#How To Remove Cat Spray Smell From Clothes

[xprojectrpg]

This Day in X-Project - September 4

2015: Alison wonders if she should dye her hair again. Laurie posts an article about wormholes. Jubilee asks if anyone wants gifts while she is in Cairo. Sue texts Alison and ask how she is doing with lasers. Lorna texts Alex that California is a go and if he would like to join her at her work. Gabriel is interested in learning about being a spy and Kevin shows some guidance. Sharon Friedlander introduces herself to the journals. Amadeus posts that he is the King of Deer and people should come and lick the peanut butter off their king’s face. Kitty texts Scott if he is still awake. Kyle is summoned to Charles' office and given a potential job - tutoring the students unable to attend the local high school yet.

2016: Jubilee complains about having to work at night. Gabriel suggests an end-of-summer party.

2017: Tandy asks if there’s a way to remove zombie smell from clothes.

2018: Hope A. emails those who helped her acquire her first piece of real estate to thank them. Sharon F. emails her friend about Qunbula and discovers everyone who may have been part of the same program has vanished; Sharon F. goes to Harry’s to drink away her anger and runs into Garrison.

2019:

2020:

2021: Matt finds Maya in the team training room and they have a chat about what happened during the California mission.

2022: Kevin grabs Darcy for some late night technology hunting. Terry texts Darcy, concerned for Kyle's well-being.

2023: Jubilee laughs on the journals at Jessica’s drama. Megan makes a journal post announcing she will be spray-painting t-shirts at the Labor Day party. Darcy and Kevin catch up poolside and enjoy drinks. Jean and Garrison talk at the “boring grill”. Sam swings by the mansion to celebrate Labor Day and Clint keeps him company. April feeds the wolf and teases Garrison about being a grill dad. Sharon S. tries to steal Jean’s chicken, but they end up bonding. Haller and Molly dent some things while playing super-powered horseshoes. Sharon S. and Liam discuss their mutual nemesis, Namor. Artie and Shatterstar meet each other. Arthur, Haller, and Shatterstar throw knives, revealing the existence of Benji to Arthur and the existence of Davey’s knife throwing lessons to Haller. Rictor, Shatterstar, Liam, and Match play chicken in the pool. Liam stops Sharon S. from scamming Sam out of his food. Terry is a mother hen to Shatterstar. Sharon S. asks Artie invasive questions and gets sparkles in her eyes for her trouble. Sharon S. proceeds to seek comfort from Darcy and Alani. Warren bothers Haller about wedding choices until he gets a work call and summons Illyana, leading to Illyana using Haller to help her pack. Clint enjoys Illyana and Boris’s presence until Illyana is called away for work. Doug makes an appearance to get food with Darcy. April is knocked into the pool by a wrestling pair of cat mutants and winds up talking with Scott. Jean texts Arthur to apologize for a misunderstanding that came off as rude on the journals. Jess and Match run into each other while stocking up on free food. Nica and Scott have a poolside chat about condiments and formality. Artie and Matt commiserate about having enhanced tastebuds. Namor and Emma flirt over poolside snacks. Marie-Ange drags Amanda away from the Transian books to take a break and they are amused by Sharon S.'s reaction to one of MA's imps.

[vegaspetodorremoval]

Say Goodbye To Odors: How To Clean Pet Urine Stains From Mattresses

Pets bring joy and companionship into our lives but can also leave behind unwelcome surprises. One of pet owners' most common issues is dealing with stubborn urine stains on mattresses. Whether it's a playful puppy or an elderly cat, accidents happen. Unfortunately, these incidents can lead to lingering odors and unsightly marks that are difficult to remove. Remove Pet Urine From Mattress

The good news is that you don't have to live with unpleasant reminders of your pet's mishaps. There are effective methods for removing pet urine from your mattress while restoring its freshness. Let's explore the challenges posed by pet urine stains and practical solutions so you can enjoy a clean and comfortable sleeping environment once again!

Understanding Why Pet Urine is Difficult to Remove

Pet urine is notoriously tricky to clean due to its chemical composition. It contains uric acid, which can crystallize and bond with mattress fibers. This makes it easy for the stain to linger long after a surface cleaning.

When pets mark their territory, they release liquid and strong-smelling compounds that can seep deep into the material. Regular household cleaners often need help to break down these stubborn molecules effectively.

Additionally, mattresses are thick and absorbent. Even if the top layer appears clean, the deeper layers may hold moisture and odor, which will likely return over time if you don't address every part of the stain.

Even when you think you've thoroughly cleaned it, remnants can remain hidden until heat or humidity again brings out that unpleasant smell. Understanding this complexity is critical in tackling pet urine stains head-on.

Step-by-Step Guide for Cleaning Pet Urine Stains

Start by blotting the stained area with paper towels. Press down gently to absorb as much liquid as possible without rubbing.

Next, prepare a cleaning solution. Combine one cup of white vinegar, water, and two tablespoons of baking soda in a spray bottle. Shake until mixed well to activate the ingredients.

Spray the solution generously onto the stain. Let it sit for about 15 minutes to penetrate and break down the urine residue.

Afterward, use a clean cloth to blot up the mixture. Repeat this process until no more moisture transfers onto your cloth.

To eliminate remaining odors, sprinkle baking soda over the damp area once blotted dry. Allow it to sit for several hours or overnight before vacuuming any residue left behind. This will help keep your mattress fresh!

Other Tips for Maintaining a Clean and Fresh Mattress

Regularly rotate your mattress to ensure even wear. This simple practice can extend its lifespan and maintain comfort.

Use a mattress protector. Investing in one is a barrier against stains, spills, and allergens. It's much easier to wash a protector than the entire mattress.

Vacuum your mattress every few months. Dust mites and allergens accumulate over time, so using an upholstery attachment helps keep it fresh.

Air out your mattress periodically by removing bedding and letting it breathe for several hours. Sunlight can also help eliminate bacteria and odors naturally.

If you notice any lingering smells or stains, act quickly before they set in. Prompt action significantly increases the chances of successful cleaning.

Consider washing bedding regularly with hot water to remove sweat and other residues that contribute to odors. A clean environment is essential for restful sleep.

Conclusion

Dealing with pet urine stains on your mattress can be frustrating. However, with the right approach, you can effectively tackle these stubborn marks and restore freshness to your sleeping surface.

Understanding why pet urine is so challenging to remove helps select the best cleaning techniques. Acting quickly and using appropriate cleaning solutions targeting stains and odors is essential.

Our step-by-step guide equips you with practical methods for removing those pesky stains. Regular mattress maintenance will also help keep it clean and fresh, minimizing future issues.

Embracing these strategies not only enhances the lifespan of your mattress but also contributes to a healthier sleep environment. Taking proactive measures now ensures a more pleasant resting space for you and your furry companions.

[poophissuperior]

POOPH Pet Odor & Stain Eliminator

POOPH takes the stink out of the equation!

You’ve probably seen the TV spots and heard the name by now. But maybe you are not familiar with POOPH Pet Odor & Stain Eliminator and how much the product has to offer. Whether you are a single pet-owner or part of an enormous family of dogs, cats and hamsters, POOPH offers multiple benefits. Not only does it go to work instantly, POOPH is safe for people, pets and the planet. You never have to worry about stains either.

What exactly is POOPH? The powerful pet odor & stain eliminator is a healthy blend of micro-nutrients that breaks down the odor. There are no perfumes or chemicals of any kind to “cover up” any problem. You can easily use POOPH on pets by spraying it on a towel and wiping them down. 

POOPH can be used to combat organic odors on any type of surface, from soft bed linens to concrete driveways. Spraying a little into the carpet or on the baseboard that a dog urinated on allows it to break down the molecular bond that creates the nasty smell. You can even put it right on the animal.

Add POOPH to the couch, cushions and beds to fight off any and all aromas. It also works wonders on rugs and carpets, as well as hard wood floors. No longer will a visitor walk into your home and think, “This place smells like a dirty dog or cat.”

POOPH’s exact formula has been used for more than 10 years to remove the massive stench in North America’s landfills, recycling plants, waste-water treatment centers and other industrial facilities. Only now this formula is being made available to pet owners through POOPH.

Customers use POOPH to get rid of foul smell on everything from garden beds and carpets to sofa fabric, towels, car seats, clothes, and everything in between. POOPH has NO harsh chemicals and is gentle on all types of surfaces.POOPH Odor & Stain Eliminator is available in a large 32oz, a 20oz and a full gallon bottle. You can also pick up a convenient 2oz travel size bottle. This smaller option is ideal for when you are on the road. That way, you can quickly remove all of that dirty dog scent in your car after leaving the park. You can say goodbye to all of the paw prints on your car seats too.

POOPH is amazing!

[califorca]

How to Keep Your Garbage Bin Smelling Fresh and Clean

Nobody likes the smell of a stinky  Garbage Bin . It can be a major source of frustration and can make your whole house smell unpleasant. However, with a few simple steps, you can keep your  Garbage Bin  smelling fresh and clean. Here's how:

1. Regularly Clean Your Bin: The first step in keeping your garbage bin smelling fresh is to clean it regularly. Empty the bin completely and give it a good rinse with hot water and soap. Use a scrub brush to remove any stuck-on debris. Rinse it thoroughly and let it air dry before putting a new garbage bag in.

2. Use Baking Soda: Baking soda is known for its odor-absorbing properties. Sprinkling a generous amount of baking soda at the bottom of your garbage bin can help neutralize any unpleasant smells. You can also sprinkle some baking soda directly into the garbage bag before tying it up.

3. Lemon or Citrus Peels: Citrus fruits like lemons, oranges, and grapefruits have a fresh and pleasant scent. Before throwing away your citrus peels, toss them into the garbage bin. The natural oils in the peels will help mask any odors and leave a refreshing smell.

4. Vinegar Solution: Vinegar is another great natural deodorizer. Mix equal parts of water and vinegar in a spray bottle and spritz the solution inside the garbage bin. Vinegar will help eliminate any lingering smells and disinfect the bin as well.

5. Cat Litter or Coffee Grounds: If you're dealing with particularly strong odors, you can try placing a small amount of cat litter or coffee grounds in a breathable bag or cloth and placing it at the bottom of the bin. These substances are known for their odor-absorbing properties and can help neutralize any strong smells.

6. Regularly Change the Garbage Bag: One of the simplest ways to keep your garbage bin smelling fresh is to regularly change the garbage bag. Leaving garbage in the bin for too long can lead to the buildup of odors. Make it a habit to change the bag as soon as it's full or at least once a week, even if it's not completely full.

7. Keep the Bin Dry: Moisture can contribute to unpleasant smells in the garbage bin. Make sure to let any wet garbage dry before placing it in the bin. If your bin has a lid, keep it closed to prevent moisture from accumulating inside.

By following these simple steps, you can keep your garbage bin smelling fresh and clean. Remember to clean it regularly, use natural deodorizers like baking soda and citrus peels, and change the garbage bag frequently. With a little bit of effort, you can say goodbye to unpleasant garbage bin odors and enjoy a fresh-smelling home.

[empressofdiamonds]

HOME GLOWUP 1/2 ⁽ᵉᵃˢʸ ᵖᵉᵃˢʸ⁾

STEP 1: CLEANLINESS

You do know how some homes are welcoming and some simply aren't, the moment you enter... the smell does matter a lot.

Wash all textiles, including curtains, decorative pillows, bedcovers. They DO refrain a ton of smells and dust, body sebum, food smells that can make a house smell off. Clean the curtains, furniture, decorative pillows, and other fabric items every season.

Change the kitchen linens everyday or every other day. They are especially susceptible to odd odours, as they retain food bits. I make it a rule to have 7 sets of kitchen linens, which means 7 rags, 7 hand towels, and 7 dish linens, so that if one piece gets dirty, I can easily change it out.

Take out the kitchen trash EVERYDAY or every other day at MOST. If you don't produce that much trash, time to scale the trash bin down. For the other room's trash, it tends to be less smell-producing but I would make sure to change it 1-2 times a week.

Make it a habit to do the dishes as you go, or every evening. No buts nor maybes.

Activate the fan and take down the toilet lid every time you flush down, I think you understand what I am meaning by that. An additional option is to make room sprays avaliable nearby. It can be Febreeze, or some fancy room mist, to your taste.

Have a COHESIVE house scent across rooms. Don't do lemon scents in the bathroom then rose scents in the bedroom. make it cohesive aka within the same perfume family (fruits, florals, woods, etc) or pick scents that are known to fit well together (chocolate and spice, orange and spice, strawberry and light florals, etc). THAT DOES INCLUDE CLEANING PRODUCTS!

Burn incense, or candles. Beeswax candles are amazing to bring in cozyness, a bit pricier but a little goes a long way!

Do not dismiss the power of OPENING WINDOWS and AERATION. Takes off anything musty smells, changes the air for cleaner fresher air. If you live in the city, dismiss that and choose a HEPA portative air filter. They're wonderful for smell elimination.

Keep down any pet scents as much as humanely possible. Take out the kitty litter every day, use litter baskets that minimize smells (like those closed ones), do a litter overhaul every week. Remove urine scents with enzymatic sprays first (avaliable in pet stores). Giving baths to dogs and cats (for other pets, make sure to check if it is okay as some pets cant be bathed) every month, or better, bringing them at the pet groomer.

Establish a clear housekeeping routine, to keep everything clean. It is better to dust weekly than removing a massive coat of dust every season (ugh). There's whole routines you can google so you can create a nice frame for your housekeeping needs. I remind you again: housekeeping done regularly makes life EASIER. A 30 min weekly dusting is easier and feels better than a 4 hour dust crust removal every 4 months.

STEP 2: DECLUTTER

Visual clutter distracts the mind from the actual art/architecture features and makes a space seem trashy even if it may be extremely clean. See how hotel rooms feel CLEAN and agreable as hell... It is because it is clutter-free and streamlined for easy cleaning aka minimum clutter.

If you declutter, you're actually making your cleaning routine way easier. Less stuff to get around, obviously. Spare yourself the pain of cleaning by decluttering.

No clothes on the floor, and remove those you don't want anymore. No more "cloth chair". Reserve a specific space (hooks on the wall, a different basket from dirty laudry) for the "not quite dirty, will rewear again" clothes.

No clothes chair. You did read me right. I am repeating it again because I'm sick of messy girls glamorizing that fucking cloth chair. Sister, that sounds lame and you sound like a teen and not an adult. Growup.

Try to keep anything cluttered that you can't declutter (p.ex: laundry basket) in concealed storage. In the wardrobe, behind furniture, etc. We want to minimize anything visual clutter by diminishing the number of items the brain has to analyze.

Color variety DOES contribute to clutter. I am not encouraging you into going monochrome obviously but, a room with 5836 completely contrasting colors will be harder to keep less visually cluttered compared to a curated palette room.

Neat and orderly clutter is always ever always better than disorderly clutter. If you can't get rid of your book collection (which is fine btw), dedicate a specific space to those books, and look into alternate covers for those books (some books come wrapped in cloth then an amobile paper cover, the paper cover is just librairy publicity for the book, just ditch it you won't regret it.

Remove labels from products, like the dish cleaning soap bottle, except if it's essential (p.ex. dangerous chemical products). Written stuff DOES contribute to visual clutter.

This post is to be followed by another post next week, and I'll talk about palette curating and making the home cozier. See you next week! 💎

[vegaspetodorremoval]

The Ultimate Guide: How To Effectively Remove Pet Urine Stains From Your Mattress

Pets bring joy, companionship, and an endless supply of love into our lives. However, they can also leave some less-than-pleasant surprises—like urine stains on your mattress. Dealing with pet urine can be frustrating, whether it's a puppy's accident or an older cat's mishap. The good news is that you don't have to toss your mattress or live with unpleasant odors. How To Remove Pet Urine From A Mattress

This guide will walk you through practical steps to effectively remove pet urine from your mattress and keep it fresh after cleaning. From preparation techniques to preventive measures, we've covered all the bases for every pet owner. Let's dive in!

Preparing for the Cleaning Process

Before tackling those stubborn pet urine stains, gather your cleaning supplies. You'll need paper towels or cloths, white vinegar, baking soda, and an enzyme-based cleaner specifically designed for pet messes.

Start by removing any bedding or mattress covers. This allows you to focus solely on the affected area. If your mattress has a removable cover, wash it according to care instructions.

Next, ventilate the room nicely. Open windows and turn on fans to help eliminate odors while you clean. Fresh air can significantly improve the effectiveness of your cleaning efforts.

Consider testing any cleaners on a small, hidden area of the mattress first. This ensures they won't cause discoloration or damage before applying directly to the stain. Now, you're set for a practical cleaning session with everything ready to go!

Step-by-Step Guide: How to Remove Fresh Pet Urine Stains from Your Mattress

Act quickly when you discover fresh pet urine stains. The sooner you act, the better your chances of obliterating the stain.

Start by blotting the area with paper towels or a clean cloth. Press down to absorb as much liquid as possible without rubbing it in further.

Next, create a cleaning solution using equal parts white vinegar and water. Spray this mixture onto the stained area, but avoid soaking it. Let it sit for 5–10 minutes to break down the stain.

Afterward, blot again with a dry cloth until no moisture remains. For added freshness, sprinkle baking soda over the spot and let it sit for several hours or overnight before vacuuming.

This method eliminates stains and odors, leaving your mattress cleaner and fresher than ever.

Tips for Maintaining a Clean and Odor-Free Mattress

Regular maintenance is vital to keeping your mattress clean and odor-free. First, invest in a high-quality mattress protector. This barrier shields against spills, stains, and pet accidents while extending your mattress's life.

Vacuuming your mattress monthly can help eliminate dust mites and allergens. Use an upholstery attachment to reach every corner effectively.

Rotate or flip your mattress periodically to distribute wear evenly. This practice prolongs its lifespan and helps prevent sagging in specific areas.

Air out your mattress whenever possible by removing bedding and letting it breathe for a few hours each week. Fresh air can do wonders for reducing odors.

Consider using natural deodorizers like baking soda once a month. Sprinkle it over the surface, let it sit for a few hours, then vacuum it up for a fresh scent that lingers long after cleaning.

Introduction to Pet Urine Stains on Mattresses

Pet urine stains on mattresses can be a real headache for pet owners. The comfort of your bed should be a sanctuary, not a battleground against odors and discoloration.

When accidents happen, it's crucial to act quickly. Fresh stains are much easier to manage than dried ones. Ignoring them can lead to lingering smells that permeate the entire room.

Beyond the unpleasant aroma, these stains can also encourage repeated offenses from your furry friends. Pets often return to the same spot if it carries their scent. Understanding this cycle is critical in maintaining cleanliness and peace in your home.

Addressing these issues promptly helps safeguard your mattress's longevity and keeps bedtime cozy for everyone involved—two-legged or four-legged alike!

Prevention Techniques to Keep Your Mattress Clean and Odor-Free

Proactive measures are vital to keeping your mattress clean and odor-free. Start by using a waterproof mattress protector. This barrier will help prevent stains from reaching the mattress itself.

Wash your bedding regularly in hot water to eliminate any lingering odors and bacteria. Air out your mattress weekly by removing all sheets and letting fresh air circulate.

If you notice any signs of pet accidents, address them immediately. The faster you act, the easier removing potential stains before they set in will be.

Consider training your pets with positive reinforcement techniques to encourage them to go outside or use designated areas for their needs. Creating a consistent routine helps reinforce good habits.

Using natural repellents, such as citrus or vinegar diluted with water, can deter pets from returning to specific spots on the bed. By implementing these strategies, you'll not only enhance the lifespan of your mattress but also create a more pleasant sleeping environment free from unwanted smells or stains. A little prevention goes a long way in maintaining freshness!

[imagineabrighterworld]

A Heart Meant for Two

A/N: A poly relationship between Hawks, Dabi, and the reader! Based on the song The Way You Say Hello by tiffi and City Girl ^^

“He said he loved her more than words, so instead of words he gave her flowers to observe”

Hawks was your first boyfriend to ever have a current boyfriend. It was an odd adjustment to get used to sharing your boyfriend with someone else, especially when you first met Dabi. But with some help, you got used to it quickly.

“Flowers?” You eye the bouquet of roses in Keigo’s hands. He had given you flowers before, but these felt like a bribe. You peer at him with suspicious eyes, snapping your book shut. “What did you do?”

“Can’t I buy my best girl some flowers?” The Winged Hero replaces your book with the flowers, flipping through the pages before tossing it to the side. As he sits down next to you, his wing instinctively wraps around you to pull you in.

You press yourself into his side and bury your nose in the flowers, breathing in their sweet scent. A small smile forms on your face. “Hmm.. You're either planning something stupid, or it's Dabi that is doing something stupid.”

“Kid-”

“It's Dabi isn't it.”

From the flash of blue light coming from outside and the nearing of police sirens, you know the answer.

“They were also on sale.” Keigo murmurs under his breath, turning his head to hide his blush of shame as you laugh.

It had been a full four months since you started dating the two of them and Keigo still thought you were woefully ignorant. But you were much more observant than he thought. You knew your other boyfriend was a villain, one that still had a long way to go if he was to be pardoned of his crimes- that is, if he wanted to be pardoned. It was that bit of information that you did stay ignorant on, you didn't want to lose sleep on something like that.

You sigh happily and give your boyfriend a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you.”

Later on, Dabi would return home with another bouquet of flowers. A bit crumpled from him jumping over fences, but still intact.

Your boyfriends were weird, but you loved them.

“She drew him pictures in a card, he said it was tacky and almost broke her heart”

Dabi was not a spoonful of sugar and sometimes he could be a bit blunt. Painfully blunt. How you got used to his silver tipped tongue? You didn't know. Maybe it was a skill you should add onto your resume.

Removing your heels at the front door, you slip on a pair of slippers and sneak your way into the house. Dabi was the only one at home, the main indicator being the lack of Keigo’s jacket on the wall hook while Dabi’s boots were tucked away in the corner.

You duck low as you hear a quiet snoring from the couch in the living room. With soft steps, you creep in on a sleeping Dabi and lean over the cushions to reach him.

His arm was slung over his eyes, his mouth parted slightly as he sighs. Sleeping Dabi was the softest you've seen him. He was always smirks and sharp lines, but when he was asleep he was so.. Soft.

“What do you want?” A low grumble rises from Dabi’s throat. He moves his arm to uncover an eye. The piercing blue cuts through you and leaves you halting in your movements. That's to say, you stopped your hand from removing a card from your purse.

“I wanted to give you something.” You pull out the card and offer it to him.

He shuts his eye and- goes back to sleep?

“Dabi?” You whisper.

He opens his eye again and swipes the paper from your hand with a huff. Dabi sits up before paying your card any mind. Flipping it open, he runs his eyes over the drawings inside.

“Is that supposed to be a cat?”

“It's a human.”

“ It's a human, she says.” Dabi chuckles, laying back down and covering his face with the card, resting his arms on his chest in a mummy like fashion.

"Do you like it?"

"It's garbage, babe."

It stung until you found it tucked away in his chest pocket while doing laundry a week later.

“I know he hates the way she does her hair”

You constantly changed your hairstyle. One day it was braided and the next it was in a high ponytail, or cropped to your chin. Every style looked good on you, but the day you started dying your hair was the day Dabi grew truly frustrated. Though.. Not for long.

“Dabi!” You yell from inside the bathroom, your white towel now shades of purple. “I think I messed up!”

“You think or you know , babe?” He hisses as he nears the bathroom. The lights were far too bright after he had been napping for two hours. It was nighttime, nearly one in the morning according to the clock on the wall. And you were doing your hair? When you had work the very next morning?

As soon as he witnesses your hair, he knows that you know just how badly it went. He holds onto the doorframe and laughs heartily, bending over slightly as his lungs begin to burn.

“Come on it's not that funny!”

“Your towel has more hair dye than your hair does!”

It was true. Your hair was supposed to be a deep indigo, but all that was left after rinsing off the excess dye was a few lavender streaks in your now stained platinum hair. You had went to get it bleached a few days ago and today was the day you were going to color it. How did it go so wrong? The hair dye was rated so highly!

Your face burns with embarrassment. You move to shut the door on him. “If you wont help me I’ll just-”

He moves his hand in time to stop you from closing the door and pushes it open further to let himself through. “I never said that, did I babe?” He breathes in slowly to ease his now stinging lungs. “Sit down, I'll do it for you. I have more practice.”

“I know she hates the way that he pretends to care”

Keigo wasn't without his own flaws. Dabi was the villain, but Keigo came with his own problems. They weren't too big, luckily, but it wasn't always easy being on the receiving end of his disinterest when he was tired.  

You lay in defeat on the floor, your arms spread out with empty clothes hangers on your arms. Tonight was your high school reunion, a day you had been planning for since the email was first sent. The only thing you didn't have planned was your outfit. Which was why you wanted some input from your significant others, but unfortunately only Keigo was home.

Why was it unfortunate? He was tired. And when he was tired he never had much to say, or any energy to do anything other than breathe.

You look up at him from the floor and poke at his wing. “Keigoooo!”

Keigo was laying on his stomach, his right wing drooping downward as he attempted to sleep. “Mmnn..?”

“What do you think about this one?”

“It's beautiful.”

“You're not even looking.”

“Mm..”

“Birdbrain.”

“I know she'll slightly disagree on what he wears”

You loved Dabi’s odd sense of fashion and went shopping with him for matching outfits (something he said he hated, but would never stop you on doing), but Keigo.. had a special sense of fashion that always managed to confuse you. Maybe it was best you stopped going to him for his input.

"You'd think that being in magazine shoots would help you gain a fashion sense." You say from behind a fist, your hand curled to hide your grimace.

"They dress him. What do you think he'll learn?" Dabi chimes in from behind you. He laid on the bed with pillows propping him up in order to watch the show that was Keigo dressing for date night. It was a little game Dabi always liked to observe.

It wasn't that the clothes Keigo had were terrible. If they were in the right color they would look great. But.. they weren't in the right color.

They were every goddamn color in the rainbow.

Keigo looks at the vibrant pink and yellow jacket he was sporting and at the baby blue tank top he had on underneath. Vivid orange and purple peaked out from the windbreaker he wore underneath the jacket and you didn't want to know what other layer of clothing he had on under that .

"I think I look great."

"For a bird, babe." Dabi chuckles. "For a bird, you're a hot ticket."

"But not for a human Kei." You walk behind him and tug at the jacket. “Let’s just go with the other outfit.”

As it turned out, Keigo did have more in common with birds than just his wings. Bright colors were just as alluring to him as a bowl of seeds was for a sparrow. You kept this in mind for the next time you went shopping.

“I know he chokes when she sprays too much perfume in the air”

Your boyfriends knew they were difficult and could be major pains in the ass, but for once they would appreciate it if you didn't try killing them with your perfume. They knew it wasn't intentional, but how could you not notice the whole house smelled like you?  

“Question.” Dabi rests his chin on top of your head while looking at you in the mirror. “You know what my quirk is, right?”

“I do.”

“And you know what fire does when in contact with alcohol, right?”

Now you look up at him, squinting your eyes at him as you lower your brush onto the sink counter. “Yes.. it's basic safety measures. Alcohol is extremely flammable.”

“Do you know what perfume has?” Your boyfriend smirks. He curls a lock of your hair around his finger and gives it a small tug.

You slap his hand away and turn around to look at him directly. You cross your arms and lean against the counter. He was being coy, but it was too early in the morning for this. He never stalled you from getting ready to go to work. “It has alcohol. What about it?”

He cages you in his arms, leaning in and letting a flicker of blue flame light the side of his face. But unlike usual, blue flames burst in the air for a split second, the sudden flash of heat startling you enough to bump into him as you jump away from the counter. Dabi turns off his flames and pecks you on the cheek.

“Unless you want the house to burn down, I'd stop spraying so much perfume, babe.”

After work you end up buying an alcohol-free perfume.

“But she likes the way it feels when he's right there”

After the third attempt at sleeping in the same queen sized bed at the same time, Keigo and Dabi decided to buy a new bed without you knowing. It went well until you came home early to them attempting to assemble the frame without instructions. But once it was put together and finished, you had to admit you liked the result.

“No more facefuls of feathers!” You squeal with joy as you leap onto the bed and spread your arms out, enjoying the spaciousness of it all.

Dabi sits down on your left while Keigo takes your right. He flicks your forehead to catch your attention and motions for you to tuck in your arm so he could lay down next to you. “Now you get why he doesn’t get to sleep in the middle?” He pulls you into a hug while flipping Keigo off from over your shoulder.

Keigo flops onto the bed, his wings spread out and covering the two of you like a tarp. “You're just jealous baby.”

You wriggle around and lay with your back against Dabi’s chest. Pushing his wing away, you stick your tongue out at Keigo. “Jealous of being attracted to stop signs?”

“It's a sexy red.”

“What about mirrors?”

“I’m a sexy man.”

“Birdbrain.” Keigo huffs and moves closer to the both of you, wrapping his wing to engulf the both of you. “The bed was my idea you know.”

“I know.” You admit. “Dabi doesn't care if he smooshes us to death.”

“Ouch.” Dabi murmurs from your hair.

It's not long after that you fall asleep in their arms, completely content to spend the rest of your night between the two of them. But when the winter came, you and Keigo agreed to keep Dabi in the middle to act as a heater.

“She loves him so much it's absurd”

It was winter when your boys began to grow more busy. Sometimes you would go to sleep alone, but you didn't let it get to you. You knew they visited the house when they could. What else would explain the endless supply of your favorite flowers in vases by the window or boxes of your favorite chocolates on the table when they weren't there when you left? The nights you did get to see them, you enjoyed their presence to the fullest.

Keigo squeezes his eyes shut in annoyance as he hears his phone ringing once more. It was the third time in a row, and he knew he couldn't go on ignoring it anymore. Being a hero meant sacrificing down time. It meant sacrificing time with you.

“Kei.”

“Yeah?”

“It's okay.” You keep your eyes shut as you trace swirls along his back in the area between his wings. “I understand you need to leave.” You knew you couldn’t keep him forever. It wasn't right. People needed him. He saved people. It was like keeping a firefighter from putting out a fire right in front of him. If they were calling Keigo so adamantly then it must be important.

Keigo presses a kiss to your temple and releases his hold on you, letting you lay on your back as he tugs on his jacket and prepares to exit the room.

“I love you.” You say from under the still warm blankets.

“I love you too.” He smiles from over his shoulder, eyes pained.

What did he do to deserve you?

“He thinks it's cute that her singing is the worst he's ever heard”

After a whole month away from the two of you, Dabi had to admit that he missed Keigo’s stupid face and your singing. Was it good singing? No. But did he miss seeing you enjoy yourself? Yeah. Yeah he did.  

Dabi sat outside the house, listening to your singing from his spot under the tree. He had yet to enter the house and opted instead to stay under the shade. He would have to leave again soon, so he saw no point in raising your hopes only to let you down.

A feather jabs at him from behind.

“You should go in and see her. She misses you.” Keigo lands beside him, lifting his goggles from his face. He crouches in front of him, running his gloved fingers through Dabi’s hair. “We both miss you.”

Dabi leans into his touch. How many times did he find himself missing it? Keigo was his first love after such a long time, but now there was you too. You both made him weak.

“I’ll be home soon.”

“And the way she’ll close her eyes, when she's nervous and just about to cry”

Keigo and Dabi didn't always agree on everything. That was a given when one was a hero dating a villain. But what they constantly agreed on was making sure you were kept out of the fray.  

The shopping district was utterly decimated and all you felt was heat. A sweltering heat that couldn't be put out. Blue flames surrounded you on all sides, flames you knew instinctively were Dabi's.

"What's going on?!" You yell as debris falls around you, Dabi was just there- you could've sworn you saw him! It had to be him! Where else did the flames come from?

A hand wraps around your bicep and pulls you upward, the familiar sight of red wings takes up your vision as you look at Keigo. He was covered in ash and his goggles were cracked in half atop his head. He squinted through the smoke that was building in the air.

"The League is here. I'm getting you home."

"What about Dabi?! He's here, we need to bring him home too!" You look behind you at the structure that began to cave in on itself, all you could see was blue. "He's in there!"

"And so is Shigaraki! You can't be here kid!"

"We cant leave him! Please Keigo!" Tears blur your vision as all you can think about was how burnt Dabi's skin already was. What would being in the center of that fire do to him then? What kind of state would he return to you in?

"I'm sorry kid.. He's the one who warned me you were there.."

“He likes the way she plays songs on repeat”

Keigo  watched as you grew more and more despondent, shutting down as more time passed that Dabi was gone. Japan was in an uproar, and it kept calling him back to patch it up each time villains showed. Japan was like an open wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. However, this changes one day as he comes home to hearing the sound of music blasting on your speakers.

Lights were strung up from the front door to the living room to the bedrooms, fairy lights dotted every inch of the house. Keigo tucked his wings in taunt to his body to keep them from getting tangled in the haphazardly placed lights. While he loved bright colors, it was almost too much for his eyes. Where were you?

"Kid?" He calls out, ducking underneath bluebell lights. "Please tell me you're still alive in here?"

The song on the speaker repeated on itself, which was odd with how clunky it sounded, but he learned to like it once he found you.

If choppy music was what it took to bring a smile back on your face, it was worth it.

He found you taping up lights in the bathroom while singing under your breath, mascara smudged but a smile still on your face. You look at him with your hundred gigawatt smile. It threw him for a loop, the sudden hope in your eyes when only yesterday you were crying yourself to sleep.

"Its for when he comes back. Want to help me?"

Keigo takes the loop of lights from your hands and nods.

"Make some room kid."

“He likes the way they flow together like electricity”

Covering the house in Christmas lights was actually a fun distraction for the both of you while Dabi was gone. Keigo was in charge of the higher lights that covered the rooftop, but you had plenty of fun stringing them around the plants surrounding the house. After finishing your impromptu decorating, you both decide to spend the rest of the night in the living room.

"Just follow my steps, baby."

"If I followed you I'd end up on my face." You laugh while holding onto his shoulders as you both hovered in the air, his wings flared open to keep you both afloat. What steps was he even talking about? For the past ten minutes he just held you both up and spun in a lazy circle. His wings were doing all the work while his feet did nothing.

"I’ll make you soar kid." He winks at you. "One day you'll see. I’ll take you to dance sessions and everything."

"I'll hold you to it."

“He likes her ringtone and the way she'll say hello”

When it came to being part of the League, Dabi had to be careful on what information he let loose. They couldn't know about his relationships. If Shigaraki knew then he would most definitely use it to his advantage. Dabi had two weak points and that was you and Keigo. But when he was out with the LoV, he had his ways of being with you.  

“Hello! This is my voicemail, which means I'm probably busy right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP! Have a good day!”

Dabi holds his phone limply in his hand, looking up at the cracking ceiling of the League's current hideout. He had to make face for now, which meant staying away from you and Keigo for a while. Still, he had his phone, one thing he was glad Giran gave him after he burnt his old one accidentally. He knew you were busy, and he had no intention of talking to you while on the job, but to hear your voice was enough for him.

Weeks later, he welcomes the sound of your voice as you greet him, receiving him back into the house with open arms.

"Whats with all lights?" He laughs in response to your face nuzzling into his chest and feathers lifting the both of you to Keigo who stood in the doorway.

"Its to a bright future."

“He likes the way her hands feel even if they're cold”

Dabi couldn't blame you for having cold hands, but he found it cute how you were so insecure about being cold all the time. He loved how you latched onto him rather than Keigo when the temperature began to drop. Maybe it was the fact that he was gone for so long that he didn't mind being clung to. But somehow he found himself in situations he wasn't sure how to handle.

“How long am I going to be in the middle for?” He mumbles under his breath as the two of you cling to him from underneath piles of blankets.

“Until winter is gone.” You state simply.

“It isn't winter yet.”

“Did she stutter?” Keigo grumbles from under the sheets.

Eventually he would grow tired of it, but for now he let the two of you do what you wanted. He was home after all.

“And when she’s away from him, she’s away from home”

After two years of dating you knew you could never return to being without your boys. They were yours.

You reach upward, feeling the familiar rough texture of Dabi's scars along his neck and under his eyes. You drag your your thumb softly under his eye, breathing in his scent. From behind you, you could feel Keigo's breath fanning across your neck.

It was a lazy day today. No one needed them, no one needed you, it was just you and them. How long would the peace last? How long until one of your boys were called away? How long until one of them lost a battle?

No, you wouldn't think of that. For now, it was just you and them.

And that was alright with you.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine shanks getting jealous because he smells another man on you

You: I'm going to the shopping district to pick up some perfume and some new clothes, do you need anything while I'm out dear?

Shanks: oh yeah, sweetheart I am completely out of cologne and I need a new pair of wool socks, the moths got to my favorite pair.

You: of course, what kind of cologne do you want?

Shanks: I don't care just pick one that you like.

At the perfume shop

You: *comparing the cologne to see how they'd mix with Shanks's actually scent that clung to his shirt that you were wearing*

Store clerk: can I help you madame?

You: yes, I was wondering if you have anything with tobacco flower or an opium undertone?

Clerk: yes, here this one has both *accidentally presses his chest against your shoulder as he reached up to get a sample bottle from the top shelf* oh apologies madame, here I believe this might suit your tastes. *Hands you the bottle*

Back on the red force

You: boys, I'm back!

Shanks: welcome back *hugs you, only to tense up, pull you closers and start sniffing you* you smell like another man

You: well I am covered in men's cologne, I wanted to find one that suited you.

Shanks: *growls* people typically wear cologne and perfumes on there neck, chest, wrists and inner elbows. Remember you taught me that, so let me ask, why is there cologne on your shoulder?

You: oh the clerk bumped into me getting something from the top shelf.

Shanks: *picks you up and carries you to his room , dumps you on the bed, and strips you of your shirt* get this shit off, I can't stand it.

You: *presses your face into his pillow as he crawls on top of you and starts to rub his face on you* what are you doing?

Shanks: making you smell like me again *removes his shirt and presses himself against your back, his hand groping and massaging as they travel your body*

You: can I roll over?

Shanks: *flips you onto your back and nuzzles his face into your chest*

You: *runs your fingers through his hair* I'd like to test the cologne I bought for you on you if that's alright?

Shanks: do I have to move?

You: not really

Shanks: then do what ever you want

You: *pulls the cologne bottle out of your bag* you know you're not the only one who like to mark the other by scent.

Shanks: you mean the cologne is your way of scent marking me?

You: of a sorts, yes. Do you mind me putting it on you?

Shanks: please do *lifts himself up and let's you spray the cologne on his neck and chest before resuming rubbing himself on you like an overgrown cat*

You: *grabs him by his hair, pulls his head back and presses your nose against his neck and inhales deeply* hmm yes, I picked out a good one, you smell delectable.

[palettepainter]

UA Teacher headcannons

-With Hounddog’s quirk being dog naturally he has a lot of hair. He has a slighter thicker layer of peach fuzz over his skin so it just feels like he has fur - due to this he sheds hair a lot. Shizen learnt this the hard way as when her and Hounddog became official and they started to hang out more like a couple Shizen found his hair just..everywhere. In her own hair, in her clothes, in her shoes, and LOTS of it! Shizen usually isn’t bothered by this kind of thing since she’s never been one to get all grossed out over hair, but in the end brought a special brush that helps remove the hair from clothing, bed sheets and furniture 

-Midnight’s room is intoxicated with the smell of at least 6 different perfumes and Mic’s is the same but with hair spray. Aizawa refuses to go near the bathroom once Hizashi is finished cuz it’ll take at least an hour for all the hair spray he used to air out. Snipe doesn’t really care all that much with Nemuri’s perfume, Snipe smells of dirt and horses so he’s not one to judge - Midnight one time replaced his body spray with a perfume, Snipe didn’t notice until someone pointed out how he smelled oddly of lavender

-Cementoss and Thirteen are bff’s and despite being the youngest are the somewhat care takers to everyone else. They fuss at Aizawa to actually ate some real food, NO his juice pouches do not count. They both practically yell at Snipe, Hounddog and Higari when they go to walk in caked in mud and dirt, and Cementoss and Thirteen have memorized everyone’s go to beverage so when they make a hot drink they’ll know exactly what everyone else wants

-Aizawa has kitty paw slippers, Hizashi got him them jokingly one year for secret santa, Aizawa didn’t take them off for 9 days. It was only when Hizashi bribed him with cat videos did Aizawa willingly wand them over to be washed

-The teachers can obviously make alarms in their phones, but no one ever does cuz they have Hizashi, a literal walking speaker, he does a good enough job

-Ectoplasm and Shizen both suffer from being smothered in the mornings. More often then not Ectoplasm wakes up to Higari laying ontop of him, and when he tries to leave Higari just hugs him tighter like a koala bear. Shizen suffers the same fate, Hounddog is a heavy, deep sleeper, waking him up is a chore. If she’s lucky she’ll simply be trapped under his arm which he will use to drag her lazily back to bed when she tries to get up...or if she’s unlucky she may just suffocate when she wakes up with his head laying ontop of her

-Ectoplasm has a karaoke night and Midnight has Girls night. Shizen gets dragged along while Thirteen is pretty enthusiastic about it - they watch bad soap operas and teenage drama movies. 

-Lunch rush makes all and any meals for the teachers when they’re in the teachers dorms. His quirk is pratically made for the job, in exchange the other teachers clean up the plates and cutlery 

-Powerloader, Hounddog and occasionally Snipe have the worst potty mouths out of the staff, mostly Powerloader and Hounddog though. Thirteen and Cementoss made a swear jar one time and it was full within a week

-Blood King (aside from Shizen cuz her quirk lets her understand Hounddog) is the only person who can understand Hounddog when his speech has resorted to barks and growling. Blood King has become pretty much immune to shock or surprise when his best friend starts barking and growling, so will just calmly stand there wiping the spit off his face waiting for Hounddog to finish

(slightly dirty one here)

-Ectoplasm and Hounddog have themselves a fine set a chompers, which can leave pretty...hard to cover up marks. Shizen and Powerloader both suffer this fate of having to hide any love bites. One time during the summer they both where stuck with this predicament and so where forced to wear long sleeved shirts and jumpers to hide them. Both lost half their weight in sweat that day

Midnight: Why are you two wearing jumpers? It’s the middle of summer

Powerloader/Shizen: No reason 

[asweetprologue]

so hard to say (so easy to do)

This is a follow-up to this fic I did for my halftober series, but can be read as a standalone! This is a whump fic, but all torture mentioned is fairly mild and there is a happy ending. A few people wanted a sequel so I’m finally able to oblige!  ao3

tw: hand trauma including broken fingers and mention of cutting near and around the forearms. 

***

He can’t remember how long he’s been here. 

Days? A week, maybe? It could have been months, and Jaskier’s not entirely sure he would notice the difference. Time began blending together so quickly after the first few sessions. The cell they are keeping him in is makeshift, once some kind of storage room in the dilapidated keep that the Nilfgaardians have occupied. It’s temporary, and so is his capture. One way or another. He will be disposed of the second they no longer find him useful. 

It’s a bit of a cat and mouse game. If he weren’t so thoroughly bruised, deep down in his core, he might be a little proud of how he’s led them along. They come every day, a few times, he’s not sure; there are no windows in his hasty prison. They never remove him from the chair he’s strapped to, and he’s been given only water, twice. He’s beyond hunger, his empty stomach just another point of pain alongside his other injuries. There are two men who work on him, one in what he assumes is the morning and one in the evening. They come in shifts. During the first few days - hours? weeks? - they would leave after he passed out, and he would be allowed to rest for a little while. Now they usually stay for a while, teasing him in and out of consciousness with wicked little hooks and blades. He faints too often for it to bring him any lasting peace. 

It’s a difficult thing to want to draw out, but draw it out he does. They ask him where the witcher has gone, and he tells them he won’t say, won’t give up his secrets (as if he has any). When they move to breaking his fingers, he tells them that he knows a few places, some towns that Geralt might be hiding out in, which he knows are safe to speak of. He tells them about witcher caches that he knows are long looted, old ruins where experiments past took place, unspoken but harmless truths. 

He never tells them the biggest truth: he has no idea where Geralt is. That way lies death, he’s certain. 

When he’s not entertaining Nilfgaard’s finest, he focuses on making plans of escape. None of them are particularly grand, or seem likely to work. Jaskier has gotten himself out of plenty of trouble in years past, but there’s not much one man can do against a full legion of soldiers. If he could get out of his bindings, he might be able to make it through the halls of the keep and sneak past the guards, but it’s a big if. It was a stronger contender in the early hours of his captivity, but now he doubts if he could even stand up for long. Weariness and pain have made his bones brittle, liable to crack at the slightest provocation. He fears if he tried to run he would do more damage than the Nilfgaards already have. 

He’s not sure if he’s thinking clearly. 

He doesn’t think about Geralt at all. He tries not to think about Geralt. 

He dreams of him, though. When he faints from the pain or exhaustion or thirst, he doesn’t dream, but a few times he’s managed to fall into a fitful sleep. In the dark of the cell he dreams of calloused hands and smiling, golden eyes. The worst is when he dreams that he’s woken up by Geralt’s side in their small camp, warm and content, only to wake again to the cold, damp dungeon. The smell of it chokes him, iron and piss and mold, and he gags on bile when he has nothing in his stomach to throw up. He sits in the dark, alone, his broken fingers throbbing along with his pulse as it rushes through his ears, every cut and bruise aching in the chill air. For a long while he just breathes, wishing so desperately to be held that he feels like nothing more than a child. 

They come for him again the next morning. Or night, he doesn’t know, can’t tell. The torch burns his eyes, and he closes them tightly to avoid one pain he doesn't have to endure. It’s better if he doesn’t look, anyways. 

In his brief glimpse of his tormentor, Jaskier could tell that the torturer this time is the thin man. His counterpart is huge, with shockingly broad shoulders and big, meaty, uncoordinated hands. Most of the bruises are from the big one, who prefers to slam his fist into Jaskier’s ribs when he doesn’t hear what he wants to. In his brief and endless time here, Jaskier has learned that he prefers the meat man. The thin man who stands before him now is a surgeon, precise and accurate in all his movements. His fingers are long and thin, and they reach so easily inside to pluck at Jaskier’s delicate veins and nerves. In a strange way, Jaskier can almost appreciate it, one artist to another. The human body is an instrument to the thin man, and the music he makes is pain. 

He can hear the sound of a cloth, rubbing across a smooth surface. It reminds him of Geralt, wiping down his blades with old silk, who he will not think of in this moment. Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, trying to will his mind into stillness. He’s not any good at this, not really. He can talk around the issue, sure, draw it out as much as he likes, keep them guessing. Jaskier would never let a single unintentional detail slip, this he knows in the depths of his being, past the music and charm and frivolousness. Nothing could make him betray Geralt and Ciri. He could run the Nilfgaardians round in circles for years if he wanted to. 

But he isn’t good with pain. 

This time the first knife to pierce his skin isn’t even preceded by a question. It comes with little fanfare, slicing into the pad of one of his twisted fingers in what Jaskier knows is a painfully intentional line. Exactly as big and deep as it needs to be to hurt him how the thin man wants it to. It burns against the swollen skin, already too sensitive. Jaskier lets out a slow breath, trying to brace himself for the rest. 

“I will no longer ask,” the thin man says. His voice is soft, with the almost musical lit of someone from near Toussaint. He always sounds breathy, like he’s been walking too quickly up a flight of stairs. “You know the question.”

Jaskier nods jerkily. He won’t speak for a while. He needs to draw it out, perhaps find a way to barter for some water or food. Information in exchange for things that might make his existence more bearable. Who knows how long it will be before - 

No. Don’t think it. 

The thin man hums and begins his work. 

Jaskier fades, coming back to himself only when the pain becomes the worst. He passes out a few times, but he finds no reprieve. The thin man waits for him when he wakes, and begins again. Jaskier doesn’t even know what he’s doing anymore. All he knows is that his skin has been replaced with fire. 

They haven’t even started working on his face yet, but the thin man had made some chilling comments about his eyes. Jaskier hopes they have time yet before that. 

He’s gritting his teeth through a particularly deep incision on the inside of his forearm - just shallow enough not to be dangerous, but wide enough to sting - when the door to the room shatters inwards. 

The chair that he’s in was bolted to the floor, which he expects is the only reason he doesn’t go flying backwards. As it is, his head rocks back from the blast and knocks into the wood, and he’s too dizzy from blood loss and dehydration and maybe a slight concussion to register what happens next. There’s some shouting, and a spray of something warm and salty across his face. A brilliant light, and then darkness. 

He keeps his eyes closed until he feels hands on his cheeks. When he opens them, he is met with gold, gold, gold. 

Geralt is here. 

“Melitele, that took you long enough,” he says, and then he passes out. 

***

When he wakes, there’s no pain. 

He sits up and winces, amending that thought. There is, most definitely, some pain. It crackles along his ribs and his joints, aching, but it’s dulled. He’s lying in a small room, warm wooden logs forming the wall next to his small cot. A fire crackles merrily away on the far side of the little cottage, basic cooking implements hanging above it. A table sits underneath a window to his left, where he can just barely make out a thin line of blue sky above a dense treeline. His bed is covered in rough, simple cotton sheets; the room is warm enough that it needs no quilt. When he lifts them warily to assess the damage, his torso is wrapped in fine linens, the kind Geralt likes to keep in their packs for when jobs go south. Three of his fingers are heavily wrapped as well, bound together to keep them stiff and straight. He fumbles as he picks up the still mug of water he finds on the little shelf beside the cot, and he drinks so quickly he nearly drops it on the floor. 

He’s so focused on the critical task of getting water from the mug into his mouth without spilling it all on the sheets that he almost doesn’t notice the front door opening. When he does, he jumps - can’t help it, suddenly filled with a bright spot of panic. It fades into sheer relief when he sees the slight silhouette and the faint, nearly white hair backlit by the late afternoon sun. Ciri stares at him, holding a wide, flat bowl against her hip while propping the door open with one hand. Suddenly the bowl goes clattering to the floor, dandelion greens falling in a floral carpet as she launches herself across the room at him.

“We were so fucking worried about you!” she says, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Jaskier laughs, the sound of it coming out rough but no less joyful for it. He lifts his sore arms to hug her back, ignoring the way it pulls at his healing injuries. 

“Now what would your father say if he heard you using such language?” he asks. One hand lifts up to card gently through her hair. Ciri pulls back a bit, and he tucks a stray piece of it behind her ear as she glares at him. Her green eyes are covered in a film of tears, but he won’t mention it. His eyes are burning a bit as well. 

“You know I only learned it from him,” she says, “and you. I’m angry with you. And him. You made us leave you behind.” She’s so young, he thinks, even with everything she’s been through. It makes something in his chest compress and expand at once. It’s a strange feeling, but not a bad one. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” he says, and he means it, mostly. “I didn’t want to. But I would do it again, to protect you. Both of you.”

A stray tear slips down her cheek. “You were so hurt,” she croaks. She takes a few breaths through her nose, biting the inside of her lip. “When they brought you back, Geralt was so quiet. Not like normal quiet, but like, like people get when they don’t want to talk about how bad it is. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” She looks bereaved, guilt twisting her young features, and Jaskier can’t stand it. 

“No,” he says, firmly, as much authority in his voice as he can muster with it still raw from hours of screaming. “It was my choice, Ciri. The fact that people want to hurt you doesn’t make it your fault. I will always choose to protect you. Always.” He reaches out his free hand to take hers, squeezing it tightly. “You would do the same for me, Lioness.”

She nods shakily, and squeezes his hand back. He knows this isn’t the last time he’ll have to say it, but that’s alright. He’ll say it again. 

Ciri wipes her eyes quickly and pulls away. “I need to get Geralt. He’s been… not good. He needs to know you’re awake.” She stands up, rushing over to the door and righting her upended bowl, saving what she can of the greens. Jaskier takes a moment to arrange himself on the bed a bit, shuffling around until he’s more comfortable.

“Not good how?” he asks. Ciri shoots him a look. 

“Not good as in worried, of course. We all have. Even Yennefer. She stayed with you the entire first day you were back. It’s been -”

The door slams open again, this time revealing a panting Geralt. His hair is down around his face, looking slightly damp. He has on only a loose gray shirt over an old pair of trousers, the ones with a rip in the knee that Jaskier had told him to throw out but he’d insisted were good for at least one more season. Jaskier had been meaning to patch it up for a few weeks now. He’s so fucking beautiful Jaskier could cry.

“I was fishing,” Geralt says. He’s staring at Jaskier with wide eyes, one hand still on the door handle. 

Ciri says, “Um. I’m going to find Yennefer,” and slips out the door under Geralt’s arm. Geralt doesn’t even seem to see her. 

The door falls shut behind her, but Geralt seems rooted in place, staring at Jaskier with an expression that’s wide open and raw. It lands on Jaskier’s skin like a balm, tracing over every visible wound with desperate attention. 

“Well,” Jaskier says finally, “I’m not going to bite you.”

Geralt makes a hurt noise, and suddenly he’s across the room, crowding into Jaskier’s space. He hovers beside the bed, curved over Jaskier’s propped up form with his hands inches away from bandaged shoulders. He hesitates. Jaskier can’t stand it. 

“I didn’t get tortured for however long for you not to hug me once I’m rescued,” he snaps. “I’m not going to break.”

Geralt laughs, but it’s so strangled Jaskier isn’t actually sure it isn’t a sob, and then Geralt finally leans into him. His fingers come up to cradle Jaskier’s skull, holding onto the back of his neck like he really might fragment apart at too harsh a touch. His other arm circles around Jaskier’s chest until he can feel a warm palm spread along the base of his spine, anchoring him. Jaskier sighs, feeling the last of the tension leave him as he collapses against Geralt’s sturdy form. One wet strand of white hair tickles his cheek where he’s pressed against Geralt’s neck. 

“Four days,” Geralt says, so soft Jaskier might not have heard it if he didn’t half feel it through the rumble of Geralt’s ribcage. 

“Four days?” Jaskier repeats, turning it into a question. 

“How long they had you.” A hot breath leaves him in a long sigh, tickling Jaskier’s eartip. “Didn’t know if we’d find you in time.”

“I should have let Yennefer put that tracking spell on me all those years ago,” Jaskier says, aiming for light. Geralt just squeezes him a bit tighter, enough that it stings a little, before he eases off a bit. He doesn't let go. 

“She’ll do one as soon as she’s able,” Geralt says. “Used a lot of energy, healing you.”

“Exceptional job she did,” Jaskier says, soothing his nose along the line of Geralt’s throat. “My, ah. Well. Does she know if my - Any prognosis on, ah -”

“Your fingers will be fine,” Geralt says, bringing the hand on Jaskier’s neck down to cradle his bandaged fingers. “Yennefer said they’re mostly healed already, but she’s keeping them wrapped so you don’t aggravate them.”

Jaskier sighs in relief. “Well thank small mercies and powerful mages for that. How long am I bedridden for? I’m taking two days at least off of whatever orders Yennefer has given, knowing her she’s added an extra week just to keep me ‘out of trouble’ as she would describe it. I’ll not sit around a moment more than -”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts. He pulls back, looking serious, almost grave. But his eyes are full of something else, something that makes Jaskier’s words catch and halt in his throat. 

“Yes, dear heart?” he prompts. Geralt closes his eyes. 

“I love you,” he says, soft and breathless. He opens his eyes suddenly, pupils blown wide as he meets Jaskier’s gaze. An expression that Jaskier has seen so, so many times steals across his features - scared, but determined. His witcher is a very brave man. “I’m in love with you. I didn’t know if I’d get to - if you would be -”

Jaskier reaches up to catch Geralt’s cheek in his wrapped palm, and Geralt’s eyelids flutter like he wants to close them, but he doesn’t. He stays looking at Jaskier, drinking him in as Jaskier is doing in return. His eyes are two spots of honey in the warm light of the fire and the afternoon sun spilling into the room. Jaskier leans forward and presses their lips together. His are too dry, and Geralt’s are a bit chapped. He bites them when he’s nervous, or worried. It’s also the most brilliant kiss Jaskier’s ever had - it feels like the relief of coming to a familiar place after a long time on the road, where you know the people and the food is good and everyone knows your songs. It’s cheerful fires in silver blue campsites, blankets shared on cold nights on the journey north, buttercups and dandelions braided into snow white hair. It’s coming home, the only way Jaskier has ever really known how. 

He pulls away, letting their foreheads fall together, just breathing in the space between them. Geralt smells like Roach, and fresh spring water, and lilac. “I know, sweetheart. I love you too.”

Geralt smiles at him, really smiles, beautiful and relieved. Ciri’s voice comes to them through the window, excited and drawing nearer, interwoven with a smoother tone that Jaskier remembers from hazy half wakeful moments. Yennefer will want to check on his wounds, will lecture them on getting distracted and ruining her hard work, but she will also smile and it will touch her eyes like it didn’t used to. But for the next few seconds, it’s just the two of them, and once again the moment feels unhurried and infinite. So he leans back in to kiss him again and steals Geralt’s quiet huff of a laugh to keep within his own mouth, and for a moment that’s everything there is. 

[a5tr0n0m1cal]

S/O and their bonefriend are out in the yard doing some good old fashion lawn chores when S/O hears the sounds of a small creature. They turn and are positive they see a black and white cat dart under the porch.

Afraid that it is a lost pet, or even an injured stray, S/O is quick to dart under the porch as well after it.

............

That was not a cat S/O!

It was a skunk.

S/O is now covered in the potent gland juices of said skunk.

What does the bonefriend do?

Poop!! I forgot to sign off on the skunk ask!

-SS🚿

___

No worries shower anon.

Sans: Chances are he’s probably relaxing on a lawn chair before he actually forces himself (or you force him lol) to do some work. He’ll know immediately but he doesn’t speak up in time. “Pfft. Aw man, that totally stinks, huh?”

“Shut up Sans.”  

Papyrus: He doesn’t even realize at first, he probably thought it was a cat too. When you come back out with the worst expression on your face and well...smelling horrible it will finally click for him. “NOT TO WORRY!!!” He’s already running into the house to get a bath ready for you and to look up one of those detergent mixtures to get the smell out.

Red: PLZ- He gets one sniff of you and he’s in between laughing and gagging. He can’t. He actually can’t. He’ll wave you off into the house or something so you can quickly go change or whatever and then he’ll try and figure out what to do about the scent that is now coming from under your porch.

Boss: He’s quicker about it once he catches a glimpse of it and will definitely run over to grab you and pull you away before anything happens, but now the both of you are stuck there wondering if the skunk will leave on its own or if you’ll need to remove it before it sprays at something else and leaves your porch in a cloud of fumes.

Blue: He was probably so focused on the lawn chores be didn’t even notice until he hears you crawl back out from under the porch. He immediately sighs and just points to the door. Stretch has been sprayed plenty of times by a skunk, so this isn’t his first rodeo.

Stretch: He probably thought it was a cat too 💀 He was probably so excited and followed you, only to get sprayed as well. Now the both of you are victims of the skunk.

Bear: He’s confused at first, and when you come out from under the porch he immediately understands. He’ll gently coax the skunk out from the porch and carry it off to the woods and then call Brace to ask him how to get the smell out of your clothes.

Brace: Another one who’s fast reflexes save you from a...smelly fate. He’ll grab you before you can run under the porch and spook it further and then carefully resumes working on the lawn.

Plum: He gets one whiff of you and he’s gone. You won’t be seeing him until you’re cleaned up and the smell is gone.

Cash: PLEASE- He loves you, but he’s laughing at you right now. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have lungs, because he’s pretty sure if he had some they’d be long gone by now.

Raz: He’s actually screeching. Don’t come near him. Go get cleaned up. He’s another one who can’t handle bad smells.

Rus: If you thought Raz’s intolerance of bad smells was bad, Rus is even worse because his sense of smell is very strong. He’s gagging. He’ll straight up leave for a bit. Call him when there isn’t a smell anymore. If he stays there’s a possibility he’ll actually get sick.

[yandere-daydreams]

OMG REQUESTS ARE OPEN LETS SEE More Finn?The Cat boy? Please? I grovel before you. And question. How do you come up with your ideas? You write as if you exprienced it before..... As the yandere or the darling i do not know. Also Hi PG!

I don’t come up with ideas. I see the words ‘cat boy’ and do what feels natural, usually in the format of a few hundred words. Thinking is for the weak and creativity is a concept manufactured by capitalists. I refuse to indulge it.

Title: Commitment Issues.

TW: Implied Abandonment and Past Trauma.

~

This would be the third time you had to buy a new set of glassware.

It was Finn’s favorite hobby, as of late. If you had a normal cat, you could be more diligent about where you kept your dishes, or buy a few locks for your more valued possessions, but any Hybrid was smart enough to check inside a drawer and loud enough to complain if you started ‘keeping secrets’, as Finn so often phrased it. The first time, it was cute, and you let him off with a lecture, and you couldn’t be mad the second, not when his eyes were so wide and he was so curious to see if this bowl was as breakable as the other dozen he’d tried. It felt different, though, this time.

It felt malicious.

His eyes were narrowed, now, focused on shards littered across your tiled floor as he rolled over his next projectile in his hand - a glass cup, clear and patterned and so, so expensive to replace. Nothing about his posture would suggest it, his back hunched in concentration and his legs crossed underneath him, making it seem as if Finn was just protecting his territory on your kitchen island as fiercely as he could. The only hint of his discontent came in the form of his tail, curled and motionless, forming a curved, bowing arch behind him that only occasionally twitched when your gaze met his. Neither of you had spoken, not since Finn spotted you in the doorway, and he saw fit to break the silence with a heart-stopping, finance-straining crash, the cup soon in pieces at your feet, Finn already selecting his next target from the slowly shrinking hoard beside him.

“You’re mad,” You announced, aiming the statement toward no one in particular. Finn was the only one around to hear it, and he certainly wasn’t listening. “Am I allowed to ask why?”

A plate, this time, one of your nicer ones. It splits down the middle, forming two lopsided pieces. “I don’t know what you mean. My hand slipped.” He bent down, picking up one of the larger shards and letting it drop. You raised an eyebrow, and Finn scoffed. “It slipped again.”

You crossed your arms, only to uncross them and lurch forward as he shoved your favorite mug of the tabletop’s edge, Finn watching as you scrambled to catch the utensil by its ceramic handle. With more force than you probably should’ve used, you slammed the mug down on the countertop, taking Finn’s wrist when he reached out to take it back up. You’d come home less than an hour ago, your shoes still on and every cell in your body still exhausted, but safe-guarding your possessions came first. Unless you wanted to come back to the scraps of whatever Finn’s tantrum left behind. “Tell me what’s wrong, alright?” You tried, sympathetically, softening your tone and squeezing his hand affectionately. “I don’t want to put a deadbolt on the cupboard, again, and I’m not going to fight with you. Just… tell me what’s bothering you. I’ll do whatever I can to make it right.”

Finn took a moment to evaluate your offer, the tip of a pink tongue emerging to absentmindedly trace the shape of his fangs. When he spoke, he did so hesitantly. “Promise?”

“Anything,” You said, pursing your lips. “Within reason.” 

That was all the permission he needed. Swiftly, he jumped down from his perch, short nails hooking around the hem of your sleeve and pulling you forward, urging you to follow as he made his way deeper into your apartment. You tried to think of where he wanted to take you, for a second or two, but by the time you formed a list of possibilities, you’d already arrived at the entrance to your cramped bathroom, the door quickly pushed open with Finn’s shoulder. He was a head shorter than you and weighed half as much, but you were too stunned to fight back as he shoved you into the open shower, letting you trip over a low wall and fail to catch yourself on smooth tiles, your back eventually hitting the floor with a hollow thud. A dull pain sparked at the base of your spine, etching itself into your mind with a series of aches and throbs, but if Finn noticed, he didn’t feel the need to show it, his lips pursing into a thoughtful scowl as he scrambled to dislodge the showerhead. His efforts were persistent, but sloppy. A result of never feeling the need to practice, not without another person’s help.

“Finny, I don’t--” You stopped, abruptly, bracing yourself just in time to be hit with a spray of ice-cold water. It was a graceless assault, clumsy and too sudden to be gentle, but thankfully, Finn thought to move away from your head quickly, leaving your hair soaked and your chest seeped of its warmth, your clothes seeming to hold the chill against your skin longer than it had to. You considered attempting to remove a layer or two, if only to alleviate the discomfort, but decided it was better not to think about it. Finn was already panicked. You didn’t want to make things worse. “Stop,” You urged, your tone too light for the demand to be a true order. “What are you… Why? I can’t believe--”

“You smell like someone else.” The explanation was brief, but he spat the words as if they were venom on his tongue, harsh and passionate and awful. More awful than anything you’d heard him say before. “You came home like that yesterday, too, and the day before. Someone’s been touching you.” His lips curled back, teeth emerging in a sharp, observant snarl. “You’ve been touching someone else.”

“You’re being irrational.” Finn’s grip on the showerhead tightened, but he didn’t move to stop you as you moved to push yourself up. The steam came to focus on center of your stomach as you stood, turning off the water with little more than a twist of your wrist. Stripped of his only weapon, Finn’s surrender came without further argument, the showerhead dropped and his face soon buried in your shirt, claws beginning to kneed into your hips in a silent plea for forgiveness. You opened your mouth, but he didn’t give you time to speak. His breathing was still labored, his eyes still shut in an effort to block out the rest of the world. Part of you felt bad at him, even if you were the one left dripping wet.

“The last one started coming home like that, too,” He mumbled, snow-white ears flattening against his scalp. “She brought another scent home, then she brought someone else home, then she didn’t come home at all. You’re gonna leave, too, and you’re not gonna come back. You’ll leave me.”

You sighed. You sighed, and you ran a hand through his hair, scraping over his scalp and scratching at the base of his ears, doing all the things you always did when he doubted your commitment. In return, Finn leaned into you, his weight settling against your own until there was no doubt you were the only thing holding him up.

You did all the things you were supposed to do, and yet, you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to tell him you’d stay.

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (6/8)

If you’d like to read this on AO3, go here. 

October 21, 2018

It had been years since he'd had to employ tradecraft. Mulder pulled to the curb one block over and two blocks up from Darlene's. He triple checked that his Glock was loaded and dashed across the lawn of the house he'd parked in front of, running past the house and through the backyard, vaulting over a low fence and into another backyard. A black and white cocker spaniel came running at him, angrily barking, but lost its nerve when it got within biting range, opting to jog alongside Mulder as he ran through the yard and then down a sidewalk, eventually losing the dog as it reached the end of its invisible fence.

He slowed as he got to Darlene's block, scanning the street for any sign of an idling car, a criminal, an accomplice. He saw nothing but Scully's car -- the one Lily had lately been borrowing -- parked in Darlene's driveway, the hood still warm.

He was quietly approaching the side yard when a shot rang out, and then another.

Heart in his throat, Mulder vaulted over the small railing that bordered Darlene's small patio and skidded to stop in front of her sliding glass door which had been left open, the curtains fluttering outside on the breeze. He moved on tiptoes, waiting until the curtain blew away from the doorway, showing him a clear view into the house. He saw nothing. He entered, gun-first, his breath coming in adrenaline-laced gasps.

He heard a shuffle from further inside the house, then a low female curse.  

When he quiet-stepped his way past the kitchen counter and looked into the dining room, he saw Darlene slumped against the wall, a hand pressed to a blood-soaked shoulder. The arm that had been shot hung limply at her side, her fingers still curled loosely around the handle of a pistol. Her brow was pale, laced with sweat. They made eye contact.

Darlene held up a blood-soaked finger. One. "In the bedroom," she mouthed, and he nodded at her, moving cat-like on rubber-soled shoes, wishing he could feel the snub-nosed steel of Scully's Sig backing him up.

He could practically feel the movement on the other end of the hallway, the air tense as an execution chamber, the whispered rustling of clothing, the sharp smell of cordite still hanging in the air.

When he finally got to the bedroom doorway at the end of the hall, it took him a second to see the man in the room, crouched down next to the bed, the gun hidden behind his back.

"Come on out of there, princess," the man said, softly, like he was coaxing a hissing cat.

Mulder felt a blaze of red-hot anger, a parental rage so acute it felt like a tuning fork had pinged off his bones.

"Hey," he said, more of a hiss than a word, and the man's eyes went wide and his gun swung up just as Mulder fired, three times center-mass. The man fell back on a spray of blood.

Mulder threw himself to the floor on the other side of the bed.

"Lil, it's Dad," he said, "Look at me."

Lily was prone under the queen-sized bed, face-down on the other side, but she was looking at Mulder, wide-eyed, but apparently unhurt.

"Are you injured?" he asked calmly.

She gave a quick shake of her head and licked her lips, and Mulder could see that she was about to turn to look at what was left of her attacker.

"Come this way, baby," he said, holding out a hand to her while she shimmied slowly toward him. When she finally reached him, her hands were like ice. He pulled her the rest of the way out and onto her feet, where she stood, dazed, touching her hair and getting her bearings. He moved his body in between her and the dead man on the floor on the other side of the bed, ushering her quickly out of the room and down the hallway.

When they got to the dining room, Darlene was breathing quickly but was still conscious, and she tossed a keychain at Mulder, which he caught one handed. There was a smear of blood on the ring, which he wiped on his shirt.

"Silver CR-V, two blocks east," Darlene wheezed, "don't stop for anything."

Mulder, not heeding her advice, stopped by where the phone hung on her kitchen wall and dialed 911, stretching the cord as long as it would go and pressing it into Darlene’s hand. He pressed his gun into the other and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” he said seriously, then grabbed a shocky Lily by the hand, pulled her through the theater-curtain of the breezy drapery and out into the daylight.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They'd had go-bags packed as a matter of course -- Scully had thrown them into the back of the CR-V in the parking lot of the defunct Family Video where Mulder told she and Will to meet them.

He’d leaned over and thrown open her door for her as Will swung into the backseat. He was driving before she’d even buckled her seatbelt.

“Plan C?” Scully asked. Mulder had been checking the rearview mirror more than he was checking the road. He nodded once, curtly. “We should head East,” she went on. “If they’re tracking our phones, let’s let them think they know where we’re going before we lose them.”

“On it,” Mulder said, merging onto the highway.  

After a few miles, the tension in the car eased slightly.

"Hey Dad?" said Will from the back seat. Mulder looked in the rear view mirror and connected eyes with his son. "What about the cats?" the boy asked.

Mulder thunked his head back against the head rest. "We'll figure it out, bud."

"Travis could probably do it," Lily volunteered shyly.

"How do we know Travis wasn't the one who tipped them off to our location?" Mulder asked, barely keeping a rein on his anger and fear.

"Mulder," Scully admonished quietly from beside him. She peered back at their daughter who had tears in her eyes.

"Because it was me," Lily quietly, whose face then crumpled.

Mulder slammed on the brakes and pulled the car over hard to the shoulder of the highway, gravel and dirt spitting out from under the tires. The cars that had been behind them honked liberally as they flew by. He craned his neck back at his daughter before the car had stopped moving.

"What?!" he said.

"I -- I," she started, then took a deep breath and continued, "I did a search in a university computer lab a few days ago. Then someone started following me. I lost him-"

Mulder and Scully both interrupted her at the same time.

"-What did you search-" "-And you didn't tell us-"

She looked between the two of them, clearly trying to figure out who to answer first. Finally, to Scully she said, "I wasn't even really sure he was following me. And I didn't want to scare anyone. I did what you taught me to do -- I shook him and then I went to Darlene. I didn't want to lead him home." Scully reached back and put her hand over her daughter’s, who clutched back at her desperately. "And now Darlene might be dead!"

"I think Darlene is going to be okay, Lily," Mulder said. She would have reached out to the Gunmen first thing, who would have sent someone in to protect her. “I called 911 -- she was shot in the shoulder --" he looked to Scully, passing off the conversational baton.

"Was she conscious when you left her?" Scully asked. Lily nodded, sniffing. "Shoulder gunshot wounds are easily survivable. I'm sure she'll be okay,” Scully ‘finished, sounding more sure than she felt.

Mulder took a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel like a vice.

"Lily, what did you search?" he finally asked, his voice as calm as he could make it.

The girl sniffed again and looked up. "You," she simply said, looking at her father.

Scully looked at Mulder and could feel his heart breaking for his daughter from where he sat. He sighed heavily.

“Pass up your phones,” he finally said, “everybody.”

The kids complied, handing over their phones to their mother. Mulder looked at Scully, then signaled and pulled back on the expressway when there was an opening.  “Can you pop the SIMs?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Good,” he said. “Think you can make a Faraday bag, Scully?”

“What’s a Faraday bag?” Will asked.

Scully was studying the phones, looking for the SIM trays on the side of each device. “It’s an enclosure used to block electromagnetic fields,” she said without looking up.

She looked to Mulder and smiled briefly. “I’ll only need a few supplies.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder pulled the ball cap low over his face and donned a pair of sunglasses. While the car was filling up, he went inside the gas station and grabbed a small shopping basket, filling it up with junk food and bottles of water, aluminum foil from the small kitchen section, batteries. On his way to the register, keeping his face down to avoid the cameras, he grabbed one large foil-lined bag of potato chips and plunked them all on the counter, paying for the lot in cash. He muttered a thank you as the cashier handed him the plastic bag of loot, and he whisked through the door of the station, pulling out the large bag of chips as he made his way back to the silver CR-V. He wordlessly handed Scully all the food but the chips as she was resecuring the gas nozzle and closing the car's gas hatch. Mulder tore open the bag of chips, dumped the contents in the waste bin next to the gas pump and jumped in the car with the empty bag. He pulled out of the gas station so quickly that the tires chirped on the asphalt.

"Mulder," Scully said shakily, a warning: calm down.  

Three miles later on Southbound I-69, he pulled illegally into a utility pass-through. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, and handed it to his wife.  

“Last one?” he asked, and she nodded. She had the other three phones up on the dash, their SIM cards already removed.

She went through the supplies he’d gotten at the gas station and looked critically at the empty potato chip bag.

“Do you have what you need?”

She nodded. Five minutes later, her work complete, she looked up.

“Done,” she said.

He took the bag from her, dropped the phones inside and shoved it into the console. They turned north.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder pulled the CR-V to a stop when a sapling in the middle of the two-track made further driving impossible.

"End of the road, guys," he said, and cut the engine. "Get your bags out of the back," he said to his children, "Will, I want you to carry your mom's."

"'Kay," said his son, and made his way to the trunk.

Lily had been quiet for hours. He moved around the car to help Scully out and she gave him a look. Give her something to do . He nodded.

He pulled the handwritten map that Lauren had given him out of his back pocket and handed it to his daughter. "I'm going to stick with your mom," he told her, "see if you can suss out this map."

Lily nodded and looked around to orient herself. When he came back to Scully's side, she gripped his arm and took a bracing breath. Alarmed, he bent his knees to try to look into her eyes.

"Scully?" he said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice, "you okay?"

She nodded after a moment and gave him a toothless smile.

"Just… feeling heavy today," she said.

Moments later, Lily led the way and he lifted a low hanging hemlock branch for his wife to pass beneath. He tried not to think too much about how slowly she moved through the duff.

XxX

When they broke through the clearing, the autumn light was waning, and the shadows lay long upon the ground. They were all of them covered from the knee down with burrs and leaf detritus, and though the cabin looked low and shabby and damp, it did offer the eyes a break from the monotony of forest, and for that it was a welcome sight.

It was a small structure, the original part of it a log cabin hewn from large hardwoods, with an addition on the south side of what looked like a combination of particle board and tin that had been at one time painted red. The corners of the addition -- held up by several two-by-fours nailed together -- did appear to have been chewed on at shoulder height, supporting Lauren's handyman's assertion that moose had been here.

Above the door of the main cabin, which was secured with a latch and rusted padlock, was nailed a grey and weathered sign, hand carved with "Camp Hi-Early."

"Come on guys," he said, taking Scully by the elbow and digging his other hand deep into his pockets to pull out the key Lauren had given him months back in a polished high rise in DC. It felt like a lifetime and another world ago.

It took several tries with the key before he was able to unhinge the creaking lock, and he then had to drive a shoulder hard into the door, where the wood had expanded in the damp and stuck to the doorframe. It knocked back into the interior wall and he finally stumbled inside.

It was dark and smelled of old mold layered with the pungent brine of red cedar — the wood of which was frequently used in construction to ward off vermin. Mulder hoped it had worked. The floor was an old grey linoleum scattered with grit and bits of leaves which had blown in from the small crack at the base of the door. To the right of the doorway stood a tall newer looking gas can which Mulder found was nearly topped off when he bent down to pick it up. Next to it was a long black Maglight which he handed to Scully. He held up the gas can as she stepped into the cabin, her face one of skeptical distaste.

"I'm going to go fire up the genny," he said, as she clicked on the flashlight and shone it into the cabin's dark corners.

The generator, out back on the far end of the cabin near the outhouse, rested on a sturdy-looking wooden platform, and appeared to have been serviced at least somewhat recently. He was more than a little relieved when it started after only three tries.

When he came back into the cabin a moment or two later, Scully already had the overhead lights switched on, and was having the kids pull tarps and coverings off of the bunks in the cabin's addition. She was standing in front of a cedar cabinet, cautiously sniffing at several wool blankets that were folded within it.

"There are some mice droppings," she said, nodding toward the interior of the space, "but it's not bad. Needs to be swept and given a good scrubbing, but I think we'll survive."

Mulder nodded at her and eyed the pot bellied stove that took up most of one corner. There was a chill and it lent the cabin a dank, depressing air. The sooner they got the place warm, the better.

"There's a woodpile out back," he said, "see if you can get the kids to bring in a few armfuls."

She nodded brusquely and then braced her hand against the cabinet for a moment.

"I'm fine, Mulder," she said when she sensed his concerned gaze. "It's nothing."

When she appeared to move about normally, Mulder peered around the cabin as the kids headed out for the wood pile. The walls were mostly bare, but for a handful of cheap Kmart picture frames with fuzzy black and white stills of men dressed in flannel and Stormy Kromers standing next to the rigor-stiff remains of various woodland creatures. There were several mounted deer heads, most looking glassy-eyed and mangey, but for one 12-pointer on the far wall who had a dusty, archaic looking rifle balancing on his impressive rack. In the kitchen, on the wall above the yellowed, bowing countertop hung one color picture -- the patina of the paper suggested it had been developed sometime in the mid to late 70's -- of Clio with her arm around the shoulder of a raven-haired, gap-toothed child, who Mulder instantly knew to be Lauren, whose hand was resting around the barrel of a rifle that was taller than she was. It looked to be the same firearm decorating the taxidermy.

Scully gave a sniff from over his shoulder and he turned to see her looking at the piece.

"Think it still shoots?" she asked.

The thing probably hadn't been cleaned in thirty years, inside or out.

"Think I'll stick with your Sig," he replied. Though his wife had better marksmanship, she'd handed over her service weapon when they'd arrived, deferring to his instincts and the fact that he was currently more fleet of foot. Mulder had left his own weapon at the scene at Darlene's, pressing it into her hand with a quick kiss to her cheek and an inadequate thanks.

He had carried in not only his own pack of clothes and toiletries, but also the meager supplies that they'd picked up in a small IGA outside of St. Ignace, just over the bridge to the Upper Peninsula. It was mainly powdered Lipton soups and Ramen, crackers and Gatorade mix; lightweight supplies that were high in calories and easy to store and make with water from the hand pumped well just outside the cabin's door. He kept them in the zipped duffel he'd carried them in and left it on the small counter that served as the cabin's kitchen.

The kitchen itself was meagerly supplied with a couple of old pots and pans, plastic cups with the scratched and faded visage of Bozo the Clown on them. Thin, hand-me-down plates and bowls. A colander. A ceramic pitcher. In the middle of the countertop, in front of a small window was a large porcelain basin that served as the sink, under which, behind a faded gingham curtain sat an old, gummy bottle of Dawn, a gallon of generic white vinegar and an old metal pail.

Reconnaissance completed, it took him several minutes to figure out how to open the flue on the pot bellied stove and he built a small fire, hoping nothing had built a nest or somehow otherwise stopped up the small metal chimney. When it seemed to draw okay, he added more wood -- which was well seasoned and fairly dry, considering -- until he had a roaring fire. The wood popped and crackled as it burned, cheerful.

XxX

“The seat in the outhouse is fucking freezing,” Lily said as she came in the doorway.

Dawn had barely broken and the light outside the cabin was cold and gray. It had been a long night. The woods surrounding the cabin weren’t quiet, and everyone was jumpy, having slept fitfully on the creaking twin beds in the bunk room.

Mulder looked to Scully, who normally would have at the very least leveled a firm look at their daughter for language, but Scully merely sat there, and when she caught him looking at her, said:

“It is, though.”

By noon, cabin fever had set in. They’d played Hearts with a deck of cards Scully had found in the kitchen with a Joker sitting in for a missing five of spades. They’d eaten lunch. Mulder had massaged Scully’s lower back when she complained of pain. The minutes passed like hours.

By the time it was early afternoon, Will had found a long stick in the trees near the cabin, the end curved like a hockey stick, which he was using to hit pinecones into the side of the structure, each tatty thud further fraying already scattered and jumpy nerves. Mulder finally had to go outside and tell him to find two saplings to aim through because one more thunk into the wall outside where the rest of the family sat and Lily was likely to try to break the stick over her knee and impale him with it, and as far as Mulder and Scully were concerned, no jury would convict her.

Boredom was getting the better of them. Will sat on a bed in the bunk room, running the improvised hockey stick round and round though his fingers in a circle on the floor. Scully fitfully napped, Lily sulked and cracked her knuckles. Even Mulder felt the occasional pang for the dopamine hit of a checked handheld screen.

Mulder stood.

"I'm going to run out to the road," he said, "try to check in with the guys."

Scully, who was laying on her side on a cot that Mulder had pulled closer to the potbellied fireplace just for another place to sit, opened her eyes.

"Are you sure that's wise?" she asked.

"I'm sure the guys have buried the signals on our phones by now," he said. "And I should check in with Lauren -- it's been a while."

"Be careful, Mulder," Scully said, and gave him a significant look.

He nodded, looking at her a long moment before looking away.

Scully had dark smudges under her eyes -- she had slept worse than anyone, the old mattresses dipping her abundant hips into uncomfortable positions. She had reached the stage of pregnancy where everything was swollen and sore. Mulder couldn't think of a more miserable situation for her, his chest clutching in sympathy.

"Can I come?" Will piped up suddenly from where he sat.

"Me, too?" asked Lily, who was looking wan and morose from the small dining table in the corner.

"I want one of you to stay with your Mom," Mulder said, looking at Will when he said it, who got the message and smiled sweetly at his mother.

"I'll stay," he volunteered.

Lily shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she rose and shuffled to the door. Once they were outside, she turned to him, but didn't make eye contact.

"Lil," he said, anticipating what she was about to say, "we'll check on Darlene."

His daughter pulled her lips into her mouth and nodded, sniffing once.

XxX

Mulder pulled the phone out of their improvised Faraday bag and stood on the side of the road, turning it on on a surge of adrenaline. The guys would have known to scrub the phones and whatever voodoo that was needed so that they couldn’t be traced, but he still felt anxiety. Lily stood beside him, hugging her arms around herself. It was October and cold, and she was only wearing a long sleeved tee shirt.

Once the phone was booted, he looked at the screen. There was hardly a signal, which he supposed wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He walked up and down the road a few paces to see if the signal got any better, but it only ever got worse, losing bars completely. Finally, he stopped and dialed the number for the Gunmen that he’d memorized for emergencies. There was a click after only one ring, and then a buzzing sound. Finally, he heard Langly’s voice, though it was garbled from the bad signal.

“Talk to me,” Langly said.

“Are we clear?” he asked.

The first few words of Langly’s answer were cut off. “--s okay, you’re good. Do not relay your loca--” he was cut off again.

“What’s the status of Melvin’s sister?” he asked, cutting his eyes to Lily.

“--going to be okay.”

He nodded at Lily and gave her a reassuring smile, at which point Lily visibly relaxed.

“Ears to the ground,” Mulder said, “what are they hearing?”

“--put -- unconfir -- danger. If you -- wife -- do not --”

The call dropped. Frustrated, Mulder squeezed the phone in his hand and walked further up the road, his daughter tailing him like a puppy. He tried a further three times to connect back to the Gunmen without success. He was about to turn off the phone again when he realized that he owed Lauren a check in. He decided to try to text her instead, hoping it would go through.

Plan C, he wrote, FM. He pressed send. The phone’s ‘sending’ message shone for at least thirty seconds when he thought he heard the approach of a car over the rise to the west. He quickly shut off the phone and threw it back into the potato chip bag, grabbed Lily’s elbow and they darted into the trees lining the road.

A minute later a truck roared past, pulling a trailer nattily painted in homemade camouflage.

“Dad?” Lily whispered from where she was crouched next to him when the truck was long gone.

“It’s fine,” Mulder said, standing. Lily rose next to him. “Lots of sportsmen up here. It’s almost hunting season.”

They trudged along the two-track as they headed back to the cabin and Mulder put the bag with the phones back into the glove box as they passed the car. Before they left it, Mulder asked Lily to help him cover up the reflective lights and license plate with brush. That finished, they walked on in silence.

They weren’t far from the cabin when he finally spoke.

“You know none of this is your fault, right?”

"What?" she asked, as though she didn't hear him.

He stopped walking and so did she, looking at him in question.

"None of this is your fault, Lily."

"I don't-"

"Lily."

Realization started to dawn on her and he saw tears form in her eyes.

He said it again: "None of this is your fault, Lily. Darlene, being at this cabin, none of it. Your mother and I don't blame you, and no matter what happens, we never will. None of this. Is. Your. Fault."

With that, tears fell from her eyes and she launched herself at her father, pressing her head into his chest and squeezing him around the middle tightly. "It's okay," he whispered into her hair, brushing it back from her forehead. Her breath hissed out from her as though from a release valve. He held her for a very long time.

[sp00kworm]

A Den of Iniquity (Part 4)

Pairing: Dracula/Count Dracula/Vlad Tepes x Female Reader

Warnings: Death, Murder, Blood, Gore, Injuries, Violence, Vomiting and Adult content.

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Part 1    Part 2      Part 3    Part 5 

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The vampire felt a tiredness seep into his very core. His rest in the icy cold storage had made him lethargic and slow. He eased himself upwards, standing on two legs out in the grass of the hospital gardens, wobbling on his legs a little. The night air was cool, but not as cold as the locker had been on his dead flesh. There wasn’t a soul in sight as he peered around, red eyes burning against the dark. Dracula felt his cold flesh regain a bit of movement. He was lethargic as he took a few steps forward, heading towards the fences where the hole he had entered through remained. Thankfully, there was no one to witness the naked form of a man rushing through the gardens, and the vampire turned his gaze to the moon before shifting into a wolf and rushing through the metal wire fencing and into the streets. He raised his black nose and sniffed at the air, remembering where his closest apartment was in a flood of pictures, turns and jumps towards the property. The beast howled before it took off, pink tongue hanging between sharp teeth as it bolted through the streets of inner London. The night air was cool against his black coat as he ran.

 The apartment block was quiet, and he awkwardly stumbled in through the window before regaining a semblance of grace, snarling as he shed fur and sniffed at the air. There wasn’t anyone here, and the cleaning lady had been recently. Lemony scents clung to the floor as he moved through the apartment, bare feet dragging along the carpets and slapping against the stone floor of the kitchen. He turned on a light, and squinted at the brightness, before turning it off again and heading towards the small bedroom. There was a wardrobe with some clothes he had stashed in case of an emergency. The vampire drew out a shirt and a pair of trousers, forgoing underwear in favour of collecting a pair of boots and heading to bathroom. The water was cold, but he showered quickly, scrubbing the clotted blood from his mouth, chin, neck and chest. He turned his hands under the spray and gouged at the blood beneath his nails before daring to run his hair under the spray. Pink water circled down the drain as he scrubbed his hair with whatever shampoo had been left. The smell of roses clung to his nostrils as he washed and washed, removing as much of the evidence of his murder as he could manage.

Dracula dressed slowly, twisting, as if unused to the human skin covering him as the shirt clung to him tightly, the material feeling claustrophobic against his skin. He towel-dried his hair and hissed at the mirror, watching the glass erupt into shards with his cursed gaze, the reflections of shadows and bones shattering before he could really catch a glimpse of it.

“The vanity of man.” He grumbled as he rubbed a hand over his styled facial hair. His form was still the same, not a hair had grown nor a freckle on his face. The same. Cold and dead but changeable, malleable to his own and other’s desires. With a deep breath, he stood and tied his hair back, before heading to the door, snatching a coat off the hook as he headed back into the dark London streets, intending on getting home with another meal in his dead stomach. As he took a deep lungful of air, he scented a cut on the wind, and headed towards the scent with a deceitful smile on his face.

 His home was dark as he arrived back, feeling energized yet ready for the rest of the night in his bed of foul earth. He’d had a little bit too much of an adventure over the past couple of days. He was becoming an old vampire with the taste for the sedentary luxuries of wealth. Striding up the drive, he came to a halt as he spotted a black cat splayed across his doorstep, its thick tail flicking with irritation as he approached. The cat hissed, claws flashing as his shadowed form loomed ever closer, flickering and spitting back at the beast.

“I will have her.” He promised in heavy Romanian, amidst the fog of his own form, “Whether you want me to or not.” The words echoed around him as he watched the beast snarl at him again, claws scratching his leg through his trousers, opening three tiny wounds which sealed as soon as they opened. The black cat bounded from his doorstep, fluffy with anger as it leaped into the bushes and disappeared into the street, yowling as it went. Dracula watched with a smile before a leaned over into his front lawn and clicked on the cat repellent machine, grinning as the awful noise warded off another beast that was hiding in his bushes.

 It had been three days since you sent the restocking email to Vladimir, and you’d yet to have a reply. A text message was still sat unread but received and you were beginning to wonder if you had stepped over an invisible line.

“Maybe he’s not interested, Drac?” You cooed as your black cat wandered around the shop, purring against your legs before he jumped onto your serving counter and chirped for your attention. You ran your hand over his thick, black fur and smiled at your cat as you messed with the fur on his neck. A sharp tone rang through the shop. Your phone blinked awake as you received a text message. His name was across your screen.

‘I apologise for my absence. I had to attend a business meeting in Romania. I only just got back. Forgive me, for I did not mean to make it seem like I was ignoring you. I look forwards to seeing you again soon.’

 Another notification chirped before appearing on your screen. The invoices for the next order and the scheduled payment date. You smiled at the text message and replied as Drac attempted to bat the top of your phone.

‘Don’t worry about it. See you soon.’

He read the message as soon as you sent it, the bubble indicating he was typing a reply.

‘Shall I see you at my home again this weekend? I found an interesting selection of English movies I have never seen in Romania.’

With a smile you sent him a small bat emoji and a time for the date before he replied with how he was going to bed, claiming to be tired from the flights and work he’d been dragged into. Drac successfully hit the phone onto the counter with a yowl, his tail swishing back and forth over the wood until you relented, laughing as your cat pushed himself into your arms and purred, a sandpaper tongue licking underneath your chin as he enjoyed your sole love and affection.

 Your movie night was cut short with your own business. Vladimir hadn’t been too upset with the disruption to your plans together but did pop in to see you in the shop. He’d even gone as far as to offer his help dressing the place for the wine tasting you had booked, grinning and joking about his own brands that were laid on the table for the guests to give a try. You’d enjoyed his presence, the man helping to calm your nerves with soft gestures and consoling words.

“You have nothing to be nervous about, my dear. The shop is dressed to perfection and the wines are delectable. You will do fine.” You could remember the ghost of a kiss on your cheek before he left you in peace to host the evening, his coat fluttering as he disappeared past the glass front windows of the shop and down into the dark street. It had been a success, and many people had complimented the low lights and fine decorations. When you thanked him, he was nothing but kind, turning the success around, pinning it on your own abilities.

 The supermarket was dead this time of night. You scowled at the tins of tomatoes and beans on the shelf, looking for the usual deal with a huff of hot air between your lips. The deal was on another brand this week, and you shrugged as you threw four tins of tomatoes into your trolley and ticked your list on the scrap of notebook paper clutched in your hand. You still had quite a few things to collect. You peered at the list as you walked up the aisle. You trolley collided with another with a metallic bang.

“I’m so sorry!” You rushed to apologise to the other person before gazing upon the tall stature of a familiar man, “Vladimir? I didn’t expect to run into you!” You laughed as he tipped his head at you, clutching his own list of shopping in his hand.

“I too did not expect to see you here.” He chuckled before holding his list up, “I decided to come and collect the ingredients for my next dinner event.” The man tucked his trolley to the side of the aisle, pressed against your own, to give other shoppers room to pass, “Are you here doing your…how do you say it here? Weekly shop?” He offered, his accent thick and heavy as he rushed to think of the words.

 With a nod you laughed, holding up your own list, “I’m here doing my weekly shop, yeah. I was running out of cat food, so I figured I should come before Drac kills me in my sleep and eats me instead.” You joked.

Vladimir gave a thin smile, “Cats are such mean beasts.” He offered, “I did not know you had one. What was its name again? Drac? Is it short for Dracula, perhaps?” He joked.

Embarrassment coloured your cheeks, “Ah yeah, it is. He’s so big and scary so I just named him that when I picked him up from the rescue woman. He used to bring me all sorts of bleeding things, so the name just stuck with him.” You explained before tapping your trolley handles, “Do you want to walk together? I can help you find the things you have left, if you want?” You offered.

Vladimir smiled, “But of course. I am a little lost, I must confess.” He admitted before offering you his list, “I do not know where the meat counter is.”

“Oh, all this is on my route around anyway! I’ll show you.” You smiled up at Vladimir before waving for him to follow you, “The meat counter is just up here, but I think this cut of beef will be expensive.” You offered him his list back.

“Money is no problem. I must impress these men. They are part of the chain I would like for my warehousing here.” He confessed as you both approached the small butchers counter.

“Well then we best get you the finest we can find!” You joked as Vladimir turned to take his meat from the butcher on duty.

“Only the finest, indeed.”

 Your trip around the shop was brief, or it seemed very brief as you both laughed and talked about what had happened since his impromptu trip abroad.

“I heard Miss Westenra is engaged?” You asked, “Harker told me the last time he was in the shop buying that wine he likes to impress with.” You rolled your eyes at your friend before smiling at Vladimir.

He nodded, “She and a man named Doctor Harvey Seward are to be married. Apparently, his family are all Doctors, and have been since the Victorian era of this country. I hope the marriage is favourable.” Vladimir stopped at the end of the aisle and smiled, “I think I am finished shopping, my dear, but this has been wonderful.” He took one of your hands in his own and placed a kiss on the back of it, “Will I see you this weekend?” He asked as you looked into his dark eyes, admiring the way his long, dark hair framed his face.

“How about we have coffee in the square by the shop?” You whispered as he drew close.

“Nothing would make me happier.” He whisked himself away with a grin and a flip of his coat, and you were left holding the pack of toilet rolls, flustered and hot to the touch.

 When you got home you found a bunch of black roses tucked on the doorstep of your shop. You picked them up and admired the deep, scarlet ribbon that was wrapped around them, styled into a beautiful bow. There was a tag attached with a small note.

‘I hope we can spend more time together- Vlad’

You took them inside with a smile, unaware of the red eyes and fanged grin watching you from the mist curling in the shadows across the street.

 The vampire watched as you entered the book shop across the square. The café inside the book shop was where he was supposed to meet you. He looked into the window as you passed them by, smiling to the clerk before you headed into the back through the aisles. Curiously, the vampire followed, ducking through the crowd as he entered the shop and smiled as the cashier with a wave of his hand. She smiled back pleasantly at him and continued to price the books stacked on the counter. He followed the route you had taken into the back of the shop and paused in the entrance to an aisle as you passed around the end aisle with a heavy looking book in hand. Dracula smiled as he watched you, ducking into the next aisle to watch again before he looked at the metal watch on his wrist and peered at the time. It was still early. He too, had some time to look around and pick up something to read. With a graceful spin, he headed towards the world books and peered at the titles, wondering if there was something in his own language that he would be able to read properly.

 “Vladimir?” You asked as you turned the corner in the bookstore, gazing up at the man curiously, “I didn’t expect to see you in here just yet. With a smile, you tucked the book under your arm and looked up at the ‘around the world’ section.

Vladimir jumped at your interruption, smiling as quickly as he could as he held up a selection of a couple of books. They were all rather heavy looking reading. He offered you a smile, “I was looking for something to read in my home language.” He looked embarrassed, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck, tucking a few stray hands of his dark hair back into his bun after the motion.

“I thought you could read in English?” You asked, confused.

Vladimir smiled before tapping the cover of a novel that was in Hungarian, then another that was in Romanian, “I can read English, but the meanings of many words and phrases escape me in it. My home languages are much easier to comprehend.” He confessed.

You looked at the adaptations of old horrors before tapping the front of your own book, “Maybe I can help? I know you find it easier to read in your mother tongues but maybe if we read together you can get better at understanding certain words?”

Vladimir considered your offer for a moment, dancing from hip to hip before he hummed, “This was not the ideal coffee date I had in mind.” He joked as he plucked another Romanian book from the shelf.

 “You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” You soothed with a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll happily sit and read with you…It…” You tucked your book higher, “It actually sounds like a nice time.”

The vampire felt his chest ache as you smiled, face red from the cold outside.

Vladimir smiled back at you and tipped his chin, “You have convinced me. I will read and you will instruct.” He offered you his arm as you both headed to pay for the books in your hands. As you reached the register he plucked the short stories from your hands and smiled deviously, “I insist.”

You reached to take it back, “You don’t have to do that! I can afford it, you know.”

Vladimir shook his head, his gloved hand raised to silence your protests, “Think of it as payment for your instruction.”

“Thank you.” You relented and smiled warmly. Vladimir returned the gesture by reaching for your hand, giving it a firm squeeze. The lady at the register took the total from his card and packaged the books before ushering you both on your way. With your book in hand you headed upstairs to the café, Vladimir following close at your heels.

 The smell of black coffee was somewhat calming as you sat by the window and watched the British rain fall in violent sheets. It didn’t seem to want to calm so you and Vladimir had ordered a second coffee each to pass the time a little more, hoping to not have to run out in it. You listened to him read, your head rested in your palm as you listened to him read softly across from you.

“The subway train lost its life current between two stations and for a quarter of an hour they could hear nothing but the dutiful beating of their hearts and the rustling of newspapers. The bus they had to take next was late and kept them waiting a long time on a street corner, and when it did come, it was crammed with garr…” Vladimir scowled at the word in the book before spinning it to you, pointing at the word in the middle of the page.

You leaned forwards, hot coffee clasped between your hands, “Garrulous.” You smiled at his confusion, “It means, chatty or talking excessively about something trivial.”

Vladimir nodded, rolling the word around his mouth as he repeated it back to you and then himself. He turned the book back to himself before starting the sentence again, “The bus they had to take next was late and kept them waiting a long time on a street corner, and when it did come, it was crammed with garrulous high-school children. It began to rain as they walked up the brown path leading to the sanatorium.” He continued reading, his English seeming to get better and more pronounced as he practiced aloud, and you listened in a trance, watching him for a while before looking out at the bouncing rain.

 Vladimir’s soothing voice lilted in the air as you took another sip of coffee and looked back at Vladimir’s handsome face, admiring the angles of his strong jaw and the stylized facial hair. Dark eyes locked with your own as he finished the last line of the story.

“He had got to crab apple when the telephone rang again.” He closed the book around his finger as he reached for the receipt and marked the page for now. He’d gulped his expresso down in the true way, three quick swigs before he’d continued reading to you. Vladimir smiled as he moved his chair out, “Excuse me a moment. I must use the bathroom.”

“Oh, its fine. I’ll be here when you get back!” You joked as you sipped your coffee and turned your gaze back to the window.

 Vladimir’s shoes tapped as he walked across the café to the small, single male toilet. The door was heavy and wooden. A thick fire door. He locked the stall with a snap of his wrist and inhaled the smell of bleach and toilet cleaner before he crouched down over the toilet and pushed the seat out of the way. The vampire drew a vial from his trouser pocket and grimaced at the sight of the heavy Ipecac syrup in the plastic tube. Dracula drew the stopper out before squeezing the tube harshly, feeling it coat his tongue and throat before he tossed it into the waste and swallowed with a violent gag, waiting for the influx of coffee stained stomach lining to pour from his body. He stared into the water, a reflection of bone and ash, and gaged as the first mouthful of vomit dripped past his lips.

 “You took a while.” You observed with a light tone as Vladimir returned, sitting at the table with his usual smile. He’d changed his hair, “But now that I look at you, I realise that you spent time messing with your hair. Preening in the mirror were you.”

“My hair was a mess, what can I say.” Vladimir teased as he turned his cup upside down on its saucer, pushing it to the side of the table for the waiting staff to pick up.

Gently, you reached to tuck a long piece of his hair behind his ear, watching the man remain still to let you do so, “I think it looked just fine. You always look handsome, Vlad.”

Vladimir took a deep breath as he caught your hand, pressing it to his cool cheek before he laid a kiss on your palm and leaned forwards, “Just as you are always beautiful.” He complimented before releasing your hand and nodding to the window, “We should make a dash for your home while the rain has paused.” He stood up before you to wrap your coat back around you before storing your book in two layers on plastic bag, “Hopefully we can keep the books dry.”

“Here.” You took your card out and paid for the drinks before he could protest, “You can get the next one, Mister Gentleman.” You teased as you paid and turned.

Vladimir offered you his arm with a chuckle. As your arm wrapped around his own, he purred, “Are you implying you would like to go out again, my dear?”

You jabbed his side with a finger, “Yes I am, you big tease.”

 The two of you laughed as the sun set, making the streets of London an even drearier grey, plunging them into darkness. The rain splattered across the pavements and tarmac, drenching everything, making the concrete city smell of ash and rain. You laughed, hand in hand, as you dragged Vladimir across the road, dodging a speeding cabby, who promptly stuck his finger out of his window along with some screamed verbal abuse, and jumped up the curb, heading towards the front door of the side stairs to your apartment above the shop. Vladimir dragged you back under his black umbrella as you rifled through your bag for the keys to your apartment. You laughed as the rain poured off the sides and snatched your leys, unlocking the door. Before you could swing it open, Vladimir pushed himself closer, taking your hand and pushing it against the wood before he dived to claim your lips. A cool kiss pressed to your skin and you responded tentatively to the pressure before opening your mouth and feeling the caress of his tongue. It was cold, chilled from the rain, but full of emotion, a desire that was locked deep inside both of you. The man pressed against you, his free arm dropping to wrap around your waist as you clutched at his neck. He drew back with a heavy exhale and pressed his nose to your throat.

 Dracula merely pressed a kiss to the hot skin, fangs sliding free at the feel of hot flesh and the blood pumping under his lips. He relented. He controlled himself and then, he pulled away, looking into your half-lidded eyes, wanting nothing more than to steal another intoxicating kiss.

 “What are you?” Vladimir whispered against your cheek, “It is like there is a force. A pull I cannot resist…” He kissed the column of your throat again, “It drives the beast wild.”

“What…” You heaved a breath, “What do you mean?” You asked before he kissed you again. Gently, you pushed him away by the chin, “Not…” You steadied yourself, “Not yet. I don’t…”

Vladimir’s eyes appeared black in the darkness, the whites gone, “I understand. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” He pressed another hurried kiss to your cheek, “Goodbye my darling. I will see you again soon, I hope?”

You nodded before opening the door, “I’ll message you.”

Vladimir turned his collar up against the wind, “I await your call.” A ghostly kiss pressed to your face once again before he disappeared. In the time it took you to open your eyes he was gone. There was an ache in your chest that you couldn’t describe as you entered your apartment and flopped onto your sofa.

 Your dates and meetings with Vladimir were few and far between as Halloween finally rolled around. Sales of his products went crazy and you found yourself contacting his supply team more and more often in the weeks leading up to the holiday. You closed early on Halloween, watching the kids rush around the streets in their costumes, giggling and screaming with joy as they held buckets of sweets and chocolates in their grasps. There was very little to do but finish tidying up. You jumped at a knock on the door and rolled your eyes as Harker made faces in your window.

You unlocked the door and peeked through the gap, “If you’d learn to read, you’d realise I’m closed.”

“Aw come on, love. I just want a bottle of that brandy you keep selling!” He remarked and you sighed before letting him in, rushing to grab him the bottle so you could get rid of him faster and close for the evening. You had a movie night planned with Drac, your ever faithful grumpy cat. Vladimir had insisted, with much regret, that he was busy tonight.

“Nice vampire costume. Very gimmicky.” You joked as you plonked the pricey bottle of brandy on the counter, “You sure you want to pay for this for a Halloween party?”

“Sure, I’m sure. I have some guests to impress.” Harker joked as he offered his card and slid the chip into the machine.

 A black wolf watched from outside the shop, snarling with teeth as it watched you hug Harker and usher him from the shop. The wolf became a man and snarled again before melting into the shadows, wishing a fall upon the accountant as he staggered back to the early starting party from which he had come. The vampire watched, his hand reaching towards the streetlamp as he moulded back into the shape of the great wolf-dog you had shown such love and affection for last time. He craved your touch. The caress of your fingers. It calmed the lust and hatred for a moment in his everlasting existence.

 The taste of your skin was sweet.

 A whine made you look up from the counter as you finished packing away the cash for the night. A great paw clawed at the glass and you smiled as you caught sight of the dark eyed, great black dog once more. It had been a long time since you’d seen it. You’d assumed it had been taken in or disappeared altogether. You walked towards the door and unlocked it, letting the hound inside the shop. He was dry this time and the dog rushed to jump up at you, snuffling and licking at your face as it whined and wagged its tail.

“Hey there. Its been a long time since I’ve seen you.” You cooed as you pushed the wolf-dog down and ran your hands through its thick fur, enjoying the warmth trapped in its fur as the animal curled around your legs close.

The dog sniffed his way to your door to upstairs and you smiled before sighing, locking the doors and lowering the shutters before you headed to the door and pointed at the big dog, “You can come up but only if you promise to behave, okay?” The dog stared at you and you opened the door, watching him bound on before you, up the stairs, turning on the landing to watch you follow it up.

He barked sharply and you laughed, “Okay, okay, I’m coming!” You petted his nose as you took the scruff of his neck and opened the door.

 Drac, your cat, scowled from the counter in the open kitchen as you eased the dog inside. He hissed, jumping up his fur on end as you looked between them. The dog was silent, watching your cat with a mild amount of interest.

“Come on Drac, be nice. He’s just here for the night. I’ll call the rescue service in the morning.” You cooed at your cat let go of the dog and watched the two glare at each other before Drac jumped up on top of your cabinets and bedded down for the night away from the new house guest. You fixed yourself dinner as the dog padded around. He saw fit to laying underneath your window, dark eyes looking up at the moon, ears pointed back to listen to the noise you were making in the kitchen. It slept as you ate, black fur like silk against your wooden floor. Only when you plonked yourself on the sofa did it open its eyes and perk up, standing from the floor in favour of pushing its way onto your couch.

“Come on, you can’t get up here.” You scolded before the wolf-dog was in your lap, its giant head rested in the crook of your arm, its tongue licking at you as a sign of peace and contentment. With a soft sigh, you began to work your fingers through its fur and turned on the television, content to watch the movies you had planned with your hot drink and the dog in your lap.

 “Sleep my love. Sleep without fear. Tonight, I will keep the darkness at bay.”

You felt your eyelids drop at the movie, your hand combing the fur before fisting at the hound in your lap, holding onto the beast as you listened to the movie and the soft lines whispered by a deep voice. A tongue lapped at your cheeks as you felt the great hound exhale. You lulled off into a pleasant, warm sleep, wrapped around the mysterious dog.

“For tonight, your dreams will be mine.”

 An old castle stood before you when you opened your eyes, as though you had been awake, and just blinked on a walk. Black silk rippled over you as you walked towards the castle in a dark trail of liquid dress. It almost flowed from you as you opened the great doors and peered inside. There was silence in the main hall, a great shadow of a cross blinding you as you peered down at the stone. You walked through the last of the sun’s orange light and cast no shadow as you moved towards the old, grand staircase. The stone was laid with plush carpet, Turkish and heavy, thick against the soles of your bare feet as you climbed, gazing at old paintings of great battles. Red curtains hung from the ceiling and you ran your hand along one as you reached the top of the stairs, feeling the fine material before you continued, walking in the direction of the ache in your chest. More old stone connected with your fingers as you continued into a labyrinth of corridors before eventually arriving at another old door, the wood engraved with a dragon spewing fire towards its own tail, curled around a sword. With a gentle push, you eased one door open enough to slide into the room.

 Warm candlelight greeted you, four giant floor-standing candelabras lit with twenty of so candles each glowing in every corner. A man made no move to greet you, laid across a luscious canopy bed, surrounded by sheer white fabric, hidden from sight. You walked over animal skins and pulled aside the sheer fabric to see a man asleep in a thin, billowed cotton shirt, his trousers loose as though he had simply collapsed into bed. Gently, you eased his face to the side and smiled down at the picture of your mysterious suitor. Vladimir’s sleeping face was restful and calm. A smile curled across his face, telling you he had never been asleep. The man reached to grab you with a great laugh, easing you into his lap on the bed, your hips pressed together as he reached to move a veil you did not know you were wearing.

“My love.” His words burned your throat with adoration, “I have missed you. My heart has longed for you.” You watched his lips move to reveal fangs and reached for his face gently, thumbs pressing to the points. He drew your hands away before continuing, “The beast in me cannot be sated without you, my little tamer.” He rushed to kiss you soundly, thoroughly, moulding his front to your own as his hands sought to pull at the silk covering you to reveal skin and flesh.

 You remained silent, soaking in the adoration in his touches and kisses as sharp teeth grazed at your skin.

“I remember your scent.” He purred as his features blended into something more beastly, his red eyes burning as his mouth filled with wolf-like teeth, “I kept your clothes close, everything to remember you.” The beast snarled, a wolfman’s claws tugging at your clothing. You watched the beast, mouth open, wondering where this dream was going as he laid back and pulled you on top of him, “Please, my dearest, let me feel you. I have missed you.” He blathered as you leaned over to kiss him again, tongue catching against the fangs in his mouth, blood mixing with spit. He was cold underneath your hands as you raised yourself, palms against his pectorals. You reached for his groin as he tore his shirt free and pulled his bottoms away enough to reveal his cock. As you grasped him you felt his nose press against your throat, human and cold. Raising your gaze, you looked back at a human shape with a mouth full of teeth, spit dripping between his jaws as they unhinged wide and grasped at your shoulder. With a cry of agony and bliss, you gouged your nails into his back and opened your eyes to see bats fly from the window, screaming into the sunset as your lover’s tongue licked blood from your neck. He dragged you down for another kiss then, blood and spit mixing as you slid him inside of you.

 Dracula felt himself stir in the dream, watching as a woman clad in black slid into his bedchambers. He remembered the woman and played at being asleep on the bed as the faceless creature parted the silks and crawled along his body, fingers teasing over his face, admiring his bone structure before he turned to catch her, dragging her hands up before he grinned with fangs and drew her into his lap.

“I’ve waited for you to return.” He purred, feeling the beasts of the darkness howl and coil outside in the beginnings of the night, “I have missed you.” The vampire drew her wrists closer and licked at the skin exposed out of the silk sleeve, “I have missed the taste of you, my love.”

She said nothing as she mounted his hips, watching through the black veil as he grunted, pushed back against the bed by some invisible force, his wrists pinned to the cushions and furs. Her hands dance over his chest and he feels the pull of his own change, howling as wings spread from his back and claws grab for her. He is naked, he realises with a start, before she draws her fingers between her legs and reveals a wetness to his gaze. The bat-like form howls at the scent, and Dracula pumped his hips upwards as her legs spread and she welcomes him inside of her. The hooked claws of his wings slam into the wooden frame of the canopy bed, anchoring him as his clawed hands reach to pull the veil free.

 Your face peers down at him, a mouthful of blood dripping from your lips as you look at the hole his other wing had made in your chest. He watched the hole between your breasts close and opened his mouth for a bloodied kiss. As he gazed up, claws shredding the silk covering your skin, he slowed his own hips, snarling when you refused to let him slow. A pair of greying wings thrust over his vision, appearing over your head, a thousand eyes glaring at him from within the feathers. The vampire’s claws snapped the faceless woman close, clutching her close before Death’s bony hands covered his eyes, the two eyes within each of the bony palms rolling, looking into his own in the darkness as he felt the form over him melt away into ash in his arms. Darkness crippled him, dragging his form in on itself.

 “She is not yours yet, Dracul.” Death whispered in his ear, “Not unless you can give me what I want?” The cloaked figure appeared before him in the darkness, wings burning with fire that was once radiant.

Dracula snapped his own leathery wings, “What do you want from me so badly?! Is it so worthy of you making my dreams so miserable and tormenting me with the agony I have suffered a thousand times over!?”

Death watched him for a moment before opening its palms, “One death.” He whispered.

“Give me the name.” The vampire hissed.

“Her.” Death offered him a burning flame, “I want her death.” He laid the small burning fire of your life in his hands before stroking the vampire’s leathery wings, “I need her life, but her soul is yours.”

The vampire whipped around with claws and fangs in the darkness, but there was no one there to listen to his dark screams of anguish.

 You awoke to an empty sofa and old horror movies still rerunning. Drac had taken the hounds place in your arms, curled tightly against you. You frowned and looked up as a chilly breeze graced your legs. The open window let in another frigid gust of air and you rushed to close it as a great black smog rushed around the corner of the building, just in the corner of your eyes. You ran a hand through your hair and swallowed as you remembered the dream that had haunted you last night. You clicked off the TV and clicked the hot water on before starting to make yourself some breakfast to distract yourself from the realness of what you had seen.

“Halloween is crazy.” You muttered as you boiled some water for a hot drink.

[citrine-elephant]

Permafrost Thaw

Finally, there’s time to enjoy the little things...

-...-...-...-

A soft thump followed as the hefty blood-stained jacket fell against the dark tiled floor. A weight lifted from the man’s shoulders as his jacket settled on the cool floor, the soft glow of yellow reflecting against the earthy colors of the tiles. He began to lift the white tank top from his frame.

The operative’s body ached as he moved to remove his clothing, his joints and muscles making him feel decades older than he already was. It had been so long since the semi-retired assassin had a break long enough to indulge like this. It was safe to do so now.

Zane’s hands reached for the belt around his waist next as the tank top hit the ground with another thud, a rhythmic clink of metal against ceramics. His mind wandered as he took his time unbuckling the metal and leather, wondering when the last time he had this opportunity was. Since arriving back on Pandora, it had been so chaotic. So much focus was put in the mission, he barely had time to even feed himself. This night’s sleep would be so good, wouldn’t it? Soon, his belt buckle clacked towards the floor.

The humidity began to envelop the room. A gentle fog masked the floor and steamed against the mirror, covering the view of the man working on the armour snug against his form. It was an automatic procedure, no matter how tired and antsy he was. A couple of taps and pulls and the armour released from his body. Already, he began to feel his body unwind as the last of his clothing was removed. Down to his nature, the man stepped under the rainfall of warmth.

Relief.

Untold relief...

The feeling ran down his spine and throughout his limbs, a deep sigh billowing from his throat like a pressure finally being released. 

Bliss. Pure. Feckin’. Bliss.

The tension in his body gave as the man allowed his muscles to let up, pressing his body against the tiled walls of the shower. The hot water pelted down on him, massaging his scalp and skin like nothing else. It ran down his body and danced across his pale skin, following the path of gravity like the roots of a tree spreading across the dust and dirt. Despite being suspended in the depths of space, among the stars in a vast galaxy untamed, Zane felt like his body was being drawn into the metaphorical ground and he would become one with the universe. Melting, like a mountain stream, to end up as one with the lake below. 

The man opened his eyes as the water trailed down his hollowed cheeks, watching the water twirl towards the drain at his toes. It ran dark, with a tint of brownish red. How many bodies did that blood belong to? Part of it was his, but not very much. Not very much at all...

Zane pulled his head back, closing his eyes once more and letting the water hit his forehead, running down over his entire face. He gave a soft grimace as the hot water smacked onto his eyelids, telling him to move his head just a little more.  Here and there, the skin on his face stung a tiny bit. But hell if it didn’t feel great. 

The operative reached for the wall with his eyes still closed, hands wrapping around the bottle of shampoo. He squeezed out a liberal amount of soap, a blend of forested scents filling the room immediately. Pine, the strongest of the mix, stood out. As he began scrubbing at his scalp, he felt himself melt further into the thaw. God, who knew it would feel that good just to have your head scratched? It was like he was a wild cat being tamed by his own hands. He could almost purr in joy, it felt so goddamn amazing.

The repose of having that concoction of muck and grime loosen from his pale locks and wash down the drain dusted over him like the spray of oceanic waves. The man’s head felt so much lighter as the dirt lifted from his head and washed away. The scent of his shampoo, sharp like the edge of a cliff, barreling down towards a gentle valley and resting within the grasses. 

The soap and water drained from Zane’s head, soon running clear as he moved for the soap for the rest of his body. A lighter scent, like a soft whiff of rose petals, the bar quickly exploded in bubbles as he rubbed it in his hands and reached for the rag he had set out. Scrubbing the bar into the gentle curls of the rag, the man quickly began at his chest. Rubbing it into his skin made the operative groan out softly. He had to savor this. 

An untold amount of days without seeing a shower was obvious to smell, see, and feel. It took effort to scrub the dirt off. The soap just touching his body made Zane feel so much better, however. Being clean was so much nicer, so much more pleasant. Unfortunately, war did not make that easy to accomplish. Things did not always work out so nicely. Who knew if he would get to have this again anytime soon...

The man felt his body tense ever so slightly again as he reached his arm over his shoulder, touching the metal spine implanted into his back. Such an old memory, but one that was easy to forget on the battlefield. He continued rubbing the rag against his skin.

Soon, Zane felt his legs crave a rest, and he obliged. Carefully, he lowered himself down onto the floor, his muscles screaming only momentarily before the weight was removed. Laying under the water was an entirely different type of bliss. Both the hot water and the relief his legs finally got… He could not imagine anything more heavenly. Besides maybe a pint to top it off. The man could envision himself resting on a rock in the forest, in the middle of a gentle rainstorm, watching over the highlands from his vantage point. Looking out towards the Pandoran skies… 

Melting further and further into the bliss, the operative closed his eyes, laying down on the tiles completely. He did not even have to adjust his body. Laying down like this kept getting better and better. The heat encompassed his body as the massage of the shower lulled him to a place of serenity. He disappeared within a world of his own, a world of comfort as his worries washed away down the drain at his feet.

[sevensav--d-archived]

50 Headcanons Challenge

Favorite food is raw cucumbers.

As a little kid her school had a little orchestra music group and she was in it, and she played the drums.  She has a really good sense of rhythm.

Her favorite insect is the humble firefly but she also likes purple emperor butterflies, yellow potato beetles, and bell crickets.

She secretly assigns a bug to any person she gets to know.  This is a list that I have somewhere if anyone wants it.

Grew up in a very small village called Bimisari which is a few miles from the ocean, but it sits on a massive lake and has many ponds and swamps.

Nomiko’s green hair was black and fluffy until her quirk manifested.  Now it has the green color and a texture similar to pine needles.

Her best subject in school is probably science.  She has a pretty good memory so she’s able to remember elements and formulas and things like that.

She’s never had a pet, but cats used to hang out around her family’s bait shop and she named all of them and would secretly five them fish.

Nomiko cannot swim.  It not only effectively turns off her quirk, but if the water is cold, it makes her feel sick and heavy and tired.  This is a shame, because she loves going out on boats to  fish.

Nomiko has a sort of earthy smell that follows her and doesn’t go away.  No matter how much she bathes or washes her hair it doesn’t go away.  

On that note she can’t shower as often as most people.  She sort of spot cleans herself, but she can’t fully soak herself that often, because it takes so long for her to dry off and it makes her feel yucky.

Nomiko loves sugary beverages, the sweeter the better!

She’d probably say that Itoshi and Fukumi are her best friends.  She’s never been able to quantify that sort of relationship before meeting them.

Nomiko can and will eat just about anything without much complaint.  She will even eat spoiled food, much to the horror of people around her.

Her room is sparsely furnished.  It features some curtains that Itoshi made her and some string lights Fukumi gave to her.

As far as clothes go, she only has about 6 shirts, two pairs of jeans, two pairs of overalls, and three pairs of shorts.  And probably two pairs of shoes.  She just?? Doesn’t care about how she looks and she just doesn’t have a lot of clothes.

Her favorite kind of weather is very warm, and humid.

She keeps her room pretty humid.  She has two humidifiers that are usually going.

When she gets really excited, she chirps like a cricket!

She doesn’t smile with her teeth very much, because she is self conscious about not having the best teeth.

She has been known to put caffeine shots into her beverages, or mix energy drinks into other things.

Nomiko has always wanted siblings so she could have had someone to spend time with as a kid.  As she’s gotten older she’s glad she didn’t have any.  It could have made things so much worse.

She is surprisingly flexible.

She can use her quirk to fly around.  She has to be at least 50% swarmed to go airborne.

Her clothing cannot be swarmed with her, so her hero costume has a similar composition to Mirio’s in that it’s made with her own dna in mind.  

Related to the previous HC, Nomiko often will remain mostly in swarm after class until she can get somewhere where she can get her clothes back on.

Nomiko’s birthday is March 20th.

Nomiko is currently around 4′8/4′9, and she will never be taller than five feet tall.  She might level out at 4′10.  Maybe.

She doesn’t really take insults about her height or even her appearance all that hard.  If you call her a pest, however, she will take your teeth out.

As a kid Nomiko was made fun of for being poor and being dirty all the time.  Rather than proving people wrong, she just ended up leaning into it.

She is capable of bringing new bugs into her swarm if she can either learn enough about them, or if she physically gets her hands on one. 

Nomiko often makes fireflies appear around her when she’s in the dark.

If you spray her with bug spray, she may have a severe allergic reaction.  Too much could literally kill her though.

She gets a little bothered when people swat bugs or crushes them.  It makes her feel kind of sick to see

She’ll do a lot of crazy shit for a dollar..

Up until being at UA, she’d never really been to a doctor before?  Like when she first got there and got something like a physical done she has no recorded medical history before the age of 15 apart from her birth certificate.

Cigarette smoke makes her feel physically ill.

The little moths that flit around her head are often colored in ways to shoe her emotions.  Bright white ones are fear, light gray are neutral, yellow is happy, green means sick, and blue is sad.  Wasps and bees show up for anger.

Nomiko used to spend hours in the ponds and lakes in her village hunting leeches for her dad’s bait shop.

Nomiko cant enjoy really cold foods or drinks, she’s very sensitive to the cold.  Her favorite way to eat ice cream is with hot fudge.

In her room the only bed stuff she has is one pillow, a fitted sheet, one blanket, and a quilt Itoshi made her for Christmas.

Nomiko has insomnia but she manages it pretty well because even if she isn’t asleep she is very good at just laying still with her eyes closed.  Is that sad?

Nomiko can catch fish without a pole.  She can catch them with her bare hands, or just by holding a fishing line in water.

She has a song that she sings to herself when she’s sad or scared.  The song is “I Walk The Line” by Johnny Cash, but the thing is she does not know the words.  She doesn’t even really know how she knows it.

As an adult, Nomiko works with the commission as little as possible.  She’s legally allowed to practice as a hero but she does not answer to them.  She also refuses to talk to press. (She REALLY leaned into being like Aizawa.)

Nomiko collects loose change in a big jar that she keeps under her bed.  She’s usually looking at the ground when she’s out in the world so as a result she finds a lot of opportunities to find change.

Nomiko is always available to remove bugs from dorm rooms or shared spaces.  She gets it, not everyone loves bugs. However it pisses her off to be pulled from bed at 2 am because there’s a spider in the bathroom.

Discovered her hive mind ability after a frog ate one of her bugs when she was nine and the frog followed her all the way home.

Doesn’t really get scared at horror movies.  They got built up for her since she never saw them as a kid but she was pretty un-spooked. 

 She thinks green tea anything... is very yucky.  It tastes like grass.