#I might just have completely forgotten but we never properly got to see mr silver in the manga right?? a Tragedy it's my fav place

[wardingshout]

Travelling for Day 4 of SpeSilverWeek! going to Mt. Silver to visit "the extended family"...

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 33

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1914

i hear babies cry, i watch them grow

they'll learn much more than i'll never know

and i think to myself

what a wonderful world

There was nothing Roy wanted more than to collapse into his soft, warm bed, with his wife in his arms, and sleep his troubles away. His footsteps were heavy as he climbed the steps, his fatigued muscles quivering as if he was climbing up a mountain, rather than a staircase. He couldn’t wait to shut off his mind and stop thinking about the military and his grand plans and contingency plans for a couple of hours. It would be bliss.

It was his nightly ritual to stop outside Mia’s bedroom door and take a peek inside. The massive hulking bear she’d received for her birthday startled him, just like it did every time he poked his head into the room at night. Mia was sound asleep, cuddled into Mr. Brown the Bear. Her face was half hidden in his worn fur as Roy watched on, waiting to confirm that her chest was rising and falling with her breath. Once satisfied she was breathing normally he closed the door behind him.

He was silent stepping into his own bedroom. The creaking hinge did not betray him and Roy moved smoothly as he crept inside. Roy took quiet and careful steps into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Adrenaline on high, he let out a breath of relief after his successful voyage past the two sleeping forms.

Maes was a little terror. He slept for most of the day and woke up to fuss through the night. He gurgled for food but hardly took any when Riza offered. Having a clingy baby was wearing on them both. Whenever Riza got up through the night, Roy did too. They both woke to Maes’ single anguished cry at the same time, Riza up and out the bed before him to see what their son needed. The boy was completely nocturnal and was slowly turning his mother that way too. They’d quickly learned that she had to sleep when he did in order for Riza to get some kind of rest, but even then, Maes slept an hour and was up, slept three then woke for another feed. It was exhausting.

Roy had suggested the idea of moving Maes onto bottled milk so he could at least help out a little. That hadn’t gone down well at first. Riza was adamant and insisted they didn’t need it yet. However, she was wearing thin. Getting no restful sleep and shouldering all of the responsibility of Maes on her shoulders was getting to her. It was clear as day. Roy felt guilty. It had only been a week or so after Mia was born that he returned from Ishval. In the beginning, Riza was probably used to being the only one who looked after their new-born. But he was here now, and wanted to extend his help. Pushing too much would cause an argument, however, and that would just pile on more stress for Riza. Roy didn’t want that. He was struggling, seeing symptoms of postnatal depression settling in, but unable to help or ease her pain.

Stepping out into the bedroom, Roy noticed Riza was turned towards him. Her hair had been tied up in a bun to keep it out of the way, but now stuck out all over the place as it rubbed over her pillow in her sleep. Roy wondered if her stress throughout the day had anything to do with that too. Dark circles were present underneath her eyes, one hidden from view because it was buried into her pillow. She looked exhausted even when she was asleep.

Sliding in beside her, Roy stared down at his wife. A strand of hair had fallen against her cheek. Noticing how greasy it looked, Roy pushed it gently aside and vowed that tomorrow he would pry Maes from her as soon as he could, leaving her free to go and have a long, relaxing bath. It was his day off so he was going to bond with his son. A smile spread across his face. Roy couldn’t wait.

Peeking over Riza’s shoulder, Roy checked on Maes. He was sound asleep as he lay on his back. One arm was up by his head, his tiny fingers clenched into a tight fist. His little legs kicked out in his swaddle and he let out a small noise. Roy froze.

Don’t you dare wake up, kid, he warned inside his head. Holding his breath, Roy waited, but Maes settled and was quiet.

His whole body sagged in relief.

But it was short lived. Roy closed his eyes, feeling his exhaustion already carrying him off to sleep, when a sharp cry sounded from the crib.

Riza’s eyes popped open without hesitation and she rolled away from Roy immediately.

“I’ve got it –”

She didn’t even hear Roy speak. Riza continued moving forward to pick up Maes. Her shoulders were drooping, her speech slurred with sleep as she cooed at him gently, practically begging him to calm himself and sleep.

“Riza –”

She started to walk out the room to Maes’ nursery, either oblivious to him or just too tired to focus on anything else.

Stepping in her path was the only thing Roy could think of to get her to listen and notice him. Riza jumped in fright right before she walked into him. Slowly, Roy placed two hands on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze to try and bring her back to him.

“I’ll take Maes,” he offered quietly.

“But –”

“Riza, please. Let me see to him. You can go back to sleep.”

“If he’s hungry –”

“I will come back and get you I promise,” Roy vowed, soothing her. “But you’re tired. I can go and find out what he needs.”

Maes was handed off to him as Riza trudged back to bed still looking half asleep. Roy chuckled as she flopped down, cuddling back into her pillow.

“Looks like it's you and me tonight, Maes,” Roy whispered. He placed a kiss upon his son’s forehead as he slipped out the room. The creaking hinge was back and surprised Maes with the sudden noise. Roy felt him jump in his arms.

“Sorry, buddy,” Roy whispered while Maes let out a disgruntled sound.

Stepping into the nursery he could easily make his way around Mia’s old bed without kicking it. They’d stored it there because the nursery was large enough to have a single bed in it as well as everything they needed to care for Maes. Since it had been Mia’s old one, the springs were broken after she’d jumped on it too many times, but it was still a bed. It was still warm and comfortable.

Moonlight bathed the nursery in a silver glow and Roy was half tempted to leave the light off and enjoy the atmosphere, but he needed to see what he was doing. Especially if he was changing Maes. One time he’d forgotten to arrange his nappy properly – “frills on the outside!” Riza always reminded him – and he urinated over Roy, leaking through his nappy. Riza found this hilarious but Roy didn’t mind too much. It was the most he’d heard her laugh since Maes was born.

“You’ve been giving Mummy a bit of a hard time,” Roy cooed, brushing Maes cheek with his finger. “But we still love you very much, Maes. So we’re going to have to work on that a little bit. I need to be better too,” he added, “Mummy always said I slept like a log and not much could wake me through the night but I want to be awake for you.”

Maes was laid down on the changing table. He yawned and blinked his dark eyes awake, staring up at his father. Roy placed both hands on either side of his son, leaning over him so he could marvel at every movement. His hair had looked black when he was first born but it was taking on a lighter tone as the weeks progressed. It was starting to look brown and Roy hoped it would continue on that trend or turn blonde. It almost matched the colour of his eyes. They were a deep chocolate shade, taking more after his mother than him. Roy grinned down at him.

Maes blinked once before his head cocked to the side. As time dragged on, Maes’ face scrunched up in discomfort.

“Okay, Maes. Let’s see if you need changed.”

He did. Triumphantly, Roy changed his son and eased him into his chest once it was over. Patting his back gently, Roy bounced Maes from side to side and prayed that would calm him enough to get him back to sleep.

Maes did fall asleep. He was sound in Roy’s arms, his tiny head resting against Roy’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Roy celebrated with a quiet laugh.

Pausing at the door, Roy had a thought. He almost returned to his own bedroom when he spied the bed out the corner of his eye again. It would be perfect for the thought that just occurred to him.

Grinning, Roy walked down the stairs to their darkened living room to ease Maes in his portable sleep basket. Having it meant they could transport Maes around the house easily and keep him in the same room as them while he slept. Roy carried it back up to the nursery and placed it by the side of the old bed.

The sheets smelled slightly musty after not being stirred for a long time. Roy wrinkled his nose as he climbed in and made a mental note to change and wash them in the morning.

This way, if Maes woke up again, it would let Riza sleep in peace.

Roy fell asleep with a smile on his face, proud of his idea. He was just so clever.

*          *          *

Dawn light filtered into the room, stirring Roy awake. He’d forgotten to close the curtains during the night, but that was okay. It was still the most rested he’d felt in a long time.

As he settled back into the pillows, opting to try falling back asleep, he heard the door open slowly. Riza peeked inside, her hair piled back up on top of her head, but much neater this time. Her eyes were wide as she searched for them both, expression softening when she and Roy made eye contact.

“Morning,” he whispered, sleep clouding his voice. Clearing his throat, Roy’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Good morning.”

Her voice was bright and cheery. It made him crack his eyes open again to observe her. He hadn’t heard her talk like that in a long time. Getting more sleep last night had been good for her.

The door closed behind Riza quietly and she leaned against the wall beside it to watch Roy wake up. “Did you steal our child away from me?” She was joking, a smile spreading across her face as she crossed her arms, waiting on his answer.

“I did,” Roy admitted, “because you need more sleep.”

“So do you,” she countered lightly. “You’ve been up the same amount as me.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been doing most of the work,” Roy yawned quietly, careful of waking Maes. He’d slept for – Roy craned his neck up to check the clock on the wall – six hours.

“Did he get up again?” Her arms uncrossed as she pushed off the wall and walked towards Maes’ sleep basket.

“No. Six hours,” Roy announced with a chuckle. “That’s some kind of record for him.” Another yawn left Roy as he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

“I’m not, but I can’t help but feel proud of him,” he grinned sleepily.

Riza gazed down at Maes, smiling. When she was looking at him, not much could tear her attention away. Roy could sympathise. Often, when she did stare, Roy would watch her instead. He noted the way her face softened completely with her love. The muscles of her face relaxed and a sigh of content passed over her lips.

The sleepless nights and the fatigue were worth it. It always would be for their children.

“I could stare at him forever,” she murmured quietly, running her fingers gently through Maes hair. It was so long but wispy, holding no real substance to it. Most of the time it stood on end from static, despite their best efforts to smooth it down for the kid. “This was a good idea, though,” Riza nodded towards the bed. For a brief second she wobbled on her legs, catching herself on the edge of the sleep basket.

Roy’s hand extended towards her, palm up, with a silent offering. Riza took it, expecting him to help her stand, but Roy tugged her over to him instead as she laughed quietly. Riza fell into his lap. Her legs hooked over the side of his so her cheek was in front of him. He couldn’t resist placing a kiss upon it.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still tired,” Riza admitted, resting her temple against his forehead gently as they both looked down at Maes. “But, I do feel more rested than I have in weeks.”

“You can go back to bed if you like?”

Her head shook negative. “He’ll want to be fed and Mia –”

“I can keep an eye on them,” Roy interrupted softly. “Go back to bed.”

“I won’t be able to sleep,” she sighed.

“Try it,” he offered casually.

Her head lifted, shooting him a sideways glance. “Is this your plan to get me to rest more?”

“You deserve it,” Roy countered. “You carried Maes for nine months and birthed him. I think it’s time I stepped up to the plate.”

Riza chuckled, patting his cheek. However, her hand lingered, turning his head so they were directly facing one another.

“First you steal my son away from me, and now you’re pushing me away from seeing him?” Her smile was wide, eyes twinkling with amusement and mischief. Oh, how he had missed that look on her. So much.

“Never.” His answer was absolute before he pressed a firm kiss to her lips, looping his arms around her hips to give them a tight squeeze. “I just want you to take care of yourself too,” he reasoned.

“I am,” she assured.

Roy’s eyebrows almost lifted to his hairline, making her huff in mock annoyance.

“It’s not been that bad,” she replied, but grimaced at her poor lie.

“It has been,” Roy corrected.

“Yeah, it has,” she replied glumly. It held a lot more sadness than Roy was expecting, causing concern to flourish slowly inside his heart.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…” A deep sigh left Riza, her chin dipping as her temple rested back against his forehead once more.

“What?” He squeezed her hips, prompting her to continue.

“I didn’t expect it to be so hard. Mia wasn’t this bad and…” A deep sigh left her. “I guess I feel guilty for thinking about taking a break. They’re my kids and I don’t want to need a break from them.”

“I know.”

“I need sleep. I know I do. But…”

“How about you feed Maes,” Roy offered hesitantly, his brain whirring to try and find a compromise she’d agree to, “while I wake Mia up and get her ready. She’s going to my mother’s today so it will just be the three of us. I can do some bonding with Maes while you go for a nap?”

A tired smile was thrown his way and Roy counted that as a success.

“Thank you,” she breathed. Her eyes closed with relief.

“Anything for you. You know that,” he whispered against her temple, kissing her there. “And anything for them.”

Glancing down, the two parents watched Maes begin to stir.

“He’s so tiny.”

“I know, I can’t believe it,” Riza giggled. “Hard to think Mia was this size too once.”

“That felt like just last year, never mind six years ago.”

Riza nodded, sliding off his lap. She crouched to pick up Maes.

In that moment, Roy had never seen a more endearing sight. Riza pressed her lips to Maes’ forehead. She held him close against her chest, rocking him from side to side.

“What?”

He’d been caught staring, but Roy just grinned. “I’m just thinking about how beautiful you look.”

Riza snorted gently. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

A pleased smile tugged at her lips but Riza fought it. However, it did spread, and she let out a light laugh as she shook her head fondly at him. “You’re biased.”

“Me? Never,” he exclaimed, rising from the bed. Roy’s hand found his son’s head and he pressed a kiss to it. “I’ll hop in the shower then see if Mia is awake.”

“Take your time,” Riza replied distractedly, her full attention back on Maes.

He grinned as he left the room, catching the serenity and love filling her expression as she rocked Maes.

“Morning Daddy,” Mia greeted sleepily.

“Morning, Mia Bear.” Roy perched on the edge of her bed, stooping to press a kiss to her forehead. It made her giggle and squirm away from him. “How do you feel today?”

“A little sleepy but I’m excited!” Her face lit up, her mouth forming a wide smile.

“Yeah? And why is that?” Roy folded down the sheet, giving her a chance to slip out from underneath.

“I get to go and see Grandma today!”

“She’s as excited about it as you are.”

“Really?” Mia latched onto Roy’s hand as they walked towards her wardrobe. It was only five steps or so but she still clung to him.

“She is,” he confirmed. “It’s been a little while since you’ve both gone on a day out together.”

“Yeah… It has.”

Roy was immediately on alert. He picked out the hint of sadness in Mia’s voice and the way she trailed off. He crouched, turning Mia to face him. His eyes narrowed playfully, but his stomach twisted. He’d caught the forlorn look on her face before it turned into a giggle.

“What?” At least her sadness had disappeared, but Roy hadn’t wanted to see it in the first place. He wondered if his suddenly formed hypothesis was correct…

“What was that long face for?” He reached forward and ‘caught’ her nose in between his thumb and forefinger, pretending to wiggle it gently before letting go.

“What long face?” Her reply was so innocent that Roy wondered if he’d imagined it for a second, but there had definitely been something there.

“You sounded and looked sad for a second.”

Mia’s smile fell.

“Is everything all right?”

Mia’s chin tucked into her chest slowly as she looked down at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Roy prompted her gently as he made himself more comfortable in his crouch. He waited patiently for her answer, giving her all the time she needed.

“It’s nothing. But it has been a little while since we’ve done something cool and fun together.” Her admission was so quiet as she toed at the carpet nervously beneath them.

Mia was feeling left out. The realisation hit Roy like a truck, and he could see why she would feel that way. Maes took all of their attention recently and while they desperately tried to find a balance, it hadn’t been enough. They hadn’t been good enough for her.

His arms opened and Mia stepped into them eagerly. Her small hands clutched at his t-shirt, hanging onto it.

“Mummy and I love you so much, Mia Bear,” Roy promised, giving her a squeeze. “Believe me, we really do. And we’re so sorry you’ve been feeling left out.”

“It’s okay, Daddy.”

She takes after Riza far too much.

“No,” Roy shook his head as he pulled away from her, “it’s not. It’s made you sad and that’s not okay. Maes is only little so he needs a lot more attention from us, okay? He’s a fussy baby,” Roy added with a tired smile, “and keeps us up all night.”

“He does?” Mia’s eyes widened in surprise.

“He does. So we’ve been really tired, but that’s not an excuse. We didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”

“I haven’t heard him at night.”

“Good,” Roy commented, ruffling her fringe. “He doesn’t need to keep you up too.”

Face screwing up in irritation, Mia reached up with two hands to smooth out her fringe while Roy just laughed at her reaction.

“It might take a little while for everything to go back to the way it was before Maes was born, but it will, I promise. He’ll get older and things will get easier. You’ve been a very big girl throughout it all though.” She had. This was the first time he was hearing of any jealousy or her feeling left out compared to her sibling. “And we’re so proud of you. If you feel that way again, can you please tell me or Mummy?”

“I will,” Mia nodded confidently. Her arms were thrown around his neck tightly, almost knocking him over with the force of it. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Any time, Mia Bear. And thank you for being so understanding.”

“Anything for my baby brother,” she grinned happily.

She skipped up to her wardrobe doors, pulling them open wide while Roy rose from his crouch. He felt so proud of how understanding and caring she was, however, they needed to do better by her too.

He’d call his mother while Mia was eating breakfast and ask Chris to spoil his little girl today. Not that that wouldn’t happen already, though, but he’d ask Chris to take her to the toy shop to buy whatever she wanted on him.

[my18thcenturysource]

What do you think of the 18th century costumes from buffs the vampire slayer and angel the series?

——————

I had forgotten entirely of such episode from Angel!!

Wow. Thank you @luluthecatprincess​ so I had to go and watch it first. LOL. Sorry for the late response.

First, let’s remember that both series are from the late 90s and early 2000s and well, that might get whacky sometimes BUT in this case, in general it’s such a nice result! You go, Angel costume team!

BTW this is “The Prodigal”, Season 1, Episode 15, of Angel (aired on 2000), but the same outfits appear in other Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel episodes in short flashbacks. I think this is the first time they properly appear in Angel.

The flashbacks on the episode are supposed to be set in Galway, Ireland, in 1753, so I’ll be using the 1750s and late 1740s as the style references for these costumes, and I divided the costumes by character and outfit. Here we go.

THE MAID

Along with the time and place, we see the maid of Liam’s (a.k.a. Angel) home:

She does not look bad, except for the cap. That cap is hideous. A cap is clearly needed for a maid to keep her hair in place, but this one is seriously ugly. I’m not sure if it’s the artificially white material (which is always a sign of polyester or other artificial fiber fabric), or the fit. Other than the cap, the only other detail I find hard to imagine a maid would wear in a normal work day is the size of the sleeve ruffles, which are deeply not practical, and a bad idea to wear while going to well for water. We know that maids might get their mistress’ old dresses, but it is definitely not practical. BUT I think I see the visual reference used for this outfit (up to the ribbon lacing front):

“Mademoiselle Louise Jacquet”, 1748-1752, Jean-Étienne Liotard.

LIAM / ANGEL

He wears five 18th century outfits during this episode, that I have named: the yellow waistcoat outfit, the green outfit, the pink waistcoat, the funeral outfit, and the vampire outfit.

The Yellow Waistcoat Outfit

This is what we first see him wearing while he’s with the maid. I’m going to completely ignore his hair, because it is not done, but generally looks like a nice length to be done in curls at the sides of the head and a pony tail in the back with a bow or black silk bag (later we see he’s got a loose pony tail). I mean, he’s hungover, but those hairstyles were supposed to be worn FOR DAYS, so I’ll just pretend that he has not had his hair styled for quite a long while.

The shirt does not look bad, it has frills attached to the front vent like it should, and not in a horrible and inaccurate cravat, so thankyouverymuch. The waistcoat does not look bad, the colour and the embroidery are right, just as the shape and round neckline (even here is worn open). This tell us that Liam is quite a wealthy young man… or his father is. Here a waistcoat (front and back) to be seen as comparison:

Man’s Waistcoat, France, ca. 1750, LACMA

Now, the garments look rather good, but there’s something wrong and I cannot put my finger on it (other than the long shirt worn completely out, even though we know that it was long because it was used as underwear, and I get that it is used as a parallel of a modern drunk man with his shirt worn out of his trousers, so I’ll ignore that). It seems that this outfit fits wrong. His second outfit has a coat and it also looks odd, but his last outfit looks really good.

I’m not sure if it’s because David Boreanaz seems to be HUGE and all these garments seems too short and too narrow for him (but he’s like 1.85 m and that’s not freakishly tall, just tall). BUT it might just be that since all is worn in disarrange, and when we see the back of the waistcoat it looks tiny on this back:

Or maybe, this guy is just huge.

The Green Outfit

Excuse my poor screencaps, but this was the only one I got to make with the full outfit XD

The fit also seems odd. Unlike other garments on the episode, this seems to have been made for the episode: the fabric has a weird shine and seems almost like upholstery fabric, the buttons are sadly small, and the fit on the actor’s shoulders is definitely not right for the 18th century, but especially, it is not made like  other coats in the episode (like the PERFECT ones Liam’s father wears). His shoulders are too straight like in modern tailoring, but the rest of the coat seems too big for him, which only makes me think of the late 90s fit in men’s tailoring.

Here for comparison from later in the episode, is Angel in “the present” (1999-2000), and look at the silhouette of his trench coat:

And now look at the green coat:

The cravat is tied in a simple way but I still don’t know why hasn’t he dressed his hair! Man, get your shit together!

Pink Waistcoat Outfit

The first photo of the submitted post is this same waistcoat from another view. In pink brocade with gold decorations, this waistcoat has an odd front curve and buttons on both sides… like, how is he even supposed to button that down?

Also, suddenly he’s got perfect square sideburns that we had never seen before, and that might be the envy of Mr Darcy himself. This is a weird outfit.

The Funeral Outfit

SPOILER (is a 20 year old spoiler a real spoiler?) he dies to become a vampire. So here, we see his funeral and then later that night, his rise from the death. For this important event in a vampires life (idk, I guess?), he wears a black or brown suit. I don’t know because it seems black and the light changes and it seems brown.

But first, let me get this out of my chest: he died AND NO ONE DECIDED TO FIX HIS HAIR FOR HIS OWN FUNERAL?! DAAAAAAAMN! Yes, I’m OBSESSED with his lack of hairstyling. I could have been SO good! But well, what is done, is done.

Now, he’s got a nice cravat with lace tips, a coat with big cuffs in a fabric that seems to be of satin stripes (oddly, it was chosen to cut the stripes horizontally), nice laces cuffs for his shirt and a general better fit than the one of the green coat.

The Vampire Outfit

Finally, we see Liam paying a visit to his father (and killing everyone in the process). Finally his hair is not a mess, but still not in a good mid 18th century style. Just a total fail this guy’s hair. Anyway, he’s wearing a dark green velvet suit with a stripped waistcoat. The coat has cuffs (and a weird piece on the back) in the same fabric as the waistcoat. I think this is the best suit in fit, but he best suit overall in the funeral one.

On this suit we see the back (seeing that weird contrast piece), and also see the volume of the skirt of the coat that gives it its name of frock coat. The buttons are metallic and simple. He wears a (too big to not look hideous) black brooch on the cravat. Just. Why.

Somebody explain to me wtf in this on his back:

THE FATHER

Oh. My. God.

I don’t know where did they rented his outfits from BUT he’s the best dressed character of the episode. Period. All his outfits are perfect: the roundness of the shoulders, the fabrics, the sober colours, the perfectly styled hair, the tricorn hat. Everything is right. Perfect.

Which makes me think, that all costumes were rented and they only made the ones David Boreanaz wore, so maybe they couldn’t find anything great that fitted him. I have to say that they worked them well (not perfectly), so they work.

Now, here the outfits worn by Liam’s father with no real comment because all are great:

The green coat at the beginning of the episode (it even looks like wool! Look at his lace cravat! AND HIS HAIR!):

The dark red suit with the pink waistcoat:

You can even see the volume of the wide skirt of the coat!

The funeral suit, all black with gold decoration:

look at his cravat! But ignore the girl’s hair, everything is wrong there:

And finally, the death outfit (spoiler! he dies!), he’s at home at night and he’s not wearing a coat, so we see him in dark brown breeches, pink (?) waistcoat, shirt with lace and no cravat. And guess what? HIS HAIR IS DONE.

Anyway, this man just escaped from a mid 18th century portrait:

“William Axtell”, ca. 1749-52, John Wollaston, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

DARLA

First of all: what kind of name is Darla, and what the hell was she thinking when decided that Angelus would be new Liam’s name? It only makes me think of evening prayer. BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT.

During this episode she wears three clearly different dressed:

Robe à l’anglaise with floral stomacher

When we first see her, she’s at the pub wanting to eat Liam up, we only see her earrings and the wide necklace with shiny embroidery:

Then we see her out on the street, when she sires Liam. we see that she’s wearing yellow? green? a robe à l’anglaise with an embroidered stomacher:

Grey gown with sash

After Liam’s funeral, she goes to meet him at the cemetery. She wears a silver/grey gown with long sleeves, pink stomacher, and a decorative pink sash. Over it she wears a cape, perfect for going out in the night rising the dead, and her accessory is a ruffle choker/necklace with a ribbon. Because of the cape, we do not see the full volume of the skirt, but I seem to see that it is like the others. Anyway, this particular style seems more suited for a later decade in the 18th century.

We don’t see this dress’ back, so I don’t know for sure if it’s a robe à la française or à l’anglaise, but I tend to think that the latter.

Gold robe à la anglaise

Finally, when Liam/Angelus kills his family, we see her in this other robe à l’anglaise with gold decoration and stomacher.

She’s clearly supposed to be easy to find with the eyes, therefore she wears light colours with some kind of shine in them. The silhouettes are pretty good, as the sleeves, decorations and laces. I like that her key accessory seems to be a wide choker/necklace.

Now, with all these good stuff, I don’t know why her hair is closer to the 1760s and 70s than to the 1750s, like we can see in this examples from my hairstyle timeline:

The 1750s did not have much volume at the top of the head,

The 1760s saw the rise of the hair and the egg shape hairstyle (and look at the choker! it’s just like Darla’s!):

The 1770s gave wide curls a place in the increasingly complicated hairstyles:

And once more, we see that LIAM HAD NO GOOD HAIRSTYLE FOR ANY OF THE THREE DECADES.

SOME OTHER RANDOM COSTUMES I LIKED FROM THE EPISODE:

The maid in the pub, that only misses a jacket and that kind of looks like Christina Hendricks… and IS HER according to IMDB:

Everyone at the funeral:

The mom in black:

The mom dead :( or she’s just taking a nap :)

And my favourite is this particular boy with crazy hair (you go, Glen Coco! Rock that baroque look):

CONCLUSION

Unlike I expected, the costumes are pretty good. Accessories were kept simple and that always help a lot. The silhouettes were almost perfect, and the materials are not horrible. Their biggest misstep was the hair, with hairstyles of other periods (and from later from when it is set! If they were from before, there is not such a problem), wigs that look pretty artificial (like the mom’s wig), or no hairstyle at all (I’m looking at you, Angel).

So, it was a nice surprise to see that the period costume of a supernatural/fantasy/noir series from the early 2000s could serve its purpose in such a good way: it set easily the time and place, and the broad attitudes of the characters dressed. Since watching the first scene, even without the text, you could tell that they were in the mid 18th century, that Liam is a drunk, that his father is strict and respectable, and that Darla is a refined lady. So, mission accomplished.

[mythicamagic]

Swimming in Silk - Chapter 11

Training in front of her, engaging her in conversation and now lending her his clothes…Kagome is starting to suspect that Sesshoumaru is trying to gain her attention.

Sesskag - Romance, Humour, Drama, Angst

Rated M - As always you can read this story on Ao3, fanfiction.net or Dokuga

Chapter One - here       Chapter Three - here    Chapter Five - here

Chapter Two - here        Chapter Four - here       Chapter Six - here  

Chapter Seven - here    Chapter Eight - here    Chapter Nine - here          Chapter Ten  - here       Chapter Twelve - here

 Inebriated Inhibitions~

"So basically, that Kaito guy is a jerk, putting it lightly."

A huff sounded out across from her. "Insolent girl! General Kaito has served this house for generations!" Jaken squeaked in his nasally voice.

Kagome rose a brow, wishing she had some earbuds to at least soften the blow of his high pitch. "Really?"

"Well...two! He served under the Great Dog General." He cleared his throat, trying to pitch his voice deeper.

Hard to believe Sesshoumaru's dad could put up with such a dick since he liked humans, Kagome mused dryly to herself. She glanced around Jaken's meagre dwelling, which was a simple room that opened up to where the staff hung laundry. He could have quite a nice view of the garden if it weren't for the swaying sheets.

"Now then, if you've come to me, you must want some profound advice."

With a flat look, she placed her chin on her palm, shifting at the low table. "Not really no," she muttered, hearing another jittery squawk ring out. "I just needed to talk to someone. It's not like I can tell Sesshoumaru about it, he's got enough on his plate at the moment."

"Tch, well I suppose I should be pleased you're not bothering our Lord unnecessarily. And what of Shippo?"

Kagome blinked. She'd never heard him refer to the kit by name before. It had never occurred to her that they may have gotten closer over the years. She smiled a little, gentling her voice just a touch, "I can't interrupt him either. He's busy looking for the right transformation spell for Kirara."

Jaken tutted, sliding his hands inside his sleeves and glowering. "You just had to bother me with this then."

"Fine. I'll humour you, buddy," she smirked, lifting a shoulder. "If you were going to offer advice, what would it be?"

The green toad demon muttered a few complaints, before straightening. "Hmph, well, I suppose I can be generous. Ahem, I would say to invite him hunting!" He said with a grandiose flourish of his thin little arms.

"Why?"

He scoffed. "Don't you know anything? By bringing back a kill, you'll have shown to him that you can pull your own weight and provide for the West!"

"But I already pulled my own weight! I helped kill a dragon!" Her high pitch now rivalled Jaken's.

He sipped his tea, slurping loudly and making Kagome's jaw tick. "That was years ago, who can remember that far back?" He said dismissively.

Turning, Kagome grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, letting out a muffled noise. By the time she dropped it, the kappa was staring at her with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

Kagome blushed and sighed, vaguely missing Lady Inukimi. She would have been much preferable to talk to. "Alright...I'm guessing if I'd have to bring back the biggest animal possible. Like a stag."

Jaken nodded happily, "exactly!"

Thinking for a moment, Kagome searched inside herself, finding a very faint pull within. A familiar sensation that was slowly tightening like a coiled snake around her lungs. Time travel loomed on the horizon. "...Thanks for the advice, but I think I'll skip it."

"H-hah? Why on earth?"

She folded her hands on her knees, lowering her eyes. "I might not be here much longer. And maybe Kaito is right after all and I'm not cut out for this; because a Lady would place pleasing her House above all else."

Melancholy blue rose to meet his bulbous yellowed eyes. "But my first loyalty is to Sesshoumaru, and I'm going to go spend time with him instead like I should be doing right now. Even if I killed a deer, history will probably repeat itself. I'll get dragged away soon and you'll all forget what I even did. Only he'll remember. I'm literally useless to all of you except for him...but luckily his is the only opinion I care about."

Jaken squeaked and let out a growl, standing. "Impudent girl! How dare you! He was right, you are unsuitable in every way, completely usele-"

His large eyes suddenly rounded wider, letting out a whimper as sweat broke out on his forehead. Kagome noticed his gaze was fixed on something behind her, and shifted to see. Sesshoumaru stood in the threshold of the doorway, figure unnaturally still. Coiled muscle waited on the brink to strike. His eyes blazed.

"By all means, Jaken." He purred in silken tones, tilted his head slightly, "continue to enlighten this one. How is his chosen Mate somehow lacking?"

The kappa trembled violently, throwing himself onto his knees and ducking down- only to hit his head on the table and yelp. He then bowed properly, "p-p-please mi Lord! I meant no offence!"

Light footfalls made the sweat on his brow drip to the floor. The noise ceased somewhere on the toads left. "And I mean no injury," Sesshoumaru uttered, drawing his foot back.

Kagome gasped as the lord kicked the kappa straight out of the open doors. His small figure sailed through the air- hitting the swaying sheets and ripping them off their hooks- sailing over gardens and out over the wall. He disappeared from sight wrapped in white with a grateful dimming cry. "Thank you, mi Lord!"

The miko shifted, drawing herself up to stand by Sesshoumaru's side, blinking. Sharp tawny eyes slid down to her, sharp claws twitching by his side.

"Never concern yourself with the opinions of lesser youkai."

Her eyes widened before a gentle blush coloured her cheeks. "But compared with you, everyone else is lesser youkai," she teased.

Golden hues warmed, chin tilting up slightly arrogantly. "Hn, exactly."

She reached out and took hold of his deadly fingers, "hey. Are you free later?"

Sesshoumaru turned his full attention to her, inclining his head.

"W-would you um...like to go on a date with me?"

He rose a brow, "we have already successfully courted."

"I-I know," she bit her lip. "But we could just have a picnic in the garden tonight or something," Kagome raised a brow at him, lips quirking. "Maybe it's immature, but it's not like you'd care if someone didn't approve, right?"

Sesshoumaru looked down at her, those faint lines still haunting under his eyes. But some weight seemed to ease from his shoulders, and subtle warmth entered his voice. "What a rebellious woman I chose for a mate. Very well..."

It was late into the evening when Sesshoumaru was finally settled down into the bizarre set up the miko had arranged, eating his supper. She had spread out a blanket onto the grass and put out candles of various sizes, lighting them. Saké awaited him, which he suspected she'd requested from the staff earlier. His gaze slid toward her as she placed the white porcelain cups out. She blushed and pointedly ignored his prying eyes as she poured his drink.

"I'm not trying to get you drunk."

"This one did not speak a word," he muttered, putting his empty plate down and setting his chopsticks aside. He then returned the kindness by pouring her drink.

She pushed some black hair behind her ear, "I'm technically not allowed to have this. The legal drinking age in Japan is 20, but I won't tell if you don't."

"And what is the...purpose of this date?"

"Can't I just spend some quality time with Mr. Fancyfeet?" She smiled, eyes glittering. Seeing his expectant look, Kagome sighed, nursing her forgotten drink. "I guess I figured you could use a night to take the edge off. You've been busy since we got back and I'm no good at...Lady duties...the most I've done is look over scrolls or help the staff clean, but Chiyo beat me back with a stick. Apparently, I'm not even allowed to clean. So this is something I can do. I like to think I'm good at making you relax," she smirked.

Sesshoumaru lifted the saké cup to his lips and paused, mulling over her words. "...If anything it's the opposite," he uttered, slit pupils shifting to her.

Kagome blinked and blushed at the telling look, quickly lifting the alcohol to her lips and wondering when her heart would calm down around him. She tilted the cup up, only to make a noise and choke. Tears stung her eyes.

Hearing a chuckle beside her, Kagome stubbornly tried again. The saké tasted sharp and unpleasant on her tongue, and yet Kagome kept drinking. Her throat burned by the time the cup was empty, and she exhaled, feeling heat rush to her cheeks.

"Okay...whew! That tastes stronger than I thought it would," she touched her blazing neck. It hurt to swallow.

"Do you wish to stop?"

"N-no! Of course not. Lay it on me," she held her drink out for more. She could put up with the taste if it meant feeling that pleasant swimming sensation that took the edge off.

One Hour Later

Kagome giggle-snorted, leaning against a strong shoulder as she lulled heavily, slurring her words. "Okay, okay- truth or dare."

His chin tilted up, pride dancing in his eyes. Naturally, he would not back down from a challenge. Unlike the swaying girl, his grip on his cup remained steady, muscles pleasantly relaxed. He observed her increasing inebriation with vague, lazy amusement. "Dare."

She pretended to think, but honestly, the thought was already there. A classic, dumb dare. She was very happy within her hazed mind that he'd agreed to her little game.

"I dare you to run across the courtyard. Naked."

With a scoff, Sesshoumaru rose from the blanket and pushed long silver strands over his shoulder. "A trivial task," he muttered, easing forward. Kagome squeaked and quickly stood up.

"You have to wait until I've reached the balcony upstairs, I need to watch!" She grinned, hurrying with a giddy spring to her step. The miko raced inside, pushing the sliding doors aside and navigating fairly easily to the balcony that overlooked the vast courtyard. Due to the late evening, not many demons were around, but she noticed a few men hanging around the barracks. She spied Sesshoumaru appear near the edge of the yard, drenched in shadow as he calmly stripped. Kagome's face flushed as she grinned, leaning forward eagerly.

Sesshoumaru folded his crisp white clothes over one arm, holding his boots in one hand while shifting his feet. Kagome bit back a laugh, watching with bated breath. Even from far away, she could see how the moonlight strained to touch his silver hair, even while he lingered in shadow.

Suddenly his body shifted forward from the shadows- form blurring into a streak of white. By the time she'd blinked it was over.

Hurrying down the stairs once more, Kagome caught her breath on the porch, glaring at the Daiyoukai as he fixed his clothes. "You cheated."

He lifted an uncaring shoulder, tying his obi, "you did not specify the speed with which to run."

Kagome huffed and stomped over, settling down onto the picnic blanket again. He sat next to her with an expectant look, "it is your turn."

"Fine, truth," she chickened out.

"Very well," silver hair hung forward as he leaned closer, until she could feel his breath fan over her neck. "Who was Jaken referring to earlier?" Keen eyes probed her for weaknesses.

Kagome felt something skitter down her spine. She busied herself with taking a sip while trying to think of an answer. She tried to make her voice as casual as possible. "Hm? When?"

His gaze assessed her before the demon calmly straightened. "I see, so there is someone. And you are most likely protecting them."

"W-what? How the heck did you-"

"I know you fairly well by now." He purred in silken tones, a playful lift to his voice. "This 'truth' part of the game is unnecessary."

"Oh really?" She arched a brow, smirking. "You still don't know who it is."

"I soon will," he promised darkly, gaze flashing. "If his sentiments are something that Jaken felt emboldened enough to agree with, he must have shared some very strong words with you. And have some social standing..."

Kagome could see the gears turning in his mind, eliminating possibilities while trying to pinpoint his target. She felt a chill in the air, as summer was to be left behind soon in favour of Autumn. She shifted closer, knee resting against his.

"Sesshoumaru," she placed her hand on his arm. "Please don't make a big thing of it. It's just one guy's opinion," she murmured even as she remembered the General's acidic words. How her stomach had plummeted.

"And what pray tell did you say in response?"

Kagome winced, remembering. "I-I asked that he kindly fuck off," she mumbled, pushing her hair behind her ear. She'd hoped not to let her anger get the best of her.

A deep rumble of a chuckle escaped him, and Kagome mused that the alcohol must have soothed his temper. She smiled and slid her hand into his, threading slim fingers with his deadly ones. "Come on, truth or dare."

"Truth," he muttered, running the pad of his thumb over her knuckles.

Kagome paused for a moment, deciding to just get it out there and ask. "...Does it bother you that I'm not pregnant? Are you really alright with waiting until I'm ready?" She murmured, resting her cheek against his arm.

Sesshoumaru lapsed into pensive silence, and she could feel the line of tension from his arm. He then tore his hand from hers, and Kagome felt rejection slam into her chest- until his arm swept around her waist, bringing her into the warmth of his side.

"Peace is tenuous at best in these times," he uttered. "Perhaps a child would set my House at ease, but we are not my parents. This one refuses to have an heir for the sake of one," he grit out, lips peeling back at the thought. The Daiyoukai took a breath, eyes hazing. "It would bring me...satisfaction to smell your scent change, for you to carry my pups, but if you were ripped away from us after giving birth- or if you took them away from me into a time beyond my reach- I could not stand it."

Kagome looked up at him, brows drawing together.

He met her gaze, the moonlight softening his inhuman gaze. "I will lose no more of my children."

Her heart gave a squeeze, and Kagome rested her cheek against his chest. "It's okay, we'll wait. We'll wait until...we're together for good. Alright?"

Hearing a noise of affirmation, she decided to try and lighten the mood. Pouring another cup for him, she patted his side. "I think I'll go Dare this time. Come on, lay it on me."

Sesshoumaru rose a brow in challenge. "Hn...run across the courtyard, naked."

Kagome blushed beet red, before pulling herself up from his side and saluting him. "Yes sir!" She reached down, only succeeding in sliding her panties down her thighs before her hands were grabbed. Sesshoumaru shifted her underwear back up, fingers lingering under her skirt.

"Perhaps that was ill-advised. Let this one think of something else," he muttered lowly. Kagome just laughed, resting her hands on his shoulders and leaning in contentedly.

Sitting in her usual place beside Sesshoumaru, knelt on a cushion, she dug into her food. Swallowing some pills to will away her headache, Kagome tried her best to function despite the hangover splitting her skull. Sesshoumaru seemed perfectly fine, that jerk.

The rest of the demons were eating, picking at their cuts of raw meat or fish. Kagome had learned to look strictly at her own plate. Shippo happily munched on his own food to the side of her, and Kagome smiled, wishing not for the first time that things could always remain so carefree.

Feeling a warm palm on her back, Kagome blinked and looked at Sesshoumaru. He stared not at her- but at a table not too far away, where General Kaito sat eating. Blue eyes widening, Kagome glanced at her mate. His face remained emotionless, in a way that alarmed her.

"Sesshoumaru…" she said carefully. Did he know? How had he found out?

A glance at Jaken's bruised forehead answered her unasked question.

With a gasp, she felt herself be tugged onto his lap, a warm chest at her back. Kagome inwardly squirmed when all sets of eyes turned to her and squeaked when his hands went to the front of her kimono. Sesshoumaru yanked the parting down, peeling one side away to expose her shoulder. Kagome hissed, gripping the material tightly to her chest to keep her modesty.

"What the hell?!" She growled, stilling when his chin rested on the crook of her shoulder. Hooded golden eyes stared straight at the General as long fingers curled near the mating mark on her skin.

"I trust that this is enough to satisfy those that question my claim to this woman. And hers to me," he uttered lowly.

The entire gathering had stopped to watch the spectacle unfold. General Kaito stiffened, eyes slightly wide.

"I do not know which is worse; to assert a valueless opinion as fact or to give that opinion like it holds any sway over a Lord's actions. You are stupider than I first assumed." Sesshoumaru cooly assessed, a palpable bite in his words. Youki coated his skin, anger simmering close to the surface. "Know this; When you speak of the Lady, you speak of your Lord. If you see her as unfit to lead then by extension you see me in the same way. Therefore any who share the General's opinion - step forward. This one will gladly put you in your place."

The General swallowed while Kagome wisely decided to hold still.

"General Kaito…won't you face this one in combat?" Sesshoumaru murmured in a deceptively soft tone.

A solemn shake of the head was his only answer for a moment, before a quiet voice reached his ears. "No, my Lord. I could never."

Sesshoumaru's grip on Kagome eased a little, and she could feel the tension leak out of his frame. "Then be satisfied that your head clings to your shoulders and get lost. I've no need of fools within my company," he muttered in a dismissive tone.

The General stood, and the rest of the dining guests assembled started to pick at their food again, ignoring him. Kagome watched as the man turned away, his hands loose at his sides.

"No, wait! Please…" she struggled, unable to stand with Sesshoumaru's arm around her. She growled and yanked it off to get to her feet, ignoring his hiss. "We don't have to settle this with fighting or banishment, why does it have to be so extreme? This House needs everyone it can get at the moment."

She took a breath, feeling all eyes trained on her. Kaito had paused, eyes slightly wider. Kagome swallowed, setting her shoulders. "Times are changing, and you'll all need each other if the humans continue to cultivate more land."

Which they will, she left out.

Look down at her right side, she frowned. "Sesshoumaru…you can't be in three places at once. You've relied on General Kaito in the past, and your armies trust him. Don't toss him aside just for wounding your pride-"

"It is your pride he besmirched." Came his low reply, winter ice frosting his gaze.

Kagome paused. "Well…since it's me he insulted, I should be the one who decides what happens to him."

A few demons in the room let out barks of laughter. The women hid their painted smiles behind their fans and spoke in low whispers to each other.

Kagome ignored them all and looked only at the man she was addressing. "General Kaito, please remain here. Tomorrow, let's go hunting together, okay?" She invited gently.

"Such a pitiful sentence!" One demon laughed.

"Haha how embarrassing for the mighty General," other demons clad in armour chuckled.

Kagome's lips thinned, her hands curling into loose fists. She could feel the air on her exposed shoulder, licking deliciously at the mating mark. She silently begged the General to take her offer, to not embarrass her a second time.

One bushy brow twitched, before the General bowed down, hair hanging forward. "I will do as you command, my Lady."

Kagome breathed out with relief, moving to sit down- only to feel herself be yanked onto Sesshoumaru's lap once more. Pain assaulted her senses as teeth latched onto her ear lobe, biting down.

She yelped, twisting in his hold and gritting her teeth. Why was he punishing her for something good?

The look in his narrowed gaze answered her unspoken question. She'd defied his sentence. Kagome's mouth pressed into a thin, grim line, and she tossed her head stubbornly, refusing to mollify him.

A snarl buried itself in her eardrum and Kagome felt herself be lifted up, more teeth scraping her neck harshly.

"S-sesshoumaru!" She yelped in his arms, hearing more chuckles ring out behind them as he carried her from the room.

"You defied me."

"For all the right reasons!" Kagome grit out with exasperation.

Sesshoumaru hitched her in his arms, striding down the hallways until they arrived at their room. She yelped as she tumbled from his arms, landing on the nest of furs that cushioned her back. She knew what was coming of course. It sang in the air, thick like sticky vapour. Still, just because her thighs squeezed together in anticipation didn't mean Kagome would let him have this win easily.

His lean body landed atop hers, and she let reiki burst from her fingertips as she embraced him. Even as his teeth scraped over her skin, Kagome felt his palm cradle the back of her neck, fingers stroking almost in reward.

The Stronghold's occupants had shot her knowing looks several hours later. Apparently, they'd been quite uh...loud. Kagome winced, self-consciously adjusting her miko robes that hid the countless amount of bite marks and scratches. She was glad she had so many outfits to rotate.

Kagome met the General outside after having sent for him. She glanced back just once at the Western Keep as they made their way into the adjoining forest, but Sesshoumaru was nowhere in sight. He was probably busy after she'd kept him detained for so long.

Deciding to focus on trying to smooth over the General's ruffled edges, she lost herself in hunting.

Her muscles braced tensely as she bent low, clutching her notched bow and arrow. She heard a rustling up ahead, before Kaito strode out from the bushes, knocking them aside.

"False alarm," he muttered. "It was nothing but a rabbit, and I assume we're here to hunt bigger prey."

Kagome sighed, straightening and following him through the dense undergrowth. The forest pressed close, vines wrapped around tree trunks and coiled tight, squeezing the life from their starved hosts. She glanced at the General's back, feeling a little awkward in the oppressive silence.

"My Lady...may I ask as to why you stopped our Lord from banishing me?"

She sighed, adjusting her grip on the bow. "Because you're more useful to him than I am right now. I might get ripped away soon by time, and another 50 years could pass. Sesshoumaru shouldn't lose his General just over my wounded pride."

He made a noncommittal noise, "seems you do possess the capacity to plan in advance."

Kagome opened her mouth to bite back, frustrated- when he held up a gloved hand. "Wait...there's something ahead," he muttered quietly.

Rolling her eyes, Kagome crouched down as he disappeared into the trees above. Apparently, he wasn't going to help her hunt the damn thing, just point out the obvious. Nudging the twigs and leaves aside with the tip of her bow, Kagome squinted through the bushes.

A lone doe stood grazing in the small clearing, and she felt a slight pang. Oh no, I'm responsible for Bambi's Mom.

Easing up slowly from the greenery, Kagome aimed, pushing her conscience aside. Everyone would eat the meat, none would go to waste. Clenching her jaw, Kagome let the arrow loose.

Another arrow lodged itself into the ground just as Kagome's embedded itself into the deer's heart. The animal made a noise and collapsed, its eyes lifeless. Kagome blinked at the second arrow in confusion, glancing around.

"What the..."

Loud rustling had her on alert, tensing just as a young man stepped out from the undergrowth, minding a branch aside. He was clad in hunting gear, many of his weapons looking organically made from teeth or bone.

Kagome held up her hands placatingly, "hey there. Um...no hard feelings, right? I'm sorry I stole your kill."

His brown eyes strayed down her form, and she bristled under his attention, blood heating. "Heh, you didn't steal a thing, woman. I'm the one who killed the deer, so I'll be the one taking it," he grinned, stepping into the clearing and approaching the fallen doe.

Barely a moment later, Kagome felt a solid wall of power next to her side, Kaito raising his spear. "I think not," he rumbled lowly.

The hunter paused. His eyes widened marginally, narrowing when they slid back to Kagome. A guarded suspicion lurked in his expression that hadn't been there moments before. "You keep bad company, miko."

"Look just forget it," she muttered quickly to both of them, not wanting a fight to break out. "Take the deer, we'll be on our way now."

"My Lady," Kaito hissed.

Kagome ignored him and nodded to the hunter, who frowned. He hesitated, looking between them, before leaning down and throwing the doe over his shoulder. He then began to pad away, seeming to hurry a little.

General Kaito turned to her. "We cannot let him go. He will no doubt warn the other human scum of our location. The Western Lands have only thrived so long because we hide under a barrier away from human eyes. If too many of them come searching, they will break through-"

"Kaito. First off- drop the 'human scum' thing." She grit out, hackles rising. "Second, don't you think kidnapping this guy will make his family want to come searching for him even more-"

"We do not need to kidnap him."

Her heart skipped a beat, ice spilling out along her veins. "M-murder!? General...we don't need to do that. He's not going to tell anyone. He hasn't hurt us, we can just let him go."

That same dismissive look painted his ancient features, and Kagome felt herself land right back on square one with him. "I see...you hesitate to take his life because he is human. Yet do not when it comes to animal or demon." Dark eyes pinned her in place. "That flaw will come to be your misstep if you are not careful. But I will not let it interfere with my House," he rumbled gruffly, adjusting his grip on his spear and jumping up into the branches of the trees in hot pursuit.

Kagome felt the elastic band within her snap.

"O-oh no. No- not now." She gasped, feeling raindrops land on her head. More joined the fall, pattering lightly on the leaves. Kagome took off, running desperately after Kaito. "Ah...General, no! Please don't do it!" She called after him. "General Kaito!"

Nothing answered her, and Kagome panted, shaking her head.

"Damn it! Why did I stick up for you," Kagome hissed, hurrying on. The rain came faster now, beating down on her head and shoulders. It seeped into her clothing, creating small puddles. Thoughtlessly Kagome raced on, slamming her foot down into one.

The water lurched up, ground becoming formless beneath her feet. With a gasp, Kagome disappeared under the surface of the puddle, its pink waters beckoning her downwards. She tried to swim against the current, fighting to reach Sesshoumaru once more- but her body was tossed down like a rag doll.

She felt herself be pulled this way and that, fingers clawing through the water for air. Her lungs protested, and the miko opened her mouth, expecting to choke.

She breathed in. Kagome's eyes snapped open and she collapsed onto the sidewalk on her hands and knees. Trembling, she sucked in grateful breaths, looking around at the Tokyo buildings looming high. The bustle of the city carried on around her, not one person stopping their busy schedule to help her up. Kagome stood up shakily, figuring that was for the best. What could she even say?

Exhaling, she held her soaking arms, feeling slightly miserable to be back. Shaking her head after a moment, she slapped her cheeks.

"Right, prioritise. Sesshoumaru and General Kaito aren't here right now. Inuyasha...is. Oh God! Inuyasha!" She gasped, turning on her heel and hurrying through the streets.

He must be so confused! How long have I been gone?

Strangely enough, she locked onto the Hanyou's whereabouts easily enough. He was back home at the shrine by the looks of it. Kagome panted as she jogged up the shrine steps, pausing at the top to catch her breath. Hearing a meow, she glanced to the side, finding Buyo sat at the top of the stairs.

She reached out and ruffled the top of his head, "hey buddy. Remind me to schedule a cuddle session with you. I could use one," she mumbled.

Buyo just yawned, tilting his head.

Hurrying across the yard, Kagome opened the front door, kicking her sodden shoes off impatiently. "Inuyasha!" She called. "I'm so sorry, I don't know how long I've been gone but-"

"Two days," a helpful voice informed her.

Pausing, Kagome carefully padded to the threshold of the living room. A young man she'd never seen before was sitting in her Grandpa's old chair, looking right at home. He had keen green eyes and a shock of auburn hair. Inuyasha sat against the wall, Tetsusaiga propped against his shoulder. His brows were narrowed in consternation, gold eyes flitting up to lock on her. He stood up like a shot, storming over to her.

Kagome squeaked, not sure what to expect- but finding herself yanked into a warm embrace.

"I-Inuyasha?"

"You damn idiot. Are you okay?" He grumbled quietly.

Kagome patted his back, brows drawing together. He was being weird. His grip was tight- almost afraid to let go. "I'm fine, what's going on?" She asked gently.

"You can relax, sort of," the newcomer informed her, resting his chin on his knuckles as he observed them. "I brought him up to speed for you. He knows everything."

"W-what?" Kagome pulled back, trying to catch Inuyasha's gaze. "You mean...including about Sango and Miroku?"

The Hanyou slowly nodded, ears pressed back against his skull firmly.

"Oh no- I-I'm so sorry Inuyasha," she chocked out, not feeling very assured at all. Regretting that he'd found out about it on his own, she hung her head.

He tsked gruffly, stepping back as he waved a clawed hand. "Come on, I'm over it already. You dumb humans die so quick, I saw this comin' a mile away," he grunted. "Doesn't mean I'm not absolutely pissed though."

Kagome resolved to talk about it with him later when his guard was down. Her brows pulled together, but she gave a sigh, turning to the young man. "And who's this?"

"Ah come on, don't you recognise the tyke?" Inuyasha muttered, gesturing to the newcomer with an uncaring gesture. "It's the brat of course."

Kagome squinted, trying to slot the puzzle pieces into place. She couldn't quite place his face...until she noticed the way his cheeks dimpled slightly when he smiled. "...S-Shippo?" She breathed.

"Hey, I'm kinda hurt that only now you recognise me after he calls me names," Shippo sniffed, adjusting his collar as he stood. Bowing low to her, Kagome was caught off guard when he finally straightened, standing a good head taller than her.

Mischievous green eyes smiled at her. "Good to see you again, Kagome."

[norabrice1701]

An Accidental Demon

A “Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them” AU fanfic

Pairing: Vet Student!Newt Scamander / Demon!Percival Graves 

Summary: All Newt wanted from IKEA was a bookshelf. Instead, he left with a demon that he accidentally summoned while trying to pronounce furniture names. Lovely. 

Rating: General  Audiences - nothing to fear here [full warnings on AO3 link at bottom of the post]

A/N: This was born from a post on a friend’s FB page, and I had to let it out. I might continue this?? It’s proving to be too much fun, but for now, it’s a one-shot. Also, the demonology here is pretty general.

Oh, dear. Shopping at IKEA should not be so stressful. As if assemble-it-yourself furniture wasn’t intimidating enough, there was also the indignity of trying to pronounce the furniture names.

But there was nothing for it. This was the third bookshelf that Dougal – his Great Pyrenees rescue – had taken out in as many months while chasing his sweet Niffler cat around. Honestly, one would think after a year of cohabitation, the dog and cat would be used to each other. But the sad, destroyed remains of Newt’s bookshelf told a different story.

That’s how he found himself back at IKEA. But this time, a simple replacement wouldn’t do. He needed something more robust. Hopefully, something that might be spared catastrophic damage during any future high speed chases. Maybe even something wall mounted? Perhaps those modular shelves that he could pick, arrange and mount well above Dougal’s sizable height? Hm, that might be just the ticket.

But now, as he wandered through the aisles, trying to match the product names from his internet search to the various tags of assembled, display furniture – maybe it would be simpler to just get what he got last time. Even if Dougal would likely destroy it a fourth time.

Newt ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip as he looked back down to his loopy handwriting. “No, not Ehk-t…Lix-hult. That looks familiar.” There was certainly a time and place to appreciate cultural and language differences, but navigating the aisles of IKEA was not it, in Newt’s opinion. He just wanted to buy shelves, go home, assemble them and change out of his fur covered scrubs. Yes, he loved his vet school clinical rotations but Dougal, Niffler and the others tended to be a little possessive when he was home.

He moved for the next row, holding up his paper to compare more names, mumbling under his breath. “Let’s see – oh, there’s Lix-hult, Li-xhult…err, Mos-torp. Sval-na. Um, Best-aa.”

A just barely-there puff of air brushed his cheek, carrying an odor. A rather…unpleasant, rotten odor. If Newt didn’t know better, he’d swear it was the smell of rotten eggs. But that was impossible in the middle of a furniture store. That’s when he noticed the dark shape in his peripheral. A dark shape that he distinctly didn’t recall before.

He turned, keeping his eyes down, but he couldn’t help but take in the man now standing next to him. Refined and polished, his sharp suit and shoes alone must have cost at least a year of Newt’s sad student job salary. And that was to say nothing about the sleek black overcoat that teased a luxurious white lining. The man’s dark eyes, thick brows, strong jaw, and dark hair streaked white at his temples, completed the unfairly attractive, imposing picture.

Newt – with uncombed hair, scrubs covered in all manner of animal fur, and a worn blue overcoat – felt like a downright slob by comparison to this man who looked fresh from a magazine cover. Newt blinked quickly, trying to quirk his lips in a polite smile. Small talk with strangers was always the most excruciating. Especially when the stranger was so handsome. “Um, hi…please, excuse me. If I’m in your way, that is.” He stepped back, not daring to meet the man’s gaze, feeling his cheeks flush. Curse his fair skin that betrayed him at every turn.

The dark-haired man said nothing, but Newt could feel the weight of his stare. It made him want to fidget even more than normal, and he chanced a lingering glance at the man’s face. The man studied him with an otherworldly intensity in those dark brown eyes. It reminded Newt of a predator studying a prey, learning their habits to plan a more effective kill. He wrenched a nervous swallow, suddenly wondering if he could outrun this man.

The man blinked, licking his lips quickly. “Hello, Mr. Scamander.”

The blood froze in Newt’s veins, every survival instinct kicking into gear. “H-how…do you know my name?” Sure, it was the obvious question, but it had to be asked. “We’ve never met before. And I certainly don’t know your name. Are you…have you been stalking me?” The words poured forth, more a nervous tic than anything. But still true. Newt would never have forgotten such a striking face.

“No,” mild astonishment and irritation colored the other man’s gaze, “I was quite content to mind my own business until you summoned me.”

“Summoned….I beg your pardon, summoned you?” Had Newt gone to IKEA or the Twilight Zone? Who just went up to strangers and said stuff like that? Newt blew an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. “Look, if you really have nothing better to do than prank defenseless people at IKEA, then I’m sorry for you. But truly, this has gone on long enough, and I’m genuinely not amused.”

The man raised a brow, affronted. “You’re genuinely not amused? I assure you, the feeling is quite mutual. So, let us conclude our deal here, and then I’ll gladly return to my previous business.”

“Deal?” Newt echoed, shaking his head. “We have no deal to conclude. I don’t even know you!”

“Your mistake if you spoke my incantation without knowing who I am. Which, I will confess – is rather reckless of you, Mr. Scamander. In fact, no protection charms, no summoning circle,” the man’s lips curled with a devilish air as he took a step forward, gazing down Newt’s body with a calculating assessment. “Mm, the fun I could have with you right here.”

The purred words should in no way race a tingling shiver of anticipation down Newt’s spine, but dammit, they did.

Newt licked his lips, holding his ground. “A summoning circle, protection…why should I need protection from you?”

“You really don’t know who I am? Or what you’ve done?”

“Well, you said I summoned you. But I didn’t…I was just…,” Newt shook the paper with the shelf names scrawled on it, “I was just trying to pronounce the names of these shelving units-.“

“And instead, you summoned a demon. Please stop wasting my time, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt registered nothing of the man’s bored tone, stunned at the admission. At the possibility. A demon? A real, live demon?! Weren’t they just supernatural make-believe? But this man before him, pulling a silver pocket watch from his suit vest and flipping the cover back with an irritated gesture, was so very real. Newt’s eyes lit with possibility. “A demon. Truly? That’s what you are?”

“Yes,” the self-professed demon huffed mildly, “now, please, to the business at hand?”

A grin cracked Newt’s face. “I don’t even know what the business at hand is. But a real demon. My goodness.” This was far better than any Christmas morning. A chance to learn about a whole new species - a whole new creature. A supernatural creature! If everything the man said was true, then Newt wanted to learn everything there was to learn. His wild curiosity begged for so much more. Where did the demon come from? Did he have powers? What was his purpose here? “I-I have so many questions.”

“None of which I’m inclined to answer. Especially not here.” The dark eyes glanced around shrewdly, taking in the movements of other unsuspecting shoppers.

Something in the man’s - demon’s - assessment suddenly made Newt self-conscious, glancing around with a nervous edge. Goodness, what a picture he must make standing next to this man. This man, dressed to the nines, clearly many years older than Newt - supernatural implications notwithstanding - who could at best pass as Newt’s friend, and at worst a sugar daddy. Heat flamed unbidden in Newt’s cheeks at the thought.

He shook his head, physically trying to shake the thought away. “Yes, yes, of course. We should probably leave. Well, that is, assuming you’re bound or stuck to me, or something...until whatever brought you here is concluded.”

Irritation flashed in the demon’s eyes, staring back at Newt as if trying to convince himself that Newt was actually real.

Newt waited for the demon to respond, shifting his weight on his feet. Anything to lessen his discomfort under the scrutiny of those intense eyes. Annoyance bubbled as the older man said nothing and Newt puffed a sigh. “Alright, very well. If you’re coming, that’s fine - if not, then...then, good day.”

He’d been plainly aware since his arrival in New York for veterinary school that his accent and manners didn’t fit with the vibrant American hustle and bustle. But they were something he hadn’t wanted to lose. There was no cause to bring more ugliness to the world, and everyone deserved well-mannered treatment. Demon or not.

Even if the man had interrupted his bookshelf buying outing. 

But if Newt did indeed now have a demon to contend with, perhaps replacing a damaged bookshelf was now the least of his worries.

The well-dressed man fell into step beside him as Newt turned to thread his way through the rest of the labyrinth store. It...this was just too absurd. And certainly not what Newt had planned for his Thursday night after clinicals. He cast a sideways glance, surprised to note that the demon was actually a couple inches shorter than he was. Something about that amused him, and a lopsided grin lifted his mouth. “You know, we haven’t properly met yet. It sounds like you already know, but I’m Newton Scamander. Newt, though, if you please.”

The man nodded almost imperceptibly. “You may call me Graves.”

Newt’s brow furrowed. “Just Graves?”

“Mr. Graves, if you prefer.”

“Don’t...don’t you have a first name or something less...severe?” The demon stared over at him, blank and hard. “Right, Mr. Graves it is. I...I take it that’s not your real name?” The smell of the cinnamon rolls and other food from the eatery reached his nose as, thankfully, they neared the exit.

“I’ve had many names over the millennia. Street. Dandridge. Clayton. Each served a purpose, just as Graves does now. And if you don’t already know my true name, then me telling you is certainly not advantageous.” Graves’ coat flared in the cool, late afternoon air as they exited into the fading sunlight. He looked completely unbothered by the transition from inside to outside, paying Newt no mind while Newt fumbled with the buttons on his coat. They were in for a chilly subway ride, after all.

Newt glanced over to Graves, intrigued. “Does... the cold not bother you? Or...or the sunlight?”

Graves’ face pinched with obvious irritation, even bewilderment. “I’m not a vampire.”

Newt’s eyes widened, excited. “Do those exist, too?”

Graves’ hand clenched at his side under the flared sleeve of his overcoat, a condescending disapproval hardening his gaze. It was impressively intimidating. Especially considering the man stood shorter than Newt. Without a word, Graves turned with a sweep of black and white fabric, and stepped forward on the curb, raising a hand at the passing line of taxis.

“No, no,” Newt moved after him with an obvious air of panic, “we’ll do better to take the subway. See, I don’t exactly live all that close. And with traffic at this time of day, well - a taxi won’t be cost effective. I don’t...I don’t know if you understand about money-”

“I understand plenty, Mr. Scamander.” The words were snarled with a coiled frustration that froze Newt in place. “I understand that you ripped me from my previous business without a purpose. I understand that you’ve initiated a contract that you don’t know the first thing about. And I understand that if I must endure New York City until our business is concluded, I will never set foot on the subway.”

A yellow cab stopped at the curb and Graves stepped up to it without waiting for Newt to respond.

Oh dear. Newt worked a hard swallow down his throat as he debated following the demon or just bolting for the subway station. Would that make things worse? Could things get worse?

The cab door stayed open behind Graves as he settled against the black interior, glancing back at Newt. The silent command on the demon’s face was unmistakable.

With another nervous swallow, Newt stepped forward and climbed into the taxi.

Full fic link to AO3! 

[a-thought-in-my-head]

Not the Same Old Bruce Banner?

Summary: You’re a long time friend of Bruce, loved him unrequitedly for most of it. He asked you to come visit and help him and Tony out with a project. Pairings: Bruce Banner x Reader Warnings: None? Brief mention of a bully, Tried to be fluffy Word Count: 3271                  *Posted 25.8.17

“How was your flight?” Bruce grabs one of your bags before you can and frowns at you until you hand over the others until you’re left with just your carry-on slung over your shoulder. You shake your head as you follow him into the elevator.

“Eh, not bad. I tried to adjust for the time change during the flight, so hopefully jetlag won’t be as bad as usual,” you answer, discretely looking at his reflection, standing next to yours, in the mirrored inside of the elevator. Other than better clothing, it was as if he’d never changed – hair still softly curly and unruly, dent in his chin still reminding you of the old time comic book superheroes with their ‘masculine’ chiselled jaws and blunt chins, faint stubble still adding shadows to his face. No glasses, though, he must not have come from the lab.

As you answer and check him over, he swipes the touch screen within the elevator and stands next to you, shoulders almost touching. The elevator doors close with a ding and smoothly starts its ascent.

“Don’t worry if you can’t start until tomorrow of the day after next,” Bruce reassures you, briefly looking you in the eyes to glance away, blushing slightly.

You smile. Yup, same old Bruce Banner.

“I should be fine, and if not just pull me out of bed by my ankles and make sure you’re out of hitting range.”

“I’ll just make Tony do it,” he chuckles. Oh, how you’d missed the sound.

Pushing your private, personal feelings aside, “And how is working with the Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers?” you ask, lightly bumping his shoulder in affection.

Carefully bumping you back, he smiles softly.

“Is that a blush!?”  You bend your knees slightly and twist your upper body to look at his face and ignore the ache forming in your chest. “You only blush like that when you’ve got a crush. Have you met someone!?”

He tilts his head back up so you don’t have to bend. “I sort of had a thing with Nat, but we ended it.”

“But you didn’t want to? End it, I mean.” You’d realized long ago that when asking about feeling, you had to extremely clear, or Bruce would completely misunderstand and not think to clarify. That was probably around the time you’d started to develop your little crush on the brilliant, sweet man. Who in turn, fell in love with Betty. Because, of course, your love life just had to be utter horse manure.

“No, it just didn’t feel right,” he shrugs, looking rather neutral, not at all torn up about an unwanted breakup. But then again, you weren’t sure if you were reading him right. It could just be your wishful thinking that he wasn’t upset blinding you.

“Alright then,” you answer softly, after a slight pause.

He nods.

‘How long is this elevator ride?’ you think to yourself. Not that you weren’t enjoying your time with Bruce, but the old ache of unrequited love was stronger than you thought it’d be when you said yes over the phone when he’d called to ask for some help.

“Working with the Avengers and Tony has been a lot of fun,” Bruce returns to the original question calmly, as if the slight detour about his love life hadn’t even occurred. From there, he recounts amusing tales of his work with the Avengers and all the interesting projects he’s worked on since you’d last talked, with little interjections about what rooms you’re walking through once the elevator doors open.

“This is your room – Vibranium has this property-,” Bruce opens the door to a medium-sized room with a soft, teal comforter-covered bed, pale birch, artfully distressed dresser and a floor-length view of the New York skyline. A fluffy, cream rug begs to be touched and a frosted glass door is cracked open, just revealing a nice bathroom.

“Now that you know T’Challa, why didn’t you make the walls completely out of Vibranium?” you ask as you set your things by the dresser – or rather motion to Bruce to set your things by the dresser as he still wouldn’t let you carry anything more than your old waterproof silver-grey backpack that doubled as your carry-on when you travelled, which was often.

Before he can answer, though, a dark-haired man bursts into the room. “When are you going to start working!?”

“When she’s not tired!” Bruce yells, eyes starting to turn a bit green.

Surprised, you wrap your hand around Bruce’s tense forearm. “As soon as I am able to, I just got off the place. Mr Stark, I assume? Bruce has told me quite a bit about you,” you answer Tony, coolly polite.

Startled by Bruce’s reaction, Tony stares at his friend a little warily. Bruce never yelled and was actually rather hard to provoke. Something as simple as running into a room never once triggered an ‘episode,’ and there was a lot of that when you worked with Tony Stark.

“Yes. And you must be Y/N. Bruce has told me nothing about you.” Tony sticks his hand out for you to shake, but you can’t help but feel like one of your specimens under a microscope.

“Hmm,” you shake his hand.

“Well, if we’re not going to be productive today, then we might as well eat soon. Dinner’s on at 6:30.” And with that, Tony strides out of your room, leaving only the faint scent of expensive cologne as a proof of his visit.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce mumbles, hastily unzipping your suitcase and shoving your clothes into the dresser.

“Bruce.” You grab his hands before he tears any of your clothes in his rushed and nervous effort to help you unpack. “Bruce…” You wait for him to meet your eyes. “Why are you apologizing? Because Tony was rude and impatient and is probably running several fairly invasive background checks on me because that’s just who he is and he cares about you? Because I think you broke the zipper of my suitcase?”

“I broke your suitcase?” Bruce grabs your suitcase to inspect it, frowning when he realizes he’d left his glasses back in his room.

Placing your hands over his tightly clenched ones, you smile. “It was pretty old, and you’re a strong guy. But back to the question at hand, why are you sorry?”

Head dropping in shame, he turns up his hands to grasp yours. “I almost lost my temper. He could have seriously hurt you, and it would have been my fault.”

“Bruce Banner,” you declare. “I have known you since I was 5 and you, 8. You would never hurt me, and, if we’re talking in terms of you and him, neither would he since he knows you wouldn’t want it that way. Remember when Wanda tried that mind stuff on you?”

His face turns from hopeful to miserable at your words.

“Stop that.” You wiggle your right hand away so you can properly scold Bruce, wagging a finger. “You, or rather he, only attacked your friends after she’d tricked him. So, stop thinking of yourself as some ticking time bomb. We’ve talked about this over and over.” You shake your head at the countless phone calls and video messages you’d had about this topic.

“I know.” Bruce looks away, but you can tell he’s already feeling better. You smile. So maybe he didn’t love you, but at least you could still get him out of his moods. “Y/N…” he glances back towards you, blushes and returns to looking out the big windows.

“Oh shoot,” you notice your watch. “It’s almost 6:30! We gotta go. How can Tony make food so fast?” You pull Bruce along, back to the communal kitchen and dining area. You made a few wrong turns, but Bruce was there to correct you.

“We ordered Thai,” Tony unknowingly answers your question as you step into the kitchen.

“Hope you don’t mind,” a female voice calls from the connected dining area.

“Not at all,” you reply. “Need any help?” you ask Tony. Before he can answer, you take one of the three full glasses he was trying to carry to the table.

“Cups are in the upper right cabinet,” he nods towards said cabinet. “Beverages are in the fridge.”

“Thanks.” You nudge Bruce towards the dining room. “I’ll be fine, Bruce; it’s not like I’m unfamiliar with kitchens. You go sit down.” Fidgeting slightly, he nods at you and moves into the other room.

Pulling some guava juice, picking the other cup back up and joining the rest of the group in the dining room, you’re surprised to only see one other person, besides Bruce and Tony.

“Hi, I’m Natasha. Oh, that would be my water,” a somewhat short redhead waves at you as she scoops some food onto her plate.

“Hi,” you nod in response as both hands were occupied. Setting the other cup in front of her, you sit next to Bruce, across from Tony and Natasha. Natasha… You glance over at Bruce. Could this be his ‘Nat?’ He smiles at you and hands you some silverware.

“You found the guava juice,” Nat tips her head towards your glass. “You have no idea how surprisingly hard that was to find, but Bruce was adamant that we get that for you.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” you shake your head at Bruce. “Still worrying over inconsequential things?” you tease, despite how happy it makes you to know that he hadn’t forgotten your love of it.

Bruce flushes.

“It’s quite good actually,” Tony admits, toasting his cup of guava juice at you. “Worth the trouble, I’d say.”

You smile. From there, the tension of dining with strangers fades away and by the end of the meal, you feel like you’d made some new friends.

“Sorry, there was only us tonight; it’s been a busy few weeks and we get tired of seeing the same faces every day,” Natasha adds as you stick your plate into the dishwasher with hers.

You laugh. “I understand. After a certain period, people need a break from each other. A colleague of mine and I almost got in a wrestling match over some data because we’d been working together nonstop on a project for a week. Thankfully we realized and mutually decided to avoid each other for a few days.”

“And it worked?” Tony asked humorously.

“We published our findings two months after that,” you answer proudly.

“Was this Dr Holtz?” Bruce rumbles.

Scrunching your nose at his unexpectedly grumpy tone, you shake your head, “No, Dr Emily Morris. She and I are set to guest lecture about it sometime in September, actually. Why? Is something wrong with Ulrich?” You had worked briefly with Ulrich Holtz, and he seemed a nice man.

“No,” Bruce looks away.

“Bruce-“ your words are interrupted as a large yawn escapes you.

“You should get some rest,” Nat pushes you to the door. “We can finish cleaning up. Bruce, make sure she gets there.”

“We?” You hear Tony protest as you leave the kitchen.

“You don’t have to help me, Bruce,” you yawn once again.

He glances at you quickly, hands unconsciously trying to push up his glasses. You laugh at his grumblings about forgetting them somewhere.

‘So, Nat?” You reference his earlier comment about having a thing with a woman he worked with. “As in Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow? You couldn’t have told me this before?”

“Tell you what?” Bruce shrugs. “You should try to get some sleep,” he tries to change the subject.

“Ugh,” you throw your hands up dramatically. Pushing aside the increasingly more painful ache that pulsates at the thought of Bruce and Natasha together, you turn to face him, “Now, why were you grumpy about Ulrich? Don’t tell me he’s with HYDRA.”

Running his hand through his hair, Bruce looks down, brows furrowed. “No, he’s not working with HYRDA.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“But he’s not good enough for you.” This comes out a rush of words.

“Huh?” This time, it’s your brows that furrow.

“As a…” A pained look crosses Bruce’s face, reminding you of the time you forced the Hulk to let a dentist check out his toothache. “As a boyfriend.”

You blink. “You do realize Ulrich’s married, right? To a brilliant, if a bit cold, physicist.”

“Oh,” Bruce flushes. “Well, good night.”

“Wait- Bruce!”

But Bruce already disappears from the corridor.

After silencing your alarm, pulling yourself out of bed, dressing and making yourself some breakfast, you wander down one floor, to the lab.

“Bruce had to go pick a reactor up for me. He won’t be back until this afternoon,” Tony greets you as he analyses something at his desk.

“Okay,” you scan the lab to see if there was anything you could start work on.

Pushing himself away from the desk, Tony chucks a silver packet at you, “Dried cherries?”

Hastily catching it, you frown, “Um, sure?”

Tony chuckles, nodding towards the bag. “Dried cherries.”

“Oh! Sorry,” you flush slightly as your slowness.

“No worries, it’s an early morning for you, didn’t think you’d be up until midday. But now that you’re here, I cleared this space out for you to work at. FRIDAY, pull up the VICEROY project.” Tony pulls a thin screen down in from of your desk.

Joining him, you both munch on dried cherries as he explains the project and what you need to do. After throwing out the suggestion of trying dried mango, you both settle into your work, not resurfacing until FRIDAY shuts everything down as a way to force the two of you to eat lunch.

“So,” Tony waves a just bitten carrot at you. “How long have you liked Bruce?”

“Well, we’ve been friends since he tried to defend me from the large bully down the street.” You avoid his gaze by carefully choosing a strawberry from the bowl in front of you. It was obvious what he meant, but, while you did like Tony, you weren’t about to spill your every thought to the man.

You can feel his eyes on you. Taking a bite of his turkey, tomato, and cheddar cheese sandwich, he acknowledges the obtuse answer with a slight nod. “I can’t see you being bullied.”

“It was a once in a lifetime thing since I kicked the bully in the stomach while they were distracted.”

Tony laughs for a moment. Cutting his guffaws short, he returns to his original question, slightly rephrased for explicit clarity this time. “How long have you loved Bruce? As more than a friend or older brother etc.”

You stare at the man steadily. You wait until he blushes, finally showing proof and maybe a little guilt at inquiring about such a personal matter, to reply vaguely, “For a while now. Is that a problem?”

“No,” Tony shakes his head. “I mean, with others, there is the question of whether a relationship will cause tension and hinder work efficiency, but I doubt you’d let it.” He munches on another carrot, taking a moment to think. “Actually, I think you’d be good for him. I haven’t heard him talk so much until he was walking you through the place. Natasha agrees.”

“Oh…,” you can feel your ears starting to flush slightly. “Thank you, but he doesn’t think about me that way.”

“We’ll see,” he smiles. “I’m craving ice cream, want some?”

After a lovely ice cream break – excluding the slight row over the superiority of ice cream flavours, vanilla or chocolate – you went back to work.

It’s around 4 when Bruce wanders into the lab. “Tony! FRIDAY said to leave the reactor in the garage.”

“Yup,” Tony answers, not looking away from whatever welding he was doing on some piece of work.

“Hey,” you wave at Bruce absentmindedly. While your heart could only concentrate on Bruce, your mind still found the mysteries of biotechnology much more interesting. And it had had a head start in deciding what would get your attention.

“Hey,” Bruce frowned, glancing between the two of you warily. Crouching by your station, he whispers, “You’re okay with?” gesturing towards Tony.

“Hmm, wha?” You distractedly pat his face, ”Oh yeah. Hand me that laser, will you? Thanks.”

Bruce smiles slightly. He was used to your tunnel vision when absorbed with a project and was glad that you seemed to be interested. But, looking at your bent head, he almost wished you were a little less interested.

“So, you like working with Tony?”

You’re both sprawled over your bed, looking over your respective papers of data for the project.

“Yeah. He’s fun. And you know I’ve always liked collaborating with you, you know that, ever since we beat those jerks at the sand castle competition at the beach when we were in elementary school,” you smile slightly, offhanded in your response as you flip through the various graphs and statistics.

You can hear Bruce take a deep breath, but you don’t really pay attention. Sometimes, he just did that to clear his head. So, his next words surprise you. “… I like you, Y/N.”

You pause slightly. Your chest tightens for a moment before you can calm yourself down. While you always loved it when he said that, he had never meant it the way you’d wanted him to in the past. You can remember the first time he hugged you – when you helped him confess and get a date with Betty. Needless to say, his affection was sometimes a bit painful for you.

“Awww, thanks, Bruce, you know I like you, too.” You nudge him playfully and return to your work.

“Y/N.”

You look up at his unusually sharp tone

“I…,” he looks away then back at you, staring deep into your eyes. “I know I’ve taken you for granted, and I know we’d had this platonic brother-sister relationship thing going on for some time, but that’s not working for me anymore, the platonic thing. And the brother-sister thing, of course, then it’d be incestuous.”

“Umm, Bruce, where are you going with this?” You cock an eyebrow at his rushed babbling.

“I’m not saying this right.” He runs an agitated hand through his hair, rumpling it even more. “You’re always there for me and I can’t imagine you not. I cannot. It makes me shake and turn into him, just thinking about what could possibly have taken you from me. And now, I can’t seem to act normal around you and I’m just…-”

“Bruce,” you coax, while simultaneously trying to tell your thumping heart not to jump to any conclusions, but it already just wants to fling itself right out of your chest and into his gentle and slightly callused hands.

“I love you.” The words are muffled into his arm.

You pull his arm away from his face. “Come again?”

He can’t look at you. “I love you, Y/N.” His face is slowly turning a bright red.

You blink at him, sure you’d misheard. Suddenly you can’t help but giggle. Laughing, you admit, “Good. Because I’ve been in love with since I started high school and I was starting to get impatient.” You scoot closer to him so you can flutter a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Y/N….” He blinks at you, eyes full of surprise and wonder and joy.

“Bruce Banner, aka the Hulk, I have loved and still love you with all my heart.” You cup his face.

You don’t know who moved first, or maybe you both moved at the same time, but your lips meet and your thoughts disappear.

A/N: THANK YOU FOR READING THIS! It’s my first Avengers fanfic, so hopefully, the characters are true to form. Sorry, if they’re not and that the (not really existent) plot was a bit all over the place. I had a different story in mind when I started writing this, and then it evolved, and I might have missed a few details.

[glittership]

Episode #74 — "Best for Baby" by Rivqa Rafael

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Episode 74 is part of the Autumn 2018 issue!

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    Best for Baby

by Rivqa Rafael

When I jack in, I shove the plug into its socket harder than I should. The disconnect–reconnect tone combination sounds; the terminal is as grumpy as I am. Who wouldn’t be? I’ve been kept back late in the lab to finish a job. Which was stolen from me. By the person who asked me to do this, as a “favor.” Who also happens to be my supervisor, so I can’t say no.

I load up the interface, drilling straight down to the zygote’s chromosomal level. Hayden’s been a bit careless, like he always is on the rare occasions he actually gets in the wet lab. I get to work, fixing his mistakes. Back in my body, I’m grinding my teeth and hunching my shoulders. Before I sink deeper into the VR, I take some deep breaths and roll my shoulders the way Lena showed me. Her yoga obsession has fringe benefits for me—my body needs to be relaxed if I’m going to do my job properly. Just for a moment, I’m back in our living room with Lena coaxing Kris and me to stretch with her. It’s enough to refocus me.

For all that it’s a science, there’s an art to working in the interface. The prion scalpel is tiny—obviously—and delicate; it needs to be handled with care, the type of care that only comes from being completely in tune with your neural implant and the system it’s connected to. It’s something Hayden seems to lack. Keeping my movements graceful (thank you, Lena), I begin to repair the damage. In here, I’m both the pipette and the hand depressing the button; I’m the prion scalpel; I’m the machine. The translation overlay is just a guide; I’ve been able to recognize bases by shape for a long time now. When I started, I thought I’d never remember the sequences, but I know our most common mods by heart now.

[Full story after the cut.]

  Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 74 for June 17, 2019. This is your host, Keffy, and I’m super excited to be sharing this story with you. Today we have a GlitterShip original, which is available in the Autumn 2018 issue that you can pick up at GlitterShip.com/buy, on Gumroad at gum.co/gship08, or on Amazon, Nook, Kobo, and other ebook retailers.

If you’ve been waiting to pick up your copy of the Tiptree Award Honor Listed book, GlitterShip Year Two, there’s a great deal going on for Pride over at StoryBundle. GlitterShip Year Two is part of a Pride month LGBTQ fantasy fiction bundle. StoryBundle is a pay-what-you-want bundle site. For $5 or more, you can get four great books, and for $15 or more, you’ll get an additional five books, including GlitterShip Year Two, and a story game. That comes to as little as $1.50 per book or game. The StoryBundle also offers an option to give 10% of your purchase amount to charity. The charity for this bundle is Rainbow Railroad, a charity that helps queer folks get to a safe place if their country is no longer safe for them.

http://www.storybundle.com/pride

Our story today is “Best for Baby” by Rivqa Rafael, but first, our poem, which is “Aubade: King Under the Mountain” by Tristan Beiter.

    Tristan Beiter is a poet and speculative fiction nerd originally from Central Pennsylvania. His poems have previously appeared in GlitterShip, Eternal Haunted Summer, Bird’s Thumb, and Laurel Moon. When not writing or reading he can usually be found crafting absurdities with his boyfriend or shouting about literary theory. Find him on Twitter @TristanBeiter.

  Aubade: King Under the Mountain

by Tristan Beiter

  I wake to the crackle of the thousand-year hearth in the center of the room, to the bells tolling. Never church bells, but the deer harness hanging on the wall.

I stretch towards his space, removing my earplugs—which I have taken to wearing since even the tomtes snore something terrible. Luxuriate in the furs: big piles of wolf pelts and

bear skins that make up our bed under the intertwined roots of these seven great pine trees which are our roof, warm, with the wind through them and older than even Klampe-Lampe,

who has risen already and left. But he’ll be back soon. I can see the pile of battered, burnished gold and silver, still waiting to bedizen him, bracers and torcs and earrings

and necklace upon necklace—careless ugly riches that have lasted generations of trolls living hundreds of years, all mounded up and displayed on knobbled bodies

and in untamed hair. I pluck my earring, bracer, heavy silver beads from the ground and put them on. When he returns, he’ll carry me in his left hand to the throne room under the mountain.

    And now for “Best for Baby” by Rivqa Rafael, read by A.J. Fitzwater.

Rivqa Rafael is a lapsed microbiologist who lives in Sydney, Australia, where she writes speculative fiction about queer women, Jewish women, cyborg futures, and hope in dystopias. Her short stories have been published in Defying Doomsday, Crossed Genres’ Resist Fascism, and elsewhere. She is co-editor of feminist robot anthology Mother of Invention.

AJ Fitzwater is a dragon of repute living between the cracks of Christchurch, New Zealand. Their fiction appears in such venues as Clarkesworld, Lackingtons, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and Glittership. A collection of their Cinrak the Lesbian Capybara Pirate stories will be out in May 2020 from Queen of Swords Press. Their stranger than fiction can be found on Twitter @AJFitzwater

    Best for Baby

by Rivqa Rafael

When I jack in, I shove the plug into its socket harder than I should. The disconnect–reconnect tone combination sounds; the terminal is as grumpy as I am. Who wouldn’t be? I’ve been kept back late in the lab to finish a job. Which was stolen from me. By the person who asked me to do this, as a “favor.” Who also happens to be my supervisor, so I can’t say no.

I load up the interface, drilling straight down to the zygote’s chromosomal level. Hayden’s been a bit careless, like he always is on the rare occasions he actually gets in the wet lab. I get to work, fixing his mistakes. Back in my body, I’m grinding my teeth and hunching my shoulders. Before I sink deeper into the VR, I take some deep breaths and roll my shoulders the way Lena showed me. Her yoga obsession has fringe benefits for me—my body needs to be relaxed if I’m going to do my job properly. Just for a moment, I’m back in our living room with Lena coaxing Kris and me to stretch with her. It’s enough to refocus me.

For all that it’s a science, there’s an art to working in the interface. The prion scalpel is tiny—obviously—and delicate; it needs to be handled with care, the type of care that only comes from being completely in tune with your neural implant and the system it’s connected to. It’s something Hayden seems to lack. Keeping my movements graceful (thank you, Lena), I begin to repair the damage. In here, I’m both the pipette and the hand depressing the button; I’m the prion scalpel; I’m the machine. The translation overlay is just a guide; I’ve been able to recognize bases by shape for a long time now. When I started, I thought I’d never remember the sequences, but I know our most common mods by heart now.

Finding my rhythm, I begin to work a little faster; I’ve almost forgotten about Hayden and his insistence on getting his grubby hands all over this project. I don’t have forever in here—the zygote needs to go back on ice—but I’m in the zone now and there’s still plenty of time. I’ve got this. Sure, I’m not going to get any credit for it, but Hayden’s going to owe me. I’m logging everything, so he can’t conveniently “forget.” If I play my cards right, this might be the last step to me finally getting a promotion. Goodness knows I deserve one. Maybe Hayden would even back me up.

I zoom out to look back at my work so far, and gasp. Something’s wrong. I should be about halfway done, but it’s like I was never here. No, worse. There are deadly cancer mutations here, lots of them, right where I was working. All types that wouldn’t show up until later in life, too. None of it was here before, and time is short.

  You had to know Hayden pretty well to pick up his aura of desperation as he talked up the state-of-the-art equipment. PCR machines and centrifuges just look like boxes with touchscreens if you don’t understand what they do, after all.

The couple lacked the air of anguish that infertile couples usually have when they walk through. Or the wonder often displayed by more-than-twos and gonadically incompatible—my heart panged as I thought of what it would take for us, how we’d—stop, it was pointless even to think about it, I told myself for the millionth time. I just worked here; I’d never be a client. Kris had already banned me from talking too much about work. Like me, she was implanted. You grow up knowing your place, not rocking the boat, aiming for what’s feasible. Lena was more willing to indulge me the fantasy; would we split everything evenly, or would one of us provide the mitochondria and the other two a set of chromosomes each? Both could work. I snapped myself out of it. Kris was right about this one; I just wished I could convince myself to believe it as thoroughly as she did.

These two eyed the machinery with indifference. Probably here for mods, and mods only. If they weren’t using a surrogate, I’d drink my Taq polymerase.

“Impressive. How do you guarantee your results, though?” Mom-to-be glittered with diamonds—genuine, I could only assume. Closest I’d ever got to any, anyway.

“As I already explained…” Hayden caught my eye before I could look away. “Perhaps you’d like to meet one of our geneticists? Merav can answer your questions in far more detail.”

Dad-to-be’s suit was so well-cut and so fine, it might even be real wool. His hair was immaculate and he smelled of expensive cologne. His HUD glasses were shiny, a model too new for me to recognize. “That would be excellent.”

Setting my face into a neutral expression, I swiveled on my stool to face them properly while Hayden introduced them as Mr Blake and Dr Ashdowne. The names rang a vague bell and they were obviously capital-I Important, but I didn’t work it out until later. Hayden scolded me later for not standing up, but it just didn’t occur to me. As it was, I was going to have to start mixing my reagents again by the time this interruption was over. “I’d be happy to.” I did my best to distill and explain the years of research into genetic variables, what we could reliably reproduce and what we couldn’t, how we managed successive generations of mods, and how we tested each zygote’s chromosomes before allowing it to progress to blastomere—all non-invasive.

They nodded along as I spoke; I couldn’t tell if they really understood, but Hayden smiled at me, which was a rare occurrence, so I was lulled into feeling grateful.

At some point, they started talking to each other, right over the top of me. They dithered about hair color, wondering whether the stereotypes about blonde hair still held. Did they notice the irritation in my voice as I tried to explain how many other variables might be at play in their child’s success?

“We just want the best for our baby,” Ashdowne said, almost pleading, but there was an edge to her voice that made me think that “best” meant something different to her than it did to me.

“Of course. But this is just the beginning. We can’t control much of growth and development when upbringing plays such a large part. And epigenetics have an effect as well.” Keeping my voice even and patient was hard; there were only so many ways I could say the same thing. “Think of it as… venture capitalism. You’re making the best possible investment with every tool at your disposal, but that doesn’t guarantee that things will work out exactly how you planned.”

Ashdowne nodded, but Blake’s eyes were flinty. “You’re saying our child might crash, and it won’t be your responsibility?”

“I’m saying your kid might dye their hair one day, and that’s not something we can control for. We’re very clear about what we promise and what we don’t. It’s in the contract; I assume you’ve read it. It’s up to you.” Maybe it wasn’t the right PR line, but I wasn’t PR.

They signed the contract.

  I put the zygote back on ice and try to log into another. This couple only wants one child; that’s part of why they want it perfect. Still, each client typically has more than will be used; we need that margin for error as much as the IVF specialists do. There are four more zygotes. This should be salvageable. But each one gives me an “unavailable�� notification. What is going on?

Returning to the first zygote, I allow myself a tiny sigh of relief when I can still get back in. It’s a mess, but I can fix it in time. I think. I set up an extra firewall, the best I can code on the fly. We’re down to the wire here. Last chance to get it right, assuming the other zygotes are gone for good. If this one doesn’t work, doesn’t stick, we’re going to have to fess up and get more samples—if they don’t cancel the contract, which wouldn’t surprise me. I’d heard that Ashdowne had found the induction and retrieval unusually difficult, and it wasn’t fun at the best of times. So much for the Important clients. Fucking Hayden, honestly.

Working in the same order I always do, I begin cleaning up the chromosomes. Again. It’s almost easier this time. The errors are so obvious, it would be comical if it weren’t so dire. As though someone used a pickaxe instead of a prion scalpel.

I’m wincing, I realize, just looking at these errors. I’ve never seen so many cancer mutations in one place. Forcing my body to relax, I get back into my rhythm. This is definitely within my capabilities to fix, and with the logs I have running, maybe I’ll get some recognition for it. Maybe even that bonus Hayden had hinted at, even though it’s seeming less and less likely that it’ll be him authorizing it.

My firewall pings; someone’s trying to log in. Hayden.

“That firewall is going to look very suspicious to the auditors,” he says, using a private channel on the company comms.

“Standard protocol when there’s a security breach, which there certainly seems to have been. I hope you’re looking into it, Hayden?” I’m pretty sure he isn’t, but I choose my words carefully, aware that my logs will pick this up along with everything else.

  Hayden added me to the team officially, and I had to sit in on endless meetings when I should have been doing real work. He assured me that it would be worth it; that there were bonuses for jobs like this. That is, jobs for billionaire corporate royalty like Oliver Blake and Penelope Ashdowne. So I did my best, and that seemed to be good enough. From what I could tell, they liked having an “expert” on board, even if they didn’t actually listen to me very often.

But then one day, Hayden was in the meeting before I arrived, chatting to “Oliver” about the stock market and complimenting “Penelope” on her outfit. After all these weeks, I was still calling them by titles; Hayden had said it was important I was respectful. That didn’t seem to apply to him, though. He ran a hand over his sleek hair, as though checking it still hid his neural implant. “Oh, Merav, didn’t you get my memo? I really need you on that rush job. I’ll take this from here.”

“But—” I bit my tongue quickly. Hayden was my supervisor and he was within his rights to do this. Outside the room, I checked my work datapad.

I hadn’t missed any messages.

  “Oh, this doesn’t look like a security breach to me. Seems like an internal error.”

Staying quiet, I carefully roll chromosome 19 back up while I think through my options. There’s no way an audit would incriminate me; my logs are streaming as they should. What is Hayden playing at? “Have you checked on the zygotes in meatspace?” I ask finally.

“Some kind of lab mishap. Terrible, isn’t it?” So that was why the other zygotes were “unavailable,” with this one only missed because I’d been working on it.

My heart thunders in my chest. “That’s going to suck for whoever made that mistake. What’s worse, do you think, the docked pay or having to apologize in person to the parents?”

“Tough one. Sure is a shame for that person.”

“Still, one zygote is better than none.”

“Fuck me, you’re actually trying to fix it,” he says. It takes me a second to notice he’s swapped to socmed comms, the one that’s supposed to be the most secure on the market. No logging options at all.

“No, I am fixing it. It’s my job.” Frantically, I switch to loudspeaker mode, and my datapad to record ambient sound. It’ll catch all the lab noises as well, but it’s the best I can do. The red light blinks at me; I allow myself to exhale and return to the chromosome I was working on.

Instead of replying, Hayden changes tack. “You have a long-term girlfriend, don’t you?”

“Two, actually.” In ordinary circumstances, I’d enjoy flustering Hayden with that. It’s not a secret and we encounter plenty of polyamorous folk in our line of work, but I’m completely unsurprised that he hasn’t paid attention. But I’m too stressed and wary to enjoy the moment.

“I, ah, huh.” He falters for a second; I hear skepticism that I, of all people, could possibly have not just one but two lovers. But he’s clearly a man on a mission and plunges on. “Ever wanted a baby of your own? The… three of you?”

I finish up the short arm of chromosome 2; no colon cancer on my watch. “We might adopt one day, if we can afford it.”

“What if you could, though? Have a biological child, I mean. You’d want to?”

“I don’t want things I can’t have. Waste of time.” I borrow Kris’s words for this lie, but it’s hard to imagine a person I’m less interested in having this discussion with than Hayden.

He does this fake laugh, short and barking. “Lots of other things to spend that money on anyway, right?”

“Sure, if you had it.” Just a couple more silent mutations and I can move on to cleaning up the epigenetic layer. Time to work out the end game. “What’s this about, Hayden?”

“What if I told you there was better money in just… stopping now, if you know what I’m saying?”

I recalibrate the scalpel and begin clearing the methylation around the DNA; there’s way too much, because of course—Hayden fouled up everything he could. “No, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Jesus, are you stupid, or are you being deliberately obtuse?”

I take my time replying. I’m working, after all, and this part is fiddly. “You’re going to have to explain yourself either way.”

He only hesitates for a moment. “I know some powerful people. People who have an interest in seeing Blake and Ashdowne suffer.”

“They’re last names now? You were such pals.” Methylation is at regulation levels now. Next, I sculpt the histones to the shape that centuries of research has determined to be ideal. Working quickly, I correct the errors to the surrounding proteins. A perfect zygote.

“You know what your problem is, Merav? You have no idea how to play the game. You think hard work is rewarded. It isn’t. You have to be daring. Take a risk. Not as though the modded are ever going to give us a hand up, right?”

  That first meeting. “You’ve got one of those implants, I see,” Ashdowne said, eyeing the side of my head, where my undercut showed off the neural implant. Like my early adopter parents, I was proud of my body hacks and what they could do. No gen mods in the world can tune you into tech like an implant can. Wearables? VR headsets? Ha.

Blake dragged me back to reality. “They’re illegal if you’ve been modded, aren’t they?”

“Yes. Unfair advantage to have both, right?” I struggled to keep the sarcasm from my voice. A thousand years on my salary, and, by inference, my parents’, wouldn’t be enough to pay for mods. I might like my implant, but I didn’t like being treated like dirt for having it.

Hayden was all polite formality. “Merav’s implant allows her to interface directly with our machinery. We couldn’t do what we do without our ‘planted staff.” Hayden was quite willing to keep his implant covered to keep the clients happy, and he was pretty enough to get away with it.

“Ah.” His expression didn’t change, but the sneer was evident anyway.

“We just bought that little company that makes this brand, remember, dear?” Ashdowne raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Whatever it takes to get the best.”

“That’s right!” Hayden said. “You get what you pay for in this industry. It’s a cliché, but it’s true. If you’ll come this way? You haven’t seen the clinic yet.”

And then they were gone, leaving only the scent of cologne and perfume.

  They’d deserve it. They would. They care as little for me as a person. For a terrible, shameful second, I’m tempted. I imagine it; going off the grid, doing illegal mods for the rest of my life. Holding a baby, my baby, our baby, in my arms.

I zoom out and look at the zygote in its entirety. Regardless of how horrid this baby’s parents are and my dead-end job that undervalues me and underpays me, after I’m done, doctors and nurses will make every attempt to give this tiny clump of cells the chance to become a person. And these days, they tend to get it right, especially with a proven surrogate. The mutations that are left won’t kill this child, only make their later life a misery of radiotherapy and chemo. Teach the parents empathy? I don’t think so. In an instant, it’s clear what I need to do.

“You’re right, they want us right where we are.”

He chuckles with relief. “I knew you’d come around.”

“But I’m pretty sure assaulting their offspring isn’t going to change that.” I terminate the call with Hayden and send everything to head office; the logs of my work on the zygote, all of today’s communication between the two of us. Everything. Highest level alert, coded “suspected bioterrorism”; that should take care of it. They’ll deal with him better than I can.

“Time check,” I command the interface.

“Five minutes, twelve point four seconds.”

It’s enough time. Carefully, making sure not to introduce any last-minute errors, I unwind one 3p25 and fly up to OXTR. Just a couple of small changes are enough; a haplotype here, a couple of extra copies of an allele there, and I’m done and zipping the chromosome back up.

It’s a tiny change; there’s so much beyond one gene at play here. Goodness only knows what kind of methylation, and socialization for that matter, lies ahead for this kid. But the way I see it, a little extra empathy never hurt anybody.

  END

    “Best for Baby” is copyright Rivqa Rafael 2019.

“Aubade: King Under the Mountain” is copyright Tristan Beiter 2019.

This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library.

You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, leaving reviews on iTunes, or buying your own copy of the Autumn 2018 issue at www.glittership.com/buy. You can also support us by picking up a free audiobook at  www.audibletrial.com/glittership.

Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a reprint of “The Chamber of Souls” by Zora Mai Quýnh.

Episode #74 — “Best for Baby” by Rivqa Rafael was originally published on GlitterShip