#the stylus feels so weird in my hand. what the hell.

[nikoisme]

fuck did i just forget how to draw.

[murfeelee]

Critical Role INSP Pt2: C3 (Bells Hells CAS Set)

This set includes 32 recolorable CAS items for TS3, inspired by Campaign 3 of Critical Role: Bells Hells.

Crystals as Hair (HIGH POLY) V3 [BETA]

Cut Crystal as Head ACC V2 (found under Glasses)

Nails as Earrings

Cracked Rock or Glass BODY & FACE Tatts (REQ CmarNYC tatt mod)

DA2 Persuasion Maul as ACC (and Misc Decor)

TSM Blacksmith Vest SLEEVELESS [BETA]

ATS3 Female Beanie as ACC UNISEX (found under Glasses)

CR3 Chetney INSP RTA Tattoo

Danjaley/Dragon Valley Top RETEXTURED

CR3 Dorian INSP Chest Wings ACC (found under Necklaces)

CR3 Dorian INSP Boot Wings ACC (found under Socks)

CR3 Dorian INSP Gradient Cloak ACC (found under Bracelets)

TSM Corset Gathered Dress for Fauns (Frankenmesh) V3b

Deer Ears ACC 3 Tilted (with/without Flower) (found under Earrings)

Flowery Horns Frankenmesh ACC (found under Glasses)

Mitarasi Ankle Flowers ACC for TW3 Succubus Legs (found under Socks)

CR3 Fearne INSP Stave ACC (GLOWS) V2 (found under Rings)

4t3 Shanty Top REDONE SHEER V3

Suspenders Y/AF ACC (SN EP REQUIRED fit/fat morphs) (found under Necklaces)

Sheer Skirt ACC V2 (SN EP REQUIRED fit/fat morphs) (found under Garters)

Hand Veins as BODY Tattoo (REQ CmarNYC tatt mod)

Camkitty/Dragon Valley Pauldron LEFT ONLY as ACC (found under Necklaces)

Mitarasi Wrist Flowers LEFT ONLY as ACC V2 (found under Bracelets)

Gramsims Stylus Hair REDONE V2

EA Peasant Top REDONE V2

Hammer as Hairpin ACC (found under Glasses)

TSM to TS3 Pickaxe as Hairpin ACC (found under Glasses)

NA Bloody Hands as BODY Tatt 1 & 2 (REQ CmarNYC tatt mod)

FLAWS: The items marked as [BETA] have visible flaws (higher than my normal level of flaws, yes, shaddup) that I couldn't figure out how to fix or got too fed up to bother with anymore. Feel free to fix them or ditch them. Sorry I suck!

Enjoy!

Download set (package files) : Mediafire | Simfileshare

Descriptions & preview pics under the cut:

For in-game pics of most of this stuff, just consult my sims 3 Critical Role tag. All of it is pretty self explanatory, but I wanted to explain one thing or two, and point out exactly what FLAWS are present:

ASHTON

The Crystal Hair [BETA] was one of the hardest pieces of CC I've ever messed around with.

FLAWS: The mesh sits HELLA awkward on the head, and the clipping/floating through the skull in some areas is bad on some head shapes. Also, a weird texture glitch on the skull might randomly pop up in CAS, not Live Mode, and IDKY. *sigh* This is what I get for trying something different.

The Cut Crystal as Head ACC & DA2 Persuasion Maul as ACC (and Misc Decor) all have recolorable variations with a clear & opaque texture. The Nails as Earrings are self explanatory. The Cracked Rock or Glass BODY & FACE Tatts as usual REQUIRE CmarNYC's tatt mod at MTS.

CHETNEY

I made the ATS3 Female Beanie Unisex and tweaked the textures a bit. The CR3 Chetney INSP RTA Tattoo is a regular EA tattoo.

FLAWS: For the life of me, I CANNOT fix the janky bone joints under the armpits on the Blacksmith Outfit. So...avert your eyes (or just use the regular Blacksmith Outfit with the sleeves). U_U

DORIAN

I was surprised by how well the Chest & Boot Wing ACCs came out, considering those were my own meshes (for once).

For the Dragon Valley Top I just retextured Danjaley's edit by tweaking the RGBY mask a bit. It's not great, but oh well. Neither is the Cape Accessory.

FEARNE

The Horns ACC is a mashup of X X X. The Stave ACC is a mashup of X X and I made the acorn glow with the ghost/plumbbot shader. IIRC the Horns and Ears ACCs have different sliders, one for the Hat Slider and one for Glasses sliders, but if I didn't do that...oops?

The Faun Outfit is a frankenmesh of the TSM corset dress @aprilrainsimblr converted and the TW3 Succubus outfit converted here. I added a few different RGB control variations as I was playing around with different options.

IMOGEN

I took the Shanty Top converted here and lowered the vest mesh as it sat too high on sims' waists, lightened the too-dark Multiplier, and made the sleeves sheer. The Suspenders and Skirt both REQUIRE the SN EP for the fat/fit morphs.

LAUDNA

I made @natalia-auditore's different accessory Bloody Hands as Body Tatts that REQUIRE CmarNYC's tatt mod at MTS, to reduce the amount of layered ACCs that cause texture blurring.

The Stylus Hair is an edit I did of Gramsims' Stylus hair (X), to add Laudna's signature white streak, fix the joints, and lower the polys a bit (it's still high though). (I used a hairline makeup for the baby hairs--IDER which one.) The Top is an edit from one of EA's, tweaking the waist mesh and changing the RBGY mask & overlays. I couldn't decide if I liked the Hammer or Pickaxe ACC, so I just threw in both.

Oryn

The Left Pauldron ACC is just the left side separated from the Dragon Valley top (Camkitty's mesh edit made my life easier), same with the Mitrasi Wrist Flower ACC.

___________________________________

And that's that!

Enjoy!

Download set (package files) : Mediafire | Simfileshare

[imsfire2]

I’m curious about ‘love letters’ 👀

Ages and aaages ago I was given this as a prompt; but I started writing it and then got stuck. I loved the idea of in-universe love letters, but I didn't have a plot, just a concept.

I got as far as "They have to write old-fashioned paper letters for security reasons as no comms contact is possible; for a while it works but then abruptly one side of the correspondence stops, and the other doesn't know what has happened." Unfortunately, nor did I. So angst and feels, but no actual storyline.

Here are the first two letters:

Cassian,

I’m still trying to grasp this.  A whole year apart.  And no comms.  Complete kriffing radio silence!  This is hell.  Yet apparently no-one will read our messages if we send them like this, on flimsi?  It’s so unlikely it has to be true.  So here I am trying to write a letter.  If I don’t try I’ll never know if I even can.  Never written a proper letter before, specially not one on real paper like this.  Very posh.  Comms and the holonet not good enough for the diplomatic corps on Valnar!  Feels so weird, stylus, sheet of flimsi, not a sensible deletable screen message.  How ugly my writing-by-hand is too!  What a scrawl.  I’m sorry you have to look at it.  I miss you.  I don’t know what else to say.  Miss you so much.  You left yesterday and today they told me this.  Thought it was a six-week deployment.  Thought six weeks was bad enough.  Now it’s a full year.  Force, I miss you so so much.  Stay safe.  Come back home to me.  Jyn.

Dear Jyn,

I received your letter.  I’m as astonished as you but I’m assured this method of communication has been used by this posting for years without problems.  The mills on the southern continent export thousands of tons of paper goods off-world annually and no scan will detect a few extra sheets of flimsi in each shipment.

I miss you too.  I have to try not to think about you too much.  At night when my shift finishes I let myself remember you and at once your face is so vivid to me.   I see you turning and smiling at me, I see you touching my arm as you pass by me on the companionway.  I tell myself it’s one less day till we’re together again.  Only another three hundred eighty-three to go.  It isn’t much comfort. 

I don’t know how to write a letter either!  I want to be beside you and hold you and smell your hair.  Words feel blunt and I am stupid with missing you.

With all my love

Cassian.

[oktorpg]

The Diary of John Murphy - Solo by John Murphy

Entry One

〄 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙈𝙪𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙮

╰ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵇʸ: @ToldUIdSurvive

   ╰ ᵀⁱᵐᵉˡⁱⁿᵉ: YEAR 2150

      ᵃⁿ @OsoKikThruOgeda  ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

     ╰ᴸᵒᶜᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ: ᴇʟɪɢɪᴜꜱ ɪᴠ

I was sat at the table in the room that I shared with #Luna and #Emori. The notebook that Doc Lite had given me sat on the table. The slightly shiny Eligius IV logo winked up at me in the harsh lights. How the hell did you even start one of these stupid things? On the rare  occasion that farm station was granted a movie night I had heard about the idea of keeping a journal on paper. In the Sky Box, I knew it was one of the favourite therapy methods of the doctor treating the really crazy inmates… But they were digital, audio or video. I guess I was one of them now. But at least I was no longer an inmate.

#Jackson had told me to just start. I flipped open the notebook and picked up the pen.

I tried to remember why I was doing this… for Raven; so I could keep my arse out of lockup long enough to see her truly happy  (for more than a moment)… for #Luna and #Emori so they didn’t have to see me like that again. “Raven…” I muttered her name and remembered everything we had been through.

Then I wrote:

“Dear Raven.”

That was less crazy than Dear Dairy. My handwriting looked like  it belonged to a child. But it wasn’t like we had much occasion to write on paper on the Ark. I was typing long before I ever used a stylus on a screen to learn how to form the letters by hand. But paper… I’d never even seen it until I found the books in #Becca’s bunker.

There was a library on the Ark… but everything was in oxygen-sealed chambers you had to get approval to access it. It all seemed like a lot of work, so I had never bothered.

‘Just start.’ Jackson had said. So, I wrote again.

“So, I started… Now what?”

Then I stared at the page for who knows how long.

Entry Two

〄 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙈𝙪𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙮

   ╰ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵇʸ: @ToldUIdSurvive

     ╰ ᵀⁱᵐᵉˡⁱⁿᵉ: YEAR 2150

        ᵃⁿ @OsoKikThruOgeda ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

      ╰ᴸᵒᶜᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ: ᴇʟɪɢɪᴜꜱ ɪᴠ

       ╰ᴱⁿᵗʳʸ:2

I was sat in the canteen, feeling…. Hell… good? Is that what this was? The notebook sat open on the table, my first ridiculous entry staring back at me. I was sure this wasn’t the kind of thing that #DrJackson had in mind for my therapy. But at least it was a start.

I stopped spinning my pen between my fingers and wrote:

“Dear Raven,

I feel… weird today. And a little hungover, are you sure that ice cream stuff didn’t have alcohol in it?”

I laughed and scratched my forehead with the pen. That stuff gave a mega energy boost and then it  just… crashed.

“It’s a good weird though. Like I finally got some sleep. Did you feel the same way? Did you sleep better too? Or was that just me? I hope not, I hope you slept too and feel better. I know it has something to do with you… Like on the island, maybe. We were  so used to each other's company, that maybe it just felt a little more like home, being together. I don’t know. But… I don’t ever remember you taking my hand before falling asleep…

Maybe it was just the ice cream… ”

I sighed and closed the book. I had to stop… I needed to be happy with having her in my life at all… wanting more always led to pain. And I knew the pain of losing her, that was unacceptable.

TBC...

https://x.com/ToldUIdSurvive/status/1703188954520977820?s=20

[nitewrighter]

Pre-Fall fic idea for a slow day: Echo asks McCree to go on a date. Liao thinks it'll be a good learning experience for her.

“...I dunno about this...” McCree straightened the collar on his shirt. Why did he dress up for this? Why did Liao feverishly take notes on her tablet when she saw he dressed up for this?

“I think it’s a great opportunity,” said Liao, poking at her tablet.

“See the way you’re gettin’ all excited about it makes me feel like a guinea pig.”

“Echo likes you. She trusts you. This is a chance for her to rapidly expand her social interaction repertoire.”

“It’s still weird.”

“How is it weird?”

“Well... how does it work with the age thing?”

Liao snorted. “What?”

“I mean she just got the body! Don't that make it... y'know...”

“The frame is new, yes, but the bare bones of her coding are only a couple years younger than you,” Liao said breezily, “Her processing levels were miles beyond yours well before she even had a body.”

“Ouch.”

“It’s computer science, Jesse, it’s nothing personal.”

“Why’d you give her hips?”

“Well, controlling said body actually has massive processing demands on its own, so you could say what could be recognized as her pelvic region hosts an 'auxiliary AI core'--"

"There's a brain in her ass?"

"Arguably, humans have a secondary brain in their colonic region--"

"There's a brain in my ass?!"

"We're getting off topic. There's a secondary AI core focused on mechanical coordination that is housed in her pelvic region, it was large enough to warrant certain design shifts to suit her center of gravity, and I wanted a friendly and appealing silhouette so --” Liao perked up, “So you noticed the hips?”

McCree’s face burned and he glanced off.

Liao rolled her eyes and smiled. “Jesse... if this goes really badly, I can just erase it from her memory.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m only saying, the stakes aren’t that high,” said Liao, "I think it's cute that you're getting nervous."

"Nervous, hell! I just don't know what to make of it!"

"You've had plenty of perfectly pleasant conversations with her--"

"They weren't dates!"

"Did you just say yes because you didn't want to hurt her feelings?" the brightness and absolute lack of accusation in Liao's voice only unsettled McCree further.

"N-no..." McCree rubbed the back of his neck, "I--I wasn't really thinking. I guess... I assumed you'd think I'd wreck it or... or wreck her and you'd... write it out of her code..."

"Interesting..." Liao tapped her tablet stylus on her chin.

"I ain't that good with sciencey shit! Reyes brought me on to shoot things!" McCree shrugged a little helplessly, "And the way you talk about her, I don't know if she's a--a work in progress, or-or your kid so..."

"A little bit of both. This is where AI gets messy," said Liao with a smile, "You don't know if you're making something human... but you get to make something new."

McCree just stared at Liao for a few seconds, opened his mouth to say something, realized he had no idea what to say to that, and then closed his mouth.

"It's going to be wonderful," said Liao, gently putting a hand on the back of McCree's shoulder.

"Wait--Is there anything I should---?" McCree started but the door slid open and Liao more or less shoved him out into Zurich Headquarters' courtyard gardens. It was twilight, Friday night, and strings of fairy lights had been strung around the sycamores, magnolias, and plum trees that decorated the garden. A couple of brightly colored paper lanterns were strung along the lines of electric lights, giving the usual contemplative and monumental air of the garden a more warm and festive feeling. McCree scanned the garden, seeing a table set with candles and a small basket of bread about 15 feet ahead of him.

"Jesse?" McCree heard a familiar voice and swiveled on his heel to see... a glowing blue-white Dolly Parton circa 1974 in a daisy-patterned peach sundress.

"Whuh..." McCree's face scrunched up in confusion.

"Is this okay?" Dolly Parton spoke with Echo's voice and McCree visibly flinched again. "Oh you don't like it--" The glowing Dolly Parton pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Give me a moment! I can fix it!"

"Echo--?" McCree started, but holographic pixels spiraled around the not-Dolly Parton and reshaped her into.... Olivia Rai, her usual afro styled into the more-textured Gibson Girl hairstyle she sported in Six Gun Killer. 

"What about this?" said Echo, "Is this all right?"

"I mean I like the movie but--" McCree started but the pixels whirled around Echo.

"Lee Byung-Hun, 2016, Magnificent Seven," said Echo. “My scans of your hormone levels showed an overwhelming positive reaction to him.” Again, this hologram form was still in the sundress.

Okay we really need to talk about the scanning thing, thought McCree, but he just stammered out, "They're all really nice, Echo, but you don't have to--" McCree rubbed the back of his neck, "I mean, I think we'll both be more comfortable if you're... you, y'know?"

"Me? But it's so..." 2016 Lee Byung-hun Echo twiddled her fingers nervously, "It's so..."

"It's the you I know," said McCree, shrugging, "I like it, Echo, really."

The hologram fell away from Echo in a shower of cubic pixels, revealing a partially holographic head on a heavily modified omnic frame. She was a patchwork between a handful of standard omnic parts and sleek parts whipped up on-site at this point. No wings. The sundress sagged a little off her metal frame.

"There you are," said McCree.

Echo smiled a little. "Sorry... the hologram capabilities were for optimal interfacing... so I thought..."

"I get it," said McCree with a smile, "I was a little nervous too."

"You were?!" said Echo, "But you're so... charming! And my scans of your antibodies revealed that it was very statistically likely you have had higher than average amounts of--"

"Hoookay! Moving on!" McCree said quickly.

"Moving on," said Echo, processing this.

There was the sound of a cybernetic throat being cleared and both McCree and Echo turned their heads to see Genji in a long-sleeved collared shirt, black vest, bow tie, and apron.

"Genji?" said McCree, suppressing a laugh in his voice.

"...not a word," said Genji.

"I know I got stuck as the waiter back in Venice but this is--"

"I said not a word!" said Genji, furiously. He drew in a steadying inhale. "Ma'am and sir. If I may direct you to your table."

"...oh this is rich--" McCree started.

"McCree, I know 37 ways of killing you in under 11 seconds, do not test me," said Genji.

"Uh huh," said McCree, "Show us the way, Garçon."

Genji muttered something under his breath in Japanese as he lead them to the table. McCree hurried over to Echo's side and pulled out her chair for her.

"Oh--Thank you!" said Echo, sitting down.

Genji rolled his eyes as McCree took his own seat. "Liao was able to negotiate with the headquarters chefs,” he said, setting glasses of water on the table, “You're getting chicken scallopini and asparagus."

"So there's not a menu--?" McCree started.

"You're getting chicken scallopini and asparagus," said Genji, with about as much murder as anyone could inject into the words 'Chicken scallopini and asparagus.'

"Okay," said McCree meekly as Genji walked off briskly.

"Er--don't mind him," said McCree as Genji walked off, "Blackwatch suspended... getting antsy, y'know."

"I don't," said Echo, equally pleasantly and blankly.

McCree cleared his throat and grabbed some bread from the basket between them, buttering it. "Well... You heard about the Venice incident, right?"

"I did not," said Echo, "I'm quarantined from most networked systems."

"Mm," McCree took a bite of his buttered bread, "Well... the long and short of it is, we fucked up."

"Not you!" said Echo on reflex.

"Well, not me, at first--but we had to follow through on the fuck-up if we were going to get out of it alive," said McCree with a shrug.

"I'm sure you did your best," said Echo, picking up a piece of bread. They both knew she couldn't eat, so instead, she seemed to be using it as something to do with her hands, breaking it off into bits.

"Eh, I don't think any of us were at our best," said McCree, "But... you do what you can, right?"

""Mm-hmm," Echo nodded, "Doctor Liao's been able to convince a handful of operatives to bring my AI processor on the orca with certain missions to observe, but my speech is disabled. Apparently it 'freaks people out.'" Echo glanced off resentfully.

"Not you?" said McCree.

Echo nodded. "And I know Morrison doesn't like me learning combat tactics."

"Echo, I can't think of anyone who loves humanity more than you," said McCree.

"Thank you, Jesse," said Echo. She was silent for a few beats. "And.... thank you for doing this. I--I don't know how you see me..."

"I'm still figuring that out too," said McCree, smiling a little, "But... I like to think I'm a good judge of character. And I'm proud to know you. And I'm proud that I mean enough to you to be here."

Echo's hologram face brightened, and she glanced off, a bit bashfully. "I--I can't even eat bread," she said quietly, smiling as she glanced down at the small pile of shredded bread bits on her plate.

"Psh. Bread. You can turn into whoever you want. Why worry about bread?" said McCree.

Echo snickered a little.

"...who's your favorite to turn into?" asked McCree, "I know you were turnin' into all that stuff earlier for me because of all the stuff we talked about and those dumb movies we watched--”

“I don’t think they’re dumb--”

 “But... what about you? Is there a person you like turning into?"

Echo thought for a few seconds. "I would say...Figure skaters," she said thoughtfully.

"Figure skaters?" McCree repeated.

"Not any individual one, but I’ve been putting together a composite hologram of several of them," said Echo, "Skaters, they--they aren't ruled by the same physics as other humans. All that power, all that grace, all on a plane that does not have the same rules of speed or friction."

"Bet you'd be a hell of a dancer," said McCree, smiling.

"I like to think I'm learning," said Echo, with a slightly smug shrug.

"Chicken scallopini," a plate clanked unceremoniously in front of McCree and McCree flinched to attention to see Genji next to him.

"Jesus, man! A little warning next time!" said McCree.

"Ninja," said Genji flatly.

"What about her?" said McCree, pointing at Echo.

Genji looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Jesse, it's fine," said Echo. She waved her hands and a hologram of what appeared to be lobster thermidor glowed into existence in front of her.

"...she can take care of herself," said Genji, walking off, "Let me know if you need a refill on water."

"Don't mind him," McCree said again.

"I don't," said Echo, materializing a holographic fork into existence and taking a holographic bite of her holographic food.

McCree sectioned off bites of his own meal and took tentative bites and chews, but it was good. A faint 'Mm' fell out of him and he opened his eyes to see Echo closely observing him. He took another bite, not taking his eyes off of Echo this time. Echo seemed to do the same, imitating him. But it wasn't quite the same, he observed. There was a lot of Liao in her, the way she'd stuff food off to one cheek and slowly parse it out as long as she needed while she multitasked. He saw it in all the nights Liao had brought takeout to the lab. In this case, Echo perfectly adapted Liao's eating habits to McCree's.

McCree swallowed hard. "Do you ever uh... make food... make you happy?"

"What do you mean?" said Echo.

"Well, if you eat really good food, you go, like, 'mm' and stuff--if all the food is only stuff you come up with... how does that work?"

Echo thought for a few seconds. "I... never thought of food as stimulating the pleasure response. Mostly it just seemed necessary for interfacing. Does it stimulate a pleasure response?"

McCree tried not to focus too hard on the words 'Pleasure response.' "Well, it depends on the food," said McCree.

"Does your food stimulate a pleasure response?"

"I mean compared to the rest of the shit I've had this month? Definitely," said McCree with a shrug.

"I see," said Echo. She looked at her food for a few seconds. She took a bit of her own holographic meal and a deep, sensual "Mmnh," bloomed out of her, her shoulders bunching up and her head tilting back with the sensation.

McCree sharply inhaled, realized his mouth was full of chicken scallopini, and coughed and choked for nearly a minute.

"Did I do it wrong?!" Echo asked with alarm.

"N--" McCree coughed, "No--" He coughed again, "You're-- You're doin' fine--"

Echo giggled. “I--I’m sorry, I’m still deciphering the appropriate forms of human pleasure.”

McCree found his face burning again and just gulped down some of his water.

“...that was an odd thing to say,” said Echo, glancing off.

“Nah, I’ve been told I’m old-fashioned a lot,” said McCree with a dismissive hand wave.

“Well, that’s why I like you,” said Echo, shyly.

McCree’s chews slowed.

“You... feel solid. I know I can trust you to... to tell me what you think... but.. also to be kind. I don’t know what other people want from me, but I know you just want another person. And... you’re very open in terms of what that person can be.” 

“Well I can tell you you don’t need to be Dolly Parton to win me over,” said McCree with a shrug and another bite of his food.

Echo giggled again and McCree swallowed.

“I’m still not sure if I’m doing this right,” said Echo, smiling down at her own hologram food. 

“Eh, you don’t really think of it in terms of ‘doing it right’--it’s mostly just about both of you having a good time. And trust me, you’re a better date than a lot that I’ve had,” said McCree with a snicker, “I just hope I’m doing it right too, y’know? It’s a lot of pressure, being anyone’s first date.”

“Oh!” Echo perked up, “I never thought of it that way....”

“Am I doing it right?” said McCree with a slight lopsided smile.

“Hmm...” Echo seemed to genuinely and very seriously ponder this.

“Oh come on, you’re making me nervous!” said McCree.

“Current assessments are... positive,” said Echo, “More data may be necessary to confirm any findings I’ve drawn thus far. We may have to do this again. An experiment is useless unless you can replicate its results”

“So... second date then?” said McCree, “That’s generally considered a good sign.”

“Oh! So I’m good at this!” said Echo.

“Sure are,” said McCree with a snicker.

Echo beamed. 

“Think we might have to do something other than dinner next time, though. I think if we try to get Genji in a waiter outfit again, he may actually kill me.”

“I estimate by his hormone levels and body temperature that there is an 89% likelihood of that occurring, yes,” said Echo. They both laughed for a little bit, and as the giggles died down Echo tilted her head. “So... you’ve been on bad dates?”

“Oh, terrible dates--but I don’t want to bore you---”

“It could be very useful data!” said Echo with that same brightness Liao had shown when she saw McCree being nervous.

McCree rubbed his chin. “Well... there’s a couple funny stories....”

-----

McCree was humming when he arrived in the Blackwatch sector later that night, bobbing his head and shoulders a bit with his humming as he loosened his bolo tie and took off his hat.

“Sounds like someone had a good time,” Reyes was seated in front of Blackwatch’s main monitor, mindlessly leafing through some paperwork.

McCree barely interrupted his own humming with an “Mm-hmm” as he kept walking past. 

“Reyes, you really must find a way to end Blackwatch’s suspension, or I fear he’ll romance one of the custodian’s vacuuming bots, next,” said Moira, leaning against the desk next to Reyes.

“Eh, if it means getting Genji in a bowtie again...” Reyes shrugged.

“You will never get me in a bowtie again,” Genji seethed from a shadowed corner.

“You asked for a mission--” Reyes started, but cut himself off as the three of them watched McCree continue to walk and hum down to his own quarters.

“...by god, I think he actually had a good time,” Reyes said quietly.

“Madness is setting in,” Moira mused.

“We need to get out in the field again,” Genji said, his voice tense.

“Or maybe you just need a date,” said Reyes shrugging. Reyes heard the audible click of the shuriken plate on Genji’s arm as Genji’s shoulders tensed up. “...or not.”

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

today i astral project giant, curious merboy w/ frightened researcher into your mind. tomorrow? who knows

Tomorrow is when you get your request filled you babey boi

--

“E-easy now, l-let’s ju-woah! Hey!”

It was too late for Stella’s squirming to do her any good as long, clammy fingers tightened themselves around her already battered body to lift her much higher than she would have appreciated. She couldn’t help a small wince when she felt her arms be uncomfortably squeezed against her ribs, the left side of which was undoubtably bruised from her topple earlier. The grip only pressed more at her pathetic struggles, forcing out her exhale much rougher than intended.

“Pl-lease,” she gasped, practically immobile in the creature’s hold which seemed to be the desired affect, “y-you’re hur-hurting me...!”

And just like that, the pressure that had once been constricting her disappeared. Even more wonderfully, solid ground seemed to return under her shaky legs which she was grateful to collapse. Or so she thought. A couple inhales sucked in to clear the splotches that pulsed in the corner of her vision revealed she had merely been traded from one hand to the other, trapped high above in an open palm as opposed to a clenched fist. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, she supposed.

Or fish, she supposed again.

With a shaky sigh, Stella forced her eyes up (and up and up) until they met with  wide ones, blinking down at its tiny capture. She couldn’t keep up the staring contest very long, however, not with how unnerving those black scleras were. Instead, she found her gaze shifting towards its mouth that could certainly fit her inside in one bite, perhaps even a rowboat if it tried. At that moment, it chirped at her, something loud and grating and immediately making her cover her ears for protection, but not without getting a glimpse of those jagged fangs.

From a scientific standpoint, this was one of the most stunning discoveries in her career, hell, in anyone’s career in the history of marine biology. A genuine mermaid...er, man, if she were to assume based purely on physical observation. A dozen questions ran through her mind focused on understand how on earth each component of his body functioned. Respiratory, circulatory, vision, hearing, homeostasis, smell, bone structure and density, muscle to fat ratio, everything and more!

Unfortunately, she doubted those inquiries would be answered anytime soon, if ever. 

The monster chittered again much more quietly, practically a rumble in his throat as his other hand hovered closer. Try as she might to flinch away, there was really no where else to go besides down into the icy waters below. She watched the thick claws adorning each finger inch closer, bracing for the sensation of being flayed like some sort of sick vengeance for all his seafood brethren she had ever eaten. Actually, given his size and muscular build alone, there was no way this thing was a vegetarian, so there better not be any judgement on that front!

Surprisingly enough, the claws just missed nicking any part of her skin in favor for the pad of his finger to rub against the top of her head, slowly, hesitantly even. Stella grimaced at the action but let it be, holding still as best her trembling form was able to while his petting built up more confidence, now sliding from her crown to where the coils ended at her shoulders. She let out a yip when he yanked her hair in an attempt to rub the foreign texture between his thumb and forefinger, immediately releasing the frizzy locks at the sound of her distress. 

His curiosity didn’t stop there, however. She was well aware of the irony of the situation--the researcher being studied by the subject and all that (at least, she hoped that’s what he was doing rather than sizing her up for a meal). Considering this was her first time ever encountering a merperson during one of her weekend escapades along the coastline, it wouldn’t be too hard to imagine this was his first time meeting a strangely sized hybrid species as well. Maybe those local legends about sea monsters and sirens held a little bit of truth after all, he was certainly as destructive as the stories foretold of these deadly creatures.

And, the scientist side of her couldn’t help but reason with the merman. She was, after all, encroaching on his natural territory in a foreign vessel, was it truly so unexpected for it to attack? ‘Attack’ was perhaps too strong of a word. Investigate was more like it, the way it grabbed and shook her tiny boat in an effort to see what was inside this weird, floating habitat until she came tumbling out on deck. On the bright side, at least Lorelei coming down with strep the night before saved her research partner from meeting the same fate as her right now. On the downside, she was going to meet said fate alone, her true ending forever a mystery outside of these waters.

The question was: what the hell was her fate meant to be? The way his fingers and touches roamed her body continued to reassure her that she probably wasn’t going to be a menu speciality for another few moments, but beyond eating her, what other uses could he have for her? He pinched her legs and arms to bend at the joints, especially fascinated at how articulate her lower half was in comparison to his own. It was almost like he was looking for a tail where one should obviously be, trying to piece together how these two split fins could work together as one. His fingers brushed against her waist and trailing up to her neck. Gill placement, maybe? From just how close his nails were coming to her jugular, Stella feared she might just get a few extra breathing slits if she so much as hiccuped.

It was all well and good until the fingers glided back down over her chest, pushing past the soaked lapels of her coat to the swell of her cleavage, his claw eagerly slipping under the buttons of her blouse to pop a few off. Stella turned bright red, her body heating up so much that she was sure he could feel it against the cool flesh of his palm where she sat. With an indignant shriek, she slapped the digit away from her body, quickly covering herself with her lab coat as best she could.

“No, thank you!” She scolded, leveling a glare with the creature. “Don’t do that!”

She didn’t even have time to register what consequences might befall her actions of threat displaying a massive sea predator, not with how his ear fins flattened against his head and he jerked his hand away as if she had burned him with her touch. In his defense, he did look rather guilty, rumbling again in his throat like he was offering an apology. He tilted his head at her, repeating the noise and it was then she realized he probably didn’t actually know what was wrong, rather he was asking why it was wrong. Oh, yeah. Different species, different cultures, different takes on reproductive accessories.

“You just, y-you don’t touch people like that, okay?” He grumbled something at her and though she didn’t understand it, she knew that tone well enough to roll her eyes. “Because I said so. Why d-”

Stella froze. The monster was still pouting at her reply, but her lengthy pause paired with her suddenly shocked expression made him chirp again in question. She searched his eyes, now well aware of the deep blue iris hidden within the inky abyss around it. 

“You...c-can you understand me...?”

He furrowed his eyebrows before giving a single nod. Uh, yeah, duh? I’ve been responding to you this entire time, haven’t I? is what the expression conveyed.

“Holy shit...” she whispered. A smile was quick to tug at her cheeks, looking back at him with twinkling brown eyes. “Holy shit! You can understand me! Y-you’re...you’re intelligent!”

The creature narrowed his gaze and she quickly held up her hands in a placating motion. “I-I mean, obviously, you were always intelligent, just i-in terms of, like...you know, whatever, let’s just start over, um...” She ran a hand through her newly tangled mess of curls, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh my god, I don’t even know where to begin!”

A quick look down at her capsized boat had her reconsider. Stella wondered how much of her research and equipment inside was totally trashed as a result of being broken or waterlogged. Oh well. Literally none of that mattered right now, not when filters could be replaced and notes reprinted and one of the greatest specimens of her lifetime was three inches in front of her.

Biting her lip, she glanced between the boat and the merman. “Actually, do you, um, think m-maybe you could fix...that? And maybe put m-me down while you’re at it...?”

For a moment, he only blinked at her, silently debating her request. It was long enough to make her start to shift nervously, wondering if she had managed to misread the entire situation and was foolish to make such demands when she was still considered a food source. Thankfully, he complied and righted her boat with ease, gently depositing her on the slick deck. The rocking of the sea still caused her to slip and fall ass first on the ground, though it mattered little to her with the way her legs still felt like jelly.

A shadow engulfed her, trilling ringing in her ears from above which made her groan. “I’m fine, just...give me a minute here.” Slowly, Stella sat back up and pulled her legs towards herself until she could sit criss-cross, digging her (thankfully) waterproof handheld from her pocket to pop out the stylus, tapping and scribbling on the screen. The creature lowered himself deeper into the water until only his shoulders and above were visible, swimming around to the edge of the boat to try and see what she was doing on the tiny device. He braced his hands on the side of the hull, nearly capsizing it again, which was probably what he did the first time when she had been down in the cabin, and only letting go when Stella cried out at being toppled for the umpteenth time.

When the boat ceased most of its swaying, she fixed another sharp glare at the creature who hunched a little further into the salty waters. “Okay, rule number one, no more touching this boat. Got it?” She was half tempted to add or me in there, but...well, they could cross that bridge if something came up about that later. Regardless, he nodded at her and she sighed, repositioning herself to lean against the cabin door for a little extra stability.

“So, ever play twenty questions?”

[captainrexisboo]

Dumb Luck #3

Note: Heyoooooo two updates in one weekend, whaaaaat? No, actually a fun fact, this was started out as my part 2, but i liked my other idea of building the tension with Sweets seeing Rex with his helmet off for the first time better. There will be a part four, it just wont come as quick! I’m gonna have several more parts to this, I have plans y’all. This chapter has ~slight angst~ if you squint hard enough. Again, I’m open to criticism or Hot Takes TM, I’m still a novice writer! Both my asks and messages are open to everyone! Also... y’all, Jesse is a bro. He’s great.

a link to part two- https://captianrexisboo.tumblr.com/post/623995723815452672/dumb-luck-2

Warnings: suggestive language (the usual)

Tags: @persaloodles @starflyer-104 @imalovernotahater @holamor @000ayfh

~

“Hey, Sweets-“

“Not now, busy,” she threw over her shoulder, not even bothering to look at who was walking up to her corner of the hangar.

Y/N was greatly enjoying herself as an assistant to the head mechanic aboard the flagship. She quickly learned about not only the venator-class destroyer, but also about gunships, shuttles, frigates, landers, even more about her beloved droids, and her absolute favorite to work on, the starfighters. If she were alone in the hangars, she would walk over to the rows of starfighters and just study them, marvelling at every screw, panel, and wire and how it built something so amazing. And right now, she was actually able to work on one of these beautiful machines, and she’d be damned if she let anyone stop her workflow.

Rex lifted a brow at her mannerisms as he watched her dive elbow deep into a much older fighter model, one that hadn’t ever been repainted and typically was the last to be boarded and flown out by shinies who didn’t know any better. She was squatting low to the ground, a panel gone from the ship while she tinkered with its insides, hair barely secure, strands falling out of the haphazardly tied bun she had kept in place with only a single stylus. He was still conflicted at her presence on the ship. She had proven to be smart, quick witted, and of course was an absolute stunner, but she was also stubborn as hell, distracting, and always there. Always a mere moment away, in the hangar, in the generator room, in the mess, the repair bay, the armory- and he hasn’t known peace since.

Let’s be honest, he hasn’t known peace since he met General Skywalker, but he was able to have an illusion of what it was like whenever he was alone with his thoughts. Now he didn’t even have that, his internal narrative shaping into her curves before too long, even in his solitude. Things were different with her here, they were more on edge, like he was tiptoeing around her in a delicate dance to avoid a situation where either of them could build onto their practically visible tension. Kix had told him, ever the blunt medic, that he could cut their tension straight through the air with a scalpel it was so obvious. But he was a Captain, and had a job to do, so when he heard that she had been seen speeding down the halls to the hangars with her tools despite all the ships passing inspection just a few hours ago, he knew he had to be sure she wasn’t doing anything out of protocol. He had grabbed Jesse before making his way to the hangar, in case a mediator was needed, and was now grinding his teeth at the woman concentrating so intensely she didn’t even care to look who else was in the room. He shared a flat look with Jesse before clearing his throat to make his presence known, “You might want to take a break, Y/N.”

She paused what she was doing, her shoulders tightening. Only Rex ever used her actual name, especially when he was in one of his damn moods. This was weird, though, him seeking her out. Recently it seemed as if he had been avoiding her, or making sure they weren’t alone if they had to be in the same room. Try as she could to get his attention, get him all flustered, he’d always just be slightly out of reach, and she was getting increasingly frustrated. She rolled her eyes, summoning her signature bravado before she smoothly stood up to turn around, jutting a hip out and giving a lazy salute, “Ahoy, Captain.”

Jesse tried to mask his giggles under a cough, watching the two interact was his favorite pastime. Rex took note for later to ask a different intermediary for the next strife, before pointing his head to the ship, “What are you doing to that fighter?”

“Exactly what it looks like,” she smiled brightly, almost prideful, wiping her grease slicked hands on the pant leg of her GAR jumpsuit, “Messing with this lovely hunk of junk.”

“Messing with it?” Rex questioned, barely hiding his glance at the handprint now crudely placed on her thigh.

“Gave myself a project to work on,” she explained sauntering towards the pair of troopers with an arm outstretched to the ship, “Boys, meet my baby.”

“Your baby?” Rex slowly tore his gaze off her to look over the fighter blandly, “What a miracle of science.”

“Is Artoo the dad?” Jesse snickered, before receiving a light smack on the arm from the woman. She still chuckled at the quip, showing good humor to him. Despite being absolutely infuriating, Jesse was quickly becoming a good friend to her, like a brother she never wanted.

“Did you get permission before completely gutting the engine, at least?” Rex asked, looking around at the parts that lay on the floor, surrounding her workspace.

She sighed, “Yes, I did, just a bit ago. Ask Caine, he was the final sign off on it. Went through all the proper channels.”

Rex's jaw twitched, stiffening the hand holding his helmet, “It didn’t come through on my end.”

“Maybe it didn’t need to,” she shot, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms, “I’m sure there are some things on this ship that don’t require your approval, sir.”

There it is. The way she said that word got him all riled up. It was one little word, one he got called by from every trooper on every hour of every rotation, but it was her honey-coated voice saying it that drove him to his limit. Every time she spoke the word to him it was like a challenge, daring him to expose his desirous aggression toward her, taunting his mask of composure. Every time she spoke, with a demanding storm in her glare and candy pink lips being teasingly assaulted by her own teeth, it stirred a fire in him he didn’t quite know how to quell. It was maddening, and got worse and burned deeper with every encounter. Before he could dig himself deeper into her trap, he simply pulled on his helmet with a slight growl, and turned on his heel to stalk away from the conversation, barely grumbling out a gruff, “I’m going to talk to Caine.”

“What crawled up his ass and died?” Y/N felt herself wilt a bit as she watched him go, taken aback by the retreat, and admittedly a little disappointed. Usually he’d last longer.

Jesse let out a stale bark of laughter, “Same thing that crawled up yours.”

“Jesse,” she warned, cold eyes coming up to focus on him, drawing out his name as she placed her hands on her hips.

“Sweets,” he mimicked her tone and stance, chuckling low, “Why don’t you just go after him? He’s all pent-up and frustrated, I don’t think the troops can take another feral sparring session. Hell, I don’t think I can take it. Think of the poor shinies.”

She shrugged at him, rolling her eyes as her head lolled to the side, “What can I say, I’m a self-destructive mess that likes to delay my own happiness and ultimate satisfaction.”

“Bantha shit,” Jesse rolled his own amber-hazel eyes at her, “I think you're just a brat.”

She laughed lowly, batting her lashes at him, “Same thing, trooper.”

She turned around, intent on continuing her work before she felt a gloved hand wrap itself around her elbow, turning her back to face the ARC, “I’m serious. Why are you dragging this out, adding to the pressure? If you keep this up, one of you will explode before too long, and then- whether it’s a good explosion, or a bad one- there’s gonna be one hell of a mess to clean up in its wake.”

She lifted a brow at his wording, “Was that innuendo literal, or-”

“Ew,” Jesse blanched, letting go of her arm and scrunching his face at the mental image., “That’s my ori’vod!”

Y/N threw her hands up in a mock surrender with a devilish smirk on her lips, “Look, you’re the one who said it.”

“Just answer the question, maker!”

She was silent for a minute, pursing her lips as she gathered her thoughts together. Jesse was staring intently at her, crossing his arms as he waited for her. Her eyes narrowed into thin slits in her focused state, and she exhaled slowly through her mouth, “I...I don’t know if he actually likes me or not. Sure, we banter, and I flirt, but I don’t know if he legitimately thinks of me the same way. I mean, today he just walked away from our conversation, and it made me feel kind of dejected. He seemed...I don’t know. Exasperated. Like he’s tired of me.”

Jesse had never seen her so vulnerable, so small. Sure, she was easily more than a head shorter than them, but her confidence and charisma always made her seem like she was eight feet tall. She twirled a lock of stray hair around her fingers, looking anywhere but Jesse as she continued, “His responses always vary, so I can’t pin down his exact feelings! He can either be cold and dismissive like today, or he can be actively matching my turn of phrase, there's no in between. So I always just...well, I tease him, you’ve seen it. I’m just testing the waters, seeing if he’s interested.”

“Sweets-“ Jesse cut himself off as he let a heavy hand fall onto her lithe shoulder, “Y/N, look at me.”

At the sound of her name, she blinked up at him, biting her lip to keep from pouting. Jesse was about to continue, barely opening his mouth to begin, when there was a greeting from behind them.

“There she is, right where you left her, Captain!”

Rex had come back, face unreadable as he looked between Jesse and Y/N. An older, brown man walked next to him, tall and lean with a salt and pepper fade, his smile as wide as his stride, “Sweets, lass! Making headway on that pile of scrap, huh?”

“Yes sir, Caine,” she greeted, standing upright and saluting him properly before turning offhandedly to Rex and crossing her arms, “Captain.”

Rex felt his jaw twitch at the sudden chill coming off of her, his brow furrowing at the sudden switch in her demeanor. Caine continued waving his arms, animatedly gesturing to the fighter, “This ship will run better than the day it was bought when you’re through with it, I know it. But, our most thorough Captain here has made it known to me that we did skip a step in approving your request.”

She looked Rex up and down, crossed arms tightening over her ribcage, “Oh really? And what step would that be?”

“Admiral Wulff Yularen,” Rex answered, tone even and cool to match her own, “You’re right in that it wouldn’t pass over my desk, however these are still Republic owned ships. He needs to approve...whatever you’re doing before you continue.”

She bit her lip and tightly squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deep through her nose, before responding, “Fine. I’ll clean up my station. Is there a time I can meet with the Admiral to discuss my mistake?”

Rex began to respond, before Jesse stepped in, “I’ll go explain the situation to him. Caine, would you mind tagging along?”

“Let’s stop by my office to get her approval request forms. Anything that makes this take longer, it gets me away from the repair reports,” Caine guffawed as he walked away with Jesse, leaving the Captain and mechanic on their own. He shifted as her burning stare held onto him for an extended moment after the two had left.

“What?” he growled out, growing aggravated at the silent attitude she was giving him.

“You’re a fucking tattle tale,” she spat out before turning on her heel to begin picking up her tools and various discarded parts of the fighter, “Going to my boss because a form didn’t come your way.”

“What are you, a youngling?” he shot back, but striding over to help her out, “I’m doing you a favor! If Admiral Yularen had found out one of his ships had been tampered with, without his permission, he’d blacklist you from the GAR and put you in a ship to drop you on that same dirt ball we found you on.”

Admiral Yularen was much more empathetic than that, and would not go as far as that for a punishment. But she didn’t need to know that right now.

“I’m not tampering with it- don’t touch my tools,” she looked over to see him dropping her wrenches and welders unceremoniously into her box, “I’m not tampering, I’m fixing. I’m a mechanic, it’s what I kriffin do, I’m sure he’d understand.”

He continued to pick up her scattered tools as she turned back to the disorganized pieces of metal with a roll of his eyes, “That may be so, but the GAR has a very strict way of doing things, and unfortunately the line of command doesn’t just stop at Caine for you. In fact-“

“I said don’t touch my tools!”

“Y/N, I’m trying to help you!” he nearly yelled at her, his voice booming in the high ceilings of the hangar, “Anything I’ve done today, is to help you!”

She scoffed, unmoved by his commanding demeanor, “Sure, help me. You didn’t even want me on this ship to begin with!”

“That’s-“

“You still don’t like me, do you? Is that why you don’t respond to my advances?” she was stalking toward him now, her mess and tools pushed to the farthest corner of her mind until they got this discussion over with. He stood his ground as she got closer, standing at his full height but looking her directly in the eyes nonetheless.

“Y/N-“

“I flirt and tease you all damn day and you just ignore me! Or worse, you respond and then leave when you realize you might’ve reacted a little too positively. I’d at least like a solid no from you, make yourself clear, please!”

“Hey!” he laid two strong hands on her shoulders, giving her a slight squeeze, “Shut. Up.”

She glared at him, but complied, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth as she stood defiantly to him, as tall as she could under his grip. He allowed himself a slow breath, inhale through his nose, hold, exhale through his mouth. He softened his hold, and let his deep honey eyes search her stormy glare, delving into the depths of her soul to make sure she understood, “I think I like you, Y/N. More than I ought to.”

He let that sink in, his cheeks flushing at his own sudden boldness but keeping a lock on her gaze. She raised her brows in surprise, eyes going wide as her agitation subsided, being replaced with something more delicate before sputtering out, “Oh. Okay. Uh, great. So...why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

He let out a dark chuckle, letting his eyelids get heavy, “Always one for tact.”

She shrugged under his grasp, a slight grin gracing her features at his amused expression, “Would you expect anything less?”

He shook his head, letting his lips twitch upwards as his thumbs absentmindedly rubbed circles into her shoulders, before clearing his throat, “If you had let me finish earlier, your chain of command doesn’t stop at Caine. It includes Yularen, Skywalker, and me. If I’m seen to be ‘romantically involved’ with a crewmember, I could be court martialed. And then you’d be-“

“Sent back to that rock you picked me up from,” she finished for him, letting a hand come up to rub gently at his right wrist, before sighing, “Maker, I hate it when you’re right.”

“It’s a miracle you still like me, then,” he let a cheeky smile pull through his face, causing her to let out a soft giggle. Somewhere between their dispute and his confession, his voice had shifted to a low, coarse whisper that made her want to hang onto every word. He let a hand off her shoulder, gripping her chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger, “Do you understand, cyar’ika?”

Her breath was stolen from her as she watched his eyes glance down to her lips, his thumb gently pulling at her skin to have her bottom lip pop out of it’s sharp hold. She shuddered, a pleasant quiver going down her spine as she nodded at him. She fluttered her lashes at him as he chuckled low at her response, “What does that mean?”

“Promise not to get mad?” he smirked at her, as a matching blush sweeping over both their cheeks.

“Rex,” she quirked a brow at him playfully, drawling out his name almost musically. He smiled wide at her, practically spellbound with how his name sounded on her lips.

“It’s Mando’a,” he paused for effect, looking around to make sure no out of place soldiers were looking over before dipping low, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “for sweetheart.”

She laughed, the sound warm and full, splaying a hand over his armored heart, the plastoid cool underneath her palm, “Fine. But only you are allowed to call me that.”

She pushed him lightly, having him let go of her shoulders. They stood there, smiling at each other, skin burning where the other’s hands had been, gazes soft with mutual ache. Y/N sighed, “So, what does this mean? For us.”

Rex thought for a minute, walking around her to continue where they had left off cleaning. After she had joined him, he hummed in response, “I think it’s a promise.”

“A promise?” she repeated, finishing up putting all the spares and discarded parts in an unlabelled crate next to the fighter. She leaned against the crate, arms crossing as she grinned at him, “What kind of a promise?”

“After the war is done,” Rex explained, tone surprisingly optimistic, “we can travel the galaxy together. No enemies to be on lookout for, not having to worry about getting caught by my nosy men-”

“Does it have to wait till after the war?” she whined, but still watching him as if he were hanging the stars as opposed to just picking up her tool box. He handed her the plasteel case, latching it closed with one deft hand.

“We can discuss that later,” he sent her a sly wink. She rolled her eyes, righting herself off the crate and looking up at him with the familiar teasing glint in her eyes that he’s come to find very charming.

“Just because you’ve finally confessed, don’t think this means I’ll stop toying with you, sir.”

All he could do was let his smile grow, just thinking about all the alluring ways she’ll drive him crazy, “I never wanted you to stop.”

[disney8733]

finding our song book one

begging

The lights of the stage flashed on showing the band members on it. You could hear the hum of the lead starting the opening of the song “ Put your loving hand out, baby 'Cause I'm beggin'' The rest of the band starts to join in the song known as, Beggin’. From the right side of the stage, you could see him as the main bass of the band Daichi Sawamura, A five foot nine well-built dark-haired brown-eyed man with thighs so thick they could crush a watermelon in half. It was the beginning of the trash heap tour for Junkyard scrap. The alternate punk rock band that everyone knew. They were known for being an attractive upcoming popular All-Star Band. Their lead singer had an amazing voice that could go and reach the low notes of a song but sound smokey and sweet and loving. Their bass guitarist could play the strings of his bass like nobody else. Their lead guitarist could play any guitar ranging from electric to ukulele. And there was their drummer. He was the rhythm of their band and could make a beat out of a pencil tapping on a table. But that's not all the band had to offer oh no there is much more. At first glance, junkyard scrap looks like a normal band but that's not all they had. Each one of the band members could do more than just what they were known for. junkyard scrap was nicknamed The Multiverse band, their lead singer Kōtarō Bokuto Also known as the owl was a Bombastic, friendly, energetic guy. Also known as The Moody one tending to sometimes in the middle of an interview going into an “emo mode” because he was sad. Bokuto could also play the drums, guitar, and song right to a certain extent. Tetsurō Kuroo the lead guitarist, is also known as rooster head due to the way his hair looks. Although he looked laid-back, he always seemed to be scheming for something and liked to provoke others' well-dishing outside remarks to them. But the truth of reality is that true karoo is a kind of surprisingly genius man both in music and somehow chemistry. The man could not only play electric guitar but also the bass, the acoustic, the ukulele, the piano, the trumpet and is an absolute god at writing love songs. Daichi Sawamura The bass guitarist of the group. Known as the dad of the group he's responsible, caring, understanding, and patient. Except for when you piss him off then he becomes utterly terrifying and everybody seems to be attracted to that. He can also play the electric guitar. If and when he does sing it's a very low soft and sweet velvet voice. And lastly Hajime Iwaizumi on the drums. A stubborn yet reliable member of the band with a strong intimidating vibe. With a firm yet caring attitude towards the rest of his team everyone tends to respect him and all his fans see him as a bad boy. He can also sing very well. These four young men make up the group known as Junkyard scrap. Clear their fan base they were gods that can play music like nobody else the hottest things on Earth. But to the four of them, they were just a bunch of friends who decided to play at a concert one night with the rest is pretty much history. From the crowd, you can hear the girls screaming their heads off for Daichi. Indicating that they were playing the song ashes which was sung by the drummer Iwaizum. “I fell in love with a boy I met in hell”. As the concert continued The Stylist walked up to their manager Kiyok.

“Are we going to do an outfit change?” the stylist asked

“Not that I know of unless Bo has other plans” She replies with a heavy sigh. Bo had a habit of taking his shirt off in a particular song known as Glory and throwing it in the crowd because according to him the song had just such a “vibe” and “he was so pumped he didn't know what he was doing”. The entire band called them out for just wanting to take his shirt off for no reason. And he did not deny or confirm this action. As the two were talking at that very moment You could hear Kuroo starting to play his electric guitar to the notes of none other than the song Glory. Kiyoko Turn to The Stylist rolling her eyes towards the stage saying “ well the answer to your question is yes Suga, we will be an athlete change in which Bokuto will need another shirt”

“Noted” he replied back quickly leaving her at the side of the stage to go get him a new shirt. At this point, he wasn't surprised he had been with the band as their stylus for the past 6 months and he had gotten pretty much used to the clothes that he had either hand-picked or made himself for Bo, being thrown into the crowd. At first yeah totally annoying the crap out of him. But then the bass player of the band talked to him stating how typically they get the shirts back because most of the fans know but was not allowed to do that anymore even though he still does it. Daichi promised that he would talk to Bo after every concert and yell at him for doing so. Now it wasn't that Suga would say that he was in love with Daichi. But he loves the idea of having a strong Rockstar boyfriend. Though it was never going to happen, he knew that and that was fine. What he didn't know is that Daichi himself had fallen head-over-heels Suga from the day that they met. As the concert ended you could hear the loud roaring of the crowd. The band thanked everybody for coming out and giving them a chance to start a brand new tour.

As the band members came off the stage. They were talking and laughing in a way that made you feel at home.

“That was a good show” Kuroo stated “Even if Bo took his shirt off again” the Rooster continued

“ I told you guys every time you play the song. I just get this feeling that I just can't explain it I just got to be free it's glorious if you try it sometime” Bokuto responded well laughing

“ You know Bokuto. First of all, it's just weird and secondly, you throw away all of Suga's hard work. You jerk” Daichi replied looking at Suga

“Oh, it’s ok. There just close

“No, it’s not ok. It costs us money every time he does it. Right kiyoko” Iwaizumi said

“Sadly Iwaizumi is right,” she said without even looking up from her notes.

“IM SORRY SUGA” Bo bowed his head. Suga just smiled.

“Don't worry, let's go get the shirt back together this time ok” the beautiful silver hair boy stated. As they walked away Daichi couldn't help but stare at Sugawara. To him, Sugawara was a beautiful 5' 8.7" slender-built guy, with light grey hair, and hazel-brown eyes. Not to mention, a birthmark mole under his left eye that Daichi just wanted to kiss. Kōshi Sugawara had a soothing and gentle personality. he kind of acted as a pillar of support for the crew and the band. He was a kind and sweet man. Daichi was unsure of when he had fallen for the man, maybe it was when they first met. That was the start at least.

“You if you ask him out, no one would stop you and every owner would approve,” Kuroo said smiling as they walk to the dressing room.

“I can't I have to Maintain appearance for the band's image” he s simply replied

“ You're joking right, In case you forgot I'm dating Kenma. You know the guy who wright more then half our song” Kuroo Side as he sat down in the chair taking his shoes off

“That's different. You two were dating way before we came to fame” Daichi huffed out as he took his jacket off. Just then Kenma walked while playing on his Game Boy.

“Kuroo,” the short boy said not looking up

“Yes, kitten?” the roster replied

“I want cuddles and apple pie”

“Ok kitten, just let get changed” Kuroo hurried up getting out of the outfit he had on and into sweatpants and a sweatshirt then picked up his boyfriend, leaving the room to go get apple pie and cuddle. Leaving Daichi alone. “Maybe he’s right,” he sighed as took out his shirt.

“Knock knock Dai-” Suga said, opening the door just as Daichi’s pants groped. Leaving him in nothing but his boxer. “OH, MY GOD IM SO SORRY I- I’ll um” He stumbled to figure out what exactly should say.

“It’s fine, just give me a sec,” Daichi said as he grabbed his sweatpants, He had decided to leave his shirt off for a multitude of reasons, mainly because he wanted to make Suga blush. “So I'm guessing you need the outfits from the performance today,” He said as he smiled. “Um yes please… and thank you” Suga replied calmly. Daichi nodded, picking up the clothes in the room and heading them over to Suga. Just as Suga took them he ended up trying over his feet, falling on Daichi. When Suga opened his eyes he realized both of his hands were on Daichi's chest, his shirtless chest realizing. where his hands were he blushed training his face into the color of the Tomato he stood up to grab the clothes and ran to the door. “I'M SORRY...Again… AND THANK YOU… GOODBYE!” He said that he closed the door behind them running down the hallway away from the embarrassment that just happened. Leaving sitting on the floor as red as the color of a tomato. “Your welcome,” he said to no one but himself.

To be continued

[notyetneedcoffee]

No Secrets, Part 5

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (???)

Warnings: None in this section

Sam stepped up to your front door carrying a tray with two lattes and a bag of pastries. ‘This is going to suck.’

“Morning sunshine.” You opened the door.

“Thought since you missed out on coffee yesterday, I’d bring you some this morning.” He held out the cups. “How’s your face?”

“Thanks.” You took a sip. “I’m fine. I’ve gotten worse sparring in the gym.”

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t scare the hell out of Bucky.’ Sam dug into the bag. “Cheese danish?”

“No thanks.” You pulled your bare feet under you. “So, Steve told you he ah...”

“Confessed his undying love?” Sam dropped on to the sofa next to you. “Yeah, but he hasn’t talked to Bucky. I don’t know why.”

“Peggy.” You provided. “Steve’s carrying around a sort of guilt. He gave his whole heart to Peggy and loving someone is like betraying that, somehow.”

“And Barnes is the only one around who knew her.” Sam was a lot more observant than people gave him credit for. “So is Steve afraid of being judged or he scared to admit that Bucky’s got it bad for you, too?”

You wondered that yourself. In fact, you’d sat up most of the night thinking about Steve and Bucky. This condition afforded you a great deal more information than you ever could have imagined. But with a man like Steve, or a man like Bucky for that matter, you were thankful.

Sam misunderstood your silence. “If it’s obvious to me, it’s got to be like flashing neon signs to you. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” Sam sputtered. ‘Are you fucking kidding? That’s so wrong! They’ll kill each other.’

“Sam,” You put down your coffee and took his hand. “Damn, you are such a good friend. Answer something for me. Has Bucky ever come on to me? Ever overtly hit on me?”

“I mean, he’s joked. We all have. But, no, not his style.”

You nodded.  “I was given some sage advice when this happened. I was told to not judge people by what they thought, but by what they chose to do.”

“Alright, if you say so. You let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, okay?” Sam sat forward. ‘Just keep me clear of the blood bath.’

Steve Rogers couldn’t seem to rest on the flight home. Despite being physically tired, his mind wouldn’t settle down. He wanted to call ahead to say he was on his way home, but it was nearly three in the morning in New York. Instead, he pulled out his laptop and tackled some of the more mundane work of running the Avengers.  

He read through reports and approve paperwork for a couple hours when he opened the report requiring payout for a car accident. Multiple vehicles were damaged, minor injuries and the attorney recommended a reasonable settlement as the agent in question was completely at fault.  

His eyes locked on your name.  

His fingers tightened around the stylus. It took him a moment to take a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Flipping through the report, he found Sam’s write up. “...stated she sensed the thoughts of the driver behind her attacking his wife. This distracted her, causing the accident. Sergeant Barnes and I were off duty in the area and heard the accident. I recognized the car and we went to investigate. Considering her current condition, the situation was overwhelming to her and we felt it pertinent to remove her from the situation. She had no significant injuries from the accident. I left those impacted by the accident with the contact information for the Compound before leaving the scene.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. He forced himself to breath. You were alright. Sam and Buck were there and took care of you.  

Why the hell had you been driving in town?

Checking on the landing time, Steve approved the expense and read through everyone’s statements again. There was less than an hour left before landing. He wondered if it would be alright to wake you, if he called as soon as he made it to his quarters.

The message alert on his phone dinged.

‘Find me when you land, punk.’

After landing, Steve ventured into the common kitchen in search of Bucky. He found his pal slumped over a cup of coffee and the newspaper. "You save any of that for me, jerk."

Bucky pointed at the pot. “Sure did.” He sat back in his chair. “How’d it go?”

“As expected.” Steve poured himself a cup and sat across from Bucky. “Less eventful than your run for teriyaki.”

“I have no idea what the hell she was thinking.” Bucky huffed. “Said she just wanted to go through the coffee shop. I think she’s got cabin fever really bad. But Stevie, you should have seen how shaken she was.”

Steve took a sip of his black coffee, scowling. “How bad was she hurt?”

“Bruise above her left brow. Little bit of burn from the airbag.” Bucky got up and refilled his cup. “Jesus, when I came through that crowd and saw her slumped in the driver’s seat...” He blew out a strong breath. “It’s bad enough when we’re heading into a situation on alert, ready to fight. It’s something completely different when it’s a surprise like that.”

Steve stared as Bucky continued, leaning against the counter.

“I think I freaked out some of the locals. She said she wanted out and I ripped the door clean off the car. I’m glad Sam was thinking, ‘cause I just scooped her up and carried her to the truck. I wasn’t about to let her down or stop to deal with anyone else.”

He sat down, realizing for the first time the intensity of Steve’s stare. “What?”

Steve’s back went stiff. He frowned, before diverting his eyes back to his coffee. “Buck, do you love Y/N?”  

“What?” Bucky leaned back with a half laugh. “Of course.”

Steve stood so fast the chair hit the wall behind him. He was gone before Bucky could say anything.  

“What the fuck?” Bucky put down his coffee, righted Steve’s chair and followed his friend down the hall. The early morning made it easier to track him without asking for the AI’s help. He was headed for the roof, at least that’s what Bucky guessed.  

He stepped out into the early morning air to find Steve standing near the edge, shoulders slumped and a hand pressed into his chest like he used to do as a kid when he had an asthma attack. “Stevie?” Bucky walked up slowly, knowing he didn’t have to raise his voice. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Steve forced himself to take a deep breath, but didn’t turn around. “Does she love you? Has she said that she loves you?”

“Steve.” Bucky came a little closer, but still left some distance. “Talk to me.”

“I told her I love her. Let her know how much, how hard...”  

“Oh.” Bucky felt his gut flip over. He knew the gravity of Steve’s confession, knew how hard it was for Steve to let himself love, really love, someone again.  

“And you just say ‘of course’ you love her, too.” Steve growled out. “Of all the people in world, Buck, why her?”

“Wait.”

“Of course, you two are always joking and laughing. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. I’m so fucking stupid...”

“You sure are, punk.” Bucky actually smacked him on the back of the head.  

“Fuck off.” Steve’s arm swung out and clipped Bucky, but he caught Steve’s arm.

“Shut up and listen, will ya!”

Steve just glared.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about her.” Bucky growled back. “After Peg, well, I know how bad that hurt you.” He watched his best friend’s face crumble. He voice softened, “When did you tell her?”

“Before I left on this last mission.”

“In person?”

“Yes.”

Bucky nodded, considering. “So, she was aware of what you weren’t saying, too.”

“Yes.” Steve’s voice tightened.

“Wow.” Bucky dropped down on one of the iron benches. “What, ah, what’d she say?”

Steve’s hands buried deep into his pockets and he turned his back on his oldest friend. “I asked her not to say anything. We talked, and I told her anything she wanted to know, but I didn’t want her answer if it was a shock.”  

“You know she loves you.” Bucky said to his friend’s back.

Steve just barked a mirthless laugh. “Do I? Because my best pal loves her too. Maybe she loves you.”

“Stevie,” Bucky rubbed his forehead. “I would never stand in the way of you being happy, ever.”

“If I asked her now,” Steve frowned. “Would she be able to say she doesn’t know you want her too?”

“Fuck.” Bucky stood up and stalked over to Steve. “Honestly? No. If she’s been in my head, then she knows how beautiful I think she is, how much I want to take care of her, how good she feels. But damn, Steve, that’s in my head. Only. In. My. Head. She’s my friend, our friend. I’ve never behaved in any way that would cross that line. If she’s your girl, I never will.”

“You said you love her.” Steve’s desperately tried to hold on to his anger, but couldn’t.

“I do. I won’t apologize for it. She’s one of my few friends.”

“But you’re attracted to her, too.”

“So are most of the men who know her, hell, most the men who see her.” Bucky shook his head. “Don’t ever use that argument with her, because you know full well women’s panties have been dropping for you since the forties. It doesn’t mean they love you or that you love them.” Steve’s ears went pink. “So, when did you figure out that she wiggled her way past that giant wall of yours?”

Steve ran his hands through his hair, frustration and jetlag leaving him exhausted. “A while ago. Scared the shit out of me. I should have talk to you about it.”

Bucky threw an arm over Steve’s shoulders, “Still can.”

“Won’t that be weird?”  

“My best pal is love with the best gal I know.” Bucky laughed. “That I can deal with. I know you’d rather die than break her heart. Now if you told me Sam was in love with her, I’d have to break his legs.”

TAGS:

@asiaaisa77​ / @babygurl8840​ / @badassbaker​ / @bangtan-serendipity​ / @beautifullungs​ / @buchanansebba​ / @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ / @dsakita​ / @geeksareunique​ / @imma-new-soul​ / @jennmurawski13​ / @jesseswartzwelder​ / @kiki5283​ / @lbouvet​ / @michelehansel​ / @mindtravelsx​ / @morganhoran1671 / @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines​ / @notyourtypicalrose​ / @nova3312​​ / @patzammit​ / @rainbowkisses31​ / @readermia​ / @rynabarnesrogers​ / @sammghgecko​ / @scarlettsoldier​ / @sebbysstangirl​ / @sexyvixen7​ / @sllooney​ / @thegetawaywriter​ / @theneuropsychwriter​ / @the-omni-princess​ / @the-reading-octopus​ / @thorfanficwriter​ / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @vanillabunn21​ / @vxidnik​​ / @what-is-your-plan-today​ / @wildmoonflower​ / @wwe-fanfiction-queen​ / @sassy89sworld​ / @bitchwhytho​ / @carinacassiopeiae​ / @jessyballet​ / @killcomet​ / @steve-rogers-is-a-saint​ / @phoenixwench​  

[vhenadahls]

bend but never break

Rory Stern, a civilian contractor on the Normandy, has her physical examination from Dr. Chakwas. The doctor takes one look at her chronic pain and gives her the first answers she’s had in seven years.

G, 2100 words.

(This is a fictionalized account of my own getting diagnosed with hypermobility spectrum disorder!)

Rory steps through the airlock, breathing in the familiar recycled air of the Normandy’s CIC. It hasn’t been long since she’s been on the ship - she was here just last week, doing the final pre-shakedown calibration of the drive core’s integration with the cooling system - but she wasn’t carrying a duffle bag then. And there were people at various stations around the CIC, but not like this. A lot more swearing at code, then, compared to the current introductions and shouts to old friends and salutes. Not everyone who’s going to be on the shakedown cruise is on the ship now, either, but it’s certainly got a different feel than it did with a bunch of nerds in coke-bottle glasses just like hers.

Those glasses slide down her nose a bit, and she smiles. Okay, everyone else’s weren’t bright blue, but still.

She steps aside to let someone in uniform with a cart full of supplies past, then heads purposefully down the center aisle. She’ll know his name eventually, and the thought of knowing everyone on a ship again sends a thrill down her spine. The galaxy map isn’t turned on, of course, but she still looks over as if it might be before heading down the stairs. Her right hip twinges as she walks down, and she huffs in frustration when she’s on level ground again. Already acting up, apparently. Maybe it’ll prefer artificial gravity the way she does, but she’s not hopeful.

The elevator, still just as slow and irritating as before, takes her down to the crew deck, and she finds the bunk she’s been assigned. Someone else will be sharing with her, of course, but there’s a footlocker just for her, and she’s able to fit her few belongings into it. The familiar lack of creature comforts and even personal space is a friendly reminder that she’s on a ship again. She’s been planetside far too long.

Once her things are packed away neatly, her next stop is the med bay. Other people are bustling around and familiarizing themselves with the ship’s layout - no one wants to get lost during shakedown - but she’s been here for years working on interfacing the Tantalus drive core with standard (and not-so-standard) Alliance tech. And that means skipping that step, and getting her introduction to the ship’s doctor over with.

Sighing again, she takes the elevator back up, mulling over what to say. I’ve had chronic pain in my shoulders for seven years, it’s been appearing in other joints, they always say it’s unrelated. She snorts. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that this military doctor with a battalion of marines to take care of is going to take a second glance at the achy civilian engineer.

The mess hall is a bustle of activity, with marines stocking their gear lockers and crew members squaring away food, medical supplies, and other necessities. Rory weaves her way through the chaos towards the med bay. It smells clean and sterile, even more so than the rest of the ship. A woman with chin-length grey hair leans over the desk to the left of the door. She looks up when the door slides open, giving Rory one of those bland doctor smiles.

“Hello,” she says, reaching out a hand to shake. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dr. Chakwas. You are…?”

“I’m Rory Stern.” Rory shifts from foot to foot after shaking the proffered hand, trying not to belie that her hip is bothering her. “I’m a civilian, one of the engineers who’s worked on the Normandy the whole way through.”

Nodding, the doctor turns back to her desk, swiping a finger over her datapad. “Ah yes, I remember that name. I believe I was looking at your medical record earlier…” she trails off, focusing on what’s on the datapad. She gives it a decisive tap. “Yes, I remember now. It says here you’ve been suffering from chronic pain in your shoulders for about seven years now, and your hips and knees for some of that time?”

Sighing inwardly, Rory nods. Yet another doctor who’s just going to treat the description in her file of years-long pain as just a random note. Another doctor who’s going to be less likely to treat her properly. She tries not to get lost in memories of the string of physical therapists acting like she doesn’t want to get better, trying not to hope that Dr. Chakwas will be any different.

Dr. Chakwas is talking again, so Rory drags her attention back to the present. She studies the way the cabinets are built into the wall to avoid looking the doctor in the face. “We’ll definitely take a look at that. But first I have to do the standard physical exam, which I’m guessing is why you’re here?”

Rory nods again.

“Hop on up on this bed here, then.”

The doctor goes through the standard physical health checks - vitals like blood pressure, heart rate, weight, height. But after that, and after recording all that data into her datapad, she sits back on her stool with the pad and a stylus poised as if to take notes. “So your file has some descriptions of your pain, but I’d like to hear it from you and see how it compares to this.”

“Okay.” Scrolling back through her memories, Rory tries not to roll her eyes. Thirty-one years in this body, seven with the pain, and barely anyone listening. The one doctor on a ship of soldiers isn’t going to care about the chronic pain of a random civilian any more than anyone else is.

“My first year of grad school, towards the end, I started having issues with my left shoulder.” The words spark a sliver of pain in the shoulder, almost like a sense memory. She rolls first that shoulder, then the other to prevent them feeling uneven. Her neck complains, but she tries to stretch it more surreptitiously. “I figured it was just weak from sitting poorly at a computer console all the time. I tried to sit better or prop it up. Didn’t help. I finally got some physical therapy and exercises that seemed to help, but the way the school health system worked I couldn’t keep going. The pain was fine for a while, but it comes and goes, moreso if I do stuff like carry bags with that arm. I went to a chiropractor for a bit, and they did some sort of nerve test? I never really understood the results from that. But I kept getting bounced around between physical therapists and stuff. I don’t remember when it got as bad as it is now, but I can’t wear a messenger bag, or stand for long, or lie on that side for long.”

Dr. Chakwas is nodding along, sometimes scribbling new notes on her datapad and sometimes crossing something out. Rory squints, trying to make out whether she’s crossing out her own notes or old notes from previous doctors.

“My hip is more recent. And my back, I guess, I can’t quite tell. That’s been maybe two years, and often affects my right knee I think? Sometimes my hip feels like it catches when I walk. I did physical therapy for a little while for that, but it didn’t seem to be helping. And sometimes my elbows and hands hurt, and maybe my wrists? I haven’t really had much physical therapy or anything for any of those, though. It hasn’t felt worthwhile, because I’ve been trying therapy for the other pain and not really gotten anywhere.” It all comes out in a rush, and when she finishes she realizes she’s massaging her right wrist. Her instinct is to stop, to move her hands apart and put them in her lap, but she lets herself continue. Maybe the self-comforting motion will endear her to Dr. Chakwas.

A minute passes without words, the only sound the doctor’s stylus on the datapad. Eventually she looks up, tapping the stylus against her chin thoughtfully. “You mentioned a nerve test. Have you had other tests done?”

“Hmm, let me think.” She squints in thought. “I’ve had a lot of blood tests done for various things, but I’m not sure anything was for this. Or maybe there was, and there was one positive value but it wasn’t indicative of anything? And I think there was an MRI once. But everything seems to have come back normal.” There definitely was an MRI, but you couldn’t pay her to remember what it had been for. And it’s not like any of the tests had helped.

More tapping, then Dr. Chakwas puts her datapad back on her desk. “Okay. I have a thought, and I’d like you to do a few quick movements for me.” She reaches out one hand, bends her wrist down, and presses her thumb back towards her forearm. It’s about two or three inches away. “Can you do that? As far as you can.”

Rory does, sticking her right arm out in front of her and pushing the thumb back until it touches her forearm.

“And the other hand?”

She does, touching the two together again, wondering what this has to do with anything.

There’s what looks like the beginning of a smile on Dr. Chakwas’s face now. She picks the datapad back up. “Extend your left elbow for me, all the way, then the other, out to the sides. As far as you can again.”

One after the other, she stretches her arms out to her sides.

“One last thing. Can you put your palms flat on the floor when you bend over, with your legs straight?”

Bending over, Rory flattens her palms on the ground. “Wait,” she says, tilting her head to look up at the doctor. “Are my knees straight already? I can’t do it if I push them back any further, to lock them.”

“No, you’re fine.” She takes another note on the datapad. “You can stand up now, and sit back on the bed if you like.”

Climbing back onto the bed, Rory has a brief moment of embarrassment realizing she’s using her hands to support at times when it seems her core muscles should be able to handle it. But once she gets settled, she looks back up at Dr. Chakwas - trying to keep herself from getting too hopeful that these weird new tests will say something, trying not to get too cynical.

“Do you know what double-jointed means?”

There’s a twinge in her right hip, so Rory shifts to sitting cross-legged on the bed before answering. “It means there’s more of a range of motion in a joint than normal, right?”

“Yes, that’s it.” That’s definitely a smile on her face now. “You’re hypermobile. Double-jointed. Your ligaments and tendons are looser than normal, so you’re prone to overuse injuries, especially when your muscles are weak. With pain, it’s hypermobility spectrum disorder.”

“What?” Rory’s mouth drops open in shock. She’s certainly sitting up straighter now, leaning forward to listen.

Laughing lightly, Dr. Chakwas nods again. “Your joints like to move a lot. You might’ve gotten frequent sprains as a child, or felt more flexible than others. But now you’ve got so much pain going on, and we need to start working on building your strength up. There’s a physical therapist here on the Normandy -”

Rory wilts. It’s not even worth trying to hide it. Dr. Chakwas notices immediately.

“I know you haven’t had great luck with physical therapy before, but please try this. His name is Sergeant Patrick Travers. He’s used to working with stubborn marines who think they’re invincible - and our very stubborn pilot - so you’ll be a nice change of pace for him. You can usually find him in the gym on the crew deck. Should I send him a message that you’ll be along to see him?”

The doctor sure is pushy, but it’s not for nothing. Rory muses over that word hypermobile before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll try it.” Maybe she even will. She’s got a lot of research to do first.

“Great.” Dr. Chakwas slides her stool back towards her desk. “That’s all I need from you now, I think. Do you have any questions for me?”

“I think I’m good for now.” Rory hops down off the bed. “But I’ll swing back by if there’s anything else I think of that I need some help with.”

“That works. Please do see the physical therapist, Ms. Stern, I think you will find it valuable.”

Rory doesn’t answer that, but when she gets to the door and it hisses open, she turns back. “Thank you, Dr. Chakwas. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Stern.”

[bonnieisaway]

i actually started writing it

i said i’d write it and i’m here to dissapoint

title doubles as a link to it on wattpad if you’d like to read it over there so

chap 1. - this was never the way i planned

Saiki noticed it the other day when he was observing Satou's perfectly average normalness as always. He was standing with a girl Saiki usually didn't see him talk to. It's a girl with (h/l), (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes. She's a stereotypical looking girl..which is.. no surprise considering Satou is the crowd he hangs out with. But even then, she seems to be considered pretty by most of the class, judging by the thoughts that flooded in Saiki's head.

Toritsuka walks around from the other door of the classroom and behind Saiki. "Spying on Mr. Normal again?" He asks, seemingly annoyed with Saiki's actions as if he isn't a parasite himself.

"Be quiet. You'll never understand why he's so perfect." Saiki hushes him telepathically, continuing to observe. The girl is sitting on her desk- right next to Satou's- swinging her legs cheerfully and chatting with him as he sits at his desk. "Who's the girl he's talking to?"  Saiki asks curiously.

"Huh?" Tortisuka hums, looking around Saiki trying to see who it was in question. "Oh, that's (L/n)! The prettiest girl in Class 2. I don't know how you haven't heard of her before. She's pretty popular in the class because she does commissions for art and stuff. That, and she was apparently born in America." Saiki could tell by the name.

Saiki nods, observing quietly still. "Which gives me an idea! Follow me." Tortisuka perks up. Saiki sighs to himself, muttering a "good grief." Whatever dumb plan Tortisuka had in his head, Saiki didn't want to be apart of.

"No." Saiki refuses blankly as Tortisuka starts tugging on my his weakly.

"Come on! It'll get you in Satou's crowd." He argues, continuing to tug.

Saiki's quiet for a second. "..Fine. Just let go of my arm." Saiki sighs. "And don't try anything on the girl."

"What's it to you?" Tortisuka lets go of Saiki but nudges him as hard as he can. Which, really, felt like a weak poke.

"Don't disturb the peace of normal." Saiki glares at him as he's only left to follow him as he approaches Satou and (L/n).

"...I know! And the dude kept going on and on about being a big 'influencer' that could get me exposure and I'm just like, dude, pay me or I'm not drawing your icon!" (L/n) rants on to Satou as Tortisuka and Saiki slowly come closer in earshot.

"Thats..wow. Yikes." Satou comments.

"I deal with it all too much. I just don't get why people refuse to pay artists. I mean, it's how money has worked for hundreds of years, and 'exposure' isn't necessarily a currency, g-" (L/n) rants on and on before she's interrupted. By Tortisuka.

"(L/n)! Funny seeing you here." Tortisuka tries to squint his eyes for more 'appeal' as he leans on Satou's desk. From closer up, as much as Saiki hated to agree with Tortisuka, (L/n) was undoubtedly pretty. Flecks of gold surround her pupils and an everlasting blush crosses over the bridge of her nose from cheek to cheek. As Saiki stares, he begins to notice- his x-ray vision doesn't work on her. Which was strange and confusing, because it worked on everyone else. In fact, he could see the bones of Tortisuka out of the corner of his eye.

Saiki's mind begins to wonder- was she a physic? Did she have some sort of other power? Was she a fanfiction protagonist? Only one of these were correct, but Saiki didn't know that.

"Ah.. Toritsuka." (L/n) seems to be aware of how much of a parasite he is. "Eyes are up here. What's up?" ..And even then, she's still kind to him. Saiki elbows Toritsuka in the side to pull his eyes out of her chest.

He grunts in pain and stands up straight. "Well, my good friend Saiki here-" He nudges Saiki. He nods his head in acknowledgement. The quicker he stops making a fool of himself, the better. "-heard about your commissions and wanted to get a commission."

(L/n) straightens her back and pulls her phone out of the pocket of her skirt. "Give me a second, Satou." She smiles at him before turning back to Saiki and Tortisuka. She starts tapping the screen. "Alright. What do you want a commission of?" She hands her phone to Saiki, expecting him to take it. "There's some examples of my art."

Saiki slowly swipes through the gallery on (L/n)'s phone. There was a good mix of different drawings here, he assumed fitting to her own style. He didn't know much about art but he thought it was good.

"He wanted a drawing of..uh..himself!" Toritsuka makes up as he hands the phone back to (L/n). That sounds egotistical in Saiki's opinion, but oh well.

"Oh, that's fine!" (L/n) laughs. "Do you know how many people have tried to ask me to draw Kokomi in all these weird ways this week alone? I just can't catch a break." She sighs through her laughter as she taps a few apps. "Let me get a picture of you real fast."

She holds up her phone to take a picture, and Tortisuka throws his arm around Saiki's shoulder. It takes all his willpower to not punch him in the gut, frankly. "Out of the picture, Toritsuka." (L/n) sighs, as soon as he slips away she takes the picture, and then puts the phone back in her pocket.

She hums again for a second. "So, how much?" Tortisuka asks her.

"Can't you let him talk for himself?" She grins cheekily. "I'm thinking." She hums again for another second, nodding slowly and looking Saiki up and down briefly. 'He seems nice and the first guy this week that didn't ask for a naked picture of Kokomi. Plus, it should be an easy drawing.'

"Here's the deal- since I need the practice drawing guys, and it would've been pretty cheap anyway, I'll give it to you free. That cool?" She smiles. Saiki nods, ready to get this over with.

"Hey, what the hell, you charged me like 2000 yen for a drawing!" Toritsuka argues.

"Registered sex offenders do not get cheap artwork." (L/n) laughs. She's only teasing him but Saiki cant help but grin a bit. "Plus, you've asked me to draw poses of women I didn't even know were possible."

Toritsuka grumbles about something that Saiki did not want to hear. (L/n) turns back to me. "But anyway. I'll get it to you either tomorrow or the day after." She smiles kindly. "Class is starting soon, though. You should head back to your classroom. I'll see ya around." She waves Saiki and Tortisuka off politely and turns back to Satou.

..Well.

𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕡

Late at night after school. Saiki lies in his bed staring at the ceiling blankly. As night falls the number of voices buzzing in his head usually falls quieter but even then he can't bring himself to sleep and after a while, memorizing the pattern of the popcorn ceiling gets boring. Saiki crosses his eyes, figuring he'll just randomly pick someone he knows if they're awake. See what they're doing.

Random selection leaves Saiki to be observing (L/n). She's laying across a couch, some sort of tablet in her lap as she uses a stylus to draw. In the corner of the screen was a video call with a male friend of hers.

"Oh my god, shut up!" She laughs in English, pen stylus gliding across the screen as she draws Saiki. He figures that's no surprise, considering the events from earlier that day.

Her friend- a guy- sticks his tongue out at her. "What are you drawing?" He asks.

"This guy at my school." (L/n) shrugs. "Remember that Toritsuka guy? He introduced his friend who apparently wanted a commission of himself. But he's pretty chill and I need practice drawing guys so I said I'd do it for free."

"You need to stop giving away free art." Her friend shakes his head. The drawing Saiki can see over (L/n)'s shoulder is actually pretty good. He wouldn't admit it, but he liked it a lot.

"You try getting commissioned the same drawing of the same girl everyday and then not be ecstatic when someone doesn't ask for it, (F/n)." (L/n) rolls her eyes to (F/n).

"Well, that aside, how's your school been?" (F/n) asks. In the corner of the tablet screen her (L/n) had positioned his video, Saiki can see (F/n) wandering around and doing random things.

"Ah, you reminded me." (F/n) perks up. "They're switching me to class 3."

"What, why?"

Saiki felt the same way. Why was she switching to class 3? Why was the author pulling crappy plot convenient twists so early in the story?

"Yeah. The principal talked to me about- something about my test scores being better fit there, I don't really know.  I only know, like, three people in that class." (L/n) shrugs, continuing to draw. She was kidding, right? There's no way. It cannot get this convenient for her.

Out of the corner of Saiki's eye, he sees the time in the corner of (L/n)'s tablet.  12:39AM... He sighs to himself. He's stayed up awfully late for having school in the morning. He uncrosses his eyes and rubs them. Doing that for so long hurt..

He figures he should get to sleep. He glances towards the toy, green-lensed glasses on his desk. He couldn't see through (L/n) with xray vision but could hear her thoughts clear as day and clairvoyance worked just fine. He couldn't help but wonder- how would his other powers work on her..?

𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕡

Saiki doesn't need to read minds to know that (L/n) was switching to class 3 today. Unfortunately for him, could hear everyone's thoughts as always.

Saiki was conflicted as to how to feel about (L/n). On one hand, she was a perectly average girl with her own few talents and special things about her. A perfect kind if person, by Saiki's definition. But there's a problem or two....

'(Y/n)'s coming to my class now, this is great! I knew God loved me! Maybe, with our beauty combined, I can finally make Saiki say 'oh!''

..Teruhashi and her seem to be good friends. Which is unfortunate because Teruhashi attracts attention. And ontop of that, his classmates consider (L/n) overly beautiful. He wouldn't admit it to himself or anyone else but a part of him agreed. He'd say it a million times but he didn't want to stand out.

"Hey, buddy!" Nendo waves a hand in front of Saiki's face. "Did you hear about the new girl?" He asks.

"There's a new girl?" Kaido asks. "Do you know anything about her?"

"Her name's like, (L/n), or something." Nendo shrugs. "I heard she was cool."

"Oh, (Y/n)! I know her!" Kaido brightens. "She didn't tell me she was transferring to our class."

"How come you know her?" Nendo asks.

Kaido's face turns red. 'I'm not telling them that I call her the escaped princess fro  Dark Reunion for her own sake.' Kaido thinks to himself, unknowning he just spilled that secret to Saiki. Saiki was curious as why he called her that though. (L/n) wasn't the 8th-grade-syndrome type. "I met her freshman year when she moved here. We used to eat lunch together." Kaido shrugs, trying to play it off.

Before Nendo can call his bluff or any other nuisance Saiki knows can wander over, the teacher steps in the classroom and quiets us. "Class, today a girl from class 2 is switching to our class." The teacher begins. The class' minds begin to bubble up with excitement as they await (L/n) to step into the class.

"Please welcome her to our class." The teacher sighs, before turning towards the door and beckoning (L/n). (L/n) steps in the classroom and smiles. She seemed to be more glowy and happy than most days.

And as Saiki expected, almost the entire class gasps at her beauty. "I'm (L/n) (Y/n)." She smiles. "I moved here from America two years ago. I hope you guys will welcome me." 'Yikes, that sounds cheesy. Shouldn't have said that. Why are there so many guys with their mouths open? Oh shit, wait, that's Saiki. I didn't know he was in class 3.' (L/n)'s thoughts ramble on.

"You may take a seat next to Saiki." The teacher gestures to Saiki and the conviently open seat to his right. (L/n) smiles and nods, walking over and taking a seat next to Saiki.

On one hand, (L/n) seemed perfectly average in every other regard and seems to be less annoying than everyone else who chooses to 'bother' Saiki everyday. But because the girl excels in beauty and creativity, she draws a bit more attention then Saiki would like. He'd have to figure out how to play his cards right. He's said it a million times but, again, he didn't like attention. But seemingly normal attracts normal and that's what he needs to be a bit more normal. It's just like the female version of Satou. Atleast, that's what Saiki would keep telling himself.

Truth is- Saiki was oddly drawn to the girl. To you. He couldn't exactly figure out why so the best reason he came up with. Normal attracts normal. And Saiki is just a normal highschooler who happens to be an esper.

"Hey, Saiki!" (L/n) smiles and turns to the boy in thought. The teacher left the class to study and chat. Saiki figured she just wasn't having it today. "I didn't know you were in this class."

"Surprise." He responds flatly. (L/n) laughs. 'Hey, he's smiling. He looks nice when he's smiling.' Saiki chose to ignore that. He wasn't smiling. Don't know what she's taking about. She needs her eyes checked because Saiki wasn't smiling because of her adorable and heartwarming laugh.

"Hey, so, we should hang out sometime." She brings up casually. Saiki looks up curiously. "You seem pretty cool. Plus I know Tortisuka just had me draw you as an excuse to talk to me, but it's all good." (L/n) shrugs, leaning back in her chair. "Can't change that boy..."

Saiki sighs. "...Fine. Sure." He's got no choice but to reluctantly agree. Is what he keeps telling himself because (L/n) is a nice girl whos really hars to say no to for some reason.

Saiki's friends circle his desk as every other day but now it extends to (L/n)'s desk as well. He'd feel bad for them bothering her, but it seems that she already knew some of them and didn't mind them.

"(L/n)! You didn't tell me you were transferring to our class!" Hairo smiles, approaching her desk.

"Haha, sorry!" (L/n) scratches the back of her head. "I fell asleep kind of early and I didn't get a chance to tell many people.." 'Early? It was 12 in the morning.' Saiki thinks to himself. Despite all that, he was a bit curious as to how she knew all of them.

"You didn't tell me either." Teruhashi comments.

"Yeah, I know, I know, I'm sorry! I was told after school and I got busy the whole rest of the day." (L/n) apologizes.

"It's alright, (Y/n)!" Kaido smiles, his face bright red. "At least you're here now!"

'Hey. Kusuo. Kuusuuuoooo! Answer me, damnit.' Aiura bugs Saiki with her thoughts.  Saiki about rolls his eyes into the back of his head. Aiura made this a daily habit ever since she knew Saiki had powers a long time ago. 'Turn off your aura. I wanna see the new girl's aura.' Saiki sighs, but atleast she's said something with an ounce of thought to it for once. Saiki turns down his overly godlike aura and the auras flood back into Aiura's vision as she focouses on (L/n)

'Oh, shit.' Aiura thinks to herself, looking (L/n) up and down. Saiki's intrest peaks as he excuses himself from his friends, walking to Aiura's seat near the back of the class. He slips off one of his gloves so he could use phsycometery to see what Aiura saw.

"What's it look like?" He asks, going to set his hand on her shoulder.

She jumps away from Saiki suddenly, nearly falling out of her chair. "KYAA! It's, it's nothing! Just a normal aura! It's all chill! All good in the hood!" She screams defensively. 'That's not very normal.. very artsy and colorful aura...even then it kind of reminds me of Teryukoko's aura, but...' Her thoughts aside, the more she screams the less she sounds like a gyaru and more like someone who saw one rap song and tried speaking like the rapper.

"You know I can hear your thoughts, right?" Saiki asks her.

She jumps back again. "AAAH!! Stop that!"

"Yare yare...That's not how my powers work." Saiki sighs. He wasn't sure why she was so freaked out about (L/n)'s aura but he figured she'd tell him soon enough. Even then, Kuboyasu and Kaido's aura shocked her, so it can't be anything that bad, right?

Saiki turns and walks back to his desk, his friends welcoming him back as he sits down. He turns to look at (L/n) as she meets Nendo, Yumehara, and Kuboyasu. He did have to wonder.. what could it have been that freaked out Aiura so bad? The only thing that freaks her out is when its super bad or it's connected to Saiki.

He supposed it couldn't be too bad. She's still just a perfect, average girl anyways.

"Hey, lets go to the arcade after school!" Kaido invites (L/n) excitedly, face bright red.

"Sure, why not!" (L/n) agrees, smiling brightly. "I haven't been to one in a while."

"I'll come too!" Nendo invites himself.

"I've got time to kill, so..." Kuboyasu trails off as he joins the party... Saiki sighs to himself. He supposed he was "obligated" to come aswell.

'That was kind of surprising to see for a girl like her...Well, I suppose everyone gets it eventually...' Aiura's thoughts bumble on in Saiki's mind as his friends continue to converse. 'But still, even then..' She sighs, letting her head rest in her palm.

'Having a red string...'

·

wc: 3014

i told ya’ll it’d dissapoint

i hate the opening So Much but i have stopped caring at this point so

[monochromemedic]

Funhouse Murder Party Part 1

Dom stood outside the mansion, staring at his watch before sighing shakily, shifting his weight from heel to heel. His nerves were on end, but maybe that was because this was something new. He’d never been to a .... a what the hell was this even. He pulled his phone out and checked the website page again. ‘Murder Mystery Dinner Experience.’ Fallon was really up in arms about it, saying how excited he was about doing one of these, but wanted friends to come with him. Said it was a real life Clue experience where you ran around trying to solve the fake murder that happened and ate some food.  It wasn’t his usual cup of tea, he’d never thought about doing one of these but well, Fallon said he’d cover the expenses which meant Silas’ which meant he’d be coming as well.  The entire gang of idiots in a weird... role play murder mystery. What could possibly go wrong. Horrible accents, terrible costumes, bad affects, someone getting drunk and throwing up int he corner, really the possibilities were endless. As Dom was lost in his own thoughts, starting to check his twitter timeline he felt a hand clamp down on the shoulder of his ironed plum colored suit. Dom raised his head slightly, looking up at Silas’s bright face hovering over him. At least he was dressed decently. It wasn’t a suit but a nice black turtleneck and slacks. Simple but effective.  Even if it did look like he’d bust out of the fabric at a sudden gesture. “You excited buddy? I always wanted to be in a real life board game.” He laughed, his deep voice ringing out in the cold air. “...Like in general? Or just Clue because if you tell me you wanted to some how be in a real life version of Connect Four I will lose it.”  This only made Silas laugh more, crossing his arms as he too faced the mansion. “No of course not. I can’t be a a little disc. I meant stuff like this, Clue... or Cluedo. Whatever. Not many games back then were... so dark.  And who hasn’t wanted to be an old time-y detective solving the mystery of who stabbed who? It’s fun.” Dom gave a short noise of acknowledgement as he put his phone away, waving his hand a bit to let him know to quiet down. “Where’s the man of the hour?” “The... host? I mean... You are standing outside alone I-” “No Fallon.”  He corrected. “Did he not come with you? Does he even have a car?” Silas thought for a moment before shaking his head and beginning to walk casually towards the large door, a hand written sign for the event plastered on the front. “I can’t tell you. Never saw him in a car or with... keys.  But I do know he always manages to get to wherever he needs to go so I don’t think we need to worry much. Let’s get inside you’re gonna freeze.” Dom gave a final look around before following behind, saying something about how Silas wasn’t his father and that he was older then the man. When the doors opened the cream colored walls and warmly lit inside welcomed the two men further inside, where they were met with old music, the sound of soft yet excited conversations, and the sights of people dressed just as dramatically as the two of them. Dom thanked god for that that he wasn’t the only one that seemed fit for a classy party.  “Dominooooo, Stylus how’s it going? You look uh... well Dom you just look the same as always. Sy your KILLING IT. No pun intended. Waiting to break those out later tonight.” A familiar, cracking voice rang out among the small crowd. He wasn’t hard to miss the way he was dressed. A pair of rose tinted sunglasses, hair done up in a still messy but more... functional style, and a pink floral suit that would be more fitting on a man that was at the Oscars and not a man with no job. Silas smiled wide, unintentionally crouching a bit as he took in his friends outfit. “Dude you look KILLER. Where did you find this? You look like a movie star.” He gawked, hands grabbing at the sides of Fallon’s jacket to show the satin inside. “Oh you’d be surprised what you can find lying around town. I actually had this for a while but never had a chance to use it. Might as well show up with style instead of a hoodie but it’s a bit tight around the crotch.”  His hand went down to adjust his package, earning a grunt of displeasure from Dominic.  “Fallon, how long have you exactly been here.” “Oh like two hours, way before people showed up. I walked and thought ‘oh i’ll get there a little bit early but haha, made it a record pace here. So I spent alot of time in the bathroom wiping the pit stains out.” “You are.. disgusting.” “Yeah love you too; you Triscuit flavored personality of a man. Why don’t you loosen your belt so the stick in your ass can have some breathing room and get a drink, come on they’re on the house.” Fallon teased as he nudged his head towards the counter where a bartender gave a drink to a woman in a beautiful but simple red gown. Silas patted Fallon’s shoulder and headed over there without another word, raising a finger and ordering a coke and rum while the two men stood, glaring each other down. “Yeah and before you say a word, I had a few drinks, I wanna actually remember this night. Spent the money might as well-” “Sy’s money.” “HE.... wanted to do this so yes. Sy’s money, and I intend to use SY’S money wisely and not forget this night. And don’t worry i’ve already been casing the place.  Met the guy in charge of the place our host for the night, he’s defiantly gonna die I mean, guy walks around in a suit looking like Jake Gyllenhaal, perfect bait. No one that handsome lasts for long unless they’re a psycho or gonna be a corpse by the second act. Been chatting up the others, seeing that no one else but me, the bartender and Brokeback, there’s gotta be a secret actor or two in this group of guests. My money? Black dress temptress over there.”  Fallon pointed to a woman chatting up another person, her hair put up in a short but beautiful bun, the black dress complementing her dark completion and black lipstick. “Look she even has heavy black mascara. She starts CRYING when the guy dies, ‘oh i can’t do this, it’s so tragic’, we stare feeling SORRY. Later we learn it’s a black widow kinda situation. It’ll be great.” Dom only caught half of what he was saying in all honesty, taking in the sight of the mansion, the nice furniture, what other people looked like. Fallon was probably right but he only barely understood the other half that he caught so he just gave a little nod, going to grab a drink at the bar. Just as Dom grabbed a glass of whiskey, a man stepped out  in the middle of everyone, tapping the side of his champagne class with a pen that he put back in his pocket as the music began to lower. He really did look like a Jake Gyllenhaal type. “Well from my counting, all of the guest have arrived for the evening. Welcome, to my dinner party my fellow associates. In case you’ve forgotten and by the look of some of your dazed faces, drunken stupor, I am your host for the evening, Damien White. Millionaire, world class lover...” He turned to look at the woman in the red dress at the bar and gave her a wink, to which the woman began to grow pink and look back down at her drink. “And recent constructor of the orphanage down town. And because of that great feat of my kindness upon the community, I have decided to hold a banquet with some of the good townfolk to show... I too am humble beneath the glamour and glitz, I too am one of you. Dinner has been prepared, and if you will all indulge me in coming to the dinning room we can begin this nights events.”  Damien turned around and began to walk farther back into the mansions depths, followed by the guests and the bartender who began to softly speak to each other.  Fallon looked to Silas and Dom, grabbing their attention before  dragging a thumb across his throat and giving a little gagging sound. Silas nodded, looking at Damien and how he would occasionally wave a hand towards a piece of art, generally giving off a ‘i’m better then you’ attitude, despite his kind words. Yeah no he was going to die.

[silverfootstepswrites]

Lullaby [70%]

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Read Equinox here and come back!

“Your tummy is soft,” Sakura commented. Her head rose and fell as Itachi let out a sigh. 

“Don’t rub it in. It’s all that late-night pizza and ice cream,” he groaned, crossing his arms behind his head. 

“Oh. I wasn’t making fun of you. I love it,” Sakura assured him. She patted his knee as they laughed.

She had balked at the idea of buying a mattress that came in a box, but she couldn’t deny that it was comfortable. And the pricey sheets that covered it didn’t hurt. The lavender-scented candles sitting on the nightstand had never actually been lit, but they smelled nice all the same.

“Your place is super-nice,” Sakura remarked, not for the first time. 

“Mm, it is,” he agreed. And then he stretched his arms high above his head.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” she asked.

“Well, you just told your shoes to go to hell when you walked in,” he began. But before she could protest, he added, “Which is where they should go. So I was thinking of a relaxing night in. I’ll make dinner. Maybe put on some Edith Piaf?” 

“How could I say no to Madame Piaf?” Sakura agreed.

As Itachi washed his hands and tied on his apron, Sakura wandered over to the record player. She took her time picking through the shelves while Itachi’s knife tapped away on the cutting board. Not that it was difficult, because Itachi was always so organized. All the artists were grouped together by genre and by last name. 

She placed the tip of the stylus on the record and the swell of violins and brass filled her ears. Hugging her arms around herself, Sakura hummed along to the lyrics. When she turned around, she saw that Itachi had set his knife down. He leaned his elbows on the counter, watching her instead. 

“Dance with me!”

“And what about dinner?” he replied, still letting her take his hand to pull him away from the counter. Laughing as he wrapped his arms around her, swaying back and forth in time to the sweeping melody.

“You feeling alright, Bunny?” 

“Other than feeling like a beached whale, I’m great,” Sakura replied, biting her straw between her teeth. 

“That’s why I keep telling you to work from home. You need to rest,” sighed Madara, patting the top of her head. His tail curled around her water bottle and pushed it closer to her hand. 

“She doesn’t listen to anyone. You know that.”

Madara started. He peered over Sakura’s shoulder in time to see the lump of blankets on the sofa stir. Silver hair peeked out past the dark blanket. Along with a haggard pair of eyes.

“What happened to you?” Madara wondered. 

Tobirama’s head flopped back down. He sighed.

“I’ve been having Braxton Hicks contractions. He’s been up all night losing sleep,” Sakura explained. She braced her hand on the desk and pulled herself out of her seat. 

“I knew John Braxton Hicks. He was a terrible poker player. His tells were so obvious,” Madara recalled, tapping his chin with his pointer finger. And then he turned back to Sakura, who raised her eyebrows at him.

“I know it’s in poor taste to ask, but the suspense is killing me. Whose is it?” he asked.

And while Madara was right that it was a rude question, she appreciated the directness of it. Unlike everyone else who gave awkward looks behind her back as they wondered. 

“We’ll know in the delivery room. Siren babies are weird, honestly,” Sakura sighed, rubbing her stomach as she thought. 

“Sometimes it’s a baby on the ultrasound. And then sometimes it’s just.... sound waves,” Tobirama agreed, lifting his head again. 

“Oh, I understand. Demon babies are born from literal hellfire. Takes decades for them to cool off and take a solid form,” Madara commented. And Sakura raised her eyebrows again, nodding. She always learned something new when talking to Madara.

They all looked up when Sakura’s phone chimed. At the same time, Tobirama’s buzzed. 

“What’s it say?” Tobirama asked as Sakura unlocked her phone. She tapped on the notification. 

“It’s Itachi. ‘Baby shoes’,” Sakura read out loud. And then she held up her phone so Madara could see. Itachi had sent along a photo of tiny designer sneakers. She gasped when she saw the price tag underneath.

“Tell him it’s pointless since the baby won’t walk for a while,” grumbled Tobirama. Before Sakura could type anything, their phones buzzed again. 

“Kiba sent the emoji of the monkey covering its eyes. Oh, wait. Kakashi just responded too. ‘If you stopped buying junk and invested it, the baby would be all set for college by now’.” 

Sighing, Tobirama finally pulled the blanket down to peer over at her. “Do you think it’s a vampire thing?” he asked her.

“No. I’m pretty sure it’s a him thing,” she replied. 

And then, in a very quiet voice, Madara commented: “I think they’re cute.”

A thunderstorm descended over Old Pines as summer approached. 

Sakura’s eyes opened as she listened to the rumble roll across the horizon. The wind swelled, billowing the curtains inward. It took a moment. But then, slowly, she heard the droplets begin to patter softly, then all at once against the roof. The cool air whispered against her neck and back. 

Her eyes opened as lightning illuminated the skies. Followed by another growl of thunder. 

“You were right,” Sakura said. 

“Told you. I can smell the rain,” Kiba bragged, tapping his nose. He rolled onto his back to stare up at her, his arm draped across her lap. “S’not gonna last long, though. It’s a little storm.”

“You must be tired. You did a lot today,” commented Sakura, pushing his hair off his forehead. 

Kiba began listing his accomplishments, counting off on his fingers as he went. “Finished installing the sink in the new bathroom, installed a bunch of lights. Uh, what else? Oh yeah. And I assembled the shelves and crib for the nursery.”

“You’re my hero,” Sakura declared, leaning over to press a kiss to his mouth. He grinned as lightning flashed bright, filling the window with blinding white light for a moment. Several seconds later, thunder rolled through again like a drumroll. 

“I feel like there’s still a million things to do. And somehow the list keeps getting longer,” he lamented. Sakura laughed. 

“Me too. But I feel like we’ll never actually be ready,” she pointed out. 

“Yeah. That’s what my mom says too,” he agreed. 

Sakura gasped when she felt a jolt in her abdomen. She grabbed Kiba’s hand to place it on her stomach. He became very quiet as he waited. And then he could feel the flutters.

Slowly, he rubbed his palm back and forth across her stomach, following the movements. 

“I’m really scared, Sakura.”

Her chin jerked up. Eyes widening. 

But Kiba’s gaze stayed on the swell of her stomach. He seemed to be deep in thought before he decided to speak again. “Like, what if I’m a bad dad? What if I screw this kid up because I say something dumb?”

“Hey,” she said. He lifted his head to look at her. She smiled. Hand cupping his cheek, she pulled him in for a kiss. 

“Everything’s gonna be alright. We’ve got our family, don’t we?” she assured him. Sighing, Kiba laid his head down on her stomach. 

“And, worst case scenario, we’ll ask your sister to do damage control,” Sakura then added. 

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Kiba conceded, finally laughing again. 

When Kakashi walked in a few hours later, he was just in time to witness Kiba preparing to flip a pancake. Sakura sat at the kitchen counter, her hair knotted on top of her head. She glanced back when she felt Kakashi’s arm wrap around her waist. Her kissed her shoulder, then her mouth. 

“It’s almost 9. Why is Kiba making pancakes?” Kakashi wondered. 

“Why? Do you not want a pancake?” Sakura challenged. 

“I never said that. Do we have syrup?”

“Itachi brought over some from his business trip to Canada,” Kiba responded. And then he cheered as he flipped the pancake and caught it in the middle of the skillet. Sakura and Kakashi applauded together.

Kakashi kissed the top of Sakura’s head before he went off to grab plates and cutlery. 

“Smelled an outsider in the woods a couple hours ago,” Kakashi said, setting the plate down beside the stove. Kiba’s head perked up. Balancing the pancake on his spatula, he looked over his shoulder at Kakashi. 

“Along the river?” he asked.

“No. Further west. Past where I can reach,” answered Kakashi. 

“I’ll go out and take a look tonight. The Mayor asked me for a favor so I’d be in the woods anyway,” Kiba told him. He dropped the pancake onto the plate. Jiggled the pan to keep the other cakes from sticking and burning.

“Guys, be careful,” Sakura couldn’t help but fret. 

“No one knows these woods better than we do. It’ll be fine,” Kiba assured her, flashing a grin. But his smile faded as she continued to stare at him. He leaned his hip against the counter. He rubbed the back fo his neck. Beside him, Kakashi blew out a long sigh. Kiba glanced at him as he heard Kakashi scratch a hand through his hair.

“Kiba,” Kakashi said.

“Huh?”

“Can you make a lot of noise and spook them east? I can help you flank him once he gets close enough to town,” Kakashi asked. Kiba thought for a long time, scowling. 

“I guess so,” he finally considered.

“It’ll be safer if we have each other’s backs. And that way Sakura won’t feel as stressed,” Kakashi added, looking Sakura’s way. She smiled, rubbing her stomach a little. 

After they finished the pancakes, Kakashi insisted on staying to do the dishes. Sakura walked with them to the door. Waddling, actually. 

“Bye, baby,” Kiba said, kneeling in front of Sakura to kiss her stomach. Sakura swatted him away, pulling her shirt back down. Getting to his feet, Kiba took her hands and grinned. 

“Bye, baby,” he then said, kissing her on the lips. Sakura laughed as she nudged him off the porch. 

“We’ll be careful,” Kakashi assured her, kissing her too. 

Sakura couldn’t help but feel nervous. Even after Kakashi’s parting words. She boiled water. And while the tea steeped, she wandered out of the kitchen, into the little mudroom Kiba had added onto the house. Perching on one of the benches, she stared out the window. Past the blackberry bush and the peach tree. Out into the darkness. Wondering. 

She woke up to Itachi, who had come home for the weekend. Suit rumpled and his stubble growing in. He rested his hand on her forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Why’re you sleeping out here, Bunny?” he asked.

“Mm- what?” Sakura mumbled. She dragged her wrist across her eyes. The inside of her mouth felt dry. Her lower back hurt. But it had been hurting for the past several days, so it wasn’t anything new.

“Why’re you out here, Bunny? It’s late,” Itachi asked again. 

“Oh. Hi,” Sakura greeted him. “Kakashi and Kiba went to investigate something in the forest. I’m just worrying for no reason. It’s stupid. I know.”

“That’s not stupid,” Itachi answered. His hand slid down her arm, fingers linking with hers. 

“Go to bed, Bunny. I’ll wake you up when they get home,” he then told her. She sat up, wincing at how her body ached in all the weirdest places. Itachi helped her to her feet. 

“Sorry, Itachi,” Sakura said, looking up at him. His eyes widened. “I didn’t even ask you how your day was. That was selfish of me.” Because that was usually the first thing out of his mouth each time he saw her. 

‘How are you?’, ‘I missed you’, and ‘I’m glad I’m home now’- in that order.

A smile filled his face. His eyes glittering just a little as he pulled her against his chest. “Great. But we can catch up when you’re not half-asleep and I’m not half-starving.” 

Sakura pulled away. He followed her as she walked into the kitchen. She opened up the refrigerator door to stare at the contents within. She felt him hovering over her shoulder as he looked too. 

“There’s some peach cobbler Hana dropped off yesterday,” Sakura pointed out. Itachi wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He shook his head.

“Apples?”

She tilted her head in time to see him wrinkle his nose. 

“Plum?”

His eyes lit up. He reached out to grab one of the dark purple fruit. 

“I can wash it for you,” Sakura began to say. Itachi made a face as he held it out of reach instead. 

“You can help me by going to sleep,” he told her instead. As Sakura scowled, her pressed light little kisses to her mouth until it was smiling again. 

“Go,” he urged again. 

“Alright,” Sakura finally conceded. Hand on his cheek, she pulled him down for another kiss before she slipped out of his arms. She listened to the rush of water as he rinsed the plum off in the sink. She fell asleep to the sounds of Itachi humming as he washed his face in the bathroom. 

Tobirama drove into Old Pines early in the morning. He had planned to be back the night before. But Sakura had scolded him about not driving after drinking- even if it was only a couple beers with Madara. So he had crashed on the sofa in Itachi’s empty apartment. Relatively unworried since he knew that Sakura wouldn’t be alone, at least.

The drive in from the city wasn’t so bad this early in the morning. As he crossed the border, he felt the subtle shimmer of the magic curtain part. He took the turns that led to the familiar home at the end of a small road. 

“I’m home,” Tobirama announced as he opened the front door. The smell of fresh coffee washed over him. Itachi raised a hand in greeting as he turned away from the kitchen sink. 

‘Is Sakura sleeping?’ Tobirama mouthed. He mimed pillowing both his hands under his cheek. 

Itachi shook his head. And then he pointed in the direction of the backyard. 

Tobirama backtracked out of the house. He looped around the outside, walking into the yard instead. Familiar voices drifted over, paired with laughter. He was glad that a heightened sense of smell wasn’t one of his gifts when he finally saw the source of the commotion.

"There he is,” Kakashi announced. 

Sakura sat on the wooden steps of the porch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. When she spotted him, she made an exasperated noise. Kakashi stood on the top step of the porch, in a wrinkled t-shirt and jeans instead of his usual uniform. He held a mug of coffee in one hand.

“Tobirama! Look at this mess,” she complained, pointing. 

Next to the blackberry bush lay a very large lump of.... something. A huge wolf lumbered out of the woods, fur looking stained and wet. It closed its teeth around the lump and rolled it over to reveal tusks and a flat snout. 

“Is that a pig?” Tobirama demanded. 

“A wild boar. They’re an invasive species,” Kakashi informed him. Tobirama came to a stop in front of Sakura. He sat down beside her. She spread her arms to let him get under the blanket too. Kakashi leaned over to pull the edge of the blanket over Tobirama’s shoulder before he stood up straight again.

“So the intruder in the woods was a boar?” Sakura questioned. 

“No. It was a were. Probably just separated from his pack. He looked pretty small,” Kakashi answered. And they all watched as the wolf bristled. He bared his teeth as he gave off a faint shimmer. The fur receded into his skin, his limbs twisting and shrinking until Kiba stood there, his hands on his hips. 

“We didn’t hurt him too bad. Just enough to scare him off,” Kiba added. Before Sakura could yell at him. She didn’t stop scowling.

“I still don’t get where the pig came from,” Sakura insisted. 

“Oh. We just ran into this. And wolf-brain was all ‘feed family’,” Kiba replied with an easy smile. 

Kakashi took a long slurp of his coffee before he said, “I tried to stop him.”

“I figured,” snorted Tobirama. 

“So.... what do we do with Wilbur?” Tobirama then wondered. Sakura swatted his arm. He smiled, not looking at her. 

They all turned at the sound of Itachi’s voice. His upper body stuck out of the back door. He held a cooking knife in one hand and a half-peeled apple in the other. 

“I called the Mayor. She told us to bring it down to the beach to roast it. Said the Akimichi’s are already down there digging a pit,” Itachi told them. 

“Oh, a pig roast. That’s not a bad idea. What kind of salad should I make?” Kakashi mused, rubbing his chin. 

“Ooh. The one with grapefruit and avocado,” Sakura suggested. 

“With sunflower seeds,” Tobirama agreed. 

“What should I do?” Kiba asked. 

All eyes returned to him. 

Kakashi let out a long, long sigh. “How about you put some pants on first, Wolfman?” 

[hollowcrovvn]

The Ostensive Fumblings of Being Human (part 2)

Pairing: Connor x female!reader Rating: G for Gross Cute Crap Summary: Set two months after the ending of Detroit: Become Human, androids are living in government created “pop-up” communities while efforts are being made to integrate them into society. You are a grad-student volunteer with the Detroit Crisis Response Unit (DCRU), working to help with relief efforts… or at least, doing the work no one else wants to do. Which brings us to part 2.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (ao3)

The moment kept playing in your mind, giving you little snapshot glimpses of his face when he saw your phone number written on the cup. His face, perplexed, but so curious as he took in your every word with such rapt attention. 

“Ugh… no.” you whined towards the ceiling, throwing your head back and sinking further into your sofa. Some TV series played ideally while you tapped a stylus on the screen of your tablet, opened to some notes regarding your most recent class. You risked short glances over to your phone. 

“Stop it.” you said to yourself, “It’s not a big deal and you don’t even know if he’ll text.”

You sat silently for a moment, nearly forgetting about it in the thrall of the TV and procrastination on your assignment when your eyes slowly drifted over to it again.

“Son of a bitch.” you huffed, throwing tablet aside as you got up and made your way across the small one bedroom apartment to your smaller bathroom. You needed a shower and some comfy clothes and maybe some sleep. 

Several minutes later you came out from the bathroom, towel drying your hair and feeling a bit more human with the cold no longer biting at your skin still from the damp outside. You weren’t looking, not really, your eyes just fell to the phone on the small kitchen table and noticed the screen was list with an envelope icon.

You managed to pretend not to be interested for approximately fifteen seconds before you were over, picking up the phone and trying to not think about how fast your heart was going as you opened the message…

… which was just from your DCRU supervisor reminding you to go to the DPD station downtown after checking in on site tomorrow.

You felt your heart fall and sighed as you clicked the message and set a reminder. Someone in Jericho had requested a number of open human-on-android violence cases as well as android-on-human and someone had to go get the stats. Most android cases were still considered “sensitive” so the only way to get the information was from the source. It was a placating act, something to make Jericho not so hostile to DCRU and their efforts, even if they could realistically do nothing about the numbers. You wondered if you would be lucky enough for it to be the same station Connor worked at.

You took your phone and headed off to bed, setting your alarm. It was nearly 11:40, which was not ideal if you didn’t want to be a zombie tomorrow. Sighing, you flicked off your lamp and curled up, closing your eyes and tucking in. Your breath began to slow and your body relax when suddenly the darkness behind your eyelids lit.

You opened your eyes a slit and saw the envelope notification with a question mark attached.

[ new sender ]

[ accept msg y/n? ]

You never hit “y” so fast in your life. 

[ from: DPDCNSL#317

Thank you for agreeing to continue corresponding with me. I am looking forward to the experience.

And thank you for the coffee.

Have a good evening, ---.

Connor ]

And then before you could respond the little dots indicating he was responding popped up immediately.

[ from: DPDCNSL#317

Lieutenant Anderson has informed me that saying, “I am looking forward to the experience” sounds “creepy”. I am looking forward to being able to speak with you more.

Connor ]

You smiled and quickly wrote up a reply-- which you waited a few minutes to send because… like that is what you did right? You didn’t wanna reply too fast… right? You killed some time, changing his name in the message box.

[ from: ---

You’re welcome. And pls don’t thank me for that pitiful excuse for bean water. Next time, I’ll get you a latte and you’ll never be the same again. ]

[ from: Connor

You are correct, but not in the way I believe you think.

Regardless, I would like that. You are studying at Wayne State, correct? ]

You froze, staring at the words with shock. How the hell did he know that?

[ from: ---

You pull up my file, copper?]

[ from: Connor

I did a search on the internet. You came up under the staff listing as a research assistant for Urban Studies. Is that correct? There is no image, so it could be another ---. ]

[ from: ---

Bit weird to be searching for someone you just met. ]

[ from: Connor

I agree. Lieutenant Anderson located the information and sent it to my terminal. I was… curious. I apologize, I do not wish to cause you to feel uncomfortable. ]

It didn’t really matter much. All the information on the website was basic things and any social media you had was hidden from the outside. It was harmless, as far as most things went.

[ from: ---

It’s alright, next time you can just ask me. Though I think to make it up, you can buy me the coffee. Only fair. :)  ]

[ from: Connor

I do receive a salary now, so that is a possibility.

--- it is now almost midnight. You should be resting as you have already lost two hours of the recommended time for sleep. I would recommend lowering your caffeine intake to 300mg per day to prevent further sleep disturbance.

Good night, ---.  ]

[ from: ---

You can pry my coffee from my cold dead hands, hippy.

Good night.  ]

Wildly specific advice aside, it was-- kinda sweet. That bit that you assumed was a joke about “receiving a salary” got a small chuckle from you. After waiting a few minutes though, it appeared that he was done messaging for the night.

Not too bad, you hummed to yourself, First potential friend outside of campus in four years. Adult humaning at last.

---

“Checking in on site” was just code for “bring us all our coffee order before you do any real work” and you did so as usual, dropping the cups off at the various desks, crowded into the small “conference” building. All of the DCRU’s own buildings were of the same shake-n-bake quality as the shelters put up for the androids. They did little to hold out the chill, but they kept out the damp. Several people had space heaters beneath their desks or blankets wrapped around their legs.

After dropping off the last drink, you made your way over to the desk of the person you liked most of all the superiors, chiefly because he would never ask you to bring him coffee. His name was Josh, and he had served as one of Markus’ companions during the start and the heart of the revolution. Prior to Jericho, he had been a university professor, which was something you found common ground with.

He was sitting still, as if staring off into the distance, but a quick note of his eyes would show them flickering back and forth. He was reading.

“You ready to do some real work?” he said, voice tinged with faint humor as he continued to scan through whatever files were working their way through his synthetic mind. You’d gotten use to this.

“Yes, for the love of Markus Christ.” you huffed, enjoying in the private joke. Since the revolution there had been no less than 112 articles official and amateur declaring Markus as an android “Messiah”. Based upon Josh’s word, this caused the actual Markus a great deal of discomfort, but still the metaphor stuck.

“I’m going to have to tell Simon that one.” Josh said with a laugh, finally turning his eyes to you indicating he was finished with whatever he was working on.

“But first things first.” he said, pulling out a tablet and handing it to you. It was one of his.

“You know most of these “deviant” criminal cases are still on lock down?”

You nodded.

“We’ve gotten clearance to have the files downloaded. Part of our agreements with the government involve… some explaining. I won’t sugar coat it. Some of these open cases are violent, resulting in death of the human or the android or sometimes both.”

You swallowed, eyes flicking to the tablet as if there would suddenly appear images but there was only a menu showing how to accept file download.

“... death can be a hard topic for anyone. Even more so for your people when it involves Android on Human crimes. You may see some disturbing things. You alright with this?”

“Of course!” you said, a bit quickly and a bit more defensively than intended.

“I mean that… I want to do anything I can to help. I know that… I know they are pressuring to have these androids turned over for prosecution.”

If Josh were non-deviant, he wouldn’t have tensed at the words, but he did. 

“Historically speaking, we haven’t given any android justice. I know this is important. Anything I feel is secondary to that… is what I mean.”

Josh smiled warmly, standing up and hesitantly patting your shoulder.

“You remind me of my old students, ---. I’m sure you’ll do what you can.”

You nodded vigorously, because you would. 

---

It was too far and too cold to walk the length of Detroit back towards downtown, so you took an automated cab. You’d tucked Josh���s tablet safely away in a rucksack over your shoulder and flipped through your phone idly.

You hovered over the message window with Connor for a moment before quickly sending off a few lines.

[ from: ---

Just so there are no surprises, I’m heading to the DPD station rn for unrelated stuff. Might see you! ]

It took you way longer than necessary to actually hit send, but when you did you were shocked that his response was almost instantaneous. 

[ from: Connor

Unrelated to what? Also, are you alright? Do you have an open case with the DPD? ]

[ from: ---

It’s all good. And meant I just happen to be that way as opposed to ya know, stalking. ]

[ from: Connor

“Stalking” does imply stealth, which would be in direct opposition of your current actions if that was the intent. I agree that your  actions do not constitute “stalking”.  ]

You huffed a sigh, but then were startled as the message pinged again.

[ from: Connor

Bit weird though.  ]

You felt a smile slowly form at one corner of your lips

[ from: Connor

That was a joke, in case it was too vague.  ]

[ from: ---

I gotcha ;)

See you in a bit maybe.  ]

And with that, you shut off your phone’s display just in time to exit the cab out front of the DPD building. Inside, the DPD had the same tell tale signs of the android revolution with its lack of noticeable androids. It was not until you got up to the reception desk that it dawned on you they both were identical. They were androids, they had just removed their LED. She was even wearing a name tag that said, Alicia in clear bold font. She was wearing regular professional wear, no Android identifiers in sight.

You’d heard the DPD had gotten on board relatively quickly with providing androids with pay, not wanting to lose the bulk of their staff. While the cleaning crews were absent, the receptionist turned up her face and smiled pleasantly,

“Good morning, how may I assist you?”

“Good morning!” you said, a bit too quickly, “My name is ---, I’m here from the Crisis Response Unit. I have a meeting with Captain Fowler.”

“Yes, we were told to expect you! Do you have your I.D.?” she said, and you were struck by how… friendly she was, as opposed to all the other ST300’s you’d encountered. You pulled out your “badge”, which was nothing more than an I.D. card with a special DCRU designation stamp inside a flip wallet. You passed it to her and she scanned it quickly.

“You’re all set! Just head right through these gates here and go straight back. Fowler’s office is the one in the middle with the glass doors, it should not be hard to miss, but if you get lost just grab one of the officers. They all should know all too well where his office is.” she said with a faint laugh at some private joke.

You nodded, fumbling to put your I.D. with a quick “thank you” before you headed through the gates. It was bigger inside than you expected, with several desks and lots of people working, standing and having their morning coffee or otherwise engaged. You noted the glass enclosed office towards the middle of the room and headed in that direction. There were three people already waiting inside and two of which you recognized immediately.

Captain Fowler was up, preparing to come open the door for you, but Connor beat him in a few brisk steps.

Hank was grinning at you in that suspicious way that you recalled from grade school… like he knew something you didn’t. In this situation, it was pretty unsettling. Did they find that parking ticket from sophomore year?!

“Good morning Ms. ---, please, have a seat.” Fowler gestured to the one other empty chair next to Hank, “These two suspect characters are Lieutenant Hank Anderson and his partner, Connor. They have been working the deviant android cases since the start.”

Connor politely offered you his hand, which you took. He squeezed gently, mischief glinting in those brown eyes before he let go and all but ushered you to your seat. Hank snorted.

“We’ve met.” Hank said, disregarding any pleasantries. 

Fowler looked surprised.

“We frequent the same coffee shop.” you added, “So it was a very brief meeting.”

“You’re lucky.” Fowler said, eyeing Hank with disapproval. Hank seemed oblivious, or more likely, immune.

“We’ve been informed that the ADA’s office is seeking to prosecute these androids. It is highly likely that they are being concealed among the deviants at the relief camp.” Fowler leaned back in his chair, “So, we’ve been told to assist you in whatever way you need.”

“Some of us are a bit too eager…” you heard Hank muttered under his breath. Connor’s eyes trailed on him slowly, making no expression you could see but Hank must have gotten the message because he grumbled and slumped back.

“I appreciate that, Captain Fowler.” you began, “Markus has agreed that his people will search into the population of their androids for these individuals. It’s a good start to integrate androids into the justice system.”

Though you had your own opinions regarding the effectiveness of that. How could any android expect a fair trial when a jury of their peers would most likely be full of humans? But that was a topic for another time and place.

“These files are sealed, so we are requesting a downloaded copy so that efforts can be made to locate these androids.”

Captain Fowler looked unconvinced.

“I have confirmation from the governor and the President’s staff approving this request, if you would like to see it. The governor also said you might like to call her office as well.”

“I think I will do that. In the meanwhile, if you’d gentleman escort Ms. --- to the break-room where she might be a bit more comfortable?”

Hank stood and gave Connor a hard pat, “All you buddy.”

He left without a second glance.

“Right this way. ---.” Connor said, Chief Fowler now too engrossed with his phone to notice Connor used your first name.

It was hard to contain a smile as you walked alongside the detective, following him to a small break-room.

“Coffee?” he asked and you nodded briskly. He poured some of the dark, strong smelling liquid into a mug that read “#1 Dad” and after considering for a moment, pot still in his hand, he poured another.

Bringing both he came to sit with you at a rickety table, stabilized by a half folded paper plate under one leg.

“Don’t think this counts.” you said, taking the mug in both hands, enjoying the warmth if not the overly strong taste.

Connor did not drink.

“You work with the Detroit Crisis Response Unit?” he said, getting right to the point.

“Volunteered. Don’t give me too much credit though. When I joined up, it was all about flooding relief. The Android situation was a surprise.”

“Do you dislike Androids?” he asked.

“Wow. Talk about a hot button topic, Connor. You sure you don’t wanna ask me what my favorite color is first? My favorite movie?”

“No. I would much rather know your stance on the current events seeing as you are working as a relief volunteer.”

Direct. You hid behind the lip of the mug, feeling his eyes keenly on you.

“Why do you wanna know?” you countered, taking a small sip.

“I’m simply curious as to how you feel about your current assignment.”

“I feel just fine.” you said, “I guess… well. Guess sometimes they just spook me. Just like most people.”

“I see.” Connor said, seeming to relax a fraction, “You are afraid of them?”

“Not “afraid” just-- reasonably cautious.”

Connor seemed to be processing this, tapping his fingertips against the mug in his hand and watching himself do so intently.

“You worked on “deviant” cases for awhile, yeah?” you began, “Are… do they make you nervous? Because that’d be understandable given what you’ve seen.”

“They-- did. Before. Now I realize it’s the same as humans. We’re all capable of violence.”

Before you could continue, another man walked into the break-room, smile slick as oil.

“Well, there you are, tin-can.” he said with a smirk, picking up the coffee pot and sloshing some of it onto the counter as he poured a mug full.

“Whose this?” he said, giving you a smirk.

“A liaison from DCRU.” Connor replied coolly, bringing the coffee mug to his lips.

“Is that even good for your health, Con?” the man asked, but Connor ignored him.

“And who is this charming fellow.” you asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Detective Reed. Gavin, Reed.” he answered, giving you a wink, “Now I can see why Con here was in such a hurry to get his ring off before you showed up.”

Ah. That. That was. Not expected. Your blood ran cold, eyes immediately falling to Connor’s left hand as if you’d catch sight of a tan line or some other indicator that you’d been incredibly stupid.

“I got some super glue over at my desk if you need a quick fix.” he said, tapping Connor’s chair with the toe of his boot. Connor, looked somewhere between deflated and coldly controlled anger.

Hank’s appearance in the break room door thankfully put a halt to whatever was going on between the two men, his eyes fixing Gavin with a vicious glare.

“Don’t you have reports to finish, detective?” he said, circling in so that Gavin was forced to walk towards the door.

“Just tryin’ be a good wing-man for my bro, Connor.” he said, disappearing into the hall with a laugh.

Hank looked between you and Connor, noting the change in your demeanor, arms pulled in and looking anywhere but at his partner.

“Fowler uh-- got the call. You can come over to my desk and we’ll get you sorted.”

You hurriedly stood, fishing out your tablet so you’d be ready to download those files and get out of here as soon as possible.

Connor said nothing in his defense, but he watched you intently, searching.

“... thanks for the coffee.” you said, following Hank out.

---

Connor did not join you at Hank’s desk, which must not have been part of the plan because every few seconds Hank looked over his shoulder for him.

“Here. You should get a prompt to download any second now. There are photos, so if you’re squeamish I advised ya not look at the screen while they are downloading.”

You took his advice, letting the tablet drop unceremoniously to the desk as you leaned against it, arms crossed.

Hank was not scowling for once, but you were, brows furrowed tight and troubled.

“Look… ---, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t-- just don’t judge Connor before you get to know him. I know he’s a weird one. I know most people, hell even me, have this innate prejudice, but he likes you. Which is a big deal for him. He’s learning how this goes, so I don’t know-- maybe give him a break.”

“... did… did his wife die or something?”

Hank stared at you, eyes wide and confused.

“His wife.” he repeated, not so much a question but a confirmation of whether or not you were a rambling idiot.

“That detective! Gavin whatever-the-hell said that Connor took off his ring before I got here!”

Hank groaned, resting his face in his hand as he shook his head. The sound quickly turned into a laugh of sorts. He looked back up at you with that same mystified look he had before.

“You really don’t know. Kid, Connor took off his LED before you got here. That’s what Gavin meant. He’s an android.”

A lot, like a lot of things suddenly made sense now.

You sunk into a nearby chair, dazed.

“You really had no idea? With how fuckin’ weird he is?”

“I thought he was just… like, ya know. A hipster intellectual.”

Hank choked on nothing, busting into a loud laugh, “Well you ain’t wrong, kid!”

The tablet pinged, indicating it had finished downloading. Hank popped up, dismissing the file before you could pick it up.

“Like I said. Some gory stuff. I’d advise you get that to whoever wants it and not go poking around in it.” he handed you the tablet, “And for god’s sake, go talk to him before you leave. You’re the first person he’s been around that ain’t me and trust me, that’s good for him.”

You ran your hands over the tablet’s smooth sides, mind going a hundred miles a minute. You turned to leave and saw Connor coming back towards the desks, seeing clearly now the flashing LED he had replaced on the side of his temple.

His expression was blank, but you had dealt with enough androids that you could just faintly see the lines of nervousness and… hopefulness as he passed you.

You caught his forearm, touching the same place where androids connected systems.

“... I don’t dislike androids.” you whispered, risking a look at him through your eyelashes. He was-- smiling and it was so damn beautiful you felt the wall you had started constructing around your heart from Gavin’s words crack open.

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

You smiled, “Text me when you are ready to shell out for that latte.” and gave his arm one last small squeeze before heading out of the station.

[shadowofthelamp]

I cleaned up a swap au writing from... geez, two and a half years ago. I tried to make it a bit more accurate to the one we’re writing now. Zim is about 12/13 here.

Wordcount: 1275

Zim didn't like the new kid. 

Which wasn't surprising; Zim didn't like a lot of people. He could probably count even loose friends on one hand. (The one with the scar on the back- the other one had a finger missing from an accident when he was seven.)

However, he didn't like the new kid for a different reason than he didn't like most people.

Most people, they refused to pay attention to his greatness, mocking him as weird and a loner and 'had set them on fire'. Feh. Ridiculous stuff. 

Dib, however? 

He wouldn't leave Zim alone. 

Normally, Zim would bask in the attention, but Dib never gave him a break. He followed him from a distance after skool, he pestered him with constant questions during recess, and he'd actually stolen one of Zim's inventions!

Granted, the invention was a laser pistol and Dib got into trouble for having it about two minutes later, which was undeniably funny, but the point still stood. 

Despite all this, Dib still treated him like he was... a pet or something. He'd click his tongue when Zim snarled and would wave off any prying questions. It was like the guy had dropped out of outer space, with his house that had sprung up overnight and his creepy sister that never looked up from her... game? Phone? Whatever it was, Zim wanted to get his hands on it- it looked really advanced. (Dib had something similar, but he was always writing in it with a stylus thing that looked both ten years old and from the future. It was bulky and weird.) 

"Hey, Zim? How are you today?" Dib whistled lightly, hands in his pocket and a grin on his face. (Man, his teeth were weird. And Zim thought his cousin Pur needed braces.)

"I'm fine, stink-brain." Zim turned back to rummaging through his backpack. 

"Why do you keep calling me that? I don't smell bad."

"It's an insult." Zim rolled his eyes. "Are you going to help me today?"

"With what?"

"Robot hamster." Zim pulled out the little wriggling rodent. "It'll make Mr. Spork flip when it grows to three feet tall. It's going to try and eat his desk."

"That seems like it would be disruptive."

"That's the point. He's afraid of hamsters, you know." The hamster wriggled around and squeaked, probably because Zim was squeezing it kind of hard.

"Well, it seems useless to use your technical prowess for silly pranks."

"Pfft, says you." Zim stood up, brushing off his pants and slinging his pack over his back. 

When he looked back when reaching the door, Dib had something metal poking out of his backpack, but when Zim blinked, Dib was just writing in his PDA.

~~~~~~~~

Dib had left his PDA on his desk. 

Dib never let that thing out of his sight. It was as much a part of Zim's image of him as his stupid backpack and his even stupider hair. 

So Zim stole it. 

What else was he supposed to do, give it back? Maybe it had information on why Dib was stalking him- or maybe it was a diary and held blackmail-worthy material. 

It had a firewall, but it wasn't Zim-proof, and within half an hour, he was in. 

The home screen looked weirdly similar to a regular desktop, except there were weird symbols under the file icons. Foreign letters maybe? Only two were in English- 'Language notes' and 'Study Notes'. 

Language notes first, but Zim discarded it almost immediately- it was just some kind of dictionary. Boring. 

So, Study Notes it was. Zim scrolled through a few pages of the same weird language as on the home screen before it switched to English. 

Day 20. Today Gaz said she had fun chasing a human around for his game device. I still don't get why she finds human games so fascinating- they're not as good as the Arcade on Flagtrep-7, and she knows it. Well, they distract her. Would that be treason, liking that an Invader isn't doing her job? Eh. My Tallest says we can take as long as we like, since this place is newly discovered. 

What the hell...? Was Dib some kind of author, writing in a diary like he was an alien or something?

That, or he actually was an alien. Pfft, it would explain a lot.

Day 21. Zim continues to be fascinating. For a member of a species so inferior, he surprises me.

Zim's hands tightened around the device as he read on. 

He seems almost irken, due to his lack of parental units and love for destruction. He doesn't appear to like my study of him, but I can't help it- of all the specimens here, he's my favorite. He cares for his cyborg pet, but can't stand most of our classmates. A psychological marvel, intense and angry but with a capacity for boundless enthusiasm. I feel if any human would understand our work, it's him. 

Of course, I cannot tell him. Law dictates I'd have to dispose of him then, and he's much more interesting alive. 

I wonder if he'd be different from the others I've dissected. He's started mixing chemicals to change his body composition- it's less efficient than a Pak distribution system, but I look forward to seeing if they do anything interesting. I'll have to get samples to compare.

There were more entries, but Zim just thumbed past them, only catching occasional words. Dib seemed to like 'inferior' and 'useful' a lot. 

Either he was totally nuts (possible) or this was real, he was an alien, and the only thing stopping Dib from taking him apart was a creepy fascination. 

Zim had always wanted an admirer, someone to praise him for being so good at what he did. (Well, one besides Skoodge, anyways.) Dib had come close before, but he had no boundaries at all- Zim had spotted him trying to watch him go to the bathroom once. This? It knotted up his stomach.

He tried to imagine Dib with big bug eyes, hands deep inside a corpse, and it came a little too easily-

"There it is!" Dib's voice shook Zim out of his thoughts. "I've been looking all over for it. You didn't look, did you?" His voice had a tinny undertone, both of fear and anger.

"Who needs fifteen passwords? I couldn't get in." Zim said, and Dib snatched it back

"You sure?"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure," Zim said, even as he scanned Dib up and down. He looked the same as ever- but then, Zim had never really looked. His skin was slightly off, but everyone in their town had some kind of mutation, so he'd simply brushed it off at the time as being born too close to the City Cesspool. He mostly looked normal, but there was a slight shimmer near one of his ears. Zim reached for it, but Dib slapped him away before he even got close.

"What was that for?"

"I saw a big hornet about to sting you."

"Where?" Dib's vision darted around, swatting at the air, and Zim took the chance to slip away.

He needed to find out what was really going on. If Dib was just weird, then he was just weird, Zim already knew that. But if he was an alien? Well, that was another can of worms entirely, one Zim fully intended to dig into with both hands.

He couldn't skip last period for the next few weeks or the tracker under his ribs would start electoshocking him again, but at 3:15, he was going to find out the truth, one way or another.

[joyful-voyager]

Okay, so here’s how it worked, and bear with me because things are gonna get personal.

Writer’s block, right? It sucks. It sucks ass, especially when on top of your writing hobby you write for a living in a completely different capacity. So you know you can do it. The words are still there when your paycheck depends on them being there. But when your happiness and your sense of self and probably your sanity depend on them being there? Those little fuckers just fuck right the hell off, and they stay fucked off for like two years.

Two years, people. Two years in which the way I defined myself was just gone. Oh, there were little things here and there. A couple thousand words every few months that weren’t terrible, but weren’t where I wanted them to be, you know?

I read all the blogs. I signed up for all the creativity workshops. I did all the stupid things that blocked writers do, and did any of them work? No, they did the hell not.

And I just ... gave up. “That’s it,” I said. “I’m finished as a writer. I had a decent run, but who am I kidding anyway? I’m 48 flipping years old. My best days are over.” I wrote myself off. (Yeah, I just went there.)

Then earlier this week something weird happened. I was working with one of my design partners at the office. Great guy, young-ish (early 30s), wildly talented. Opinionated as fuck about what he considers art and what he doesn’t, and totally prone to perfectionism ... to the point where he can’t work. Like, literally cannot produce anything. He usually wills himself out of it, but the last couple of weeks have been brutal on him. I’ve been feeding him suggestions and outside designs and everything I can think of to help get this guy back on track, but nothing was working.

Things kind of came to a head on Monday. He was beside himself and up against a hard deadline, and he had nothing for us to present at concept stage. I was at my wit’s end. The only thing I could thing of to do was put on my Armchair Psychiatrist hat, sit down with this guy, and ask, “Why do you think you’re blocked like this?”

He sat there for a second, and he said, “I feel like I’m suddenly just overthinking everything. Even projects that ought to be in and out of my station in half an hour are taking two or three hours to complete. Not because I don’t want to do the work or I’m procrastinating or dragging my feet or whatever. When I sit down to work, I have ideas, but somehow nothing seems good enough anymore. I’ve been pushing myself really hard to produce portfolio quality work, and when something comes out that isn’t that good, I get really down on myself for the next project, and it’s hard to even start.”

“Do you enjoy this work?” I asked.

“Not anymore,” he said. “But I did. I remember what that felt like, too. I remember how things would just flow, and even though they weren’t perfect the first time, I could always see how I could improve. And the days would just fly by while I was sitting here working. Now every day just drags, and it’s not because I’m working too hard. It’s because I’m not working at all.”

“So how did you learn to recognize that flow when you were first starting out as an artist? And how might you replicate the circumstances that allowed flow to happen?” I asked.

Immediately, he put down his Wacom stylus, picked up his sketchbook and pencil, and grabbed his headphones. “Start from scratch,” he said. And by the end of the day he had a folder full of new concepts and a big smile on his face.

So that was Monday.

Yesterday was Tuesday. I thought back on that conversation as I was staring at a blank screen. This is a quiet week for me; January is always quiet in my line of work, so I had time on my hands to write my own projects if I wanted to. I tried to think back to when I was much younger and first flirting with fiction. I remembered how the hours would just fly by while I was working, to the point where sometimes I’d forget to eat. I asked myself how that used to work, and how I might replicate those circumstances.

And for the first time in a couple of years, I turned off the MSNBC live feed that usually plays in my ears all day. I turned on the LoTR soundtracks, and I picked up a pen. Nothing much happened, but I willed myself to be patient. I drove home listening to Bonnie Raitt’s “Slipstream.” And a little idea popped into my head. Nothing big. Just a small thing. A single image, a couple of words. 

I made dinner listening to Frank Sinatra, and the image grew to two images, and then four, and then a few more. The words started whispering in my head. I sat and played a board game with my family until far too late into the night, all the while listening to the characters who were starting to tell me a story. 

I drove to work this morning with Lady Gaga and Tony Bennett and Tedeschi Trucks and Amos Lee, and a line of dialogue I kept repeating to see how it sounded in different intonations, until I found the one that made me laugh out loud.

I sat down at my desk and opened a document.

Eight hours later, I had 1,800 reasonably polished words and an outline for four more chapters of 2,000 words each. (Plus the half dozen ads I wrote while my boss was watching.)

I’m not saying that’s how it can work for everybody. But that’s how it worked for me.

Thank goodness.