them. They’re listening to Dean argue with Sam about Castiel as they research angels. 

“What else could it be, Dean?” Sam asks.

“Look, all I know is that I was not groped by an angel.”

“Okay, look, Dean. Why would Castiel lie to you about it?”

“Maybe he’s a demon,” Dean says. “Demons lie.”

Chase rolls her eyes. Even Bobby looks up from his book.

“Yeah, a demon who’s immune to salt rounds, devil’s traps. And let’s not forget Ruby’s knife,” Harley says sarcastically. 

“Not helping,” Dean says gruffly.

“Harley’s right,” Chase says. “Even Lilith is scared of that knife.”

“Don’t you think that if angels were real, that some hunter somewhere would have seen one? At some point? Ever?” Dean counters. 

“Yeah, Dean. A hunter has. The three of us just did,” Chase says.

“Maybe they were laying low in heaven? It’s crazy I know, but so is everything else in our lives,” Harley adds.

“I’m just trying to think of a theory,” Dean says, trying to defend himself.

“We have a theory,” Sam says. 

“Yeah, well, one with a little less fairy dust on it, please.”

“Okay, look, I’m not saying we know for certain. I’m just saying that I think we-”

“Okay, okay, but that’s the point. We don’t know for sure, so I’m not gonna believe that it’s a freaking Angel of the Lord just because it says so!”

“You four chuckleheads want to keep arguing religion, or do you want to come take a look at this?” Bobby asks, pointing at a lore book.

They all look at Bobby. 

“I’ve got stacks of lore - some biblical, some pre-biblical. Damn, some of it is in cuneiform. It all says that angels can snatch a soul from the pit.”

“All the books I’ve read say that too,” Chase adds, setting her current book down. 

“What else?” Dean asks.

“What else, what?” Bobby replies.

“What else could do it?”

“Airlift your ass out of the hot box? As far as I can tell, nothing.”

“Dean, this is good news.” Sam says.

“How?”

“Because for once, this isn't just another round of demon crap. I mean, maybe you were saved by one of the good guys, you know?”

“Okay. Say it's true. Say there are angels. Then what? There's a God?”

“At this point, Vegas money's on yeah.” Bobby says.

“I don't know, guys,” Dean says, reluctant to admit any of it true.

“Okay, look. I know you're not all choirboy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof.” Sam says, trying to convince him.

“Proof?”

“Yes Dean, it’s this thing where you have evidence of something and it’s staring you right in the face.” Harley adds sarcastically.

“But why me? If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?” 

“Because you're amazing and fantastic.” 

“I mean, I've saved some people, okay? I figured that made up for the stealing and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to get saved? I'm just a regular guy.”

“Apparently, you're a regular guy that's important to the man upstairs,” Sam says.

“Well, that creeps me out. I mean, I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties, much less by... God.”

“Okay, well, too bad, Dean, because I think he wants you to strap on your party hat,” Sam jokes.

Chase laughs slightly at the joke, remembering the year Dean got birthday hats for Sam and her, as well as himself for her thirteenth birthday. 

“Fine,” Dean concedes. “What do we know about angels?”

Bobby hands him a book. “Start reading.”

“You're gonna get me some pie,” Dean says, turning to Sam.

“Ooo! Me too!” Harley pipes up.

“You know I always am up for pie!” Chase adds. 

Sam rolls his eyes, but can’t fight the smile on his face.

***

Sam pulls up to Bobby’s house. He forgot the pie. Bobby walks to the car window and tells Sam to keep the car running because Olivia Lowry hasn’t been answering her phone.

“Olivia Lowry.. a hunter, right?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah. We're gonna go check on her. You guys follow me.” Bobby replies, before heading to his own car. 

Harley and Dean walk over to the Impala. Dean to get in and Harley to retrieve her pie.

“Dude, where’s the pie?” Harley says after peering into the car. 

“I forgot it. Sorry,” 

“Dammit, Sammy.” Dean says, realizing that there’s no pie. 

Harley walks away towards the Lincoln. “Sam forgot the pie,” she sighs, getting into the passenger side.

Chase scoffs, starting the Lincoln. “‘When do I ever forget the pie?’ he says. Well, now, apparently. Just as I was getting hungry too.” 

“So that angel, bit weird. I mean who says ‘perdition’?” Harley says starting the flow of conversation to take them to the next state over.

“We meet an actual, legitimate, awesome looking angel, and you decide to focus on his vocabulary before anything else?” Chase asks. She laughs, trying to keep her eyes on the road. “You are so lucky I love you, because you have some weird ass priorities.”

“Aww, love you too. But seriously it was weird and I stand by that. No one uses ‘perdition’ anymore. If they ever did, and he wasn’t really that awesome looking. He just kinda looked normal. Bit tax accountant-ish.”

Chase turns a bright red. She constantly does this. “I didn’t mean like, you know, good looking. I just meant like awesome. Like, I dunno, cool I guess. You know, the wing thing was pretty wicked. Plus his eyes are really blue. Kinda eerie looking. Though you are kinda right about the accountant thing. The trenchcoat was a bit much,” Chase laughs.

“So how blue are his eyes exactly?” Harley teases.

“Well, you know, just. Blue? A very crystal-y blue.”

“Aquamarine?”

“Well, no. More sky-blue. Like powder blue but crystalized.”

“You think he’s cute. No one pays that much attention to someone’s eyes unless they fancy them.”

“That’s so not true! What color are Dean’s eyes?” Chase demands.

“Green, I think? Dunno?”

“Uh huh, you ‘think’,” Chase scoffs.

“I’d have to look at them again. I think Sam’s are green too though.”

“Okay,” Chase starts, sparing a glance at Harley. “Now I can’t tell if you’re just trying to make me believe that you don’t know my brother’s eye color, or if you genuinely don’t pay attention.”

“I just genuinely don’t pay attention because I don’t fancy either of them.”

“Well, just because I’m a little less oblivious than you, though not by much, doesn’t mean I fancy some guy who may or may not be trying to screw us over. If any of the Winchester’s are going to do that, it’s gonna be Sam.”

“Okay fair point, but you don’t have to trust someone to think they’re cute.”

“Fair,” Chase relents. “But I wouldn’t say cute. His eyes are just cool. But I also have a weird fascination with eyes, which you already know about so I don’t know why you’re teasing me. Is this just to get back at me for the Dean thing?”

“Maybe? Who knows?”

Chase rolls her eyes. “I think I know.”

“Excuse you? I am an enigma.”

Chase laughs, shrugging off her best friend’s odd ways. “That is one of the truest statements.”

“I mean I only ever speak the truth, except for when I lie of course. Then I’m lying.”

***

Bobby enters Olivia’s house first closely followed by the rest of the younger hunters.

“Olivia?” Bobby calls. 

Dean motions for Chase and Harley to go one way, while they search another part of the house. Chase nods and follows Harley, who is sporting her usual gun, while covering her by sweeping her gun across the room, looking for any movement. 

While looking for movement, however, Chase misses that Harley had stopped. She bumps into her.

“What is it?” Chase asks, following Harley’s gaze. A woman’s body lays on the ground, covered in blood, quite literally torn into. Grimacing, she turns back to the hall. “Guys! We found her!” 

The three other hunters come into the room. Sam’s the first to point out the line of salt at the doorway. They all started looking around the room. Dean walked over to Olivia’s weapon store and picked up an out of place EMF meter, “Olivia was rocking the EMF meter.”

“So a brutal ghost.” Harley comments on the state of the body.

“Yeah. I never seen a ghost do this to a person.” Dean says.

Bobby had left unnoticed while the younger hunters were talking and had just come back in the room with a worried expression on his face.

“Bobby, you all right?” Dean asks.

“I called some hunters nearby,” Bobby hesitated towards the end.

“Great,” Chase says. “We’ll probably need help with this one.”

“Except they ain't answering their phones either.”

“Well that’s fantastic.” Harley says, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Something's up, huh?” Sam asks.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

***

They made a stop at an empty gas station. Harley went in to retrieve a couple of pies. 

“You replaced me,” Harley turned around to see her dead best friend Adina. She was the reason Harley started hunting. A werewolf got her. She had to put a  silver bullet she got on Amazon in it. “You let me die, and then you replaced me!”

“I could never replace you.”

“You already did.”

“Adina love. You were like a daughter to me. You still are.”

“You watched as that thing ripped me apart!”

“I couldn’t get to you in time. I tried. I really really tried,” A single tear ran down Harley’s cheek. “I killed it. It’s my fault it was even there. It was because of what I am. It could smell it on me. I’m so so sorry. I love you so much.”

“Now you get to know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out,” Adina stalked closer to Harley who was backing up towards the door. She tumbled out the door of the gas station and fell to the ground.

***

Chase sits in the Lincoln, her music quietly playing in the background as she scans a book about ghost activity. She fidgets with her iron pocket knife, a nervous tic she has. 

“Miss me?” A male voice asks. Chase whirls to look at whoever the Hell managed to get into her car undetected. Her ex-best friend stares back at her, unconcerned about the knife pointed at him. “I knew you would. I told you the last time we talked. You were going to miss me.”

Chase stares in horror, eyes wide as she takes in his appearance. He looked the same as he did in college, right before the accident. His blonde hair sticks up wildly, and his smile is painted on his face the way it always was; like he knew something you didn’t.

As if snapping out of paralysis, her body responds of its own accord while her mind stays as blank as before. She quickly jabs the knife through his body, already exiting the car as his body is reappearing outside of it. She runs in the direction of the gas station, hoping to find Harley alright, before she skids to a stop, avoiding running into him.

“Nathaniel, please, stop,” Chase says, her voice shaking. His image starts to flicker, flashing from normal to when he’d died. 

“Why should I?” He asks harshly, water dripping down his body in quick streams. His normally blue eyes are white, his skin holding a sickly blue-green tint. “You used me for information and then abandoned me to die, as soon as I wasn’t convenient.”

“Nathaniel, I tried to save you! I tried so hard! I did everything I could.” Chase backs up slowly, fearing the anger radiating off of his ghostly apparition. Pulling out a pistol from behind her, where she’d kept it tucked in her jeans upon discovering the high EMF levels, she takes a breath, looking at him. 

She aims it at him, only for him to disappear when she shoots. Cursing, she keeps the pocket knife at eye level, the gun straight out in front of her as she sweeps the area.

“I never forgave you, you know.”

Chase freezes, feeling the cold chill from behind her. 

“I know I said, as I was about to be dragged into the water, that I forgave you. That I believed you. That you actually loved me. But I didn’t. I died, blaming you.”

Tears start to burn in Chase’s eyes. “I did care about you. I did love you. I never used you,” she says rapidly, trying to justify herself. “I know it was my fault you died. If I’d discovered that stupid bitch earlier. If I’d done what I promised, you’d still be here.”

“But you didn’t! You didn’t find her fast enough because you just didn’t actually care!” Nathaniel shouts, his voice echoing in Chase’s ears. 

Chase spins on her heel and fires, shooting Nathaniel in the chest. He disappears and doesn’t reappear. 

Taking a few steady breaths, Chase rushes to the gas station just in time for Harley to fall through the door, the glass shattering around her. 

Looking up and seeing a girl with brown and neon green hair standing above her.

“Adina, come on it’s me, Harley!” she shouts, crying. “I love you!”

Chase shoots and Adina disappears. Harley slowly got up wiping away her tears. “Thanks, Chase. I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt her. Even if she is dead.”

“No, I-” Chase takes a deep breath and then speaks again. “I get it. You missed, uh, Nathaniel was here.” Chase had told Harley a while back about her ex-best friend who’d died from drowning. A witch had been going after the swim team of the college to get back at the coach. 

Chase shakes her head, holding out her hand to help Harley to her feet. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the others.”

“Hopefully they’re having a better time,” Harley smiles, not a genuine smile more so for show. Unfortunately they weren't, not that the two girls knew.

***

Chase and Harley sit in the kitchen, flipping through lore and eating pie. The boys had gone down the hall to discuss their events with different ghosts. Bobby comes through the kitchen, the boys hot on his tail. He looks to the girls, points at them, then down the hall. 

“Follow me.”

Casting a confused glance towards each other, they get up and follow Bobby. 

“Okay, where are we going?” Sam asks, confused.

Chase nods, “Yeah, that’s a great question.”

“Some safe place, you idiots,” Bobby says. 

Bobby grabs a few books off a shelf, hands them to Harley, and then leads them down into a basement. 

“Is this…” Sam trails off, gazing at an iron door.

“Solid iron,” Bobby says. “Completely coated in salt. One hundred percent ghost proof.”

Chase whistles. 

“You built a panic room?” Sam asks in disbelief.

Bobby shrugs. “I had a weekend off.”

“Bobby,” Harley says, nodding, impressed. 

“What?”

“You’re awesome,” Dean says. 

***

Each hunter works on something individually from within the panic room. Sam and Dean are making salt bullets in iron casing, while Chase, Bobby, and Harley read up on the symbol the others had seen on the ghosts. Chase fiddles with her pocket knife, sharpening it slowly as she reads. Harley is tapping her fingers on the spine of her book.

“See, this is why I can’t get behind God.”

The others turn to look at Dean, who hasn’t averted his gaze from his work.

“What are you talking about?” Sam asks.

“If he doesn't exist, fine. Bad crap happens to good people. That's how it is. There's no rhyme or reason -- just random, horrible, evil -- I get it, okay. I can roll with that. But if he is out there, what's wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds? How does he live with himself? You know, why doesn't he help?”

“Just because he’s God, doesn’t mean he has to care. If you were God, how long would it take before you got desensitised to it all?” Chase says.

“I ain’t touching this one with a ten-foot pole,” Bobby says. 

“Yeah,” Dean says bluntly.

“Found it,” Bobby says, getting up from the table.

“Found what,” Sam asks. 

Chase rolls her eyes. “I dunno, maybe the symbol we’ve been looking for for the past hour and a half?” she asks sarcastically. 

“The symbol you saw, it’s called the Mark of the Witness,” Bobby says.

“Witness? Witness to what?” Sam asks.

“The unnatural. None of them died what you'd call ordinary deaths. See, these ghosts -- they were forced to rise. They woke up in agony. They were like rabid dogs. It ain't their fault. Someone rose them... on purpose.”

“Who?”

“Do I look like I know? But whoever it was used a spell so powerful it left a mark, a brand on their souls. Whoever did this had big plans. It's called ‘the rising of the witnesses.’ It figures into an ancient prophecy.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean says. “What book is this prophecy from?”

“Well, the widely distributed version's just for tourists, you know. But long story short -- Revelations. This is a sign, guys.”

“Sign of what?” All four younger hunters chorus. 

“The apocalypse.”

“Apocalypse? The apocalypse, apocalypse? The four horsemen, pestilence, $5-a-gallon-gas apocalypse?” Dean asks.

“That’s the one,” Bobby says. “The rise of the witnesses is a mile-marker.”

“That’s insane,” Chase says.

“Of course the world is ending in our lifetime.” Harley groans.

“Okay, so, what do we do now?” Sam asks, confused.

“Road trip. Grand Canyon, Star Trek Experience. Bunny Ranch.” Dean jokes, going to sit down again.

“First things first. How about we survive our friends out there?” Bobby says.

“Great. Any ideas aside from staying in this room until Judgment Day?” Dean asks.

“It’s a spell,” Bobby points at a piece of paper, “to send the witnesses back to rest. Should work.”

“Should. Great.” Sam says, disappointed.

“It’s a shot. Better than nothing.” Harley adds.

“Yeah. Let’s just hope we can stand their taunting long enough to do it,” Chase mutters. 

“If I translate it correctly, I should have everything here at the house,” Bobby continues. 

“If. I don’t like that word,” Chase says. “But sure. Better this than being stuck here with you guys indefinitely.” 

“Oh, you’re still gonna be stuck with me indefinitely.” Harley jokes.

“Any chance you got everything we need here in this room?” Dean asks.

“When have we ever been that lucky?”

“Spell's got to be cast over an open fire.” Bobby mentions.

“The fireplace in the library.” Sam says.

“Can’t we just start a fire in here? The floor’s concrete,” Harley points out.

“True,” Chase says. “But, there isn’t anything here we can burn. All of these books are way too important to our jobs.”

“So the library,” Sam says.

“Bingo,” Bobby says. He starts to grab the salt bullets and hand them out to us. Chase, Sam, and Harley load their guns. 

“That just doesn’t sound as appealing as, say, a ghost-proof panic room,” Dean tries arguing once more. He is ignored.

“Cover each other,” Bobby says, about to open the door. “And aim careful. Don’t run out of ammo until I’m done, or they’ll shred you. Ready?”

“Right, don’t run out of ammo,” Chase says sarcastically. “Maybe they’ll even refrain from attacking us if we tell them we’re getting low.”

Bobby gives her a pointed look, opening the door. “Just be careful.”

They all slowly exit the bunker, weapons raised, carefully scanning the room as they proceed to the stairs. 

They pause, seeing a man in his early twenties sitting there. “Hey, Dean,” he says. “Remember me?”

Dean pauses before nodding. “Ronald, huh? With the laser eyes. I wish I could say it’s good to see you.”

“I’m dead because of you,” the ghost - Ronald - says, suddenly angry. “You were supposed to help me!”

A bang goes off, and everyone turns to see Bobby with his gun still aimed at where Ronald had been. “If you’re gonna shoot, shoot. Don’t talk.”

Everyone then makes their way to the living room with caution. Sam makes a salt circle while Dean starts the fire. Chase and Harley scan the room, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. 

“Upstairs,” Bobby says to Sam. “linen closet - red hex box. It’ll be heavy.”

“Got it.” Sam leaves as two girls reappear in the living room, focusing solely on Bobby.

“Bobby,” one of the girls starts. Chase shoots.

“Dean, in the kitchen. Cutlery drawer has a false bottom. Hemlock, opium, wormwood.”

“Opium?” Dean asks.

“Go!” Harley shouts at him. Dean rushes out.

The girls reappear. Bobby tries to ignore them as he draws with chalk on the desk. Harley and Chase don’t shoot just yet, taking caution with the number of bullets they each have. 

“You walked right by us when that monster ate us all up.”

“You could have saved us.”

Harley and Chase both shoot one of the girls. Bobby continues to focus on his task.

“You know what I hate most?” Chase asks, the girls reappearing, but farther away. “When there are two little girls. Why is it the creepiest when there are two?”

She shoots. 

The door to the kitchen closes suddenly, and the three of them snap to attention. 

“Dean?” Harley calls out.

“I’m fine!” They let out a breath at hearing Dean. “Keep working, guys!”

They boys rush back into the living room, reloading their guns once they put the stuff down. 

Ronald reappears. 

“Ronald, hey, come on. I thought we were pals,” Dean laughs.

“That’s when I was still alive. Now, I want to eat you alive.”

“Well, I’m not a cheeseburger.” He shoots, but Ronald is already gone.

A college-aged girl with black hair appears in front of Chase. “Faith.”

Faith stares at Chase in melancholy. “You left me there, C. I thought we were going to do it together. You were supposed to be there that day. Why didn’t you show up?”

Chase shoots, blinking away tears.

Bobby recites some Latin words and the windows blow open and a wind fills the room. The wind moves the salt so they are no longer protected by it. Meg appears and Sam quickly shoots at her, as Bobby continues to recite the spell. 

Ronald appears and they shoot at him. Sam and Dean continue to fire as the ghosts appear. Henriksen knocks Dean’s gun out of his hands when he is reloading, and approaches him. Dean grabs another gun, and shoots it, only to find it empty. He quickly picks up an iron rod and hits at Henriksen. Meg appears and pushes Sam against the wall, trapping him there with a desk. Sam tries to push the desk away without success.

Nathaniel appears behind Chase, reaching an arm into her chest. Chase gasps out in pain before the feeling suddenly disappears. Harley had shot him.

“Thanks,” Chase breathes out, shooting at Meg, who was still harassing Sam.

“No problem.”

Chase and Harley turn just in time to hear Bobby shout, “Dean!”

Dean catches the bowl of  ingredients, which Bobby had dropped when Meg plunged a hand into Bobby’s neck. The two girls sit on his desk. Chase and Harley take one out each, but don’t shoot at Meg, in fear of hitting Bobby.

Dean throws the contents of the bowl into the fireplace. The fire turns a brilliant blue, before everything suddenly stops. The ghosts disappear, and the wind stops, allowing everything in the room to settle. 

They are all breathing hard and looking to one another. 

“Bobby?” Dean asks. 

Bobby nods, indicating he’s okay. 

Sam gets free of the desk that had been pinning him. 

They all take the moment to breathe.

***

It was the middle of the night. Harley sat at the kitchen table reading up on angels. She would normally be on the couch, but that was currently taken up by a sleeping Sam Winchester.

Chase sat on the counter, swinging her legs back and forth as she quietly ate a bowl of cereal. She looks up to make a comment to Harley about the ghosts earlier that day, but stops short and almost chokes on her food at the sight of the angel, Castiel. He stands facing the living room, very still, as though waiting for something. 

“What the hell?” Chase asks loudly. Castiel looks backwards only a mere second, his facial expression screaming indifference to her. Her eyes widen as she looks to see if she’d disturbed the boys’ sleep. Sam lay as still as ever, snoring quietly. Dean however, had heard her, and was now sitting up. His face hardens upon seeing Castiel.

“So, um...Castiel, right? Why are you here in the middle of the night? Some people actually need sleep,” Harley asks, increasingly confused.

Dean walks over, and Castiel, having ignored both of the girls, nods to him. “Good job with the witnesses.”

“You were hip to all this?”

Chase snorts slightly at Dean’s choice of words.

“I was, uh, made aware,” Castiel responds, his voice gravelly, as though it hadn’t been used in a long time.

“Well, thanks for the angelic assistance. You know, I almost got my heart ripped out.”

“Oh, me too,” Chase pipes up. “Interesting experience, really.”

“But you didn’t,” Castiel says, still not addressing Chase. Chase shoots Harley an irritated glare, gesturing to Castiel and mouthing, ‘What’s his problem?’ to her. 

“Look, Cas. Can I call you Cas? Actually don’t bother. I am. You can’t just be all ‘But you didn’t’ to my friends. They are amazing and wonderful and the second you realize that you’ll be poofing yourself over here in a second to save their asses as much as they need,” Harley scolds the angel.

“I don’t ‘poof’,” Castiel says.

“I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos -- you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks.”

“Read the Bible. Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier.” 

“He’s right,” Harley pipes up.

“Yeah? Then, why didn't you fight?” Dean turns to Harley confused. “Wait… How would you know?” 

“I went to Catholic school.”

“You? You went to Catholic school? Miss Constantly-Avoids-Churches? That’s actually really hot. I bet you were a bad girl weren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Castiel sighs, “I'm not here to perch on your shoulder. We had larger concerns,”

“Concerns? There were people getting torn to shreds down here! And, by the way, while all this is going on, where the hell is your boss, huh, if there is a God?” Dean practically shouts.

“Dean, you’re gonna wake up Sam,” Harley scolds. 

“There's a God.” Castiel says, utterly unfazed and a little annoyed.

“I'm not convinced. 'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?” Dean says.

“The Lord works-”

“If you say mysterious ways, Imma kick your ass,” Harley threatens. Castiel puts his hands up in surrender.

“So, Bobby was right... about the witnesses. This is some kind of a... sign of the apocalypse?” Dean asks.

“That's why we're here. Big things afoot,” Castiel says.

“Do we want to know what kind of things?” Chase asks.

“I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know. The rising of the witnesses is one of the 66 seals.”

‘Oh, look. He can talk to me. Miraculous,’ Chase mouths to Harley.

“Okay. I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld,” Dean jokes.

“Those seals are being broken by Lilith.”

“Bitch,” Harley murmurs.

“She did the spell. She rose the witnesses,” Dean says, stating the obvious.

“Mm-hmm. And not just here. 20 other hunters are dead.”

“Of course. She picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us,” Dean concluded.

“Lilith has a certain sense of humor.”

“Well, we put those spirits back to rest.”

“It doesn't matter. The seal was broken.”

“Why break the seal anyway?”

“You think of the seals as locks on a door.”

“Okay. Last one opens and…”

“Lucifer walks free.”

“Lovely. I reckon now he has a chance to wear Prada,” Harley jokes.

Chase laughs and Dean smiles. Castiel doesn't even acknowledge the joke.

“Lucifer? But I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at demon Sunday school. There's no such thing,” Dean says, unsure.

“Three days ago, you thought there was no such thing as me. Why do you think we're here walking among you now for the first time in 2,000 years?” Castiel asks.

“To stop Lucifer.”

“That's why we've arrived.”

“Well... bang-up job so far. Stellar work with the witnesses. That's nice.”

“We tried. And there are other battles, other seals. Some we'll win, some we'll lose. This one we lost. Our numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here. You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in,” Castiel threatens before disappearing.

“Well…… That happened,” Harley stated plainly.

[rcris123]

The buck fathers

“Chloe, look out!”

Too late, the car swerves out of the road, into the ditch. There’re no airbags in this thing so both of them end up slamming with their entire bodies into the board. Head bumps against the windscreen.

 “Ow...” That’s one hell of a headache if she’s ever had one. “Ow, ow ow ow...” Chloe tries to pull back slowly. “Max?...” Panic. “Max!”

She rushes over to shake her friend awake, but to no real avail. She seems to be breathing though. Shit, shit, shit-

The other car stopped as well. Two men came out, running towards them. One’s got a stupid cowboy hat.

“You okay there?” The cowboy dude bend through the window, then grimaced when seeing Max like she was. “Shit... Buck, call 911!”

“On it already.”

“Can you get out, miss?” The man said, extending a hand.

“I... Think so.” Chloe tried to pull herself out of where she got crashed to.

“They’re on their way here!” the other, ‘Buck’, beckoned, somewhere between her car and their own, just putting his phone back in his pocket.

With just a little help, a bit of a struggle, heart running a minute a mile, Chloe got out of the wreckage and that’s when realization sunk in, faster than the ache in her ankle and knee:

“Shit... Shit shit! Fuck! Fuck no...” She hit a stone with her foot, pursing her lips and rolling her fists when the bristle pain shot up through the leg. And let’s not even mention feeling like she’ll fall over ‘cause her head was as big as a bowling ball and twice as heavy, hurting like it just came out of the goddamn track after hitting all the pins.

That was all she got left of Arcadia. That car and Max.

The car’s ruined...

The cowboy, a massive dude with a real thick southern - or maybe it was midwestern – accent, came nearer, hands raised as if trying to pet her. She’s no animal.

“Miss?...”

But she doesn’t pull away when the man tries to put one of those hands on her shoulder. She could use the comfort, well at least that’s what she thinks...

“Just call me Chloe...”

“I’m Arthur. Arthur Castellanos. You a’right there? Bumped ye’r head or somethin?”

“...I’ll live-”

The somewhat silence that settled in after the crash got busted by the cries of a small child.

“Daddy?” A girl, maybe 10 or 12 pokes her head out of the van the two strangers got out of. “Isaac’s...”

“Want me to check up on him?” Arthur shouts over to ‘Buck’. Guess they were partners and that was one weird fucking petname.

“No, no, I got this.” The brunet heads back into the car. There’s some mumbling, then the man gets out of the car with the baby.

She can’t help it; she doesn’t have the nerves not to talk about something: “So... urhm, that your kid?”

“Yea-”

A muffled sound from the car, movement: “Chloe-”

Sprained ankle and all Chloe jumps towards the car, towards her one and only thing in this world. “Max!” Mister Cowboy Arthur follows, arms raised as if trying to stop them from doing something.

“Now you take it easy, miss. There’s an ambulance on the way here.” He talks, but between them, and Max still tries to stand up. A sigh: “Can you get out?”

“Yeah.” Why was her voice so weak, drained. It reminded her of that crazy week back- well she can’t call it a home now. Poof! One tornado and it vanished.

“Lemme help ya’ out.” Arthur huffs, arms like tree branches stretching inside to get Max out. And there she was.

“Max!” She’s not even fresh out of the wreckage when Chloe presses her within her arms: “Max, oh, Mad Max.” She was scared.

“Chloe... I’m fine...”

“We’re sill gettin’ the two of you checked by that ambulance.” Arthur said; now that was a dad tone if she ever heard one. Kinda familiar in a way.

“Thank you, Arthur, thank you.” Chloe said, and soon enough both of them get seated in the shade of a tree by the side of the road. It was one of those bright, hot summer days when, if you put as much as a pinky into sunlight, you’ll get burns.

The baby’s still crying and Arthur’s gone to check up on it. She’s guessing it’s the heat and the fact that they stopped for so long so suddenly. She’s feeling sorry. She almost ran them over, and then crashed Max into a ditch. Her head falls in her palms. Really sorry. She can’t even do driving right. Fingers claw at the scalp.

Baby switches dads, and she can still hear them talking.

“We should be calling their parents.” ‘Buck’ said.

“Shouldn’t we let ‘em call ‘em themselves?”

“Maybe we should wait for the ambulance before that.”

“I guess... Did it say how long till it’s gonna get here?”

“No...”

Baby seems to have calmed down under the gentle rubs of those big ass hands: “Is Lily a’right?”

And as on cue, girl pokes her head out, springs out of the car and clings to the ‘Buck’ dad; man bends down and picks her up: “It’s okay, Lily.”

“They okay, Daddy?”

“Guess so. Maybe we should give them some water. Wanna come with me?”

And Chloe dares a look at Max, slumped against the tree, staring back at her:

“Are we okay, Max?”

“Can’t say we haven’t been through worse-” slight smile; Maxine’s gotten her lips busted.

Red lights. The ambulance.

“C’mon up, Mad Max!” Chloe shouldn’t be jumping up like she did, but there she was to assist her girlfriend.

“What happened?” the paramedic asked.

“Misses got in an accident.” Arthur replied.

“And you were witness?”

“Yeah. They were goin’ fast and swerved into the side of the road trying to avoid us. We were comin’ from the opposite direction.”

“They’re conscious so we’re going to ask them a few questions- Miss?”

“Caulfield. Maxine.” Damn, she admired her courage.

They were asked to walk for a bit, had their blood pressure and heart-rate taken and all the other crap, allergies and the like. Then they were asked to phone their relatives. Max... Where would she be without her- Well obviously in a grave.

But what if that was better...

Now they had to tell those paramedics that she was an orphan. Well Max did, and she was also obligated to call her parents; told them they’ll be reaching Seattle tomorrow. She did all the legwork. Well... Max had the plan. Chloe just sort of tagged along to it all. It’s been about a week since it all happened. They tried calling Mom, Joyce, for a few days. At first there seemed to be some hope that she might pick up. No... The phone battery died about 3 days into their journey.

She cried that night, in the car. They had to stop. She cried all night. Didn’t even remember when she fell asleep. Max even tried to convince her to drive herself that day. Not happening.

They were heading to Seattle; hoping Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield will kindly take her in. Well... not with all those kisses and the possibility of a naughty one- Did she just think that... Yeah, regardless, it didn’t sound like it was gonna happen.

But Chloe got nothing left and this was probably her best chance at anything ever.

She fucked it all up this time around. If... if only Max chose-

 The paramedics let them go, blood wiped away and a cold compress applied to Chloe’s ankle. In the meantime tho’, the guys heard all they said, and Max told them about Arcadia, ‘cause she thought they surely heard on the news about the tornado. They did...

“You can spend the night at our place, and we’ll drive you tomorrow into Seattle. We stay in Olympia City.” The brunet said; Arthur was seating the baby back inside the car.

Did they have a choice?

“I mean sure...” Chloe said, and with that they hopped in the car. The girl got in Arthur lap.

“Oh. This is Lily. And that’s Isaac back there.” Kid fell asleep, chubby cheeks smooshed against the side of the baby chair. “I’m Sebastian. And Arthur. My husband.”

“Hello~” Arthur greeted, with a silly, long, drawn out o at the end. Sebastian smiled at that. And well Chloe had to as well; there’s something about seeing married gays that kinda gave her hope...

“So we ain’t going to the Nes Percy Park today?” the little girl, Lily, said. She meant the Nez-Perce National Park, right? Jesus they were on vacation and Chloe’s ruined it for them.

“We’re gonna go tomorrow after we leave the ladies back in Seattle.”

“Yes!”

“Ah, Chloe, right?” Arthur called back. “What’s your friend called.”

“Maxine, but you can call me Max. Caulfield.”

“Chloe Price.” She added; now she didn’t think saying her surname will leave her feeling bitter...

 The ride back to Olympia city was one surprise after another. Firstly, the dudes were unironically listening to Kesha and Lady Gaga like it was the best thing ever. The Johnny Cash and other country music she can’t place. But there was that one guitar solo that her dad used to listen to. They sang to it. And maybe for the first time in a long while Max saw her really smile; she started singing too, why the fuck not. Then the house came into view. Well, house is an understatement. The husbands had a whole fucking domain; ranch and all. Arthur proudly announced that they built the stables themselves, like the chicken coops and most of the garden. They had 5 fucking horses, goats and, obviously, chickens.

Chloe jumps straight outta the car to stare at the large, lavender lined, fields. Beside the house were tucked some bee hives and if the thought of insects wasn’t creepy the fact that they got themselves home-made honey simply had her in awe. Dude. What kind of magical fairy gay fathers did she stumble upon.

“Woah.” Yeah she couldn’t help it; leaned over the railing of one of the pastures. It stretched for so long! And indeed 5 horses grazed peacefully not too far off.

Maybe today wasn’t so bad...

She caught herself smiling before one of the horses, one with a brown head, fixed her attention on her and came towards her. Others noticed too but didn’t move.

“E-easy there.” The animal poked her massive snout beyond the fence, lips pouted as if sniffing.

“Chloe!?” Max sounded scolding; “Did you even ask?”

“It’s a’right!” Arthur beckoned from the car, unpacking some of the essentials. Sebastian was talking to a middle-aged lady on the porch; she was probably going to take care of the animals while they were away. “I could show ‘em to you later if you want to!”

“Of course!” Chloe was in heaven-

Dog!

Came running like a bullet and hopped up on her, tongue out, trying to lap at her face.

“Aa-!”

“Copper!” Dog perked its head back to Sebastian. “Down boy!”

Chloe tried her best: “Down boy, down!”

Dog listened, pranced back on all fours, wagging his thick tail side to side with such power it moved his entire butt.

A whistle from Arthur: “Com’ere, boy.” Damn that accent carried over in the way he said boy, but with that dog was off to it’s owner. Cowboy wasted no time bending down to bend the fluffster, the praises carrying over to her.

“Chloe? Max? What’d you like for dinner?” Sebastian had his hands on his hips; she just noticed that the man was dressed in a flannel that was now wrapped around his waist leaving the man in a tank-top. Damn what a dad...

No, actually, all of this.

Lily poked her head out of the house: “Shrimp Fajitas!”

“Seconded!” Arthur said. “Some fries and guacamole? Think we still have a couple o’shallots.”

“The avocado’s in the bags.” Sebastian said, those last lines were between themselves.

“Yup, gotcha.”

“So’s everyone down for shrimp fajitas?”

“Hell yes!” Chloe resonated, sprinting down the pasture to back home- nope, not sprinting, her ankle hurt lie a bitch.

But she gets to the house eventually, and inside: sunflowers on the table in the living, a cat on the couch and the kitchen being warmed up for dinner.

Of course Max helped with the dinner, or tried to, ‘cause they sorta let her on the back burner. Chloe was watching in awe from the couch. The girl plopped on her lap at one point, asked if she was alright, complimented her hair. Then her and Max tried to braid it. Lily tried on her beanie. It was too big for her head but it suits her. Somewhat.

The all cooked, dinner got served up. Arthur went upstairs to feed the baby, and play with him until he was all exhausted and ready for sleep. Sebastian informed the two of them that Max will be sleeping upstairs in Lily’s bedroom while Chloe will get the spare room downstairs. And the food was fucking delicious, tasty and juicy, with a little beat of heat in each bite. The guacamole too, you could tell it wasn’t one of those store-bought kinds that tasted just a bit too sweet, just a bit too addicting.

And it’s the fullest she felt all week. The two of them have been living off fast-food and snacks bought from gas stations at 2PM for the last past few days... Always on the road... And today, despite losing the car... she kinda felt the happiest she has been in a while... Like, things were gonna look up...

Max found herself playing with the cat, unexpectedly named, drumroll, Cat, and she watched. Lily went upstairs, looking for a boardgame, but instead came down with Arthur. It was getting pretty late.

“We gotta get the horses in the stables, wanna come with?” Arthur asked the girls.

Lily already bolted out the door.

“Isaac’s sleeping?” Sebastian intervened, looking up from the sink where the dishes just got done.

“Not really. He’s still a bit rowdy.”

“Should I put in a round of laundry?”

“I ain’t thinkin’ we got any? We did the last batch yesterday ‘cause the trip.”

Sebastian bobbed his head, hands on hips. “I’ll figure something out.”

“ ‘Course you will.” A peck on the lips as the cowboy parted from his husband to go rustle some horses.

What can she say, Chloe got all excited about it: getting to witness the gay wild west up close and personal. Man seriously just went about rounding horses up with a few whistles. All 5 of them came right up, ears perked and eyes all doe-like, snouts extended. Both Max and Chloe got designated halter holders as Arthur put them around the horses’ heads one by one. Chloe got the courage to try herself, on the little horse, the pony. She did it! ... after apologizing for bending the animal’s ear. Arthur laughed though. Presented them all.

“The black one’s Ash.” That one was the first to go into the stable. “He was a racer; got in a accident: caught in the chute at the start of a race.” And the poor thing has one big scar on the shoulder and some smaller ones on the neck and cheek. “He’s a bit jumpy ‘cause o’that but he’s a real good loyal horse and I have a hunch he’ll just die for Sebastian ‘cause he’s lovin’ that man so much.” Arthur caressed the dark head before taking the halter off and closing the stall up.

Then outside again for the next horse: “The big brute’s Victoria.” Well she really was big, almost all white, but looked much gentler than Ash. “She was my first horse, even before I met him. Poor ol’ girl’s seen some stuff.”

Next horse; the pony: “She’s prob’ly the most expensive horse we got on ‘ere. Lily’s competition horse: Princess. And she lives up to the name.” Chloe got the sense that she was a spoiled little thing with a bit of a temper. She looked the part.

Up next the horse that came and greeted Chloe as she jumped out of the car: “Morrowind-”

“Wait. Like the game?” Max asked.

“Was Sean’s idea.” Who the hell was Sean? “Made Sebastian play The Elder Scrolls, but we couldn’t name‘er Skyrim.”

Max snorted: “Well why not?”

“Well you try riding a Mustang named Skyrim.”

“Woah, A Mustang? Like a wild horse?”

“Yeah, got her from the Bureau of Land Management. ‘bout last June I think. And the one left in the pasture’s Whitehide; also from the Bureau.”

 They still played that board game with Lily upon re-entering the house, up until the little girl more or less fell asleep in Max’s lap. She was to sleep with the dad.

And Chloe was to go downstairs. Spare room. And that’s exactly what it looked like: all filled up with trinkets and older stuff and... workout equipment. But there she goes, sneaking by the heavy machinery and under the yellow blanket of the bed there, trying to find a pose that felt nice. Head up, nope, on the side, still nope, on the belly, arms dangling from the side- wait what’s that.

Square, plastic, but paper thin- cigarettes.

Chloe sat straight up. Men smoked. Oh yes, yes, yes. She pulled one out and lit it up; she still got the lighter with her. Cranked up the window as well. Oh how she missed these. She could of used some of these this entire week, damn.

Yeah today wasn’t so bad. Today wasn’t bad at all.

She got no place to go. Maybe she can ask of them to stay here. She’d like to.

 She woke up to the soft strumming of a guitar. She thought it was a dream, but no, someone was actually playing the guitar; out on the porch. Baby gurgling. She got up to peek out the window; she could understand the lyrics now:

“Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys- Don’t let’em play guitars and ride’em old trucks-”

The front door swung open as Arthur got out with the bags he got out yesterday. They still had a holiday... and her and Max still needed to reach Seattle.

“Should I wake ‘em up? Don’t wanna drag the kids to Seattle. Isaac’s been awake-” a sigh. And for a moment Chloe felt like an intruder in this house.

“Let them sleep, Arthur, they had a rough day yesterday.”

Chloe watched the man seat down by his guitar-baby-holding husband, arm wrapping around the shoulders.

“Guess just anxious. Girls’ been through lot... barely survivin’ that tornado in Arcadia. That Chloe lost her family back there...” a sigh.

“We’re gonna get them to Max’s parents in Seattle. It’s gonna be fine.”

Chloe’s hands shook on the window sill. A huff. She went back to the cigarette pack she hid under the bed. She didn’t dare open up the window again.

Two cigarettes.

She heard someone come downstairs, thought it was Max so she opened up the door.

“Mornin’!” it was Arthur, grand smile on his lips.

Then a wheezed breath and a cough.

Oh shit...

Another cough.

“Can... Can you open up a window, Chloe.” And another cough. “Please.”

She rused to do so; clumsy hands didn’t do a good job at it, but she tried... Arthur leaned over towards the window, taking in some really deep breaths. She could hear Sebastian coming in from outside too.

“E-everything alright?” she dared ask; the coughing seemed to be gone.

“Yeah...” A drawn out inhale that sounded loaded with mucus, followed by a spit out the window. “I’ll be a’right...” A scratch of the beard.

Sebastian let Isaac roam the room:

“You smoked in here?” scolding.

“I...”

“Buck-” Arthur held his husband back. “It’s a’right. He ain’t known.”

The scowl that covered Sebastian’s face mellowed: “Go get some fresh air.”

Some more dried up coughs while trying to get the words out: “Will do. Gotta feed the horses.” And the man stumbled out.

“I’m sorry. I’m... I’m so so so sorry.” Chloe tried.

“Those were my cigarettes, right?” Sebastian cut her up.

“What?”

“The ones under the bed...”

“Yeah... I shouldn’t have-”

Sebastian listened, bobbed his head. “Help me open up the windows.”

And that they did; the man took the remaining packet and thre it in the bin. There was a story behind that... and Chloe’s not sure if she wants to know it. Dude’s all snappy because of it now. But once Max’s awake, they fix themselves some breakfast and set out to Seattle. It’s a few hour’s drive, depending on traffic.

 “Max...” They’re almost there, the skyscrapers breaking the horizon line with their ‘magnificence’. “I don’t think I can stay with your parents.”

“You know they won’t be mad at you for what happened.”

“I know, I know...”

“You’re not a burden, Chloe, okay?”

“It’s not that...” she snapped back. Sebastian gazed at them in the rearview mirror.

Silence.

“Is... Urhm, Sebastian... Do you think I can make it up to you? I...” This was so selfish of her, but she can’t help it: “I’ll stay just a few more days until I can make enough money to afford a place. I’m-”

“You’re always welcome at our place.”

“What?- Wait. Really?...”

“You need a place to stay, of course.”

  Safe to say she might have gotten adopted by fairy husbands. Oh, did she mention they were badass detectives too?

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Ol’ Fashion Fingers

Ask: ahhh okay so the kinda gross idea! i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is on her period and arthur takes care of her, and i mean...we both know he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty and also...a bit of blood won’t gross him out right? so maybe...he takes care of her and later...works his magic fingers to makes her feel better? i know it’s probably very gross but my cramps are so extremely bad this month i’m dying i just need some arthur i LOVE your writing btw!

Warning: Fingering, period blood

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: I am so sorry I took so long on this. Whoever sent in the ask, hope you enjoy! (Lmfao at the ‘say no more’ part at the end) Also, they didn’t have tampons or pads back then I don’t think so I used rags, since that’s what I remember women had to use before our ‘luxury’ items. 

“Kill me, put a bullet in my skull, please, it would be a mercy.” Your cramps this month were killing you. They hadn’t been this bad in years, not since you first started having them when you were very young.

“That bad?” Arthur asked as he chewed on a some of the candy Hosea had bought for you.

“You have no idea.” You sighed, watching him clean his gun. The two of you were sitting in a room at one of the Taverns in Valentine, you had rented out a room and bought special service to help ease the pain. Every thirty minutes a maid would bring you a fresh cold rag, a hot blanket, and some water. Karen had done it the last time she got her period and said it was one of the best things she’d ever spent money on. 

Arthur set his gun down on the dresser and made his way over to you, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside your feet. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You hummed and looked up, pretending to be deep in thought. “I don’t know… kiss me?” 

Arthur broke into a smile and leaned across you, giving you a quick kiss. “How was that?”

“I still hurt. Kiss me again.”

He kissed you again, longer this time and with more movement. When he pulled back he raised a brow, questioning silently.

“I think it’s working, but I can’t tell. Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.” You forced yourself into a sitting position, now face to face with the man. 

Arthur let out a sigh, not one of annoyance but rather amusement, and brought you in for another kiss. This time you caught him off guard and slipped your tongue in his mouth, bringing up a hand to run your fingers through his hair. His hat fell onto the ground but neither of you noticed. 

The kiss didn’t end as quickly as the others did. Even when he pulled the sheets off of your body your lips remained connected. Even when his hands slid up your legs and gave your thighs a squeeze. You only broke the kiss so you could take your pants off. They were your go-to that time of the month pair, they had holes in the knees and were black so if you had any sort of accident no one would be able to tell. 

You had changed your rag not too long ago so it wasn’t that bloody, thankfully. Even though Arthur had mentioned many times before that he had seen blood almost every day of his life, it wasn’t anything new or gross to him. Still, sometimes you felt a bit embarrassed. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” You reminded Arthur as he planted kisses along your neck while his hands squeezed your bare hips.

“Quit that. Lay down and relax, alright?” 

You nodded and laid back down flat on your back after you removed your button up shirt. Arthur hadn’t bothered removing any of his clothing since what he planned on doing didn’t involve him at all. Maybe afterward if what he had in mind didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t imagine anything bigger than a finger inside you would do anything other than cause more unnecessary pain.

He started with massaging your clit, working you up enough so you were shaking. Your little whimpers and moans were almost too much for him but he kept himself together and focused on you and you only. 

After a while of doing that he lightly trailed his fingers down your folds, teasing your entrance with feather-like touches. He kept his eyes on your face and searched for the slightest sign of discomfort, but he only found pleasure. You had your mouth slightly open, letting out quick puffs of air, and your eyes closed. 

“Don’t hesitate to stop me, you hear?” As if. After all the time you’d known Arthur, he still surprised you every day by how sweet he could be. You’d never find another man living as considerate, honest, and utterly selfless as Arthur Morgan.

“M’kay.” 

He looked at you for a few more seconds before he was satisfied that you were totally okay with everything. He then pushed one finger inside you, slow and only partial. Almost immediately he looked up to make sure you didn’t look like you were in any pain. You seemed fine, eyes still closed with your bottom lip between your teeth from anticipation.

You wished he would get on with it, you weren’t made of glass. But you knew he was just being careful, and plus, it wasn’t like you didn’t like when he teased you a little. In your experience, an orgasm always felt better after you had to work for it. 

When he was finally knuckle deep he tested out a gentle curl, knocking a moan out of you. “You alright girl?” He asked, his voice raw and husky, and stilled his movements. 

“Keep going.” 

He obliged and continued curling his fingers, making you forget about the pain going on inside you. You’d never actually fingered yourself whilst on your period, it would be too hard to hide the blood on your fingers if anyone walked in on you. You had settled for outside stimulation which usually eased your pain for a while, but this was a whole different feeling. It was as if you weren’t even on your period at all. No cramps, your spine didn’t ache and your legs weren’t sore to the touch. You didn’t even have a headache anymore.

It didn’t take you long to come. The feeling of his long thick fingers inside you coupled with the erotic image of him sitting fully clothes between your spread legs was too much to handle. Even if you wanted to prolong the whole thing you couldn’t, your orgasm came too sudden and fast for you to do anything about it. All you could do was let out a couple of swear words with his name thrown in a few times and came around his fingers.

Arthur was blown away, as he was every time he had the ‘privilege’, as he called it, to watch you come. “Jesus, woman.” Was all he could say.

You sat up with shaky arms, catching your breath as you ran your fingers through your hair. “That almost works better than morphine.” You joked and grabbed your shirt, slipping your arms through the sleeves but not bothering to button it back up.

“Speakin’a morphine, you should have some soon,” Arthur said as he watched you grab a new rag from the bedside table, wiping the cum and blood from your thighs before you handed it to the man beside you. “Unless the maid rode off with my money.”

“Oh, Arthur. You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Don’t ‘oh Arthur’ me.” He said as he wiped his fingers off, throwing the rag on the floor with the other one. “It was either that or cocaine, and you don’t need that right now. Last time you had some of that we couldn’t get you to sit down for ten minutes, you remember that?”

Shaking your head you laughed, getting one more rag to put in the pants you’d just slipped back on. “Yeah, I do.” You had chewed on far too many pieces of cocaine gum with the intention to get some work done around camp, but you ended up finishing all the chores within thirty minutes. So for the rest of the day, you were doing tasks that didn’t need to be done, such as over-hunting and fishing. The camp had to cook triple what they normally did every night so the food wouldn’t spoil. 

“I will admit, once you’re done with this whole bleeding thing it wouldn’t hurt to have you hunting again. You’re ‘bout the only one in camp besides me who can shoot anything without ruinin’ the meat.” 

You smiled at his compliment and laid back down, savoring the time you had left until the pain would kick back in. Hopefully, the morphine would get to you before then. “Thank you, Arthur. I feel much better now. You’re so good at that, I might start paying you to make me feel better instead of these maids.”

Arthur smiled and scooted up so he could lay down beside you. “Yeah, well, seeing you like that is all the payment I could ask for.” He kissed your cheek and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Oh yeah? Well, I think I’ve got some more to pay you.” 

Arthur held up his hand. “Don’t say nothin’ else.”

[ain-t-bovvered]

14x10 Commentary

Zeta and Giuls scream together, and then die.

Me & Zeta will watch together season 14′s episodes as they come out and we’ll do our commentary while watching.

1 2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9

14x10 Nihilism 

-I did not want to see Jack like that again thanks

Zeta: true

- And there was a need for some wings there honestly .

[ comes back crawling]

HERE

Zeta:  the bar sceeeene

-.....THAT’S A DAMN SQUIRREL WITH A AVIATOR CAP ON ( also I re wrote squirrel four times before getting it right) 

- MOOSE!!! 

-......The Moose has a tag with “FAMILY BUSINESS” written on it----lol Jensen

Zeta: What’s her name

- PAMELAAAAAAAA . Damn woman I went a bit Bi there

Zeta: OH YES.

- [Music: and I’m searching for a rainbow] .....WOW

-[on the counter] Daphne loves Fred.

 my monkey dirty brain: Daddy loves tips. 

-hot. want that.

Zeta: the tequila or the bartender?

Bitch please . both.

- D: “ What are we, savages?”

Zeta: Oh the lips

-Cosmic Cowboy. *chokes*

-FB

-why is it always a ghoul case?

-Lol but who’s the drunk guy tho

Zeta: Bitch, look at her biceps

- some Bi slippage there too I see. FOCUS

Zeta: also indeed. Who is he?

-D:”I’ve never had anything this nice”

Also....I would be like Dean if I had a bar. One for the costumer and one for me! woohoo .

- D: “How come you always have a boyfriend?”

  P: “How come you always want what you can’t have?”

[looks into the camera like in the office]

- D: “This is my dream” 

I kinda see it tho....old grumpy Dean Winchester being the Bobby while running a bar like that. Yes....I like it.

- I knew it . I wanna see someone closed behind that “closet” *wink wink*

Zeta: Oh oh

Zeta: the slo mo.

-NICE .You are welcome for this gif where I let you enjoy the full over the count jump. Nice healthy middle age man over the fence jump ( nevermind this is an italian oil ad ).

-The blood. So cute

Zeta: I’m famous

- mmm

Zeta: shit

-Hello M boi, I missed you fam

Zeta: Changed clothes

- OMFG are you saying that the Archangel Michael macVanity von DramaQueen really just angel mojo changed into his Peaky Blinder wanna be in front of them?

He’s so flamboyant , I love him .

Zeta: The close up

- M making three men kneel with so much as lift his hands.  WHAT A MOOD. WHERE CAN I GET THAT? I WANT 10.

- M : “ I saw everything”  Yeah no shit we kinda see that coming too

-DoN ‘T IntERrUPt mE 

Zeta: Don’t interrupt me

-I’m-

I’m so bothered right now. Dom Michael for the win

-OH WOW

- Sam just “assbutted” Michael lol.

Castiel : Sam....did you just molotov my brother with holy fire?

Sam: uh ....No?

- HE ANGRY

- Dean’s not home right now...

Zeta: Please leave a message

*giggling* I love him

Zeta: His voice GOD DAMN

-yes

- Castiel hair tho.

Zeta: Do you? Cocky much

-but needs to play it cool. Can’t risk to mess up the pomaded hair.

- S:” We the angel cuffs on , Michael is under control”

 M: “Keep telling yourself that “  ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

I *clap* LOVE *clap* HIM *clap*

- S: “Dump him in the trunk of the Impala” ... DUMP HIM .ahahahahaah

-Garth is in the trunk

Zeta: it’s a big trunk

-M: “ It’s a party!”

- J: “ It’s not like any of us can fly”

 M : “ Well one of us can”

 S: “ STFU”

- J:” Sam, are we gonna die here?” ... wow Jack...babe...stfu

-Yes OMG I forgot about the stalky reaper

Zeta: You mess up so many things

- it ain’t wrong

- [in john Mulaney’s Trump voice] we locked Death away and enslaved the reapers

Zeta: Poor Cas

- ok but WHO....death? Michael is asking himself that too.

-Yes , put him in the dungeon. HOT

Zeta: shit

-I can hear you

Zeta: Shit

-Ahahahahahaahah

Zeta: SHIT

-I’m loving this

Zeta: Bring back Crowley.

Zeta: We left Garth in the trunk looool

- that....everytime we don’t see a character for long that’s it...they are in the trunk.

Zeta: Castiel

-CASTIEL . so strange, I love him, he’s such a sarcastic asshole.

- M: “Yes, uh, put a chair against the door”

Zeta: This pretty smile as I rip you apart

-I’M SHAKING. YAS.

Zeta: Control yourself

- S: “Cass this is all we’ve got”

Zeta: Again?

- well it is a loop.

-MORE SHOTS.  (me)

Zeta: The only thing missing is “heat of the moment”

- what if the woman is his conscience trying to get him out and if he sign he’s out? ...like....testing his resolution?

-Little insulting

Zeta: you’re nothing

Zeta: Why is he so perfect in this?

- J: “Dean---is strong”

  M *disgusted face*: “ Is a gnat “ . WOW

-OH SHUT UP OOOOH

Zeta: Emotional abuse.

- M: “ he was not happy, but he didn’t care-- Cause you are not Sam, you are not Cass.” 

[ me looking smiling to the Castiel/Misha hateclub]

-M: “You are a weak helpless thing”

- Jack , babe ....get away tho 

Zeta: LISTEN TO YOUR DAD

- M: “no I’m not and I can still hear you”

Zeta: Prick

- Love that prick..... literally 

- I care so little for the others I swear

- M: “Look at you, play nursemaind for a nephilim”

-C: “You are confusing loyalty and compassion for weakness”

Zeta: Damn what am I watching?

- [looks into the camera like in the office] Sexual tension

Zeta: so done. this. Close up

- M “and now...that I’m in here, I know why” 

-CHUCK

Zeta: He churn our draft after draft

- M speaks like he’s singing and mocking you at the same time. He has this musicality in his speak and I love it

- C: “Why would he do that?”

 M: “BECAUSE HE DOESN’T CARE!”

- good lord I swear all the angels are just brats throwing temper tantrum because they have a trash dad.

- M: “But now , I just want to burn every one of his little worlds until I catch up to the Old man”

Zeta: Even god can die.

- oh ok....overachiever much

Zeta: Hurt Jack

- No no Jack babe...keep your fucking soul .

Zeta: Cool science project

- Michael’s mind: if you mess up my perfectly combed hair Cass I swear-

- M: “ I give it a solid B- .....uh oooh”

 me nervously: .....wtf lol 

- M: *snorts* Oh Cass, I believe in you.

So rude...so nasty 

- j: “ What should I do?”

Zeta: Pray

-Thanks Cas, that’s-......that’s great

Zeta: You are all mine

- ..... YESSIR TAKE ME

Zeta: Dean’s mind.

- ..... if it was a funny episode they could have made so many jokes about being empty lol.

- me looking around haters mind ^

Zeta: This is what you are gonna become

-omg

- THAT WAS DEAN IN HELL.

- Dean’ “NOOOO “ at Castiel death is vibrating into my bones.

- S: “Dean is strong”

- C: “Sam, we’ve been through a lot and Dean is more than strong”

- S: “Dean thrive on trauma.” 

WE’VE BEEN KNEW

Zeta: Smart moose

- Somebody has been reading some meta tumblr posts

- P: “You really know how to talk to a lady don’t you?”

 me already at Castiel’s feet : wha

- That’s us fans watching 14 seasons of supernatural ^

-Bloody Cass is 100. *licks lips*

- P: “get me a shot. With your braaaain”

Zeta: Well hello.

- C:” That was- that....DeAN ThAt WaS An ACcidENT”

Zeta: Babyyyy

- them baby faces

- C:” WE NEED YOU TO COME BACK”

- S:”POUGHKEEPSIE”

- Dean’s mind : [ old modem sounds]

-M [Slow clap it out.] : Hey Fellas

-AND THE HAT IS BACK

Zeta: I’m you

Zeta: He gripped you tight and raised you from perdition

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAH I’M DYING SO BAD.

-BITCH I’M DEAD AND GIGGLING I CAN’T.

-but also....but the fuck is Mary at?... like wow.

- also....everything that Micheal is saying right now is causing me actual fucking pain.

- Ok and both Sam and Cas faces? well thanks

Zeta: He’s buying time

-WOW. Slow smile, oooooH

-S: “So in here, you are all talk”

- oh that’s why he doesn’t use his powers. Serviceable .

Zeta: So happy. Fuck

Zeta: Prove it

- Um...yes hello 911? 

Michael getting his hands dirty is too hot for me.

-Fucking Tiger man.

-Come on baby 

Zeta: Jack will do something “stupid”

- Well he is his parents’ son *shrug*

Zeta: that

- D:” Then we don’t kick him out, we keep him in”

-oooooh M goes in the closet, lol

Zeta: Oh my god.

- ....Well that was stupid AHAHAHAAH 

- I can’t stop laughing .

- M [ROAR] 

  me: ....

Zeta: I’m the cage.

-HE IS THE CAGE. That doesn’t seem right tho...come on.

Zeta: So now Dean has Michael locked up

-ooooh the magic hurt him. Forgot about that. My baby.

Zeta: Concerned Dad.

- The way Cass say : “you understand?” killed me....so soft...so worried...

- The little smile! Kill me now.

Zeta: He’s not ok.

-Dean is not ok.

Zeta: [henley alert]

-He’s like....naked. ( still has another tshirt under it tho)

-Oh he’s mad 

- I’M CRYING . HE LOOKS LIKE MY CAT WHEN I REFUSE TO LET HIM OUT .

amazing.

( Sorry for the not that clear gifs but I wanted to cut and past all the bits of that because it’s amazing)

Zeta: He’s suffering so much.

-That troat

- That door is not that sturdy tho

Zeta: Oh hell no

- oh hello death . 

-Aw hell naw.

- Death :” Except one”

-AW HELL NAW

Zeta: Which one?

- UGH

Zeta: No

-NO

Zeta: NOOO so much hurt

-OH FUCK

Zeta: Actual literal pain in my chest

YA KNOW WHAT?....I DON’T LIKE THAT LOOK .

NOT ONE BIT.

.

- lol I don’t even wanna look at tumblr now

Zeta: well you know me....I have

- of course you did

post gifs comment: I didn’t do my crack gifs for now, but they will be done in a separate post.

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If you want to get tagged in the future ones send an ask HERE or to @waywardbaby or a smoke signal, idk whatever I’m tired af.

TAGS: @supernatural-teamfreewillpage  @destiel-honeypie   @mariekoukie6661   @dragontamerm    @closetspngirl @rainflowermoon @mattiecat   @bunnybaby121115  @aliaitee @jacks-word-of-the-day @4evamc

[magicalcreeks]

Cargo Car Confessions

Day 1: October 15 -First Time-

Summary: When Kenny ditches his bad date he relies on Stan and weed to make him feel better, even if that required them sharing embarrassing confessions and perhaps a kiss.

I’m so excited for @stenny-week and in some places it’s October 15th already so i wanted to post early! Please enjoy!

...

Stan had just stolen the ball from Cartman, blocking him from behind as he clutched the ball in his chest before thrusting it forward in a successful pass. Kyle caught the ball with ease— that was just one of the many perks to being on the basketball team— then he jumped off his back foot to slam dunk the ball into the hoop. The force of the dunk caused the hoop to shutter. it loosened the black sticky tape used to keep the hoop together after years of abuse and neglect.

“This is bullshit!” Cartman huffed with a healthy sheen of sweat coating his face, giving him the appearance of grease-soaked tomato.

“Sorry, dude. We won.” Stan stopped the ball with his foot then picked it up with his hands. Kyle did his winning trot towards Stan, holding his hand out for a high five, “good job, man.”

Cartman wasn’t done with his childish protest, “well!” He began, searching for the words he wanted to say before stammering at the two pairs of eyes staring at him, “well...” again, he struggled, wishing Kenny was here to back him up.

“It’s not a fair game because Kenny isn’t here!” A-ha, he got them now. Kyle and Stan moved over to the bench where Kyle dabbed his forehead and neck with the towel he brought with him. Stan tossed him an extra Gatorade.

“Kenny’s not here because he’s on a date.”

“Exactly, which means we’re down a player, which also means it’s not fair game.”

Stan and Kyle exchanged a look.

“Whatever, dude.”

“Ya know what, screw you guys! I’m going home!” Was Cartman’s declaration. He kicked aside an empty can of beer left by either upperclassmen or a drunken adult. It was hard to tell nowadays.

Kyle rolled his eyes, pushing up a stack of curls that have fallen from his loose bun, “you can’t go home, fatass, all of our shit is at your house.”

“Can’t hear you! I’m busy going home, you gaywads!”

Stan felt three pulses from his pocket, ignoring his friends bickering to divert his attention to the texts he was receiving. His body shifted sideways on the bench, heart racing with excitement as he half expected the texts to be from Wendy. Perhaps she wanted to get back together even though they broke up in middle school. She made it clear that she had no intention of being his boyfriend, even going out with Token of all people, until he suddenly had some sexual awakening; realizing he would rather suck dick instead of being with one of the hottest girls in school.

He rolled his eyes hard, taking on one of Kyle’s many mannerisms as he recalled past events. Cartman and Kyle’s idle chatter sounded nothing more than muffled sounds— like someone yelling behind a thick glass. Stan unlocked his phone.

Kenny: Hey, man, you busy?

Kenny: wanna meet me at our spot?

Kenny: nvm, ur probs with Kyle and Cartfuck—

A quiet chuckle escaped Stan’s parted lips. He continued to read the text:

Kenny: — u know where I am. Ps. I got weed ;)

His eyes glossed over those messages more times then Stan could count, “Stan? Stan? What the hell are you smiling at? It’s kinda creepy.”

Kyle was left standing in front of him with a slight concern dampening his features. The towel he’d previously used now slung around his neck, pale and covered with speckles of faint brown freckles.

“Uh...” Stan licked his lips, contemplating an excuse he could tell his best friend and have it sound believable. They knew each other like the back of their hands. Literally. He pocketed his phone, rubbing sweaty palms on his sweats.

The weather in South Park had been warmer than usual considering it was the middle of October. While Halloween decor met the eyes of anyone passing through their neighborhood, some houses started early with stabbing turkey and pilgrim lawn ornaments in their front yards. Global warming, said Randy like a scratched record over their dreaded dinners. According to him, it was real and ready to fuck us raw in the ass.

Kyle tapped his foot impatiently for an answer, hands resting subconsciously on his hips. His posture resembling one of his mothers when she was about to scowl them. Stan snorted.

“I gotta go, uh, my sister wants me to pick her up a box of tampons?” As he spoke aloud it sounded more ridiculous then it had in his head. What the hell, Stan? Your sisters in college you dumb fuck.

“She’s back for Halloweengivings... My parents thought it would be better to combine both holidays. Nothing better than carving a pumpkin and shoveling down cranberry sauce.”

Kyle blinked, “Uh, okay?”

“Great!” Stan shot up from his seat, giving Kyle a pat on the shoulder, “I’ll text you later, dude!”

He walked with a quickened pace, afraid that Kyle would try to stop him for questions. Sometimes he nagged more than he realized, even though he was only trying to be a good friend. A rain of guilt washed over Stan for lying to Kyle. He lied before. Plenty of times actually.

Once safely around the corner of the block, Stan made haste to Kenny doing god knows what by himself when he was supposed to be on his date with Tammy. Without a doubt she was hot, returning to South Park after moving to California. When she returned she developed an ego bigger than Cartman’s ass, along with an attitude comparing to none of the other girls in their grade. California changes people. Too bad she was still a slut.

At least that’s what the girls said.

Stan slowed his walking. He sniffed the burning grass as he approached their spot— the abandoned railway just minutes away from Kenny’s house. Tilting his head up at one of the many cargo cars rusted from years of weather damaged, he recognized the graffiti drawn on the sides. As well as the smell.

“You got a head start without me, asshole?” His voice echoed through the abandoned field of cars, picking up a rock to chuck at the rusted door. It bounced off the metal with a loud hallowed clink.

“Stan the man.” Kenny pulled the door aside, greeting his friend with widespread arms. Stan felt his heart thump.

“Move aside.” He hoisted his body up, then knee crawled over to his respective end of the car. Stan knocked aside the junk they collected; consisting of empty bottles of wine stolen from his dad, single cans of beer Kenny snagged from Kevin’s pack which steadily grew into a rather nice collection for them, darts, slingshots, and a bunch of other shit.

Kenny closed the door after Stan was in. Instead of relying on the crack of light from the setting sun, the inside of the car was illuminated with a string of Christmas lights connected to a lengthy power cord hooked up to Kenny’s house. Together they had made the perfect “man” cave.  

“I thought you were on a date,” Stan said, knees hugging his chest as if he was intruding in the space they created together. Those nauseating butterflies returned to flutter around his stomach.

“I was, then I left.” Kenny passed over the joint sloppily rolled together as if he had done it halfheartedly to quickly get the relief he desired. Stan was no expert at rolling anything. Even he knew it wasn’t his best work.

Kenny hooked a section of his sandy blonde hair behind his ear, exposing the multiple piercings neatly aligned on his outer lobe. He’s done all his piercings himself. Stan bummed off the joint. He attempted to quiet his mind from the indirect kiss from Kenny by smoking it out with the burning kush.

“She’s a bitch. There’s a big difference between being with her to get my dick sucked and actually pursuing a relationship.” Kenny spoke with a bitterness behind his words, “I don’t know. I thought it would be easier to ask her out considering we had a thing before. She’s changed.”

Stan shrugged, slouching back with eased muscles as the joint burned slowly between his fingers, “so you text me?”

A lopsided grin stretched across Kenny’s face, showing off the tooth missing from an accident he had when they were kids and crooked teeth unfixed from his families lack of money to get him braces.

“Of course! You’re my best friend after all. Besides, you wouldn’t judge me like Kyle would.”

“Yeah...” Stan’s voice trailed, eyes following the posters they tapped on the car walls, “he can’t help himself.”

“Yeah, he really can’t.”

They sat in the comfortable silence they created, the two of them passing the blunt back and forth until it became roach and they could no longer smoke it. Their minds were hazed yet relaxed. Nowadays drugs were the only thing able to ease their teenage minds from the angst and stress. Stan found this to be his only escape from the suffering thoughts thanks to his depression and anxiety. Kenny smoked for his own reasons. He just wanted to chill from time to time.

“I thought you were Wendy.” He spoke slow and a bit sluggish, tongue untied and free.

“I thought you were over her, man. She’s no good for you.”

“I love her...” Stan admitted, clutching the fabric on his grey sweats between his hands. He still loved her, he always will.

Kenny spun the dart between his fingers, eyes locked on the boy across from him.

“I could... distract you.” His offer did not go without the flush of red spreading across his cheeks.

“I’m not... I’m not gay.” Stan’s throat tightened and suffocated his words.

“Neither am I... I mean... I think everyone is hot. Guys, Girls, and those in between.” Kenny admitted, crawling over towards Stan to take a seat next to him. They were close enough in the cargo car that Stan could smell the scent of aftershave emitting from Kenny’s body. He felt his stomach twist and turn at two things. Kenny’s confession and the fact they were so close to one another.

He was hot, funny, and Stan could always be himself around him. Instead of Kenny judging or trying to diagnosis his problems like Kyle, Wendy, or his parents, he was allowed to rant and cry out of frustration. They related to each other. Their lives at home sucked just as bad as their friends.

Stan was not gay. From what he knew he was straight with only a few gay mishaps. An embarrassing mishap being the time he got a boner during a sleepover at Kyle’s house. He accidentally walked in on him changing and caught a glimpse of everything. They swore to never speak of it for the sake of not making their sleepover painfully awkward, but Stan could not shake the mental image from his mind as he used his imagination to relieve himself once Kyle had fallen asleep.

Then there was that one time when he was still on the football team and they traveled to Denver to play against their best high school team. He was sharing a room with Craig, Clyde, and Token— to his utter despair since they only spoke in inside jokes which made Stan feel like an outsider. Stan discovered a gay magazine that must have fallen out of one of their bags. While they were fucking around in the pool he stayed behind in the room and allowed his curiosity to roam. He liked what he saw.

Kenny inched closer, resting a hand on Stan’s thigh but doing nothing more because he did not want to do anything if Stan wasn’t comfortable. He did like Stan. A lot.

In those seconds they both sobered up, blue eyes meeting a mysterious purple, adding to the many features Stan loved about him.

“I- I never kissed a guy before.”

Kenny chuckled, “it’s just like kissing a girl, except... Girls taste sweeter. Sort of like fruit because they wear chapstick and shit. Except for Craig-”

“Wait, you kissed Craig?” Stan questioned in disbelief. The weird competition he and Craig had with one another flaring like a newly lit flame ignited from jealousy.

“Spin the bottle. He tasted like a fucking fruitcake.”

Stan chewed on his lower lip. “Since we’re confessing I only kissed Wendy once... And Kyle. We practiced on each other when we were kids.”

“I thought you said you never kissed a guy?”

“T-That doesn’t count! We’re like super best friends so it wasn’t a real kiss!” Stan felt himself get defensive, not appreciating the skeptical looks Kenny was giving him. It was completely normal and not gay for friends to practice on one another.

“Chill, I’m joking-“

Stan silenced him with a kiss. Tensions melted away at the contact of their lips. Kenny tasted as sweet as old candy, also weed. Creating a strange yet familiar flavor. His tongue swept the bottom of his lip, making Stan look more confident than what he was.

Kenny pressed in, moving his tongue around for an entrance into his mouth. Their kiss was sloppy, awkward— because of the angle they were in— but exhilarating.

When they pulled apart for air, Stan was as winded as he was during his game with Kyle and Cartman. He had never experienced a kiss quite like that.

“How was I...?” What else could he say? He and Kenny just kissed for fucksake! Was he going to say thank you?

“Kissing Kyle really helped.” Kenny joked, nearly falling to his side from the playful shove from Stan.

“You weren’t so bad either. That was like my first real kiss, dude, so I guess you took my kissing virginity.”

“You’re so lame.”

Stan flipped him off, hugging his body with his hands. He just kissed Kenny. Him and Kenny, lips locked, in full make out. What were they now?

“You okay?” Kenny pried one of Stans' hands out from his weird human arm wrap, playing with his fingers before sliding his own in between. There was no way he could know how Stan feels now but he only dreamed about being his boyfriend, fantasizing about the pathetic crush he had since they were 13 years old.

“So are we dating?” Stan blurted. He was unable to look at Kenny’s eyes just in case he said no or something else which might break his heart for the second time.

“I would say we are... if you want too. We don’t have to tell the guys yet if you’re not ready.”

“So...” his tone a childlike whisper, “I guess this means I’m gay? Do I have to have, like, a big coming out party.”

Kenny smiled, “you don’t have to put a label on everything. Look at me. Who cares if you’re straight, gay, or bi. Be with whoever makes you happy.”

Stan nodded. He unraveled from his hold around his body to lean into Kenny, holding his hand tight. Right now he didn’t want to think. He just wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the moment.

“I’m going to punch Craig for kissing you, I hope you know that.” He murmured, knocking his shoe against Kenny’s.

“It was two years ago, babe. Besides, I would much rather kiss my boyfriend then Tucker.”

Stan’s heart raced again. Boyfriend. That’s right. They were boyfriends now. The title sounded like music to his ears.

Eat shit Craig Tucker.

...

[intim3ate]

Never Mentioned, Never Told | McSombra [Overwatch]

McCree pays Sombra a visit on what turns out to be her birthday. What starts out as a fun night of drinking, however, makes McCree realize just how little he actually knows about her.

A birthday commission for @mccreespree! Something fun and a little fluffy. :3

AO3 Link | Commission Info | Leave a Tip?

Six months. That’s how long it’s been since they started this little fling-gone-big. It had been an accident, really - a chance encounter while Sombra had been on a mission. McCree had been attracted to her at first sight, and she’d approached him readily. He later found out that she had recognized him from both the wanted posters and his old Overwatch files, and her original interest had been purely for intel-gathering purposes, but she’d lost interest in that as soon as he’d fucked her into the mattress and told her he had no intention of rejoining Overwatch.

“You’re much more interesting when you’re naked anyway,” she had said. And McCree was inclined to agree.

But neither of them had wanted to leave things like that. Sombra was too good, and she’d clearly enjoyed herself. So they’d agreed to keep it going, make it a steady thing. Whenever McCree happened to be in Dorado, and whenever Sombra wasn’t running around doing… whatever it was Talon wanted her to do, they would meet up and fuck until they were both satisfied (or close to it, anyway). And besides, McCree had figured it was a good opportunity to get info out of her, too. Sombra wasn’t particularly tight-lipped about these things if she didn’t deem them important.

They had a good thing going. McCree had even started looking forward to his little visits.

He knocked on the door.

It took a hot second, but he could hear movement on the other side of the door. When Sombra opened it, she practically beamed at him.

“Hola, cowboy,” she said.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Delayed flight; you know how it is.” McCree grinned back sheepishly at her. Sombra didn’t seem to mind, though, aside from putting on a show of being annoyed. She was a terrible actress.

“Couldn’t even be on time for my birthday…” She scolded him, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. “Sometimes I don’t know why I even bother with you.”

“No shit!” McCree said, instinctively reaching up to sweep his hat off his head. “Well, if I’d’ve known that, I would’ve gotten an earlier flight.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sombra rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “You’re here now, yeah? So make it up to me.” She stepped over the threshold of her home, shut the door, and wrapped her arms around one of McCree’s. “We’re going drinking tonight, cowboy!”

Drinking, huh? Who was he to argue with that?

---

The walk to the bar was longer than McCree was expecting. They had decided not to go to Calavera’s, their usual haunt (it being where they met and all), and instead opted to go somewhere a little nicer. Why not, since it was Sombra’s birthday and McCree had just cashed in on a pretty big bounty?

As they walked, McCree decided to regale Sombra with the story of the shootout he’d survived in order to get that bounty, and he made damn sure to embellish as many details as he could.

“So there I was, one bullet left, four guys on my tail, all of ‘em shooting at me like I was some kinda criminal--”

“I mean, you are.”

“—Details! Anyway, I’m just about cornered when I get this great idea. So I dive behind a couple of garbage bins, and bullets are flyin’ right over my head, through the plastic, and I get this idea. So I just stand up, kick it over, and I must’ve been runnin’ on more adrenaline than I thought, because--”

“Oh, no, don’t tell me--”

“It flies somethin’ like twenty feet, I dunno, and knocks one of ‘em off his feet and right onto his head!”

Sombra cringed, sucking in a pained breath through her teeth. “Oof! And then what?”

“Then everything spills out, and - I kid you not - one of them trips and falls on a banana peel. Like a goddamn cartoon, I’m tellin’ ya.”

Sombra laughed loudly, breaking away from McCree’s arm to slap him. “He did not!”

“Did too!”

“God, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever - no, you know what, I can believe it. Some stupid tonto did the same thing fighting that giant Overwatch monkey. Ruined the whole operation!” Sombra shook her head. Her smirk made it pretty clear she didn’t care about the mission, though – not past the hilarity of it being unraveled by a banana peel, anyway.

“Where do you even get people like that?”

“I dunno,” Sombra said. “Probably the same place you found those thugs.”

“...You got me there.”

Their laughter slowly ebbed into a comfortable silence. Sombra took up McCree’s arm again and he let her lead him along through the back streets of Dorado, smiling all the while. It was nice, just spending time with her like this. No pressure, just the promise of a good time. He already knew he was going to get laid, so going out for drinks like this… it felt more like a date than a booty call.

McCree’s smile faltered. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to think on it long. A voice snapped the cowboy out of his thoughts, and next thing he knew, someone in neon sugarskull-style face paint was jogging up to the two of them.

“No way! Is that you, Nacho?”

Sombra pulled away from McCree and took a few steps forward to meet… whoever this was. He must have been a friend, because as soon as she was close enough, he engulfed her in his big, strong arms and squeezed. Sombra laughed and returned the embrace. Even though she was noticeably less enthusiastic, McCree couldn’t help the strange pang in his chest at the display of familiarity.

“The one and only!” The man said. He pulled back from Sombra and grinned. “How you been, girl? It’s your birthday, right? Off to go celebrate?”

“You know it.” Sombra playfully punched Nacho’s arm. “Got someone else to pay for it, too.”

McCree’s brow twitched. He opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by a booming laugh from the other man. “Si, si, that’s my girl! So what is he, your boyfriend?”

Again, McCree felt an odd pang in his chest. He could feel his face redden a bit, but before he could say anything, Sombra waved her hand dismissively. “Pfff! No, no, nothing like that. Just an old friend come by for a visit.”

Friend. McCree frowned, though he wasn’t sure why that word made his brow furrow and his chest clench.

“Ah, good. I was worried for a second there that our little Oli--”

“Aaaaand speaking of which, we’d better get going! The tequila isn’t gonna drink itself, is it?” Sombra hastily moved back to McCree and began to pull him away. “Good seeing you, Nacho! Say hi to the gang for me.”

“You got it.” Nacho raised his arm to wave the two of them off. “Adios!” He called out, turning around and returning his own business.

Sombra breathed a loud sigh of relief. “Phew! Sorry about that. Wasn’t really expecting to run into him.”

“It’s all good,” McCree responded. But although he couldn’t quite put his finger on why, he felt anything but good about it.

---

They sat at a corner table. Sombra had ordered them each two tequila shots to kick the night off, then a local specialty - some neon green drink that tasted a lot stronger than it looked. McCree had no idea what the hell was in it.

“Whatever happened to a good, old fashioned whiskey?” McCree asked, teeth bared in a smile as he put his admittedly delicious green drink down.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like this,” Sombra retorted. Her cheeks were red with the beginnings of a drunken flush. And in the low light of the bar, McCree had to admit that she looked… stunning. It felt like too strong a word for the situation, but with every rotation of her wrist to stir her drink, Sombra edged closer and closer to the definition of it.

“Guilty as charged, for once.” McCree said. He took another sip while Sombra laughed at him, trying to hide how enamoured he was in that moment.

They sat in silence for another long while, just enjoying their drinks and the atmosphere. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; McCree wished he could say he was enjoying himself, but every time he tried to relax and just let the moment wash over him, he found his thoughts returning back to Nacho.

If Sombra noticed him stewing, she didn’t say anything. She just signaled to the bartender to bring two more drinks over - “Another of these for me, and a whiskey for my friend over here!”

There was that word again. Friend. That was what they were, weren’t they? Friends, but with benefits. And he liked it that way. He did, really. But something just… didn’t feel right about it tonight.

A waitress set their drinks down. McCree blinked, snapping out of his thoughts, and picked up the whiskey glass. “Thanks,” he said. Sombra just laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the one paying, you might as well get what you want.” She grinned and leaned over the table. “Old man. Can’t keep up with these hip new drinks?”

“It ain’t that!” McCree insisted, slapping the table playfully. Sombra reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing hard. Yeah, she was definitely well on her way to drunkenness. “And you ain’t that much younger than me anyway! I just never saw anythin’ this green occurrin’ naturally. You sure it’s safe?”

“Oh, yeah, me and the boys in Los Muertos used to drink this kind of thing all the time,” Sombra insisted.

And there it was. Just when he thought he was finally able to get away from thoughts of Nacho, he came right back into the conversation. Sombra must have noticed the souring of his expression at her words though, because she gave McCree’s hand another squeeze. A warm thrill shot through McCree’s arm, and he looked down at their joined hands. “What, don’t tell me you’re not okay with the fact I ran around with a gang? Mr. Teenage-founder-of-Deadlock?”

McCree shook his head. “Nah.”

“Then what?”

McCree paused. He really had to think about how to answer that. What was his problem? He didn’t care that Sombra used to be a member of Los Muertos - hell, she ran with Talon now, and that was about ten times worse. But he’d made peace with that, so why was he so bothered by this?

He frowned. It had nothing to do with Los Muertos, he decided, and everything to do with Nacho. He and Sombra had seemed… close. They were clearly friends, and from a time way back before McCree had ever known Sombra existed. Which meant that Nacho knew things about Sombra he didn’t. And, come to think of it, Sombra had never really been forthcoming about herself. He didn’t even know her name. Not her real one, anyway.

He’d known this for ages, of course. But it had never really bothered him until now.

“I dunno. Guess seein’ you with your friend got me thinkin’.”

“Friend? You mean Ignacio?” Sombra cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out where McCree was going with this. “I don’t know if I’d call us friends. Exes, maybe, but even that’s kind of being generous.”

McCree took hold of his whiskey again and lifted it to his lips to try to hide his deepening frown. “How d’you mean?”

Sombra shrugged. “We were in the same gang, around the same age. We made out a couple times. You know. We were young; it never went anywhere.”

McCree nodded. He felt a cool wave of relief wash over him, only for a fire to ignite again when Sombra said, “Nothing past a blowjob or two. Like I said, we were young and stupid. No big deal.”

McCree shrugged. “Right,” he said, trying his hardest to sound casual. He waited a moment, rolling a thought around in his mind before giving voice to it. Debating if he even should. But he had to; he had been preoccupied with it ever since he’d heard the sound of… something come from Ignacio’s mouth. Something that Sombra had been quick to cut off.

“So, there was one point while the two of you were talkin’,” McCree started slowly. The way Sombra tensed up under his gaze did not go amiss, but she tried to play it off by picking up her drink again. A trick she seemed to have picked up from him. “He started to say somethin’...”

Sombra took a long, loud pull of her drink. McCree frowned; it was clear she was avoiding the question.

After a moment, Sombra came up for air. She pushed her empty glass aside. “Look,” she said. “Why don’t we get out of here? We both know you didn’t come here to drink. I think it’s about time I got my real birthday present.”

McCree’s lips quirked up half-heartedly. He laughed hollowly, raised his whiskey to his mouth, and emptied the glass in one final swig. “Sounds like a plan.”

---

A few minutes and a lot more money than McCree would have liked to have spent later, they were back on their way to Sombra’s house. Fortunately, there were no more run-ins with her old gangmates, but the chatter between the two of them had definitely subsided in favour of contemplative silence.

McCree had no idea what Sombra was thinking about, but he couldn’t get his mind off of how little he knew about her. And, more importantly, how little Sombra was willing to tell him. Why couldn’t she just answer the one question--?

His thoughts were cut off abruptly when they arrived at Sombra’s home. He hadn’t even noticed how close they had been getting until they were at the front door and she was already shoving him inside and capturing his lips in a hungry kiss.

Something strange happened, however. Though their kiss had started out as passionate and lustful as ever, it soon slowed to something much softer, much gentler. It was almost like Sombra was asking him a question, trying to feel out what she could and couldn’t do. It was… weird. But McCree couldn’t say he didn’t like it.

Anger momentarily subsided, he lifted a hand to Sombra’s face and cupped her cheek gently. He opened his eyes and saw hers open too, staring at him wondrously.

McCree pulled back. “Everythin’ okay?” he asked, suddenly worried. Sombra blinked, like she was shaking herself out of a trance, and nodded hastily.

“Y-yeah,” she said. “Todo bien.”

McCree wasn’t totally convinced, but he decided not to press the issue this time. Besides, he was a little bit taken aback as well -- the way she was looking at him, eyes wide and shining, face flushed a pretty shade of red under her bold, dark makeup…

He leaned in and kissed her. It was just the same as before: soft and gentle, but a little more insistent this time. McCree’s heart beat rapidly, faster and harder than it ever had before when kissing Sombra. Something was… different. He couldn’t put his finger on it, though. Not quite.

Slowly, Sombra reached up and unwrapped the serape from McCree’s neck, slipping it off him and letting it fall to the floor. She pressed against him, chest to chest, slowly leading him back to the bed, but unwilling to break the connection of their lips. McCree groaned into the kiss when he felt a knee slide between his legs. Sombra slowly began to move it, gradually coaxing McCree to hardness.

He felt the backs of his calves hit the bedframe, and he wrapped his arms around Sombra’s waist to pull her down on top of him as he sat on the edge of the mattress. She crawled onto his lap, straddling him, and McCree pulled her down so her groin was flush with his. He slowly began to roll his hips up into hers, and Sombra moaned, grinding back down on him eagerly.

McCree slipped his hands under the hem of Sombra’s shirt and lifted it up over her head, finally breaking their kiss. As soon as it was off, Sombra reached forward to undo the buttons on McCree’s shirt.

“It’s too hot to wear long sleeves,” she said, voice uncharacteristically soft. “And with that stupid blanket of yours on, too… I’m amazed you didn’t get heat stroke.”

“I’ve been through worse,” McCree answered. He shrugged out of his shirt once Sombra got the last button open; it fell behind him, and a moment later Sombra had pushed him down flat on his back. She smiled before leaning in and kissing him again, one hand pushing his hair out of his face while the other began petting at the bulge in his jeans.

McCree moaned, opening his mouth just long enough to let Sombra slip her tongue inside it. His hands came up to her waist, stroking up her back until he reached her bra. He unhooked it deftly, by now used to doing it without looking. It fell loose. McCree slid his hands underneath the cups to grope and massage Sombra’s breasts.

The hacker keened into his mouth. She arched her back, inadvertently pressing herself closer to McCree. McCree took that chance to break the kiss and slide down the bed a few inches, just far enough he could kiss Sombra’s nipples and take one into his mouth. He sucked gently, reveling in the harsh breaths of air puffing from her lips. “F-Fuck…”

He reached around to smack her ass lightly before pulling off. “You like that, huh?”

Sombra just nodded and grinned down at him. “Shut up,” she said.

“Make me,” McCree said back.

And she tried, for a time. Sombra leaned down and kissed him again, but only long enough to steal his breath away. She came back up with a pop! and immediately slid down McCree’s body to undo his belt and fly. She kissed his dick through his jeans and rubbed circles into his thigh with her thumb.  With a sly look up at him, Sombra used her free hand to pull McCree’s cock out and stroke it slowly.

McCree’s breath rattled out from between his teeth as Sombra pressed her lips to the tip. He was almost tempted to start talking again, to tell her that she had yet to make him completely shut up, but anything he might have said evaporated on his tongue as she took him into her mouth completely.

Sombra was just as good as ever. She stuck her tongue out, pressing the flat of it against the bottom of his shaft as she bobbed her head up and down on it. She went slowly, taking in and savoring as much as she could. It was a little bit strange from her, since she was so often frenzied and desperate in her attentions, like she had to hurry or she’d never get another chance to blow him. McCree was enamoured; he stared down at her reverently, and instead of fisting a hand in her hair and pushing her forward, he simply petted Sombra, encouraging her to keep going at her own pace. Sombra sighed and hummed around him, sending a pleasant vibration through McCree’s cock that spread all throughout his core. His eyes fluttered shut and Sombra took him in all the way, lips wrapping around his base while his tip pressed against the back of her throat.

She pulled back and off of him, both of them loudly gasping for air. McCree hadn’t realized how close he was until the feeling of Sombra’s warm, wet mouth had left him, and he was suddenly glad for the break. He didn’t want this to end just yet.

Which, he realized, was another weird thought. Usually he couldn’t wait to come. He would take everything he could from Sombra and give her just as much back. It wasn’t unusual for the two of them to have come three or four times apiece by the end of the night, with a few short breaks in between to account for McCree’s refractory period.

But tonight was different. He didn’t want to take breaks. Didn’t want to just hurriedly take whatever Sombra offered. He didn’t want to render her a wordless, guileless mess of ecstatic screams and pleasure.

He wanted to treat her right.

Sombra shuffled up to him, still on her knees. Her hands on his thighs snapped McCree out of his thoughts once more. He gazed down at her. She smiled up at him, and he returned it easily.

“Come here,” he said.

Sombra came up quietly, crawling back to where she had been on his lap and holding herself just above his cock, ready to lower herself onto it at any second, but McCree shook his head. “Not this time,” he said quietly, reaching up to stroke her chin with his thumb. “I wanna watch you properly.”

It took a second for Sombra to register his meaning, but when she did, her eyes went wide. “...Oh,” she said, and nodded dumbly. McCree couldn’t help but laugh. He leaned up and kissed her softly, lips connected even as Sombra climbed back off of him and stood up. It only broke when McCree had to stand up as well to let her lie down.

“Go on,” McCree said. With a grin, Sombra rolled onto the bed, reached up, and beckoned McCree to follow her.

He did. He moved between her legs and she spread them willingly for him. McCree grinned and slipped a finger into Sombra. She hardly needed the stretch, but with the way she keened and moaned as he stroked her from the inside, she didn’t seem to mind.

“How’s that feel?” McCree asked, though he already knew the answer. Sure enough, Sombra laughed.

“Like you even need to ask,” she breathed out between gasps. She arched her back and groaned as McCree added another finger and began to thrust them in and out of her slowly.

“Just wanted to make sure,” he said. After another few thrusts, he pulled his fingers out and used the slick that coated them to partially lube himself up. McCree’s breath hitched as he stroked himself back to full mast and lined his cock up with Sombra’s pussy.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Always,” Sombra said.

McCree smiled, nodded, and slid inside her.

He moved slowly, watching Sombra’s face as he fully sheathed himself. Her eyes rolled shut and her lips fell open on a silent moan, her entire body seizing and quivering below him. Usually Sombra took him in quickly, grinning up at him and rolling her whole body into him in an attempt to make him feel even better, but McCree wondered if maybe he liked this better. She was so pretty like this, so beautiful…

And that’s when everything finally clicked. He’d never thought of her as beautiful before. Had never wanted to lean down and kiss her just for the sake of kissing her - it was always just a heat of the moment thing, because kissing was something you just did during sex. But this felt like more than just sex. This time, it felt like…

Sombra’s eyes fluttered open. She reached up and stroked McCree’s beard. “¿Qué pasa?” She asked, her voice rolling over him and warming his gut pleasantly.

“Nothing,” McCree said. “I just like the view.”

Sombra blinked and looked away. If McCree didn’t know any better, he’d have said she was blushing. She mumbled something under her breath he couldn’t catch, so McCree laughed and poked at her cheek. “What?”

“...I said it’s not so bad from down here, either.”

“...Oh.”

He was momentarily stunned into silence and stillness. Sombra refused to look at him directly again, but she wasn’t willing to wait for him to snap out of his stupor, so she took matters into her own hands and began to wiggle her hips, sending a wave of pleasure through McCree and thoroughly reminding him where he was and what he was doing.

“Right,” he muttered to himself. A second later, he was back at it, thrusting in and out of Sombra slowly and gently. Any snappy remarks she normally would have made to try and get him to speed up never made it past her lips tonight; she simply moaned whenever McCree did something good, gasped out “yes, yes, yes,” as he found a better angle and position, and wrapped her legs around his waist, not to control the pace, but to bring him as close to her as he could.

McCree buried his face in Sombra’s neck, inhaling deeply and pressing his lips to her soft, sweat-damp skin. She turned her head, the soft, almost muted whines spilling from her lips close enough McCree could hear them loud and clear. A hand roamed down his back, smooth, manicured nails leaving light trails behind them in their wake. McCree groaned, already starting to get close…

And then Sombra undid him. She sighed into his ear and a chill ran through his body, but the pleasure of that was nothing at all compared to what he felt when she pressed her lips to his ear and breathed, “Jesse…”

McCree would not be able to recall later exactly the kind of noise he made as he came, but he was certain he would have to insist it was deep and manly as ever, instead of the strangled whine it more likely was. He felt Sombra shudder against him a moment after he finished. She came too, a quiet mantra of “Jesse, Jesse, Jesse,” spilling from her lips as she did. McCree kept thrusting into her through it, hoping he could stay hard enough to last for her. He did, but only because the way she tightened around him felt so good he couldn’t help himself.

When they both finished, Sombra fell back flat against the bed, her legs and arms falling spread-eagle from where they had been clinging to McCree. McCree pulled out of her slowly and rolled over to sit next to her, returning the dopey, sex-stupid grin Sombra gave him.

They stayed like that a few minutes, relaxing and trying to catch their breaths. McCree’s eyes slid shut and he came dangerously close to nodding off before he suddenly heard Sombra speak. “Olivia.”

“Hm?” McCree cracked an eye open and sat up a little, looking at Sombra curiously. Her expression was unreadable, and for a moment, McCree wondered which one of them seemed more vulnerable.

“Olivia. That’s what Nacho was going to say. Before, I mean.”

At the mention of Ignacio, McCree’s heart tightened. He swallowed thickly and nodded. “I see,” he said. “So does that mean…”

“That’s my name,” Sombra continued. “Olivia Colomar.”

“Olivia Colomar.” McCree repeated the name reverently, rolling it on his tongue and savouring it like a forbidden treat. In many ways, that was exactly what it was.

He took Sombra’s -- Olivia’s -- hand and lifted it to his lips. “Olivia Colomar,” he said again. “Now if that ain’t the most beautiful name I ever did hear.”

Sombra pulled her hand away, but her smile and the way she giggled betrayed how much she liked the compliment. “Whatever, cowboy,” she said. “Just don’t go spreading it around, okay?”

“You’ve got my word,” McCree assured her, putting his hand over his heart before lying back down and pulling Olivia to him.

As she fell asleep in his arms, McCree smiled to himself. She had his word on keeping quiet about her name, but McCree was still searching for some words himself. He knew what this feeling was that was slowly blooming in his chest, and though he wasn’t sure now was the right time to say it, he knew that eventually, he would be able to put it into words.

For now, though, he would just enjoy what he had. “Good night, Olivia. Happy Birthday.”

[turtle-steverogers]

Departed Chap 6 Pt 2

Ship: Slow burn Sprace

Warnings: Flashback type thing. Albert being a dumbass

Spot was shocked awake by the sound of loud banging at his apartment door. He closed his eyes, willing whoever was knocking to go away. It was Christmas morning for chrissakes, couldn’t he sleep?

The knocking persisted and he felt Race groan against his chest, “Spottie, go get that and tell whoever it is to shut the fuck up.”

Spot pulled himself from Race’s embrace and stumbled out of his bedroom. Whoever was at the door was still knocking.

“Shut up, I’m comin’!” Spot shouted. He opened the door and was greeted with Albert and Finch, both wearing reindeer antlers.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas!” Albert exclaimed, smiling brightly.

“Albert Schuyler DaSilva, it is too early for you to-”

“We brought Christmas breakfast,” Finch cut in, holding up a dish with a basket of bagels balanced on top.

Spot held the door open wider, “I hope ya know m’only lettin’ you guys in cuz you brought food. Any other circumstance I’d have slammed the door in ya faces.”

“Oh, we know,” Albert said, making his way to Spot’s bedroom, “ANTONIO HIGGINS, GET THE FUCK UP! IT’S CHRISTMAS!”

“FUCK YOU, ALBERT!”

Albert walked over to where Spot and Finch were setting the table, “He’ll be comin’.”

Sure enough, Race walked out of the bedroom two minutes later, wearing an old Christmas sweater, “Hey, Finch?”

“Yeah?”

“Your boyfriend is awful.”

“I know,” Finch said, leaning over and kissing the offended look off of Albert’s face.

The four boys dug into the feast, “Y’all doin’ anythin’ today?” Albert asked, mouth full of cinnamon roll.

“Don’t eat with your mouth full, love,” Finch piped up.

Albert frowned and swallowed, “So are y’all?”

“We’re gonna go down to Rockefeller Center ta see the big tree,” Spot said, spreading cream cheese onto a bagel.

“We are?” Race cocked his head.

“Oh yeah, forgot to ask ya,” Spot said, “Hey, Race, wanna go see the big tree in Rockefeller Center?”

Race rolled his eyes, “Yeah, Spot, I’ll go see the big tree with ya.”

Spot kicked him under the table and Race laughed, “Anyway, yeah that’s our plan. What about you guys?”

Finch shrugged, “Nothin’ really. Prolly gonna watch some Christmas movies and make cookies.”

“You guys can come see the tree with us if ya want,” Spot offered, “I was thinkin’ of goin’ around 8 ish.”

Albert and Finch exchanged a glance, “Okay, sure.” Albert said, “Y’all are welcome to come make cookies with us before.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Race said, cheerfully.

The table was cleared not long afterward and Spot and Race went to get dressed while Albert and Finch relaxed in the living room. Spot tugged off his pajama shirt and pants, then rummaged through his drawers for a clean long-sleeved shirt. The door to the bathroom opened and Spot thanked the heavens that he was wearing boxer briefs at the moment.

“Oh shit, Spot, sorry. Shoulda made sure you were decent,” Race spluttered, turning an impressive shade of red.

Spot hastily pulled on a pair of jeans, “S’fine, man. S’not like you haven’t seen me in a swimsuit or somethin’ before.”

“Dude, Tae Kwon Do is makin’ you ripped,” Race blurted. His eyes widened when he realized what he had just said, “I am fuckin’ up so badly right now, so I’ma jus’, uh, walk out of the room.”

Spot watched, half-amused and thoroughly flustered as Race backed out of his bedroom. He blinked a few times to compose himself, then pulled on a grey sweater that he’d forgotten he owned before exiting his room as well.

“Cookie time!” Albert cheered. They made the short walk across the hall to Albert and Finch’s apartment. Upon entry, Albert and Race made a beeline to the fridge and pulled out two packs of Pillsbury Christmas tree cookies.

“These are better than drugs and no one can convince me otherwise,” Race said, ripping open a pack and placing them on a cookie tray that Albert had supplied.

“I agree with that statement and I’m a strong believer in weed solving all of life’s problems.” Albert said, earning a scoff from Race.

Spot and Finch sat in the living room as the other two boys baked the cookies.

“How’s Race been?” Finch asked after several minutes of comfortable quiet.

Spot shrugged, “He has his ups and downs. He’s still avoiding talkin’ about Melissa too much, which kinda worries me.”

“That’s valid, ‘specially after the way he reacted when she showed up at ya door like a freaky bitch.”

Spot scoffed, “That about sums her up- and yeah, she’s definitely affected him way more than he lets on.”

“I wonder if it’s not necessarily that he’s afraid of lookin’ weak or sum, rather he jus’ doesn’t wanna acknowledge that he went through somethin’ like that,” Finch said, thoughtfully, “I remember when Al was in that car crash n’ he lost his brother, he refused to talk about it for months. When he finally did, it was like he was truly acceptin’ it for the first time...God that was messy.”

Spot frowned, he remembered the several months following Albert’s accident. It had been their freshman year of college and for a while, Albert had seemed like nothing but a shell of the charismatic person he usually was. His brother, Henry, had been the closest person to him and losing him had near killed him. What Race had gone through had not been of the same nature as Albert’s experience, but it definitely had instilled a similar trauma into him.

“Yeah, it would make sense if it’s somethin’ like that,” Spot said, “I guess he’ll talk when he’s ready.”

“Time is all ya can give these kinds of thing,” Finch sighed.

“I suppose.”

Albert and Race came out with a plate full of cookies, “Movie marathon time!” Race said, “Albert and I made a list of the movies we’re watchin’ today. First is a Christmas Story.”

XXX

At 7:45, the four boys were gearing up to go. Finch had suggested they make hot cocoa to bring, so they all were carrying Christmas themed thermoses that they had found in the apartment.

“I’m so excited,” Race said as he pulled on the hat that Spot had let him keep after their ice skating excursion, “I haven’t been ta see the tree in years.”

“I’ve never been,” Albert admitted.

Spot turned to him in shock, “You’re tellin’ me you’ve lived in New York City all your life and you haven’t seen the big tree?”

“I’ve only been livin’ here since I was fourteen and I’ve been,” Finch added.

“My parents weren’t big on Christmas, okay? Not my fault,” Albert huffed.

Race laughed and clapped him on the back, “No worries, brother. We’re here to help ya lose your Rockefeller Center Tree virginity.”

“Why d’you hafta word things the way you do?” Spot asked and Race wrinkled his nose, pulling his scarf on.

They arrived at Rockefeller Center to find it bustling with people. The tree looked magnificent. It towered over the square, lighting it up with brilliant white lights. A soft blue glow was spread across the ice skating rink directly under where the tree stood, adding a mystical aura to the area. Spot glanced over to Race, who was staring in awe up at the tree. The blue glow reflected in his eyes, making them impossibly bluer. The lights from the tree reflected off his fair skin and Spot couldn’t help but think how beautiful he looked as he stood, completely enraptured by the scene before him. Race turned his head and made eye contact with Spot.

He smiled and reached out to hold onto one of Spot’s hands, “Spot, this is beautiful. I’m really glad we came.”

“I am too,” Spot said. Race stepped closer to Spot’s side and laced their fingers together. They stood, sipping their hot cocoa and taking in the sights and sounds of New York City on Christmas for what felt like an eternity.

Their peace was interrupted however by the sounds of several cars honking loudly. Race jumped, his hot cocoa mug slipping from his hands and spilling it’s contents down the front of Spot’s shirt.

“Shit! Ow,” Spot exclaimed, jumping backwards.

“Fuck, Spot I’m so sorry,” Race said, backing away, “I-I’m sorry, I-” His breath hitched and Spot looked up from his shirt to see Race with his eyes squeezed shut, covering his mouth with one hand. From where he stood, he could tell Race was shaking. He doubled over slightly and Spot forced himself to recover from his shock. He carefully walked towards where Race was standing, reminding himself not to touch him. People were starting to stare and Spot glanced around to look for some kind of cover. There were a few storefronts a little ways away that looked pretty vacant, so he decided to aim for those.

“Hey Race, canya hear me?” He asked, working to keep his tone soothing and not at all accusatory. Race didn’t answer and Spot cursed to himself.

Albert and Finch materialized by his side, “What happened?” Finch asked, alarmed.

“He spilled his hot cocoa on me,” Spot answered, his attention still directed towards Race, who was visibly crying now, “Racer, c’mon. Are ya hearin’ me?”

Race backed up another step, “I-I’m sorry,” Spot heard him whisper.

Spot stepped closer, “Antonio, I needya ta listen. C’mon, I promise I’m not mad and I’m not gonna touch ya. Canya please hear me?” Spot begged. He felt helpless.

Albert stepped tentatively next to Spot, “I think he’s havin’ like a flashback sorta thing. I used ta get ‘em after..ya know. Can I try to-” He gestured towards Race and Spot nodded. Albert walked carefully over to Race so he was standing right next to him.

“Race,” He said, softly, “It’s me, Albert. Jus’ me n’ you here. I promise that’s all that’s happenin’. Canya open your eyes, please? I promise, it’s Albert. You can open your eyes and you’ll be safe.”

Spot watched as Race blinked open his eyes. He flinched violently before making eye contact with Albert. The relief that flitted across his features broke Spot’s heart.

Albert continued, “Nice job, dude. Think we can move somewhere a lil’ quieter? I think that might make ya feel better.”

Race nodded and the two of them weaved through the crowd towards the storefronts Spot had noticed earlier. Finch and him exchanged a look before hurrying after them. They got caught behind a few groups of people and by the time they got to the other two, Race had stopped crying.

“You good, man?” Finch asked, sympathetically.

Race shrugged, “Yeah, m’better. Sorry ‘bout your shirt, Spot.”

“It’s okay, Race, I swear ta ya I ain’t mad or nothin’.” Race nodded.

“Why don’t we head back?” Albert suggested.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Spot agreed.

Back at the apartment, Spot waited in the bedroom while Race took a shower. He mentally replayed what Albert had done to help Race in case he’d ever have to get Race through a bad situation again, though he prayed to anyone who could be listening that he wouldn’t. Race emerged from the bathroom looking drained. He sat down on the bed by Spot’s feet.

“I want to talk about it. I want to share more than I have,” He paused and took a deep breath, “I need to talk it out, I know that I won’t get past it if I don’t. It just-” His voice cracked and Spot sat up to run a hand up and down his back, “It just hurts so goddamn much. She hurt me so goddamn much and I don’t wanna live it again by talking about it.”

Even from his space behind him, Spot could tell that Race was holding back tears.

He stopped rubbing his back and reached for one of Race’s hands, “Talk about it when you’re ready. I’m here to listen whenever that is. You’re not alone, Race. You’re not goin’ through this alone.”

“I’m sorry I ruined Christmas- and your shirt.”

“You didn’t ruin anythin’, Race. Nothin’ that happened tonight was your fault.”

Race gave a watery laugh, “What did I do to deserve you, Spot?”

“You deserve everything good, Race. You deserve support and help and love.”

Race didn’t answer. Instead, he gave Spot’s hand a squeeze and laid back against his chest. Spot lifted his free hand and carded it through Race’s hair. He began to softly hum under his breath until he could feel Race’s breath even out into sleep- finally looking at peace.

TAG LIST: @bencookisagod @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable @aw-jus-let-em-spook @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @thatpoorguysheadisspinning @newsies-of-nyc @andthewoildwillknow

[beheadingofmakai]

“Exorcist” Is A Strong Word

<- Previous Chapter

5:31 AM was not a nice hour to be up and about for Vinn Ingram, but there simply was no other choice. Sure, the cold winds that blow through Mint Hill Street were a very convincing argument to buy a scarf the moment today was over, the uphill walk made paying a taxi very, very attractive even though it was a short walk, and the deadly combination of both made our new Exorcist miss his bed sheets with the agony of a lover who left his sweetheart behind to go to the war, but alas, this was a necessary evil if he ever was to see his workplace at all. At the Seventh Office of the Mythic Affairs Bureau, work hours begin at 7:00 AM, which is a whole one hour and twenty nine minutes our daring star could’ve spent tucked in bed dreaming about sunshine and puppies, but if the last two days were any indication, this was a bad idea, and that bad idea has a name: Bastian Ashfield, his partner.

“Mother fu... Arc damned cold wind... Uphill walk in the middle of... This better be worth it...” muttered the displeased Vinn to himself, making his walk under the purple early morning skies. Two days ago, Bastian raided his apartment and snatched him away to a sudden necromancy case, and yesterday, Bastian once more got him by the cuffs and got him working with a truant demon after an exorcism. These last two days, he’d been roped into all this work without being able to even see his office or meet his other colleagues. For a top scorer like Vinn, this was like a rusty, jagged spoon to the heart, as it was vastly unprofessional from him to not even greet his other seniors at the office just because this hydromancing asshole of a tyrant decided to start paying him house visits. Well, no more! Today, Vinn left far earlier than he was supposed to, as he wasn’t gonna risk a third day of impromptu plate-juggling. Maybe now, finally, he was gonna be able to do things right.

But Arc damn the wind is cold.

“I should almost be... Oh! That over there is the office, isn’t it?”. Vinn perked up and broke into a calm jog, and indeed it was. A four story building, solid and made of brick, with a large sign that read the “7th Office” in bold black letters. It didn’t indicate what it was the office of, just that it was the 7th. Magic and the supernatural is a well kept secret, after all, so whoever stumbled in there by accident would just be told a lie about this being a real estate firm or maybe an engineering firm. At long last, Vinn was going to be able to meet people that hopefully weren’t condescending jerks!

As Vinn approached the building, the door swung open, and what strode out froze Vinn in his tracks. A very tall woman, at least two heads taller than Vinn, with long dark green hair and a somewhat dark complexion, but the prodigious height and the curious colors of the dame weren’t what paralyzed Vinn, it was the long, curved, thick black horns that protruded from her head that did, peeking through holes in her large brimmed hat. 

“Hm? Hey there, I haven’t seen you around before” the mountain spoke. “For consultations and filing reports, head to the left desk, and for general questions, the help desk is on the right. We’ll help you in however way we can.”

“...Oh!” finally reacted Vinn, taking his eyes off the horns, hoping he didn’t offend. “Oh, thank you, but I work here, actually, it’s good to meet you, I started two days ago, my name is Vinn Ingram.” Upon hearing this, the woman brought a hand to her mouth in surprise, and immediately smiled gracefully, lifting her hat just slightly so she could take a better look at him with her piercing crimson eyes.

“Ah! You’re one of the graduates! How silly of me, my apologies, I assumed you were a new client. I haven’t seen you around, but, well, I suppose the same can be said for others, hmhm. Well met, Vinn Ingram.” -- the woman bowed with dignity and poise found only on professionals -- “I am Fatima Allanach, Exorcist here at the Seventh. Have been for years now. A pleasure to meet you. I would love to chat with you more, but I need to go out for something rather pressing right now. Which division are you on? I’d love to drop by later to properly meet you when time isn’t a pressing concern.”

“Oh, no no, don’t let me hold you back, the pleasure is all mine!” hastily replied the novice. “I’m in the 3rd Division.”

“The 3rd... That’s... I see, so you must be an intel support, then? Well, have fun with Nicholas, he’s kind of a stick in the mud before 9:30, but he’s very good at what he does. You’ll learn much. Well, farewell, until later.”

With a graceful half-bow and a smile, the large woman in the trench coat walked away, her horns disappearing from sight as soon as she headed to the streets. Can’t be seen with those by civilians, after all. Vinn couldn’t help but wonder what she meant by “intel support”. He was very much a fully fledged Exorcist, and his partner was Bastian, not some “Nicholas”. Well, whatever, he thought, maybe she was just confused and in a hurry. They’d meet later, so no biggie.

Finally at the 3rd floor, Vinn looked up which office was the 3rd Division’s in his briefing e-mail. It was more than a bit daunting when his worst suspicions were confirmed and that large, imposing cast iron door was, indeed, his office. With someone like Bastian on their payroll, however, the iron door made complete sense, unfortunately. “Well, whatever, let’s get to it.”

The already small room behind the iron door was made even smaller by the sheer amount of chaos within. Paperwork everywhere, pizza boxes, the scent of coffee and mana leftovers mixing into what can only be described as a terrorist attack on the senses, and one very bitter-looking blonde man sitting at the very end of the room, surrounded by cabinets, coffee mugs, and his computer, mashing away at that keyboard like it owed him money. 

“Uh, he--”

“And why the hell are you here this early again, Bastian! Can I just not have my own little world of-- Huh?”

“Um.”

“Oh.”

The red haired man and the blonde bitterness extract given a human form looked at each other awkwardly for a second, before the latter finally threw a brick and smashed the silence. “...Who, who the hell ar-- Who might you be? This is the 3rd Division, I think you got the wrong door, pal.”

“Uh, hey there, no, I work here. Effective as of two days ago, but it’s my first time showing up due to... Exceptional reasons, I guess. I’m Vinn Ingram, assigned here as of August 4th, a pleasure to meet you, Mister...?”

“No Vinn works here, dude, just go to your office.”

“Um, sir? I do work here, it says as much in this e-mail, I’ve been working for two days now on field.” 

“No you don’t.”

“Sir...”

“Dude, come on, I know everyone in this office and-- Hold that phone, what did you say your name was again?”

“V-Vinn Ingram, partner of--”

Whatever came after his last name fell upon deaf ears and was drowned by the loud tik and tak of the keyboard’s cry for help as the blonde man’s fingers struck it with surgical precision. A few seconds of awkward keyboard sounds later, the man’s face seemed to be right out of the cover of a cheap gas station horror novel. “Bastian’s partner? That Vinn?”

“That’d be me, yeah.”

“What the fuck, you haven’t quit yet?”

“E-excuse me?”

        Of incense, ink stains, and the murky menace lurking beneath it all:                                        – Chapter 3: Neon War Paint –

“Oh, um, ahem, h-hey, welcome, Vinn, welcome! I just, mm, never really expected anyone partnered with Bastian to last more than one assignment with him. Or less than one, really. I hope you’ll understand, he’s kind of, mm, not a very nice person.”

“Oh, trust me, I could gather that much. But yeah, I’m here, alive and willing still, somehow.”

Molotov cocktails burst green with envy at the explosive laughter the man by the computer just showcased with peerless cacklesmanship. “By the Arc, man, you really went and... I’m Nicholas Dunbar, Seventh Office 3rd Division information agent, assistant, and secretary, an actual honor to meet anyone who somehow survived Bastian.”

Vinn could only sigh, half laughing and half crying internally. “Vinn Ingram, once again, now assigned to this office as that oaf’s partner, the pleasure is mine. So, um, Nicholas, is Bastian just... Like that? In general?”

“He very much is like that in general.” replied the intel agent as he prepared some coffee on the worn, jury rigged coffee maker that had what was very clearly a band aid somewhere on its base. “See, the thing is, you’re the fourth partner that’s been assigned to him, and the only to survive the ordeal without quitting the job or requesting a transfer after... Well, not after, during the first day.”

“And I can see why. I’m here this early because he kept going to my place and roping me into more stuff, telling me he has to test me on this and test me on that, what a prick.” Vinn recounted as he tried to navigate this disaster room of pizza boxes and stray paperwork, making a futile attempt to find his desk.

“Yeah, you’re actually the only one I’ve met, haha. I kinda just assumed you’d be roadkill as well, no offense. You aren’t the top scorer of the Mythic Law Enforcement Academy for nothing, after all. Man, Bastian is real good at this job, one of the best, I dare say, but his people skills just haven’t been the same anymore...”

This last statement perked the novice Exorcist. “Mm? What do you mean with ‘anymore’?” The inquiry clearly changed something in the atmosphere, as Nicholas simply looked down and then at the coffee maker, gripping it by the handle and serving two piping hot mugfuls of coffee, offering one to Vinn.

“I can’t really tell you, man. I hope you understand. It’s kinda personal to him, and I’m not about the snitch life.”

“Ah, no no, sorry, didn’t mean to put you in the spot. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Say, since you’re here early, I might as well tour you through the Seventh, what do you say? Introduce you to the people, show you where stuff is, the works.” offered the intel agent, sipping his coffee, his voice certainly softer than before. This wasn’t an offer Vinn was going to turn down.

“I’d very much like that!”

                                                         ——-

The Seventh was a sturdy, spacious building. That cramped little hellroom that was the 3rd Division was not indicative of just how impressive and accommodating the rest of it was. Air conditioning, ample hallways, and effective use of space made it easy to navigate through and easy to fit all the relevant facilities. It certainly was a whole different beast from the antiquated brick fortress that it seemed to be from the outside. Nicholas and Vinn made small talk as they passed by the various other offices, most of them empty due to how early it was, heading to the Infirmary in the first floor.

“The Infirmary is open practically all the time, and it’s the first place you go to after an assignment, and the last place you go to before clocking out and leaving for the day.” Nicholas explained as he ringed the bell. “Cordiality is nice, but it doesn’t mean much in general in the Seventh, since we are all about getting the job done first and foremost. However, if there’s anyone you gotta be good with, that’s the Infirmary crew, because these people keep us alive. I think you’ll agree with me when I say you’d rather be on good terms with the people in charge of keeping you alive, yeah?”

“Hah, no argument there. I planned to come here first thing after finding the 3rd Division.” Vinn replied, adjusting his vest as Nicholas opened the door. “Hold on, don’t we have to wait for them to give us the ok?”

“I mean, by protocol, yeah, but as long as you ring the bell, Aria doesn’t really mind if you come in, Mister Stiff.” laughed the intel agent. “Can’t blame ya, though. You are the top scorer of this year’s promotion, so I assumed you’d be kinda stiff, but man, trust me, real work is a lot more... Earthly, if you will. Don’t take all those regulations and strict protocols to heart. As long as you do your job, no one minds.”

Vinn shrugged his shoulders as if saying “I guess”, which only prompted another chuckle from Nicholas. Inside the Infirmary, a woman with two large white wings and a long lab coat checked a clipboard and wrote on a little notebook propped on a desk. “Hey, mornin’, doc!” greeted Nicholas, prompting her to turn around with a pleasant smile and kind eyes.

“Hey, Nick, good day! Hm? Who’s the kid?” the doctor enthusiastically replied as she set down her clipboard. “Oh, one of the fresh meat, huh? Hey, I’m the patch up artist around these parts, name’s Aria, a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Aria, I’m Vinn Ingram, ‘fresh meat’ at the 3rd Division. We’ll be seeing each other.”

“Oh, so you are a new intel agent? You’re lucky, Nick is awesome at his job, just, be sure not to catch him before 9:30, he’s kinda--”

“Oh no no, he’s not mine, Aria.” interrupted Nicholas, a wry grin plastered on his face. “Take a wild freakin’ guess who he is partnered with.”

Aria tilted her head in confusion, looked at him real good, the ol’ tip to toe scan with the eyes, and she realized, given his build, that he was no pen pusher. Those strong limbs were for working out in the field. “Wait, Bastian’s!? No way, but it’s the 6th! Any partner of his should have transferred already! Holy moly, you are some next level shit, aren’t you?”

Nicholas laughed out loud while Vinn simply sighed and pinched his nose. “Yeah, I guess I am fecal matter of the next degree. Man, he really is infamous for this, isn’t he?” The two of them laughed, but before Aria replied, she caught the Nicholas’ eyes, insolence brewing behind them.

“Oh... You wanna do that, huh...? Ok... Hey, Vinn, I applaud your manners for not pointing out my wings.” said Aria. “People usually get impressed by them and sometimes, it get uncomfortable, so hey, nice. But, at the same time, I can’t help but be a bit disappointed, since I am proud of them, as an Angel and all.”

Those last words perked Vinn up. “An Angel, you say...?”

“Yup! Ain’t the Seventh impressive? We practically have a demon in Bastian, so we make up for that with an actual Angel in our Infirmary. Not something many offices can claim, yeah?”

It’s true that those impressive, white feathered wings were the definition of majestic in any dictionary you could find, but Vinn didn’t seem impressed at all. “She’s not an Angel, though.” he declared.

“Oh?” Aria smirked. “I am, though. What proof do you have that I am not an Angel? Are you saying these wings are fake?”

“It’s true that you have not moved your wings at all, so they could be a prop, but no, they are the real deal. However, ‘wings’ does not equate to ‘Angel’. No offense intended, but the palms of your hands are very rugged, and your musculature in general suggests heavy physical work, instead of the more magically inclined personality of Angels. Speaking of your hands, you did a pretty good job trimming them, but I can tell those talons grow up to be very strong, sharp, and destructive. You’re not an Angel, Miss Aria, you’re a Harpy.”

The rapid fire analysis left both Nicholas and Aria dumbfounded for all of five silent seconds before they both broke into laughter. “Oh, wow! This kid is the real shit, ain’t he? Damn, when was the last time, anyone saw through this little prank, Nicholas?”

“Wasn’t it Fatima many years ago? Haha, damn, anyways, that was impressive, I’d expect no less from top scorer of this year’s promotion. Nice job, Vinn.”

The young man was getting a bit flustered with all this praise and attention, but thankfully, before he had to say anything, the bell rang again, and the door swung open, a tall, muscular, blonde man wearing sunglasses walking in shortly after.

“Heyo, doc, I’m sorry I didn’t come before, I came t’ greet ya! Name’s... Oh, Ingram?”

“...Hold on, you’re Daryl. Hello.”

“Oh, you two know each other?” Nicholas inquired, resting against a nearby counter top.

“Yeah!” the large blonde lad replied. “We both graduated this year. Ingram’s the top of the class, so I remember him. Didn’t know ya were here, dude.”

“Likewise. I wouldn’t have expected to meet you so soon after graduation. Good to see you. Which division are you on?” Vinn cordially conversed. 

“2nd, the boss woman told me to go greet people already, got kinda mad that I hadn’t yet, so here I am. Heyo doc, and heyo other dude I don’t know, here’s to some good ass work and all that.”

“Nicholas, good to meet you, though I am just the tech dude at the 3rd, it’s this lady you oughta pay your respects to. She’s a nice Angel doctor that’ll keep you in this world, no matter how banged up you get.” the intel agent explained, a chuckle already charging up behind his lips.

“Wait, an Angel!?” yelled the shocked Daryl.

“Oh, don’t say that so loud, I get kinda conscious... But yes, I am Doctor Aria, pleased to meet you. I hope you’ll trust my--!”

In a move that shut everyone in the room, Daryl approached Aria and outright kissed her, holding her chin up to better feel her tongue with his. When it was all said and done, Daryl simply took a contemplative hand to his chin. “Ya ain’t no Angel. You’re a Harpy. See, Angels have soft tongues, and kissing them feels like warm honey bathin’ yer tongue, an indescribable feelin’, really. But yer tongue was thick, rough, and strong. It wasn’t warm honey, it was more like a powerful adversary, a tongue to remember, ‘cause it ain’t easy. I like Harpy kisses far more than Angel kisses, there’s that roughness to them that makes them--”

The sound of her palm meeting his face echoed in the Infirmary.

“How dare you...!?” the doctor exclaimed, slapping him across the face.

“Ooph, yeah, see, Angels don’t slap like that, that’s a Harpy’s strong hand, alriOOPH.”

“What the fuck are you doing, dumbaaaaaaass?!”

The sound of his spine singing a melody of pain and regret echoed in the infirmary as his body was lifted off the ground by a single righteous uppercut.

“Yep, just on time, if you’re in the 2nd, then your partner is...”

“W-woah what the hell!?”

With just a single punch, the large blonde man was downed. Behind him, a brawny, tough-looking woman stood with the River Styx in her eyes, shooting ballistic missiles at the battered young man with her glare.

“I take my eyes off you for one second and you’re already doing dumb shit again! I am so sorry, Aria, this one’s on me, I’ll buy you all your drinks next time we go out drinking, ok? Please forgive this good for nothing piece of shit!” the big woman apologized as she stomped on the downed idiot.

“F-Fiona, don’t worry about it! It’s fine, it’s fine, don’t kill him in the Infirmary, please, that’s a lot of paperwork to deal with!”

Lifting him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the imposing woman desperately apologized. “I’ll educate this dipshit, even if it kills me, or if it kills him! I’ll go now, see y...ou? Hey, who’s this kid, Nick? New techie for the the 3rd?”

“Naw, he’s Bastian’s.”

“Cut the bullshit.”

“I am not dumb enough to lie to you, Fi.”

Fiona’s eyes widened. “You’re legit his partner? Woah, some big fat balls of brass, you must have! Well, kid, introductions will have to wait ‘till later, I have a shithead to lecture. Try not to get killed. Let’s go, you imbecile.”

“M-my spine... Let me get it checked first...” begged Daryl like a beefy, floppy sack of wounded potatoes with all the dignity of a headless chicken.

“Oh, sleep it off, ya wuss, let’s go.”

As fast as she came, this tornado of a woman left, leaving Vinn speechless. “Is she... Is she always like that? Who was that? Did that really just happen?”

“That’s Fiona, and yeah, that’s her modus operandi. Leaving the door open is also part of her, but she’s a lovable tower of muscle and alcohol.” explained the doctor, going back to her clipboard. “Be a dear and close it, will you?”

As Vinn approached the door left open by the human cyclone, he spotted her outside, still carrying Daryl, being lecture by a tall, thin man who had an aura of authority and resignation to him. Before him, however, Fiona couldn’t stop bowing apologetically.

“Well, that’s our Fiona, 2nd Division Exorcist. Watch in awe as she is lectured by the Chief because her cropped tank top, ‘perfume’ that smells like 6 AM tequila, and habit of carrying coworkers like veggies at market spit in the soup of Officewear Regulations. Heh, this is a daily show by now.” Nicholas elaborated, as if watching a movie while eating pop corn. “You know about Oni, Vinn?”

“Oh! She’s an oni? That explains the strength and the pungent stench of alcohol.”

“Nope, she’s married to one, and he’s helping her with her drinking habits.”

“...Classy. So, that’s the Chief, huh? I’d better go say hi to him now.”

“Woah there, buddy, I’d suggest not. He’s lecturing her right now, but he’s a very busy man, especially in the mornings. Leave him for the afternoon.”

“Is he a hardass or something?”

“Not... Quite, just trust me on this one. Let’s go back to our office, Dani should be here by now.”

“If you say so. Bye, Miss Aria, have a good day.”

“Mmhm. Have a good one, you two, I hope you survive, Vinn.” the doctor expressed with no ill will whatsoever, waving a friendly hand goodbye.

                                                        ——-

The more one looked at the office, the more it seemed that the door frame was a portal to a different dimension. How could this pigsty possibly be in the same physical plane, let alone building, than the neat everything else? There was a difference now, however: A lone girl sat by another desk.

“It’s weird not seeing you here first thing in the morning, Nick. I was wondering where you went.” she greeted.

“Yeah, was just showing the newbie around. Lookin’ good, Dani.” Nicholas chimed back with Vinn on tow, who politely nodded as if to greet her.

“Oh? New tech g--”

“Bastian’s partner...” Vinn clarified for what felt like the tenth time this morning.

“What!? Bast--”

“Please.” Vinn begged for what felt like the tenth time this morning. It was getting tedious.

“Oh, pfff, yeah, I guess you’ve already gotten your fair share of dumbfounded responses. Sorry about that! I’m Danielle, just call me Dani, though.” the girl responded before moving away from her desk without standing up, traversing through the pizza boxes and paperwork in a motorized wheelchair, controlled by a little controller on the right hand rest. Of note, her left hand and leg were prosthetic. Accompanied with the soft sound of her wheelchair’s motor’s vibration, Dani approached Vinn and offered her right hand, which he shook. “I’m the communications expert here, and since you’ll be working with us now, you’ll need one of these.” Her prosthetic hand held a firm grip on the bag while her regular hand rummaged in it, the sounds of junk and crumpling plastic raising many questions as to what was actually inside the otherwise trendy looking little bag. With an expression of eureka, she seemed to have finally found the desired item, which he proudly offered to the novice Exorcist: A tin can.

“A... Tin can? Wait, now that you mention it, Bastian had one just like this two days ago...” Vinn pondered, as he examined the item in vain.

“Ah! You were there when the Siren was sent in!? That jerk didn’t mention you at all in his reports! I will have some words with him, the nerve!” Dani fumed as she kicked her feet in frustration, nothing new when regarding Bastian and his old tricks. “Anyways, yes, that right there is a prim and proper tin can, but it may save your life.”

“There’s really nothing special about it, though... I don’t sense anything.”

“Eyup, it’s not until I do this--” With a touch of he right hand’s finger, the can suddenly pulsated, Vinn’s head throbbing as a sharp note drowned everything else in the room, only the can’s ‘heartbeat’ audible to him, until a few seconds later, his senses returned to normal, his head ringing like a struck bell no more. “--llo? Hello? Earth to Vinn?”

“Ugh... Yeah, I hear you... What was that? My head felt like it was going to explode for a second.” Vinn replied, clutching his thankfully unexploded head.

“Yeah, happens the first time. I’ve linked the tin can with you. Now, what this does is...” Danielle moved towards her desk again and held a similar, worn out tin can. “Put that against your ear.” Vinn complied, and once he did, Dani put her own tin can against her mouth, softly whispering words that shouldn’t have been audible to anyone, yet were clear as the skies to Vinn. “And now, we can communicate easily!”

“Woah! That’s... I’ve never seen anything like this! So basically, these are like cellphones now?”

“Better than cellphones!” she declared, chest puffed out. “Cellphones can be traced, need time to make a call, need the other party to notice and accept the call, and if you’re underground? Yeah, not happening. Tin cans are the future of communication! Well, among us, anyways. This is Communications Magic, my area of expertise. Keep that tin can on you at all times, and we’ll be able to talk shit about Bastian at all times, seamlessly and with no interruption.”

“Now that sounds like a good time.”

“Well, I’m sure glad you two seem to have kicked it off well!” Nicholas finally interjected. “Now, you did say something worrying, though: You’ve actually been working the last two days, but Bastian neglected to mention you in his reports, which makes my job difficult. Plus, I don’t have your reports, either.”

“A-ah, well, I wasn’t exactly--”

“Exactly allowed near the office, I know, haha, don’t worry, I’m not going to put you on the spot, all this means is that I will grab Bastian by the neck and have him rewrite his reports. His lack of mentioning you meant to me that you had quit, which is... A pattern, really, so don’t worry, you get a few more days to write your reports, but the sooner you have them for me, the better.”

“Ah, that’s why you reacted that way...” Vinn said, recalling Nicholas’ exasperation earlier. “Well, I hope you don’t have a hard time getting him to re-do those... I already know that he’s--”

“A damn hardass, a jerk, and a piece of shit to work with?” a voice behind Vinn chimed in.

“Yeah! That’s exactly what I was gonna sWhere did you come from and how long have you been there?”

“Aww, I’m glad to know that I have a cute widdle pwartner who wuvs me so much!”

As Vinn turned around, he met face to face with the plastic, hostile grin of Bastian Ashfield, a tall, solidly built man with his wavy ponytail resting on his left shoulder as always. “So can I join your shit-talking power hour? I am like a trebuchet full of excrement, ready to sling the highest quality turds, so? We good? Can I join you fine gents in--Hrg!”

That dull sound just now was a piece of scrap metal hitting Bastian square in the forehead. “You big jerk! You were keeping Vinn out of the office for the last two days and you neglected to even mention him in your reports! As both a person and an Exorcist, you are terrible!”

“Oi, who the hell throws junk metal at people!? At least make it something like a plastic bottle, or a--Argh!”

And that dull sound just now was a broken clock hitting Bastian on the side of his face.

“Don’t talk back!”

“Yes ma’am! Please don’t give me a concussion, ma’am!”

“Denied!”

“Alright, hold it, hold it, please! I’ll stop! Quit chucking assorted reclaimed metals at me!”

“...Are these two like this all the time?” Vinn whispered to Nicholas.

“Just when Bastian’s a dick.” 

“...”

“...”

“...”

“So yeah, all the time.”

“I see.”

                                                       ——-

“...Well, now that we are all here, I suppose a formal welcoming is due... But first... You clever little rascal. You left home really early, just to avoid me, huh?”

Vinn simply glared at Bastian. “I knew you’d try it a third day. Get off my back, already. I humored your two ‘tests’, and not even knowing what my workplace looks like for three days in a row is not exactly professional.”

“...Tests? Vinn, what did this oaf make you do?” Dani inquired, already reaching for the next piece of junk in her little bag.

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything terribly cruel. You’ll see in my report later, but basically, the necromancer of two days ago and a case with a stray demon yesterday. Both ended up well, so-- Hey, speaking of, where’s the necromancer?” Vinn asked, having just remembered the rather high profile criminal they brought in.

“Well, I’m not at liberty to say just yet, but let’s just say you’ll know soon enough.”

“Bastian, could you please treat him like a member of our division already?” sighed the girl.

“Oh, no no, Bastian is not being Bastian for once, he really isn’t at liberty to say.” Nicholas interrupted. “All information on the case -- the necromancer herself, the undead horde, and the fact that a Siren was dispatched -- is all confidential. In fact, we should not discuss it at all. He could actually get questioned by the Blackvests if his lips are too loose.”

“Ah, so it is actually confidential... I was curious myself, too, to be honest. It’s the first actual necromancer in forever, isn’t it?” Dani asked as she drank some of her freshly brewed coffee.

“First I’ve seen in active service, and in general.” replied the seasoned Exorcist. “Sure, you get punks who reanimate rats and dogs here and there, and then we have to go in and put the feral critters out of their mindless misery. But one that has actually reanimated humans? And didn’t even bother thralling them? Just letting the do as they please? That’s very weird, no matter how you spin it. Anyways, I am not lying when I say you’ll know soon enough.” Bastian readjusted himself and reached into one of the many seemingly empty pizza boxes, producing a cold slice and chomping on it. “Let’s go back to the man of the hour, now. Vinn, you’ll have to forgive me, but it was absolutely necessary that I test you in the ways I did. You aren’t an idiot, you could see that Exorcists don’t have the best reputation around, and deservedly so.”

The atmosphere in the room changed. 

“...Yeah. People feared me. People expected me to throw my weight around. People doubted me whenever I showed any cordiality or kindness. Exorcists really are not liked, huh? This is all very different from the Academy.” Vinn recounted, a disappointed sigh escaping him.

“That’s true, because a lot of Exorcists reign through fear, throw their weight around, and only smile when they want something out of you, or worse, when they already have what they need to blackmail you. The Academy is a bubble, Vinn.” Dani explained, her tone serious. “The Academy will make you believe your duty is just and your methods righteous, but in the real world, you can’t just go in blasting everything and coercing the weak into obeying or paying the price”

“Our duty as Exorcists, and related support parties, is to mete out justice in the Mythic affairs, whether that justice needs to clash against a Mythic or against a Human. We are supposed to be the entity that upholds justice, but a lot of Exorcists, well, they just smoke Mythics. We are supposed to stand up for Humans as much as we are for Mythics, but that’s not how it goes in practice.” Nicholas sadly continued.

“And that’s why I needed to test you.” said Bastian as he propped his legs on his desk. “I told you before, but you need to be able to hold your own in a fight, have the brains to figure out solutions to your problems, and have the heart to actually stand up for Mythics. I -- we -- have no use for yet another kid who slings death around to try and be the big strong Exorcist.”

Despite the shoddy appearance of the office, with the ocean of pizza boxes scattered everywhere and sundry junk adorning every corner, the files were where they needed to be, Nicholas’ computer was impeccable, and whatever actually mattered, was there. Messy as it was, it was the office of those who truly cared about their job, and about those said job entailed. Downing some coffee, Vinn took a deep breath.

“...Crude as they may be, I understand the reason behind your methods. I can’t say I’m mad, since it gave me a reality check I’d rather have now instead of later. It’s only... Fair, really.”

“Well,” Bastian replied, “Whether you are mad or not doesn’t really matter to me, what does matter is that you pass the tests. I was gonna tell you as much earlier today, but you eluded me like a slippery eel, which, I hate to admit, is also a good thing, so yeah, welcome to the 7th Office 3rd Division. I’ll work you to the sinews.”

“That’s just his way of being nice. Please do be patient with him, he’s an idiot, after aaAAAH! Damn! Ow ow ow!” Nicholas snarked before his hot coffee came to life and splashed his face, burning him.

“Maybe don’t insult an Hydromancer while holding a nice, fat cup of hot coffee, dumbass.” laughed Bastian.

“Pfff, well, you kinda walked right into that one, Nick, hehe. Still! It’s good to have some new blood in here, so by all means, welcome! I hope you have a good time! Don’t mind the office’s sorry state, we get our job done.” Dani cheerfully informed.

“Yeah, especially since all the pizza boxes are her doing in the first place, our cute little piglet.” taunted Nick, wiping the coffee off his face.

“He didn’t need to know that!”

“...You already put the order for today’s batch, didn’t you?”

“...I cannot confirm or deny that, Bastian.”

“Haha!”

It was a lively little office with just three people in it, four now, but Vinn could tell there was something different here, something he didn’t find in his time in the Academy, nor out in the field during these last two days.

There was a lot of heart and joy here.

There was anxiety, there were nerves, there was a lot of expectation, from both his partner and himself, but ll of those things, he already knew he was gonna feel. What he didn’t know, however, was how much he was going to crave to be part of this little world, where contact was easy and everyone seemed to get along like this.

And just like there’s a shadow by every light cast, so was there a woe that made his heart throb with a pang of concern: Were his people back home ever going to be able to partake in this?

If anything, this only steeled his resolve further. He left the comfortable wilderness for a reason against the protests of everyone that cared for him for this, after all.

“There’s no way I’m going back empty handed now.” he though to himself, after seeing that the human world is capable of compassion.

                                                      ——-

Just as the playful banter was beginning to calm down, someone knocked on the big iron door.

“It’s open, come in!” Nick yelled from the back of the office, already submerged in his files and keyboard once again.

“Please excuse me.”

As the door opened, Vinn perked up as he saw that pair of familiar horns, black like lacquered wood, curved with dignity, protruding through the holes of the wide brimmed hat. It was the tall woman from the morning. The dame simply giggled at his surprise, an elegant hand covering her lips.

“Now, why the surprise? I did say I’d come welcome you properly, no? Have you eased into your job with Nicholas yet? He’s a harsh instructor, but you’ve much to learn from someone with his diligence and experience.” she greeted bemusedly.

“Oh, no no, I’m not here as an info agent, I’m an Exorcist, partner with--”

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t Fat Fatima!” the brick that broke cordiality boisterously interrupted. “What do you and your five chins want? Don’t remember having any reason to expect a visit from you.”

“Bastian? What the h--!” tried to reproach Vinn, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. Just seconds ago, a gallant lady stood by the door, with a welcoming voice, a friendly disposition, and a kind smile. The very picture of manners and helpfulness. Where, oh, did she go? And when was she replaced by a twin with death in her eyes and wicked claws protruded, ready to slash a jugular or six? 

“Feh, Bastian... I didn’t come to talk to the wondrous sack of shit that pretends he’s people. Mind going back to your stupid magazines? Me and Nick’s new kid want to do some formal introductions, not that you’d know what those are.” snarled the dame, showing what were very clearly fangs.

“Nick’s got no new kid, shithead. If you mean that kid over there, he’s my new partner.”

“Oh, spare me, I’d think you’d at least give my intelligence some credit. Think of some more convincing lies if you wish to mess with me, Bastian.”

“Uh, hey, Fatima... Yeah, he’s not mine. Vinn’s an Exorcist, and Bastian’s partner.”

“What!? So he’s actually got a new partner!?” This reaction seemed to be popular. “Wait, so does that mean... Oh, uh...” The horned woman seemed to be troubled and wracked with guilt out of the sudden. “...Vinn, was it? I profusely apologize for the trouble I’ve no doubt caused you.”

Vinn didn’t really understand where this came from, and tilted his head just slightly in confusion, trying to think what this person he did not know before this morning could possibly mean by that. “I really have no idea what you’re apologizing for, Miss Fatima, you’ve done nothing but show courtesy to me.”

“Oi oi, so I’m just Bastian and ‘a damn hardass, a jerk, and a piece of shit to work with’, but she’s Miss Fatima? I’m glad to see where your loyalties lie, Vinn.” whined Bastian, a mocking hand to his own chest, as if deeply offended, nay, hurt.

“You said those things, I just confirmed them, geez.”

“Ah, allow me to elaborate...” interjected the horned lady. “First of all, I am the 1st Division Exorcist, Fatima Allanach, a pleasure to meet you, Vinn...?”

“Ingram. Vinn Ingram.”

She smiled graciously. “...As to what I did, well, I am the reason the Siren showed up two days ago.”

“Oh, you bitch! I should’ve figured you, of all people, would just call for them to mobilize all those delicious tax patros to give me a hard time! You could’ve killed me in the crossfire!”

“Oh, put a sock on it, Bastian.” -- all the grace she showed to Vinn was replaced by a vulgar hostility when addressing the hydromancer -- “Both of us know you wouldn’t die from a little Siren... Although I can’t say the same for your new partner. Had I know you had someone else there, I would’ve relented, and for that, I’m sorry. I just never... Thought you’d take another partner after Roderick, you know?”

The rooms atmosphere changed as Fatima’s voice softened with those last words. Even though this was the time for one of those patented Bastian Rude Retorts, he simply produced a cigarette, fiddled with it a bit, and then put it back in the pack. “Neither did I. But, well, here we are. And you, Fatima... It’s fine if you want to give me hell, but putting everything aside for a moment, even if its called for, never use the Sirens. Don’t confuse power for a basis of trust. Those things... Are executioners wearing their own coffins. Don’t forget it.”

“...That’s rich coming from you, Bastian.” Her sharp tongue was unsheathed once anew, albeit with a different, far more bitter fervor. “You don’t get to tell me whether I use a tool or not. Sirens are strong, and they can take care of practically any Mythic situation, small or large scale. It’s foolishness not to use an advantage when we have it.”

“Those things are not an advantage, Fatima. They are indiscriminate, they know only to kill and maim, how can you not see this!? We are Exorcists, it is our duty to--”

“--To utterly obliterate those bastards until they understand their place! How many more Humans must die to their savagery before you get this!? How many more Rodericks do we need in the graveyard before you stop spouting such naive drivel, Bastian?! Had a Siren been there with you that day, Roderick would still--”

“Shows how much you know! We’d both be death, and our assailants as well, leaving us with two less Exorcists and no leads whatsoever! Incredible! Great job! I can see why you are the 1st Division Exorcist clearly, with such a clear head absolutely not full of garbage on top of those shoulders!”

“You have no way of knowing that! When will you see the world for what it is already, you utter--”

“Everybody shut up!”

Nicholas’ voice boomed, drowning any whining in the small office, finally putting a stop to the bedlam.

“Don’t yank the chain, Nick, I need to make her understand--”

“Whatever, do that on your free time! You two schedule a nice, steamy, hot date outside of work hours, meet at a restaurant, order a fine beef steak dinner, and then beat the shit out of each other with it, I don’t care, but don’t go doing this in the office!”

Bastian and Fatima simply looked to the floor, or the ceiling, or anywhere that wasn’t Nicholas’ general direction, like scolded children caught trying to look inside the pot before dinner.

“Geez...” sighed the info agent, settling on his chair again. “Every time, you two...”

As if on cue, the office’s phone rang, Danielle dutifully picking it up.

“...Miss Fatima, did you mean that?” Vinn asked, a certain edge midst his cordiality.

“Hm? Did I mean what, exactly?”

“‘To utterly obliterate those bastards’, do you see Mythics that way?”

“...Oh, please don’t tell me you do share this brute’s view on the matter, Vinn? We are not called ‘Mediators’ or ‘Caretakers’, we are Exorcists. We exorcise, we hunt, we exterminate, that’s quite literally the job description. Things are this way for a reason.”

“And what would that reason be, Miss Fatima?” inquired Vinn without missing a beat, standing up. “What about being a human makes me inherently superior, more ‘people’ than a Mythic? We are not dealing with wild beasts, we are dealing with intelligent, sentient creatures who know love, hate, joy, and sorrow just as we do, who have a culture, traditions, and needs. You yourself are a Mythic, I fail to see the logic in--”

“Oh, the young man will watch his words.” Fatima replied with the same hostility she employs with Bastian, finally dropping her softer tone. “What I am doesn’t mean I should see things one way. It’s because I am a beast that I know exactly how terrible we can be.”

“That’s like saying we should destroy all slides in children's’ parks because one time, a kid scrapped his knee.”

“And only a fool would compare Mythics and slides horizontally.”

Vinn’s face was a mask of utter hatred and disdain for the horned Exorcist. “Miss Fatima, I think it’s about time you le--”

“What!? Y-yes, I’ll tell them immediately!” the communications expert yelled as she slammed the phone back on its base. “G-guys! You too, Miss Fatima! We’ve got a big situation down by Manduco #83493!”

“Dani, calm down. What’s the situation?” Bastian calmly asked, sitting back down and quickly picking up his flasks and other utensils. 

“The mass kidnapping from two months ago is happening again! It’s most likely the same perpetrator. It’s going on right now, a laborer that works at that warehouse forgot something, so even though it’s supposed to be closed off today, he went and found a lot of people just... Moving around, as if thralled. The first three divisions are to go there immediately.”

“Thanks, sweetie, that’s all we need. Well, let’s get going, we can’t lose a second.”

“I’ll go get my partner, let’s not waste any time.” Fatima said before disappearing into the hallway.

                                                     ——-

The dark blue car blazed a trail through the asphalt, going as fast as the worn out engine could manage, a bright red van and a dark green motorcycle tailing them. Inside the car, the grim-looking Vinn double checked his handcuffs and other pieces of equipment, a silence and grimace that didn’t escape the driver’s notice.

“Vinn, you good?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the fakest ‘yeah’ I’ve had the honor of hearing. Look alive, this is a real bad situation. We need all six of us with our heads in the game.”

“Yeah.”

“...”

“...”

Bastian could only sigh.

“Oi, Vinn, don’t let what Fatima said get to you. It’s a kick in the dick, but that’s how many Exorcists are. She’s particularly partisan about it, yeah, but it’s better if you get used to it, hopefully manage it better than I do.”

Vinn only responded with a half-hearted chuckle and a few seconds of silence before reviving the dialogue. “I could understand it if it were anyone else, really, but Miss Fatima specifically is... Inconceivably weird. She was very cordial and kind before then, and is a Mythic, to boot, yet, she wants to kill her own kind so viciously? It goes beyond duty-bound hatred, that was just genuine hatred, how could you feel that way towards your own people?”

The usual brashness of the seasoned Exorcist was nowhere to be found, the sounds of the worn out motor filling in for dialogue for a few streetlights before Bastian found the strength to continue talking. “It’s... Complicated. Don’t hate her, please, she’s got her own problems.” Vinn almost fell out of the car upon hearing this. This had to be the first time he heard Bastian talk about someone so softly. He suspected they had a past from the previous conversation, but this only really confirmed it, especially if it was about someone he was just having a flat out shouting contest with moments ago. The dense mood was already suffocating enough, and they had a job to do right now, anyways, it was a good time to change topics.

“...So, these mass kidnappings... Damn, what a creepy name. Two months ago was the first one, right? How come they are deploying Mythic Law Enforcement for it now?”

“Well, last time, authorities had no idea magic was involved, but after investigating the area believed to have been where it took place, based on witness accounts of seeing the victims heading that way, heavy amounts of mana residue were found, suggesting that it was no mere mass kidnapping... Not that mass kidnappings are commonplace, anyway. So, it’s now a MAB affair.”

“Ah! Take this left, it should be there... Yeah, lots of cop cars. They must be barring civilian entry to the area. That’s a relief, at least.”

Bastian took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel harder. “Well, ideally, I wanted to ease you into the job with easier cases, help you get to know Stroln as a city, with its Mythic underground world and all, but destiny calls, I suppose. This isn’t me underestimating you, but try to stick with me at all times. I have a stinkin’ feelin’ that this might get nasty.”

“...Got it.”

                                                     ——-

In front of the six Exorcists, the massive warehouse stood with its service door open, the lock smashed to junk by its foot. The structure was clearly from Pre-Amnesiac times, but well maintained and still in regular usage.

“...I don’t like this. It stinks.” said Fiona, 2nd Division Exorcist, assessing the situation. “This is no abandoned joint, the lock was smashed too neatly, and you’d have to be a fool to have such a flagrant vulnerability to your million patros business screamin’ to be exploited like this. What do you guys think?”

“Fully agreed.” Bastian commented. “We oughta have words with the owner or parent company of this place after we’re done here. As Fiona said, this is simply too suspicious. The lock really just looks like its there so they can file a police report on unlawful entry and claim innocence. It’s unlikely for any magic criminal to be so nuanced as to break a little lock, they’d usually go for a bigger door, especially if it’s a mass kidnapping.”

“Correct. They probably didn’t even use this service door.” Fatima added. “They probably opened the big cargo gate over there to get all the people inside, nice and neatly, and then simply smashed this lock to make it seem like they aren’t working with the owners of this place. This whole thing stinks.”

Behind the seasoned trio, the novice partners observed in awe how quickly their would-be mentors were piecing together the puzzle in front of them before even stepping in the building. The duties of an Exorcist include the subjugation of magic-wielding and supernatural criminals, negotiation with such individuals, and all around keeping this secret magical world hidden, but an important part of being an Exorcist is to play the role of detective as well. An Exorcist is, after all, the do-all end-all authority in the world of Mythic Law Enforcement, having powers and duties far beyond their mundane equivalents.

“They look and act like washed up garbage after a cruiser accident on the coast, but seein’ them like this really reminds you they are veteran Exorcists, don’t it?” Daryl commented, breaking the silence between the novices. 

“The way your worded that was really weird, but I know exactly what you mean.” Vinn responded. However, standing beside Daryl and Vinn was a third person who had not opened her mouth, simply looking at the experienced Exorcists work their craft and plan out how to advance. Vinn and Daryl both recognized her, and it is precisely because of that that the latter knew they shouldn’t bother trying to include her in the conversation, and why the former, who had zero social awareness back in the Academy, made the mistake of taking the initiative.

“...So, Nadja, I didn’t know you were assigned to the 7th as well.”

“...”

“Miss Fatima’s your partner, huh? Must be good working with her.”

“Interested in her looks, I gather?”

Vinn lifted his arms as if surrendering. “What? No, I mean how professional she is and all that. Anyhow, I don’t think we’ve ever talked, I’m V--”

“Vinn Ingram. Top scorer of our year.”

“Yup, the one.”

“...”

“...”

“...Pppffff, that went swimmingly, ya smooth operator.” chuckled Daryl.

“Oh, can it, at least I don’t go kissing girls randomly to determine their species.”

“Yeah, you don’t, and that’s really sad.”

“Hrrg...”

“Alright, coffee break over, kiddos, here’s the plan.” Fiona called suddenly, the novices perking up and giving her their attention. The anxiety of their first real operation, not to mention a rare cooperative operation between different Divisions, was beginning to well up in their guts. “Alright, so, the people are most likely still inside. Bringing a large amount of people here unnoticed, while not easy, is doable, but shipping them all together from here to wherever their destination is is another story. They are most likely waiting for a large transport, a bus or a series of van, maybe a large truck, we don’t know, and they are holding fort inside for now. We don’t know how many men it takes to keep all these people in there, but expect heavy resistance. We’ll go together, but if we need to split for whatever reason, stick to your partner. Questions? I hope not, because we ha--”

“A question.”

“Shoot, Nadja.”

“What level of lethality are we allowed?”

“Ideally, just enough to disable them. We have questions, they have answers. That means you shouldn’t use those things attached to your ankles.”

Nadja’s build was lithe, graceful, like a panther, and that made the large, black devices on each ankle stand out all the more. What looked like the point of a silver stake protruded downwards from the end of the device.

“Understood.”

Bastian spoke up now. “Alright, if that’s it, let’s head in. Keep chit chat to a minimum, and if you must talk, do it as silently as possible.”

                                                    ——-

Nary a footstep could be heard from the six trained individuals, moving like the shadow of a ghost across the large industrial complex-slash-warehouse. Something was clearly wrong with this place, as the air was stagnant, there were no signs of struggling whatsoever, and every door and window inside, in stark contrast with the service door, was neatly unlocked and undamaged, giving fuel to the veterans’ speculation, much to their dismay. They didn’t have to navigate much until the first shadow of adversity loomed close, by the internal courtyard. It was one at first, and then two, and then three, and then seemingly an endless amount of them, silhouettes walking as if entranced by a wicked siren’s song.

“...! Halt! I see many of them, and they are... You gotta be kidding me... Bastian, look at what they are wearing.” Fatima whispered, pointing towards a little window to their side that led to the courtyard.

If concern had a shape, it was Bastian’s face. “...Large pig masks and red robes. This is bad. Really bad.” Bastian mused, a bead of sweat running down his brow.

“Hm? Hey, hey, uncle, what’s wrong? Didja get cold feet over some costumes? What’s wrOW OW OW!” inquired Daring Daryl with the delicacy of an hydraulic press, as Fiona used one hand to cover his mouth and the other to give him an excruciatingly painful shoulder death grip.

“You beefy sack of crap!” Fiona chastised in whispers. “Flappin’ yer gums when you don’t know shit will only get you a Fiona Massage from now on! The grotesque pig mask and red robes are synonymous with a top wanted criminal, the Hog Priest! This is bigger than we could’ve imagined. Stay on your toes, everyone.”

“The Hog Priest has evaded capture several times, and there’s reports of them being sighted in multiple places at once... I suppose this explains it, though. It’s a legion of them.” pointed out Nadja.

The courtyard had a strange, purplish fog blanketing it, and in it, the pig-masked people wandered aimlessly, sometimes bumping into each other, sometimes tripping and picking themselves up clumsily, and in general, simply drifting along. Some stood still, vacant, some jogged slightly before calming down and clutching their chest, and all in all, it was a miserable spectacle.

“...Something’s wrong.” Fiona warned while putting on a pair of fingerless gloves, akin to those used by MMA fighters.

“Hm? Whatcha mean? They are just bobbin’ and... Oh.”

Daryl’s trap was shut tight once he realized little by little, they had all been stopping, and now, they all stood still, looking directly into the little window where they had been observing the courtyard from. No, not directly into the window, it was directly into their very eyes.

A suffocating, paralyzing, complete silence lasted all of two seconds before the window was smashed, a small canister almost hitting Fatima in the head being the culprit, from which an ominous gas shot from little pressurized holes.

“...Tear gas! Get out!”

In a frenzy, they jumped out of the window, out the gas’ range and right into a courtyard full of pig-headed foes that held pipes, shovels, and all manners of improvised weaponry, looking straight at them.

Not five seconds passed before an alarm siren loudly gave our Exorcists a warm, deafening welcome, sending all of the robed villains into a frenzy.

“Curses! Here they come! Defend yourselves and try to find a way out of here!” Fatima yelled, assuming a defensive stance and blocking a shovel strike with her bare hand.

As soon as the horde began its restless assault, the sinister purple fog that permeated the courtyard intensified, obstructing sight and puzzling the senses with its oddly calming fragrance. It was every man and woman for themselves, Bastian utilizing water to block the weapons and to push his assailants to the ground with immense pressure, Fiona disarming them with expert martial prowess, and Fatima simply utilizing a retractable baton to parry and disarm those who would attempt to harm her. In stark contrast, the novices were expending far more effort in the fight, visibly struggling, not for lack of strength or skill, but rather, because they simply didn’t know how to engage a foe without destroying them. Killing the enemy is easy, but when your duty is to subdue the enemy without killing them or doing enough harm that you’ll ruin their life from there on is an art all of itself, an art that the Mythic Law Enforcement Academy wasn’t keen on teaching. The lacking curriculum was showing all of its weaknesses. That, and a sinister whisper that was invading their mind, which made itself more and more apparent, numbing their reactions, misleading their movements.

“W-what in the world is this...? It’s like there’s a compelling whisper inside of my head... Someone warm and kind, someone I trust, telling me to drop my guard when they attack or to soften my body whenever I try to disable one...!” Nadja said as she unsuccessfully tried to take a shovel away from a masked minion, who simply shrugged her off and shoved her right to the floor.

“Is it the fog? No... It couldn’t be, the fog is welcoming, it’s familiar, a scent of my childhood, it couldn’t...” Vinn lamented, seemingly giving himself up to an incoming lead pipe strike before Daryl pushed him out of the way.

“Oi, you damn idiots! Where’s yer Domunus Tecum!” Daryl chastised, holding off the criminals with his huge frame.

“Domunus Tecum...” “Domunus Tecum!”

The second of the Six Spell of Self Defense, the spell of protection and shielding, a prayer for resilience. No sooner the two novices put their barriers up, their minds cleared and their bodies could move as they wanted them to. The whisper was still in their heads, but it wasn’t compelling and absolute as it was before.

“Just what is this voice? I’m not the only one that can hear it, right?” the exasperated Vinn asked as he used his many handcuffs and his colorful, unorthodox fighting style to subdue attackers.

“Bad news is what it is. Keep your Domunus up and strong, don’t stop pouring mana into it, or that whisper will claim your mind.” Fiona warned, fighting the good fight.

“C-chief! Hold the presses! These guys...!” Daryl screamed suddenly, a robed figure captured tightly in arms, unmasked. “Chief Fiona, these people are brainwashed civilians! Look!”

The face of the woman in Daryl’s grasp was catatonic, to say the least. A vacant expression and half-lidded eyes that looked nowhere, drool and tear lines telling a story that thousands of words couldn’t hope to match. “Oi, we gotta disable them without harmin’ them! They are just meat shields!”

“Shit...! That means there’s one mastermind out there, and they are just exhausting us! Fatima, do you think--”

As if his mind was being read, Bastian couldn’t finish what he was saying before Fatima was right by his side. “--you could use your poison to--”

“Neutralize them? Yeah, if I control the dosage, I can make it so I can knock them out with a sting each, enough to paralyze their muscles and yet not leave any lasting damage. I’ll need some help keeping them off me while I do this to each one of them individually, though.”

“I gotcha!” Fiona proudly declared, rolling to where they were, dodging several shovel strikes. “Daryl and I can keep ‘em corralled while your girl defends you directly, and Bastian and his boy can go for the brains.”

“I agree to this plan, but, poison? What do you have in mind? Do you have enough for all these people?” Vinn wondered, joining them.

“Oh, don’t worry about her, after all...”

With a wild smirk, Fatima leaped high into the air, her arms growing green fur, and a wicked scorpion tail, massive and heavy, protruding from her back, just under two pairs of feathered wings. Where there once was her elegant face now lies a lion’s roaring maw. She was much bigger than before, her impact on the ground sending several masked minions off balance.

“...She’s a Manticore. And a fat one at that, so she oughta have a lot of calories to turn to venom.” Bastian explained.

“STOP CALLING ME FAT, JACKASS.” the massive Manticore Fatima roared, deft swipes of her scorpion tail knocking out minion after minion, barb oozing with venom.

“We’ve got this area, you two! Get going! Whoever’s behind the fog, the whispers, and this mess is no doubt in that building over there. It’s the only structure to have a clear path to the streets in case they need to escape, and where they can survey all of this area!” explained the bruiser Fiona, joining Daryl in trying to corral the remaining minions with their superior physical strength.

“Yeah, we’ll get this over in a second. Let’s roll, Vinn!”

                                                   ——-

Two pairs of footsteps echoed in the smaller building, dark and permeated with the fog. Bastian and Vinn both had their Domunus barrier on at full strength, the incessant whispers of the once-compelling voice never going silent.

“This keeps getting worse and worse...” lamented Bastian, double checking how much water he had left in his flasks. “Vinn, do not let up your barrier. It could mean death.”

“What is this whispering, anyways? I’ve never felt anything like it, and I don’t think I’ve read on this before.”

“It could be a curse, but there’s not been enough time to set up one of this nature with such an intensity, so what I think is... Vinn, are you familiar with Mindreaders?”

“Of course, those who can read minds and such. It’s theorized that, Pre-Amnesia, Mindreading was highly illegal and dangerous, given how many surviving records there are that explain, in great detail, how to defend against it. It’s considered useless now, since everyone worth a lick of salt in the arcane arts learns how to counter it.”

“Textbook answer, as usual.” -- Bastian chuckled -- “Well, what I think we’re up against right now, and I hope I’m wrong, is a Mindscreamer.”

“A what?”

“Mindscreamer. It’s the opposite of a Mindreader. Instead of being able to read your thoughts, Mindscreamers practically broadcast their thoughts into others by force. Whatever they think, you ‘hear’ inside your head. They can also make it so their thoughts are subliminal and subconscious in your brain, controlling your behavior to a degree. It’s a really damn frightening power.’

“What...?” Vinn couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and yet, the constant whispering in his brain since the courtyard brawl began proved that these were no lies. “I’ve never heard of Mindscreamers before, what kind of wicked art is this? You’d think it’d be more popular, with how powerful it sounds.”

“That’s the thing: You can’t learn how to Mindscream. Mindscreamers are born, it’s not a skill, it’s genetic and exclusive to certain individuals, but we don’t know much about it. In a way, that means that, yeah, we don’t really have to worry about it falling in the hands of just about any thug, but... It also means we are up against someone very special, and that knows what they are doing. Take this fog, for instance.”

“I noticed... This fog smells like incense, like chamomile, specifically, but it’s actually haunted. It’s Incense Magic, and this is tailored to numb the senses and lower your mental defenses.”

“Clever boy. Indeed, the incense lowers one’s mental barriers, which makes you susceptible to the Mindscreaming. Whoever is doing this is competent, do not drop your guard. This is how they kidnapped all of these people almost effortlessly: They simply made them come ‘of their own free will’ with Mindscreaming... Sick bastards.”

The Exorcist duo kicked open a door in front of them at the end of a long hallway, and inside, an immensely dense cloud of magic incense blocked their sight. The air was stagnant, almost putrid, and there were things in this room. Piercing glares that couldn’t be seen but could perfectly be felt stabbed the two Exorcists as soon as they entered the room. Before long, a couple of pig-masked minions, brainwashed civilians, no doubt, slowly became discernible in the dense purple fog, with bright, neon-like markings making them stand out in the fog. They moved with far more coordination than the courtyard fodder, shuffling around, circling, keeping their distance, never moving too close, but never straying too far from the surrounded agents. Bastian lashed at a cluster with a tendril of holy water, missing the mark completely as they swiftly moved out of the way.

“...The Mindscreamer is in this room. They are being controlled too well, too skillfully. These aren’t like the puppets we fought on the first fl--!”

The subtle whisper of cold steel sliding through flesh cut the older Exorcist off as a knife plunged deep in his torso from the left, a masked minion without any neon markings having made it past his watchful eye as his focus was on the neon marked masks, a pained grunt and a hammer of pressurized water impacting against his assailant punctuating his sentence instead. “Mother fu... Clever bastards...”

“Bastian, are you ok!? Damn, they are using neon marked and non-marked masks! While we focus on the barely visible neon, they come at us with the plain ones. What a cheap tactic...”

“Cheap it may be, but it’s working! Focus on defending!”

Even with In Te Fallitur, the first spell of detection and true sight active, the sheer magic density of the incense made it difficult to see nonetheless, their vision improving just slightly. Assault after assault, the duo was sustaining more and more injuries at the hands of this well utilized assassin horde. Whenever a neon mask moved, two plain masks slid in the gaps of their perception, getting closer and closer, until they could hurt either Exorcist. Their attacks didn’t pack much power against the protected Exorcists, individually, but as the damage piled on, it was clear this was a battle of attrition they were not going to win by any means, especially considering that their enemies were but brainwashed civilians they couldn’t bring themselves to hurt seriously. 

“Haa... Haa... Bastian, can you make an intense flash of light somehow? With a flashbang or some small spell?”

“...Sounds like you have an idea... I can, but what do you want to do with it?”

“There’s really no time to explain!” Vinn barked as he parried an incoming knife just in time with a pair of handcuffs. “Just play it cool and shoot it right above that big group over there!”

“Vague ideas are better than no ideas at all, and we can’t keep this up for much longer... Alright, Aureola Oblito!”

As the spark that would soon become an explosion of intense light approached its point of contact, the ceiling above the horde’s densest point, the nimble Vinn Ingram lunged towards its center like a wolf in blood-starved hunt, shoving past the henchmen and women, and defending against pipes and knives. When he finally reached it, he yelled at Bastian, which he considered the signal, and looked down immediately.

“Praemium!”

Upon command, the little spark went supernova, a blinding light engulfing the room immediately, with every meat puppet in the room covering their eyes as if blinded, and yet, the light was rapidly devoured by the fog after its initial explosion. As the light faded, however, a man’s loud scream of pain echoed at the end of the room. It wasn’t Vinn’s or Bastian’s, it was the man who wore a plain pig’s mask in the middle of the horde, a knife sticking out of his arm, courtesy of Vinn.

“...How did you know?” the pig-headed man inquired, and he was immediately sent barreling backwards by a kick straight to the head, also courtesy of Vinn.

“You looked down to avoid the light. All of these people are brainwashed and not conscious, thus, blinding them wouldn’t do a thing to them. We’ve been striking them for a while now, and they show no sign or reaction of pain. You just made them act as if they were blinded, and joined in the act, but you yourself looked down so as to not be blinded, while the rest didn’t. Good try, though.”

“Quickly, stop flapping your gums and actually catch him!” Bastian screamed as he made his way through the now far less coordinated horde.

Vinn complied, but as he approached him, the Hog Priest lashed out with a large dagger, rolling backwards after Vinn stepped back to avoid being lacerated. Before Vinn could make his way to him, however, the Priest and another exact look alike became entangled in a strange dance, with many more plain masked minions joining in, and then, they all ran in different directions.

“...! Shit, clever bastard! There’s no way to tell which one’s the real one!”

“Don’t lose your cool, Vinn! The third one to the right is heading towards that staircase, which likely leads to a room adjacent to the streets, while the one to the far left is going towards a door, likely with the same idea in mind! The others are running randomly, but those two make sense in their retreat! It’s either of them, go after the right one, I’ll get the left one, go!”

“You may be a nasty customer, but damn, you pull your weight, Bastian! Good thinking! Catch him!”

                                                  ——-

Vinn chased the figure that might be the real Hog Priest ceaselessly, door after door, hallway after hallway, until the figure stopped in the middle of a large storage room with no windows, no doors, no exits. Cornered at last, the Hog Priest simply turned around and faced the Exorcist, the eyes of the disgusting, realistic pig’s head mask meeting Vinn’s green own. 

“It’s dead end for you, piggy. Undo the incense and the mind control, and turn yourself in nice and easy. Without your horde, you are out of luck.”

“Hmhm... Haha! Very nice, you... What a cruel mistress luck is, having me do this with you, of all people...” the muffled voice from behind the mask praised, a distinctly softer, different voice from the one before, which didn’t escape Vinn’s attention. “Now, you might be thinking, ‘did I get the right guy?’, and I have good news and bad news for you!” -- the Priest struck a cutesy and quirky pose while saying this, pointing at Vinn -- “Which do you want first?”

“P-pardon...?”

“I said! Which! Do you want! First! Good news or bad news!”

“...Good news?”

The exaggerated Priest lifted his arms in mock excitement, clapping and cheering excitedly with chants of “Woo! Exorcist! Exorcist!” before finally assuming a new pose. “Alright, so, the good news! The good news are that you have indeed caught the Hog Priest, congratulations!”

“...But your vo--”

“--ice is not the same you heard before, right? Yeah, about that... Here’s more good news: There’s two of us! So no matter which one of us you followed, and you followed both of us, there were only winning picks!”

Vinn immediately produced two pairs of handcuffs. “So, two of you, huh...? Well, that’s twice the questions we get to ask then, those are pretty good news.”

“Sadly, I also am obligated to tell you the bad news.” the Priest sadly informed, sticking an hand inside of his robes and producing a baseball bat covered in various, strange runes, pointing it at Vinn. “The bad news is that you die here.” she announced with an arctic voice unlike her variety show host demeanor of seconds before, taking a step forward and sending thunderbolts down Vinn’s spine. It was not the first time he’d been face to face with mortal danger, it was not the first time his life has been at risk, it was not the first time he was faced with a strong opponent. But, it was the first time in Vinn’s life that his body and mind screamed for him to get out of there fast, a primal, visceral flight response that didn’t even pretend to bother with the ‘fight’ half.

The bat came faster than a bullet from above, Vinn managing to block it only by reaction, leaving him wide open to kick to the gut which knocked the air out of him, and a subsequent palm strike to the chin that sent him barreling backwards against the wall. The Exorcist, in a panic, produced his standard issue handgun, pointing it at the Priest.

“You should’ve keep me close. Hands up, Hog Priest.”

“...That’s not even a Shootist Gun, that’s just a regular one. You... You are not taking this seriously, are you?”

Vinn took aim at his enemy’s leg and let loose a round, hoping to incapacitate him, but a simple swipe of the bat deflected the bullet right out of its path, the battered projectile hitting the wall next to Vinn’s head, missing him by a hair. “What the...!?”

“You really are a novice, huh. Should’ve kept to patrols and such, instead of getting roped into this hell. Then again, you yourself willing dropped into the wolf’s maw the moment you decided to become an Exorcist. Is the paycheck of a murderer really that tempting?”

“Not all of us are murderers! We’re trying to change it, we’re trying to heal this rotten system from within, which is more than can be said of mass kidnappers like you, so don’t you try and lecture me about moral codes!”

“Ah, yeah, in the eyes someone that doesn’t know what’s going on, of course it’s gonna look like we are the bad guys. ‘Changing it from within’, that’s some prime, class-A bullshit. You can’t possibly believe that. You’re smart enough to know you are but one good seed among a fetid, infected crop. You won’t fix the harvest by yourself.”

The Priest lowered his bat and pointed towards the door. “Leave.”

“...Huh?”

“You are outmatched. Leave through that door, exit the warehouse through the office sector, and desert the Mythic Affairs Bureau. Never again take on the mantle of the Exorcist, do something else. It’s for your own good. Do this, and I will not take your life. I will even guarantee you safe passage until you are out of Stroln.”

Vinn struggled to pick himself up after the brief but intense beating he sustained, putting his evidently useless handgun away. “...Why are you giving me a way out? What do you mean by a ‘good seed’?”

The disgusting pig in front of him tapped the “ear” of his mask. “A little bird told me that you do sincerely care for Mythics. You helped out a demon yesterday, helped him find a job that allows him to feed on human emotions without harming anyone when you simply could’ve smoked him. You’re a good person in a bad guy’s job, so I’m willing to compromise... No, I want to let you live. We need more people like you in the world.”

The disappointment in the hog’s fake eye was palpable when Vinn took a fighting stance instead.

“...Last chance, Exorcist. I’ll hold back no more.”

“How about you fuck off. I’m not gonna get lectured on morality by someone who brainwashes a bunch of people for a mass kidnapping. I’m through trying to reason with you. I’m done playing sweet. Let’s go for real.”

With a sigh and a head scratch, the hog picked up his bat and assumed a combat stance again. “I really wish we could’ve done this differently, but if you insist... I’ll give you a proper burial, at least.”

“Domunus Tecum!” the Exorcist chanted, renewing his protective spell, but he was not done. “Hostem Repellas Longius!” As he chanted this spell, a faint, red light covered Vinn’s body. Hostem Repellas Longius, the third of the Six Spells of Self-Defense, the spell of hostility, offense, and righteous violence. Simple as they may be, the strength of the Six Spells does indeed lie in simplicity, and with every brick you put on top of a good base, you get closer to making a wall. With attack and defense ready, Vinn put away one pair of handcuffs, holding only one with his left hand.

No more words were shared between the two, and they clashed fiercely in the middle of the spacious storage room, handcuffs meeting bat, the colliding steel singing a frantic sonata to which these individuals who couldn’t be more conflicted danced vigorously. Overhead strike, left swipe, shin kick, neck shot, eye gouge, they tried it all, and none could land. Vinn certainly seemed much different than before, and in a moment of carelessness, the Exorcist managed to grab the bat by the head.

“...! What’s with this grip!? Let go!” the Priest wined, struggling to get the bat back.

“Sure, here you go.”

Vinn’s hand glowed a dim silver and suddenly began vibrating at extreme intensities, the sheer force from the vibrations hurting the Priest’s arm, making her lose her balance from the pain. Using this opening, Vinn threw the bat away and lunged with his hand, grabbing the Priest by the shoulder, gripping hard for just a second before a skillful twirl of the Priest’s arm allowed him to set himself free.

“What was that...? You didn’t have enough time to do any of that weird vibration stuff to me.”

“It’s over, Priest. Don’t use your left arm and just surrender.”

The Priest simply laughed. “That bat thing was surprising, but you didn’t do anything to me. Now I know to watch out for it. I don’t feel bad at all, in fact, it’s like my left shoulder feels even better than before! Sucks to be y--!”

As the Priest picked the discarded bat back up with his left arm, an explosion of blood gushed from his shoulder, the sheer force of it shredding even the red robe and exposing his flesh, the Priest tumbling to the side and falling to the concrete ground, clutching his bloody mess of a shoulder as he screamed in agonizing pain. “W-what the fuck did you do to me!? Aaaargh!”

“You got confident without even knowing my style of magecraft, and now you’re paying the price. It’s simple in theory: Flux Magic. I know how to control the eb, flow, and movement of mana particles.”

“Haha, what...?” laughed the Priest, still in pain. “That’s... Fucking crazy... So that vibration was just you making a mass of mana vibrate at immense speed... You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“And your shoulder just now was me injecting you with an immense amount of mana, more than your body could possibly handle. Hence, when you moved the afflicted part, it burst like that. You were feeling well because you literally had an injection of energy given to you.”

“Clever bastard, first I see of anyone applying such an otherwise ignored principle of magic emission, Flux, in this creative a way. Hats off to you, friend. I suppose I gotta show my hand now.”

“Wait, if you move with that wound--”

Vinn’s warning fell upon deaf ears as the Priest, left shoulder oozing blood, dashed right against Vinn to renew his assault. Handcuffs parried the bat, but it was nothing more than a feint, Vinn’s stomach catching a knee that made him double in pain. As he tried to get his bearings, the bat’s runes glowed an eerie teal, the weapon bludgeoning Vinn in the side, sending him tumbling.

“Alright, let’s see what we get... Become The Body Of His Innermost Shackles! Terror Ink!”

From within the robes of the Priest, a turbulent torrent of ink exploded forth, covering the bat and transmogrifying it into what looked like a bizarre, serrated hoop weapon. Upon seeing it, Vinn was left speechless.

“Why... Why do you have that...!? That’s impossible!”

One didn’t have to look at the face behind the mask to know that the Priest’s expression was currently a smug grin. “So this is what you fear the most, huh...? Weird weapon. I can’t begin to imagine what its wielder must have done to terrify you so. This is Rorschach Magic, the Terror Ink. Anything inscribed with the right runes and provided with the ink can turn into the biggest fear of whatever it strikes. In this case, this weird... Hoola hoop thingy... Whatever it is. Well, let’s test it, shall we?”

The Hog Priest’s assault was renewed again, slashing and swiping with the bizarre ring-like weapon, one of the ends of the ‘ring’ detaching and flailing wildly as if seeking Vinn with a mind of its own. “Oh! It detaches! So it’s like a bladed whip, too!”

“Put that away! You have no idea what you’re playing with!”

“Nah, I’m good, now please die quietly, or at least making a funny noise!”

The weapon was extremely confusing. It moved with a mind of its own, one end reattaching and the other detaching at seemingly random swings, clearly not the Priest’s doing, wounding Vinn with each tricky, impossible twirl of the notched edges. Vinn, catching him by surprise, leaned forward instead of retreating anymore, as his back would hit the wall any second now, and clinched the Priest, trying to knock his weapon away, his superior positioning allowing him to elbow the Priest right on the wounded shoulder.

“Hraaa!”

“You’re done!”

But as Vinn went for another deadly grip, on the exposed parts of the Priest’s robe, thanks to the earlier bloody burst and the tugging their clinch had brought to their clothes, he saw something that he simply couldn’t comprehend.

Just below the left shoulder blade, there it was, a tattoo that he was sure was the circular object wreathed in something spiky he briefly saw on the girl yesterday. Seeing this, he immediately shoved the Priest and made some distance.

“Ooph! What...? You’ll really regret giving me space to move ag-- Huh?”

“You... Are the girl from yesterday, aren’t you? The one who helped me with Mathanac!”

“...”

“Why are you doing this? It’s you, isn’t it? I recognize the tattoo. You are the same height, too, now that I think about it.”

“...Aha, shit.”

With his free hand, nay, her free hand, the Priest removed the large pig mask and tossed it aside. Behind it was a beautiful girl with striking magenta eyes and shoulder length white hair, her right lock dyed black. A tragically familiar face, with a pained, regretful smile.

Just yesterday, they were hanging out in the streets of Stroln, trying to find Mathanac a job.

“Hey there, Mister Exorcist. Cat’s out of the bag, it seems!”

“Why are you doing this...?” the anguished Vinn inquired.

“Hey now, it’s not like we are lifelong friends or nothin’, don’t get all dramatic on me. This is just... Who I am, really. One half of the Hog Priest, protector of Mythics, and seeker of clarity.”

“What does that even mean? Why kidnap so much people?”

“Mister Exorcist... Vinn. Look, please, just walk away. Pretend this never happened. It’s impossible for you to believe me right now, I understand, but you gotta trust me, we are doing this for the common good. It sure as hell doesn’t look like it now, but this is all for the good not just of Stroln, but of the world. We need these people, and we’re not gonna hurt them or anything! I promise!”

“How can I possibly believe that when every moment since I stepped in here has been a fight to just stay alive?!”

“If Exorcists were the kind of people that you could explain things to, we wouldn’t need to do this! You are decent, Vinn, but you are the exception! Exorcists are a rotten bunch! There’s simply no more time, we need to--”

In the middle of her impassioned speech, an alarm went off on the bulky wristwatch the girl was wearing. 

“...Tsk. Vinn, this is my last warning.” she murmured, with softness and honesty, not a hint of hostility to her voice. “You really are a good guy. I could tell from how much effort you put into helping Mathanac yesterday, and with how much respect you treated him. Please, walk away. Retire from the Exorcists, and leave Stroln. It’s going to get ugly, and we need people like you in the coming world, people that will receive Mythics with arms wide open. If we meet again in these conditions, know that I will not show you a shred of mercy.”

“...The coming world? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Good bye, Vinn. And for both our sakes, let’s not meet again until the next world arrives.”

The wicked weapon in her hand suddenly turned black, and then seemed to melt. As the ink peeled from it, its true shape as a baseball bat returned. Pulling a little detonator from the robe’s pocket, the girl smeared some of the neon paint the other masks had across her face and smiled farewell as she pressed it, an explosion nearby blasting a hole in the wall.

                                                 ——-

                                                                            Meanwhile, in another room,                                                                            in another part of the building...

“Isn’t the view up here just divine, Bastian Ashfield?”

“Yeah, I gotta give it to you, man. You’ve gone and given me the perfect scenario, not gonna lie.”

“Oh? Is that so? Would you mind elaborating?”

“I ain’t much of a nature landscape fan, but urban stuff? Cities? My jam. Love ‘em. I also love interrogating domestic terrorists. In some minutes, I’ll be making you spit blood, curses, and answers while enjoying the beauty of Stroln in the afternoon, and that? That’s priceless. If I had a nice, bodacious babe to praise me while I’m kneeing you in the throat, it’d be my second birthday, not gonna lie.”

“Haha! Confidence is really good. Exorcist scum really dream big, don’t they?”

“Damn right we do, and I dream the biggest of them all. So, are we done flirting?”

“Very much so, Ashfield.”

The banter was followed with silent sizing up, not one of the two men moving an inch as they stood on top of the main building’s rooftop. It had been an arduous, lengthy pursuit, but it all came to this. Face to face at last with the wanted criminal, Hog Priest, the Hydromancer was already grinning like a madman. He truly had been waiting for a chance to unwind, you see.

Without warning, a sharp, potent tendril of pressurized water lunged directly towards the Priest like a lance, only to be met with an invisible wall, mana sparks and the sound of magical diffusion concluding with a mass of useless water falling helplessly to the floor. Stretching his arms, the Priest let out a chuckle, hundreds of incense sticks popping out of his robes all over his body.

“What...?”

“Vervain incense, Ashfield.” the Priest explained mockingly. “Very strong magic retardant. For once in your life, splashing water around won’t save you.”

“Incense Magic... Never thought I’d come across someone wacky enough to weaponize it for combat. Still, defense seems to be your only strong point, so I just need to punch through and I’ll be gold.”

“And how do you figure you’ll do that?”

“Well, I could do this, for starters.”

Just as suddenly as the first tendril, two massive jets of water erupted behind Bastian, propelling him with immense speed towards the Hog Priest, getting close enough to use a pressurized water slash that came a hair short of beheading the porcine foe thanks to his reflexes, managing to duck just in time with only the mask’s top being sliced off.

“Woah, man! What happened to that ‘interrogation’? Dead men tell no tales!”

“You can survive long enough without a piece of your face, no biggie.” calmly explained Bastian. “...That incense only protects you against long range magic, huh? Makes sense. The farther magic is from its caster, the less magic emission remains in it. That incense of yours has a heavy enough disruption that spells with little emission remaining in them will not be able to penetrate it, but the emission of my holy water is strong enough to pierce through it if I am close enough... You knew this, however.”

“Astute observation, mister miscreant. How do you figure the last part, though?”

The Exorcist smirked. “You have a pistol hanging by a holster on your right hip under those robes. You intended to keep me away by using it, rendering me helpless to hurt you from afar. And it could have worked, had you actually stopped flapping your gums and actually focused on the fight. You’re not much of a fighter, are you?”

Impressed, the Priest couldn’t help but lift his arms in not-so-mocking surrender. “...Guilty as charged. I’m not a fighter, no. My partner handles the direct combat end of the business, truth be told.”

A vinyl scratch inside Bastian’s head brought him to a full stop. “Wait, partner? Hold on, so the decoy that Vinn went after--”

As shock overcame Bastian, the crafty hog quickly reached for the gun on his hip, but Bastian, seasoned fighter as he is, immediately closed the distance again with two water propulsion jets.

“You got too cocky, shithead!” Bastian boasted, as his arm ascended to direct the water Priestwards, a splatter of crimson blood and the horrifying sound of ripping flesh polluting the air as a scream of agony echoed in the skies above the rooftop.

“...Did I, now, dear Ashfield?”

“W-what the shit...?”

With a loud thud, Bastian hit the floor harshly after being sent flying, a gash on his chest oozing blood. On the other side of the rooftop, the still-standing Priest had two massive spikes protruding from his chest, red with the blood of the Hydromancer they just downed. Removing his robe and torn mask, the Priest revealed short black hair, a scar on the right side of his face, and amber eyes. He looked like he was in his late 30s, with a mostly skinny, not-quite-lanky frame. Most notoriously, he was fully clad in stitched-together leather, crudely put together and of different animals by the looks of it. His jacket, shirt, pants, and even boots, all made of patchwork leather. The spikes slowly retracted back into his chest, seamlessly disappearing into his body, staining his shirt with the blood that was on the horns.

“You jumped the gun, friend, pun absolutely intended. You didn’t even consider I might have a way to deal with you up close.”

The blood oozing from Bastian’s chest slowly stopped, and it seemed to being drawn back into his chest by an unnatural force. “Oh!” the Priest exclaimed. “Your command of Hydromancy never ceases to amaze, Ashfield! Pulling your own blood back inside you with it! I guess it takes grit like this in order to live in the way you have.”

“S-stop talkin’ as if you know shit about me... What the hell was that...? I sense... Necromancy?” panted the wounded Exorcist, still on the floor, unable to move much. That statement made the man’s face shine with joy.

“You have a good eye, Ashfield. This is failed Necromancy... A poor man’s version, a mere counterfeit. Like every other Necromancer out there, I’ll never be a full fledged master of the death. However, I have no interest in that, and just this much control is good enough for me. My specialty is leather, allowing me to temporarily revive and reform any animal from leather, just for a short while, but hey, that’s all I need. Bringing back people is way out of my scope and ability, haha. What you experienced just now were the horns of a bull whose hide I have stitched on this shirt.” With a jolly stride and a confident gait, he approached the felled Hydromancer to deliver the last blow. “It was great playing with you, Ashfield, but you are a big pain in the ass, so I gotta put you out now, see ya!” From his right sleeve, a tiger’s foot materialized, razor sharp claws at the ready, and... Nothing. Nothing happened afterwards, as a spike seemed to have pierced the leather-clad man right through his chest. “...Ah... Haha, curses... You’re right, I’m not much of a fighter...” Bastian simply smirked again.

“Thanks for getting close enough to let me use my own blood on your shirt like that. Love ya.” Bastian had used the blood he had splattered on his assailant to pierce him from point blank range, incapacitating both men. It was pointless to even try to attack each other at this point, as the counter would kill the other.

“Pretty fancy necromancy you got there, friend. Leagues more creative than your run-of-the-mill shithead kid who revives a rat or a feral dog... Asperges Me, Domine.” commented Bastian as he put his hand on wound, controlling the blood so it stays inside while using a healing spell to close the wound.

“Me? Fancy? Don’t lie to yourself, Ashfield. Your Hydromancy is far more interesting. I don’t know how you get away with it, but surely more people have noticed it’s a facsimile, right?” the necromancer retorted, producing a needle from his utility belt and injecting himself in the arm.

“...!”

The Priest missed naught a beat in savoring the shock on Bastian’s face. “Heh, I knew it. You tricky scamp, of course I’d notice. I have plenty of experience and knowledge on spellweaving theory. You, sir, are no Hydromancer.”

“I command water, that’s Hydromancy, so you’re not really making a lot of sense here, amigo.”

“Oh, way too late to try and play it cool, friend. The cat is already out of the bag. Hydromancy is a traditional art of the Shaman school of magic. You befriend a spirit of water, make a pact with them, and with the spirit as a proxy, you gain control over the element of water. You, sir, have no such contract. Hydromancers are rare because it wouldn’t make sense to limit yourself to a single element. If you can make a pact with a water spirit, you surely can do the same with the other elements.”

“There’s plenty of ways to control water, Sir Pig.”

“Yup, and you are employing none of them. A way to bypass the pact with a spirit is to master control of remote mana particle emission, but that would only allow you to project water at short range, and without much potency. There’s far more practical uses of such power, and you make no use of them, meaning you have no such mastery. I can prove you haven’t made a single contract with a spirit of water as well, because you utilize holy water in your Hydromancy. Imbuing water with foreign energies, such as the holy energies of the Arc, is an insult to the spirits, and it would weaken your water, if not sever your pact with the spirit outright. Your water is most assuredly very powerful.”

“...”

“Just what are you, Bastian Ashfield? How come you can use water in the way you do? Could this be, perhaps, some sort of divi--”

“Shut the hell up!”

His wound finally closed, Bastian haphazardly stood up, ready to continue the fight. With a resigned, if not bemused sigh, the incense master stood up as well. “Mm, the drugs kicked in. Alright, let’s go, Hydroboy. Hit me with the best fake water you can muster, haha.”

“Man, props to you, you really get under my skin!”

As round two began, tendrils of water clashed with powerful tiger claws, pressurized jets of water were deflected by a tortoise shell, and a crocodile’s head was stopped from biting Bastian’s carotid artery just barely thanks to water spikes produced at the last second. The two men were evenly matched, and just as their dance was reaching its utmost violence, the large wristwatch on the man’s right wrist rang off an alarm. 

“...Time flies when you’re having a blast. Well, Ashfield, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I must take my leave. This has gone long enough.” 

Producing a small detonator from his pocket, the man pressed it without any hesitation or explanation -- apparently learning something about not flapping your gums in front of the enemy and just doing what you need to do --  and jumped off the railings of the rooftop, a series of explosion engulfing other parts of the warehouse complex.

“Shit, wait! You!” Bastian yelled as he approached the railings. Looking down, he saw the man safely running down the side of the building. That is, manifesting two long and thick ostrich legs from his back that stepped with such strength that their feet dug into the concrete of the building, safety being able to descend that way. “Bastard! He had it all planned...! I gotta get down there!”

“Adieu, my dear Ashfield! The name’s Balthazar Wharwood! Forget me not! Haha!”

                                                ——-

“Fatima, Daryl, help me shield the civilians from the debris! Nadja, go and assess the situation behind the building those two went to, it’s possible they might need your help with their escape if they haven’t captured them yet!”

With a collective “roger!”, everyone got to their task as assigned by Fiona, Nadja’s agile strides quickly getting her inside of the building. 

“I gotta say, Chief! Yer pretty cool when ya ain’t drunk off your ass!” excitedly proclaimed Daryl as he helped carry the no-longer hostile, but very much disabled civilians out of the dangerous warehouse.

“If that’s your idea of a compliment, my idea of gratitude will be to knock your lights out with a flawless right hook once we are out of here!” Fiona barked back.

“Keep your heads in the game, please! I cannot carry all of them safely without you to help me, even with this Manticore body!” pleaded Fatima as she carried as many people as she could on her back, safeguarding them with her wings.

Every couple of seconds, a new bomb went off, ever increasing the threat to the people in the premises. With just their limited numbers, they were saving as many people as they could.

                                                ——-

As Vinn finally reached the first floor, he made a beeline for the door that leads to the street, coming face to face with Nadja, who came from another hallway. 

“Are you alright, Ingram?”

“I’ve been worse, but no time to chit chat, she’s getting away!”

“She? The Hog Priest is a woman?”

“I’ll explain later, but if you see a girl with magenta eyes and white hair, she’s our mark.”

“Acknowledged.”

As the novice duo went into the street, there, in the distance, was the girl in the red robes with the baseball bat, alongside a tall, skinny man clad fully in leather. “...That must be the other Hog Priest next to her.”

“Hog Priest is two people? What a day. I’ll take the man, you go for the girl, since you were fighting her recently, you know what tricks to expect from her.”

They both nodded and dashed with all their might towards the Hog Priest duo, but just as they were reaching them, a line of machine gun fire threatened to fill them with holes, the two Exorcists backing away at the nick of time. 

“Ah, just on time, Sir Gatling Knight!” Balthazar greeted with joy, grabbing the white haired girl by the hand and running away towards a black van that awaited them nearby. The girl herself had no words, and just looked at Vinn in the eye one last time, bitterness and disappointment in those magenta eyes, before facing the truck and never looking back.

“Darn! What was that...!? Ingram, back away.”

“Don’t worry, Wharwood...” a muffled, sinister, if uninterested voice finally replied. “I’ll keep them away from you while you run with your tail between your legs.”

From their left side, a tall man clad from tip to toe in riot gear with several ornate engravings, a ballistic helmet with a visor that hid his face, and a cape on each shoulder that draped over the entirety of each arm approached them, a heavy machine gun trained at them casually with just one hand.

“I’ve no orders to kill you, but I can make an exception if you insist on pursuing them.” he announced not as a threat, but as a promise, the green machine gun disappearing behind the green cape, vanishing just like that.

“Move aside. We’ve no time to waste with you while they are escaping...!” Nadja commanded as she rushed not towards the van, but at the man himself. “You can give us answers, too!”

“Wait, Nadja! Don’t!”

But Vinn’s warning came too late. In just the flash of an eye, Nadja lunged at the man with a stake, which he shot out her hand with a pistol he produced out of thin air behind the green cape, making her recoil from the shock. As she fell, from his other hand came a shotgun, which he pressed against her gut and shot, the blood she spewed staining his visor and riot chestpiece.

“G-guah...!”

“N-Nadja!”

“Worthless. You, boy. Don’t make waste more ammo. The van is gone, anyways. You have no more reason to oppose me.” The armored man then simply threw the wounded Nadja at Vinn, turned around, and walked towards a manhole without the cover, presumably where he came from.

“Who are you? Why are you helping them?” Vinn asked as he tried to stabilize the wounded Nadja.

“...I’m the Gatling Knight, and why I help them is none of your business, but mark my words, on my honor as a Knight, if you oppose them, then you are bound to face me again, and if that happens, I’ll shoot you down where you stand. The first time you see me is a warning. The second time is your funeral. Be smart and don’t recklessly pursue your funeral. Now, tend to that fool. Her Domunus Tecum is flawless. If treated, she might survive.”

“...”

“Hoh, that’s a hateful glare, if I’ve ever seen one. Consider this, kid: You attack me now, you will meet the asphalt just as she did. You are exhausted from fighting Sacrifice, so you’re not at your 100%. I take you down now, and both of you die. You take her back, she might just make it. Your call. I can spare a few bullets, if you truly wish to force my hand.”

Cursing under his breath, Vinn had no choice but to carry Nadja back to where the other Exorcists were, as it was pointless to stay here, what with the Priests having escaped and his colleague nearing death with every passing second.

To call this operation successful would be a joke, Vinn though to himself.

“...And what did he mean by ‘Sacrifice’...?”

                                               ——-

                                                                                                 August 7th                                                                                                   12:01 PM                                                                                           7th Office’s Infirmary

“...And that’s what happened on my end.” said Vinn, concluding his report.

“I see, we both had a dog of a day, it seems. Damn pigs...” the bed-bound Bastian said with a half-laugh. “...Never imagined the Hog Priest, well, Priests would show up like this and cause this much trouble mere days after you started. You must really be cursed to end with me as your partner and those two wackos as your first foes, bwahaha.”

The younger Exorcist couldn’t help but laugh. “Man, the Academy really didn’t prepare me for this, I want a freaking refund. How are you holding up?”

“Doc says I gotta chill for the rest of today and tomorrow, and I should be golden. Oh, dunno if you heard, but after yesterday, all six of us have been given today and tomorrow as days off to recover properly. Which sucks, because it’s two days I gotta spend cooped up in here. Well, at least the good doc will keep me company, right?”

“I’ll just make it easy on myself and juice you up with so many painkillers that you’ll simply sleep the two days away, honestly.” doctor Aria casually commented from the other side of the Infirmary, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

“Aww, come on, Aria, you don’t gotta be that way.” jokingly commented Bastian. Vinn was somewhat surprised at how well these two seemed to get along. Bastian getting along with anyone was kind of a surprise. “So, yeah, go and take it easy, and... Discard that long face, boyo.”

“...Hm?”

“Oh, don’t HMM me, Vinn Ingram.” the Hydromancer chided. “I know your goody-two-shoes stiff little ass is probably all depressed because of how they got away yesterday. But, the fact is, the operation was successful.”

“...Was it really?”

“It was. We all survived, for starters. Nadja is in critical state, but Aria here is the best Arc damned doctor I’ve met in my life, and that I’ll possibly meet in my life, plus, Nadja’s Domunus was apparently strong enough that a point blank shotgun blast didn’t shred her organs to pieces. That should’ve killed her immediately, and yet, here she is. She’ll recover, I guarantee it. The rest of us were just battered and wounded to varying degrees, but we pulled through. The civilians? No casualties whatsoever. The bombs were a distraction, and none of them were placed anywhere where there were civilians. Fatima, Fiona, and Daryl made sure to evacuate all of them and search several times for more of them. All the missing people have been accounted for. We rescued them, Vinn.”

“...I didn’t consider it this way...”

“Look, man, I know seeing them escape is a kick in the dick, I know, but consider the rest of everything. We’ll get another shot at them, but had anyone died, there’s no coming back from that one. Not all of them are gonna go all flowers and sunshine, and hell, look at you, you are practically unscathed. Compare and contrast with my dumb ass that got saddled in bed. It’s fine, man. You’ll go crazy if you consider anything short of perfection a failure, man.”

“...Haha.”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just so freaking weird to hear you be so nice and supportive, Bastian, that’s all, haha.”

“Yeah, and it’ll cost you 5000 patros. I expect them by the end of the month.”

“Hahaha, but really, thank, it helps a lot to hear that” Vinn said with a smile.

“Oi oi, don’t go smiling at me now, save those for nice girls, like the doc here. Hey doc, can I get a smile?”

Aria, without looking at him, just flipped him her middle finger.

“Bwahahaha, yeah, love you too, doc. Alright, Vinn, go enjoy your day off. Trust me, you’ll learn to treasure them.”

“Alright, I’ll just drop by the office to say hi to Nick and Dani and then go home.”

“Good idea. Oh, and Vinn?”

“Yeah?”

“A bit late, but welcome to the 3rd Division. We are going to get revenge on those sumbitches when round two comes, yeah?”

“You fuckin’ bet we will.”

It might not have been ideal, it might have been perilous, but what Bastian said was true, the operation was, ultimately, a success. A mass kidnapping prevented is indeed good news to numerous families, no one can deny that. The day was saved, and while the root of the problem is still alive, it would be foolish to not enjoy this little moment of peace, or so Vinn thought at least. Whatever little moments of peace he might have from now on, he must make the most of them, for he understands that this is merely the calm before the storm.

The girl’s words echoed in his head, particularly the “coming world” she mentioned. Stroln was slowly but surely being submerged in conflict, and with it, the casualties that inevitably come from the crossfire. More than anything, Vinn wanted to prevent that.

The future looked uncertain and bleak for Vinn, but at the same time, he witnessed firsthand how capable the 7th Office was.

As the door closed behind him, Vinn walked away from the Office, ready to rest his body and prepare his spirit for the trials that he knew were coming, and that he knew Bastian and him and the rest of the 7th would deal with. 

The world he wants rides on this, too, after all.

“...What a nice day for a nap.”

       Of incense, ink stains, and the murky menace lurking beneath it all:                                       – Chapter 3: Neon War Paint –                                                             End

                                                                           To be continued in Chapter 4

[themurphyzone]

Secret Santa Ch 8

I love this story. And I love all my awesome readers!

Ch 8: Milo

“Dad?” Milo asked.

A dull thud sounded from underneath the family minivan, followed by a groan. Martin pushed himself out, a hand pushed to his temple. “What’s up, mini-me?”

“I was wondering,” Milo said awkwardly, nudging a nearby screwdriver with his foot. “There’s a girl at school that I kinda like and I drew her name for the Secret Santa party in a few days. What if whatever I get her is carried away by a flock of crows? Or destroyed in some other way?”

Martin thought for a moment, rubbing his chin with his hand. Milo covered his mouth and tried not to snicker at the oil smear he was spreading on his face. “I’m sure she’ll understand if your gift gets destroyed. But in the end, the important thing is that you considered her interests,” Martin replied. “I also have a small safe in my closet you can borrow. Doesn’t hurt to have extra protection.”

Milo nodded. “Okay, thanks! When you put it like that, girls really aren’t as hard to figure out as television makes it seems.”

“They’re pretty forgiving too,” Martin added. “The first time I went on a date, we went camping and wound up stuck in a net that was ten feet off the ground. I was so worried about making the list of worst first dates in the world, but I married her years later, so things worked out in the end!”

“What your father neglected to mention is that he was showing me how to detect and avoid common traps at the time.”

Brigette leaned against the door, giggling to herself. Milo gave her a quick hug, and she ruffled his hair.

“Thanks for the advice!” Milo exclaimed.

He broke the hug and headed into the house, but a crash made him turn around in time to see a raccoon stealing the front license plate. “Aw man,” Martin groaned.

“Clean the oil off your face first, Martin,” Brigette said. “Then I’ll kiss you.”

“-so for the buffet, we should put all cookies on the left side,” Amanda said, holding her checklist so close to Melissa’s face that she had to back up. “Oatmeal raisin closest to the edge, so that in the event of an accident, we can at least save the more delicious varieties. Then we also have sugar, snickerdoodle, and chocolate chip.”

Melissa gave her a thumbs-up. “Sounds good,” she said. “Though I don’t see why the arrangement of the food matters so much.”

“Matters so much?” Amanda yelped. “Are you kidding me? Of course it does! What kind of monster puts the cheese platters next to the fruitcake? Those do not belong on the same table! What do you think, Lydia?”

Lydia shrugged, uninterested in their squabble.

“As long as the items are properly labelled, I don’t mind how you want to arrange it,” Mort said. “I’m allergic to peanuts. Found out after I was hospitalized after my first ever trip to a circus.”

Amanda nodded. “See? He’s helpful! I’ll be sure to label which items have peanuts, just in case.”

“Sweet,” Mort grinned.

“Yeah,” Milo agreed. Since the girls were preoccupied with planning the setup, he figured this was a good time to talk about Amanda’s gift.

More accurately, what he could give to Amanda that wouldn’t be destroyed by fire, cassowaries, or wayward paragliders.

“Confession, I still haven’t bought a present for Amanda,” Milo whispered.

“Dude, the party’s in a few days,” Zack replied, keeping his voice low. “You gotta come up with something quick.”

“I know,” Milo replied. “Do you think she’ll accept an accidentally smushed gift?”

Zack shook his head. “How about you try not to smush it?”

“Will do!” Milo exclaimed, a little too loudly. He glanced over to the girls, who were still engrossed in their planning. They hadn’t heard him at least. “Sara and I are going Christmas shopping tomorrow anyway. I can figure it out then!”

“Do you know if she likes Dr. Zone?” Sara asked as she rifled through a Space Adventure collection in the sci-fi section. “Oh, thank goodness they still had one last figure of Lump Sharkboard.” She held it up triumphantly. “Neal is gonna love this! As long as he isn’t secretly hiding somewhere in the T-shirt racks, watching us.”

“I can assure you that he is not in the coat racks,” Milo said. Catching Sara’s skeptical look, he put his right hand over his heart. “I swear it on the Book of Aropsias.”

“That’s the most serious oath you can make, bro,” Sara said. “It didn’t bode well for Dr. Langley when he failed to keep his vow. Man, that guy was definitely the creepiest part of the Aropsian Civil War arc.”

Milo shrugged. “I know. And I never asked Amanda what TV shows she liked. The subject never came up.”

Sara handed the cashier a twenty dollar bill. “Okay, this could complicate matters since my general expertise lies in geekdom, but I promise to help you pick something she would enjoy and keep it safe so it’ll be intact for your party.”

The cashier glanced over to Milo with a wary look in his eyes. “You know we have a you break it, you buy it policy here?”

“He’s not standing near any breakable merchandise,” Sara retorted, snatching her change from the cashier. “The nerve of some people…”

The glass of the display windows shattered, though Milo was standing far away enough to not get sprayed with any shards.

Sara turned back to the cashier, chuckling nervously as she tugged Milo out of the store. “Like I said, not near the merchandise. Goodbye.”

They decided to try looking for gifts on the other side of the mall after taking a much needed hot chocolate break. Sara ordered two medium peppermint hot chocolates from a drink stand while Milo plopped down at a table.

On the other side of the mall plaza was a Santa’s Workshop setup, at least ten children lined up in anticipation of meeting the jolly man himself. Their parents fiddled with the cameras, gently telling their kids to wait their turn whenever they grew impatient.

Sara sipped her drink, giggling at the sight of a rambunctious little girl yanking on Santa’s beard. “Remember the last time we went to see Santa before we were slapped with that permanent ban?” she asked. “His chair toppled over when you were sitting on his lap and his beard and hat fell off!”

Milo laughed. “I did say sorry to Mr. Benson later. He never did hold it against me.”

The peppermint hot chocolate was indeed delicious, and the cups were quickly drained once they cooled enough to take more than just a tiny sip.

They tried several stores, but Milo didn’t see anything he thought Amanda would like. He briefly considered a 30 inch planner, but it wouldn’t fit into his Dad’s safe. Besides, it was far too big for anyone to lug around comfortably.

“Jewelry?” Milo suggested. He was running out of ideas.

Sara shook her head. “Too fragile and expensive. Some girls won’t wear more than a pair of earrings and maybe a bracelet. I have an entire drawer of jewelry Grandma gets me for my birthday that I never wear myself. I’ve been procrastinating on selling those lately.”

“True,” Milo sighed. Then a glitter caught his eye.

Checking the rack next to him, he found a lone headband that had a single band of sequins running across the length of the band. It was a pleasant shade of dark pink, the same color Amanda always wore.

“Sara, I think I found it!” Milo exclaimed.

“That’s perfect!” Sara exclaimed. “See? As Dad always says, the simple things are the best!”

“Didn’t he tell us that as a warning to never create a fifty-two step plan for talking to a girl only for things to go wrong halfway through Step 1?” Milo asked.

“Eh, context, schmontext.”

Only two sequins fell off the headband before he was able to put it in the safe. He debated gluing them back on, but decided against it when he figured the glue could easily tangle in Amanda’s hair. He hoped she liked it enough.

And he definitely couldn’t wait to have fun with everyone at the party!

[81scorp]

Constructive criticism: Fantastic Four

(Originally posted as an editorial on Deviantart Aug 3, 2015. It has not been changed from how I originally wrote it.)

In 1961 Martin Goodman, the editor of Marvel Comics (Which back then was called Atlas Comic.), called writer Stan Lee to tell him that their competition, DC Comics (Which was called National Comics back then.), had created a team of superheroes called the Justice League, and it was a big seller. "I want us to get on the bandwagon too. Cook me up a book which stars a whole team of heroes - and do it yesterday!" So. Stan Lee and Jack Kirby created Fantastic Four, Marvel`s first Superhero team which not only sold great, but also introduced the idea of relatable superheroes. Plus: unlike most Superheroes they didn`t have secret identities. In 1986 Constantin Film acquired the film rights to Fantastic Four and a low budget movie was made by producer Roger Corman in 1994... only to never see the light of day. Except in the form of bootlegs. The movie was only made so that the company could keep the movie rights. Probably waiting for a time when special effects had improved so that it wouldn`t look stupid and they could do the source material justice. In 2005 a new Fantastic Four movie was made and unlike the previous one this one was released in the cinema. And it wasn`t that good. The CGI on Reed Richards didn`t look good, Ben Grimm`s rock-body looked very rubbery, Dr Doom`s motivation was copied from Norman Osborn`s from the Spider-man movies and it took the team till the third act to realize that they could use their powers for good. (Yes, there was that scene at the bridge, but after that their biggest priority, which took up an unnecessary large amount of time, was to get rid of their powers.) Unlike Phantom Menace and Transformers, revenge of the fallen I don`t feel that listing a few points is enough, I`d change most of the story. Here`s how it could have been better. At the beginning of the movie the four are already training and preparing for their journey into space. Their backgrounds and relationships to each other is revealed through dialogue and interactions. Reed and Sue has been in a relationship for at least six months and Reed is already kind of a celebrity in this world (kinda like Stephen Hawking) and he`s nicknamed "Mr Fantastic". He sees a science magazine with him on the cover and a headline that says: "Smartest man on earth?" It makes him think that under different circumstances it could have said "Smartest men on earth?" He tells his story to Johnny who has never heard it before. Reed had always been very intelligent for his age, the only one of his age that he felt was his intellectual equal was a guy he met at college: Victor Von Doom."Hold it." Johnny interrupts. "His name was actually `Doom`?" "Well, he was born in a european country, I think it was called Latveria. Maybe it`s a common name there that means something different in their language. Anyway..." He continues his story about how Victor was brilliant but also very hard to work with and eccentric. One day he did an experiment that literally blew up in his face. Reed doesn`t know what happened later. Some said that Doom died others that he was kicked out. Then comes the day. The four go out into space, Reed notices that he has miscalculated, they get bombarded with cosmic radiation and crashland on earth. They discover their powers, John thinks it`s cool, Sue and Reed are cautiously optimistic but they all feel sorry for Ben who got the worst part of the deal. A military team comes to get them, sees Ben, thinks he`s a monster, gets ready shoot him but the rest of four go: "No no! don`t shoot! he`s with us!" Reed is troubled by guilt and the four are driven home in silence. Back at the base the four are quarantined for a few days. Reed examines and tests their powers to make sure their condition doesn`t get any worse, and to see if there is a cure for Ben. Late one night Reed is up working hard, the radio is on in the background. The music is interrupted because of news: there has been an accident somewhere, many are injured. Reed stretches his arm to reach the radio so he can switch to another station because he`s too tired to listen to bad news. But then he stops himself, the reason he got into science is because he wanted to change the world for the better. If he turns the radio off now he`s no better than all those other people who turn a deaf ear to all the bad things in the world. With his powers he could actually do something. So he listens to the news. Somewhere in an Latverian town at night, three activists are running down the streets. They are caught by authorities. Cut to: a cell, the three activists are being interrogated by a man who talks to them in a kind, yet condescending way. They were protesting against their ruler and spreading propaganda against him. The man tells them that they can avoid punishment if they take back what they have said, they refuse. The ruler himself enters, a man in cloak and armor (because of the light and shadows we don`t see his face but from the sound of his voice we can guess that he`s wearing an iron mask). He gives them the chance to apologize to him in person, they still refuse. The ruler charges his glove and fires. Reed has managed to get his friends out for a walk in the nearest city in civilian clothes. Ben is fully clothed with hat, trenchcoat, scarf and everything but still feels like a freak on display. Reed has a special radio that allows him to hear 911-calls. A building is on fire near where they are. The four run to it and use their powers to help people. Ben is at first reluctant to get into the fire because he knows his clothes will burn and people will see his body, but he knows he can`t put that over human lives. The people are saved, the four are heroes, people see Ben`s body. Some react in fear, others don`t care (because he saved their lives), but Ben still doesn`t like being exposed. They get famous, TV wants to interview them, media calls them "The Fantastic Four", they move into the Baxter building, Sue designs their FF costumes Reed makes them out of unstable molecules, Johnny is OK with the media circus, Ben is not. He feels that Reed has been too distracted by the publicity and has abandoned his research. Ben never says it out loud but Sue can see it and talks to Reed who feels guilty and goes back to working on a cure for Ben. Then I figured there could be a montage of FF doing Superheroic stuff and Reed searching for Ben`s cure. Ben does all the Superhero stuff because he knows it`s the right thing to do (the needs of the many and all that), but he gets no joy from it. Near the end of the Montage we can see that the hooded ruler has been following their adventures on the news. After the montage Ben could have mixed feelings about his situation: sure, he`s helping people and making a difference, but he still has his body issues. He goes out late one evening to clear his head and meets Alicia Masters who makes him feel better about himself. That same night Reed has made great progress in his research, he should be able to reverse Ben`s condition within a few days. Things look good for Johnny too, he`s gotten the phone number of a hot girl he likes: Frankie Raye. The next day a ship lands on top of the Baxter building. The ship`s autopilot tells them to come aboard, it`s master has important things that he wishes to discuss with them. The FF suspect a trap but get on the ship which takes them to Latveria. The ship takes them to a castle where they are shown to a dining room and are soon introduced to their host: Dr Doom! Dr Doom removes the lower half of his mask to eat and we can see that at least half of the lower half of his face is scarred. He tells them what happened after the explosion at the university. He was kicked out, wandered the world, learned meditation in tibet, had an epiphany where he realized that he was the right man to rule the whole world, created his armor, returned to his birth country which was in a horrible state, made it better but also turned it into a dictatorship. He and Reed wants the same thing: to make the world a better place, he just thinks that Reed approaches it from the wrong angle: he only treats the symptoms and doesn`t go to the root of the problem. Doom uses his own country and the (real life) benevolent yugoslavian dictator Tito as examples of the positive sides of fascism. Doom wants the FF to assist him in uniting the countries of the world and create a Utopia. FF refuses, Doom locks them up in cells and starts preparing a trip to U.S.A. With them out of the way It`ll be easier for him to take over U.S.A and force his "benevolent" dictatorship on it. Doom: "At first they will resist, but in the long run, they will be grateful." FF breaks out of their cells, gets by the sequrity systems, fight a few guards and fights Doom who turns out to be a Doombot. (F.Y.I: The Doom they talked to in the dining room was the real Doom.) The real Doom is on one of three ships that has just lifted and are headed for U.S.A. The FF manages to get on board, fight a few robot guards, manages to take down the other two ships and fights Doom (for realz this time). The ship gets wrecked and falls. It is headed for a Latverian town but the FF manages to aim it at a nearby lake. The ship sinks, Reed wants to save Doom but can`t find him. FF escapes in an escape pod. Next day they celebrate in the Baxter building. Ben has brought Alicia as his date and Johnny has brought Frankie Raye as his. Reed tells Ben that he should be able to restore his humanity by the end of the week. Ben, who has learned to accept himself, respectfully declines. Reed then proposes to Sue, everybody is happy. Or?... Mid or post-credit scene: A group of Latverian citizens have gathered in a building. Now that Dr Doom has been de-throned they can turn Latveria into a democracy that respects human rights. Things can only get better from here. Cut to: the lake. Dr Doom walks out of the water and onto the shore. He has an apparatus in his armor that allows him to breathe underwater. He is alive and he is pissed. The end Not perfect but it`s the best I could come up with. It doesn`t have to be super faithful to the source material to be good, but the source material was the only better alternative I could think of. Thing: Mocap or practical? I could go either way. A practical suit wouldn`t be bad if it was a good practical suit. (They did it well in The neverending story which came out 1984.) and I wouldn`t mind Mocap if was good and the actor got to interact with the other actors at least half of the time. Characters Johnny should be a little bit smarter and mature than he was in the 2005 movie. He could be an adventure seeker and the funny guy. Ben could be a tragic figure that turns into an everyman who`s a bit of a loveable brawler and the funny guy. Almost like Johnny except he`s older and wiser. Sue could be the diplomat of the FF. When the team starts to fall apart she`s usually the glue that holds them together. She could also be the one who translates Reed`s technobabble to John and Ben (to the best of her abilities). Reed is the egghead of the group, but also leader, idealist and slightly asperger-ish. (Sometimes Sue has to translate subtle hints from others that Reed doesn`t always pick up.) Dr Doom is a megalomaniac who should be based on real life dictators, wants to rule the world and not some CEO who is pissed because Reed and friends messed up his face.