#(mom is somehow alive and I’ll bet the first ten minutes she is in the car with me she’s gonna smoke.

[tacitusauxilium]

Honestly? I think I need a sedative and/or wine with the week I’ve had so far.

My mom has been in the hospital since Monday. She had an artery on her right side that had 99% blockage to her heart. They told her if she went to work Monday night or mowed the yard, she would be dead. The thought of her mowing the yard with my son in the house and her dead in the yard terrifies the shit out of me. So, she finally comes home tomorrow since she got her stent put in today to clear the blockage—through her groin, instead of her arm, cause she can’t make anything easy for herself. Then again, the smoking she’s done for 40 + years is finally catching up to her. If that doesn’t wake her up, idk what will.

Then my husband is in the ER today because he was having chest pains. Work wasn’t letting him go back to work (his HR was too high) and then that turned into an ambulance ride—turns out it was anxiety. The man was taking the memories he had with his father and turning them around and experiencing them again. Cause his dad died in a hospital and he hates hospitals—moms in a hospital, so on and forth. Not fun being alone with my kid who wouldn’t nap unless he was in my arms. I didn’t eat until 3pm today cause I was so drained. And also super not fun when the service desk lady asked if anyone could watch my son while I see my husband. I even said “my moms in the cath lab getting a stent put in and my husbands in the ER—I DON’T have anyone to help me” and smiled with my head turned. 😒

So, I’ve been off for two days for work and just having panic attacks over the stress of everything this week. I don’t get how my husband can play video games and relax while I’m laying in bed and trying to stop myself from being numb from everything. At least we will all be home together tomorrow.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @butsamsd donated $50, and requested Sam/Dean/Jack. Thank you for donating!

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After the craziness of their Halloween hunt, it’s good to be back in Kansas. Dean isn’t totally whole, probably won’t be for a while--Sam knows what it’s like to be possessed better than just about anyone else alive, he knows what the aftereffects are. Still, the hunt--getting out of his room, getting away from it all--Sam knows that it helped, too, and Dean’s happier on that drive home than he’s been in weeks, and even the crowd of cars parked up in front of the bunker don’t dim his grin, still wheedling Sam to try to get him to agree to a couple costume, for some future Halloween Dean’s thinking they might both see.

“Daphne and Velma,” Dean offers, parking the Impala in her pride of place down in the garage, and Sam squints at him, trying not to laugh, says, “Which one of us is Velma?” and Dean says, reproachfully, “Sam, please take this seriously,” and Sam looks around the empty garage, and pulls Dean in by that stupid plaid jacket, and kisses him soft, right there, because they’re--home. They’re finally home.

Dean blinks at him, when he pulls back. Surprised, uncertainly pleased. They haven’t really messed around, since he got Dean back from Michael. There was that first night, desperate and pressing together, and they had to be near-silent and it was more of an insane desperate renewing of something they’d both always promised each other than something that actually felt good. Otherwise--Dean too hurt, and trying to pretend he wasn’t, and the bunker too full, and things not right. Things still aren’t right but Sam thinks they can both live with them. “Think I’ll take a shower,” Sam says, pulling back to his side of the bench seat. “Then--my room?”

Dean breathes, presses Sam’s hand low on the bench where no one would be able to see, even if there were someone in the garage with them. “Sounds good to me, Sammy,” he says, and Sam squeezes his thumb, and gets out and heads into the bunker, smiling at the few refugees he sees, thinking--this is it. They really are home, at last.

Not all that many people around, really. Mom’s gone, like she usually is anymore, and Sam’s long-since reconciled himself to it. Cas in the wind, too, and what’s left is a half-dozen of the people Sam’s been training who aren’t on hunts, and he and Dean got back late enough that most of them are in bed, anyway, in the bunked-out rooms they reserved for themselves. Just Roland left up, manning the phones and watching Friends reruns on Netflix, and Sam waves at him but doesn’t stop, because--because Dean’s going to be waiting for him, and that knowledge is a heavy beating thrum in Sam’s blood.

Shower room’s empty, thank god. Sam strips out of the nerd gear, drops it all on the bench below the towel rack. Under the showerhead, that instant blast of heat and pressure carving the lingering worry of the hunt out of his shoulders, and he stands there for a second, soaking. Imagining. Dean, in his room, in the gold light. Dean’s skin under his hands. Everything else falling away. He drags his hands through his hair, decides to wash it another day because he can’t wait another ten minutes, and when he turns around under the stream of water there’s--Jack, standing there in his pajamas and bare feet, watching him.

Sam starts, moves a little out of the water. “Jack, hey,” he says, smiling--a little awkward, he bets, but Jack probably can’t tell. The showers are old-school open pans, not exactly private, but most people know not to just come in and watch when someone else is using them. Then again, Jack’s not most people. “You all right? Thought you were asleep.”

“I’m okay,” Jack says, and smiles. A little wan, maybe, a little pale, but he’s been different since Lucifer stole his grace. Sam’s still rinsing off suds, and Jack tracks his eyes down Sam’s body--deliberate, really looking, and Sam goes still. Jack nods, like he’s made a decision, and looks Sam in the eye. “Sam, I’d like it if we could have sex.”

Sam drops his washcloth with a splat. “What?”

Jack smiles, soft. “I thought that might seem weird,” he says, easy, but he also--strips off his t-shirt, and his pajama pants, and then he’s--jesus, naked, all of him right there, and he steps up into the shower pan and walks closer, makes Sam back up against the wall out of pure shock. “I know that isn’t the way our relationship has been going, but I think it’s something I need.”

“Jack,” Sam starts, and can only--laugh, kind of, like it’s some weird demented joke. “Buddy, this isn’t--I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

A tiny beat. Jack licks his lips. He’s not in the stream of still-running water and his body’s all smooth, pale. Perfect. Sam glances down, can’t help it, and Jack’s dick isn’t hard--just another perfect piece of him, soft and pink and curved gently over his balls, in a sparse nest of fine hair barely darker than the golden hair on his head. Cherub, Sam thinks, not for the first time, and then Jack puts his hand square in the center of Sam’s chest, over his sternum. Sam hitches in air, completely thrown. “I’ve just been thinking,” Jack says, softer. “All of the--stuff. Humans get to learn all of this when they’re growing up, but I’m already grown up and no one would ever--no one would get that. Nobody understands.”

“That’s--” Sam starts, and grabs Jack’s wrist. Soft, slipping under his wet hand. “You have to get to know people, Jack. Girls, or--or boys, I guess. Your own age, you know? This stuff doesn’t just happen automatically.”

“No one else is sixteen months old with a fully functional body and brain,” Jack says, reproachful, and Sam doesn’t have a lot to say to that, but then Jack’s mouth twists, somehow--sad. “I just want--I want to know what it’s like. At least once.”

Sam frowns--what does that mean?--but Jack shakes his head, and moves in closer, and puts both hands on Sam’s chest. “Sam,” he says, soft, and Sam should--should push him away, should demand answers, should ask why Jack doesn’t think he has other chances--only the door opens, and Dean says, “Sammy, what’s taking so long,” and Sam looks up over Jack’s head to find Dean there in the bathroom doorway, mouth half-open, staring at them.

“Dean,” Jack says, sounding glad. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I am,” Dean says, slowly, and looks Sam in the eyes. He shakes his head, not knowing what to say. Dean’s in his undershirt, flannel pants, and he takes a step closer. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“I want to know what sex is like,” Jack says, again, firm, and Dean’s face does a thing that’d make Sam laugh any other time. “I asked Sam, but I want to know from you, too.”

“Kid,” Dean starts, but Jack shakes his head, looks back and forth between them, says, impossibly, “I know that you both have sex. With each other, I mean. It shouldn’t be a big deal for you to show me.”

“How did you know that?” Sam says, past the weird ringing in his ears. God, the shower’s still running. He shuts it off, and Dean’s just staring at Jack, his mouth set and his eyes narrow.

“My senses were better when I had my grace,” Jack says, shrugging, and looks up at Sam. “Castiel said I shouldn’t mention it, but it seems like--you know what you’re doing.” He looks at Dean, while Sam’s trying to dig himself out of the pit of what both of those statements mean. “I just...” he says, and he’s--so lost little kid, for a second. Immensely young, and sad, and Dean’s face changes again, settles.

“Why us?” Dean says, guarded.

Jack shrugs, again. He doesn’t even look turned on--just miserable, and there’s a wry curve to his mouth. “Who else could I trust?” he says, and Sam puts a hand on his bare shoulder. Something’s going on--something they should dig into.

Dean tips his head back a little, looks at Jack with full attention. His lips part, after a second, like he’s seeing something Sam doesn’t, and there’s a wash of compassion across his face. He looks up at Sam, and Sam thinks, something unlocking under his chest--this isn’t a good idea. They’re going to do it anyway.

*

The door to Sam’s room locks behind them. Silent, but Jack’s not nervous because he doesn’t know what to expect. Other than-- “I watched a pornographic video,” he says, and Dean closes his eyes and mutters jesus christ. “But it had a woman and a man, and I guess we can’t do those same things.”

“Some of ‘em,” Dean says, easy, and Sam leans his back against the door, holding his towel around his waist with what remains of his strength. Dean pulls Jack into the middle of the room, looks at him steady. “Jack. What are you--what do want to get out of this?”

Good question--better question than a lot of the ones Sam has. Jack frowns, seems like he really thinks about it. “I want to know--I mean, I’ve--with my hand,” he says, unexpectedly shy. Sam drags in a deep breath, imagining it. “But I don’t know what it’s like with someone else. In books they say it’s better with someone who loves you. You and Sam have that.”

Sam catches Dean’s eye. “Yeah,” Dean says, gruff, and then turns his full attention onto Jack, and smiles. Small, but full of promise. “You say the second you want anything to stop, all right?” he says, and his voice is--Sam’s gut revs, because he knows that voice. Dean, when he’s not laying it on thick as a charmer but when he knows someone wants him, and Jack blinks and nods, eager, and Dean lifts both hands and strokes his thumbs along Jack’s smooth jaw, gentle and easy, and then ducks and inch and kisses him, smooth and confident and simple, and Sam feels like the bottom drops out of his stomach.

Dean knows how to kiss. Sam knows that better than just about anyone, too. Jack makes a startled noise, clutches alternately at Dean’s shirt, his arms, and when Dean pulls back to let him breathe Jack’s chest is already heaving, his face all surprise. “Good?” Dean says, and Jack nods, more jerky than before, and Dean smiles at him, cupping his face. “Good,” Dean says, and catches Sam’s eye, and Sam walks over while Dean kisses Jack again, smooth, and again, soft and constant pressure, and Sam thinks with a burst of total insanity--this is like when Dean taught him to kiss, what feels like a million years ago--and he walks up behind Jack and holds his waist, watches up close. Soft, but insistent, and Jack’s hand creeps up to Dean’s neck like instinct’s driving it, his mouth following Dean’s lead like he’s learned everything they taught him, quick and eager. Dean makes a small, approving sound, and runs his knuckles over Jack’s cheek, and on the next press in he opens Jack’s mouth with his own and Sam sees the wet glance of Dean’s tongue and Jack moans, startled, and Sam dips and presses a kiss to his neck, says, “God, that’s good, Jack--you’re doing so good.”

Dean pulls back, mutters jesus again--grabs the back of Sam’s head and pulls him down and kisses him, too, over Jack’s shoulder, and Sam’s pulled close enough that his dick presses into Jack’s ass, and he breathes hot into Dean’s mouth and rubs his thumb in that soft sweet spot just below his ear, and god, this is--weird, weird, so goddamn weird but it doesn’t feel wrong, and Sam’s done a lot in his life that felt wrong and he knows the difference.

“Wow,” Jack says, small, and Dean laughs, pulls back from Sam and cups Jack’s cheek.

“Wow is right,” Dean says, warm with promise, and Sam knows then--whatever Jack wants, they’ll give him. They taught him everything else. It doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is. Anyway--it’s not like it’s something that’d come between Dean and Sam. Nothing ever will again.

Dean looks at Sam, expression as soft as though he heard the thought. “You ready for more?” he says, and Jack nods, so eager it makes Sam grin. Yeah, he’s ready. It’s going to be a good night.

[queenmuzz]

Deep Blue Sea: Chapter X

The Pieces (of Pizza) Fit

Read the full story on Ao3 Here! Where the Hell is my brother?

The voice, full of rage, nearly gave you a migraine as you struggled to get out of the unyielding grip.  Slow to anger, my ass, you brain unhelpfully supplied to you as you frantically tried to get out of his grasp.  At the same time, the clock was ticking as your oxygen levels depleted and your lungs protested.  Great job, your brain continued, trying to get your crush (NOT MY CRUSH you corrected) to safety, only to get killed by the one man you thought could save him.  If it weren’t for the fact that you kinda needed your  brain to remain alive, you’d attempt to shut the damn thing off.

WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?

His grip tightened, and you could have heard an angry growl in the water, instead of in your head.  And just when you felt like you couldn't take any more, you were pulled out of the water.  You tried to take a breath of precious air, terrified that he’d dunk you back in, but he slammed you into the hull, knocking any remaining air out of you.  Your head whacked painfully on the fiberglass frame, and your vision turned black for a moment.  Your jackknife slipped out of your wet hands, and into the depths, leaving you nigh defenseless.

“I swear to the Tidemother, if you have touched a hair on his head, I’ll drag you to the deepest fucking depths of the ocean, and let the scavengers eat your corpse.”

You tried to respond, tried to tell him that you meant him no harm, but his face was full of fury, and now he gripped your neck in his webbed hands.  Your hands latched on to his wrist, in a futile attempt to break free, but all you managed to do was to jostle the amulet free from under your shirt. 

The glint of gold must have attracted his attention because he loosened his grip slightly allowing you to gasp out for air.  Perhaps he recognized it as a sign that Vergil trusted you.

That idea went out the window as he snarled, and suddenly you were lifted up and thrown back onto the deck, sliding a metre and a half across the wood. 

You barely had time to reorient yourself before you heard a massive splash, a crushing weight on your torso, and most worryingly of all, the cold, sharp tip of metal at your throat.  Your vision rapidly cleared, you saw him on top of you, teeth bared, reared back, with an honest to God sword pointed at your throat.  (Where the hell did that come from? your brain asked unhelpfully)

“I don’t go after humans,” his icy voice chilled you to the bone, “But for you…” the sword tip moved slightly to lift the amulet up, “I’ll gladly make an exception.  Where. Is. He.”

“Help…”  you managed to croak.

“Bit too late to be begging for help, babe” he sardonically replied.

You shook your head, and slowly grabbed the amulet, intending somehow to take it off, before, surprisingly it easily unlatched itself.  Sparing a quick glance at it as you cautiously slid it to the side, you were perplexed that there was no clasp, no broken chain...magic?

No time to ruminate about it, you took another breath of air, praying that it wouldn’t be your last.

“Help….him”

Confusion flooded Dante’s face, as to your relief, he withdrew his weapon away from the hollow of your throat as he snatched the chain and scooted away from you.  You took this precious moment to catch your breath, heaving in and out and when you had recovered some of your strength, you rolled over to see Dante clutching the amulet to his chest, a matching one in silver and red around his neck, his eyes shut tight.   The sword was gone, and you were beginning to think your lack of oxygen had caused you to hallucinate it.

A good minute passed as you watched him, neither one of you moving an inch.  What he was doing with it, you had no idea.  You slowly backed up, you didn’t want to hurt him if he attacked again, you just wanted to convince him that you truly wanted his help.  

And then, out of nowhere, the merman laughed.  It wasn’t a soft chuckle like his brother’s, but it didn’t seem dangerous.  

“Oh bro…   you’re such an idiot…” he bent his head over the necklace, his wet hair obscuring most of his face, leaving only a toothy smile, “You know, once I get your tail fins out of there, I’m never gonna let you forget this, right?”  You weren’t sure if he was talking to the gem, his brother, or himself.

He brushed his hair to the side, allowing you to see his face.  It was much kinder than before, if a bit embarrassed.  “I…. eh, sorry ‘bout that, kinda swam out before checking the current, you know what I mean?  Mom always told me I was a bit impulsive.  You okay?”

“Yeah…” your voice was raspy, but felt much better “Wait, did you just know what happened just by holding that?” you pointed at the chain, dangling in his hand.

“Well, I got the gist of it, it’s not like we can send messages like you humans do in your little things you carry around constantly, but it can give me a bubbleful of information.” He chuckled, “So, my brother’s been captured and being kept as a pet, but you’re a friend of his.” 

Your heart warmed up at the fact that Vergil, despite everything, considered you worthy of friendship.  You hoped that you could be on friendly terms with his brother.  So you did the thing that worked with Vergil.  Grabbing the cardboard box that had fallen to the deck in the kerfuffle, and opened it up.

“Want a piece?”

The way his nostrils flared and his eyes widened at the sight, you realized you had made the correct decision.

*****

“So, Verg says to me.  ‘Brother, I wager you ten cordina to get on that boat and grab something from it’...” Dante regaled you as he worked on his fifth slice of pizza, savouring every mouthful.  His imitation of his brother was quite on the nose. He lounged on the sunny side of the deck, still shielded from prying eyes by the way you tilted the sail, as you anchored the boat.

“And I says ‘you’re on!’ and I scope out this boat full of guys playing loud music.  I’m looking for a way to sneak on the damn boat, but there’s waaaay too many people dancing or something.  But I’ll do anything to prove my bro wrong, so I wait.  And Wait. And Wait.  But when the Dawnfather was just about to rise, everyone finally fell asleep.  So I flop on board, and I’m terrified that I’ll wake up someone, but everyone is really sleeping, like if it wasn’t for those funny noises you guys make when you sleep, I’d think they were dead.   I grab the first thing I see, one of these,” he held up the half eaten slice, “and I bring it to Verg, and he grumbly pays off the bet. But,” he finished off the slice, “what’s weird, this stuff was the real prize.  Vergil could have offered me a hundred cordina for that one piece, and I’d have said no…. It was so fucking delicious.  And now you come along with a whole box of this…” “Pizza” 

“Mmmm… Pizza…” he picked up another slice and stretched out the cheese.  “I gotta say, this is why I like you humans, you come out with some pretty delicious food.  It’s hard to make this stuff when you are surrounded by water.”

You smiled.  Vergil had said they were twins, and while they looked very similar, (aside from scale colour) their personalities couldn’t possibly be any more different.  While Vergil was calm, composed, and contemplative   Dante was brash, bombastic, and brazen.  Vergil was disdainful of humanity, (although you couldn’t really blame him), while Dante seemed to enjoy the quirks humans had.  But strangely, despite his totally different personality, you liked him, though not in the same way as his brother.

“So, you want to get my brother back to the open waters, eh?”  He had emptied the box of its contents, and was now licking his fingers for any remnants of melted cheese.  

“Yes, and I need your help to make sure he gets as far away as possible, and doesn’t try to do something that’s liable to get him captured again.”

“That I can do… although I can hardly believe that he actually regrets not listening to me. You sure he said that?”

“Pretty much…”

Dante went a bit serious… “Okay, it should be simple.   You get him to the ocean...let’s say,” he scanned the horizon, before pointing at the beach that lay next to the suspension bridge that linked both sides of the bay. “Right there.  Should be when the next time the Tidemother shows her full face, that’ll give you enough light to see, to slip him out, and also the tide will be up, making the trek to the water’s edge as simple as possible.  I’ll be waiting, and I’ll drag him by the tail fins out of here, if I have to…. and knowing Vergil, that’s probably literally, not figuratively speaking.”

“That simple?”  you were perplexed.  Surely there had to be more, or else Vergil would have been dropped off a long time ago, before you had time to develop feelings for him. 

“Should be, I mean, you come across any trouble, he can probably use Yamato to get rid of any problems.”  He now was scraping the melted cheese off the bottom of the box, and you were worried that if you didn’t stop him, he’d just eat the entire thing, cardboard and all.

“Yamato?”  you’d never heard that term before.  

Dante dropped the box, looking alarmed, “Wait, he hasn’t shown you Yamato?” his eyebrows shot up, “okay, that makes sense on why he’s been stuck… he doesn’t have his, …. um….” he cocked his head in thought, “I guess a rough translation would be ‘soul-weapon.’”  You shook your head.  Vergil had never mentioned anything about a weapon.

Dante continued, “I don’t really know how you humans see your souls, but the gist is, everyone of us has a weapon that’s intrinsically connected with our soul, our very being.”  He rubbed his head, “some of us have harpoons, others daggers, even have a few with a trident. Me on the other hand…” his hand waved out, and instantly, in a red flash, appeared a sword.  You hadn’t imagined it!  “This is Rebellion, ain’t she a beaut?” 

You had to agree.  It was a long solid sword, with what seemed to be a stylized human skull at the crossguard, but with shark teeth poking out from where the eyes were, as well as embedded into the ricasso of the blade.  It definitely was intimidating.  “So, a brief summary of how we look at our lives.  Us Merfolk see life like the way water moves.  Water flows throughout the ocean, until the Dawnfather decides it is time for it to ascend, and so the water becomes the clouds above, before raining back down and eventually rejoining the ocean.  It’s a cycle.”

“Ah,” you nodded, “like reincarnation”

“I guess?” Dante shrugged, “the philosophy of it all was all mom’s and Verg’s thing.  Anyways,”  he looked at Rebellion, “like I said, the weapon is linked to our soul, and if anything happens to it, it’s like someone took a bucketful of  that water and just locked it away, never able to return to the ocean, or repeat the cycle.  And it’s irreversible, a fate worse than death.”

Instantly, your mind went back to something similar Vergil had said all those months ago, and you remembered the ‘leash’ the good Doctor had in a long slender briefcase.  The pieces were beginning to fit.

“I mean, it’s hard to damage one of these, but it can be done, and most likely there’s the connection that's the issue.”

“The connection?”

“You can’t stray too far from your weapon, that’s why if you get too far, SNAP,” Rebellion dissipated in a shower of sparks.  “It’s the same as if the weapon got destroyed.  Somebody probably got a hold of Yamato, and you got lucky that they haven’t gone too far with it, or they know that they can use it over him.” his brow furrowed.  “On the bright side, it means it can’t be too far from where he is right now, so you won’t have to search too far.  But on the other hand… I’m still trying to figure out why he never told you ��about this…”  he seemed honestly puzzled , “I mean, he trusted you enough with the amulet.” It worried you too.  Was Vergil too proud to ask a mere human, even one he was on good terms with for aid?  If he had just asked, you would have dropped everything to find and get this Yamato back for him.  It would have saved you a lot of heartache.  

“I think..” you said, “I know where his sword would be.”  The warehouse.  It was the only building Doctor Griffon could possibly keep the ‘leash’.  It wouldn’t be hard to get to, you had keys and codes for all the buildings on the property.

“Good!” his face brightened, “you get that sword to him, and you bring him here, and I can get him out.  Easy as swimming!”

“Yeah… easy as swimming” You attempted to match his enthusiasm.

“You know, you’re a good person.  Vergil has never been too close with humans, especially after mom and dad… well,” his features fell, “I thought I lost him too… was halfway about to follow him on a suicidal attack. When I felt the amulet,” he clutched it tightly in his hand, “I thought that he’d escaped, and when I found out it was a human, I just… I just snapped.”  

“You don’t have to apologise, Dante.  He’s your brother, after all.”

“Well, he’s a lucky son-of-a-barnacle to have an Odar like you, Dawnfather knows what would have happened to him if he didn’t meet you.”

You were slightly confused, “Odar?  Never heard that term.”

“Ah, keep forgetting you’re not familiar with Old Mer.  Basically a term for a human, but in a good way” he clarified. “Oh,” you murmured, mostly to yourself. “That’s not what Vergil calls me.”

“Ah?  What does he call you? It better not be ‘Chiktik’, or I’ll be punching him in the face when he gets back.”

“He calls me… Sifa.”

There were a few moments of silence, with only the gentle lapping of water against the hull, and the flap of the sail in the breeze.  Dante just stared at you, jaw dangling, looking exactly like a moray eel.  And then, to your astonishment… he just started laughing.

“Verg… of all the mer… well, I guess the polyp doesn’t drift too far from the coral.   Mom would be proud of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He seriously hasn’t told you what it meant?”

“Vergil said it meant, ‘human,’” you answered and the red scaled merman cackled before looking up to you with a big grin. 

“You really want to know what it means?”

You bit your lower lip, afraid to know, but yet still intrigued, and after some hesitation, you nodded.

“There’s not a perfect translation, but basically, it means ‘Beloved’.  It’s a term you only use… well, for someone you really care about.  Someone…” he paused, as if for emphasis.  “You love.”

It was a good thing you were already sitting, because your legs began to feel like jelly, numbness spreading to your chest.

“He can’t…” you managed to wheeze out.

“Why not?” Dante asked.

“I’m basically his jailor!  There’s no possible way he could be truly in love with me!” You tried to protest.  But to your dawning horror, you realized a whole plethora of signs that he had been developing feelings for you.  The songs, the glances, the gentle touches.  Your head sank into your hands as you stared at the wood.  How could you have been so stupid?  How could you have been so blind?  

Or...maybe you had known, you just didn’t want to accept the truth.

“Well,” Dante added unhelpfully, “you don’t just call anyone Sifa, it's a fairly dedicated term, and Vergil wouldn’t just call you that if he didn’t mean it.”  He slipped back into the water gracefully, apparently oblivious to the turmoil that he had inadvertently caused.

“But there’s no way it would work between us!  I mean,” you pointed at your legs “we’re not even the same species!”

His response was to laugh.   If it wasn’t for the fact that he was Vergil’s  brother, you’d have clobbered him for his continued ignorance about how much this affected you.  “I don’t really think that’s much of an issue, but that’s not for me to say,” he responded cryptically.  “I’m sure Verg can fill you in.”  

And with that, he slipped back into the water, leaving you staring at the trail of bubbles.

No, you were not going to speak to Vergil about any of this.   You were going to keep this whole revelation to yourself, and focus on locating that sword and then getting him home.   It would be painful, but it was for the best for both of you.  That’s what you kept telling yourself.

Without warning, the water opened up again to reveal the smiling visage of Dante, his hand outstretched, holding your jackknife, and his own amulet, keeping the golden one around his neck. “Meetcha when the Tidemother is at her highest point when she shows her full face!  Good luck!” and after handing the blade and the silver amulet  to you, he swam off, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, leaving you alone with your turbulent thoughts.

*****

You returned back home, to see an expectant Vergil poised at the edge of the platform.  His eyes widened as you nodded and handed him the silver amulet, proof that you’d finally met his elusive brother.  He clutched it tightly, and for a moment you panicked, wondering if he was somehow able to look into the latest conversation you and Dante had.  But when he opened his eyes, they were full of relief and happiness.

“Ah, so he is well.”  He leaned back  in the water as he placed the chain around his neck, “That is good, that is good.”

You attempted to add some sort of joviality, “He thinks you’re an idiot for getting yourself captured.”

Vergil chuckled, “That does sound like him.  But at least he’s alright…” he turned to you, smiling gratefully.  “Thank You, Sifa.”

You successfully managed to hide the pain that word caused you as you gave him your best grin.

“Anything for you, Vergil”

[razorblade180]

Lasting Embers pt23: Difficult Decisions

[Menagerie, Oasis]

It’s still early out; every still lays in bed asleep. All except for Jael who’s just floating in her room thinking about the future; her future. The entrance exam to be accepted into beacon is only a month away. Her dream of freedom and her father’s blessing is only a month away. One more month until she meets her...

Jael:(A mere thirty more days and then my real test begins. I thought I’d feel more anxious but I don’t. Maybe I’m finally comfortable with my progress; hope I didn’t over train for this. Wouldn’t be fun if the other applicants weren’t up to par. Oh well, as long as the one I care about does. She’s hogged my father long enough so she better.)

She scrunches her face before taking a breath to relax. Floating is supposed to relieve the pressure constantly on her heart and clear her head. Getting riled up serves no purpose; a Taurus knows that lesson well.

Jael:(Now now Jael, no need to tense up. Keep an open mind like father said; I don’t know her. I know of her, that’s not the same. I’ll get the chance to evaluate her soon enough. Maybe dad can tell me more about her when he gets back ho-)

*whimpers*

Jael:Huh? *floating to her feet* was that, crying? The only ones here is mom and....*gasp*

Without further delay she rushes out her and to her sister’s old room. She had forgotten that she’s home for awhile just like Adam. Sure enough, Sienna layed in her bed tossing and turning as tear marks stained her face. No doubt from her nightmare.

Jael:Sienna, get up *shaking her* come on You’re having another nightmare. Wake up and it goes away like always.

Sienna:Please....*sniffling* don’t take him please...! I....I need him! I need-

Jael:Sienna!

The tiger faunus jumped awake with her class fully out and dangerously close to Jael’s neck. Good thing this isn’t her first rodeo; her older sister’s arm was already grabbed the wrist and was weighing it down. Cat like reflexes or not, gravity had a part to play in everything. Even the frown her big sis currently had.

Sienna:I’m....*huff*I’m sorry.....

Jael:It’s alright *holding her hand* I’m used to it. Didn’t know you still got nightmares; the mines?

Sienna:*nods* Every so often I see myself as that scared little six year old kid again. Lately it’s a bad omen when I get this nightmare. Hopefully pops is okay. With Ilia gone I can’t go on missions. Just because I’m new doesn’t mean I should be kept out of the loop.

Jael:I’m sure everything is okay. He’s just supposed to be escorting Blake to see her friends. Then they’ll be back home in no time and we can finally spend some quality time with dad that’s not about work.

Sienna:Heh, haven’t had that in awhile.

Jael:Well there’s gonna be plenty of it this month; my days are numbered her. So I guess we better start right now. *smirking*

Sienna:I know that look. Jael you better not-ahh!

Suddenly the of them are suspended in the air. Jael pulls her sister into a hug and curls up underneath her; closing her eyes.

Jael:Try sleeping like this; does wonders for me. *yawn* by the time we wake up....dad will be home....before you......Zzzzzzz...

Sienna:...*smiles and holds her close* Fine, you when this one you little trouble maker. I’ll follow your lead. *dozing off* this is pretty.....pretty.... zzzzzz

Jacquelyn stamds in the door way as she quietly leaves with a smile.

[Tai’s house]

The living room is devoid of sound except for ticking of a clock. All of our well known huntsman remain motionless as they stare at Yang. Her eyes fixated on the door her daughter hastily went out of. Seconds felt like hours until she finally snapped out of her trance and grabbed the doorknob.

Ruby:Yang....

Yang:I have to go after her...

Ruby:Yang we have to figure out who’s going to-

Yang:That can wait! I’m going to find Yujin and-

Jaune:*holding her close* Yang, she needs time to process all of this. There’s nothing you can say or do now that can reach her.

Yang let’s go of the door knob slowly. She returns to the couch in defeat; gripping her knees.

Yang:Neo, are you sure that map is accurate. Isn’t there any chance he strung you along or-

Neo:Torture is complex thing to do. People who beg for mercy and ready to talk after a few minutes usually tell the truth; they can’t take pain. Jericho lasted hours. People like that might say anything when they’ve had enough.

Weiss:So, all this might be a complete hoax.

Neo:Unfortunately no. Anytime it takes that long I become extremely thorough. I still keep going with the torture after the answers he gave until any lies were wiped away. *places another map with one hundred X’s* these were the locations he gave me at first. As you can see, they don’t match up with the first one I showed you.

Weiss:He already tried lying to you....

Neo:More than once; dozens of other fake maps are in the ship. This, this is the real deal. 87 bases and I’ve already had a few confirmed to be legit. Sorry everyone, wish I could bring better news. I’m...I’m going to get some air. *steps outside*

Ruby:Is she alright?

Adam:Neo is excellent at what she does but that doesn’t mean she likes it. Torture like that will churn anybody’s stomach. She’ll be fine.

Blake:Back to the topic at hand then; who’s leaving?

The uncomfortable silence once again fills the room but only for a few minutes before everyone gathers there thoughts and steals their convictions. Running into a war has no one scared; the challenge is stopping people from going...

Ruby:I’m still heading out and that’s final. I’m not going to sit at here when I’m part of the reason we’re in this situation.

Weiss:I’m going too. Atlas doesn’t really need me for anything and no way I’m letting my partner do this solo.

Ruby:*smiles* That’s two people; anyone else.

Jaune:I-

Ruby:Don’t even.....

Yang:Yujin will be just as angry. Besides, you haven’t done intense missions in awhile. Like it or not, you’re a bit rusty.

Jaune:You act like I don’t know how to adapt. This mission needs a strategist.

Adam:Which is why I’ll go...

.........

Blake:Absolutely not!

Adam:Strategy, peak fighting condition, I’ve been all over Remnant’s most secretive places; frankly I should’ve been helping the first time around.

Blake:Do you realize what you’re suggesting? If somehow authorities tie you to this then it’s over for you.

Adam:I’ve been traveling regularly for over ten years. This will be no different from the jobs I already do Blake.

Blake:But-

Adam:You can’t go because your people just got you back. Sun can’t go because it’ll look suspicious. I’m perfect for this job.

Blake:And if you die on it? You promised to spend time with Jael remember?

Adam:.....

Yang:Uhhh “Jail?”

Adam:She’s my other daughter I mentioned. Same age as Yujin....

Yang:*eyes widened*....

Blake:You know this might crush her right? Scarcely coming home was hard enough for her as it is.

Adam:Sigh...*leans against the wall* I know this but......this is something I have to do. The cult came to my home once; that’s one too many.

Blake:.....You’re not gonna change your mind are you?

Adam:Sorry, minds made up. I just hope Jael can handle the news. Actually, I hope all of them can; I’m in for a ear full.....

Yang:.....

Raven:Well if he’s going then so am I. I’ve been itching to face these people.

Tai:What!?

Ruby:I think you’re forgetting that maidens are also something they want Aunt Raven. Dead, controlled, or otherwise.

Raven:*shrugs* Sounds like the same old song and dance to me. Adam isn’t the only one who wishes to have gone the first time.

Yang:Don’t be like that mom. Making sure things were fine here was important too.

Raven:You put life as you know it on hold for Yujin. I should’ve done the same for you. Besides, I bet Qrow would’ve done the same if... if our roles were reversed.

Tai:*holds her hand* So....trying to go off again. *smirks*

Raven:Yeah uhhhh.....I’ll be honest. Don’t know how to take the sting out this. It won’t be like before I promise! Ruby will hold me to that and- ow!

Tai:*flicking her forehead* Be safe Raven. Kick enough ass for the both of us. For Qrow too.

Raven:They won’t know what hit em. A bit a magic and a map might just be what we need to turn a ten year manhunt into something way more tolerable. I’m guessing two years maybe?

Nora:We’ll make it one. I...I want to go too.

Ren:......

Nora:You don’t have anything you want to say to that?

Ren:Sigh.... I’ve been attacked, you’ve been attacked twice, and our son is on that list despite our best efforts. Trying to remain under the radar clearly hasn’t been working. If this is what you want to do then go for it. I’d offer too but I’m still no good in a fight like this. Looks like my treatment has to be put on hold. Tenzen and I can-

Tenzen:You’re going to get that surgery

No one heard him walking upstairs or even going down them but there he was sitting on the first few steps. The look on his face showed a calm but clearly exhausted demeanor thanks to his body still healing his injuries. His presence welcomed by everyone with relief of him finally being awake.

Tenzen:Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. Yujin was supposed to make me some food but when I heard the door slam I walked down and- *hugged tightly*

Nora:Thank the stars you’re alright!

Ren:You has me so worried!

Tenzen:Ribs...ugh my ribs!!!!

Ren and Nora:*let go* Sorry....

Tenzen:*rubbing his side* I guess the pain means I’m alive at least. Thanks Mr.Arc, wouldn’t be up on my feet as fast without you.

Jaune:There would be less people in this room without you.

Emerald:We should be the one thanking you.

Mercury:Seriously, we owe you one.

Tenzen:*smiles* If that’s the case, can you guys escort my dad while on his trip? Then when he’s done, watch his back on the battlefield?

Mercury:Huh?

Tenzen:*looks at his parents* I think both of you guys should go after the cult.

With ten simple words he got the undivided attention of everyone. His mind and surprising opinion created the same atmosphere he gets from his fans. Right now, he owns the floor.

Jaune:I take it you have some sort of plan in your head?

Tenzen:Not really a plan but just facts I guess. Beacon has an entrance exam in a month and I doubt another attack would come so soon. If I- when I pass the exam I get to live at the most guarded school Remnant has to offer; I’ll be safe. Dad getting healed and meeting up with the rest of you afterwards could make a difference. Eight people is better than five.

Weiss:He has a point...

Ren:Maybe so, but a month alone?

Nora:Anything could happen in that time.

Tenzen:It’ll be fine. I’ll stay at home and I know how how everything works. I’m sixteen, not twelve. Frankly my biggest problem will be boredom hehe.

Ren:What if-

Tenzen:I want this fight over with already....that dude hurt you both and seem to enjoy it. *clenches his fist* the cult needs to know....they need to know they messed with with the wrong family. *looks around the room* they messed with the wrong families.

Ren:Nora I don’t think he’s going to back down from this.

Nora:......A video per day.

Tenzen:What?

Nora:I want you to upload one video per day and without fail until you make into Beacon. If I don’t see one while I’m away then I’m going to assume something is wrong and be a complete mess you understand? *sniff*

Tenzen:....Yes ma’am. *hugs her* can’t disappoint my biggest fan can I.

Emerald:Guess it’s settled then.

Tenzen:Sorry I just sort of drafted you guys into going hehe.

Mercury:I was gonna volunteer anyways. Payback sounds really satisfying instead of twiddling my thumbs.

Yang:Guess I’m the only one left to decide huh?

As fast as the mood was lightened, it was gone again with that question. No one would ask her to join given the circumstances but she also knew just how much she could make a difference. The unwavering strength behind many of team RWBY’s successes ever since they were formed. Paired with her sister’s indomitable will and Weiss’s brilliance in synchronized moves, surely they could all compensate for Blake’s unfortunate absence. Especially with Adam most likely taking her place as her partner; it would be the obvious choice. Six well versed fighters working together until three more show up to keep the momentum going. Sure they could probably achieve the same results with without her, but what if they couldn’t? Who looks out for the fifth person? All of these thoughts fill her head has she tries to keep it together; taking slow breaths to prevent what would be a serious panic attack.

Yang:I.....I.....

Adam:Let’s give this a week.

Blake:Huh?

Adam:We should all return to homes and prepare and say our goodbyes. Then meet up again in a week. Those who show up will go on with the mission. If anyone decided to change their minds within the week then so be it; can’t fault anybody who does. Sounds fair right?

Yang:*staring down at the floor*Sounds fair...

Ruby:We’ll meet at the train station that leads right out of Vale and into the rest of Anima. That way no one has to travel back here. I love how our house is out of the way but it would also be the prime spot to get attacked if somehow the cult catches wind of us. No more private transportation either; it needs to look like we could be at anyplace or still at home.

Weiss:Just when I got used to flying first class again. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. *leaving* better go tell Whitley and Winter to cancel their plans for a week. Their about to get a decades worth of sibling love in seven days. Also, don’t worry about money too much; the Schnee secret account has enough for ten life times. *closes the door*

Neo sits on the porch holding a bucket. Her face a little pale and sweaty.

Weiss:Are you okay? I could give you a lift back h-

Neo:The body is still in the ship. I wanted to get rid of it before you were done but.....*heaving over the bucket* I don’t think I can look at what’s left of him again.

Weiss:*Picks her up* don’t worry about it. I was gonna get rid of the ship itself anyways. Let’s get some food and head out.

Neo:Thank you.....

Back inside the house Blake and Adam begin to leave as well. Nora and Ren also begin to get escorted by Mercury and Emerald.

Yang:Adam....

Adam:Hmm?

Yang:.....thanks.

Adam:*nods* It’s in your hands now. Word of advice, your daughter will feel hurt no matter your decision. So pick the one that you truly feel is right, then do everything you can to ease the pain of the path you don’t decide.

Yang:Meaning......

Adam:Fill the void. *Walks out*

Blake:Take care, menagerie will always be a haven if you need to regroup. *walks out*

Ruby:We’ll keep that in mind; see ya.

Jaune:I’d hate to be a bother but can Tenzen stay back a little while longer? It might be best for Yang and I to stay here a bit longer but...

Tenzen:Of course I’ll check on Jin. If that’s okay I mean.

Tai:I’ll take him home so you two don’t have to worry about him being alone.

Nora:.....

Tenzen:......*smiles*

Nora:Sigh......be safe and please take things slow for once? You’re injured and haven’t eaten yet.

Ren:speaking of eating...*pulls out granola bar* can you actually grab it on your way out this time?

Tenzen:*takes it* This would’ve been useful earlier. Love you both. *hugs them both and runs out the door* (Next stop, Jin’s place. Probably not even home yet knowing her.)

Yang:You both have an amazing child. I’m thankful him and Yujin are close.

Ren:She’s just as amazing and we’re just as thankful. I don’t think he knows just how much he talks about her. Get some rest okay?

Nora:You deserve it.

Finally the house is only filled with family members, but still feels very smothering. Yang’s eyes are fixated on the map that holds a daunting journey her sister will soon take. A journey that could use every pair of hands possible. So why? Why can’t she just make the logical choice already? Why can’t she can’t she tell everyone the answer she’s already chosen? Reason and emotion clashing cause her to lay down on the couch as tears roll down her face.

Yang:Can I have some time alone please?

Everyone leaves, except Jaune. He chooses to sit beside the couch and extends his hand; causing her to grab it instantly.

Yang:Jaune......?

Jaune:Yes? *tearing up*

She rubs her finger across her wedding ring before slowly taking it off. Her hand trembling terribly as she places it in his. Try as she might, there’s no amount of strength that could make her look at him as she breaks his heart again. Energy in her voice drained completely and left weak.

Yang:I’m sorry.....*sniffles* I’m so sorry Jaune. I’m so, so sorry.......

Jaune:*takes the ring and pulls her into a hug* I’ve waited this long; I can keep waiting.

Yang:It’s not fair! I don’t want to keep you waiting anymore, or Yujin! I love you both so much!!!

Jaune: But knowing how things might go if you stay behind scares you. As much as it hurts me, I get it. Do what you think is best. *crying*

*upstairs*

Ruby:.....Dad, I need your help. You really haven’t changed this place at all right?

Tai:Been this way since you guys left for Beacon in the first place. The only changes have been the small stuff that’s piled up through the years.

Ruby:Like our letters, pictures, and stuff.

Tai:Yeah, why?

Ruby:That’s a lot of memorabilia. *looking into her room* a lifetime in fact. Help me find all of it please? I want to try something .

Tai:What’s going on in that head of yours kiddo?

Ruby:*picks up an old scroll* Ways to help Yang cushion the blow.

[Dirt Road]

Tenzen:*sprinting* (Geez I thought I’d run into her by now. I doubt she ran home if she’s sulking. I should see her any min-) *stops *......

He was right about catching up to her. As mad as she was, it made sense why Jaune wanted someone to check up on her. The negative emotions had attracted some unwanted visitors and Tenzen was witnessing the aftermath. Plumes of smoke from fallen grimm littered the path and through it was his friend glowing brilliantly. Standing still in front of a lonely beowulf that snarled wildly at her. Tenzen couldn’t see her face but her knew she wasn’t fazed one bit.

Tenzen:Yujin?

Yujin:Get lost Tenzen; not in a good mood.

Tenzen:I can see that. Your dad wanted me to come check up on you. After everything that’s happened and all.

Yujin:I’m fine.....these things tried to hurt but it didn’t go so well for them. I’m already in more pain than they can cause.

With that statement the Beowulf lunged right at her. Immediately latching onto her bitting down on her shoulder, but his teeth didn’t sink in. Instead they chipped and broke apart like if it had bit marble. Before it got a chance to let go of her it’s life was over; a whole right through it’s chest was easily made with a single punch from the future huntress in training. She finally turned around to see the shock on Tenzen’s face. Was it because this is the first time seeing her semblance, or because she did all this with no weapon?

Yujin:I’m doing just fine as you can see. You ran here for nothing.

Tenzen:I didn’t come here for nothing. So you don’t need help fighting. Maybe there’s another way I could-

Yujin:I want to be alone Tenzen....

Tenzen:.....Well that’s a lie. From here it looks like you’re tired of being alone. You want-

Yujin:*covers her ears* OH MY GOD, JUST SHUT UP!!! You always have to be the sensible one right!? Help poor little Yujin anytime she’s feeling low. Maybe I’d be more sensible too if I had both of my parents at home too! Injured or not, they were always a room away and-

Tenzen:Currently on their way home to prepare for their journey.

Yujin:......*eyes widened* They both decided to go....?

Tenzen:Mom wants to make a difference, and my dad really needs that surgery. He didn’t want to go at first but it’s the best thing to do. Then he’ll fight as well. Can’t say this puts us in the same boat at all but I think we can both agree this situation is pretty shitty. *smiles*

Yujin:.........*eyes turn blue*

Tenzen:Come on and let’s get you home. *takes her hand and walks ahead* We don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to.

Yujin:......

She wanted to apologize but couldn’t. There was too many emotions she desperately tried to contain. Any more words, and single act of vulnerability would give way to sea of feelings she did not want to face right now. So she just held his hand quietly and firm; praying that he understood what she was trying to convey.

Tenzen:I forgive you.

No response was given and he never turned around. The only sounds heard was pained sniffling from his friend trying to keep it together. He felt her other hand rest on top his as they continued to walk. Nothing else was said. Nothing else needed to be said.

[tippitv]

Recap: “Ouroboros” 14-14

Hey everyone! In an effort to get the recap out in a timely fashion, I'm trying something new. I'm doing it live-blog style and adding gifs already available on Tumblr as I format it for posting. Making pics with captions and photoshopping is super slow and laborious on my ancient computer. Just that part of the recaps usually takes 8-10 hours to do. In a recap that has a LOT of graphics, it might take 12.

THEN!

Ooh I've apparently missed more episodes than I realized. Veronica Cartwright, who's one of my favorite character actresses ever, brought Jack back to life. 

But with like... dire consequences, as per yoozh.

NOW!

Raton, New Mexico. Hey I've been there! I was driving to Colorado when I was 19 and we hit Raton riiiiight before we had to start driving up a narrow mountain road... when an ice storm hit... and I, a Texan who'd never driven over so much as an ice cube, thought I was going to kill us all.

Anyway it's nice to see an episode start somewhere in the Southwest for a change of pace.

This music is super cute. Someone let me know what it is? Also, I don't know who this guy is but he knows how to chop vegetables. I like him already! Oh... oh wait. There's a dead man on his kitchen island and the knife guy is harvesting his organs for dinner. Sorry, my dude, but I only have room in my heart for one cannibal

Oh he's got some lizard eyes on him, too. That's also a deal breaker. Somehow his repto-vision allows him to sense that the Winchesters are coming for him, so he grabs his pet snake Felix and sneaks away.

The episode is titled "Ouroboros," and I can't see that word without thinking of the episode of Red Dwarf where the people found the cardboard box with Lister in it. They misread the word as "Our Rob, or Ross." Shout out to the handful people following me who know what I'm talking about.

The Winchesters show up. Oh hey Castiel and Jack are with them, too! Snake Boy didn't see that. "Oh no," Cas says, despairing at the scene in the kitchen. I know. A wasted pasta dinner! Also a dead body.

Sam and Dean are frustrated that they've failed to catch this guy yet again. How is anyone not barfing at the smell of fried human liver? Have they become inured to it because of all the flaming hunter funerals? That's probably it.

"My money's on witchcraft," Dean grumbles. Rowena walks up behind him like

Oh ho ho why's she so flirtatious with Castiel? What did I miss there? Well he seems as confused as I am, and less titillated. Maybe nothing happened and she's just someone with eyes who happens to see how cute he is.

Everyone wonders why the victim, like all the other victims, appears not to have fought back. I mean, there's a lot of nihilism these days. Maybe it's a case of "fuck it, if this guy doesn't kill me the climate change will." Jack finds a freshly shed snake skin on the floor.

They wonder if the victim had pet snakes but think he doesn't seem the type. Like, I know a stay-at-home suburban mom with multiple snakes so I don't think there's just one type of herp enthusiast. Jack starts coughing and everyone's like

Jack assures them he's not dying again but he probably is.

Rowena notices there's a blackish powder around the victim's lips. The others tell her the other victims had something similar but they ignored it so that Dean and Rowena could look back and forth at each other with their best So Done faces.

As funny as the exchange is, I do so hate plot-necessitated dumbness. There's no way they wouldn't have looked into the black powder on all the victims' faces.

Sam and Rowena do some research in the motel de la nuit, which has a fabulous Missoni-inspired wallpaper. Man I wouldn't mind having some of that! Anyway, she's curious about Jack being not-dead and Dean keeping an archangel locked up in his head somehow. Sam doesn't want to talk about it.

Meanwhile, Jack's in the bathroom having one of those Moulin Rouge coughing fits. Has anyone thought of like... getting the kid some Robitussin? He uses a small amount of power to heal his cough. I think Veronica Cartwright warned against this in the previouslies.  

Dean's growing a mite weary and still thinks their inevitable option is going to be the magic coffin. Cas's face goes

Castiel tiredly explains what the word "liturgical" means when Jack and Dean give him confused looks. I mean I guess Jack might not know, but Dean should sure as heck know.

When they get back to the motel, Rowena says they're dealing with a Gorgon. "Like Medusa!" Dean pipes up. Oh I bet this leads to a Clash of the Titans jok---and there it is. They blah blah blah about how eating human eyes allows a Gorgon to see the future and evade capture. "So even if we use your tracking spell, he'll know," Cas says. Why do they assume it's a man when the Gorgons have always been depicted as shes?

So Snake Boy approaches a guy outside a truck stop and asks for help. "I'd find a way to pay you back." He turns the flirting up about ten notches and the trucker shiftily tells him to get inside. They kiss and the trucker is slowly paralyzed. Oh noooo I have a dozen things to say about queer villainy and victimization but I'm live blogging so remind me to come back to it.

Cas's hair is high as hell today. Remember there was this whole plot a while back about how Heaven is running out of power because there are so few angels? Maybe he's powering Heaven with his hair.

Noah, that's apparently the Gorgon's name, has left a note on the body for Dean. "I see you standing alone reading this note," NUH UH he's standing with Cas. He warns Dean to stop chasing him. "Why doesn't he mention me?" Cas asks. Right?? "Maybe you're not his type," Dean says. Cas rolls his eyes upward but the low-hanging fruit is practically on the ground.

After a confab with Sam and Rowena, they work out a plan for Cas and Jack to go after Noah since they seem to be invisible to him. They just need some anti-venom in case the Gorgon tries to poison them. Or just tell them not to kiss the guy? Maybe they don't know kissing is how he

OH MY FUCKING GOD ROWENA TURNS JACK INTO A VERY TINY DOG AND RUSHES HIM TO THE VET WITH SAM AND HE LOOKS LIKE A MUPPET

Jack the dog gets a thermometer up the butt... Then the vet or tech or whoever she is just... leaves him on the exam table unattended. That's not remotely what happens at clinics but whatever. As soon as Jack is alone, he turns back into a person with all his clothes on. I don't know why that seems more unrealistic to me than him turning into a dog, period.

He finds the anti-venom, makes a joke about his poor butt, and then Sam and Rowena have a conversation in the parking lot about how he was brought back to life. Then the vet runs out and confronts them!

Just kidding, they talk as long as they want without ever being discovered.

Noah's got his latest victim tied up somewhere. He says he finds more men to eat because women are more cautious. True dat. He kept the guy alive long enough to blah blah for a while but now he gives him a smooch on the cheek to paralyze him.

Rowena casts a locator spell... Why wouldn't Noah be able to see her and know something is up? Only the angelic ones are invisible to him. Oh my word Castiel kicks open the door VERY forcefully and I'm like

But wait... first he knocked. Why did he knock first? You know what let's just move on. Castiel goes and de-venomizes the latest victim. For some reason nobody's cutting off Noah's head yet so he just goes on talking. Something about a snake and some chicken eggs. Even Castiel is like, "Why are you telling this story??" And Noah, looking at Jack, goes, "Because I can't tell if he's the chicken or the snake."

Fisticuffs attempt to ensue! Lolol it's briefly a slap fight. Noah kisses Cas on the cheek. This is the most unrealistic part of this episode. Why would you kiss some rando trucker on the mouth and not this guy.

Hm there's still 15 minutes left. For some reason, the anti-venom doesn't work on Cas, so Jack has to use some of his powers. Maybe you should have tried giving him more of it first but whatever.

LOL they drive all the way from New Mexico to Kansas with unconscious Dean and rush him into the med bay. It's at least an eight hour drive! Maggie's like, "I'll get some ice!" It's been at least eight hours! Why didn't they just bring him to a regular hospital?? Nothing supernatural happened to him! He got his head wanged!

Jack is pretty upset about the prospect of Dean dying but Cas seems... philosophical about it. Maybe he knows they got renewed for season 15 and isn't too worried.

Oh Dean's awake and everything's fine! Just kidding he's on a rampage knocking everything over. Someone tell Maggie to forget the ice. He's in a rage because he "let his guard down" and now Michael has left. I mean... you were knocked out by a plot contrivance, my dude. Don't be too hard on yourself.

Oh shiiiit Michael's gone and killed everyone in the bunker. Not any of the main characters, obviously, but everyone else. Oh double shiiiiiit he's got Rowena as a vessel now. Wait. Why would she have said yes to him?

Ah...Michael paid her a little visit in her mind and said he'd kill everyone she cares about. She's loath to admit it but she does care for these people. Well, the main characters, at least.

Oh my gosh I love Ruth Connell. This is my fave version of Michael yet. Too bad it won't last!

Jack decides to use his powers to save everyone even if it means dying! Except he doesn't die because it's only March. He forces Michael out of Rowena, then sucks down the evacuated grace like

Everything goes quiet. Everyone's like... wtf? what?? the fuck??? They wait on pins and needles to see what happened to Jack. Jack's like, "I'm me again!" with the glowing flame eyes and the shadow wings. The music makes this seem very ominous. Maybe it means he doesn't have a soul anymore. Either way he seems very powerful again so good luck getting a rectal thermometer into him now.

Wait... why was this episode called Ouroboros when it was an entirely different snake thing? Ohhh maybe it was Jack eating/using his own powers to help himself? Let's say it's that.

If you enjoyed this recap, and are able, please drop something into my virtual tip jar here: https://www.paypal.me/tippiblevins  Henry the Hound and I could use grocery/vet money so anything is appreciated, including reblogs!

Thank you for reading!

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

Coming Home, Part 1

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Full Chapter One

Summary: Eight years after the end of A New World, one of the leaders goes missing, which prompts all three communities to work together to locate them. When some of the other members of the search party don’t come back, it’s up to the women of Alexandria to take charge and do whatever is necessary to bring everyone home.

A/N: A long time ago I wrote two fics called The Bet & A New World. This new series is a continuation of TWD set in that world. There is major canon divergence since Glenn is still alive. This story uses a good number of characters and a mixture of show and comic book spoilers. Some good guys are bad guys, and vice versa. Anyway... this is the first time I’ve written TWD or Daryl in a while, so, yikes, just bear with me. 

Series Warnings: Slow Burn-Multi-Chapter Fic, Angst, Language, Violence, Canon Divergence, Character Death(s), Smut, 18+ Only NSFW

Words: 3.5K

Tags: @kazosa // @soythedemonqueen // @jodiereedus22 // @his-paradox // @rhyatt-deauxtreve // @zombeeemomeee // @tiquismiquis  // @sorenmarie87 // @redm81 // @reedusteinrambles //  @buckyscrystalqueen // @hyphymanatee // @rawr-bitchess // @kgbrenner // @fictionaldemon // @thewalkingbucky // @lefthologramdeer  // @spnhollis // @hanaissupergirl // @negans-wife  // @sourwolf-sterek32 // @alyisdead

It had been three days. Three days since the search party came back with the remnants of his clothes and gun; three days since Daryl took off in search of his best friend. Every moment you weren’t busy trying to keep the kids under control, you watched from the bedroom window and prayed to whoever was listening that he would come back in one piece… Both of them.

It was the morning of the fourth day. You’d already been up for hours, but Abe and Shelby had finally made their way to the kitchen. Both were quiet and withdrawn, neither saying much over their bowl of oatmeal. Silent looks from the corners of their eyes at each other spoke volumes about what they talked about when you were out of earshot, including the latest tragedy to have befallen Alexandria again.

“Mom?” Shelby asked without looking up from the uneaten breakfast, “will daddy be home soon?”

Abe glanced up at you, his blue eyes narrowing in just like Daryl’s did. Even though he was older now, he was still very quiet. Daryl was the only one who really was ever able to get him to speak, and with his absence, Abraham had been nearly silent.

“I don’t know, but I sure hope so?”

“And Uncle Rick?”

A piercing blow went through your heart. Overcoming that to answer was taking longer than you wanted, and before you could muster up a response, Abe handled it for you.

“No. Uncle Rick is dead, Shel. Dad’s out looking for him to put down,” he mumbled before shoveling oatmeal into his mouth.

“Abraham, you don’t know that,” you warned sternly as your fingers dug into the countertop so hard your knuckles went pale.

The chance that Rick was still alive was very slim despite his track record up to that point. Still, hope was a precious commodity in the new world, and you were desperate for your children to hold on to as much of it as they could.

Abraham snorted frustration through his nose, a mannerism clearly inherited from his father. His intense eyes blazed with anger at you as he let his spoon fall into the bowl with force.

“Then you’re an idiot,” he growled. He stood up quickly from his chair, causing it to nearly fall back as he stormed away from the table. Shelby caught it before it could and righted it back on all four feet.

“He’s just pissed daddy wouldn’t take him,” she said softly. “Don’t get mad at him.”

“I’m not mad, Shel. I’m worried. Worried about your dad and Uncle Rick, too. I know they think he’s gone, but I’ve seen a lot of bad situations since the world changed, and you want to know how many Rick has overcome? All of them. Just because they found his shirt and gun—”

“Jesus found his bloody shirt mom,” she corrected, wrinkling her nose as she pushed the bowl away from her.

“Still. I have to believe he’s alright.”

Shelby hesitantly slid off the stool, biting at her lip and folding her arms over her chest. “Do you think… do you think Dad will come home if he doesn’t find Uncle Rick? I mean… he can’t stay gone forever, can he?”

“No, of course not. Daddy will be home, soon. So, will Uncle Glenn. In fact, why don’t you and Abe go grab Hershel, and then go check in on Carl and Judith? See if there’s something you can do to help them around here. Better than just sitting around waiting.”

She shrugged and relented to your request, though you could tell there was a lot more she wanted to ask. Knowing it wasn’t the right time, she just turned and made her way up the stairs to go find Abraham and try to pull the boy out of his funk.

After clearing up their barely eaten breakfast, you went out onto the porch and tried to let go of the anxiety that was building. It was getting worse in the years since everything ended with Negan. The secret of what you and Rick did weighed on you, though you would never admit to the regret you felt around it. With each calm and quiet year that passed, you had hoped it would go away and finally be free. But it was always there; and when something bad did happen, somehow, you felt it was your fault. Coupled with that, was the looming feeling that something was on the horizon as another punishment for what you had done… not just to Negan, but Rosita, too.

Yet, year after year, the kids got older, you and Daryl continued teaching them how to live and survive, and the trio of communities kept growing. In fact, the only issue that had been pressing was Abraham’s desire to leave Alexandria to spend more time at the Kingdom in order to train with the archers there. The school was more extensive, and the rigorous exercise with the team of bowhunters was something he really wanted to start.

Daryl was all for it, but with Abe being only eleven, you felt as though he wasn’t ready to leave home… YOU weren’t ready for him to leave home. It was right after the latest heated discussion over that, that Jesus arrived with the news that Rick never made it to The Hilltop from the Kingdom, and in his search, he’d recovered the tattered shirt and gun.

Glenn and Daryl jumped into action immediately. You and Maggie watched in silent terror as they packed a week’s worth of rations and gear and ran out of the gates in search of Alexandria’s leader. Maggie considered running after them, but with the new baby attached to her hip, she thought it best to hang back.

“Maggie, I’ll watch him if you want to go. You know Hershel and the baby can stay here with me. Shelby can help me with the ‘lil potato here,” you said and tickled his chubby baby thigh, eliciting a giggle out of the almost one-year-old boy, “and you can go with the guys. Jesus has gathered other able-bodied people from Hilltop and Kingdom, I’m sure Ezekiel—”

“No,” she said simply, still staring off towards the gate. “Glenn and Daryl—Jesus and the others… they’ll find’im.” That was all she said before going back into her house and putting Sean back into his crib.

Now, four days later when you ventured out onto the porch, Maggie was waiting for you, along with Michonne and three packed bags on the stoop. Maggie’s gun was drawn as she checked it over it, determination set into her expression.

“We are going to get our husbands back,” Maggie said and holstered her gun. “You in?”

Her abruptness stunned you for a moment. “What? Why? Where?” All stumbled out in what felt like one long, incoherent word. Maggie and Michonne exchanged a knowing look and when they came to a silent agreement, Michonne was the one who answered.

“The kids… Judith, Hershel, Abraham, and Shelby… they were going to sneak out later. I overheard them talking yesterday. They were leaving tonight to try and find the guys.”

“They what?!” You felt like your knees were giving out and your stomach was revolting simultaneously. “When?”

Michonne shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t even sure until I cornered and confronted Judith about it later. The girl tried to hold on, but she’s really a bad liar.”

You felt a rise of anger thinking about how stupid a choice they almost made by leaving. “I’m going to kill them,” you mumbled and looked to Maggie. “How are you so calm about this?

“I’m not. I’m pissed. Hershel knows better, especially after losing…” Maggie choked on the name ghosted on her lips. She composed herself and tried to continue without giving in to the emotion. “I’m gonna go find Glenn. I got a relay to The Kingdom and Carol said to bring all the kids to her. Hershel is packing now, got all the baby’s stuff loaded into the wagon. From there, we’ll backtrack Rick’s trail to The Hilltop. The guys were going from here to Hilltop first, so we’re hoping to cross paths with them in the middle.”

As Maggie laid out her plan, you half listened as you were more interested in how developed it was and how she was only now telling you about it all.

“So, just give me a minute to catch up, ok? Because not ten minutes ago I was cleaning up oatmeal and thinking how the tomato plants needed tending. You’ve had this in mind long enough to send word to the Kingdom, and hear back from Carol, plan a route, pack supplies, but not once did you think to come and tell me that my kids were planning on going AWOL?!”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” was all Maggie could offer with a regretful shrug. “I’ve been distracted, ok? I knew you were worried enough about Daryl, so I didn’t want to add to things until I knew what to do.”

“So?” Michonne asked softly, taking a step closer and catching your gaze. She held it so intensely, you could feel her desperation bleeding onto you. “Are you in?”

Looking between them, you could see the steel set in their eyes. Knowing them each for as long as you did, especially Maggie, you knew when she was bound and determined, her mind was set and there would be no changing it. She was in fear for Glenn’s life, and the idea that her son would charge off after him frightened her even more. Because, just like his parents, Hershel was strong, determined and twice as stubborn.

“Why send the kids to the Kingdom? So, Carol can keep them under lock and key?”

“Pretty much. Would you cross Carol if she told you to stay put?” Maggie asked with the rise of one brow. “It's been how long now, and that woman still scares the crap outta me. The kids… they’ll have more to do there, too. It’ll keep 'em busy.”

“Hasn’t Abraham been on you about letting him go there anyway?” Michonne asked, trying to add to the reasons for you to say yes.

“Yes, he has. But they already have one parent out in parts unknown, now you want them to have two? Who’s to say they won’t try and sneak away from the Kingdom? I know Alexandria has its blind spots, but so does the Kingdom.”

“Not anymore,” Maggie said, picking up one of the packs and slinging it over her shoulder. “I told you, Carol has it handled. So, in or out? I want to get a move on.”

Maggie’s steely cold demeanor was understandable, but slightly troubling nonetheless. Things may have been peaceful, but she and Glenn had experienced the worst kind of loss in the years since, and she carried that anger, allowing it to ignite whenever there was a possible threat. Three of the communities’ strongest members were missing, and their children were set on going off on their own—THAT was enough to put her in Go-Mode.

“What would the guys say? They’d want us to stay put,” you said, more to yourself than them. Maggie just rolled her eyes, and Michonne’s features softened, along with her voice.

“Rick, Daryl and Glenn, they are alive today because they are strong and capable. They know how to survive, protect themselves. Do you think for one minute, they would have chosen to be with weak or weak-minded women? Just because we’re all mothers here, doesn’t mean we sit back and wait. We fight for them… to find them. To bring them home for all our children. This way our daughters—” Michonne’s words pausing slightly, remembering what her friend had lost as she felt Maggie stiffen beside her, “and our sons, can learn by example. So, they know to do the right thing, is not always the safe thing.”

You knew she was right, and Maggie knew that you realized it. She gave you the same look she gave you freshman year in high school when she dared you and her brother Sean to jump off the quarry’s edge into the water. Beth had been screaming in the background not to jump, Sean was nervous, but Maggie had insisted. You wanted to prove to her and Sean that you weren’t scared of anything, that you could be tough just like her. Somewhere deep down, you felt a bit of excitement at the rush the old memory brought up.

That lead to you remembering every time since then you needed to dig down and find the untapped power that resided in you. The same grit and determination that ultimately made Daryl fall in love with you.

Maggie realized that, too. Her stone-clad features softened, and the old daring smirk played on her lips. “Well?” she asked, and you half expected her to ask if you were ready to jump.

“Alright, Greene. You win. I’ll get the kids packed and be ready within the hour.”

  You found Abe and Shelby sitting on his bed, talking in hushed tones. Once they were aware of your presence, they stopped talking altogether. Neither of them spoke as you came in and sat on the edge of Abraham’s bed. Despite him being angry with you, and well past the aging of snuggling, he curled up into your side and wrapped your arm around his shoulders, hugging it closed to him.

“So, here’s the thing…” you started, pausing to look both in the eye, “I know what you were planning to do. Aunt Maggie and Mish stopped by to rat you all out. Not a good idea, guys. Its so beyond dangerous, and honestly, I can’t imagine what you were thinking.”

Both Shelby and Abe wanted to voice a protest, but they knew by your expression they’d be best to just stay quiet.

“However, we get why you wanted to go. It's hard having them all out there and not knowing what is happening. The idea that we didn’t try to help is sort of hard to live with because we would do anything for those we love. But what you aren’t considering, is that if you guys got lost out there too… if we didn’t know where you were, it would make it that much harder to concentrate on finding Daddy and the others. Alright?”

“So, we aren’t supposed to do anything?!” Shelby replied, her face quickly contorted into frustration.

“I didn’t say that. That’s why I came up. I want you two to pack up some stuff and get ready to leave. Me, Aunt Maggie and Mish are taking you to The Kingdom to stay with Carol and we are going to backtrack Uncle Rick’s course and hopefully run into Daddy and Uncle Glenn in our travels.”

“Wait… does that mean…” Abe sat up, his young, fiercely intense eyes were scanning you with hope, “…I get to join the archers?”

“Yeah, bud, it does. And Shel, they have a great school there. You can choose whatever you want to study. Pick something and put your all into it. That’s what Daddy would want you to do.”

She was silent, and you knew that could mean trouble. “Shelby?”

Shelby just shrugged and nodded in agreement. “Ok, whatever you say, mom.”

  The leaves crunched under Daryl’s boots as he followed the trail of blood deeper into the recesses of the forest. Daylight was fading quickly, and he knew that he was running out of time to find their next meal. The deer had been fast, but Daryl’s bolt had been faster as he aimed and released the trigger. He saw it impale the animal’s rear as it took off into the brush and followed as closely as he could.

Now, as he closed in on the dying animal, he felt the presence of someone watching him. Glenn and Jesus were back at the camp, so he knew it wasn’t one of them. The other search party looking for Rick was five miles due west, no way for them to catch up that quickly.

Daryl’s instincts heightened when he thought he heard someone trying to mirror his footsteps. Slow and methodical, he would step, trying to leave no sound or trace behind. That’s when he spotted the deer and heard the quickening of steps approaching from behind. They happened at the same time, and he reacted the only way he knew how… violently.

With his finger already set on the trigger, he released the bolt towards the deer and didn’t wait to see if it hit. In a second, he had his bow dropped, his left-hand unsheathing and swiping his knife around, backhanded and pointing the tip of the blade at someone’s throat. Before he could see who had nearly been cut, he was hit in the back of the head with something hard and heavy by a second attacker. His vision went dark and his body slumped to the ground with a thud.

Off in the distance, the deer’s corpse had fallen to the ground, with Daryl’s bolt protruding from its neck. Its last desperate whine had attracted some of the dead still roaming to feast in its remains. Daryl’s captors each grabbed one of his arms and carried him off before more walkers shambled into the small clearing and made escape impossible.

  He knew what he was seeing wasn’t real, but he didn’t care. He was home, in his own bed next to his wife, in his own house. A house that he once felt very trapped by; now he missed desperately and wanted to be back in it.

Just for this moment, he was, or part of him was; a memory most likely. One of the many he kept for times like this. When he couldn’t be with her, he would let himself fade into a private collection of moments where he remembers feeling the kind of happy, he never thought was meant for him.

It was an anniversary, they woke up in their bed, and went out to celebrate. Not with candles and champagne but with a walk in the woods on a clear autumn day. The sunlight filtered down through the stained-glass leaves and cast pockets of warmth on the moss. Y/N had laid down a blanket while he set up a safe perimeter. When he turned back to meet her, she had already laid down on it, her hair spilled out around the arms tucked beneath her head.

Daryl had been taken with her since she showed up at the prison, but never in a million years did he think their lives together would take the path they did. With each passing year, she would surprise with him a new layer, making him realize what life could be and how much he loved living it with her and their kids.

As he watched her lay in that bit of sunlight, he fell in love all over again. When she beckoned him over to lay next to her, he did so without a moment’s hesitation. This was the best part of the memory—just laying next to her. He could feel the weight of her body beside him, her head now resting on the arm he had wrapped around her. Her hand slowly moving around his body, getting caught up in his clothing, then subtly finding its way beneath the surface as her lips teased the flesh on his neck.

He wanted to tell her to stop, to just lay with him. But her touch wasn’t something he could ignore. He remembered how she propped herself up on one elbow and gazed down at him, a playful smirk stretching across her lips while her other hand slowly stroked his erection. He wanted to be back there now; go back in time to that moment so he could tell her how perfect it all was… how perfect she was.

A jarring pain to his left side yanked his daydream away. Daryl’s eyes flew open as he tried to scramble up, but his hands were tied behind his back and secured by another set of chains to a tree. His mouth was gagged and there was an explosion of pain at the base of his head.

Daryl tried to look up, but the pain and sunlight streaming through the trees made focusing difficult. He growled lowly and tried to concentrate solely on his captor’s feet. Black, military-issued boots, but smaller than normal. He followed their legs up and realized that at least one of his kidnappers was a woman, but this wasn’t who he had drawn his knife too. Her face was still obscured, but her body shape was something he noticed, even in his disorientated state.

“Well, well, someone’s finally awake,” she said and took another step closer, crouching down to meet his eye level. When Daryl realized who he was talking to, a smile unfurled across her face and a distinct satisfaction set into her expression. “Long time no see, old friend.”

TWD tags are open! Just send me an ask if you want to be added!

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

4. Like a virgin a.k.a. zodiac signs, phone calls and the ways of assholeness

„Jeff, what do you think about this chord change?” I strum a few chords on my acoustic guitar. I’m working on a new idea but I feel somehow stuck, the parts won’t fit each other although I can already hear in my head that they belong together. I really appreciate Jeff’s songwriting skills; we basically crafted the musical part of Ten together so I often rely on his advice.

“Sounds cool…”

He looks distracted; his thoughts must be somewhere else.

“What do you think about Judy?” he asks out of the blue. Bingo…

“She’s a very nice girl.” Mike glances around from the magazine he’s reading.

“Yeah, she’s cute.” Dave agrees dropping a chewing gum into his mouth.

We’re sitting around the table of the tour bus. The drivers needed a break so we have an hour before setting off again. I feel in my legs that I should take a walk but this new maybe-song doesn’t leave me alone tickling my hands to finish it.

“So I thought I could connect the bridge with the last chorus somehow this way…” I play the same chords again.

“I like this version better” Jeff remarks still staring with glazed eyes.

“Because it was exactly the same as the previous one!” I roll my eyes impatiently.

“We should do something together with her to help her get integrated into the team.” I could have thought; he didn’t even hear what I played…

“Since when has that chick been our only topic?” I start drumming with my fingers on the guitar.

“Stone, what’s wrong with you? She’s already in the crew, even if you’re not willing to communicate with her.” Mike frowns at me.

“Should I perform a dance of joy? You know my opinion; I won’t pretend to be happy about her. But I don’t want to be a real jerk with her either so I rather avoid communication…”

“Speaking of dance, I would be interested in that performance, I’ve never seen you dancing unless we consider your awkward choreography in Stockholm a dance!” Mike grins.

“And you never will, not in this lifetime, ‘Cready. As for Stockholm, it was an emergency situation, my guitar got fucked up, should I have stand there like a puppet?” I hiss between my teeth.

“Maybe it would have been better for mankind… Seriously Stone, what’s you problem with her? Okay, maybe she’s too shy but she seems lovely and if we got to know each other better…”

“On one hand, she hasn’t shown anything from her professional skills. If she screwed something up while we’re playing a gig, her loveliness would be a screen door on a submarine. One the other hand, she’s no big deal. Karrie talked about a smart, funny girl so I expected someone cooler, not someone who dresses like a nun, behaves like a nun and can’t form complete sentences. If she was a babe at least…”

“Hey, she can form sentences!” Jeff defends her not noticing how ridiculously his objection sounds.

“Seriously, I’d bet she’s still a virgin!” I announce the verdict. And in this moment a short figure appears from the hallway of the bus.

“Hi guys!” Speak of the devil…

“Hi Judy!” my bandmates greet her in unison.

“Good morning, Judith!” I add with the most plastic smile I can flash. She raises an eyebrow but her usual expression – a special mixture of indifference and boredom – doesn’t change.

“Karrie sent me…” she starts. Does she really think that she needs an explanation to enter our bus? Unbelievable… “She needs bandage on her knee but she can’t find her own one in her bag, Jeff, could you lend yours?”

“Sure! I have to look for it at first but I’ll take it to her, just a few minutes, okay?” Jeff immediately becomes more animated. That’s interesting…  

“What’s that smell? Is someone hiding a bar here?” she sniffles grimacing. I glance at Mike for a second who stares at her and then at me as if he had seen a ghost. I try to hold back a grin and look back at him with a deadpan.

“Songwriting in progress?” her eyes wander curiously at my guitar. I should rather finish the song instead of having this chit-chat…

“No, I’m just stroking my guitar, it gets jealous if I don’t touch it regularly. Actually, we were talking right about you!” I glance around and enjoy the frightened faces of the others. Let the show begin! “We were wondering if you were a vir…”

“A Virgo!” Mike cuts in unnecessarily loudly.

“Ehhe, ehhe, eeeeehhhhe!” Dave begins to cough intensively at the same time; maybe he swallowed his chewing gum…

“Ouch!” Jeff exclaims joining the cacophony.

“Or Pisces?” Mike asks innocently.

“I choked on my own drool.” Dave shrugs smiling.

“I banged my elbow against the table.” Jeff rubs his elbow with an exaggeratedly painful hiss.

“I don’t believe in astrology…“ she glares us suspiciously. At least she’s not a freaky new age chick… “But I’d better go back to Karrie before my bad karma leads to more disasters…” she adds ironically and turns on her heels. Jeff leans back and follows her with his eyes and in the second she’s left the bus he attacks me.

“Are you a fuckin’ idiot? How could you ask such…”

“Calm down Jeffrey, just for the record, I only wanted to ask her if she was a virtuous girl!” I beam at him flashing all my teeth.

“Oh fuck, Stone, I almost got a heart attack!” Mike presses his hands onto his chest. “We should make her somehow forget this scene before she thinks that we’re psychos who happen to be taking part in a music therapy… I mean, not that we aren’t… but just for show…”

“Mike, my child, I can’t follow you. You want me to communicate with her and when I do it, everybody treats me like a public enemy…”

“We talked about throwing a room party on Sunday since we have a day-off right on Mike’s birthday. What if we extended it to a Mike’s Birthday and Welcome Judy Party? Maybe we could finally have a normal conversation with her… Of course if you don’t mind, Mikey…” Jeff ignores my reaction.

“You mean, you could have a conversation with her… Jeff, are you kidding? Mike, do you want to celebrate your birthday with an afternoon tea? Because that’s all you can expect from Miss Innocence…”

“Afternoon tea in the evening? Stone, don’t confuse me, please! Oh, sorry, sarcasm is your cup of tea…” Very funny, Mike… “I like the idea, anyway, I’m not selfish; I share my party gladly with her. And you can’t complain, because it’s my birthday. Yass, watching your annoyed face will be my best birthday present ever!”

“Stone, that seems settled to me. But you can skip it and stay pouting in your room, no one will miss you! I’m out!” Jeff shrugs and walks back to his bunk.

So here we are. An evening rosary with Sister Judith on Mike’s birthday. Excellent.

***

I’m heading to the payphone in the café of the gas station and I’m still pondering about the last conversation in the bus. The guys acted very weird; somehow things always get very weird when Stone and I engage in any form of communication. Actually, we haven’t even talked yet; he hasn’t even shown the faintest signs of interest when I tried to get to know him. And this first, quite odd attempt of his got interrupted by the not less odd reactions of the guys…

I have two calls to make; at first I dial our number in Seattle. After a few rings I hear the beeping of the answering machine, Effie probably hasn’t got home yet.

“Hi Mom, hi Ef… it’s me, Judy, and I only wanted to let you know that… ooooh, ooooh, I’m still alive…”

I must have sung too loudly since as I glance around, I see a few customers staring at me suspiciously.

“…aaaand, thank you for accepting my application for “Sing the Billboard” contest, I really appreciate your kindness!” I tweet and I hang up the phone quickly. After changing meaningful looks the customers finally turn back to their beverages so I earn back my privacy by the time I start to dial the other number.

“Curtis Management.” I immediately recognize Krisha’s friendly voice although she sounds very official on the phone.

“Hi Krisha, it’s Judy. You know, you made me promise to call you as I can…”

“Hi girl, how are you doin’?”

“I’m okay, thanks. I’m not used to night shifts so I’m a little bit tired but otherwise I’m fine.”

“Aaand, how was the gig? Did you like it?” she asks excited as if she was asking me about the newest gossips.

“It was… dynamic. I mean, how can they play with the same intensity every night despite having been on the road for months? I see the signs of stress and exhaust on them but as they step on the stage, they turn into human tornados… But hey, you didn’t warn me about Eddie’s suicide actions...”

“Well, hehe… that’s a thing we don’t like to talk about… I mean… in the beginning he was very shy but not much later he started to channel his energies into his performances… and you saw the result. Every single member of the team is worrying about his crazy, random ideas and we’ve tried to talk him out of them but he doesn’t listen to us, not even to Beth…”

“That’s weird…” And selfish, but as the newest member of the staff I keep my opinion for myself.

“And can you get along with your roadie tasks?”

“I’ve already learned how to dismount the gear, you know, destruction is always easier than construction… and Karrie showed me a few things, but she doesn’t want to spill everything on me in one day…”

“Yeah, step by step is always a good strategy. I hope… No, nothing… ”

“What? What did you want to ask?”

“Uhm… no… nothing… or… I just wanted to say that I hoped the guys treated you well… You know, being in a company that consists almost only of men is not easy for a young woman… of course they aren’t sexist jerks but they always tease each other with pranks, dirty jokes and so on… Karrie has already got used to it, but you…”

“No, they are very kind and helpful…”with certain exceptions…“… and Eric is very protective of me, he’s like the goofy dad of the team. And I’m not a nun either…”

“Yeah, Eric is great at keeping everything under control without making you feel being controlled. You can turn with literally anything to him so if you need something just let him know… Or call me, I offer my services as a secret ally…” it’s like I can see her winking at me.

“Thanks, I like secret alliances… I’m going to find out a secret handshake for us.”

“And I’m going to send you nonsense fake encoded messages when talking with the guys only to make them believe that we’re members of a powerful secret society. As curious they are, they’d spend hours decoding them…”

“I’m in, I like that! But, uhm, I have one another call to make, so…”

“Okay, okay, just one more question! How… how is Stone?” she asks very cautiously. Pff…  okay, she was right with that supernatural skill thing… why is she asking right me? Of course they are friends, but why can’t she ask him? “Judy, can you hear me?”

“Something is wrong with the line… What did you ask?”

“I asked you about Stone. How is he doing?”

“Uhm… he’s… he’s okay… I guess… the thing is that we haven’t talked much yet but as far as I can see, he’s fine…”

“Great! If he’s fine, that’s fine... uhm… I leave you alone, make that another call and take care of yourself! Bye Judy!”

“Bye Krish!”

I dial again our number and this time I have more luck.

“Camden.”

“Hi Sis, it’s me!”

“Judy!!! It’s so good to hear you! What the hell was that weird message you left a few minutes ago?” she jabbers without taking a breath.

“Nevermind… how are you? Any good news from the hospital?”

“No, nothing special, only the usual visits three times a week. But let’s not talk about me; I want to know everything from the moment you set foot in Cleveland!”

“Well, being in a rock band’s staff is not as exciting as you think…” I know that she’s dying for the details, especially about the reception of her little present but I want to tease her a bit.

“JUDITH EMILIA CAMDEN, SERIOUSLY, DON’T PISS ME OFF!!!” she screams with such volume that I almost drop the receiver.

“Okay… let’s start with the gig. It was a-ma-zing. I can’t wait being really a part of it, you know, at least as a support member of the team. They play with so much energy! I’ve never seen anything like this before. You have to see them once too, you would lose your mind!”

“Finally! I haven’t heard you being so excited about anything for months, I’m glad you started leaving the spinster lifestyle behind…”

“Spinster??? Excuse me? Well thanks, if you go on like this, I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more…” I threaten her. “Anyway, I don’t have time for telling you all the details, we set off soon… all in all, everybody is kind, the team is full of nice people, with certain exceptions, though…”

“Certain exceptions? Is there someone there who’s not a nice person?”

“No, no… I mean… everybody is very tired, some of them might be in a bad mood but that’s totally understandable… But I haven’t even asked yet how Mom and Granny are?”

“Mom is tired, as always… the old terrorists who she calls her clients keep finding out more and more ways to drive her crazy. And Granny calls every day pestering us with uncomfortable questions, very surprisingly about your nutrition habits.”

“Haha, please reassure her that I’m going to eat a half pork for lunch. Only a half because the other half of it could escape. And tell her that between gigs I collect berries and roots with Karrie and Beth, Eddie’s girlfriend, while the boys are hunting. Okay, Mike and Stone are only decoys, their body structure makes them suitable only for that role… or rather unsuitable for any other role. But I rather shut my mouth, I should go…”

"No, you can't hang up! We haven't even talked about the most interesting things yet!" she cuts me off quickly.

"Like...?"

"Like for example whether you've used your tape recorder yet!"

"Nope... working on my ideas is sooo problematic regarding the circumstances... I miss my piano, it would be quite difficult to use only my tuning fork and ears since I don't own a guitar either so..." I whine.

"Judy!!! You're touring with a goddamn rock band, and you're only excuse is not having a guitar? Then borrow one from the guys!" I have to hold the receiver away from my ears due to her vehement reaction.

"Hm... Maybe... After all, they carry their acoustic guitars everywhere with themselves, maybe I could ask Jeff or Mike..." I hesitate.

"Or Stone..." she adds.

"Pff... Stone...'course..." I snort ironically.

"Why not? What's wrong with him? Krisha told he was a nice guy!"

"Well, nice is a relative attribute. He's a nice guy in comparison to Ivan the Terrible or Jack the Ripper."

"But you said a few seconds ago that they were kind people!"

"Kind people with certain exceptions. He's the exception. He's an asshole with me. In the beginning I wasn't sure if he even noticed my existence but now I'm convinced that he ignores me intentionally. Or when not, he acts so strangely, it's difficult to describe it... He's not openly hostile but he isn't friendly either. I can't solve him, all I know is that I don't like him. I hate him. Actually... he's an asshole with everyone, so..." While I’m spitting out my impressions about him the fingers of my right hand start playing with the phone cord.

"Then being ignored by him might be better than not..."

"I don't know. He targets everyone with his caustic remarks but he's not offensive at the same time, he doesn't really hurt them. It's like a very annoying way of care. And, what’s more, he’s insane. He talks to himself while playing the riffs during the gigs and rehearsals."

“Maybe you’re wrong, maybe he’s just…”

“I saw it with my own two eyes! Trust me, he has a screw loose.” I declare irrevocably.

"First an asshole, then insane… I'm not sure I can follow you... Let's sum it up: there's this guy..."

"Don't call him "this guy"!"

"Why? He's a guy, isn't he?" she asks back impatiently.

"Yes but you emphasized his gender as if it had been relevant but I'm not interested in him..."

"Okay, then there's this young, male specimen of..."

"Don't use the..." I cluck in.

"Shut up, Judy! So there's this young, male specimen of homo sapiens who's an asshole with you, therefore you don't like him." she explains me in the style of a kindergarten teacher.

"Exactly." I nod totally unnecessarily seeing as she can’t see me.

"But he's an asshole with everyone, only in a different way."

"Yep."

"And you want him to be an asshole with you in that different way."

"Kinda."

"And if he was an asshole with you in the desired way, then you would like him."

"Desired? What... No!!!" I protest.

"Then what?"

"I would still hate him but I wouldn't feel being discriminated at least."

"Judy?"

"Yes?"

"You should have your brain checked."

"Thank you so much! I've always known that I can count on you at solving my problems."

"I don't think that this Stone guy would cause a big problem for you. You're smart, fire back with a few witty remarks and he will realize you're not the person he wants to fuck with. Or do you want him to be the person who he wants to fuck with?" I can hear her grinning. I'm going to kill you, Ef, I swear. I feel my index finger numbing and as I glance at it, I notice that I rolled the phone cord so tightly around it that its color has turned into something between purple and dark blue.

"Could we drop this fuck topic?" I try to untangle my finger nervously.

"Sure. Did you found the condoms?" she chuckles.

"Hahaha, I knew you couldn't help asking it!" I laugh. "Yes, thanks, I found the condoms” I scream the last word in Granny’s voice “but I doubt I would need them..."

"Do you think Granny's concerns aren't realistic?"

"Hehe, not at all... and you know my famous luck, if I met a guy, I probably should rather use the Golden Rule." I confess resigned.

"I almost forgot Granny's Golden Rule! And it's so much funnier to hear it from you! Your Granny impersonation is the best of all times... Please, Granny, tell me the Golden Rule!"

"I can't, I'm in the diner of a gas station!" I hiss glancing around and counting the customers who could possibly hear me.

"Please!" she begs.

"No way!"

"Please!!!"

"Okay... but only because you asked me so nicely." I clear my throat. "Effie, my darling, if you see a man showing his organ, scream as loud as you can, run away and call the police!" I imitate Granny's voice.

"Ahahahah... that was hilarious! I miss you, you idiot!"

"I miss you too, other idiot! But now I really have to go, I send hugs and kisses for the whole family!"

"Take care of yourself, be good… or not, be bad! Verry bad. And hugs for Karrie!"

"I’ll see what I can do. Bye, Ef!”

“By, Sis.”

As I hang back the receiver I stay standing at the phone for a moment and let out a deep sigh. As I turn back I almost bump against the chest of someone tall who has probably been standing behind my back for a while, waiting for the phone.

“Sorry!” I jump back with a startled short scream. Wait… I know that sweater… As I crane my neck to see the head belonging to the person, I recognize Stone in front of me. He stares me with his usual, nonchalant facial expression dipping both hands deeply in his pockets. So the guy’s got green eyes… greener than I could ever get used to… Jesus, how long might he have stood behind me? My brain desperately analyzes the possible scenarios in a fragment of a second. Could he hear the asshole part? Or only the insane part? The fuck… the condoms… Granny… FUCK!!!

“So… I guess, Virgo, huh?” he utters slowly raising his eyebrows questioningly. Or rather quizzically? Shit, he must have definitely heard the Granny part.

“I have to go.” I mutter sidestepping and storm out of the building.

***

“Curtis Management.”

“Hi Krisha!”

“Stoney, hi, how are you?”

“Thanks, everything’s fine, I’m just calling to ask you to send me that fax with the details of our SNL appearance. I lost my copy but I don’t feel like confessing to Eric that something’s missing again.” I explain unwillingly.

“Okay, I’ll send you but you’re unbelievable, you know? If you keep being so absent-minded, one day you’ll lose your own head… Of course only if you don’t lose it at one of the gigs as an unwanted side-effect of head bobbing!” she chuckles.

“…said my so-called friend.”

“Ah, so in your interpretation friendship means to swallow my critical remarks about you and bearing your teasing the shit out of me without a word?”

“No, you see that completely wrong, ‘course you can use words! You just have to laugh at my jokes and reassure me regularly how funny I am!” I grin.

“Not that you need self-esteem boost… Anyway, you said everything’s fine so does that mean that Judy was a good choice?” I can’t believe that, this Judy mania follows me everywhere.

“I don’t know, you should ask the others.”

“Because…?”

“Because… all I know about her is that eighty percent of her vocabulary consists of saying “sorry”. Or maybe more but I would need a hearing aid to understand the remaining twenty percent.”

“Or maybe you should spare your poor Marshall. Interesting, I had meaningful conversations with her, I mean, when she came to the interview…”

“She’s… small and… annoying. She follows Karrie everywhere like a duckling and moves so quietly as if she were spying, I can’t stand that…”

“And what about her famous, excellent ears?” she keeps torturing me.

“Dunno… her hair cover them all the time.” Maybe nonsense answers make her change the topic of the conversation.

“You’re impossible. And how’s Ed voice doing? Eric mentioned he struggled more and more with it.”

Yass. I succeeded.

“I don’t know… we should figure out something… Obviously he shouldn’t sing for weeks at least but that’s not an option right now. You know, he doesn’t listen to anyone…”

“I know.” she sighs but I know her, she keeps being concerned without talking about it. “Oh, and Mike’s birthday? You won’t forget it, will you?”

“Of course we won’t, Mom.” I answer slackly. “Eric is to order a cake and we’re organizing also a birthday party for him. Although it’s probably just a question of semantics, we’re probably going to have only a few beers, maybe smoke some pot, and that’s all…”

“You don’t sound enthusiastic. Hey, it’s about Mike, your friend or what…”

“I know… it’s just…” No, I’m not gonna whining like a five-year-old again. “Nothing, I’m just tired but you’re right. Mike deserves to have a cool birthday. But, uhm, if you don’t mind, I should call Amber too…”

“Amber, of course… But I almost forgot that I have a message for Judy, could you deliver it?”

“For Judith? Okay… Let me hear it.” Since when have they been confidantes?

“Okay, but repeat it her word for word, okay? It’s very important.”

“Mkay…” I mumble although I’m not convinced about the importance of anything that relates to that chick.

“Okay, so… the Russians are already in the pantry.” she utters pausing for a second between the words.

“What?” I must have misheard it.

“The Russians are already in the pantry.”

No, I don’t have problems with my ears, but she has definitely serious problems with her brain.

“Krisha… carefully with acid, okay? If bad trips keep repeating, you should look for a new dealer…” I joke to cover how uncomfortable I feel. It is usually me who tells insider jokes all the time; I’m not used to the role of the dumb listener.

“Haha, thanks, I’m absolutely straight!” That’s I’m afraid of too. “Now go and call your sweetheart. Bye, Stoney!”

“Bye!”

I’m still trying to make out the message while I’m dialing Amber’s number.

“Amber Foster.” she answers right after the first ring.

“Hi babe, it’s me.”

“Baby! I didn’t think you’d call me today!” her voice sounds huskier than usual.

“You sound like you have a sore throat, are you okay?”

“That depends… the nastiest kind of hangover.” she giggles. “Last night we went partying with the girls and some guys invited us for a cocktail. And other guys to other cocktails… Hanging out with single girls always pays off.” she laughs.

I’m not really surprised, she’s a gutsy girl, that’s why she impressed me when we met for the first time. I mean, when a tall, long blond-haired girl with a spectacular chest structure comes over to you and declares that you want to buy a drink for her, you won’t start searching for counter-arguments… I like it better when I have to work for the targeted person, though, I have a thing for stubborn girls but I wasn’t a complete idiot either to miss such an opportunity. And partying without me is her constitutional right; I’m okay with that, I’ve done basically the same for months since we started touring.

“I had a rough day at the firm, Elaine is still trying to get a rise out of me, I needed a night out.” Elaine, again. Her Cruella de Vil-like - or at least that’s how I always imagine her -, despotic boss at the fashion company she works at. “We’re working on the spring campaign and she’s like a slave driver, every time I finish a task she finds something she doesn’t like and makes me start it again from the very beginning, it’s awful…”

I can’t help but I give up following her monologue after a few words, her voice sounds as if I was listening to a tape played at double speed, being unable to grasp any information of it. I’m not proud of that but that happens to me quite often as for our conversations… not that I’m not interested in her. I stare out through the window, when I glimpse a small figure wearing that ugly, brown potato bag dress. She sits down on the curb at the parking lot and lays something, maybe a thick notebook on her knees. She pulls something out of the leg of her right doc… I crane my neck to get a better sight but I still can’t find out what she’s holding in her hand. I can see the sunlight glinting on it; it must be something made of metal. What the hell, did she steal the cutlery?

“What do you think about that?”

Oh shit, I have no idea what she’s talking about… and how long she has been talking about that who knows what… the last thing I can remember was Elaine so it must be something about her work, maybe her new ideas… maybe the colors of this season…

“Purple?” I falter finally.

“Purple? Baby, I was telling that Mark and Jessica made up again and I asked if you thought they could finally make things clear.”

Jesus, even if I had listened to the question, I wouldn’t be able answer it. I met her friends only two or three times and I don’t really feel like an insider as for the drama events of her clique.

“Who knows, maybe.” I try to play a cliché from my collection of verbal robot pilot elements.

“I don’t know, Jessica should finally realize that she won’t find a perfect match and Mark is relatively the best for her.”

Dear Jesus, I thought it was over. In the meantime Jeff takes place next to her and they get into conversation.

“Uhm, yeah, definitely. Sorry for not being a good listener, I got distracted by two homeless people who are fighting over the content of a dustbin. And somehow I have Smoke on the Water stuck in my head so I said the first word that came to mind.”

Gosh, this is so pathetic; Jeff throws himself on the first, possibly single female person he’s met in the last months apart from the backstage oriented bar pixies.

“It’s okay, baby. I’d like to talk to you longer but all I can think of right now is sleeping, I need a nap to make this splitting headache more bearable.”

“Okay, I’ll call you later Sleeping Beauty, good night!”

“Bye, my prince!”

She could have asked me at least how I was doing.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @froggydarren!

Read on AO3

*****

Safe in Our Room(At the End of the World)

“Where were you approximately 11 months ago, Mr. Hale?”

Derek just rolls his eyes at the question that’s asked before he can even say hello as he picks up the phone.

“Hello to you, too, Stiles,” he says. “And I’m pretty sure 11 months ago, we were in Chile hunting down those Tinkerbell rejects. I know you remember that whole mess.”

Stiles laughs, no doubt remembering how they’d had to rescue Liam from a pack of honest-to-god sparkling fairies. Mean ones.

“Oh man,” he says, “that was the best. The look on his face!”

“So why the Agent Voice?” Derek asks, “the FBI doesn’t want to frame me for more murders I didn’t commit, do they?”

“I met this baby,” Stiles answers, “ok, this baby and his mom. And it had your eyebrows! Like… your exact, glorious and angry eyebrows! With the scowl to match.”

It’s Derek turn to laugh, at the sheer ridiculousness of Stiles and his everything.

“I didn’t impregnate anybody 11 months ago,” he says. “Or ever,” he adds, because he knows that would be the next question out of Stiles’ mouth.

“He bit my fingers!” Stiles exclaims, “are you sure you’re not related?”

“Why were your fingers near his mouth?” Derek counters, taking a moment to wonder how Stiles even got himself into this situation.

“Because his cheeks were so squishable!” Stiles huffs, “obviously.”

“Obviously,” Derek agrees, smiling into the empty room despite himself.

“You’ll be there for Christmas, right?” Stiles asks suddenly, switching topics so fast that it would have made Derek’s head spin if he hadn’t grown so used to it over the years.

“Well,” Derek says, “I did just build a brand new house, I should probably prepare for all of you inevitably trashing it.”

For a long, beautiful moment, Stiles is absolutely silent. Derek snickers to himself, he does so love when he can render Stiles speechless.

“YOU BOUGHT A HOUSE??” Stiles screeches a moment later.

“Built a house,” Derek corrects.

“Built a house,” Stiles parrots, before his indignation rises again. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“Yup,” Derek says, because honestly, it’s just too easy to rile Stiles up.

“You’re such an ass,” Stiles says, grumbling to himself about stupid werewolves and their stupid excellent secret-keeping skills.

“Yup,” Derek agrees.

“Does everyone else know?” Stiles asks, once he’s gotten his hissy fit out.

“Nobody else knows,” Derek says. “Well, except Cora. But I wanted her blessing before I tore down the old house for good.”

“Jesus, Der,” Stiles sighs, and Derek can hear the catch in his voice. “That’s really cool, man. I bet it’s really nice.”

“You’ll see soon enough,” Derek says, “unless you aren’t going to be home for Christmas?”

“You just try and keep me away, buddy,” Stiles says, laughing again. “Scott and Mel have promised me as much pie as I can fit in my stomach. I’m not missing that.”

“They do make really good pie,” Derek agrees.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, “Shit! I gotta get going, but I’ll talk to you later?”

“I’ll be here,” Derek says, shaking his head in amusement when the phone beeps to tell him Stiles has already disconnected.

.

.

“That your boyfriend again, Stilinski?”

Stiles sticks his tongue out at his partner, resolutely ignoring the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks.

“Shut it, Torres,” he says. “You know damn well that I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. It’s just me and Lettie Lefty, as usual.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t name your jerking-off hand, more people would be interested in you,” Torres teases, reaching out to ruffle Stiles’ hair purely because she knows it bugs him.

“I have a gun, woman,” he warns, swatting at her hand ineffectively.

“This is the FBI,” she says slowly, swatting his hand back, “we all have guns.”

“Pfft,” Stiles says, shrugging, “you and your logic.”

“Kept you alive this past year, hasn’t it?” Torres says, giving Stiles’ shoulder a little push as they head across the parking lot to their agency car.

Stiles just rolls his eyes and ignores her as gets into the car.

It’s not until they’re well on their way to the assignment that Torres speaks again.

“Does he know you’re in love with him?” she asks, casually, eyes still trained on the road like the responsible driver she is, as if she hasn’t just tipped Stiles’ entire world upside down.

“What!” Stiles exclaims, “I’m not…what are you even talking… Derek doesn’t even like… I don’t even!… I mean…I… he…we…what?”

Torres manages to not burst into laughter, but just barely.

“So, that’s a no, then,” she says. “Do you know that you’re in love with him?”

“I am not in love with him!” Stiles says, vehemently, but the words sound wrong even as he’s saying them.

Torres pulls over to park as they arrive at the scene, finally turning to look at Stiles again, cringing when she sees the pure panic splayed all over her partner’s face.

“Oh god, you really didn’t know,” she says, “I’m sorry! Are you ok? Your eyes are like… disturbingly wide right now.”

“I’m just reevaluating every interaction I’ve ever had in my entire life,” Stiles says, chest heaving as he tries to breathe. “No big deal.”

“It’s kind of a big deal,” Torres says, “but hey, it’s cool! We’ll figure it out! Just breathe with me, ok?”

She grabs Stiles hands and wraps his fingers around her wrists, doing the same to his and taking a deep breath.

“Count with me,” she says. “Ten, Mississippi, nine Mississippi, eight Mississippi…”

“Seven Mississippi, six Mississippi,” Stiles continues after a long moment, breathing through it until his heart-rate matches the one he feels under his fingers.

.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” he says once he’s calmed down enough that Torres is no longer worried about him passing out.

“Nah,” she says, “that was nothing. Remember when you literally walked in on me peeing in the bathtub because I was too drunk to get out of my dress and use the toilet?”

Stiles barks out a laugh at that, and Torres finally releases his wrists with a final soothing squeeze.

“You were White Girl Wasted,” he agrees, still chuckling.

“Exactly,” she says. “And if that didn’t ruin this, a panic attach here and there definitely isn’t going to.”

“You’re not so bad, Torres,” Stiles says, punching her lightly in the arm. “Come on, we should go do our jobs before they send someone to find out why we’re still sitting here.”

“Roger that, partner,” she says, giving him a mock salute before pushing open her door to start their sure to be long day.

.

.

Scott picks him up from the airport in the Jeep, which is somehow still running, and Stiles spends a good ten minutes patting various parts of her soothingly.

“I’ve missed you, baby,” he says, stroking the dashboard gently.

“Aww,” Scott says, “I’ve missed you too, snookums.”

Stiles gives him the finger without looking up, and Scott just laughs.

“Come on,” he says, tossing Stiles’ bag in the back. “Let’s get this Christmas thing going.”

“Tidings of comfort and joy, bitches!” Stiles agrees, a little too emphatically if he’s being honest. Traveling always makes him loopy.

“Maybe a nap, first,” Scott says, laughing.

“You’re the best,” Stiles says, sighing and settling his head against the passenger side window as they start the drive home.

.

.

Stiles wakes up slowly, the smell of black coffee tickling his nose until he opens his eyes.

His bedroom hasn’t changed over the last few years that he’s been with the FBI, except that it’s less decorated now, and a little dusty and stuffy from being closed up for months on end while he’s gone. When he concentrates, he can hear the familiar sounds of his dad puttering down in the kitchen, no doubt drinking the coffee he’s just brewed and eating something that Stiles would scold him for if it wasn’t Christmas day.

He stumbles down the stairs and into the living-room, still half asleep, and stops dead in his tracks at what he sees.

“Daaad,” he calls out, still staring. “Did you do this?”

John comes in behind him, chuckling as he wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulder in a half-hug.

“Not me, son,” he says, pausing dramatically under the guise of taking a long sip from his coffee mug. “This was all Scott and Derek. Lydia supervised.”

Stiles laughs, because of course she did.

“It looks amazing,” he says, taking in the sight of the lavishly decorated Christmas tree that’s spread out across the entire far corner of the room.

“They missed you, kiddo,” his dad says. “It looks pretty nice though, huh? Almost as good as your mom used to make it.”

Stiles blinks against the tears welling in his eyes at the strain in his father’s voice.

“Almost,” he agrees, and they stand for a moment to collect themselves.

“Go get dressed,” John says finally. “We don’t want to miss all that pie.”

And that, Stiles absolutely will not argue with.

.

.

Melissa greets them at the door with strong hugs, and Stiles isn’t ashamed at how much he melts into it. Scott and Malia are in the kitchen, managing several pots and pans in a controlled chaos that Stiles is not going to get in the way of. Melissa ushers them in and immediately pulls the Sheriff into the other room to have some of her fancy roast coffee and let the younger folks work until they inevitably start squabbling and she has to come back and get things back in order. She gives it thirty minutes, tops.

That leaves Stiles standing awkwardly in the doorway for a moment until he spots Derek sitting on the couch, flipping through an Ikea magazine and absently petting Melissa’s fluffy grey cat, Marmalade.

“I didn’t know Ikea still had catalogs,” Stiles says, appreciating the fact that Derek jumps a little at his voice, humoring him as if he didn’t know he was there the moment they pulled up in his dad’s cruiser.

“Stiles,” Derek says, looking up to smile at him in greeting.

“Wow,” Stiles says, before he can stop himself. Because it’s been years and hundreds of life-threatening situations, but he’s literally never prepared for the full effect of Derek’s smile when it’s directed at him.

Derek just laughs, and closes the catalog and puts it back neatly on the table.

He gestures at the rest of the couch for Stiles to sit down. “Tell me about FBI life. Catch me up.”

So Stiles sits, and he does.

.

.

The celebrating and eating goes well into the evening, until they’re all full and sleepy Stiles wonders how he and his dad are even going to get home without either of them falling asleep at the wheel.

The answer comes when his dad reappears dressed in sweats and telling him he’s going to crash in the spare room for the night. Stiles knows for a fact that those sweats are his dad’s own, that have lived in the dresser by his bed for the last ten years. And he also knows that Melissa’s spare room is full of boxes and a bed without sheets, definitely not made up for company. He sends Scott a questioning look from across the room, receiving an amused look that promises they’ll talk about it later when their parents aren’t right there and trying to subtle. He shakes his head, deciding to deal with it all later after he’s slept all the sleep. And maybe had some more pie.

.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” Derek offers, when he realizes Scott and Malia are already headed to bed.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, getting up from his position on the couch to stretch and pull his jacket on.

The air is colder than he expects when they get outside, biting into his cheeks and waking him up as they walk towards the Camaro.

“Actually,” he says, once they’re settled into the car. “I want to see your new house.” “If that’s ok,” he adds, belatedly.

“More than,” Derek says, and Stiles thanks all the deities in the universe that he keeps his cool and doesn’t squeal at that answer.

.

.

The house is big, and barely decorated besides some sparse furniture a few throw pillows, but Stiles is immediately charmed.

“It’s really nice,” he says, gesturing around at the general lack of gloom and doom and blood-of-their-enemies.

“I’ll show you around,” Derek says, grabbing Stiles’ arm gently and leading him down the hall.

He points out the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom before leading him upstairs, fingers still burning into Stiles’ arm pleasantly.

“My room,” he points down the hall. “This one is mainly for Scott, or whoever needs it” he says about the one they’re next to. “Cora,” he says, pointing at the room in the middle, which is already adorned with a Knock First or Die sign that Stiles snickers at.

“And that one,” Derek says, pausing and pointing to the room next to his own, “is yours. If you want it, I mean.”

“Definitely,” Stiles says, and Derek’s grip stutters on his arm.

“I look forward to your calls every week,” Derek says, after a long pause. “at first it was just a pack thing, wanting to make sure you were safe…”

Stiles turns to face him, sliding his arm back so that Derek is holding his hand instead of his arm, and he squeezes their fingers together gently.

“At first?” he prompts.

Derek ducks his head slightly in embarrassment.

“I realized it was more than that when Malia mentioned that you might stay in D.C. indefinitely, and I almost snarled at her for even suggesting it.”

Stiles can’t help but shake his head and laugh at that.

“Not indefinitely,” he says. “That was never the plan.”

“What was the plan?” Derek asks, stepping closer into Stiles’ space until their only inches from each other, leaning against the wall outside the still-empty bedroom.

“Well, initially, it was to marry Lydia and get a picket fence and 2.5 kids and maybe a dog,” Stiles says, smirking.

“And now?” Derek asks.

“Now I think…maybe the dog is enough for me,” Stiles says, so sincerely that it takes a few seconds for Derek to realize he should be offended.

“You’re such an ass,” Derek says, but his hand is already curled into Stiles’ shirt, just waiting for the signal.

“Yup,” Stiles says, grinning wide before meeting Derek halfway into their first kiss.

It’s awkward and unpracticed and absolutely perfect.

“I’m not sure I’ll need that room after all,” Stiles says, heart beating so wildly even he can hear it.

“Make any more dog jokes, and you will,” Derek warns him.

“You knew what you were signing up for!” Stiles says, pushing Derek backwards towards his own room, pushing him against the closed door.

“Shut up,” Derek says, but he turns the doorknob, kicks the door shut after they’re inside, and lets Stiles push him all the way into the room until the back of his thighs hit the mattress.

“Make me,” Stiles replies, because he’s always wanted to have this exact conversation.

Derek just smirks at him and does just that.

.

The End

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 26

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 26 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

———————————————————————————

"This is worse than cars," Mick grumbles. He looks ill.

It takes a really special something to give a ghost an upset stomach.

The Waverider is precisely that special something, apparently.

Time travel sucks.

Somehow, that detail never really seemed to get that much attention in any of the sci-fi films Len watched.

They arrive in the 1970s, which is a little disappointing - all of history, and they go to a time within Len's living memory, if admittedly just barely? - and deal with some side-effects like numbness or linguistic confusion (another overlooked detail). Hunter announces their target for the moment – some professor who supposedly will have information to lead them to the bad guy they're hunting – and then promptly ditches Len, Mick, and Sara.

“This mission doesn’t require your particular skill set,” Hunter says, then, thinking better of it, adds an ominous, “Yet.”

“Meaning you don’t need anyone killed, maimed or robbed,” Len says, unimpressed.

“Precisely,” Hunter sniffs.

“Sure it’s a good idea to leave these two unsupervised on a time machine?” the tall guy asks.

“Hey, haircut,” Mick snaps. “Deafness wasn’t one of the side effects.”

“We need to hurry,” Hunter says. “Professor Boardman will die in less than 24 hours.”

“Why cut it so close?” Carter asks.

“Because if he's destined to die, then he doesn't have a timeline for us to disrupt, and whatever impact our involvement now will have on the future will be minimal,” Hunter explains. “You see, time wants to happen – that’s what makes our fight against Savage so difficult. This man’s death occurs, and will likely still occur, regardless of any interaction we have with him.”

“Brilliant, if somewhat depressing,” Stein comments. “Jefferson, are you coming?”

"I'm not going anywhere," Jax says, still looking queasy from the flight. "Grey, next time we take off? Roofie me first."

"I would never," Stein says, but he's beaming. "I can scarcely believe it – we're in 1975 once more!"

"Maybe they're faking it," Len suggests. "Like the moon landing."

"The moon landing wasn't faked, Mr. Snart," Hunter says officiously, even as Stein and Jax are rolling their eyes. It's an in-joke to the time someone suggested as much to Caitlin and she spent the next three days in 'someone is wrong on the internet and I need to tell them in excruciating detail why' mode, which naturally meant that everything fake in Central City from American cheese to teenage pop singer vocals was now immediately compared to the moon landing. It wasn’t a comment meant for Hunter, something the man chooses to ignore entirely – if he’d even noticed. He seems rather self-involved. Len wishes that the time ship wasn't ghost-repellant - he'd love to find out more about Hunter, and where better than from his ghosts? "Now, shall we be on our way?"

They leave. Len promptly starts to snoop around the time ship, while Mick finds the television. "Oh," he says wryly. "Reruns."

Len rolls his eyes. For someone who lived through parts of the ‘70s more or less glued to the TV after they constructed the juvie, Mick really has no room to complain.

"Am I the only one on this ship who could really use a drink?” Sara asks after a few minutes, still looking slightly confused by how she keeps drifting over to stand by Len. “I say we go get weird in the '70s.”

"Snart's the freakiest thing here," Mick says. "But I'm game for a drink."

“Excellent idea,” Len says. Beats sitting around on a shelf until Hunter decides to use them, that’s for sure.

"Yeeeah, I'm not legal yet," Jax says.

"Live on the wild side, kid," Sara tells him. "No one's gonna card you."

Behind her back, Len mimes making a telephone call, then draws a finger across his throat. He’s met Jenna. He knows better. She'll find out, somehow.

"My mom will literally teleport through time and space to find me in the act," Jax says, confirming Len’s suspicions. "And then rip my head off. No, thanks. I’m only a few months from legal anyway."

"Your loss."

Len's a bit wary heading out into the past on his own, with only Mick at his side, but everything seems fine – he can hear the ghosts, same as always, buzzing about, and the first unquiet dead that starts sidling over takes one look at Mick and splits. Just like old times.

Besides, turns out the ‘70s isn't really all that different from what Len recalls the ‘80s to be.

Len and Mick follow Sara to a bar, which she finds with the instincts of a drunk sorority girl – which is to say, within ten minutes and with stunning accuracy at finding incredibly cheap alcohol.

"Dollar beers," Mick says approvingly. “You gotta love the ‘70s.” Then he spots a jukebox and his eyes light up.

Len braces himself.

“Who wants to listen to some Captain and Tennille?” Mick asks innocently. “I heard it played when I grew up. A lot.”

Len glares. That had been a very specific period in his life, damnit.

Pity jukeboxes never have any good ‘30s music to torment Mick with.

"Hey, Leonard," Sara says. "Wanna dance?"

"You go right ahead," he says, waving a hand. “I'll watch.”

It's as good an excuse as any to stare at the holes in her, for lack of a better term. The medium that brought her back did a good job – it's definitely her body, that much is evident from the slick and confident way she moves – but whatever technique brought her back to life didn't make for a perfect match between body and soul.

He wonders what she uses to fill those gaps. Bloodshed or sex are the most likely, though food or attention could do it for some. He doubts it for her, though. Some combination, perhaps?

It occurs to him that failed – or partially-failed – medium resurrections could very well be the original source of the vampire myth.

It's an interesting line of thought, sadly interrupted by the bar fight Sara promptly gets into.

She can definitely hold her own, though. Badass. Len approves.

"Now," she says, studying the gang approaching her, "I could do with a hand."

Len takes the polite gesture – she most certainly does not need a hand, not against this few, based on how easily she was disposing of the first few – in the spirit in which it's meant, and he nods, jumping into the fray with Mick by his side.

They're still laughing about it when Len's Cisco-provided comm – currently in his pocket – buzzes.

Len pulls it out, mildly impressed that it still works.

"What's that?" Sara asks.

"Comm link from 2016," Len says. "Jax, that you?"

"Could you guys come back?" Jax asks, aiming for casual and sounding a bit shaken. "We, uh, the Waverider, that is, kinda sorta appear to be under attack."

"Great," Mick says. "I'll pop a car."

As always, Mick drives like a maniac who was born when horses were still more popular a mode of transportation and they were still debating the benefit of regularized speed limits, but Sara seems to enjoy it. Len just holds onto his seatbelt for dear life.

They get there just in time to hit one of the three armored figures, not unlike gussied up storm troopers, attacking the Waverider with what appear to be pulse rifles, not to mention Stein, Rip, the two others and what's probably the professor they went off to investigate.

"We go out for one lousy drink and you guys decided to re-enact Attack of the Clones?" Len drawls as he steps out of the car and charges up his gun. "For shame."

The troopers have very good armor, good enough to resist Len's cold gun, but Len's used to being at a disadvantage, and they aren't expecting him to ice the ground under their feet so that they slip.

And, of course, no one, armor or not, likes to be downstream of Mick's heat gun.

Stein makes it to the ship, grabbing Jax and forming Firestorm, and with his help, they're able to cover their retreat into the ship.

"I think we could've taken 'em," Mick growls as they take off.

"In some cases, Mr. Rory, retreat is the wiser course," Hunter says, and takes them off into something he calls the temporal zone.

He's kinda condescending, but whatever.

More important is figuring out why, exactly, soldiers which were obviously from the future are hunting them down.

Hunter has an answer to that, too, but it's not one the heroes on board like.

Turns out they're not Legends. They're nobodies.

And this mission? Totally unauthorized.

Illegal, in fact.

The storm troopers work for Rip Hunter’s old bosses, who turn out are really pissed about Hunter grabbing his ship and running off to go meddle with the timeline against their express instructions.

Mick shoots Len an amused look, which Len returns. Neither of them really put much stock in something being illegal, for obvious reasons, and Len never really did care about his rep outlasting him. Hell, he's just glad he's still alive for the moment – there’s that family history clock ticking down, after all, closer and closer.

Besides, they’re not on this ship to make names for themselves. They're here to have fun.

"Bet you a quarter they pick 'Legends' as a team name," Mick says when they settle down to repair their guns.

"God, no. That'd be dumb."

"You good for it, then?"

"...nah. It's dumb, but it's just these guys' speed of dumb."

Mick snorts in agreement.

"Still feel like we're going the right way?" Len asks.

"Yeah. Definitely."

"Good to know. No ghosts around us here in the time stream –” It’s oddly quiet, which Len doesn’t like since it reminds him of what happened with his dad, even though this quiet feels a lot more natural than that did. More like travelling from the city to the country, a reduced noise level instead of a total muting. It’s still an uncomfortable reminder, but Len’ll be damned if he stops doing anything because of that bastard. “– but the ghosts in the past feel the same."

"Some of them probably are the same, boss. The 70s weren't that long ago."

"Says Mr. Great Depression."

"Please. Mr. Dust Bowl's more precise."

"Either way, old man."

Mick grins, teeth glinting in the low light. "Hope I die before I get old. Oh, wait now..."

Len chuckles.

Rather unsurprisingly, the heroes decide to stay on with the missions. It's Mr. Perky Scientist – Ray Palmer – who first suggests calling themselves Legends.

Len's glad he didn't take that sucker's bet.

And then, for lack of any better ideas, they go to a nuke auction to find Savage.

"There's a lot of restless spirits here," Len comments to Mick as they head into the auction.

"Wouldn't have pegged you for the religious sort, Leonard," Sara says, coming up behind him.

"I'm not," Len says. "I only celebrate two holidays for real – New Years and Atonement Day, and all that's in between."

Her nose wrinkles. She's probably wondering what weird sect of Christian he is, which is of course wrong - people always assume Christian sect before they assume Judaism, which is really just quite sad. It's not important now, though; he'll just correct her later.

To be fair, he is in some weird sect - while everyone Jewish agrees that Atonement Day's the most important day of the year, it's usually Passover after that, but for his family, it's New Year's, and they observe the rest of the holidays more perfunctorily than they probably ought to as good Jews. But New Years and Atonement Day: his mother pressed those two into his head. The New Year, when you start the year afresh, and Atonement Day, the day when all wrongs have the chance to be forgiven if you ask for them from their rightful bearer. Wrongs against your fellow man, from your fellow man. Wrongs against God, from God. The day of the breaking of oaths; the day of confession; the day of the future.

The day God marks down your fate, closing the book of life and the book of death for another year. The book of life, the book of death, the book in-between, and the black book. Len’s family’s own personal mythology.

Len wonders, idly, how Sara's own religion fared when faced with the proof of her death and resurrection.

"It gonna be a problem?" Mick asks, ignoring Sara. He can see the ghosts too. Most ghosts don’t follow people around, not loved ones, not hated ones, nobody; they just drift, often around where they died, sometimes checking in on loved ones but rarely having enough life of their own to actively follow someone. These are not most ghosts. No, these ghosts are of the rarest sort - neither unquiet nor friendly. They are savage. Feral. They can focus on nothing but the men they follow, their killers, and they are distracted by nothing, not even Len with all his life.

Ghosts of revenge. They gather only around the cruelest of mass-murderers, and they’re here in flocks.

Len would not want to be one of the men in this crowd when they finally die, their spirit separating from their body only to be welcomed by the hands of their waiting victims.

"No," he says. "Let's go."

He lifts an invite, but it's Stein's bluffing that gets them in.

It's also Stein's blunder that gets them caught, but hey, you win some, you lose some.

Savage himself is unprepossessing from a physical standpoint, but he feels wrong, too, the way Carter and Kendra do. If they're partially empty containers, like parts of their lives are somewhere else, then he's some sort of a sieve.

His life is cycling like some sort of self-contained waterfall, which Len doesn't even know what that means; he's never seen it before. That must be what Rip Hunter meant by 'immortal'.

From what Len gleaned from the conversations on board, he's using Kendra and Carter as sources to feed his own life.

A bit like Cabrera wanted, with Len's power.

Fucking mediums. Len goes a whole lifetime without them, and now he can't seem to be rid of them.

Mick ends up setting shit on fire and they fight back-to-back, the same way as always, heat gun and cold gun. Firestorm leaps into action, Ray Palmer (Len can't bring himself to call him 'Palmer', he really can't) pulls out a shrinking super-suit, Sara unleashes some ninja moves with some batons, Kendra and Carter sprout hawk-wings – even Hunter pulls out some dinky futuristic six-shooter that goes with lasers.

Not too shabby, even though Hunter yells at them later.

Of course, the yelling not entirely without a purpose: Ray apparently screwed up the timeline by leaving some future tech lying around, which means that Sara leads team go-and-find-it while Len and Mick volunteer for team get-the-magic-dagger-that-will-kill-Savage, which cannot actually be dumber than it sounds but very well might be. It's apparently hidden at some rich Russian's house; should be a nice easy in-and-out snatch job.

Ray insists on going with them.

"He's gonna screw everything up," Mick complains as they walk up to the Russian's house.

"Probably," Len agrees. "No respect for expertise, this ship; making us thieve and babysit."

"You know I'm right here and can hear you, right?" Ray says indignantly.

"We know," Len says. "The question I have for you is: do you think we care?"

Mick snorts.

Ray scowls for a moment, but just as Len thinks they might be digging in past the endless bright optimism into some real personality, his expression clears. "Hey, I know that!"

Len tries to snatch him back, but can't stop him from running straight up to the dummy box.

He groans.

"These people suck," Mick grumbles.

"Fuck it," Len says, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Go get him out. I'm sending a ghost in first."

He hates to do it, especially for thieving – it feels too much like cheating. But it's not fair to be trying to rob a place with a six-foot-something idiotic impediment dragging him down, either.

"You do that." Mick gets up, shaking his head, and goes to ambush the guards confronting Ray.

While Mick entertains himself with that, Len tilts his head back. "Anyone here wanna help?"

Three ghosts pop up almost immediately.

Two women, a guy, all in their twenties.

"Guy in here do for you?" Len asks, jerking his thumb towards the house.

"I got in where I shouldn't," the guy says with a shrug. "I was a housecleaner. My name is Sergey."

"Not for Maureen and me. We just crashed our car," one of the women says.

“Trish!” Maureen exclaims.

"What? It’s true! Anyway, no relation to the guy who owns the place now. This was our old house, though, for a bit."

"Good enough. Anyway: I'm looking for this dagger, Egyptian..."

A few minutes later, Mick finally drags Ray back. Literally drags, with Ray trying unsuccessfully to dig his heels into the ground, which explains what took them so long.

"I said I'm sorry," Ray hisses. "There’s no need to pull me around! But anyway, it's not all bad. We got the guards, right?"

"We?" Mick echoes incredulously. “We got ‘em?”

"Okay, fine, you got them. But I lured them in! That means we can go in and grab the dagger – "

"The guards not doing their rounds will set off alarms," Len says patiently. "As will the actual alarms that the dummy box set off. No. This is a bad job; I don't like doing heists without casing the joint in advance on a good day, and this job is clearly already snake-bit bad luck. No go."

Mick nods his agreement, but Ray puffs up like an angry toad. "Are you kidding? All that about you being thieves extraordinaire, and you just give up at the first sign of trouble?"

"Part of the reason I am a thief extraordinaire, in fact," Len says dryly. "And not, you know, in prison all the time."

"If we don't get the dagger, we won't be able to stop Savage!"

"I never said we wouldn't be getting the dagger," Len says. "I said we wouldn't be going inside to get it."

Ray blinks. "I think I'm lost," he says. "How do you get the dagger without, uh, getting the dagger?"

"Note the pronouns."

"What?"

"He won't be going to get the dagger," Mick rumbles. "Doesn't mean someone won't."

Right on cue, the bushes rustle and Sergey shows up, Trish and Maureen right on his heels. "I have it," Sergey says, beaming and holding out the dagger. He's shining with the life that Len gave him, strength flowing through his limbs. He is justly pleased: the life means he will be able to say his goodbyes to his wife and to tip off the police as to the location of his body, thus ensuring he will receive adequate burial according to the precepts of his religion, which is the thing he desires most.

Then he'll pass on, satisfied. Now that's what Len calls a good deal.

Trish and Maureen are pouting that they weren't the ones to get it first, but they do offer up some pretty necklaces as consolation. They want the life Len gave them to go spook their friends, which Len thinks is a perfectly acceptable reason, if slightly less mature than Sergey’s. Then again, they’re college girls; as Len well knows, they can be more or less serious in nature and these two are clearly fans of the 'less'. "Good, good," Len says, examining them. "That's great, girls."

"You got patsies to do for you?!" Ray exclaims, only for Mick to loudly shush him. He does lower his voice, but still looks indignant. "It's too risky to go yourself, so you send someone else, is that it?"

"While I prefer to do these things myself – basically, yes," Len says. "And it worked, didn't it?"

"And you got the girls to steal for you, too! Ugh, I can't believe you. What happens when they go back in there? Or if he finds out they took them? What'll he do to them?"

"Nothing worse than a car crash," Len says.

"What?"

"Just...never mind. We got the dagger, we got a stash, let's go before the Ruskie who owns them gets home."

Of course, thanks to Ray's earlier fuck up with the dummy box, that doesn't happen. Instead, a positive army of personal bodyguards sweeps into the place, encircling –

"Savage," Mick says. "This must be his house. Of course he'd have the dagger."

"This guy is everywhere," Len grumbles. "How'd he even make it here from the auction so fast?"

"Private jet. Baddies always have 'em," Mick says.

"Hey, I used to have one," Ray says.

"Evil corporatist, huh?" Mick replies. "Knew you weren't that sweet, Haircut."

"Evil –? Wait, no, I didn't – I wasn't -"

"Shut up before my opinion of you drops further."

Len is peering through the bushes. "I think we're gonna need an exit strategy."

"Can't we just call the Waverider?" Ray asks, reaching for his comm link.

"Or we could sneak out and then call them," Len says, snatching his hand. "Thereby not alerting Savage to the fact that it was us lifting the thing and thus maintaining the element of surprise. We'll need a distraction. Mick, burn the house."

"With pleasure."

"That's destruction of property," Ray says, sounding mildly appalled.

Len has so much he could be saying about that, but he settles for "Yeah, Savage's property."

That wipes Ray’s objections away. Len barely keeps from rolling his eyes – Ray clearly subscribes to the 'if it's good, it's good; if it's bad, it's bad' theory of the world, in which arson isn't arson if the guy suffering it is a murderer. Idiot idealists are incredibly dangerous, because they'll smile like puppies before, during, and after murdering you for society's good, because the fact that they're 'heroes' in their own minds makes it okay.

Len makes a mental note not to rely on Ray for anything beyond technical expertise.

He waits until the fire gets big enough to draw attention, then heads out, hissing for Ray to follow. They get back out over the fence by bashing the two guards left to watch the exit over the head, and a bit of scrabbling. Luckily, Ray is pretty tall, which helps them get over the fence - maybe Len was too quick to judge him good for nothing.

"What about Mick?" Ray asks anxiously. "We can't just leave him to Savage."

Len mentally revises his opinion of Ray up a very, very small notch. At least he understands the idea of standing by your team. That counts for a lot, with Len.

"What about Mick?" Mick asks, stepping out of the brush behind Ray.

Ray yelps in surprise, then turns and hugs Mick before Mick can get away.

Len snorts at Mick's horrified expression.

"We have the dagger," he says. "Let's go to a safe zone and call for a lift."

Once they're back on the Waverider, it turns out Team Suit also succeeded in their mission, so history is back on track.

"This dagger is what we'll use to kill Savage," Carter says, picking it up. "We should go immediately."

"He's in his own house surrounded by bodyguards," Len drawls. "How about you keep it in your pants and pick a better ambushing spot? Or do you just really enjoy failure?"

Carter bristles. "I've fought this man for two hundred and eight lifetimes --"

"And see what you've done with it," Len replies. "Dead, dead, dead, and – if I had to guess – dead."

"We defeated him in Central City less than eight months ago!"

"Well, that clearly didn't take," Mick says, slouching further in his chair. "Have you considered letting the lady try?"

Kendra blinks. "Me?"

"Sure, why not? Since your boy-toy here has a string of failures a mile long, you can't possibly do any worse."

She flushes a bit. "I – I mean – I've never killed anybody?"

"Well, from what I gather from bird-brain here, neither has he," Len says.

Carter tries to throw a punch. It's laughably telegraphed.

Len ducks out of the way, knocks his legs out from under him, and kicks him over and steps on his chest. The entire process takes maybe ten seconds.

"Carter!" Kendra exclaims, but she sounds mostly amused.

"If he's on his back, his wings are useless," Len tells her, using his weight to pin Carter. "Have either of you considered, I don't know, practicing a bit?"

"I am the prince of countless armies – " Carter splutters, his face red. "I have lived centuries and fought in more battles than you can even imagine – "

"Sure, in other lifetimes," Len says. "How about this one? You ever do anything other than work out at the gym? You've got no instincts or muscle memory at all from what I can tell."

"Mr. Snart, get off of Mr. Hall this instant," Hunter snaps, sweeping in through the door, jacket fluttering behind him. It looks practiced.

"He wasn't hurting him," Ray objects, which wins him an approving look from Mick.

An idiot, clearly, but a loyal one. That counts for something in their book.

Fine, maybe Ray isn't all bad.

"Regardless, I will not be having such behavior on my ship," Hunter says. "It's unprofessional."

Len steps off. "Thought you said we were the worst team you've ever worked with. And that you were a fugitive from your former bosses. I don't see why that makes you an expert on what's 'professional'."

"Says the thief, Mr. Snart?" Rip shoots back, as if that's a complete answer.

"Yeah," Len says, starting to get annoyed. "A thief, and proud of it. A thief who you recruited, knowing who I am and what I do. If you think I signed up for this mission to be your ace in the hole when you need a pair of light fingers, only to be ridiculed and judged for those same skills the rest of the time, think again."

"Yeah, that shit's got to stop," Sara says from the doorway. "When I agreed to stay, it was so that I could prove myself a hero. Not to be your – or anybody else's – pet killer."

Hunter looks chagrined, but not in the sort of way where he realizes he's been a jackass; instead it's in the sort of way where someone calls you on exactly what you've been planning and makes it sound so bad you realize you're going to have to actually adjust your plans to deal with the objection.

Len doesn’t like it. He’s never minded working with criminals, but he objects to working with rats that treat their crews like pawns to be used or thrown away without so much as a thought to them as actual human beings.

Rip Hunter, it appears, is just that kind of rat.

(A/N: This chapter features Len's thoughts and opinions about the Legends, not necessarily accurate descriptions of them. His opinion of people will grown and change as things go forward.)

[allaboutshouto]

do you remember?

Summary: It's the night before their wedding. Izuku and Shouto did a little throwback. 

Tags: Dating, Dates Gone Wrong, Fluff, Pure fluff, Late night talk, wedding, big day, proposal

Note: This is to make up for yesterday angst. A prequel to Shoe Game. @tododeku-week Day 6 | memories | quote

Ao3

'Do you remember our first date?' Izuku's soft murmur broke the silence of the night.

Shouto, who was starting to drift off to sleep at the lull of the conversation, blushed crimson on reflex. He always blushed whenever Izuku mentioned dates.

'The official one or the first first one?' He asked. Because Uraraka and Tsuyu had told them first thing when they started dating for real that it felt like they had been dating for ages, with how many times they did things with just the two of them.

'The official one,' Izuku replied fondly. It was too dark to see but Shouto was certain Izuku was smiling softly.

'Yeah. Why?' He answered. Looks like he was not going to sleep early tonight.

'Do you remember the movie we watched?'

'Yes, yes I do.' It was a special outdoor showing of Jaws. Widescreen on the bank of a lake at the dark of the night. They were taken out to the middle of the lake on a rickety old wooden boat to enjoy the movie. The movie was old, 19070s old, but it was surprisingly engaging. Izuku languidly dipped his arm elbow deep into the lake, not really watching the movie, but watching Shouto watch the movie. His left arm, which was thankfully dry, made an excellent head rest for Shouto.

That would have been a perfect night out if it had been a normal, innocent show.

As it was, there were people swimming around, grabbing arms and legs and scaring people out of their wits as the climax hit.

Shouto didn't know about that. Neither did Izuku.

When the scene with the shark dragging itself up the half-submerged boat rolled around, Izuku let loose a terrified scream. Shouto, already on edge, was startled enough to set himself on fire and burn the wooden plank underneath him.

Izuku jumped onto him and clutched at his neck, face bleached white in fear.

Their combined weight on one side of the boat sent them both toppling over into the dark water.

'You climbed onto my head and refused to climb down while I swam us back to shore.' Shouto deadpanned, looking at the luminous stars and galaxy painted on the ceiling. Luckily it was a warm night so he had hardly any difficulty guiding himself and Izuku the deadweight to the shore.

Izuku sputtered near his head, rustling about in the blanket.

'I did not!' He protested indignantly.

'And you were convinced that there were sharks. In a sealed off fresh water lake. One hundred kilometre inland.'

'There are fresh water sharks!'

'Not native to Japan.'

Izuku huffed in annoyance as he had no comeback for that.

'Well, at least I don't fall asleep in an IKEA wardrobe.' He steered the conversation in a completely different direction. Shouto didn’t need to turn around to see how madly Izuku’s eyes were twinkling.

They had agreed to never talk about that again.

‘We had an agreement.’ Shouto reminded, a bit peeved but mostly embarrassed.

There was a reason why they never mentioned that.

Dripping wet and soaked to the bones, they left the movie unfinished to hunt for new clothes. The nearest store they could get clothes from was a thrift shop, which had them some rather interesting choices.

Within five minutes, Shouto picked a white polo shirt and a pair of surprisingly comfortable black jeans. Not much different from his initial clothes.

Izuku, on the other hand…

His eyes literally lit up when Shouto drove them into the parking lot of the shop and he was out before Shouto even released his own seatbelt. It took him nearly ten minutes to locate Izuku, standing in front of a bookshelf, head bent a 90 degree to look at the title on the back of the books. Water made a pool at his feet. He looked so much like a downed rat, hair plastered to his head, clothes stuck onto his lean muscular frame. Shouto was probably not much better but it was so endearing to see Izuku like this. He had to physically drag Izuku away from the books to search for clothes.

(He made a mental note to have one of the biggest bookshelves and most comfortable reading nooks installed when they moved into a bigger apartment. If his room was smaller because of that, then so be it; as long as he could see Izuku’s dopey smile all the time, any sacrifice was worth it.)

Izuku was too distracted to pick his own clothes so Shouto had to do it. And he did it well. Izuku offered no objection whatsoever, still too distracted, so Shouto believed it was a job well-done.

His boyfriend only paid attention to what he was wearing when they were driving away from the thrift shop.

‘Shouto, what am I wearing? Why am I wearing All Might merch? Oh my god I’m not 10 anymore! Wait, why are we at IKEA? What are we doing at IKEA?’ His voice was an octave higher than it had been in the beginning, face flushing crimson.

‘I am hungry.’ I want to check out the bookshelves.

‘We can eat somewhere else,’ Izuku nearly begged.

‘They’re too far,’ Shouto said. ‘I’ll be quick.’

‘Can I just stay in the car?’ Izuku changed tactic when begging didn’t work.

Shouto merely shook his head.

He didn’t understand. They wore each other’s merch all the time. An All Might hood T-shirt and matching pants were not as outrageous as Izuku made them to be. And how could his boyfriend not see how cute he was in those? The yellow things sticking out from the hood would be absolutely adorable if Izuku decided to pull the hood up.

‘I have an image to uphold!’ Izuku whispered into his ears scandalously, trying in vain to hide behind Shouto as they walked to the restaurant section of IKEA.

‘There are few people around. They won’t pay attention,’ He said while prying Izuku’s hand away from his shirt so he could take it in his own hand. ‘You look cute in them.’

Shouto would never get bored of watching Izuku’s face flame up. So, he pushed the hood over Izuku’s face and pressed a soft kiss on his covered head. Izuku’s hand felt hot in his hold but he didn’t try to push the hood down so Shouto took that as a win.

He left Izuku alone for a few minutes at the restaurant with the pretense of looking for doormat since theirs showed wear of time while in reality, he meandered over to the bookshelf section.

Then he got distracted and lost track of time.

He found an interesting wardrobe. Wooden, tall, mystical. Kind of like the one in Narnia movie.

The inside was equally Narnia-inspired with demo woollen sweeping-the-floor coats and off white fluffy carpet. It was also big enough for him to sit comfortably. A little bit too comfy as he felt his eyes start to droop and he lost the fight against sleep.

When he woke up again, it was to Izuku’s half-panic, half-dying-of-laughter face.

‘I almost called for a hero agency before I realised I was a hero. And I did a spy move to get away from the security guy while running around searching for you. We actually spent a night in IKEA. I was having a panic attack and you were sleeping away in a wardrobe!’ Izuku howled uncontrollaby, shaking so badly the bed shook with him.

Shouto endured the embarrassment as Izuku laughed himself to a coughing fit. He half-heartedly pounded on Izuku’s back to ease it.

‘I will not mention Jaws night again if you never bring up IKEA wardrobe in the future,’ Shouto bargained.

‘Deal,’ Izuku agreed easily, shaking his hand once before going back to giggling.

What a load of dung. They both knew they would bring those up again at any given chance.  

They lapsed back into silence, broken only by Izuku’s intermittent snorts. The luminous stars on the ceiling shone brightly, almost heavenly in the absolute darkness of their room.

‘Do you remember the time we danced in the rain?’ Izuku gently snuggled up to his side, whispering into his ear.  

‘Of course.’ How could he not? It was the first time he ever felt so alive. He hadn’t smiled and laughed so much since ever.

A visit to cat island. Sun shower. Before Shouto could run to the eaves of a nearby house, Izuku yanked at their joined hand and swung him around.

It was not much of a dance since they were just doing whatever moves they felt like doing. Moonwalk, robot, tap-dancing, arm-waving. At one point, they held hands and swung themselves in circles, until they both could not stand up straight. Izuku straight up lay flat back on the middle of the road. Shouto leant onto the lamp pole a tad too far.

Luckily for them, there was no one watching, only a band of ten or so cats all huddling together on the porch of a house, eyeing them attentively.

Which somehow reminded him of something completely unrelated.

‘Do you remember when you proposed?’ Shouto turned the silver band on his left hand around.

‘How can I forget?’ Izuku chuckled. ‘Our moms are our best fans.’

‘Your mom said, what, ‘there are two beautiful engagement rings in your bedroom, Izuku. Do you mind if I show them to Shouto?’’

‘Exactly that. And I almost choked to death.’ Izuku laughed. ‘I bet your mom planned that too. She kept eyeing my mom with a smile throughout dinner.’

‘You went so red that a ripe tomato cannot be any redder.’ Shouto recalled fondly.

‘As if you were any better.’ Izuku placed his head on his chest to stick his tongue out at him.

‘You popped the question right then and there.’

‘And you said yes.’ Izuku dragged his arm across Shouto’s chest to stare at the ring on his left hand. Shouto pulled his arm out from under the blanket and placed his left hand next to Izuku’s. ‘Best day of my life.’ Izuku intertwined their fingers and kissed them gently.

Shouto ran his right hand through Izuku’s fluffy hair rhythmically. He felt Izuku’s breath deepened.

‘We should sleep. There’s a big day ahead of us.’

‘Uhm, good night Shouto. I love you.’

‘Good night Izuku. I love you too.’

[emberglowfox]

hey I did that fighter’s block thing at 1 in the morning here’s what I’ve got

words: 2k    prompt: space

KSSSSSSSCH. My scream goes mute as the air is sucked out of the room like a magnet and I'm hurled out of the familiar white walls into the vast empty vacuum of space. No. No, no, no. I force my eyes open, ignoring the dead-cold chill gnawing at my limbs as I flail hopelessly, body shooting through antigravity farther and farther away from the transport ship. My lungs burn like a flame is eating them inside, stealing any oxygen I desperately gasp for. But there is nothing, except me, my imminent death, and the rapidly shrinking blip of white in the distance. I scramble for the emergency oxygen tank on my angle, fingers fumbling with the nylon strap as my vision starts to blur with black spots and my head spins. With a weak yank, I tug it out and stick the plastic end into my mouth, biting hard. Fresh air flows into my mouth and I heave in a long breath, eyes squeezed shut and lungs relishing every tiny bit of sweet oxygen. As quickly as I can, I slow my breathing and put my free hand to my head, knocking on the headset. I can hear nothing but static, which I guess is better than hearing absolutely nothing at all. I am in an endless void, populated by a billion trillion stars, blinking at me as if to say, 'What are you doing here? You don't belong here.' I let out a long, slow breath, limbs shaking from the cold of space and the fear. The fear. It's mind-numbing, blinding my senses to rational thoughts and repeating a mantra of death. 'You're going to die out here', it says, and I honestly believe this time that it's right. No one survives being sucked out of an airlock. Not even with a reserve oxygen tank. With the tank, I have about 30 minutes of breathing if I really gauge myself. And that's if I last that long before the chill freezes me completely and I'm left an icy shell of a human hurtling through the vast abyss of space. I am the only thing for miles. No one can see me. No one can hear me. I close my eyes and picture the warm orange walls of the home where I grew up. I can almost smell the cinnamon sugar and my mom whistling an old tune from the radio as bars of sunlight creep up the far wall. I can almost feel the soft bristles of the rug in the living room, sprawled out staring at the textured ceiling. I can almost see her face, eyes crinkled at the corners and face dotted with faded freckles and flowers as she tells me to help her. But it's just an 'almost'. It's like reaching for the light at the bottom of the ocean, knowing you're doomed to drown as it slowly fades away. I will never see mom again. My breathing starts to pick up, and I hastily slow it down. What should I do now? What can I do? Last words. Final will in testament. I'll die out in the vast abyss of space where no one knows my name. No one will care. ...But still. If they recover my body somehow; to mom I give my helmet. I spent days upon days, years upon years to get it. She knows its worth, not just in money but in my sweat and blood. It is the testament to how far I've come, as one of the first humans riding the frontier of space travel. Let's see.... To my older sister I give my camera. It's a polaroid, and old, old thing, but it still works. She always wanted to use it, anyways. To my younger brother, I give my pen. It has the Archenvaak insignia on it. I know he'd love to study it and the strange glowing ink it contains. To Vanessa I give my book of flowers. It contains pressed petals from across the far reaches of the galaxy, from small to large. I sure bet it beats that run down flower shop. I laugh, wasting valuable air, but I'm beginning to no longer care. Talking about my own death this way, it's... Strangely calming, in a way. Knowing that I'll be able to live on in the memories of my loved ones is a small but gentle comfort in this icy grave. To Alexander I give the old crown from the neighbor's fence that we stole when we were kids. It's still in my closet on the upper shelf, unless someone moved it. It's rusty, but still as shiny and prestigious as it was when we nicked it off of Mr. Mitchel's wooden fence all those years ago. To Gloria, I give my locket. It still has the picture of us at the river, chubby-faced, muddy, and grinning, perfectly enclosed within it. It smelled like metal and earth when I left it, and I hope it still does. And last but not least, to my dad. To my dad, I give the letters. Dozens of letters, never sent from a child who knew better than to expect a response. I don't know how they'll get them to you. Maybe I can show you them myself in a little bit. I open my eyes again, checking the pressure gauge. I have about ten minutes left. Final will and testament is down. Any last words? Last words. Last words. The last words I'll ever say. I really am going to die, aren't I? Then there's the tears. Big wet globs, pulled off of my face by momentum and frozen into shards moments later, leaving a trail of glittering diamonds through the black. I hiccup and sob and sniffle, rubbing my eyes as my oxygen tank begins to blip in a warning. I stop, blinking and hoping my eyes don't freeze over. I can no longer feel my legs or my lower arms. I can merely wobble my arms and head like a broken marionette. Even in death, I am helpless. Where was I. Last words. I have nothing to say. There is no one at my bedside to comfort me. No young children crying as I pass. It's just me, young and bright, in the emptiness of the one thing I always wanted to visit. I made my life goal to visit space, and it responded by stealing my final breath. A strange world, isn't it? Last words. What do you even say? What can be said to make anyone feel better, especially yourself? Words are powerful, they say, but they cannot alter what is. I guess that's true now. The oxygen tank blips again. 3 minutes left. Breathing is becoming harder, and my lungs fight against the increasing pressure for air. I start to feel lightheaded. I can no longer feel my arms. My mind begins to fill with a heavy fog. It's gentle and soft, not at all choking and harsh as I once feared it might be. Thoughts become obscured until they eventually drift away, no longer important. I think of mom for maybe the last time, and her words come to me. Not her words, her song. I came into this world with her song, it's only fitting that I left with it. I take a deep breath that I cannot afford and hum into the echoing canister to no one. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine." I cannot hear myself, but I can feel the vibration of the metal against my lips. "You make me happy when skies are gray." Beep beep. 1 minute remaining. "You'll never know dear... How much I love you." I struggle desperately to inhale, seeking anything left. I manage one last breath. "Please don't.... Take.... My... Sunshine... A....Way..." The canister beeps loudly before shutting off. I let it go. It has served it's purpose. The fog drifts ever deeper into my mind, obscuring everything. I can only faintly remember the ship, my job there. I can only faintly remember Ad'zheel, the archenvaak who gave me the pen, xher carapace shining like polished gold. I try to reach back in my memories, but they have drifted away like a dandelion in the wind. Strangely enough, I do not fear. I am no longer afraid. The silence of space, once a terror, is now calming. I slip the headset down to my neck, basking in the numb, loose emptiness. I let my heavy eyelids flutter shut, my lungs feeling thick but not aflame. The cold drips away, replaced entirely by numbness. My final word is goodbye. I do not hear the hum as I go still.

. . .

The light is bright. Blindingly so, like someone is shining a flashlight into eyes that have not seen the sun in years. I squint away, biting my tongue. My lips taste like mint, with a faint touch of copper. I try to look around, but all i can see is pure untainted white. Am I in heaven? I don't know what I expected. I never really delved into the religious side of my thoughts. A figure begins to emerge from the light, a strangely molded blurry shadow. It is odd and out of place, and it appears to be speaking. I can hear it, but ever so faintly. It is like listening to someone speak in a pool of molasses, but blurred further. I cannot make out what it is saying. It turns, and something is shoved to my face. Something far outside of my brain clicks, and I inhale. It's like a light switch has been flipped. Pain roars into my limbs, which are now acutely alive and aware. The light fades, replaced with a slick black interior lit by white lines of glowing material. I am inside a ship. Is heaven a ship? I twist with pain, eyes scrunched up in agony. It's indescribable. It's like being on fire, frozen, pulled apart, and squished together at the same time, but a million times worse. The being is clearly panicked, blinking at me and chittering something in a strange language. It hastily darts out of the room, returning moments later with a package of... Something. Heaven is strange. It pulls open the package, which opens like gel being stretched open. It is not a substance I recognize. Inside are similar substances, but smaller and orb-shaped, the color of amber. The being holds some out to me, and I am confused. It lets out a high whistle and opens my mouth with a leathery claw, the other jamming the things into my mouth. They're horrendously sour, but I swallow. Almost immediately, relief floods me. A jagged breath falls out of my mouth, and I'm hunched over. My senses clear, and I'm immediately alert. I'm in a foreign alien ship just on the brink of death. No, beyond that. The being is chittering incessantly, feathery antennae waving hastily. I do not recognize the creature. It is taller than me, with a thin frame and thick, black, leathery hide. Its head is long and reminds me of a viper, but it has antennae. The rest of its body is layered like chitinous armor, with thick wings reminiscent of a bats and a stubby tail. It has four gleaming orange eyes. I realize my error and quickly pull up the headset from around my neck, flipping the translator switch on. The chittering becomes glitchy, computerized words, but they're understandable. "I was so worried, I found you in the middle of no-where, my life scanners indicated nothing, but now you are alive and-" "Who are you?" I blurt. The being stops and blinks at me. "What?" It's more of a low squeak. "Who are you? What species are you?" The translator feeds them through the microphone, and they become a series of fast clicks. The creature cocks its head. "I did not introduce myself. My apologies. I am Vihkoz, of the Verahzzians." I nod, not understanding at all, but not needing to. "Greetings, Vihkoz." My pronunciation is pitiful, but they do not seem to notice. "I am Amelie of the hu- of the terrans." I pause. "Thank you for saving my life."

[shewhowrites-stuff-blog]

This is the second chapter of one of my first novels. The story takes place in Seattle, Washington D.C. The main character is a 14 year old Jamaican ballerina who has been adopted by a white family.

It's Saturday morning, light streams in through the one window our dorm room has. The room is a total mess with clothes sprawled out on the floor, shoes randomly lying everywhere, chocolate wrappers, soda cans, and lots of other things. The result of the blast we had yesterday.

So I see, you're one of those girls! Henry's words haunt my conscience.

Which girls was he talking about? And what do I have to do with them? I suppose I'll never know. 

"... don't turn your back on me, you!" Melissa murmurs in her sleep.

Somewhere in her mind, I think she's playing a video game, and losing. I am not sure what backs have to do with video games, but I do know that they're relevant to Melissa. She and I have been roommates since we were freshmen.

She was strangely the only white person in Pencey to steal a glance in my direction or do so much as to utter the six magic words that made her my best friend: "Hey, I'm Melissa. What's your name?"

I remember that day as if it were yesterday. In the loud cafeteria, plates chattering, people giggling, forks scraping bowls, full mouths wide open, the lonely dark-skinned Jamaican girl with a huge afro sitting all alone in the corner, a chubby white girl in waist high jeans, plaid shirt, and sneakers advancing towards her... Her red hair just spoke to me then. With her tan arm outstretched and a wide, bright smile across her face, she lured me into our friendship. I couldn't resist her special uniqueness (is that a word?). One thing I liked about her, besides the fact that she demanded attention, is that she respected my preference to not speak at first. A solemn hand shake, shy laugh, and slight nod was all it took for her to understand me. Even now that I am comfortable enough to speak, I still do that. And she understands. I walk over to Melissa's side of the room and gently tap on her shoulder. "Ash, turn the lights off and go to bed," she mutters. I giggle, she still thinks it's nighttime. Melissa tends to be grumpy right before she wakes up. "But it's 10 a.m. in the morning." I try to reason with her, placing emphasis on the word morning. She rolls over and stares with her bloodshot eyes wide open. "Oh my GAWD! I had a date with Charlie scheduled over half an hour ago." Who schedules a date at that time of day? And isn't fifteen to early to early to date? That's Melissa. Free-spirited professional social rule breaker. She claims nothing has happened and nothing will happen between them when I try and warn her. Anyways, she's not foolish; I can trust her... to some extent (that extent does not go very far). "You could tell him that you overslept." I advice her.

"Ash, rule number one of dating boys: don't show your crush the quirky side of you. Charlie can't know that about me. It's just the same as me telling him that I actually drool in my sleep -- utterly and irrevocably embarrassing!"

"Send him a text then, apologise, make an excuse, craft a lie, get creative... or just speak the truth." I say matter of factly.

"Like I said; I can't do that. I will have to make it up to Charls." She yawns and stretches, then she walks to the bathroom and starts getting ready to leave. I should probably do the same since my parents will be here in 4 hours or less. Our school's closing today, that's why we decided to have a blast yesterday. 30 minutes later. "No, mom. Okay. I can walk there myself. That's fine.--But I am not a baby." Melissa's standing at the door of our room speaking to her mom, well rather arguing whether she should drive here or not. They live in ___, a town which is 4 hours away from Pencey. Her mother driving here means waiting, and Melissa tends to be very impatient. Melissa sighs and expostulates, "That's great mom. Drive safely." Her mother replies with something I can't hear, then she hangs up. "Jeez, quite a drag. I'm going to have to wait for HOURS on end. Wanna go have a blast?" It takes me a few seconds to realize that she's talking to me. Either my eavesdropping or Henry's words had me in a trance. I smile and nod, my eyes feeling glossy. I was wondering when she would ask me that. Again, it's enough to let her know that I agree.

"Wait, what about Charlie?" I ask, feeling curious.

"Don't worry about him, I can send him a text. And you know, it's been a while since you and I had fun." She places air quotes on the word fun and winks mischievously. To anyone else, this gesture is covert, but to me, it's totally normal for Melissa to sound so ominous. It's another thing I love about her. "I have to change. And fix my bed. And pack up. And call my parents. And then I--"

"You don't have to summarise all of your tasks," Melissa interrupts my sudden excuses to stay back. "We've got the whole day ahead of us. Besides, your parents won't be here for the next 2 hours." Does it sound like we're arguing? Well, this is how we communicate. "My clothes are all dirty. What am I going to wear?" I ask myself out loud.

"My jeans, your sneakers and a t shirt. Simple." I frown. Melissa's clothes would be too big for me. Somehow, she talks me into it and I end up wearing a white baggy t shirt and light blue waist-high jeans, (it looks better than it sounds). Note to self: No matter how ugly your clothes may seem, never ever wear Melissa's. I might have said it's not as bad as it sounds, but it's not good either. I had to shower and dress in 15 minutes because Melissa kept nagging me to hurry up. She believed that the sooner we got out of here, the more time we would have to spend doing fun things. "All set." Melissa says after studying my appearance. I look around, expecting to see nothing but a huge mess, only to find that she cleaned it all up. I repeat: Melissa fixed my bed, stuffed my laundry in my laundry bag, threw away the soda cans and plastic wrappers, put the shoes in their compartment, and folded her own clothes. Considering that she's naturally a messy person, this is impressive. She gets up to all sorts of unusual things when she's excited. I just wonder where she's taking me and why it's gotten her so hyped up. She grabs my hand and says, "Let's bounce!" I didn't even notice her walking over. We're the only ones around, accept for the janitor, a few teachers, and the principal. Once our door is locked and checked, we saunter into the street. En le calle. That's Spanish for In the street. I learned it from a book I read when I was nine. Doesn't it sound fancy? Melissa stands on the pavement with her right arm extended, waving up and down like a flag, beckoning a none existent taxi. This is futile. "Why don't we call a cab?"

"Oh, I should have thought of that." She takes her phone out and dials a number. I don't bother eavesdropping this time. In 20 minutes, the cab has arrived. We spent the entire time staring at people passing by. It's funny how quickly people can come if there's food and money involved. In the yellow cab, an old lady with a lot of makeup and a church outfit is half asleep, the driver is playing soft jazz, (which makes me gag) and Melissa's on Pinterest. I suddenly wish that I had brought my phone. After a while, things get boring and I start wondering whether coming along was actually worth it. Just as I am about to suggest that we go back to Pencey and its high walls and loud cafeteria, we have reached our destination. Melissa pays before I can even think of it. Wow, I forgot to bring money, too. She cracks some joke about high school, which makes the driver release a forced laugh. It probably wasn't funny. She does that sometimes, trying to entertain people, and not succeeding. "Ash, where are you today? Wait, you don't have to answer to that." She's standing at my door, a look of concern on her face, clearly waiting for me to get out. I nearly prance my way out and fake a grin. "I'm in love. " I joke, my eyes falsely dreamy, then shut the door. The cab leaves. She nudges me in the ribs and takes my hand in hers. "That's so not you, Ash. Seriously, where is your head today? Earth. To. Ashley." She's obviously not buying this. "Mel, I am sorry if I have been mentally absent lately, but Hen- this boy, he said something... to me. About my personality."

"What was it that he said?"

"He said that he sees, I am one of those girls."

"The w word?"

"No, just that,--in his own words."

"You should have told me sooner."

"If I did you would probably eat him alive."

"You bet I would!" She exclaims. We're both silent for a moment. I can feel her genuine disappointment towards my delay.-- I usually tell her things right after they happen, but not this time around. I look down at my feet, she lets go of my hand and hooks her arm around me instead. "You know you can tell me anything, kiddo."

"I know, mother." It's only funny because she's ten months older than me. She laughs quietly, then louder, until her voice is a full-on forte (Latin for loud). Once she realises that I'm silent, she puts both of her hands on my shoulder, leaning against me. "Ash, it's fine. I don't mind." Then I laugh, really laugh. She stares at me blankly, as if she doesn't believe me. But then seconds later, she's giggling again, now we're both crazy. "Let's go. Remember, you had something to show me." I finally speak. Sometimes Melissa struggles to believe that I can talk. I do too. By now, you must have had enough hearing about Melissa and feel like putting down this book, but now I will stop. If you will, please don't get annoyed with the word Melissa; she's my best friend. In fact, she's my only friend. Perhaps I should start talking more about myself.

[shewhowrites-stuff-blog]

This is the second chapter of one of my very first novels, centered around a fourteen year old ballerina.

Melissa

It's Saturday morning, light streams in through the one window our dorm room has. The room is a total mess with clothes sprawled out on the floor, shoes randomly lying everywhere, chocolate wrappers, soda cans, and lots of other things. The result of the blast we had yesterday.

So I see, you're one of those girls! Henry's words haunt my conscience.

Which girls was he talking about? And what do I have to do with them? I suppose I'll never know. 

"... don't turn your back on me, you!" Melissa murmurs in her sleep.

Somewhere in her mind, I think she's playing a video game, and losing. I am not sure what backs have to do with video games, but I do know that they're relevant to Melissa. She and I have been roommates since we were freshmen.

She was strangely the only white person in Pencey to steal a glance in my direction or do so much as to utter the six magic words that made her my best friend: "Hey, I'm Melissa. What's your name?"

I remember that day as if it were yesterday. In the loud cafeteria, plates chattering, people giggling, forks scraping bowls, full mouths wide open, the lonely dark-skinned Jamaican girl with a huge afro sitting all alone in the corner, a chubby white girl in waist high jeans, plaid shirt, and sneakers advancing towards her... Her red hair just spoke to me then. With her tan arm outstretched and a wide, bright smile across her face, she lured me into our friendship. I couldn't resist her special uniqueness (is that a word?). One thing I liked about her, besides the fact that she demanded attention, is that she respected my preference to not speak at first. A solemn hand shake, shy laugh, and slight nod was all it took for her to understand me. Even now that I am comfortable enough to speak, I still do that. And she understands. I walk over to Melissa's side of the room and gently tap on her shoulder. "Ash, turn the lights off and go to bed," she mutters. I giggle, she still thinks it's nighttime. Melissa tends to be grumpy right before she wakes up. "But it's 10 a.m. in the morning." I try to reason with her, placing emphasis on the word morning. She rolls over and stares with her bloodshot eyes wide open. "Oh my GAWD! I had a date with Charlie scheduled over half an hour ago." Who schedules a date at that time of day? And isn't fifteen to early to early to date? That's Melissa. Free-spirited professional social rule breaker. She claims nothing has happened and nothing will happen between them when I try and warn her. Anyways, she's not foolish; I can trust her... to some extent (that extent does not go very far). "You could tell him that you overslept." I advice her.

"Ash, rule number one of dating boys: don't show your crush the quirky side of you. Charlie can't know that about me. It's just the same as me telling him that I actually drool in my sleep -- utterly and irrevocably embarrassing!"

"Send him a text then, apologise, make an excuse, craft a lie, get creative... or just speak the truth." I say matter of factly.

"Like I said; I can't do that. I will have to make it up to Charls." She yawns and stretches, then she walks to the bathroom and starts getting ready to leave. I should probably do the same since my parents will be here in 4 hours or less. Our school's closing today, that's why we decided to have a blast yesterday. 30 minutes later. "No, mom. Okay. I can walk there myself. That's fine.--But I am not a baby." Melissa's standing at the door of our room speaking to her mom, well rather arguing whether she should drive here or not. They live in ___, a town which is 4 hours away from Pencey. Her mother driving here means waiting, and Melissa tends to be very impatient. Melissa sighs and expostulates, "That's great mom. Drive safely." Her mother replies with something I can't hear, then she hangs up. "Jeez, quite a drag. I'm going to have to wait for HOURS on end. Wanna go have a blast?" It takes me a few seconds to realize that she's talking to me. Either my eavesdropping or Henry's words had me in a trance. I smile and nod, my eyes feeling glossy. I was wondering when she would ask me that. Again, it's enough to let her know that I agree.

"Wait, what about Charlie?" I ask, feeling curious.

"Don't worry about him, I can send him a text. And you know, it's been a while since you and I had fun." She places air quotes on the word fun and winks mischievously. To anyone else, this gesture is covert, but to me, it's totally normal for Melissa to sound so ominous. It's another thing I love about her. "I have to change. And fix my bed. And pack up. And call my parents. And then I--"

"You don't have to summarise all of your tasks," Melissa interrupts my sudden excuses to stay back. "We've got the whole day ahead of us. Besides, your parents won't be here for the next 2 hours." Does it sound like we're arguing? Well, this is how we communicate. "My clothes are all dirty. What am I going to wear?" I ask myself out loud.

"My jeans, your sneakers and a t shirt. Simple." I frown. Melissa's clothes would be too big for me. Somehow, she talks me into it and I end up wearing a white baggy t shirt and light blue waist-high jeans, (it looks better than it sounds). Note to self: No matter how ugly your clothes may seem, never ever wear Melissa's. I might have said it's not as bad as it sounds, but it's not good either. I had to shower and dress in 15 minutes because Melissa kept nagging me to hurry up. She believed that the sooner we got out of here, the more time we would have to spend doing fun things. "All set." Melissa says after studying my appearance. I look around, expecting to see nothing but a huge mess, only to find that she cleaned it all up. I repeat: Melissa fixed my bed, stuffed my laundry in my laundry bag, threw away the soda cans and plastic wrappers, put the shoes in their compartment, and folded her own clothes. Considering that she's naturally a messy person, this is impressive. She gets up to all sorts of unusual things when she's excited. I just wonder where she's taking me and why it's gotten her so hyped up. She grabs my hand and says, "Let's bounce!" I didn't even notice her walking over. We're the only ones around, accept for the janitor, a few teachers, and the principal. Once our door is locked and checked, we saunter into the street. En le calle. That's Spanish for In the street. I learned it from a book I read when I was nine. Doesn't it sound fancy? Melissa stands on the pavement with her right arm extended, waving up and down like a flag, beckoning a none existent taxi. This is futile. "Why don't we call a cab?"

"Oh, I should have thought of that." She takes her phone out and dials a number. I don't bother eavesdropping this time. In 20 minutes, the cab has arrived. We spent the entire time staring at people passing by. It's funny how quickly people can come if there's food and money involved. In the yellow cab, an old lady with a lot of makeup and a church outfit is half asleep, the driver is playing soft jazz, (which makes me gag) and Melissa's on Pinterest. I suddenly wish that I had brought my phone. After a while, things get boring and I start wondering whether coming along was actually worth it. Just as I am about to suggest that we go back to Pencey and its high walls and loud cafeteria, we have reached our destination. Melissa pays before I can even think of it. Wow, I forgot to bring money, too. She cracks some joke about high school, which makes the driver release a forced laugh. It probably wasn't funny. She does that sometimes, trying to entertain people, and not succeeding. "Ash, where are you today? Wait, you don't have to answer to that." She's standing at my door, a look of concern on her face, clearly waiting for me to get out. I nearly prance my way out and fake a grin. "I'm in love. " I joke, my eyes falsely dreamy, then shut the door. The cab leaves. She nudges me in the ribs and takes my hand in hers. "That's so not you, Ash. Seriously, where is your head today? Earth. To. Ashley." She's obviously not buying this. "Mel, I am sorry if I have been mentally absent lately, but Hen- this boy, he said something... to me. About my personality."

"What was it that he said?"

"He said that he sees, I am one of those girls."

"The w word?"

"No, just that,--in his own words."

"You should have told me sooner."

"If I did you would probably eat him alive."

"You bet I would!" She exclaims. We're both silent for a moment. I can feel her genuine disappointment towards my delay.-- I usually tell her things right after they happen, but not this time around. I look down at my feet, she lets go of my hand and hooks her arm around me instead. "You know you can tell me anything, kiddo."

"I know, mother." It's only funny because she's ten months older than me. She laughs quietly, then louder, until her voice is a full-on forte (Latin for loud). Once she realises that I'm silent, she puts both of her hands on my shoulder, leaning against me. "Ash, it's fine. I don't mind." Then I laugh, really laugh. She stares at me blankly, as if she doesn't believe me. But then seconds later, she's giggling again, now we're both crazy. "Let's go. Remember, you had something to show me." I finally speak. Sometimes Melissa struggles to believe that I can talk. I do too. By now, you must have had enough hearing about Melissa and feel like putting down this book, but now I will stop. If you will, please don't get annoyed with the word Melissa; she's my best friend. In fact, she's my only friend. Perhaps I should start talking more about myself.