#you better one shot her because she would just get progressively stronger and more pissed off as the fight continued

[sitraachranovel]

Just a King and her Secretkeeper. :>

A crop of a larger sketch with some very quick and messy shading.

[twink-appreciation-posts]

Girls - Spencer Reid x Reader

chapter seven of “all bets are off”

your night out with the ladies of the BAU isn't actually too bad

warnings: uhh drinking? this is a pretty sfw chapter but um. trust me when i say i have PLANS for next chapter. if you liked chapter 6 then boy oh boy. also i gay 4 emily <3

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur, you remembered whining to Spencer about the ‘girls night’ that you were being told to attend, you remembered him rubbing your shoulders as you took a bath. But the one thing you remembered in full clarity?

You remembered him leaving.

You had insisted that he could stay. You told him it was late. It had already happened once, what was the big deal? But he said that he should get home, said you should just get some sleep and that he’d see you Monday. You remembered feeling upset for seemingly no reason as you fell asleep.

When you woke up and checked your phone you saw 3 more messages from Garcia.

‘Do you think ignoring my texts in gonna work?’

‘I’ll have Emily drag you out of your apartment if it comes to that’

You typed out your reply, yawning. ‘Garcia, my love, you know I adore you, but tonight is really not gonna work for me.’

She replied instantly. You sighed. The quick responses were not a good sign. Once Garcia had her heart set on something it became almost impossible to say no.

‘Make it work :( pleaseeeeeeeeeeeee?’

After half an hour of back and forth you sent the text of defeat. ‘Okay. Okay. Fine. I’ll see you guys there.’

‘YES!! I knew you’d come around!’

‘Also, I know I said girls night, but JJ and I decided to invite Spencer’

‘He’s seemed a little off lately and I don’t think he gets out much sooooo’

‘Plus he’s essentially one of the girls!’

Your head was already spinning. Could the situation get any worse? You couldn’t back out now, that would be ultra suspicious. But why would Spencer agree to come if he knew you’d be there? Well, you assumed there were two options. Either he wanted to torment you, which wouldn’t have surprised you, or he had also fallen victim to the curse of Garcia’s persistence. Oh well. At this point, you had resigned yourself to the fact that you were probably the most unlucky person in the universe.

When eventually for out of bed and looked in the mirror you nearly scared yourself. Deep purple bruises were scattered over your neck and collar bone. Spencer had been right, makeup wouldn’t be able to fully cover the damage he had done. You opted to worry about it later, hopping into the shower.

The rest of your day until the evening was normal. Relaxed. Mostly filled with you mentally preparing yourself for what was sure to be an interesting night.

When the time came around to address the issue at hand you did your best. Green concealer covered with foundation and even more concealer. The works. It didn’t cover it completely, but you were just praying that the low light at the bar would do the rest of the work for you. You debated texting Spencer before you saw him again but you weren’t sure what you’d say, so you grabbed your keys and drove to the bar.

When you got there JJ and Garcia were waiting outside.

“There she is!! The girl who made me beg.” Garcia hugged you tightly.

You laughed. “Your persuasive powers never cease to amaze me.”

“Well, threes a crowd, we should head in. The other two can meet us inside.” JJ smiled. You agreed, following her into the building.

“So,” you said casually as you all ordered drinks, “who’s idea was it to invite the doctor?”

Garcia looked at JJ, who rolled her eyes. “It was just a suggestion. Garcia jumped on it.”

You nodded. You had kept your drink order pretty mild, not wanting to get shitfaced with your coworkers while the guy you had fucked the previous night was with you. Your friends didn’t share the sentiment, buying a few rounds of shots. A few minutes later Emily arrived and you soon found yourself out on the dance floor with her, giggling. “Have I ever told you how fucking gorgeous you are?” You asked her over the music. She laughed.

The night was going swimmingly. You were just the right amount of tipsy, the girls were always fun to hang out with. You had almost forgotten about Spencer. Almost.

“So, y/n, have you had any action lately?” Garcia asked you, wiggling her brows.

“Why are you asking me?” You questioned, eyes wide.

“We saw your pictures on Instagram with that guy!” JJ teased. You flushed.

“He’s just a friend!” You insisted. The girls didn’t look like they’d bought it.

“Here, I’m gonna go get another drink.” You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “You guys can keep placing your bets about my sex life.”

You wandered away towards the bar, deciding to order something a bit stronger. “Wow,” you heard a voice say from behind you. “Not skimping out on the drinks, huh?”

You turned around, eyebrows raised. “For your information, I’ve been pacing myself quite well all night. But thank you for your concern, Spencer.” He smiled at you. Fuck, maybe it was the drinks, but he looked good. “You’re late. Busy night?” You prodded.

He shook his head. “I wanted to give you girls time to party before I came and ruined the night.” He joked.

“You’re not planning on pulling anything tonight, are you?” You questioned him.

“I’ve already ruined enough of your weekend, don’t you think?” He exhaled. “But you do look good. I guess you should just hope you learned your lesson last night. Don’t try anything that’ll get you in trouble.”

“SPENCER!” JJ was running up to you both, the other two woman trailing behind. “You made it!” She hugged him and you turned back towards the bar, grabbing your drink.

“We must’ve missed you coming in!” Emily smiled.

Spencer fidgeted with his hands. Did he look almost... nervous? “I’m still not quite sure why you invited me, but thanks.”

“We invited you because you need to party more! Live a little, handsome.” Garcia explained.

Everyone ordered more drinks, and as sobriety abandoned your bodies, conversations began to become more lively.

“So, y/n, if you want us to believe that the fine gentleman that you took those pictures with is just a friend, then would you like to explain the hickeys on your neck?” JJ whisper-yelled to you, poking your neck a bit.

“You can see those?” You gasped.

“Makeup can’t cover everything!” Garcia chimed in.

You locked eyes with Spencer, who just observed as your friends pushed your hair behind your shoulders to better examine you.

“Damn, girl, those are dark. He must’ve been an animal.” Emily shoved you gently.

“Who said it was a he?” You teased.

Emily raised a brow. “Hey, I don’t judge.” She smiled knowingly.

“But, if you guys are really curious..” you locked eyes with Spencer. “I guess I’d say it was a good night.”

“Tell us more!” Garcia begged. “I wanna live vicariously through you, you sexy little minx.”

You looked over at Spencer again. “Oh don’t mind him!” JJ grinned. “He’s one of the girls, remember?”

“I can leave if you’re uncomfortable,” Spencer added. You glared at him.

One of the girls, huh?

“Well, I don’t really know what to say besides I was in a decent amount of pain when I woke up this morning. Honestly my thighs still hurt as we speak.” You swore you saw Spencer smirk. What? Was he proud or something? Better take him down a notch. “Not the best I’ve ever had though. Just because it lasted awhile doesn’t mean it was good.”He narrowed his eyes at you and you refused to meet his gaze.

“Aw, that’s disappointing.” Garcia pouted.

“There was one kinda interesting thing, though.” You hesitated. Were you ready to play this game again?

“Spill!”

You gulped down the drink in your hand. “The guy, was uh, really into being called daddy.” You made sure to say the last part dramatically.

You could see the interest in everyone’s eyes peak. “Oh wow, I’ve never done that type of stuff before. Was it hot?” JJ questioned curiously.

“I’ve never seen you as the type of girl to go around calling guys daddy,” Emily added.

“Lots of people are into things you wouldn’t expect. According to some studies, around 57% of women enjoy rougher or more degrading sex.” Spencer piped up. Everyone turned to him.

“This guy really does know everything.” Emily laughed.

As the night progressed people continued to drink. You and Spencer kept throwing glances towards each other. At some point he even found his way next to you, a hand casually brushing up against your thighs. You flirted a bit, perhaps getting a few free drinks from some men at the bar, but nothing too crazy. You felt a certain someone's eyes boring into the back of your skill throughout it all, though, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't oversold it a bit to piss him off. It wasn't your fault that he was so easy to mess with.

Emily pulled you aside, yelling over the music. “Do you think JJ has a thing for Spencer?” She asked you.

“Huh? No. No, I don’t think so. She’s just drunk.” You laughed uncomfortably. Not that it mattered to you if JJ was into Spencer. But, she wasn’t. For sure.

You glanced over at the pair, Spencer was laughing about something she said and she was practically in his lap. You caught yourself pouting and shook your head, snapping out of it. “They’d be cute together,” Emily commented. You just nodded in response.

After awhile Spencer and JJ approached you. He was holding her up, supporting her. Your head reminded you of him doing the same to you last night. But that was different. You had gotten to fuck him. He was just being nice to a drunk coworker. It was different.

“I think I’m gonna take her home,” Spencer explained. “She’s pretty, uh,” He motioned to her with his free hand.

“I’m fine.” JJ insisted. “I’m perfectly okay!”

You laughed. She was smacked, but so was Garcia, who approached the group as well. “We should do this way more often!” She exclaimed. “Oh, y/n, come dance with me!” And then you were being dragged out to the dance floor.

When you made your way back to Emily you looked around. “Where did they go?”

“Didn’t you hear Spencer? He took JJ home. Probably for the best, the girl could barely stand. I love her. She knows how to party.”

You felt a tinge of disappointment. Nothing had happened between you and Spencer, which was good, you reminded yourself. It was a good thing.

After the rest of you sobered up by the early morning you drove home, saying your goodbyes.

You waltzed back into your empty apartment, wondering what Spencer was doing. Was he asleep? Yeah. Probably. You decided you should be too.

Tomorrow morning at work would be interesting for more than one reason, and you were gonna be hungover as hell. Your eyes closed, head still spinning. You pushed down your disappointment and groaned. The last thing you wanted to do was waste another night thinking about Spencer. Yes, the sex had been good, but it was unprofessional and incredibly unsustainable. You had to let it go.

God, since when had your personal life gotten so interesting?

taglist <3

@101donuts @annestine @spideyboix @babybloomer @welcome-to-hoeville @eldahae @brokenanxiety @andiebeaword @spencerwaltergubler @la-vie-en-amour1 @rainsong01 @taekwinkle @dreamer7black @guessthatswhyiliveinhell

[corpse--diem]

Dead Friendship Forever | Regan & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @kadavernagh​ & @corpse--diem​ SUMMARY: Former DFFs bump into each other in a cemetery with death on the brain.

Cemeteries were full of more life than most people gave them credit for. Mornings were her favorite, when the sun started to warm the world again. Erin had her biases and the added convenience of living across the street from one her entire life. But there were few places in this town that grounded and comforted her all at once like Strawford Park could. It made this place feel like home again if only for a few moments. Not even this place could silence the voices in her head--especially her uninvited guest--but it was worth it for what she hoped it would bring. Her feet slowed at a portion of the path that broke off into the middle of the cemetery that stretched into a sea of assorted headstones and greenery as far as anyone could see. Knew that if she took a left now and another left at the second tree further up she’d be at her parents’ plot. It probably looked like an overgrown, weed-riddled mess at this point. She could hear her mother’s scorning, teasing tone. How does someone kill marigolds, Erin? I picked these on purpose! You’ve got to try and kill them! A small smile lifted the corner of her lips and she stared hard at the path. She almost made that left turn. Almost.

Something stronger than nostalgia won control of her movements and she continued forward. Not today. Not now. There were enough demons she had to face these days without diving into that emotional baggage. Lifted her head when she heard footsteps not far and a jolt of panic stopped her again like a brick wall had just shot up in front of her. Shit. “Regan…” she started, a soft roll of her eyes. A taste of the anger from their last encounter months ago in the morgue flared up in her chest. Present, but considerably tame in comparison. Time had an effect on emotions like that sometimes. “What are you doing here?” Erin asked, wincing inwardly. Regretted the insanely obvious question as soon as she’d asked it. This was Regan, after all. “I--uh--,” she shook her head quickly, narrowing her eyes at the path just beyond Regan. Fuck. She could do this. Play the pleasant adult before moving on. Hopefully. “How are you?” She asked.

The moon is so wonderful tonight… I bet Ulfric is loving it. “What?” Regan asked aloud, even though she suspected no one would answer. “It’s daytime. And who is Ulfric?” That name sounded familiar, though. A scream that seemed to shoot out of a nearby headstone made her freeze in place, before sprinting away. Cemeteries used to be so peaceful and quiet. Even though they still had some kind of tranquility to them, some kind of indescribable comfort, it wasn’t the same as it used to be. Regan kept her eyes low, sweeping them across the grass in front of her to watch for signs of squirrels and birds. She almost didn’t see that someone else was going for a stroll of their own nearby. But then she heard her name, coming from-- “Erin?” Oh, no. The last time they saw each other flickered through Regan’s mind. The broken glass, the fear in Erin’s eyes. And even before that, Erin nearly drowning in a glass of water because of words that Regan had spoke. A shudder rolled down her spine. There was no way Erin wanted to be here talking to her right now, and she couldn’t even blame her for that.

“What am I doing here?” Regan looked around at the sea of headstones. A disembodied voice shouted something about the lake, and a whisper curled past her ear. She shivered, but did her best to ignore it. “I go for a walk here a couple times a week. I live right nearby, remember? I assume you’re doing the same thing.” Regan eyed Erin, studying the dark circles under her eyes and the slump of her shoulders. She seemed tired, and not in the way of being sleep-deprived. “Uh,” she sputtered, as Erin seemed to do the same. Small chat. That’s what this was. “Look, you don’t have to-- I mean, I know things aren’t-- I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want--” She pressed a cold palm to her forehead and sighed to herself. At herself. Looked back at Erin. “I'm... things have improved recently, by a little over five feet. Are you alright? You look tired, and just a little bit annoyed, both of which are reasonable.” She paused, considering for a moment. “Do you want to talk about--” Nope. She clamped her mouth shut. Bad idea.

Crap. Did this mean Erin was going to have to avoid certain cemeteries now to skirt around awkward interactions now? She hadn’t thought about it before literally, and even as justifiable as her anger was, the pettiness layered in there too. Was she still going to do it? Probably. The hurt in her chest was as real as her fury. “Yeah, right. I remember. Dumb question, sorry,” she said. Ugh. That night she’d accidentally stumbled upon the medical examiner’s door felt like a lifetime ago. Almost instantly, that macabre bond formed over anatomically incorrect skeleton cookies and wholly invested death chat. It was almost still a sweet memory. She’d promised Regan more than she’d ever bargained for that night too. “Five feet, huh?” It was petty again, she knew that, but a small genuine smile overtook her. Oh, Blanche was going to be pissed, but the words left her before she had the better sense to shut it down. “I heard something about you flying out of the window--I mean off the handle for a little bit?” She asked. Nope. She couldn’t do this. This conversation had gone on for less than two minutes and already she was snipping at her like a toddler who hadn’t napped.

A heavy sigh fell from her and she regretted her last comments already. “I’m fine. And I hope you’re fine too, Regan. I mean that. I’m glad you’re… better.” She shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. That’s a nice skull. Seriously? Her eyes snapped back open and she looked up. “What? No. What did I just--I don’t want to talk about skulls. I don’t want to talk about anything.” She shifted tensely where she stood. “Should you--should you even be here? What if you, uh--” she gestured with her hand towards her mouth. The scream.

Regan felt a sigh leave her mouth as Erin seemed to make peace with the fact the two of them were standing closer than a mile apart. She even did her best to ignore the curt comments. “That’s not amusing.” She wasn’t taking the bait. Blanche had thrown so much of it her way already; Bishop, too. But the sudden jerking of Erin’s head made Regan jump. “What? I didn’t say anything about-- I mean, I can talk about skulls if you want me to. But you just said you apparently don’t want to discuss them. Unless… do you have one with you? Can I see it?” Doubtful. On both counts. Erin looked like the only thing she wanted to hand over was a punch to the eye orbital. But there was a fresh skull nearby, wasn’t there? It flicked at her senses from a short distance away. Every second she stood there seemed like a bad idea-- maybe worse than inviting her to the morgue before. “I should probably, uh-- I mean, it’s getting dark out.” Regan motioned to the sky, which was slowly filling with the colors of an old contusion.

But Erin asked a question and, wait, what was she doing with her mouth? Oh. Oh. Of course. “We’re in a cemetery. If that did happen, it’d be much safer here than just about anywhere el-- uh, not that I-- I’m not going to scream at you.” Regan hissed air through her teeth. Lungs, don’t make me a liar. The pressure stirred, but didn’t try to escape. “It’s still, uh, I’m working on it. Trying to.” She hung her head down for a moment, kicking up a small bit of fresh grave soil. “I’m really sorry about what happened at the morgue. I never meant to hurt you. Really. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I still think everyone in this town is out of their mind, but I’m doing everything I can to avoid hurting anyone else.” She met Erin’s eyes, frowning. They had been friends, once. Maybe not close, but they’d connected in a way few people could relate to, and that was something special, wasn’t it? But looking at Erin, it seemed the wound from before was still very much open, and given how her lessons with Deirdre were going and the lack of progress being made, maybe that was for the best. “I’ll leave you to it. But if you did want a skull -- and not a human one -- there’s one buried a few inches underground there, I think.” Regan pointed past a few headstones.  

Erin could see that Regan was trying, and she felt a twinge of guilt for being so short. Not too guilty, but enough to stop her from letting loose much more of her barely contained wrath. It wasn’t meant for the doctor, not right now anyway. But wait--she didn’t say anything about the skulls? Fuck. That must have been Kaden. Again. “Right,” she shook her head. That was getting old too. But even as Regan tried to comfort her about the screaming thing, some fear nagged at her regardless. Once you endured a Regan scream, even a scream-lite, you didn’t want to have to tolerate another one. And they were in prime death territory. Bodies were buried beneath their feet and completely surrounded them.

“No, no, that’s--okay,” Erin shook her head, turning down the skeleton offer. Another time, that probably would’ve been a pretty fun way to spend her morning but those days were past them. Not like she had much time to spare for light, fun things anyway. “I should--” I wonder if the wings also flutter during an orgasm. The loud, intrusive thought made her stop mid-speech and all Erin could do was gape like a fish over at Regan. And now she was thinking about it. And suddenly this all had become way, way too much. “I’ve gotta go. Now,” she averted her eyes, suddenly blushing red. In her haste to rush out of there, she brushed Regan’s arm and fumbled a little, mumbling a small apology as she tried to keep going.

Get out of here, Kavanagh. As each second ticked by, it became increasingly clear that Erin was either still angry, or still afraid, or both, and there was no way to change that. Not now, and maybe not ever. Regan tried to ignore the sting of it, of such a potential friend lost, but it was hard to leave it well alone instead of trying to dislodge it and figure out exactly why everything had to go so wrong. Just as Regan was turning away, and just as Erin seemed to want to do the same, Erin froze like something gripped her from behind. “Erin?” Regan turned back toward her, heels swiveling in the dirt. I’ve gotta go. Now. “Did I-- what did I--” But Erin’s face was burning red, probably the warmest thing in the cemetery. “What happened? Are you alright? Did you have a heart palpitation or--”

Erin’s skin against her arm. She really was warm, but something about the contact filled Regan’s insides with an icy dread, and the cemetery around them unmade itself, headstones falling into nothingness and grass turning into wooden floorboards. There was a flash of fury as Erin lunged toward the man with a baseball bat. It made hard contact with his temple and he was on the floor. Regan screeched, falling backwards. She could feel wet grass caught in her palms and her coccyx collide with the dirt, but she couldn’t see it. Instead she saw Erin scavenge his pockets. Gun catching the light. Erin rolled him into a body bag, her face hard and determined with not a hint of guilt or disgust or shame or-- another flash, this time of death all around her, dark and suffocating rather than familiar and comforting. Regan could feel it thick in the hearse, thick around Erin. Could feel the pull of the man from the trunk. “Of course you bled in the van. You had to ruin one last thing on your way out, huh?” Erin was talking. To the cadaver of the man she’d just smacked with a baseball bat. The man she’d killed. Regan repeated the words aloud trying to make sense of them, trying to pull them apart and understand just what she was seeing, but if Erin was a murderer, then there was no understanding. None to be found. The cemetery rebuilt itself and Regan squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push down both the nausea and the scream threatening to pry itself from her lungs.

Erin was still making strides to get away when she realized Regan had stopped talking. Regan didn’t normally just stop talking--babbling and nervous rambling was easily one of her more noticeable traits, and she had been in the middle of exactly that when she’d suddenly stopped. The glance back froze Erin’s entire being in place. Those fucking eyes. The same black ones she saw at the morgue. She was bracing for it--the scream. Hadn’t she literally just voiced her fears about that? Was this literally about to be the morgue all over again? She didn’t have time to be angry--her body was already slipping into an adrenaline fueled flight stance. Regan fell back, staring off at nothing again, though she knew that wasn’t true. She saw something. Oh fuck. Oh, here it came. Erin was turning to run now when Regan opened her mouth--

“Of course you bled in the van. You had to ruin one last thing on your way out, huh?”

It took a few moments but the chilling realization built up thick in her chest the longer she stared. Dale. Slowly, her face burning deeper than before. “What di-” she tried to ask but words scraped the inside of her throat. How could she know that? Where the hell did that come from? Had she seen something? No. No. That was impossible. She didn’t come any closer to her, didn’t try to help her up. Just stared, that itch to run needling at her thighs. “What did you just say?” Erin finally managed with a slight waver, nearly devoid of her previous anger. The chilling fear was rapidly rebuilding that one, though. “What the hell did you just say to me, Regan?” She snapped, stepping forward.

For a moment, Regan could still see it pulsing behind her eyeballs. Erin’s fury and fear. Erin killing a man. Erin shoving him into a body bag. Erin sticking him in the back of her hearse. As headstones and statues remade themselves in front of her, she tried to summon that dark room back like it had been a memory rather than a hallucination. It felt close, but before she could get ahold of it, it streaked away, replaced by the solid feeling of the ground underneath her. But it-- it didn’t matter. Erin would never-- she wouldn’t, right? But how well did Regan really know her? They were friends, once. They were. Was she capable of killing? One hard lesson learned from the autopsy suite: everyone was.

But trusting a hallucination? Kaden thought they were real. Visions, he’d called them, ridiculous though it was. Erin, too. And now here she was, in a situation where she probably hoped Regan would still refuse to put any stock in them. Regan laid her palms flat against the wet grass and looked up at Erin’s petrified face. The blood had drained from it, and she looked as lifeless as the skeletons under their feet. Erin was trying to say something, trying to stutter through it. And there was that look. Stony but fearful. The same one Erin had given her at the morgue that was etched into Regan’s mind like the sound of a funeral bell.

“I said-- why? You clearly heard me. Does it mean anything to you? I thought I saw, I mean, I did see you--” Regan gave Erin a hard stare. Was she looking at a murder right now? Had she known the words had been her own? As impossible as it seemed-- no, of course it wasn’t possible. But it was difficult not to look past it, to not factor it in, to not even consider it. And Erin was angry now. She was, wasn’t she? Slowly, Regan wobbled to her feet, bracing herself on a nearby headstone, just for a second. “I, uh-- sorry, I got lightheaded for a-- I’m going to go. Now. I’m going to go now. Right now.” One more look over at Erin before she started running. It had to be all in her head. But if it wasn’t, and if for just an instant she could set aside centuries of medical knowledge and publications and logic, then… then she needed time to make sense of the unthinkable.

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 3,998 Warnings: Bad Teachers, Scorn of Peers, Violence Against Golems and Soldiers, Weapons, Negative Self-Talk, Negative Self Image, Playful Threats Characters: Roman, Thomas, Virgil Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Vibing™ too hard

Chapter 23

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

   Roman sighed and leaned back on the bleachers. It was dodgeball day, it seemed. He wasn’t the biggest fan of being hit by something unexpectedly, so not having to participate was relieving. Roman didn’t want to do homework or read a book to pass the time, like they allowed him to, because it would make him look like a major nerd to a ton of dudes with testosterone pumping and that was just bullying central. 

   He couldn’t use his phone during school hours, though. He’d just do it anyway if the gym instructor wasn’t watching. She wasn’t a fan of the doctor’s note at all and continued shooting glances at him. As if he would mysteriously heal or something equally miraculous. They weren’t all mean glances. Mostly just annoyed. He got the same from most of the other people in his class. He’d probably also be jealous of sitting out on dodgeball, too, if he wasn’t already.

   The gym teacher seemed miffed about the fact that the physician’s note was open-ended since Roman had to be cleared for exercise by a doctor. It was the same for any broken bone, but without a cast, people had trouble believing it seemed. This wasn’t Roman’s first rodeo with broken bones or anything. She was vexed she’d have to print up packets to serve as make-up classwork. Roman wasn’t aware you learned anything in gym class other than suffering, so that was new. 

   He wished he had the packets to work on already. She wasn’t doing anything other than lying back and ignoring a bunch of teen boys pummeling each other with dodgeballs, so it’s not like she couldn’t go into her office and print them up. Maybe she was attempting to make Roman stew in frustration for not taking part. If she was, she was succeeding fantastically. Roman was jittery and pissed off and generally in a terrible mood.

   Fighting slouching in bleachers was surprisingly difficult. He just craved to lie down and take a nap, but the classmates would hate him more if he did. So Roman persevered and watched from the bleachers, catching himself slouching when the soreness in his side got worse. He positioned himself up high enough up that he was out of the danger zone of dodgeballs, but that meant the people against the wall could see him clearly. 

   He received bitter looks from people who were out and sitting on the sidelines on the gymnasium floor. He didn’t understand the ire since they were relaxing, too. Roman would personally rather take a dodgeball to the chest than a steel toe boot, but life just didn’t work out like that. He tried to elevate his feet while he watched. He wouldn’t get much of a chance to raise them throughout today, and they hurt. It was still better than staying home again. At least they were finally well enough that he could walk.

   It was Roman’s bitter luck that Nolan was in his PE class and kept shooting him glares. This period was taking him forever. Nolan seemed to get progressively more annoyed at him for whatever reason. Roman sighed and decided not to look back. He didn’t prefer to accidentally start some kind of glare war. Roman’s left foot tapped nervously as he stared at the gym ceiling, waiting for the minutes to pass.

   When he noticed himself fidgeting, he was supposed to wear the gloves, but there was no way he was ostracising himself even further by doing that. He didn’t care that he technically agreed to a compromise over it not wearing them in school. He stood out like rainbow tulip in a dead lawn with gloves and a T-shirt. They weren’t as obvious with his jacket, but his jacket was white and the brown leather just contrasted it. Roman just couldn’t find a way to make it work. He had shoved the gloves deep in his backpack instead.

   He checked the massive wall clock in the gym as he carded his fingers through his shaggy hair. Roman had a bit of time to pass until history class. He had just sort of stewed in anger for most of the period, but his brain must have finally ranted out what it wanted to say for Roman to be capable of thinking about something else. He knew better than to challenge the times his head was obsessed with something by now. It was just easier to wait it out. Just another 10ish minutes of chilling on the bleachers to go. He was so bored it hurt, like a painful pressure gripping his brain and trying to open it up.

   Roman lolled his head back to the ceiling and forced his mind to drift instead of fighting it. Something fun. Something cool. Fighting off an army atop a dragon. A spectacular sword. The dragon’s flames were acid green and melted everything instantly. Roman leaned back on his hands on the next row up of bleachers. 

   He was fighting the magically animated golems of an evil tyrant. He fired a crossbow to protect the dragon as it decimated the golems below. The great iridescent black dragon was trying to charge up a blast when Roman was nearly thrown off of it by flying machinations that expelled ice beams from their torsos. He was able to catch on to the tail and pull himself back up, deflecting ice beams with his sword. The dragon charged up its power in time thanks to Roman’s defense, and the machinations melted into puddles far below.

   The dragon shot Roman a look, and Roman understood in an instant. The mighty winged beast flew close to the earth, and Roman tumbled expertly off the dragon. Roman and his trusty sword ploughed through the golem army, swinging wildly and protecting himself with well-timed blows and using the enemies as his shields. Roman approached the castle by foot as the dragon cleared out further golems around him. The army was dwindling, and they were successful.

   Roman turned his eyes to the looming castle ahead. He had to stop this madness. Roman reached out and the dragon’s great claws swooped down and grasped Roman’s arm and lifted him from the field of decimated golem parts. The dragon flew Roman over the moat and past the raised drawbridge, but ballista prevented the dragon from going any further in. Roman was jettisoned towards the outer castle wall to get him closer to his target. He rolled as he landed on between the crenelations, skidding to a stop to stand and fight the soldiers. 

   Humans were arming the ballistae and defending the doors, and Roman couldn’t bring himself to kill, so he sheathed his blade and instead relied on his legs to do the talking. Roman leaped about and kicked soldiers off the machinery, knocking them out in a few precise hits to disable them. The guards at the door brandished blades at Roman, but he reached for his crossbow and fired a well-placed shot at each, pinning the soldiers by their clothes to give Roman just enough time to breach the doors.

   The guards inside weren’t so easy, though. Roman had to take out his trusty sword once more to defend himself. He knew the evil sorcerer’s magic compelled them to fight, and they didn’t deserve death for the mistakes of another. Roman did his best to take the higher ground and send soldiers toppling down the stairs in the tower. He hoped he hadn’t harmed them too severely, but perhaps once this was all over healers could come help mend those Roman had to battle off.

   Roman ascended the stairs into an upper corridor. Massive banners billowed in the wind that blustered through the hall. The magic was stronger here. Roman had to resist the powerful effects that caused his head to swim in the aura alone. Things would be worse in the inner chambers. His boots clicked loudly against the cold stone floors as he dashed down the hallway. This area was suspiciously empty of soldiers and the smell was strange. It felt almost electrically charged. Roman ran into a dead end. This couldn’t be the wrong way, could it?

   He examined the hall further as he turned around. The walls were adorned with massive tapestries and sconces fitted with gems. The waste of the kingdom’s resources alone was ample reason to dethrone this monster. But his use of the forbidden magics propelled Roman forward to do what had to be done before the entire kingdom fell to ruin from the sinister arts infecting the lands.

   Banners and tapestries littered this hall, but a strangely blank wall between two sconces caught Roman’s attention as he passed. Roman wasn’t practiced, but he felt what he was looking for. He reached deep within himself and forced out the raw power within. With unrefined powers, he could do nothing skilled, but he could break a barrier. The illusion shattered and a strident cracking sound shook the hallway. One minor success wasn’t enough to celebrate, though. Roman was here for one reason alone. He scaled the stairs that were obscured by the now broken barrier two at a time as he pushed deeper into the belly of the beast.

   The staircase narrowed and Roman sprinted with all of his being to escape the shrinking passage, staying ahead of the walls cinching shut behind him. This dark sorcery could try to deflect him, but Roman was quicker. He raced up the stairs and cleared into a new chamber just as it was becoming too narrow to traverse. Roman stumbled in, his bearings shaken by the sheer intensity of the tainted aura encasing the chamber. This would be his most challenging battle yet.

   He straightened his back and locked eyes with the dark sorcerer upon his despicable throne. The entire room shook with the sorcerer’s booming, sinister laugh. Roman drew his blade and stood his ground. He wouldn’t show weakness now. Now that the final battle was here, he had to stay strong. He couldn’t afford an ounce of fear as he slowly approached the villain’s throne as the ominous wind howled all around them. Then the bell rang and Roman tumbled back on his bench from the shock. Shit.

   Roman grabbed his backpack and left as fast as he could safely stand down the bleacher stairs. The students down on the wood gymnasium floor weren’t familiar, however. And even the wrong age group. Son of a bitch, did he miss lunch? Stupid ridiculously short lunch periods! He was late for class. Goddammit, he didn’t even get to defeat the evil sorcerer!

   He wasn’t surprised nobody told him or anything, but he couldn’t exactly be a speed demon on his healing feet. Roman knew if he stepped the wrong way he’d get stuck at home a few days again and he wasn’t risking it. He also didn’t need detention for running. Roman went as hastily as he could manage to his history class. 

   He’d rather be back in the castle than history, but he could never get a daydream back once he lost it. That meant that particular kingdom was doomed to fall to the taint of the forbidden magic under the rule of a tyrant. He was at least lucky he ended up daydreaming instead of sitting there and being bored for the whole period.

 �� Roman pushed the classroom door open as quietly as he could achieve, but a classroom’s worth of eyes landed on him as he arrived. He flinched at all the unwanted attention and headed for his seat.

   “Detention, Mr. Reinhart,” The teacher drolled as Roman slid into his desk. Son of a bitch. Roman was fated to detention either way. He had so much homework though, it wouldn’t make a difference if he started it in after-school detention or if he did it at home. Roman may as well do it today, just to have it out of the way. 

   The teacher’s voice droned on as Roman got out the things listed on the board and struggled to follow the lecture. It felt like the words went right into gibberish land when he attempted to focus on them, so Roman had to find the careful balance between focused and distracted without slipping into another daydream every class. It was annoying as hell.

   He tapped his fingers on his thigh and started doodling stars in the margins of his notes. Other than clearly jumping in the middle of a lecture, he could start to try to pinpoint things that sounded important to take notes on. People, years, locations, quick event summaries, and concepts that were generally interesting. Teachers liked to use kinds of things those on tests. Missing part of the lecture was nothing new for Roman, anyway. His notes were always a scattered mess out of context, but if he managed to label an overarching category, he could usually understand them.

   Roman was sketching a bobcat jumping between the stars when the bell finally rang again. He traded his homework for a detention slip at the teacher’s desk and left the classroom in a huff. That dragon with the awesome super hot flames would totally eat that teacher for breakfast. He wished to know more about those tapestries, too. He had lots more notes to fail to take and pages of homework to turn in, though, even if he could get a daydream back.

   If Patton didn’t help him on Sunday Roman didn’t think he could have possibly done all the homework he had gotten over the 3 days he was out. It was like the school was trying to kill students with mountains of paper. How many trees did academia kill every year, anyway? Probably a horrific number he shouldn’t look up and depress himself further with. He couldn’t stop thinking about that daydream. Those golems made such a cool noise when they died, damnit. He’d probably give up and attempt to bring the daydream back next class.

—

   Roman sighed with relief when his eyes met with the couch as he arrived at the house that afternoon. His feet were sore as shit and he wanted to put them up more than anything. Stupid fresh skin, not hardened to the brutal reality of life yet. He felt it every time the skin on his foot bent. 

   He slid his backpack under the coffee table so no one would trip over it and kicked off his shoes to lay back on the couch. Bed might be better, but couch . Sure, he seemed like he lived there lately, but right now home was wonderful. Roman buried his face under a throw pillow and sighed with relief as blood shifted out of his feet and he was no longer opposing gravity to keep a straight spine. Good posture was hard.

   “Roman?” Thomas asked, and it sounded like he came into the living room from his office. “Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you were. You didn’t answer your texts,” He said, sounding concerned. Whoops. He felt a little bad for worrying Thomas.

   “Sorry, after school detention,” Roman said plainly, flipping his hand. “Hadn’t taken my phone off silent yet,” He explained from behind the cushion.

   “Detention? For what?” Thomas asked curiously.

   “I was late to history,” Roman responded blithely as he flopped his arm loosely off the couch.

   “Because you couldn’t move quickly enough? Those heartless-” Thomas sounded surprisingly pissed. He’d seen Thomas being irate before, but this was new and a little scary, if he was honest with himself. He knew it wasn’t about him , but all angry adults made him want to run. He needed to cut Thomas off.

   “I was late because I was an idiot and spaced out waiting for gym to be over, not because I couldn’t get there on time in the stupid 8 minutes they give you,” Roman interjected quickly. Thomas settled down fast, thank god, and just looked concerned again. He was used to ‘concerned’ from Thomas. That was fine. Roman settled down again, sinking the tension from his muscles back into the couch. He was hungry and thirsty but didn’t feel like getting up. He didn’t even feel like getting up to play games. Though he had at least another hour of homework and shouldn’t play anyway, or he’d forget to do it.

   “Were you-” Thomas started and Roman had a feeling he knew where this was going.

   “I was fine. I was just daydreaming and didn’t hear the first bell go off,” Roman cut him off to explain.

   “How did you not hear ?” Thomas asked, bordering on disbelief and befuddlement.

   “Daydreaming, remember?” Roman reminded him, unsure why Thomas was confused. Had he never gotten caught up in a daydream before? It happened to Roman every few days, it seemed.

   “And nobody told you?” Thomas asked, furrowing his eyebrows. What kind of school did Thomas go to where people looked out for you? Geez.

   “I’m lucky I didn’t get pelted with a dodgeball. It’s fine. The detention is already done, and I did some homework in it,” Roman shrugged lazily. “Detention isn’t much of a punishment when you have nothing better to do. There was a stoner in there just doing zen finger crochet for the whole hour. It was amazing. I think I learned how to do it just by watching him. I’ve only ever used a hook,” Roman said, still feeling very impressed by how he didn’t stop or do literally anything else. Roman’s gesturing knocked the throw partially off his face and he didn’t bother to move it back.

   “I… suppose that’s a good way to look at it. Is there something we can get so you can have more fun at home?” Thomas proposed, sounding awkward. Roman had no idea what he could feel awkward about, though, and he certainly wasn’t giving Thomas any money-spending ideas.

   “And make detention suck worse for the next time I mess up?” Roman lilted airily and let out a single dark laugh.

   “ Roman ,” Thomas responded firmly, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows. He had a surprisingly intense gaze for a dumb joke.

   “What? It was a joke,” Roman replied dryly with a small huff.

   “I don’t appreciate that you made the assumption that you’ll inevitably mess up,” Thomas sounded upset and shook his head lightly, looking pointedly at Roman.

   “Well, it’s the one constant in my universe, so why not embrace it?” Roman sighed and flipped his hand dismissively close to the floor, feeling too lazy to move more than that.

   “ Roman ,” Thomas chided. Roman rolled his eyes that were partially skewed by the pillow.

   “Fine, whatever. I don’t need anything. I’m sorry, that was in poor taste or something,” Roman conceded. He was too tired to argue.

   “Why are you shaking? I didn’t scare you, did I?” Thomas asked quickly in a concerned tone. Roman furrowed his eyebrows and threw off the throw pillow to look at his hand.

   “Oh, huh,” Roman commented blithely, watching his hand slightly tremble. “No, you didn’t startle me. I’m okay, I’m just fu-frickin’ tired. That happens often, I don’t know why. I assume it’s my crap sleep,” Roman explained and his hand sagged back down.

   “Good catch, kid,” Thomas chuckled weakly. “I’ll make you some tea, maybe that will help?” Thomas said, not sounding sure but hopeful nonetheless.

   “You don’t need to do anything for me, like I said it just kind of… happens,” Roman shrugged and laid his arm over his eyes.

   “I’ll make myself some tea, too,” Thomas said lightly and headed to the kitchen. Roman huffed, but he wouldn’t mind some tea. He could make it himself without bothering Thomas, but if Thomas was already doing it for himself, then maybe that wasn’t a big deal and he could let it go.

   Something was unsettling about laying his arm over his eyes, so he returned it to limp noodle status and stared at the ceiling instead. He wondered how Remus was doing. He also wondered what Virgil was doing holed up in his room again. Virgil had that laptop. Maybe he did something on that all day. Being allowed to use the TV here was awesome, but Roman got the draw of hiding in your room with the door closed. The living room was open and a central part of the residence. Lying around in the living room for nearly a week made him much more comfortable here, though. Thomas and Patton were worrywarts, but they were… nice. Being out here was okay sometimes. He didn’t want to push it, or anything.

   Thomas came back out into the living room and slid a mug of tea on the side table near where Roman was laying and he sat down nearby with his mug, holding it in his hands and looking like he was sniffing it. Roman caught a whiff of the tea while he passed, and it smelled like vanilla and spices, which smelled relaxing.

   “I feel like playing something kind of silly. Do you want to join me?” Thomas looked over to Roman with a small smile.

   “Um, yeah, sure,” Roman nodded and slowly shifted himself to sit up on the couch again, putting his feet up and sitting sideways. “I’ll go lay in your office, or something, you don’t have to stay out here to watch me,” Roman offered nervously. He had fun playing with Thomas last time, and Thomas knew when to stop so Roman wouldn’t end up playing forever on accident and forget his homework.

   “No, I hit a roadblock with writing. I need to take a break before I fry my brain. We cook stuff together in this game, it’s kind of fast-paced but it should be fun,” Thomas responded brightly, getting up to grab the controllers. “The game is kind of hard with just two, so inviting Virgil might help. Will you text him?” Thomas asked, slipping out another controller from the charging station. He passed off a joycon to Roman with a smile. Roman nodded and invited Virgil to play with them.

   “Do you think he wants to?” Roman asked carefully.

   “It never hurts to ask. It’s nice to feel included even if he’s busy with something,” Thomas said, settling down on the couch again. That was a nice thought, but Roman didn’t like it when people shot him down when he invited them to things. Roman watched his phone uneasily while he waited for a response. Virgil normally texted back quickly. Virgil sent back a thumbs up and came down the stairs a moment later.

   ‘I will kick your ass,’ Virgil signed with a smug smile, backing up into the couch and climbing up to the top. Thomas tossed him a joy-con and smiled brightly.

   “Okay, one sec,” Thomas said and straightened his hair while the game loaded. “Cool. Pick your characters here. Make sure they look different enough you don’t get confused. Patton had that problem,” Thomas chuckled. Virgil picked a vampire, Roman chose a dragon, and Thomas picked a unicorn. Roman was amused they all chose supernatural avatars. Virgil stared at the loading screen in confusion for a moment where it showed the map.

   ‘Wait, co-op?’ Virgil fingerspelled and narrowed his eyes at Roman. Roman held up his hands and shrugged.

   “What’s wrong, Virgil?” Thomas asked, noticing Virgil’s glower.

   “I suppose I should have specified this wasn’t a versus game,” Roman replied, glancing between Virgil and Thomas and chewed his lip.

   “It’s fun, just give it a shot. A few levels and we can switch to a fighting game if you don’t like it,” Thomas offered. Virgil considered it for a second and nodded in agreement, turning toward the TV and looking intense. Roman liked that compromise, as well. He hadn’t played a fighting game in a long time and couldn’t wait to show Virgil he’d need a lot more than determination to beat him.

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[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 58

~*~Sebastian~*~

The video call with Emma's family had been good until the last sentence. I wasn't sure if Andrea was legitimately saying she hoped we'd be together or questioning if we would. From the look on Emma's face, she was going with option two. Now I was slightly suspicious Eli's dislike for them wasn't unfounded.

It wasn't late when Emma called. I put my script on the table and stretched out on the couch before connecting the call. I stopped before a word left my mouth.

Emma said, "Hey."

"This is not the same happy face I saw less than two hours ago." She looked exhausted. While her puffy red eyes could be from the pool, I doubted it was chlorine. She'd been crying. A knot formed in my stomach. I spoke quietly, "What's going on, baby?"

What followed was a strange story of her parents ignoring her to talk to Amy then telling Emma she should pretend her life sucks so her sister won't do drugs. Oversimplified, but accurate.

Dammit, Eli was right.

Emma went back and forth between angry and sad. I honestly don’t know which was worse, but I didn't like either of them. A wave of protectiveness washed over me and I wanted to jump on a plane to go get her. She didn't need saving now any more than she did in the bar after the volleyball tournament. The difference was either I was there just in case she needed me at the bar or possibly my feelings for her were stronger now. Or both.

At the end of the story, she said, "It's not always this bad. Most of the time it's fine, besides the walking on eggshells. I didn't say anything because I try to be optimistic. If I come down here thinking the worst, I’m reading into everything and paranoid about everything I say. It only makes things worse. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad."

I double blinked, "Mad? I’m not mad at you. I’m pissed as hell at them. Your best friend kind of hates them. Your sister's a heroin addict and your parents signed over custody of you to a rock star who lived on the other side of the country. I never thought this was a vacation. You said I didn't need to worry, but I did anyway. I am going to need Eli's phone number so I can apologize for thinking he was an ass about your parents."

I felt better when she smiled, "He'll enjoy that and never let you forget."

"Never letting you forget stupid shit is the basis of most male friendships." I switched back to serious for a second, "Do you wanna leave? Say the word and I'll book the flight and talk to you until the Uber gets there. Meet you at the airport here and we'll lock ourselves in my apartment until we have to leave Sunday. Hell, you can just stay here and hideout. Maybe rearrange some more of my drawers."

"As wonderful as it sounds, no. Not tonight anyway. Amy and I will have a good time tomorrow. I'd feel bad running off. Sunday there will be family buffers. Monday, I don't know. Mom will be doing exams Tuesday while I'm with the girls." She shook her head, "I already severely limit my time here."

"Em, it's ok to not want to be around people who make you feel bad. Even if they're family. It's shitty, but it's your choice."

"Visit when my guilt about not visiting outweighs the potential bad time when I visit."

"I don't recommend guilt." I looked at her thinking what a shit situation this was.

"I don't want to fight to just be myself. Shouldn't be this difficult. I can understand them wanting to protect Amy, but I feel like they don't want to hear about me."

I couldn't fix this as much as I wanted to. "Last night when you knew I'd been upset did you feel incredibly helpless? Even though talking to me while I could see you was enough."

"Yep." She yawned. "I was out by the lake. I came back where it was light and we could see each other. We have good phone calls."

I agreed. Phone calls, even video calls, can feel distant or impersonal. Not for us. I'm used to keeping friendships going over the phone. If I couldn't have real conversations on the phone, I wouldn't be sane. "You’re tired."

"I don't want to hang up."

"Not going to. What was your favorite bedtime story when you were little?"

She looked at me like I was a little crazy. Not inaccurate. "Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree."

"I want you to go upstairs and get into bed. While you’re doing that, I’m going to find Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree. Then I'm going to read to you until you fall asleep."

“You’re going to read me a bedtime story?”

I most definitely was. I nodded with a smile.

“Best boyfriend ever.”

“Trying.” I could tell she was getting up. “I’m going to be quiet so you can sneak in.”

“My parents are awake in the family room. I have to walk through.”

“Just pretend you're sneaking me to your bedroom after a date. Put me in your pocket.”

She laughed and then the screen went dark. I could hear muffled voices. “I’m going to bed.”

“Amy said to be ready to leave at ten.”

“Sounds good. Night.”

“Sleep well. We love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Hmmm. Her voice didn’t hold the warmth those words should have. Not the way I’d want to hear them.

Less than a minute later I was out of her pocket. “I need the bathroom. I’m going to let you hang out in bed.”  She was quiet, but I could see she was concentrating on something. “Enjoy.”

Emma dropped the phone on the bed and I was staring at the ceiling when my text notification went off. Oh . . . the naked on a pool float picture. Peachless. Also, bikini bottomless. I was still smiling when the real girl came back on camera. “Nice ass.”

She crawled under the covers and propped her phone against the pillow next to her. “Remarkably self-conscious.”

“Then why’d you send it?” From the drinking game, I knew she’d sent nudes to someone before.

“Wasn’t self-conscious until after I sent. At the time it was fun and flirty. I knew you’d like it. After I hit send I thought I should make sure.”

“No, you were right I like it. A lot. Want a picture of my ass?”

“Your naked is ass is online and on film.”

“Bonus for you! Everything will be soon enough.” I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“Really? Full frontal?”

“Not sure how full, but frontal. The movie I shot in Greece. Talk about self-conscious.”

“I tell you what. When your full-frontal comes out, I’ll send you full-frontal. We’ll be even.”

“Now I’m looking forward to the release.”  A dirty smile formed on my face, “Do I get to take it?”

“I don’t know who else would.”

I scrunched up my face because that hurt in all the good ways. I’m supposed to be reading a bedtime story not getting a hard-on. Guess where gonna see if I can do both at the same time. “Time for sleep.”

She smiled and tucked her hands under her pillow. I like seeing her relaxed like this even better than the naked pool picture. “You look so pretty curled up.”

“Did you remember to turn on the screenshot function?”

“I did.” I took one right now. “I’ll go sleep to that.”  

Winnie-the-Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put his head between his paws and began to think. First of all he said to himself: “That buzzing-noise means something. You don’t get a buzzing-noise like that, just buzzing and buzzing, without its meaning something. If there’s a buzzing-noise, somebody’s making a buzzing-noise, and the only reason for making a buzzing-noise that I know of is because you’re a bee.”

Then he thought another long time, and said: “And the only reason for being a bee that I know of is making honey.”

And then he got up, and said: “And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it.” So he began to climb the tree.

I kept reading until I was sure she was asleep. Instead of hanging up, I hit mute and put my phone on the arm of the chair where I could see her while I worked. I kept watch until she changed positions and knocked the phone onto the screen.

First thing in the morning, before heading to the gym, I sent her one of the pictures I took of her sleeping.

Sebastian ~ Hope your day is as peaceful as you look here.

Emma ~ Thank you. For everything. Listening, talking, bedtime story.

Sebastian ~ Confession. Didn't know Pooh before last night.

Emma ~ We can watch next time we're together.

Sebastian ~ Cuddled up watching Winnie the Pooh sounds good. Have fun today.

Emma ~ Have fun with the guys tonight.

 The next time I checked my phone, after working out, I had half a dozen text messages. All from Evans.

Chris ~ Yo!

Chris ~ Wake up

Chris ~ Lazy fucker

Chris ~ Are you home?

Chris ~ I’m in NYC

Chris ~ Let me know

Sebastian ~ Ass. I was at the gym. Chace is in town too. Meeting for drinks about five. Dinner. More drinks. You should come. I'd love to see you.

Chris ~ Sounds great. Tell me where.

 I sent him the address and was more excited about my night. Will, Chace, and now Chris were doing before dinner drinks then we'd meet up with the others. I'd made a ton of progress with the new role. After my shower I made some more notes, alternating with checking Instagram when I got a notification Emma had posted. A group walking down a dock pulling a couple of coolers was labeled, "Load in." A shot all of them on the boat. Emma was wearing the same bikini from yesterday with a pair of cutoffs. A couple of hours later she posted multiple pictures of them tubing, people sitting around laughing, others in the water, and a couple of them laying out on the deck. None of those had my girl. The next batch did. Same sort of pictures, but with her in.

This was much better than last night. She looked like she was having fun. The last one before I headed to meet the guys was her, Amy, and who I assume was Amy's boyfriend. He was in the middle. Emma's caption read, "Someone is missing."

I commented, "Miss you too."

I ran into Chace right outside the bar. We hugged and gave each other shit about our matching beards. We kept up the teasing and laughing all the way to the table. Will and Chris were already seated and had ordered beers. Chris downed half his beer in one drink, "Seb, man, you stood me up. I mean, I get helping your parents move."

Will laughed. Chace cocked his head to the side and smiled. Chris looked at them before turning his attention back to me, "What have you done?"

I put my beer down slowly. "Yeah, about that. I may have left out a bit. I was helping my parents move, but that's not why I stayed."

Chris put his hand on my shoulder, "You met a girl."

"I met a girl. We'd had a great first date and I wasn't ready to leave. I wanted to get to know her better."

Chris looked up like he was thinking, "I'm good with that." His eyes came back, "Still seeing her?"

I couldn't have stopped my smile if I'd tried. "Yeah. Emma."

Chris smiled, "Nice."

Chace looked at Will, "You knew this and didn't bust him in our group chat?"

Will shrugged, "Trust me, it's more fun this way." He shifted his eyes to me for a second before looking back to Chace with a smirked, "You've met her."

Chace pointed to himself, "I’ve met her?"

Will continued, "At Kirk's wedding she was with the singer from Boone's band and his wife."

I watched him search his memory, "Didn't I hit on her?"

"Why did you say that out loud?

Chace snickered, "To see him make that face."

Not sure what face I was making, but I changed it.

"I thought they were in a throuple."

I rolled my eyes, "Not a throuple."

"How is that even a word?" Chris screwed up his face.

Will handed Chace his phone, "This is her Instagram Emma_plays_90"

Unless Emma had updated the first was another throuple.

"Sister?"

"Twin."

Both smirked, "Nice."

Chace asked, "Which is yours?"

"Polka dot bikini."

They scrolled back in her timeline, turning the phone toward me when they got to the peach one.

Chris raised one eyebrow, "Please, tell me you have the uncensored version."

I nodded. Smiling again.

Chace handed Will his phone back, "You have better on your phone. Hand it over."

I knew this would happen and had left the naked one in my texts. I had to stand up to dig my phone out of my pocket. I had it unlocked and the folder full of her open when I got a text.

Emma ~ Tell Chris hi and nice to meet him.

I looked up. Chris was on his phone. "What did you do?"

Chris did a shit job of pretending to look innocent. "Does Instagram notify someone if you follow them?"

"If their account is set to private and they have to approve you, yes, it does." Another text.

Emma ~ And Chace...

I glared at him. He shrugged, "0oops."

"Now she knows we're talking about her." No idea why I said that. Of course, she knows we're talking about her.

Will looked exasperated, "She already knew."

Chace chuckled, "She DM’d me. Hope your pick-up lines have improved." He sat there saying each word as he replied, "I'd like to say they have, but probably not."

Will smacked the back of Chace's head, "Stop it. You know how he gets."

One of the side effects of insecurity is jealousy. I get jealous. And in an all-time dick move I don't like it when girlfriends get jealous. I think that falls under the topic of commitment issues. I shook my head at Will, "Not jealous. It's this combination of annoyed that I could have met her a year ago and relief I didn't because things would have gone very differently. I was not ready for Emma a year ago."

"How'd you get ready?"

One of the things Chris and I have in common is relationship and commitment issues. I had no trouble answering, "Years of therapy finally came together. I managed to step outside my walls and she ... she has this way of working around my anxiety. Makes it ok."

I handed over my phone, scrolled back to the beginning with the fish.

Chace winked at Chris, "Told ya the good ones were on his phone."

They scrolled through, stopping to look at each other before turning the phone around to me. It was on the deck at her place. She was sitting at the table, her leg pulled up with her foot on the seat, smiling at me. She'd looked beautiful in the fading light. The smile, the look on her face, still made my heart skip a beat. Any man would love to have a woman look at him the way she was looking at me. That was day four. It’s even better now.

Chris turned the phone back toward them, "You should have led with you'd blown me off because you met a beautiful woman who looks at you like you hung the fucking moon."

I shook my head, "I met a very kind and amazing woman who just happens to be beautiful."

Chace asked, "How'd you meet?"

"She thought I was a drug addict getting snacks before checking into the rehab place up the road. She

helped me find chocolate chips for mom to make fudge."

Chris looked surprised then smiled, "That's a good story."

"Nice, but makes questionable choices." Chris grabbed Chace’s hand to turn the phone back around.

Chace kept scrolling, "This hers? She have a kid?"

Not sure why the pictures are out of order. "No, one of her students. She teaches first grade."

Chris started laughing, his hand went to his chest, "This is perfect. I couldn't do this better."

I was lost, "What are you talking about?"

Chris waved his hand around, "Issues aside and knowing you're not always the good guy in the relationship. The Seb I know," He pointed to Chace and Will, “we know, is kind, sensitive, and has a big ole soft heart. Every time you date someone, I get scared. Legit terrified. I’m afraid every girl is going to break you, change you, and you won’t be sweet Seb anymore. When I think of a teacher, especially a first-grade teacher, I think patient, kind, empathetic, flexible but firm. If I was setting you up on a blind date, I'd look for those qualities. This could be perfect."

"Emma is all those things. And accepting. I had a panic attack the other night. She didn't bitch about me not waking her, or ask a million questions, she just asked what I needed to be ok. I needed a run. I came back and she was upside down on my couch and had switched my sock and underwear drawers. She took none of it on, just took care of me."

"Refreshing," Chris said and the others agreed.

"I took care of her after she got to her parents."

Will winced, "Eli right to hate them?"

My eyes went wide, "They ignored her to talk about Amy's boyfriend, and told her to pretend her life sucks so Amy won't do drugs and relapse."

Will grimaced, "Yeah, Eli is right."

I filled in the holes for Chace and Chris.

Chace frowned, "You’re supposed to go to rehab for cocaine?"

Chris put his hand over his mouth and pretended to look surprised, "Oops."

Chace again, "I picture a first-grade teacher as sweet and innocent. No cursing, drinking, and kinda shy with sex."

I lifted an eyebrow. The same side of my mouth curving up. "I get that, but no." I pulled my eyebrows down, pursed my lips, and shook my head. "I do like Monday mornings when she comes down looking like a first-grade teacher."

Chace leaned forward, "Are you in love with her?" He started to smile.

I hesitated and Will spoke up, "If you say anything besides yes you're a worse liar than you are an actor."

"That's harsh." I rubbed my hand over my beard. "Falling in love, yes. Haven't quite been pushed

over the edge."

"How long have you known her?" From Chace.

"Three weeks."

Chris was shaking his head," You don't need months to know what's right for you. Don't overthink it. If she's ticking all your boxes, your heart flutters when you see here, and her smile takes your breath away, it's long enough. Don't waste a second. Falling in love is the best feeling in the world, just fucking enjoy.”

Chace held his hand out, palm up, waving from Chris to me. "For the record, I wasn't going to give you shit. I was just curious."

The conversation changed to what had been going on with them. Chace was doing some anti-superhero Amazon series. Chris was signed on for an Amazon series too. Apparently, the future is Amazon. The beers kept coming and we were lit when Chris asked our servers to take a picture. He texted it to the three of us and we posted it to Instagram at the same time. Complete with a countdown. Because drunk boys.

We wove our way the block to the restaurant. Our group more than doubled in size. Dinner sobered us up. It was a good time. We were loud for no other reason than talking across a long table. Ok, we were a little loud anyway. Next was another bar. We got even louder there. The value of a night out with the guys should never be underrated. Being idiots and taking the piss out of each other was good for the soul, and bad for the liver. We closed the bar down, loading into cabs in groups heading in the same direction.

I barely remember getting home. The next morning, I woke up with a raging headache. First order of the day was Advil and a bottle of water. Second was checking in on Emma. After the bar, the first one, I hadn't checked my phone again. She knew how to reach me if she needed me. I'd figured she was having fun like I was. From the pictures and videos on Instagram plus the ones she'd texted me, I was right. They’d gone back to her parents after the boat and had a pool party.

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 2

[I didn’t edit again because I’m a lazy bitch, but here you go! It’s a lot shorter and I KINDA imagine many of Vegeta’s will be because this IS more about Nabooru. But it’s also about both of them and I LOVE writing pre-Z stuff so. Here you go.]

Vegeta

Beneath Frieza, Zarbon was at the top of Vegeta’s to-murder list, tied with Dodoria. But he would be sure to murder both of Frieza’s most trusted lackeys first and make him watch as he humiliated the smug generals. Slowly. In ways not even Hell could let them forget.

“Who do you think that girl with Zarbon was? Weird that he would be stuck with the task of toting a lowly new recruit around.”

“Who knows. Maybe the pretty boy pissed Frieza off and that was his punishment. Serves him right.” Vegeta heard Nappa hum and could see the large Saiyan folding his arms over his chest despite his position in front of his two cohorts. “Her power level was nothing to sneeze at. Neither were her ti--”

“Yes, she’s even stronger than you are, Nappa,” Vegeta chimed in before the conversation could veer off in the direction he sensed it going. He didn’t have the patience for their horny drivel on a normal day, and simply seeing Zarbon had lowered his tolerance. Thus, he refused to listen to them prattle on about this new recruit’s figure and whatever lewd fantasies they had already dreamed up about her. “If you’re not careful, perhaps I’ll have her replace you.”

“What? Come on, you don’t mean that!” 

“Perhaps I do.” A smirk curled the prince’s lips. “She’s stronger than you and much easier on the eyes. What do you think, Raditz?”

“I would say it’s a pretty sound strategy. Good chance she’s smarter, too.”

Nappa huffed. “If Frieza murders the two of you in this meeting, I won’t miss you.”

“Speaking of that, what do you think he wants with all three of us?” Radtiz asked. “He usually only calls for you.”

An unfortunate truth and the reasoning for the change of the tyrant’s usual habits escaped him. Even when the matter at hand involved all three Saiyans--a new job he felt the need to assign in person, to scold them for a mission he deemed botched by them, or to simply torment the Saiyan prince for his own entertainment--he only requested Vegeta’s presence, likely due to his station as the undisputed leader of their trio and would-be monarch that ruled them if he still had a domain and people to rule over. Perhaps he had finally decided to do away with the rest of their race by putting the three of them out of their misery after all.

Then again, Frieza had quite the penchant for torture of both the physical and mental variety. Death would be too merciful.

“I guess this time he wanted more of an audience for whatever hell he’s planned for me than just Dodoria and Zarbon.” He turned a corner, the other two Saiyans following him down the final stretch of hallway leading toward the base’s central hub. “With Zarbon busy, he’s down a lackey for the moment. Perhaps he wanted the room to feel fuller.”

“Too bad we’re not as prone to kissing his ass,” Nappa mumbled, his boisterous tone quieted as they approached the door. The three may not suck up to Frieza as to near the same degree as the emperor’s closest confidants, but they weren’t stupid enough to incur his wrath for even a minimal insult such as that. It pained them to live with such fear, to tiptoe around anyone like a trio of children. The prince likely more so than the other two with his royal blood, his top tier power level that still paled in comparison to Frieza and even his lap dogs. Treading on thin ice constantly wore on his psyche, his pride. But his ire for the tyrant and pure spite drove him to survive and kill him. For the years of torment and Vegeta’s suspicion of his role in his people’s demise.

He would take back all that was promised to him.

The double doors slid open and admitted the Saiyans into the heart of the base where they found Frieza with his back to them, finishing off a conversation with the captain of another base somewhere in the cosmos. The screen in front of him blinked to darkness again. “It’s never simple, is it Dodoria? It seems we’ll have to make a little visit to sector eight soon after all.” He turned to face them and the three bowed. “Ah, perfect timing. I just lost the patience for waiting around too long.”

"Of course, my lord." Vegeta rose from his bow, hoping the strain in his jaw loosened before he met Frieza face to face. "We hurried straight here when we received your transmission."

Dodoria snorted, but Frieza ignored him. "Obedient as always. I've trained you well. But I'll cut right to the chase." His crimson gaze shifted from Vegeta to his left. "I have need of your large nanny, prince."

It took a massive amount of control to keep the surprise from his face, but a glance at Nappa revealed he hadn't been near as successful, the giant blinking with a tensed jaw. Confusion was better than fear, though the three of them no doubt felt some degree of it. Nappa for his own life, Vegeta for the potential loss of his most loyal underling. Though dumb and weak compared to him, the oaf had proven himself more than useful over the years.

"I mean no disrespect, sire, but what would you have me do?" Nappa asked. Vegeta felt a rush of a breeze as the former General dipped into another bow.

"Training." The Acrosian emperor folded his arms behind his back. "I have an...interesting new recruit. A very capable fighter, but new to utilizing ki. As you know, I prefer my soldiers have more than a basic handle on their energy and using it. A few weak blasts won't cut it in the force, and I see potential in her power level if given some proper training in ki utilization specifically. I want useful soldiers, not dead weight."

Vegeta's dark brows lowered in skepticism, but before he could request further explanation of why he needed Nappa for such a task, Frieza continued on, proving his impatience and readiness to move on with whatever heinous plans he had for sector eight. "A combination of the reports concerning her and her people along with my own observations revealed they are not unlike you Saiyans in their lust for combat. A little less bloodthirsty, perhaps, but quick learners and more than happy to jump into any fight presented to them. This particular soldier embodies this to the Nth degree. I'm sure even your monkey brains have figured out my train of thought: with such similarities, what better teacher for her than a Saiyan of which I have three more than willing to assist with it? I chose your giant for his experience in the field since, if I recall, he had a hand in your training, yes?"

“That is correct.” A minimal one, but Vegeta couldn’t deny Nappa’s involvement in his early combat training. The basics of physical and ki-based combat Nappa taught the prince himself. Until the young Saiyan realized his own strength and it became a hazard to the advisor’s health. He had never been known for pulling his punches no matter the opponent, and with a formidable power level at birth, it wasn’t long before he could subdue Nappa in minutes. When a spar nearly cost him his life, Nappa decided besetting Saibamen on him would prove more effective, coaching from the sidelines rather than serving as the royal punching bag. Vegeta attributed much of his learning to his own natural prowess, however. A self-taught prodigy for the greater portion of his training and growth.

“Perfect. I know it will break your heart to be down one cohort, but I’m sure you and the other will manage for...let’s say a month. I believe that is more than enough time for her to adjust and reach the required levels. If not,” he chuckled and shared a smirk with Dodoria, “I suppose that will be the end of this little experiment.”

Of course this was all just some stupid pet project of his. A waste of time, likely, that would only serve to rob him of Nappa for much too long. Vegeta held his tongue and bowed his head again. “Very good, my lord.”

“Since I likely will not be here to assess her myself, I will expect daily reports on her progress starting tomorrow,” he told Nappa. “You two will continue your jobs as scheduled. I’m sure you can handle that a man down.”

“Yes, sire.” Nappa and Raditz mumbled their own affirmation in unison with the prince and took Frieza turning his back to them as their dismissal. They each bowed once more and Vegeta turned on his heel to lead them back into the hallway. 

Not until they reached the barracks sector and piled into the elevator did anyone dare speak, Raditz the first to express his thoughts on the matter: “You lucky bastard. You’re basically getting a vacation with a view.”

Vegeta rolled his eyes and pressed the button for the third floor with a huff. “Is that all you two think about? You don’t even know if that woman is the one he’ll be training.”

“Not all of us are content ignoring our needs like you,” Raditz retorted, folding his arms. “Besides, there’s a good chance it's her. She’s obviously new, didn’t even have armor yet.”

“Almost a shame she’ll have to change out of that outfit she was wearing,” mused Nappa, rubbing his chin. “Shit, even if it’s not her, having a woman around will be a nice change of pace in this place.”

Vegeta shot him a glare as they stepped off the elevator. “Your job is to train her, not bed her, Nappa.” He halted in front of his own door and typed in the four-digit code that offered him admission. He was keen on spending the few hours they had left before the final meal of the day without his cohorts. He had tired of them and their new strain of conversation for the moment. “Don’t do anything stupid that’s going to get you killed. You’ll be teaching her how to do it, after all.”

The prince entered his room, not caring for his subordinate’s reply as he closed the door behind him with the press of a button. He crossed his room to his bed and flopped down on it, arms folded tightly over his chest and a glare aimed at the ceiling. While the meeting with Frieza could have played out in far less favorable ways, it did nothing for his mood. He and Radtiz could handle the clutch of jobs assigned to them over the next month without issue, the possessive side of him balked at the idea of Nappa being anywhere but where he wanted him. What was the bastard up to with all this? Even if she was just a new recruit in need of additional training, there were thousands of other soldiers that could implement her training. His explanation be damned, Frieza hardly ever concerned himself with compatibility, so what was his angle? Was it just his own paranoia where the emperor was concerned frazzling him, or was there merit to his suspicions?

Vegeta groaned and flipped over onto his side, tearing his scouter off his face and resisting the urge to throw it against the wall. Patience was a virtue in short supply for him, but he had little other choice but to wait it all out. If luck favored him, though it rarely ever did, he would wash his hands of this mess entirely within a month.

[ayatosmlktea]

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒚 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆

A/N: felt like doing a Supernatural AU but with aot characters 😬

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 1

 ♡     ♡     ♡     ♡     ♡

‘This shouldn’t have happened, I’m so stupid. I knew things weren’t right. This is my fault’ Y/N growls in frustration. She stared at the form of her unconscious sister through blurry eyes and and felt bile rising up from her stomach yet again.

They weren’t actually related, anyone could tell just by looking at them. Mikasa had been adopted into their family when she was still quite young but that didn’t matter to Y/N. Blood relatives or not Mikasa was her sister and the fact that she was unconsciously on the verge of death because of her stupid mistake was tearing her apart.

It was supposed to be a simple hunt, exorcise the poltergeist from the house of a terrified white collar upper class family. The same thing they’d done over a hundred times in their years as hunters. She grips her hair in both hands hanging her head as she remembers the events of the last day.

“Another house call?” Mikasa sighs as she leans back into the seat of their car. Y/N tears her tired eyes away from the road for a second to glance at her moody sister.

“I know you don’t like doing these but we could be closer to tracking the thing that kill mom and we might be able to find Eren soon.” She sees Mikasa perk up slightly at the mention of their missing older brother.

The three of them had grown up together and had been quite close but things had changed after their mom had been murdered almost 10 years ago. Eren, being the oldest, had started his training first after the tragedy that had changed your family for the worse. Y/N could tell that he had taken it the hardest, his normal cheerful self had gradually become more aggressive and closed off. He trained his body past his limits, something which concerned her greatly but their father had brushed off.

‘You’re weak, Y/N. Now get up and do it again.” She felt tears building up behind her eyes, refusing to meet her father’s look of disapproval she wipes the blood off her nose on the back of her hand and resumes her stance.

To no one’s surprise but Eren, their dad had abandoned them after leaving for a hunt by himself. Usually he took Eren with him, leaving Y/N to watch Mikasa at whatever motel he’d bought for the night. They’d had no way of contacting him, the only phone number he’d left them was out of service any time they’d tried calling. Eren had only been 20 at the time, y/n 17 and Mikasa 14. It was a lot of responsibility for anyone, having three mouths to feed with little money to scrape by with. She could feel Eren’s anger as he read the note left by their dad, slowly crumpling it in his hands as she saw the look of betrayal flash in his emerald eyes.

It made her angry whenever she thought about that night. Their dad had been gone for three months already. Eren had packed his bag while y/n had taken Mikasa out to buy whatever they could afford for dinner. When they’d come back Eren had met them at the door, his face expressionless as he informed them he’d be going off on his own to look for their dad. Y/N felt panic shooting through her body as she grabbed his arm as he walked past her.

“Eren we’re supposed to stick together! You could get hurt or killed! We can figure out what to do in the morning, please just stay with us.” She could vividly see the look of disgust in his eyes as he shoved her off of him the force strong enough to make her fall.

“You two only slow me down, you’re weak. I can do this by myself, stay out of my way.” The harsh cold tone of his voice broke her heart, the Eren they had grown up with was gone and the young man that stood before them now was an empty shell of his former self. Sometimes she still woke up sweating in the middle of the night, the terrified cries from Mikasa played over in her mind as they huddled together for warmth after being abandoned for the second time.

“Y/N! Slow down!” Mikasa’s harsh tone snapped her out of her reverie. She hadn’t realized how long she had been stuck in her thoughts, her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel. Releasing a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding, she released some pressure off the gas pedal.

“Sorry, I got distracted” She muttered, sighing heavily. “I know you don’t like these hunts but we need money and the poltergeist might lead us to whatever clues we can get about the thing that killed mom.”

They were never sure about what supernatural entity had killed their mom that night, neither y/n or Mikasa could remember the night very well. All Y/N could remember was the sound of water coming from their parents bathroom.

Their dad had speculated it was a demon once while he was piss drunk one night but they never had any proof and he’d never shared any information with them.

“Pull over, you’re going to crash the damn car at this point. I’ll drive the rest of the way.” Mikasa said once again pulling her from her thoughts. She hadn’t slept in almost two days and at this rate she was going to fall asleep at the wheel. She pulled off the dark empty road and switched seats with Mikasa. Her shoulders sagged as she leaned back into the seat.

“Get some sleep y/n, you’ve been working yourself to the bone lately. You’re starting to scare me a bit, one Eren is enough to handle.” Mikasa shoots her a concerned glance before pulling back onto the road.

“Don’t worry Mika, I’ll be fine.” She yawns as sleep overtakes her exhausted body.

When she opens her eyes again she’s met with the warm orange glow of the late afternoon sunshine. Yawning and stretching her arms above her head she feels slightly better than she had last night. Her senses became alert quickly and the smell of delicious greasy salty food made its way to her nose. She perked up in her seat as she turned her body to see Mikasa smirking holding a bag of burgers and fries in front of her face.

“Thought that would wake you up, you knocked out cold. It’s almost 7pm.” Her eyes widen in shock, normally she never got that much sleep in, managing on 4-5 hours every night. Her stomach grumbles hungrily and Mikasa reaches inside the bag to pull out y/n’s share of the food.

“While you were sleeping I went to speak with the family and scope out the house a bit.” Mikasa says in between bites of food.

“The house seems newly built so I don’t know why a poltergeist is attached to them, I told them to stay at a hotel for the night while we work. I didn’t get any dangerous vibes from the house but I don’t want to take any chances.” She nods and stares off at the setting sun. Poltergeists were a bit harder to exorcise than ghosts, some of them were able to hide their true intentions and come off as weaker or less threatening spirits but it was something they’d both been able to master with practice.

“What’s wrong? You’ve seem really distracted since last night.” The raven hair girl’s brow furrows as she shoves another fry into her mouth.

“It’s nothing, I just have a weird feeling about this job.” She bites her lip nervously, there was something about this house call that was different from these others but she couldn’t place her finger on it.

“Well there’s no point in worrying too much about it now, it’s not like this is our first time.” Mikasa’s words did little to reassure the anxious feeling in her gut but rather than drag the conversation on she just smiles and focuses her attention on her food.

After her stomach had been satisfied, they’d waited until the sun had set before making their way to the house. Packing their duffle bag with their shot guns and knives along with the rock salt bullets they’d learned to make from Mike, another hunter they’d come across during one of their earlier jobs, they walked into the house.

It had started off normally, the activity in the house picked up as the night progressed. Flickering lights had turned into chairs moving across the floor, doors slamming shut and a persistent scratching from the walls. They’d completed the house purification ritual and everything went eerily silent.

“That was easy.” Mikasa huffed, she wiped the sweat off her brow. She’d ran upstairs to place the last bag in the appropriate place. Pulling out their EMF detector, it singled that there was no supernatural entity in the house. For some reason the anxious feeling from before came back stronger now.

“You can go out to the car I’ll just call them and let them know it’s safe to come back.” Mikasa handed over their bags to Y/N and she reluctantly headed back to their car. The moment her feet were over the threshold the door slammed shut and locked. Her eyes widened in horror as she whipped around and rattled the handle. Dread filled her stomach as she heard Mikasa cry out from inside the house.

“Mikasa!” Y/N screamed, her eyes wide with panic. She tried her hardest to get back into the house, her shoulders probably bruised from slamming them into the door. Rushing around to the back of the house she smashed in the window of the basement and jumped down. Her heart nearly stopped in that moment, Mikasa had been thrown down the stairs and was lying unconscious on the floor with a pool of blood seeping out from under her. A red haired man hovered over Mikasa, and his presence was vile enough to make Y/N want to double over and vomit.

“Get the fuck away from her!” She growls out drawing her gun up as she fires a round into his head. He hisses in pain and whips his around to face her. His eyes blacker than the night sky and his lips twisted upwards into a sinister smile.

“How did you stupid hunters manage to find her?” His laugh grates her ears like nails on a chalkboard as he licks the blood off his fingers. What the fuck was he talking about? She didn’t have time to stop and think about it, Mikasa was losing a lot of blood fast.

“He’s going to be so happy with me! I found her! The last Ackerman!” the demon before her giggles maniacally as he raises his arm to deliver a fatal slash to the younger girl’s chest. Y/N fires another round into his shoulder and starts chanting the exorcism as quickly as she possibly could. His angry growl fills her ears as the demon is expelled from the man’s body and he falls to the ground unconscious.

Not wasting any more precious time she gingerly picks the unconscious girl from off the floor and runs back to their car as fast as her legs will allow. She races to the nearest hospital, covered in Mikasa’s blood as she desperately calls for help. After overcoming their initial shock at the sight of two young women covered in blood the nurses had rushed her to the nearest OR and Y/N sat near the nurses station while they waited for the police to arrive.

She’d made up some story about them visiting their aunt when the man in the basement had broken in and attacked Mikasa while she was upstairs. After presenting their fake ID’s and then filling out the paperwork she made her way to the room her sister was staying in.

Unable to hold back her emotions any longer she felt hot tears running down her face as she collapses at her bedside. The doctors weren’t sure if she was going to wake up, she’d suffered severe blood loss and had a few broken ribs as well as a concussion.

“This is all my fault,” she groans against the sleeve of her shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

“I can save her.” A sudden deep voice makes her jerk her head up to see a tall blond man wearing a pristine all-black suit standing at the foot of the bed. She feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and she pulls the hand gun out of her waist band and points it at him.

“What the fuck makes you think I want your help, demon?” She growls, his tilts his head to the side as his black eyes flicker back to normal.

“Tsk Tsk Y/N, that’s no way to talk to a friend” He smirks as her eyes narrow dangerously.

“How do you know my name?” She asks her gun still pointed at him.

“Doesn’t matter, but I think we can help each other out. I’ll heal the girl and in exchange you help me find someone.” His blueish grey eyes observing her as she struggled to come up with a solution out of this mess. She didn’t really have a choice, Mikasa needed a miracle to come out of this mess that she’d created. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She was as weak as Eren had said years ago, she’d failed to protect Mikasa, this was her punishment.

Clenching her hands into fists as she makes up her mind she takes one last glance at her sister before reaching her hand out.

“Fine, you have a deal. But if you try any funny shit I won’t just exorcise your ass back to hell, I’ll kill you myself” her eyes narrow as he laughs.

“That’s not how we make deals around here and you know that love” her stomach churns as she fights the urge to vomit. Making her way over to the blond demon she grimaces as their lips meet. She struggles against his vice like grip but he holds her in place, her head starts to feel dizzy and only then does he pull back.

“Such a delicious soul you have love, I can’t wait to carve it up! See you in a year.” He turns around to leave but her hand reaches out to grab his shoulder.

“Wait! What’s your name and how am I supposed to find you? Who are you looking for?”

“You can call me Zeke, summon me like you would any other demon. And the man I’m looking for goes by the name Levi Ackerman.” With that he vanishes.

Ackerman? Wasn’t that what the other demon had called Mikasa back at the house? Before she had any more time to think it over she hears Mikasa’s heart monitor begin to pick up and sees her eyes opening slowly. Nurses begin to rush in and escort her out of the room. She almost cries out in relief again, it worked! He’d kept his end of the bargain and healed her sister but in exchange she’d sold him her soul and had one year to find who this Levi person was before she was dragged to hell. In that moment she would’ve done anything to save Mikasa, she didn’t regret her choice. Y/N just hoped Mikasa would forgive her with time.

Masterlist

[perfect-corroscience]

Chapter 37: In Devil’s Grip

“An abyss which in our language is called shin’en.”

37-1 Raining down like a hailstorm.

This chapter throws Graviton enemies at you. Luckily, I was able to roll Iskar, an A-class Photon unit, when the Wild Beast adventurers got introduced. I know people at the time were pissed that there were lower class units (which would dilute the pool) but… look, not everyone would whale for the higher units nor has the patience to max SB/Luck everyone.

In lieu of not having A’misandra nor Amina, I maxed out the Whitewyrm Wand and stuck it on Zafitte^ to make her something of a healer. The otomo casts Tera Heal, chain; so with that and Giga Regen, my party won’t be hurting for healing.

Someone asked me if I’ll tackle the two Animata bosses. I did fight them, but I dunno if I’ll post up any updates about them. Probably not.

It starts with a small number of these new enemies.

Pretty self-explanatory, I think.

I do like how you can see the two black Animatas in this stage’s background.

37-2 Scorching barrier stretched across the sky.

Nothing good, evidently. Anyway, in this stage twisters will spawn as you progress through it, starting with this one, adding one more as you move on,

and ending with four on the field.

37-3 A sharp gaze drilling into his back.

The whispering leader sensed a sharp gaze

drilling into his back. It was Pa'keppar.

 “Chief! How long do you plan to go on hiding here?!”

We’re introduced to some new enemies.

The Incapacitators, who only attack rows

...and Fragmentors, whose Powered Point Jammer skill will make the bar charge slower than normal for three turns.

37-4 Want us to stand back and do nothing?

A fallen Spirit with burned wings and

molten Negas lay in front of you.

 They sacrificed themselves to destroy

the barrier generator.

 “Why have you done this... for us?”

 No one could have known the answer.

All that remained was the path these

unexpected benefactors had given

their lives to clear for you.

 ---Audience room

 "While we're talking here, much blood may be

getting spilled, all for our sake! Chief, how can

you be so insensitive to their suffering?"

 "Thanks to their sacrifice, peace will be

brought to our lands, and we will be protected.

There is no better solution."

"You really think that?! You trust the word of

a devil who leaves death in her wake, and

want us to stand back and do nothing?"

 "Would you rather send our people to certain

death? I don't understand you, Pa'keppar!"

 "And these strangers who throw away their

lives for us, do they not matter to you?!"

Four of the five fights here are against the level 79 Incapacitators.

Finally, for the last floor, there is a stronger Incapacitator. Three rows! Golly!

37-5 Became tears that fell from his eyes.

It’s noble of them, but certainly foolhardy. Still, it’s good to know there are people who are behind the crew’s backs.

The fights here are against Incapacitators and Fragmentors.

37-6 Filled with the remnants of unconscious feelings…

And we meet, and get a name for, the second riftworlder.

There are only three battles, but there are a decent number of enemies. The twisters are more of an annoyance, but it’s still something to look out for.

Especially in cases like this.

Poor Bahl was on the verge of death when I cleared this part of the stage.

I guess if you’re not aware of the other floor positions or you like to clump your units together, the twisters could make moving them around a little annoying.

37-7 Come forth into this world!

“What did you create using the Animata?”

“Create?”

“Heheh... You don't know? I will show you.”

 The man cut off a cube of space and blew into it.

Smoke began to fill it, turning from grey

to purple, and then to green.

 “The life breeder hatched something interesting...”

 An awful sound, like scraping metal,

sounded. It echoed through the ground,

vibrating everything.

 “Come forth into this world!”

 The smoke-filled cube burst open, flesh

and mechanical parts combining into

some kind of bio-machine weapon.

Despite the story, we won’t see anything new in terms of enemies. Maybe it’s just to demonstrate that all the enemies the party’s been fighting were all Shin’en’s creations. Anyway, have a screenshot of Zafitte^’s Heigh-Ho attacks.

37-8 Horrified by how frozen solid she was.

Yeah, Mutoh is not a good person. This is of course meant to be tragic, but I feel it’d have a bit more of an oomph if we got to see what poor To’toa looked like.

The party, of course, has no idea that this is all happening. They’re still fighting off Incapacitators and Fragmentors.

37-9 I have a bad feeling about this.

---Battlefield

 "Now I must go. I want to get good

seats for the wonderful show!"

 The man disappeared. As if pulled by

a string, the remaining feathers flew

up and drifted back to the ground.

 "Where the hell did he go?"

 The battle ended suddenly.

“No! Don't do that!”

 The lizard chief never noticed that all his

actions played right into the demons' hands.

 Now, the planet's power which had long been

dormant would be unleashed.

 It came dancing down from the sky,

penetrated the ground and spread far and

wide, just as the demons wanted.

---Battlefield

 The ground shook with a rumble.

"What is it this time? This noise is horrific..."

 The ground split, and mystical light spilled

out from the chasm.

The light resonated with the two Animatas

sailing the skies in the distance.

 "I have a bad feeling about this."

So, 37-9 has only three battles, but the light mentioned in the pre-battle text isn’t just for fluff.

This line from, presumably, Mutoh, leads into a gimmick that this stage has. Every turn, the light mentioned earlier will blind the party and do 500 damage to them. It’s not too serious and can be healed off easily, but it’s something to be aware of, nonetheless.

Here’s a nice screenshot of what Graviton attacks look like, as well as the stage gimmick. Anyway, for the first two fights, it’s against the usual enemies.

And here is the boss of this part, Energos. Supergravity Breath is a 3x multiplier attack that also displaces your units, while Gravitonball is a 2x Graviton and weapon (staff) attack.

From my notes, Energos seems to consistently follow a pattern as such:

1. Supergravity Breath, Area (1) > Move

2. Supergravity Breath, Ring > summon reinforcements (2x Fragmentor lv 77) > Move

3. Supergravity Breath, Area 1 > Move

4. Repeat

Definitely make sure you clear out the adds as they come in, so you don’t get overwhelmed.

I believe that once you knock Energos’ health down to around 50ish%, it will start using Gravitonball, which will hit two of your units – for my run here, it started doing so at 99665/205790 HP. The wiki notes its skillset has stuff like Gravitonball (2), (3), etc. that seem to imply that as it gets weaker, Gravitonball will begin hitting more of your party until it’s attacking everyone.

Energos will continue to do its thing, by the way. But if you managed to wear it down to this point, you can finish it off. Of course, if you so wished (and had the units), you could use tap skills to one-shot it from full health.

37-10 Before you could answer, you were hit by an infernal heat wave.

So. Going into this, I have to admit I was a little worried because Iskar was my only Photon unit. But then RNGesus smiled upon me:

And I rolled her! So, not only is Sayu a great mage, but I think her character design is pretty great! (On the other hand, I don’t care for her recode’s art. It is obviously fanservice-y design, but I felt that it came at the cost of being creative.) When she was released, Sayu was actually one of my white whales for Terra Battle and I’m stoked that I managed to roll her.

I also managed to roll Kir’ue, an SS class unit who debuted same time as Iskar. The more the merrier, really! I won’t complain about having another person to cover Photon.

Some had wounds so grievous they were

unable to move at all.

 The harbinger of death shook the world,

settling down right in front of the you.

Its dark aura filled those who witnessed

it with fear.

 As you stopped to catch your breath,

you were just about to be assaulted by

yet another vicious heat wave when

someone called out...

 “Everyone, get back!”

 Hearing the voice, you jumped back and

dodged the heat beam by the smallest

of margins.

 “Pa'keppar, why are you here?!”

“I will explain later. For now, we must

stop that!”

For 37-10, you get a pretty interesting little mechanic here. This message pops up – in a display of unity for their fellows on this planet, any Lizardfolk units you have will have their attacking stats buffed by 1.3x, and their defensives buffed by 1.5x.

Compare S’naip^’s normal stats at level 90: 434 Attk, 245 MAttk, 291 Def, 254 MDef. It’s a pretty nifty buff, and it’s worth packing a Lizardfolk party, though as you can see I only brought S’naip along. This is partly because I didn’t really have a lot of good Lizardfolk units, and I felt Ma’curi might still be a bit fragile even with the buffs.

There are three battles; the first two are against the usual enemies. They aren’t too bad, but the twisters can be annoying if your units get knocked into them.

For the third battle, the boss is faced – Relic.

Relic follows a pattern, as well:

1. Supergravity Breath (SGB), 1 column > Move

2. Synergy Wave, 1 row > Move

3. Axionball > Move > Summons a Fragmentor

4. Repeat?

5. SGB, 1 column

6. Synergy Wave

While Relic won’t summon back the other adds, the Fragmentor’s Powered Point Jammer is annoying, so definitely kill them.

As you weaken Relic, it will add moves to its pattern.

7. SGB, Border - did this @ 205471/308420 HP

8. SGB, column

9. Synergy Wave

10. Energy Emission, All + Fragmentor summoned

Just keep at it and you’ll make it through.

  Their only consolation lay in the fact

that even after being toyed with by

malicious beings, Pa'keppar's group's

spirit wasn't broken.

 Although the two devils plaguing their

planet are not gone for good, for now

at least the Lizardfolk can enjoy a brief

respite from terror and strife.

 Pa'keppar spoke in a voice strong and

filled with resolve.

 “We will pull through. We will never

give in! And one day we will reclaim

our skies!”

 So what was the meaning of that encounter?

The lizard planet has a long and sordid history

of sacrificing lives and grudge-bearing, and

history likes to repeat itself.

 What was it all for?

 “If you find others in the same predicament

as ours, please help them like you helped us.”

 The only thing that can be said with any

certainty is that in this endless universe,

there are many other tribes and Animatas

that you have not yet come across.

So I had the feeling this is an in-story nod to the recoding mechanics. It’s just a little strange that it pops up now instead of earlier, given you get access to recoding as soon as you clear chapter 20. And prior to lambdas getting removed from the pool, you could roll them from the Pact of Truth... Oh well. With the threat to the Lizardfolk world beat back, so ends chapter 37. 

Next time: grief.

[brunhiddensmusings]

Tell me more about this conspiracy theory about dragonball as a retelling of journey to the west please

okay, some of this is pretty surface level to the point its just face value but also just more ignored then denied firstly, i must establish ‘journey to the west’ to those not familliar with it- its a 2000+ page long chinese novel from the ming dynasty, like 1600 if i recall, but odd because it focuses on a buddist mindset in a time when china still considered buddism to be a foreign influence. the author uses fairly large sections to critisize the other contemporary options to buddism such as daoism (for being largely unconcerned with helping people or betterment) and confucianism (for being rigid to the point it cant adapt and promote extremely bloated beaurocracies incapable of doing much) as well as to extoll the upsides of budism (namely magic powers) and how badass demons are journey to the west is notable for being the origin of about 80% of all anime tropes and over a dozen anime and videogames are directly based on it son goku, unsurprisingly, is pretty much a dirrect anlouge for son wukong, the magical stone monkey king that was born with laser eyes spends the first 7 chapters becoming about (i lost count) 8+ kinds of immortal, learning how to shapeshift and fly from an old hermit monk, and pissing off most gods of any note and the entire bureaucracies of both heaven AND hell. as i said, this is face value to the point its pretty open

son wukong’s identifying features including a size-changing 8 ton iron staff, being pretty much indestructible even to major gods, being extremely impulsive and moderately arrogant, flight, and pretty much openly admits he has probably eaten some people. this should sound familiar however he is not the main character, Buddha himself buries him under a mountain (which has a magic seal on top because a regular mountain wouldnt be heavy enough to hold him) to try and teach him some humility (which fails) saying he needs to wait untill someone frees him in which case he will be endebted to and be the servant of said free-er. while we progress to the ACTUAL protagonist of the story a bald monk named Tang Sanzang is in fact the central charachter, although his name has been interpereted several ways including Tripiṭaka (also the name of the baskets of scrolls hes supposed to carry). the big B entasks he of the shiny head with the task of journeying from china to india to pick up said sacred scriptures so holy they can redeem anyone and then bring them back to filthy filthy china thats badly in need of these ‘morals’ things people keep talking about. but this is where you start to get a lot of ‘wait, that sounds familiar’ when i describe things like ‘bald monk’ and the adventures cueball the magical is going to go on with his companions of anime

because almost immediately after freeing son wukong from the magic mountain of sityerassdown and putting a magic circlet on his head that causes him great pain when baldy says a prayer to keep him in line (yes this is where inuyasha gets the ‘sit’ necklace) they come across a SHAPESHIFTING PIG DEMON who turns out inst all that bad a guy its just that his new wife is very upset because she thought she was marrying a handsome bishounen despite admitting hes a dilligent worker and treats her well because hes seeking attonement for having eaten people after being kicked out of heaven (where he used to actually be a bishounen in the celestial army) for hitting on women. yet another case of DOES THIS SOUND FAMILIAR

and i just now realize why he was wearing the chinese military officers uniform or at least would sound familiar to people who watched the original ‘dragonball’ and not just DBZ where oolong and the 50 other characters who were all established to be quite powerful when used cleverly were all relegated soely to be sideline cheer squad and ‘hey, remember these guys, from back when this wasnt the kiss goku’s butt show’- which is the point here following the original journey to the west story you started with the magical monkey shenanigans (check) then he learns from hermit (check) how to fly (check) and shapeshift (i guess they thought he was powerful enough without it despite it being one of his major go-to solutions in the story but i get that they already established thats a power someone else had so i understand leaving it out narratively) battling demons, gods, and pissing off the kings of hell and the emperor of heaven (check) and then gets humiliated by Buddha (absent, again i understand leaving this out for narrative tone and to avoid being overly religious in a kids cartoon despite actively leaving king Yema in the story) teams up with the bald monk who they initially clash but becomes his friend over time (check) who then becomes the main protagonist (major not-check) magical monkey jerk is repeatedly scolded for wantonly killing people and given a magical crown of headaches ( fail) teams up with shapeshifting pig who also becomes close ally with useful powers but has deep character flaws (check) and then team up with a dragon who ate their horse who then apologizes by transforming into a horse and then everyone forgets its a dragon (wait, what) and then team up with a river god named sandy (by this time the dragonball plot has already passed mars and is orbiting Jupiter because i think this is when frankenstein appeared and then king piccolo with his sons drum, tamborine, piano, and cymbal, i think goku kills one eats another and asked a samurai if he could eat the third but this is before they retcon piccolo to be a namek {eg- from the planet ‘slug’} instead of a demon because they keep waffling if demons are real) and is then followed by a long list of falling into traps laid by demons because the monk is naive, the pig is cowardly, the monkey is foolhardy, the dragon is too busy staying in his ponysona, and the river deity is carrying the bags narratively this is confusing for several reasons but i could literally teach a college level class on what DBZ does that no writer should ever, EVER, do and every friday to prevent unkind amounts of homework point at how original dragonball at least had narrative cohesion of purpose when it went off in left field but that's part of the journey- in original dragonball everything is a journey of the human spirit for self improvement, in original journey to the west everything is a journey of the human spirit for a shot at redemption, but in DBZ everything is goku is awesome and nobody else is worth his time unless they go ‘ha-ha, i am the most powerful fight punch guy in universe, we must fight’ because fuck anyone who isnt the most powerful being in the universe and even fuck them because they almost never have a reason for being the most powerful and its irritating how shit they are like some of them are mentally five years old who gave you the power to be this dangerous. whats odd is they specifically set it up several times that goku is supposed to narratively step aside and his son(s) step up to carry on the legacy in a return to the earlier more sensable formula, even presenting them as being less powerful as him as an attempt to move away form the absurd escalation issues the series had where goku can destroy a planet by farting yet every thursday they mysteriously find someone five times stronger then the last strongest person in the universe as that wasnt the point in either original dragonball or journey to the west where being clever was always far more important then being powerful, especially as son wukong was mostly more powerful then goku anyways but still got in monster of the week shenannegans not solvable by impulsive brutality. they knew this was a problem, they understood that the endless escalation had gone to the realm where the audience had lost any investment and nobody other then goku could be useful to the story to the point that they even had a WHOLE SERIES where to try and counteract the power creep they had some weird explanation goku is actually time traveled or cursed or some shit so hes only a kid and roughly as strong as he was in later episodes of the original dragonball..... close, so close to actually addressing the problem but also keeping so many other problems krillin moving into being the protagonist would have alleviated the majority of the problems DBZ had- the power escalation bullshittery and the complete lack of stakes as you know goku is going to punch the thing untill it explodes after six episodes of yelling and anything without ‘planet gonna go boom’ no longer seems like a problem worth caring about. goku being downgraded to being the impulsive muscle on a team that included others that were less overtly powerful but still narratively useful to the adventure would have also alleviated almost all the ‘everybody who isnt goku is a fragile useless  porcelain figurine of a child’ problems that are very counter-intuitive and kind of insulting: in original dragonball, for example, master roshi was the only known human capable of doing the kamehameha which took 50 years to learn (goku learns it by watching it once and that should have been the cap for him being overpowered{a rival teacher had a more powerful version that nobody else learns}), climbed the sacred tower which took 7 years (it took goku about a week, which is well within the realm of where escalation should be), and blew up the fucking moon but in dbz his ‘power level’ is lower then his pet turtle..... despite all of that and being the one who trained goku and krillin allowing them to be absurdly strong in the first place so they apparently forgot their own history.  so taking the actual good story points they aready had and throwing them in the trash is a running problem

they even had the setup for krillin being in peril continually, all the ‘krillin dies’ memes are about on par with how often every demon on the road (which they pass like gas stations) are kidnapping and trying to eat Tripitaka, whcih is framed as despite Tripitaka being powerful he isnt as powerful as his allies but never framed as useless, especially as even goku has to seek help frequently, often from non-martial sources instead of the ‘kung fu solves everything’ mindset im unsure if anyone will want to start a fight about my statements regarding daballz but im okay with an intelectual argument about its writing .... how do i tag this? i forgot replies dont let me do that but i need to learn how to tag my rants one of theese days in hopes they actually get feedback

[inusam]

Found MY HAPPY PLACE, MOTHERFUCKER!!!! Rant Part 1: ALICE????? Damn that’s Long!

Let me just start of with DAMN!!!!!!! WHAT AN EPISODE!!!!! MOREEEEEEEEE!!!! 

Ok admitting it now I was a main Queliot shipping since pretty much Season 1 episode 1 when Eliot looked Quentin up and down the he was trying to figure out which end he was going to start eating first (innuendo intended), and it only got stronger the longer I watched. Soooooooo..... I’m going to be going off about my ship but I’ll keep it to the end. 

I will be the first one to say LOUDLY in fact that Alice has been one of least favorite characters since even before the series started. (No, not just because of my ship. Didn’t like even before that.) Seriously I didn’t want to even start watch at when I first saw the trailer with her in it, and ever trailer after reconfirmed my decision till I accidentally started watching it on Netflix , got a few minutes in and found out I don’t just have one female character I hated I had two Julia. My positions on Julia are now very complicated but I love watching her character arc now, even if I can’t get all the way back behind the her like I do with the others. But my very ardent dislike of both Alice and pretty much a majority of her screen time has been pretty damn the same 80% of time. Sure there are moments that I like or find cute or interesting but the pass usually rather quickly. Mostly because a majority of her character, her arc , and/or just her personalities’ tend to be prime examples of bad writing tv tropes the I have come to HATE SO MUCH. No not cliche trope cause I can like those if give the right context, though Alice isn’t anyway. I mean shortcut, cheat-codes,bullshit handed to you on a stick TV tropes that just diminish what they are trying to say to move on with the story instead of giving it what the story needs.

  Until this episode... this episode I actually wanted to talk about her, and not just in an angry and annoyed rant. Well not only.... ITS PROGRESS! Further more it gave me hope that it will continue.

Alice.........................(Starting Mainly focused on Character , then Relationships)

One of the few times I was actually fully invested in her story in that wasn’t based on any other character in a positive light was when the group go to Plovers house, and they discover the truth. So it only makes sense that the episode that makes me hopeful for her story going further starts with her and Plover. (Side note: I have seen people say Quentin calling back to Plover, being his favorite author is him trying to lessen what Plovers crime’s but I don’t see that way. But since its a Quentin focus that really does have to do with Alice; I’ll get into that later.) Her argument with Plover about his sins and her point of view on of he can’t be trusted to get what he wants let only deserve it goes as a really interesting rhythm to her and Q interactions. Though I really don’t know how I feel about the comparing of those to two. Especially considering the thing Q is stonewalling her about isn’t even the killing and torturing of creature some even children, but the betrayal and Plovers is sexually assaulting a child. But to address her question; No, I don’t think her sending Plover to the Poison Room makes her worse or better. Its one of those things that everybody has a different answer but no one knows what they would do till it happens. Her sending him to him “Death” (She didn’t lock it and we didn’t see him die, ok.) IS understandable. The thing I think that might, MIGHT put a tally in the worse column is that she didn’t stop to ask that question until Q’s reaction to her reveal. Only made worse by the way she revealed. Like she wanted a metal, reward or a pat on her head for it. (Which actually took a hit about the one thing she had going for me that the other characters didn’t, her independence. Even in her most dependent moments; she loved Q, but he was never her crutch.) But it moved on quickly from that so it wasn’t so bad.

Now on to the relationships..... I loved this episode in case you can’t tell, but what I loved most about this episode was what it did for the relationships. Yes I said RELATIONSHIPSSSSSS, plural, that right all of them. What it closed what it open, put in focus ALL OF IT especially what those relationship did or will do for the characters. But this rant is about Alice’s relationships (YES mostly Quentin because most of her relationship are Quentin or Quentin by Proxy). So let’s talk.

I should probably say that I love that the group (Quentin, Julia and by exception if nothing else: the rest of the questers.) have forgiven her, and don’t want her around. No that is not just Alice hate. It’s freeing in a way and it one of the thing that gives me hope about being further invested in her story arc. I don’t actually want or think they should forgive her or let only trust her, not yet at least. For one, she hasn’t actually apologized. Two, she hasn’t in any way actually shown she thought her actions were wrong, all she gave is justifications and I’m sorry I caused this because of my action not I’m sorry for my action, which is one of the main reasons everybody is pissed at her, her action not just the unforeseen thing she had no way of predicting. I have seen a lot of people saying Q should have forgive her like he forgave Julia, since she did basically the same thing. But the way I saw and interpreted this actually different. I am not really Julia-apologist with the view that she can do no wrong and is completely justified. In fact as previously stated I started off hating her just as much sometimes more than Alice and now I do generally enjoy her story and seeing where it goes along with her adorable moments, mostly with Q I still can’t bring myself to like her. (Mostly for what she did to Q in that one episode.. You all know the one. But that’s for a Julia centered rant.) But it actually isn’t the same thing.

Sure when if you strip down the story to the most basic detail sure it has similar lines. One of the group does something betraying or otherwise and the rest of them if not the world/worlds end up having to pay for the backlash and its all that characters fault. I HATE when stories do this, and so many do. They strip down the details to make one person/group understandable or forgivable to another because they kinda sorta did the same thing expect for all the important stuff but ignore all that. No, the the devil really is in the details. They are IMPORTANT. The how, why, when, where are actually very important, not just the what. If they weren’t you wouldn’t bother spending money and time showing them to me and I wouldn’t care. I call it  FUN-HOUSE EFFECT. I HATE IT, SSSSSOOOOO MUCH. It is BAD writing and it’s everywhere, even in really good shows, shows I love. Which just made that more excited about the writer not take the easy way out with Alice. Because that is what the Fun-House Effect is the easy way out, instead of the right way. The right way where forgiveness is a journey to get through no a detestation to move on from, and no I don’t mean a redemption arc. Though I do love a good one. I would like to point out it they’re not always the same thing. It cheapens all involve the origin sin oh now I understand sin along with the forgiveness sin along with all the feelings involve. Especially, because when writer use it to get the forgiveness the character and the story plot involved or driving by it don’t get what makes it all worth the pain, closure and since they never really get it in the story we never really feel it. I mean think about it this way just because two song about the same thing does mean they are the same and like any song it should be able to justify itself on it’s own. Putting them side by side or together in mash-up of any kind should enhance them both not diminish them. If it does it bad writing in a song or a story. I’m probably getting to carried away with the bad examples, and I’m totally getting carried away with my Fun-House rant.

Like I was saying sure in its most basic forum it’s one character goes against the group and/or does something stupid and all of them if not the rest of the school/kingdom/world/worlds has to deal with the backlash of that person/people’s action. Everybody else when they made their stupid/selfish/selfless ‘betrayal’ it was them putting themselves or someone else before the group/world by making a different decision but that was their choice. Even if it meant going against the others. Josh when he ran back to Brakebills, Penny when he sold out Quentin to be expelled, Julia when she took the knife or, Kady when she took the battery, Eliot when he shot the Monster, even Margo with the Fairy deal, Quentin when he didn’t help Julia ,they all made choices that they put in front other people’s and those people were mad and then forgiven it was a journey to some and understandable to others. Wrong, selfish and/or stupid choices they were but they all made them but the one thing they didn’t do is try and take away their choices and Alice tried to do that. Kady said best herself last season Alice doesn’t get to make that choices for everybody. In fact Alice made her choices she didn’t trust herself around magic, that’s why she and took the Memory Potion that was her putting her self above and before everyone (And actually her explaining it to is one of the moments I like of her in the last season and felt generally invested in), her leaving Breakbills after the whole thing with her brother her choice. What was not her choice was trying to make sure nobody had magic, because SHE thinks they don’t deserve it. To add insult to injury they were so busy trying to defend themselves from her trying to take away their choice it left them completely unprepared for what came after and just to spit in their face it turns out she took the potion so she wouldn’t have to face the consciences of said action. And she only trying to make up for the insult. That’s one of the main difference in situation about everything else. 

Other points as follows;

Quentin and everybody already didn’t trust her when they let her in on the quest after discovering  she was working with the Library but they gave her the benefit of the doubt because of what and who she to them (Mainly Quentin) before without her expressing anything learned or changed trying to take their choice away and give control to the Library. And oh look she changed her method but she still fucking tried to take their and everybody’s choice away about magic. Different plan same objective.It makes total sense that not only would they not forgive or even try understanding anymore even more so considering that they were all trying to do that before even going as far as to not want her help. I mean if someone who had tried to take away my choice while ‘helping’ before tried to ‘help’ me again in any way I would shut that shit down as fast as possible. So I loved the show’s reaction to her. Even more I love what I think it means for her next. Growth for Alice in a positive way, which don’t think she actually had.

Alice herself hasn’t grown in a positive way like all the other character. If anything thing happen to and/or around Alice beside for some and I do mean some aspects of her relationship with Quentin almost always went negatively toward Alice’s character. Her discovering what happened to her brother, her parents, dying, killing the Beast become a Niffin, coming back to life, being without magic, being around Quentin, Not being around Quentin, getting Julia’s spark, almost dying again, having to give up Julia’s spark, her dad dying, her trying to find her knowledge of magic again, making a deal with the library, breaking a deal with the library, destroying the keys all of it in a negative way. Just when you think it couldn’t go deeper into worse she gets a magically shovel and starts digging, Hell even the supposed good parts, with Quentin are linked  with how bad that relationship was at the start and how toxic it became. 

With Quentin very much shutting the book on them, it gives me chills with where her character can go. What I see come to her. Connection not related to Quentin. Like previously hinted at when talking about her independence, Q was her connection not her crutch. Which is maybe the one thing that their ship has above the others to me in a positive point separate some of the other main ships in the show, even platonic friendship ones and it has a negative impact on one if not both. Do they grow and become better somehow to sometimes, depends on the ships and situation sure. But you take those to and they get better apart. One of those main bad writing tropes that is all over Alice is that they never have her make a connection outside of Quentin. Even the moments she has with almost all the other characters is only happening because of Quentin indirectly or not. Now with Quentin and her at a close(thank god) she can hopefully start making other connection and those connections can help her grow like the others’ connections have helped them grow and change in both bad and GOOD ways.So she can finally get to a person she wants to be, again. Not the same person because that Alice is dead and gone and has been for a while. (Took you long enough to see and accept it, Coldwater.)

Hopefully Our Lady of the Tree or Underground send my hope to the writers. 

[griffinnblake]

Season 5 Finale Thoughts

Well, I kinda slept, so here we go.

I let out a lot of frustration with Season 5 under the cut, so if you’re a positive person or enjoyed it, then you might just want to skip this one.

Seriously, this is my opinion, and I don’t want to bring people down, but I also have to be honest with myself and the way I’m feeling.

Still here?

Okay, I’m going to divide this into The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

The Good:

The last whole scene once Bellarke wakes up from cryo

The last scene of the episode? Perfect. I loved the moment when Clarke went over to Bellamy as he was waking up. I loved how they chose not to put their jackets back on (please please please get rid of the Clarke shoulder pads jacket next season please) and instead were just in the tank top and henley. I loved that once they went on the bridge, they didn’t even have to say much. I loved how emotional they got because of Marper. I loved the callback to last season’s finale, but instead of Bellamy by himself at the window, he now had Clarke by his side. Visually, that ending shot was stunning. I can’t complain there. I see why people say that this could have served as a series finale. It just works.

Marper saving the day

Favorite part of the episode, hands down. The fact that Monty and Harper got their happy ending in a show like this is both mind-boggling and so satisfactory. They proved that you can choose to be good, you can choose to do the right thing. They lived out the rest of their days in peace. They had a son. They saved everyone. 

Their deaths hurt because they were two of the original delinquents, but I couldn’t have asked for a better ending to their story. RIP Monty and Harper. You did good.

Jordan Jasper Green

I mean, look at this face:

AND the fact that he’s named after my son, Jasper...enough said.

I was so excited when he showed up, and when he said “mom and dad” I might have squealed a bit. Monty and Harper live on through their son, and I couldn’t be happier.

Diyoza survived

I seriously thought that she was going to die, and it was a pleasant surprise that she survived. I grew to love her character and hope that she will have more scenes with characters other than just Kane next season.

Bellamy finds out about the radio calls**

I honestly didn’t think they would ever address them. I figured it would just be a dropped plot point like so many other things. I’m glad I was wrong. However, I’ve asterisked this because of what follows. 

The Bad:

Bellamy finds out about the radio calls

Maybe it’s just me, but I found the moment to be lacking. And I know that they literally had no time, but I felt like it deserved more time. Clarke called him for 2,199 days. That’s a ton of calls. And to me, it felt like a throwaway line. An “oh by the way, this happened, but also we gotta go.” And then they don’t really talk about it before going into cryo. I just felt like it was a missed opportunity.

B/E is still a thing

Wow, Lindsay. You’re only putting this into the bad and not the ugly category? Yep. AS MUCH AS IT PISSES ME OFF, they had no time during that episode to even remotely have a chance to break up. If nothing, they were stronger than ever. And that’s why it’s bad for me.

Look, y’all KNOW how I feel about them. It’s been the worst part of this season for me. I can’t find myself to enjoy other parts because it continues to hang over my head. And I hate how they blatantly set up basic foreshadowing at the beginning of the season that things were not going to change on the ground. Yet things...didn’t change on the ground. Congratulations, you just stated facts.

Honestly, what was the point of romantic B/E? Besides setting up potentially romantic Bellarke (which I’ll address in a bit), what was the purpose? I see nothing in the season that would’ve changed if they had been family instead. And considering that was Bellamy’s favorite word in the second half of the season, I would’ve bought it more.

I’m not going to rant about B/E anymore in this post. That would take way too long. But the fact that they are still in a relationship going into season 6 does not bode well for my chances at watching the new season.

The Ugly:

The Flame is still a thing

If there is one thing, ONE THING, I would love to axe in this show, it would be the flame and the title of commander. I absolutely LOATHE it. It’s gotten to the point where it’s such a repetitive storyline that I can’t take it seriously. They use the flame for whatever they need it to be in that moment. Oh, it gives out memories of the old commanders? Okay. It gives the commander strategies on how to win wars? Great. It ends up controlling the host and turns them into basically a robot? FANTASTIC. 

I cannot express into words how much I want that thing gone. And the fact that Jason seems to love the flame more than ever makes me believe that it’s not going anywhere. It was fine at the beginning. I loved the reveal in 3x07 and thought it was super cool. But that was season 3. We’re heading into season 6, and there’s no end to the flame in sight.

For me, this might just be a personal preference, but I couldn’t care less about grounder culture. I signed up for a show about the delinquents, you know, the 100. The title of the show. I know the flame interests some people, but it just doesn’t interest me. 

They saved everyone

Now, before you come at me with your pitchforks, no I am not upset that they saved all your favs. I’m frustrated because the cast of characters has become way too big. There is simply not enough time to focus on all of them, and the characters suffer as a result. The only way to fix this in my mind is to cut the cast. Honestly, they could’ve cut the cast by at least half and I would’ve been fine. But here we are. 

The bait/destruction of Bellarke

Now I know that some of you are going to disagree with me here, so just keep that in mind.

I’m just sitting here laughing at myself because I can’t think of a single scene between Bellamy and Clarke this season where it wasn’t interrupted/about someone else/regurgitating lines from previous seasons. I mean, did they end up talking about something substantial AT ALL? 

I know that they claim that the issues from this season will be addressed in season 6, but it’s hard for me to believe that when for seasons now, this show has been about plot plot plot. Excuse me if I have a hard time trusting the writers when they have stripped everything I love about Bellarke’s relationship away. I barely even recognize them anymore.

ALSO, can someone PLEASE tell me what was the point of “hostage taker and his girlfriend,” of “traitor who you LOVE,” of blurring out B/E kissing and focusing on Clarke’s reactions? What was the purpose of ANY of these things if they weren’t going to be addressed? And again, they claim they’ll be addressed next season. That’s like 9 months away. I have 9 months for these to fester in the back of my mind. I have 9 months to decide if I’m even coming back to  watch that season.

And finally, the article. THE ARTICLE. I know I know, I try to avoid any and all things Jason says, but it’s kinda hard when it’s retweeted and reblogged a million times, not to mention the fact that my sister brought it to my attention the minute I got home last night. And I’m sorry y’all. I just CANNOT ignore it this time. 

Jason basically gave a huge finger to the Bellarke fandom. He said in so many words that he does not plan on making Bellarke canon DESPITE all the romantic hints he’s thrown in the show. He sees a platonic relationship between the two leads as “progressive,” “unique,” “edgy” for lack of better words. He truly can’t see beyond his own ego that it wouldn’t be cliche for Bellamy and Clarke to pursue a romantic relationship. He is so desperate to be “different” that he’s sacrificing the core of his show.

There is no organic way for Bellarke to go other than romantic, and instead of leaning into it, he separates them for episodes at a time, and then gives them no substance when they’re together. Like, I’m sorry, but it’s ridiculous. 

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so frustrated about a ship in my life. Okay scratch that. I think the last ship I felt like this was Zutara, and it took me a LONG time to accept that. And I think, for me at least, as someone who wants Bellarke to be canon and is no longer satisfied with what we have, they have to give me reasons to stick around.

Take One Tree Hill, for example (it’s not the best comparison but it’s the one I can think of at the moment). In season 5, there was a time jump, and Lucas came back dating this girl, Lindsey. It had a lot of similar elements to B/E. Started off-screen, showed reactions of lead female to said ship, storytelling elements that alluded to a break up, etc. What made this situation different however, is that we were given romantic moments with Lucas and Peyton before the time jump and before this offscreen relationship came to be. I had scenes of Lucas and Peyton being explicitly romantic to tide me over until Lucas and Lindsey eventually broke up.

We have none of that with Bellarke. I know some people are going to claim we do, but for me, it’s not enough anymore. If I had even ONE explicitly romantic scene between Bellarke, I’d be in a totally different camp. It doesn’t even have to be a kiss or sex. If it were an almost-kiss, a confession, SOMETHING, it would tide me over. But as it stands, I have nothing to hold onto. And I’m sorry, but season 5 gave me nothing.

At this point in time, I’ve realized that my main reason for watching is Bellarke (and the delinquents). It just is. And I know that people always say that you can’t just watch a show for a ship, but I can’t help it. They were the most interesting part for me, and yes, I do feel disappointed. It comes down to the fact that I don’t see Bellarke becoming romantic anytime soon, and now there’s only a handful of delinquents left. I have to ask myself, is that enough for me?

And right now, I can’t say that it is.

I have months and months to think about it. Honestly, it needs to go on the back burner for now. I just found out that I have 89 lovely sophomores signed up for WHAP this year. And since we’ll be writing every week, that means I have 89 essays a week to grade 😳. If I can make it to the time season 6 airs, it’ll be a miracle.

I’m sorry that this is such a rambling mess. I couldn’t sleep well last night because I had so many thoughts running through my head. I hope I explained myself well enough, and I hope that you won’t look down on me for it. I would LOVE to be where y’all are at and completely love the finale, but I just can’t right now.

If you made it this far, thank you.

[multiversecrossroads]

Lazy Sunday.

She hates him, Astrid repeats under her breath as she waits for Jun to answer the door already. It’s not a blushing denial of her true feelings, or some bullshit like that. She can’t lie anymore, not even to herself. In this moment, standing in front of Jun’s apartment at 11 o’clock in the morning (seriously why is he still not up), she hates him. For not understanding what their job is. For never taking anything seriously. For making her fix the fuckups that inevitably result from the first two points.

Finally, he opens the door, wearing a kimono that she swears she saw in the window of Ragstock two weeks ago. She doesn’t give him a chance to speak. 

“What’s this I hear about you hanging out with--goblins?” Her mouth puckers up around the word in distaste. “And not only that, but helping humans and goblins get all friendly again?”

“Um... yes?” He scratches the side of his head and the kimono gapes open at his chest. There’s a nasty cut going across his pectorals. It looks like the same one he got fighting those Black Court boot-lickers a few days ago. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No, idiot, it is not,” she snaps. “Because if the humans and the goblins are all kumbaya, it means the city is still under Wyldfae control. And you are supposed to be working for Winter, remember? And you--” She flaps a hand at his wound. “You still haven’t taken care of that gash on your chest!”

She realizes what she’s said as his mouth pulls into a lazy grin. “I could take care of your gash on my--”

“Don’t,” she commands. “Just invite me in, stupid, we can’t talk about this out here.”

Jun’s grin downgrades to a smirk, still too pleased with himself for her liking. But he turns to the side, opening the way for her. “Come on in, then.”

Astrid breezes past him. She can feel the air swirling around his wings, glamoured into invisibility, as he closes the door. He hides them all the time now. It’s easy to forget that he’s fae at all.

“So,” she begins, arms crossed. “Where’s your first aid kit?”

Jun’s first aid kit is a plastic bag containing a tube of calamine lotion, a box of Transformers band-aids, an Icy/Hot patch, and three gauze pads. He shrugs when she glares up at him in disbelief. “It’s a work in progress.”

“Oh my god.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes in a breath. “Whatever. It’ll have to do.”

It takes a few minutes of debating to convince Jun that a row of twelve band-aids will not, in fact, be the best method to use. He doesn’t hesitate to bring up that the last time she had to use a bandage was when they were teenagers and she scraped her leg in gym. They end up using his phone to Google “bandaging a cut” to settle the matter; the results side with her, and Astrid mutters how she knew she was right, and how could he forget about disinfectant, anyway.

The closest thing he has to disinfectant is Hawkeye vodka. He hisses as she splashes it over his cut, which lights a little ember of satisfaction in her chest. “Don’t waste all of it, damn,” he mutters when she gives him an extra shot. 

She sniffs and screws the cap back on. “What, are you making jungle juice later? You can’t possibly drink this straight.”

“Pssh. That’s quitter talk.” 

Astrid rolls her eyes. “All the money the court pays you, and you don’t even buy decent liquor.” She walks the enormous bottle back to the kitchen and returns it to its spot atop the refrigerator. “It’s such a waste.”

She turns around in time to see Jun emerge from the bathroom, the top half of his kimono hanging loose around the belt. He’s still slim, always has been, but there’s muscle in his arms and shoulders that wasn’t there just a short time ago. (Six years ago, she realizes. That’s the last time she saw him without a shirt.) If she squints, she can make out the outline of his wings. 

But then he notices her staring, and he leans one elbow against the wall and grins at her like he’s some kind of fucking Lothario. “See something you like?”

She scoffs. “I liked you better when you were hissing in pain.”

He just wags his eyebrows at her. “Going full fae made you kinkier, huh? I can work with that.”

Because she doesn’t feel shame the way a mortal does, she thinks about it, just for a second. About how he’d flinch and gasp if she walked up and raked her nails down his chest. The thought must show on her face, because Jun’s cheesy smile drops, and for a split second he’s vulnerable in his surprise.

She’ll remember that look on his face later, when she’s back home in the Nevernever. For now, she takes the chance to re-focus him. “Getting back to your open wound. You need something to hold the gauze pads in place.”

Jun straightens up and glances away. He rubs his chest parallel to the cut, a few inches below it. “Um. I’ve got... duct tape? Somewhere.”

“Duct tape,” she echoes. It seems like it should work. Sturdy, adhesive, at least sterile enough to be near a wound if not touching it. Still... “Google if it’s safe,” she orders.

“Wow, what would I do without you?” He rolls his eyes, but he heads back into the bathroom, where his phone is resting on the counter. If only he heeded her that well all the time.

Then again, there’s something nostalgic about their bickering. And if it really comes down to it, she can always geas him.

“So--remind me again why you’re pissed?”

Astrid purses her lips. She’s holding the gauze pads in place while Jun stretches the duct tape over their upper edges. “You seriously don’t get it?”

“I’m just saying, you lost me somewhere between ‘ranting about alliances’ and ‘playing doctor’.”

Right. She hadn’t made sure her point got through that dense skull of his. “The argument over the girl--”

“Sonia.”

“--I don’t care. That was the perfect excuse to start a fight with the goblins and drive them out of the city. Then Winter could start to take more control.” The duct tape flattens over the top of the gauze pads; she gives them a little push before she lets her hands drop. “But instead you did the opposite. And now we’ve got to find some other way to get a stronger foothold for the court.”

“‘We’?” he snorts. “That’s asking for a whole lot of initiative from someone who’s supposed to just be an informant.”

Oh, Jun. Still allergic to work. And as clueless as ever. She snatches the roll of duct tape from his grasp and pulls out a strip for the bottom of the gauze. “You’ve stolen one too many archaeological artifacts to still be just an informant.”

“Yeah, because you didn’t give me a choice.”

“So? You still did it.” He’s not getting the picture, and she doesn’t feel like explaining it to him. A swipe of her fingertips seals the duct tape against his skin. She steps back and tilts her chin up at his wound. “There. Now you won’t die of gangrene or whatever.”

“Convincing,” he mutters. He scratches at the duct tape for a second, then suddenly looks at her with a curious light in his eyes. “Hey, does weed still work on you?”

It’s such a 180 that she isn’t sure how to answer for a moment. She barely smoked when she was mortal, even less now. “I--haven’t had a chance to try it.” Her eyes narrow. “Why?”

Jun shrugs, ever so nonchalant. “Well, I was going to smoke a bowl and watch some Regular Show. I figured I should offer you some before you bitch me out for being a bad host or something.” He raises his eyebrows at her as he backs out of the bathroom. “So, you want to try it?”

Astrid drags her thumbnail over the ridged side of the duct tape roll. She is curious how drugs might affect her, now. And the way Jun phrased it makes it a matter of hospitality, not of ensuring he didn’t owe her for patching him up. She could still leverage a favor out of him later.

“All right.” She ditches the duct tape on one of the bathroom shelves and exits to the living room. 

Jun is already parked on his futon, packing a bowl with the ease of experience. “First hit’s yours,” he says as she sits down.

It takes her a moment to recover the memory, like sifting through the weeds at the bottom of a lake bed to find a ring. High school, before she’d chosen fae, Jun’s basement. What, the class princess is too good to sit and smoke? This not expensive enough for you? The emotions of that moment (indignation, frustration, a certain contrary resolve) come to her like sounds from above the waves. Muffled and distorted enough that they lose any urgency. 

Most of her memories are like that now. But it doesn’t really concern her. She keeps the important parts--in this case, the mechanics of taking a pull from the small glass pipe, her thumb over the carb. Smoke plumes in her mouth and trails down to her lungs. The burn is familiar, but her body shrugs it off instead of coughing like she did before.

She sits back, hands the pipe off to Jun, and watches his hands cradle the glass while she waits to feel something.

When she was still considering the Choice, she sought out other nixies in an attempt to understand what she might become. On the banks of a river in the Nevernever that shifted course depending on where she looked, she asked three of them, The last person you drowned--why’d you do it?

Why do you eat? one answered. I killed my last because I was hungry, simple as that.

The second raked a hand through her seaweed-green hair. He deserved it, she replied. He was cruel, and he was trespassing in my pond.

The third sculled her hand through the water. Because he would have changed. Her voice was soft as she lifted her hand, a tiny, flailing, iridescent fish in her upturned palm. He wouldn’t have been mine anymore. This way I get to keep him as he was.

Jun is chuckling on every third word, smile easy and eyes hooded. There’s a glow coming off him like a neon sign on a foggy night. Soft and comforting and a little unearthly. He can’t see it, she’s pretty sure. He’d probably just make some joke about how high she is if she brings it up.

And maybe she is a little high--she takes another long drag to keep up with the way her body churns through the smoke’s effects--but it’s not like she doesn’t see this shit all the time. She’s just slowed down enough to appreciate it now. It seems special again, like it did when she first went fae.

“This goblin motherfucker’s--holding himself up with his one jacked arm, an’ holding the tap to his mouth with his skinny one--an’ he’s just obliterating this keg. Could hardly believe it.” His head lolls back against the futon, turning towards her, and he holds his hand out. “I mean, I don’t think he was any taller than the keg.”

She passes him the pipe. “Sounds like they’ve been sneaking into frat parties.” 

“Fuck, could you imagine? A goblin frat.” He draws from the pipe and holds it for a second or so before exhaling streams of smoke from his nostrils. “Gamma Omicron Beta.”

She huffs out a laugh at that, leans sideways against the futon and uses her arm as a pillow. She’s surprised he knew the right Greek letter to use for “O”. “They’re basically already a frat. Just with more bow-hunting.”

“Jesus. Small mercy the Brothers crowd hasn’t taken up that hobby.” 

He holds the pipe out for her again. She reaches for it and feels her hand clip something unseen right as his eyes scrunch up in discomfort. When she holds the pipe at the ready, there’s a shimmer on the outer edge of her hand that’s the same color as Jun’s glow.

“You must want a wing cramp if you’re sitting like that.” She pauses, her lips pursed but not quite touching the pipe, and raises an eyebrow at Jun. 

"Are you my dad now? They’re fine.” Still, he slumps forward, forehead touching his knees. The air above his back shivers for half a second, and then his wings pop into view, iridescent purple, doubled and tapering into long, fine points. “See?”

She does. She reaches out to trace her fingertips over the edge of a lower wing, the pipe forgotten. His wings flutter in response, releasing a tiny burst of sparkles where she made contact. He turns his head so his temple is on his knee and looks up at her. There’s sleepy curiosity in his eyes.

“I haven’t seen them in a while,” she explains. “They’re--different. Bigger than they used to be.”

She hadn’t meant in terms of how much space they took up. More like the impression they made on reality. But a smile slides onto his face and she already knows what he’s about to say, so she cuts him off by slapping his shoulder.

He lets out a fake whine that dissolves into a laugh. “Come on, you walked right into that one.”

“I swear, it’s like you’re still in high school.”

“Yeah, yeah. I think you miss it.”

He sits up and lifts his arms over his head, his back bending into an elegant arch. She watches him stretch for a moment, then turns her attention back to the pipe. “I don’t,” she replies, and pauses long enough to take a hit. “I thought I was such hot shit back then. Now I know what real power is.”

“Listen to you. Reeeal poweeeer...” He puts on a cartoon villain sneer that lasts for half a second before it breaks into more giggles. “So that outweighs all of it? All the shenanigans, the adoring masses? Smacking me down for being a dumbass on the regular?”

“I still do that last one.” She bonks him on the head with the pipe before handing it back. “So yes. It does.”

“Awww.” He bats his eyelashes, his wings following along. While he’s holding the next hit in his lungs, he goes contemplative, squinting and nodding. He releases the smoke in a slow plume and looks sidelong at her. “Maybe I should try it, then. If you like it so much.”

A prick of annoyance taints her high. “It’s not something you try.” The Choice, once made, is permanent. That was one of the first things they learned, as changeling children just tracked down by the court. Choosing alters your very nature.

She imagines Jun’s foggy-neon glow gone sharp and glaring, and shakes her head. “It wouldn’t suit you, anyway.”

No. In this moment, this is how she likes him--foolish and familiar, unthinkingly kind and relentlessly malleable. A man wearing through his teenage self. Human. Not. A memory, playing and changing in real time.

But even if she can’t lie anymore, saying something honestly is a different beast. 

She stands up, refusing the pipe when Jun tries to hold it out to her. “I need to get going. You’re not the only one I need to talk to today.”

“Damn. Guess I gotta smoke all this weed by myself.” He levers himself off the couch to see her out. When she glances back at him, his wings are invisible again. “Good thing I’m up to that challenge. I’m a real go-getter.”

She rolls her eyes at that. “Just don’t show up high tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Show up where?”

Astrid pauses in front of his door, hand on the knob, and turns to face him. “College Green Park, after dusk. You’ll be flying me around the city, making some deliveries together.” A sharp smirk slides onto her face, an imitation of one she used to wear. “So you can see what working for Winter actually looks like.”

There’s wariness in his red-rimmed eyes for a moment. Then it’s overtaken by mischief, and he leans toward her. “Ooh, so you mean a date?”

“Not a date.” She pushes him away with a palm on his forehead. (Lightly. She doesn’t want to chuck him through the wall.)

He laughs as he regains his balance; eddies of air from his wings brush her arms. “If you say so, boss. I’ll be there.”

“You’d better.” And he will, she knows. For all his delinquent tendencies, Jun hasn’t yet missed a meeting with her. Even if he only shows up because he wants to tease her about something.

She pulls the door open and strides away before he can fire off another comment. With her high wearing off, her tolerance for his shenanigans is plummeting again. By the time she reaches the sidewalk outside Deadwood, she’s already thinking about her next meeting.

But when she makes it back to the Nevernever at the end of the day, there’s still a streak of shimmer on her hand. Soft neon, iridescent purple. She decides she doesn’t want to wash it off.

[practicingmedicine]

Practicing Medicine: Chapter Two

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I had never felt so good in my entire life.

I’d had moments of triumph before, but nothing like what I was feeling as I walked home from Mrs. McBain’s house, my white coat trailing behind me, damp hair blowing in the wind. I was riding high in the saddle!

I’d saved a life. Like, an actual, human life! Everyone had been so happy with me- suddenly, I wasn’t the weird retard across the street, the creepy kid who was always pissing himself over loud noises and sitting alone in the town square. I was a doctor, and I was to be expected, and cheered, and listened to… It was like all my fantasies had come true! I was the coat wearing, slow-walking, calm and collected badass that I’d always promised myself I’d be!

Well, that wasn’t totally true. I’d been a little shaky there for a minute, and there were things I could have done differently, but I hadn’t shut down like I thought I might! That was real progress from the days when a dog barking at me could make me curl up and sob.

I didn’t bother ringing the doorbell as I threw open the door to my home and waltzed into the main hall, where mom was waiting for me. I didn’t even flinch as she came up and hugged me, because I was already throwing my arms around her myself. She looked surprised.

“Momma!” I shouted, and pressed my head into her shoulder. Even though I was 17 years old, I was still a lot shorter than her, because she was tall for a woman and I was knee high to a lamb- only five foot four at the time. It usually made me feel sort of self conscious, but right now, I didn’t care. “I saved Mr. McBain today! Beagle accidentally shot him while they were doing target practice, and he hit his femoral artery, so I had to-“ My mom shushed me.

“I know! Trust me Ikey, I know! I heard all about it from Mrs. McBain!” There was a pause. Mom ran her fingers through my wet hair. “God I’m so proud of you, Ikey! I was scared when I realized you’d gone, but I knew that you’d be alright. I just knew.”

A wave of guilt washed over my heart as I realized that I hadn’t checked with mom to tell her where I was going. She’d probably looked for me in the town square, and then heard a single gunshot in the hotel…

“I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t tell you where I was heading,” I said. I was still pressing my head against mom’s shoulder, because even after a shower and lunch, I felt completely drained.

“It’s okay. You’re home, you’re alive, Mr. McBain is alive… Everything is alright.” Now that I looked at her, mom’s skin was all flushed, and she looked awful sick. She’d looked old for years, but today she looked real frail. Some combination of stress and that long illness she’d gotten way back when, I guessed. I hugged her even tighter, then let her go. We stepped away from each other.

“Well, why don’t you go to your room and unwind- maybe you can play something on the computer, listen to the radio, rest a little…” I stopped smiling. That was how mom liked to preface bad news. Now I was all tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop…

“And then we need to talk about something.”

I knew it! “Is this about me leaving? Cause, I normally wouldn’t go like that, but it was an emergency, see, and I haven’t hurt myself in years-!”

“It’s not about that,” my mother said, gently. I slumped a little. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything. Come on- go to your room, relax, and I’ll talk to you in an hour. Alright?” I didn’t answer. I felt like crying, and if I talked, it would make it worse.

“Alright Ikey?”

“Okay,” I said, and walked to my room. I shut the door gently behind me, and then sat down at my desk, legs hanging off the end of the chair. I took my pip boy off, plugged it into the computer and then stared at the screen for a while. I hadn’t gone back to my room after answering the emergency phone call, so the “Game Over” screen of Red Menace was still glowing in my absence.

I turned off my computer; I wasn’t in the mood for games now. I put my headphones on instead, plugged them into the radio, and tuned it to the 70’s music station. I had to wade through a few seconds of static before I got the right frequency.

‘We-are-family!’ came the voice in the headphones. I had a soft spot for Disco, so I cranked up the volume a bit. “And I got all my sisters with me…”

Once I was satisfied with that, I opened my drawer and pulled out an old picture of Father that I kept there, that I liked to consult in situations like these. He looked a lot like me- Thin, blonde haired, always wearing his Followers of the Apocalypse Coat. My coat, now. But, where I was short, round faced, and weak, father had been the opposite. The features of his face were sharp and defined, and he had a well-groomed beard. He never wore glasses.

I closed my eyes. Even though he’d been all those things, that wasn’t how I remembered him. I remembered him because he was fair, and honest, and loving in a different way than my mom. Patient, is what he was. Even back when people thought I was a retard, father raised me like he would any son- he taught me to be good, to resist tyranny, and to never, ever hurt anyone, no matter how bad they were. When I showed an interest in medicine, he taught me that, finding ways around my inability to read and write and do complicated math. He taught me how to use a calculator, how to use simple tricks to solve complicated problems, and all those sorts of things.

I really liked my father. I’d say that I wanted to live up to his memory, but I knew I couldn’t ever do that. Everyone in the Mojave knew about Lucas Saller and all the folks he’d saved, and I had some problems that he didn’t. Instead, I tried my best to do what would make him proud anyways. “ Find a way ,” he’d told me, and so I always did.

There was a knock at my door. Quickly, I shoved the picture back in the desk drawer and shut it. I tried to keep a steady voice as I said, “You can come in.”

The door creaked open. Mom walked in the door frame- a picture of majesty, in my eyes- and sat down on the bed. She took a long, deep breath.

“Please take those headphones off,” she said. I plucked them off my head and sat them down on the desk. “Thank you.” As an afterthought, I bent over the desk and turned off the radio. I heard the headphones crackle and then go silent.

“Now, I know I said I’d wait an hour, but I got the feeling that I was just stressing you even more by waiting…” It was true. I would have probably exploded if I had to wait an hour. “Is it okay if I talk to you now?”

“Of course!” I snapped, words firing out of my mouth just a little too fast. Mom smiled.

“Oh Ikey…”

And there was that weakness again- the way her shoulders slumped, her green eyes glossed over- I looked away. “You know, since your father died, you’ve grown up so much.”

I stared at the ground. “Not really,” I said. “I’m still smaller than anyone else I know.” Well, not everyone. I was taller than Mr. Nash’s wife now, but not by much.

Mom shook her head. “You know that’s not what I mean. When you walked in through the door today, all happy and composed, I saw a man in you. And, it was just… It was crazy, to think that you’re this grown up! That I can trust you to go out on your own, and deal with this, this insane , stressful situation, and then come back like it was all nothing.”

I smiled a little at that, and let myself look up from the ground. “Remember when I used to bite people for touching me? How old was I last time I did that, ten?”

“Thirteen,” my mother replied, sounding solemn. I raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Was that before or after…”

“Before,” she said. I nodded to myself. Before father died. “I think that it sort of… forced you to grow up a little. Or a lot, just based on today. And I guess I saw it before then too. You did ten years of learning in three.”

I shook my head. “It didn’t force me, I made a choice to be stronger after that. Nothing done forced me to grow up,” Mom frowned, and my chest hurt a little at that. What was I saying wrong?

“Ikey… well, you know what, it doesn’t matter! One way or another, you’ve grown up a lot since then. You might not see it,”

“I do,” I interrupted, “I’m doing a lot better now.”

“-Of course, Ikey. I see it, you see it… And, I think that God’s seen it too, because the world’s decided to give you a new challenge.”

My heart sank.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Mom looked me in my eyes. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were all red.

“Ikey, remember that story we told you about the cultists? How your father and I were attacked on the road, and how I got shot?” I nodded. It wasn’t one of her favorite stories, but father had told me about it before. “Well, the problems didn’t set in for a while, but once they did, dad realized that I was sick. You probably don’t remember, but when you were young, I’d disappear for a couple of weeks, every once and awhile. Do you remember that?”

“No,” I said, and I didn’t. I’d forgotten a lot of things.

“Well, no matter. I’d go missing sometimes, and while I was missing, I was getting treatment from the Followers of the Apocalypse. It was expensive, but your father paid for it, either with caps or with his reputation. Between Aunt Julie and him, I could always find help.”

The pieces were starting to fit together now, and I was starting to fall apart. Had she come to tell me what I thought...?

“Momma, are you dying?” I asked, before she could continue. My mom choked a little bit.

“Ikey! Ikey, please let me finish! I already feel so terrible, dumping all this on you-“

“Dumping what? Momma, ARE YOU DYING?” She breathed deep- looked away from me, clenched her fists- but she didn’t stop. She just spoke to the floor instead.

“Well, the treatment worked! I didn’t even lose my hair, like they said I would- it was all so perfect. The doctors were optimistic. They thought they’d fixed it, killed the disease, but they hadn’t. They’d just slowed it down.”

“For a while, I was alright. I started feeling better, and for ten years or so, I raised you and ran the Casino and spent time with your father without any signs of the disease ever coming back. And then one night, I started feeling sick again, so I sent a letter to Julie and the Followers…”

I knew the rest of this story. “And then Father made an emergency trip home, and he died. I remember, mom. You don’t have to tell me that part.” I was crying now too, thinking about that night. It was dark and hot, and father had brought me a little snow globe…

Nope. Not going there.

“When he died, I lost all of my freedom. You were too young and too…”

“Retarded,” I finished, glaring at the ground.

“No, too inexperienced, to look after the Casino for me! And I was worried that you might try to hurt yourself again. So, I just tried to tough it out, waiting for the day that you’d be old enough to watch everything while I was gone to get treatment…”

I bit my bottom lip. That day had probably passed about a year ago, but she hadn’t seen it until now. What could I have done differently, to show her that I was ready?

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have grown up a bit faster if it meant you getting your cancer treated!” I said helplessly. Mom set her jaw.

“Because I’m never going to try to force you to grow up any faster than you need to. You needed time to develop!”

“And you needed chemotherapy!” I stood up, and Mom glared at me.

“Ikey, sit! I didn’t-”

“I’m not-”

“ -DIDN’T COME HERE , for you to storm off on me!”

“Momma, I’m not gonna storm off!” There were tears in my eyes. “I’m- I’m worried about you, is all! If you came here to ask me if you could leave me alone a few weeks then the answer is yes, obviously! I love you!”

But she just shook her head.

“It’s too late for that, way too late. You need to be strong to survive that journey, and I’m not strong anymore. And the roads have gotten more dangerous since then, too- so dangerous that the NCR is taking action. Did you hear that they’re getting ready to set up an outpost here?”

I shook my head. Obviously, NCR control would be bad for Primm, but that wasn’t what I was worried about now. I was worried about my Momma! My mind was already racing with more possibilities.

“Then what are we gonna do? You- you think we could get the Follower’s to come down here? We could write to Aunt Julie! We could remind them about Father!”

Mom sighed. She decided to stand up then too, and even with her hunched back, she was so much bigger than me. She drew open the curtains, and some of her majesty returned as the sunlight and breeze washed over her.

“No, the Followers have too much on their hands right now to treat me again. There’s no options, Isaac...”

My heart clenched up-

“ I’m going to die .”

And shattered.

She rested her arms on the sill as the words sunk in. The horror, the finalty… the absurdity of it all. Because even when you know it’s coming, news like that is more crazy than it is anything else. I couldn’t find any words of my own, so I just closed my eyes and bit my tongue. I would’ve screamed otherwise.

“I don’t know when it’ll happen. It could be a year from now, it could be four. But when it does, I need you to be ready to take up the Casino- hell, you can sell the thing, I don’t care- but, I need you to be able to survive on your own. Do you think you can learn to do that?”

A few more seconds passed as hot tears made their way down my cheeks. I kept my eyes and jaw clenched shut, lest anything escape.

“ Ikey, baby, do you think you can do that for me?"

And I heard Momma walking towards me, felt her gettin closer. Felt that static in my head again...

“ Ikey…?”

She put her hand on my shoulder, and I exploded.

“NO!” I shrieked. Her eyes went wide.

“What?” “You heard me Momma! Fuck that, I’m not just going to just, just lay down and watch while you die!” I sniffled. “I’ll- I’ll go and get the Followers myself if I’ve got to, but I am gonna find a way to help! I’ve gotta!”

Still shocked, my mom sat back down on the bed.

“Ikey… I appreciate that, but that’s an awful idea! I already told you, the Followers can’t-“ she started, but I was already gathering up my things to leave.

“Fuck them too! They have to help you, I’ll yell at Aunt Julie or something!”

I was in the hallway now. Mom tried to catch up with me, but I’d already clicked on my pip-boy, swept up my coat and picked up my bag. What reason did I have to delay any longer?

“Ikey, we can still do all those other things! We can still send a letter to Aunt Julie, write to her for help-”

I stopped. I took a deep breath. My hand was on the door knob now, but I drew it back for a moment and stood still at the end of the hall.

“If all them letters didn’t work before, then they ain’t gonna work now.” I turned to face her down. “You ain’t going to change my mind on this, momma. I am going to find a way to save you.”

“No! Isaac I didn’t, I never...”

She clenched her fists. She looked even weaker now; I’d never noticed how gray her hair had gotten, or how wrinkled and yellow her skin was becoming, or seen any of the signs that I’d so painstakingly memorized. Maybe because I hadn’t wanted to.

What was that look on her face? Was it worry? Anger? Regret? Maybe it was all of them at once. I don’t know. I’d gotten so used to reading Mom’s simple, practiced expressions that she’d put on just for me, that I didn’t know how to interpret her raw emotion besides knowing that she was feeling something awful strongly. I kept my gaze steady.

“... Oh, damn my pride,” she muttered, eventually. She covered her eyes. “My goddamned pride! Oh, I should never have lied to you!”

“It’s okay Momma...”

The hot air burned me as I stepped outside. Momma fell to her knees sobbing.

“I never should have lied! Come back Ikey, I didn’t, I didn’t-!”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, I’ll be back!” I shouted, and left the door hanging open for her to close. I didn’t have the heart to shut the door on her, maybe because it would solidify the crazy decision I’d just made.

Crazy or not, I’d made my choice. No matter what I had to say, or what I had to do, I was going to find a way to save my Momma!

[+]

[huntertales]

Part Two: When a Pizza Man and a Babysitter Fall in Love... (Caged S06E10)

3Episode Summary: The Winchesters and the reader are captured by Meg, who is looking for Crowley’s location. The reader proposes they all work together—she and the Winchesters will locate Crowley, in exchange, Meg will torture information out of him on how to get Sam’s soul back and return the reader back to normal before killing him. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Warnings: Demon!Reader, a touch of sexual innuendos here and there. Word Count: 5,486.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You found yourself out in the middle of the empty road tonight, away from the house where the boys quietly kept working, wondering if you would deliver on the promise you made to them. You circled around the pavement and stared up into the cloudy night sky, staring off into endless nothing. You, the human side of you, would have tried and pleaded for Castiel to take five minutes out of his busy schedule of trying to keep Heaven together to have a little chat. You were caught in the middle of finding Sam’s precious soul and yet not bugging the angel for every little problem you came across. 

However, Y/N—the sweet, empathetic, understanding side—wasn’t in control right now. You, the wretched and wicked, the demon who knew everything, was calling the shots tonight. And you couldn’t give a damn about the angel’s problems. You were tired of doing what they wanted. If you had to torture one more Alpha or its pathetic children, you were going to go ballistic. You were tired of being the puppet in this dynamic trio. You wanted out once and for all.

"Castiel, we need you. It’s important." You decided to start off sweet and nice, hoping the angel would have five minutes to grace you with his presence. But when you circled around, you remained alone. You rolled your eyes and let out a sigh. "Cas, we found something. It’s this gold box. Apparently Nazis were after it back in the day, someone opened it and their face melted off. I think it’s—ready for this—the Ark of the Covenant. Yeah. So…”

"I’m here, Y/N." You quickly turned around in your spot to see it was Cas himself. You looked at the angel with disbelief from how easy he could be fooled. "Where is the box?" "I can’t believe you fell for that. That was the plot of Raiders, idiot." You scoffed, shaking your head from how easy he could have been tricked with movie plots that came out a few decades ago. Your lips stretched slightly when the angel began to narrow his eyes on you, seeming to know from your out-of-character behavior that something was off. He could see that he wasn’t talking to the real Y/N. "You really need to get out more. "

"You're not supposed to be out in the open like this." Cas warned you. He kept his voice quiet as he looked around the outskirts to see if the Winchesters were around, but it was just the two of you. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised a brow slightly. He knew that you had rare opportunity to show your demon side and let it take control like this The angel let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Whatever the matter is, you and the Winchesters need to take care of it on your own. I’m in mid-battle, Y/N. I don’t have time to spare.”

“I could give a rat’s ass about your pissing match with Raphael.” You said, your tone shifting as you took a step forward to the angel to show your frustration. Cas attempted to stare down at you, not in the mood to hear your woes. He opened his mouth to try and gain control of the conversation, you cut him off before he could let out three words and roughly shoved your index finger into his chest. “Listen to me, you little maggot. I don’t care what you’re dealing with. I don’t care what problems Castiel has. We haven’t made any progress. It’s been months.”

“This situation is more complicated than you realize, Y/N.” Cas tried explaining to you as if you were a small child. “You may not care. Considering what you are....you may fail to understand what this means. But believe me—”

“I've been doing exactly what you and Crowley wanted since I was pulled out. Guess how much progress we've been making? None. And don't get me started on Sam. God," You rolled your eyes as you rubbed your forehead, acting as if you were feeling a headache. "All Y/N ever thinks about is Sam's precious soul. You owe me at least enough to try and fix him. So she can at least shut up about that problem."

“Y/N, I can’t just—”

“I’m sorry, do you think I called you down here to talk this out?” You questioned the angel when you cut him off once again. Cas tried to act like his hands were tied here, like he had no way of fixing this situation that he was very much apart of. “So help me God, if you don't help me, I will make it my personal mission to hunt you down and kill you."

Castiel, the angel who had been alive longer than you or anyone on this planet, wasn’t afraid of some empty threat made by a species like you. He was more powerful than you’d ever be. And stronger like you were leading him on. You straightened out your shoulders and crossed your arms over your chest, and as if you were trying to make him feel intimidated, your eyes flickered back to the malevolent inky black Crowley had insisted on having.

“Will you, girl?” The angel asked you, almost in a comical tone. He raised a brow as he used his vessel’s height to tower over you. The little demon attempting to bite the hand that helped pulled her from the fiery depths of hell. “How? I could easily put you back where you belong."

"You know, I thought about that. Then I remembered how Crowley's ego is big as they come. I kick into high gear when his pathetic little life is in danger. And it is. But I don’t want to kill a few demons and call it a day. I want out. More specifically,” You said, “I want Crowley dead. I want Sam’s soul back. And I want what’s rightfully mine.”

“It’s impossible right now.” Cas mumbled to you, knowing exactly what you meant when a look of disbelief crossed his face. You narrowed your eyes on him. “We made a deal with him.”

"Now let's make another. We take Crowley down and you give me exactly what I want. But, if you fail to do so, I’ll tell them everything. Including myself." You threatened the angel. Cas narrowed his eyes on you, knowing you had one thing on him. A small little thing as the truth could make this plan that had been set into motions over a year and a half ago come crumbling down. "How do you think the Winchesters will take the news knowing you—our beloved angel—was secretly besties with the King of Hell? That the only reason you pulled me and Sam out of the cage a little differently was because you wanted to find Purgatory as well.”

"It's more complicated than that." Cas said, suddenly jumping to his own defense. You looked at him, wondering if the boys would think of it like that. The angel clenched his jaw as he let out a breath, he decided his last attempt at trying to stop you was calling your bluff. “You wouldn’t dare do such a thing.”

“Oh, but I would. I’ve got nothing to lose at this point. I’ll gladly sit back and watch as I hunt you down like the monster you’ve become. If you think I’m great at torture, I’m hell of an even better hunter.” You told the angel. You looked at him with a smile, Cas didn’t look the least bit amused at what you were trying to do. “Look at it this way. If I die, you and Crowley are out of any chance of finding Purgatory. But... if you side with the winning team, you can still get all those precious souls, Y/N and Sam go back to normal and I get what’s rightfully mine. For a sign of good faith, I'll even help take down Raphael if you help find me another body that I can actually control. We both whisk away into the sunset, this little plan never to be heard of again. What do you say about that?”

+ + +

The truth was such a terrible thing to let be buried down and be forgotten. Castiel had no way of escaping what you had proposed for him. It was too good, and he had enough conscious to know that if he didn't do what you said, the guilt would eat him alive before you got the chance to finish the job. You and the angel headed back into the house, a smile, that meant so much more than the Winchesters would ever know, never left your lips when Dean himself went to inspect who came through the front door. His focus was kept on some papers he was examining while you were gone. He looked up, expecting to see you standing there alone, but he seemed a bit surprised to see Castiel lurking behind you as he shut the door.

“You actually showed.” Dean said to the angel who’d been absent over the past few weeks, ever since he left you after getting what rightfully belonged to him. The older Winchester thought it would have taken a lot more than you to bring him down from Heaven. But it seemed that he had underestimated the power you held over the angel. “Wow, Y/N, I owe you a chicken dinner. What happened?”

“Oh, we just...talked. Hashed a few things out. But it’s no big deal.” You said, the smile across your lips growing even wider. “This is what friends do for each other.”

Dean nodded his head as he smiled slightly, wondering for a moment about what you had to say in order to get Cas here. But he didn’t linger on the thought too long. You and the boys circled around the lit candles and bowls filled with herbs and other sort of things Cas had gathered in the matter of seconds. You watched as the angel struck a match across the box and threw it into the bowl. You waited as Cas tried to pinpoint where the King of Hell had been hiding out. But the look on the angel’s face made your expression drop into frustration.

“It’s not working.” Cas informed the three of you. “Crowley’s hidden from me.”

“Well,” Dean decided not to dwell on one trail that lead you down to a dead end when the man thought of another possibility. “Looks like we’re gonna have to try this the hard way.”

+ + +

The hard way was sneaking into the Campbell compound and heading into Samuel's office, a place that was off limits to everyone except for the big man himself. You and the boys didn't see a problem finding access with the help of Cas, who helped you get inside with a simple touch to the forehead. The four of you wasted no time in going through papers and endless stacks of papers and maps to see if Samuel was smart enough to write down a possible address to where Crowley was hiding out.

You could have taken the easy way out and tortured the answer out of Samuel, but it would have caused more problems than what it was worth. You found a stack pile of maps and began spreading them around the desk, wondering if he had mistakenly marked it down somewhere for later use. You tried to recollect on any of the names that sounded even the slightest bit familiar to you. But all that came up was blanks and frustration from the lack of progress you were making. You huffed out a breath and slammed the maps down on the desk.

When you looked up, you were greeted to the sight of a pistol being pointed in your direction, Samuel being at the opposite end of it. You merely blinked, wondering if you should have been afraid. The man noticed that you weren't alone, the sight of his grandchildren and Castiel as the other intruders made him do the right move by pointing the gun to the floor and switching on the safety again. He approached all of you ever so slowly, wondering what you were doing in his private office, rather than wondering how you managed to get in here.

“What do you want?” Samuel asked the four of you.

“We wanna know where Crowley is.” You stated the reason why you were here.

“If I even knew,” The older man said, “Why would I tell you?”

Dean, who had taken a personal disliking to the man from the first moment he met him, would have thought his own flesh and blood would realize that working for a demon wasn't all it cracked up to be. He thought the man would have been smart enough to side with all of you than a demon who made a promise you didn't know about.

"Because you're our grandfather." Dean said, as if that excuse alone would have made Samuel spill information that he likely didn't have.

“Samuel, I’m gonna get my soul back.” Sam said. To the untrained ear, the younger Winchester almost sounded happy to have the opportunity to go back to his old self.

“Who says you can get it back?” The older Campbell asked. Sam looked at his grandfather with a slightly confused expression when he mumbled that he could. Samuel should have been over the moon to hear the news, the possibility of seeing his grandson for who he really was an opportunity that anyone would have been happy to see. Instead, the man appeared pessimistic, almost apprehensive at the thought of Sam going back to normal. “I’d like to help, but I’m sorry.”

“This is your grandson’s soul.” Dean said, as if the man didn’t know that for himself.

“I can’t.” Samuel stated in a harsh tone.

“What is wrong with you? You wanna work for Crowley?” Dean questioned the older man. He wanted to get to the bottom of this once and for all. But he felt this conversation needed to be done in privacy. Dean looked over at Cas, politely asking for the angel to step out for a moment, Cas was gone the moment you opened your eyes again when you blinked. You turned your gaze over to Samuel, curious yourself to as what Crowley was holding over the man’s bald head that made him do everything without question. “We’re your blood. But if you don’t wanna help us, I can’t make you. But I just gotta know why. What is Crowley holding over you? You owe us that.”

Samuel couldn’t let himself speak the reason why. He walked over to his desk that you were standing behind and bent down slightly to the last drawer. Opening it up, you watched as he pulled out a black and white photograph you caught only a blurry glimpse of. Samuel walked over to his oldest grandson and gave the photo to him. Dean furrowed his brow slightly and looked down at the snapshot. His face began to drop slightly at the familiar face staring back at him. You heard him whisper a title that he hadn’t said in years. “Mom.” Mary, the only daughter of Samuel and Deanna Campbell.

“He’s gonna give her back to me.” Samuel said. He kept his gaze to the ground as Dean tried to process the information. The older Winchester seemed to be filled with a bit of disbelief when he repeated what he heard back to his grandfather. “You tell me you don’t want her back. That’s the one difference between us. You know how to live without her.”  

“Look,” Dean said, trying to reason with the man. “I know how you feel.”

“No, you don’t.” Samuel said. You could see that his eyes were glazed over, his emotions were getting the best of him, clouding his judgement of what the right thing to do was. “She’s my daughter, and she’s dead. And I can do something about it.”

“You think Crowley’s gonna make good?” Dean asked.

“He brought Sam and Y/N back. And me.” Samuel argued with the man for the actions that he decided to choose. Dean placed the photograph to the desk and quietly suggested not to go down the road he had traveled too many times. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying stop trying. It’s gonna go nowhere good.” Dean told his grandfather. He shook his head slightly, knowing how harsh he was coming across. But it was for the greater good not to do something he would eventually end up regretting. “Samuel, I know we’ve had our differences, but I’m your grandson. And I’m telling you that this is wrong for so many reasons.”

“You hypocrite.” Samuel muttered underneath his breath, shaking his head from what he was hearing from someone like Dean Winchester.

“I’m asking you to learn from our mistakes. Doing this, this is how the bad guy gets us every time. It’s our Achilles heel. Apparently, it runs in the family.” Dean said. You looked away for a moment when the emotions were beginning to run high. You rolled your eyes in annoyance. “We will find something else out, okay?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Samuel apologized, already making up his mind. “But—”

“Fine. Fine, you bring her back.” Dean cut off his grandfather, not wanting to hear the excuse the man was telling himself to justify his actions. “But what are you gonna tell her, huh? Gonna tell her you made a deal with a demon? That you wouldn’t help out her sons?”

“All right, that’s enough.” Samuel shouted when he raised his voice louder, letting the argument come to a close from what he just did. The boys looked at their grandfather for a moment as you stared at the old man, wondering what kind of stunt he was going to pull. Samuel let out a breath and remained to keep his gaze on the floor. “Just get out.”

You looked over the Winchesters to see how they wanted to handle this. Sam, who was too oblivious to feel anything, wondered himself about what to do. Dean seemed to be the only one here who felt hurt by his grandfather’s words. The older Winchester nodded for the three of you to listen to the command before heading for the door. Sam followed behind a second longer. You stared at Samuel Campbell for a second or two before you headed out of the compound with the brothers. Human emotions were always much more of a burden than they were good for. You sure didn’t miss them right now.

+ + +

You leaned back in your seat at the table and stretched out your legs, getting comfortable as possible while you continued on slowly slipping on the drink you fixed for yourself after coming back a little over an hour ago. The brothers diligently worked around you with all sorts of maps and papers spread around the place, trying to track down a possible lead to figure out an exact location of where Crowley’s hideout was. If you were back to your old self, you would have been all over this in the matter of seconds. You loved research more than anything. But you felt your time and effort would be better spent hacking and cutting off tiny bits off Crowley than shuffling through papers and getting frustrated.

You tilted your head back and took another sip of your drink, your eyes never leaving Dean, who sat across from you at the table. He did just about anything to get out of research if he could. The man occasionally would pick up a book and try his effort at finding something if you and his brother needed help. Now he had no choice, not like he would ignore a chance to screw over another demon before they had the chance to do it for him. Everyone was pulling their weight around here, except for you.

You raised your brow slightly when Dean stared at you, not the least bit pleased at how you were acting. You stared at him, wondering if he wanted to make a remark. Dean ignored the bait and went back to working, trying to ignore your presence.

“It’s very complex.” Cas spoke up from across the room. He sat on the ratty couch and occupied himself with watching some TV after you made a remark about how he needed to update his pop culture. You didn't pay much attention to what he was saying, presuming he was watching the news or something. Dean nodded his head slowly, Sam didn't look up from his papers. "If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter...why does he keep slapping her rear? Perhaps she’s done something wrong.”

“What the actual hell?” You muttered underneath your breath. You pushed yourself up to your feet and leaned over to get a better look at what the angel was watching. You furrowed your brow slightly as you tilted your head to the side, watching as the scene continued to unfold, and the girl’s bare ass get redder when the guy smacked her once again. This definitely wasn’t the news. “Are you…Are you watching porn, Cas?”

“It was there.” Cas said. The angel narrowed his eyes slightly in confusion as he continued to watch with such fascination. The girl let out another giggle aa the man slapped her ass one more time. ”I thought spanking was a form of punishment for children when they’ve misbehavior. But she looks rather...aroused.”

“Oh my God, Cas.” You grumbled underneath your breath as you pressed the glass against your forehead from the conversation that was unfolding. “Do I have tell you about the birds and the bees?”

“No. I understand the purpose of sex. But what I don’t understand is why the pizza man is slapping her buttock. And why she’s enjoying it.” Cas said. You looked at the angel for a moment as the room began to feel a little more awkward. “Perhaps pain can also be pleasurable for humans.”

“Most people who are into spanking like control and have lots of unresolved Daddy issues. And probably a healthy touch of masochism for the hell of it.” You mumbled as you decided to take another sip of your drink, but before the liquid could slip down your throat, it seemed your remark backfired as you choked on the drink from what you heard Cas say next.

"I presume this is something you and Dean practice when you have fornicated." Cas said. His tone of voice was calm as he continued to stare at the screen. "It makes sense. Considering you and Dean both share the similarities to what you described."

“Okay, okay.” You quickly muttered. “Conversation is over.”

“Let’s get a few things straight here, Cas. First,” Dean tried to give the angel a tip on how humans interacted with one another. And what was good conversation material, to what was deemed taboo. “We don't talk about our private life out in the open like this."

"I don't see what the problem is." Cas said. "Y/N has slept with the both of you on separate occasions.”

“Second, you don’t watch porn in a room full of dudes. And you don’t talk about it. Just turn it off.” Dean ordered to the both of you. You let out a quiet chuckle as you looked over your shoulder to see Dean trying his hardest not to look embarrassed at what you admitted to. Cas let the film continue on for another second as the female on screen began to let out sounds of moans, and from how quick they were going, it wasn’t from pain. You raised a brow when the angel looked down at his lap. “Oh, now he’s got a boner.”

You stifle a chuckle as you took another sip of your drink again. But the smile on your lips soon dropped when you hear a knocking at the door. You furrowed your brow slightly as the boys looked at one another with suspicion, wondering who it could be at this time of night. Dean slowly got up from his chair and pulled out his gun, getting ready as he approached the door. You and Sam watched as Dean opened the door, Cas lost in the porno to figure out who it was. Dean cracked the door open slightly to see that it was Samuel.

“Well, come on in.” You greeted the Campbell with a sarcastic tone of voice as you opened your arms while he stepped inside. Samuel looked around to see that his younger grandson was working. And Cas engrossed in the world of Casa Erotica. “The party’s just starting, Gramps.”

“This what you kids do, sit around watching pornos with angels?” Samuel asked. He briefly looked over at the screen before he had to look away at the graphic content that wasn’t suitable for an audience like this. Or anyone, for that matter.

“We’re not supposed to talk about it.” Cas said, still not breaking his concentration from the TV.

Dean shook his head and headed over to the TV to finally turn off the film before the babysitter and pizza man could get to third and final base. He turned his attention to his grandfather and asked, “Why are you here, Samuel?”

“It’s what Mary would want.” Samuel said. He began walking forward to his grandchildren as he reached a hand behind his back. You watched as he pulled out a folded map, handing it over to Dean so he could inspect it. You wandered over and looked to see there was a small red circle around a spot. The magic place where you’ve been a million times to, but couldn’t remember for the life of you. “Now, this is what I know. Whatever we bag ends up there. That’s where we send Y/N to torture them while Crowley interrogates them, whatever they do together. I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Only been outside the place, but it’s a death trap. Nothing gets in that Crowley doesn’t want. And nothing gets out, period.”

“Well, thanks.” Dean mumbled, rather happy to see his grandfather come around.

Samuel didn’t appear so enthusiastic about this. He looked at the four of you slowly, wondering what he could possibly say in order for all of you to stay safe. “I wish you wouldn’t do this.”

You didn’t want to face the King of Hell like this yourself, but you didn’t have any other choice. If you wanted things to change, you would just have to take the risk. The four of you along with Meg and her posse of demons. It should have been more than enough to take down the man. But it seemed Sam wanted to expand the invitation to his grandfather, who would have been a good extra set of hands.

“Come with us.” Sam offered, stopping his grandfather before he could walk out the door.

Samuel let out a quiet chuckle from the offer. “I may be soft, but I’m not suicidal.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and watched as Samuel headed out the door. Part of you was a little bit disappointed to see the man go. He could have been useful. Guess suicidal was just a Winchester thing. It was either that, or Gramps was hiding something from all of you. Making deals with demons was a trait Winchesters and Campbells were guilty of. If so, Crowley wasn't going to be the only one with their life being cut short tonight.

+ + +

It seemed Meg, the demon who always seemed to pop up whenever you least expected it, was standing just outside where you had been earlier tonight praying to Cas. You and the boys, along with Cas, greeted the demon and her posse. A smile began to spread across Meg’s lips at the sight of an old face she’d been only fortunate to meet once. An angel and a demon being together in the same room was like having a cat and dog interact with one another. It was bound to create chaos. But it seemed Meg was on her best behavior.

“Remember me?” Meg asked the angel. Her tone of voice, along with the smile that never left her lips, made her look like she was just looking for a cheap way to get under Cas’ skin like old times. “I sure remember you, Clarence.”

“Why are we working with these abominations?” Cas asked, not the least bit amused at the demon’s cheap attempts at trying to strike up some humor.

“Keep talking dirty.” Meg said. “It makes my meat suit all dewy.”

"All right, simmer down." You mumbled underneath your breath, rolling your eyes from the antics that were already growing old. "We know where Crowley is."

“Nice work, Nancy Drew.” Meg said. She turned her gaze to you and stared at you, now looking nothing but serious as she waited for an answer. “Do tell.”  

Sam scoffed, “Right. Tell you so you can just leave us for dead.”

“You boys have serious abandonment issues, you know that?” Meg asked.

"I'm just having so much fun spending this amazing, one-on-one time with you. I just don't want to lose it so quickly." You placed a hand on your heart as you stared at the demon with an emotional expression. Meg wasn't the least bit amused at your attempt of sarcasm. You dropped the act, along with your hands back down to your side. "Relax, sweetcheeks. We'll show you. But we're going together."

"You know, I'm liking this new side to you, Y/N. But it doesn't change the fact that you're part of the Scooby gang that likes to hunt demons." Meg said. "Am I supposed to just trust you now that you’re a little bit like me?”

"No, you're not that stupid." You said. You looked at her for a moment as Meg began to feel all warm and fuzzy inside from the compliment you gave her. But you were about to take it all back when you stepped forward and stretched out your arm. “Now that we’re besties, give me my knife.”

“No, I’m not that stupid.” Meg mocked you.

“Do you want us to take you to Crowley or not?” You questioned the demon. Meg didn’t move a single muscle. “Oh, relax. I don’t need a little knife to send your asses back down to hell.”

Meg hesitated for a moment, but it was the mutual wanting to take down the enemy that made her finally hand over the knife. You gripped the wooden handle and stared at it for a moment, feeling the weight grow heavy in your palm. You inspected it for a moment as everyone began to eye one another up and down, making all of them wonder who was going to pull the next move. It should have been no surprise when you did.

You didn’t waste a second in shoving the knife straight into the chest of the demon who had the audacity to try and intimidate you. You pushed harder against the knife before you pulled it out, letting the body fall to the ground. Before anyone else could make a move, you quickly pointed the bloody end of the knife at the demons to show they could very well be next.

“You saw him. He was more interested in killing us than getting the job done.” You said, justifying your actions. “I just did all of us a favor.”

Meg didn’t like what you had done, but she agreed that it was the right thing to do. She nodded her head to her remaining two demon's to back off. Not like you were the least bit afraid of them. You backed away slowly before heading back to the house, knowing there were a few things you needed to get done before leaving.

“Hey.” Meg called out to you. “You just gonna keep that?”

“You took this from us. I'm taking it back, bitch." You told the demon. You held up the bloody knife, as if to show her that you weren't the least bit hesitant to use it on her as well. You scanned the crowd as your expression began to subtly change, into an almost darkened one that demanded respect for the control you were taking without asking. "We leave in one hour. And if anyone's got a problem with that, kiss my ass. I'll stab you, too."

You waited for someone to try and make a remark, but all you saw were blank expressions and Meg’s demons avoiding your gaze. You turned back on your heels and began walking back into the house, leaving everyone alone to separate and do what they needed before departing.

[Next Part]

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[lilsherlockian1975]

Sherlolly, 17 :)

meeting up at a party whilst drunk AU - Awesome! Thanks, sweetness! There are a few bad words in this one, nothing awful. Hope you like! ~Lil~

The room was spinning. Those last two (or four) vodka shots were a really bad idea. Molly tried to look normal and not at all wobbly as she made her way outside, hoping the fresh air would clear her head and hold off the nausea. 

Unfortunately, her vision blurred just as she stepped onto the terrace and she ran directly into a brick wall. “Fuckin’ wall!” Wait… brick walls don’t wear clothes. Slowly raising her head, she saw that the wall was actually a tall angry looking man. “Sorry,” she said or at least tried too.

“No harm done,” the wall… man said.

Molly tried to step around him to find a place to sit down but he took her by the elbow, stopping her progress. 

“You shouldn’t be out here alone, especially blind drunk.” He led her to a stone bench and guided her to sit.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, actually. You came with two other females, where are they?” he demanded.

“How’d..?”

“Immaterial. Did they leave? How are you supposed to get home in this condition?”

The wall-man asked a lot of questions. She couldn’t really keep up.

“Damnit,” he cursed under his breath as he pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket. “John, where are you? You dragged me to this blasted party then disappeared!”

Wall-man was pissed at John; Molly felt bad for him. 

“I’ve found a girl… NO! Not like that, you idiot! She’s been abandoned and I need to get her home.” He paused and looked at her for a second. “NOT LIKE THAT! You know what, forget it! I’ll deal with this myself.” He put away the device and studied her. “The leggy brunette you came with left twenty minutes after you arrived. I lost track of the blonde but she wasn’t inside last time I was in there.” 

“Mkay…”

“Do you know where you live?”

Molly nodded. 

“Can you tell me?”

She shook her head. “You might be a killer, wall-man.”

He smirked. “Indeed. At least you still have some good sense.” He hauled her up by her arm. “You need water and carbs. I know an all-night diner close by that’s nice and public. There’ll be no wall-man killings tonight. Let’s get you sobered up.”

Two hours later, Molly sat across from the man (no longer wall-man), sipping water and finishing up her French toast. She felt better, though she knew that she’d be paying for her overindulgence for the next twenty-four hours. 

Sherlock, he had told her his name shortly after they’d sat down in the booth (he also kept repeating it whilst she ate because he said she wouldn’t remember it! How would she forget a name like Sherlock?), was drinking coffee and watching her closely. 

“I’m not going to die of alcohol poisoning now, thank you,” she said, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. 

“Perhaps not.” He didn’t look like he believed her.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” she argued. 

“You thought I was a wall. Then a wall-man. Then your primary school boyfriend.”

She was glad that she hadn’t mentioned that, for a moment, she also thought he was the reincarnation of her dead Uncle Calvin. 

“You didn’t go to that party to drink, why were you there?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“I was drinking, however, I can hold my liquor unlike you. And I went to support a friend.” He looked away. “I’ve never had one before, I didn’t know they were so much work.”

“Never had what?”

“A friend,” he replied.

She must have looked confused because he went on. 

“John, my flatmate, he made me come with him because there was this girl there that he wanted to chat up. I don’t see the point of trying to talk to a woman when she’s downing Jello shots. If you’re really interested in getting to know them, wouldn’t you want to do it when they’re sober?”

Molly shrugged. She was still stuck on the ‘never had a friend before’ bit, but asked, “Who was the girl?”

“I don’t know. I never got to see her. Not a single deduction,” he said absently. “That was clearly deliberate. He’s hiding this one, for some reason.”

He seemed to slip into deep thought so Molly contented herself with drinking the rest of her water.

A few moments later he emerged from…wherever he’d been and went right back to bitching about this ‘John’. “Anyway, I did it. I went there and proved that I care about his interests. He says I’m a selfish wanker.” He huffed. “Would a selfish wanker make sure you weren't abducted by some sex-obsessed meat head?”

Molly shook her head.

“Exactly! Would a selfish wanker bring you to a restaurant instead of letting you pass out in an alley to choke on your own vomit?”

She shook her head again.

“See! You get it!” He looked across the room, once again, seemingly lost in thought for several minutes before he spoke again. “This is why I don’t like people, Molly, they make you look at yourself and evaluate your life. I was perfectly fine not caring about those around me until John sodding Watson dropped into my world, telling me that I could be better. Saying stupid shit like, ‘people make you stronger, Sherlock! Your friends you define you and keep you grounded’.” Taking an aggressive drink of his coffee, he continued on his diatribe, “Now, look at me! Sitting across from a pretty girl, eating a meal like a normal bloke! He’s ruining me!”

Though much more sober, Molly was still having a hard time keeping up with his rapid-fire speech. She’d caught most of it, but then got hung up on the bit at the end. Pretty girl? Before she could comment, however, he was back to it.

“I wouldn’t have even noticed you if it hadn’t been for him. The arsehole! He pointed you out the minute you walked through the door. Can’t deduce to save his life but somehow he knows my type even though I’ve never once mentioned my preference for petite, brainy, brunettes. Do you know him?”

The question caught her off guard. She shook her head as she tried to think if she knew someone named John. “I don’t believe…”

He waved his hand. “I already know the answer to that.”

“How?”

“Just like I know by the way you hold your fork that you’re a medical student. You don’t go to Barts, though. St. Mary’s, I’d say.”

“That’s spooky.”

“No, it’s deduction. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help us with our problem. I’ll need more information for that.”

“What’s our problem?”

“How, Molly? How did he do that? How did he know I’d be interested in you out of all the girls at that party?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but he went on…

“It must be his superpower, or something,” he said dismissively. He was clearly kidding. It had taken the better part of two hours and more breakfast food than she’d ever eaten at one sitting, but she’d started to get accustomed to his biting wit.

“He failed organic chemistry twice but he can spot an attractive, available woman at a hundred yards.” He leant forward. “That’s what we have to find out, Molly. How did he know I’d be interested in you?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know either, but I intend to find out.” He looked down at her plate then back to her face. “Are you done?”

“Yes.” She’d been finished for fifteen minutes, but he was on a roll and she didn’t want to be rude.

“I’ll go take care of the cheque and get us a cab.”

She started to speak up and offer to pay her half, but he was gone. What a strange man, she thought. Gorgeous, but strange. And he seemed to like her. Though he also seemed angry about it for some reason. Maybe the night hadn’t been a total bust after all. If things went well she’d really owe her new friend Mary for dragging her to that party. 

Sherlock returned, holding her jacket. “Come along, Molly. We have a mystery to solve.” He helped her put it on.

“Really?”

“Actually, I have a mystery to solve. Your job is to be impressed and try not to distract me with your attractiveness.”

She smiled and bit her lip.

“Well, don’t do that! Lip biting is strictly forbidden!”

“Why?”

With a roll of his eyes, he said, “Because it makes me want to kiss you senseless, obviously.” Then he stormed out of the restaurant. 

Molly followed, though she wasn’t sure if she should. The man was either unstable or a genius… or both. But she was intrigued, she couldn’t deny that. It was the most fun she’d had in ages and she was sort of invested this ‘John’ situation. 

“Where are we going?” she asked as she sat next to him in the cab.

He turned and smiled mischievously at her. “Would you like to watch me break into my flatmate’s room and search through his things. I’ll teach you how to look for clues and make deductions. We’ll find out loads of embarrassing things about him. His porn collection alone should be enough blackmail for about a year.”

God help her, but that did sound like fun! 

Thanks, love! Hope you liked it! ~Lil~

[theartone]

Chapter 1

Rating: M

A/N: Moved from AO3 due to TOS concerns.

----John's POV----

A part of me knew I was dreaming. But it wasn't enough. I'd wake up only after.

"Get back!" A shout. I didn't want to listen. They were injured, I had to help. Pain through my shoulder. The blood.

And...

I'll always blame myself for that.

It wasn't fair that was his last smile. At least I didn't have to watch him suffer this time. Watch myself try to fix him and fail. Over and over...

I used the blanket of darkness to excuse a few sobs.

There's no point in going back to sleep. I made my bed the military way and waited for the sun to rise.

I had an appointment with Ella today. I pulled out my laptop and opened it to my blog page after setting down an apple and my tea. She's going to ask if I was eating and the last time I ate. I could avoid the first question by answering the second. I knew the drill now. I ignored the gun. It's an option.  An option I liked to have available. But I had something to do today, a reason to get out of the bedsit. So I'd let it be for now.

----

She's going on about my blog again.

I try to deflect to no avail.

She points out that I'm a civilian again.

I don't want to be a civilian. I want to help people. I want to feel like I'm making a difference even if I'm not.

She says I need to recognize that things happen to me here and writing about it would help me do so.

I used to get email updates from my friends. People I had to played rugby with, people I went to Bart's with, army buddies and others. I couldn't take reading their stories and saying nothing in response. When they got too pushy asking about me I closed the email address.

Nothing happens to me. Not anymore.

I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, I went on walks where other people ignored me, I was invisible. Everyone I talk to doesn't understand. Those who've never been to war couldn't understand the way I see the world and those that have don't want to go back. The ones who have seen the war and want to be there are there. I can't just take them down to the pub for a pint. And, even if I could, all I'd see is pity.

I think I'd be able to get by if I could go back to being a surgeon. The job I've been working toward is laparoscopic and (now, preferably) bloodless surgery. After... Stop.

Working in a hospital would be very different but I think I could manage. At least I'd be helping people. But I was unfit. The intermittent tremor in my dominate hand made it so I'll never wield a scalpel again. I had a ton of relevant training to be an A&E doctor but the cane gets in the way. And, again, the hand. I could still be a general practitioner if not for my damn leg. No one would ever hire a doctor with a psychosomatic limp. There was something about PTSD written down in my file too I'd bet.

I remembered what I typed that morning on my blog, the words I erased and will never be posted. She told me my first post should be an introduction.

I am John H. Watson.

I was a doctor and a soldier. Now I am neither. I am no one.

That was far too depressing to post. No, if I posted that someone would feel the need to come check on me and they may find my gun. I probably wouldn't go to jail for having an illegal handgun; I'd end up somewhere else. Somewhere worse.

I was getting better at hiding things from her. It's not easy; I'd always been an open book. But, I didn't trust her and didn't like her. I didn't like that I had to go to her. But, I'd figured some things out. If I wore certain types of clothing it hides how much weight I've lost. These clothes helped me around the city too. I looked like I was no one and eyes slide over me like I wasn't there. It was better that they did. When they didn't they lingered on the cane.

That night I wrote a blog entry. Ella had said I hadn't written one word and I really wanted to stick it to her. I didn't know why. I couldn't post it without some sort of title and that blank space mocked me so I copied the word over. I counted it as a win as it was one word.

Nothing

I didn't even bother to add a full stop.

The next day I opened my blog and stared at it. It seemed a little childish so I added another entry.

Pointless

Nothing ever happens to me

I didn't bother putting a full stop at the end of this one either.

----

Ella was not amused.

At our next appointment, she said blog entries were not allowed to be one word and should be more than one sentence. If it helped I could write them to someone I knew.

That appointment did not go well. I found being snarky with Ella was a little like playing with a cobra; it could kill you if you made the wrong move but you could get away with small slips because they looked like all the other moves. I'm not depressed, I'm not depressed, that slip there shows I'm depressed, I'm not depressed...

On the next meeting, she agreed to shelve the idea of a blog for a little bit. The things she wanted to talk about were worse. How were my friends doing? What's going on in their lives? How is my sister? It was torture.

----

On the eighteenth, I brought up the blog again just so I wouldn't have to talk about anything else.

I managed to not post the snarky yet completely depressing entry I wrote after that conversation.

I was not doing well this week and the gun looked better and better. I needed to have something to talk about at the appointment. If Ella said something I was not going to be able to hide my body language well enough to fool her about my mood. I could distract her by showing progress.

I stared at the screen so long my eyes hurt. I typed many things and erased them. Finally, I settled on:

How?

How do I delete this?

The stupid thing was mocking me. I wanted to ask how people could move on, how people saw other people, how I could fix my leg, how people could just go to Tesco, how people coped with the nightmares. How long I could put up with this.

The next day I stared at that post and tried to decide how it came across. Could anyone tell I was depressed? Finally, I decided to make it look like I was being snarky by adding another.

Happy now?

Look, Ella. I'm writing my blog.

Right after it posted my sister decided to comment. I didn't know how to delete it. It was horrible, but I wondered if the spacing problem in the x's meant she was drunk. I turned off the ringer on my older mobile. I woke up often as is; I didn't need drunken phone calls to help. And I really didn't want her to know I had a shrink. Or for her to tell everyone Ella was my shrink.

Later, there was a comment on one of my previous posts from Murray. Murray saved my life and I wasn't sure I could forgive him for it. I didn't know if I wanted to delete his comment (even if I knew how) but if I didn't Ella would wonder. I decided to turn my email back on so I could lie to both of them by saying the email must have bounced. If they pushed I could say maybe he typed the address wrong. Maybe he did and my inbox being down had nothing to do with it. It's possible.

My lies were always better if they could be true.

I finally decided I did want to see Murray before he left again. After all, he may not come back this time. I combined the meeting with some of the other people I couldn't get off my back.

The meeting went well. Sort of. It was good but something was off the entire time and I couldn't figure out what until almost the end of the night. Everyone was the same. They spoke the same, they drank the same, they had the lives they were supposed to have and talked the same way about them. They even teased each other the same.

Except for me.

Here I was, with a bum leg when I was shot in the shoulder and there was not one word. They teased me about my past, about who I was. They didn't know who I was now, didn't feel comfortable teasing me like I was the same person. I'm not the same person but they made me feel like I wasn't one of them anymore.  And, I wasn't. I didn't belong here with them. As far as I could see I didn't belong anywhere. Every time I was included in something I killed the mood. Even before going to medical school my humour was "off." Afghanistan made it worse. I had to pass a chuckle off as a cough more than once. Murray knew what I was doing and he pulled me out of hot water more than once by going along with my coughing act.

His first time meeting these blokes and he got on with them better than I did. They bought Murray so many drinks lost track of his surroundings and told one of my rugby mates that he was going to ask me to be the best man in his wedding but he wasn't sure now. Murray thought I might ruin the day with my speech. I walked away so I wouldn't have to hear anything else or be caught listening.

When they were pissed enough I could get away with it I left. I didn't take my phone, I didn't want to be able to chicken out and call for help at the last minute. Murray was the only person in the world I thought I'd still be able to get on with. I was wrong.

By the time I made it back into the bedsit I decided I needed to make this decision when I wasn't drunk. Murray would be gone at the end of the week and he wouldn't be able to blame himself for it. It wasn't his fault, not really. I wasn't sure if he remembered to invite me to the spur of the moment wedding but it didn't matter - I wouldn't be attending.

I didn't sleep well that night, even with the alcohol's help. Not that I ever slept well. When it was time to go to my appointment I ignored it. It wouldn't be possible for me to hide enough of the depression to make it out of her office on my own free will and I certainly wouldn't be going to the room I called home. I was glad I'd left my phone at the pub so I wouldn't have to try to hide my voice if she called and I had a perfectly reasonable excuse for not answering. Halfway through the time of the appointment I realized she wouldn't know my excuse since she couldn't call and she might send someone to check on me. I opened my blog and posted a blurb about the pub.

As the day stretched on the pull of the drawer became stronger. I needed to get out of the bedsit or I wouldn't make it until Murray left. I reminded myself over and over that he'd blame himself. I knew that feeling and I didn't want that for him. Unfortunately remembering how I felt whenever we lost someone on the base to suicide made my mood worse. I didn't have any beer or anything here for good reason; I didn't want to end up like my sister. But I did need something to dull the ache enough to breathe. I decided to go to a pub. When I arrived it was only four and I couldn't just order a beer and look respectable. So, I ordered a pint and some chips that ended up in the loo bin until I had a careful buzz going. Enough to slightly numb, not enough to make the depression worse.

When I arrived... home, a horrible unfitting word to apply to the bedsit, my blog was still up on my laptop. I saw that Ella had commented and I realized I never mentioned my phone in the post. I responded with the pertinent information and closed it.

Harry somehow found her way to my bedsit with the excuse that she was giving me a new phone. It was actually the phone Clara had given her and I listened to her ramble until I couldn't. I liked Clara, she was the best thing that ever happened to Harry and my sister destroyed it. Harry could twist the facts anyway she wanted to but it was what it was. I managed to get my sibling home without snapping too much but I think she still picked up on what I was trying not to say. Sometimes I forget how annoying she is sober. I understood her victim mentality or whatever to a point; she did have to put up with a lot of crap from both our family and the outside world for being gay, but I was the one who took the punches for it.

The visit was exhausting but helped me remember myself a little. I protected others. That's what I did, that's what I do, that's who I am. I didn't change the deadline, there was no need for a protector in the world I was in now and I was in no shape to be one, but at least I felt like I'd be able to make it to the weekend.

Without having the excuse of no phone and feeling well enough to fake my way through an appointment I agreed to reschedule with Ella. I scheduled the appointment during Murray's wedding so I'd have an excuse not to go.

She seemed pleased with my progress. I slipped a little once but managed to cover it up well enough. It was when we were discussing the outside world; she said I needed to have outside interests and when I showed no motivation in attempting to look for one her mouth twisted. I covered by saying I wouldn't know where to look and we settled on reading the newspaper. I avoided the news; I hated seeing articles about Afghanistan or medical breakthroughs. She told me to blog about one article a week.

I shrugged; it would only be the one, none really, if I wanted. Not a big deal.

Murray wanted to meet again before he went back and I agreed. My anger over his comment was softened since I really did owe him a lot. He risked his life to save me even though we weren't really friends. I wasn't close to anyone there with good reason. It's harder to wield a scalpel and keep your head when you're thinking of the guy's kids. Or what he looked like when he had his head thrown back in- No.

A lot of the guys hated me in the end; people who I thought were friends would have shot me in the back given the chance. But Murray was different and I didn't give him enough credit. I couldn't blame him for seeing me differently; I was different now.

It wasn't a better different.

----

On the 28th I wrote up my post. That morning's headline was sufficiently interesting to hold my attention. I read the entire article but it didn't make sense. Some fact was clearly missing and I was drawn in enough to try to figure it out, however, it was beyond me. Sometimes the headlines were misleading or outright lies and you could spot it if you looked close enough but it didn't seem that way this time.

I added a snippet about my outing. Murray wasn't intentionally hurtful when we met but he reminded me of all the reasons the gun in the drawer was loaded. By the time I hit post I was happy it was almost the weekend and I wouldn't have to pretend any longer.

The next day, the last day, I'd decided, I saw no reason to alter the routine I'd created for myself. In fact, it felt nice to walk through the city. About halfway through my walk I got annoyed with my limp. More so than usual because a child in the park asked her mum about it. I understood the curiosity of a cane to a child and her mum shushed her when she realized I'd heard. Somehow that made me feel worse. I'd never been very fond of children in general probably due to my lack of contact with them but the shushing implied that the curiosity was wrong, shameful. There would have been no shushing if the kid had asked about my jacket. I picked up my pace and did so again when I saw the man on the bench. He looked familiar and didn't appear to be reading the paper he was holding.

When I heard his voice my suspicions were confirmed.

He called out my name repeatedly and eventually I couldn't feign deafness anymore. The man said Watson and it was ingrained in me to respond. Besides, he seemed determined to talk with me. I knew who he was but I couldn't remember if it was Mark or Mike or something else. I knew his surname was Stamford but it is weird to call people by last name outside the military.

Another irritation of the reverse culture shock. I spoke to all these people by their first names for years but all I wanted to do now was address them by their last names.

He reminded me it was Mike and seemed determined to shake my hand. I groaned internally at both. I hated drawing more attention to my crutch by switching hands. Mike was as self-deprecating as he was at Bart's and it was one of his traits I'd always disliked.

He compounded the situation by his choice of words. "I heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at; what happened?"

"I got shot." I instinctively looked at my cane when I said it. I hated the scar on my shoulder and everything it represented but I hated my leg more. Usually I was more friendly but usually I wasn't on my last nerve and sick of hiding everything. Sick of trying to be normal and fit into a society I didn't belong to.

He badgered me into a cup of coffee finally breaking me down by offering to pay. His wince had softened me enough to talk for a few. But, more he spoke the more irritated I became.

"That's not the John Watson I know."

That's the problem! If I moved somewhere smaller I'd be forced to interact more. I was worried if that happened I'd become what they saw: a shell of a man who used to be something great. He mentioned Harry and I almost sighed. Somehow I managed to forget Harry even when I was talking with her. I was the only family she had left; what would happen to her if I was gone?

"I don't know; get a flatshare or something?"

The whole idea was absurd. I was impossible to live with before I was invalided. "Come on, who'd want me for a flatmate?"

Mike chuckled.

It was unlikely he was insulting me; the man was nice to a fault. "What?"

"Well, you're the second person to say that to me today."

I realized he had someone in mind I was intrigued. Mike did know me fairly well even if we never got on properly. We roomed briefly when we first started at Bart's and although many of my habits differed due to the military my propensity for bringing home dates had gotten worse. Well, it would have if I could interest anyone in coming home with me. Mike knew the problem there also; not all of the people I brought home were women. I probably would have gotten less shit if it had just been one or the other and I gave that up after incident two. It was exhausting keeping a relationship secret and if they weren't... Well, at least I had kept that side of me from Harry.

"Who was the first?"

----Sherlock POV----

"Sherlock, you're coming with me."

I growled. "Not willingly."

He sighed. "Come on, now. We had a deal. I don't have to tell anyone about this but if you won't come with me I'll have to call someone."

I rolled my eyes. "Ooooo... I'm so scared." I snorted. "What's the difference anyway? Unless you're staying with me I'm safer here. They'll keep an eye on me."

"Yeah, they'll sit there and watch you die because this is a drug den and they'll not call for an ambulance and they're too high to drag your ass into the A&E."

Valid point. I pouted but couldn't come up with an appropriate response. 'I'm working out a formula that won't hurt so much when I overdose this time.' would get me in more trouble than I already was. "Fine!" I threw my hands up. "But you better not've told him."

He snorted. "I'm sure he already knows; after all, your stunt at the crime scene wasn't exactly private."

Yes, that's why I was here. "Don't send anyone to my flat. I'll turn everything over if you let me back on cases."

He looked away quickly. "Uhhhh..."

Damn it.

----

Pain. Oh, god! I tried to move but wasn't able to. I knew the feeling of restraints well and didn't panic. I forced my crusty eyes open to see if my brother had put me in another one of those puerile rehab facilities.

"Ah, finally awake are we?" The voice was sour and caused more pain.

I didn't deign to answer and took in my surroundings. Hospital.

He stood. "Mmmm... Yes. I thought about having you transferred, but, considering what happened last time..."

I smirked.

"It wasn't funny Sherlock." He snapped.

"I thought you'd feel differently, considering." I disagreed. It'd be dreadful for him if they found out the idea was his in the first place. Of course, the prank had been played on a five-year-old me and not a posh facility, so it probably didn't count.

He gave an exaggerated put-upon sigh. "You have two options, brother mine."

"Oh?"

"Yes. We can have Mummy and Daddy babysit you-"

I glared at him as best I could at the awkward angle I had to hold my head. That was low.

"Yes, I thought you'd feel that way." He picked a piece of imaginary lint off his sleeve. "Or..." He gave me a piercing stare.

"Spit it out Mycroft."

"You can detox under my supervision-"

I snorted. "Your supervision?"

He ignored me. "-and when you're done you'll be free to run off and play the hero to your heart's content."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Assuming you agree to certain... stipulations."

Ah, there it is. "And what, pray tell, are these... stipulations."

He raised his chin, smelling an easy win. "I'm sure we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement."

I looked away and weighed my options although we both already knew the outcome. It broke Mummy's heart to watch me detox and Daddy would tell Mycroft to keep an eye on me afterwards anyway. I needed leverage.

"Oh, and I should mention..."

I looked back at him. "What?" I asked flatly.

"...your landlord has terminated your lease as you have violated it. I've taken the liberty of boxing the appropriate belongings and having them transferred to a storage facility until we can find you another flat."

There were so many things in that statement I could choose to confront but I could deduce all of them. I responded to the one that gave me leverage. "Appropriate?"

He pursed his lips. "Indeed. I felt it inappropriate to box the cocaine, opium and various other substances found by the police."

I snorted. Without a doubt there were uniformed people in my flat but I was sure they weren't employed by the Met. "And were there any other belongings deemed inappropriate?"

His eye twitched slightly. "Nothing you'll miss, I'm sure."

"I'll take option one." Let the negotiating begin.

Mycroft sighed again.

----

"Hello, Mr Holmes. My name is-"

I cut the woman off. "I don't care what your name is; I'd rather not speak a name my brother's shouted during orgasm. You're his personal assistant and he's put you in charge of me because he can't trust the others in his employ to do a proper job of it."

She smirked at my joke. "Essentially."

Oooo, smart and a sense of humour. "Great. I'll call you Anthea."

"After the Greek goddess Hera?"

It was my turn to smirk. "Yes."

She tried, unsuccessfully, to keep a straight face. "Oddly appropriate, Mr Holmes."

"Indeed." My expression morphed into a smile. "And call me Sherlock."

----

Mycroft walked into the room. He waited until it became obvious I would refuse to acknowledge him. He started talking, "I see you've updated your blog again." The fat git waited pointlessly for a response. "I've seen the file on the landlady of your chosen flat. I don't approve."

"And I don't care."

"Sherlock, we had an agreement."

I looked up and glared at him. "Yes, and seeing as how you've already broken your end I feel it's null."

"I will not have you moving into a-"

I turned back to my laptop and cut him off. "Don't care."

He switched approaches. "Sherlock, be reasonable."

I rolled my eyes.

"I don't have control over the local police force. I'm only a minor government official-"

I cut him off. "Oh, spare me!"

"Sherlock." He shuffled his feet and spoke again at a lower volume. "Don't make me involve Mummy."

I swivelled the chair to face him properly. Begin round two.

----

I hate Mycroft. I hate Mycroft full stop.

I won the battle: I got to keep the flat I chose. I lost the war. Despite my protests, Mycroft controlled my financial assets. He would not allow me to be homeless but he was withdrawing the "support" of The Work; both financial and personal. I had no doubt to his hand in Lestrade's allowing my assistance. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement sustained with job security.

It's not that money was really an issue. It's just that it was boring. I could have pretended to be psychic but I hated reinforcing stupidity. I could have gambled; poker was lacklustre but lucrative. However, after the spectacular act I pulled to get that building I doubted anyone would let me play for enough to pay for everything.

After a heated discussion over surveillance, he informed me the only way he'd continue to "help fund" me is if I got a flatmate.  I'd managed to scare off the others within the first minute of meeting them but he kept sending them. The man he had me meet last week was a disaster. The fact that we were in a restaurant did not prevent him from making a scene. After that incident, Mycroft agreed to allow me to pick the next one.

He'd managed to rope Mrs Hudson into his scheme when he felt he'd been patient enough. Now I had a live-in nuisance constantly suggesting potential flatmates and her ideas involved my flatmate sharing my bed.

Out of spite since I still wasn't allowed at crime scenes I avoided Lestrade and there were no interesting cases to be found anywhere else.

I was in hell.

----

Out of sheer boredom, I cleared out my forum.

"One day we will meet." -Anoynymous

It seemed I had gained another 'admirer.' There were only two types and this seemed to be the second based on the utter lack of originality in the comment and inability to spell. I responded with contempt to prevent another nuisance like theimprobableone.

Nothing else was above a four. "BORED!" I shouted. My mind was eating itself and if Mrs Hudson had anything stronger than her soothers I'd raid them. Mike allowed me to use of his lab but I had nothing to study. I'd started cataloguing different types of tobacco ash but smoking wouldn't keep the depression away if I had nothing to focus on. "BORED, BORED, BORED!!!"

Mrs Hudson turned the volume on her television up.

I refreshed the screen to clear the clutter caused by the deleted comments and a new one appeared. "Mutual friend suggested you. All a bit hush-hush. Need help with a missing cat." -T Thompson

I smiled. Finally, something interesting!

----

I sat outside Ella Thompson's building and waited for her to leave her office for the day. I was sure the man I was looking for was one of her clients. I slipped around back with my lock pick set when she shut the front door. Ella had been very clear she didn't want to be involved in her relative's issues. Ironic, considering that's why she chose her profession in the first place.

She'd taken her laptop with her so I opened her file cabinet and glared at the lack of logical organization; (alphabetical urgh) it was truly government efficiency at its finest. Thankfully she'd left her appointment book so I would be better able to narrow my search. I sighed at the tedious job I faced and pulled the file from the latest appointment.

After three files I understood why she abandoned her attempts to fix her family. She was an appalling therapist as far as they went and the most prestigious of them were morons. She didn't even see her clients; just projections of what she wanted to see and regurgitated general advice to the perceived situation. If there was a lobby I could have hidden in I could have just deduced my subject when he came in. It was a pity I couldn't be assured he'd show up now that he'd accomplished his goal.

I was interrupted by a particularly observant PC when she came in because she saw the lights on. She knew Ella and threatened to take me in. I flashed her one of Lestrade's badges and she knew him too; she said he was an idiot. When she phoned him regarding his badge he confirmed my identity. She confiscated the badge but gave me an intriguing case and allowed me to finish my investigation of Ella's files.

After skimming all the files of relevance I had six suspects. If Ella were a better note taker or even reasonably correct about any of her assumptions I would have been able to narrow it down further. I used the camera on my phone to take pictures of the basic information page and emailed it to the most appropriate person in my network along with instructions for surveillance and how to collect their fee when done.

For the first time since the move the boredom withdrew.

----

Mrs Hudson tutted while she cleaned. "When was the last time you slept, Sherlock?"

"Not important."

"Are you looking for a flatmate on there?" When she didn't get a response she came up behind me. "Oooo, he's quite a handsome fellow now, isn't he?" Mrs Hudson commented when she saw my email updates on my marks.

"Mmmm..." I agreed absently. The observer assigned to John Watson had included a photo I requested as there wasn't one in his file. It appeared there were two others attached.

John was the least likely suspect. I hesitated even including him but Ella had almost no information on him. The background sheet was almost completely empty. Her notes only consisted of "Trust Issues, Limp Psychosomatic, Trouble Adjusting and Doing Better" after seeing him once a week for several months. The other files were near bursting.

My observer's notes were less than helpful. "Don't think this is your guy. He's quite boring." His daily routine was just that: a routine. There was no variation except appointments of which there were two. He didn't add up. I was missing something about him. I looked the attached pictures. One showed a group of men at a pub where John was laughing and the other showed him leaving the establishment alone; the group he was sitting with cheering another in the window.

"He looks a bit melancholy." Mrs Hudson commented from over my shoulder. "Are you going to meet with him?"

I flagged the email. He wasn't my suspect but his mystery would nag at me once the cases were solved. How could someone who was clearly so interesting convince everyone else they were boring? Who was this John Watson and what was he hiding?

"Yes, I think I will."

Mrs Hudson patted my arm as I opened the next email. "That's good dear. I worry about you." She shuffled off, taking the plate of uneaten food from last night with her.

----

"It's good to see you again, Sherlock."

I looked up from the computer. "Yes, yes. Come help me with this. I can find frustratingly little information on it."

"Sorry for not answering your texts. I had my mobile on silent since I was in class." Mike started walking over and I opened the folder holding the pictures I'd managed to find. "You said something about bruises?"

"Yes. After death. What are the patterns for deep bruises that occur after you've been dead about forty minutes?" I flipped through the photos. "Are any of these close? None of these were noted with a time."

Mike blinked at a few but didn't say anything.

"Here's the one taken at the scene. He was killed sometime between eleven twenty-three and eleven thirty-two. Most likely eleven twenty-nine and eleven thirty-two biased on the credit card transaction record at the snack stand. The body was found at eleven fifty by the staff and..." I trailed off when Mike straightened up.

"Sorry, mate. I can't help with this one. My area is the living. Didn't you have that crime scene guy that helped you with these things?"

I had to unclench my jaw to talk. "Not anymore."

"What about that pathologist over at-"

"He won't help me unless I have a police escort."

Mike shifted away. "Oh, right."

So he'd heard then. I wondered if he had come up to rescind access to this lab to my face. I switched back to my email as I waited. The one labelled John Watson taunted me. The cases were more pressing and my curiosity should have waned by now but it hadn't. I'd not a spare moment to devote to looking into a person that wasn't relevant to The Work.

There was an inhale before Mike spoke. "Those all cases then? Or potential cases?"

Interesting. I kept my inbox relatively clutter free and most of the titles wouldn't cause a gasp of recognition. "No. The ones with names are potential murderers I had tailed. The others are mostly data." I deleted a stray one from Lestrade. "Or pointless pleas for help." Pointless until I was allowed at the scene anyway.

He pointed at the top of the screen. "That flagged guy your murderer then?"

Mike clearly knew him, or someone with his name. Going by the doctor's body language John Watson was a friend he hadn't spoken to for some time but liked quite a bit. John's file said he had trust issues so I needed to play this correctly.

I frowned at the screen. "I don't know. I haven't read that one yet. I'd flagged it when I got a call saying he'd gone into a pub. I was on my way to meet Keith whose receipts looked much more promising." I unflagged the email but didn't delete it. "I'll keep it just in case but after meeting Keith it's rather pointless. He's my murderer and I can prove it with these bruising patterns." I sighed. "Irritating to work from names on receipts when I can't just see and deduce everyone." That was sloppy, combining the two cases like that. Mike seemed to swallow it though.

I left my email open and sat back with my hands under my chin.

"Couldn't you get the CCTV footage like the time with the ghost?"

I smiled. That was a fun case. "No. I'm not working with the police on this."

"Oh." He hesitated. "Don't have anyone to ask?"

My screen refreshed and a new email appeared: Potential Flatmates in the subject line.

I deleted the message. "No."

"Are you looking for a flatshare?"

"Unfortunately." I waved my hand. "It's irrelevant right now. I have a case to solve." I pulled the photo of the bruises back up. "I need a book if I can't find a doctor who knows anything useful."

"Did you try talking to the pathologists here?" Mike ventured. "Molly's shift starts soon and if anyone would know it's her."

"Molly?" I didn't remember ever meeting a Molly. "Molly who?"

"Oh, Molly Hooper. She's the sweetest little thing. Smart as a whip too. Been working here for years now." It was clear he found her attractive but she'd turned him down at some point. "She used to work in the lab and do the occasional post mortem but she was so good they kept promoting her and now she pretty much runs the mortuary."

That reeked of promise. I used to get the occasional organ to experiment on whenever a body came in and the hospital didn't need it to teach. It would be good to have that again; running experiments on different types of tobacco ash wasn't exactly stimulating. Well, it was but... "I don't believe I've ever met her."

Mike checked his watch. "Why don't we grab a bite and I'll take you down. We've got about twenty minutes before she starts."

I weighed the probability of having a 'potential stalker' as an intermediary versus meeting her on my own and found Mike's presence would most likely result in more success. "Not hungry. I'm going to run some tests. Get me when you're done." I pulled out the bags of gravel I had collected from the crime scene.

----

Molly Hooper was shy, awkward and probably confident in different company. Company that wasn't breathing. Mike seemed to keep her relatively grounded but left after assuring her I worked with the Yard. She was suspicious but the more I spoke the more she was willing to help.

She wasn't particularly articulate when she explained that without knowing what caused the bruises she couldn't help. When I hypothesized it was a long flexible stick she agreed and added there was something on the top and there wasn't any debris in the wounds so it would have been something synthetic. When I speculated riding crop she squeaked and knocked into a table.

We talked quite a bit about the various experiments I'd run in the past and wanted to run in the future. She wasn't put off and even made a few jokes. When Molly signed the acceptance paper for a new arrival I recognized her signature; she was the competent one. I told her one of the details in her report helped me solve a case. She was pleased with the compliment and started to flirt. I took that as my cue to leave.

----

I arrived home with a jar of eyeballs and a promise that when a suitable corpse appeared I'd be able to run the test for bruises myself.

Mrs Hudson opened the door for me. "There you are, dear. That nice detective came by again. Said there was another one of those murders. A member of the government this time."

"Mmm. Still don't care." I walked past her.

She followed. "You also left your phone here. Been going off all day driving me mad."

"That'll be Mycroft. Wanting to see when I'm going to start meeting potential flatmates." I set my eyes in the fridge.

"Sherlock Holmes, did you just put a container of eyeballs in my refrigerator?"

I smirked. She'd accentuated the word refrigerator not eyeballs as most people would have. "Yes. They're for an experiment. You were saying you were sick of the smoking."

She closed the fridge door. "Well, yes." She watched me hang up my coat while thinking. "You keep those in a sealed container young man. I'll not be cleaning up eyeball goop from my fridge. I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper."

I smiled at the reference; she was both and so much more. "So you keep saying."

Her lips quirked at the joke. "Anyway, that detective dropped this off for you. He said he's got a news conference tomorrow and could use any help he can get." She held out a thick manila envelope.

I ignored it and moved across the room to my laptop. "Did he say I was allowed back on the crime scenes?" I already knew the answer from the subject of the email I'd received.

"Well... Not... Yes, but not exactly."

She put the envelope next to me and walked back a bit when I turned to look at her. "What did he say then, exactly?"

She walked backwards out of the room. "I'm sure he'll tell you in one of his voicemails." She hesitated in the doorway. "Don't be too angry dear. I really do think he means well."

I glared at my mobile once she was gone. After a second it started ringing.

Mycroft.

----

Almost all the data in the folder was useless and the internet wasn't providing any answers. Not that it ever did for the good cases. And this was a good case. A very, very good case. It had the best incentive too: if I could get someone to be my assistant at my next crime scene Mycroft would withdraw his ban on crime scenes until there was another incident.

Oh, I was ecstatic.

There was one test left to run to prove Keith killed his brother. I was sure the flecks I found in the gravel were from paint it was simply a matter of confirming it. The remaining flecks could be analyzed to match the paint on the brother's ladder.

My website notified me I had a new comment. I groaned internally at Molly's note. I couldn't ignore it; that would be considered rude by most people and I needed her cooperation to solve my other case. But I didn't want to encourage her to intrude into my life with trivialities. I worked out an acceptable response. It wasn't perfect but I didn't want to waste any more time on inconsequential things.

After searching blogs for mention of the suspicious suicides, I was stymied. Lestrade was desperate for information; they were holding a press conference tomorrow and he had nothing to go on. I responded to his latest email with what little information I could find. It wouldn't be much help in a press conference but it was relevant.

If you're not going to send anything helpful I'm going to raid your flat and get you a lifetime ban. Lestrade replied.

Fine then. I deleted the email and scanned my inbox. John Watson. I opened the email pulled up the pictures again. Something about them was keeping one of my trains of thought occupied and if I could figure out what maybe I would be able to finally delete the email. He was stupidly attractive when he smiled and I cursed my weakness. Clearly whatever was nagging at me was in response to the photograph I found discomfort looking at. I took a step back from myself and examined the picture clinically.

There! He was laughing but it didn't reach his eyes. He was, assumedly, with friends but he was pretending. He was different and sick of the rejection that came with being himself. Alone. He was completely alone and... Oh!

I switched to the other picture. He was depressed. Very depressed. Sick of acting. Sick of...

No.

I'm wrong. I have to be wrong! I switched back to my web browser and searched his name praying I wouldn't find an obituary. Stupid! I chastised myself. Then did so again for doing so in the first place. It wouldn't be my fault. I would have seen the email too late to stop it. I shouldn't care; I had no reason to. I didn't know him. Relationships were messy and caused more pain than happiness. I cared. I cared and I had no reason to and if I didn't stop myself, if I didn't detach, I wouldn't-

The results provided no death announcements. I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I knew what I should do: I should report the severity of his depression to his therapist and put him out of my mind. They'd put him in a facility and on some pills. They'd monitor him until he was safe. They'd take the generic route but it wouldn't work. John was different and it'd be a painful stopgap. I knew. It'd probably be worse for him.

My mouse hovered over a blog and I came out of my thoughts to read the link. His blog or someone who shared his name? I could read it. If he was getting better I would know and I'd be able to chalk it up to the effects of alcohol and bad company. I clicked.

I read and reread the entries and comments. It took an amazing amount of willpower not to rush over to his flat. He would be fine today and probably tomorrow. He was probably waiting for the weekend so he wouldn't inconvenience anyone who had to make arrangements. His brother, Harry, most likely. I checked the time: three in the morning. I had less than one day. Fixing his limp would probably be the best way to improve his mood and I could do that; assuming it was psychosomatic of course.  But what if I couldn't fix John's limp in one go? How could I keep an eye on him? I couldn't just walk up to him and befriend him. Even if I were someone who could have friends John's trust issues would push me away. I needed to make sure he wouldn't get depressed and wander off anyway. You were supposed to keep suicidal people under twenty-four-hour surveillance. I needed a flatmate but...

I tried to picture what John would look like when he was genuinely smiling.

The uncomfortable feeling of sexual arousal reared its head again.

Well, I definitely wasn't bored anymore. I didn't even feel the itch for anything other than a smoke. I'd smoked every type of tobacco that was accessible here and my package of tobacco mixes specific to South America wouldn't arrive until later this week. I frowned and went to go buy a box of nicotine patches. Or several boxes. This was the most difficult problem I've ever faced. Cigarettes would work better but the part of me that wanted John's tongue in my mouth reminded me people don't like to kiss smokers. That was irrelevant. Relationships end poorly and one cannot have meaningless sex with one's flatmate. Especially if one's flatmate is straight.

But, would he want a flatshare with a smoker?

"What do you need?"

Oh, this was bad. This could only end poorly for me. But, my life would end the same way no matter what I did and John Watson would be an acceptable stop gap. I crushed the small hope that he would be able to fix me before it could take root properly. I could help him. Two paths opened before me and I weighed my options. My life was irrelevant at this point; my last experiment at the den had proven that.

"Nicotine patches. There, those ones." I gestured at the ones with the largest dose of nicotine per patch.

"How many?"

I took a steadying breath. "All of them."

After all, I had promised Mrs Hudson to stop smoking.

Chapter 2>