#wearing my ’trust me i’m a vet’ t-shirt

[risoria]

I’m so goddamn tired. I hate it here so fucking badly. I hate it here. It’s 2024. We know better and yet we are pushing these ads and these dogs everywhere, STILL - why do we as a society love animal cruelty so much?? I will never understand.

I’m going to be brutally honest - people are stupid. People will not open their phones to google for three minutes before buying an expensive dog, that lives for 15 years - and media affects people IMMENSELY. Remember how everyone and their mom got a husky (an extremely hard dog to keep, because they’re working sled dogs) after game of thrones? How every single child got a rat after ratattouille, and how most likely a lot of them were abandoned? This happens with frenchies and pugs as well because they are featured EVERYWHERE.

”Oh wow its so ugly i love it ;;” ”Oh it’s so cute I want one!!” No. Dogs who need surgery where you cut their nostrils open just to be able to breathe a /little/ better is not something you should want or support. Animal cruelty is not something you should want or support.

This is a chart for assessing stenotic (pinched) nares in brachycephalic dogs. The open nares seen here are not even actual normal nares - this is what they look like in non-brachy dogs.

There is no other way to say this: these dogs can’t breathe. That’s why they make noises like little pigs - they can’t actually get sufficient air into their lungs because their airways are so closed. They are partially suffocating - every single minute of every day.

Here’s the reasons why:

- the nostrils are closed. you can see how hard and panic-inducing it is to ”breathe” like that by pinchig your own nostrils for a little while. it’s very common to have surgery to cut the nostrils open - but even if it might help a little bit they’re only ONE reason why these dogs suffer

- the face is flattened - this is why the tongue cant actually fit in their mouths, which of course makes the tongue constantly dry and uncomfortable. they also have teeth problems because, again, the teeth literally cant fit in their mouths. they also can’t cool down the way dogs normally do by panting - because the area in their nasal cavity where this happens is extremely small. this, together with the breathing issue, makes them extremely prone to over-heating and dying as a result.

- their soft palates are, again, too big for their mouths and make the dogs’ airways more closed as a result. surgery to cut this soft tissue away is common.

- their laryngeal sacculis are often inverted - think of a pocket of your trousers that is turned inside out. these sacs are located in the back of the throat and further obstruct the airways

- laryngeal collapse is also not uncommon

- their tracheas are VERY thin. That’s why breeding for a different type of bulldog and pug etc is important and thats why ONLY opening the nares and lengthening the snout is not the answer - if the trachea is the dimension of a straw, they will still be unable to breathe properly - and you can’t assess this without image diagnostics, of course…

- because these dogs struggle to breathe and are prone to over-heating they can have trouble exercising and this easily get overweight. The extra fat will collect around the neck, amongst other places, and this can pinch the anatomy of the throat and airways of the neck even further

- some symptoms of BOAS (brachycephalic obstructive airway syndrome) that people find ~cute and unique include:

-> snoring loudly and snorting when breathing. This is because of the obstructed airways and means they struggle to breathe both while asleep and while exercising/walking

-> ”smiling” (pulling corners of the mouth up) and rolling the tip of the tongue is something seen when the dog is labouring to breathe

-> these dogs often find toys to keep in their mouths when they sleep - this is not normal, they do this deliberately because they can’t breathe.

-> these dogs are the ONLY dogs who will be happy about having a tube inserted into their trachea while undergoing surgery. Normally you remove this the second the dog starts to come to - because it is extremely uncomfortable having essentially a straw inside your airways - but for brachy dogs they enjoy being able to breathe fairly comfortably and they will sit fully awake with the tube for long periods of time. It’s heartbreaking.

PLEASE don’t get these dogs and please call out advertisements etc promoting them - because we all know that they are already extremely popular and that marketing sells even more of them. It’s downright evil, and it’s animal cruelty in the name of ~marketing. Yes of course there’s a lot of them in shelters needing adoption - BUT it’s very important to know what you’re getting into. A lot of these dogs DO need surgery to be able to breathe at least partially, and these are invasive and very expensive.

This was just off the top of my head but here’s a link with more info -> BOAS in dogs

[matan4il]

Buddie and clothes in 513

Right, I don’t usually write about clothes in my weekly Buddie meta posts. A part of it is that I think some choices are very meaningful on the show, and some might be random. Like name meanings, some are SO important (like Evan, from the Hebrew name Yochanan, meaning ‘God has graced’, there is so much to unpack there! Or even his nickname ‘Buck’ bringing up the image of an animal with such formidable antlers that it can seem quite intimidating, but in reality most of the time it’s pretty docile, timid even. Still noble, and it’s worth acquiring its trust), but some aren’t (Carla, which comes from the Germanic word for ‘man’. I... don’t think 911 is trying to tell us Carla is secretly a man). Sometimes the clothes choices do strike me as VERY meaningful (like when we see Eddie wearing his nicest clothes for Buck in their flirtatious kitchen scene in 309). I thought 513 was one of those cases, however, I already crammed so much into my weekly meta for the ep, that I left out the topic of clothes.

But then the beautiful @mytherapybuddie​ and a lovely anon who signed their ask with “- forever screaming” asked me to write about this, so here we are.

TBH, the first thing that grabbed at my brain was Eddie’s shirt in the breakdown scene. Listen, I’m an army vet (service is mandatory here) and those specific shades of faded green are hardwired into my brain. This is def an army-colored T-shirt, possibly even an actual one left from his army days (I too still have some army clothes that can double as civilian ones and which I wear on occasion). So of course I noticed that!

And my first thought was the show really wants to give his army past presence in this scene. But as it continued to play out, I also thought back to a gifset I made showing Eddie self-hugging in moments when he needs comfort, but can’t ask for it. It’s such a clear gesture, because not only does Eddie cross his hands in front of him, he’s also hunched forward just a bit, almost like he's stopping himself from going into the fetal position. When I made the gifset, I already noticed the repeated use of these shades of green during the break up with Ana and the talk with Bobby, but the breakdown scene really brought it full circle. In all of these scenes, Eddie is wearing his psychological “armor”, that “tough guy” mentality his dad first drilled into him and the army later reinforced. This is the only way he’s been taught how to deal with emotional pain, so that’s what he’s clinging to.

But the presence of this same color in Eddie’s shirt during the breakdown is even more heartbreaking, because that makes it clear that the army isn’t just the place that provided Eddie with his “armor”, it’s also a big part of the reason why Eddie needs one. It’s a bit like that girl in a Swedish children’s book (not sure what they called her when they translated the book into English) where she puts a tin can over her head to protect it in case she falls. Of course because she can’t see where she’s going with a tin can over her head, she stumbles and falls. She sits up and takes off the tin can. “See?” She asks her friends triumphantly. “Who knows what would have happened to me if I hadn’t put it on?...”

Then another thing that really stood out to me about these three scenes is that in the first two, Eddie is self-hugging after the conversation is over. But during the breakdown scene? He first confesses to Buck what’s wrong with him, next he self-hugs, but then they talk. And by the time they’re done, Eddie’s hands are down, they’re not a barrier between him and the other person anymore, he’s open and raw and vulnerable, he’s cried in front of Buck, allowing him to see Eddie doing exactly what everyone taught him he must never do, not even when he’s alone. The complete trust here leaves me SHAKING (and the way it’s been A JOURNEY, as I said in the 513 meta. Eddie didn’t call Buck over, but Chris did. And Chris could do that because Eddie HAS trusted Buck with his kid, over and over again. Buck is there for him, because Eddie has chosen repeatedly to allow all three of them to become one family unit. Before the scene is over, that indirect trust through Chris becomes direct trust in Buck, because Eddie could have calmed down after his breakdown, he could have gotten upset over how Buck saw him, he could have kicked out his best friend and pretended none of this had happened. Which would have been more in line with what he was taught to do. But he doesn’t. He trusts Buck fully). And even though Eddie trusting Buck and talking to him has not yet resolved anything, it does have a healing quality all on its own and leaves Eddie, for the first time, being honest and not having to self-hug in the last shot of the ep.

How about Buck’s clothes? He comes into Eddie’s house wearing a combination of very vibrant red and dark blue.

These are two of the three basic colors, and as such, they clash dramatically. Shows are much more likely to dress characters in a bright, basic color together with a neutral one, like black, but instead here they chose to have Buck wearing these two conflicting colors. Why? Maybe to express his inner turmoil when he sees Eddie falling apart. I think Buck has always looked up to Eddie, it’s both why Buck in 201 was both so intimidated by him and, after just one compliment, so taken in by him. So I think this is a truly difficult moment for him as well, and he was probably understating it when he said that Chris wasn’t the only one who was scared.

But at the same time, I also thought that the contrast serves to make the red even brighter. Chris is also in a really bright color in this scene, specifically yellow, which is the third basic color.

That made me consider that maybe the show wanted to demonstrate how together, Buck and Chris complete each other in this scene. They both work together to help Eddie. The yellow choice for Chris also reminded me of the tsunami. He was literally this sunshine kid that cheered Buck up, especially in 302, and made him feel like things can get better even when the present appears grim. But then Chris and Buck both being in these colors also contrasts with Eddie, whose T-shirt is a very faded shade of green. Almost tired (interestingly, the clothes soldiers wear to battle are called ‘fatigues’, actually coming from the word for tiredness). Depressed people, who are struggling to hold on, drowning in their pain, are often shown in such muted colors (just think of Maddie in 512, for example). The vibrancy in Buck and Christopher’s clothes might mean they represent the appeal of life for Eddie in spite of everything, their call for him to try even when he’s so tired, to just keep swimming.

IDK, this is all from a very personal perspective, based on my wild associations. There are so many different, valid interpretations, my word is def not the Gospel Truth. But thank you so much for reading! And for any show of support, it’s always so appreciated. xoxox

(if it’s okay, I also wanna take a second to do a small shoutout to the sweet @judsonryder​, @evaneddie​, @aa-lionheart​​ and @buckleyirondad​​. You helped me with Photoshop and my confidence about using it, so I could edit some screencaps to add to this post. Thank you all for that! xoxox)

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

Ask Game thingy that I just fully answered without getting numbers because Why Not

So, I like doing these, and people don't tend to send in numbers (which is fine, I completely understand, ha), so I just filled it out myself. I'm exhausted, so its humor is very dry, ha. It's kinda long, but I like doing them, so meh. Read it if you want, or don't. I ain't the boss of you. ^-^

(I will put a read more, though, for those of you who don't care. See? I can be considerate. :-D) (Also, these are from this post, for reference)

 weirdly specific and unrelated asks to know someone well:

1. Chipotle order? Uhhhhh none, chipotle is trash. Ha. Though honestly, I don’t tend to get Chipotle because my parents say it tends to be spicy and I’m allergic to capsaicin (I think), which is what makes pepper spicy. It tastes very metallic and like I’m being poisoned, and if I have too much it makes it hard for me to breathe. I’ve never had way too much, so it usually goes away after a few minutes, but it’s still unpleasant, so… I avoid it when I can, ha.

2. Thoughts on veganism? Eh, I’m… meh towards it. I get why people are vegan, but I think it’s a bit pointless. Eating locally sourced meat from a reputable farm/location you trust is better for animals and the environment than just… not eating meat, usually. And I don’t see the problem with eating certain animal products, especially if they’re sourced like previously mentioned. But hey, to each their own. As long as people who are vegan don’t give me grief over me eating meat/animal products, I don’t really care. Though, my high school bio teacher was a vegan and because of that we didn’t have to do animal dissections, which I was SUPER pleased with. So… thanks for that.

3.A specific color that gives you the ick? Hmm… nothing that’s too bad, but I’m not the biggest fan of dull yellow or orange colors. Honestly, I don’t like yellow or orange too much in general, since they’re too bright for me, though the more muddied, dulled version make me go meh.

4. Mythical creature you think/believe is real? My motivation to write stories. I will find it one day, I promise. V,(-.-)

5. Favorite form of potato? The famed furry potatoes with legs.

(My two furry potatoes with legs for reference. The left is Rosie, who is 3 years old, and the right is Adelaide, who I call Addle, and is a year-ish. She replaced Sara, who sadly passed away the day after Thanksgiving, since we couldn’t get her to a vet when she got sick on Thanksgiving since it was, ya know... Thanksgiving. I still miss her. ._.) 

(A sleepy baby Sara for reference. Rest in Peace, sweetheart. ._.)

6. Do you use a watch? Only when I’m at work. In fact, without my watch at work, I feel adrift, ha. I forgot it while at work this morning with the preschool I was subbing at, and I was so disoriented. Also, fun fact, if you do something literally one time around a preschooler, they will always assume you do it. I brought a snack with me during their outside time on Friday since I didn’t have time to eat a big breakfast, and today the kids were all “Ms. Katie!!! What snack did you bring today????” And I was like… child, peace. That was ONE TIME. Then I showed them the Rice Krispy Treat I had in my pocket. The children approved.

7.What animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium? I like sea jellies (as my marine science teacher insisted on calling them in high school). They be neat.

8. Do you change into specific clothes for the house when you get home? Pssh, NO. I wear the same thing all day, every day. And for pajamas, I just get into older, more worn versions of my everyday clothes. Graphic shirt with yoga pants combo for the win, please.

9. Do you have a skincare routine (and how many steps is it)? I have to since my skin is so bleh. It’s not super extensive, though, since I have no patience. I use two kinds of face cleanser whenever I take a bath (which is twice a day, which I KNOW IS BAD FOR MY SKIN, BUT WHATEVER, IT’S A PATTERN SO WHATEVS), and then I use a face moisturizer/sunscreen that doesn’t make my skin itch in the day, and an acne cream at night. I didn’t used to use the moisturizer, but my skin has been feeling dry for a while, probably from all the washing, so I started using it. Plus, I’m outside a lot more often for my job, and I don’t want to burn, even though I don’t burn easily. Despite being pale white, ha.

10. On a plane, do you ask for apple or orange juice? Ehhh… neither, since they’re usually gross. I ask for nothing if I can help it, since I don’t like the pressure of having an open drink on my table. I usually buy a bottle of diet soda in the airport before, which I can close when I want. Less pressure.

11. Anything from your childhood you’ve held on to? My baby doll, Claire. I still sleep with her every night, because if I don’t, she WILL rise up and murder me. It is a Fact. :-)

12. Brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare that you trust 100%? Uh, none???? Who the hell trusts any brand at all??????? They’re all there to screw you over, babe. Even the “ethical” ones. The earlier you realize that, the happier you’ll be. Just buy whatever is less messed up. F*** it.

13. First thing you’re doing in the purge? Hiding in my house with my loved ones, because screw that noise. I’m not going to commit a crime just because it’s “legal.” Laws aren’t what keeps me from doing “illegal” things. It’s my own moral code, which may not be as strict as Taka’s, but is still pretty strong to me. Also, I’d never risk my or my family's lives for anything, and while I’ve never seen The Purge, I believe it would get pretty bloody.

14. Do you think you’re dehydrated?

Right now? Probably. I never drink water, only diet soda. RIP my insides.

15. Rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning Um, no thanks. I’m deathly afraid of death and thinking about it at all terrifies me to the point of panic attacks, sometimes. All methods of death are terrifying to me, no matter what. I’d want to see it coming, though. Even if my last minutes are ones of terror, I’d want to see it coming. And that’s all I’ll say on that, since I can feel the anxiety creeping up, oof.

16. Thoughts on mint chocolate chip? It’s alright.

17. An anxious compulsion you do every day? Uh…….. I don’t even know, since they’re all so common place to me nowadays that I don’t even notice them, to be honest. I’m very avoidant with my anxiety, so it often goes unnoticed by me until I’m forced to confront it. OH! Wait. I play with my hands a lot. Like... twist my fingers and fiddling with my cuticles, things like that. I never even noticed I did it until my neurologist (I had migraines as a kid and saw numerous neurologists for it) asked me if I was nervous when I met with him when I was 15. And I was like... no??? And he mentioned my hands. And I was like. Oh. No, I always do that. Which I do, to the point I don’t notice it still. It wasn’t until I did it while reading over this for errors that I remembered, ha. I also compulsively reread what I write to make sure there are no errors. Which is why editing TPWM takes ages, ha. 

18. Your boba/tea order? I don’t tend to get boba? There is a place near my apartment I used to go to where I would get a strawberry tea with vanilla ice cream and leche jelly drink, but one day I found a hair in my drink (short and black, very different from my long, strawberry blonde hair) and they refused to give me a refund, so I don’t order from them anymore. I used to dislike tea, in general, but recently I’ve found that I like fruit teas, primarily raspberry tea. No caffeine since caffeine sometimes makes me feel sick. Also black/green tea is bitter to me. I bought an expensive, fancy black tea while at the Louvre in Paris, and it was, uh… gross. Paris in general was gross, to be honest. 3/10 stars.

19. The veggie you dislike the most? Ehhh, it’s a tossup. I don’t like veggies much. I like more than I used to, though, which is something. But I hate celery a lot since I was forced to eat it by my preschool and I HATED celery. I also hate tomatoes since I was forced to dissect one in third grade and count all the seeds (which, by the by, was well over 100. One group got a seedless orange. A SEEDLESS. ORANGE. I’m still salty 15 years later), but tomatoes aren’t veggies. I just wanted to go on my tomato rant. Yes, I am petty and I never forget anything. Expect names. And many things, actually. My memory is the worst. :-) But at least I still remember tomato related injustices 15 years after the fact. 

20. Favorite Disney princess movie? Hm. When I was a kid, it was The Little Mermaid. Now, I’d say… hm… probably Moana? Moana is a really solid movie, honestly. 

21. A number that weirds you out? None??????

22. Do you have an emotional support water bottle? No. I just use plastic ones since the taste of filtered water grosses me out. Should I ever drink water, that is. Yes, this makes plastic waste. My apologies. I make up for it by not drinking water often.

23. Do you wear jewelry? Just my modest pair of earrings, since necklaces, bracelets, rings, etc. feel weird on my skin. I used to wear a ring, when I was in middle school, but I stopped that a long time ago. I have sensitive skin, so I don’t tend to like things touching me for long, or else it begins to irritate my skin. And me, honestly. Also, my earrings are basic lever back earrings that don’t dangle, since dangling earrings annoy me.

24. Which do you find yourself using, American or British English? American, since I am America (and yes, I meant to write American there, but I think this typo is more fitting for an American like myself). I do sometimes use British English phrases, though, if I prefer the sound of it. I’m a chameleon for language quirks, so I just pick up whatever sounds good to my ear.

25. Would you say you have good taste in music? Not necessarily. I would say I have an eclectic taste in music. My combined iTunes playlist has almost every genre you can think of represented at least once. I dislike screamo/death metal and rap more than others, but I still have a couple songs from those genres that I like. I like my music, though, so it doesn’t matter if it is “good.” What matters is I like it, you know? Honestly, you can get a decent representation of my music taste by listening to the music playlist I made for TPWP, ha.

26. How’s your spice tolerance? As I said earlier, non-existent. I’m allergic to spice, pretty much, and will get uncomfortable with even slight spice. I can’t even take ground black pepper in high quantities.

27. What’s your favorite or go-to outfit? I just wear graphic shirts and yoga pants, my dude.

28. Last meal on earth? Eh. Probably a really good streak and shrimp/lobster meal. Maybe with some nice pasta on the side. Like a fettucine alfredo, or something similar. Go big or go home, prison who has finally imprisoned me for my Numerous Crimes (™).

29. Preferred pasta noodle? Hm… I like spaghetti, honestly. My dad (who makes us dinner each night. Yes, I still live at home. No, it’s not that big of a problem for me since I have a decent relationship with my family, and it’s hella cheaper than getting my own place in my neck of the woods) doesn’t make it often, though, since my mom (who is disabled) chokes on it easier than other pastas.

30. Ask me anything! I will y’all this question instead: If you could have one thing in the world right now— physical or metaphysical, real or abstract— what would it be and why?

(Also, fun fact. Tumblr’s beta post thingy doesn’t allow for long posts. Rude. Get on that Tumblr. Luckily they still let you use the old posting system.)  

[infernalrevenge]

Hoodwinked

Fandom: Choices - Foreign Affairs

Pairing: F!Blaine Hayes x M!MC (Magnus Quezon)

Rating: G

Summary: Blaine gets to know Magnus better through his hoodie.

Notes: Making more F!Blaine x M!MC food due to the power of encouragement. I am once again mostly sticking to fluff with them. Enjoy!

----------

It was the home stretch until the dreaded debate project deadline, so Blaine and Magnus decided to try to camp out in the campus library to finalize all the details. They were hardly the only people to have that idea though, so by the time they made it there, it was already jam-packed with students, occupying every seat and every electrical outlet in the place. The campus cafe provided them no such solace either.

That was what led them to a cafe not too far from campus. Tatum and Jacob had vetted the place at their request, and of course stayed at a table close by. Just to ensure that neither of them would draw too much attention, they were dressed more casually than usual -- Magnus in a navy blue zip-up hoodie, sweatpants, non-prescription glasses, and a snapback to cover his fiery red hair. Blaine sported a long-sleeved cotton shirt and jeans, her hair tied up out of her face and wearing some glasses of her own.

Whatever Magnus thought about her actually needing something to correct her vision, he kept to himself. She was never going to stop teasing him if he actually told her she looked good in them.

The two of them shared a booth in one corner of the cafe, exchanging notes and discussing counterpoints to arguments that may come up in certain topics. All the while, the Ardonian tried to ignore the fact that they were seated right underneath the air conditioning unit blasting freezing cold air in the place. Despite her get up, it really didn't help much at all, her hairs still standing on end as if it helped protect her from the elements, the cold pricking her skin anyway. Her legs at least had the table to thank for blocking out most of the air, but her upper body was a different story. She tried her best to focus on the tasks at hand, ignoring the chills that ran through her and the loud snorts she made in an effort to clear her stuffy nose.

Eventually, Magnus did come to notice her predicament, offering to exchange places with her and buy her another hot drink.

"You know the aircon is aimed down at both of us, right?" she replied, looking up at the unit above. Her voice was slightly off due to her stuffed nose. She shook her head at the offer, "I just wanna get this done. The sooner we do, the sooner we can get out."

"Well you're not exactly focusing when you're right across from me, freezing your ass off," Magnus replied.

"Come on, we're almost done anyway, right?" Blaine just kept deflecting. The last thing she needed on her mind was how she was actually feeling.

"We still need finishing statements for the latter half of topics. We can do these tomorrow if--"

"No, what's left? Let's just get what we can done."

As if shaking off the cold, she got back to work on her own laptop, seemingly back to normal programming. Magnus started doing the same...

...until he heard her sniffling once more.

Without a word, the Rutherlandian shed off his hoodie and handed it over to the girl. She merely raised an eyebrow at him. "Ever the gentleman, huh?"

"You clearly need it more than I do."

"And what happens when you get cold too, Rutherland? Should I snuggle up next to you so we can both be warm?"

Magnus tried to ignore how the thought of that actually did make him feel warmer, but he just smiled amusedly.

"I'll be fine, trust me. Just take it before I change my mind."

Blaine took it with a slight smirk, pulling her arms through the lined sleeves. Immediately, she felt much more comfortable, helped by the fact that the boy had practically kept it warm the whole time. It sat almost awkwardly on her -- he wasn't that much taller, but their body builds were certainly different, and while it fit him perfectly, it was oversized on her. Still, it was a welcome relief, and she was finally able to concentrate.

Taking a quick break from typing to warm up her hands, she shoved them in the pockets of the hoodie, only to find something already in them. "Mini candy bars?" she asked, taking one out. "Didn't know Halloween came early this year."

"They're dark chocolate with dried fruit and nuts in them," Magnus supplied, seemingly unbothered by the cold despite shedding a layer, wearing only a black t-shirt. "You can have one if you want."

Blaine made a slight face, not quite impressed with that description. "If I'm gonna eat chocolate, I'm not gonna pretend like it's healthy for me."

"It's good, I promise! I used to hate them when I was a kid and they were the only sweets my mom willingly got for me, but now I've actually come to like them."

"Are you saying I have the palate of a child, Rutherland?"

"I'm saying don't knock it 'til you try it, Ardona."

Blaine rolled her eyes -- he's learning too much from her. After a few moments, Magnus returned to his laptop, unaware that she took him up on his offer and decided to eat a bit of the candy for herself.

Not bad, she thought. It wasn't what she would normally go for for a sweet fix, but she had to admit that the flavors and textures actually worked well together. Maybe she could get away with taking one more. She slipped one more into the pocket of her jeans, licking her fingers clean before re-focusing.

Hours passed and their respective bodyguards reminded them of the time, deciding to turn in for the night. They were escorted back to campus, the ride home silent but comfortably so. In their tiredness, Magnus had forgotten to ask Blaine for his hoodie back brfore getting dropped off, but he decided to just ask for it after class tomorrow -- he wouldn't miss it for just one night.

Meanwhile, back in her own suite, Blaine crashed onto her own bed exhausted, still in her clothes that day, just barely managing to kick off her shoes and undo her hair before settling in. She breathed in the familiar scent of her sheets, yet it was mixed in with something different. When she tried to remove her glasses, that was when she realized she still had Magnus' hoodie on from earlier. It felt cozy, the thick fabric warming her up enough that she only needed to pull the sheets up to her legs.

Unconsciously, she buried her nose in it and inhaled deeply, taking in its scent. It smelled like his cologne -- clean linen with a hint of vanilla. She sometimes caught a whiff of it in passing or when they were seated next to each other, but having a closer look (or rather, smell) at it was an entirely different experience. Her arms littered with goosebumps as she kept taking it in, snuggling into the hoodie and reveling in its softness. It was much more comforting than she may have allowed herself to let on, feeling as if she can be close to Magnus in this way. It's kinda like... cuddling him, she thought, letting it linger in her mind as it warmed her from the inside out.

She barely realized what she was doing, the haze of sleep clouding her judgement as she zipped it all the way up, enveloped in the scent of him as she drifted off to a deep and restful sleep.

.

.

.

(When Magnus got his hoodie back the next day, he did not notice how it smelled a bit different -- citrus fruits and honey. Like Blaine's perfume. And he most definitely did not deliberately keep it off him for a while just to preserve the scent. But he did find a few milk chocolates in its pockets. Dionne could attest to seeing him eat some while they hung out at their suite.)

[gardenflowerswriting]

Fucking Jelly (Syverson x Reader)

Summary: Reader is a Doctor who cannot stand the captain, yet when he asks for help, they can’t say no. 

Type: playfullbanter/fluff         Gif: andsowewalkalone               Word Count: 4k

You were threading a small stitch in a mans arm as you heard talking behind you, "this here is Y/L/N." You rolled your eyes, stopping to turn and see Syverson giving his tours to the new people, "go to her if you get a boo boo, she's good with those." You lowered your mask, "Fuck off Syverson, I'm busy." "She won't bite," his thick accent annoyed you to no end. You gave a joking silent laugh and flipped him off, your blue gloves too big for your hands. "Alright boys, this way." 

You tied off the ending of the string and gave the soldier some ibuprofen, lowering your mask and taking off your gloves, "read the label, and take what's prescribed," you picked up your clipboard and began writing, "if the pain does not subside, or you believe the injury to be infect, you must go to the base compound and be evaluated there. I do not have the supplies nor medication to deal with infections." You watched the blonde haired boy nod his head. You were just saying all the basic things they told you-you had to. You had that shit memorized verbatim. You wrote his info as you kept going, "I can provide you with alcohol pads that you can rub on them to clean them." You turned around to open the cabinet and hand them to him, "and for god fucking sake don't try to eat them or get drunk off them." He took them, and smirked "people do that?" You focused back on the form, "you would be surprised.” Returning to write down the soldiers name, “But, I'm done with you so can you get the next person if there is anyone?" "Yeah, thanks doc." You nodded your head and turned back to the small filing cabinet, you had to put his paper away and grab a fresh sheet. You washed your hands in the small sink and heard steps behind you as someone sat down, "alright," you got new gloves and you reached for your pen, turning, "what can I do for you toda-" you were stopped by a smiling Syverson dangling his feet off the one tall chair in the room. You dropped your shoulders, "What are you doing here?" "I came to see you doc." "Oh my god," you leaned against the tan cabinets, "For fucks sake? You know I have actual people to see and help, not you?" His brows moved together, "what? With the little needle you carry around?" You locked your jaw, "I could do a lot with that needle, and that's what they supply me with. Maybe if they gave me more I could do more." He smiled, lifting his hand to shoo away the conversation, "no ones out there anyway. Thought I'd ask you a question." You rolled your eyes, "Syverson, if you're gonna ask me to go on a date you know the answer already." He smirked, "now doc, is that all you think about? A captain asking you on a date," you crossed your arms and glared at him. You could see him try and hold in his laugh, "no, I do have a question, a real one." You raised your brow watching, waiting, "you know a lot about human biology?" "I'm here aren't I?" "Oo, doc no need to get sour on me, I just need you to take a look at one of the dogs that we found outside." You moved your brows together, "a dog? . . I don't know anything about dogs." "Yeah, well you know about humans, they're pretty close are they not?" You stared at him in disbelief, "what? No." "Come on, a quick look, you liked Aika, this dog is no different." You sighed, Aika was cute, and when you could, you made sure to play with her outside. "You never asked me to examine Aika." "I did not say 'examine'" You narrowed your eyes, "then what do you want." He smiled, "we might have some pups coming soon." Your face went flat, "the dog is pregnant?!" "Come on doc, ain't nobody in the hall for you, take a 10 minute break?" You stared at him, trying to decide if you should trust him or not. Finally, rolling your eyes you lifted yourself off the cabinets, "where's the dog?" He smiled, "follow me." You kept your gloves on as he led you through three hallways to his room. He got a room to himself, bastard, so he was somewhat far off from everyone else, "she's been here for a while and only moved to get eat or drink." He pushed the door open and you were greeted with Aika, "hi babes." You spoke softly at her as you began to scratch behind her ear.  She jumped up on you, "Aika down!" His tone was sharp and stern, like he was talking to soldiers who were under him. You gave him a side eye, "she's fine, you know that." "I'm trying to teach her not to do that," he sighed, "this way." He guided you to a bigger dog, fatter in her belly and her nipples were prominent, "you needed me to tell you she's pregnant?" Now this just seemed like a set up to get you in his room.  You bent down to kneel by her side, "No," you scratched her stomach lightly, she looked like Aika, but with the obvious belly. Her fur was also almost all black, "I need you to tell me when she'll give birth. She whines a lot at night and like I said she don't move." You looked up at him, and almost laughed, "Syverson," his stern features didn't shift, "I'm a doctor, not a vet? I have no idea when she'll give birth." He crossed his arms and you rose back to your feet, "all I can say is to wait it out. She will when those pups are ready." He put his hand to his mouth before scratching his chin through his thick beard, thinking, "I can't raise puppies." You smiled at him, "I'll help," he gave you a coy look. Which in turn, made you side eye him, "oh sweetie not for you," looking back down at the soon to be mom, who was panting in the heat, "for the puppies." He grunted and you looked back at him, "what'll you name her?" He squinted down at the dog, "I don't know yet. . . what's your middle name?" "Syverson-" You drew out his name, annoyed.  "No seriously, what is it?" You rolled your eyes, "Y/M/N." (Your/middle/name) "Settles it," he knelt down to the dog and rubbed behind her ears, "Y/M/N," he looked up to you and smiled. After then, you didn't think of the momma anymore, while Syverson constantly made sure to bring her up on your radar. But, today you had seen twenty-two guys which was far from normal, and being you were the only one on base who knew how to give proper stitches and offer medical care in your make shift clinic, you wanted to sleep. Your room was with some of the other female soldiers, but they were nice to you so you didn't care too much. As you were getting ready for bed, you brushed your teeth, let your hair down from it's bun and got it a little wet, so it would return to its normal form. You looked in the mirror and felt dead, wearing a tan t-shirt with no bra and shorts that were too short, but wouldn’t be uncomfortable under your cargo pants (in the instance you needed to get dressed quick). You shuffled to your bed and closed your eyes. "Y/N," you felt your body shake furiously and in an instant, your eyes opened and you reached for the gun you kept at the side of your bed. "No," the dark figure grabbed at your arm and when you went to scream a strong hand covered your mouth, "aye! It's me! It's Syverson." You squinted at the figure and could make out the beard, "Shumveson?" It was muffled because of his hand. He put his finger to his mouth, "shh, you gotta come with me." "Hmm?" Again, the idiot had his hand over your mouth. They really let the dumbest people be captains. "Y/M/N." It took you a minute but then you remembered and nodded your head. "Come on." He let go of your mouth and backed up. When you stood to walk, you whimpered from the pain in your feet, but you followed him to his room, the walk was silent except for your cries of pain. "I think she's having them, I gave her my shirt to lay on." You looked over to his body, "is that why you are suddenly without clothes?" He didn't wear a shirt and only his cargo shorts, which were loosely hanging around his waist. He rolled his eyes at you, "says the girl who's boobs and ass are hanging out." You moved your brows together and felt slightly self conscious, but turned your attention to the dog. "I need you to go to my office and grab two sets of gloves, and probably some Benadryl. Get me some food too." You lowered to be level with the dog. "You're hungry right now?" "Are you dumb? It's to put the pills in and feed to her. Go!" He did as you said and all you could do was scratch as the girls face, "shh, baby," she let out whimpers and you were afraid she would wake people up. He came back and dropped the materials next to you, "get the gloves on when the puppies start to come." He nodded his head and sat down on your free side, "okay baby, we're gonna help you." You looked to Syverson, "she should know how to do this herself, so it's just waiting. But when the puppies are all out, we will figure out the genders then lay them next to her so she can clean them, keep them warm, and let them eat," he nodded his head, receiving all your orders, "get the food you brought and lather them up in Benadryl." "Can dogs have that?" "yes, and it's all we have," she whimpered again and you both looked down to her. He shifted to grab something from the side of his bed, and when you looked, it was a jar of jelly. You almost gasped, "what the hell? You have jelly?!" He cracked the lid open and used his finger to scoop out a chunk, looking to you, "what? My mom mailed it over." You were still jealous. "I hate you," you muttered. He gave her two pills and you both sat watching on the cold tile floor, it was like watching water boil. After about half and hour, he jumped, exclaiming: "I see a head!" You put your hand over his mouth, "she needs to be at peace right now! Don't disrupt her." You felt his tongue against your palm, which made you with draw quickly, "ew!" He smiled, "you liked it." You could only roll your eyes, but you felt his arm wrap around your back pulling you to sit in between his legs, "look," his voice was deep in your ear, which almost put you in a sleepy trans. But you followed to where his finger was pointing, which was to the small head of puppy coming out. You smiled, sitting criss-cross in between his thick body, "you're gonna be a dad." You spoke softly. You could see his hands rest on his knees, "damn, that makes you the step mama." You couldn't help but laugh, while shaking your head, knowing he smiled at you from behind You didn't notice it, but as the longer you both watched the puppies arrive, the deeper you were in his lap. You laid your head against his fury chest while he rested one hand behind him to support you both and the other laid gently against your body. You had gotten so tired, you jumped when his deep voice rose again, vibrating against your head, "you think she's done." You rose quick and looked around, darting to her and the puppies surrounding her nipples to drink. "Um," you rubbed your eyes, "yeah. We can count them and know the genders I guess." "Alright," he shifted from his position, "we could've moved to the bed instead of making me sit on the hard ass floor." You shook your head, "I didn't mean to fall asleep," you yawned a little, looking over at him, "what time is it?" He checked his watch, "4:08" you nodded and moved closer to Y/M/N, he was close behind you, settling at your side as you both looked at her in awe. "Good job babe," you rubbed her head, she welcomed it and kept her mouth open panting. You could hear him getting his gloves on, "Let's see," he picked up one and checked the underside, "girl." You looked to the puppy, her little eyes were still closed and she was so tiny in his hands, "what's gonna be her name?" He took a long look at her, "Doc . . . for doctor." You rolled your eyes and met his gaze, "i want to keep this one and for her name to be doc." He looked so serious about it that you felt your heart pick up. You shuffled closer to him and watched as he set the puppy down, "fine, but the next ones name is gonna be cap for captain." You knew he was smiling, and by the end of you guys going back in forth with names, you had seven puppies, four girls (Doc, Ivy, Ace, and Lyn) with three boys (Cap, Sage and Hendrix). By the time you were done arguing on the names, it was 4:42 AM. You both got up at six hundred hours normally, and you knew if you fell asleep you'd be out. "What some coffee?" He asked after you two were done admiring the cute little puppies and their whimpers. You nodded your head, "you can sit on the bed, it's softer," he got up and disappeared from the room. You scooted to the mattress and first thing you noticed was how much nicer it was than your own. You leaned your head against the wall and when he came back with two mugs you gave him a glare, "your own room, a jar of jelly, and a soft ass bed." He smiled, handing you the cup, "it pays to have a momma that loves ya, and I guess a good position." You rolled your eyes and blew on the coffees surface, watching the steam rise from it. He picked up the container in one hand and tossed it on your crossed legs, "take it." You looked up at him and he walked towards you, laying down next to you, putting his weight on his elbow so he could look at you. You felt yourself frown, "I can't take it." He shook his head, "that's what I'll pay you in, Berry jelly." "Pay me?" He smiled, taking a sip of the black coffee, "for helping." That almost made you snort, "I fell asleep? Really Sy, you should have it, it's from your family. I'm good with the beans and noodles." "Let me see it," he rested his coffee on the bed, letting it sit against his chest as you handed him the jar and he unscrewed the top, showing you the delicious looking substance. You felt your mouth water, "take some." When he could tell you were resilient, he nudged it closer to you again. You pulled one hand from your coffee mug and let two fingers dig into the jar, coming out with a beautiful scoop of the substance. He watched closely as you put your fingers in your mouth and moaned, which made him all the more tentative. His eyes scanned over your body, and took a long glance at your chest knowing you weren't wearing a bra. Your eyes were closed as you threw you head back against the wall, "that good?" It was so sweet and tart at the same time, it almost made you feel like you were in his hometown. You could imagine him picking berries for the mixture and helping to smash them with his mom, it was so cute. When you finally opened your eyes, your smile was giddy, "like an orgasm." "Well doc if I would've know it was that easy I would've given it to you the first day I saw you." You looked straight at the paint chipped wall, still feeling in a daze of jelly happiness, as you shook your head, "no, you could never get me like that." He watched your every move, licking his lips, "wanna make that a bet." Your head shifted down to him, and you looked at him with the most loving eyes he had ever seen, "this was fun." Before lowering to kiss his cheek, you stopped at his ear, "I'll come by tonight and look at how the kids are doing?" He nodded his head and you pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was quick, but it left a warm print on his skin, and made your chin rub against his beard. "Bye Sy." He hummed, and watched you lift yourself from his bed. He watched your ass as you tiptoed and opened his door lightly, giving him one last glance before you disappeared into the hall. "Fuck." He muttered looking to the jar he laughed, "fucking jelly." 

[ad1thi]

Bruised, Not Broken - CHP 2

...i may have forgotten to cross-post on here again, so im rectifying that!! the next chapter will be out in a couple of days!! (as long as i don’t forget)

//

chapter 2/? || also on ao3

//

She wakes up a couple hours after they’ve checked into the motel.

It’d been interesting checking in: James pillowing her head in the crook of his neck and carrying her out of the truck bridal style to the motel reception; and trying his best to convince the pimple-faced teenager who’d drawn the unlikely straw for the night shift that she was his girlfriend and James simply didn’t want to wake her. His normal guy wasn't behind the register, and it made the whole thing more complicated than it needed to be.

There was a minute when James wondered if it was easier to just shoot the kid and be done with it, but then the keys were slid across the desk and he turned back to his phone, apparently no longer interested in what James was doing with an unconscious woman in his hands.

The room they’ve been given is a couple floors above the reception, and ordinarily James would prefer a room on the ground floor, because they were easier to both enter and escape from; but this particular room overlooks the parking lot and the entrance to the motel, so he’s still got a couple of good vantage points if he needs them.

He’s left the woman on the bed, rearranging her and draping the thread-bare blanket over her body before slowly easing her out of his jacket. He doesn’t like leaving her alone, especially when she’s not even in a state to look after herself should she need to - but James needs to go back to the truck and grab his stuff.

He also needs to make a trip to the nearest shops, because he hasn’t packed for more than a day’s trip. He’s okay with wearing the same clothes over and over, but he needs to grab a couple pairs of briefs and boxers if he’s going to get through this trip. He leaves one of his guns on the bedside table; loaded but with the safety on and locks the door on his way out, to make sure that nobody can get in without his say so.

He knows that she’s awake when he gets back, because he unlocks the door to see her sitting up, blankets pooled loosely around her waist, and the t-shirt she’s got on doing nothing to hide the way that she’s shivering.

Old instincts die hard though, because the first thing that James notices isn’t that she’s awake, or the stiff way she’s holding herself, likely from all her injuries.

The first thing James notices is the gun that she’s holding; pointed directly at him.

The key jingles lightly where it’s nestled in the lock as James slowly puts the bags he’s holding down on the floor, and then straightens himself just as slowly. He’s been around victims before, and Rule Number 1 is always the same: No sudden movements.

He lifts his hands up near his shoulders, palms facing her, in a facsimile of surrender, and once he’s sure that she’s recognised the move for what it is, asks in a low voice, “You want to put that gun down, doll? You could hurt someone with it.”

Her grip on the gun loosens imperceptibly, but she doesn’t lower it.

“That’s the plan,” she shoots back, and oh, she’s got a pretty voice, “Unless you can give me some sort of reason why I shouldn’t.”

James shrugs, “You’re in a strange place, barely clothed, and I’m a strange man who just let myself into this room. You’ve got no reason not to shoot me doll.”

Her eyes narrow at that, “You’re not helping yourself here.”

“Can I step in? I don’t want to get the cold air in. You’re shivering enough that I’m worried you’re going to collapse if it gets any colder here.”

She gestures with the gun, and James takes a couple of steps forward, nudging his bags with his feet and fishing the key out of the lock before kicking the door shut with his heel.

“I’m not trying to help myself here,” he continues, “I’m trying to help you. You got no reason to trust me. From the looks of it, you got no reason to trust anybody for a real long time. I can tell you that you can trust me, but me and you both know that my words mean nothing to you. My actions on the other hand, well I’m hoping those might convince you.”

“You want to take that gun and run? I’m gonna let you do that. Hell, I’ll give you the keys to my truck too, make things easier on you. But I’ve got a job; and that’s keeping you alive until your piece of shit husband’s arrested. I’m gonna do that job with or without your trust, because I don’t need your trust to keep you alive.”

“So no,” he runs his hands through his hair, “I’m not trying to help myself here. I’m trying to help you. And helping you means telling you the truth, no matter what.”

For a couple of minutes, she’s silent, staring at him down the barrel of the gun.

If he wanted to, James could rip it out of her hand and have her on her back in seconds, completely defenceless. He could pull out the gun he’s got resting in the small of his back and fire a warning shot, not close enough to injure anything but something that’ll make her flinch. Given the way her hands are shaking, it’s entirely likely that James could just duck and she’d miss him entirely.

Pointing the gun at him isn’t about her having the upper hand. She doesn’t have the upper hand, not with his training, his years in combat, his expertise. From the moment James stepped into the motel room, he’s had the upper hand.

No, pointing the gun at him is about her thinking she has the upper hand; about her taking back control of her life, having some semblance of independence and security. James left the gun on the bedside table for that very reason.

Granted, he didn’t expect her to wake up in the time that he was gone, nor did he expect that he’d been on the business end of the gun, but the end result is the same: she’s in a position where she thinks she can defend herself, where she feels like she’s the powerful one for once.

James is willing to risk getting shot for that.

Eventually, she sets down the gun, resting it on her lap but not letting her grip on it fully lax. Almost as if she’s coming down from an adrenaline high, she realises how cold she is, and pulls the blanket to cover her chest and shoulders, shifting her hips down the bed to make herself more comfortable.

James waits for a beat to see if she’s going to say anything, before picking up his bags and making his way across the room. He sets his duffel bag on the desk, testing it lightly to make sure it’ll hold the weight of his bag when it creaks, and then sets down his shopping on the floor right next to it.

He squats down to his knees, and fishes out the brown paper bag, tossing it onto the bed. She eyes it warily, before a hand sticks out of the blanket to grab it.

“It’s a cheese-burger and fries,” he offers, and her eyes widen slightly, “It’s a bit cold now, but I figured you’d be hungry whenever you woke up.”

“You’re his friend, aren’t you?” she says between bites of fries, stuffing her mouth with them like she’s never seen them before. Given her stick figure, James would put money on the fact that it has in fact been ages since she’s indulged in anything other than a salad, “The one he told me about. You’re that retired assassin.”

James frowns, “Friend might be stretching it. But yeah, I’m the one he told you about. James.”

He settles on the edge of the bed, for no other reason than there’s nowhere else to sit but the bed, and when he sticks his hand out; she covers it with her own.

“Toni,” she swallows around a couple of fries, “I don’t know what he told me about you, but my name’s Toni.”

“He didn’t tell me anything about you doll,” James huffs, “Didn’t even tell me you were a person. I just got a call in the dead of the night telling me that I had cargo to move. ‘Bout lost my shit when I found out my cargo was you, thought I was meant to kill you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Toni asks curiously, and James has to consciously stop himself from gripping the bed sheets hard enough to tear because nobody should sound so cavalier about their own death.

“I don’t do that stuff anymore. I only got into it because there’s not much jobs for a banged up vet and I needed something to pay the bills, but the minute I earned enough to keep me comfortable? I got out of that life. Didn’t like killing people when I was in the Army, and I didn’t like killing people when I was out of it.”

Toni’s moved onto the cheeseburger, and she hums around it, “He said you were like that.”

“Like what?”

“Honourable,” she licks at her lips to catch the crumbs, “He said you were honourable.”

At that, James smiles, “I’m a lot of things doll, honourable ain’t one of them.”

“You just helped a girl you don’t even know escape halfway across the country. You put a gun on my bedside table, because you wanted me to be able to defend myself, and you didn’t even flinch when I turned it on you.” She waves her half eaten cheeseburger, “You went out and got me food, on the off-chance that I might be hungry.”

“Dishonourable men don’t do that. Trust me, I would know.”

James swallows thickly, around the lump that’s built up in his throat. It’s been a long time since someone called him honourable, had a kind word to say about him - and then there’s Toni.

“I got you some clothes,” he says in lieu of an actual response, “I don’t know what your size is, so if something doesn’t fit right, just let me know and I’ll go get something new. But I figured you’d want to change into something more than..” he trails off, gesturing at her to convey what he means.

“We're not going to be here for long, no more than a night, but the shower’s yours if you want to use it. I’ll shower in the morning before we head out.”

Toni nods, clearly nonplussed by the sudden topic change, but she slips out of bed and walks over to where James is pointing at a plastic bag of clothes, rummaging through them till she pulls out a pair of trousers and a long sleeved t-shirt.

“I couldn’t find any good jacket, but there’s a thrift store a couple miles from here that I figured we could stop at tomorrow. Until then, you’re welcome to use mine.”

“I’m just gonna - “ Toni gestures behind her at the bathroom, and James averts his eyes as she walks past him to go in. Now that she’s conscious, he’s suddenly much more aware of her state of undress; and he’s not about to ruin all the progress he’s just made for her.

He keeps his eyes trained on the floor until he hears the water turn on; then pulls out his phone to start looking up the quickest way to get to Natasha’s place.

tbc

tagging a few people who were interested in this: @favreaus, @lovelyanthony, @the-pasta-monster, @warmachinesocks

[bookandcranny]

Little Angels

One]

It is dark inside a wolf’s belly, but up here the air is clear and bright. Atop the tower of Paradiso, above the city of mist and gray. The roof is all caved in and shattered, scattering brilliant prisms through the fragmented skylight and across the floor. A man stands alone in the wreckage, inside the skeletal remains of this holy animal. He sifts through the books that were left behind until he finds one with a red cover and no title, but the letters A-D embossed along its spine. He flips to a certain chapter, and begins to read.

It was in another kind of tower that it happened. The Detective entered into the penthouse apartment of the Deeds family, a couple from the upper crust who were in a state of panic over their missing teenage daughter. From that first frantic phone call with the grief-ridden Gloria Deeds, Sacha knew the shape of this case inside out, backwards, and upside down. It was a classic. 

Teenage girl from a wealthy family, sheltered her whole life, the type who could do no wrong in the eyes of her doting, overbearing parents. One night she leaves without warning, to chase some guy or some band or some misplaced sense of adventure. The reasons didn’t matter as much as what they were willing to pay for the reassurance that their precious little angel would be home safe and sound.

There were just a couple of details he hadn’t counted on.

Sacha sat idling on the side of the road, looking down at the photo the Deeds’ had given him. It was a little roughed up at the edges and faded at the crease where he’d folded it. He’d forgotten how fragile these old-fashioned print photographs were. Despite the damage, the face of thirteen year old Renee Deeds still looked up at him with those same gentle brown eyes and private smile. 

The girl in the photo, however accurate it was to real life, had her hair pulled back in a crowd of twin braids that crested over thick dark curls. She wore what Sacha presumed to be church clothes-- tidy blouse and long skirt, an heirloom brooch-- and a pair of crutches braced to her forearms. Her ankles were crossed and tucked limply to one side, away from the camera’s focus.

The girl’s disability put a complication in the narrative he’d been concocting. According to the Deedses, Renee could only go so far on foot without intense pain and she disliked using her chair. It remained in the hall closet, untouched since her disappearance. Mr Deeds worked from home most days so rather than send her off to school, she was homeschooled by a well-vetted private tutor under her father’s occasional supervision. She had few friends, being a reserved child, they said. Sacha thought it probably had more to do with the gilded cage she lived in, lined with bubblewrap and goose down lest she ever bruise her precious knees. But it wasn’t his place to say.

Regardless, this left him with a very limited pool of suspects. And suspects they were indeed, since the Deeds were certain Renee had been kidnapped. Such a good girl would never have just wandered off on her own. 

If that was indeed the case, the culprit had done a remarkable job of covering their tracks. Renee was last seen by her mother who had put her to bed at 9 'o'clock on the dot. The security system had been armed all night and there were no signs of tampering. Besides which, the only way out of the penthouse that didn’t involve a several story drop to a very unhappy ending was through the front lobby and the cameras in and outside it didn’t detect anyone unusual, coming or going. 

The parents’ first move, naturally, was to call the police. The cops questioned the other residents and scanned the security tapes but turned up empty handed and after a few weeks of daily calls the officers on the case all but told Mr and Mrs Deeds that their hands were tied. For once, even money and social standing couldn’t hasten the hand of justice. That was when they had called on private investigator Sacha Ferro to get the job done.

All these facts laid out before him, Sacha found himself no closer to the answer than he had been at the start. The difference between then and now was not information but desperation, the heights of which had brought him here. Orphan’s Hollow.

The last few years had hit this city hard, same as it did all of them. It wasn’t a single sudden thing, but rather a combination of natural disasters, a virulent epidemic, and the consequential economic collapse that left entire districts barren, now inhabited only by clustered communities of the homeless. The handful of city blocks now known as Orphan’s Hollow was one such district, named so because it was, if stories were to be believed, populated entirely by children. Hollowed out department stores and office buildings and, most notably, the abandoned fairgrounds of Fun Town West became a tragic Neverland for runaways and other parentless youth in hiding from the overburdened childcare system.

Recently, there had been an epidemic of another kind in many of the nearby boroughs. Kids were going missing, just like Renee Deeds had, except most families weren’t fortunate enough to be able to hire someone to track them down. From what Sacha could pick up, most of them-- those that were reported-- were girls between the ages of six and sixteen. Other than that, the demographics were all over the map: black, white, rich, poor, healthy, sick. Missing posters spawned and spread like mold across the billboards and telephone poles, while the local government processed statistics with dead eyes and shrugging shoulders.

The unspoken truth seemed to be that if they were anywhere, if they were alive, the missing girls were somewhere in here. But the kids of Orphan’s Hollow were protective of their own and wouldn’t likely allow any cops to sift through their ranks even if they did trust their motives. It became one of those open secrets that everyone knew about but no one wanted to touch. 

On top of that, not every orphan was some scrawny Dickens novel side character; there were rumors of gang activity and even some sort of cult that made the teenagers who ended up in this part of town vicious towards outsiders. Orphan’s Row was a name with more than one meaning, they said, because if you took those kids lightly they’d turn yours into orphans as well. None of that mattered to Sacha though. At this point, he had little left to lose.

There was a gun in the glovebox of the Detective’s hatchback, unloaded, and he hoped it would stay that way. The idea of turning any weapon on a kid, no matter their alleged viciousness, turned his stomach. He would bring it with him to be used, in only the most absolutely dire circumstances, as a threat. Leverage. If it came down to it, he could rationalize that.

As he turned down another vacant street into the ghost town, the weather began to turn as well. It had been drizzling steadily since the evening prior, making the humidity all the more unbearable, but now the rain relented and in its place a clotted mist settled low over the city, like ink diffusing in water. Sacha kept his lights low and foot barely pressing on the gas pedal. Though it was irrational he felt uneasy at the idea of making himself any more noticeable than he was already.

When the car jolted it was like being shaken awake from a dream. At first he thought it was another pothole-- the roads were a wreck after so long untended-- but then there was an audible crunch and a lurch as his front-left tire burst. Without bothering to pull over he got out and found the problem right away. Deep in the tire, lodged between the wheel and its socket, was a doll. Or at least, something that was trying to be a doll.

The body was made out of metal; scraps from perhaps an aluminum can worked together with screws and painted to give it the look of a hoop-skirted dress. Its head was a christmas ornament. He recognized the pink painted cherub cheeks and curling synthetic hair. Some broken edge of the makeshift toy had punctured the tire, and of course Sacha didn’t have a spare on hand, even if he could figure out how to rip the damn thing out of the wheel well. 

He muttered a curse to himself. He’d have to leave it here and keep going on foot. At least there wasn’t anything in the car worth stealing, and he didn’t exactly have to worry about getting a ticket.

A sudden shriek made Sacha jump, hand going blindly to the holster under his shirt.

“My doll!” the child cried again. “You killed Jessika! My dolly!”

Sacha turned around and saw a young girl, barefoot and wearing what looked like an old halloween costume, standing across the street from him like a specter out of the fog. Appropriate, since she was so keen on howling like a banshee.

“Hey, I’m so sorry about your dolly,” he gentled, crossing to meet her. 

The girl seemed to be considering running away from the strange man, as would well be her right, but stood her ground instead as her face grew redder.

“You killed her,” she said again. “She was a person and you killed her.”

Sacha dropped to one knee. “ I’m sorry about your Jessica--” 

“Jessika!”

He chewed the inside of his cheek. “I am sorry, but it was an accident, really. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

She sniffled. “I’m Princess Ladybird,” she said, as though it should have been obvious. She gestured at her costume, a pink sparkly dress studded with plastic gems around the collar. “Who are you? You��re not supposed to be here.”

“My name is Sacha. I’m a private investigator-- a detective,” he corrected, seeing her confused expression. “I’m looking for someone. They’re not in any trouble, I just need to make sure they’re safe. Do you think you could help me, your highness?”

He kept his voice low and comforting. Dealing with kids wasn’t exactly his specialty, but he knew what he was doing well enough.

“No! No!” the girl cried, more agitated than ever. “No grownups allowed! You’ll just hurt them, just like Jessika!”

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” he insisted, growing frustrated. “And I told you didn’t mean to break your doll. I could buy you a new doll? A nicer doll.”

She shook her head adamantly. “The store dolls aren’t alive. I only play with alive dolls.”

Play along, Sacha. “Okay, where can I get you a new ‘alive’ doll?”

“You can’t make an alive doll, you’re too old,” she huffed. 

Sacha was not going to let himself be offended by a six year old. He wasn’t. “If your dolls are so precious, maybe you shouldn’t leave them in the street!”

“Maybe you should look where you’re going!” With that, she stomped on his foot and ran away. Sacha barely felt it through his shoes, but that was a small consolation. In a blink the princess was gone again.

He sighed. It was no less than he expected, but it still didn’t feel good. With the world they’d been living in, it wasn’t any surprise that the kids here were a bit strange. At least this one had seemed healthy enough, certainly energetic. That meant there was probably someone making sure she was kept fed. 

He reminded himself that there was nothing he could do for these kids. Better to focus on what he was here for.

Two]

Sacha walked along the sidewalk without any real sense of where he was going. He occasionally saw clusters of children playing games or jumping in puddles in the street, but most were inside keeping out of the weather. When he looked up he sometimes saw tiny faces peering down at him from high windows or crouched on fire escapes. The ones on the ground didn’t spare him a look except in fleeting disgust. There was a girl reading fortunes for her friends from a dented pack of playing cards who went abruptly silent when he passed by, and Sacha came to realize that they were deliberately ignoring him, hoping to shun him into leaving the way he came. 

When he tried to approach a pair of tweens doing some sort of craft project in a sheltered doorway, they quickly picked up their things and scampered away, leaving only a trail of paint droplets behind them. They didn’t look too terribly hard-off; their clothes were sometimes dirty but they were all in one piece and their eyes were bright and lively. It was sort of amazing, Sacha thought, how they’d really managed to build something of a community here, away from adults. Part of him almost envied them.

“Excuse me,” he tried again with a girl who was a bit older than the last. Her age didn’t make her look any more mature really, only sharper, as if she were growing but growing into the wrong shape. “I’m looking for--”

“Everyone knows what you’re looking for,” the young woman said. “You’re loud enough about it.”

This one wasn’t exactly friendly but at least she hadn’t run away yet. Sacha went to pull out a photo. 

“Put that away, man,” she hissed. “You’re not going to find any girls who look like that here, and the wrong fledgling might just eat you alive for having it.”

“For having a photograph?” He didn’t bother to ask what a “fledgling” was supposed to be. Some sort of weird slang he was too dated to recognize, he guessed.

“For keeping another girl’s face! All you need is a face and a real-name and you can make that person do and say whatever you want.”

“Is this some kind of game you kids play? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s not a game,” she said gravely. “You don’t understand anything. Walking into this world when you don’t know the rules is as good digging your own grave.”

“Help me catch up, then. Level with me,” Sacha pressed. “I can make it worth your while.”

He didn’t have much money on hand, but he had medicine credits set aside for emergencies and that should be worth its bytes in gold in a place like this. Or if not, she could pawn it and buy some earrings or animal crackers or whatever kids liked.

“Save it, I don’t have an account. Legally, most of the kids here don’t even exist. You’ll have to trade for what you want the old fashioned way, outsider.”

Exasperated, Sacha rooted around in his pockets and came up with a protein bar and a keychain that doubled as a bottle opener. The girl didn’t look impressed.

“Okay look, hand over the picture and the rest of it and I’ll tell you where you need to go, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Outsiders don’t survive long here.”

Sacha wasn’t convinced this wasn’t all some intimidation game, but he folded up the photo of Renee and handed it to her anyway. If he really needed the visuals he had pictures on his phone. He’d turned it off shortly after setting out, when the calls and texts from his sister started pouring in, but couldn’t quite bring himself to leave it behind in the car. He could just picture Maria pacing around the house scowling at his number as another message failed to go through. 

I’ll make it up to you, he promised her silently.

“There’s a spot two blocks that way,” She pointed. “Left, left, right, down some steps, and you’ll see a sign for The Love Nest. It’s hard to miss.”

Something about the name said through her lips made him want to recoil. The girl scoffed at his unease.

“Relax, it’s just the name left from the old owners. It belongs to the brood now. It’s a good place, a sacred place.” She sighed, looking up and around as if projecting to an imaginary audience. “Not that someone like you would get any of that, I guess. A lot of fledglings hang around there. If your girl can be found, you’ll find her there. If not, she’s already gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?” he demanded.

“I mean gone.” she held up the photograph, still folded. “Gone like this.”

She tore the square neatly in two and let the halves flutter to the ground.

“I’m not even supposed to tell you this much, so if you missed your window don’t even think about hanging around here trying to dig out more information. You’re pushing your luck as it is.”

What an angry kid, Sacha thought to himself as he departed. He wasn’t too different when he was that age, but outright threatening someone who was only trying to do good seemed a bit extreme, especially when that someone had a good head of height on you as well. Was it the conditions they lived in that made them so temperamental here? Or just adolescent angst? Hopefully he wouldn’t be staying long enough to find out.

And just how was he planning to leave, even if he was successful, he wondered. He’d have to drive them out on three tires. Ruining his car would be well worth it though if it meant ending this.

Angry girl’s directions turned out to be sound and soon enough Sacha found himself at the door of a closed down club that proudly announced itself as “The Love Nest” in faded pink letters above the door. The windows were boarded up but there were still some old posters for the upcoming live entertainment pinned to the plywood. It appeared the place had been at least marginally more legitimate than Sacha had guessed by the name, while it had been in operation.

Pushing through the double doors the Detective found himself in a gloomy ballroom, styled vaguely like a vintage cabaret club or perhaps someone’s romanticized idea of a 1920s speakeasy. There were a few tables-- standing only by virtue of the bolts that held them to the hardwood-- a bar, and a large circular stage in the middle of it all. Sacha toed aside what he’d thought was a trash bag only to hear a grumbled complaint and find another of the hollow’s orphans crawling out of a sleeping bag on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” the kid asked, with such pointed accusation you’d think he’d personally wronged them. They were wearing an oversized “Fun Town” t-shirt and flannel bottoms with a paw print pattern.

Roused by the noise, some other children began emerging from their own napping spots to investigate.

“Are you a cop?” one asked.

“No, I’m more of a detective,” he replied.

“Sounds like a cop to me. And you look like a cop.”

Sacha frowned. “How so?”

“You’re old,” the kid said. “And you have blood on you.”

He looked down at his hands, his clothes. He saw brown khakis, dusty black loafers, pale patterned button-up shirt. No tie; he’d spilled coffee on it on the drive, hands already shaky from the ill-advised extra caffeine. To his embarrassment, he noticed a faint dampness where the weather and his own nerves had painted sweat across his collar, but no blood.

“It’s okay,” said the first child, yawning. “Snowy sees blood on everyone.”

“I don’t see it, I smell it,” challenged Snowy. She took a deep breath through her nose. “And you stink of it. Dirty blood, blood that wasn’t ready to be shed. Have you ever killed anybody, Mr Detective?”

Sacha fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Have you been talking to a girl in a princess dress?”

“You mean Princess Ladybird?”

“Never mind,” he said quickly, as if simply mentioning that ridiculous name might conjure up her horrible wailing. “I’m looking for someone. Two someones actually.”

He considered taking out his phone but, remembering how Angry Girl had reacted to the photo, decided to try a different approach. 

“I was told I might find them here. One is named Renee Deeds and the other is Ana Ferro-Silver, eighteen and fifteen years old. Anything you can tell me about either of them would be a huge help. I’m sort of hoping one will lead me to the other.” He forced a smile. 

Kid in the pajamas frowned. “There’s no one with names like that here. You woke us up over something as dumb as that?”

“I don’t think it’s dumb to want to find two girls who might be in a lot of trouble,” he said tersely. “And why were you asleep anyway? It’s three in the afternoon.”

“Growing makes us tired,” Pajamas shot back. They rolled their shoulders. “And sore.”

“And hungry!” added a third child. “Did you bring us any food?”

“Why would I have any food?”

“I heard the gargoyles say you gave Singing Finch a candy bar.”

“It was a protein bar,” he said before he could think to deny it. “What kind of name is ‘Singing Finch’ anyway?”

“It would’ve been Evening Finch, but she tattled so now she’s Singing Finch,” they explained patiently. “She tattled on us and then she tattled on you to the gargoyles and the kestrels. She can’t help it though. She’s a songbird, it’s what they do.”

“So you don’t have any candy?” the other cut in. Sacha put out his empty hands so she could verify and she bit him.

Pajamas laughed as he pulled away with a curse and a cry. “You are dumb. There aren’t any girls in trouble here. You’re the only one in trouble, but that’s because you’re an outsider and a cop, so you probably deserve it.”

Sacha felt a muscle in his jaw tense. He was beginning to think this had all been a huge waste of time. These kids operated on their own kind of logic, their own language, one which was foreign to him. 

“Please,” he said. “Please. I know a lot of you are without families, but these girls still have people who care for them, who are looking for them. I have to bring them home.”

The children looked at him, and then a few of them looked at each other, huddling together in hushed conference. The one called Snowy, who was sitting on top of the bar, glared at him, tilting her head as if she were trying to read something written on the side of his head in very small print. He caught himself raising a hand to touch his neck and let it drop self-consciously back to his side.

“If you keep going like this, you might die,” she told him innocently. “Did you know that?”

The presence of the gun against his stomach, empty though it was, made his skin tingle. “I considered the possibility,” he said, and it was the honest truth. 

“When you die, will you go to paradise?”

“You’re too young to be thinking this much about blood and death.”

“I’ve seen death.” Her voice was without intonation, no defensiveness or accusation anywhere in her tone. She couldn’t have been any older than ten. “My mom died in front of me. She had a fever, but I stayed cold. That’s why they call me Snowy.” She paused, shrugged one shoulder. “Also because I can eat a whole mouse in one bite, like a snowy owl.”

“Oh,” Sacha said lamely. “I’m- I’m so sorry.”

She gave another shrug. “S’okay, I’m with the brood now and they take care of me just as good as mom would. I’m just saying, you don’t really seem like a guy who’s ready to die for anyone.”

Amongst all the riddles and nonsense, this at least was something he could understand. 

“I promise you, I am.”

Pajamas tugged at his sleeve. “Hey, hey Detective, have you ever been to Fun Town?”

He blinked, reeling from the non sequitur. “Excuse me?”

They pointed at the garish logo on their shirt. “‘Fun Town: It’s the funnest place on earth!’ Maybe your friends are there.”

“You’re not going to tell me I should just turn back now? That I’m dumb and the kids I’m looking for are gone forever?” he couldn’t help but snark.

“Don’t listen to Finch, she’s a liar. Nobody’s gone. Different, but not gone.”

Fun Town was an amusement park franchise with a handful of locations all over North America. Had been, that is. They’d had to shut down all their locations more than ten years ago, due in part to the outbreak at the time as well as some unsettling information about the eccentric late founder that came out after his death. Something about swaying elections and pouring company funds into an illicit genetic engineering project. Another day, another megalomaniac billionaire exposé. It had been big news at the time but now it was just another piece of pop culture trivia.

The Fun Town West fairgrounds were now little more than a fancy animatronics graveyard. The rides-- what of them hadn’t been torn down and picked clean by opportunistic scavengers-- were sparkling rusted monuments. Any sense of childhood wonder that remained had long since been siphoned off and sold. The kids didn’t seem to mind though, for how they’d congregated around the place. Maybe Pajamas had a point. It was a big, bright landmark, impossible to miss, and as good a place to search as any.

Three]

The Detective left Snowy and Pajamas and the other strange flock of The Love Nest behind, feeling a grim sense of determination The puckered bite mark on his hand throbbed; the little creep had managed to break skin! 

As he navigated his way to the outskirts of the district, Sacha mulled over the interactions he’d had so far. Reluctantly he pulled out his phone to take some notes, ignoring the voicemail notifications cluttering the screen.

The kids call themselves “brood”-- some sort of gang name? The younger ones and/or newcomers to their group seem to be called fledglings. Everyone has a nickname; real names and pictures of faces have some sort of negative significance. And what of the “songbirds”, “kestrels”, etc? Songbirds: spread information. Kestrels: Unknown.

He huffed. None of this was bringing him anywhere closer to the truth about the missing girls. None of it was helping him find Ana.

By the time he power-walked to the long neglected fairgrounds, the hazy sky was becoming downright dour. The clouds had turned the color of smoke. Combine that with the stench of burnt plastic wafting from some of the attractions, it made for an unpleasant effect. He felt that a storm was brewing, and hoped that whatever came he’d be able to find shelter before the sky opened up around him.

He’d been here only twice while it was still in operation; once just him and his parents and once with Maria. By the second visit he’d already lost his sense of wonderment when it came to a day at the fair. The weather was hot and the crowds were annoying and all the games were rigged. Yet there was still a part of him that felt deeply sad to see what Fun Town had become. This was the sort of place that should’ve been beautiful forever, even as the children grew up and out of their love for it.

As he wove through the rows of darkened kiosks, the fairgrounds suddenly erupted into light. Sacha startled and shielded his eyes. The tired bulbs cracked and fizzled and when he looked up again the desiccated corpse of Fun Town had been revived in a great pulse of electricity. Against the backdrop of perpetual gloom the friendly colors were all the more headache-inducing, and somewhere a tinny recording of calliope music began to play. It all made Sacha’s skin crawl.

Against his every instinct, he let the music lead him to a shack next to the arcade with a mounted loudspeaker, the door marked with a firm “employees only”. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. Inside, another brood girl in coveralls was fiddling with a fuse box and leaning her hip against a desk with an old CCTV. The security system was so antiquated that it didn’t look like it should turn on at all, yet there upon the pixelated screen Sacha could still make out the shape of himself entering the park on a loop. 

The girl turned around, flipping a frizzy head of hair over her shoulder. Although, it turned out she wasn’t so much a girl as a young woman, pushing against the line between teenage and adulthood. His gut reaction was relief. This might be the closest thing to a rational adult he would find around here. Hopefully she’d be of more help than the others.

Come to think of it, he realized, he’d never considered what happened to the Orphan’s Hollow kids once they grew up. Surely there must be some adults here, somewhere. But then, everyone who’d met him so far had treated him as a foreign invader. Were all adults so unwelcome, as he’d assumed, or was there something about him in particular? 

The most rational assumption was that the homeless kids simply became homeless adults. No need for any additional fanfare. They would graduate from the Hollows and go on to squat in other parts of the city. There was certainly no shortage of slums these days, he thought glumly.

Did any ex-runaways ever try to go home, those that still had them? Did that Renee ever think about home? 

“What ho, outsider!” the teen greeted. Sacha felt himself relax despite himself, so glad to be met with at least one friendly face.

“‘What ho’?” he parroted lamely.

“It’s theatre-speak for ‘wassup’. As in, what the hell are you doing in brood territory?”

She moved quickly. He didn’t notice the knife until it was tucked under his chin, pointed at his throat. 

Sacha’s back hit the wall and he put up his hands in surrender. “Hold on, I’m not looking for a fight.”

“Oh yeah?” she giggled. She wrenched up the front of his shirt. “What’s this then? A prop? If I shoot it, will a little flag come out that says ‘bang’?”

She un-holstered the pistol and pointed it at his forehead.

“That’s not a toy,” he said slowly. “Just a little insurance. Like your knife there, I’m sure. I don’t think either of us wants anybody to get hurt.”

“This?” She tossed it in the air and caught it. “Nah, this is part of the act. Tonight, I’m a knife thrower. I’ve never been a knife thrower before. I hope it goes well.”

Sacha tried to speak, but the girl pressed the cold flat of the blade to his lips.

“The older girls put on shows for the fledglings. Sometimes here in Fun Town, sometimes over in the Nest, or up on the rooftops when the weather is nice. I’d invite you, but I don’t think you’d be welcome.” She adjusted her grip again so that the knife was touching the tip of his nose. “All day there’ve been whispers about some kind of detective guy putting his nose in our business.”

“I don’t care about you brood kids do here.”

“Liar.”

“I swear, I don’t. I’m just trying to find someone. I’m not even a real detective anymore,” he confessed. “I wouldn’t tell anyone what you’re doing here. Even if I did, no one would believe me. I’m nobody.”

The knife thrower gave a big, hearty laugh, and Sacha’s throat tightened with fear. He didn’t consider himself a violent person, but over his career he’d come to blows with enough unruly targets and bitter clients alike that he knew when someone was posturing, and when someone was really out for blood. Normally there was a clear indicator of one kind or another; a tightening of the jaw, a certain nervous tick, a look in their eyes. 

But this girl he couldn’t get a read on at all. He hoped that meant she was still on the fence about the subject.

Struggling to keep his voice level he said, “You don’t have to do this. Something like this will haunt you your whole life, you know, and you’ve got so much life left. You’re still just a kid--”

She reared her hand back and struck at his head with the butt of the pistol. Sacha dodged. It slammed into the fuse box she’d been working on instead and the lights went out. Taking advantage of the darkness, he shoved past her and in a stroke of blind fortune found the door. There was a sound then, like the rush of wind in his ears. Then a sharp flash of pain as a flying knife split the cartilage of one ear.

He stumbled and hit the pavement. When Sacha turned around, hand clutched to his head, he saw the young woman’s silhouette bracketed by two iridescent black wings. Again that sound, ferocious wingbeats stirring the air. All he saw were two but it sounded like hundreds, a massive flock taking off in perfect synchronicity. 

“It’s really frustrating when people don’t take me seriously,” said the winged creature as she approached him. Maybe it was an effect of the many colored lights, but her skin appeared to have a glossy sheen to it, like an oil painting in motion. “But you look like you’re starting to get it now.”

“What the hell are you?” Sacha asked with a mix of horror and feverish reverence.

“What do you think I am?”

The thought came to him unbidden. It was an insane thought, one he didn’t even truly believe in, yet this was an insane situation. “The angel of death.”

That gave her pause. “You’re not right, but you’re not really wrong either I guess. Truth be told, I’m heaven on earth. Maybe I’ll cut you some slack if you worship me”

A wing brushed over his skin, however faintly, and it felt warm and real as the blood cooling on his skin. Not ethereal or dreamlike as he might’ve expected but so real, and all the more hideous for it. He shuddered and said nothing.

The false angel, this predatory animal, took a step back. She spun the pistol around one long finger until it slipped and fell to the ground. She looked at it for a moment, as if surprised.

“Huh. It was lighter than I expected,” she said. Then she kicked it aside. “You win this one I guess. I’ll let you go.”

He stared at her, mouth agape, sure it was some trick.

“What? You don’t believe me. I put it in fate’s hand, and for some reason it looks like fate wants to keep you alive a little longer. It’s not how I saw this going, but I can roll with some improv.” She put up her hands. “Don’t bother groveling. I won’t kill you even if you beg. I know guys like you love punishment. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Here… in Fun Town? Or, are you asking why I’m alive?”

She laughed. She so loved laughing. “Morbid! You’re morbid, man. I mean, why are you here among the brood? At… what do the outsiders call it? The Orphan Hole?” she snickered. “You kind of stick out like a sore thumb.”

“I’m trying to find someone,” Sacha repeated quietly. He’d said the line so many times he felt it was starting to lose its meaning. “And to make up for something I did.”

“Well you should’ve said so in the first place! If you’re looking to atone you need to meet with the broodmother. If you hurry, you might still be able to catch her. Tonight’s going to be kind of a crazy night once it kicks off, but if you plead your case I’m sure she’ll hear you out. 

“I have to keep setting up here. You go on ahead.” She pointed out in the direction he’d come from. “It’s a straight shot to Paradiso. You can tell her the angel of death sent you.”

She spared him one last smirk and then shot up into the air like an arrow loosed from a taut bowstring.

Or a bullet from a gun, even. Sacha considered the discarded pistol for a moment. It seemed so useless now, just a hunk of metal and plastic, just a prop. He walked away without it, pain pulsing dully from his ear. His journey was nearly over.

Time dragged on as he walked, but not enough for him to find the space to contend with what he’d seen. That girl, that creature. She was no angel, that much he was certain of. Angels didn’t attack strangers with a knife, he didn’t think. 

What he wasn’t certain of was… just about everything else. Was he meant to understand that all these girls, these brood, were some kind of bird-beasts taking human shape? Was everyone he’d met an imposter masquerading in the form of a child? Or did they start out as ordinary children and then transform somehow?

He half hated himself for even entertaining such wild ideas, but he had little other choice. “When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth” wasn’t that so? In any case, speculation did him little good at this point. He could only hope that this paradise and “broodmother” the girl had spoken of could give him some answers.

Four]

Just when Sacha was beginning to wonder if the knife throwing angel imposter was fully fucking with him, he found his destination: The Paradiso Hotel, although the damaged neon sign now read only PRDIO. 

The building was tall and narrow, so wedged between its neighbors that it looked like any moment it might be crushed. The brickwork was crumbling as it was. Creeping plant life climbed the sides and snuck in through broken windows. The ominous, weathered shape of gargoyles watched from above, jutting strangely out of high corners. This place must have been in dire straits long before it had been taken over by the brood. At the same time, looking at it Sacha got the impression that it had been something glorious in its heyday. 

There was something almost inviting about the faint glow that came from the topmost windows, filtering pink light through heavy red curtains, and yet Sacha was terrified. His hands trembled on the railing as he climbed the winding stairway. 

The higher he went, the more his surroundings began to change. The carpet beneath his feet grew soft, damp, dipping slightly with his weight, and when he looked down he found it thick with patchy moss. Mushrooms sprouted from the junction where the floor met the wall. Sacha tore his foot from a tangle of roots he’d caught himself in and wondered, when was the last time he’d seen so much wild living plantlife in person? 

Finally he reached the top of the tower and opened the door not onto identical hallways and bland hotel decor, but onto a sprawling private library.

The detective could hardly see the walls for the shelves, lined top to bottom with books upon books upon books. There was a desk against the far wall piled high with precarious stacks of paper. They overflowed and spilled onto the loamy floor, whispering under his every step.

Beyond a towering skylight, storm clouds billowed, but that wasn’t of any concern to the flock of brood congregated in their wake. The scene looked like something rendered from stained glass, at least a dozen girls with wings of all colors stretched out and fluttering idly behind them as they sat around some sort of shrub or young sapling that was, quite impossibly, growing out of the floor. Its tender boughs bore tiny fruit, several perfectly round red orbs plump and shiny with juice.

The room smelled like a greenhouse, like heat and green growth, flowers and fruit. Intrigue drew Sacha nearer and he detected an undercurrent of something metallic as well. He rounded the desk and his stomach plummeted. The tree was not growing out of the floor. It was growing out of a human corpse nested in a bed of soil.

The Detective choked on a gasp and the brood children looked up. Their hands and knees were dark from their work. A flash of gore passed before Sacha’s eyes and he flinched, expecting to be struck down where he stood. When no killing blow came, morbid desire took hold of him and he took a second look. The tree was still there, and the body, but the body was not as he’d thought. It looked dry, mummified, more root than rot. Still staring, one of the brood girls plucked a berry and crushed it between her teeth. The smell intensified, iron and something sweet, heady as any wine.

One of the girl-beasts stood, and she seemed older than the rest somehow, not just in body but in her eyes, gray as the growing storm and so clear that Sacha feared if he looked too long he would fall through them. Her face was smooth and free of wrinkles or worry, but the long hair that fell about her shoulders was white as bone. She wore something like a shawl that hung lazily off her shoulders and down past her knees. Unlike the others, she had no wings.

“So you’re the one all my girls have been making such a fuss about,” she said, and her voice was a choir, her words an indictment.

Sacha felt a strange spike of anger at this creature that looked like a woman and talked like a mystic and was neither. “And you’re the broodmother, whatever that means! Your girls make you out to some kind of god. But you’re not a god, and you’re not their mother. I don’t know what you are and I don’t care. I just want to know why you’re doing this.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re- you’re taking them!” he stammered furiously. The pieces were coming together, albeit in a hectic jumble. “All the missing girls! You abduct them, or call them to you, or something! It changes them!” He flung his hand out towards the body. “You’re a killer! You're some kind of crazy death cultist and you turn these kids into killers!”

The broodmother quirked her head to the side, not quite smiling. “You talk with a lot of confidence for a man with only half the story.”

“Then explain it to me,” he demanded. “Make it make sense. Because I’ve been running around this madhouse all day and so far, nothing does.”

She hummed to herself, considering. “If you’re so eager for a tale, let’s start with yours.”

One of the other little brood leapt up and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Is it time for a story, Nightingale?”

“Yes, I think so. Do you know which book to get?”

“D for Detective!” she cheered.

“Very good.” 

The girl scampered off and returned with a big book bound in red. Nightingale took it and ran her thumb over the pages, flipping it open with a calm certainty that boiled Sacha’s blood.

“Let’s see… Detective Sacha Ferro. You were born in this very city, had a fairly normal childhood until,” She traced the tip of her finger along the page and Sacha noticed for the first time how it curled, a ghastly hook-like talon. “Oh, that’s right. There was an accident. Your parents… Tragic. Just terrible.”

Astonishingly, she sounded as though she meant it.

“You were in high school at the time. But your sister, Maria, she was still just a kid. You always struggled to relate to her as a brother, with her being so much younger than you, but after that day you had to become like a parent too. You really stepped up, it looks like. That didn’t change the fact that you were still a kid yourself. You made mistakes, and the two of you grew apart.”

Shame curdled in Sacha’s gut. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. The most he was capable of was curling his hands into white-knuckled fists at his sides.

“Get out of my head.”

“I’m not in it. Frankly, I’m not that interested in your editorializing. This is the truth. Now, where was I?

“You’d always dreamed of being a police detective, like the ones on TV,” she continued. “But became disillusioned with the idea once you grew older. So you became a private eye, but that too got old. You were tired of acquiring blackmail material for shady characters and helping angry wives catch their cheating husbands and so on. Meanwhile little Maria had grown up and moved on and the neighborhood you’d lived in all your life was going more and more downhill by the year. You wanted out.

“Then you got a call from a Mrs Gloria Deeds.” Her eyes widened dramatically. “She wanted you to track down her poor missing daughter. The Deedses were wealthy, desperate, and just perfect. You requested an advance payment, a big one, big enough for a down payment on a new life and the gas to get you there. They didn’t even blink as they pulled out the checkbook. It was all so easy.

“You took the Deedses money and you ran away. Forget the kid, chances were she’d turn up on her own in a week or two after getting whatever rebellious phase out of her system. That’s not what happened though, is it? More and more girls started disappearing. Renee wasn’t the first though, or was she? Could she have been the catalyst for all this? You’d never know for certain. The wondering ate you up inside, but not enough to make you turn back.

“You got yourself a new apartment and a regular nine-to-five job. You quit smoking. You adopted a dog. You started letting people in. You even called up Maria begging to be a part of her life again and shockingly, she agreed! You started spending weekends with her and her wife Kara and their sweet little girl Ana. Your mother’s name, wasn’t it? Well, anyway.

“Everything was all going so terribly well until just a few days ago. Nearly five years on the dot since you took the Deeds case and Maria calls you in tears, tells you that Ana has gone missing. You drop the phone, your blood running cold. She’s fifteen. Just a year or two and she’d be out of the target demographic. Neither you or your sister has set foot in this city in years. What are the odds she got taken? But you can’t let it go until you know for sure.

“Feeling frantic, you pull up the stuff from the Deeds case for the first time in what feels like an eternity. You do some digging. Renee Deeds was never found, nor were any of the others who vanished after her. The cops are still as apathetic and incompetent as you left them. They’re blaming it all on an epidemic of gang activity stemming from somewhere the locals have started calling ‘Orphan’s Hollow’. It didn’t used to be called that though, did it? Do you remember? How gutted you were when you found out? No way you could tell Maria where you were going. Back home, back to where it all started.”

“Stop.” Sacha found his voice at last, though to what end?

Nightingale looked up at him, feigning shock. “But don’t you want to know how it ends? Whatever does happen to the guilt-ridden detective trying to right a wrong? Hoping against hope that if he can fulfill the promise he broke that all of this will be set to rights, and little Ana will return home with him safe and sound.”

“Please, please, stop.” He covered his ears and felt the cut throb against his fingers.

“You’re not really in any position to be making demands, Detective. You came to me. You followed my song. It doesn’t usually work on grown-ups, you know, but you were always sort of a special case I think. I’m glad I kept an eye on you. This has turned out more interesting than I thought.” 

She crossed the room to stand before him, cupping his hands with her own. “You never really stopped being that kid, did you Sacha? You run and run and just keep him right there, locked away in your chest. Look at me Sacha. Look at me. You need to be a grown-up now. I don’t have her, Sacha. I don’t have Ana.”

Slowly Sacha’s hands dropped to his sides, his eyes wide and wet. “What?”

“That’s right,” the broodmother said cheerily. “Ana isn’t here. In fact, she’s at home with her moms right now. Maria’s been trying to call you for days now. You were too ashamed to pick up, couldn’t tell her how this was all your fault. It’s not actually, by the way. You were a self-serving bastard, but not enough to bring down that kind of karmic wrath.

“Although I’d’ve been happy to have her, Ana already has two loving mothers, and an uncle that… has his moments.” She patted him on the shoulder. “The children who follow my song aren’t like that. They come willingly, and they change because change is what they need. I won’t pretend it’s not a messy process. Sometimes blood needs to be spilled to create a paradise. But ‘be not afraid’, Detective. I would never let my little angels get hurt.”

“I still don’t understand,” he all but wept. “What about Renee Deeds?”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Nightingale groaned. “‘What are you? What are you? Where’s the girl? Pow! Blam! I’m a big scary action hero and I’m here to save you or kill you trying!’” 

She shook her head. “You’re not the hero of this story, Detective. The girl you knew as Renee doesn’t exist anymore, but she’s alive, not because of your intervention, or lack thereof. Not even in spite of it. What am I? What is she? And what are we when we’re together? A thing that lives without your permission. You need to understand for it to be true.”

She looked at him then with all the sympathy of a mother comforting a crying child. She handed off the storybook to one of her young attendants, and as she turned around she swept aside the cover of her shawl to reveal her bare back. Her skin was twisted with badly healed scars, the flesh raised in the shape of two jagged cuts curving around the shape of her scapula.

“Here’s another story for you. Once upon a time,” she said. “A ship of men was cast from its course and lost at sea. Just when it seemed all hope was lost, they found themselves on the shores of a mysterious island full of the tallest, greenest trees they’d ever seen. The people there had wings like a bird, and they were so beautiful and kind that the men decided they must be angels, and this was paradise.

“The angels let them stay there a while and lick their wounds, but warned them that they couldn't remain forever. At first they accepted this, but as the time to leave for home grew nearer they became obsessed with the wonders of the island and couldn’t bear to go without taking a piece with them. 

“So enamoured by the beauty of the angels, yet fearing their heavenly wrath, they lured away the smallest one and imprisoned her in the lower decks of the ship. When she realized what had happened, she tried to escape, so they broke her wings until just moving them caused her horrible pain. She did get free in the end, but only once the ship returned to port and by then she was far, far from home and knew not how to find her way back. 

“She knew she wasn’t safe among the wingless people, so she hid herself away until nightfall, singing her song by the light of the moon in hopes that one day someone would return her call. When someone finally did, it wasn’t at all who she expected. It was a young human girl, a daughter of man, who recognized her song of pain and loneliness because these were things she knew well herself. When the angel and the girl finally found each other, the angel bid her to cut her useless wings and drink her blood, and together they escaped on new wings.”

As she spoke, the storm outside grew stronger until the wind rattled the very walls, knocking books loose from their shelves. The brood, with their many colored wings and many sweet voices, began to sing in wordless harmony, a hymn from such unfathomable depths and dizzying heights that Sacha’s legs nearly gave out beneath him. 

“Don’t be sad, my mourning dove. This is a happy story. The Nightingale fell in love with the Swiftlet, the song and the storm, and they carried each other to a place where they could make a new paradise, a garden of their own.”

That was when the ceiling began to cave in. Sacha fell to his knees and covered his head with his hands, blinded by what he was sure was a bolt of lightning. When he looks back on it later, he won’t be so sure.

Again came that sound, the torrent of wind and a hundred wings beating within it. Sacha forced himself to raise his head, squinting against the light, and there he saw dancing in the open air above the wreckage-- for dancing was the only way he could think to describe it-- a girl he once knew. Though they were less than strangers, especially now, he recognized her kind dark eyes, her secretive smile. 

Her hair was loose, a halo of electrified black curls, and her wings a dusky brown with the sharp, precise plumage of a swift. Her legs still didn’t move so freely as the rest of her, but she wasn’t bothered. She didn’t need them.

Nightingale ran and leapt and took her in her arms with a lover’s embrace. Off a ways behind them, their brood took flight as well, swooping and shrieking their delight as if they were a single entity, metamorphosing into something new, something so nearly divine.

Sacha did weep then. His vision blurred with the shape of his grief, then his longing, a child and a man and a hair’s width away from paradise. Eventually the storm subsided, but he didn’t see the angel and her love again after that. He thought perhaps that was for the better.

The sky cleared. The sun came out. Elsewhere, young girls planted gardens and played games and put on shows. The world went on, however changed.

This is where past and present collide. In the aftermath of a mystery, a man named Sacha Ferro picks up a book from in amidst the rubble and holds it up to the light. He flips to D for Detective and begins to read, anxious to find out what happens next.

Epilogue]

“Everyone settle down. Places! Starling, for the last time, ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ doesn’t call for a knife thrower.”

“And why not?” She wiggles the blade in her direction. “This show’s so boring. Everyone already knows how it goes. Let me spice it up a bit.”

Finch rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Just, don’t jump ahead of your cue this time. And stop making up extra lines. You almost blew it last time.”

Starling sticks her tongue out but she has a skip in her step when she returns backstage. On the other side of the curtain, the audience is starting to take their seats. There aren’t enough chairs-- and most of the “chairs” are actually old boxes and things to begin with-- so some of them have to stand. An older brood allows Pajamas to climb up onto her shoulders, reminding her to be mindful of her wings, which are still fairly fresh and tender where they join with her back.

“Greetings, Princess,” says the fortune teller Resplendent, dressed in her good theatre clothes, as she sits down beside her. “Who’s this?”

Princess Ladybird holds up the dented ornament head. “This is Jessika. The doctors managed to save her but she needs an emergency body transplant, stat! I’m going to find her a new one after the show.”

She nods. “Greetings, Lady Jessika. I hope you have a speedy recovery.”

Ladybird holds the doll head up to her ear and hums as if in response to something.

“Can I hear too?”

She obliges, and Resplendent listens. There’s a quiet buzzing from inside the hollow tin skull and it echoes hauntingly in the emptiness.

She whispers, “There’s a bug inside of Jessika’s brain keeping her alive. That’s why she can still talk without a body. If Jessika dies, the bug will get out. Ick!”

The other girl chuckles. “Your name is a kind of bug, you know.”

“No! It’s a bird! Lady-bird!”

She bites back another laugh and points towards the stage. “Shh, the show’s starting.”

Sure enough, the songbird choir starts up, bidding the chattering spectators to quiet down and listen up. A girl comes out on stage wearing a corner of the curtain as a makeshift hood. She says,

“It is dark inside a wolf’s belly.”

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

Quoting your idea back to you: "The Time Team ends up in something like the Framework from Agents of SHIELD" (^^)

(The promised blurb that I write while eating dinner, inspired by talk of Timeless, the Boys, and AoS that has chilled me to write)

“How is security for tonight’s event?” Benjamin Cahill asked.

Denise Christopher glanced toward the exits, where agents were already stationed. “All prepared and on alert. We have uniforms and undercover operatives as you requested. They’ve been vetted thoroughly.”

“Excellent,” Cahill smiled. “You’ve been an excellent asset to us. I’m pleased that someone at the department is willing to extend my party the same treatment as the other two.”

“You’re on the ballot, it’s owed.” responded Denise as they passed by the stage. “Good luck out there tonight.”

“Thank you, Agent Christopher. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Cahill walked off, leaving her on her own. Denise turned around and stared at the chairs and bleachers behind her. Banners with the pale gold Rittenhouse Party logo hung from the ceiling. A strange feeling washed over at her, one that made her feel sick looking at those banners. Denise couldn’t stand straight for a moment, nearly dropping to the ground. It was gone as quickly as it passed though. She wasn’t even sure why it had come over her...

~

Jiya flicked through the pages on her desks of memos and to-dos and committee reminders. It looked like another long day at the office, but that was to be expected for her. Then again, she was one of the three Rittenhouse Party representatives, although polls were favorable for more to be joining come the election. The bills she and the other two were planning would be going through easier. 

“Congresswoman Marri?”

She looked up as the door to her office cracked open. “Daniel?”

“Your 9:00 just arrived.”

Jiya smiled and straightened some of the papers on her desks. “Send her in.”

A minute passed before her appointment entered the office. It was enough time for her to take a glance out her office window. It wasn’t the best view, but it was still a beautiful one. It reminded her of what she was working for, what the party was working for.

Wait, what was she-

Her door opened and Jiya turned around to greet her guest with a smile, the strange thought of wrongness leaving her mind. “Hello, Ms. Whitmore.”

~

“Hey, what do you think of this?”

Rufus looked up from his storyboard and notes to see what Niles had done. He was working with the ad for Benjamin Cahill’s campaign. Numbers were good, but you could never be too cautious. Elections had been lost with complacency. 

He watched the clip that Niles had put together. It was good- really good. Niles was good at this stuff. But somehow...Rufus felt sick watching it. Which didn’t make sense, but watching Cahill smile at the end as he approved the message made him shiver.

“Rufus?”

Rufus shook his head, but the wrongness was still there. “It’s good, Niles. Exactly what they’re looking for.”

“Are you okay, man?”

“Yeah, I just need to go take a break.”

Without saying anything else, he walked out the room and towards the bathroom. Once he was inside, Rufus looked at the reflection of himself in the mirror. For a moment, he seemed to be wearing a hoodie and a Star Wars t-shirt instead of a button down with the sleeves rolled up. He shut his eyes, wondering why he would wear something like that in a workplace.

What was happening?

~

“She won’t talk. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Thanks, Dave,” Wyatt patted him on the shoulder. “How long has she been there?”

“Three days,” Dave shook his head. “And there’s not a peep coming out about the other cells. We know they’re out there.”

“Let me take a crack then.”

Twelve minutes later, Wyatt walked into the interrogation room with a plate of cookies. The woman behind the table glared at him as he entered. He set the plate down and pushed it across to her. Her glare settled on the cookies like they were something offensive.

“You poison these?” she snarled at him. 

“Only the cupcakes have poison,” he smirked. “You’ve been here three days, and I know the food sucks. Luckily, we keep a tube of Nestle in the break room freezer. Not everyone has hot fresh cookies.”

She continued to glare.

“You don’t have to tell me anything about your operations,” Wyatt told her. “Dave like to get right to the point. And being alone in this space...the loneliness really gets to you.”

Her silence persisted, so he tried a different tactic. “My name’s Wyatt, by the way. And you are.”

Finally, she spoke in a hoarse voice. 

“Amy.”

~

Garcia’s eyes darted from side to side. He scanned the crowd as they ran from the doors, hoping that he’d find her. After the day he’s had, all he wanted to do was see her and go home. The card from the Rittenhouse party member was burning in his pocket. 

“We think you’d be an excellent addition to our team.”

“I’m not a politician.”

“But you were NSA. You know government work. Coming back into the fray, helping us roll out the new policy if we get elected...think of the lives that you could save.”

Garcia shuddered again. It had felt wrong, even with the points that were being made. Policies made sense but he had a funny feeling about them. Perhaps it was just the time of year. The election was getting more and more fierce with each day, as were the attacks on the Rittenhouse Party. What if he got caught in one of the attacks? Who would be there for-

“Iris!” he called, catching sight of her long brown braid swinging as she ran towards him. “There you are.”

“Hi, Dad,” she grinned. “Ms. Patterson was explaining our homework so we would be able to understand it.”

“And your dad can’t help with math?” he teased as she opened the car door.

She made a face. “It’s fractions and story problems.”

He chuckled, but somehow he felt sad. It didn’t make sense.

~

“Comfortable, Connor?”

Connor Mason turned away from the window of his “prison”. A gilded cage was perhaps a better description for where Rittenhouse was keeping him. It was as fine as the one he used to own back in reality. The one difference here was that he wasn’t allowed a computer or phone. Rittenhouse had made sure that he wouldn’t be contacting the outside world.

“This technology wasn’t meant to be built,” he muttered. “And especially not for this purpose to test your takeover strategy.”

“It’s alternative use that’s effective for our interests,” Benjamin said. “We make mistakes here, then perfect. You can live years within a minute here, Connor. That’s plenty of time for us, and plenty of time for your ragtag misfits to be swayed to our side.”

Connor chuckled. “So you would think.”

Benjamin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have us all.”

~

Lucy stared at the team laying on the hospital beds in a single row. All of them were there, and on the other side were people she didn’t recognize. Were they Rittenhouse, or innocent civilians to be brainwashed? Either way, she wasn’t ready to wake on up and find out. The strange devices attached to their heads reminded her of head massagers, which she was never using again after this. Could they be removed safely or not?

Making her way to end of the row, Lucy took the empty bed beside Garcia and sat down. Remembering how Connor had told them about his prototype, she remembered what she was doing. Whatever fantasy nightmare awaited her, Lucy couldn’t lose sight of her goal. She had to find the way out and free the team.

“Here we go,” she murmured, lowering the device onto her head and closing her eyes.

The switch was instant. A sudden pressure bore down on her whole body. When she tried to scream, something caught in her mouth before she shut it. Her hands were above her somehow and could feel a breeze. She wriggled her arms out and realized she was covered in dirt. Quickly, Lucy scratched her hands at the surface above her head to dig away the dirt. By the time her head came free, she was able to see it was sunset, even though it had been pitch black when she arrived at the facility. 

It took a while longer to pull the rest of her body out of the ground. Her nails were coated with dirt and blood. She spat out the mud that had gotten in her mouth and rolled away from the ground. Glancing over to the hole, a gasp escaped her when she saw what was inside. A skeleton wearing the same clothes she had on now was nestled in the shallow grave.

Someone had killed her in this reality.

Lucy stared for a moment at her alternate self’s body, then pushed the dirt back over it. Once the bones were buried, she stood up and caught sight of a road. She made her way down to it and spotted the lights in the distance. It had been a long time since she had seen Washington DC at night in present day, but she could still recognize it.

“Okay,” she sighed, shaking the dirt out of her hair. “Time to find a ride.”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph, I saw you said you had a Doctor John part 4 ready to copy and paste? I have an insatiable hunger for angst like that and so far in quarantine I’ve gone through the other 3 parts 😂 I need more

Hi Nonny!!!

I DOOOOO!!!! And LOL I’m HONOURED that you read every fic on my other lists, hahahah!! Here you go, enjoy!!

DOCTOR / CARETAKER JOHN Pt 4

See also:

Doctor / Caretaker John

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 2

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 3

Sherlock is Sick/Hurt (Sherlock Whump)

Sherlock Whump Pt. 2

Insomnia by TheSingingGirl (K+, 2,635 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Sleepy Sherlock) – Sleep is merely the next frontier in what has become the battle to keep Sherlock alive. It’s because of this that John ends up in bed with a sociopath.

Museums and Laboratories by RhododendronPonticum (T, 3,004 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, Obsessive Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, Anxiety/Panic Attack, Separation Anxiety, Doctor John, Co-Dependent Sherlock) – If Sherlock’s kitchen was his laboratory, then his bedroom was his museum.

Sleepless nights by El loopy (T, 5,467 w., 3 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares/Insomnia, Panic Attack, Worried Sherlock) – Sherlock has a nightmare and John wants to know what it was about. Set during season 1. Three-shot.

Stranded by BeautifulFiction (T, 5,798 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Communication / Relationship Discussion, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, BAMF John, Doctor John, Case Fic, Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Friends to More) –  When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

Sherlock’s Sleeping Habits by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 11,424 w., 16 Ch. || Friendship, Sleepy Sherlock, One Shot Collection, Fluff, Domestics) – In which John learns about Sherlock’s sleeping habits. Series of unrelated oneshots featuring the one and only ADORABLE Sleepy!Lock! Fluff abounds.

The Hand You’re Dealt by Lady Sam Mallory (T, 12,092 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Light Violence, BAMF John, Doctor John, Injury, Friendship) – Sherlock, John and several others are trapped in a building when an explosion disrupts the crime scene they are working.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world’s only consulting detective will be on his own once again…or will he?

The shape of the world around us by Salambo06 (E, 15,058 w., 5 Ch. || Lumberjack John / Botanist Sherlock, Different First Meeting, John Has a Beard, Light Case Fic, Flirting, First Kiss / Time, Masturbation, Love at First Sight, Horny Sherlock, John’s Bum, Bottomlock, Tenderness, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Shy Sherlock, Sexual Fantasies) – Looking through the bush, Sherlock felt his heartbeat quicken as a man passed in front of him. Sherlock frowned, trying to get a closer look despite the bush. The man was wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Sherlock couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s arms. Muscular, slightly tanned with golden hairs along his forearms. For some unknown reason, Sherlock found himself imagining them around his waist, holding him tightly. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, Sherlock shook his head. Opening his eyes and looking back to where the man stood only a moment prior, he found himself alone. Great, now his only chance to find his way back to town was gone. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary’s wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn’t exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues – just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John “Five Oceans” Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it’s a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?

[kingleedo]

Interview Tag

Rules: answer 20 questions + tag 20 blogs you’d like to know better!

Tagged by: @naturalogre

Tagging: I know these tag games might be overwhelming, so if you see this and want to do this, YOU’RE TAGGED BY ME. TAG ME IN YOUR POST I WANNA READ.

Name: Nadia Sky

Pronouns: she/her

Star sign: Libra

Height: 166.5cm

Time: 16:41

Birthday: October 4th

Nationality: Moldovan

Fav Bands/Groups: Block B, ONEUS, Ateez, Got7, Mamamoo, VIXX, EXO, BTOB, Onewe AND MANY MORE TRUST ME

Fav Solo Artists: The Weeknd, Chungha, Hyolyn, Sunmi, Ilhoon, Gemini...

Song Stuck in Your Head: None????

Last Movie You Watched: I honestly don’t remember

Last Show You Binged: Does Ateez Fever Road count?????

When You Created Your Blog: This one this year at the end of January, main was created in May, 2011 I think haha

Last Thing You Googled: ateez birth charts DONT ASK hahah

Other Blogs: I have a main. Which is @kmvkxn but I don’t post much there. Mostly log in every once in a while to spam Ateez hahaha

Why I Chose My URL: I know it was different at first haha. But idk somehow I came up with kingleedo, it sounds good. And then I found the whole king Sejong thing haha So it became even more legit.

How Many People Are You Following: 125

How Many Followers Do You Have: 80

Average Hours of Sleep: 10. I love sleep way too much hahaa

Lucky Number: Idk. but I often see 1004 all around me. time, steps, other things.

Instruments: Never learned anything. :( Wanted to learn to play guitar but at this point I’m not trading my long nails for this. 

What I’m Currently Wearing: Blue sweatpants, red T-shirt and a grey hoodie.

Dream Job: I wanted to become a vet, an astronaut and an archeologist when I was a kid. Then I was really passionate about singing or dancing on stage. Performing in front of mirror was my favorite thing to do. Now I just want a chill job with a good pay check lmao.

Dream Trip: Iceland. And I want to go back to the Netherlands and Norway. And South Korea of course.

Fav Food: Fried chicken. 

Fav Song: I CAN’T CHOOSE ONE DHKGKH

Top 3 Fictional Universes You’d Like To Live In: Dark, TO LIVE IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS LONG HAIRED MAGNUS JUST SIGN ME THE FUCK UP, then idk some supernatural dark academia universe, because why the hell not, and probably some AU of mine like idk some God land or some Kingdom or whatever bs, I’m obsessed with royalty

[flowerfan2]

Affinity - Ch. 18 (10.18)

McDanno, A03, 10.18

A continuous story of season 10 episode codas.  Steve may describe their relationship as a dysfunctional marriage, but at some point, will he and Danny take a closer look at what it really could be?   (The answer is yes).

 And a note:  It’s my opinion that Steve was clearly joking with Danny about having a date with the “cute vet.”  Emma told Steve just a few weeks ago that she was seeing someone else; Steve is just being a little shit and teasing Danny.  And of course, no date actually happens - instead, they end up at Rick’s bar, bickering over how Steve hasn’t brought his wallet with him for ten years...  (But I didn’t watch next week’s trailer and I don’t want to... who knows...)

Chapter 18

Steve sits in his truck, putting off the inevitable.  Usually he’s happy to pull into his driveway, especially when he knows Danny is in his house, probably getting dinner ready or checking out what’s new on his favorite delivery app.  But not right now.

It’s not like Steve can put it off much longer.  As soon as Danny sees his face, Danny’s going to know something’s wrong.  He might as well man up and get it over with.

Inside, he can smell tomato sauce bubbling on the stove – they’re eating in tonight, then.  Steve’s not sure if this is better or worse.  Danny will be in a good mood, but that just means he has further to fall.

Of course, this assumes Danny will be upset about Steve’s news.  He might actually be relieved, but that thought just makes Steve ache even more, so he pushes it aside.

“Hey, dinner will be ready soon, but I forgot to get salad stuff – if you really want it, you have time for a quick trip to the store.”  Danny comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.  “Personally I’m fine without it, but I know how you feel…” Danny’s voice trails off as he sees Steve.   “What’s wrong?”

 Steve slumps over to the couch. That was fast even for Danny. “Why does something have to be wrong?”

 Danny just gives Steve a look and sits down in the chair next to Steve, tossing the dish towel on the coffee table. His white t-shirt is a little damp, and he’s wearing his most comfy shorts, the ones that look like he hacked off an old pair of sweatpants.  It’s Danny at his cuddliest, and Steve wants to grab him and never let go.  But now, sadly, is not the time.

 “You met with the governor this afternoon, right?  So tell me what happened?  Did your grenade budget get cut again?”  Danny’s trying to keep his voice light, but he’s caught on to Steve’s mood, and he knows there’s more to it than the annual argument over Five-0’s outrageous expenses.

 “No, nothing like that.”

 “So what, then?”  Danny scoots forward.  “Tell me, come on.”

 Steve sighs.  “It was the most incredibly awkward meeting of my life. Possibly of anyone’s life.”

 Danny perks up.  “Really?”

 “Don’t get so excited.”

 “Come on, such drama - it’s got to be good.”

 “Not so much.”  

 Danny waits, and when Steve doesn’t elaborate, he hits him on the arm.  Kind of hard.

 “Ow.”

 “Spill.”

 “Fine.  We talked about Junior and Tani.”

 Danny’s posture immediately changes, his shoulders tightening.  “What about Junior and Tani?”

 “Their relationship.  Apparently the powers that be are not pleased.”

 Danny springs out of his chair and starts pacing.  “What the hell?  There’s nothing wrong with them being together – it’s no one’s business – it’s certainly not the Governor’s business-”

 “It is, really,” Steve says. “One, there’s a no fraternization rule-”

 “Since when do you care about rules?”

 “Two, it could create a legal problem. Three, it could create a morale problem.”  He’s counting off on his fingers, trying to remember what the Governor – and the Governor’s lawyers – said.  “Oh yeah, four, appearance of impropriety.”

 “Appearance of – how is that any different than a morale problem?”  Danny’s trying not to shout, Steve can tell, but he wouldn’t blame him if he did. Steve got all his shouting out back at City Hall.

 “Morale among the team, versus appearance to the public,” Steve recites.

 Danny’s waving his arms, practically vibrating with anger.  “That’s not going to happen, morale on the team is fine, we’re all happy for them, they’re adorable, they’re just kids, what the hell kind of rule is this-”

 “Danny, come on.  This isn’t news.  We always knew it could be a problem.”

 “They don’t even report to each other,” Danny protests.

 “And that’s the only thing that saved them from being transferred off Five-0.  But the Governor still isn’t happy – if either one of them becomes, what was the word, disgruntled, they could sue.”

 “For what?  What would they sue for?”

 Steve rubs his face.  “Sexual harassment, or retaliation.  Say they break up, and then Junior gets pissed because he thinks Tani is getting better assignments, and he accuses someone on the team of being mad at him because they blame him for the break-up.  Or they’re on the rocks, and one of them pushes too hard, and the advance is unwelcome.”

 “That’s not going to happen, not with them.”

 “What if they’re together, and their judgement is affected, and someone gets hurt on a case?”

 Danny frowns, and Steve imagines he’s running through all the times they did crazy-ass things for each other, taking arguably unwarranted risks with people’s lives.  “You really think two people have to be bumping uglies for that to happen?”

 “No, but making that point really wasn’t going to help their case.”

 Danny deflates.  “What happens now?  Can they still work together?”

 “If they sign a love contract.”

 “A what?”  

 “A love contract,” Steve repeats. “A statement acknowledging that the relationship is voluntary and consensual, that they’re free to end it, they will abide by the sexual harassment policy, and a bunch of other legal crap.”

 “That sounds ridiculous.”

 “And I have to bring them in to the City lawyer’s office tomorrow and sit there while they say the same thing.”

 There’s a long pause, and then Danny gets up and goes back into the kitchen.  “Gotta make sure nothing’s burning,” he says, tossing the towel over his shoulder.

 Long minutes go by, and Danny doesn’t come back out into the living room.  Steve has a hunch as to why.  He pulls out his phone and checks his email, giving Danny a few more minutes to process, and then follows him into the kitchen.

 Danny’s chopping basil by the sink, and Steve grabs a leaf and pops it in his mouth.

 “Hey, cut it out, you’ll lose a finger,” Danny says tensely, his eyes firmly fixed on his task.

 “Penny for your thoughts?”

 “Fuck off,” Danny says, “you know what I’m thinking.”

 “Yeah, but it’s easier to respond if you actually say something.”

 Danny puts the knife down and turns towards Steve, leaning on the counter behind him.  “I report to you,” he says.

 “Technically, yes.”

 “So even with a love contract, that wouldn’t be enough.  We can’t date.”

 “The topic didn’t come up, obviously. But… yeah, I get the feeling that it might be a harder sell than Tani and Junior.”

 Danny doesn’t respond, but he digs his phone out of his shorts and swipes around for a few seconds, then hands it to Steve.

 It’s showing a reservation for dinner tomorrow night.  For two.   For the briefest of moments, Steve wonders if Danny has met someone.  Then he sees the name of the restaurant, one his favorites, the Beach House in Haleiwa.

 Steve can’t do anything but stare at Danny, who takes his phone back and shoves it into his pocket.  “We both have off tomorrow.  Figured we’d do something together.  Go for a hike, maybe.  Have dinner.  You wouldn’t even have to iron a shirt.”

 “Danny… is this…?”  Steve doesn’t want to ask, can’t quite form the words. It’s been weeks of limbo, weeks of Steve trying so hard to wait patiently, telling himself that he’ll be okay no matter what Danny decides, that they’ll both be okay, that their friendship can handle whatever comes next.  Joking about pretend dates with other people that Danny knows will never happen, just to try to take the pressure off Danny.  Being the very best friend he can be, always.  It’s been hard, but Steve hasn’t stopped hoping, hasn’t stopped wanting.  He’s not sure he can.  

 “Yeah, it’s a date,”  Danny says, and Steve feels his heart skip a beat.  “Anyway, it was supposed to be.  I wanted to take you out.  Tell you I’m ready, if you still want… this.”  Danny looks up at Steve, his eyes imploring.  “I’m ready, I want to - but now – how can we…?”

 Steve presses his lips together, his mind racing to come up with anything convincing, any way to persuade Danny that the Governor’s new-found interest in Five-0’s interpersonal relationships isn’t going to be the fatal blow to their reunion.  It’s hard to think straight, though, over the pounding of his heart.

 “You really want us to be together?”  Steve asks, his hands trembling at his sides.  “You’re sure?”

 “Yeah, I’m sure, but-”

 That’s all Steve needs.  With a sharp inhale, the rest of the world disappears, and all he can see is Danny.   “Forget about the Governor,” Steve says firmly, stepping into Danny’s space, crowding him up against the counter.  “Do you trust me?”

 Something shifts in Danny’s expression, and when he speaks, his voice is tender.  “I do, Steve.”

 “Then kiss me.”

 Danny tilts his head, then brings his hand to the back of Steve’s head and pulls him close.  Danny’s lips are soft, and his mouth is warm, and Steve feels almost mesmerized by his touch.  He slides his hands around Danny’s shoulders, feeling the strength of his muscles bunching under his t-shirt, and ends the kiss with a sigh.

 Danny pulls back just enough to look at Steve, his eyes sparkling.  “So we’re gonna do this again, are we?”

 “Yeah.  I won’t fuck it up this time, I-”

 Danny cuts him off with another kiss, and Steve laughs against his mouth.  “No more apologies,” Danny says into the air between them.  “We’re good.”  Danny moves closer and kisses him again, and this time he presses harder, opening his mouth and finding his way into Steve’s.  Danny’s got one hand on his waist, and Steve’s gripping Danny’s t-shirt, and they kiss until they have to pause for breath, panting and grinning and generally feeling altogether wonderful.

 Steve’s still not sure how they’re going to avoid getting fired, but right now, he simply doesn’t care.  He’s got Danny back in his arms, and that’s what’s important.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Alright, that’s it. I have seen one too many “blue lives matter” signs, flags, and bumper stickers around here. I have just bought a “Black Lives Matter” flag to put out front!

Rationally, I know there are risks. The Biden flags (supposed to arrive today) that I’m putting out in front of Mom’s house and my house will undoubtedly provoke people and I completely expect them to be stolen. Hell, someone once stole a sapling they had to dig up out of Mom’s front yard while she was sleeping, so someone stealing a flag in a fit of rage is almost a given.  But I’m thinking about bigger risks. 

I suppose part of the problem is I grew up hearing my family’s stories of what they went through in the 1960s. Some of our friendly neighbors shot at them. Someone tried to burn down one of the buildings. They got death threats, and not just on the phone but to their face. When you have the sheriff telling you to shoot to kill when they come for you (and hide the body, don’t call him) and FBI agents pop in to “see if you are still alive”, things are dangerous. I knew my parents were older than other parents because they had to wait until they felt it safe to have kids.

So when you grow up know that this nice old man once said he’d kill your father and that nice old lady used to call your family names I wouldn’t want to write here, you realize you can’t trust people to always be a certain way based on how they seem now. They could always change back, and Trump seems to be emboldening a heck of a lot of suppressed darkness.

I know, I know. This isn’t the 1960s. I shouldn’t be worried. And yet, perhaps I should be.

My parents had certain advantages. In the 1960s there were seven members of my family living in Jamesville and all our houses were occupied. They had german shepards, including an ex-police dog so scary the vet wouldn’t touch him after a nasty bite, two of which slept in the houses. They made a show of target practice, using some serious military level hardware. They made it absolutely clear: “We are always on guard, you can’t sneak up on us, and we will kill you if we have to!”

But that’s not me. I’m alone. 

Here I am, trying to look after all those places. I can’t guard everywhere. People can vandalize where ever I’m not so very, very easily. My dogs are outdoor dogs and not the slightest bit scary. I haven’t target practiced In many, many years. I never used the really intimidating weapons (I really didn’t care about guns with a nice simple shotgun default) and I dunno know if they are even still useful. Nobody is going to be checking to see if I’m stiil alive. 

Now, again rationally, I know the worst case senario is extremely unlikely. I don’t really have to fear someone killing me. Probably no one will even burn down Mom’s house. Full on fear would be foolish.

But that doesn’t mean a lack of ugly repercussions. I actually do have to worry about little things like broken windows and scratched cars. Harrassment and insults are kind of a given, considering I’ve already had nasty looks and grumbles about Covid mask wearing. Best case senario is someone steals the flag after the first day. Some folks are going to be angry and at least a few will want to lash out.

You know what though?

Fuck ‘em!!!!!!

I was telling Mom about my plan I told her I knew there would be backlash, but that shouldn’t bother me. I mean, how can my neighbors ostracize me when they already don’t have anything to do with me? Shunning the shunned, ignoring the ignored, refusing to help someone you never helped... they really do have to cross over into law breaking to do anything to me. 

How ironic would that be? People that gush about their loyalty to cops breaking the law to prove it? Welcome to 2020!

Putting up a flag is a meaningless gesture in the grand scheme of things. I get that. But I also feel that a dissenting view has to be displayed!

The Trump/blue lives folks are NOT everyone around here, they are just the loudest. I totally get being intimidated by that, and don’t blame anyone nervous about putting out things to mark their view to these people. I want to encourage  the ones unable to risk showing their beliefs that they are not alone.

I need to do this for myself too. 

Feeling the way I do is fine, but not having any way to say it isn’t. People see a middle aged white woman in the rural south and assume, absoultely wrongly, that they know my views. It gnaws at me, realizing that people think I agree with things I hate just because if how I look.

By nature I am not one to shout my views. I grew up where everything about me seemed to provoke, so I learned to stay low key. If asked, or faced with a circumstance that calls for confrontation, I was ALWAYS honest and strong in my views, but I didn’t volunteer without reason. I’d argue against an entire crowd, but t-shirts, signs, banners, slogans....and yes, flags, were not for me. 

Confront, but don’t provoke. Resist, but don’t instigate. Fight, but wait for them to make it a fight. That’s basically been me.

But I’m tired of all that. I’m just so damn tired of being the patient, quiet, understanding, and reasonable one.  

Fuck it. 

The flag goes up.

[thesillygoose3000]

Creature Comforts: Chapter 4

Chapter 4 of my KISS fanfic.

WARNING: 18+

“Vinnie, I’m home,” Paul called out. He flicked on the light switch, and glanced around the front room. “Vinnie?” He checked the spot where he placed the food and water earlier. It looked like it hadn’t been touched at all. Paul sighed, and ran a hand through his mass of dark curls. He opened the door to the master bedroom. “Vinnie? Are you in here?” He could hear heavy breathing coming from underneath the bed. Paul exhaled in relief. He bent down and made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Come out.”

           Vinnie poked his head out from under the bed, and snarled. Oh, that’s right. Paul had forgotten to take his makeup off. “Vinnie, it’s me.” He took a wrinkled t-shirt from the floor and wiped off the black, white, and red, revealing his darker skin. “See?”

           Vinnie chirped, but it was a sad chirp. He flicked his tail for a moment, then it went back to being tightly curled around his body. He buried his head in his arms, and sighed. Paul furrowed his brow. “What’s the matter, buddy?” Vinnie shook his head, and groaned.

           Silence. Paul frowned. Vinnie was upset, but why? The tension was broken by a gurgling sound. Vinnie blushed, and looked away. “You’re hungry,” Paul said. “You need to eat something.” He left for a moment, and retrieved the food and water. The Starchild set it down in front of the lemur sapien. The creature sniffed it, then pushed it away, burying his face in his arms again. Paul looked up to the ceiling for guidance. “You might feel better if you ate something,” Paul said. But his plea fell on deaf ears.

           The singer bit down on a crooked index finger. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Vinnie might be sick. Where would he even take him to? A vet, a doctor, what? Thoughts began to swirl around in Paul’s head. Even then, it’s not like he can take him just anywhere. People might be looking for this one-of-a-kind creature, to kill and stuff, poach for parts…or worse. Paul sat down on the shag carpet, thoughts jogging through his mind.

           Then, he got an idea. Ace. Ace seemed to know quite a bit about these creatures. And if Vinnie really was a Jendellite-animal hybrid, then Ace would know what to do. Then again, he didn’t really know Ace that well. Could he be trusted? But, on the other hand, he really didn’t have a choice at this point. Vinnie’s life was potentially hanging in the balance here. He had to pick Ace’s brain for information. And fast.

           “Vinnie,” Paul said, rubbing the creature on the head. “I’ll be back. Hang in there.” A weak chirp was his reply. Fuck, that didn’t sound good. Paul changed into a pair of low-cut bellbottoms and a tie-on floral top, and headed back out the door.

           “Ace, open up,” Paul said, pounding on the apartment door. “It’s me, Starchild.”

           The door opened up a crack. Mousey brown hair dipped into the hallway. “What’s up, Sterrenkind?” He grinned. “Just couldn’t get enough of me, huh?”

           Paul leaned against the door, and pulled the brim of his burgundy newsboy hat down with the other hand. “I guess not. Are you going to take me to Jendell tonight, or what?”

           “I thought you had the oven on.”

           Paul rolled his eyes. “I turned it off, jackass.”

           “Oh. Well, good.” Ace beckoned Paul to come inside. He shut the door, and began to rummage through his drawers. “Hang on, I have to look presentable. Family is there, and all that crap.”

           Paul assessed Ace from top to bottom. “You’re telling me that a wifebeater and Taco Bell lounge pants aren’t acceptable wear?” He said flatly.

           Ace stared at him. “No. No, it is not.” He looked at Paul up and down. “You need to change clothes yourself. They don’t like humans too much.”

           “What else am I supposed to wear? Go naked?”

           Ace slapped his hands to the sides of his face. “Oh hell no. They’ll like that even less. Here, just put on one of these suits and you’ll be fine. Well, fine-ish.” He tossed a body suit made of holographic material towards Paul’s direction. “What size are you in Earth clothes? A large? This’ll do.” Paul stripped down to his thong and stepped into the bodysuit, zipping it up. A perfect fit. He fastened the black corset belt around his waist. Finally, Ace threw some matching black thigh length platform boots next to Paul’s feet. “You’re going to want these,” the alien explained.

           “What’s so special about them?”

           “They’re gravity boots. They’re gonna prevent you from floating away,” Ace said. Well, shit. Paul laced up the boots, and double tied the bow.

           “What about you? What’re you going to wear?”

           “I haven’t decided yet.” Ace looked in the full-length mirror. “I kinda like my human form better. But…then again, angry family. Hm.” Ace pulled his mouth to one side in a quizzical manner. “Oh, well. They can suck my flesh nuts.” He put on a black spandex bodysuit, with white lightning bolts on the sides of the legs, and one big one going down the front. Silver gravity knee high heels adorned his feet. “You ready, Curly?”

           “I guess so.”

           “Good. But we gotta hurry. The sun’ll be up soon.” Ace waved. “Follow me,” he said.

           They went into the bathroom. It was quite cramped. “Uh, newsflash, Space Ace,” Paul said, “this is your bathroom.”

           “Yeah,” Ace said, digging around in some drawers. “I know.” Paul raised an eyebrow. He could practically see the cuckoo birds flying around this guy’s head.

           “You know what, I got to go,” Paul said. He began to back up slowly towards the door, his hand fumbling around for the doorknob.

           “Ah-hah, here it is,” Ace exclaimed. He pulled out a stick of sparkly blue chalk. He drew a circle on the grout just big enough for the two of them to stand in, with a lightning bolt striking through the center. The chalk on the grout began to glow. Paul’s eyes widened, and his jaw became slack, arms plastered against the door.

           “Wha-“ Paul stammered.

           “Hurry,” Ace said, taking hold of Paul’s forearm. “Get in.” He pulled the Starchild into the circle with him, and a column of blue light shone around the two of them as they stood in the middle, holding hands. Ace closed his eyes, his waves flying every which way. Paul squeezed his own eyes shut, and he could feel his own curls bouncing around his head. It felt like his body was being ripped into a million pieces…

           And then, it stopped. The two of them were standing in a vast field of Moonspeckles, stretching on as far as the horizon was visible in all directions. The sky was the color of a lavender mist, with specks of silver splattered throughout. Lightning streaked across the firmament. Thunder shook the ground and vibrated in Paul’s chest. Lapis lazuli colored stone formations that Paul could only describe as spires stretched out towards the heavens in the near distance. The air reeked of burnt ozone. Ace grinned as he watched Paul absorb his surroundings.

           “Welcome to Jendell, Curly.”

[artisticestheticreads]

Summertime Magic VII.

A/N: IT’S N’JADAKA DAY. In this chapter, Y/N and Daka discuss their past during a nice dinner at her place and her dad invites him to the annual family reunion on her mother’s side. Does he have what it takes to get on pop’s good side? 

WARNING: none...well, alcohol, drugs, and some tear jerkers here and super short. SAWWY. ):

SONG RECOMMENDATION: Hold Me By The Heart by Kehlani

 Y/N woke up back home and her hair freshly washed. She grew tired of her locs and decided to make it a wash day. She walked around with her hair wrapped in a red towel and a big t-shirt on in the kitchen. She had a taste for some seafood soul food so she decided to make some seafood mac and cheese with a sweet potato pie for dessert. As the dinner began baking, she went into the bedroom to detangle her hair and put some creams in to make her curls pop. Afterward, she put her hair in a high ponytail like a pineapple style before washing her hands and heading back to the kitchen.

  She looked over at her phone on the coffee table and got an idea; she began typing at her keyboard. Thirty minutes later, she heard a knock on the door and when she opened it, she saw N’Jadaka. He wore a burgundy v-neck with jeans and his Timbs. He had his dreads tossed to the side and his chain on like usual. She watched him walk to the kitchen with his hands behind his back. She turned back to the food as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Hey, baby,” she said when he kissed her cheek. “What up girl? I see you let your real hair out and all. Damn, you got a lot of hair.” She giggled until she heard she heard the timer. 

   N’Jakada walked up to Y/N and kissed her cheek, wrapping his left arm around her shoulders. “Daka, I’m tryna cook, baby”, he held her close and kissed her temple. “Don’t be denying my love, woman. You better take my love and better like it.” He started to kiss on her as she giggled and shooed him away. “So, Daka. Since you in here being all lovey-dovey, then you can help me with the cornbread.” He raised his brow and nodded. He started to help with dinner and she tricked him into making iced tea as well. 

  Soon, dinner was ready and everyone made their plates. They sat in comfortable silence until her phone vibrated. She looked to the screen and let it ring but after that, a message popped up. When Y/N rolled her eyes, N’Jadaka asked if she was okay. “I’m fine.” He lifted her chin up to look at her. “Who is it”, he asked with a stern look. She felt looked to the side then to his eyes. “Rodney.” He let her chin go. “Baby Girl, wanna talk about it?” She shook her head and he kissed her neck. “We gonna have to talk about it soon it or later, Y/N.”

“Fine. Rodney cheated on me..badly. We had our own place together and were together for years. I was at Leslie’s house doing hair and when I went home...he was fucking another woman. He, he didn’t hear me come in either so he kept going at it. I was frozen. I couldn’t move. My heart told me to run and hide but my feet wouldn’t let me. I’m not sure why I just stood there but when he turned, all he could do was ask ‘why I was home so early’? He never said sorry, nothing. I sent my younger brother, CJ, and Monte to come to pack my stuff while I stayed with my parents for a while. I tried taking my own life and all. I was on suicide watch, couldn’t eat or sleep like I wanted. I just don’t wanna let that happen again.” 

  He looked over at her and saw a single tear falling down her cheek. He wiped it away before he brought her closer. “Baby Girl, I would never do that shit. You mean a lot to me, and I mean that shit. I know it feels to be hurt, trust me. I lost my folks at a young age, had to go back to Wakanda with my family. Since I was a kid from Oakland, no one wanted to be around me. Then, when I graduated from high school out there, I moved out for college and met a girl. She made me feel like I had someone in my corner but I guess I couldn’t give her what she wanted. I was with her until I went off into the Navy and she said she wait for me but when I come back..” He stopped to clear his throat before continuing. “When I came back, she was six months pregnant. I knew for damn sure, it wasn’t mine. She had fucked a dude from my old basketball team, I was gonna kill him but I couldn’t. I felt like it was all my fault. Like I wasn’t good enough. Until I met you.”

  They looked at one another with small smirks before he said “you ain’t gotta worry about me, princess. When I say something, I really do mean it. Aight”? Y/N nodded and kissed his cheek as he held on to her. “I got you, baby and you got me. No matter what. Now, I’m ready for that pie and I hope you got some ice cream, too.”

“Ya know it.”

~ 

   The next day, Y/N was at the bank putting more money in the bank as one of her daily errands. She decided to go to her future shop for a while. She stepped out her car in a pair of jean shorts, white tank top, and slides that her man bought her. She used her hands to cup her eyes from the sun to look inside for a better look. She had five more clients that week which meant she would be able to get her shop in less than a week. Afterward, Baby Girl decided to drive to her folks' house which was thirty minutes away from the shop. She knocked on the door and patiently waited until a tall 6′2 young man with a faded style hair cut came to the door. He wore a black polo and jeans with tube socks on. “Hey, little sis.”

“CJ, I’m the oldest remember?”

“Yeah, but you the shortest too.” Y/N hit his arm and he hit her back softly. “Ima hurt you”, she said before he gave her a huge bear hug. “Where ma and pa”, she asked as they headed to the kitchen. There stood an older woman who looked like she worked out on her downtime but still a plumpy woman. Her hair was in a low bun and glasses sat her face. “Hey, ma.” The woman turned around and smiled big. “There’s my best friend. My baby is here”, she said walking up to her with open arms. Y/N looked at her mother’s outfit and said “ya think ya grown, huh”; she wore a pair of leggings and a white crop tee with their last name on the back. 

  “Girl, hush. I just slipped in this. We had just got back from the gym and I took a quick shower before I started to clean.” Y/N looked around and asked “Ma, where pa at?” Her mother pointed to the back door and said “where ya think? Him and that damn Lincoln again.” Y/N laughed, kissed her mom’s cheek and made her way to the back. She opened the door to see her father in the car, vacuuming the ground. He was a bigger man but he didn’t let that stop him from working hard for his family. His bald head shined like he had just shaved and his beard had touches of grey. He wore a pair of navy blue slides that Y/N gifted him years ago, basketball shorts and a basic tee. “Hey, pa.” He looked up and said, “Hey, baby”. He struggled to get up but she hurried to him before sitting him back down. “I see you cleaning, Doll again.” He patted the dashboard and said “yeah, got make sure she looks good at all times, baby girl. What made you stop by?”

“I went by to my future shop and I was just out running errands.” She placed her hands in her back pockets watching her dad clean. “How you doing, pa?” He cleared his throat and told her “fine” but not looking at her. “Pa, look at me.” He did with him leaning on his elbows. “I’m will be fine. I got some weight to lose and some more money to get but I hope the surgery will make everything better. I won’t be hurt anymore.” She nodded looking around. She thought about how her father was everything she looked up to. No matter if he was feeling down or fighting the stomach flu, he got his ass up out of bed and got to work to provide for his family. She hated seeing him like this, always have and always will.

  “So, baby girl. When am I gonna meet this nappy head muthafucka you thinking about”, her dad asked and she looked to him with a smile. “I was thinking about you, dad.” She sat on the back steps and he said “yeah yeah. I wanna meet this little nigga. Got you all googly eye and shit. Wanna make sure this little punk ain’t gonna hurt my baby’s heart.”

“Dad, I’m not gonna get hurt again. Promise”

“Mhm, well bring him to the family reunion. Ya uncles, grandma, and every other muthafucka gonna be there.” She rolled her eyes with a smile and laughed. “Okay, but let’s make a bet. If you like him, you gotta make me a whole strawberry cheesecake and if you win, I will make you your own pan of my homemade chocolate cake.”

“Deal.”

  It was the day of the reunion and N’Jadaka was on his way to Y/N’s house since he was spending the night. He grabbed his gym bag, knocked on the door and she opened it with a smile. “Hey, come on. I’m still getting ready.” He stepped in and followed her to the bedroom. They decided to wear jean bottoms with dashiki print tops and some Nikes they bought a couple days ago. She let put her hair in a low ponytail, grabbed everything she needed including the food and drinks they were bringing and were off. In the car, she told him “N’Jadaka, I should let ya know that my family is a little protective. They might give you a hard time but they are all really sweet once they get to know you.” N’Jadaka took her hand as they pulled up to the huge park as Rocky Steady by The Whisperers. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy.” He opened her door as a tall guy walked up to them. He wore a Laker Jersey, jeans and some Airforce ones. “There go my big legs”, he yelled out with a chuckle and she turned in excitement. “UNCLE ANDREW”, she hopped in his arms and he knelt down to hug her. “Lord Jesus, I haven’t seen ya in a while. Lookin’ just like ya mom every damn day. How you been?”

“I’m good. How is Vegas?”

“Ugh, baby girl. It’s great. They know how to treat a brotha out there.” She laughed with him and turned to N’Jadaka. “Unc, this is N’Jadaka. My boyfriend.” Andrew held out his hand and shook his as he pointed to him. “The Navy vet?”

“That’s right, sir.” Andrew nodded and patted N’Jadaka’s shoulder. “Good, good. I was actually apart of the US Army back in the 80′s. It’s good to meet ya son.” Uncle Andrew got all the stuff out for them and when they walked to their section, he saw the huge family that Y/N called her own. N’Jadaka looked around to see a group of men playing cards at the park table, hooping and hollering. Little kids ran all over the place with water guns and balloons, and some woman sat at the park benches talking and gossiping. A woman with curly long hair and tan skin walked pass Y/N and can notice that sweet, natural smell anywhere.

“Y/N!”

“Lana”, Y/N said in an excited tone and her cousin ran in her arms. When they separated, Lana saw N’Jadaka and smiled big. “Are you the new man in Y/N’s life?” He nodded with his hand out and said: “nice to meet ya.” She looked at his hand said “I don’t do handshakes. I do hugs.” She gave him a big bear hug and he chuckled. “Daka, this is Lana. Lana lives in Michigan, married and her twin boys are over there playing.” Lana smiled and said “yeah, I missed you so much, cuz. Michigan is okay but it’s not like LA at all. When it’s cold out there, it’s cold as fuck. I’m just glad to be here for at least a week.” Andrew kissed his daughter’s head as they all began walking. Y/N’s dad had a cigar in his mouth with cards in hand with her uncles, Michael, Chad, Winston, Donnie, Richard, and Anthony. Her mom was on the park bench with the women of the family including her grandma and when the women looked over to them, an aunt said “sweet black baby Jesus. Is THAT the man baby girl is dating?” Tasha looked and said “my baby is here and yes, Chanel. Don’t be a perv or Ima cut you.”

“You wouldn’t cut ya own sister.”

“I would for my babies, I will.” Their mother laughed a little as Tasha whistled for Y/N; Y/N saw them and smiled big. “C’ mon, you can meet the Glass Ladies. But real quick, be careful with my aunt, Chanel. Her hands like to wander, my aunt Kendra is a sweetheart and my grandma can be a little bit pushy but she means well.”

“Which one is ya mom?”

“The one in the sundress.”

“That’s ya momma. Thought that was ya sister?”

“Ha, very cute.” They finally were closer to the group when her mom ran to her for a hug. “My baby. How was the drive”, she asked and Y/N said “good. Everyone, this is N’Jadaka. My boyfriend.” Tasha stood back and looked up at him. “Damn, another tall one. Got me feelin’ all short and whatnot.” N’Jadaka chuckled and said, “it’s nice to meet you Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Boy, call me, Tasha. So, N’Jadaka what do you do?”

“Well, I’m a Navy Vet but I’ll be helping with my family business. We kinda got a lot of money so we opening a few youth centers. I’ll be in charge of the ones out here.” She stood back and said “well, check this out. A brotha helping out the community. The Marathon Does Continue.” He agreed with her as they kept talking and the men heard them laugh. Chad looked up from his deck and said “hm, that must be the young buck.” The men look up with raised brows and her dad took out his cigar. “Mhm, there he goes. Lemme call them over. Y/NNNNNNNNNN.” Y/N turned to him and the guys and he pointed at Daka. She was about to walk over but her dad stopped her with “JUST HIM”. She looked to him and said “don’t get killed. My dad is the hardest one.”

“Baby, I’ll be fine. Ya pops gonna fuck with me at the end of the day.” He kissed her forehead as she went back to the ladies. He stuck his chest out slightly with his hands in pockets. When he got there, the men all looked to him. “What up, cat”, her dad, Thomas said. “I’m good, sir.”

“Have a seat. Join us and grab a drink.”

“I’m good on the drink. I drove but I can still sit.” He sat across the way from Thomas as they handed out the new cards. The men started putting out their small bets and looked to Daka in shock when he said “$20″. Thomas took out his cigar and said “bold but do you know how to play Spades.” N’Jadaka insured him that he can; they began. “So, young brotha. I hear a lot about you. You really from Africa?” N’Jadaka looked at his cards still as he spoke. “I was born in Oakland but my unc took me in when my pops passed.” Thomas looked up to him and realized he had something in common with N’Jadaka. He was also taken in by family when his parent’s passed away. “I see. How you meet my daughter?”

“We were at the liquor store. I was picking up stuff for my homeboy’s crib and I saw her. Some dude was tryna push on her but I had to stop that dude. He was trying get at her and put his hands on her.” The men all looked up at him and Thomas said: “what you mean?”

“Well, Mr. Y/L/N, the dude was trynna get at her, she said nah and before ya know it, he grabbed her arm.”

“And what did you do?”

“Anything a man would do. I got in the middle of it. I could have broken his nose, easily but I wasn’t feelin’ it. Wouldn’t be a good look for any of us. So, I pretended we was a couple. The brotha fleed the scene. Y/N and I talked and that’s how it happened.” The men looked to them and saw Thomas with a start face as the continued. “Look, young man. Ima let you know now. I don’t fuckin’ play when it comes to my family especially with my baby over dere. Ya understand? Ever since she was little, I have always made sure she was good. She, my whole family is my responsibility. So, when a nigga comes into her life. I get a little protective, a little violent if anything happens to her. I take that you heard of Rodney.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, Rodney hurt her badly to the point she wouldn't eat. Couldn’t sleep at night. When my baby girl gets hurt, that’s when I want war. Y/N is my first AND only girl. She is my baby. You got any kids, son?”

“No, sir but I got a baby cousin I always watched over.”

“Then you kinda know then. As a man, we gotta protect who we love. By any means necessary.” He sipped his beer and looked back his cards; N’Jadaka had something to say. “Mr. Y/L/N, I know how you feel but I also know that things happen for a reason. Rodney was a pussy for what he did but maybe it happened because he couldn’t handle her. Y/N got a big ass heart and she smart as hell too. She got ambition, talent and her being beautiful is just a plus. Y/N got a lot of drive, something that 80 % of women ain’t got. Rodney couldn’t handle a strong, black woman but I damn sure can. I care about her way too much to even think about steppin’ out on her. I would be a dumb ass to do that. ith her, I can see so much more. I am very proud of her for being the woman she is now. I’m not tryna kiss up or anything but you did a great job, Mr. Y/L/N. Real talk.”

  Thomas looked up to him then at the others. He nodded and looked back to his cards; still no expression. After they all ate, the kids ran up to N’Jadaka to play with them as Y/N watched. She noticed how well he was with the kids and it warmed her heart so much. She can just imagine how he would be as a father.  At the end of day, they popped fireworks and said their goodbyes. When they got back to Y/N’s place and wore something to sleep in. “So, did ya pops talk to you about us?” She spat out her toothpaste and turned off her bathroom light. “Nope, we talking about my shop, his surgery and all. But nothing about you.”

“Yeah, I ain’t sure if he like me or not. In all my days in the navy, I can’t read him.”

“Baby, no one but my mother can. Don’t worry. He’ll warm up to you eventually.” They kissed a little before laying down and talking some more, falling asleep. All of a sudden, Y/N’s phone vibrate against the end table.

IOU a whole cheesecake, Y/N. Goodnight. 

*𝒯𝒜𝒢𝒢𝐸𝒟 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸𝒮*

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[rottenxroses]

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?

-Yes 😏

2. You talked to an ex today, correct?

-Ewk no. Ex for a reason.

3. Have you taken someones virginity?

-No 😒

4. Is trust a big issue for you?

-Depends on the person.

5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently?

-Yes 😍

6. What are you excited for?

-For quarantine to be over 🥺

7. What happened tonight?

-It’s morning so nothing yet!

8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?

-I mean, I’m all down for fun and games but if you’re “that bitch” at the party, it’s more embarrassing than disgusting

9. Is confidence cute?

-to an extent.

10. What is the last beverage you had?

-coffee 🤤

11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?

-1.

12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans?

-jeans? What are those??? We’ve been locked up home for a little over a month so...

13. What are you gonna do Saturday night?

- prolly play games 😬

14. What are you going to spend money on next?

-AMAZON

15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed?

- lol I’m married to the last person I kissed, and will forever kiss 🥰

16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months?

-I hope! Always room for change and improvement

17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?

-my mom.

18. The last time you felt broken?

-not in awhile.

19. Have you had sex today?

-wouldn’t you like to know 😏

20. Are you starting to realize anything?

-friends don’t last.

21. Are you in a good mood?

-content

22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks?

-sure! Why not?

23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s?

-nope

24. What do you want right this second?

- a nap 😪

25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?

-I’d be devastated? Lol

26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color?

- sorta, growing it out

27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?

- hell no, laughing is key

28. What was the last thing that made you laugh?

-my son farted and laughed about it lol

29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now?

-yes, my mother in law everyday, she was very dear to me.

30. Does everyone deserve a second chance?

-no.

31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to?

-no lol

32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?

-yes he does!

33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda?

-on occasion I do, I rarely drink soda

34. Listening to?

- some baby show for my son

35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore?

-yes, grocery lists lol

36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?

-enjoying sleep 😒

37. Do you believe in love at first sight?

-yes!

38. Who did you last call?

- my mama

39. Who was the last person you danced with?

-my son and niece

40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?

-because I love him? Lol

41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake?

- my nephews birthday

42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?

-no, wish i could 😰

43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?

-always. Lmao

44. Do you tan in the nude?

-I don’t tan, so no. Lol

45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss?

-no? What kind of questions are these???

46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?

-yeah, my son who didn’t want to sleep 😞

47. Who was the last person to call you?

-my mom

48. Do you sing in the shower?

-sometimes

49. Do you dance in the car?

-yeah!

50. Ever used a bow and arrow?

-yes! I’m pretty good at it.

51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

-pssssh who knows

52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?

-yah.

53. Is Christmas stressful?

-YES.

54. Ever eat a pierogi?

🤤🤤🤤

55. Favorite type of fruit pie?

-none, I like pumpkin 🤤

56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

-ballerina, a vet, and tattoo artist.

57. Do you believe in ghosts?

-yis

58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

-on occasion

59. Take a vitamin daily?

-no but I totally should

60. Wear slippers?

-I live in my slippers

61. Wear a bath robe?

-sometimes

62. What do you wear to bed?

-baggy t-shirt and pj pants

63. First concert?

-Green Day

64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?

-TARGET OWNS MY SOUL

65. Nike or Adidas?

-ewk neither

66. Cheetos Or Fritos?

-ewk

67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?

-sunflower seeds

68. Favorite Taylor Swift song?

-you’re hilarious.

69. Ever take dance lessons?

-yes!

70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

-truck driver! Because he’s in school for it.

71. Can you curl your tongue?

-many things this tongue can do 😏

72. Ever won a spelling bee?

-never went into one so negative.

73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

-yes!

74. What is your favorite book?

-I can’t begin to list, I have so many favs.

75. Do you study better with or without music?

-with, when it’s on low

76. Regularly burn incense?

-omg yes

77. Ever been in love?

- I am. 🥰

78. Who would you like to see in concert?

-Korn 😭

79. What was the last concert you saw?

Journey and the doobie brothers

80. Hot tea or cold tea?

-hot

81. Tea or coffee?

-coffee

82. Favorite type of cookie?

-chocolate chip

83. Can you swim well?

-yes! I was on a swim team for 5 years.

84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

-yes? Lol

85. Are you patient?

-not at all.

86. DJ or band, at a wedding?

-DJ

87. Ever won a contest?

-yes!

88. Ever have plastic surgery?

-no, I believe in natural beauty.

89. Which are better black or green olives?

-ewk.

90. Opinions on sex before marriage?

-go for it! Have fun and be safe!

91. Best room for a fireplace?

- living room

92. Do you want to get married?

- I’m just gonna not answer this one.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Hurts to be Human Chapter 3

Hey guys!! I have internet!! It’s a miracle!! But because I don’t have it long, I am not having this edited. Just going for it and hoping for the best. o.o But here is chapter 3 of Hurts to be Human!! Thank you for being patient!!!

Warnings: I mean, I don’t really think there are any? I think it’s all good this time around!! 

Please don’t post this anywhere without my permission o.o

No gif because I suck..I’m sorry :(

Chapter Three — Walk Me Home

“Life isn’t picking and choosing where you left off and where you can begin again, Bucky.”

Bucky shifted his gaze from the ground to the man sitting across from him. He was older, fought in Vietnam. He was someone he could relate to. A vet with a rough past, someone who did things they weren’t exactly proud of. It was why Sam recommended him. Hell, it was why he worked as his therapist. And seeing him, the man reminded Bucky of when he and Steve had seen Snow White. He was shorter, on the rounder side with constantly flushed cheeks, a big nose, and glasses.

Thus the nickname “Doc” was born.

It helped that he was also a doctor, but the nickname definitely had nothing to do with that and had everything to do with the Disney classic.

“I know, I know,” Bucky agreed, unclasping his hands and leaning back on the couch. He slouched, still not as short as Doc was in his chair. No, still the man managed to be shorter than him. It was incredible really. Bucky couldn’t help, but wonder — how short was the guy’s torso? It was a thought that crossed his mind at least once every session.

“Bucky, are you listening?” Bucky jerked, blinking when he realized he’d zoned out. It happened only when Doc tried telling him something he didn’t like. They both knew it and Doc wasn’t fond of it. “You do know that you pay me for my honesty and help, right?”

Bucky chuckled, smiling as he ran a hand through his short hair. Still, he wasn’t used to the length. He was used to the mane he had for sixty years. Give or take a few. It was a shield, a barrier to protect him from the outside world. Doc and him had several sessions over cutting it and how that would open Bucky up, provide him with a new level of vulnerability. And now that vulnerability meant a different sort of relationship with Y/N.

Y.N. That damn woman. She had been at the compound for two weeks, constantly working on damage control with the media while Sharon took on the government. They finally took the time to explain to Sam and Bucky what was going on and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like that she had to clean up his mess. She was back. Shouldn’t he be taking the time to learn about the woman she had become? Especially after their last conversation? It seemed playing pretend provided new opportunities to frustrate Bucky. He wanted to go back, not to the way they left things, but back to when things were good. 

And Doc was reminding him that that was not a good idea.

“Believe me, it’s hard to forget,” he snarked back, earning an amused chuckle from the old man. Old man. Bucky chuckled to himself. He was still older than Doc, but he looked far from it. “And I do understand, but…”

“You miss her.”

Bucky frowned, looking away. He wasn’t ready to admit that — not aloud, not to anyone else. If he did, that meant there was a whole new level of admitting, of facing the thing he had walked away from.

“It’s okay to miss her. She was your closest friend after Steve left. And when she did —“

“Thin ice, Doc.”

He quieted and Bucky managed to breath a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing in the slightest sort of way. The phrase was a warning, something they had come up with when Doc pried too fast. At first it was something used every week. The initial wall Bucky had, required Doc earning his trust, earning his thoughts and concerns so that they could make progress. He hadn’t actually used the phrase in almost a year. Then again, they hadn’t talked about Y/N in almost a year. 

Drumming his pen on his fingers, Doc tried to tread carefully on the sensitive topic. Silence fell between them in those moments. What about Y/N was safe to discuss and yet would bring about an opportunity for Bucky to open up more? Finally, Doc asked, “You said she has a pet now? Was that something she was initially against?”

Bucky nodded. “H.D. I…when we were together, I always talked about getting a pet. Something to take care of.”

“And something that could also take care of you.” Doc smiled knowingly as Bucky looked up.  Clearly the super soldier hadn’t expected that to be so blatantly clear. “Pets have a way of bringing out a person’s softer side. They’re good for us. It’s why we train them to be service animals. It’s no surprise to hear that was something you were considering.”

Bucky was bitter as he muttered, “She was so against it.”

“Why?”

Frustrated. “Hell if I know. She told me it was because they’re too needy.”

“You sound like you don’t believe that.” 

He sighed, running his hands through his hair. The feeling was a distraction from the topic at hand. At one point in his life, he rarely touched his hair. When he became the Winter Soldier, it was simply to get it out of his sight when lining up a target. Once he reunited with Steve, it became a nervous habit, something he used to bring him back to his reality. The habit, something Y/N often teased him about, was something he still couldn’t break. It was comforting in an odd sort of way. 

“Bucky?”

He looked up, blinking before he finally answered, “No, of course I don’t. This is the same girl that would run up to dogs in the park. She’d beg the owners to let her pet them, Doc. At shelters, she would have as many cats as possible just curled up on her as if she were wearing a ‘welcome home’ sign. Hell, Finding Nemo was one of her favorite movies and she bought a mug with that dog from Up on it. Someone like that doesn’t think pets are too needy.”

“No?”

Bucky hesitated, knowing why Doc was questioning him. He wanted Bucky to think past the rashness of his initial thoughts and assumptions. Though his process was always quick and calculating, it was more often right when he was the Winter Soldier. Now? He was just Bucky.

Even so, he felt he was right. He knew he was right.

“No. Y/N wasn’t avoiding the idea of a pet because they’re needy. It…” He hesitated as the realization finally sunk in, heavy like a hunk of lead on his heart. “She felt broken. Feeling like that, knowing you’re broken, you don’t feel like you deserve to have anything good in your life. Not even something as small as a pet because they…well, they need you, they rely on you.”

“Some people seem to believe they might not be fully capable of taking care of a pet to the extent the animal deserves.”

“Fuck, I’m an ass,” Bucky groaned, running a hand over his face.

Doc laughed, shaking his head. “Far from it, Bucky. You’re human and you’re one of those in the world that has been put through a great deal.”

“But shouldn’t I have realized or noticed? Something?” Doc didn’t say anything, only looking at him. It was frustrating to say the least. “Come on, Doc.”

Doc adjusted his glasses and wrote something down before explaining, “I don’t think so. While we haven’t talked much about Y/N in the past, what you have told me has provided me enough clarity on the subject. The two of you were working through a great deal and relying on each other in a way that eventually became unhealthy. It lacked stability, communication, and openness. Instead, the two of you became lost in yourselves and your own trauma. With that in mind, it’s only understandable that you’d grow oblivious in each other’s needs while sorting through your own.”

Bucky stared at the ground, unable to let go of the guilt that twisted in his gut. They were supposed to be a team and yet he had grown completely oblivious to her and her needs. She had felt broken, shattered, and he never even realized.

—

Bucky’s session had ended not long after his realization. It seemed he always had the best timing when it came to his time with Doc. A miraculous breakthrough followed by the last five minutes and Doc doing his best to work with the time he had. Stepping outside, he quickly took a step back when he saw the downpour that greeted him. 

He truly did have the best timing, didn’t he?

Staring up at the darkened sky, Bucky huffed a frustrated sigh and watched as the cold air tinted his breath. Adjusting his leather jacket, he allowed the rough material to protect him from the chill. Then came tugging at his gloves, keeping his metal arm hidden from onlookers. Always careful, always checking. It was part of his routine. 

As he searched for what he hoped would be a much needed pause in the weather, he noticed the art gallery across the street. It was something new and edgy that Shuri had told him to look into. Apparently it was one of her favorite places to visit when she stopped by. He never did look into it, of course. The only art he really looked at was Steve’s and that stopped a long time ago. No, now he looked not because of the art, but because of who was finishing with a purchase just inside. He smiled, leaning against the brick wall as he watched her. This wasn’t weird, right? Watching her? As a curious and concerned friend?

No, certainly not weird at all.

Today she had worn one of those slouchy beanies he’d often seen this time of year. It was a maroon sort of color, the shade complimenting her skin as if it was made for her. She turned and stepped outside and his eyebrows shot up. Over the leggings and boots, over the t-shirt, barely peeking through, was the leather jacket he’d given her all those years ago. 

It could be a new one.

He brushed aside the voice in his head, searching for the key to knowing whether his hopes were true. She turned, facing his direction, and immediately he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. There, on the corner of the collar, was a red star that matched the one from his old arm. She’d insisted on getting it to symbolize that she wasn’t scared of that part of his past. Everyone teased her about it, but she never seemed to care.

And she kept it.

That had to mean something, right?

“Y/N!” 

She looked at him, that familiar surprise flashing across her features for only a brief moment before she smiled. They had been making progress in their friendship, but it never seemed to go farther than morning coffee or running into each other in the hall. They were friendly, but he wouldn’t exactly call them friends. Now? He had a chance to spend time with her. He had a chance to actually be her friend.

Glancing from one side of the street to the other, he quickly jogged across and joined her side. He noticed the canvas tucked under her arm, neatly packaged away so as to protect it from the weather. A part of him wanted to ask, but he knew better. Y/N was still painfully private, still guarded. He had to show her that she could trust him again.

“What are you doing here?” She was curious, brow furrowed and a breathy laugh escaping her. The last person either of them expected to run into was obviously the person standing before them. 

Bucky gestured to the building he had just left, shrugging. “Therapy. What about you? Since when are you an art fanatic?” He grinned, unable to help himself as he gestured to the rather large piece she held close to her side.

She glanced down at the package, her ears turning a light pink. Looking at him, a sheepish smile and small shrug were her only form of explanation before she finally elaborated. “I was sick of looking at blank walls. Tony didn’t exactly pick the prettiest shade of white to paint the whole damn place. I swear, I was starting to feel like I was in some sort of mental ward.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.” 

Joining her side, the two started walking down the street. Neither seemed to be entirely sure where they were headed or aware of the fact that the rain was giving its best attempts at soaking them to the bone. Instead, they simply enjoyed each other’s presence, as if it were a gift. 

“I can carry that for you,” he offered, finally breaking the silence that had seemingly settled between them. He’d noticed her shift the awkward thing a few times, trying to find a way to carry it. It seemed there was no way.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s not heavy. Just awkward, you know?”

“I figured, but I really don’t mind helping. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and begrudgingly let him take the canvas. He tucked it under his metal arm, his free hand brushing against hers as it dropped back to his side. Every instinct in him wanted to reach out, to touch her. Even when they were friends, she always let him touch her. It was his way of staying grounded when he first went through losing Steve. He had relied on it, rarely ever letting her stray far because he craved the physical contact. The feeling, that connection, was what bonded them for so long.

But that was then and this is now.

Now, that urge didn’t feel quite the same. He wanted to touch her, but it wasn’t so desperate. There wasn’t a need or desperation to touch her, to drink her in as if she was the very water he needed to live. Instead, the feeling was subtle, reminding him of the small breeze that would come in when summer transitioned to fall. It was cool, calming — something to be appreciated. When did that feeling change? When did that carnal, overwhelming craving shift into something far sweeter?

“Bucky?”

He looked up, surprised to see Y/N waving a hand in his face. She laughed at the doe-eyed look of bewilderment that came with those bright blue eyes and parted lips. He looked like a child hearing their mother call their name for the fifth time, middle name and all creating that look of a deer caught in the headlights. 

“You alright?”

Clearing his throat, Bucky nodded and the two kept walking. “Yeah, just —“

“Thinking? Was it about your session?”

No. “Yeah.” Really, is lying the best way to get their friendship going? He hesitated. “No,” he corrected.

“So which is it?”

Bucky laughed at the way she raised her eyebrow, knowing if she drew it up any further it would get lost in her hairline. “No, I wasn’t thinking about my session.”

“Then…penny for your thoughts?”

He looked away from her, shrugging. How could he voice how he was feeling? The thoughts in his head? How could he tell her that a part of him missed what they were, but understood her wishes?

Just tell her, Buck. You won’t get very far with someone like Y/N if you aren’t honest. The familiar sound of Sam’s voice reminded him that the birdbrain was basically the angel on his shoulder. He might drive Bucky crazy, but his intentions were true and good, always looking out for Bucky’s best interests. 

You lost her once. Tell her that bullshit in your head and she won’t be sticking around much longer. There it was. The Winter Soldier, a reminder of what he had been. Working with Doc had muddled that voice for the most part, but he and Doc both knew they could never fully rid him of the devil in his head.

It seemed he was always fighting, always trying to figure who was best to listen to. Why couldn’t he ever listen to himself? 

His silence left an impression that perhaps Y/N had overstepped. She ducked her head, rubbing the back of her head as she told him, “You don’t have to share. Sorry for —“

“No!” His panicked voice came out a little higher, a little squeakier, and left a bright pink hue on his cheeks. She looked up, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing. “I — You don’t have to apologize, Y/N.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” He nudged her gently and was happy to see her shoulders relax. She even knocked into him playfully, something he hadn’t expected. That was a good sign, right? He bit the inside of his cheek before finally telling her, “I was thinking about how much I missed this.”

Confusion. That was the look that greeted him.

Genius. Fuck that birdbrain. Fuck the fact that he could hear the damn guy in his head all the time.

 “Missed what?”

Bucky gestured between them as he elaborated. “This. Us. I missed having my best friend around. I mean, the ‘why’ you’re here sucks, that’s for sure, but I’m really glad you’re back. Does that make sense?”

She smiled. It was brilliant and as bright as the one she offered to everyone else. Slowly, she was letting him back in. Slowly, but just as surely as he was letting her. They needed baby steps and time. Moments like this would certainly help. “I am too. Don’t tell Fury I said this, but I’m glad he found me.”

“Knowing Fury, I think it’s safe to say it was never a matter of finding. He always knew where you were.”

She snorted and he grinned. Y/N never let herself laugh so openly. Not before. Not with him. “Fair enough. You’re probably right.”

“Probably?”

“Okay, you’re completely and utterly right. Is that what you want to hear?”

Bucky laughed, his grin spreading from ear to ear. “Was that so hard?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, shoving her shivering hands in her pockets. It was the only thing keeping her from holding his hand, borrowing his warmth. She didn’t want to repeat history. In fact, she refused to. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. “You’re utterly ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but then again, you’re the one letting me walk you home.”

She gaped at him. “We live in the same compound, Barnes!”

—

The sound of the door opening and closing caught the attention of one SHIELD agent and one superhero, pulling their focus from the news on the television. The squelch of a pair of shoes and soft thud of a pair of heels signaled exactly who had come back. When did they even run into each other?

Sam exhaled sharply through his nose, earning a look from Sharon. He didn’t seem to notice, instead watching through the doorway as Bucky and Y/N passed through the kitchen. They were laughing and smiling, a level of ease around one another that hadn’t been there before. Neither stopped to check if anyone was home, instead continuing on their way to the dorms. It was then he noticed a particular detail that left him more than a little curious. Both were utterly drenched. “Did they walk the whole way?” he asked, looking back at Sharon. When he noticed her look, he raised his hands in defense. “What, what’d I do?”

“You’re worried.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“Oh, I am. I’m just curious what it is you’re worried about.”

Sam frowned, looking away. The arm that was propped on the couch held the weight of his cheek as he tried to find a way to explain this. He didn’t want to come off like an ass after all. “He’s doing good, Sharon. He’s better than he was the last time she was here.”

“She’s better too.”

“I know! And I’m happy for both of them.”

“But?”

Sam’s brow furrowed as he rubbed his forehead. “I’m concerned that they’ll take steps back.”

“What, now that they’re around each other again?”

“It happened before. They were doing good, going strong, then everything got worse.”

“They’ve grown a lot since then,” Sharon reminded him. She shifted, turning her body to face him as she tucked a leg into her chest. “Fury debated bringing her in for a long time because he knew they were doing so good. He doesn’t want anyone backtracking. Especially not Y/N. She means as much to him as Nat did.”

“I know, I know.”

“You’re going soft for Barnes,” she teased, grinning and earning a glare from her teammate.

“I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not, Carter.”

“Prove it, Wilson.”

Sam groaned, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling. The woman was utterly infuriating and usually right. He knew he’d developed a friendship with Bucky after Steve left. And after Y/N left, that friendship grew stronger. He helped Bucky with a lot of his PTSD, brought him to VA meetings, and helped him find a therapist. Everything he could possibly do to help Bucky in the right direction, he was there for. The last thing he wanted was to see his friend spiral again. To lose all that progress over one girl? It didn’t make sense to him. “I can’t.”

“I know.”

“Your smugness is not appreciated.”

“Look,” Sharon told him, earning his attention and pulling it away from the bland ceiling. “They don’t need each other anymore, Sam. Both of them have grown on their own. They aren’t the same people they were and maybe…maybe they just want each other now.”

“They were wrong for each other then. Why not now?”

“The right person at the wrong time is still the wrong person, Sam. Maybe that’s all it was. The wrong time.”

Sam huffed, shaking his head. “I don’t like when you’re right.”

“But I’m always right.” He smacked her with a pillow, earning a squeal and laugh from her. She grabbed the popcorn bowl from the table, tossing it in his lap. “For that, you get to grab the popcorn while I pick a movie!”

He groaned, loud enough for anyone in the compound to hear his clear irritation. “Oh, come on!”