#technically the skin problems came first. had em for years and years

[little-eye-guy]

kind of messed up that everything is connected. my colon has ulcers which means i also have arthritis and psoriasis. i simply think that should not happen

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @kaylinalexanderbooks! Sorry it took me a while to respond

5 Lines Tag

.

A line about a building

In time, Mashal began to recognize the buildings they passed from his first trip here. It seemed like all of the apothecaries and paper shops huddled around the city’s center, and by extension, the Archive. None of these were open at such an hour, so sneaking around was even easier. Above the slate roofs, he could see the dour spire of the magical library---the tallest spike in the crown that was the Yewbury College of the Arcane.

As they passed through the ring of shops and entered the university grounds, that spire towered above then as a gargantuan monolith, a massive panopticon set to watch the whole city for any signs of ignorance. It seemed almost alien, how bare it was. Just a brutalist gray slab reaching impossibly high into the sky.

A sad line

From outside the house suddenly came the shrill blast of a whistle. Mashal jumped at the noise, while Astra's face fell. Elwe and Dahlia looked at each other exhaustedly. It seemed their lunch break was over.

"Time to get back to work," Dahlia muttered. She stood, crossing the room to pull on a heavily mended pair of boots. Elwe hesitated, but stood as well with a sigh.

Astra scowled bitterly. Mashal saw her briefly reach into her sleeve, fingers brushing over dozens of assorted runes, though none that did what she wanted right now. Her gaze was dim as she hugged her parents goodbye. Soon, it was the two of them alone in the house.

"I coulda' begged 'em to stay," the witch murmured. "They deserve a day off. I deserve the chance to spend time with 'em."

A line that's wimpered

"You've got this," he whispered, careful to keep his voice below Avymere's enraged complaints---which now featured not only Landry's blood, but the lack of refreshments and seating arrangements, the demiplane's air quality, and both his and Sixteen's omnipresent mechanical hiss-clack.

"I'm going to die," Elsind whimpered.

Without another word, the changeling squeezed into their liquid form and oozed towards the cell bars. The moment they moved, Mashal could see what the problem was. Elsind's skin typically had a slimy cast to it. Not enough to leave marks or stains on anything---just a bit of a sheen. Vermir had scalded all of that off to rid herself of her liquid intruder. Elsind's movements were jerky and pained; they involuntarily tensed up any time something brushed up against them. Instead of a clean squeeze through the bars, it was more of a sticky struggle, limbs clawing half-formed on either side.

A line with taste

Then came the unmistakable sound of a large explosion.

A bitter grin crept up Vermir's face. She remembered the taste of that summoned fire. It had stuck. What sort of fire did that? No, the witch who'd managed to impress a five hundred year old mage possessing the power of seven sorcerers wouldn't fall to some city guards.

A funny line

"Top of the east tower, right?" Mashal asked. He held out a map, cross-referencing that with the written directions.

"Yeah, but we gotta take the servants' passages or they'll kill us," Astra muttered. "Or boil us alive, or sew us in a bag with rabid dogs. Or make us listen to ballad jazz."

Mashal shook his head. "Ballad jazz is great---you must be deafer than I thought from all those explosions. We'll take this passage here." The man started walking faster, Astra having to take twice as many steps to keep up with her long-legged friend. "That'll connect to here, which should bring us to the stairs."

"How many stories?" she asked with a wince.

"Thirty," he answered mercilessly, eyes still on the map. "The good news is, the staircase connects directly to a door in the Duchon's chambers. Technically, the whole east tower is theirs, but they only live on the top floor. Also, did you know there are elevators here like in Unity? Though they're only for the---"

"Love, if ya finish that sentence, I'm gonna have a conniption."

.

Your lines are: A line about clothing, an angry line, a line that's muttered, a line with taste, and a loving line

I'll tag @bunnymermaidwrites @the-ellia-west @melpomene-grey @sleepywriter00 @somethingclevermahogony and YOU :D

Have a bitchin day <3

[amortentiaboys]

Ahhh it’s here! This is a gift to the wonderful @avenueofesc as part of the @drarrymicrofic Wheel of Drarry mini exchange. Em, you’re a ray of light on the dash, the biggest microfic supporter and an all-round hilarious person. I tried to mesh some pining, oblivious boys, and hurt/ comfort, and also threw in some Warbling Glowworms and Patronus shenanigans for good measure! I hope you like it as much as I loved writing it.

RATED T  |  4k  

Harry’s twenty-five, a leading Healer on the Acute Curse and Dark Artifact Afflictions Ward at St. Mungo’s, and has a sound group of friends. So why does he constantly feel like he wants to crawl out of his skin? Draco Malfoy may be exacerbating the problem…or is he? 

Featuring Warbling Glowworms, bacon sandwiches, and sharp edges.

WARNING: graphic description of an injury and blood

***

The first time Draco Malfoy turned up at 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry was expecting it. He wasn’t particularly pleased.

“Come on Hermione, it’s Malfoy!” Ron whined as Hermione bustled about. Harry nodded from the doorway, safely out of the way of both Hermione and the Warbling Glowworms she was Levitating into various spots around his living room.

She gave them her most unimpressed look. “Honestly, you two! Wasn’t it your idea to have an inter-house reunion party, Ron?”

“Well it was technically Theo’s, but—”

“—And didn’t Harry say he’d be more than happy to have the party here because he wants this house to be filled with laughter and people?” Hermione interrupted brusquely, “And because he might be a tad lonely? No offense, Harry.” 

Harry shrugged. She wasn’t wrong.

Ron whined again, but set about wrestling some more glowworms from the crate Neville had brought over earlier.

Hermione gave a nod. “Well, that’s settled.”

Which is how Harry found himself face to face with Malfoy and Pansy on his doorstep. On a Saturday night. On one of Harry’s few days off from the Acute Curse and Dark Artifact Afflictions Ward at St. Mungo’s.

Wonderful.

“Hello, Potter.” Pansy was all angles and sharp edges, her red lipstick crisp around her sly smile and her nails tapered at the end like elegant talons. Perfect for ripping people’s throats out, Harry thought uncharitably.

“Pansy.”

An ostentatious cough drew Harry’s gaze to Malfoy, his pompous smirk the same as ever. The git. 

Yet a voice in the back of Harry’s head that sounded suspiciously like Hermione reminded him that there were changes, if he looked hard enough. Malfoy had obviously just clocked out of a shift with the DMLE, his standard-issue wand holster strapped tight around his shoulders, his white shirt rolled up at the elbows. He’d loosened up since the war, his hair slightly wavy with a fringe long enough that slender fingers had to brush it out of his eyes every now and then, and his eyes—

“Did you know it’s usually polite to invite your guests inside, Potter?” 

Draco’s drawl jerked Harry from his reverie, his smirk stretching wider as Pansy snickered next to him. 

Harry took a deep breath, biting back a choice insult about ferrets and unwanted guests. “Of course. Come on in.”

***

Harry planned to spend the rest of the party staying as far away from Malfoy as possible. The problem was, Malfoy seemed to be everywhere: his cologne permeated the hallway, his laugh— raw and sharp around the edges with newness— cut through the cacophony of Seamus’ magically-enhanced sound system and the Warbling Glowworms. Harry even spied him being fawned over by Kreacher in the kitchen. Kreacher usually despised all of Harry’s guests with every fiber of his shriveled being, and made sure to broadcast it as loudly as possible when they were around.

Harry’s skin started to prickle, though from sweat or annoyance, he couldn’t tell. He retreated to the garden with his umpteenth Firewhiskey of the night, skirting around a rather preoccupied-looking Ginny and Pansy. He sought refuge with Neville and Hannah Abbott on the patio, until they started making Herbology-based innuendos that made Harry feel both clueless and wildly uncomfortable. To be fair, it wasn’t a great deal different from how he normally felt, but he decided it was best to leave them to it.

He wound his way through the garden until he came to his pond. It was the first part of the garden Harry had worked on ever since he unearthed a picture of Sirius, Lupin and his father lazing by it. The pond was luminescent with tiny water-foals, the air festooned with fireflies that dipped and danced over the dark water. Harry had grown some toadstools not too long ago on Ron’s advice, which some fairies had taken to shacking up in during the summer. Aside from their occasional laughter and jokes at his expense, it was a safe place, hidden away from the world by towering ferns. It was Harry’s favourite spot, the one where he could just sit and think and be vaguely uncomfortable in peace. Even Ron and Hermione rarely bothered him out here.

So it was utterly unsurprising that Malfoy had invaded it.

He was sitting on the stone bench— his bench, Harry’s brain supplied angrily— those impossibly grey eyes fixed on the pool, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together, white knuckled. The silvery trails left by the manes of the water-foals lit up his eyes in a way that Harry hadn’t seen since Fifth Year.

An age-old instinct to make Malfoy move, do something, to get under that iron-fisted, porcelain veneer, reared up inside Harry.

“I still stand by what I said.”

[savethelastdan]

Yashahime Is Over Party: Contribution #2

“All right, all right!” 

The crowd of villagers quieted (some with a wince) as the high-pitched shout rang around the village entrance. Ten-year-old Moroha gave them one last warning glare for good measure. 

With, as her Great-Grandpa on the other side of the Well would say, “more gusto than should be necessary”, she then leapt upon the nearest height-offering surface - one of the tourists’ suitcases, emblazoned a dozen times on every side with “FRAGILE” - and began her welcome speech. 

“Shut your mouths and hold onto your butts, folks, because this is a real treat! The coolest village ever to exist in any timeline, on a sunny day! Since my big brother is at kitsune academy today, you all have the honor of yours truly acting as escort around this prime piece of feudal real estate!” 

Dramatic pause for emphasis. (Yes, she’d taken some liberties with the script that Shippo had left, and she didn’t quite know what ‘prime piece of real estate’ actually meant, but her cousin Towa agreed that it sounded fancy and fancy always worked with humans.) 

A soft-faced young woman glanced around the crowd self-consciously before raising a hand. “You mean, this is the village where priestess Kikyo - “

“Ahem!” Moroha held up the wooden sign hanging from her neck, tapping the carved-in letters spelling ‘Village Tour Guide #2” with one nail. “Are you wearin’ the sign?”

“Oh. Uh, sorry.” The woman blushed. 

After a moment, Moroha cleared her throat. “Okay, yeah, it is. But there’s a bunch of other super-cool people here, too! If you wanna meet them - follow me!” With that, she jumped from the suitcase to land solidly in the dirt. A few tourists reared back from the cloud of disturbed dust, putting them at the back of the moving crowd. 

“First up, the sister of the blah-dee-blah-famed-priestess-blah-dee-blah Kikyo - Lady Kaedeeeeee!” She swung both arms in a dramatic half-circle towards the healer woman’s hut; the crowd ooh-ed and ah-ed appropriately. “On days like these, she’s either healing a sick patient, birthin’ a new baby, or taking a long nap! Since she’s awfully old, the napping’s more frequent.” Hooking an arm around a teenage tourist’s shoulder, she hissed in a spooky tone, “Some say she’ll live forever, getting older and older until she’s like a living zombie-” 

“I heard that.” With a cross expression, Kaede leaned out of the window.“Don’t think I won’t curse you for those bad manners.”

Moroha waved the group on with a nervous chuckle. 

“And this is the home of the most famous demon slayer known to womankind - Sango!” Cupping both hands around her mouth like a bullhorn, Moroha drew out the last syllable of the woman’s name to emphasize her coolness. Several of the humans perked up with excitement; it wasn’t hard to imagine that they had themselves benefited from some of the woman’s work. 

“Her husband Miroku lives here too. He used to be a monk, but now he’s a family guy! My papa says -” She straightened, putting on a deep, gruff tone - “it’s a damn miracle -” Dropping the tone, she grinned cheerily at the group - “nobody will tell me why!” 

As if on cue, the door to the house opened to reveal a group of tall, bickering young adults. The loudest were two women with matching features, the only visible difference to a stranger being that one’s slayer outfit was trimmed in pink and the other’s in green. Behind them trotted a younger boy, also wearing a slayer outfit in red.  

“I’m taking the kusarigama, you’re taking the wakizashi!” The green-outfitted slayer said, ignoring her sister’s attempts to talk over her. “Otherwise you and Mom will have two long-range weapons, and that makes no sense!” 

“Plus that’s Uncle Kohaku’s specialty!” Their brother piped up; he dodged the twin elbows that swung back at him as easily as if they’d warned him. “She wants to impress him with it so he’ll take her on his trip to the mountains with Rin this summer!” 

Through the left-open door, came the sweet smell of treats baking - one of the many hobbies Miroku had taken up with his time, now that he wasn’t going to up and die (Moroha knew she wasn’t technically supposed to know about that. Or probably phrase it like that… But if her godfather Koga said it that way, why was it any different for her?)

The group of slayers stopped short upon seeing the crowd; with awkward bows, they quickly skirted their way around the gaping tourists. 

““That’s Sango’s kids; every one of ‘em demon slayer prodigies.” Slinging her arm around the same teen from earlier, Moroha shook her head with a dramatic sigh. “Makes me almost want another sibling. Except then I’d have to share my room, nooooo thank you!”

“Excuse me.” A mustached man in the middle of the group raised one arm curiously. “I heard one of those women mention Rin - is that the human who died twice and was resurrected by the sword Tenseiga?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. That’s Rin.” Moroha tapped her own head thoughtfully and muttered under her breath, “Was it really only twice…”

“Does she still live here?” The man’s mustache drooped in a frown. “Or did she go to live with that dog demon?”

“Dog demon? Ohhh, you mean Uncle Sesshomaru!” A smile stretched across her face. “I almost forgot about him! Nah, after she got married she decided to stay in town -” 

“Married?!” The group erupted in murmurs of horror. One kerchiefed mother clapped her hands over the ears of her daughter; the mustached man turned green.

Moroha’s face fell. “Well, yeah. She wanted to keep taking healer lessons from Kaede, and even though he travels a lot, she wanted to stay by Kohaku’s side when he comes home. Be a team, and all that.” 

“Ohhhh, so she’s Kohaku’s wife!” The human mother’s shoulders slumped with a sigh. “How lovely and age-appropriate.” 

Moroha wasn’t sure what that meant, but if it made the negative energy go away then she was all for it! “Rin’s super cool, anyway. She knows how to heal demons, not just humans, and she tells really good ghost stories, and she’s actually really good at arm-wrestling -” 

Suddenly she ducked her head to whisper, “She’s probably my favorite cousin, if I’m bein’ honest with ya.”

 “Do you have other cousins?” A man who appeared to look a thousand years old squinted in her direction. Perhaps in confusion, but it was hard to tell with all the wrinkles. “I doubt a full-blooded dog demon like that Sesshomaru fella would leave his legacy in the hands of a human girl.” 

“My mom would say that’s prejudiced,” Moroha said helpfully, causing the old man to blanche. “But Rin’s got two little sisters, who you can see riiiiiiight now!” 

With a dramatic twist, she whirled around to point in the opposite direction with both hands, adding a low growl that was meant to mimic the roar of an excited crowd. 

The moment was slightly underwhelmed by the confused looks of the tourists as they took a moment to figure out where exactly to look. That’s okay; she’d work on it. 

Down the road, her twin cousins leaned against the wall of a house (Moroha’s house, which she was saving for last because you always save the best for last). Towa was smiling and pointing out something up in the sky, while Setsuna wore a very predictable scowl. From this far away, the red streaks in their hair were little more than smudges. 

The extremely old man with an attitude problem made a weird hacking noise, most likely in surprise. 

“Did he adopt them like your other cousin?” asked a teenage girl. 

“Kinda!” Both hands landed on her hips; Moroha then modeled her expression on her Uncle - stoic, dismissive, oh-so-cool. “On a cool spring night, Uncle Sesshomaru walked into the darkest, deepest forest on the planet, waved his sword over a really old and creepy tree, and when he cut it open - there they were. Two lil’ hanyou babies.” 

Dramatic pause. 

“Just kiddin’.” Laughing loud enough to bring back the wincing from the group, Moroha slapped her knee. “They’re full demons. I can still take either of ‘em in a fight, though. Oh!” She pointed up in the air with a wide, excited smile. “There’s their mom right now!” 

Murmurs of confusion filled the air as the tourists moved their heads this way, that way; only when a chilling breeze morphed into flesh and bone, right before their eyes, did the group exclaim in collective understanding. 

Moroha waved. “Hi, Auntie Kagura!” 

“Yo.” Clearly taken aback by the crowd, the wind demon gave a tiny salute. The side of her neck bore a half-moon symbol tattooed on the skin; Moroha thought it was neat, even if her dad thought it was a dumb, archaic wedding ritual. “Do your parents know you’re doing this?” 

“Uh, duh!” She held up the sign with a cheeky grin. 

“Fair enough.” Upon spying her daughters across the way, Kagura’s expression softened a bit. “Well, I’ll see you later.” 

“No, wait! We’re actually heading the same way.” Gesturing to the not-moving crowd, Moroha repeated, “The same way. Meaning the best part of the tour - come on, folks, work with me here -” 

Kagura snorted, walking quickly as though to avoid the gawking humans and their nosy questions about how she had been resurrected or could still live now that Naraku was dead or got Sesshomaru to admit he had feelings much less have kids with her. A curt “none of your business” was all they’d get, no matter how much Moroha tugged on her sleeve and whined about “giving people their money’s worth.”

Luckily, once they reached Moroha’s house, it was easy to escape. After all, a much more awe-inspiring attraction awaited the group of lucky, lucky tourists. 

“And now! The Greatest Love Story Of Our Time!” With a winning grin, Moroha landed a kick on the door, sending it slamming open. 

“Oh.” Kagome blinked at the group from where she sat on a futon in the middle of the house, surrounded by magical artifacts. A scroll marked with ink rolled from her lap all the way to one side of the room. Behind her, halfway through helping her put her hair in a bun, Inuyasha froze “Uh, hello?”

“My parents! Dumdedumdummmmm!” The warmth of her pride felt like it was going to burst in her chest. It was the absolute best to come home to people who loved her! Whether it was tickle fights before bed, or her dad taking her and Shippo out on demon-tracking trips, or her mom humming a lullaby if she felt sick on the full moon night, Moroha was certain her family was the best of anybody’s anywhere. “One fell through time, and one fell -- fell, uh, for her -- sorry, I’ll work on it.” 

Inuyasha huffed in the way that meant he was going to complain later. Kagome just chuckled and waved. 

For once, the humans reacted exactly the way Moroha wanted them to - smiling, clapping, appreciating the wonder of her super-beautiful-and-also-hella-powerful mom and grumpy-but-still-amazingly-brave papa. She launched into the story she knew by heart, of how they had come to be together and saved the whole world while they were at it. Some parts were probably missing or misrepresented, from the laughter in her mom’s eyes, but she had enough of it right that half the tourist group was in near tears by the time she was done. 

“And now, they have one more accomplishment to add to the long list - parenting the greatest warrior this world has ever seen. Moro-uh, Beniyasha!” Swirling the ends of her fire-rat robe, she twirled. “The Crimson Slayer!”

“Slayer of my patience, maybe,” Inuyasha snapped, though he was unable to hide his smile as he marched over to grab her by the collar. “Come ‘ere, kid. You’ve got chores to do!” 

Tossing her over his shoulder, he waved dismissively at the group of humans. “Sorry folks, the show ends here. Yeesh...” 

Moroha cupped both hands around her mouth, screeching to be heard over her parent’s laughter before the door shut.

“Make sure to leave your comment cards in the box at the entrance!”

[ssa-sugar-tits]

The Biggest Surprise

Request: this one (@zizzlekwum , happy birthday!!)

I was wondering if I could get Prentiss x reader where Prentiss comes back from the dead and the reader is just like "you motherfuckers" to Hotch and JJ and just really pissed and standoffish to everyone because reader is not good with feelings but then at the end of the case Prentiss goes to reader with a little present for reader's birthday and then feelings reveal and fluff ensues?

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Content warnings: strong language, death mention, guns, hostage, grief, depression, unsub s**cide, angst + fluff

a/n: left the present she gets you open-ended so use your imagination ♡

When you lost Emily, your entire world shattered. Not only did you lose a team member, but you lost a friend. A friend you love-- loved. The weight of the casket was nothing compared to the weight of your heart that day. Her river like tears and cherry blood still burn on your skin. It's been 10 months of true hell without seeing the midnight beauty. Without hearing her caramel smooth voice. Without feeling her butterly wing touch. You've actually been preparing, for the first birthday since you met her where you wouldn't make plans with her. So when Hotch and JJ explain how they lied and betrayed you, it's enough to make you want to rip your own hair out.

"Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her, and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need to know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris, where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to, for her security."

Your emotions are ripped up and thrown to the ground. The team is quick to react.

"She's alive?"

"But we buried her!"

"If I got issues? Yeah I got issues!"

JJ places a hand on your shoulder, trying to ease you with her motherly love but you push her away and screw your eyes shut.

"Y/N..." She tries again.

"No! You lied to me, you... you let me think she was dead." Your voice breaks and hot, angry tears trail down your face until you feel a hand on your arm. Almost swatting it away, you recognize her voice. Her fucking voice. Even better than you remembered.

"Y/N, it's me," she whispers. "It's Emily."

And goddamn, it is.

- two weeks later -

"Y/N, go with Prentiss to interview the mother." Hotch orders. Oh fuck me, you complain to yourself. No matter how much you missed her glorious presence, Emily lied to you. She left you. You were alone. Alone with the miserable memory of your angel. Alone with your thoughts. How could life be worth living without a goddess such as Emily? You'd thought it many, many times. There were days you couldn't get out of your bed, nights you clasped the sheets trying to get the image of her cold, bloody figure out of your brain.

"Yeah, okay." You don't look at her, only walking out to the SUV. Deafening silence fills the vehicle as neither of you speak.

"Y/N, can we--"

"Don't." Cutting her off, you roll your eyes at a notification on your phone. Same fucking thing.

JJ

hey, y/n. can we talk when the case is over? will's off tonight, we can go for drinks. you have every right to be angry but please give me this chance.

A pit grows in Emily's stomach and a lump in her throat. She doesn't push the matter further, letting you have your way. You pull up to the victim's mother's home and knock on the door.

"Hello?" Emily squints through the fogged window.

"Mrs. Bennett? It's Agents Prentiss and Y/L/N with the FBI, we have a few questions to ask you."

Crash.

In sync, you and Emily reach for your guns and she kicks down the door with her long, swift leg. You can't help but admire the way her pants cling to her thighs. Y/N, what the fuck? She broke you, stop staring at her fucking legs. Walking into the home, a man fitting the description of your unsub holds the mother at gunpoint. She whimpers and pleads, "P-Please help me agents."

"FBI, drop the gun."

"I'm not going to jail!" The vein in his forehead bulges before he takes the gun to his own head and pulls the trigger. His hostage runs to you, screaming and covered in his crimson blood.

"It's okay, I got you." you escort her out of the home. You don't take a second glance at Emily. You can't control what you might do if you look.

Back at the BAU, you fill out your report mindlessly. Detailing the unsub's final actions and working around admitting the lack of cooperation you displayed.

"Y/L/N, in my office."

Obeying Hotch, you stand and make your way to his office.

"Yes, sir?" Hostility spits at him, telling him you feel utterly wronged. He sighs and you can tell from the creases in his face that he feels guilty but you can't bring yourself to care.

"I made the decision for Emily's own good."

"I understand that, sir."

"If you have a problem, take it up with me. JJ was only following my orders and Prentiss was being kept safe."

Rage boils in your chest and your knuckles could burst from the pressure of your fist. You're interrupted by a knock on the door. JJ stands at the doorway along with Emily.

"I could hear you guys and I thought we could talk, Y/N," JJ says quietly, tucking a blonde tress behind her ear.

"Please?" The brunette adds.

You feel sick.

"Y/N?"

Your insides start turning.

"I'm sorry."

"Y/N."

You're not even sure who's speaking anymore but your name is being repeated and thrown around.

"Y/N?"

Your head spins and you exhale harshly, finally snapping at the people around you.

"Shut up, shut up! Just shut the fuck up all of you! You're all shitty people, you fucking lied to me!" You cry. "You let me think Emily was fucking dead. For 10 months I cried and mourned her to the point where it physically hurt. I was dying too guys. And you motherfuckers can't just decide that after tormenting me inside for almost a year, everything's okay. Fuck you."

They all watch-- and let you-- leave, dumbstruck at the outburst.

Groaning with a massive migraine from breaking down the night before, you awaken to texts from your friends.

penelope:

happy birthday, my amazing best friend!! first of many gifts at your door <3

jj:

happy birthday y/n! lots of kisses from me and the boys 😊

spencer:

happy birthday! interestingly enough, a birthday is considered a renewed chance for new beginnings which is, so to speak, the technical way to say: have a good day (and year!)

derek:

happy birthday, pretty thing. don't have too much fun without me ;)

rossi:

happy birthday kiddo. if you change your mind about a party, one phone call is all it takes. i'll make you a grande birthday dish if you so please 🍝

hotch:

happy birthday, y/l/n. enjoy yourself :)

Drained, you scoff in annoyance at your friends pretending everything's alright. But then it dawns upon you that you didn't receive a message from Emily. And despite the emotional torture she put you through, it hurts that she couldn't be bothered to give you any acknowledgement.

"Happy birthday to me," you grumble and force yourself out of bed. Yawning, you make your way to the kitchen and mix some orange juice and vodka. "What a shame I don't have any candles."

Bringing the straw to your lips, you barely get to take a sip of your pitiful concoction when a knock comes to your door. It shocks you to see Emily's snowy skin and cocoa eyes awaiting. Quickly attempting to fix your hair and sweat drenched t-shirt, you give up and open the door for the woman on the other side.

"Please don't slam the door in my face."

"Do you have a good reason I shouldn't?"

"Well I brought you something."

She lifts the gift to your hands and you gasp in pleasant surprise.

"Oh my god, Em thank you!" Shifting uncomfortably, you remember your pride and go back to your intolerable demeanor but it's too late.

"All it took for you to talk to me was a bribe? Wish I'd known that when I came back from the dead." She laughs. Your voice falls low.

"Emily, I'm sorry for the way I've treated you but you don't understand."

Emily has a feeling it's the other way around. You're the one who doesn't understand.

"What don't I understand Y/N?"

You take a step closer to her and place a hand on her supple cheek, cautiously as if asking permission. Emily closes her eyes lightly allowing you to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"I love you, Emily Prentiss."

She flutters her eyes open and lets out a shaky breath.

"I love you too, Y/N. I mourned you just as much as you mourned me."

Your heart stops and you look her in the eyes.

"Kiss me, Em."

Without a second of hesitation, she connects her lips to yours and kisses you passionately, brushing her tongue on your bottom lip. A salty tear slips into the taste of your flesh tasting one another but neither of you let go yet. Resting your head on her forehead, you smile.

"Since you're here, spend my birthday with me?" you whisper.

"Just try and stop me, Y/L/N." She giggles, plopping down on your couch.

Setting aside all the anguish you've sufferered one thing is certain. Emily and her fucking surprises can take you over any day.

[boop-le-snoot]

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previously on...

Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[ladyreapermc]

Rules of Engagement 1/? (Henry x OFC)

Summary: Henry and Em have been friends for almost ten years and involved in a casual affair for just as long. The rules were simple: no romantic attachment and their friends and family couldn’t know. Easy enough to do right? However, when new complications emerge, Henry and Em will need to navigate this relationship of theirs, if they can even call it that. Chapter 02 | Chapter 03 |  Chapter 04  | Chapter 5  | Chapter 06

Author’s Notes: Here it is. My first official series for Henners. I’m strangely nervous, because it’s sort of my baby and I have been putting lots of work on it for a couple of months now. So I would really, really appreciate feedback if you could take some time to do it.

Wordcount: 4815

Warnings: alcohol consumption; smut (oral; dirty talk; penetration)

Chapter 01: Casual Affair

It was by pure chance that when Emeline’s flight coming from Istambul had technical difficulties while on air, they stopped in Budapest of all places. However, it was straight bad luck that what was supposed to be just a quick stop turned into an allnighter due to more serious engine problems, with her new flight being scheduled for the next morning.

She considered just getting herself a hotel but it was nearly ten p.m. she was exhausted and Em really didn’t want to deal with finding a half-decent place to crash when she could just call Henry. That was what friends were for right?

Henry came, of course. That was the kind of person he was. Kind and helpful. Dependable. He hugged her tight, since they hadn’t seen each other since Clara and Todd’s baby had been born, before taking her carryon like the perfect gentleman and ushering Em into the rental car he had been using during his stay.

During the drive, he talked in an excited tone about the series and all the work he had to do. Em could only smile at the huge grin on his lips and the glint of excitement in his blue eyes. It was quite something to see Henry this happy and engaged with a project. Em was truly glad for him, but she was also tired, never being one to sleep on airplanes, so her contributions to the conversations were just hmms and nods every now and then, not that Henry seemed to mind.

“Did you eat?” Henry asked once he parked at the driveway of the cute white house and its perfectly maintained lawn that had been his home for the last couple of months.

“Airport food? Please!” she pulled a face, making Henry laugh as he led the way through the stone pathway.

“You’re such a food snob,” he commented, pausing by the front door, and Em was already smiling because she could hear Kal’s whines through the door.

“I’m not. I just have good taste.” Em dropped to her knees to pet and greet Kal which shot out the second Henry opened the door.

She had always loved dogs but never had a chance to have one for herself. At first, her father didn’t allow it, but once she moved out Em didn’t really have the space to keep one so she channeled all her dog mom tendencies towards Kal.

“Sometimes I think you’re only friends with me so you can see Kal regularly,” Henry teased once she let go of the dog long enough to step inside and Em smirked at him.

“You are not wrong, Cavill,” she said, her gaze traveling over the tasteful décor of the house, but her focus was instantly drawn to the kitchen and as soon as she shook off her coat on Henry’s waiting hands, she made a beeline to the room, in Em’s opinion the most important part of any house. “I love your kitchen.” She ran her hands over the wooden countertops and light blue cabinets.

“Technically, it’s not mine,” he chuckled, moving towards the fridge. “I have aubergine lasagna leftovers. Want some?”

“That sounds disgusting,” Em said with a grimace. “But it will do.”

She settled at the isle with the heated lasagna, once again listening to Henry babble about the project and his castmates and how things were going in the set. Some of it she had already heard since they texted every day, but Em enjoyed listening to Henry and actually missed his deep baritone voice.

It made her glad that she chose to do this, instead of staying at some crappy motel by herself, awake most of the night since Em had a hard time sleeping in other beds that weren’t hers. At least here she had Henry and she missed him.

“So how was Istambul?” he asked, bringing her plate to the sink, refusing to let her clean up herself.

“It was amazing,” Em sighed, chin resting on her hand as she watched Henry’s back unseeingly. She was actually thinking back on her journey, in which she had spent a week exploring the city and the sights, completely by herself just like she preferred.

Now, with her belly full, it was her time to babble about everything she saw and experienced while there. Em knew Henry had seen the pictures and stories on her Instagram. He liked everything she posted during the week, but there something about the way he was watching her, the focused look in his dazzling blue eyes like she was telling him the most interesting story in the world, that just made Em keep going, even as Henry finished the dished and they moved to get more comfortable in the couch.

“It does sound like you had fun,” he smiled at her, body turned her way on the couch, head resting on his palm as he listened, his other hand holding his glass of wine. “But don’t you miss having someone to share the experience?

“Sometimes,” Em shrugged, sipping her wine, she was in her third glass by now and she really ought to slow down, her mind was already getting a little foggy.

She had been doing these travels since she turned eighteen. First, she had her best friend Clara as her companion, but as they got older, Em started doing by herself since Clara couldn’t. One or two boyfriends in her time had offered to come along once, but it felt wrong to taint the memories of those trips with someone that might not be with her for the long run.

“But it’s nice too, you know? To have my own thing, without anyone else,” she scratched Kal behind the ears, just like he liked it, smiling at the way he rested his head on her knee to keep being petted. “Thanks again for letting me stay.”

“Anytime,” Henry replied with a smile, his own eyes clouded with alcohol.

They had been talking for hours, one and a half bottles of wine gone in the process. Enough alcohol to make Em’s mind wander as she took in Henry’s impressive physique, the stupid amount of muscles he built up for the series stretching his blue button-down. His dark hair falling in messy curls over his forehead, just like she Em liked it and the blush of alcohol making his cheeks even sharper.

Fighting the allure of the man before her, Em shifted her gaze down to Kal, but it was like he could pick up that something was about to happen, because pulled away from her touch, trouting out the back door, leaving her with only one option now.

Henry’s palm was warm and rough against her jaw as he tilted Em’s face back towards him, his eyes searching for her consent before his lips landed on hers in a soft kiss that gradually grew heated as their mutual need for each other was set alight.

Em sighed against his lips, giving in to the urge that had been brewing from the second she dialed his number. She inched closer, fisting his shirt, licking into his mouth and chasing the taste of wine on his tongue as Henry let his fingers wander down her torso, sneaking under her blouse to touch skin.

“Bedroom,” she mumbled against his lips. “Last time on the couch was a mess.”

“Yeah,” Henry chuckled getting to his feet and leading the way backward, his mouth never leaving hers, his touch getting bolder as their kisses because more desperate.

“This is the last time we do this,” Em declared, fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt or at least trying to. The amount of alcohol she consumed was enough to leave her a little uncoordinated. Henry was doing only slightly better.

“You’ve said that the last five times.”

Em could feel his smirk as his mouth descended over her jaw, pressing sucking kisses on her neck. He loved to leave marks all over her. No matter how many times Em asked him not to, Henry would just ignore it. It was as if he knew she secretly loved to watch herself in the mirror in the following week and be reminded of how amazing the sex had been.

“I mean it this time,” Em said, finally undoing his shirt and pushing it down his shoulders, exposing Henry’s chiseled chest to her wandering hands.

“I think you said that too, last couple of times,” Henry pointed out, shaking his shirt to the floor and pulling hers over her head, leaving Em standing there in only jeans. “Just admit it: you love how I fuck you.”

“Like you don’t enjoy it too,” she said, pushing him towards the bed, and Henry fell back with a bounce and a chuckle.

“Oh, I definitely enjoy it,” he declared, that same smug smirk in place as she undid his pants. “Never said otherwise. Never been in denial either. You’re the one…” He trailed off with a groan when Em freed his hard cock, giving a couple of quick tugs before running her tongue over the underside vein.

Em didn’t want to think about the fact that Henry was absolutely right. She had always been the one to often have second thoughts about this casual affair the two of them had been keeping for years, but not because she didn’t like Henry. It was quite the opposite, Em liked Henry a little too much, but knew it just wouldn’t work, not when he was always all over the world shooting his movies and tv shows, while mostly she stayed in London due to her own work.

And they were both too career-driven and unwilling to concede to the other. If even as just friends, she and Henry were frequently bumping heads, Em could only imagine how terrible they would be as a couple.

She still remembered that fateful night that Clara dragged her to a sport’s bar of all places because she wanted Em to officially meet Todd. She had been at one of his rugby matches earlier that week but ended up leaving before being introduced. In hindsight, Em should have known something was up because of the way Clara made such a big deal about this meeting and fussed over her outfit

“You can’t wear jeans and t-shirt!” she complained, digging though her friend’s wardrobe as Em just huffed a breath and laid back in bed.

“Why not? I’m meeting your boyfriend. What I’m wearing doesn’t matter.”

She had just baked and decorated 150 cupcakes for a children's birthday party. She was exhausted and the last thing she wanted to do was going out, but Clara invoked the best friend rule, so Em was stuck.

“What if there’s a cute guy there?” Clara asked, coming out with a tight, black dress that Em hadn’t worn in 3 years and it definitely wouldn’t fit her now since she gained more than a couple of pounds. She really needed to do some spring cleaning in that closet.

“If a cute guy is hanging in a sport’s bar, big chances he’s a douche, and I already filled my douche quota for the year,” she replied as Clara dove back into the closet. “Besides, I don’t have time for relationships.”

And Em really didn’t. She has just invested all her savings in opening her dream bakery. No way she would be getting distracted by guys while she was trying to get her business off the ground.

“There’s always time for relationships!” Clara declared, coming out of the closet, this time holding one of Em’s favorite sweater dresses. “You never know when true love is gonna knock on your door.”

“Tell it to come by later,” she joked, grabbing the dress and walking into the bathroom to change. It would be a lost cause to argue with Clara. Her friend was a lawyer and could talk her ear off, so Em might as well just get this over with.

She put on the dress and the heels and the makeup Clara pushed her way before she was finally deemed worthy of stepping out of the flat for the bar. At arrival, they found Todd already in his third beer and accompanied by his friend Henry.

Todd and Clara played innocent, pretending to be surprised that the other decided to bring a friend too but Em knew right away this was an ambush. And if Henry’s eye roll was anything to go by, he knew it too. It was their friends' not so subtle attempt to set them up.

Em had to give it to Clara though, Henry was a handsome man but maybe too handsome. She was a run of the mill kind of girl. Not unattractive, mind you. She did pretty well dating wise, especially when she put an effort like tonight, but never with guys that looked like Henry.

He was all dark, curly hair, blue eyes with just a tiny fleck of brown. Perfect features and the kind of chiseled physique that his hoodie didn’t manage to hide completely. He also looked kind of familiar, but Em couldn’t place him right away in her memory.

As they talked, she kept staring at him with a thoughtful frown, trying to come up with subtle questions that could enlighten her of where she knew Henry from because the longer Em talker to him, and she couldn’t help but notice that Todd and Clara kept finding excuses to leave the table so she and Henry could be alone, stronger that familiarity became.

“So how did you meet Todd again?” Em asked, sipping on her drink, which was too sweet but she didn’t mind.

“We went to school together and still play rugby from time to time,” Henry replied, cradling his pint of Guinness. He had shifted on the booth so his back was to the corner and he could properly look at Em. “How about you and Clara?”

“We grew up together. Neighbors all our lives,” she replied, popping a chip in her mouth. “Clara dragged me to one of Todd’s matches on Sunday. Did I see you there?”

“Umm, no.” Henry smiled indulgently. “Just got back yesterday. I was out of town for work.”

She only hummed in response, trying to think back on anything that could have put her and Henry in the same place and explain this feeling of familiarity.

“The Tudors.”

“What?” She asked in confusion at Henry’s random comment.

“You’re trying to figure out from where you know me,” he pointed out with a smirk and Em felt her cheeks heating up. “I mean, I did some other stuff too, a couple of very bad horror movies but that was my biggest role, so you might know me from there.”

It was like a lightbulb finally switched in her brain and she finally managed to place him in her memory.

“Oh my God, you did that weird-ass movie with the nazi vampire zombie! The one with Fassbender and the guy from Prison Break.” Em exclaimed a little too loudly, but Henry only chuckled. “That movie was terrible.”

“Yes,” he nodded, ducking his head a little, and was that a blush? “And seriously? That’s where you know me from?”

“I like crappy horror movies, ok?” Em shrugged with a grin.

“Clearly.” Henry laughed too.

And just like that, conversation flowed easily between them. Henry was a fun guy, surprisingly dorky, and a huge geek for videogames and the fantasy genre. It was nice to talk to someone that seemed to appreciate Lord of the Rings as much as Em did and she didn’t even notice when Todd and Clara slipped out without a word, obviously thinking their job was done.

Maybe if Henry was someone else, not an actor or that hot, they could have been right but as it was, Em didn’t see things going beyond a cool friendship.

That was what she thought at least until Henry walked her home, like a perfect gentleman, making her laugh with so many stupid jokes her sides were aching and she felt like she hadn’t smiled this much in days.

“You didn’t need to walk me all the way to my door,” She commented, turning to face him, her back leaning against the frame. Even in her heels, she needed to tilt her head up to look at him.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Henry snorted. “You can barely stand on those.”

He wasn’t wrong, but it was more because her feet were sore from the constricted space than from the amount of alcohol she consumed, though that definitely played a factor on Em turning her head just when Henry leaned closer to lay a goodbye kiss on her cheek, making his lips land on hers instead.

They just stared at each other until Henry closed the distance again, his mouth returning to hers for a harder, much hotter kiss that had Em pressed against the door. His hands found their way under the hem of her dress; hers to his hair, pulling him even closer, desperation clawing inside her gut because it had been a while for her.

That was only the first of the one-night stands with Henry. Back then, Em thought it would be the only one, but as years passed, whenever the two of them found themselves single and in need of release, they would get together, no strings attached, no commitment, just a purely physical thing that none of their mutual friends knew about.

Her attention snapped back to the present when Henry tugged on her hair until she let his cock out of her mouth with a pop, crawling on top of him to meet his lips for a messy kiss.

“Where did you go just now?” he asked, panting. His hands working on the buttons of her jeans to push them off. “Your mind was so far away.”

Strangely enough, this casual affair they shared made her friendship with Henry stronger because once you’ve seen a person naked and on one of their most vulnerable moments, it could be so easy to open up to them.

“Just thinking about when we met,” Em replied, sucking on his lower lip and Henry let out a weird wheezing sound that it was half a groan, half a laugh.

“That’s was a good night,” he said, rolling them until Em was lying on her back and he was on top of her. His blue eyes, despite being clouded by lust, were still so intense and seemed to be able to look straight into her soul. “But I want you here, in the present with me.”

Henry met her lips so softly and with so much affection that her breath caught in her throat, hand tightening on the sheets beneath her as his mouth descended over her body, kissing and sucking and biting. Lingering over all her pleasure spots and lavishing them with attention.

This was why Em needed to put an end to this thing with Henry. Lately, every time the two of them ended in bed together, it was getting harder and harder to keep the doors closed against the growing feelings in her heart.

To keep herself from not letting the love she felt for her friend Henry to be contaminated by the lust that ignited in her body whenever the two of them fucked, turning this into something else that would definitely end with her heart broken.

“I can hear you thinking,” Henry chided, biting her lower belly and making Em jolt and giggle.

“Sorry, sorry,” she looked down at him with a smile. “Just too much in my head tonight.”

“Let’s see if I can make you relax.”

He smirked at her, his mouth moving lower, planting soft kisses over your hipbones, tongue tracing the waistline on her panties, and anticipation started building in her center. Em wanted to press your legs together to find some kind of friction, but Henry was kneeling between them, his strong hands keeping them open; thumbs rubbing circles on the sensitive inner skin of her thighs and she couldn’t focus on anything else even if she wanted to.

His mouth finally moved lower, tongue teasing her folds through the lace of her panties and she gasped and tried to thrust up but Henry kept her down before hooking his fingers on her panties and pulling them down, exposing her wet cunt to his warm breath and she shivered in expectation.

Henry seemed to be keen on driving her crazy because he was taking it so very slow, kissing and nipping her mound on his way down until finally, his tongue flickered against her clit. Only the briefest of touch but it was enough to make Em buck and moan, her hands coming to his hair and fingers digging in his scalp.

“Stop teasing,” she asked, making Henry chuckle against her and a groan ripped from Em’s throat at the sweet vibrations. “Hen… please.”

“That’s better,” he replied, rewarding her with a broad stroke of his tongue over her slit before he sucked hard on her clit. Her eyes rolled back and she raised her hips to try to get more of it.

Fortunately, Henry seemed to be done teasing because he moved things along, licking and sucking and even nipping very, very gently on her clit, while two of his thick fingers moved in and out of her drenched slit. Every outer motion he crooked his fingers up, hitting right in that spot to make Em see stars.

It was easy to get lost in sensations whenever she was with Henry. He knew her body like the back of his hand and made sure to keep her completely engaged. He kept his eyes on her face, reading her expressions to make sure she was enjoying herself but also because he knew Em loved the sight of him like this, his mouth on her cunt, his eyes dark with his desire for her.

He also made sure to hum and grunt for her, so she could hear how much he loved her taste and smell. Whenever his mouth wasn’t busy, he would also whisper the filthiest things in her ear, because he knew it turned her on.

His free hand roamed her body, touching and kneading her breasts, pinching the nipples to make Em arch and mewl, sending bolts of pleasure that seemed to gather on her core, coiling into a knot of ecstasy that made her writhe and shake. Her body tense with arousal, toes curling and thighs quivering as her orgasm approached like a rushing wave.

Henry also knew exactly when she was close to the edge. Em never needed to let him know and he would always redouble his effort, suck her clit harder, finger her faster, until that knot finally snapped and she arched against his mouth, her release soaking his fingers and chin.

Her body felt weightless like she was floating. Her muscles spasmed with the aftershocks of her pleasure and her mind, always running, was for once pleasantly blank as Em grinned wide, enjoying her high.

She barely noticed when Henry pressed one final kiss to her clit before he crawled on top of her again, meeting her lips and letting Em taste herself. It was one of the things that turned him on, to have her lick her juices from his mouth and chin, letting her tongue running over the rough skin of his stubbled jaw, chasing every last drop and Em felt his cock twitching in response against her hip.

“Fuck me, Hen,” she gasped against his cheek before her lips moved to his ear, nipping the lobe to make him groan. “I wanna feel you deep inside me.”

With her brain still swimming in endorphins, She barely noticed Henry getting up and moving to the bathroom. She only registered the curse he let out as he came back to the room with an empty box.

“Do you have some?”

She gave Henry a look, propped in her elbows. Em was a little too old to go around with condoms in her purse. She kept them on her toiletry bag which was in her suitcase, still at the airport.

“Shit! I really wanted to fuck you tonight.” He dropped the box on the ground, combing his fingers through his hair before climbing on top of Em, his kiss searing and stealing her breath away.

She moaned against his mouth, fingers digging on his shoulders. It had been a while for her and Em shared Henry’s frustration. She wanted to feel him inside her, filling and stretching her in that perfect way only Henry could do.

“Do it,” she declared, meeting his confused gaze. “It’s fine, I have an IUD and it’s not like I’ve been with anyone else in the last four months.”

“Me either,” Henry replied, his forehead resting against hers. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smirking at him. “Fuck me, Henners.” He groaned and glared, making her chuckle. He hated the nickname and Em knew it.

“I’m gonna make you regret that.”

He flashed her a mischievous smirk, reaching between the two of them to guide his cock to her slit, pushing inside in one rough stroke and Em cursed and clawed at his back, the sudden intrusion with just that edge of pain made her clench tighter against him and Henry grunted against her ear, pulling her legs around his waist.

“Fuck, Henry!” she hissed breathlessly, slapping his shoulder blade, which felt more like hitting a brick wall. “A little warning would be nice.”

“You love it,” he smirked down at her and nipped at her bottom lip before grinding his hips against hers, making Em moan. “No point in pretending otherwise.”

His movements started slow and deliberate. Henry’s goal was to drive her crazy all over again because he loved to see Em lose control and he loved to gloat over the fact that he was the only guy that ever managed to make her cum more than once on the same night.

Taking her hands in his and pinning above her head, Henry started to add some more strength to his movements, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, making Em mewl at how deep he was going.  His mouth on her neck, and collarbone returning to the task of marking her as his, even if the two of them weren’t like that.

Her hips raised as best as she could to meet his movements and welcome him in. Her walls clenching tight as if refusing to let him go and every time, it made Henry grunt and suck harder on her skin before he soothed the spot with his tongue. She arched closer, seeking more as he licked a path from the hollow of her throat to her chin, lapping at the sweat gathering in her skin before his lips met hers again.

Soon, all Em knew was the way their bodies moved in tandem, meeting each other in search of pleasure. Henry praised and whispered dirty things in her ear, while her fingers entwined with his and her heels dug on the small of his back, urging him to move faster, harder, give her everything she craved for.

The knot of pleasure started to form in her core once again, growing and expanding as she could feel every single ridge of Henry’s thick cock filling her up, his pelvic bone slapping her clit at each thrust. She knew he was close too, his motions losing its controlled rhythm, becoming wilder, messy. His grunts turning throatier, his words filthier.

“God, I love your cunt. The way it squeezes me so tight,” he mumbled against Em’s mouth, his breath coming in short pants. “It feels even better without that fucking latex. Shit! I wanna fill you up with my cum. Do you want that? Can I cum inside you?”

“Yeah.” Em nodded, too far gone to form a reply more elaborate than that.

“I wanna see it trickling down your pussy.” Henry’s grin was absolutely filthy and she cried out as his words brought forth her second orgasm of the night.

“Oh fuck, yes!” He grunted his grin widening, his hips snapping harder against hers, dragging out the ripples of pleasure shaking her body. “Just like that! Yeah. Fuck! I’m gonna…”

His words hung in the air as Henry stilled above her, muffling his growl against her shoulder as he spilled inside her and she could feel his cock pulsing against her quivering walls and Em never felt more complete before.

In the back of her mind, a treacherous thought broke free and she couldn’t help but think that she could definitely get used to this. Having Henry every night, without barriers, without anything in the way. Just the two of them. Like it was meant to be.

x(tbc)x     Chapter 02

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[writer-room]

Siblings: Chapter Four

AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Summary: The Bats reflect on how their thoughts about siblings have changed over the years. Some opinions stayed, others didn't.

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

Tim didn’t know how to feel about being an only child.

He didn’t think about it all that often, there weren’t many kids he talked to at school who mentioned their siblings all that frequently. And, in some parts, he didn’t mind it so much.

The kids who did talk about siblings complained, whether their siblings were older or younger. There were those who said their sibling took up more of their parents attention, which was something Tim was already lacking in. Some said that they never had any time to themselves, something that Tim had an overabundance in, but still cherished. Others said that the accomplishments, and failures, of their siblings reflected onto them, making their parents expect more or less of them. Tim couldn’t afford that either. His parents already didn’t think much of him, he didn’t need it to be any less. And if they wanted more, he worried he wouldn’t be able to meet their expectations.

And yet…

Sometimes he liked the idea of someone else in that empty mansion. Someone to talk to when the rooms felt too large, when the loneliness was suffocating him. He liked the thought of sharing his recent theories, photos, and the like with someone. Wondered if he could go on for as long as he wanted without being interrupted.

Maybe they’d be someone who didn’t call him by a name that wasn’t his, then feign forgetting. Who didn’t treat his binders like they were assaulting their eyes. Who didn’t scrutinize his every movement for faking.

That’d be nice, he thinks. 

But there were pros and cons, he reasons. And for all he knows, if he had a sibling, they could’ve been just like his parents. Or they could’ve been kinder. Not like he’d ever know.

He had more important things to worry about than hypotheticals and wishes.

“Before you scold me, know that I took a five hour nap earlier today and I’m only getting a snack.”

Steph and Duke blinked at him from the doorway to the kitchen, their expressions a sharp contrast between exasperated and concerned, respectively.

“Wow, five hours?” Steph snarked. “That’s a new record. Are you dying?”

“Not yet,” Tim said, opening the fridge. “Give it a few weeks and I’m sure you’ll see rumors of my tragic defeat at the hands of, I dunno, Flamingo.”

“There’s a supervillain named Flamingo?” Duke exclaimed, staring at Steph incredulously.

“Oh, yeah, it’s a whole thing.” She nodded. “He had a scuffle with Jay and his kid a while back.”

“Jason has a kid?”

“Why are you up, anyway?” Tim talked right over him. “Duke I understand, he’s the disgraced child of the sun. But you patrol at the same time as every other nocturnal person in this house.”

“Hey-”

“I actually had to pretend to have a normal sleep schedule, my mom was getting worried and I didn’t want her finding me sneaking in with my full Spoiler getup on.” Steph explained tiredly. “I’m still trying to recover.”

“Tragic,” Tim hummed, pulling out a container holding a ham sandwich. 

“The only thing that's tragic is your outfit.” Steph snorted, looking him up and down.

Tim blinked, looking down at himself. His outfit consisted of a pair of knockoff Batman shorts, knee-high pastel dinosaur socks, and a long red robe that absolutely did not belong to him hanging loosely off him, exposing countless scars littering his body.

“I look awesome,” Tim said, popping the lid off the container. 

“Damian’s gonna start asking what battles you got your scars from again,” Steph tutted, striding further into the kitchen with a confused Duke following her. “Know that I will not be on your side when Dick notices and gets worried.”

“I’m more worried about Dami seeing this one,” He said, brushing the robe back slightly to reveal a poorly stitched surgical scar on his upper abdomen. “Because then he’s going to ask what happened, and then I’m gonna have to tell him that's where my spleen used to be, and then he's going to be reminded that oh, yeah, his brother has a missing spleen, and then he’s going to be treating everything like its diseased-”

“Does...he keep forgetting you lost your spleen?” Duke blinked, concerned. “I feel like that’d be something you were kinda always aware of…”

“Eh, everyone's worried about a different scar whenever they see ‘em.” He shrugged, glancing down as he traced over one of the surgery scars along his chest. “Which is frankly a little rude. I earned this right to be shirt free.”

“Hell yeah you did,” Steph grinned before her eyes dropped to the sandwich Tim was attempting to eat. “Isn’t that Cullen’s?”

“He didn’t label it, therefore it’s mine.” Tim said simply.

“Harper’s gonna kill you,” Duke warned warily. 

“Only if she catches me,” He said, taking a bite of the sandwich. “Why’re you guys here, anyway? Grabbing a snack?”

“Lookin’ for Babs,” Steph said, hands in her pockets. “Someone on Twitter started a war about which Batgirl was better, and Babs will probably get a kick out of being remembered as the ‘missing Batgirl.’”

“Oh she’ll be pissed about being remembered that way.” Tim agreed, shoving the rest of the sandwich in his mouth. “Babs will see it in five minutes or less, though. Swear she has a sixth sense for whenever someone mildly associated with the Bats is mentioned.” He mumbled.

“You wanna hijack the thread before she finds it?” He suggested.

“Hijack it?” Duke echoed.

“We’re gonna yell about random stuff that doesn’t contribute to the conversation until all hell breaks loose.” Steph explained, already pulling out her phone. “Tim?”

“How do you feel about discussing why the sun lightens hair, but darkens skin?” Tim suggested, leaving the container on the counter as he brushed by Steph.

“You just want to piss off someone from Metropolis.”

“It’s law as a Bat that I have to torment Superman whenever I possibly can.” Tim shrugged.

“Does that include me?” Duke blinked. “Because I personally think tormenting Superman is a bad idea.”

“Clark wouldn’t hurt a fly,”

“Yeah, but he’ll give me the face of disappointment and I don’t think I can live with that.” Duke protested.

“He can barely even manage--where are you going?” Steph looked up, only now realizing Tim was leaving the kitchen.

“I’m starting the mayhem on the big screens.” Tim grinned, looking back over his shoulder.

“Please don’t tell me he’s going to use Twitter on the bat computer,” Duke sighed.

“He’s totally going to use the bat computer,” Steph smiled, following after him. “C’mon! It’s initiation time.”

“Do you guys just call every weird thing you do initiation?” Duke called, hurrying behind them. “Because I’ve been told I’m part of an initiation five times in the last week.”

“You’re stuck in initiation until this becomes the norm,” Steph said cheerfully. 

“Of course,” Duke muttered.

Tim’s robe billowed behind him like an amateur cape as he wandered towards the door leading towards the steps into the Batcave. He threw open the door, the sound of it slamming echoing and startling the bats on the ceiling.

“Jesus!”

Harper jumped from the swivel chair in front of the computer, wide-eyed as she blinked up at the trio at the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Harps,” Steph greeted, hopping onto the stairs railing and sliding down. “We’re here to cause problems on Twitter.”

“Oh, well, in that case, by all means.” Harper snarked, getting up and grandly gesturing to the countless screens. “Not like I was using it for actual work.”

“Were you using it?” Tim asked, pointedly glaring at Steph to keep his recent adventure to the kitchen quiet.

“...looking for tasers to modify count as work, right?” She said after a moment.

“Technically,” Tim nodded,  ignoring Steph’s smug look that absolutely signified she was going to blackmail him later. “But you can just use Dick’s old escrima sticks. He goes through a pair every two or three weeks, but most still work pretty well, he’s just too lazy to fix them.”

“Sweet,” Harper grinned. She then paused, taking in Tim’s appearance as he slid into the seat she was previously occupying. 

“Why do you look like you’re auditioning to be the pretty girl who dies in a low-budget slasher?”

“First of all, how dare you assume I wouldn’t be the first one to die for representation points,” Tim said, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “Second of all, it’s called having fashion, and also being allowed to do whatever I want.”

“You have terrible fashion sense,” Harper snorted, crossing her arms as Steph and Duke came up beside her. “But fair, I can respect that.”

“See?” Tim said, looking at Steph. “Some people can afford to not be rude.”

“Keep talking and I’ll lose more blackmail material,” Steph calmly threatened.

Harper glanced between the two, to which Tim quietly, and quickly, turned back to the screen and ignored the both of them. Harper raised a brow but didn’t comment. Tim made a mental note to sneak into one of Jason’s unused safe houses after this was over. Steph couldn’t keep quiet for the life of her.

“What are you starting, anyway?” Harper asked, crossing her arms and leaning on the back of Tim’s chair. “A sob story about the Opportunity rover?”

“Another day,” Tim promised, opening up Twitter on the countless screens. He opened another one on the other half of the computer, which Steph quickly stood at and got her own Twitter set up. “Right now, we’re questioning how the sun makes hair lighter, but skin darker. And we’re dragging Clark into it.”

“If anyone asks, I had no part in this.” Duke said, watching the two typing with a frown. “Initiation doesn't include learning how to taunt Superman, right?”

“Eh, we can settle for you becoming close with a Kryptonian,” Steph shrugged. “Dick and Bruce share Clark, Jay’s got Bizarro, Cass and I got Kara, Babs I think counts with her, too, Damian’s got Jon, and Tim has Kon.” She listed off.  “Harper and Cullen took the ‘bully Superman’ route without befriending any of his family, which is a coward's way out, so you can take, I dunno, does Chris still exist in this timeline?”

“I can call in a favor from Bart to reset the timeline again so he exists.” Tim said with a casual shrug, pulling up the thread arguing about the Batgirls. 

“I’m sorry, what--”

“Finding Kryptonians who aren’t already taken is hard!” Harper protested, talking over Duke. “And Clark likes you guys being friends with his family. The only issue he has is Damian getting testy and Tim making heart eyes at Kon every five minutes.”

“I do not!” Tim squawked, whirling around in the chair to glare at the traitors he dared call family. In his head. Family in his head.

“You do,” Steph and Harper chorused.

“I’ve met Kon for less than twenty minutes and even I know.” Harper added. “I’m sure Duke knew.”

“I...yeah…” Duke coughed into his fist and turned away. “But in my defense, the gossip around here is practically shouted down the halls twice a week.”

“You were subjected to Dick having another crisis about Jay dating Kory for two months, weren’t you?” Steph said, trying to hide a snicker.

“There were so many things I didn’t want to know,” Duke whispered, face horror-stricken. 

“Eh, at least Jay hasn’t brought up Talia around Dami yet.” Tim shrugged. “At that point, it’s better to just vacate the premises.” 

“Wait--”

“Point is, you either befriend the Kryptonian or you torment them. That’s the rules.” Tim talked over him again, scrolling down the thread and boredly looking over the arguments. “You ready, Steph?”

“As I’ll ever be,” She grinned, giving a thumbs up. “How long till Babs notices and takes this whole thing down?”

“Few more minutes, tops.” Tim shrugged, already typing. “You two wanna give any input?” He asked, glancing behind him to Harper and Duke.

“Ask if Kryptonian skin can be used as extreme sunscreen,” Harper suggested. “That’ll rile him up.”

“Now I’m just curious if it can,” Tim said, but obediently began making his comment.

“You could just...ask?” Duke tried, clearly not taking in any of what was happening.

“Nah, Kon’s half human, I don’t think it works the exact same.” Tim shook his head, not looking back. “Kara would destroy me if I tried, Bizarro has the same problem, Jon wouldn’t know, and Clark would start telling Bruce he’s worried I’m deranged again.”

“Aren’t you?” Duke raised a brow.

“Only if I feel like it,”

“And when he forgets to sleep for ninety-eight hours.” Steph spoke up.

Tim rolled his eyes, tuning out his siblings as they continued to talk. He posted his comment before sparing a peek back at them, currently throwing off ideas to their hijacking plan like it was an everyday occurrence. Well, to Steph and Harper at least. But, to Duke’s credit, he appeared to be getting more used to it on prodding from his...sisters? Hard to tell, Steph was her own classification of family member. They were some weird choices for family, at least.

Tim watched them for a moment before turning back to making another comment on the logistics of sunscreen, a smile on his face.

He couldn’t find it in him to complain. Too much, at least.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Six: Sensory Integration 2

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: It’s a fine night for a walk by the water with a handsome vet holding your hand. I think that says it all.

Behind on your sessions? Want more from the author? Click Me

Word Count: Almost 1.9k (a bit shorter, hopefully y’all don’t mind by the end!)

Warnings: Basically still fluff, but also some saucy morsels near the end…not full on smut, though, so don’t get too excited. We aren’t there yet, my little lovelies. Soon, though…soon.

Author’s Note: As I said before, this date totally got away from me, nearing a whopping 6k in total. Thanks again for all the love. And in other news, I told a couple of my PT friends about this story, and one of them agreed to be my official technical consultant on the project for future chapters and even if I wanna flesh it out, modify it to include strictly “original” characters, and eventually take it to a publisher! I sent what I’ve done so far to her just before I started drafting this post, so hopefully she’ll have good insight for me! She said it was about time someone wrote a story like that! Lol! (She reads  a lot, so I guess people really don’t think of PTs as the heroines of love stories. Sad, really! Most of the ones I know are lovely and loving people!) The other was just instantly excited and can’t wait to read it.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although...their lackadaisical notification system might...sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

The lake was fairly near her clinic, not two blocks away. He wasn't wrong about her feeling up to a walk when the time came. She was looking forward to the fresh night air near the lake. It was a deep-seated part of who she was to love the water.

He'd pulled into the small, empty gravel lot at the head of the paved walking trail. It was well dark since it had just turned 10:00, and the moonlight danced off the water, calm, but with a faint shimmer from the light breeze. The stars danced, winking at them as if they knew the romance that surged between the couple was burgeoning right here below them.

"Now, last time I walked this trail, I'll warn you…I got approached by a gang. And they were…pretty vicious. I had to resort to some guerilla tactics that I'm not too proud of to fend 'em off."

"Oh no!" she wasn't aware of any gang crime in their fairly peaceful city! "What kind of gang?"

"A goose gang." He looked at her gravely. Before they both burst out laughing in hysterics.

"I thought you were serious!" she wiped tears carefully from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I was! They are stupid territorial! I had several of them tryin'a bite at my legs at once. It was quite the ordeal, I assure you!" he said, serious, but still laughing.

"Well, you'll save me if the Ya-Gooz-ah descend on us tonight, wont you?" she teased, clutching at his arm in mock fright at the thought of a band of Yakuza Geese being an actual thing, but thinking it was a great way to keep him touching her.

"As long as you stay real close to me, sunshine. I'll protect you from the devil himself." He kissed her on the top of the head, sealing the promise and warming her from the point of contact all the way to her toes.

As they traipsed along the pavement path, they talked about everything and nothing, the gentle night wind a whisper against their skin, which had been made slightly dewy from the walk and the humidity. They had made two laps around the small body of water when they came back around to one of several benches placed at intervals on the trail running its perimeter. Without breaking their conversation, she pointed to the nearest one, indicating her desire to sit, which he understood and lead them there.

“See, the problem I have with sports at that level, especially football is the harm I’ve witnessed it do to a kid’s body. We’ve treated athletes in high school and as early as 7th and 8th grade that the coaches are completely obsessed with getting them out on the field or court again. These kids are taking more impact than their bodies are ready for. They can’t miss a game, or even practice for therapy even if they’re just riding pine. And the parents are so laser focused on that potential college scholarship for that sport that they can’t see that if their child doesn’t get better, no scout is gonna want to dole out a free ride. Not to a broken-down athlete. Did you feel that kind of pressure when you were playing football? Because I don’t remember it at my school.” She went off a on bit of a tangent because she’d just been told by Heather before she left that her torn meniscus, Jason couldn’t get in for several weeks because of his practice and game schedule limiting his availability.  

“I mean, I felt pressure, I guess, but not outside of practice or the games. I’d hurt my knee my junior year early, same one we been workin’ on, and they just had me sit out a few weeks and work with a PT, but I don’t remember it being a problem to miss out on anything related to football if it was because of my health.” He sat down next to her on the fiberglass bench, which was molded to have the look of fine blonde wood, and put his arm around her shoulder. No pretense of the reach, no awkwardly sitting for a while beforehand, just continuing to touch her as he had been their whole walk.

She leaned into his shoulder, comfortably, as if they’d done this a thousand times and this wasn’t their first date. And continued their discussion.

“What has gotten into people these days? It’s like they’re not satisfied with anything. Nothing is ever enough for a single person on this good earth!” She sighed, frustrated by the neediness of people that seemed to come with her own job and projecting that on to the world…not that there wasn’t at least a measure of truth in it.

“Personally speaking, I think you’re wrong.”

“You don’t think that the world is full of dissatisfied Karens?” She laughed.

“Oh I do. But it’s not every person. You’re sitting next to one very content man right here.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” He confirmed.

“Was it the steak, or the lobster mac?” She’d be fantasizing about them both until the next time they went there. Yeah, she was already thinking about “next time” and “they.” She was in trouble.

“Not to knock either, but I’m a hun’ert percent sure it was the company.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

She smiled, nuzzling into him, feeling the downy softness of his shirt again and smelling his intoxicating cologne. She suddenly remembered a promise from their session.

“Oh, hey. I was gonna have a response for you…to your 'question' from earlier.” She said, mischief burning in her eyes. She kneeled up on the bench and turned his face to hers, brushing a hand against his impossibly soft beard before descending slowly in for a kiss.

It started sweet, a few languid, full pecks, then she parted her lips barely enough for her tongue to venture out to explore his full mouth. They were met after several attempts with a reciprocal openness from him. She dared, then to search him with her tongue. It was simply browsing now. Feeling no rush to complete its quest. Only a sense of the need for due diligence. She was surprised at the flavor she'd encountered. She hadn't seen him pop a mint, and she hadn't left his side all evening. He was sly. It was a sweet and strong taste. Wintergreen on steroids, with the mildest hint of vanilla. She wanted more. Of the flavor. Of him.

She let her tongue find his, knowing what would happen, somehow, even though they had never kissed like this before. Never when it wasn't rushed and needing to be…PG. Here in the dark of night, with no one but the celestial bodies as witnesses, they didn't have to worry about her job, or the public. The judgement of the outsider's gaze.

She knew, by instinct alone, that this would spark him into more than latent participation. And that's exactly why she did it. As previously stated, she was definitely an intentional beast when the occasion called and mood struck.

He did as she'd expected, his own tongue waking, beginning a playful dance with hers, exploring her mouth with more urgency and desire, pulling a ragged gasp from her lungs. She broke away to give some attention to his neck. She held him by the base of his head, thumb playfully brushing into his thick facial hair. A breathy moan that sounded very much like her name escaped his lips. This was the reaction she had been dying to get from him for so long. A surrendering bliss that only came from this kind of personal, intimate, and one-one connection. She'd gotten hints of it when she'd helped him stretch, when she heard those stifled groans he felt at the good hurt she brought him with her expert touch.

She bit his earlobe, and sealed her fate. He growled and pulled her up to his lap in an immodest straddle. Not that she cared in the empty dark. He seemed to need her lips back on his, desperate to find a purchase that would never present itself. The paradox of a kiss.

His hands roved over the back of her from neck to behind, very much favoring the latter. It was an odd sensation. Most of her experience with ass-grabbing had been less than pleasant. Either dirty old men had touched her without consent, or boyfriends had done essentially the same thing as a show of their dominance over her, also without her strictest consent. The way Sy held her was tender, exploratory, and…she couldn't help but think the word loving. "Love" wasn't a word they were ready to even bring up. But she thought he was showing it in his feather touch and hungry kiss.

The breeze was cool, and felt extra cold where she seemed to be warmest. Her position had her…very exposed to the elements, covered only by the fine layers of her underwear at some angles. She was suddenly very aware that they were on a precipice here. If they carried on much longer like this, she wasn't going to want to stop. She already didn't. And she was just out of practice enough to be unsure of where her point of no return was. Dammit. She broke away, in agony from it.

"Sy, I…I think …you should take me back." she stuttered.

"Okay." he pulled her back in for another kiss, pretending to misinterpret,which she indulged a moment but quickly escaped.

"No, sweetie." she chuckled. "You know what I mean."

"Or…I could bring you home with me." It was only a suggestion, but there was a plea in his eyes that pulled at her guts. He wanted her. And she wanted him. With every single cell in her body, she wanted every singe cell of his. But she truly felt that taking things slowly was the best option given the complexities of their situation.

"You don't know how badly I want to accept that invite, Sy." she rested her forehead on his. They were both breathless.

"It's just two little letters, sunshine. O. K. Easy as granny's peach pie."

"I'm terrible at pie crust." they laughed.

"Let's go." he said, helping her off his lap, and preparing to stand, but sitting back down immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned. "Is it the knee? Did I hurt it?" she was already mad at herself, and at him a bit, if this indiscretion had caused him a setback…how ironic it would be!

"Nope, knee's great. Dandy."

"Did you get lightheaded?"

"No, but uhh…it's definitely SOME sort of blood flow issue. Gonna need a minute." he explained without explaining with a sheepish expression on his face…it hit her like a speeding bus.

"Ope." she looked to his lap without thinking, and immediately averted to the water again, as she sat beside him, hands clasped over the seat of the bench. His hand found hers, and covered it, asking to hold it, and getting its way.

"I had…the best time tonight, Shane." he told her, staring at the opposite bank where the maple, oak, and sycamore trees swayed to the tune of the gentle night's breeze.

"So did I, Sy."

"You free tomorrow?" he asked, hopefully.

"You tell me!" she replied…hopefully.

Up Next: Chapter Seven: Non-Productive Time

[sergeantjhart]

Task 02 - The Third Degree

The interview was a good idea. Jesse knew that with at least some certainty. It was a way to at least know who they needed to keep an eye on, to try and weed out anyone with bad intentions before they even stepped foot into the town. It wasn’t flawless by any means, but maybe it would do them better in the future than just welcoming anyone off the streets...They didn’t need another Kit in their midst, after all. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t dreading it. It was, in essence, a job interview. And sure, he was already slotted in to take on the role in the newly formed council and had been part of making this whole interview a reality, but that didn’t make it feel any less like a means of proving his worth to be here. That he was here for a purpose and here to stay - hopefully, anyway. 

He cleared his throat as he sat down across from the interviewer and recorder, faces and names blurring just a bit as he instead focused on the questions being asked. 

Where do you come from?

“Originally from Chicago,” he answered simply, shoulders lifting in a bit of a shrug. There wasn’t that much more to it.

How would you describe yourself as a person?

“Uh-” he hesitates a minute, considering the question. How would he describe himself as a person? He’d never had to really think about it before. “I don’t know, really. I guess loyal, driven, a leader. At least, I aspire to be, anyway.” He hated talking about himself. It was easier to concern himself with others and not deal with himself. 

How many walkers have you killed?

It’s an interesting question, truly. The number of walkers a person killed spoke to their experience out there in the apocalypse, how they were able to handle themselves in this hellish world. It also took a special kind of person to keep track of that. 

In the beginning Jesse could remember avoiding it at all costs. They didn’t know anything about this ‘virus’ or these people - were they still people? Were they alive? Was it possible to get them back? But when it was life or death, Jesse chose life and chose his family, time and time again. 

“I don’t know, honestly. Avoided it for a while, but when it was necessary it was necessarily.”

How many people have you killed? Why did you kill them?

He knows that this question is meant to be since the outbreak, he knows even to anticipate it. Yet he can’t help thinking back to the war, to those he had killed without all that much thought. Sure, another example of kill or be killed, another example of doing what needed to be done. And yet...

But even without considering before the answer doesn’t really come easily. Because he remembers all the blood on his hands, what he’s had to do to survive. When months had gone by and walkers became common creatures they all knew had to die and weren’t going to be coming back - well, the lines blurred between the living and the dead. He didn’t like to admit it, wanted to pretend that sentiment wasn’t true...but in that period before he’d stumbled upon Fairvale and had a little sense and hope knocked back into him --

“Jesse?” 

His name pulls him back to reality a little and he looks up at the interviewer, clearing his throat. “Uhm, 8 people. I think. Wait - 7, I guess...” He folds his hands together tightly, certain that it wasn’t the answer they were expecting or looking for. It’s written firmly in their expressions even as they try to compose themselves. A killer as part of their council? Had they just opened themselves up to another Kit? 

He tries to tell himself it had to be done, every death at his hands were for a reason. First because of a bite that had been hidden away, one that transformed the former companion into one of those things. There hadn’t been any consideration in that one, even if they had become something of a friend. They didn’t really count, either - technically they were no longer a person when Jesse pulled them off the boy and slid a blade into their temple. It was the kid that was truly his first, one that had reminded him so much of Liam, that he’d come to want to protect just as much as his own baby brother.

Bitten on the forearm, terrified of what was going to happen to him, the group stood around him with solemn expressions. Perhaps because they all knew what needed to be done but none of them was willing to step forward and do it. In part also because the boy’s older brother had fallen to his knees beside the younger, clinging to him for dear life with seemingly no intention of letting anyone else get close. 

“We - You have to help him.” He still remembers the look of desperation in Liam’s eyes as he pleads for Jesse to save him, to keep their friend from dying at the hands of this - disease. But Jesse’s no doctor. All he knows is a bite means death and becoming one of those monsters. But if the disease can’t spread then maybe there’s a chance? The idea of removing the infected limb turns even his stomach, brings back flashes of memories that he’d buried down deep - so similar the situation and yet so incredibly different. 

But living with one arm less than before was better than dying.

“Hold him still -” 

In the end, it didn’t even matter. While it didn’t seem that the disease would take him, it was the blood loss and infection that did. And that blood was now on his hands, seeping into his skin, burned into his memory. 

But what came next was worse, a grief stricken older brother to the boy that lay dead on the operating table (though realistically it was nothing more than an old bar top, with supplies that never should’ve been considered for the task at hand). When they’d pulled Liam towards him with a hand around his chin, ready to snap his neck at any moment. You took everything from me, now I’ll do the same to you. 

If the roles were reversed, Jesse wasn’t sure how he would’ve reacted. But somehow a life for a life didn’t make sense. He tried to plead with him, talk him down...but eventually there wasn’t any choice left. If he wanted to keep Liam alive (and he’d rather die than let anything happen to him) then pulling the trigger and putting a bullet in the brain of someone he’d begin to consider a friend was all he could do...

That story was still fresh in his mind, one that replayed in a loop with different (sometimes better, usually far worse) outcomes if he closed his eyes for too long. But he’d be lying if he said it hadn’t gotten easier after that. To say he’d killed a person, a human, living person - but he’d done it because it meant surviving. Keeping himself or his family alive. 

Are you searching for anybody?

“Yes.” He may have stopped in Fairvale to hang his hat and to have somewhere to call ‘home’, at least to some extent, but he wasn’t going to give up on his family. He’d just needed to refuel, recuperate, make a plan...

“My parents, my little brother, Liam. We got separated when a horde of ‘em came through. I told them to run while I drew the walkers away...” There had to have been a better solution -  he thought that over and over since that day. They should’ve stuck together. But in the heat of the moment it seemed like the best option, and he’d assumed they’d circle back and find each other again without issue. They’d done it again and again. Told him to hide, told him to stay there - and he’d always managed to find him again. 

But not this time. By the time he’d circled back to where he’d last seen them there was no sign of them. And he searched. And he tried not to think of what it meant that he couldn’t find them, that they weren’t here, that this wasn’t as easy as it had been before.

He stumbled upon other groups of survivors, pockets of people who had their own agendas and ended up on the wrong side of his gun in the desperate search for his family. But Fairvale had been the first place that actually sparked a little bit of hope in him. Maybe they’d found it already - no, that hadn’t been the case - but maybe they would find it, too. Just as he had.

Why are you here?

It’s a question he’d asked himself a few times since he’d arrived just a few weeks prior. Why are you here? Why wasn’t he still out there looking - not that he wasn’t taking every opportunity to continue the search. “Because I’m no good to them dead. Because I can do something here. Because chasing a moving target is impossible.” He can only hope that that’s been the problem, that with both of them constantly on the move the odds of them finding each other decreased with every passing day. If he stayed in one place - or at least had a place to go back to - then maybe that increased their odds of finding each other again.

Would you consider yourself a team player?

“Sure, yeah. I’ve always operated best on a team, I think.” 

Are you the type of person who will try to make the best out of a bad situation?

The best out of a bad situation. Like trying to survive when the world was burning around them? “I’m not sure any of us would be here if we didn’t at least have some sense of that.”

What skills do you have that will benefit the community and your fellow survivors?

“I was in the marines, a few years back. I’ve been told I’m a good leader. I try to keep the best interest of the people around me at heart. And I’m not a bad shot.” 

Can you handle yourself in a crisis?

The answer, again, felt pretty obvious. “I think I’ve proven that already, but given we’re all still standing here i think for the most part the answer to that has to be yes for all of us.” They were living in a crisis - for over six months now. If they couldn’t handle themselves in a crisis then they were either extremely lucky to still be alive or already dead.

What are you willing to do to protect the people and things you care about?

“I -” He’d already killed to protect Liam. He’d more quickly step into the line of fire than let anything happen to those he cared about, if he knew it would keep them safe. “Anything.”

Do you have any pre-existing medical conditions our medical staff should be informed about?

This was another question he wasn’t looking forward to. His disability was often hidden from others, behind a pant leg he looked no different unless you knew to pay attention to the slight hitch in his gait. For the most part it didn’t hinder his abilities - running wasn’t as easy as it had once been and he couldn’t be on his feet for lengthy periods of time without discomfort, but he imagined almost everyone suffered those ailments if only in a very distinctly different way. 

He just didn’t want people looking at him like he was broken. At least not in that way. He’d seen the pitying gazes all through his recovery. This, as much as he hated to say it, could be a fresh start. 

But he also wasn’t stupid. He couldn’t do all of this own his own. Sometimes, he’d need a little extra help. 

Pulling up the leg of his pant to reveal a hint of the prosthetic beneath, his shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “I’d prefer to keep it discreet, if possible.”

[thelastspeecher]

D&D AU - Elf Kid Adventures, Pt. 2

Electric Boogaloo

I actually have two more scenes planned to tie up this little story arc in my D&D AU where Stan is half-orc and half-elf.  I originally was going to include those scenes in this post, but then these two scenes on their own were much longer than I expected.  So, uh, here’s some awkward stuff, some angst, some “aww” moments, and most importantly, a whole mess of Stan being head over heels for Angie.

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Stan couldn’t decide whether the expectation he did chores was the worst part or the best part of staying at the McGucket farmstead. On the one hand, he had to get up when Ole Tinbeak – the earliest rising rooster – crowed.  On the other hand, the praise from Mr. McGucket never seemed to end.

              “Excellent!” Mr. McGucket said cheerfully, watching Stan lug a bale of hay twice his size.  “I must say, Stanaximus, yer the strongest elf I’ve ever seen, and yer only a child right now!”  Stan grinned despite the straws of hay poking his face.  “Would ya consider employment as a farmhand?”

              “Thanks,” Stan said, slipping into the manners that Mrs. McGucket had insisted on drilling into him.  “But I like being a ranger with Angie and Lute.”

              “Fair enough,” Mr. McGucket said.  Stan set down the bale of hay.  His vision now unobscured, he spotted Lute standing a few feet away.  Lute had never seemed that intimidating to Stan before, and his new age (and matching immature wardrobe with many pairs of shorts) only served to hinder his continued attempts.  He was in his thirties, according to Mrs. McGucket, which made him like a human five-year-old.

              “He’s only bein’ nice to you ‘cause yer a guest,” Lute hissed.  Stan snorted.

              “If you could see through all that hair, you’d know that’s not true,” he replied.  Lute lifted the dark bangs that covered his eyes to glare at Stan.

              “I can see just fine,” Lute snapped.  Stan grinned.

              “Aw, is someone grumpy ‘cause he’s overdue for a nap?” Stan teased.  Lute blushed fiercely.  The McGucket parents had insisted Lute have at least one nap a day at this age.  Something about the extra rest being particularly important for growing elves.  “Maybe you should go sleep.”

              “You-” Lute started.  Mr. McGucket came over.  He took his youngest son’s hand.

              “He’s right, Lute.  Stan, think ya can finish the chores if Angie helps?”

              “Uh, sure.  But I don’t know where she is,” Stan said slowly.  Someone jumped down from the barn’s loft, landing lightly in front of Stan.  Angie beamed at him.  “…How long were you up there?”  Angie shrugged.

              “It’s startin’ to get a bit dark, so ya best check the fence fer breaks first, ‘fore night falls,” Mr. McGucket said, leading Lute out of the barn.  Stan and Angie nodded.  Once Mr. McGucket was gone, Stan turned to Angie.

              “We’re supposed to check the fence?” he asked.

              “Yep!  Follow me.” Angie walked out of the barn. Stan followed.  They went to the enclosed cattle pasture and began to follow the fencing.  “Luckily, breaks ‘re pretty easy to spot,” Angie said cheerfully.  “And easy to fix, too.  Just a quick Mending.”  Stan nodded silently, trying to ignore how the setting sun made her golden hair turn a fiery orange.  They continued to walk in silence for a few moments.  “Don’t let Lute get ya down,” Angie said in a low tone.

              “Huh?  Oh, I’m not.” Stan shrugged.  “I actually kinda like being a kid again.”

              “Really?”

              “Yeah.  I’m-” Stan rubbed the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly.  “I’m not in that big of a rush to get this curse removed, to be honest.”  Angie came to a stop, leaning against the fencing. Stan did the same.  His hands gripped the wooden slats.  Angie turned her head to face him.  A few long golden strands of hair loose from her braid bounced with the movement.  The sun cast her form in a brilliant halo.

              “Why’s that?” she asked.  Distracted by how she looked in the fading light, Stan didn’t hear her question.

              “Huh?” he mumbled.  Angie rolled her silver eyes.  As dusk encroached, they began to glow with a faint foxfire.

              “Why are ya not in a hurry to be back to normal?” she asked.  “I thought ya missed yer tusks.”  Stan sighed.

              “I mean, I do.”

              “Then what’s goin’ on?”

              “I…”  Stan trailed off.  Angie scooted closer to him.  Her hand rested next to his, their skin touching.  Stan’s heartrate picked up.  Unable to stop himself, he blurted out the truth.  “I forgot how much better people used to treat me.”  Angie’s eyes widened.

              “…Pardon?” she asked.

              Shit.  Way to go, Stan.  This is what you get for being so easily distracted by pretty girls.

              “I grew up in a mostly human settlement,” Stan said quietly.  “The only elf who lived in town was my mom.  Looking like her, I got attention.  But it was good attention, ‘cause a lotta humans are obsessed with elves. Even travelers passing through would sometimes stop and talk to me and my twin brother.  I think…”  Stan furrowed his brow.  “I think my mom said that, if we had grown up in a proper elf environment, we wouldn’t be allowed to interact with visitors.  I guess elf kids are considered really important, so they get kept away from outsiders.  At least, that’s how it was where my mom grew up.”

              “Ma says things were the same way where she came from,” Angie said.  “She ‘n Pa had some disagreements ‘bout it when we were little.  So it’s probably a high elf thing, not a specific place thing.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan took a breath.  “I liked getting all that positive attention.  But then my tusks started growing in, and my hair got darker, and I got bigger in a way that elves just aren’t.”  Stan looked down at the dirt.  He nudged a clump with the toe of his borrowed boot.  “I stopped looking like my mom and started looking like my pops. And I don’t have a lick of human in me, so I don’t look like a proper half-orc.  By the time I was sixteen, I looked full orc.”  Angie made a strangled sound.  Stan looked at her.

              “Sixteen?” she choked out, shocked.

              “Orcs don’t live that long.  Until I became an adult, I aged close to the same rate humans do. I think I was about twenty when my elf side kicked in to slow it down.”

              “Oh.  Right.” Angie nodded.  “You told me ‘fore that you were in yer sixties.”

              “Yep.  Haven’t aged a day in the last forty years, thanks to Mom.”

              “Yes.  Okay, continue yer story.”

              “Well, I dunno how much there is left to tell. I looked like an orc, and you know how people treat orcs.  Visitors stopped giving me treats and started putting their hands on their weapons when they saw me.  Since that’s how it’s been for the last few decades, I forgot that people didn’t always look at me like I was about to kill them.”

              “Even if you don’t get the curse reversed, you’ll start agin’ on yer own,” Angie pointed out.  Stan’s stomach twisted into a knot.  “Sooner rather than later, you’ll look like yer father again.”

              “Yeah.  I know.” Stan’s head drooped.  “It’s just-”

              “No need to explain.  I understand,” Angie said firmly.  She placed her hand over Stan’s.  Stan’s heart skipped a beat.  “It’s easier to be an elf than an orc.”  She quirked a half-grin.  “Though, just so’s ya know, I prefer yer orcish self to yer elvish self.”

              “R-really?” Stan stammered.  Angie nodded.

              “Tusks ‘n all.”

----- 

              Stan had just finished his breakfast when Mr. McGucket entered the kitchen.

              “Stanaximus?” he said.  Stan looked over.

              “Yeah?”              

              “Walk with me, son.”

              “Um.  Okay.” Stan deposited his plate in the sink and followed Mr. McGucket outside.  “Did you need me for something?”

              “I just need to have a lil chat with ya,” Mr. McGucket said airily.  “But I think you’d prefer the chat happen where there aren’t ears to listen.” Dread began to build in Stan’s gut. The two walked off the main, cleared area that constituted the farmstead, and into the surrounding woods.  Mr. McGucket moved through the trees like he was one with his surroundings, effortlessly silent and graceful.  It was actually almost difficult for Stan to keep track of the man, as he blended in so well.

              I mean, he is a wood elf.  Makes sense.

              “What did you wanna talk about?” Stan asked. Mr. McGucket smiled.

              “You courtin’ my youngest child,” he said simply. Stan stumbled over a root.  Mr. McGucket caught him.  “You all right?”

              “Yeah, I’m- I’m-”  Stan swallowed.  “What makes you think I wanna court Angie?”

              “I see the way ya look at her.  Like she’s the sun, moon, ‘n stars.  There’s no mistakin’ what that means.”  Mr. McGucket looked at Stan.  “You can deny all ya want after this conversation, but I want ya to be truthful durin’ it, okay?”

              “…Fine,” Stan mumbled.  He clenched his hands into fists and ground them into his eyes.  “I…I really like Angie, and being a kid again has made it a lot worse.”

              “Makes sense.  Children have lesser control over their emotions, after all.  Thank you fer bein’ willin’ to talk blunt with me.”

              “Yeah, whatever.”

              “Now, I encourage ya to court Angie, once you’ve all been returned to yer proper ages.  But I needed to warn ya that a courtship with her won’t go without difficulties.”

              “What- what do you mean?” Stan asked.  Mr. McGucket sighed.

              “Politics.  Yer a noble, and my wife, she…she was somethin’ sim’lar ‘fore she left her home to be with me.  I don’t know whether she still has her title or not, and our children certainly don’t have any titles, but they do technically belong to a very powerful sun elf house.  If you were a wood elf, or even just a reg’lar sun elf, I doubt it would be a problem. As it is, it might not be.  But it could be.  So I figured I’d warn ya.”

              “But I’m not noble,” Stan said.  Mr. McGucket frowned at him.  “You guys keep insisting I am, but I’m not!  Maybe my mom is, or was, but my pops, he was about as far from noble as you can get.”

              “Was?”

              “…Pops passed away a few decades ago,” Stan said quietly.

              “My condolences.”

              “I don’t need ‘em.  He was a kinda shit father.”

              “Hmm.”  At Mr. McGucket’s thoughtful, though noncommittal, sound, Stan looked up.  There was a troubled look on the man’s face.  “Would that be related to the scars on yer back and arms?”

              “How- how do you-”

              “Harper saw when he took ya to the lake to swim last week,” Mr. McGucket explained.  Stan stifled a curse.  The oldest McGucket son, Harper, had showed up unexpectedly with his adopted children, then insisted on them all doing activities during his visit.  Harper was an incredibly odd person, but Stan thought he was at least tolerable.

              At least, I used to think that.  Now that I know he’s a snitch?  Nah.

              “I want to revisit this at a later time,” Mr. McGucket said after a moment. “Right now, we need to talk about you courtin’ my daughter.”

              Do we?

              “There’s no doubt you have noble blood, Stan.  Just yer full name is one that’s indicative of high status.  Even if ya don’t have a noble title or upbringing, ya have it in yer heritage.”  Mr. McGucket cocked his head thoughtfully.  “Though not havin’ a title will prob’ly make it so Angie’s own royal blood ain’t a factor.”

              “Did you say ‘royal’?” Stan croaked.  A twinkle entered Mr. McGucket’s eye.

              “Yes.”  Stan’s jaw dropped.  “Now, I will say- wait.”

              “What?” Stan asked.  Mr. McGucket now looked at him with visible concern.

              “Open yer mouth, son.”  Before Stan could comply or refuse, Mr. McGucket carefully pried his jaws open, looking at his teeth like he was determining a horse’s age.  “Oh, no.  Are these…fangs?”  Instantly, Stan broke into a cold sweat.

              Fuck!  My tusks! They started coming in!  Mr. McGucket released his hold and took a step back, worry etched on his face.  Stan closed his mouth.

              “It’s okay,” Stan said quickly.

              “Son, you have two teeth what shouldn’t be there, and what look awful dif’rent from yer other teeth.”

              “It’s, um…”  Stan’s mind raced.  “My pops, he got cursed when he was younger, and it got passed down to me somehow.”

              “Really.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “It’s not a problem.”

              “Maybe.  But when we get this main curse off ya, we’ll take a look at this one that made ya grow fangs.”

              “Maybe…”

              Gods, no, there’s no way in any of the planes that I’d let some elf take my tusks away.  Stan and Mr. McGucket entered a large clearing.  Stan blinked at the farmhouse before them.  Without him realizing, they’d walked back to the McGucket farmstead. Mr. McGucket put a hand on his shoulder.

              “Yer a very interestin’ young man,” he said.

              Damn, and he doesn’t even know I’m half-orc.

              “I’d like to have many more conversations with ya.  But since yer likely to woo my daughter, I have no doubt I’ll have plenty of opportunities to chat.”

              “I might not court her,” Stan said quietly.  The second he spoke, he knew it was a lie.  There was no chance he wouldn’t shoot his shot.

              “It’d be a shame if ya didn’t, since ya have not just my blessin’, but that of my wife, too.”  Mr. McGucket squeezed Stan’s shoulder.  “And not to mention, we wouldn’t push ya to court if we didn’t think it would go well.” Stan swallowed.  “All right, ya can go back to denyin’ now.  I have to go run a few errands, and you have some chores.”

              Recognizing the dismissal for what it was, Stan headed for the barn. As he approached, Angie emerged from it. She caught sight of him and waved. Stan’s heart did yet another backflip upon seeing her.  She came over to him.

              “Were ya in the woods with my pa?” she asked.

              “Yeah.  Don’t worry, he didn’t try to hunt me or anything.  He just wanted to talk.”

              “What were you talkin’ ‘bout?”

              “How you’re actually a long-lost elven princess,” Stan said casually. Angie gasped and punched his shoulder. “Nah, it was just weird stuff where he called me ‘son’ a lot and wanted to know about my family.”

              “He called ya ‘son’, huh?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Sounds to me like he was askin’ ‘bout yer fam’ly ‘cause he considers ya part of ours.”  Angie winked. “Good luck with that.”  Stan grinned confidently.

              “I think I can handle your family.  I mean, I handle you all right,” he said.  Angie threw her head back and laughed.

              “I’ll let ya continue to think that.”

[moth-and-raven]

CHAPTER THREE

Pounding on the door before it slams into the wall with enough force to rattle the window panes. A cool hand in mine, pulling me into the dark, resting on my shoulder just a little too long as frantic directions are whispered into my ear. Adrenaline urging me on: I’ve done nothing wrong but I have to get out of here. Skidding to a halt, panting for breath, getting my bearings as the streets turn familiar, wondering how much of myself I left behind as the silver moon against my chest grows cold...

At the very least, the hike back to the palace gives me time to think. And I have so much to think about.

I must’ve led the guards right to him. Either that or someone in the bar tipped them off, which is even worse. He’s being so careless, letting so many people see him. He swore the neighborhood didn’t think much of the palace, so he was perfectly safe, but tonight proved him wrong.

I hope he escaped. Despite his recklessness, I don’t think he really wants to be captured. And I certainly don’t want him to be. I’d already decided that I wasn’t going to tell Nadia I’d seen him, and now, after talking to him, and talking to him, and talking to him… Are my loyalties so fluid, that one night can change them?

My stomach twists as I remember his smile, his laugh, the cheeky lift of his brow when he made jokes that only landed if your mind was in the same gutter as his. Mine was, every time.

I’m not used to that.

He was friendly from the start, polite and seemingly interested in what I had to say. He led me to a quiet table in the back of the bar, away from the clusters of patrons playing cards and telling outlandish stories. One of them hailed him as we passed, with an invitation to join in, but he waved them off. He asked again if I wanted anything as I sat down: I don’t drink, and I told him so. He smiled and brought me some water instead, along with a beverage for himself that smelled strongly of salt and tonic water. I was able to get a few sips in before I fell so deeply into our conversation that I forgot it was there.

It’s not that I can’t talk to people. I wouldn’t be a very good shopkeeper otherwise, even if transactions are cordial with a regular script most of the time. Of course I can’t be sure how I appear to others, but I think I come across fairly pleasantly. On the surface, at least. And that’s okay with me. It’s when I want anything else, anything more meaningful, that problems start to arise.

It doesn’t happen often, that desire to go further. Just wanting to be friends is rare, and beyond that are dangerous waters I am ill-suited to explore. Dating, even flirting, are mysterious and foreign. I don’t understand them or people who do them like love is expected and commonplace. Like the fascination I feel when I visit the menagerie in the Heart District, it’s as though I’m observing another species through a wrought-iron fence. Even romance novels seem like instructions for a situation that will never happen.

Only once before have I met someone I considered a possibility, and that was years ago now. He was a musician who played for crowds in the marketplace and would duck into the shop sometimes. I felt awkward at first, not knowing if I should talk to him or just let him linger, but eventually he struck up a conversation, and I responded. It took months of jokes and friendly banter, but I worked up the courage to ask if he wanted to go to dinner sometime. And he laughed. And he said there was someone else, and that I should’ve known that. 

And he was right.

I haven’t seen him since. He made his point clear: no one could ever be interested in me. They have no reason to be. I know I shouldn’t have been so affected, but it really just confirmed what I was afraid of all along: I am, at best, an acquired taste. I'm not feminine and I don't try to be, even though people read me as female. No one would describe me as beautiful. My face is too round, my body too fat, my hair too short, my eyes too small, my hands too big… I'm too much. I'm quick to judge, quicker to hide, emotional and hard to live with. And clearly, I tend to assume the worst of people. 

I know all of this. It's just easier to make jokes and cry about it later, where no one can see me. It's better to beat people to the punch and take off the pressure of pretending to care. It makes more sense to prepare for the worst and get it than hope for something else and be disappointed. That's why it doesn't surprise me when Asra leaves: why would he stay? I'm nothing but a burden to him. I can't imagine being anything else. 

At this point, it only hurts when I expect things to be different. 

It must be near dawn now. Julian and I talked for hours. Of course he asked how I’d found him, if the necklace had anything to do with it. I said as much as I could without getting too technical, but that led to him asking about magic in general, and my magic in particular, and how I’d learned it and what I did with it and what, if anything, I’d done before I could wield it effectively. From there we talked about other jobs, what he had done and where. He apprenticed with a famous Prakran doctor, he said, and honed his skills on battlefields across the continent. I was pleased that I knew most of the battles he mentioned, and I think I impressed him by being able to ask which side he assisted.

And he asked about me. I learned a long time ago that people don’t like knowing I can’t remember most of my life, so I built a lie that feels like truth: I was born in a small village in the mountains south of Vesuvia, which I decided because I’m pale, though not as pale as he is, and the shape of my body makes more sense if I needed insulation from the cold. I came to the city right on the tail of the Plague, and bought the shop cheap since so many people had died. But it didn’t become a shop until about two years ago, after Asra brought a bunch of magical herbs and crystals back from one of his trips and we decided to sell them. He wanted to know how I’d crossed paths with Asra; I said only that he was one of the first people I met here.

I never asked about the murder.

The tavern emptied around us. Julian told me it was called the Rowdy Raven, for an old bird that had once lived in the rafters and alerted customers whenever a guard was about to enter. I asked why they would need to be alerted, and he leaned across the table and stage-whispered that some people around here had reputations for bad behavior. I couldn’t help but laugh with him. 

If only that raven had still been around. If only someone with a bad reputation hadn’t tried to save their own skin by sacrificing his.

The sun follows me up the steps of the palace. I hope I can catch Portia and ask her to let me sleep today, but I don’t see her when I walk in and I’m too tired to search properly. The plushness of the bed doesn’t bother me now: I fall asleep almost as soon as I lay down.

As I drift off, it crosses my mind that Julian was flirting with me.

Or trying to, at least. God knows I didn’t give him anything to work with.

------

I dream of him.

The beak of his plague doctor’s mask becomes a crescent moon hanging low in the sky. He’s reaching for me, reaching for me, reaching across waves into a plume of smoke and ash for me and I can’t reach him back no matter how far I stretch. And then he’s holding my face in his hands, pressing his lips to mine, kissing me like I’ve never even imagined being kissed before, and then we’re locked in a passionate embrace and he’s sinking his teeth into my shoulder to muffle a grunt as he cums and even in my sleep, I blush scarlet to think that I could be responsible for that. And then the scratches I leave on his back bleed streams of red, and unbearable loneliness, pain rooted so deeply it would take a miracle to loosen, soaks into my bones until I choke on it. I wake up gasping for breath in a beam of midday sunlight.

Someone knocks on my door. I didn’t even take my clothes off when I got back, so I stumble to my feet to answer it. Portia smiles brightly at me and nods down the corridor.

“Up and at ‘em, Reyja!”

I peer blearily at her in response, with thoughts of Julian still clinging to me.

“Ooh, late night? You’ll have to tell me all about it on our way into town.”

“What? Why?”

She takes my arm and leads me towards the entrance hall. “Countess Nadia wants to catch the noon rush at the market with the Masquerade announcement, and she thought you should be there.”

I already know about the fucking Masquerade, I think irritably, but I keep my mouth shut.

“Plus you could check on your shop while we’re there.”

That’s true. I didn’t pack enough to remain at the palace for as long as I’m expected to, so I could take the opportunity to grab some things. I’ll need them: I will see this through to the end. For Julian’s sake.

I’m in too deep. I think I’ve been in too deep from the moment I didn’t arrest him, or maybe from the moment I let him walk away from my shop unimpeded. It will never work. Even if I had a chance with him, which I don’t, he’s on the run for murder. Anything we started would be doomed to end, either in tragedy or with his stealthy departure from the city to which I’m still tethered. And in any case, I would never want to distract him with all of my weird hang-ups. He doesn’t deserve that. No one does.

On the carriage ride to the market square, I do my best to shed the despair lurking in the corners of my mind. I can't tell if I succeed or not. As Portia rushes off to assist Nadia in her preparations, I slip around the corner to the back entrance of the shop.

And I freeze. Someone has been here.

The logical part of me says that it was probably Muriel, Asra’s closest friend. He swings by to check on things every so often when Asra’s away. He doesn’t like it when I notice him, but I know he’s there and he knows I’m there and we agree to ignore each other. Usually, he leaves quickly, sometimes putting myrrh on the windowsills or tracing runemarks on the doors and charging them with protective magic.

But the energy spilling from the shop now doesn’t feel like his, and he never goes inside when he visits.

Yet I still recognize it.

No.

Please tell me he didn’t…

I open the door to Julian’s heavy black coat and leather uniform, his half-covered gaze shifting from disappointment to panic to guilt as he staggers back from me. Thank god we’re not out front. The South End at night was one thing, but to come here? At the busiest time of day? He’ll get himself caught if he isn’t careful and I cannot let that happen. The palace is thirsty for blood and it cannot be his. Regardless of what he thinks of me, I have to protect him. At least until I know if he’s innocent or not. Even after that... I shove him inside and quickly shut the door.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hiss, desperately hoping that no one saw him. If he didn’t wear such an obvious “I’m a fugitive” outfit… 

“W-well, I was, ah. I happened to be in the neighborhood and—”

“In the neighborhood? Why?!”

He still doesn’t give me a proper answer, stumbling over several sentences before settling on one: “I know you must be suspicious, catching me breaking in again. I swear on my… Hmm, what would you like me to swear on? Well, anyway, I swear I didn’t take anything.”

“I’m not worried about that!”

“Aren’t you? That could open you up to all sorts of trouble.”

“Oh, I’m going to be in trouble? Nadia is outside in the market square right now! You would’ve walked right into her and half of her guards.”

"Did she suspect anything with you coming back so late?"

"What? No? I didn't tell anyone where I was going, or why."

"Good, good. No other trouble? No one followed you or, or harassed you, or—?"

This is not the most pressing issue right now. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He lets out a long breath and some of the tension in the room fades. "Thank god. I felt awful, the way we left things. I just had to know you were alright.”

Oh. I deflate and step back from him. I suppose it makes sense to come here for that, since he couldn’t walk up to the palace and ask for me. But he shouldn’t have put himself in so much danger after such a close call. And what was his plan anyway, to just stay here until I came back? Still, at least he’s hidden at the moment. Both of our secrets are safe. “I’m— Thank you, but…”

He grins through his embarrassment and fixes the collar of his coat; it had flipped up when I pushed him through the door. “If you ask me, we ought to stop meeting like this.”

I can’t stop the blush from flooding my cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I just wonder how many crimes I can commit in front of you before you get fed up and drag me to the Countess yourself.”

Don’t do this. You’ve fallen for it before. “You’ll have to try something besides trespassing.”

“Oho? Shall we experiment?”

Oh my god. What the hell is he doing? “I don’t really think you should be adding to your rap sheet right now.”

“Are you going to report me, Reyja?”

“Are you asking me to report you, Julian?”

He laughs. “You can do whatever you like with me. I’m rather agreeable.”

Seriously, what the hell is he doing? “Sure you are.”

“How can I prove it? Hmm. Are you quite certain I didn’t take anything? You have some very nice little crystals here, so easy to slip into a pocket and waltz away with.”

“So your one-up from trespassing is petty thievery?”

He shucks off his coat and lets it fall to the floor. “Why don’t you search me and find out?”

Is he really trying to flirt with me? Again? Or is he trying to goad me into something, so he can mock me for thinking I would ever have a chance, like the last guy did. I can stand a lot of things, but being mocked cuts me to the core every time. 

I could run. I could laugh at him first. I could do what I’m supposed to be doing and tell the guards he’s here. 

But— but he’s asking. He asked. Wouldn’t it be his fault, if I took him up on the offer and he hadn’t actually meant it? 

And if he does mean it…?

“Alright.”

I shouldn’t have said that. I’m as surprised as he is that I did. But after he blinks it away, he smiles. “No need to be gentle,” he says, beckoning me closer. “Search until you're satisfied. I won’t bite unless you tell me to.”

He’s calling my bluff with invitations like that. How many times am I going to have to learn this lesson? Shouldn’t once have hurt enough? I need to back down, apologize, run and hide like I always do and never see or speak to him again. I shouldn’t be seeing or speaking to him anyway, given that I’m responsible for bringing him to justice. 

But I’m in way, way too deep. So deep I can’t see the surface anymore. All I can see is him, his broad smile and cream-pale skin, the curls of auburn hair that fall over one eye, his arms spread as if to draw me into a warm embrace… 

I move to stand in front of him. He’s so tall; his collarbone is at my eye level. But he’s watching with interest, chewing on his lip as he waits for me to do something.

Am I imagining it, or is he blushing too?

Physical contact is a luxury. I barely get more than a pat on the back or a handshake most of the time. To have an open request to touch him feels inappropriate, much more intimate than our few hours of conversation merit. I must be blazing scarlet, for how hot I feel. But I reach up and rest my hand on his shoulder, then run it down his whole arm. He’s strong. I can tell that even through the thick leather of his uniform. He shifts so I can feel the other side too, his forearm and his wrist. His palm, his long, slender fingers. 

The heavy black lines and scar tissue of the murderer’s brand, as much a part of him now as everything else.

I hold my breath as I circle around him. He has such beautiful broad shoulders. I wonder, briefly, if he could carry me, and flinch away from the idea just as quickly. Even in my imagination, it’s too farfetched to expect. He almost turns around with me, but stops with only a tremble to give him away. I keep one hand on his waist and skate the other over his back, following the line of his spine beneath his jacket. 

I flush even more when I recall my dream, how I carved bloody crescents into his skin in the throes of—

He sinks to his knees, breathing hard with tousled hair and a shaky grin, hands bound behind his back, chest bare and gleaming with sweat, peering up at me as he waits for my next command.

He flexes into my touch and I startle, drawing back. He couldn’t have known what I was thinking, could he? Of course not. God, but I hate how good he looks like that, how eager and desperate to please he is, how simply and completely he trusts whoever he’s submitting to.

And I hate how jealous I am that that person isn’t me. 

No. No, no, no. Stop it. Stop it! Why do I torment myself like this? I have no right to want him to want me. He's so ridiculously out of my league. But I have to keep him here, keep him safe. I’ll bear the pain of being laughed at if it means he won’t be caught.

I follow the crest of his hip to face him again. To my surprise, he’s beet-red, looking anywhere but down. I see why immediately.

This can’t be real.

“Um.”

He laughs, not nearly as self-conscious as I expected him to be. “You should be flattered.”

“I-I mean, uh, I am, but—”

“Mm?”

I swallow hard, willing words to come to my aid. “You like this?”

“I don’t dislike it, if that’s what you mean.”

That is what I mean, but it can’t be true. “You don’t know me well enough to be that excited just to see me.”

“Yes, well. It’s been a long time since…” He trails off. My mind eagerly fills in the blanks: since anyone’s touched me like you can. But he doesn’t voice whatever he’s thinking, and he’s definitely not thinking that. “And as I said, I don’t dislike things like this.”

Things like this. How familiar is he with things like this, I wonder. Regardless, I’m sure he’s well ahead of me. My experience is limited to books I hide when I’m done with them and however vivid my imagination decides to be. That’s my experience with everything, really.

“Or people like you.”

What? What?

He’s looking at me again, leaning down slightly to meet my eyes with a hint of a genuine smile, and—

“Ilya?”

We turn as one, both trying to shield the other from whoever just spoke. Fuck, it’s—

“Pasha?”

Portia’s standing in the doorway, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. I realize like a lightning strike why she seemed so familiar when we first met: despite their height difference, even more drastic than ours, they have the same nose, the same heavy-lidded eyes, the same wild red hair.

“Ilya, you idiot, what are you doing here?!”

“I was—”

“No, no, you have to go! You have to! If the Countess sees you, she’s gonna—”

“I know, I just—”

Portia breaks into a wild stream of Neviv, scrubbing angrily at her tears. Julian responds as he scoops his coat from the floor, conveniently hiding himself while he prepares to leave. It sounds like he’s apologizing, desperately, for something that’s weighed on him for a long time, but she doesn’t seem to be in a forgiving mood.

And suddenly, she sees me. “Reyja! I, um. Please, please don’t tell Nadia!”

It takes me a second to remember why she thinks I would. “Of course not.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you! And I won’t say anything either, I promise. If my big dumb idiot brother can stay out of—”

The royal salute cuts across her voice. Nadia’s announcement must be starting, which means that all this has to end. Now will be the safest time for him to escape, with everyone milling around to see what all the fuss is about. All three of us come to that conclusion at the same time.

“I’ll go with him,” Portia says, eyeing Julian testily. “Gotta give him a piece of my mind.”

“And I’ll deserve every insult you can throw at me, Pashenka, but—”

“No buts!”

Julian pauses, standing between us, and looks back with an unreadable expression. If I didn’t know better…

“I’ll catch up with you after I get him out of here,” Portia says to me. “Nadia wants you with the rest of the palace staff up on the dais. You should be able to go around the back and no one will notice. Hopefully no one will notice us either.” She grumbles something else in Neviv and scowls, then peeks outside and looks up and down the street before grabbing Julian by the elbow and hauling him out of the shop.

They’ve disappeared by the time I close the door.

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

prev || next

[crimsonbluemoon]

Working For Love: A TerrorMoo Story 13/17

It’s still Saturday and I am posting on time and I can’t get in trouble yay! Also I totally hinted this was gonna be a sad chapter but I got my chapters messed up so y’all spared for now. 

Enjoy!

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Brock tried to be a good friend most days of his life. 

“Tyler should be naked in my bed by now.” 

Brock bit back a groan at Mini’s statement when he leaned on the front counter, praying that Brian would be done with the closing of the gym sooner rather than later. The trio were meeting Tyler, Marcel, and Scotty for drinks, a meeting Craig called ‘necessary’ due to his lack of improvement with Tyler. Brock had only heard about the plans an hour prior, surprised to see Craig already waiting at the gym when he arrived at their meeting point. 

It was confusing to Brock to see Tyler put up such a fight against his obvious feelings for Mini, though it seemed to be an odd trend for Brian’s side of their friend group. Evan and Jonathan couldn’t get out of their own disastrous ways, Tyler threatened Craig with physical violence anytime he felt anything close to romantic development, and Luke would rather beat up anyone who looked at Ryan in a funny way than actually do something about the growing feelings between them. Nogla didn’t seem to know what love even was, and Anthony claimed he too invested in watching all his friend’s miserable attempts at love to try for himself. The only one who had a semblance of emotional intelligence was Scotty, who only needed a few weeks to pick up on Marcel’s flirting and ask him out. But besides the youngest of the group, the others were simply hopeless. 

He conveniently ignored his own glass house. 

“Do you think maybe it’s stuff like that which makes him pull away?” Brock asked, Mini’s lack of understanding obvious in his eye blink. 

“Why would that make him run? I’m amazing in bed. Ingrid even taught me how to put my foot behind my head during-”

“Do not finish that statement.” Brock snapped out, already feeling embarrassment rushing up his neck. The woman was in her seventies! Why was she still so flexible? And how had they even gotten onto that topic to begin with?

“Relax, her husband was fine with her sharing their sex life.” 

“And there goes my libido for the rest of my life.” Brian’s flat tone made Brock sigh in relief, turning to watch him saunter out from the back. He looked good in his new outfit, the long sleeves of the black v-neck emphasizing the definition of his arms. His waist was so tiny when looped with his leather belt, and Brock tried not let his stare last longer than appropriate when giving Brian a smile. 

“You ready to go?” 

“Yeah, just finished up.” Amused at his own thought, Brock saw Brian send Craig a teasing look before he continued. “We should take a shot every time Mini fails at hitting on Tyler tonight. Could get drunk in the first ten minutes.” 

“Laugh it up, but you don’t know what it’s like to have someone you like continuously shut you down.” Dramatic as always, Craig made a scene of dropping his arms onto the counter next to them flopping his head down with a sigh. “Unrequited love is too painful.”

“You know he likes you,” Brock replied, feeling a hint of sympathy for Craig. Trying to be supportive, he moved closer, patting his shoulder. “He lets you hang out here all the time even though you still haven’t technically signed up. You get yoga classes and smoothies for free. He doesn’t yell at you for bringing alcohol despite 100% knowing you do. And he even texts you on days you don’t end up here for a visit. Maybe Tyler’s just not into aggressive flirting.”

“But that’s all I know how to do besides get boozed up with vintage women.” The statement was too funny not to laugh at, though Brock tried for a sympathetic smile after Mini sent him a pout over his arm. 

“Then you just need to find someone who can teach you a few tricks,” Brock suggested. Mini hummed at the thought like he was tossing it around in his head, and Brock patiently waited for his friend to come to a conclusion on his suggestion. Instead, Craig glanced back at Brian. 

“You know Tyler the best; you got any pointers for me?”

“I do not get paid enough to get my boss laid.” A loud whine from Mini seemed to be enough of a bother for Brian to roll his eyes, his sigh showing his protest while pushing away from the counter. “Your lines are shit. They’re too pun-heavy and have no real connection to your relationship with Tyler. He sees them like lines you toss out to anyone, and he’s seen you flirt with almost every other hot guy in the gym.” 

“In my defense, Luke could crush my head with his thighs.” Mini’s dreamy sigh didn’t show he’d mind the scary thought, but Brock could see it was more an act than actual interest. Craig’s eyes always rounded and softened when talking about Tyler, hinting at his genuine attraction that’d developed with more time spent between them. Sure, Mini had found Tyler hot the second they’d met, but the joking flirting had begun to solidify into serious emotions with each week that passed. Tyler probably couldn’t tell the difference like Brock, who had years of getting to know Craig to spot the changes in tone and body language. To a newcomer, Mini might seem disingenuine with his attempts to court the gym owner. 

“You can’t say shit like that and then wonder why Tyler won’t take your offers seriously.” Brian rolled his eyes in a way that oddly was reminiscent of said owner, and Brock hid another smile at how they picked up each other’s behaviors. Neither man would admit it, bickering with each other any chance they could, but they were far closer than they let on. 

“So then show me what I’m supposed to do; give me a demonstration.” Craig got needy when he was focused on something. He didn’t mean to forget his manners or boss others around in their absence; that side just came out without permission. Brock was set on reminding him of his lack of etiquette before a hand set on his shoulder, leading him to turn back and face Brian. 

“Can I say something?” The intense connection between their eyes immediately caught Brock’s breath, making his stomach warm while he gave a hesitant nod. 

“Su-sure.” Brian flashed him a smile and stepped forward, the hand that had touched his shoulder slow in its movement of cupping the back of Brock’s neck. Heat burst from the skin-on-skin contact, and Brock’s mind melted from the temperature change. Brian seemed to pick up on the change, but he didn’t look bothered by it, his thumb gently fluttering over the fast pulse in Brock’s neck. 

“You’re really something special, Brocky. Everytime I get to see you smile or you give me a laugh, the world feels right. You’re creative and considerate of your friends and students alike, and I love listening to you talk about em’ the way you do. I’d listen to you talk about rocks for hours simply because your voice is so pretty. And when you gave me that playlist, I wanted to ask you this. I’ve wanted to ask this for months, really, but I had to wait. Not during a busy hour or right after you gave me something; I wanted it to be the right time. So now, I gotta ask; would you like to go on a date with me?” 

“Oh, wow.” Brock wasn’t sure the voice that pushed out through his tightened throat was his, everything in his mind hazy with emotion. Somewhere, logic was trying to remind him that Mini had asked for an example of an intimate version of flirting, and Brian was just...just playing the part. But his heart rejected the thought as soon as it entered his head, stomping it out with a reminder of how soft Brian’s touch was against his pulse. His hand, which had somehow found Brian’s shirt during the ‘charade’, tightened in the fabric, unsure if it was to push Brian away or pull him closer. Neither answer sounded right, so he tried to clear his throat a few times to buy him time. Even though his next sentence was aimed to the person behind him, Brock couldn’t pull his eyes away from Brian’s watchful stare.  “Yeah, Mini, if you did that with Tyler, I-I think he’d say yes.” 

“Yeah, maybe you should be focusing on yourself for the moment.” The whiny, bossy persona Craig had taken on earlier was gone in a flash, something plastic sliding across the front desk. Brock took his time looking away from Brian to the object, eyes widening when catching sight of the plastic wrap surrounding the bouquet of roses. A mixture of pinks and whites, the arrangement was gorgeous, leaving Brock stunned. 

“These are...these are mine?” He took the bouquet as he asked, fingers trailing against the petals of the flowers. He wanted to press his nose to them, but his attention moved back to Brian in his need for answers. Craig was shuffling away with a soft snicker, making Brock wonder if Mini was having any problems with Tyler at all. Had he and Brian planned this? Was that why Mini had somehow managed to get to the gym before him, despite living further away? The thought made Brock’s head spin, and he hesitantly pressed the roses to his chest while staring up at Brian. “Wait, were you- did you really mean to ask-”

“I’d really like to take you out to dinner,” Brian confessed in a quiet voice he’d never used with Brock before. “You don’t have to answer right now, I knew you’d need some time to think it over.”

“No!” His blurting of the protest was taken wrong. He could tell from Brian’s flinch and downcast gaze that he’d associated the word with the wrong sentence, so he rushed to explain. “No I don’t need time. I’d really like to answer your offer now with a yes.” 

“Yeah?” Brian’s hand was gentle when it squeezed the back of his neck, reminding Brock of the intimate embrace they’d stumbled into. Or maybe this had also been planned, since the position made Brock’s inhibition lower. It made him feel safe, like he could bury into Brian’s chest and not have to worry about the anxiety he’d have later over his date. Somehow he resisted the urge, but held his gift closer to compensate. 

“If the offer’s still there.”

“It always will be.” From the honest light that sparked in Brian’s eyes, Brock knew he wasn’t lying. 

“Then it’s a...a date.” He whispered, hiding his smile behind the edge of his bouquet. 

Maybe Brock would get a chance to prove he could be a good boyfriend, too.

This was a fav chapter of mine and I really enjoyed the flow and writing it. I hope you did, too. As always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think!

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 47: Faith and Lust

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Akaya Koda in Tears From a Stone

Akaya tossed a handful of seeds into the water and called out to them with her Quirk, causing the water plants to grow larger and more rapidly than they ever would if they had been left to their own devices.  The water lilies large and strong, forming the perfect series of rafts between the sinking yacht and the Oki Mariner.  Other members of the Oki Mariner crew, most of whom had aquatic Quirks, worked to help safely transport the yacht goers across.

Aunt Tsu—Froppy, when she was working, of course—directed the action like a consummate professional. “Don’t worry,” she said.  “You’re in safe hands with my girls.”   As always, her expression never seemed to change, unless you were familiar with her.  

There’d been six people on the yacht, three adults, a young boy, and a pair of teenagers about her own age, a boy and a girl.  The two parents were highly inebriated, the other adult, a butler, slightly shaken. The inebriation probably explained the fact that the yacht had dashed itself on rocks.  The younger boy’s eyes were wide, quite taken with all the Heroes.

The teenagers, on the other hand, seemed more annoyed than anything else.  No, annoyed and… disgusted?  The looks they were giving her and the other crew members like Octo-Pod, Tera-Spin, and even Aunt Tsu, she hadn’t encountered such cold looks in some time.  But they were frighteningly familiar all the same.

“Can’t believe we got rescued by the aquarium patrol,” the teenage boy said to his sister, sneering.

“Were all the other Heroes busy?” the girl asked, her haughty tone of voice carrying easily. “I don’t remember ordering sushi.”

“Or a rock garden,” the boy added.  “Think she’s hard everywhere?”

“Don’t be gross,” the girl shot back.  “Nobody ought to be thinking anything about any of these freaks.”

Akaya felt her face flush as she looked away.  Meanwhile, Asuka Sakamata, the daughter of Gang Orca, and third year student at U.A., hauled her massive black and white bulk up onto the deck.  She was Froppy’s Work Study student and the largest woman Akaya had ever seen, easily dwarfing her and even larger than Grandmother Koda. Despite her fierce appearance, Akaya had already come to know her bark was far worse than her bite.

Still, it did not take strong powers of observation to see the hurt in her eyes. She’d heard it too. Hurt that Akaya was certain was mirrored in her own eyes.  Her own Quirk was, technically, an Emitter type.  But she carried with her inherited mutations from an ancestor on her father’s side that had possessed the Quirk “Rock Skin” that had been passed along her bloodline in the form of changed appearances even as other Quirks had combined and mutated.  It gave her her great size and perhaps some small measure of greater strength and resilience with it, coarsening her skin even still.  Her moss like hair came from her mother’s side of the family, where plant-like Quirks and appearances were common.

She was well aware that she appeared to be something of a walking mountain range.  Or perhaps a troll, as some of her middle school classmates had called her.  She’d thought she’d buried such hurt long ago.   But she was only fooling herself.

“Buncha ingrates,” Sakamata said, crossing her arms.  “Shoulda just let them drown.”

“They are young and foolish,” Akaya said.  “Perhaps they may yet learn in time.”

They watched as the parents avoided the touch of Cephalo-Squad and Rockhopper, the mother in particular shrinking away from Cephalo-Squad’s tentacles.  

Sakamata grunted. “Looks like it ain’t just them.  Bastards.  Maybe we should just throw them overboard.”

Akaya only wished it were that easy.

***

Space aboard the Oki Mariner was at a premium, even with the improvements to the ship Aunt Tsu had been able to make to it during her rise to being one of the Top Ten Heroes.  But Akaya was able to steal a few minutes in the cabin she shared with Rockhopper and Tera-Spin.  She was grateful for the all-female crew, at least.  But she appreciated the all-too-brief moment of privacy even more.

She got down on her knees, feeling the slight rocking of the ship beneath her, and folded her hands. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. “Lord, grant me the strength to endure their slings and arrows,” she prayed.  “I try not to listen to their words, but the hatred in their hearts does me great pain.  I do not mean to question your plan, Lord…”

She opened her eyes and, as a tear fell down her face, found herself staring at her hands, with their wide palms, and thick, coarse fingers.   Akaya folded them again and closed her eyes.  “And I am not unhappy with who I am.  I know this is but another challenge I must overcome…  But I do know if I have that strength.”

Life, she knew, came in many different forms since the advent of Quirks.  The nature of attraction itself had changed.  But there were still many who perceived those with inherited mutations or Mutant-Type Quirks as less than human.  And even within those who were open-minded and accepting, deviations from the norm were often scrutinized.  Even before her… developments, she knew her dear friend Mika’s appearance had elicited far less shock and discomfort than Akaya’s own.   Sero, Tokoyami, Shoji, even Ojiro, many of Class 1-A had unusual appearances.  But even with his extra-arms, Shoji was considered quite handsome, and Sero cultivated his look in such a way that few people called him on it.  Those with animal characteristics, like much of the crew here and Tokoyami, had their own problems to bear, but it was more varied. Her own younger brother Rikido appeared basically human, with only green hair to show for his differences, and thankfully did not endure what she had to.

She still remembered one of her first crushes, three years ago, a hasty and mumbled confession when she’s skewed up all her courage to ask him out.  He’d been a friend.  He’d said “I’m sorry, Koda, but I just don’t find you attractive.”  Somehow, that had hurt far worse than anything else could have.

Her friends at U.A., both those she had grown up with and those she had made since starting at the school, at least, had no problems with her appearance.  And many of them, Mika, Kana, Shiro, and even Aoyama, would be ready to “throw hands” in Shiro’s words, with anyone who had spoken to her as the people they rescued had.  None of which made it hurt any less.

She was but as God had made her.  Why did so many see that as wrong?

***

“Fuck ‘em all,” Sakamata said, as she and Akaya were on deck-swabbing duty.  The events of the rescue still weighed heavily on Akaya’s mind, even though most of the other crew appeared to have moved on from it. For now, the Oki Mariner was docked in the harbor, much of the crew ashore getting dinner, with only a skeleton crew left behind.  It still left them plenty to do.

Aunt Tsu had tried to be reassuring, but she could not understand, not really.  For all that Frog was a Mutant type Quirk, Aunt Tsu’s deviations from baseline were fairly minor.  She was a beloved Hero and a favorite of children, seen by many as cute. She could not understand.

Akaya regarded Sakamata for a moment.  “That hardly seems the Christian thing to do,” she said.

The orca-woman pointed a finger at Akaya.  “You gotta be you.  Don’t apologize for it.  Don’t let them tell you what you’re worth.  You think I gave a shit what meatheads and dumbasses thought when I started transitioning?  You think I give a shit what some bigot thinks of how I look?”

Sakamata was the daughter of a former Top Ten Hero and a rising star at U.A.  One of the Big Three of her year, alongside Nejire Togata, and a Speed-Quirk user named Hayai Sokudo. Akaya had already seen how she threw herself into every task before her, the way in which she walked unapologetically through life.  And yet, Akaya had already seen that she could be kind as well.  She was not soft-spoken, but could be soft when it came to children or animals like dolphins and whales.

Truthfully, she reminded Akaya of Kirishima-Bakugo.

But there was something behind those red eyes of hers, the same pain Akaya had seen there earlier.  “I think,” she said, “you care more than you let on.  Or more than you would like to, at least.”

“…Yeah, okay,” Sakamata growled.  “What can I say?  People suck.”

“More people are good than not,” Akaya replied.  “At least, so I chose to believe.”

“And when they’re not?”

“Then my faith sustains me. Or so I try.  I pray for the strength to endure and I pray for their enlightenment.”

Sakamata snorted.  “No offense, but what sounds like a lot of wishing.”

Akaya was used to such reactions when she spoke of her faith.  Christianity was not common in Japan and not well understood.  “None taken.  But my faith sustains me when I feel like breaking.”

Sakamata gave her a skeptical look, but then shrugged.  “Whatever works,” she said.  “I’ve probably punched a few more people than I oughta have.  Tossed a couple of ‘em around.  Might be a reason for all the black marks on my record.

“But if you want me to, I can punch the next guy who says somethin’.  Lots of bigots in this town.”

Akaya nodded as they resumed their work.  “It is appreciated, but I will decline.”

There would always be those who were cruel and thoughtless, who judged others for matters beyond their control.  But at least she had found someone else who knew how she felt.  She remembered her mother’s words, that prayers were not always answered in the way you would think.

Sakamata lived her truth, unapologetically, with strength and courage.  Akaya, truthfully, struggled at times with her appearance, especially when so many of her friends and classmates were so much more traditionally attractive.  That she was from a long line of people who looked like her suggested it wasn’t impossible that someone would find her pretty, but some days, that seemed like a very far off possibility.

But perhaps she could find something worth following in Sakamata’s example.  She just had to have faith.

***

Mika Mineta in A Lustful Morning

Mika had never been awake at 0500 hours before.  She was pretty sure she hadn’t even been aware 0500 was an actual, for real, not made-up time before now.  But Ingenium insisted upon an “early patrol” every Wednesday, in order to “remind people from all walks of life and occupations that Heroes will be there for them, every hour, of every day.”  This explanation had been punctuated by significant hand waving.

How someone could be as attractive as he was—a little over two meters of pure, rock-solid beefcake—and be that big of a stick in the mud, she had no idea.  

She’d only been here since Monday and she’d already worked harder than she ever had before, even in her Hero classes at U.A.   Intense physical training, readiness drills, and so many manuals to read and procedures to memorize.   Not to mention having been forced to make her bed in the Sidekick’s berth multiple times until she’d gotten it right.  And there was the criticism of her costume, as “overly sexual” and “not fitting for a woman of your young age.”  Just because Ingenium’s daughter ran around in full armor…

Ingenium ran a tight ship.   Which was not to say everyone under him did.   His brother, Tensei Iida (not to be confused with the Tensei Iida who was in her class), who lent his expertise as mission control, was a much more easy going individual.   And several of the Sidekicks were more relaxed as well, though a few did try to model themselves after their leader.

Speaking of, she knew Team Iidaten had a lot of Sidekicks working for it, but seeing it in the flesh was quite another.  Many of them had mobility-related Quirks, though not all of them.

“Ugh,” she said, rubbing her eyes.  “I’ve already been up thirty minutes.  Why can’t I have coffee?”

Ingenium was standing before her and the four other Sidekicks selected for morning patrol. “Coffee is an addictive stimulant!” he said, waving his arms through the air in what seemed like random, but carefully controlled motions.  “A Hero must always be prepared to function at their best, regardless of circumstances, and without artificial aides!  While some coffee is acceptable in moderation, relying upon it as a jumpstart is unacceptable!”

“Okay, okay,” Mika said, rolling her eyes.  Guy definitely didn’t do anything by half measures.

“And stand up straight!” Ingenium continued.  He was wearing the helmet, but she could tell he was scrutinizing her all the same. And not in the way she liked to be scrutinized.  Objectifying her was one thing, but actually judging her and trying to correct her faults? What was the world coming to?

There was a sudden rush and a red and gold blur suddenly arrived, seemingly out of nowhere, next to Ingenium.  It resolved itself into a woman with long blonde hair, wearing tall red boots with yellow trim, a red and gold leotard, and long red gloves, likewise with yellow trim. Red trimmed goggles with yellow lenses completed the outfit.  On her chest—yeah, she was looking—was a yellow lightning bolt symbol.   “SorryI’mlate,” she said, tossing off a small salute to Tenya.  “Hadtostopapursesnatcheronmywayhere.  Don’tworry, I’llgetallthepaperwork filedbeforetheday’sover!”

Okay, Mika was reasonably certain those were words.  But they’d come out way too fast for her to follow.  And probably for Ingenium too, as his expression passed through irritation, confusion, and then acceptance.

“Flash-Step,” Ingenium said, cheerfully, “glad you could join us for this early patrol.  And do not worry, your duty to the citizens of this city outweigh your duty to be on time. Just please remember to slow down before you file the paperwork.”

“Ofcourse,Boss,” Flash-Step said.  

“Sorry,” she said, finally slowing down.  “Was still going pretty fast there.  Back to normal now.”

She shook her head, sending her hair cascading in a halo around her. Mika took a moment to take in everything, from her well-toned legs to her chest to an ass that looked like you could bounce small change off of to what looked like a six-pack under her leotard.

“Mineta,” Ingenium said, “please meet Hayai Sokudo, my Work Study participant, from U.A.  She will be responsible for supervising you during this morning’s patrol.”

Maybe 0500 wasn’t so bad after all.

***

Mika’s hooves made a soft clip-clop­ on the pavement as she and Flash-Step walked through the streets of Hosu City.  It had been pretty boring.  According to Ingenium, crime never slept.  Right at that moment, though, it felt like crime was sleeping in.  Of course, she’d managed to nearly walk into three street signs, two mailboxes, and one phone booth (Why was there still a phone booth in this day and age?).  So there was that.

She couldn’t help it. The view was incredibly distracting.  Of course, Mika found most people distractingly attractive.  But Flash-Step was really distractingly attractive.  Like, on the level of Shinji distractingly attractive.

Speaking of her boyfriend, she surreptitiously took a picture of the Work Study student with her phone while she was speaking with a civilian, then sent it to Shinji.

Babe, look who I’m working with.

Sorry, right, it’s stupid early.

Hope I didn’t wake you up.

But, she is, like, super-hot.

Should I hit on her?  Y/N?

Hot Boyfriend: Holy hurricanes!  

Hot Boyfriend: She is nearly as spectacular as you!

Hot Boyfriend: I INSIST that you hit on her!  To waste this opportunity would be criminal!

Babe, you are –the best-

Wait, crap.  What if she’s straight?

Hot Boyfriend: You won’t know until you try!

Hot Boyfriend: But if she is straight, could you try and talk me up?

What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?

Try and talk my boyfriend up to the hot girl that we’re both trying to hit on?  

Of course I will!

An open relationship with a super-hunk worked out really well.

***

Flash-Step, as it turned out, possessed a Quirk called “High Gear.”  It let her shift into super-speed for five minutes, but then required another five minutes to cool down afterwards.  It also took the full five minutes to come out of it, as evidenced by the fact that she remained accelerated and fast talking if she finished whatever high speed task she’d set herself before that time was up.

“Saw you at the Sports Festival,” Flash-Step said, as they walked the streets.  “They had Third years helping with security, but I caught your first match on my break.  When the Boss said you were coming, I watched the rest.”   She paused stuck a piece of gum in her mouth.  “Don’t tell the Boss.  Not supposed to have this, but I gotta get my oral fix.”

She blew a bubble with perfect lips and such breath control that it made Mika’s heart and other parts flutter.  It popped, noisily, and she sucked the pieces back in.

“Oh yeah?” Mika asked. The pop had snapped her back to her senses, letting her formulate an actual response, instead of stuttering like a moron.  “What’d you think?”

The older girl considered, chewing her gum.  “Boss says you’re undisciplined and a trouble-maker.”  Mika’s heart sank for a moment.  Of course, that was what pretty much everyone thought about her, so she was used to that.  Hell, most of the time, she encouraged it.  Flash-Step shrugged.  “Now, me, I think…”

 “You take that back, you bastard!” the voice cut through the air and cut off any possible answer from Flash-Step.  Mika followed the source of it, finding what looked like a bunch of high school boys, two groups of them judging by their uniforms, six in total, getting ready to rumble.   Probably a good old fashioned school rivalry.

It was entirely too early for this kind of dumbassitude.

“You gonna make me?” one of the boys in the other uniform taunted.  He’d activated his Quirk, idly tossing a fireball from one hand to the other.   Next to him, most of the others were calling up their Quirks as well.

“I’ll beat it out of you if I have to!” the one who’d called out originally snarled.  He raised a palm and a spikey ball of inky blackness appeared, floating around him like a miniature sun.  Around him, his own schoolmates were activating their Quirks.

“We going to clobber them?” Mika asked.

“Not if we can help it,” Flash-Step said.  “If this turns into a fight, we’ll have to call the police.  It’ll go on their records, they might get charged with petty Villainy.”  She frowned. “But we need to do something before they get tired of posturing.”

“So what you’re saying is we need to diffuse the situation without violence?”

“Yeah.  Guess we could try talking to them…”

A grin spread across Mika’s face.  Her time had come.  “Let me handle this.”

“I shouldn’t…”

But Mika was already in motion.

“Heeeeey boys,” she called out, putting a little bit of extra swing into her hips as she approached. She bent forward entirely more than was necessary, giving them an excellent view of her cleavage.  “Think you could break up your fight and spare a minute for little old me?”   She gave them her best “airheaded beauty” look, the kind with pouty lips and half-lidded eyes.  

This got all eyes on her. Good.  That meant they were all straight, or at least bisexual.  Being pan herself, she tried not to make too many snap judgements about other’s sexualities, even if her radar for that was very good.  At least two of them were openly undressing her with their eyes.  

She put a hand on her cheek. “I think I’m lost, any chance you could help me?”

“Sure,” the one who’d made the spikey black ball early said.  “But what’s in it for me?”   He was leering.  Maybe in a slightly icky way.  

“Dude,” one of the other ones said.  “She’s a U.A. student!  See the costume?  Didn’t you watch the Sports Festival?”

“I did,” the fireball user said.  “She’s the one who kept talking like a slut.”

Mika pushed down the urge to growl.  She owned her own sexuality.  To reduce it like that…!  But she was playing distraction here.   “Oh, tee-hee,” she said, forcing herself to giggle.  “What do I know about anything like that?”

“You little boys down?” Flash-Step said, having gotten behind them while they’d been distracted by Mika.

“What?”  “Huh”  “Who’s..?” Various exclamations of surprise rang out from the six as they realized they were surrounded.

“Get to school, all of you!” Flash-Step shouted.  “I’ve got all your faces recorded on my goggles!  If you don’t get moving in five seconds or if I hear about you trying to fight like this again, I’m sending it to the cops and every Hero in the city!”

With a grumble, the boys dispersed.  There were a few half-hearted “this isn’t overs” but the fight had clearly gone out of them.

“Bye-bye, boys,” Mika said, waving and blowing them a little kiss.

“Good job,” Flash-Step told her, after the boys had left.  “Definitely not a strategy I’d have thought of.”

Mika grinned.  “No?  You could have pulled it off, real easy.”

“Maybe,” Flash-Step replied. If she’d picked up on the subtext Mika was radiating, she didn’t show it.  “Still, nice distraction and non-violent escalation.   Pretty sure the Boss wouldn’t approve, but he can be kind of a stick in the mud.”

“The stickiest,” she agreed.

They continued walking after that.  “Anyway,” Flash-Step continued, “Nejire and I were talking about the Spots Festival. She was rooting for Midoriya, of course, but I was rooting for you.  You’ve got guts, kid.”

Mika turned so Flash-Step wouldn’t see her frown.  Kid?  From somebody only three years older?  

Ah, well.   Win some, lose some.

[dtbecomehuman]

HUMANITY - Connor

Hello everyone! I haven’t wrote on tumblr in quite some time. I’m currently writing a Connor x OC story on my Wattpad and I figured that I could share the first chapter with you :) You can find more chapters on my wattpad, here’s the line to HUMANITY : https://my.w.tt/8onjtgIgU7

Chapter One: New Partner

A story in which a kind hearted detective works with a android sent by CyberLife, throwing them down a path full of bumps in the road, them both finding some part of their humanity along the way.

DATE

NOV 5TH, 2038

TIME

PM 10:56:15

The city of Detroit is busy as usual during the evening. Even though the day was slowly coming to an end that doesn't make the city stop. The tall buildings reaching high for the darkening sky, the lights making the advanced city glow. The big animated billboards display the latest Android, casting a hue of light onto the people that passed under it, on their way to their unknown destinations. Some people just getting off of work, some just making their way to it.

Devon Cassidy was like these people. She had gone to work during the early hours of the morning and an hour ago she was on her way home but getting a call about a new case has her dressing out of her comfy clothes and heading out into the cold November air to make her way back to the station.

"Hey, old man. Just got a call about a case and I'm not sure if you know this or not but you're my partner and this is your job too. Put the alcohol down and call me back." The blonde sighs, placing her phone in her lap. Hank Anderson wasn't an easy person to be partners with especially if your work ethic was completely different from his.

Devon is a hungry and young detective that still enjoys her job whilst Hank has burned out and lets his life problems dull his fire. She has been partners with Hank for almost four years so she has once seen that drive and fire in him and she also knows why it disappeared. The woman turns into the parking lot of the precinct, pulling into an empty parking space. She needed to run in a grab her gun then she'd try and give her partner another call before she went on the hunt looking for him.

She climbs out of her car, sticking her phone and keys into the pocket of her long black coat that sits snug over her white long sleeve blouse that's tucked into her grey dress pants before making her way to the front doors of the station. The waiting area was quiet, no one sitting around.

"Back so soon, detective?" The ST300 android behind the front desk, Emily, asks with a small smile. "Yeah, got a new case." Devon gives the android a friendly smile. The waist-high doors open, giving the detective access to the bull pin.

The woman pauses in her tracks when she notices a tall figure standing in front of hers and Hanks desks. There wasn't anyone there and she could tell that there were maybe only three people here based on their terminals being lit up but they were probably else were out of sight. His back was to her and she could see straight away that he is an android. He wore a two-toned grey suit jacket. 'ANDROID' and 'RK800' glowed white on the back along with a blue triangle and blue trim that matched. She could also see that on his right arm was a band that glows a bright blue.

The detective walks closer, her heels clicking against the tiled floors of the precinct. The noise of her shoes catches The androids' attention, causing him to turn in her direction, giving her a better view of him. The android wore a nice white button-down shirt that is tucked neatly into the dark jeans that hug his legs, his feet adoring some black boots. His hands adjust a slick black tie. A business casual kind of look. On the front of his suit on the right side of his chest, 'RK800' shines bright whilst there was a small print of his serial number underneath. Blue trimmed the collar of the suit which made her green eyes travel up to his face. Boy, did CyberLife have fun making this android.

This RK800 had a boyish charm to him with his round, slightly slanted doe eyes that were framed with his soft expressioned eyebrows and his full pink lips. Freckles dot his creamy skin along with a few constructively placed moles. There was also a sharpness to him with his high cheekbones and slanted jawline that led to his round chin with a small dimple in the middle. His brown hair was styled neatly except for a rebellious strand that sways in front of his forehead, kissing the faded expression lines that rest there.

He was so detailed and extremely human-looking that if it weren't for his suit and the blue LED on his right temple, Devon would have just thought he was a regular handsome human male but instead he is a unique handsome android male.

"Detective Cassidy?" His voice has a soft rasp to it and it's a quite calming and charming tone. "Yeah, that's me. Can I help you?" The blonde raises a curious eyebrow at him. "My name is Connor, I'm the android sent by CyberLife. I was assigned on a case with you and Lieutenant Anderson." The blonde's lips quarks up slightly in a small smirk. His voice is very smooth for an android, not as robotic as some of the others she's spoken to. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Connor." Devon sticks a hand out to the android who looks to her hand for a moment, LED switching to yellow before he reaches out and shakes her hand. She makes a note at how soft his hand feels against her own more calloused hand.

"I actually just came back for my gun." She lets go of his hand so she could move around behind her desk. The woman fishes out her keys and unlocks a drawer to pull out her holster and firearm. This is why she usually kept the thing at home with her because she'd always just have to come right back here to retrieve it.

"You're the android that saved that little girl that was held hostage, right?" It was all over the news three months ago. A little girl held at gunpoint on the edge of a terrace by her own family's android. If Devon wasn't only strictly on homicide cases she would have been there. Technically, she could have been since the father was shot and killed along with a fellow officer but they didn't need someone to figure out who killed them. Devon can remember seeing an image of Connor on the news, them calling him the "Deviant Hunter", the newest android model made by CyberLife, specifically created to chase down these androids that deviate. Another title he was given was "The Negotiator" since he was able to talk the android down and let the little girl go. Devon wondered if this case she was assigned to had something to do with a deviant since he was here.

"Yes, that was me." Connor gives a small nod, causing the tuft of hair to sway with his movements. Devon nods, clipping her holster to her belt, sticking her gun inside of it. Connor stands straight with his hands tucked neatly behind his back. The LED on the side of his head spins yellow as his brown eyes ghost over the female detective, scanning her.

DEVON CASSIDY

DAUGHTER OF GABRIELLA AND LOGAN CASSIDY

DATE OF BIRTH: MAY 15th, 2011

AGE:27

BECAME A OFFICER IN 2032 - 3 YEARS

PROMOTED TO DETECTIVE IN 2035 - 4 YEARS (ONGOING)

CRIMINAL RECORDS: NONE

His LED turns back to blue once he was finished. "Do you know where Lieutenant Anderson might be? I searched for him when I first arrived but it seems that he's not here." Devon glances at the desk that is to her left then back to the tall android. "Well, being his partner I have an idea." She sighs, adjusting her coat. "Our dear Lieutenant likes to frequent the bar more then he does work sometimes." She tries not to judge the older man, understanding that he uses alcohol to cope with his pain that life has dealt him but that doesn't mean she had to agree with it or like it. "I can show you which one, we're working on the same case anyway." The blonde woman shrugs her shoulders slightly.

"That would be quite helpful." Connor nods and the detective makes sure she has all her things and begins to walk towards the exit, motioning the android to follow her. "Good luck, detective." Emily calls out to her and Devon flashes her a smile over her shoulder. "Thanks, Em!" She waves, walking with Connor to the front doors. The android steps before her, opening the door first and stepping to the side to let her go out first. "Thanks." She gives him a soft smile.

The sky is dark and there were clouds rolling in, signaling that it was going to rain soon. "Come on, it's only a block from here, we can walk there." She already begins walking in the direction, Connor falling to a steady pace by her side. "Do you not have your own transportation?" The android asks curiously. "I do, but this isn't much of a walk and I'll probably have to drive Hank's car anyway." She shrugs nonchalantly. "Why does Lieutenant Anderson frequent a bar offend as you put it?" Devon glances at the curious android beside her, noticing that his eyes are a beautiful brown that reminds her of creamy coffee or a sweet chocolate cake. "It's not my story to tell, Connor. Maybe he'll tell you one day." She highly doubts that considering the older man absolutely hates androids.

The pair make it to a fairly lit bar with a blue neon sign in the window that says, 'Jimmy's Bar' in bold letters. After working with the Lieutenant for a while she has learned that when he disappears she could usually always find him here. The rain was beginning the pour but Connor nor Devon seemed to mind. They both walk to the wooden door that had a sign saying Androids and Dogs aren't allowed inside. Connor notices the sign but he doesn't seem to care as he follows the detective inside. A few patrons of the bar glance in their direction when the bell rings above the door and some of them glare when they see an android.

"Come on." Devon moves deeper into the bar, sending a glare at a man who was giving her the stink eye because she walked in with Connor. "Shit, I thought androids weren't allowed in here." Someone mutters but the blonde pays them no mind and makes her way over to a man that was hunched over the bar. She could recognize his long white hair from anywhere.

"Have enough, Hank?" She settles down onto the stool beside the older man who shifts his eyes onto her when she makes herself comfortable. "The hell you doing here kid?" He grumbles slightly, taking another sip of his poison of choice. "Looking for an old man with a bad haircut, know where I can find him?" She leans her head on her hand and smiles at the man playfully and he smirks slightly, just a little amused by her comment.

"Lieutenant Anderson," Connor moves so he is on Hanks right, making his presence known. "My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by Cyberlife." He introduces himself the same way he did with Devon. "I looked for you at the station, lucky enough Detective Cassidy knew where to find you." Cyberlife did a real good job at making this guy seem human because he had more facial expressions then the average android but the way he spoke could be considered more robotic then how people normally talk. Hank glares at his partner and she smiles sweetly at him, causing him to roll his eyes. "What do you want?" Hank mumbles, keeping his eyes cast down at the bar, clearly not wanting anything to do with Connor.

"You and Detective Cassidy were assigned a case early this evening. A homicide involving a CyberLife android." That makes sense as to why he's here now. "In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators." Connor informs the Lieutenant and Devon looks between the two. "Well I don't need any more assistance since I have this kid," Hank jerks his thumb over to Devon. "Specially not from a plastic asshole like you. So just be a good lil' robot and get the fuck out of here." Devon sighs, rubbing her forehead. She knew it was going to be difficult to convince Hank to come along since an android is involved. She knows no matter how much Hank likes her he wouldn't listen to her on this one.

Connor pauses for a moment, seemingly processing his choices of how to approach the situation. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I must insist." Devon sighs, knowing that this won't turn out great seeing how Hank pauses when Connor begins to speak. "My instructions stipulate that I have to accompany you and Detective Cassidy."

"You know where you can stick your instructions?" It was a hypothetical question and Hank chuckles into his drink, slightly nudging Devon with his elbow but she merely just rolls her eyes at his childish joke. "No," Connor says honestly, tilting his head to the side. "Where?" He looks like a lost puppy with the way he had his head turned to the side and his brows slightly pushed together. Devon couldn't help but think the android looked somewhat adorable while doing this. Hank turns his head to fully look at the android. The woman couldn't see his face but she could tell he was glaring. "Never mind." He grumbles, turning back to his drink, shaking his head slightly.

HANK \/

"You know what? I'll buy you one for the road." Connor offers next, surprising both the Lieutenant and the Detective. Devon knew Connor was just trying to figure out a way to get Hank out of the bar and this was definitely the right approach. "What do you say?" When Hank doesn't answer Connor turns his eyes onto Jimmy, the bartender and owner of the small bar. "Bartender, the same again please." Jimmy looks unsure but Connor places some money on the bar and he goes ahead and prepares Hanks drink. "See that Jim? Wonders of technology...make it a double."

HANK /\

NEUTRAL

Jimmy sets the glass in front of Hank who eagerly brings it to his lips and throws his head back. Hank sucks in a breath as it burns all the way down and Devon raises a brow at him, wondering if he'll actually give in. Hank wraps an arm around Devon's shoulders and turns his head to look back at the android to his right. "Did you say homicide?" Connor looks at the man in front of him and Devon sighs, shrugging the man's arm off of her shoulders.

"Come on, Hank. We got a job to do." She slides off her stool and Hank pushes himself out of his seat as well, slightly stumbling. "Keys." Devon holds her hand out and Hank goes to protest but she keeps a firm stare on the older man and eventually he sighs heavily, fishing out a pair of keys from his pocket. He slaps them into her awaiting palm and ruffles her hair up slightly as he passes her, causing the woman to smile. Connor watches their interactions closely, his LED blinking yellow as he processes the new information he was coming up with. The relationship the two have is very much one that a father and daughter would have.

"Let's go, Connor." Devon beckons the android forward as she fixes her hair. He quickly matches her pace, ignoring the glares he got as they left Jimmy's bar. "Hurry up, kid!" Hank shouts from his car and she unlocks it quickly so he could get out of the rain. Connor climbs into the backseat and Devon positions herself into the front, starting the car. She jumps when loud medal music filters through the car and she was quick to turn it down to a more reasonable level. "Jesus, old man! Ever heard of turning the radio down before you turn the car off?" She asks, backing out of his parking space and he rolls his eyes. "Oh, shut up." He turns the music up more but he kept it at a decent level so he wouldn't have to fight with the woman as she drove them to their case.

The car ride was only filled with Hanks loud music and his occasional remarks about not wanting to work right now which she always ignores. Devon would occasionally glance at Connor though the rearview to make sure he was okay. Of course, he's okay, he's an android. The woman held so much compassion and empathy for people and androids alike. When she first met Hank and he saw these traits, he would always wondered how she could handle a rough job like theirs but he soon found out that the loving woman also has a fire that burns inside of her and she was tougher then she looks.

Devon stops the car, the headlights shining through the rain that's pouring overhead, the holographic yellow caution tape shining slightly. There were police cars lining the street with their red and blue lights on and there was a small crowd forming in the street. "You wait here," Hank says pointing back at Connor. "We won't belong." He begins to open his door. "Whatever you say, Lieutenant," Connor says with a calm voice making Hank pause before he gets out.

HANK /\

DEVON /\

"Fucking-A, whatever I say," Hank mutters under his breath as he gets out of the car. Devon turns to give Connor a sympathetic smile as she quickly gets out to follow her partner, the cold rain dampening her hair slightly.

CONFLICTING ORDERS

SELECTING PRIORITY

FOLLOW LT. ANDERSON AND

DETECTIVE CASSIDY

Behind the two partners, Connor begins to climb out of the car. A man with a camera and a microphone rush towards the two partners. "Joss Douglas, for Channel 16. Can you confirm that this is a homicide?" The reporter points the microphone toward Devon who was closest to him. "We are not confirming anything at this time." She says politely, walking faster and soon she and Hank were safe behind the oh-so-familiar holographic yellow tape.

Connor moves through the crowd of people and is stoped by a police android. "Androids are not permitted beyond this point." Both Hank and Devon hear this and they both quickly turn around to see their android standing just beyond the holographic tape. "He's with us!" Devon calls out. The police android lowers his arm, allowing Connor to pass. "It." Hank mutters as if trying to correct Devon. Before she could argue he was already speaking to Connor. "What part of 'stay in the car' didn't you understand?"

"Your order contradicted my instructions, Lieutenant." Connor stops directly in front of them and Hank has a firm scowl set on his aging features. "You don't talk, you don't touch anything and you stay outta my way, got it?"

"Got it." Devon really wanted to scold Hank for how he was treating Connor but she knew he didn't see things the way she does and it would be like arguing with a brick wall, she's been there before. "Evening, Hank, Devon. We were starting to think you weren't gonna show." The man that was standing up on the porch of the house lowered the tablet he was looking at and stepped down to greet the pair. Devon smiled softly. "Had to find something first." She comments and Hank rolls his eyes. "Yeah, that was the plan until this asshole," Hank points at Devon. "Helped this asshole find me." He points at Connor next and Devon rolls her eyes at the older man.

"So.. you got yourself an Android, huh? Out of all people I wouldn't expect it from you, Hank." Ben teases the Lieutenant, beginning to walk to the house with the two Detectives in tow."Oh, very funny. Just tell us what happened," Hank demanded."We had a call around eight from the landlord. The tenant hadn't paid his rent for a few months, so he thought he'd drop by, see what was going on. That's when he found the body." Devon's nose wrinkled in disgust at the horrific smell that wafts through the air. No matter how many homicides and dead bodies she has dealt with, the smell would always get to her at times. "Jesus, that smell." Hank covers his nose. "It was even worst before we opened the windows." Ben sighs.

"The victim's name's Carlos Ortiz." The body of the victim, Carlos Ortiz, was slumped against the wall. His body was pale, void of blood. Any blood that he had seeped out into his shirt and onto the floor around him. He had multiple stab wounds littering his torso area. His house was ransacked, a mess. Hank kneels down beside the body to take a closer look but Devon stays back, standing next to Connor.

"Uh, state he's in...wasn't worth calling everybody out in the middle of the night. Could've waited till morning." Hank comments. From where Devon stood she could tell that the body has been there for a few days, maybe even weeks. "I'd say he's been there for a good three weeks. We'll know more when the coroner gets here." The round man with white hair informs them. "There's a kitchen knife over here, probably the murder weapon." Hank holds his hand out and Ben hands him a UV light scanner.

"Any signs of a break-in?" Devon speaks up, her arms crossed over her chest. Connor glances over at the woman as she speaks. "Nope...The landlord said the front door was locked from the inside, all windows were boarded up. The killer must've gone out the back way." Devon made a mental note to thoroughly check the back exit. "What do we know about his android?" Hank asks as he still evaluates the body. Devons' eyes shift up to some writing on the wall.

I AM ALIVE

Written in what looks to be the victims' blood. She couldn't help but notice how perfect the letters are written. No human could possibly write that well. "The neighbors confirmed he had one, but it wasn't here when we arrived..." He pauses and Deven could tell the smell was getting to him by the change in his expression. "I gotta get some air. I'll be outside if you need me. Make yourself at home." Ben quickly rushes past them to get outside. Devon moves forward, eyeing the font closer. "Each letter is perfect...it's way too neat, no human writes like this," Hank mutters and Devon nods, showing that she agrees. "This really narrows it down to the android but the real question is, where the hell did they go?" Hank shrugs, looking over at the young woman. "Guess that's what we need to find out, huh." She purses her lips in thought.

"Chris," Devon calls out, looking over at a male human officer that was standing by. He was a close friend to both her and her partner. "Is this written in the victim's blood?" She questions, stepping away from the wall. "I would say so...we're taking samples for analysis." She nods softly, her eyes moving back to the writing as Hank moves away from her. Devon turns slightly to see Connor knelt down in front of the knife that is most likely the murder weapon. She watches as the android places two of his fingers on the blade, coating his fingertips in the blood. He then reaches his hand up and places the fingers on his tongue.

"Err, Jesus! What the hell are you doing?" Hank shouts, pure disgust written all over his face. Devon wasn't disgusted at all by the action, maybe more so curious than anything. She was always fascinated with androids and how they operate. For machines, they seemed so human. "I'm analyzing the blood." Connor tells Hank, standing to his feet to face the Lieutenant. "I can check samples in real-time. I'm sorry, I should have warned you." The corner of Devon's lips turns upward as she watches Hank struggle to process this. "Okay, just...don't put any more evidence in your mouth, you got it?"

"Got it." Connor nods, pointing his two fingers towards Hank before looking at them intently. "Fucking hell, I can't believe this shit." Hank mutters shaking his head as he walks away from the android. Devon walks past the android to a brown table that was cluttered with random things but she notices amongst the clutter was a pile of red ice. "Looks like our Vic liked to have a good time." Devon comments getting Hanks's attention. "Chris, I want full analysis on the narcotics, please."

"You got it." He nods and Devon moves back to the body and kneels down beside him, allowing her green eyes to wander over him. This was definitely a hate crime. Whoever did this was extremely upset. Usually when someone can be close to the victim like this, stabbing them multiple times, means they were close to the victim. A crime of passion. She believes it to be the victims android and that made this a little confusing. Androids weren't supposed to feel emotions but here there are androids that are beginning to develop human emotions causing them to lash out and become violent to their human owners. A painful look fills Devon's face and she quickly stands.

"Detective," The woman quickly turns around to come face to chest with Connor. Standing in front of him like this made her realize how tall he is compared to her. "Your stress levels have risen suddenly. I suggest you get some fresh air to help you calm down." The woman was stunned but she knew she shouldn't be. He could probably tell even if her heat fluctuates an inch. "Thank you, Connor, but I'll be alright."

DEVON /\

She gives him a small, soft smile. Devon glances at the body for a moment before moving around the android and makes her way into the kitchen that was a complete mess. Her eyes trail to the back door that was open where a few officers were outside. "I have checked the yard already." She turns to see Connor standing in the entrance of the kitchen. "Any signs of someone leaving?" Devon knew that he had a better chance then anyone finding out if some has left that way. For the humans here, the rain would have washed any evidence away that they could see but for him it was much easier. Her eyes look down at the turned over table and chair. There was definitely a struggle here, she wouldn't be surprised if the fight started here. "No signs of anyone exiting the premises." The android moves to stand next to her, his arms hanging at his sides.

She nods, shifting on her feet. Devon's hand grazes Connor's, causing them both to look at each other. Her green eyes lock onto his brown eyes and she found herself getting slightly lost as she looked at him. His skin was absolutely perfect with freckles dotting the smooth synthetic skin. Shadows case under his cheekbone, giving him a chiseled look. Even by the brief action, she could feel that softness that his hands hold. Why would they make a Deviant Hunter android's hands soft? There was no use for them being so soft but they are.

Connor analyzed the woman beside him, allowing himself to look her over. She is what someone would call beautiful. She has bright green eyes and a smile that could light up any dark room. Her presence is calming and she seemed to be well respected by her peers. "Devon!" Hank's shouting causes the two to snap out of their thoughts and the android notices how her heart rate picks up slightly and blood rushes to her cheeks. "Come check this out!" She gives him a nervous and apologetic smile before rushing off quickly to see what Hank wanted.

S̵o̷f̷t̴w̵a̴r̸e̸ ̶ ̸I̸n̸s̷t̷a̸b̸i̵l̴i̸t̸y̵ ̶

Connor narrows his eyes at the warning flashing in front of him. He's never seen this before so he begins to run a quick diagnostics but everything comes back normal. He shrugs it off, continuing on analyzing the crime scene. If it was something damaging or important he would have found some kind of flaw in his programming but there wasn't one.

Devon makes it to the dirty, cramped, and dimly lit bathroom where Hank stood in front of the shower. She moves to stand by her partner, the detective android still on her mind. Her green eyes shift across the walls of the shower where rA9 is written over and over again. "This is obsessive..." She mumbles as her eyes take in the writing on the shower wall. "Think this was the victim?" Hank shook his head. "I don't think so." She narrowed her eyes at the writing then her eyes trail down to see a statue of some kind made of a material she wasn't sure of. There were objects like flowers and candles around it. "Who or what is rA9? Some kind of android god or something?" Hank shrugs, placing a hand on her shoulder. "No idea, but it's fucking weird." She nods in agreement.

The two partners walk side by side back into the kitchen and Connor quickly looks up at them. "I think I know what happened." He informs the two detectives and they glance at each other before looking back at the android. "Oh yeah?" Hank asked, shrugging his shoulders after. "Shoot. I'm all ears." Connor then looked to Devon for approval and she gives him an encouraging nod. "It all started in the kitchen." The android led the two detectives through the most plausible course of events that he has seen, playing the scene out in his head."I think the victim attacked the android with the bat," Connor called back to the evidence he has gathered and Devon glances down at the bat that laid on the ground. "That lines up with the evidence," Hank nods slightly. "Go on." Devon watched with crossed arms as Connor moves through the kitchen.

"The android stabbed the victim," Devon tried to picture what he was saying in her head. She is a very visual person so when it comes to working cases she liked to imagine how things played out, almost like a movie in her head. "So the android was trying to defend themselves." She more so states rather than question. It was odd for an android to do something like that because it wasn't in their code.

"Okay, then what happened?" Hank asked, urging the android to continue."The victim fled to the living room." The three of them walk towards the living room and stop in front of the victim's body. "And he tried to get away from the android," Hank finished. "Alright, that makes sense. The android murdered the victim with the knife." Twenty-eight stab wounds to the chest. "Where is the android?" The woman has been asking this question all night and her and Connor make eye contact again.

Connor looked away from her, still processing the crime scene in his head, his LED flickering yellow. "It was damaged by the bat and lost some Thirium."

"Lost somewhat?"

"Thirium," Devon repeated for Hank. "Humans tend to call it 'Blue Blood' but the technical term is Thirium. It's the fluid that powers Androids' biocomponents." Devon explains and Hank nodded in partial understanding, a little surprised by how much she knows about androids. Connor was also surprised by how much the detective knew about androids. "It evaporates after a few hours and becomes invisible to the naked eye." Connor informed them. "Oh, but I bet you can still see it, can't you?"

"Correct," Connor confirmed.

Connor went still as he scanned for the Thirium traces inside the room. He then starts walking away, into the kitchen and down the hall. Devon glances at her partner before following after the Deviant Hunter. The female detective rounds the corner just as a few brooms clattered on the ground, obviously having been knocked over by the android.

"You alright, Connor?" Devon couldn't stop herself from asking, it was just in her nature. Connor paused, his LED whirring yellow on his temple. He seemed to be contemplating something and he just settles for a curt nod in her direction. The woman was usually good at reading people but she couldn't read Connor. It did make it difficult that he is an android, a complex machine. He looked a little confused but she forced the thoughts away, trying to focus on the case.

Connor walks past her and Devon looks around the small hallway, looking for anything Connor could have missed which she highly doubted he missed anything. Her green eyes drift upwards, seeing an entrance to the attic. Connor was at her side again. He stood close to her side, their arms almost brushing against each other. He looked up at the attic door, his LED flickering on the side of his head. There was a blue handprint emblazoned on the door's surface, traces of Thirium that the human beside him couldn't see.

Connor looked over at the detective and he could almost see the cogs turning in her head. She looks back at him, their eyes locking. The two seemed to have the same idea. This was a possible place where the deviant could have gone. Connor quickly moves to the kitchen, once again leaving Devon's side.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! What are you doing with that chair?" Devon could hear Hank shout. Connor replied to him something she couldn't quite hear but soon the android was back at her side, setting a chair down underneath the attic. He steps onto the chair and pushes the attic door open. Connor climbs inside and Devon steps onto the chair and begins to hoist herself up and a hand comes into her view. Connor has his hand outstretched to her and she takes it, allowing the android to pull her up with ease.

DEVON /\

Devon took her gun out of its holster that is on her side, keeping it at the ready in case there was anything dangerous inside. She followed behind Connor who moves around some furniture. Devon raises her gun slightly when they see a human-like figure behind a white sheet. Her adrenaline is pumping as Connor rips the sheet off of the object, revealing a mannequin. She lets out a relieved breath but kept her guard up. She and Connor continue to move deeper into the attic. Sudden movement puts them both into alert and they move forward.

Connor pushes a sofa out of their way and they come face to face with darkness. The only light shining through is a small window. The rain was hitting against the roof heavily. From behind some boxes, an android rushes out. Connor steps to the side, putting himself between the deviant and Devon, causing him to stop in his tracks knowing that he could lash out at the female detective.

DEVON /\

Devon lowers her weapon, seeing the fear in his eyes. True fear. "I was just defending myself..." his tone was full of fear. His clothes were covered in blood. There was blood splattered across his face and she notices how his LED stayed at a constant red. "He was going to kill me...I'm begging you..." He looks from between Connor and Devon, her heartbreaking slightly at how broken and scare he looks. She could see what looks like burn marks on the androids synthetic skin. Has his owner really been abusing him? "Don't tell them." Devon glances at Connor, trying to read his expression but it stays the same. Never wavering as the deviant speaks. "Connor, Devon. What the fuck is going on up there?" Devon glances in the direction of where Hank just called from.

"It's here, Lieutenant!" Connor shouts suddenly. Devon could see all the hope drain from the deviant and she felt sad for him. She places her gun in her holster as she stands beside Connor. "I'm sorry." The deviant mutters as he meets her gaze. "I didn't mean for this to happen." If he didn't have an LED on the side of his head he would have passed as a human. He was acting more human than some actual humans. A few offices came inside and Connor stepped out of their way so they could grab the deviant. Devon looks over at her new partner, meeting his gaze since he was already looking at her.

Connor could see her discomfort at the situation. He also felt something rise inside of his as he looked at her. Something that wasn't programmed inside of him, something that he doesn't understand.

S̵o̷f̷t̴w̵a̴r̸e̸ ̶ ̸I̸n̸s̷t̷a̸b̸i̵l̴i̸t̸y̵

That’s is the first chapter of HUMANITY! What did you think? Would you like to see more? Please let me know, feed back is highly appreciated!

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | Crimson Capture

Things are calm before a quiet storm, let’s just say that. 

Remember this is only a first draft and has minimal edits, but enjoy! Comments and reception is always appreciated!

-

“Are you actually going to talk with them anytime soon?” 

Oliver’s cold skin snuggled up against blankets; he read a book off of his shelf. “I’m trying to do homework, excuse me.” He frowned. 

“It’s been a week, Oliver. They probably think that you already rejected them.”

He turned a page. “It’s not that I rejected them… I already looked through the situation but I still don’t know.” 

Vittorino raised a brow. “And what did you get from looking through?” 

Oliver ignored the question first, skimming through the dull read he grabbed. Though his thoughts blocked the pages the more he went on. 

He sighed and closed the book. “I didn’t really get that much out of the interaction. But out of anything I can tell that Annette isn’t actually that involved with the group since she’s with busy with having an actual life. That and the two’s relationship is probably complicated since Annette doesn’t really try to get Ayu out of bad habits and they argue at little stuff like crazy; But at the same time, Ayu may have simply cared enough about not messing with Annette’s work after he screwed it up before, and didn’t want to bother her with something that’s technically unnecessary for him. Regardless of anything though, they’re completely inefficient as a team because their able-ness is terrible and Ayu’s right about not getting hopes up.” Oliver rambled words out in the matter of seconds, zoning out into his thoughts in the process. He took a breath at the end. “I can tell they have good intentions, but yeah they’re pretty much useless.” 

Vittorino crossed his arms together with a grin, muttering, “You can definitely talk like em…” He emerged next to him. “You’re smarter for your age, I must say.” 

“I just have good memory.” Oliver opened up his book again. “Doctors say I have a larger hippocampus than most. But I’ve been lacking in recent years compared to when I was little.” 

“Yeah, yeah, makes sense,” Vittorino nods, “but either way, your friends will be- interesting to you at the very least. Trust me.” 

Oliver scoffed, “I already know they’d be entertaining. It’s just that they’ll probably end up like all the rest. I already told you.” 

“Okay then. Let me tell you in a different way then,” he groaned. “They’re not gonna be like the rest.” 

A buzz rang from the corner of the room. Both Oliver and Vittorino turned towards the sound, Oliver quicker than the other. Oliver stumbled out of bed to check his phone. All there was another message from Annette, the third one of the week. 

Yo Oliver, Ayu and I are hanging out in the alley again if you wanna join us (12:13pm)

“God, damn it,” the boy said under his breath. His fingers tattled at words, typing up that he was busy making new chord melodies.  If it weren’t for someone interrupting him, he would’ve sent. 

“Go with them for once,” Vittorino told him, “You’ll have better days that way.” 

“… Will you stop talking if I do?”

“Obviously.”

Oliver’s face went flat. “You’re decent.” He edited the message:

I actually can today, but I was about to work on making some chord melodies so I’ll just bring my ukulele with. (12:15pm)

***

Oliver carried his worn-up uke strap over his shoulders. The day blistered in heat unlike the chills of before, though it didn’t stop him from wearing a thin coat. 

The walk to Ayu’s still made his eyes go blurry from the distance. His legs gave in as always from another long week as they screeched in pain. He mumbled to himself with a deep breath, “Just don’t pass out in front of them.” 

He clenched onto his ukulele strap as he stood back up from his slouch. The turn was straight ahead of him, and his predictions for what he would see was something he still couldn’t guess yet. “They won’t be that bad,” he figured. 

“YOU MOTHER OF FUCK- HOW DID YOU DO THAT?” Oliver could still hear the same raspy voice from before in the distance. 

“Hopefully,” he cringed. 

Oliver walked into the alley, reluctantly knocking the wall for entrance. Annette and Ayu sat in front of one another, cards in their hands and scattered on the floor. Annette turned her head while Ayu looked over his own cards. “Oliver! Hi,” She stumbled up to greet him. “You came sooner than I thought. We’ve been playing Ono for a bit but you can join in if you want.”

“Ono…?” Oliver peeked across, sighting at the colorful cards closely. His eyes squinted at Ayu’s array of cards in his hands. He also peeked down towards Annette’s cards quickly to see her deck of five. He can literally just pull a yellow two. A grin curled up on his lips. “So, this is what a ‘gang’ does, huh?”

Annette’s eyes leaned toward the side, “Well, we usually goof around when there aren’t any attacks. It’d be too hard to track down when there’s only two people scouting. Right, Ayu?”

They both looked back to Ayu, and both found him fumbling to switch cards form the collector’s deck. Ayu blinked at them as he peeped his eyes in return, then groaned, placing the previous cards he had back to his hands. 

“Goodness…” Annette sighed. “We sometimes play board games and figured today should be a game-day since you were coming over.”

“This was only Annette’s idea,” Ayu reminded. 

She chuckled, “You’re even more competitive than me. Be quiet.”

Annette continued to ramble on to Oliver as he spaced out in the middle. He only interrupted her after a minute by saying, “Okay yeah, I’ll play. Get me some cards.”

Oliver beat them both by a landslide, Annette left with nine cards, Ayu left with thirteen. 

“Oliver, how the heck did you do that?” Annette read over all the cards. 

“Don’t worry about that,” he smiled, “You’ll learn how to use the right strategies at some point.”

“This is Ono! There are no strategies.” Ayu threw his cards over his head as he slumped to the ground.

“You out of anybody won’t figure it out.” He wasn’t even sneaky about cheating. 

“Try me.” Ayu sat up with a smirk. 

“Ayu, you don’t even know how to strategize on anything,” Annette laughed. Oliver played around with his case’s zipper until she asked him, “So you play ukulele, right.”

Oliver reluctantly nodded.

“I know some friends who have ones, but I barely see any guys with ‘em.” She waddled over to Oliver and his uke, arms swaying towards the case. 

“Uh, yeah,” Oliver nodded, his smile curving, “No guy in my class can actually sing or do that stuff, so my class thinks it’s cool…  but I was thinking of starting up guitar or piano though since it’s more practical-” 

“So, you don’t just do tabs?”

“Uh, yeah.”

In the corner of his eye, Oliver caught Ayu scurrying off to a sketchbook and pencil. 

“Can you sing a song for us? I wanna see how good a ten-year old is,” she giggled. 

I’m tired though. “Sure.” 

Oliver opened up the case, showcasing a small instrument. The paintjob was chipped off. The vibrant pattern that original shined was worn and blurred. Oliver picked it up, plucking and tuning with the scratched-up nylon. Tuning only took the matter of ten seconds. 

Just a breath was fine for the young boy. His decision on the song gave him the memories of interrupted practices. Though with the plucked introduction, he began his song. 

“Oh, my Red Maria. How long has back then been?” 

A classic ballad. Oliver observed as Annette rang up with her ears with excitement in her face. Ayu tilted his head, in curiosity, his attention off the book. 

“My life’s been dull without your blushing face.”

The chords and tabs slid through Oliver’s fingers like writing his own name. His eyes captured their expressions. While Annette’s face blurred in with every other he’s seen, Ayu had a calmed smile, everything else was unreadable. 

“When we meet again, we can reach the stars as always…” He stumbled at a stop. Man, I forgot to figure out the short-stop. “The rest is just repeating so that’s about it.” 

“That…” Annette stammered, “That was actually more than I expected.” 

Oliver shrugged, leaning on his ukulele. “It isn’t that hard of a song.” 

“I can’t play anything for crap,” she grinned, “Why are you just ten?” 

“He’s turning eleven this week though,” Ayu corrected. 

“Barely a difference!” 

Ayu stuck his tongue out towards her. He gestured to Oliver. “I liked it.” 

“Ah, thanks.” The responses were mindless and repetitive. “I usually don’t have people to listen so this is a nice-”

A ringtone began buzzing, stopping all the other noises crowding the alley. 

Annette raised a finger, “Hold on a second.” She picked up her own phone from a small bag, raising it to her phone to answer the call. “Yo Jaiden, what’s up?... Oh lort- I forgot about that!” 

“What do you think this is about?” Ayu moved over next to Oliver’s floor-seat. 

“What do you mean?” 

“She forgets extra stuff a lot, so it’s nice to pass time guessing what it is,” Ayu explained. 

Oliver chuckled, “You really don’t have a lot to do, don’t you?”

“I’m betting a group project.”

The boy’s scent still wrinkled in Oliver’s nose. “Maybe it’s just…? I can’t think of one.” 

“Well, she’s pretty predictable so I don’t think there’s that much to bet about anyways.” He pulled on his hoodie’s lace.

“Right…”

She combed her hair with his fingers. “I told you to remind me!... Okay fine, yeah this is a me problem,” she sighed, “I’ll get them today then we can work afterschool tomorrow, okay?... Okay, see ya.” 

She groaned in her hands, but whisked back to Oliver and Ayu from behind. “Okay so I screwed up a bit,” she exclaimed, “and I have to go to the mall to get stuff for a project due on Friday.” 

“That you forgot about?” Ayu eyed. 

“Yeah, yeah, silence yourself,” she hassled. “Um… I don’t want to go since you’re here,” she darts Oliver. 

“We can always come along,” Ayu said. 

“Oh,” Annette hands opened up. “That’s actually a good idea. Oliver, do you wanna come with us?” 

Do I really want to…? 

“Do it,” Vittorino’s voice rang in Oliver’s head. 

Damn it. “Sure.”

***

Shop lights blinded all around. Every store passed with its rows of sales and mannequins. Oliver walked along the outdoor mall, the sunny day in the Fall blazing onto his dimmed skin. The music echoed with aggravating speakers and pop ballads, and the sounds of voices rang through Oliver’s ears by the heavier crowd. 

I can get through this for a bit. She won’t be long, he told himself. He clenched his fists as volumes went at screeches. 

Annette hummed as she led both Ayu and Oliver, her walk swaying along with the music. All the while, Ayu’s hood covered over his head as he walked with his head down. Though looking down wasn’t that strange for Oliver, he’d done the same alone. 

“It’s burning out here. How’re you in that hoodie?” He asked. 

Ayu tilted his head towards Oliver. “I’m usually cold. Today’s not that bad but it’s still kinda cold.” He shrugged. “Besides, I can always bump into somebody and they can see my eye easier and I won’t get as bad of a sunburn.” 

“Sunburn…?”

“My skin’s pale enough to get burned easily,” he raised and showed his boney hand, “not albino or anything but just sensitive.” 

“I see.” Oliver’s brows furrowed. Damn… 

“Okay!” Annette jumped. “You guys can do whatever you want. I gotta deal with the supply stuff.”

She grabbed her phone. “Oliver, I’ll call you when I’m done, alright?”

“Yeah,” Oliver nodded. 

“Alright, then see ya!” She waved off before dashing away. Muttering of items got caught in Oliver’s ears as she ran. 

“So…” Ayu kicked his leg, “You wanna do anything?” 

Oliver stammered. Where would this guy even wanna go here? He shrugged. “Just somewhere quiet is fine, what about you?”

“Quiet,” he pondered, “I guess that could work… Here, let’s go.” 

Ayu pulled on Oliver’s sleeve, dragging him to a map of the area. He asked, “Do you know where the bookstore is on here?” 

“Ah,” Oliver’s attention zapped back, “It’s right there I think.” He pointed at the very corner of the mall. 

“What’s it called?” 

“Ferns and Hamlin’s?” It’s right there on the sign… 

“Oh yeah,” Ayu gasped. “When was the last time I was even there?”

He gave a small grin, walking off from Oliver to a turn. “Come on,” he nodded off. 

“Come on, kid,” Vittorino echoed. 

Oliver followed. 

***

“Even with clairvoyance, you’re terrible with directions,” Oliver groaned.

Ayu scoffed. “I can’t use it for anything other than monsters,” he looked away, “and that sucks too.” 

Oliver brushed off Fall dust. “Regardless of whatever you have, that took us longer than needed.” 

“Shouldn’t you know this place?”

“No,” Oliver answered, “I never go here. I go to Fair Woods and even that’s rare.” 

“… How much do you go out?” 

“Less than normal,” Oliver quickly replied. 

“Sounds about right.” Ayu eyed Oliver’s hands. “You look pale even with your tan. Paler than before I think too.”

Well that’s for other reasons… 

The two entered the shop together. Oliver immediately silenced from the soft music. The change of atmosphere contented him considering before. The aisles stacked with books barely held anybody else around as the cashiers only stood in patience. 

“They’d have comics here, right?” 

Oliver hiccupped once Ayu queried him. He only nodded off while reading over the signs. “Probably.”

Ayu stepped pass. “I think I can find it on my own,” he muttered, leaving Oliver at the front. 

Oliver stared at space as the boy walked off, debating on what exactly to do. 

“How’s it going so far,” Vittorino asked. His stature standing right next to Oliver right after Ayu’s leave. 

Oliver’s face scrunched up. “They’re… fine, just like before. But that was the first time anyone’s ever mentioned me being paler than usual.” 

“They’re people who can see a lot more than others can, remember?”

“I didn’t think that that’d matter in my case,” Oliver exclaimed. His legs began pacing through to the novel aisle. All that the aisle covered were teen-pandering novels involving the Wonder Chronicles and other stories that made it to film. As Oliver grabbed a book left in the corner, he turned around to find Vittorino already gone. He shrugged. Grabbing a book with a familiar title. “Heard this was good…” 

Reading the sections, Oliver strolled to the comic area of the shop. The brightness of colors beaming from the graphic novels. In the corner, Ayu sat curled up with his knees, starting up a comic book from the very first page. 

Oliver sat next to him, crisscrossed with a steady back. “Whatcha’ reading,” he asked. 

Ayu perked up, his ear twitching. “Huh? Oh,” he closed up his book and pushed the cover straight at Oliver’s face, “It’s a Crimson Capture comic. I remember loving their old cartoon when I was younger so I’m giving it a shot.” 

Crimson was unmistakable for Oliver. With their dashing velvet cloak and drawn-out, dark hair, they’d dash through cities to fight crime with only the power of their wits. All that could be known of their identity was hidden by their signature masquerade mask to run through the night.

While Oliver found the idea interesting, he could never take the vigilante seriously to most of his classmates’ dismay. So, all he replied with was a, “Cool.”

They both read with soft pop playing in the background. Minute by minute Oliver passed through pages. Though throughout the read, all Oliver could think of was, cliché. 

It’d already turn to a good half-hour once Oliver slammed his book shut. “Lazy writing,” he muttered to himself. 

He settled the book to the side, taking a breath as he grew self-aware in the atmosphere again. He shifted his attention back to the boy next to him.

Glancing for a second, Oliver could tell Ayu had only finished a decent quarter of the comic. His eyes held focus on the words as he continued to squint repeatedly. 

“How come it’s taking you so long to read?” Oliver asked without thinking. 

Ayu blinked, facing away from the book again. “Oh, it’s usually hard for me to read. Usually in stuff in small words.” 

Oliver paused, processing the words Ayu had said. “You haven’t been at school for a while, haven’t you?”

“Nope,” Ayu laid his book down, “Stopped at around eight. Even back then I was bad, but they didn’t care as long as I had fun.” He chuckled at his own words. 

Oliver hummed. “I was never like that.”

“Really?” Ayu’s voice grew deadpanned. 

“I skipped a grade when I was younger for how fast I was learning, so everyone expected me to do everything well and didn’t worry.” Oliver patted on his ukulele case. “After skipping though, I started falling behind because of- this one guy… Do you know anybody named Faustus?” 

Ayu blinked and scrunched up. “Who the hell names their kid Faucet?” 

Oliver studied his reaction only to find confusion written on his entire face. He sighed, but chuckled from the name confusion. “He… was a weird kid. Popped up out of nowhere and talked to me whenever he was bored.” He chuckled to himself, “He looked like a tween emo-head too so that didn’t help anything.” 

“Reminds me of stuff,” Ayu muttered. 

“I liked him, though. He was fun, in a strange way.” Oliver pulled his chin up towards the cabinets, searching for words of memories. “He was kinda judgmental back then when I talked with him. Not sure why, but it could’ve been from either him being surprised of how smart I was for my age… or streets-dumb. I can’t tell.” His mind basked at the thoughts he had as a kid. The interactions he had with the white-haired kid baffled him for how unknowing he was. 

Then sights of someone walking away and disappearing came before his eyes. Oliver nodded his head down again in expectance of what to come from the flashback. “He told me he had to leave right before I turned seven. Gave me something and went off. Haven’t seen him since.” 

Ayu asked, his tone reluctant, “What did he give you?”

Oliver paused, biting his lip gently so it wouldn’t bleed again. “I can’t remember. I threw it away a bit after I’m pretty sure.”

A ring came from Oliver’s pocket. He picked up his phone, Annette’s name flashing at the front for a call, and flipped it open. “Are you done?” 

“Yup. Luckily, it didn’t take that long so that’s good. I’m right by the food court so you guys can come up here.”

Fuck, we have to figure out how to get there. “Sounds good. See ya then.” He hung up, informing Ayu of what Annette told him. 

Ayu groaned in response. “Why the food court?”

“I dunno, she just said to be there.” 

Ayu wrapped himself around his arms and knees. “That’ll kill my stomach,” he muffled. 

Oliver rolled his eyes. 

They stored away their books together, not bothering to put them in the right place out of laziness, and exited the shop. As they walked, the crowd noise grew to Oliver’s ears once again. 

“Fuck…” Ayu muttered, tugging on his hood. 

“What?”

“I forgot about how loud this place is.”

Oliver tilted his head. “You’re bothered by it too?”

“More than traffic,” Ayu spat, “at least I got used to that one, kinda.”

Oliver smiled. “I have sensitive ears too. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Completely.”

Don’t worry about it. Mine’s probably worse than yours. 

“No, mine’s worse…” Ayu mumbled to himself. 

Oliver’s sights turned to the boy again. Did he just- 

A hand pushed Oliver by the chest. He flinched as similar motions of back then popped back into his mind. The boy whipped his head around to see who gave him the money in his hands again. And all he saw was a man in a trench coat. 

“What the hell, Vittorino,” Oliver spat. He ignored Ayu, who walked off without noticing a thing from what Oliver could decipher. Though as soon as he asked, Vittorino was already gone in a blink.  

Oliver stared down at the money, the intentions unclear. He then shoved it in his pants-pocket and dashed off to catch up with Ayu. 

The walk took shorter than the last, thanks to multiple bright signs directing towards the area.

As Oliver walked up steps to the court, he was immediately welcomed to the aroma. Though to his distaste, he passed it off. 

“Dear God, that smells amazing.” Ayu purred, a slip of drool falling so slightly on his chin. 

Well too bad for you, we don’t have any money- oh. A click formed in Oliver’s mind. He fumbled grabbing Vittorino’s money. “I have money if you want some food.”

“Seriously?” Ayu batted his head. His eyes shined despite one with dull grey. 

Oliver nodded, opening up his hands to show his change to the boy. “It’s enough for the two of us. I’m pretty sure Annette can get herself food too.” 

“Thank you,” he gasped. His smile was crooked but Oliver read it clearly. 

“It’s really nothing,” Oliver exclaimed. “Here, I’ll call Annette right now.” 

He dialed her number without looking at the phone and placed it against his ear. “You called?”

“Hey uh, Ayu actually wants some food here so I was thinking that we can eat together. I have money for him, don’t worry.”

Ayu shied away in the corner of Oliver’s eye. He fumbled with his hoodie’s aglet.

“That sounds great! I’ll get us a table and text you guys where. You get your food, he must be hungry.”

“Okay, I’ll talk with him about what he wants first off. See ya.” Oliver hung up to check up on Ayu again. 

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Ayu swallowed. “I don’t need to eat.”

“No, it’s alright,” Oliver said, “Just tell me what you want and I’ll get you it.” Besides, I have no clue what else to do with this cash.  

Ayu pouted but his stomach stopped him with a growl. He sighed and pointed, “Can we go to the Asian place over there?”

***

Ayu carried over his stacks of a meal while Oliver stared in a baffled state of mind. He himself carried only a small plate of food. 

How was there fifty-dollars in there? Holy shit. 

“My God, this smells delicious.” Ayu licked over his chapped lips. “Where did Annette say she was again?” 

“Right there,” Oliver pointed out. Annette stood tall against her surroundings with her bright face. She waved as soon as her face met with theirs. 

Oliver and company sat at a small table. Multiple families and friend groups surrounded them as they chatted about whatever. Steam and smoke from each and every store came seeking out throughout the entire area while toddlers cried for ice cream they wanted. 

“So how did shopping go for you?” Oliver played around with the pork dish he ordered, taking small bites every two or three minutes. 

“Not all that hard,” Annette answered, “Jaiden was yelling at me left and right about what to get though.” She chuckled while nom-ing a burger. 

Ayu never entered the conversation the two were having. Majority of the time his face was stuffed with sushi rolls and salmon grills. Oliver glanced over the note. 

Annette and Oliver continued conversing as Annette ate her meal. Though, as time went on, Oliver realized that there really was no use for him to get anything. He checked up on Ayu, who was almost done completely in the matter of minutes. His and Annette’s talking finished so he went and asked. 

“How were you able to finish that much fish?”

Ayu chewed as he spoke, “I just really like sushi. Seafood in general…” He gulped. “Fish.” 

“Enough to have that much?”

“I was in the mood. Plus, I feel like I’m starving so that’s for one thing.” He took his last bite, falling down on his seat as soon as he swallowed. “That was amazing. Thanks.” 

Oliver eyed down on his plate and shoved it towards Ayu. “You can have mine too. I’m not that hungry so-” Ayu snatched the plate and wolfed it all down immediately. Oliver froze in response, shaken by the speed. “Damn.” 

Annette laughed as she glanced off her phone. Though Ayu thanked Oliver again as he opened his first bottle of water. 

Oliver sat next to him in slight disbelief. The animalistic tendencies being both interesting to watch yet questionable all the same. However, all he could make up in his head was, It’s alright. Don’t discredit the guy. You do the same stuff sometimes too. Just- worse… 

All Oliver could read from him was a childish smile. 

***

Four o’clock in the afternoon and the street bustling was as high as ever. 

Oliver walked along silently, following the two ahead of him. He waited for anything to interrupt the dragging moments. An accident, Vittorino, him passing out, his expectations for something loomed throughout his mind. 

Ayu and Annette chatted in front of him. They talked about some sort of show or story, just something Oliver had no knowledge of. Though from what Oliver could read, all the passion seeped out of Ayu’s weak voice as he talked. However, the conversation stopped at a halt as Ayu himself fell to his knees. 

“Ayu,” Annette gasped out. She kneeled down supporting him. 

Ayu began to shake, placing a hand on his right eye. He stammered whispers until he was able to form words. “Ende Street. Down the road. They’re over there.” He pointed with a dragged-up hand, weak enough to fall at any second.

“That’s so close,” Annette said, “Is it fine for you to stay here?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ayu breathed out, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” 

She nodded and stood up, throwing the shopping bag she held to Ayu. She gestured at Oliver. “Come with me,” and she ran off. 

Oliver stepped forward, but hesitated. He turned back to see Ayu again, down on his luck. The child clenched onto his ukulele strap unsure of whether to give it to him or not. Though in a rush, he dashed his way around still holding onto his instrument. He can look inside.

Catching up to Annette, he asked her, “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Don’t sweat it,” Annette assured him while running, “This happens all the time.”

As soon as her sentence ended, Oliver’s eyes stopped upon a gate entrance. Annette slowed her pace as well, signaling him with a hand and whispering, “Be quiet, it’ll be trickier for it to notice us.”

Oliver nodded. He took steps he himself could hear faintly. His case rustled against his back in inconvenience. From a distance, Oliver caught the sounds of deep grunts and breaths that grew louder as he drew closer to a clear view. 

Annette whispered to him again. “Once you see everything, don’t freak out. I’ll deal with the monster for you.” 

Oliver gulped. A realization crossed his mind. The scent that he picked up strongly in the area was of a familiar crimson liquid. 

Taking a turn to the door took Oliver’s breath away. Bodies filled the bloodied floor with punctures in their chest. Their skin was grey like so many before. Their faces held frozen in shock for the rest of their time. A sick hole formed in Oliver’s stomach as his throat lumped together. Not again.

At the corner of his feet was that of a little girl and her family. Her rosy cheeks draining from her as her blood trickled down from her body. Oliver’s own skin turn cold. He bit down against his lip. This is just-.

“There.” Annette nudged Oliver, breaking him out of his trance. Her head faced upwards, causing Oliver to follow on his own still shaking. Though, what stood above was as unearthly as himself. 

The creature was hunched, cradling its lean, sharp claws over its stick hands. Its skin was almost nonexistent, as a black mist surrounding formed its indescribable shape. Darkness was all you could sense from the monster. That, and the blood stained over its arms. 

Oliver stepped back as the monster tilted its head over to them. Its face drooped down to an uncanny horror. Mists of white and red formed the eyes and fangs. The eyes stared directly at the two as Oliver held his breath. 

“Stand back,” Annette commanded. Oliver stood frozen in his spot, gazing at his surroundings. 

Annette drafted her feet closer to the monster. Their distances meeting in a confrontation. A breath suppled her movement as she planted her legs apart in an assertive stance.

“Isn’t he going to attack us,” Oliver whispered. 

“Don’t worry.”

A hand drew from her side, locking itself into midair and fingers spread wide. “You need patience for aim,” she said softly.  Though, the soft voice turned into a loud radiance. “Hey, Jumbo!”

The monster turned around in slow agony at her. 

She yelled, “You wanna go back?” 

A squeal was heard from the monster, crying in tone. Its bloody hands and legs pounced in a scream. But before it could form a dent on her skin or a creep of her blood, a silent blast distorted the monster from Annette’s hand. Twists and turns misshaped the formless beast down to a single sphere in the air. The monster cried before the little sphere was left, and it tortured Oliver’s ears and mind. 

Once the screams stopped, Oliver pulled up his head again to view what was left. And the sphere was gone as soon as it appeared to him, as its remains flew away in black fragments.

Annette huffed, dropping her arm down. “That’s how… you kill a monster.” 

She then crouched down to sit, taking her hands to a prayer. She turned her head back to Oliver, who only began to process what had happened for the previous two minutes. She told him, “You can join if you want, but I’ll be quick.”

Oliver’s expression softened as he was reminded of the true results of what happened in the place. For him, it was dead silent. No traffic, no chatter could be heard. All that rang through the two of them was the silence of the innocent. 

He walked next to her and took a knee down to sit as well. And they prayed together for the lost lives.

***

“It’s a bummer we couldn’t get anybody today,” Annette sighed. “We were so close to it too.”

“I’m…” Oliver traced his words. “I’m sure the next time it’s close, it’ll be fine.”

Annette giggled. “Nah, this is normal for us. So, we kinda just go for effort.” She kicked a can out of her way, though it barely moved. She dawdled over her steps. “Ayu should be where we left him. He’s probably fine but now.” 

They took a turn to the street where Ayu was left. The city-noise returned to Oliver’s ears as time went on. It would’ve only taken them 5 minutes’ time to get back to the alleyway afterwards. 

“You know,” Annette started. Oliver turned to find her in a small smile. “You better get your powers soon. Speed like Ayu could be really helpful for the job!” 

Oliver huffed a response. “I’d figure.” He followed his own steps, thoughts rambling throughout his head. But he was cut short by a familiar black-haired boy standing in front of him 

“How’d it go,” Ayu asked. His hands were shoved into his pockets as he held a numb expression. 

“We weren’t able to get anyone again,” Annette answered behind Oliver. “But at least Oliver didn’t panic first thing.” 

“Oh yeah, how did it go for you?” Ayu shifted to Oliver. 

“It was… alright, I guess.”

Ayu raised a brow. “Weird. I thought you’d be more scared.” 

Oliver avoided eye contact. “Don’t worry about that. It’s fine.” 

Together, they all went back to the alleyway. Its messy composition remained unchanged. 

“So, this was a… decent meeting day.” Annette grabbed her things while talking. “Oliver, don’t get too worried about the entire monster thing. Or at least- don’t feel too bad about it.” 

“Like I said, it’s fine,” Oliver swatted out. It’s not the worst. He glanced the time on his phone. 

“Well, I’m about to leave myself as you can tell.” Annette waved with cards in her hands. “Are you gonna do fine for the rest of the day, Ayu?”

He shrugged. “It’s like any other day so yeah.” 

“Then just don’t die.” Annette jumped after grabbing up her shopping bag. She took a step out of the alley and waved to Oliver and Ayu. “See y’all whenever.” She walked off without a trace. 

“See ya,” Ayu replied. 

Oliver didn’t say a word. His throat itching at the memory of the area death. I’m gonna be thinking about that all day, aren’t I? 

“So, you’re going too?” Ayu sat down as he asked. 

“Oh,” Oliver cut his thoughts short. “Yeah. My mom’s probably gonna come back from work soon.”

“Ah, well, have fun with her then.” He grabbed his sketchbook into his hand, starting to write with the pencil inside. 

Oliver nodded. He dipped down his head in thought. “I may not be here for the next few days. So, see you eventually.” 

“See ya,” Ayu said without facing him. 

Oliver left. His small feet paced back home without any thoughts in his mind. 

The door clicked, Oliver’s head poking out as he entered. The living room had no change since the previous year. He took his steps towards the couch in which he tossed his ukulele to a small pillow. Immediately, he lunged his body down to the cushions afterwards. 

“God damn, this was a long day,” he groaned. 

His eyes would barely lay open. His mind slowly grew hazy as his entire body went heavy. 

“Not today,” he muttered. In a sigh, he pulled himself back together with the minimal energy he had. Stumping back, he opened his ukulele case and grabbed an item from an inner pocket. 

A voice rang in his ears, not of Vittorino, but of a vivid reminder. “Don’t be afraid of what will come.”

Did you expect me to follow that? 

He stumbled with his head down through the hallway. His stomach cried in pain. 

“Just wait,” he told himself. “Just wait…” 

He locked himself in the bathroom, facing himself against the sink mirror. The boy stared at his own deathly eyes. 

I’m not gonna make it again, aren’t I? 

-

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