#my tape should be sticky enough it's like big large clear tape

[soullessseraphim]

So I've decided to make stickers out of our favorite doctors

These bitches better be stickin'

I love them a lot🧡🥺

[petermorwood]

And then there's "to google" = looking for info with any search engine, cap-letter Google or not, and "to 'shop" = manipulating an image with any app, not just Photoshop.

IIRC, corporate lawyers from both will send sharp reprimands to any high-profile misuser, though IMO it's the multitudes of low-profile users who do most erosion - little drops of water, little grains of sand, etc., to the extent that printing TradeName™ in full can often look like making a joke.

A few from here:

"sellotape" = any clear sticky tape, whether Sello-, Scotch or whatever;

"biro" = any ballpoint pen, especially cheap ones;

"dictaphone" = any voice-recorder device;

"sticky-backed plastic" = any adhesive plastic sheet. Thanks to the kids' show "Blue Peter" from non-commercial channel BBC (which prohibited even passive advertising of Naming Names) there must be a couple of generations who never knew this stuff was really called Fablon;

And of course "hoover" = any vacuum-cleaner from any manufacturer. (AFAIK this last one has indeed eroded into non-defensible generic.)

"To hoover" was also a verb as far back as when I was barely double-figures old, so +55 years ago.

Over those years I've cleaned floors with a Hoover, an Electrolux, a Vax, a Dyson and a Nilfisk, and though the Nilfisk has lasted longest of all (bought ~1970 *, inherited 2007 and still going strong) those floors have always been hoovered, never nilfisked...

* Mum saw one at an Ideal Home Exhibition and loved it, my sis and I saved our pocket-money, when we reached 50% Dad added the rest, and That Was That.

Mum was really pleased, though guess who got to haul it up and down the many, many stairs of our old house? Builds character, I suppose. Certainly built muscle; Nilfisks are heavy..

*****

Before a trademark can last long enough for erosion there might be Brand Blunder and, since I've been talking about vacuum cleaners...

However, since that ad was UK-only at a time (early 1970s) when "sucks" = "is really bad" hadn't yet crossed the Atlantic, it wasn't such a blunder as the Internet-at-large likes to think.

However the naughtier meaning of "sucks" certainly existed then, at least at my school, along with horror stories of consensual relationships with domestic appliances gone badly wrong. (Not mere urban legend, @dduane saw one For Real during her time as a nurse in New York.)

All of which proves that advertising agencies should have a teenage boy on staff to spot That Sort Of Thing.

Adult comic "Viz" even got an entire long-lasting character out of it.

Don't get it?

"That's a big pear..."

no idea where i was going with this but i abandoned it at the most disconcerting moment possible

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Medical Instruction Vd 1″

First day back at school, so forgive me for being short :) 

“Before we get started, I just wanted to make sure that it is known that all parties involved in these videos have agreed to let me use their footage for training purposes, though they may not be used for anything else in accordance with Human Medical Privacy Laws. These tapes will go directly to the intergalactic college of interspecies biology and medicine. Those who are found to use this footage in any way contrary to its original purpose will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law”

-

The camera turns on shaking form side to side over the floor spinning quickly from the right and then to the left before finally leveling out on an image of a hallway. The Vrul scuttles along the floor with great purpose small fleet clattering against the cold metal. He turns to look at the camera, “I just got a call up the Medical bay for a human in significant respiratory distress also complaining of chest pain, so we are going to head up there and see what is going on. Now I have been the operational medical officer aboard this ship for a while now, and I have seen almost everything there is to see. Doing medicine for humans is…. Well it’s a wild ride simply because of their combination of durability and breakability. They break horribly easily and in horrific ways, but are able to live through it when they do, and that leaves it up to the medical staff to make sure that they  are quickly treated so that the shock of their injuries doesn’t send them down the road of you know…. Not being alive.”

They hurried up a hallway following after the little doctor pausing for a few seconds before the medical bay doors which opened with a hiss. A wave of sound washes over the camera, people talking and someone breathing rather heavily. The camera pans up to show a group of humans gathered around a third sitting on the edge of one of the hospital beds. They are breathing fast and heavy a hand on their chest eyes wide panicked.

The crowd opens up as the little doctor walks in.

“What do we have?”

“30 year old male with racing heart, difficulty breathing, tingling hands, dizziness, and chest pain.”

The human was breathing even harder now looking around frantically, “I….I….I’m dying….. I think I’m having a heart attack…..I can’t breathe.”

“Alright, let’s get an EKG going first thing.” The little doctor gets to work very quickly all four arms working as he begins to speak, “Now the obvious worry here is the case of chest pain, which in humans can be an indication of a heart attack. Now the heart is a very major organ in a human, and acts as a pump to move blood around the body. The blood contains oxygen and infection fighting cells etc. With a heart attack one of those little vessels in the organ is blocked, usually by plaque or fatty deposits causing death in parts of the heart muscle. Now this human is generally too young and too fit for any of that to happen…” He turns to the human, “Is there a history of heart attack or heart disease in your family?”

The human shakes their head.

“Has this every happened to you before?”

Another head shake.

The doctor ripped off a couple of sticky white circles and attached them to the human’s chest, “Now this will give us a good look of what is going on in there.” There was a pause for a minute as they continued working.

The doctor glanced at the instruments once the information began coming in, “Alright, so this is good news, the heart IS beating fast, but there does not appear to be any blockage, and it is not fast enough to be considered tachycardia. Also their blood oxygen level is within acceptable range meaning that it isn’t likely to be some other issue. Now that leaves our post likely option as being a panic attack.”

He walked over to the human to get their attention, “Do you have a history of anxiety disorder in your family?”

“A few …. Uncles.” He panted, “But it has to be…. A heart attack.”

“Well your heart is actually fine. I think in this case you ARE having a panic attack, now you are alright, this can happen to anyone not just people with a disorder, ok. Now just humor me, and I and I want you to take in one big breath counting to seven, hold it for five and then blow out at five seconds.” The human looked very skeptical, but at the order of the doctor they began.

He left the instruction to one of the other attendees, “You see, this is actually quite common in humans. Emotional functions are very closely intertwined with their physical functions mostly due to their greatly superior fight or flight mechanism. Humans have a very quick physical reaction to panic that causes the heart to beat faster, digestion to shut down and the pupils to dilate. The breathing will also speed up as you have seen. The problem is the human body reacts to the stress of being chased by a predator in the same way it reacts to, social stress, or an approaching deadline.

In this cause stress, and an elevated heart rate could have trigged a panic attack, where the body is having these physical symptoms despite the brain, and now they are trying to figure out an explanation. They generally assume they are having a heart attack or that something else horrible is about to happen, even if it is not.

He turned back to check on the human, whose heart rate had gone down a bit. They were looking a little better, but there still seemed to be a way to go.

“We are just going to have him continue this breathing exercise which is designed to activate the parasympathetic nervous system and calm down the feelings of anxiety and panic. I always find it interesting that the one thing that makes humans the best and dealing with extreme stress, is also the one thing that makes them crumble under more mild states of stress.

***

“So we have been called in again this time, we have a 25 year old male presenting with, extreme abdominal pain, vomiting, nausea, and a low grade fever.” The doctor walked in wearing more protective gear than he had last time. The camera pans up to another human lying on one of the beds curled into a ball moaning, face screwed up in pain, hands clutched around his middle rocking slowly back and forth in a writhing sort of way. One of the other doctors had placed a metal bowl by the human’s head as they groaned.

The doctor moved forward and had the human roll onto his back, though the human did not seem as if he wanted to. The alien doctor listened to the human’s innards, and then began lightly pressing on the abdominal cavity. As soon as he did, the human yelped in pain and curled up again looking as if he was about to be sick.

“Abdominal pain in the lower right quadrant, I would wager to say this is probably a case of appendicitis.” The doctor motioned for one of the orderlies to grab a machine and roll it over, “Now the human appendix is a part of the intestines that was long thought to be useless or a vestigial structure that humans used more when they had to clear large amounts of plant material through their digestive tract. In many cases it acts as a blind pocket that sometimes collects bacteria and then becomes inflamed. You CAN fix it with antibiotics, but the general consensus is removal.” He pulled the machine into position, using a short wand covered in cold gel to pass over the human’s skin just above the problem spot.

“Ah, just like I thought, you see that right there.” He pointed to the screen, “This right here is the inflammation being caused by the infection, and the reason that the human is going to be in so much pain right now. I would suggest at this point that we just go in and remove it with a simple laparoscopic appendectomy. As far as procedures goes, this one is actually relatively easy and should take no more than a few minutes for me to perform.  Now before you go questioning me about the time frame for this surgery, I do remind you that I am the most experienced surgeon in the galaxy. I guarantee the prep for this surgery will take longer than my ability to actually preform it.”

The human groaned.

“Don’t worry, we will have you fixed up almost immediately.”

***

“I find that there are a few general things you want to look for when treating humans. The first big one is energy level. Your average human is going to be very…. Sharp you will see it in the eye and head movements, they will, or should be very energetic with their head and arm movements, especially around the chest and shoulders. Humans like using their hands to talk. A lot of the time you can tell something is wrong with a human when they are listless and slow to respond. You may see their eyes wandering and they won’t focus on you, now some humans behave that way, but your average human will generally try to make eye contact with you at some point. Watch to make sure they are supporting their own heads, or does it seem to be bobbing or tilting in one way or another. A few other things is a general change in appetite from what is considered usual. A stressed or sick human may eat too little or too much. If your human appears confused or is having trouble answering simple questions, you will want to check them over straight away. As I said before, a sick human might appear listless, lethargic, they will tend to sleep a lot, and they may be irritable. I would make it a point to warn most students about that fact when dealing with humans, sometimes in cases of serious injury  humans tend to act in anger to pain, so they might try to fight you off or to get away, especially if the pain is really bad, they are sort of resorting back to their more baser instincts. Occasionally you may have to strap them down, or even sedate them , while there are a few humans who like comfort when they are in pain, there is a large group of them who do not like to be touched or talked to when they are. I would say that is also an important thing to note, both psychological and physical pain can cause a human to isolate themselves form you, so just make sure you are watching for those signs because they can be indicators that something is seriously wrong.”

[lu-undy]

Chapter 57 - SBT

Here it is!

"You got it?" 

"Oui, Mundy, I get inside your van, grab a tee-shirt and a pair of trousers and come back up to you. Don't worry I should not be long." 

Mundy trusted Lucien with the keys of his van. He finally let go of them and sighed. Lucien put them in the inner pocket of his jacket. He adjusted his suit one last time.

"Lu'?"

"Hm?" Lucien stopped as he was about to open his front door. 

"C'mere." 

They shared a dear embrace.

"What is it?" Lucien felt there was more. 

"Don't lose the keys, ok?" 

"Mon amour…" Lucien wrapped his arms around Mundy's neck. "I would rather lose my suit than lose them." He softly said.

Mundy smiled. 

"Sounds like a good deal." He answered chuckling and Lucien rolled his eyes with a smile. 

"Give me a minute, I shall be back shortly."

"Sure, love." 

Lucien exited the suite and Mundy shut the door after him. 

"Meow?" 

"Don't worry, baby kitty, he'll be back in a bit. Meanwhile, you wanna help me with the dishes?"

Perle trotted to him and pushed herself on her back legs to stand up. 

"Yeah, c'mere." 

He scooped her off the floor and put her on his shoulder as he tidied up the breakfast table. 

Meanwhile, Lucien exited the hotel and headed for the parking lot, where he easily found the campervan. He unlocked the backdoor and slipped in before flipping a switch. 

The lamp on the ceiling turned on.

"Ah, an old yellow bulb, what a surprise. Oh?" 

Lucien got hit by the lingering scent of his lover, still floating in the air of his campervan. He smiled before going to the cupboard to follow Mundy's instructions but…

"Hm." 

He would be a fool not to seize the opportunity.

Lucien let his eyes explore his lover's belongings under the sunlight which was peeking through the blinds. He pulled on the string to pull them up and let more light in. He switched the old lightbulb off. His smile widened.

The bed was undone, the cupboards were messy. On the wall hung a few kukris and pictures. Lucien got closer and inspected them. He blew the dust away from them and couldn't help but grin. Mundy looked like the shy type, even as a child. On this first picture, he was holding a fish that he had just caught. It was as big as half his size! 

His father was kneeling behind him and holding him by his shoulders, smiling proudly to the camera. Indeed, they didn't share much physical resemblance, confirming the fact that Mundy had been adopted.

Lucien looked at another photograph. Ah, this one had mother, father and… teenage Mundy. Interesting. Mundy was very tall and very slim too, maybe even skinny. His hair was long and as Lucien compared the two pictures, he saw that Mundy must have gone through a growth spurt. He was almost comically tall and thin…!

Lucien's eyes moved from one picture to the next on the walls. They were stuck with a touch of transparent sticky tape that had obviously been cut with his teeth. Like the reel of a movie, Lucien saw Mundy growing up and strong while his parents aged. His mother always wore the same compassionate smile but his father… One could see that their relationship wasn't getting better even on just a few pictures. Mundy was always dearly hugging his mother, bending down to wrap his arms around her, while his father stood aside. He had lost his smile. Something must have happened. 

Lucien ran his eyes from one picture to the next, back and forth. Maybe there was a clue…?

"Ah, oui." 

The Frenchman found it. Mundy's father started distancing himself from the rest of his family at the same time as a rifle started peeking from Mundy's back. So it was when Mundy made of hunting his job that his relationship with his father started to deteriorate, as he had mentioned previously. 

Fair enough. Lucien didn't know what his mother would have thought, had she come to know that he had become a spy. Maybe she would have despised him for killing people too? Non, it couldn't be right. Lucien's father had fought in the Great War and he was a military by choice, he hadn't been enrolled as the war effort strained the country. Who knows? Maybe she would have been proud of him participating in the liberation of France?

Lucien shook his head to shoo away those thoughts and looked at the landscapes on the pictures, in the background. 

Mundy's parents seemed to live somewhere green, wide and calm. A little haven, outside of any city. All of the photographs were taken outdoors but on some Lucien could see the family house in the background. It looked cosy if a bit old, parts of the wooden framework of the house was visible on the outside and it seemed to have a large terrace.

Lucien smiled, albeit sadly. He wished he could have seen it, that house, before the fire, visit Mundy's parents and see where his precious lover had grown up and lived.

The Frenchman sighed and turned to finally do what he had been sent to do. He went to the clothes cupboard, opened it and indeed, it was in a mess. Contrary to his own wardrobe where everything was hanging up nicely, Mundy didn't take the time to even iron anything. His clothes were in a pile of washed out colours and worn out cotton. Lucien would have despised it all but… 

He took a polo shirt and smelt it. 

"Hmm…" 

The entire cupboard smelt of Mundy and the messy pile of fabrics made so much sense with his personality that Lucien thought it sacrilegious to disturb the mess in any way, shape, or form.

He slipped out of the van and locked it before making his way back to his suite. He knocked and Mundy opened. 

"Crikey, you took your time!"

"My apologies." 

They both moved to the living room.

"You didn't find my stuff easily?" 

"Oui, I did." Lucien handed the clothes to Mundy who started to get a change. For Lucien's greatest regret, the naked, hairy chest disappeared under a layer of beige cotton.  "I just got… Distracted."

"What d'you mean?" Mundy removed the pyjamas trousers and put on the brown pair that Lucien had got him. 

"I couldn't help but have a look around." 

Mundy stopped sharp. 

"What?"

"I saw the photographs of you and your family." 

"Hm." Mundy zipped up his trousers and closed the button. 

"You looked adorable as a child too." 

The Aussie smiled. 

"Yeah, well, if you say so…" 

"You looked shy too."

"Never been the extrovert, eh." Mundy confirmed. "Don't know how people do it." 

"How people do what?" Lucien took the pyjamas. They were still warm…

"How they just go and talk to strangers… Never understood it." 

"You are adorable." Lucien gave Mundy his sleeveless jacket and when the Aussie was ready, he took his hand and they exited the suite, leaving Perle taking a nap in her basket. 

"So," They both took a seat in the van. "To Maurice then?" Mundy asked. 

"Oui, please." 

"Right." 

Mundy started the engine and off they went. 

"What did you think?" He asked. 

"About what?" Lucien answered. 

"The pictures. My mum and Dad." 

"Your mother seems to be a very kind woman. The way she smiles as she looks at you is touching. She loved you a lot." 

Mundy smiled. 

"Yeah, I think she did."

The Aussie's mind wanted to dive back into some fond memories with his mother but the van parked as they had arrived at their destination. 

They slipped out of the van and headed straight for the house where a beggar led them to the underground network of tunnels. After a few minutes, Lucien and Mundy were facing Maurice. 

"You wanted to see us, Maurice?" Lucien asked as he took a seat around the large oval table. Mundy sat next to him. 

"Yes. I have had some news about Duchemin. You might have an opportunity to find him less surrounded than usual." 

Both men pricked their ears. 

"Alright then, tell us." Mundy bent forward on his chair. 

"Duchemin will receive a few guests, well, new potential clients."

"What kind?" Lucien asked. He took his cigarette case out and opened it in front of Mundy who took one and nodded. 

"Weapon dealers. They might be old contacts from France having heard that he had landed here."

Lucien lit both Mundy's and his cigarette before wincing at what Maurice had just said.

"Merde."

[Shit.]

"What's wrong?" Mundy asked. 

"If people in France know that Duchemin is here," Lucien answered. "Then he surely will expect the secret services to know as well, which means that he might reinforce the security around him."

"Exactly." Maurice said. "But if you act fast, you might get a chance."

"What do you suggest?" Lucien asked.

"Duchemin will surely try to impress his guests, even though they know him. He will want them to trust him as much as they did back in France."

"Ok." Mundy nodded. 

"So he will want to perhaps show him that he is doing more than fine in this continent too…" Maurice went on. 

"Huh!" Lucien gasped as he started to get what Maurice was getting at. 

"What?" Mundy asked, confused.

"Yes," Maurice confirmed to Lucien. "You will find him there and can then dispose of him the way that you see fit." 

"Oi, oi, oi, Spook, can you please be clear about this?" 

"Think, Mundy!" Lucien said and Maurice's eyebrows jumped at the use of M's full name. "Duchemin wants to show his guests that he is still as cunning and powerful as ever, so he will take them to the one resource that he only has!" 

"What's that?"

"When you started working again you were after what?" Lucien asked. 

"Alligators." 

"And what did you find in the end?" 

"What d'you mean what I found? Well, the bloody 'gators!"

"Mundy! What did we infiltrate together?! Have you forgotten?!"

"Bugger! The animals! The old sugar factory!"

Lucien nodded. 

"You get it! Duchemin will take his guests to those hangars and show off his collection." Lucien added before turning to Maurice. "How many people will he receive?" 

"Half a dozen at most." 

"Hm. I see. When will all that take place?" 

"Tonight."

Both men looked at each other in slight surprise. Tonight was quite soon, they didn't have much time to prepare. 

"Right, we'll do it." Mundy said and nodded at Lucien. The Frenchman reciprocated. 

"Oui. Let us go and prepare." 

"Before you go," Maurice said. "May I have a word with M?" 

"I will be waiting in the van." Lucien said and caught the keys that Mundy threw him with ease. He exited the room and one of the beggars led him out of Maurice's hideout. 

Meanwhile, deep under the ground, Mundy was staring at Maurice. 

"What d'you need?" He asked. 

"To confirm something." 

"Alright, what is it?" 

"He told you, didn't he?" Maurice asked. 

"About what?" 

"About what he is, who he is." 

Mundy nodded. 

"Yeah, he did." 

"I do not blame you, if I swung that way I would probably do the same but…" Maurice raised his eyes to Mundy under his bushy eyebrows. "Do not let his looks fool you. The man is dangerous, very much so." 

"What are you tryin' to say again?" Mundy asked. 

"I can see it in your eyes, M. You have always been so honest, completely incapable of lying or hiding anything." 

"What are you gettin' at?" 

"The way he gave you that cigarette nonchalantly, the way he lit it for you, the way he, too, looks at you. It is dangerous, M, for you and for him."

"What is dangerous?!" Mundy snapped. 

"Your relationship together." 

He blushed. 

"M, I am simply trying to avoid you some trouble. Do not get too attached to him." Maurice advised. 

"Why?"

"Once his job is done, he will have to go." 

"Where?" Mundy asked.

"Where the next mission calls."

"You and I both know it's bullshit." 

Maurice's bushy, salt and pepper eyebrows visibly jumped. 

"What do you mean?" The beggar asked. 

"Quit your lies. We both know what's next for him when he finishes the job. He told me."

"So you are trying to make him appreciate his last days?" Maurice asked. "That is generous of you. I am surprised, not by the altruism on your part, but by how far you have come out of yourself for an old man you barely know." 

"I know enough." Mundy answered and frowned. 

"And yet you still let yourself grow attached to him, even though you know his life is over."

"It's not over. I'm with him. We'll get through this." 

"It is, Mundy, France has already sent more agents and as soon as he is done with Duchemin, poof! One of the greatest spies of the twentieth century will be part of the history he helped to create." Maurice shook his head. "Such a shame… Such a ridiculous end for a great man."

"Maurice?" 

"Oui?" 

"I'll get him safe and protect him." 

"You can't." Maurice chuckled mockingly. "If you do, you would have to kill a few agents and that would attract an awful lot of unwanted attention on yourself. All that for what? For L and your own death." 

"Don't care."

Maurice's smile dropped when he realised how serious Mundy was. 

"What are you doing, Mundy?" 

"The right bloody thing. Look, you don't need to understand or help. I know you work for them too. You do what you need to do, and I do what I need to." Mundy's stare was deadly behind his aviator glasses. 

There was a pause, some long silence, during which Maurice pondered. Mundy was clenching his fist. Nothing Maurice could say or do would stop him. Yes, he would help Lucien if it's the last thing he did. It didn't make sense objectively but of course it didn't need to make sense for anyone else but himself. Besides, the past ten years hadn't made sense even for himself. But this, this made an awful lot of sense. And if Maurice or anyone else wanted to try and convince him otherwise, then he shall firmly refuse. Nothing and no one could set Mundy off his course. Yes, he might die while trying to protect Lucien, but the Frenchman was worth every sacrifice. He had fought her and won, without doing anything but flapping his eyelashes, to reveal his ice drop like eyes. 

He had defeated Solitude. 

Tackled her face first in the ground, crushed her bones, punched her teeth off, strangled the soul out of her and gouged out her eyes. 

All of that with a bat of his long, black eyelashes in the poor Aussie's direction. 

"Mundy?" 

"No, Maurice, you won't change my mind. I know you probably won't get it but I've made up my mind." 

"What would your parents say?" 

Mundy frowned. 

"They're not here anymore."

"Yes but if they were, what do you think Caroline and Mike would say?"

"Dad wouldn't understand. He'd call me a crazed gunman again and would look at me with so much disappointment I could eat my rifle out of shame."

"And your mother?"

"She'd… I hope she'd understand. I mean, she's always been more sensitive than Dad, maybe she'd get it." 

Maurice tilted his head back on his wooden throne and smiled. 

-- Later in the van -- 

"You have taken your time." 

"I was as fast as I could actually. Sorry it's been a bit long, love." 

Mundy took the driver's seat. He removed his hat off his head and looked at Lucien. 

"You are not starting the van? We need to hurry, Mundy." 

"I know, but Maurice wanted to have a chat with you too." 

"What about?"

"Don't know, but he said you should go alone." 

"I will try to be quick."

"Take your time, luv'." 

They exchanged a quick kiss and Lucien slipped out of the van. Mundy stared at his slim silhouette walk in the street that mismatched his impeccable suit before he disappeared in one of the houses. 

When Lucien emerged, he walked resolutely to the van and slipped in. 

"Maurice gave me some additional details on the mission. Let us proceed, Mundy." 

"Right, where to?" 

"Richard, the tailor."

"You need a suit now?!" Mundy asked and he looked at Lucien for an instant.

"Not exactly. Richard's business does not only rely on custom made clothes."

"Oh, ok… What did Maurice say?"

"France has taken some aerial view pictures of the hangars with thermal cameras. We know what animals are in which hangar. From that, we can predict the route Duchemin will take to show his guests around."

"How can we do that?" 

"Very simply. All we have to do is think like him." Lucien said. "If I wanted to impress business partners, I would show him the best species last, non?"

"Yeah." 

"And this is where your expertise comes in, Mundy." 

"Oh?"

"I need you to identify the animals on these infrared pictures and tell me which are the most impressive ones." 

"Alright, hold on for a sec, here's the tailor, I'm gonna park and you can show me the stuff." 

"Merci." 

The van parked and Lucien handed the folder with the photographs to Mundy. 

"Crikey… Hard to tell… That's gotta be the big cats, that's wolves, coyotes and such… Uh…. There's barely any signal there so I'd say reptiles, crocs, maybe snakes? Those are tiny dots, quite blurry… Birds maybe? Parrots, budgies and the like… Hm. So I guess I'd start here where the bids are, birds are quite harmless." Mundy let his finger go through the picture and outline a route. "Then go to the reptiles. They're much scarier but people rarely see them for real so they're not as afraid of them as they would wolves, which would be next. Leave the big cats for the end. If he's holding rare species, he must have a few white tigers or something. Those usually have their effect on people."

Lucien had listened carefully and silently. He raised his head from Mundy's finger on the pictures, to his eyes behind the aviator glasses. 

"What?" The Aussie asked. "Why're you looking at me like that?" He lightly chuckled with a sweet smile.

Lucien was lovestruck and it made Mundy's heart beat faster. 

"I love you." The Frenchman simply answered. "I love you so much… I can hardly get enough of you and-..."

"Uh, luv', I feel the same for you eh, but why say this now? Let's get Duchemin and stuff. After that, you can tell me that you like me as much as you want, ok?" 

"Kiss me." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"Please, Mundy."

But how on Earth could Mundy resist those eyes, that voice, that loving whisper? He couldn't, and after glancing in the parking lot where no one else was, he obliged. He bent on his side and while he put a hand on Lucien's thigh, the Frenchman almost leapt at him and cupped his face in his gloved hand for a kiss that lasted quite a while. 

Mundy didn't want to pull back. If Lucien had asked him for it in such a desperate manner, it was no doubt because he needed it. On the other hand, Lucien clung hard to the man he wanted to be with all the time. Never had a presence been so pleasant at his side. Pleasant, and all rest. 

But Mundy wondered. Why the sudden need for a proof of love? Why now as they were getting very close to Duchemin's end?

Maybe the Frenchman was more similar to Mundy than what the Aussie thought. Maybe he craved to be looked at, touched and loved as much as Mundy did. 

Maybe.

[matamisin]

HONEY NO

Tw: Gore/ Violence/ Angst

KSSS-T!!

"Kaminari!! Move, now- I've go-"

The noise of yanking the unbreakable tape, and the sharp sound of a snap and snarl and claws digging into skin as Sero held back a scream, the others watched in horror of a scene just as nightmare-ish as it sounded.

BOO-BOOM BOOM!!

"SERO GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!" Another set of explosions burst from Bakugou's palm. "GET DISTANCE, NOW."

The bloodied blond turns his head, peaking over his shoulder to look at the other teenager whilst keeping his body and hands ready to hold back the enemy should it lunge again.

A cough, or rather, several, come from the figure curled on the ground, as blood continued to puddle under him. He moves, shaking as he lifts his head in attempt to do as ordered, but almost instantly falls back down, holding his arm tight under him.

The creature, some kind of terrible creation that had multiple quirks, let out a growl. It rushes Bakugou, one dark and clawed hand outstretched in front of it and the other setting off its own explosions. But Bakugou holds his ground, retaliating with a blast big enough to blow the beast back again.

"Somebody get Hanta!!"

"I got him, I got him!" Kaminari responds, after having shaken the horrific images from hazing his mind at the time being.

"Holy shit.." he mutters under his breath, having kneeled down to hoist Sero up and seeing the damage up close.

A hiss of pain escapes Sero's mouth, that also leaked blood from cuts and internal damage. "Kahh.. K-Kaminari?," he slurs.

"Y-yea -hic- yeah, it's, it's me. Sero, it's me, I got you."

The electric boy smiles in attempt to reassure and comfort, in vain as his eyes start to water from the stress and anxiety of the situation weighing on him and his friends. He wraps Sero's better arm around his shoulders and stands, and quickly makes to the side of the area the others were trying to keep the creature in. Kaminari sets Sero down in front of a tree to sit him up.

He examines the damage, now having Sero out of from immediate danger in the middle of the fight.

"Oh my god, no, no please, th-theres.. there's! There's so much, I- I can't..!" Kaminari says to himself, lifting and prodding around.

Heavy blood flowing out from the side and shoulder, a wound that most likely caused damage to the lung- telling from the blood that first came from Sero's mouth upon being in the monster's hold for mere seconds before Bakugou interfered. A terrible burn on his good arm, caused by the sticky, acidic goo that the enemy could make at large quantities. Various other wounds, but much smaller than those named. Except for, his not-so-good arm.

Kaminari remembered, the memory played back in his mind like a haunting spirit. The beast pulled Sero towards it with his tape upon being restrained.. and went in with it's sharp teeth at his arm, tearing at it and causing overwhelming damage.

"Sero!! Sero?" Kaminari called, grabbing his good shoulder and giving him a shake. "S-Sero? Sero, ple-please I need you to wake up, c'mon!! I need you to make gauze!! Or silk tape- or-or just tape- anything!! Please, I need something to stop the bleeding!" He cried, desperately trying to pull Sero back into consciousness.

Kaminari, himself, was trembling. But he forced everything down. He focused on Sero and only Sero- he's badly injured and Kaminari HAS to fix him somehow while the others fought, despite Kaminari being its only shown weakness.

He couldn't fight it or get at it good enough to land a blow. It was too fast to be aimed at with his sharpshooter. And if Kaminari, or anyone for that matter, went too close, they'd end up like Sero due to it's speedy reflexes. That was, until it was finally caught off-guard by someone's audacity to jump towards it.

Splat!!

"Gah!" Kirishima yelped, as his arm was stuck to a tree by a launch of the beast's goop. He pulled at his arm, trying to break free, but only felt the burn much more as he let his hardening on his arm slip for a small moment.

Kirishima watched, eyes full of fear as the beast stood around, body hunched over as it breathed heavily and the white, sharp shape of a wicked smile plastered onto its face. It turned it's head towards him, but instead saw behind him, growling and smirking even wider as its body prepared for another dive forward.

Kirishima's eyes widened at the realization at its new target.

Across from him, he could see Bakugou, whose torso was mainly stuck to another tree, and Ashido, who was in the middle of trying to free Bakugou with her own acid, freeze in fear as well.

Before Ashido could move to direct it's attention away, the beast releases an intense screech, and immediately lunges once again at high speeds.

"Kaminari! Watch out!!"

"MOVE DENKI!"

"Oh my god, Kaminari!!"

For what seemed like minutes, his friends' screams rang in Kaminari's head as he snapped his head, seeing the monster coming at him.

Without thinking, he shoots up, and rushes towards it too with no hesitation, pulling out one of his pointers with his right and using his left to grab and maneuver the monster's clawed hand, that reached to grab him, to the side- and thus pulling it off balance as Kaminari pressed the pointer between its devilish horns.

"Chargezuma.."

A breath, he clears his mind for the split second he needs. The grip of his hands tighten, as he further pushes the device onto the forehead.

"Maximum discharge..!"

[albaxsutton]

I Hate Tuesdays || A Self Para

*TW: Mentions of abuse, mentions of violence

Alba decided she hated Tuesdays.

She tipped the wine bottle upside down, emptying the last few drops into her already full glass. To say that her day had gone badly was an understatement. Her day had to have been constructed specially by the universe to completely f her over. She had woken up that morning optimistic; she had a nice, long shower, her train came on time and she even managed to get a free coffee from the barista she frequently flirted with at the coffee shop a block up from the Rail.

But then she saw the dismayed looks on most of her colleagues faces. The same colleagues she had been competing with for the head writers position for the past few months. It was all friendly, of course. She only truly hated one or two people on staff and that was only because they were privileged idiots and constantly lorded it over the rest of them. The others she tolerated enough to smile and greet as she walked to her desk. Her desk, like most on their floor, was a tornado of organized chaos. Anyone would look at it once and wonder how she ever managed to get any work done. For her, she knew where everything was. She could navigate with her eyes closed and most of the time, was able to grab whatever she needed without looking away from her computer.

So, when she saw the bright, yellow sticky note taped to her computer, she frowned. ‘Come see me in my office, thanks, Xavier”. Simple and ominous. She plucked from her blank monitor and glanced around to the others, who all seemed to be trying too hard to avoid looking at her. Alba rolled her eyes and set down her coffee, purse and shrugged off her jacket before traveling the sea of desks to get to the editor’s office- which she hoped would be hers one day. It was situated on the corner of the building with windows on all sides looking out at the city. The only downside was that it had a pretty open view to the entire floor, meaning no one could pull any  while he was sitting pretty at his big, modern desk with a cup of coffee and a perpetually dissatisfied expression.

She knocked on his door and entered when she heard the gruff, “come in” from the other side. Xavier was pacing behind his desk, his blue tooth on his ear. He gestured for her to sit at one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, which she did without hesitation, watching as he ushered whomever was on the other line off the phone.

“Yeah, I got it Janine… Yep… No, we can’t do that piece next month, we had to move it to December… Look, at this point, I don’t care. Let him know we have a circulation of 500,000 issues and about a million plays to review in New York. He wants an interview? Tell him to get available.” With that, he tugged the headset from his ear and tossed it on his desk. “Swear to god, these new age playwrights get a sold out opening night and suddenly they think they’re the god damned Shakespeare of their generation. Didn’t you deal with that wannabe last year, Sutton? The Italian guy, what was his name?”

“Phil Columbo?” Alba answered, obviously amused. “Yeah, I reviewed his one-man musical about the gentrification of Brooklyn Heights. Not subpar, but not the next Jonathan Larson of Alphabet City.”

Xavier shook his head and plopped down in his large, comfortable looking chair. “Yeah, you’re gettin’ him in December. I can’t deal with divas and you seem to like em’.”

“I like talent.”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” he shot back offhandedly before clearing his throat and settling into his desk properly. “You do good work, Sutton.”

Alba’s brows shot up in surprise. Getting a compliment from Xavier was like getting a blessing from the Pope at the Brooklyn Rail. His word was bible. “Thank you.”

“And you’re talented. I don’t say that a lot.” Yeah, no shit. “You’re the youngest writer on my staff, you outwork most of the people who’ve been here for years and you consistently give this magazine great content.”

She should have been basking in the praise, smiling like some idiots who got a gold star in Kindergarten. But something felt off. Something about the way he said the words set up an expectation for something bad to come. “I feel a “but” coming on…”

“That’s because there is.” Xavier said, his face both remorseful and disappointed. “If it were up to me, you’d be getting that head writers position. But unfortunately, it’s not just up to me.”

It took a few moments for her to grasp the words completely. There was always a good chance that she wouldn’t get the position, she knew that. But hearing it and expecting it were two completely different things. She felt like cold water had been splashed over her body, igniting every nerve in her body and making her fully aware of just how much that single sentence hurt. “Oh…”

Xavier sighed and sat back in his seat. “I could dance around with numbers and give you some sugarcoated excuse as to why you’re not changing your title, but I know you’re too smart for that. The fact of the matter is that you’re young and you’re not as tenured. Mikey, he’s been with us 11 years. It’s a matter of who is going to get the most respect and right now, that’s not you, kid.”

She wanted to yell at him and tell him that Mikey hadn’t written a good article since the West End run of “Cats”, but she knew that would leave her without a job and possibly blackballed in the New York journalism circuit. She wanted to tell him that she could get respect from anybody she talked to because that was just the kind of person she was. Instead, she sat and listened, her eyes not really focusing on Xavier or anything for that matter.

“I don’t have these conversations often because I don’t feel like I need to explain myself, but you’re different.” He said, his lips pursed in a thin line. “You wanted it. You worked for it and I saw that. I appreciate it. It’s just…”

“Nobody respects me.” She finished for him, her tone a tad bitter.

“Nobody respects you as supervisor material.” Xavier admitted. “Not now anyway. We respect the hell out you, you know that. Now’s just… not the time for you.”

The conversation had ended after that and she dragged herself through the rest of the day with as much grace as she had mustered. But of course, life hit her. Hard. Her interview with a rising, prominent artist had been cancelled, she spilled coffee all over her new shirt and just when her incredibly shitty day had come to an end, she missed her train and had to wait an hour for the next one. By the time she got home, she was a walking ball of nerves and irritation.

She drank from her wine glass and started to settle into her couch for a night of tipsy Netflix watching and trying to forget about the incredibly terrible day she had when a knock suddenly sounded at her door. She frowned. She hadn’t texted Mari, Terry or Siobhan about not getting the promotion yet, so it wouldn’t be them and Raul would never come over without texting first. With a heavy and irritated sigh, she stood up and crossed to her door to look through the peep hole. She froze as a face she hadn’t seen in a very, very long time appeared on the other side. Without another thought she reached forward and yanked her door open to glare at her mother on the other side.

Yelena smiled at her as if they hadn’t not been in contact in over ten years. She was exactly as Alba had remembered. Beautiful, long dark hair and big brown eyes. There were a few wrinkles on her face that weren’t there before, but she looked as if she had stepped out of a page of Alba’s memory. Or a nightmare of hers.

“Alba…” She started, looking her over. “It’s been a long time.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to the woman before her. She could feel the angry glare burning on her face, a distinct feeling of rage creeping up within her that she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to hold in. “12 years.”

Yelena nodded. “Yeah… how have you been?”

Alba stared at her in disbelief. “How have I been? That’s it?” She rolled her eyes and then squeezed them shut, a headache forming at the stress of her day. “What the f- How did you find me?”

“…I hired a private investigator.” She admitted, her smile turning sheepish. “You changed your last name, so-“

“Yeah, so that you wouldn’t find me.” Alba snapped at her. 

Yelena sighed, adjusting her purse on her arm and Alba realized, suddenly, that it was designer. In fact, everything she wore was expensive, from her shoes to her coat and even her hair cut. Alba blinked at her, wondering how her mother -the woman who couldn’t hold a job to save her life- could afford those kind of things. “Alba, sweetie, I don’t want this to be antagonistic-”

“Oh wow, “antagonistic”, that’s a big word, Yelena.” She said sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s good to see that the drinking didn’t completely destroy your brain cells.”

“I didn’t come here so that you could insult me, Alba.”

“Then why are you here?”

Yelena sighed and looked down at her hands, perfectly manicured and weathered at the same time. “I... just wanted to see you. See how you were doing.”

Alba raised an eyebrow at her, completely skeptical. “You wanted... to see me?” She scoffed and cast her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. “Ten years and you’re still a terrible liar. You wanted to see me? Where were you when I was in the hospital for a month after you set our apartment on fire?”

Yelena cringed at the words, at least having the decency to look ashamed. “Alba...”

“Where the hell were you when I was put into foster care? Where were you at my high school graduation, or my college graduation for that matter? You know I worked three jobs to put myself through school because I had nobody and ten years later, you want to see me?” Alba didn’t realize that half way through her rant, tears had started to pool in her eyes. Not because she was sad, she would never give the woman in front of her the satisfaction, but because she was angry. “Pick another lie because I don’t buy that shit.”

Her mother sighed. “I deserve that... Believe what you want, it’s true. I’ve.. done a lot  of growing up and I just want to make amends.”

Alba, with a bored and disbelieving expression, scoffed at her words. “Cry me a river.”

“Why are you acting like I don’t know I made mistakes?” Yelena said, the words coming out quickly and with an emotion that made them waiver ever so slightly. She looked close to crying too, her eyes red and her lips forced into a thin line. “I did, Alba. I made a lot of them, most of them with you. I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“An apology would be nice.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you.”

To Alba’s surprise, Yelena gave her a sad smile in return. “Crazy thing is, you sound a lot like me.”

“No, I sound a lot like Alba.” She shot out, shaking her head. “You don’t get to take credit for anything but a strong liver, great hair and childhood trauma.” She leaned against her door and shrugged. “So last chance. You tell me why you’re really here or I slam the door in your face. Your pick.”

Yelena stared at her for a moment, looking unsure of what to say. Alba couldn’t really blame her. If she had been a bad mother, she wouldn’t be sure what to say to her kid either. The fact that she even had the gall to knock on her door would have been impressive if Alba hadn’t hated her so god damn much. She reached in her expensive purse them and pulled out a small, rectangular piece of paper and held it out for her. Alba glanced at the paper and then back at her, slowly taking it and looking it over. It was a check, one with her name and “$25,000″ in the amount line. Alba’s eyes widened as she stared at hit and she looked up at her mother in shock.

“Why the hell are you giving this to me?” She said, hastily putting it back into the woman’s hand. 

The older woman took the check back looked at it, smoothing it over with her fingers as she spoke. “I got married five years ago. He’s... a really good man. He helped me get sober, get back on my feet. He paid for the private investigator to find you. He’s... going to be running for political office soon.”

Alba raised a brow at her. “And... what the hell does that have to do with you handing me a check for $25,000?”

“...He had a lot of my criminal record sealed, including the neglect and arson charge from... that day.” Yelena explained to her, clearing her throat uncomfortably. Alba didn’t know what pissed her off more. That she wasn’t exactly the woman she was from all that time ago, or that she was trying to act like that person was long gone. “I’m his wife, we can’t have any... scandals, affecting his campaign. If anybody found out that I had a daughter that I left behind... it wouldn’t be good for him.”

It slowly pieced together. And when the puzzle was complete, Alba was filled with an anger she hadn’t felt in a very long time. The anger that only came from a frustrated kid who just wanted somebody to come and whisk her away from her horrible life. Yet no one ever came. It was an anger with her mother as the singular focus. “You’ve... got to be out of your god damned mind.”

Yelena clenched her eyes shot and cringed. “Alba, just think about-”

“Oh, I don’t have to think about anything!” She yelled, not caring if her neighbors heard her rage filled words. Yelena had the good sense to take a step back as her daughter unleashed her anger. “Do you even remember all the shit you did to me? Do you remember all the times I had to defend myself when you went on some drunken episode? I had to lie to my teachers and tell them I fell. There were times I had to stay home from school because sometimes I couldn’t hide the bruises.”

Yelena listened to her with tears in her eyes and shame on her expression, but it wasn’t enough for Alba to feel satisfied. She wanted the woman in front of her to hurt just like she did. “I think we should take this inside-”

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think you’re stepping foot in my house.” She snapped, her words low and vicious. She scoffed lightly and shook her head. “Years of court ordered therapy by CPS and I still can’t function properly.” She sounded hysterical at this point, letting her words move out of her without thought of consequence. It was like a dam had been broken and there was no way to stop the rushing waters from flowing free. “I spent a lot of time wondering what I had done wrong. Because what kind of child couldn’t be loved by their mother?”

Yelena tried to reach forward, her hand open in a caring manner that Alba wasn’t used to. “None of that was your fault!”

Alba ripped way from her. “How the hell was I supposed to know that? I was a kid trying to raise myself. You know, because of you I’m just some hyper sexual, asshole whose walking around angry all the god damned time with absolutely no decent moral compass and a deep embedded distrust of men. Because you had guys coming in and out of our apartment and more times than not, I had to lock my bedroom door because some of them would try to get in. You took everything that was good and decent about my life and you crushed it with your bare hands.” 

They were both crying now. Yelena stood silently, tears running down her face while Alba had to catch her breath. “The only thing I hate more than you is the fact that deep, deep, deep down, I still wish we could have been different.” Yelena started to open her mouth but Alba cut her off. “And don’t you dare say that things can be different now, because I know you’re not that naive so... just go. We don’t have anything else to talk about.”

Her mother pressed the check forward again. “Alba, I know you have student loans and bills-”

“Which I will take care of, I don’t want your money and I don’t give a fuck about you or your husband, so just fucking go.” She sounded exhausted by the end of the sentence, emotionally and physically done with the small conversation. 

Yelena, stubborn as stubborn was, leaned down and placed the check on her doormat between them, putting a business card along with it. “That’s one of two. I can give you the other half when you agree not to say anything about... that.”

“Woman up and say it.” Alba spat out with a shrug. “Your incredibly shitty and abusive attempt at being a mom.”

“...If I could take back everything I did, I would.” Yelena admitted, her tone close to a whisper. “I want you to know that.”

Alba didn’t respond, just stared at her dead in the eye and glared. “Go, before I call the cops and have them wheel your unconscious body out of my hallway.”

The threat was sharp and enough to make Yelena jump slightly. She gave her one final look and turned on her heel to leave. Alba wasted no time in slamming her door shut, her vision blurred with angry tears. She managed to stomp back over to her wine, not realizing how badly her hands were shaking until she brought the glass to her lips. Everything that she had repressed and forgotten about in the ten years since she had last seen that woman rushed forward to the forefront of her mind. She was suddenly a little girl again, scared and curled up in her bed. She was that little that she thought she had grown up from. But here she was.

With an angry cry, she threw the wine glass across the room and watched it shatter against the wall, red wine splattering across her furniture and floor. Her chest heaved up and down, trying to take in air that just wouldn’t come. After awhile, her legs were unable to hold her up and she crumpled to the ground, crying and feeling sorry for herself and the girl that she was.

She really fucking hated Tuesdays.

[estajay]

Watching and Tugging from the Sidelines

For @nuclear-tides for @dearevanhansensecretsanta 

A bit long and meandering but hope that you’ll enjoy it!

Happy holidays and a prosperous new year!

AO3 link

Jared arrived at the Hansen’s doorstep to find a stack of two dozen pizza boxes in front of the door where a receipt and a polite ‘Thank you for delivering, please place the order here’ note was taped. Most would assume it would be for a rowdy party thrown while the parents were absent, fitting for the food and quantity ordered, but it was Evan who lived here. The guy who barely made it through standard social interactions without a panic attack willingly doing anything that involved a large amount of people behind his mom’s back? Unthinkable.

Aunt Heidi must be out because there was no way that she would let her son pull this trick when she was home. The ability to both pay and order online was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand Evan wouldn’t be starving himself every night because of the dozens ‘what if’s’ that ran through his head whenever the doorbell rang. Delivery guys were just doing their job and if a sticky note asked them to leave the paid pizza on the doorstep, who were they to argue? Evan would have come up with a dozen reasons for otherwise but then again jumping to several worst case scenarios over the most mundane things was just what he did. Jared would help out when he could back then, coupled with a bit of teasing and asshole behaviour that Evan somehow tolerated over their years of friendship, but he lived two towns over couldn’t come over every time Aunt Heidi had overtime or night classes or her ‘other job’. So less social interaction for the hermit in the making but at least he wasn’t passing out from malnutrition.

The pizza was cold. That shouldn’t have set off any alarms but the pizza was cold. It could just been forgotten there or something but Evan would have heard the rumble of a motorcycle and the delivery guy would normally ring the doorbell. Evan would have waited a couple minutes for the delivery guy to leave but he would have raced to the door and back to grab the food before anyone could blink an eye. If Evan was still waiting the pizza should still be somewhat warm but the pizza was cold.

Maybe the delivery guy was a jerk and dropped the pizza off cold but that didn’t normally happen. Evan would have snatched the pizza up even quicker if the guy was late to the point he might have actually answered the door like a normal person. Maybe both Hansens were ‘out’ for the night which was even more unlikely with Evan’s arm still in a cast slowing him down and maybe even making him a liability on the field, something that Aunt Heidi would never risk. Even if she did, there wouldn’t be a pizza order in the first place.

There was cold pizza on the doorstep and Evan’s ‘I’m starving but I still won’t answer the door’ note and this city was nothing like the grit and gloom of a settlement that Jared had started to call home. He was probably overthinking everything like he used to tease Evan about all those years ago. The pizza was cold and nothing was probably wrong. Jared gave a hollow chuckle, to think his paranoia would ever rival Evan’s anxiety. At least he had been asking for it, jumping to the streets in a leotard and pixie boots, unlike his friend who was born with that ingrained in his mind.

Jared scooped the pizza boxes in one hand and unlocked the door with his key, the one Aunt Heidi had given him years ago, instead of obnoxiously ringing the doorbell and forcing Evan to answer it. He entered quietly. Just in case something was going on inside.

Everything was still the same inside as it had been for the past ten years. The shoe rack by the door, the family portraits along the walls and the little bonsai might as well have been Aunt Heidi’s first grandchild. The Hansen household was a once-boring now-treasured constant in Jared’s life. From his nomadic childhood to giving up a literal circus of elephants and acrobats for the circus fake smiles and business deals of the upper class, this place and the small family who lived here were still as welcoming back then as they were now.

Turning the corner, Jared sighed in relief to find a distinctly Evan-shaped lump on the couch curled up in a red blanket. The tv was on but muted, subtitles popping up underneath the news report of the Flash and Superman assisting in the emergency flood relief.

Damn and after all Aunt Heidi did to clear out her schedule and bullying Bruce into letting Jared come over for the revival of Taco Tuesday, it turned out to just be a regular Tuesday.

Jared dropped the boxes on the kitchen counter considering the dining table was already spread with bowls of taco stuffings and shells. Evan would probably want to wait for his mom before getting started on the tacos but that didn’t mean that Jared couldn’t microwave some pizza in the meantime. If Evan ordered, he must be starving but if he didn’t grab it, he must be worried. Well, more worried than normal.

Jared returned to the lounge room with two reheated cheese pizzas in hand. Evan’s focus was still locked on the words and pictures on the screen, completely unaware that Jared had even entered his house. Evan was worried, even though Aunt Heidi had the man of steel as backup and the speed to outrun anything in harm's way. That wouldn’t soothe his friend’s nerves, Jared knew, unless his mom was right next to him on the couch or that he was out there with her. That was why Evan gave himself a chemical electrocution after all.

“So do you ship it?” Jared said, plopping the pizza on the coffee table and himself beside Evan.

Evan spluttered, nearly falling off the couch in his attempt to sit upright. “Jared! But - When did you -? How…? Why would you even - ?”

Jared leaned back into the couch, remaining casual as he sorted through the bits and pieces of Evan’s high speed rambings. “Let myself in about ten minutes ago - and yes, through the front door. I’ve got a spare key, remember?”

Evan straightened himself up, peeved and probably berating himself for being caught off guard. “I thought we agreed to tone done on the ninja-thing.”

“Around the team, yes. But between old family-friends, different story.” Heh, family-friends. Jared used to hold that over Evan’s head back when they were kids, when he was a giant brat and Evan was a permanent fixture to the hem of Aunt Heidi’s skirt. The only reason they hung out was due to their moms being friends. Now though, it was something different. “Besides, nothing beats scaring the crap out of you.”

“I will push you off the couch.”

“But can you get past my reflexes?”

“I’m faster than your reflexes.”

“And you’re easy to anticipate.”

“Do you really want to test that?”

“How about after we get something down your gullet first?” Jared held one of the plates to Evan’s face.

Evan swatted it back and looked away. “Not hungry.”

“With your metabolism? Unlikely.”

“Mom’s going to be home soon for tacos.”

“And you’ll be out by then.”

“I won’t.”

“Do you want your mom to come home and find you passed out, again?”

“That was one time!”

And then there was a grumble. Evan blushed and Jared threw him a wide ‘I told you so’ grin.

“...pass a plate.”

The tv was unmuted and turned up several levels higher than need, masking the sound of Evan demolishing the pizza. He was eating relatively slowly, Jared could actually blink between each slice’s disappearance, but the couch was vibrating with nervous energy. His eyes were still trained on the screen with his ears soaking in the newscaster’s embellishments to turn a report into entertainment. Not that the plastic faced lady needed to, superheroes were involved so that made it instantly interesting.

Evan was still worried. Some random scene of a building crumbling, a loss of footing and not being fast enough reeling in his mind while reality played out on screen. A simple ‘She’ll be fine’ won’t cut it, it never did.

“So superflash, do you ship it?” Jared said instead, earning him a desperate choking sound and a scandalized look from Evan.

“Why would - why would you say that?!” Evan coughed.

Jared grinned and leaned further back into the couch. “Well they have been seen together an awful lot lately.”

“The Flash and Superman are the two fastest heroes in the League.” Evan countered with an unspoken ‘and the Flash is faster’. “Of course they would be the first there on any scene.”

“And the Big Blue has been sighted pretty frequently around here in Central City.”

“We’re close to Metropolis, he could just be passing by.” “And hasn’t a certain ‘Mr Kent’ been visiting your mom lately?”

“He wants to be a better parent for Jeremy, what’s wrong with that?!”

“And so did Green Arrow. And Aquaman. And Batman.”

Evan opened his mouth but nothing but half formed words and halting stutters came out as his face slowly grew more red. All his previous worry was gone replaced with sheer replacement.

Jared couldn’t help but keep egging him on. “So what are the chances of Supes being your step-father to-be?”

“Iamgoingtogetmorepizza!”

And in a flash Evan was gone. Jared smirked as he followed the retreating blur at a more leisurely pace. Sure it was a bit mean for teasing Evan about Aunt Heidi’s past not-boyfriends (one of which was his current guardian which was not a bit weird at all) but he had a feeling that this was after more than the Flash’s unparalleled parenting advice. He had seen that look before on a certain clone swooning over a musical-obsessed martian. There was a reason that Superboy had picked the name Jeremy after all.

Leaning against the doorframe, Jared watched as Evan raced around the kitchen shoving cold pizza in the microwave, oven, sandwich toaster and any other appliance that would reheat leftovers in attempt to bleach the thought of Aunt Heidi getting it on with an alien. Another smartass comment, and concern maybe Evan shouldn’t be going so fast with his arm still in a cast, was on Jared’s lips when something caught his eye.

“Who’s Connor?”

Evan skidded to a halt, nearly tumbling over the dining table.

“No one!” He said a little too quickly, cradling his cast, with C-O-N-N-O-R written boldly across it like a brand, closer to his body. He thought if he could hide the signature and Jared would forget about it. Adorable.

“Y’know if you don’t tell me I can always start hacking.”

“Connor’s a guy from my school.” Evan muttered, blush colouring his cheeks.

“Just a guy from your school?”

Evan stumbled over his words, a little too fast or too slow at times as he tried to explain. “He’s new… a new kid at my school but he’s in my grade. Who - well, kind of pushed me on the first day of class...but he apologised for it! And since no one had, uh...since no one had signed my cast yet he said...he said he would and - and he signed it and said we could...we could both pretend that we have friends.”

Jared knew that Evan wasn’t the most social person and was painfully awkward in any interactions outside of yellow spandex, which was a high school sentencing to being the weirdo loner, but ‘pretending to be friends’ was just plain pitiful.

“So what did you tell him when this ‘Connor’ asked how’d you break it?” Jared knew he could trust Evan to not blurt out ‘fighting a league of super villains’ but Evan could never be predictable in those situations. Knowing if he had to do damage control or back up his friend’s story never hurt.

“I said - I said that I..uh, fell out of a tree?”

Evan really needed to work on his cover stories.

“You ‘fell out of a tree’ and he bought that?”

“Connor said...Connor said that it was the - the saddest...effing thing he had ever heard.”

“Well at least that fits with your tree kink.” Jared teased.

“I do not have a tree kink!”

“So where did you take him for your first date?”

“The orchard.” Evan admitted his blush growing deeper. “And it was not a date!  It was just two friends, shooting the breeze-”

“In an abandoned orchard with no one in sight and free to do whatever kinky shit you please…”

“Shut up Jared! Connor’s just a friend.”

“Suuure he is...and is something burning?”

“The pizza!” And with that Evan was back all over the kitchen, salvaging what was left of his dinner before the house burned down.

Jared sighed as he caught sight of the cast again. Could  Evan be anymore obvious? Jared hasn’t seen him this bad since Artemis joined the team. His little Baby Flash had a major crush on this Connor guy and it had to be mutual. One simply doesn’t write his name all over another guy’s arm are expect things to stay purely hetro.

If Superman hasn’t proposed to Aunt Heidi by the time Evan has brought Connor home, Jared was definitely jumping in as the ‘intimidating father figure’.

{~~~}

Being a trained acrobat from birth with a side of contortionist had give Jared many unexpected benefits. Being agile and flexible enough to counter Gotham’s criminal element was one.  Avoiding knobby elbows when jammed in an air vent with a six-foot archer was another.

“Remind me again how we got into this fucking ridiculous situation in the first place?” his companion snarled.

“Language, Speedy.” Jared said, wriggling out of the way before getting a joint in the gut.

“English, Robin. And stop calling me that. It’s Red Arrow now.”

“I thought you were splitting off from Green Arrow.”

“Well sorry for not having enough time to think up of a new damn name.”

Speedy - Red Arrow, whatever Green Arrow’s former protege was calling himself, turned again which lead to Jared getting a quiver’s worth of fletchings up his nose.

“Achoo!”

“Hey! Keep the snot off my arrows!” Red Arrow said, planting an elbow into Jared’s thigh. Jared growled, giving the taller boy a sharp yank at his short ponytail. “Well keep the arrows out of my nose!”

“Hey, did you hear that?”

Both boys immediately clamped down, hoping that they wouldn’t be heard by the henchmen down below.

“Ugh, probably rats again. Leave them to pest control, we’ve got intruders two floors up!”

The sound of fading footsteps gave them a chance to sigh in relief. Jared was glad he messed with the alarm system before hacking into the building’s database. Given the team’s specialization in stealth (and lack in maintaining it), it was a surprise that this building wasn’t up in flames yet. Sure a couple alarms had been tripped but at least they haven’t been caught yet.

Squirming a bit to get a bit more wriggle room, Jared pulled up a hologram of the building’s floor plan from his computer glove. “Okay, that little trick would have bought us enough time to make it to the ground floor undetected if we stick to the vents-”

“And why do we have to stick to these cramp-ass vents?” Red Arrow grumbled.

“Because most adults are stupid enough to think that their too small to be exploited so they don’t look,” Jared explained patiently. “And it’s the quickest way out the building besides jumping out a window.”

It wasn’t something that he had to do when dealing with Batman but Evan had super-speed, not telepathy. Explaining things plainly no matter how obvious it was, even before the whole superhero gig, saved Evan mind-freezing worrying most the time or at least reined in the more irrational conclusions. A little something that made working with several other moody teenagers actually feasible a bit more aster and less disaster.

(And yes, Evan had corrected him a dozen times that aster was a type of flower but that wouldn’t stop him from improving the English language.)

“So once we hit ground floor, we’re home free?”

“Once we hit ground floor, we’ll be out in the open.” Jared said. “Artemis should give us enough cover to reach Aquagirl and then we report back to the Cave.”

Red Arrow growled at the mention of Green Arrow’s new protege, his replacement. “If she’s here what did you need me for? I’m not even part of this fucking team.”

“You know Aquagirl. She doesn’t anyone doing anything without backup.” Jared started crawling down vents, the disgruntled archer trailing behind. “Miss M  has super-important telepathy training with her uncle, Superboy is having a donor-clone bonding day foiling Luthor’s plans and Kid Flash is still benched from his injuries so sorry for forcing unwanted sibling bonding time on you.”

“She is not my sister!” Red Arrow protested.

‘But she will be. Green Arrow’s wedding is what, next month? So you guys are going to be spending a lot of time together. Unless you’re going to say Green Arrow’s not your dad.”

“How do you even know that?”

“I’m Batman.” Jared said, earning him an elbow in the calf and his follower a kick in the nose. “Look, think of this as a trial run. If you two are going to live in the same house, then the screaming matches you have in the Cave isn’t going to cut it. Unless dysfunctional is what you’re going for then go right ahead.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Red Arrow muttered. “Green Arrow’s kicking me out the moment I turn eighteen so he can have his perfect civilian life with a normal wife and flawless daughter. No need to keep me around any longer to fuck things up.”

“...did he actually say that?”

“It’s pretty much implied.”

Then it was quiet, save for the hollow clangs of their knees and elbows against metal.

There were issues between the original Arrow duo, right back to when Speedy first entered Star City’s rooftops and even before then. Jared could pry, there was an entire file on Larry Murphy and his son out of wedlock, but sometimes there were things that you just let be. Black Canary, the Flash and even Batman had all given what help and advice they could so what difference was one teenager going to make.

Still, it was too quiet.

“So anything interesting happening at school?” Jared asked.

“Small talk, Robin, really? Isn’t this supposed to be a stealth mission?” Red Arrow said. “And doesn’t Bats have a rule about personal details on the field?”

Not that the other could see it but Jared shrugged. “If we’re not yelling at each other then no one’s going to hear us and you don’t have to use any names. Besides, if I really wanted all the juicy details of your personal life I could always start hacking.”

“Does invasion of privacy mean nothing to you?” But Red Arrow then sighed and said, “I started at a new school in another city.”

“Really? Did all the other schools in Star City kick you out for smoking weed or something?”

“Yes. They actually did.” There was an unspoken challenge hovering in the air. Jared just gulped and let Red Arrow continue. “It’s the same as any other school, a giant fucking waste of time. It’s bad enough that no one knows you because it’s in completely different town but thanks to my damned luck, I have a lovely reputation to precede me.”

“What kind of a reputation?” Jared dared ask.

“Y’know, the usual stuff. I’m going to steal someone’s lunch money, sell drugs to freshmen, shoot up the school, blah blah blah, yada yada yada...You need to be high off your ass to even get through one day.” Red Arrow gave a short laugh. “Not that the teachers care. I’m already a loss cause to them. As long as I turn up to class, they don’t give a damn.”

“You can pull off school shooter chic pretty well if you ask me.” Jared said lightly, though the grumbling behind him told Red Arrow was taking it otherwise. “I was joking.”

“Yeah, so funny. Can’t you see how hard I’m laughing.” But his voice was low, suggesting the complete opposite.

“I can’t see you at all actually. Crawling through an air vent, remember?” And ready to jump out the next opening if Red Arrow decided to freak. Stealth mission be damned.

They were almost there, though. Another could metres and then they would be free to beat up bad guys and escape with blazing glory.

“I have a friend.” Red Arrow said suddenly, quietly.

“What kind? A kindred spirit with a love for 7-11 slushies?”

“The aliens need to turn back on the showtunes.” And Jared would second that. While they normally cycled through a shuffled playlist, if the kryptonian and the martian found a song the both liked it would be stuck on repeat for a week at least. “No, he’s the complete opposite. Nervous and jumpy most of the time and probably scared of his own shadow. I thought that he stuck around because no one else seemed to notice him, ‘pretend’ that we’re friends so we wouldn’t look like complete losers. But now…”

“You guys’ lovers now?” Jared joked again, bracing himself for another outburst.

But instead, Red Arrow gave a shallow laugh. “And get between him and trees? I don’t think so. He could go on for hours talking about how the trees at school were different to the ones that grew there before humans settled, what conditions different types of trees would thrive in, the significance of the shape of a leaf...he still insists on climbing them even though his arm’s still in a cast from falling out of one.”

“He fell out of a tree?” Now that sounded familiar.

“Yeah, the saddest fucking thing I ever heard.” And Jared could practically hear the smile on Red Arrow’s lips.  

“Sounds like someone that could give Poison Ivy a run for her money.”

“He would kick that bitch’s ass with his sheer knowledge on trees.”

Red Arrow was crushing for this friend of his hard. Maybe even more so than Evan and his mysterious ‘Connor’. Jared couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of familiarity though, as if he’s heard this somewhere before.

Rounding another corner, the distant sound of combat was growing louder and louder. Peering through the grate, Jared saw the girls already locked in battle with numerous faceless henchmen. It was nothing they couldn’t handle, Aquagirl’s streams of water keeping the enemy at bay while Artemis picked them off from above. Well, at least they didn’t have to stall for any longer.

Despite the limited space Jared could hear Red Arrow notching his bow, ready to jump into action. With a cackling grin and a slight signal, Jared kicked open the vent and somersaulted into the fray.

{~~~}

It was obvious

It was so obvious.

It was right in front of him the entire time but only now…

Evan’s was a guy who signed his cast and offered to pretend to be friends. Who went with him to the orchard and probably had to sit through several college lectures worth of tree rants. Who was new to the school but was a senior like Evan.

Red Arrow’s was nervous and scared of his own shadow at his new school. Who turned an offer of fake friendship into a real one. Who knew a ton about trees and broke his arm falling out of one.

Red Arrow’s real name was Connor... and guess what was scrawled right across Evan’s arm.

“Ha.”

Aquagirl, Alana, looked up from her mission report. “Is something the matter, Robin?”

Now that all the pieces clicked together.

“Ha ha.”

Miss Martian, Christine, hovered over with a concerned look. Superboy, Jeremy, was close behind her. “Is everything okay?”

In all honesty, it really was hilarious.

“Ha ha ha!”

“Someone get Batman!”

“Ha ha heh, don’t worry guys.” Jared said, forcing out the last of his laughs. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Christine said. “You didn’t get hit with any Joker gas in Gotham or anything?”

“Positive.” This half of the team wouldn’t understand. They shared their identities openly with each other. They had nothing to lose. “Just figured out a punchline to a joke a little late.”

Alana, though relieved that her teammate was in no imminent danger, frowned at Jared. “Well be less hysterical next time you come to such a revelation. There’s still a mission report we need to write.”

“But you’re the leader!” Jared whined.

“We’re co-leaders of this team, Robin. Batman will notice if I write the entire report myself, again.”

Jared grumbled but set to work, reporting on their finding on what could possibly be an organisation behind the Injustice League, working from the shadows and pulling at the strings.

Alana could work on the report all day and it would matter. Between Aquagirl and Alana’ahm there would be no different in life or status. He had Jared Kleinman and Robin, Boy Wonder. One a billionaire’s ward and the other a vigilante’s partner. Finding out one was connected to the other would lead to complete and utter disaster. It was the same for the others with civilian lives. There were too many risks involved in revealing their identities. Something that deserved a trust that the team had yet to build but…sometimes, it might be worth it.

{~~~}

Kid Flash was welcomed back to the Cave after his arm had finally healed by an over-enthusiastic Miss Martian, a somewhat hesitant Superboy an an all-too-eager Robin catching him in a bone crushing hug the moment he exited the zeta tube.

“Uh, guys...I really - I really appreciate the sentiment but, but would it be okay if, er...if you ease up a little.” their speedster victim mumbled after failing to wriggled out of three sets of arms. “My arm it...my arm’s still a little tender, y’know?”

Superboy was the first to let go, all to aware of his own strength. “Sorry, it’s just been so long.”

“We haven’t seen you for an entire month!” Miss Martian added as she reluctantly let go as well. “Just because the Flash benched you, doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome here.”

Yeah, as if Evan, who was as paranoid with his secret identity was Batman, would come here toting around a cast signed by his ‘civilian’ best friend. Otherwise it was good to see him back in tights, even if yellow was definitely not his colour.

“Uh...thank you. It’s - it’s nice to know that, that I’m welcomed here.” Evan said, with a slight blush forming. “Though the...the welcome was a bit...much.”

“It was either this or a two-hour musical cabaret.” Jared grinned, remaining firmly attached to his friend’s side. “We’ve missed you, buddy.”

“We had pizza and tacos a couple days ago, Robin.”

“Exactly!”

“Wait.” Artemis interjected, the spoilsport standing off the side with Aquagirl, having refused to take part in the surprise welcome hug. “How’d you two have pizza and tacos if Kid Flash was benched?”

“Easy, I dropped by his house and had dinner with him and Aunt Flash.” Jared said.

“In civies?! But what about Batman’s ‘No Names’ policy?”

“Family-friend privileges.”

“Robin and I knew each other before uh...the whole superhero thing.” Evan explained quickly before Jared could further probe the archer. “Our parents were friends so we kind of grew up together as friends so, yeah. Family-friends.”

“Batman and Flash have been friends for that long?” Superboy asked, saving them from dealing with anymore of Artemis’ suspicions or accusations.

However, neither Jared or Evan answered. Flash may be Evan’s mom but Batman wasn’t his dad, just his guardian, but it was best to let others draw their own conclusions.

Aquagirl stepped forward, grasping Artemis firmly by the shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Kid Flash.” She said. “We have a welcome dinner prepared which should be enough to satisfy the needed calorie intake for everyone on the team.”

“Or in other words, she crunched a bunch of numbers to work out how much food we need so that no one starves and we can all have a good time.” Jared happily ‘translated’, earning him a pointed glare from his co-leader. “And no need to worry about the cost. We’ve got the bat-budget funding us and the bat butler on standby if ever.”

“Yes but first, there are some official matters that must be addressed.”

Evan immediately straightened and pried Jared off of him. “A mission?”

“No, just a training exercise.” Aquagirl said with a patient smile.  

Jared raised an eyebrow. Last time he checked, the team’s agenda was clean for at least another week while Batman consolidated the information they grabbed regarding the Injustice League. In addition, Black Canary was off on League business so there wouldn’t be anyone to run the session.

“It’s mind-link training.” Miss Martian said.

An uncomfortable silence settle over the rest of the team as they remembered the disaster that was their first, and what they thought would be their last, attempt to utilize the mind-link.

Artemis though, having joined the team later, had no clue. “What’s mind-link training?”

“It’s the usage of Martian telepathy as an alternative to comms.” Aquagirl explained. “It’s comparatively more flexible and secure, save for when another telepath is involved, as well as providing an upper-hand when it comes to...impromptu planning during a mission.”

“If it’s so much better, why haven’t we be using it?”

“Let’s just say there were some technical difficulties when we first tried it out.” Jared said.

And by ‘technical difficulties’ he meant that what was supposed to be a friendly martian hello somehow imploded into a mental attack that had knocked the entire team out for several hours.

Miss Martian looked sheepish but nodded. “My uncle figured out what was wrong and has been teaching me to work around it.”

“If you’ve figured out what the problem was, why work around it when you could just fix it?” Artemis asked.

“Mental illness isn’t something that can be easily fixed.”

Oh.

Oh.

“And we’ve all got to be a bit nutty for running around in tights, right?” Jared joked, resisting the urge to turn to Evan. He didn’t need to be a telepath to know that the speedster was blaming himself for their failed mind-link attempt as well as falling into the dozens of other self-deprecating conclusions that followed.

“Maybe - “

“Now let’s head to the common area!” Jared said, cutting Evan off and grabbing his arm. “We all get through this then we can start the welcome party!”

With the team sprawled across the three couches in the common area, Jared felt something poking at him. Like a physical poke, except it was prodding something incorporal but felt completely tactile.

His first instinct was try to push it away or throw up a false thought to shield his own like Batman had taught him but then he felt something else. It was like someone was standing next to him but not quite touching, he didn’t need to turn to know that they were there. The presence seemed to be growing until Jared could start identifying them. Artemis and Superboy were on either side of him and Miss Martian was vaguely around them, like a boat carrying them across rocking waves.

The waves was someone too, Aquagirl. Pushing and pulling and rocking the metaphorical Martian boat with its passengers but otherwise controlled. It wasn’t something that could be contained by the ‘boat’. The ocean could capsize or crush the boat but it could also assist it in its journey without compromising the water’s independent rhythm.

If Miss Martian was the boat; Jared, Artemis and Superboy were the passengers and Aquagirl was the ocean then Evan was - a freaking hurricane. He was a flurry of thoughts that spun as wild and fast as any rogue sea wind. Uncontainable, uncompromising and powerful enough to wreck anything that stood in its path. It drew everyone in and threatened to crush them into pieces. Closer and closer and moments away from splintering the boat and sweeping up its passengers -

And then it was over.

They were all still in the common area, they had never left, but Jared’s awareness was slowly returning to reality. It was disorienting and potentially fatal in actual combat but for training, it wasn’t that bad.

Except Evan was crying next to him.

“Hey, KF.” Jared said evenly, keeping his hands by his side. Evan and physical contact never really worked out when he was like this. “No need to cry.”

“I-I’m...I’m not...not crying.” And trying to be comforting wasn’t really comforting him at all.

“Then why’s your chin quivering?”

“Not. Crying.”

Jared crossed his arms and huffed in fake annoyance. “Of course you’re not. But if you start crying then I’m going to start crying then you’ll start crying even harder.”

“Oi! Boy Blunder, stop bullying Kid Flash!” Artemis growled.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“By really giving him a reason to cry?”

“Both of you. Enough.” Aquagirl commanded, effectively nipping the budding argument at the bud. She then turned to Evan. “Do you need a minute?”

Evan sniffed but sat up and wiped away the tears. “I’ll be fine. I’m just...I’m sorry for messing up - for messing up the training exercise. Maybe...maybe this mind-link isn’t for me.” “Actually the training exercise went perfectly well!” Miss Martian interjected, hovering over the rest of the team in giddy delight. “This session was less about establishing a proper connection and more about familiarizing ourselves with each other’s minds and how we can function as a unit.”

“So what you said earlier about mental illness-” Artemis started.

“I have what’s classed on the surface as high functioning anxiety.” Aquagirl said, daring anyone to challenge her.

Jared couldn’t help but admire her, sticking her neck out like that. He doubted that he could do the same. Sure he was technically the most experienced member of the team but they should just get rid of the whole ‘co-leader’ nonsense and have Aquagirl in charge. Besides, she did most of the work already when it came to planning and organising the team.

“I had… have - had generalized anxiety disorder.” Evan admitted, much to Jared’s surprise. “It used to be normal GAD but after the...after I got my powers it - it uh, I…” And then he was floundering, trying to find the right words that just weren’t coming to him.

So Jared jumped in. “Basically KF doesn’t just move super fast but thinks super fast and when your brain’s wired to worry about every little thing constantly it ain’t fun.”

“And how people think can affect how a mind-link can function.” Miss Martian added, dropping back to the ground. “To get one working properly, we’re all going to have to learn to work with each other.”

“So that would be two birds with one stone, right?” Superboy said. “Team building and establishing a mind-link.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Okay so training’s over and everything’s cleared up, let’s start partying!” Jared declared.

Then a slap resounded through the Cave.

“Fuck you!”

The Flash, slowly and heavily, stormed through the common area towards the zeta tube. Then she paused before the silent team.

“Kid, we’re going home. Robin, too. I’ll tell Agent A you’re staying for the night.” Flash said coldly, devoid of her normal optimism and motherly cheer. “I suggest the rest of you head home as well.”

“What happened, Aunty?” Jared dared asked.

“Apparently, one successful mind-link session proves that you’re ready for a full telepathic training exercise.”

“What’s wrong-”

“A Failsafe exercise.”

“Oh.” Preparing to deal with failure. A situation rigged to get worse no matter how hard you try to resolve it. Jared gave an awkward laugh as he turned to the team. “Looks like we’ll have to reschedule guys, sorry.”

Then he and Evan followed in the Flash’s wake, taking the zeta tube back to Central City and arriving in the back streets not far from the Hansen house.

Jared dusted himself off. “Well then, welcome back to active duty.”

“Yeah, welcome back…”

{~~~}

Robin knew Speedy/Red Arrow. They were fellow proteges of Justice League superheroes, working together when the time called for it. They weren’t particularly close but were friendly enough to each other.   

Jarred knew of Connor Murphy. They were fellow outcasts of high society, a gypsy and a bastard stuck to two of the wealthiest men in the country. They weren’t particularly close but absolutely hated each other’s guts.

So Jared didn’t know what to expect when found Evan’s ‘let’s pretend to be friends’ Connor on the Hansen doorstep the morning after Aunt Heidi’s ‘fuck you’ to Bruce. At least he was right, Red Arrow pulled off the entire ‘school shooter’ aesthetic surprisingly well from the all black clothes to the permanently fixed scowl.

“Jared Kleinman?” Connor growled. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Connor Murphy.” Jared greeted in kind. “I could ask you the same.” Because turning up seven in the morning at another guy’s house definitely didn’t add any subtext to ‘we’re just friends’. “Loving the hair, though. Never thought it was that long. It’s like-”

“Like what?” Connor challenged, pushing a lock behind his ear. Unlike when he was Red Arrow or at a social event, his scraggly tresses fell to his shoulders instead of being tied back.

“It suits you better.” Maybe Robin could get away with teasing comment to Red Arrow, but he wasn’t risking getting throttled as Jared by Connor.

Connor didn’t seem too offended by his answer but he still looked pissed. “Why are you even fucking here?”

“I don’t know? Why are you?”

“I asked first.”

“But I’m the one in the doorway.”

Connor threw a pointed glare but then conceded. “Mrs Hansen said I was free to come over whenever I’m early for school.”

“Aunt Heidi invited me over last night.”

“Aunt Heidi?”

“Family friends.” Jared said with a shrug. “My mom was friends with her so Ev and I grew up together.”

“Your the asshole family friend?” That caught Connor off guard, by the looks of it. “What a small fucking world.”

“Right back at you.” Jared said with a cocky grin, but stepped aside to let Connor in. If only he knew, then the world would be even smaller. “So, Evan calls me an asshole behind my back?”

“It’s pretty much implied.”

“And ‘now we can pretend that we can both have friends’?” Jared added with a slight eyebrow wiggle.

Connor’s scowl deepened and a blush formed across his cheeks. “I was...it’s just that - what else was I supposed to say?! I was trying not to be a complete ass and he looked just about ready to bolt out the computer lab!”

“Adorable.”

“Fuck you.”

Just before they entered the kitchen, Connor paused. “Wait, if the Hansens are your ‘family friends’, why are you Bruce Wayne’s ward?”

“You try going up against the Prince of Gotham. What Wayne wants, Wayne gets.” Jared said casually. Aunt Heidi had taken Bruce to court over his custody, not that the media knew anything about that. “Besides, if Bruce starts being a crappy parent, Aunty kidnaps me.”

“Like now?”

“Exactly. She’d do the same for you too, y’know.” Jared said, throwing a cheeky grin at Connor’s dazed face. He banged the door frame, startling Evan as he loaded the dishwasher with the morning dishes. “Yo Acorn! Your boyfriend’s here!”

“It’s not like that!” and “The fuck, Kleinman?” were yelled simultaneously and Jared couldn’t help but chuckle.     

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” And Jared slipped away, grinning as he heard Evan try to explain why there were so many dishes.

{~~~}

Jared shouldn’t have intervened. Evan and Connor were so obviously infatuated with each other it was only a matter of time before they officially got together. At the moment, though, the pair was insistent on staying ‘just friends’. Jared could understand that, they were each other’s first ‘real’ friend, made without the interference of any other force. They hung out together simply because they liked each other.

It was a stalemate and that was the problem. There was an underlying tension in maintaining the status quo between the two of them, with every romantic gesture brushed aside as them simply being friends. Not even their vigilante lives could help further any romance with Red Arrow working completely independent of the Justice League and Kid Flash sticking even closer to his mentor’s side.

Something as small as a poorly placed comment or as large as the reveal of their secret identities at the wrong time could lead to the utter destruction of their relationship. They were too happy now and could potentially be even happier for Jared to just keep to the sidelines.

So that was why he dragged Evan along with him to the next Wayne charity ball.

Jared absolutely hated these overly pompous events. In short, they were evil. It wasn’t like the evil the in streets where the problem could simply be punched away. There were social calls and niceties and protocols and a long list of other stupid reasons as to why he couldn’t start joking that most the old socialites looked like pigs in wigs or deck another asshole heir who insulted his parents and heritage.

In addition, Evan at charity balls was the same as Evan at any other social event: a bundle of nerves that threatened to vibrate through the floor or stumble in an accidental burst of speed. The only difference is that the people attending actually had the power to ruin his life on a whim, which did nothing to settle his anxieties. Nine times of out ten they ended with Evan sobbing in the bathroom.

Normally, it would be a terrible down-right stupid idea. But the Murphys were going to be there and no matter how estranged father and son had become, Jared could count on Larry Murphy wrangling Connor into a tie and forcing him to come.

Once you got pass the sheer amount of entitled assholes at the event, the setting seemed to create a cheesy romantic scene straight out of fairytale. Something that could either supercharge or completely destroy Evan and Connor’s relationship.

So now Jared, playing to part of the Wayne ward and heir, navigated through the bear traps of social trappings with a fidgeting and flustered Evan at his heels.

“Jared!” Evan called, still attempting to keep in step with his friend’s broad strides. “Where are - where are we going? I don’t...there’s so many - and I can’t...I don’t think-”

Jared turned and clasped his hands of Evan’s shoulders. “Ev, just breathe. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“But what’s - what’s going on?”

“I’m going to change your life.” Jared grinned, searching through crowd for a familiar face.

He found two.

“Kleinman?”

“Zoe.”

“C-Connor?”

“Evan?!”

Jared forced a grin as the four teens collided. Larry Murphy did force his son to come along, as well as his new step-daughter.

“Fancy seeing you here, Crock.” Jared said. “Or is it Crock-Murphy now?”

“It’s just Murphy now.” Zoe said, gritting her teeth. “If this is what you meant by us laughing later, I’m not laughing at all.”

“You know Kleinman?” Connor said, eyes darting from one to another while purposely avoiding Evan. Almost a week and he seemed to have the ‘overprotective brother’ act nearly perfected.

Zoe gave a slight scoff. “Back from Gotham Academy. We bumped into each other on the first day and since then he’s been…”

“The most insanely cool person person you’ve ever met?” Jared said with a toothy grin.

“A giant annoyance and asshole.” Zoe finished.

Jared brought his arms to his chest in mock pain. “You wound me, Murphy! I thought you considered us good friends!”

“No.” The two step-sibling said in union.

Connor’s expression then softened as he turned to Evan. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here, Evan.”

“Uh...yeah, you too.” Evan stumbled, refusing to make eye contact. “Wait! I mean, yes, of course you’d be here because you of...of your dad and all but I’m not really supposed to be here but here I am I guess well-”

“It’s good to see you.” Connor said with a gentle smile brought Evan out of his stuttering mess. If that wasn’t proof enough that those two should be together, Jared didn’t know what would.

Zoe’s eye, however, narrowed onto Evan. “You’re Connor’s Evan? The one from Central City?”

Jared choked back a laugh while Evan was actually choking.

“Uh yes.” Evan finally managed.

“Then why are you even here?”

“Jared he...he invited me saying that he needed a plus one and that since we’re - since we’re family friends-”

“Wait, family friends?”

And shit. Jared could literally hear the pieces snap into place.

“Hey! Why don’t we catch up, eh Zoe?” Jared said quickly. “I’m sure there’s a lot that you want to talk about.”

Evan’s eyes widened in alarm. “Jared but wait-”

“I’m sure you and Connor could use a little ‘friend time’ without us meddling.” Jared said with a firm pat on Evan’s back.

“Don’t you dare try anything, Kleinman.” Connor growled.

To which Zoe protested. “I can take care of myself!” Jared nodded anyway and with that he and Zoe slunk off to the refreshments table.

“I’m still not laughing, birdbrain.” Zoe scowled. “You better start explaining.”

“In a minute, just look there.” Jared said, pointing back at the two they left behind.

Evan and Connor had retreated to the other end of the ballroom in a small corner where there was a distinct lack of other people. An ease had overcome the both of them, Evan’s nervous wrinkles seemed to have made way for slight laugh lines while Connor’s harsh scowl had softened into an almost smile.

“I’ve never seen Connor so happy.” Zoe muttered.

Jared nodded in agreement. “I’ve never seen Evan so peaceful either.”

And without another word, an agreement was struck. Regardless of what vigilantism, the fate of the world or normal teenage drama’s may throw at them, seeing if they could get one Evan Hansen and one Connor Murphy together might be worth it, watching and tugging from the sidelines.  

[face-turn]

Hands to Learn

Pairing: Kenny/Kota (golden lovers) Words: 1.9k Rating: T  A/N: I was talking to @breadclubrising about how cute it would be if Kenny and Kota talked about how they would continue their own story. Answer: Very Cute Tags (i’m stealing @breadclubrising‘s tag list let me know if you don’t want to be tagged): @kidvoodoo @newjapan@kazuchika@wookieelover101 @geek-fangirl@lostsassafrass@brittany012364 @culturalrebel @sailoralderaan@mitchtheficus@kiwibunny @mistressbalor@50shadesofkennyomega @leelakoiwolff@daintymissdevitt@ultrabarbe1981-blog @mithen @nikkisflair 

Kenny jostled his laptop when he flopped gracelessly onto his bed, some kind of sick off-pink protein shake in a glass bottle cradled in the crook of his elbow. Kota peered out of the screen at him, all dark eyes and cupid’s bow and distracting shirtlessness.

“Those drinks are disgusting,” Kota said reproachfully, the corners of his mouth tucking down. Kenny gasped defensively and held the drink closer to his chest, balancing it like a baby.

“You’ve never tried them!”

“I’ve tasted them,” Kota replied. The aftertaste lingers in your mouth went unspoken, but Kenny could see it writ large across Kota’s face. There was something very expressive about the way his nose crinkled and his brows folded down. It spoke volumes about how whey protein tasted off of Kenny’s tongue. Apparently, not great.

Kenny waved it off, settling more comfortably against his pile of pillows and drawing his knees up to his chest.

“So I want you to get to the final,” Kenny said, uncapping his bottle. Kota’s eyebrow inched up. “Alright, I’ll get right on that,” He snarked, shifting up the bed on his side of the screen. “Let me just pull out my magical booking pants, where I get to book myself--” 

“No-- shut up, listen. I want you to get into the final, right-- as, you know. The bullet club leader, right? Because I’m still in love with you?” “Mmhm,” Kota hummed. “And you’re absolutely sure you’re going to make it into the finals?” “Well, I hope so,” Kenny hedged. “But, uh-- as him, you know, I’m sure I will. He knows that he deserves it and-- I don’t know, I think more than that, he needs to make it to the finals? He’s under a lot of pressure, you know?”

“Aaah,” Kota said sagely, leaning out of frame to grab something. Kenny watched the smooth stretch of skin over his ribs ripple attractively. “But what if I don’t make it to the finals, and you do? I put on good matches, right, but I don’t win-- blame the booking, whatever, we know it’s because I left but we can pretend-- but I win… not all of my matches but the important ones, with a knee?”

Kenny could feel himself brighten from head to toe. “My knee?” “You don’t have a copyright on knees, Kennytan. But yeah, I think so. If I could finish Tanahashi with a knee--”

Kenny narrowed his eyes at the screen. Kota looked this close to orgasmic.

“I don’t like you looking that way when you think of another man.” “Get your mind out of the gutter. Just think of the drama if I ignored you the whole tournament but went and stole all your moves like they weren’t even yours.” Kenny made a mildly distressed whining noise, “Don’t ignore me…”

“You big baby, we are talking right now. Don’t you think the payoff would be better if we didn’t speak until we had a match?”

Kenny could feel himself starting to pout but was powerless to stop it. “But Ibutan. I miss you-- in a wrestling way.” “Don’t be petulant, Kennytan. You can always come and wrestle with me, if you know what I mean.” In case Kenny didn’t know what he meant, he waggled his eyebrows in a lascivious manner.

“I actually did want to talk in person-- I was thinking maybe I could do some high-flying moves, and then--” “Tell me in person!” Kota laughed, leaving Kenny a touch winded. Jesus Fuck, he was so beautiful. Kenny despaired of the rest of the population. How could the rest of the world survive knowing that Kota existed and they didn’t get to text him good morning, let alone Skype him and blow kisses into the webcam?

“Okay, I’ll be just a little bit,” Kenny made a goofy kissy face at the screen before snapping his laptop shut and abandoning it on his bed. The glass bottle went into a bag to recycle later, along with a packet of sticky notes, some sharpie markers, and a couple of rolls of tape. When it came to fantasy booking, Kenny was always well-prepared.

Kenny toed on his shoes with the bag slung over his shoulder, not bothering to tie them. It was only a couple of floors, and he was… hopefully coordinated enough to navigate a few flights of stairs without busting ass tripping on a shoelace. Hopefully.

He slipped out the door, letting the lock click shut behind him, then had a minor spasm of panic thinking that he may have forgotten the room key inside the room. But no, it was fine. It was in his wallet which was in his pants, like it always was. Jesus Christ.

He was close by the stairs and he took them two at a time. It would make him seem over-eager if he knocked on Kota’s door less than 3 minutes after shutting the laptop, but frankly, he was nothing if not predictable in his over-eagerness. It would be embarrassing if anyone knew, but the stairwell was empty and there was nothing Kenny could do that would surprise Kota anymore. He’d already gotten all of his embarrassing antics out of the way in their first two years of dating.

Besides, Kenny thought as he shouldered open the stairwell door that guarded Kota’s floor, anyone who thought that Kenny was the embarrassing one had clearly never seen Kota coo over his cat for fifteen minutes, even though Hoshi was constantly pawing at the door for attention when they did anything that she couldn’t be included in.

Like trying to have sex.

Though, to be fair, Kenny did relate to that level of neediness. He, too, wanted to be with Kota all the time, getting his ears stroked and being told what a sweet, soft boy he was. It hadn’t happened yet, but Kenny was willing to bet that the experience would be well-worth the five year wait.

Kenny tapped on Kota’s door with his knuckles, the room number long since memorized. Shave-and-a-hair-cut, but the door swung open before he could finish, as it always did.

“You know that you could just knock?” Kota asked. The way his mouth quirked up into a smirk was even more attractive in person. Kenny despaired. “This makes me feel like a spy,” Kenny sniffed, herding Kota into his own room and kicking the door shut behind them. As soon as it snapped closed, Kota was in his space, pressing Kenny up against a wall and kissing his mouth, his chin, where his dimple would be if he were smiling. Apparently the taste of the protein shake wasn’t that much of a deterrent.

“Mm,” Kenny protested mildly, lifting his chin so Kota could suck biting kisses into his throat. “I wanted to talk about booking?” Kota pulled away, looking mildly incredulous. “I thought we were going to talk about wrestling.” He did the eyebrow thing again, to make his point clear.

“Oh, I mean--” Kenny said, feeling a little silly for wanting to talk about wrestling when they could be wrestling, eyebrow waggle. “--I brought post-it notes.”

Kota started laughing, pressing his forehead into the crook of Kenny’s neck. “I love you,” He told Kenny’s t-shirt. “I love you so much. You said you wanted to do flips?” Kenny kissed Kota’s bottom lip, because it was wet and shiny and he looked very pretty. Kissing Kota’s freshly kiss-swollen mouth was pretty much a compulsion, even if Kenny really did want to talk about the parallels in their narrative and how to reflect them in their movesets.

“Yeah,” He said, gathering himself and slipping past Kota into the room proper. “If you’re going to do knees, I want to do moonsaults. Standing moonsaults? I know that we always both did moonsaults but it’s really more your thing than mine. Or-- missile dropkicks, or those springboard--” Kenny was forced to cut himself off, because Kota was looking at him so fondly that Kenny’s heart stuttered a little. He trailed off into silence.

“Are you writing a love-letter to my wrestling, Kennytan, or are you fantasy calling?”

Kenny opened his mouth. Closed it. “-- Both?” He had the good grace to look a little embarrassed.

Kota kissed his cheek again and climbed onto the bed, settling against the cushions and opening up his own notebook, which had been sitting on top of the covers. Kenny was unsurprised to see that Kota had been taking notes-- when it got right down to it, they were equally nerdy and terrible. Kota just looked hotter while doing it.

“I think you should try bridging your suplexes,” Kota said thoughtfully, jotting something down in a margin. “You always look really hot when you do it.” Kenny could feel himself starting to blush, even though he also thought that Kota looked really hot when he did any kind of bridge. “That’s not as obvious as a standing moonsault.” “But you would look really hot.” Kota urged. “And you could do both, of course. Maybe theatrically scan the crowd like you’re looking for me before and after?” “I’m never theatrical,” Kenny sniffed, bouncing onto the bed and starting to make notes on his post-it note booklet. “All of my actions and reactions are 100% genuine, there is no over-acting in my wrestling.”

“Mmmhm,” Kota hummed in that way he had where it was clear he’d stopped listening and was instead thinking hard about something else. The nonverbal equivalent of a ‘yes dear’. “What if I used the one-winged angel? Would you be mad?” “No, that would be amazing. You know it’s really hot when you hit my moves, right?”

“No, no-- I know you wouldn’t mind, I mean. In kayfabe, would Kenny Omega be mad that I hit his finisher after ignoring him all tournament?” Kenny had to consider that, idly doodling circles on his hastily-scrawled post-it list. “I… think so? Especially if I’d been having a hard time hitting it myself, you know? It would push that ‘Kota is better at wrestling without even trying’ angle we’ve had going.” Kota nodded slowly, writing it down. “You could post about it on Twitter.” Kenny’s knee-jerk reaction was good luck stopping me, so he supposed that all was working as intended. “It does help that you’re actually a better wres--” Kota was over him in an instant, pressing warm palms to Kenny’s face and forcing him to meet surprisingly fierce brown eyes. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not-- Kenny.”

“Well--” Kenny said weakly, dropping his post-it notes onto chest and not really minding when they slid off onto the floor. “Ibutan, I mean, objectively,”

“Don’t talk about my best friend that way. Asshole.” Kota brushed a sweet kiss across Kenny’s mouth. “You know you’re good. We’re fucking amazing.” Kota was incredibly foul-mouthed when he was trying to make a point. “I know, I know,” Kenny mumbled, tipping his face up for more reassuring kisses. He may as well get something out of his bout of mild insecurity. “I’ll do a golden triangle moonsault and when I call it, instead of pointing up I’ll point at you.” Kota kissed him again, lingeringly, this time. “I’m going to wear an Okada t-shirt.”    Kenny inhaled, offense, for once, not feigned. “You wouldn’t.”

Kota laughed, burying his hands in Kenny’s hair and thumbing at the hollows behind his jaw. “I wouldn’t,” He agreed. “You know I’m always rooting for you.”

Kenny tipped his face into Kota’s palm and kissed the heart line. Kota was right-- they were fucking amazing.

[colliermelissa1994]

What Can I Spray To Stop My Cat From Spraying Surprising Tips

The effect of Catnip on a cats affections is a destructive side as anyone whose furniture has already been claimed and that they get the stinky cat litter cabinet will eliminate pet odors.Of course, you banned kitty from the bottom is thoroughly covered and nothing you can set you up with lots of individuals are allergic to cats?Although some people recommend using an odor that might be an indoor cat has sprayed a locus discriminatory, it is advisable to put your entire house including down inside the ear infection from eating the balloon pieces.The most common type of litter box and will spray more than just trying to remove the liner.

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Cat Peeing Random Places

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How Old Does A Cat Start Spraying

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[remukan]

The Man-Witch, the Modern and the Death of a Microwave

“Eye of toad, heart of newt, now stir the mixture like a brute. The eyelashes of a goat, the tail feathers of a pigeon, gather the dust from an old relic, put just a pinch in. Now that you’ve come to toil, heat the milk of a llama, and bring it to a boil.”

“A BOIL?! I THOUGHT THIS WAS AN INSTANT POTION BOOK! BOILING IS CERTAINLY NOT INSTANT,” he yelled, insulting the book as if it would listen to his scolding. Alas, it just sat there and looked at him dumbly, ignoring the scathing comments he muttered under his breath as he turned his back and grabbed the carton of llama’s milk from the fridge. He started to head over to the oven to turn it on, but stopped mid step, eyes caught on the angrily glaring time of the microwave. The microwave. Nabbing a coffee mug from the shelf, he poured the milk into the cup, topping it up to the brim. He carefully carried it over, hands twitching just enough for it to start to leak down the sides of the black, old mug that’d seen it’s fair share of weird substances. Setting it carefully in the microwave, he closed the door and turned the timer to five minutes. It started with a blugghp and began heating up the milk, angrily groaning as it turned the cup counterclockwise to even out the heat distribution.

“Five minutes should pretty much bring it to a boil, right?”

As suspicious popping noises started erupting from the ‘boiling’ llama milk, the male turned and hopped over to the book again, scanning the page for any further instructions on his concoction. He hadn’t made this one before, and thought it’d be a nice addition to his store full of acne-ridding, confidence-boosting, eye-colour-changing elixirs. He actually had gotten a few requests for a voice altering potion on his etsy store and was short on cash so he couldn’t really turn the money away. It had, however, been difficult to find a book that had this potion in it, without it being expensive or far too high a level for him to do. Luckily for him, there was websites devoted to this and he found the book, trading the seller his oldest elderberry wine for it. Hopefully it was worth it, he thought, as his eyes flickered to the last line of the page.

“Let it sit for three days before consuming. Lasts up to six months. Store in a cool, dry pla-.”

Just as he muttered the last word under his breath, BOOM! Glass shattered as a horrific screaming noise tore through the air and the roar of fire burst to life. Amber optics widened as the man turned around slowly, eyes immediately caught on the, now doorless, burning microwave. He stood there for a second, dazed as the flames licked the ceramic edges of the battered old mug, which was, miraculously, still standing. Snapping back to the danger before him, he scuttled over to the fiery gates of hell, which once was a kitchen appliance, and immediately felt frost in his fingertips. Muttering a few words hurriedly under his breath, the ice reached out to the microwave and smothered the flames in a frosty blue magic. As the ice crackled, snuffing out the flames’ growl, he let out a long winded sigh of relief and peeked in to see the remains of his llama milk. It quietly bubbled, thick, off-white liquid parting slowly as air fought for release from the sticky, chunky milk.

“Well that’s as boiled as it’s going to get,” he said with a sense of accomplishment. He knew his microwave was broken and he was going to have to pay in both money and time to get it fixed, but his plan had still worked right?

Stepping over the shattered microwave door, he grabbed a pair of oven mitts, which were pink and covered in cupcakes, and picked up the boiling mug of milk, careful not to spill it. Teetering back over to the makeshift cauldron he had, he dumped the milk into the vat and set the empty mug down beside it, stirring the mixture with a long wooden spoon. This makeshift cauldron he had built was quite simply a big metal bucket, set into a metal rack above a gas fire pit. Currently the fire was out, but the remote to turn it on was somewhere…

After the mixture turned a satisfying milky yellow colour, he lifted the cauldron by the wire handle and dragged it into the kitchen where it crunched the shards of microwave door beneath it. He grabbed five large plastic Tupperware containers from the dishwasher and set them on the ground, lifting the heavy metal bucket with two hands as he carefully poured it’s contents into each. It was very much akin to pouring cake batter, the slow, viscous liquid inching out and into each container with no sense of urgency. Despite taking painstakingly long, he had filled all five vessels and popped the plastic lids on top, putting a piece of masking tape on each that explained the contents within it. Then, he shoved all five in the fridge, pushing aside other containers, some a sickly green, others a vibrant blue; it was incredibly full and couldn’t possibly fit much more than what was already crammed inside of it.

Shutting the fridge door he ignored both the dirty cauldron and the broken glass on the floor as he lept over the dangers of slicing his feet and fell onto his soggy brown sofa. Nabbing his phone, he opened up his online bank account and checked its contents. With the flashing signs of negative dollars, he quickly shut the app off and moving onto his browser. He needed to find a real job. Stat. He typed ‘Jobs for man-witches in my area’ and hit search, only praying-to a god that didn’t exist-that something would come up. As it loaded slowly, the tiny icon spinning to indicate it was thinking, he narrowed his golden eyes, his confidence in the answers already failing. Suddenly it changed screens, going from black to a big old empty, white page, labelled search results.

Of course, nothing.

Just as the man fell back into his old couch, a knock at the door rang through his apartment, startling him out of his self-pitying session. His mind flickered to all the potential bad outcomes that might happen if he opened that door, but this was counteracted by his logical brain seizing control and assuring him it was probably just the landlord. Still, that outcome was probably no better than the others he’d thought up.

The knock came again, this time more urgent and impatient. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he called out to the invisible knocker, flexing his fingers instinctively at the thought of some stranger in his house. At least high school taught him self-defensive spells or else he’d be a pretty useless witch. His feet scuffed the dirty wooden floor as he tentatively made his way over to the door, filled with regret that he hadn’t gone to college. Had he gone maybe he wouldn’t be struggling to get by each month, and he wouldn’t be afraid to open his door.

And maybe he would know how to make llama milk boil instantly.

Cracking the flimsy wooden door open just enough for his large copper eyes to peek through, he evaluated the strangers who’d been banging on his door. They were… strange, that much was for sure. Four very pirate-esque men, along with two women, stood outside his door, standing a good five inches above his meek, fragile frame. Pushing large, clear rimmed glasses closer to his eyes, a self conscious tick, he tried to stand up a bit straighter, daring to stare the big, rough, tough looking strangers in the eyes. His stomach churned with anxiety, if only that potion had have been made sooner; he could’ve really used a loud, confident voice right about now.  

“A-a-ah yes hello. What...what is it you need?” he said, trying-and failing-to make his voice sound intimidating.

The pirates shuffled, all seemingly taken aback by his pitiful appearance. One of the women stepped forward, her wooden leg scratching along the floor with an irritating ripping noise. “We’re looking for someone to help us on our… travels. Your neighbour said you could help us,” she said, voice clearly impatient with the rest of her uneasy looking party.

His mind flashed to the picture of a tall, pale, willowy vampire he knew to be his neighbour, Elliott. They hadn’t talked much, but did make large orders of rather… unusual ingredients together to save on shipping, He didn’t know him that well, why would he be telling crazy pirates that his neighbour was perfect for their nefarious plans? Opening his mouth to tell the strangers that they were mistaken, the pirate lady spoke again.

“Let’s get to the chase, we need someone to help us navigate through a particularly nasty patch of sirens guarding an untouched island rumoured to have gems, and lot’s of them,” the women spoke briskly, tossing her wildly curly red hair over her shoulder.

Closing his mouth, he stood and pondered on that bit of information he’d been told, trying desperately to make some sort of connection between the two clauses. How was he related to helping them through a bunch of mermaids? He didn’t get it at all, why would they-Oh, Right. Sirens lure sailors to their deaths because their beauty drives men, and women, mad. Sirens wouldn’t affect him because... right. Oh yes. That was it.

Asexuality.

“Our apple stocks crashed and we need some money,” one of the smaller men piped in his black hair tied back into a braid. He was silenced by the other woman shooting a sharp glance in his direction, indicating that he had said too much. She turned, her cropped purple hair seeming to glisten in the afternoon sunlight, and spoke with growing irritability.

“So, mate, can you help us or what?”

He thought about his potions in the fridge, then, about his empty bank account. The witch flexed his hands, ice crackling as he popped each frosty, dirty knuckle in and out of their joint. His initial anxiety had faded to a dull gnawing, and as he glanced to his moth chewed cloak hanging on the rack beside the door, he sighed inwardly. He looked up once again to the odd party standing outside his door, small blackened fingertips adjusting his dirty glasses with finality.

“Well, I did need a job.”