#I was watching dead boy detectives to keep my brain busy

[nicomoon69]

I rlly needed to use more than two seconds of thinking time for her clothes (side eyeing yesterday me) so here’s smth I tried

[mlobsters]

supernatural s8e23 sacrifice (w. jeremy carver)

are we gonna make nic cry (it's a low bar but s7 finale managed to not make it)

JODY It's not a date till I've cried.

we're definitely leaning into full on bad guy crowley this season. i liked when he was more ambiguous. maybe he'll help, maybe he'll fuck everyone over. dragging jody into it, now. all right

not me feeling more emotional about bobby's scrapyard than i did about seeing actual-bobby again

CROWLEY Nice try, squirrel. Moose is doing these trials. Moose signs. DEAN No, no. He's not signing anything until I read the fine print. [SAM yanks the pen from DEAN] SAM I can read it. DEAN Hey, you wanted me here. I'm here. But I'll be damned if I'm gonna let him screw us even more. CROWLEY What's this? Trouble in paradise, boys?

crowley's turning into a bit of a caricature. too much of a good thing maybe

DEAN I can do this all day, 'cause you know what? Damn, it feels good! But sooner or later, you're gonna have to face it -- you're ours. Which means that your demon ass is going to be a mortal ass pretty damn quick. CROWLEY [to SAM] What's he mouthing on about? SAM You're the third trial, Crowley.

a) ignoring any bitch implications b) you know i really dislike torture but even i got a little vicarious satisfaction from dean punching him c) i've got a hodgepodge of demon dean/mark of cain nebulous plot awareness that's on the horizon but no idea how they come to pass, so my mind keeps wandering wondering if this or that is related. focus!

CASTIEL Yes. Would you say that you're looking for, uh, a partner in crime... ...or, uh, someone who's into nurse role-play and light domination? DWIGHT Brother, it's 10:00 a.m. on a Tuesday.

sir, this is a wendy's

lovely shot but it feels like the shiny happy people version of s1 true detective which is on the brain because of this video of a deleted scene i posted a bit ago which is just (gorgeous) extended moody atmospheric location shots of coastal louisiana set to appropriate music

SAM Honestly, for the first time in a long time, it feels like we're gonna win. I'm good.

TAKE IT BACK, SAM.

dean's just trying to help!

the sick damp puppy look is just too precious for words. dean, give him a hug and some soup

lovely lovely. even more true detective s1 vibes (that season of that show was one of the most beautiful things... southern gothic atmospherics off the charts. ugh. i made an edit with it and hannibal because the rust cohle is will graham is rust cohle of it all)

true detective s1e2 seeing things

DEAN Anything? You've been gone long enough. CASTIEL No. There was one female, but... DEAN What? CASTIEL ...I don't think she was female

heavy sigh. transphobic jokes are evergreen

followed up by dean being flabbergasted for .. 10 seconds? that the cupid love match thing was two men. fuck you, show. i know, it's nothing new. but back to back, i'm exponentially annoyed

and i'm so disinterested in this heaven business i'd never looked up naomi's actress. she was sam carter on sg1! totally did not recognize her without the blonde hair. i didn't watch a ton of sg1 but enough to be quite familiar with the mains

stargate sg-1 amanda tapping as samantha carter

anyway. back to sam being half dead and abaddon smoking out (was it red? they did this with crowley too and i wasn't sure it wasn't just the lighting on the black smoke)

again the twilight/zombie looks good on him

this crowley thing.. this whole girls (tv series) speech his voice is higher pitched and the accent changed? what is going on

and are we supposed to be feeling something about crowley crying and wanting help from sam with asking for forgiveness? the time given his speech and music says yes, but my brain says excuse me what now. offering his neck up like bella, mushy music swells

DEAN Metatron lied. You finish this trial, you're dead, Sam. SAM So?

glad i knew that was coming

okay so i've watched this whole church scene several times now trying to figure out why it's not hitting any emotional buttons. padalecki is working his ass off and doing amazing and i'm getting nothing from jackles, subsequently i'm feeling not much of anything. did they break my emotions? which is extra weird because the text of this conversation is like.. romantic catnip? should be breaking and remaking my heart and yet...? just for a hint at the end the music reminded me of the expanse and THAT made me feeling a little something. so, like a broken record, i'm blaming this partially on the musical score.

SAM Look at him. Look at him! Look how close we are! Other people will die if I don't finish this! DEAN Think about it. Think about what we know, huh? Pulling souls from hell, curing demons, hell, ganking a Hellhound! We have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide here. But I can't do it without you. SAM You can barely do it with me. I mean, you think I screw up everything I try. You think I need a chaperone, remember? DEAN Come on, man. That's not what I meant. SAM No, it's exactly what you meant. You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down. I can't do that again. DEAN Sam -- SAM [beginning to cry] What happens when you've decided I can't be trusted again? I mean, who are you gonna turn to next time instead of me? Another angel, another -- another vampire? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your brother just –

like this really should be stabbing me in the gut and it's just not and it is such a shame because really, padalecki is doing so good with it. damnit, show, what did you do

DEAN Hold on, hold on! You seriously think that? Because none of it -- none of it -- is true. Listen, man, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels. But, Sammy...come on. I killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you.

"don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you" like hello, feelings, this is insane, where are you

the only part that worked for me is the little handfasting moment

do not to get to see this soft smile very often

DEAN Just let it go. SAM I can't. It's in me, Dean. You don't know what this feels like. [DEAN wraps a bandanna around Sam’s cut.] DEAN Hey, listen,we will figure it out, okay, just like we always do. Come on. DEAN Come on. Let it go, okay? Let it go, brother. SAM Hey, Dean. DEAN See? [ SAM Breathing shakily then Sam doubles over in pain. DEAN brings SAM outside the church. ] DEAN Sam? I got you, little brother. You're gonna be just fine.

calling him brother and little brother in one go

apparently i've forgotten already how cas and megatron left things in the time i spent trying to wrap my head around my (lack of) emotional reaction to the church thing. ah right, it was a spell, needed castiel's grace. that's why it's raining angels

the music, the effects.. this all hit the right notes at least. reminded me a smidge of stranger things with the music and rain and the car and ominous things happening in the sky.

see, imagine this show, but with the music of stranger things. like, really well done music cues, not just bad generic weird fake rock blues whatever and classic rock because we have one character note about his musical preferences and we're gonna ride it into the ground. i'm so bitter about the music in this show letting it down! lol

so why did fandom glom on to the spelling of cas? since it's pronounced cass. and is cass in the captions and scripts. having never heard it but seen it a bunch, i assumed it was going to be pronounced caz. cass too feminine?

(for the record one tear came from the expanse-like musical cue and i don't think spn gets the credit for it. i'm stunned, honestly)

so sometimes, i will admit, i have a kneejerk dislike - or anger, of something that seems irrational considering my shipping preferences. like, in 2x11 playthings and sam honestly looks like he's about to kiss dean, i was mad. i felt like they were baiting this thing that would never go anywhere, i was pissy about the gay jokes in the scenes prior at the front desk. now with separation and seeing 6 more seasons, i see how they actually have often stuck to this plausible deniability romance dynamic between them and made it more textual without making the impossible full commit to gay incest on the CW.

i don't think that's what's going on with me and the church thing because i'm not like freaked out->upset->pissy, i'm just... not feeling it. super weird

trying to keep a list of the horrifying results of castiel's attempts to do the right thing.... there's just so many 🤪

[scoobydoominuscoobydoo]

Oh my gosh-I thought you were dead! Shoutout to whoever that sent you that question as a thank you for letting me know :D

Alright, back to the question! How do you think Freddie and Velma's process of realizing their feelings for each other (in my opinion they'd deny it themselves for a while) would be like? And how would they (finally) confess? Do you think they will need a bit of encouragement from the rest of the gang?

Feel free to write as much as you'll need, I won't mind it! ♥️

Yeah we're still alive and I definitely wish I could be more active but creating content is super time consuming and honestly if I'm in the mood the watch Scooby then I'll watch one of the movies while doing my homework or something. But I am still totally passionate about Shaphne and Frelma and I'm super glad that other people are as well! It may take me forever to write fics but I am always eager to provide in other ways.

As for the actual question...

Freddie and Velma are definitely a slow burn with a capital SB and I will argue this to the end of my days. I know that I typically portray Shag and Daph as a sort of stretched out pining because of the fact that they are two totally different people. Because of that both of them have doubts regarding whether the other is even a little into them (spoiler alert: they are). It's the classic, "Why would she like me when she could literally have anyone she wants?" And vice versa. But that's more for a pinch of drama and it always works out right at the end.

But Fred and Velma might as well be stretched out twice as long because they are both IDIOTS. Especially Velma who definitely knows damn well what's going but chooses to ignore it. In most of my writing I have it so that Velma is aware of her feelings but - like anon said - she denies them vehemently. I can imagine her figuring out is a slow process too, I mean they've all known each other since they were kids. No matter which iteration of the show you watch, Fred and Velma are typically the defacto detective duo. They're the ones that have an active interest in mystery solving while Shag and Daph are kinda just along for the ride. I'm sure that because of them acting as partners, they have a deeper understanding of each other. Like Velma knows how Fred thinks and he knows how she thinks and that all comes from the fact that they work together a lot. So even though it's easy to label Fred as the basic white boy that leads the charge, Velma has seen where his passions lie and gets how his brain works. And I'm sure that all it would take is her staring at him just a little too long for something to click in her head. She watches him try and sing along to the radio while driving them no doubt towards their next crazy adventure and she realizes she likes this. Sitting in the front seat with him.

And this is just a total no bueno for Velma because falling in love with big blonde jocks isn't her thing. She started high school early and needed to claw her way through the status quo and all of the silly high school conventions to gain respect. Velma Dinkley doesn't care about what everyone else is doing and walks to the beat of her own drum. To start trying to pursue a relationship with Mr. Popular would immediately render her a hypocrite and that's something she can't stand. So - like a moron - she ignores her feelings and expects them to go away. All the while growing closer to him.

Freddie on the other hand is an odd hat. He's like the trifecta of oblivious, has tunnel-vision, and sucks at spelling out what he wants. Which is just a nightmare when you're the lead in your own romance. It's not even like denial that we're dealing with here it's the Jones boy having trouble interpreting his own feelings. I like to think it's almost like an Ouran High School Host Club situation where he's Tamaki and Velma is his Haruhi. The gang are his best friends and they're all like a surrogate family for one another and Fred feels responsible for keeping everyone together. Velma is one of his best friends and if that were to change the the dynamic of their family would be all messed up. And it's not like she's given any sort of sign that she's into him anyway so it all works out fine! Velma is his short, snarky best friend who likes to solve mysteries with him. And make him laugh. And be honest with him when nobody else will. And is somehow patient enough to teach him to play chess. There comes a point where all of his feelings for her are so close to being discovered, but they're trapped behind a wall labeled, "Family."

The two of them seem to be at a permanent stalemate.

And then Shag and Daph start going out. Both parties are instantly effected. Freddie because the family dynamic he's been clinging to has just completely shifted and it's totally out of his control. Velma because she sees how Ms. Follow Every Societal Convention has started locking lips with Mr. Screw Society I Am Who I Am. And neither of them really sacrifice their beliefs in the process of falling in love with each other. The main thing they get from it is they're more understanding of the other's position. Velma realizes that her being in love with Fred doesn't automatically mean she needs to become more like Daphne in order to suit the world he lives in. Fred realizes he can be with her without the entire Mystery Inc. gang caving in on itself. But now they still have one major hurdle to jump over.

They still think they're both trapped in the friend zone. And neither of them are willing to risk the partnership they've cultivated through several years of friendship.

And that's where Daphne comes in. She's the kind of girl that likes to make everyone's business her business and sees no harm in playing a little Cupid. Shaggy has absolutely zero interest getting involved in his friends' love lives so he opts to play the innocent bystander. I think after some prodding on both sides (over the course of maybe a year or two) the detective duo finally decide to give romance a shot.

Of course it's nothing like Shag and Daph who dive in head first and almost start building their life together immediately. They take it slow and steady, figuring it out one small step at a time. And that works just fine for both of them.

[ectonurites]

for the character headcannons ask game, jason and cass?

ALRIGHT ALRIGHT im putting this one under a cut because it got SUPER long bc i cant shut up ever

lets start w jason

A (realistic headcanon): 

ok using the ‘realistic’ category here loosely but GOD i love the idea of Damian & Jason having interacted while Jason was staying with the League before getting dunked in the Lazarus Pit. like. this obviously would need to be set more in preboot and following the Lost Days & Batman Annual 25 version of Jason’s resurrection, but god the idea of it just makes me scream in a good way. Like... these are things Jason likely doesn’t remember very clearly once he’s brought back to life more fully by the pit because he was uh pretty catatonic, but Damian being a little kid and knowing about the boy that his mother keeps around the base, that she’s trying to help bring back to health. Damian not even knowing that’s his big brother, just that he’s a presence that shares his mother’s attention. Jason again being unresponsive but like, ok god you know that part of lost days where Talia shows the others observing him that he only fights back at those he perceives as genuine threats trying to hurt him, 

Because Jason can perceive that she’s safe, she’s not actually trying to hurt him, he trusts her because she saved him? thinking about lil child Damian who is ya know already being trained in fighting stuff and like the idea of him trying to provoke Jason just to see what happens but Jason not fighting back because on some level be it his connection to Talia or even little baby Damian visually reminding him of Bruce, he knows that Damian is safe too 🥺 

and then when Jason and Damian meet again in Gotham as Red Hood & Robin respectively, Jason not really remembering because there was so much going on back then for him, but Damian realizing that oh... that was Him

B (hilarious): 

alright so if we are looking at comics currently, in modern stuff jason is what, like 22? hes old enough to drink in the US but still definitely early 20s so around my around my age, thats what im using as a basis here. if we adjust timeline and still consider his death having happened when he was 15, that puts it around 2013. and then coming back to like interacting with people about three years later if we still kinda base things off of the preboot timeframe (since we never got a super solid retelling of the timeline of death -> resurrection -> training -> tries to get revenge aside from knowing he went to the all-caste instead of the lost days version of the story) making him reenter the regular world and stuff around age 18 in 2016. meaning a solid three years of pop culture that he was entirely missing, and like im sorry but he really doesn’t strike me as the type to bother looking into what he missed, he’s kinda busy focusing on other stuff. lets take a quick look at some major things from those years. 2013 gave us ‘what does the fox say’ and ‘the harlem shake’ . 2014 had that time U2 just put a fuckin album on everyone’s phones, The Fault In Our Stars movie came out. 2015 introduced the phrase ‘Netflix and Chill’ and the whole blue & black vs gold & white dress debate happened. imagine any of the other batkids (or even arguably roy during rhato stuff) bringing these things up and jason’s ensuing confusion. thank you for your time

C (heart-crushing): 

so. there are two specific instances from rebirth era Jason i want to bring up here and much like a lot of these it’s less a headcanon and more of an inference based on observations, but i wanna take a sec to discuss Jason’s relationship with other people’s death. early in rebirth, Tim ‘dies’ from that whole thing in detective comics. he didn’t actually die, we as readers know, but in-universe they all very much so thought he was dead. frustratingly a lot of the batfam wasn’t really shown mourning him aside from in the Detective Comics Rebirth title itself (which just. when a major character dies even if its temporary- that should have a ripple effect) BUT an exception to that is in RHATO 2016, where we get this offhanded comment in Jason’s internal monologuing

similarly later when Roy, who like, had an incredibly close relationship w Jason that had just gotten mended before Heroes in Crisis, gets fuckin murdered in that whole thing... Jason doesn’t go to his funeral either. He leaves a dramatic voice mail and then visits the grave on his own later, choosing to instead keep working on the mission they’d started rather than going and taking the time to mourn properly.

Jason’s relationship with death is incredibly complicated, obviously. He has died, he has come back, and he now is willing to cross the line most other bats won’t and will kill people when he deems it necessary. I think thats something important though- he doesn’t just like... go around killing for fun (usually, some writers preboot made him a little murder happy but even then usually this still was vaguely followed) he kills people he thinks deserved it. Like, even looking back at the mess of Morrison’s Jason during Batman & Robin 2009, Jason was still trying to bring a sense of justice with who he was killing (”punishment that fits the crime”), it wasn’t killing for the sake of killing. He sees things in this kind of almost black and white ‘people who deserve it’ and ‘people who don’t’ way, and he has no problem dealing with death when it’s with the people he thinks deserve it. 

but when someone who doesn’t in his mind ‘deserve it’ gets killed? i think he just goes into total avoidance mode. throws himself into other things he’s doing, tries not to dwell on it too much no matter how much he still thinks about it (this is especially evident in him consistently telling people “i’m fine!” after what happened to Roy, despite bringing Roy up literally like every few issues for a WHILE after he died and very clearly still struggling with it, Artemis is the only one who gets through to him on it a little bit) 

but yeah, I just think that from Jason’s relatively unique situation of having been murdered, he knows what it’s like and he is perfectly fine wishing that on people he thinks are bad and deserve it, but it crushes him to imagine the people he loves and cares about having to experience something as painful as what he went through. not to mention the whole “I came back, why do I get a second chance at all this when they, who are a much better person than I am, probably won’t” mindset we get some implications of him having 

D (canon is a coward and won’t) 

hello DC i am once again insisting a batfam member is bisexual

CASS TIME

A (realistic headcanon): 

ok so we know cass likes ballet. thats canon. however i think we also should in general explore cass experiencing other types of dance/performance as well, be it herself as a performer or even just watching. like... god imagine her & like my brain just automatically for group activities puts her with tim steph and duke but also for this in particular I feel would be a Jason embraced activity, but like them going to see a broadway show or some other professional theatre or something, and her just being enthralled by the reading of body language of the performers! like again by any point in current stuff cass does have like, the ability to speak fine (reading still hard tho) but even so I think like. okay im a theatre kid if that’s not obvious from the Everything About Me but one thing I always do after seeing a show is ya know spend dinner afterwards discussing it with whoever i saw it with.

I just think that like, bringing those people i just mentioned to the table to discuss seeing a show after would be so FASCINATING because cass would bring this whole perspective of critiquing their acting on a whole different level- not based on how well they delivered lines out loud, but by what their body language was saying as they moved on stage. like im very amused by the idea of cass getting a totally different picture in her mind about what a character’s motivations were because she was paying way more attention to what their physicality was saying vs the words that were written and how they were delivered. i think the debates her and the others would have would be EPIC there. jason defending the text as it was written adamantly and cass being like ‘ok yeah sure but thats not what they did’

B (hilarious): 

cass having no concept of money because why would she bother? is SO funny to me. like it’s not that she couldn’t be reasonable if she wanted to, but like, she knows that the Waynes are well off so it’s not something she actually needs to be concerned about, so she just goes hog wild. takes steph out to fancy dinners and makes steph order for them since cass ya know doesn’t really read the menus, and steph’s like ‘jesus christ this costs-” “don’t worry about it” “but cass-” and she just holds up one of bruce’s credit cards and steph’s still like “but you don’t even know the range-” “it is fine”

bruce does not have the heart to tell her to stop

C (heart-crushing): 

i mean this is pretty much canon but especially now after death metal where she’s remembering, not just being told by a guy using weird alternate timeline technology, that she used to be an adopted member of the Wayne family... like that hurts so bad. To look at these people who have ya know been kind to her, Bruce has still been a father-like figure to her (i mean literally from the moment they met in New 52 canon during the flashback in Batman & Robin Eternal, where he’s telling her that she’s not a monster just because of what people forced her to do.... that she’s a hero... that hug.... dad behavior), and they do to some extent treat her as family... But to then really know, to feel and remember that she was actually adopted! She was a part of their family. To look at how she’s been calling herself Orphan while working with them this whole time... that’s so heartbreaking! I have cried about this idea so much! I want so badly a conversation between her and Bruce now where he offers to officially adopt her again, I need it so bad and if it doesn’t happen at some point in the next year or two I will be so distraught.

D (canon is a coward and won’t) 

i want an in-depth exploration of cass’ relationship to her own gender. being raised without language and you know with so much of her life being independent (remember: CASS RAN AWAY AROUND THE WORLD WITHOUT REALLY KNOWING ANY SPOKEN LANGUAGE) and outside of an organized society impressing too much of gender expectations on her, i feel like the way she experiences it would be very unique! like sure she’s so far been fine with being assigned ‘girl’ (ya know that comes with batgirl, and how people just automatically treated her based on how she looks) but in terms of gender expression and like her actual relationship with ‘traditional femininity’ etc like... because of how she was raised I just think she’d have a really different perspective on it that could be cool to explore, and I think she’d fall outside of the binary after she really thinks about how she identifies.

tldr on that: she/they nb cass is what i’m getting at here

[bbykpoper]

𝓑𝓸𝔂𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂💫

Inspired by this post 🌼

Pairing: policeofficer!wooyoung x kindergartenteacher!reader

Warning: sexual content up ahead, read at your own discretion!

Index: Jongho // Hongjoong // Seonghwa // San // Yunho // Mingi // Yeosang

･*:༅

Your eyes were glued to the small piece of paper attached to your car. You’ve been standing there for a good amount of time just looking at it, it worried your co-worker imensly.

“Y/N?” He waved his hand in front of your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“It’s a number.” You said and he looked at you confused. “He left his number on my car again. For Seulgi.” 

“Who?” Your co-worker asked.

“The stupid cop that keeps lingering around the block.” You groaned finally moving and ripping the paper off your car. 

“Are you sure he left it specifically for Seulgi?” 

“Yes Honey, I’m a hundred percent sure he left it for her.” You groaned out, throwing away the piece of paper with the scribbled numbers. “You want a ride home?”

“If it’s not a problem.” He smiled shyly.

Both of you filled into your car and you were about to start it when a soft knock scared you half dead on your widow. You looked up and noticed a uniformed body which was casually leaning down, a smirk coming to your eye level. The eyeroll which followed you opening your window made your co-worker and long time friend, Jooheon, laugh quietly next to you.

“May I help you officer?” You asked, plastering on the fakest smile you could.

“I see you’ve picked up my message.” He still kept smirking at you. 

“Yes, and I’ve delivered the previous seven you’ve left to the woman of your interest and would like to ask you to stop leaving them on my car from now on. They’re starting to become annoying.” You smiled and pulled the window up, leaving the parking lot of your work place.

“It’s reasuring that there is a police officer in this neighborhood, the kids feel safe. But I still don’t understand why he’s always here.” Jooheon sighed.

“He likes Seulgi, remember how she brought him sweets and food the other day.” You said, keenly observing the road as you drove him home.

“But that doesn’t have to mean anything. If you ask me, I think he likes you and is desperately trying to get you to notice him.”

“Sure, and the girl that works at the donought shop gives us free drinks because she secretly hooks up with Shownu.” You rolled her eyes, pulling up to his building.

“We may never know that.” He laughed with you as he got out the car. “Say hi to Soyou.”

“You too to the boys.” You smiled and waved at him. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow,”

He waved and ran up the steps of his building. You made the short drive home and sighed, noticing that your roommate was indeed nowhere to be found. Typical of her.

･*:༅

“Miss, Hyunwoo peed himself again.” A child walked up to you, a little girl with her thumb in her mouth, grabbing on to your apron. 

“Oh dear, that’s not good.” You patted her head. “Thank you for telling me Yeun.”

Jooheon was bussy being pampered by the girls and looked at you for help. You pointed at the small boy who was crying in the corner, Yeun still clinging to your apron even as you walked. He sighed accepting his fate and trying his best to understand why they were painting his nails with watercolours. 

“Hyunwoo, did your mom pack you and extra pair of pants?” You crouched down and smoothed his hair, gently wipping at his tears. 

“Yes.” He sniffled.

You took him into your hands and carried him to the bathroom, his backpack shaped like a car hanging off your arm. You were quick to clean him up and calm him down, changing his dirty clothes for clean ones. It wasn’t unusual for Hyunwoo to pee himself, but it always had a reason. Usually he got scared of something and couldn’t control it.

“What happened Hyunwoo? Did you get scared?” You asked him, sneaking him a cookie so he could calm down.

“There was a weird man, by the window.” He said. “He was looking at you.”

“A weird man?” You didn’t notice anybody near the kindergarten, but this really was disturbing. “Are you sure you saw someone by the window.”

“I saw him too.” Yeun said. “He was watching you Miss, but ran away when Hyunwoo started crying.”

“I see.” Two kidds seeing a man? Could it be the stupid cop that kept pestering your poor car? “Did the man wear a police uniform?”

“No.” They both said. “He had a baseball cap on, just like my daddy does when we go to the playground.”

You decided not to show the children your worry and escorted them back to the group. They went off to play with some building blocks and you took this chance to grab Jooheon and drag him out the room.

“Hey Seulgi, can you watch the kids for a while. Me and Honey need to step out for a few minutes.” You asked the black haired woman who simply nodded with a smile, taking on the task at hand. “We have a problem, it could be nothing but it could be something.”

“What do you meant?” Jooheon asked as you stepped outside the building and began walking in the direction of your room’s window. 

“Hyunwoo and Yeun said they saw a man staring inside at me.” You said, coming to a stop to look at the parking lot behind the kindergarten. “I’m suspicious of the cop that keeps leaving his number on my car.”

“Well, someone was here.” Jooheon said as he pointed at the footprints in the flower bed. “But I doubt it was the cop. The only crime he has tied to him is liking you. Pretty sure he ain’t your stalker or whatever this is.” Jooheon looked around as well. “Do you have any ex’s who want to scare you?”

“Let’s get one thing straight Honey. I’m not scared.” You said unamused. “And I also didn’t have a boyfriend since like high school. I’m pretty sure that snot nosed asshole has better things to do than stalk me.” You rolled your eyes. “None of my hook-ups know anything about me, Soyou taught me better.” Someting then clicked in your brain. “Soyou didn’t come home last night, and when morning came she begged me not to go to work today.”

“Do you think it has something to do with her?” 

“Well... I don’t know. She’s been acting weird the past few days.” You sighed and looked at Seulgi who knocked on the window asking if you guys were okay. “Can this stay between us, I don’t want Seulgi to worry about this.”

“Yeah, but I’m sleeping over at your place tonight.” He said, walking with you. “No taksies-backsies.”

“The kids are rubbing off on you too much.” You laughed and he shrugged his shoulders at you.

･*:༅

Wooyoung sighed loudly as he sat with his friends on his break at Sugarberry’s. Mingi was busy making order as always, but Jongho and Hongjoong managed to allign their breaks with him, surprisingly not spending it with their girlfriends. They were now only waiting for Yeosang. 

“What’s wrong? Your plan on leaving your number for that cute girl isn’t blossoming into love?” Jongho mocked him.

“She thinks I’m leaving it for her co-worker.” He whinned. “The other girl hasn’t stopped texting me. She even made me lunch last week.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Hongjoong said. “You at least have another girl interested in you.”

“No. I only want that one girl to be interested in me.” He said.

“Then why don’t you just openly ask her out on a date?” The famous waitress of Sugarberry’s spoke up, placing a steaming cup of tea on the table, most likely for Yeosang who just walked in. “I mean it most likely won’t work, but dude, no girl needs a number of a strange cop on their car, seven days a week.” She laughed as Yeosang rolled his eyes at the information he heard. “Just come clean and maybe she’ll accept your date invitation.”

“Or maybe not because she has a boyfriend.” He mumbled when he saw you walk in with your co-worker who he’s seen you drive to and from work. “Just my fucking luck.”

“Honey, you really don’t need to sleep over.” You whinned, not even noticing the enticing cop who was keenly observing you. “I’m sure Soyou is just acting weird because of the stress on her own job.”

“I don’t care, I’m not having two girls living alone be scared shitless because some guy decided to prey on you.” He said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll even invite the guys.”

You sighed as he started calling up his friends and ordered some drinks and sweets to go. While you waited you took a seat at a table and only then did you notice four guys looking at you, recognizing the police officer at the table. You narrowed your eyes at him and decided to ask him a question, which caught him and his friends, including Honey, off guard.

“Were you at the kindergarten today? The parking area to be percise.” 

“No... I’m off duty because of my exams.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“See.” Honey said, finally off his phone. “His only crime is liking you.”

The table went into a soft hum of snickers while Wooyoung embodied the pikachu meme. You blinked and nodded, not believing a word out of your friend’s mouth and happily going up to pay for your order and leave.

A sudden kick got Wooyoung out of his thoughts and he looked up at the waitress who motioned with her eyes towards you, silently telling him to go for it.

“He’s not wrong you know.” Wooyoung spoke up as you walked back. “I do like you.”

“That’s nice, but you don’t even know my name.”

“Well you don’t even know mine.” He countered.

You rolled your eyes and went to leave, Honey giving Wooyoung a small thumbs up and nodding as if to signal that he shouldn’t give up. With determination in his eyes, Wooyoung stepped up and went after you, blocking your way to your car.

“My name is Jung Wooyoung, I work at the Korean Police Department and am currently taking my Detective exams.” He stated. “Please go out with me.” 

You were shocked at the straight forwardness he had in himself and blinked a few times to come back to your senses. You were about to say no, but he beat you to it.

“Before you say no, please give me a chance. One date.” You looked at him, right in the eyes, noticing how he wasn’t joking about this.

“Alright.” You nodded. “One date.”

“Awesome.” He smiled and it was only then that you noticed how the blond may have looked attractive. “I’ll pick you up on Friday at 7 p.m. sharp.” And he skipped off inside.

Jooheon was smiling at you and you pushed him off to make him shut up and he laughed. You knew this was going to be a tough night for you seeing as you were going to be the main topic.

･*:༅

The days leading up to Friday were weird. You noticed more weird things happening around you and Soyou, but mostly her. Ever since the guys slept over you two began recieving letters on a daily all of them containing death threats towards you and promises for Soyou. Even at your work place, strange things kept pilling up, from dead birds to your car being scratched and keyed daily. 

“Are you scared yet?” Jooheon asked as you two cleaned up your groups room. “That’s like what, the fourth dead bird this week!”

“Calm down Honey. If I show fear it will only get worse.” You sighed folding the blankets. 

“But if you don’t you might get hurt!” He threw the toys on the floor into the basket with anger. “Tell it to Wooyoung.” 

“What? No.” You said. “I’m not going to tell my date that I’m being stalked by some dude who wants to kill me because he wants to marry my roommate.”

“You have a stalker?” Seulgi joined you two just as you were finishing your sentence. “If you do, you should really go to the police y/n.”

“It’s fine Seulgi, it’s nothing serious.” You waved it off.

“Bitch you got a dead bird delivered to you with it’s little head cut off.” Honey growled out. “It is serious!” He yelled out catching you both off guard. “If you don’t tell Wooyoung, I will.”

“Fine. I’ll tell him, when our date ends.” You bit back. You looked over at Seulgi who smiled at you warmly at the knowledge that you two would be going on a date. “I’m sorry, I know you like him.”

“Oh no. Don’t be.” She waved her hand and smiled. “He told be that he is interested in you and not me. You don’t have to apologise. I’m happy that you finally said yes.”

The whole day proceeded calmly and you drove Jooheon to your house. You were surprised to see Shownu and Kihyun sat on your porch with some snacks in their hands. You looked over at Honey who just shrugged.

“I’ve had enough of you two living alone with this whole dead birds, marriage proposals and death threats hanging over your heads. The boys and I are moving in with you.”

“But where will you guys sleep?” You asked looking at your small, two bedroom home.

“The couch and floors are good eough for us.”

Soyou was inside making dinner and talking with Minhyuk while the rest of the boys loitered around the living room. You had a little bit over two hours before Wooyoung would be picking you up, so you decided to quickly shower and get ready. You two exchanged numbers and were actively texting and you had to admit to yourself, he was fun. He had this plethora of dumb dad jokes as well as topics which you found far too interesting. 

“Dang woman!” Changkyun whistled lowly. “You look nice.”

“Changkyun, I’m wearing jeans and crop top.” You deadpanned.

“Nice.” He gave you a thumbs up and you all laughed at him and his antics.

“Have fun on your date.” Soyou smiled at you, the dark circles heavy under her eyes. 

“I will. Make sure these guys don’t destroy our house.” You hugged her, sadness coating your expression.

Jooheon yelling for you that your boyfriend is here had you almost body slamming him into the nearest wall but he evaded your strike wiggling his hips and moving away. Wooyoung stood outside, chuckling at you two and smiling when you blushed at the fact he saw this.

“Sorry.” You said glaring at Honey. “He’s dumb.”

“Are you ready to go?” He asked. 

“Yup.” You joined him by his side and he escorted you to his car. He even opened the door for you as a true gentleman. “You’re stepping up your game.”

“I have to impress you fully.” He smirked at you. “You finally agreed to this date.”

The drive was nice but whenever you asked him where you guys are going he said it’s a surprise. You joked he was the stalker you supposedly had and his instincts kicked in, telling him this was not a joke. He decided to keep quiet for now and parked his car at this abandoned skelleton of an unfinished building. You laughed when you recognised the place he had taken you.

“Are we going to be star gazing?” You asked.

“How’d you know?” He was surprised you figured it out. 

“See this?” You pointed at the grafitti which had a verse from a song and the drawing of the night sky. “Honey and I did this in high school.” You smiled at the memory. “My friends and I hung out so much here.”

“I recently found this place.” He layed out a blanket and a basket. “I like the stars and I thought you’d enjoy it too.” He smiled at you. “I’m glad I was right.”

You guys joked around as you at the food he prepared and were currently laying on the blanket, doing your best to try and count the stars tonight. You were happy and at peace with this, especially when he showed you how constellations work. You almost even forgot about that looming problem you and your roommate had.

“Why did you joke that I was your stalker?” He asked suddenly.

“It’s not my stalker personally.” You said, coming to terms that it was time to speak about it and fulfilling the promise you gave Jooheon. “My roommate Soyou, it’s her stalker, she has big problems at work because of him. And now it’s coming back home and reflecting on me and our friends.” You moved your head so you could look at him. “Soyou works as a hostess in a very fancy restourant and is quite pretty. She always gets some guy to run after her but not on purpose. It’s probably someone she was nice to and is now so infatuated with her that he keeps following me, her roommate, around and loitering around the kindergarten. He keeps sending letters and gifts to her. While I get the death threats and dead birds.” You sighed. “She’s exhausted and it’s really draining her, we keep living in fear and even asked Jooheon and his guy friends to stay over for the week because last night somebody tried to break into our home but were caught by our neighbor.” 

“Did you report it to the police?” He asked, now sitting up.

“No.” You sighed. “I don’t exactly trust the police.” You shrugged your shoulders. “No offence.”

“None taken.” He smiled sadly. All the offence was taken. 

“There is a reason why I told you this.” You admit, also sitting up. “I don’t trust the police, but you are a different case. I may not know you that well, but as we messaged this week I figured out that you are trustworthy just clumsy a little bit.” You were indicating his straight forward way of leaving his phone number on your car. “Jooheon basically yelled at me to tell you this... I just... Can you help me and my roommate?”

“I know a few people.” He smiled and placed his hand over yours. “I’ll do my best to help you out.”

･*:༅

“Soyou, y/n. This is Detective Nam.” Wooyoung introduced the older male who was standing in your living room. “He’s from the sexual crimes unit and is an expert on cases with stalkers. He’s here to help you.”

You and Wooyoung had slowly developed a relationship which was now going one month strong. He was doing great with his Detective exams, while you and your roommate were still battling this stalker who upped his game by a mile. Now instead of recieving dead birds, you were personally recieving items the kids from your group had lost and it was becoming urgent.

“Nice to meet you girls.” The man bowed. “I’ve been informed of your problem and will be working on your case starting this minute. I hope you don’t mind if we wire your home and set up cameras at any and every entrance point of your home.” 

“Have fun.” Is what you told him. 

“Perfect. My team will be surveilling your home 24h a day.” He spoke up. “We believe that the man who is after you two is tied to another one of our cases and we would like to catch him.”

The only thing you two could do was nod in silence. The technicians set up the cameras and wires around the home as you and Soyou sat and spoke with Detective Nam a bit more.

“So now he is taking items from the children at the kindergarten you are working at?” The Detective asked.

“Yes. I’m currently on sick leave so as the children are not in danger.” You said. 

“That was a smart decision on your side. Have you gotten anything in the mean time?” 

You pulled out a letter with a picture of you and Wooyoung outside of your home the night you went on your first date. Your face had a red circle around it and the words ‘stay out of it’ written above it.

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to die in the next few days.” You said nonchalantly.

“I apologise, her defense mechanism to danger is sarcasm.” Soyou grabbed your hand, her own shaking in fear.

“You won’t die. Wooyoung will be staying inside the house with you two.” Detective Nam sighed, understanding the weigh of this case. “Do you have someone who can stay with you Miss Soyou.”

“My boyfriend.” She answered and you furrowed your eyebrows. “I’ll call him over right now.”

“Good.” Detective Nam stood up and looked at Wooyoung. “You have persmission to carry your service weapon with you and to use it if the situation calls for it. Please be careful, we will take care of the rest.”

“Yes sir!” He nodded as the older man left.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you know some people.” You smirked at him. “Does this mean we’ll be sharing a room?”

“My job description says yes.” He smirked. “And I would very much like that.”

You laughed as you guided him to your room at the end of the hall. Wooyoung noticed that your bed had been moved to the far corner, away from the window. The fact that there was a small commode was placed underneath the window, with very sharp pins, some cactuses and if he saw correctly nails covering the top had him wide eyed. 

“I’m not dumb you know.” You said, bouncing on the bed. “My baseball bat is located here.” You pulled it out from between your bed and wall. “I usually sleep curled up against the wall. And I ain’t no scared bitch to not swing at him.”

“That’s hot, and scary at the same time.” He laughed and sat next to you. “But seriously, you can rest easy now that I’m here.”

You raised your eyebrow in amusement at his whole manly persona coming out and punched him in the shoulder, pushing him down. 

“So manly, falls with one simple punch from a girl.”

You laughed as he pulled you down next to you, you two beginning a wrestling match which ended with you stradling his waist, feeling something poke you in your thigh.

“Is that your service weapon I feel poking me?” You asked, bitting your lip when he pointed at his gun on your bedside table.

“It is a type of service weapon.” He said, sitting up and pulling you even closer by your thighs. “That is, if you are comfortable and want to of course.”

You felt your stomach flutter and your heart beat fast at his words and you moved your hand to his cheek, pulling it so that his face met yours, and you gave him a kiss.

“I don’t have any objections to that, sir.”

You let your thumbs run over the pink of his cheeks and the plush of his full lips, gazing at his dark eyes which seemed as if they held all the galaxies of the universe. You pressed a kiss to his lips. Light, fluttering. He groaned lowly into the kiss as your tongues danced. You slipped your fingers underneath the material of his simple coloured t-shirt, raking them along his soft abs and relishing in the warmth of his skin. He decided to match your pace, dropping his hands to your ass and squeezing it roughly.

He murmured as his lips found their way along your shoulder, fingers tugging the collar of your shirt out of his way.

His big hands slid up your torso and cupped your breasts through the material of your bra briefly before reaching around to unclasp it. He threw it to the ground before reaching for you again, long fingers tweaking your hardening nipples. You grew exponentially wetter when he enclosed his lips around one, his fingers tugging at the other, and then alternating. He did this back and forth until you were a whining mess.

One hand stayed squeezing and kneading your breast while the other slid down to your thigh, gliding around it before finding its way between your legs, bypassing your jeans. He targeted the wet spot on your panties and pressed into it in long slow circles, teasing your lips and your wet opening. You moaned against his neck and his member twitched at the sound. He quickly pushed his way past the messy fabric and thrust two fingers into you. He loved the sound and feel of your slickness. He slid his fingers in and out of you, stroking your walls until you were a grinding mess in his lap, whimpering his name in his ear.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He whispered into your ear, not stopping his assault on your lower region.

“Yes.” You whinned out.

“Yes what?” He tugged on your lower lips, enticing a mewl out of you.

“Yes sir.” You let out a breath when his mouth connected with yours just as his fingers went faster as you let go of yourself completely, spasaming around his fingers furiously. “Sir, please fuck me.” You breathed out. “I need to feel your big cock filling me up over and over again. Please sir.” 

He withdrew himself from you, quickly making sure both of you were naked as he layed you on your back so you were completely exposed to him before slowly pushing himself in. His dark orbs were locked with yours, watching your reaction. You were whimpering, needing more. He was going so slow, and teasing you to the point where you couldn’t handle it. You needed him to be a little rough. You wanted to feel it later. You wanted to feel it when you walked. It was as if Wooyoung could understand your silent plea and decided to oblige fully.

“Hands.” He said. You obeyed, holding them both up for him. He took them both, slamming them onto the pillows beside your head. You glanced up at him as he held you down. “Good girl.”

Relentlessly, almost possessive Wooyoung moves his hips, slamming into you to make you feel his strength and dominance. “Be good and cum for me sweetheart. I want your pretty little cunt to squeeze me before I paint your body white.”

Your orgasm hit you hard. The flood gates opened and pleasure jolted through you, making your body quake underneath him. Your fingers curled into his shoulders as you fought the urge to nibble on his neck. Your eyes were shut tight and you were seeing nothing but searing white hot stars. You were panting profusely, trying to catch your breath as you continued to cum. The sheer intensity had you quivering. 

It took Wooyoung a few more thurst to pull out and cum on your bare breasts, painting them with the sticky substance. He was quick to move and get a towel to clean you up. You were exhausted beyong measure and sleepily looking up at him. 

“So you have a sir fetish?” You giggled when he blushed, bringing your comforter over you and snuggling next to you.

“We all have our likes.” He said. “You didn’t seem to mind.” 

“It’s hot. Not gonna lie.” 

“You’re hot.” He kissed the back of your neck and you moaned loudly. “Is my baby girl ready for round two?”

･*:༅

After four rounds and loud banging from Soyou and her boyfriend whose voice you recognized as Minhyuck, you finally fell asleep in Wooyoung’s arms. It was around 3 a.m. when he woke up to the sound of scratching at your window. He quickly grabbed his service weapon when he noticed a dark figure messing with the window and trying to forcefully open it. When the figure couldn’t open it as it percieved it easy, he grabbed a nearby rock and threw it through the glass, waking you up and allerting the officers stationed around your house.

A man jumped into your room, a knife in hand and eyes bloodshot with need to hurt you. Wooyoung placed his gun on the man’s head and he suddenly froze, not expecting to be faced with a man inside your room.

“Place the knife down and raise your hands in the air.” Wooyoung’s voice was darker than your room. “Slowly.”

Soyou let in the police officers and guided them to your room in the mean time. They arrested the man, pulling his baseball cap off his head and having her identify him as one of the customers that frequented her work place. 

“Well done Wooyoung.” Detective Nam said from your broken window. “You’ll be an impresive detective in the future.”

“Thank you sir.” He said with a smile.

“Especially after this plan which you’ve orcastrated.” The older man smiled at him. “You start on Monday Detective.” He went to leave but stopped short to look at you. “Oh and Miss y/n, we’ll send someone to fix your window tomorrow. Thank you for you co-opperation.”

“Thank you for helping us out.” You bowed from your sitting position on the bed. 

As everybody left your room you looked at your window sadly and sighed. Wooyoung came over and sat down next to you, brushing his fingers along your exposed neck. You looked over at him and smiled, resting your fore head against his. You both began laughing as you just sat there in silence and comfort, as the stars outside twinkled in the night sky.

･*:༅

“Kids, this is Detective Jung and he’s come this way to teach you about safety and why it’s important to not trust strangers.” You spoke as you clapped your hands to catch the children’s attention. 

They all ran up to Wooyoung who was overwhelmed with the attention but smiled when he noticed how happy the kids were and the fondness you kept in your eyes as you observed them. He then felt a tug on his sleeve and looked over at a small girl with her thumb in her mouth, her other hand holding on to a small boy who looked scared.

“Hi.” He greeted them as the girl removed her thumb from her mouth to speak.

“You’re the boy that kept leaving notes on Miss y/n’s car.” Yeun stated and you had to hold back a laugh along with Jooheon and Seulgi. “You kept talking to your imaginary friend and then leaving notes, but coming back and taking them away.”

“Wha-” Wooyoung blushed furiously and looked up at you then back at the kids. “No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!” Hyunwoo said pointing a finger at him. “But you were dressed as a police man and were always sad because Miss y/n ignored you!”

“Okay kids, that’s enough of teasing Detective Jung.” Jooheon said as he guided them away from him. “Miss y/n teased him enough before he finally told her he likes her. I think he doesn’t need you two to add to it.”

“Does that mean they’re like mommy and daddy?” Yeun asked, holding on to Hyunwoo.

“No. They’re more like you and Hyunwoo.” He said snickering at a dumbfounded Wooyoung.

“Oh, so Miss y/n takes care of him like I do of Hyunwoo?” 

“Yes, I do.” You said with a smile patting her on the head. 

All of the kids then sat down in front of Wooyoung as he somehow managed to begin talking about safety measures and everything he had planned. While you on the other hand got another tug on your apron from Yeun.

“Does that mean you want to be like mommy and daddy with him? Because that’s how I want to be with Hyunwoo.” Wooyoung heard this and his mouth hung open at the boldness of this little girl.

You looked up at his flushed face and confused eyes. You were sure he was going to faint if you answered the little girl, but truth be told you wanted to see his reaction. I mean you guys have been dating for a number of years and it wouldn’t hurt to tell him just to see if you guys were on the same page. And boy were you right when you thought he would almost faint from your answer.

“I guess I do.”

Wooyoung bit his tongue to control the dumb smile on his face but failed. The kids started picking on him and he didn’t really care.

He was just happy that you wanted to be like mommy and daddy with him.

[scotianostra]

 Johnny Ramensky, the Scottish safe cracker was born on April 6th 1905 in Glenboig, Lanarkshire.

This is the type of story that would make a great film, so settle down to enjoy the life of the man born Jonas Ramanauckas, who became known as  John Ramsay, Gentleman Johnny, and Gentle Johnny

His father was a miner who died when Johnny was young and the young Ramensky also became a miner. It was while he was down the pit that he learned his skills with dynamite which were to prove so useful to him in later years.

Johnny drifted in and out of trouble from the age of eleven and moved to the Gorbals area of Glasgow during the Depression with his mother and two sisters. He developed an amazing physical strength and acrobatic ability but in order to obtain some money, he became a burglar, specializing in robberies involving climbing up external rone-pipes to gain entry to premises. He also developed skills in picking locks and safe-cracking with explosives.

While his activities were criminal, he had his own code of conduct and raided business premises rather than people's homes. And when he was caught, he never resisted arrest. His philosophy seemed to be "if you are caught, you are caught - it's all part of the job".

His life of detention began at age 18 when he was given a term in Borstal but later he served various terms in both Barlinnie and Peterhead Prisons. He eventually spent more time behind bars than outside. It's often easy to sentimentalise and sugar-coat the past, there was something about him which meant that even the police who snared him and the courts which he frequented as regularly as others visit their local supermarket, regarded him as somebody who was more interested in eluding an alarm and breaking a code than becoming rich from his forays.

Johnny was married during one of his spells out of prison and the couple had a baby daughter. But in 1934, while he was serving a sentence in Peterhead, he was told that his young wife was dead. He was refused permission to attend the funeral and Johnny's sense of justice was outraged. So he made the first of many escapes from the prison.

  In 1942, he was serving yet another jail sentence in Peterhead Prison. The army offered to give him special commando training and Johnny accepted. After all, it meant he was out of prison, earning a wage - and fighting for his country. Part of a crack commando unit, he was dropped behind enemy lines and used his skills with both explosives and burglary to good effect, stealing important German documents.

During the war in Italy, he entered Rome with the first troops to reach the city and blew open the safes in 14 foreign embassies - all in one day!

For his commando service and dangerous exploits, he was awarded the Military Medal and given a free pardon at the end of the war. But not longer after his return to Glasgow he was back to his life of burglary and was caught and jailed again.

In November 1955 he was sentenced to 10 years’ "preventive detention" at Peterhead Prison, which should have given him a few privileges. But he found there were none. He served over two years with exemplary conduct and still there was no move to the better conditions of "preventive detention". So Johnny responded in the only way he knew how - he escaped. Of course, he was later recaptured but he was at least given an opportunity to put his case to the prison authorities - which achieved nothing. Johnny escaped (and was recaptured) from Peterhead (Scotland's strongest jail) no less than five times including three times in 1958. Sometimes the prison warders didn't know whether he was inside or outside the prison. His fifth escape evoked wide-spread sympathy amongst the public which was illustrated by a song "The Ballad of Johnny Ramensky" by Norman Buchan (a Member of Parliament), which was printed in the Scotsman newspaper, and another musical tribute, Let Ramensky Go, was penned by none other than Roddy McMillan, the star of Para Handy.

Not long after starting a prison sentence in Barlinnie in Glasgow, Johnny was in the exercise yard and suddenly threw off his boots and shot up the wall, using cracks in the mortar as toe-holds. He reached a roof - but could get no further. Equally, the warders couldn't get him down - and Johnny was demanding to see the Chief of the Prisons Department! Attempts to reach the roof were met by a barrage of roof slates - watched by a growing audience outside the prison walls. He stayed out on the roof for five hours, eventually coming down when it started to get cold.

In 1962 Detective Superintendent Robert Colquhoun (retired), said "Like most policemen who have come in contact with Ramensky, I find him an engaging character, the kind of man who, applying his brain to another, more acceptable, type of occupation, could probably have made good." Before he had retired, DS Colquhoun received a message from Johnny (who was once more in prison). He had heard that the policeman was seriously ill. The message contained his good wishes for his speedy recovery, plus the advice that he’d been taking too much out of himself chasing Johnny around! As he grew older and the escapes continued one question was being asked: Why does he keep on doing it, at his age and in his state of health? A police officer who knew him well said "Johnny never expects to get far when he breaks out now ... he's just got to do it to prove that he still can."

Johnny remarried and started a second family during his all too short periods out of prison but persisted in his life of crime into his old age - by which time his abilities as a cat burglar were beginning to fail him. In 1972 he collapsed in Perth Prison and died shortly after in hospital. In addition to his family, the many people who attended his funeral came from both the law enforcement and the law breaking sides of society. Whatever his faults, Johnny Ramensky was respected by them all. His obituary appeared in every Scottish national newspaper.

That's not the end of Johnny Gently though, he lives on at Peterhead Prison, now a museum where Ramensky served so many years behind bars, has created a exhibition space which highlights different aspects of his career.

I couldnae find the Roddy McMillan  version of Lat Ramensky Go, but former BBC Young Traditional Musician of the Year, Claire Harings makes a great job of singing it, the lyrics below are the original version, Claire sings a slightly different version. 

Let Ramensky Go

There was a lad in Glesga town, Ramensky was his name Johnny didnae know it then but he was set for fame

Now Johnny was a gentle lad, there was only one thing wrong He had an itch to strike it rich and trouble came along He did a wee bit job or two, he blew them open wide But they caught him and they tried him and they bunged him right inside

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

And when they let him out he said he'd do his best but then He yielded tae temptation and they bunged him in again Now Johnny made the headlines, entertained the boys below When he climbed up tae the prison roof and gave a one-man show

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

But when the war was raging the brass-hats had a plan Tae purloin some information, but they couldnae find a man So they nobbled John in prison, asked if he would take a chance Then they dropped him in a parachute beyond the coast of France

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

Then Johnny was a hero, they shook him by the hand For stealing secret documents frae the German High Command So Johnny was rewarded for the job he did sae well They granted him a pardon frae the prison and the cell

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

But Johnny was in error when he tried his hand once more For they caught him at a blastin', and it wasnae worth the score

The jury pled for mercy, but the judge's voice was heard Ten years without remission, and that's my final word Ten years, my lord, that's far too long, wee Johnny cried in vain For if you send me up for ten I'll never come out again

Oh give me another chance, my lord, I'm tellin' you no lie But if you send me up for ten I'll sicken and I'll die

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

Now Peterhead's a fortress, its walls are thick and stout But it couldnae hold wee Johnny when he felt like walking out Five times he took a powder, he left them in a fix And every day they sweat and pray in case he makes it six

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go

Alley-ee alley-ay alley-oo alley-oh       Open up your prison gates       And let Ramensky go..........

Here are some reports on him.......[1958:] Twelve hours after Johnny Ramensky had done his fifth and most baffling "vanishing act" in Peterhead jail yesterday it was not known whether he was INSIDE or OUTSIDE the prison. This was admitted late last night by a Scottish Home Department spokesman. Here is the sequence of events leading up to the cracksman's third escape in ten months.

Because of rain, 45 prisoners, including Ramensky, were being exercised in one of Peterhead's large prison halls. At 1.40, the exercise ended and the squad began a 50 to 70-yard march, in organised lines to the tailor's shop. At 1.43, they arrived at the shop WITHOUT RAMENSKY.

The alarm was raised. Every corner of the prison was searched. But there was no trace of the "King of Peterhead". No rope or ladder with which he could have scaled the jail's 18-foot wall was found. One theory was that Ramensky had a key to the back door of the tailor's shop, which is only ten feet from the wall. For it is believed that he had a key for the tailor's shop door on his October break-out. Out went the word to police all over the country:

 "Ramensky's free again."

Two hunts went on - in swirling snow and at temperatures below freezing point - for the 53-year-old convict who, despite ill-health, had made another freedom bid. Throughout the whole of the North of Scotland road blocks and police checks sprang up. Tracker dogs went out. A strong cordon was thrown round the immediate prison area. For on his last bid in October, Ramensky was found, after 40 hours of freedom only 200 yards from the prison. It was ill-health that beat him then. He collapsed after a child spotted him in a barn.[...]. 

Last night people living in the Peterhead area spoke of him without fear. For he is known as "Gentle John" and those beside the prison take bets on how long he will stay free. His escape in February this year lasted 24 hours, before he was caught in Peterhead's main street wearing a warder's cap and a long black coat.

One question was being asked: Why does he keep on doing it, at his age and in his state of health? A police officer who knows him well said last night: "Johnny never expects to get far when he breaks out now ... he's just got to do it to prove that he still can.

"Here is a description of the clothes worn by the wartime Commando who cracked safes behind enemy lines: Brown moleskin trousers, brown battledress tunic, brown jersey, blue and white striped shirt, black leather shoes ... and possibly wearing a cap. (Daily Record, Dec 18)

The six-day hunt for gentle Johnny Ramensky was called-off last night. And baffled police admitted: "There are still no clues." [...] The authorities believe that 53-year-old Ramensky, if still alive, is bound to make a mistake sometime, or to leave a clue somewhere. It is understood that police opinion is split over the reason for the absence of a "trail." Some feel he is dead in the sea, but others are convinced he is in the Peterhead area, possibly quite near the prison, and is being fed and sheltered. (Daily Record, Dec 23)

[1959:] Johnny Ramensky (53), the safe-breaker who made a sensational jail-break from Peterhead prison, remaining at liberty for nine days, is back in prison. He was caught at Persley, on the north bank of the River Don about three miles from Aberdeen. A police spokesman said after the capture that Ramensky was looking wonderfully well, apart from being footsore, and considering the long period he had been on the run. He was dressed in blue dungarees and a green jersey and his shoes were cracked and torn. It is understood that no police charges are impending against Ramensky on account of his escape. There have been no reports of break-ins or thefts. His fifth escape has evoked wide-spread sympathy amongst the public. During the war Ramensky was an instructor to Allied agents in blowing safes. (Weekly Scotsman, Jan 2)

[amburnedphoenix]

Best Surprise [Valentines collab]

Paring: Noya x reader

Rating: E/Fluff

Warning: This takes place post timeskip, slight spoilers ahead!!

Wordcount: 1.5k

A/n: This is a part of a big multi fandom collab hosted by the wonderful @prettysetterbaby​ to celebrate this wonderful or lonely day. Decided to try my hand at writing for my fav libero Noya, this is my first time writing for him so hopefully he’s not too ooc. Make sure you go and check out the other stories [Valentines Masterlist] Give them some love too!

-Valentines day was a day that people either loved or hated, you always leaned toward hated in your younger years, then again most kids didn’t think too highly of love or romance.

-When you started highschool you swore you’d never fall in love no matter what. You’d weather any storm and stand strong.

- However you didn’t expect in your second year to encounter a storm by the name of Nishinoya Yuu.

-Noya crashed into your life, literally. You met the shorter boy when he slipped down the stairs and crashed into you. Rapid apologies and a promise to make up for it was the start of your friendship with the libero.

-It was funny how in just a few months you forgot your vow as you fell head over heels for him. 

-It was after the game against Shiratorizawa that you waited excitedly outside the stadium for Noya and the rest of his team. 

-Still buzzing from the intensity and victory of the game you didn’t even think twice before giving him a kiss when you saw him; which made his brain short circuit and you to be very much embarrassed when you realized you did it, and in front of his team. Suffice to say the feelings were mutual when he pulled you in for another kiss.

-Ever since that day you started to love Valentines as Noya made sure to surprise you in the best ways, even after you graduated and started traveling the world together it was a day he went all out on you no matter where on the map you were.

-This year was different, you had to return to Japan after your father had an accident. He needed someone to come and take care of his house while he recovered in the hospital, not wanting to put that responsibility onto your boyfriend. You told him to continue traveling and you’d meet up once your father had fully recovered.

-While you had made the suggestion to begin with being separated from Noya for over two months made you realize how truly lonely you were without him physically there. Now here you were sitting on the couch watching some boring tv show trying to call Noya to at least talk to him on this day, but he wasn’t answering.

“Hey this is Nishinoya Yuu, I can’t come to the phone--”

“Damn it Yuu!” You bursted out cutting off the recorded message, hanging up the call you threw your phone onto the couch. Frustration had boiled into anger after hearing the voicemail for the 10th time. Noya had never gone this long without answering one of your calls, even if it was the dead of night he would still wake up and answer.

Letting out a huff you reached over and picked up the phone again, exiting out of the contacts you went to your most recent texts with him.

You swipe down and look at the message you sent earlier in the day, each one of them was left on read. Why on earth would he do that, he hates when you left him on read so why was he suddenly doing it to you? Maybe he was hanging out with Yaku; no that doesn’t make sense he wouldn’t ignore you especially on valentines day.

As you tried to think of why he wasn’t responding a sour thought came to mind ‘what if he’s cheating?’ You quickly shake your head at such a stupid thought, Noya was one of the most loyal people you knew; he’d never leave you or do something to hurt you.

Even knowing that, the small shred of doubt from his unusual behavior gave you an uneasy weight in your stomach. You decide to distract yourself with a movie marathon, selecting which one to start with, you sit back and relax.

------

It was maybe a few hours into the marathon your attention is pulled from the detective about to tell who the murderer is by a knock on the door. Grumbling about having to be left in suspense you pull yourself off of the couch and slowly make your way over to the front door, who could be at the door; you didn’t remember ordering anything or anyone coming over.

You opened the door to find no one there, confused you looked up and down the hallway of the apartment but saw nothing. You think it was someone pulling a prank and are about to close the door when you noticed a rose on the doormat. 

Brows furrowing, you lean down and pick it up, who would leave just one rose in front of someone's door? You walked back in closing the door, it was odd but the thought was nice; taking a vase out you filled it with water and set the rose in it.

Just as you were about to sit back down and continue watching the movie another knock at the door came, frowning you went over and opened the door to nothing but a rose on the mat again.

This continues 3 more times, every time you went to start the movie there was a knock and a new rose. Setting the 5th rose in the vase you quickly moved over to the door being as silent as possible, you were going to find out who this was.

Pressing your ear against the door to listen, when you heard footsteps approach and stop in front of the door you pulled back and threw open the door, mouth open to say something but the words never made it out of your throat.

There in front of the door with a bouquet of roses was Noya kneeling down in the midst of setting a rose on the mat, eyes wide staring at you like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. You both just stood in silence staring at each other until you finally found your voice. “Yuu?” 

At hearing you say his name he snaps out of his shocked state and springs to his feet. “U-Uh hey babe.” A sheepish smile came onto his face, your eyes trail from his face to the bouquet in his hands then back up. He shifted putting the singular rose back with the others as you spoke again. 

“Baby what are you doing here? You said you were going to Russia.” You took a step to the side and let him come in, his laughter gave a fuzzy warmth in your chest as he took his shoes off and looked at you. “That may have been a lie haha, sorry about that.” With his free hand he rubbed the back of his head. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

“That’s why you didn’t respond” You let out a relieved sigh as you both walked into the living room. He'd been busy getting things done so they could spend today together; you knew you had nothing to worry about. “Yes I’m so sorry baby, I knew you’d want to call for a bit if I responded and I was trying to make sure everything was set up.” Setting the bouquet down on the table he walked over and embraced you tightly.

When you returned the hug your boyfriend seemed to visabble relax. “God I missed you y/n'' He said mumbled into your hair, a smile spread across your face. “I missed you too Yuu.” You said pulling back a little, a small pout was on Noya’s lips.

“Although I wish you didn’t open the door so soon, I had a whole plan set up.” He huffed with false annoyance that caused you to start giggling. “Hey don’t laugh!.” “Hehe sorry sorry babe but what even was your plan?” He let go, took a step back and crossed his arms. “I was going to keep leaving a rose at the door until I had one left, then I was going to stand at the door and present it to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh more, because that was indeed something Noya would do. “Haha knowing you baby you’d be in a ridiculous pose too!” Noya cracked and began laughing too, “But that is the best part!” The living room was filled with your laughter, when it finally died down you took a few steps forward and gave him a chaste kiss before going and putting the rest of the roses in the vase.

“I’m glad you’re here, now I was in the middle of a movie marathon and I want to find out who the damn murderer is.” Noya snickered before hopping over the couch to sit down. “Well I don’t see any better way to spend this day then a movie date.” 

You also hopped the couch, grabbing the remote and the blanket you had out; the two of you quickly got set up nice and comfy, once you were set up you looked at Noya. “Want me to restart the movie?” He shrugged “I mean if you want to, you mentioned murder so you might see clues you missed the first time.” You nodded your head and went back to the main menu of the movie. “Oh by the way babe.” Noya hummed in response as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“Out of all the surprises you’ve given me, this was by far the best one.” Looking up at Noya “Happy Valentines day.” You could have sworn he had hearts in his eyes at hearing that from the loving look on his face, he kissed your forehead. “Glad to hear, happy Valentines day baby.”

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 5)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 My Master Post

Emile hummed a quick tune as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot near his apartment. He’d just finished his last session of the day with Kai and Remy had asked that he watch Virgil this evening after work and possibly this weekend, so Emile was picking up something to cook for dinner before heading over there. He was going to grab ingredients to make Virgil’s favorite dinner, spaghetti and meatballs (well his actual favorite dinner was pineapple pizza from the local pizza joint, but Emile wanted to serve the boy something at least somewhat healthy for once in his life.)

That in mind, he went straight to the pasta aisle. While contemplating which of the spaghetti noodles he should grab, he noticed a man with a cart also perusing the aisle. He glanced at the contents of the man’s cart. “That’s a lot of cheese there friendo,” he commented.

“I’m trying to make homemade macaroni and cheese,” the man divulged with a smile.

“That’s always fun,” Emile replied, smiling back himself.

“I’ve never done it before. Do you have any suggestions for noodles?”

“Hmm… how about shell ones?”

“Ooo, like the boxed Velveeta shell macaroni, but better!” He enthused. “Aw! They have mini ones!” He snatched the box excitedly. “They’re so cute!”

“They are,” Emile agreed as he finally selected the whole wheat store brand spaghetti and slid it into his cart.

“Thanks for the suggestion! Have a nice day,” the man said and turned to leave.

“Bye!” Emile called after him.

He then continued on his quest, grabbing pasta sauce and a lot of fresh vegetables to sneak into the canned sauce as well as to leave in his brother’s home with the hopes that either his brother or his nephew might actually eat something healthy for once if it was right there. (Doubtful, but Emile could hope.)

He then spent an inordinate amount of time, debating which popcorn to get. Emile was thinking tonight would be a good night for movies with Virgil, and Virgil’s favorite snack was popcorn. He really should get the less buttery one, but he knew that Virgil liked buttery popcorn more. Perhaps he should compromise and get plain popcorn, but that one healthier ranch flavored powder topping that he liked. Decided, he grabbed the popcorn and the topping and went to exit the snack food aisle. “Hey,” a man with a mustache drew his attention away from his task. “My friend lost his little brother in the store. Have you seen a younger teenager walking alone around here? We think he might have gone to the snack food aisle.

Emile frowned. “Nope I haven’t seen anyone. I hope you find him soon.”

 “Thanks,” the man said already distracted with looking around again.

“Maybe try the front desk,” Emile suggested. “They could call over the intercom.”

“My brother’s already there,” the man replied waiving the suggestion off. “But thanks.”

“Well good luck!” Emile said as the man walked away towards the back of the store.

Gee, it took him almost 40 minutes to get groceries, he realized when he glanced at his phone in the checkout aisle. He shouldn’t let himself get that distracted.

Once he’d paid for the groceries, he took everything to his car and shoved them in the backseat. Right as he was about to stick the key in the ignition, he got a text message from his secretary.

‘Kai forgot his phone in your couch again, but your office is locked. Are you able to swing by really quick to let him in?’

He texted back ‘Sure! I’ll be there in 5.’ He wasn’t going to keep Kai away from his phone for the night and it wasn’t like the groceries he’d grabbed were extremely time sensitive. So, he drove back to the office.

Kai seemed thankful for his willingness to drive all the way back even if his ‘thank you’ was rather distracted as he was already typing something on his phone the moment after Emile handed it back to him.

He said goodbye to Kai and to his secretary and hopped back into his car intending to drive to Remy’s house. He’d just started the car when his phone started to ring.

“Yello,” he said cheerfully.

“Emile,” the serious voice greeted on the other end of the line. “This is Logan Sanders.”

Emile sobered immediately. “Hi Logan. Is something wrong? Do you have a patient for me?”

“No, actually,” Logan said. “It’s… about your brother.”

Emile froze. “What about my brother?” he asked. “Remy is on light duty.”

“He was yes,” Logan said. “However, there was a complication.”

“What type of complication?” Emile said and a bit of anger came to his tone unbidden.

“He was specifically targeted,” Logan said, and despite the calm way he spoke, Emile could detect the distress in his tone. “I’m very sorry, but he’s dead.”

“Oh, god. What about Virgil?”

“That’s the other thing,” Logan continued. “As soon as I heard of Mr. Gates death, I dispatched an agent to his home for protection, but when he arrived, his son was not there. There were signs of a break-in, but the perpetrator’s car was still there, and my agent believes Virgil fled the scene and was followed on foot. My agent is currently searching for him…”

“There’s a ‘but,’” Emile concluded.

There was a slight pause, just enough to tell Emile he wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he was pretending to be. “I haven’t heard from that specific agent in over half an hour.”

“Okay,” Emile gulped, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. There were hundreds of explanations for that, but many of them were bad. “Okay. I’ll go look myself since I know him and where he might go. I’ll,” his voice cracked a bit. “Call you if I find anything.”

“Alright, and I’ll…” but whatever Logan was going to say was lost as a hand touched Emile’s shoulder.

Emile screamed and tossed his phone as he accidently slammed his elbow into the car horn making it blare.

“Calm down! It’s just me,” said a voice.

“Frickin Frozone shitake mushrooms terrible tigger fish paste and cabbages, Remington!”

“You could curse like a normal person, Emile.”

“And you could not break into my car like a normal person,” Emile shot back turning around in his seat to face his older brother. “I’ll presume you’re not dead then.”

“Aw, were you worried about me?” he asked.

Violence is never the answer. At least that’s what he told his patients. Emile punched his shoulder the best he could from this angle. It clearly didn’t hit too hard as Remy just laughed.

“Sorry, Em,” he said reaching forward to ruffle his hair. Emile slapped him away.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Mega Bitch Ex decided she wanted me shot in the head and I decided I didn’t want that.”

“What does that mean?” Emile asked.

“It means,” Remy answered. “I faked my own death and while she thought I was dead,” he dug something out of his pocket and dangled it in front of him. It was a flash drive. “I stole this.”

“What is it?”

“Super-secret spy business.”

“Remy.”

“All that matters is she really shouldn’t have it and Logan will be very happy I got it away from her.”

“Speaking of Logan…” Emile had dropped his phone when Remy had surprised him, and the call had ended. He picked up the phone. “I should call him back.”

The phone was slapped out of his hand the second his picked it up.

“What the kriffing kriff Remy?”

“Please just say fuck. I beg of you,” Remy groaned. The phone starting ringing again from its place on the floor. Doubtlessly it was Logan since the last thing he’d heard was Emile screaming like he was being murdered.

“I need to answer that, Remy,” Emile said with a frown.

“You can’t. It’s too risky.”

“You literally just said you stole it for Logan. Why can’t I just answer the phone, say Remy’s fine actually, and he has a super-secret spy flash drive to give to you?”

“Because you don’t say shit like that over the telephone,” Remy told him while starting to wiggle his way into the front seat. “We’re going to take this thing to Logan in person and no one can know I’m alive until then.”

“I know you’re alive,” Emile pointed out.

Remy grabbed Emile’s phone when it stopped ringing and hit the power button to turn it off. He stuck it into his pocket. “Family doesn’t count,” Remy said. “…Also, I needed a ride.”

“Are you really going to keep my phone hostage this whole time and also what happened to your car?”

“It… uh… blew up,” Remy said. Emile stared at him blankly. “Yeah… so, anyway.”

“What do you mean it blew up?” Emile asked.

“I said ‘anyway.’”

“Saying ‘anyway’ doesn’t mean I just magically forget what you just said.”

Remy waved that off. “Anyway,” he said again. “We’ll have to pick up Virgil and … do something with him. I’m not leaving him home alone during this.”

“Right. I assume since you’re not dead that Virgil isn’t actually missing,” Emile concluded.

But instead of agreeing and telling Emile where Virgil was to go pick him up, there was silence. “Virgil is what?”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 6

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

The Monster in the Port Mafia's Basement

What tale will I tell you tonight, love? I have pretty ones, the sort of shiny baubles I could sell at a flea market for a dollar apiece. They glitter in the sunshine but they’re made of glass. You can see straight through them. But those are boring. Boring to tell, boring to listen to. You know how those end, anyway. 

Well, I’ve got a couple sad ones. Real tearjerkers, you know. A brother and a sister torn apart by the machinations of a great and hungry beast, a pair of lovers who can never truly touch...maybe a woman who would rather choke on flowers rather than ruin something lovely and pure. Do those bore you, my dear? You look as if you’re spacing out. 

I have just the story for you, then. I’ll tell it just as I was told, and you can’t complain about the ending. Or the middle bits. Do be warned, love. It’s not a nice tale at all. 

Deep in the bowels of the Port Mafia’s base, there lives a monster. 

What’s the Port Mafia, you ask? A group of smugglers, with their claws dug deep into the underbelly of Japan. Their reach stretched westward, consuming entire cities with their own lust for profit. In the end, they destroyed themselves, as all great and terrible things with claws and teeth do. But this story takes place long before that, so don’t worry your little head about it. Just listen. 

Now, where was I?

Ah. Deep in the bowels of the Port Mafia’s base, there lived a monster. For all I know, she’s still down there, writhing and snapping at anything that comes too close. 

The Port Mafia was well acquainted with monsters. Their boss was a serpent in human skin, with fangs held tight behind his smile. His second was an angry, rampaging god, who never did make much of an effort to keep his talons sheathed. And while he left of his own accord, though that’s an entirely different story, the man who kept the monsters caged was born under the Port Mafia’s stretching shadow. 

So when they found this particular monster, a young girl no older than thirteen, they did what they did best. Instead of letting the dark in her burn away with the sunshine, they tossed her deep into the bowels of the beast. 

She did terrible things down there, dear. Perhaps at first she was made to eat the apple, but soon she began to enjoy the taste. And that’s how little baby monsters, who can still become people through no small amount of healing, grow into adult monsters with eyes that flash in the dark and claws to pierce your skin. You were a baby monster, you know, just like me. Now look at you, all grown and clutching the handle of your teacup like a civilized being. I’m quite proud of how far you’ve come, you know. 

The sad bit about this monster in the Port Mafia’s basement, though, is that she was never meant to be one. By some accident of birth, some people are just going to grow up into dark, twisted little things, and no amount of happy circumstances will change that. But she was always meant to be a flower of the light, unlike you and I, who had to fight tooth and nail for sunshine. 

The greatest tragedy, I think, is that she never got that chance.

Ah, but I’m rambling. Do indulge an old woman, love. 

I heard this story from a boy who went down there, into that hungry darkness beneath the Port Mafia’s towers. He’s now a man, as old as I, and you’ll be pleased to know he survived the monster to run the candy shop on the north end of this city. Perhaps you’ve met him? No? Well, you never were one for sweets. 

Regardless, this boy knew the monster. Not very well, I’d say. He told me that they had only talked once, and so I asked him why he went. He told me that once was all he’d needed. 

Do I know what they talked about? No, unfortunately. You’ll have to ask him yourself. 

I do know, however, that they met because of their mentors. Hers was that great snake I mentioned. He was always so fond of warping young, powerful flowers into decaying husks of themselves. 

Ah, of course I knew him well. He was an improvement on the old Boss, if only because the snake had a brain and knew how to use it. He wouldn’t send me to my death out of spite, or out of paranoia. He would send me to my death if it served him. Though, perhaps that makes him worse. Regardless, the monster’s master gave her a short leash, and so she followed him wherever he went. 

The boy who told me this story also had a mentor. The Silver Fox, he used to be called. He’s dead now, long dead, of old age if I took his measure right. The snake and the fox were friends, once upon a time, and they remained friends as long as the fox turned a blind eye to his friend’s tricks. Perhaps the second tragedy is that he did so for too long to save her. 

Regardless, they met once, when their masters went for tea. A week later, the boy would infiltrate the Port Mafia base. It took him hours, he told me. The layers of security then might have stopped even the greatest assassin. As far as I know, it has.

How did he do it? Well, I can only speculate. He never did tell me the details—but I suspect he has forgotten them. It was a long time ago. But know this: the boy may be as human as you or I, perhaps more so, but his mind was something far greater than anything we may possess. He could have become the greatest detective in the world if he so chose. And while I don’t know for sure, he might well have, if he hadn’t visited the monster’s lair. 

It changed him, of course. Such things do. At the very least, you come out the other side of such a crucible fundamentally different, if not fundamentally warped. I do believe the boy was one of the lucky ones. 

Somehow, he walked into the lowest level of the Port Mafia’s base with his head held high. When he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, there was only one door, with a little glass window to peek into. It was a 2-way mirror, so he could glance inside without fear. And make no mistake, the room was undoubtedly occupied. But the hallway was as quiet as the grave. Even his shoes, he told me, made no sound. He is the sort of man who notices such things. 

Silently, the boy stepped to the window. It was a bit taller than him, he recalled, so he had to push up on his toes and brace himself on the door with his fingers. He only remembers because he had to wipe away his fingerprints after. He looked inside, then— 

What did he see? Dear, I’m trying to hold you in suspense. Be patient, and don’t interrupt. 

As I was saying, he looked inside. And he saw the monster, sitting as calm as you please, in a little metal chair. She was wearing the business attire that the Port Mafia favored, always pretending at civility when they’re all dark, writhing things stuffed into a mortal shell. She had her legs crossed and her golden butterfly hairpin, which the boy told me was the first thing that had caught his eye, sat jauntily in her hair. She was sitting across a table from a man. 

The man is not important. He must have been a failure of some kind, someone who hedged on a deal or leaked information to the wrong person. He could have been anyone. 

Oh, honestly, don’t look at me like that. I’m not callous, I’m realistic. 

But he was laid on that table like an offering, tied down with hospital-issue restraints. He had a strange expression on his face. The boy hesitated when he told me this part, as if he couldn’t quite find the words. I’ll repeat them to you. 

“Terror,” he told me. “Terror and bliss and some unspeakable dread.”

But also, the boy said, he looked so very tired, as if he could slump over at any moment. The monster smiled at the man, then leaned forward over the table. He couldn’t hear what she was saying to him, but he could read lips well enough at the time. Apparently, he picked it up during a stint in the police academy. From what he could tell, from that foggy two-way mirror, she was murmuring a poem to him. Some sort of lyrics, anyway. He told me that she recited an entire poem to this quivering mess of a man, but he only recalled one line after. 

“Kimi shinitamou koto nakare,” she whispered to him. “Thou shalt not die.” 

And a thousand butterflies burst from her, flashing red and purple and brilliant gold, descending upon the man in a swarm. They perched upon his head and shoulders, upon his arms, upon his chest. They covered him like a living blanket of jewels. But instead of looking awed, the boy told me, the man looked horrified. He began to babble pleas for rescue, for mercy, for salvation, but the monster only smiled wider. 

Then she flicked her fingers, twirling a scalpel between them. She cut the poor man open on that table, surrounded by butterflies. The boy could only watch as she dissected him with all the precision of a surgeon and the calm cynicism of someone who had done so a thousand times. And yet, when the man, by all rights, should have passed from this world to the next—the butterflies, the terrible, beautiful butterflies, flapped their wings. It felt like the air was sucked from the entire floor, the boy told me, as he watched the butterflies whirl around the man like a plague of locusts. 

When he could see the man again, he was perfectly whole. His skin unblemished, his blood no longer staining the table, and his face no longer slack with agony. The boy watched the monster cut him open again, and again, and again, each recitation of that poem bringing forth a new cloud of insects to pass judgement on his soul. 

He never opened that door. It had been his intent, he admitted to me, to open the door and tell her that they could run away together. That the snake would never find her, not if he had anything to say about it. But after watching her cut that man open a thousand times and putting him back together with a murmur, he turned around. He wiped his fingerprints off of the door. And he left the base, never to return. 

You look sick, love. Drink your tea. I warned you, you know. The story of the monster in the Port Mafia’s basement was never going to be a nice one, or one with a happy ending. I still don’t know what happened to her. She would be an old woman like me, now. Perhaps she has died. Perhaps that curious ability of hers means she cannot die at all. Perhaps she will live forever and ever, longer than any monster has a right to, and watch us all perish from this earth. 

Too dark? My apologies. And here you are, taking the time out of your busy workday to talk to your poor, elderly mother. I do adore you, Kyouka. I don’t think I tell you that enough. 

--

Thou Shalt Not Die always made me wonder if it could be applied to torture and interrogation. This fic exists in the same universe as They Took Her, if you were wondering--my dark little AU.

[paipayaseeds]

“sorry”

he was apologizing

suddenly, she felt a wave of guilt for ever comparing him to her mother. she crawled over to him, filling the gap he created. using one hand to lift his head up, she curled her index finger on the other and gently swiped away the tears she saw. “don’t cry, shuichi! i would be okay with dying if it meant you got to live!” she said a little too cheerfully, not realizing just how gruesome the statement was. she smiled behind her mask before shakily standing up; her low weight and the fact that in the past week she’d only eaten a chocolate bar and some chocolate ice cream, her impulsive action was starting to catch up to her a little. “and don’t leave your wife behind again, that’s mean. she... she just wants to play the piano for you!” she scolded before walking over to kaede, the clicking of her shoes on the tile echoing throughout the room. “i bet you’re reeaaaaally good at piano.” no shit, fumiko, she’s the ultimate pianist.

with a giggle she left the room. her cheerfulness might’ve been a defense mechanism her brain was using to not think about the inevitable. was there even anything to do in this school? she clearly wasn’t inspired to write any music, that’s for sure. who would be in a situation like this? all of a sudden, she was outside. little did she know, a certain robot had been keeping an eye on her, and followed her out with a glass of water and some crackers. she sat in the grass, looking up at the sky behind the cage until her view was obstructed by a pair of LED eyes.

“w-WAAH” she yelled, scooting back and sitting up. she had just blinked and kiibo was staring down at her, it was a little scary! he sat down next to her, groaning like an old man as he did so.

“miss akiyama, this is for you,” he said, handing her the snack, “you’re clearly malnourished, and i heard miu yelling from the dining hall! it isn’t safe to drink that amount of alcohol in your condition!”

“o-oh uh, i didn’t— i didn’t know, sorry...” she held the crackers in one hand and the water in another, wondering how she was going to eat them. fuck it, who cared anymore. he’s just a robot, anyway, she thought (this is the beginning of fumiko’s robophobia arc). placing them on the ground, she took off her mask to eat.

“what happened?” fumiko was barely even listening to the boy next to her, too busy chomping down on the snack he brought. therefore, she hadn’t realized he was referring to her scar and not what happened yesterday.

“mmmmmm..... shuichi got mad or something, i dunno.” she responded. his eyes were as wide as saucers, mouth agape. what? how could he do such a thing, he thought to himself. while she took a sip of water, he thought about her reaction to his aggression the previous morning. he noticed the gauze on her arm and the bruises and, suddenly, it was his duty to monitor this girl at all times. she finished her snacks and he took the trash, putting it into a compartment he had on his body because i don’t feel like writing them walking to the trash can. she put her mask back on and took the hand he reached out to help her up. “..............can i touch your hair?” so you’ll ask kiibo but not shuichi? gotcha. the boy hesitantly nodded with a confused look on his face.

her hand reached out and pet him, “it’s so soft! like a.... like a cat! yeah!” it was times like this when he hated the professor for adding a blush function to his design. “meow for me, kiibo! meeeooooow”

“u-uh.... m-m-meow...?”

“awwwwwww you’re so cute, hehe!” she giggled bringing her hand back down. she got curious and asked him a question, “so... will you still be alive after today? you’re a robot, after all... are you able to die?”

he wanted to get mad at her for her assumption, but he stopped himself, she’s... she’s drunk. “i-i... it depends, really. if i am physically destroyed, yes i would be considered ‘dead’......” he held a finger to his chin as he thought, “my system can also reset back to infancy. it’s happened once before!” she looked at him in awe, and he couldn’t help the little smile that crept up onto his face, he felt a little proud that he impressed her. sighing, he looked at her with a serious expression, “you need to get some rest, miss akiyama.”

“then read me a bedtime story, mr. kiibo!” she laughed, not expecting him to actually pick her up (surprised that he hadn’t struggled) and walk her down to the library. when they got there, it was empty. he picked up a little storybook which had been there for some reason, and gingerly sat on the ground with her in his lap. he was glad she hadn’t made any comments about his armor, he was scared that-

“kiibo, you feel hard.” (BABAHAHDFBHAHD)

“my apologies, are you uncomfortable?”

“no i’m okay- it’s okay.”

he nodded, opening the book and reading it to her. he’d barely finished the second page before he heard her snore quietly, leaning on his chestplate. carefully as to not wake her up, he took her mask off and placed it off to the side before wrapping his arms around her. he wondered what the unfamiliar emotion he felt when he looked down at her sleeping face was, but he didn’t have much time to think about it before he heard the library’s door open.

Shuichi furrowed his brow at her nonchalant, self-sacrificial statement that brought him a mini-cardiac arrest. Was she serious? Maybe it was just drunk people talk? People do say drunk talk is sober thoughts... At least, that's what his uncle told him.

"W- what? N- now hold on— Fumiko-" Wife? Had she really been that intoxicated that quickly? Checking his wrist that had no watch, he swears it's only been a few minutes since she downed that bottle of alcohol.

Kaede seemed just as confused, but instead of voicing her concern, she laughed awkwardly and nodded. "Haha yeah, at least I think I am..." She trailed off as Fumiko left Miu's lab abruptly, before turning her gaze back to Shuichi. "Do you think she's okay...?" Miu scoffed, "No fucking way, after chugging half of my booze? There's no way she's a heavyweight like me!" Miu lied, laughter loud, shrill and painful to Shuichi's ears.

Kaede nervously shuffled to the doors, "A- alright then. Um, Shuichi? We should probably go to the library now." Beckoning him as if he was a dog, she followed Fumiko's cold trail out the doors of the lab, and back into the school, Shuichi following not far behind. Despite the remaining worries for Fumiko's well-being, Shuichi couldn't seem to muster any more confidence to speak up about the girl who had just.

You know, like a coward.

As they made their way into the library, cameras in hand and plan in mind—well, Kaede's mind; Shuichi had been too preoccupied with thoughts of Fumiko, as always. He seemed to always think, think, think about the girl; though he barely ever acted. It was pointless, wasn't it? He was useless.

Walking into the library with his gaze glued to his shoes, he didn't seem to notice the two sitting on the ground, as well as Kaede who seemed stunned to her spot. The gloomy detective only brought his head up as he felt a strong glare burning holes in his head.

As he perked his head up, his eyes widened as he spotted Fumiko in the robot's arms; a sight he certainly hadn't been expecting.

A sight Kaede definitely hadn't been expecting either, had been the large scar gashed across the girl's face. She found her heart beating a little faster in worry as her eyebrows creased; what happened to her? Kaede wondered if it still hurt.

Gulping, his wide eyes focused onto Fumiko. "Is... Is she still—?" K1B0 held his hand up at Shuichi, a look and attitude of pure annoyance. "Assaulter...!" K1B0 accused in a hushed tone as to not wake the girl up, eyes narrowing until either of them could barely see his pupils.

Stopping in his tracks towards the snuggling two, he looked at K1B0 in confusion, unsure if he heard him right. "W- Assaulter? W- wait, me?" Kaede looked confused, "Him?" She couldn't help but wonder what a timid guy like him could do to be considered an assaulter.

"Why are you even in the library in the first place, Shuichi?" The way he had spoken the detective's name had been petty and sassy, it seemed to unnerve Shuichi. "Were you trying to find her? Because I don't think it's a very good idea for her to be with you right now." He wasn't sure what came over him, the almost motherly instinct to protect the girl, hit him faster than his robotic receptors could even process.

"N- no, I..." Thinking back to their growing distance, his expression slightly dropped, "... Y- yeah, you're right." Shuichi submitted and surrendered faster than the speed of light, feeling more pathetic as each second passed him by(as he fucking should, bastard got what he deserved-)—

Before Kaede interrupted, taking the lead for the unreliable boy as usual, "We're here to um, to investigate..! Shuichi is helping us find a way out of here!"

K1B0 probably would've cared more about the fact that they were helping them find a way out of this hellhole, but no. He had a sleeping baby Fumiko in his arms, and so the natural reaction was— He hissed as Kaede spoke in a loud tone, shooting a look at her as if he was saying; 'Are you trying to wake the baby!?'

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #4- Man, Talk About Timely, Huh? It’s Time for the Plague Storyline!

Issue #4 opens up with First Aid writing in his diary about the less-than-stellar working conditions at Delphi medical center, and it’s not because Ambulon caught him reading Wreckers fanfic during office hours for the eighth time this week.

So, here’s the thing: you can’t be demoted from doctor to nurse. That’s not how that goes, because doctors and nurses aren’t on the same career path ladder. A doctor can have certain accesses and privileges taken away if their performance slips, or can be moved to a different ward or transferred to another facility, but outright demotion to nurse status isn’t a THING. If anything, First Aid would be performing nurse duties to cover for the fact that Delphi seems to have a grand total of three staff members for the entire outpost. Hell, they’ve had to outsource their mental health checkups to a guy who was in orbit over Cybertron until a couple months ago.

But anyway, something’s up at Delphi, and it all started when they let a couple of Decepticon surrendering combatants inside. These two dudes were running from the Decepticon Justice Division, a group who basically super-murder any Decepticon who’s decided to do a runner from the Cause. The DJD’s base of operations is in the same general area as Delphi, which seems like maybe not the best idea for the Autobots when it came to outpost placement, but it seems to be working out pretty well for the surrendering combatants.

Pharma shows up, and is ready to throw them back outside- he’s the big boss, so he can make that kind of call- but after a little detective works they figure out that the two don’t have their t-cogs anymore, having had them removed for religious purposes. Ambulon sees them as the exact opposite of a threat because of this, not to mention him having a soft spot for surrendering ‘Cons, and manages to convince Pharma to let them stay, and also not violate the Autobot Code, Article 7, which states that all surrendering combatants must be granted safe haven. Ultra Magnus would be proud.

They lock up the Decepticons, slate them for a patch up, then things get complicated as it turns out, they’ve got a branched spark. The last time we saw a branched spark, things didn’t turn out so hot, and it looks like things have started going similarly downhill.

But enough about the horrific deaths of dozens of robots on a frozen planet, it’s time for bar shenanigans!

While Skids prepares to commit an act of violence on a droid that’s done absolutely nothing to him and is just trying to do its friggin’ job, Swerve reveals to Ratchet that he’s decided to follow his dreams after all and open a bar. He doesn’t have all the paperwork turned in yet, per se, but he’s working on it. He hands Ratchet a free drink to celebrate the off-panel event of the Lost Light having found itself on the map again, and Ratchet, who’s apparently never heard of a shot, gripes about the portioning.

Of course, he might have a bit of a point, as the drink seems to shrink more and more as he talks to Swerve about the fact that they’re both giant nerds who were subscribed to Wreckers: Declassified.

Was non-war-related entertainment just not allowed for the last four million years? No wonder the war went on for so long- everyone was so steeped in it they forgot how to function like regular people. Since the logs were beamed directly into the brain, I can only imagine the amount of physic damage that last entry caused.

The reason Ratchet’s brought up everyone’s favorite podcast is that there was a new entry last night- odd, considering that Ironfist’s been dead for a couple years at this point. It was just a series of seemingly random numbers, or at least it would have been, if Ratchet wasn’t a good doctor who kept up-to-date on his medical news.

My my, I do wonder which Wreckers: Declassified subscriber could have sent those statistics on Delphi out into the aether.

As luck would have it, the Lost Light isn’t terribly far away from Messatine at the moment, which is the planet Delphi is on. Ratchet decides it’s time to check things out.

Over in Rodimus’ very pink room, Ultra Magnus wants to have a discussion about Tailgate, and the fact that he wants to be a Decepticon. This is, obviously, a problem, considering the fact that everyone on the ship, who wasn’t stuck in some sort of hole or alternate dimension for the last six millions years, is staunchly anti-Decepticon. Magnus laments on the fact that now that the war is over, he has to start seeing people as people, as opposed to cogs in the machine. Magnus is one of those guys who functions better with structure, which the Lost Light doesn’t really have a ton of.

Rodimus tells Magnus to lighten up a bit, before he pulls something trying to bring military regulation into civilian life, and says that he’ll handle the whole Tailgate thing.

Back down on Messatine, Ratchet’s dragged Drift and Pipes of all people into his little visit to Delphi, and they’re rocking up to the scene on the MARBs- Mobile Autobot Repair Bays. This is Pipe’s first space adventure, and he’s really happy to be here!

We’ll see how he feels a little later in the day.

As the boys make their way over to the plot, Drift and Ratchet lay a bit of groundwork down for future storylines, then arrive outside Delphi to find the door locked and spray painted with a big ol’ X.

Shane McCarthy slipped James Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet. Let’s see how that pays off.

Pipes decides to do a thing and crash through the entrance like a hooligan. It goes about as well as one could expect, though we do a pretty sweet and unnecessary flip from Drift out of it.

We’re going to need to soak Pipes in rubbing alcohol for a good hour.

Ratchet yells at Pipes for busting into a medical outpost that clearly wasn’t meant to be cracked open like a cold one, not to mention knocking over at least three hospital beds.

Then a sick guy shows up and Drift flips the hell out and slices up a guy so hard Pipes has to remove his visor to watch the insanity unfold.

The whole “sword murder” thing doesn’t really gel with the idea of “do no harm”, so Ratchet and Drift get into it a bit before First Aid shows up and starts drawing on Pipe’s face.

Back on the Lost Light, Rodimus is keeping his promise and dealing with Tailgate, with the help of Rewind, resident historical archivist and the guy who’s about to rock Tailgate’s fucking world in under 12 seconds.

Okay. So.

The thing about recorded history is everything has a bias. No matter how impartial the recorder attempts to be, no matter how detached, there will ALWAYS be at least a little bleedthough. Now, while it’s unlikely Rewind’s been in direct combat, because he’s friggin’ tiny and turns into a data slug, and while he doesn’t seem the patriotic type, he’s still an Autobot. He’s only been on one side of the war, so most, if all all of his archive, is built from the framework of being surrounded by Autobot mindsets and propaganda. It would appear that this isn’t the first time Rewind’s done something like this, if he already has the upload time committed to memory down to the tens decimal. If he’d been asked to do this prior to the conclusion of the war- very likely, considering it ended a few months ago- what are the odds that he was asked to frame things a little more in favor of his own team? Pretty good, I’d think.

Guys, I don’t think Tailgate is having a good time with the history lesson.

Needless to say, any concern over Tailgate wanting to be a Decepticon is pretty soundly quashed after this.

Back over with the plague plotline, First Aid gives Ratchet the rundown on the symptoms they’ve run into at Delphi.

You fucker, you got that line from Wreckers: Declassified.

Delphi hasn’t been able to call for help, because even if they didn’t have their hands full of liquified robot, communications have been out since something went off and broke pretty much everything in the outpost, general health and well-being included. First Aid suspects a dirty bomb, curtesy of the DJD. The tour of the facility ends in the medical bay proper, where Ambulon is hard at work trying to keep folks alive.

Ratchet looks over the scene, and notes that the older patients in the ward aren’t crying their literal eyeballs out. Weird, that.

Ambulon shows off their super-secret patient, who is kept in shadow for the reader, to keep the suspense going for a bit longer. Mystery patient’s been in an “everlasting coma” since he got here, and while Ambulon and Pharma don’t think anything can be done, First Aid’s willing to get weird with it.

Earlier in the issue, it was mentioned that Ambulon didn’t think First Aid took any initiative. Turns out, First Aid does, and has, just not on things Ambulon agrees with.

It was at that point that Ratchet decided he rather liked First Aid.

Back with Tailgate, he’s returned to his room to confront Cyclonus, who’s busy doing something on the computer. What exactly isn’t revealed, and never will be.

Tailgate is really cross about the fact that Cyclonus let him walk around on a ship full of Autobots claiming he wanted to be a Decepticon. Of course, it’s not like Cyclonus knew he was going to be such a loudmouth about it, otherwise maybe he would have told him to maybe NOT do that, if only to prevent his life getting further muddied up by a war he wasn’t even around for.

Tailgate’s gotten really worked up over this, because that’s just how he is as a person, and even goes so far as to punch Cyclonus in the arm in his frustration. He apologizes almost immediately, but the bear’s already been poked, unfortunately.

Oh, honeybunches, you are going to be regretting that move for the next five years.

But not before the customary “pulling away from the one guy who’ll even talk to you because you don’t know how to properly react to anything anymore" thing.

Back on Messatine, we find out where Pharma got to- he’s been locked into the quarantine room by accident, and will remain there until all technopathogens are completely dead. This will take millions of years.

That seems like poor planning for such a room.

Or, at least, it would be, if Ambulon was still running the show.

How the fuck has Ambulon survived this long without dying of stupidity?

As Ratchet starts trying to get Pharma out of his glass case of emotion, Pipes is starting to not have so much fun on his first-ever field trip.

Yaaay, space adventure!

Ratchet warns Drift not to kill Pipes- repeatedly- and Drift manages to do that, though it looks a little dodgy for a second, as he bonks the little guy on the head and knocks him out. Ratchet’s managed to get Pharma out, and Pharma immediately runs for the prison cells, saying he’s figured it out.

Ambulon carries what’s left of Pipes back to the emergency ward, and Ratchet holds the little dude’s hand while they get him hooked up to some feeds. Drift starts bleeding from the eyes. Awesome.

Enter Pharma.

Today just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?

Turns out those two Decepticons from earlier got out of their cells somehow, and they’ve got guns. Things aren’t looking too good for the Autobots.

Well, I mean, if he says it’s fine, then I guess…

Yep, our mystery patient is none other than Fortress Maximus, warden of Garrus 9, victim of Overlord, and glorified lock-pick for the Aequitas chamber. He’s looking a lot better than the last time we saw him, in that he’s got some limbs attached to that torso of his, and also eyeballs. Good for him.

[liliesoftherain]

My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader

Ch. 6 Battles Over but a New War Begins! 

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5

Yay chapter 6! Wow i’m surprised I got two chapters out today, I am still getting caught up on all the requests too(: Thanks for waiting guys! TAG LIST: @rizamendoza808​ ! (:

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You heard AllMight whisper those two words and felt as relieved as his voice sounded. You tried to stand but your body felt too hot and you were growing weaker by the second. There was still blood on you, but due to the heat it already dried which left a nasty feeling on your face. Managing a crawl, you shuffled away enough to feel someone trying to pull you to your feet. 

"Don't touch," You mumbled, head lolling as more water from your body was being used to cool you down, your suit not being able to do much considering you've only tried that move once in this suit, and had water right away from a concerned Iida during the practice battles. "I'm too hot."  

"That's not an issue." A smooth voice retorted as you felt your body heat going down, a hand on your face as ice was formed and pressed to you skin. You sighed at the feeling hearing his ice crackle as the heat coming off of you was melting it. You were better now, but still incredibly woozy since you didn't have anything to drink.

A yell was heard, and you assumed it had to be Present Mic, because you didn't know anyone else who had such a booming voice. Looking up, the teachers had come through the door and were now running around helping all of the students. You briefly heard more gunshots as the black mist had wrapped around the criminals, being sucked into Thirteen's black hole.

"I may have failed to kill you this time but your days are numbered!" Shigaraki hissed as Thirteen's black hole wasn't strong enough to stop them from warping away. 

When they disappeared you saw Izuku still on the floor where you ended up tossing him, and tried to go over to him.

"Wait you shouldn't be moving, you aren't strong enough." Even though his tone sounded like he was insulting you, you figured Todoroki was just trying to be nice in his own way, seeing as you were standing now but still shaking.

"Thanks but I'm okay." You unsteadily walked over to Izuku and crouched down next to him trying to see if he was okay, but he didn't want your help.

"I couldn't do anything, I wasn't able.. You had to save me.. I wasn't able to help you AllMight!" Before you could answer AllMight spoke up.

"That isn't true, you bought me a few vital seconds. If not for that I'd be dead now. Thank you Midoriya you've saved me once again. Thank you both." He smiled.

"Thank you, AllMight!" Izuku started to cry. "I'm just so glad you're okay."

AllMight looked different, and you couldn't describe it. He looked softer, and not just in attitude. His muscles weren't as defined and his face thinner. Before you had any chance to figure it out a wall pushed you away from Izuku and AllMight, and you were lightly tossed back towards Kirishima who had been running over.

"Hey you guys are you-Oh shit (y/n)!" He lifted you and looked towards Cementoss. He gave you both a firm look.

"For your safety, please stay back children, and join your classmates at the front gate. Leave those two to us, we will take care of them." You looked at each other before nodding in your teachers direction.

"Uh yes sir." Heading back towards were Bakugou and Todoroki were waiting, Kirishima informed them that it was best to start heading back to the gates.

Bakugou scowled at you when you both walked up to the group, leaning on Kirishima for support.

"That was really fucking stupid of you to do idiot." You smiled back, ignoring his insults.

"Maybe, but as long as I got to save someone, it doesn't matter what happens."

"IDIOT OF COURSE IT MATTERS, YOU WERE JUST ANOTHER BODY GETTING IN ALLMIGHT'S WAY!" 

"Why are you so worried Bakugou, she was badass wasn't she!" Kirishima grinned.

"WHO THE FUCK SAID I WAS WORRIED DAMMIT, SHUT THE HELL UP ALL OF YOU."

You laughed, making your way upstairs with the two boys bickering over your head while you were still using Eijiro as a balance. Getting to the top, you saw just about all of your classmates and felt better that no harm had befallen them. You felt a body crash into yours as the breath was knocked out of your lungs, being forced to the ground and letting go of kirishima's arm. 

"I'm so glad you're okay (y/n)!" Mina was crying above you, and you pat her head to calm her down. 

"Hey hey it's alright, I'd be better if you weren't crushing me though." She jumped up and apologized, you laughed her off as you clutched your head. The world spinning.

"Oh no I'm sorry, are you okay?" She grabbed your cheeks in her hands and smooshed them together, making your lips look like ones of a fish, before scrubbing away at the dried blood that you almost forgot was there. 

"Yesh." You got out, swatting her hands away. "I just need some water, my body is using what it can to cool off so I need to make sure I don't lose too much water, otherwise I'll faint." 

The teachers walked all of the students out, and you were handed a bottle of water by the police who were just arriving outside. You chugged three of them like they were nothing before you felt better, standing next to Mina and Ochaco as an officer was doing a headcount.

"17, 18, 19, 20.. Well it looks as if you all are unharmed, with the exception of that boy whose legs are all messed up."

You crossed your arms, looking at Ochaco who had a worried look on her face. You put a comforting hand on her shoulder and smiled. 

"I'm sure he'll be okay, that kid is always breaking some bones."

"Yeah I guess so," she nodded, "but wait, (y/n) weren't you there too with all of them? What happened? How did he break his legs?"

"Uh well, he used his strength and sent it to his legs I guess, and when he pushed off they just broke."

"Let's get these kids back to the main campus." The detective called out, "We should give them time to rest before we question them, they've been through a lot."

"Detective what about Mr. Aizawa?" Tsuyu hopped over towards the man. He looked over at her and pulled out his phone.

"Let's see shall we? I'll call the doctor on the case. When the doctor answers the phone is put on speaker and you hold your breath.

"Well, I'll be honest with you all. The bones in his arms are splintered, and he has facial fractures. Thankfully there seems to be no serious brain trauma, but.. his orbital floor has almost been completely destroyed. There's no way of knowing if he will be able to see once he wakes up.  "

"Well, you heard the man."

"Ribit.."

"Not his eyes.."

"Uh!" Mina walked up, "Sir what about Thirteen?"

"There's no need to worry, despite a few nasty lacerations to the back, Thirteen is going to pull through good as new" 

"And AllMight?" You wondered sheepishly, knowing not everyone saw how hard he fought, so some may question why you're worrying about the number one Pro Hero. But you couldn't help it, your memory flashing to his smaller form, even though you only saw it for a second, and he didn't look too different, there was something that just wasn't right.

"He's also without any serious injuries, he's at the nurses office right now, since all he needs is a quick pick me up from Recovery Girl and he should be A-okay!"

"How about Deku?"

"How's Midoriya?" Izuku's two friends wondered at the same time, both of their eyes drawn in worry.

"Mido-ah, Recovery Girl is taking care for him too, he should be fine!"

Little sighs of relief spreads out among the crowd at the knowledge of everyone's safety and that this was finally over.

"Now, let's get you back to class!" 

"Okay!"

"Sanza, I have some business to attend to in the nurse's office, I'll leave this to you!"

"Yes sir!" A cat replied.

"Wait what?" You mutter.

"It's a cat?" Mina said back.

"Awh look at his bell!" Ochaco gushed.

You were about to board when you saw Bakugou staring at the building, firsts clenched at his sides.

"Bakugou come on!" You shouted, trying to wave him over.

"Yeah lets go man, we're going back to class now!" Kirishima helped you out.

"Yeah yeah, I heard him you idiots." He replied, walking up and getting in right after you.

You all sat on the bus and made the slow ride back to the school, and it was already sunset when you finally arrived. You went to the locker rooms and changed out of your hero costumes, enjoying the peace you felt back in the safety of your school. Your mind kept drifting back to your battle, and you only had pride. It wasn't a common occurrence first years got to see big pro heroes in action, or try to take on big bad guys yourselves and make it out alive. 

You walked out of the locker area, and felt a small pain in your shoulder. Rolling up your shirt, you remember you had to burn yourself. You just stared at your arm and saw the messy patchwork you did to keep yourself from bleeding. Drifting into your thoughts as you traced it. It stung a little more when you did so but you ignored the feeling, just thinking about how it was going to leave a nasty scar. 

"Hey don't worry about it, I think it looks really cool! Battle scars yea?" You heard Kirishima say, walking out of the lockers with Kaminari in tow.

 You dropped your arm and sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck, an awkward chuckle leaving your lips.

"Uh yea, I'm sure it won't bother me too much once it's healed up."

"I think it looks sexy as hell so don't worry your pretty head!" Kaminari winked, causing you to roll your eyes.

"You're all in the fucking way. Move." Looking back, Bakugou was glaring at you all. 

His eyes quickly looked down, right at your shoulder, and you couldn't help but move your sleeve down to cover it and look away. You heard a grunt before Bakugou brushed past you.

"Stop fucking worrying about it, you keep messing with it and it will get ugly."

You gave a smile as you watched him go till he was out of sight, looking back to the other two boys, smile growing. 

"Yea he's right, if I keep messing with it it'll remind me of your face Denki and I couldn't handle it." 

"Hey what! I'm not ugly!" Laughs filled the halls as well as Kaminari's whining. Leaving the school hallways you all left the school and accompanied one another to the station before going your separate ways.

The following day school was closed, you assumed they wanted to give the students, teachers, parents, and media alike a chance to rest before anything blew up. The media being the scavengers they were, reported the U.S.J attack and played it on repeat, knowing it was causing some uneasiness among civilians. 

Your father was proud at you when you told him everything that had happened, but was worried that you were put into the situation in the first place. You didn't tell him when you rushed head first to take the attack for Izuku, you knew his heart wouldn't be able to handle how reckless you acted.  It was reckless, but it was for a good cause and you weren't ashamed. 

You spent your day off training rather than relaxing, the whole incident wanting you to get stronger. The entire night before you found it difficult to sleep, as the events played out in your mind. At first you felt accomplished, but now you felt sick. You were weak, and unable to do much. You might've been able to help someone else, but you weren't able to save yourself.

Without the help from one of the U.A teachers, you don't know what could have happened. You learned from Tsu on the bus ride home that the boss villain had a quirk called Decay. Whenever he touched something it turned whatever it was into dust. That it happened to Mr. Aizawa's elbow, and you didn't know how to react.

That hand had almost touched your face, and you were helpless to stop it. You were way too vulnerable and useless, and you barely did anything to help. You only managed to get in the way of the Pros. It made you feel sick, and you could still hear that disgusting laughter echoing in your head. So your trained and trained and trained some more. Just on your physical body, since you and your father's home-made gym wasn't the best for your hot quirk.

Nighttime rolled around too fast, before you knew it, you were wishing your father a goodnight and trudging upstairs to get some well needed shut eye. You went to bed with hopes of more training tomorrow at school, a new wish on your mind. 

'I have to become stronger, not just for the sake of others, but for myself now. So I can always have the opportunity to protect someone, no matter what.'

At school the next morning, you sat at your desk, not knowing which teacher would be walking through that door, seeing as Aizawa was still in recovery.

"We're totally big deals," Kaminari's voice cuts through your thoughts, "we're basically celebrities."

"Yeah it's kinda crazy right?" Kirishima said.

"Get over yourselves, the hero course that pumps out heroes was attacked and that's what they care about." Jirou grumbled back, annoyed at being seating right next the blonde and hearing his loud voice next to her sensitive ears. 

The class continued to talk as you leaned back in you chair, trying to think of any teacher who would be coming in.

"Who knows what would've happened to us if the teachers hadn't shown up." 

"WHY'D YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT? I'M GOING TO PISS MYSELF JUST THINKING ABOUT IT" Poor Mineta, his cowardly shouts could probably be heard all through the school.

"OH SHUT UP AND GROW A PAIR LOSER!" And then there was Bakugou, of course.

"Did you guys see AllMight fighting the bird guy?" Sato asked excitedly while throwing punches in the air, "that dude was super strong but he still destroyed him!"

"Yes his strength is truly a thing of wonder." Tokoyami mused from next to him.

When the door swung open, everyone stopped talking to see Iida rush in, a stern look on his face.

"Attention home room class is about to begin, everyone stop talking and take your seats!" 

"Uh Iida, we're already sitting?" You sweat dropped at his enthusiasm. 

"Yeah you're the only one standing."

He pouted, and sat in his desk with his head down as if he was ashamed.

"I wonder who is coming to teach class today!" Mina wondered, having to have Tsu push her up as she almost fell backwards from leaning on her chair.

"I've been wondering all morning, " You spoke out, " He's still injured so there's no way he could be here today, I wonder which teacher is going to be taking over."

As soon as finished, the door opened once more, showing a man wrapped in bandages.

"Of course I can be here today, good morning class." 

"Mr. Aizawa what are you doing here!" The class bellowed at the same time, looks of shock on worry on everybody's face.

"Wow what a pro.." Denki mumbled. Kirishima just laughed, talking about how manly Aizawa was. "Mr. Aizawa I'm glad you're okay!" Iida shouted, and when you looked at all the wrappings on Aizawa, you knew he wasn't okay.

"You're walking around like a zombie, you should be at home, or even the hospital, resting up!" You exclaimed.

"My well being is irrelevant. What's more important is that your fight isn't over yet.."

The class started to whisper, wondering what he meant, the talk of more villains made people grow anxious, until Aizawa hushed you guys with his next sentence.

"The U.A Sports Festival is about to start."

"YES!" Kirishima's outburst made you jump, you were excited too but you didn't think anyone could be that happy about it right now with everything going on. The rest of the class sighed in relief at not having to deal with anymore criminals.

"LET'S GO KICK SOME ASSSS!" Denki's hand was shoved over Kirishima's mouth, pushing him to sit down.

"Wait a sec,"

"Is it a good idea to hold the sports festival so soon after the attack?"

"It could cause some anxiety, seeing as we'd all be in the same place. Most people would worry don't you think?" You bit your lip.

"I guess the administration believes this is a good way to show the threat has been dealt with and the school has been safe. Plus there's going to be more security compared to past years festival. "

"This event is a huge opportunity for all U.A. students, it's not something we can just cancel because of a few villains." 

You lost yourself in thought again, ignoring the speech Aizawa was giving about the sports festival and its importance. You already knew that not only did it provide entertainment to people from around the world, but that this was an amazing opportunity for people to get scouted, or even for other kids from different departments to join the hero course. Another importance was that your dad was going to be there, watching you in person. You were going to win no matter what.

"You have one chance a year, and three chances in a lifetime. You better not slack off on your training."

"Yes sir!"

"Class is dismissed."

After the rest of your morning classes, the midday break came. Most kids walked out to go enjoy their lunch, but you weren't that hungry so you stayed in the classroom along with a few other students.

"That villain stuff sucked sure, BUT I'M SO PUMPED FOR THESE GAMES."

"If we put on a good show, we're basically on the road to being pros!" Sero agreed with Kirshima, both boys having shit-eating grins on their face at the thought.

"Yea this is why I'm even here in the first place!" Sato punched a fist into an open palm, determination swirling in his eyes.

"Yes, we have so few chances we have to make this count." Tokoyami sighed.

"Well good luck to you all," You stretched your hands above your head, a smirk forming. "Because my goal is to come out on top, so you'll have to deal with me."

"Ha! Like I'm going to lose to you again (y/n)" Kirishima playfully glared, cracking his knuckles and crossing his arms.

"Just don't come cryin' to me when I'm the one to kick your ass got it."

"Oh okay tough guy, trash talk isn't becoming of you. We'll see who kicks whose ass in the games alright?"

"You're on, I have no worries cause a shorty like you couldn't beat a manly guy like me." 

"What'd I say about trash talk huh punk?" You jumped up and grabbed Kirishima into a headlock, giving him a noogie.

 He tried wiggling out of your grasps but you laughed like a maniac and held him tighter. You didn't see the blush on his face when you squeezed him against your chest. 

"Ah (y/n) I think you're killing him." Sero sweat dropped as you gave one last good knuckle rub before releasing him. Kirishima's cheeks a bright pink as he pouted and looked away, trying to fix his hair.

"Awh c'mon Eijiro don't be embarrassed, I didn't mess up your hair that bad."

"It wasn't that.." You heard him whisper, and you were going to ask what he meant when Ochaco's fierce shout caught you off guard.

"EVERYONE I'M GOING TO DO MY BEST!"

You heard the group she was standing with offer small agreements, before she turned to face you, eyes narrowed.

"I SAID, I'M GOING TO DO MY BEST!" You raised your fist to match hers, walking to Midoriya to ask him what was going on.

"What was that all about?" You whispered, still watching her freak out and yelling crazily.

"I have no idea." He sighed out, a small smile on his face anyways. You threw your arm around his shoulders, a smile on your lips as well.

"Either way it's endearing to see her that way, guess we'll all have to do our best, huh?" Izuku flushed heavily, wobbling on his feat as you swear you saw steam coming out of his ears.

"Ye-yeah uh of- totally yea HAHA!" 

"Wanna get lunch together?" You giggled as the question seemed to put him even more of a flurry of embarrassment, so you grabbed Ochaco's hand to still her from her ranting.

"Let's get lunch yea?" She quickly agreed, and you walked out together while Iida and Izuku followed. 

On the way to the lunch hall, you couldn't help the question that slipped past your lips.

"Hey Ochaco? What made you want to come to U.A. to be a pro hero?" 

She flushed now, as all three sets of eyes were trained on her. She twirled her fingers together before stopping and facing you all.

"Oh well, because.. I want to make lots of money!"

"For the money? You want to become a Pro Hero to be rich?" Izuku was shocked, and Ochaco scratched her head nervously, looking away almost ashamed.

"Well if I'm being blunt then yea, I know it sounds pretty greedy, you guys have such high ambitions, I hope you don't think less of me now.." She looked over at you, "At least I think I know what you want, I don't think you've ever told me why you want to be a hero (y/n)-chan." 

The guys looked at you as well, seeing if you'd answer.

"Well if I'm the one being honest now, I want to be a Pro to show my dad and everyone around me I have what it takes to protect them and keep them safe, no matter what. BUT you're goal is really great too, self perseverance isn't something to be ashamed of."

"Yeah! Perfectly admirable to support your well being!" Iida enthusiastically agreed, waving his arms frantically. 

"It's just surprising as all." Izuku chimed in.

"Well you see, my family owns a construction company, and it really isn't getting a lot of business right now so we're flat broke. It's pretty embarrassing."

"Construction huh?" You thought.

"Oh I bet if you got licensed you could save your family a lot with your quirk!"

"Right! She could sell all the heavy lifting equipment!" You continued a thoughtful smile thrown towards Izuku.

"Because she'd be able to float everything!" Iida smirked.

"I know right! That's what I've been telling my dad since I was a kid! But he's always told me not to worry about it, he wants me to follow my own dreams. But my dream is to help them! To become a pro, sign with a good agency and make lots of money. So that way I can let my parents have an easy life!"

The three of you gaped at her in amazement and you couldn't resist pulling her into a hug while Iida clapped in the background.

"Awh Ochaco I bet every agency is going to want you! Heck, maybe my dad will take you on!" You ooped as you caught yourself. You weren't ashamed of being the daughter of one of the Top 10 Heroes, but people always held expectations so you tried to do everything you could without help from your dad.

"Your dad?" She questioned, "Who is your dad?" You scratched your cheek, a nervous giggle leaving your lips.

"uh you'll see him at the festival, it'll be a surprise until then!" 

Trying to change the subject, you were about to drag them off to lunch until a booming voice caught you all off guard.

"YOUNG MIDORIYA!" AllMight bellowed out, that ever present grin stretching his face.

"Wanna eat lunch with me?" He questioned, holding up a tiny sack lunch. You and Ochaco giggled, saying how cute it was. Once Midoriya followed AllMight, the rest of the group went to the lunch room and stood in line.

"I wonder what AllMight wanted Deku for?"

"Well Midoriya tried to jump in and take down some of the villains AllMight was facing, did he not Hakamata?" 

"Yeah he did, before I shoved him away he was going straight towards those guys, the idiot." 

"Oh, maybe it was a cute way to thank him! Or hey remember what Tsu said, about how their quirks are so similar? Maybe AllMight wants to take Deku as a type of mini sidekick! That'd be so cool!" 

As they talked excitedly about the idea of Deku training to be AllMight's sidekick, you felt a stare and turned to cold eyes staring into yours. The different colors memorized you for a moment before he turned away. You wondered what Todoroki was staring at you all for, but you couldn't cut in line to ask him so you left it alone for now. Planning on asking later.

It was after lunch and afternoon classes when you were packing your bag to leave for the day, the commotion of different students outside of your door made you stop. You walked over after your bag was packed and stared, just like they were doing to all of you.

You felt like an animal in the zoo, having so many eyes trained on you, no words, only mutterings between the other students. 

"Do you have some sort of business with our class?" Iida asked, glasses glinting as you figured he activated his class rep quirk, ready to be official and strict. 

"I won't let you hold us in here-"

"They're scouting of the competition you idiots." Bakugou cut Mineta off, walking straight towards the door with no fear, glaring at the sea of eyes looking back at him.

"We're the class that survived a real villain attack, of course they want to see us with their own eyes. At least now you know what a future pro looks like, now move it extras!"

"Bakugou that's a little rude, even if they are being rude themselves and staring at us if we're here for their entertainment." You huffed walking to stand next to him, narrowing your eyes when you saw a flash of purple move towards the front.

"So this is the famous class 1-A, I heard you guys were impressive, but you just sound like an ass." He was staring at Bakugou, who's eyes hardened at the newcomer daring to speak to him. 

Tired purple eyes didn't flinch at the hard look, before turning to look at you.

"Is everyone in the hero course delusional?" Eyes wandered back to Bakugou, a small smirk ghosting his lips, "or just you?" 

You could feel Bakugou's annoyance radiating off of him in waves, and was that a vein popping out of his neck?

"HUH?!" 

"How sad it is to come here and find a bunch of egomaniacs." His eyes bore into yours.

"I wanted to be in the hero course, but like many others here I was forced to choose a different path, such is life I guess. " Bakugou tch'd, not caring about the sob story, while you didn't care either, his eyes were still staring into yours and they weren't blinking, you felt slightly uncomfortable but didn't let it show. You also didn't catch the way Bakugou's eyes drifted between the two of you, since you were trying to win this unspoken game of you blink you lose.

"I didn't cut it the first time around, but I have another chance. You see, if any of us-"

"We get it." You cut him off sharply, eyes narrowing. "If you do well enough they can consider a transfer into the hero program, and if there isn't enough room and you're better than someone already in, the other is out. But the jokes on you , because we aren't going to let that happen, we'll all be bringing our A-game"

"You better bring yours too if you think you have a chance against us." You finished, and saw how he smirked at you, his tired eyes finally blinking in a silent lose.

"I'm looking forward to it doll." 

 you huffed, thinking to yourself.

"Don't call me tha-"

"Hey you!" Another voice butt in, causing everyone to look towards a white haired student, who looked agitated. "I'm from class 1-B right next door, we heard you fought some villains and I came to see if that was true! But I think you're just a bunch of brats who think you're better than us."

"A little late, sorry guy." You said walking off, pushing your way through the crowd to get out. 

"Hey don't ignore me!" You figured he was talking to you but were surprised when you heard Eijiro yell for Bakugou to reply, since he was the one who started it.

Looking behind you, you saw that Bakugou was walking off as well, right behind you. He glanced back, rolling his eyes as he responded to Kirishima.

"These guys don't matter."

"Huh?" Bakugou locked eyes with you, an intense glare, and this stare didn't make you feel as uncomfortable as it did when the purple guy was doing the same thing.

"The only thing that's important is that I beat them." You gulped, but gave a nod and turned back around to keep walking. 

He followed you out, and without thinking you turned your head to look at him but saw purple eyes staring at you instead, the rest of the eyes a blur compared to his. Your face flushed as you snapped your head forward and gritted your teeth. That guy made you angry and you had no idea why his stare left you feeling cold, not even the icy looks of Todoroki did that. 

"Just so you know," Bakugou spoke up, not sparing you a glance as he shoved his hands in his pockets, "I do plan on winning, and you're one of my targets got that? I won't be going easy on you glitter bomb."

You smirked, giving him a cheeky thumbs up while responding.

"I wouldn't dream of it Bakugou, let's do our best!"

[syntheticpoetry]

And the World Spins Madly On, Chapter 13

Summary:  A few weeks after visiting Kurt in New York and confessing to cheating Blaine is attacked and left for dead, resulting in a traumatic brain injury. Burt finds him on his way home from work and calls Kurt to deliver the news. How will Kurt help Blaine pick up the broken pieces when his own heart is still so conflicted?

And The World Spins Madly On (ff.net link if you’d like to leave a review!) AO3 link

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11  || Chapter 12

“I do.  He looks a little different, but I recognize him,” Cooper said quietly.  Kurt stared at him through unfocused eyes.  “What I want to know,” Cooper continued through gritted teeth.  The anger rising off of him was palpable.  It felt as though the cage of a lion had been kicked wide open and the beast was slinking out in search of flesh and blood.  “Is why that piece of shit isn’t rotting in prison.  And how you guys don’t seem to have a record in your database to match this against.”

“I don’t understand,” Detective Carson looked completely taken aback.  

“He was one of the boys that attacked Blaine when he was fourteen.  Two out of three of them were found not guilty despite the fact that they all killed someone after beating them both with a fucking tire iron.  Surely, you must have heard of it, it was only four years ago.” 

“Coop,” Kurt said warningly when Blaine had tried to bring one of his hands up to his forehead and cursed quietly when it collided with the front of the helmet. “He’s on our side here.”

“Sorry,” Cooper said strenuously.  “But this has to be somewhere in your database, right?”

“Do you have a name? I can run a search when I get back to the station,” Detective Carson held his hand out to Kurt for the sketch.  Kurt handed it back to him and scooted closer to Blaine, resting his palms on his lap while Blaine continued to shield his face.  Despite the lighting in the room casting a distorted yellow tinge to his skin, up close Kurt could see just how pale he looked beneath a thin layer of sweat.  ‘So much for calling this a good day,’ he thought bitterly as he stroked Blaine’s thighs slowly, hoping to channel some semblance of serenity into his trembling body. 

“Logan Walker,” Cooper replied, struggling to keep the edge off of his voice.  “They found him not guilty, along with Bailey Gibson, even though he was the one calling the shots.  The only one they charged was Cody Byrne, his prints were the only ones on the tire iron.  They couldn’t prove the other two were involved and this state isn’t exactly sympathetic about homophobic driven hate crimes.”

“Well, it matters to me,” Detective Carson responded, sounding rather reserved as he jotted down the list of names in a small notebook.  “I’m gonna make sure we catch these guys and that they’re locked up for good this time.  I give you my word.”

Cooper nodded stiffly and knelt down beside Blaine.  “Hey,” He whispered, “You okay?” 

Blaine let out a strained, strangled sound in affirmation and searched for Kurt’s hand while simultaneously fumbling with the clasp of the helmet.  Kurt guided his fingers over to the proper spot and helped him squeeze the sides inward to unlatch it.  At the sound of the tiny click!, Blaine forcibly pulled the straps apart and tugged the helmet off.  He dropped it to the floor where it landed with a dull thud and proceeded to splay his right hand across his forehead now that the barrier was gone. “Are we done?” 

“Yes, I know this has been very hard for you.  I’m sorry, Blaine,” Detective Carson offered sympathetically.  “I hope you’re able to enjoy the rest of your holiday.”

“Do you want to take some food with you?” Kurt asked.  It had suddenly dawned on him that the reason Detective Carson was here now was because he was working instead of being able to eat at home with his own family.  

“Oh, no, thank you––” Detective Carson proceeded to shove the small notebook into a small inner breast pocket of his jacket. 

“No, please, I insist.  You’ve been so helpful and understanding through all of this.  Let me make you a plate,” Kurt interrupted him and motioned to pull his hands away from Blaine.  Cooper stood up before he barely had the chance to retract his hands.

“Kurt, I’ll do it.  Stay with him.” 

Cooper disappeared before anyone could get another word in.  Kurt turned his attention back to Blaine, who appeared to now be employing the breathing exercises Kurt had taught him over the previous days to manage his panic attacks.  Kurt raised his hand up and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.  “You’re getting better at that, you don’t even need me to count,” he whispered, earning a solitary shaky laugh from Blaine that sounded more like a sharp exhale.

“I might need you to count,” Blaine dragged the fingers of his free hand across his forehead, and Kurt could hear how out of breath he sounded now that he was actually speaking more.  “I keep losing track, my head is pounding.”

“Sure.  You’re due for your medicine too, hopefully that’ll help with the headache,” Kurt spoke softly to avoid further aggravating his sensitivity to sound.  The last thing he figured Blaine needed was another repeat of Monday afternoon.  Detective Carson watched as Kurt proceeded to quietly count and guide Blaine through breathing exercises as though they were the only two people in the room.  Cooper returned just as they were starting another round and furrowed his brows in concern.  “Everything okay?” He offered a styrofoam plate covered in aluminum foil to Detective Carson, who had been too busy watching them to notice. 

Kurt waited until the end of their round and spoke quickly while Blaine tried to continue on his own.  “Yeah, can you grab his meds?” 

“Yeah,” Cooper tapped Detective Carson’s arm to garner his attention.  “Let us know as soon as you hear anything new?” 

“Sorry,” Detective Carson quickly took the plate from him.  “Yes, you have my word.” He waited until Cooper disappeared again and though Kurt was not looking at him he could tell he seemed to be hesitating for some reason.  Within a few seconds he appeared to come to his senses and shuffled towards the front door.  “I’m sorry again about dropping by like this.  Thank you for the plate, enjoy the rest of your holiday.”  He let himself out before Kurt could turn around and properly say goodbye.  

“Mom, really, everything’s fine,” Cooper and Emilia’s voices grew louder as they entered the room together.  He was walking in front of her, trying to shield Blaine from view but she pushed past him insistently. 

“I just want to check— Oh, sweetie,” she had taken one look at Blaine hunched over in the chair before her forehead was wrought with wrinkled worry lines.  “You don’t look well at all.  Maybe we should get you home.”

This was evidently the completely wrong thing to say.  Blaine’s head shot up so quickly it even left feeling Kurt dizzy and disoriented.  He looked at Cooper, clearly alarmed, as the little remaining colour drained from his face.  “Coop––”

“Relax,” Cooper said calmly, handing Blaine’s medication and a glass of water over to Kurt.  “Mom, he’s not going back there right now.”

“Blaine, sweetheart, I came home to take care of you,” Emilia disregarded Cooper’s declaration and diverted her attention solely to Blaine.  He squirmed uncomfortably as she continued to stare at him.  Something about the way she looked at him made him feel as though he were under a microscope, waiting to be doused in chemicals just so she could witness the reaction.  As far as he could remember, she had never shown this much interest in his well-being before. 

“Since when have you wanted to take care of me?” Blaine blurted out.  A mumbled curse beneath his breath let Kurt know the question had not been intentional.  

Emilia stared at him with something of a mix between guilt and sorrow.  The dull throbbing against his skull transformed into a steady pressure, forcing him to double back over and groan loudly.  Emilia tentatively extended her hand towards Blaine, but Cooper had gently curled his fingers around her wrist to stop her.  “Goddamnit.  Fuck,” Blaine pressed his fingers against his forehead with such force the nail beds began to turn white. “Fuck.”

“Blaine,” Kurt nudged Blaine’s knee with his own.  “Here, take these if you can.” He offered the two pills resting on his palm.  Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and stomped his foot against the ground as the pressure began to peak.  “I need a minute,” he mumbled strenuously.  

“Let me get some ice,” Cooper released Emilia’s wrist and quickly dashed out of the room.  Kurt set the glass of water down on the coffee table and closed his hand around the pills to avoid losing them.  When Cooper returned, Kurt hastily accepted the ice pack and used his fist containing the pills to gently tap on Blaine’s fingers.  “Honey, move your hand.  Let’s try this,” Kurt pressed the paper towel clad ice pack to his fingers and Blaine tentatively withdrew his hand, releasing a quiet sigh as his forehead came in contact with the cold relief.  “Helping?” Kurt asked softly.  Blaine responded with a quiet grunt and closed his hand over Kurt’s, slowly rotating his forehead against the ice pack.  Cooper had pulled Emilia aside, trying to continue the conversation in whispers, but Kurt was still able to hear every word.

“He’s not going back there—”

“Oh, honestly, Cooper, don’t be—”

“Did you even hear what he said about dad earlier? Did you know about that? Or is that something else you’re just pretending didn’t happen?” Cooper asked, his tone protective and resounding even at the low decibel he was trying to contain himself to.

“I know I haven’t done my best to stand up for him with the last time this happened,” Emilia replied.  “But I’m not letting it happen again.  It’s going to be different.  I’m going to take care of him.”

“I’m not talking about that,” Cooper raised his voice slightly, agitated and impatient, and proceeded to guide her farther away, forcing himself to regain control. His voice was still shaking with the contained anger that had been impossible to weed out.  “Didn’t you hear what he said about dad hitting him? Did you know about that? About him locking him up in closets?”

Kurt had to give her credit if she was acting, but he was willing to bet that her reaction was genuine.  Her eyes darted over in their direction and Kurt could see the same wildfire that danced in Cooper’s eyes when it came to being protective over Blaine.  And he also saw that she mirrored the same defeated expression Cooper had adapted just a few days prior when Blaine’s heavy confession about his father had finally come tumbling out.  Cooper had a point though.  Either she had completely disregarded Blaine’s accidental confession earlier or somehow did not seem to hear it at all.  Both options weighed heavily on Kurt’s conscience currently as she stumbled her way through her reaction. 

“No, he would never–– I would have noticed–– How long have you known?”

She had traversed through the stages of grief in the blink of an eye.  Kurt turned his attention back to Blaine, who appeared to be oblivious to the entire conversation.  He seized the opportunity to continue distracting Blaine and offered his medication again as the coating of the pills had begun to melt in the heat of his clenched fist.  Blaine sluggishly leaned backwards until he could go no further but kept his hand over Kurt’s.  Their fingers were clumsy and numb from the prolonged exposure to the ice.  His eyes were still closed as mumbled his response, terrified any sudden movement would thrust him right back into the full force of the migraine that continued to ebb and flow.  The throbbing had been subdued to a sporadic dull pulse on the left side of his forehead, but previous experience prevented him from being lulled into a false sense of security that it had fully passed.  With some effort, he unfurled his fingers from around Kurt’s and relinquished his hand.  Kurt set the ice pack onto the coffee table and flexed his fingers a few times before he was able to trust himself to grab the cup.  “Here,” he prompted softly, pressing the pills against Blaine’s lips.  Blaine allowed his lips to part just enough for Kurt to push them in one by one and took a small sip of water once he had tipped the cup against his mouth. 

“Thank you,” Blaine’s voice had failed him, leaving him to helplessly mouth the words. 

“You’re welcome,” Kurt encouraged him to drink some more water before setting the cup down again.  “You look like you’re ready to crash,” he brushed his fingers lightly across Blaine’s forehead.  Though the skin was now bright pink it was still cold to the touch.  Blaine leaned forward into his touch and forcibly opened his eyes.  “Are they fighting about me now?” 

Kurt glanced over his shoulder and saw Cooper and Emilia had vanished.  “I don’t think they’re fighting,” Kurt replied and slid his hand down to rest against Blaine’s cheek.  “Do you want to go lay down?” 

“Isn’t Isabelle coming soon?” Blaine closed his eyes again and gripped the arm rests on the wheelchair as a sharp throbbing above his left eye socket caught him off guard.  “I know how excited you are to see her,” he tried to downplay the pain, but Kurt saw right through the charade. 

“Blaine,” Kurt said softly. 

“I wanted to meet her,” Blaine’s grip on the armrests slackened and he opened his eyes again.  He somehow looked both disoriented and determined. 

“It doesn’t have to be tonight if you’re not feeling well,” Kurt brushed his thumb gently over Blaine’s cheek.  The tiny gesture had sent shivers down his spine.

“I’m okay, really,” Blaine insisted, continuing to lean his head into Kurt’s hand.

“For being such a great actor, you’re a terrible liar, you know,” Kurt smiled sympathetically.  

“Don’t let me and my stupid headache ruin this,” Blaine said.  Everything about his expression exuded desperation.  “Please?” 

“Fine, fine.  If you say so,” Kurt conceded.  “Shall we go join everyone at the table again?” 

“What about Coop and my mom? Should I go talk to them?” Blaine seemed hesitant at his own suggestion.  Kurt leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.  A gentle shiver ran through his body when his warm lips connected with Blaine’s cold skin.  “They’ll know where to find us when they’re done.  Sounded like Cooper needed to catch her up on a few things anyways.” 

Blaine nodded a fraction of an inch and Kurt secured the helmet to his head once again before they returned to the table to find everyone had seemingly put their dinner on pause in their absence.  Kurt took his seat beside Blaine and picked up his cutlery again, “You two really outdid yourselves this year, even without my help.” After that dinner proceeded like normal, each of them taking turns in conversation as though nothing had happened.  Between encouraging Blaine to eat, despite the fact that it looked like the last thing on Earth he wanted to be taking part in, Kurt continued to text Isabelle beneath the table and had solidified a time for her to stop by.  He had also given her an extremely hasty summarized version of events ending with Blaine isn’t feeling well but still wants to meet you.  Cooper and Emilia returned as Finn and Carole were clearing the table.   Their plates still remained in place, untouched.  Both of their eyes were bleary and puffy with the untold story of a thousand secrets.  Blaine’s eyes darted back and forth between them questioningly as Cooper took his seat and Emilia remained standing, her gaze unfocused.

“Mom, sit.  Please,” Cooper pulled on her hand gently.  She sank down into the chair beside him and dabbed at her eyes with the silky material of her powder blue blouse sleeve.  

“What the hell happened? Why is she looking at me like that?” Blaine could no longer contain his thoughts. “Fuck, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” Emilia replied instantly, her eyes welling up with fresh tears.  Cooper’s face contorted with what seemed to be disappointment as soon as she had spoken, as though she was a child who had betrayed a promise to keep a secret to herself.  ��Sweetie, I never knew.”

“Never knew what? Don’t tell me you never noticed anything,” Blaine said with an air of impatience.  Kurt slid his hand onto Blaine’s thigh beneath the table in a gesture of comfort, but Blaine misinterpreted it as patronizing instead.  “No, I wanna know why she’s looking at me like that.  What were you guys talking about? Cooper,” Blaine narrowed his eyes at his brother suspiciously.  He had completely lost control now.  “What did you—” As he soaked up his brother’s guilty expression, a realization suddenly dawned upon him.  “No.  No, no, no, Cooper you didn’t.” 

“Blaine, you have to try to calm down,” Kurt squeezed his thigh lightly.  “Remember what we talked about—”

“Cooper, tell me you didn’t.  You promised that was just between you and me.  Tell me it’s something else.  Tell me you didn’t,” Blaine asked urgently, ignoring Kurt.  Snippets of one of the articles Isabelle had sent paraded to the forefront of Kurt’s mind— ‘Increased aggressiveness, increased anxiety, reduced self-control,’ — as Blaine remained hyper fixated, raising his voice.  All of his sentiments were merging together like a train collision.  There was no space in between for Cooper, or anyone, to get a word in against him.  “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Blaine asked impatiently after what he must have perceived to be a long delay.  In actuality, there had been maybe half a second between the question and his previous statement.

“Because I know you don’t want to actually have this conversation in front of everyone,” Cooper responded calmly.  That seemed to force Blaine to come back to himself.  One quick glance around the table and he suddenly realized Burt, Finn and Carole were still in the room with them.  They had become ghosts in their own home, silently observing the Anderson family torturously ripping apart at the seams.  “We were going to talk to you after dinner, wasn’t that what we agreed on, mom?” Cooper continued, still maintaining the same calm tone of voice.  Emilia demurely nodded her head once.  “But we can do that now if you don’t want to wait.” 

The doorbell rang and no one moved.  Kurt did not want to leave Blaine’s side, but knew full well who was at the door this time.  “That’ll be Isabelle,” he said.

“I’ll let her in,” Burt offered, clearly desperate for the opportunity to leave the room.  He left to answer the door and Isabelle’s bubbly voice carried over into the kitchen as she greeted him, completely unaware of the scene she was intruding on.  

“What do you want to do, Blaine?” Kurt had not removed his hand from Blaine’s lap and continued to alternate between rubbing his thigh and squeezing it soothingly.  He appeared to remain undecided, alternating his attention between Cooper and Emilia before he finally said, “Tell me yes or no first.  Tell me that and then we talk later.” 

Cooper sighed heavily and pushed his plate away.  The silverware shook and clattered lightly against the porcelain in the silence.  After what felt like eons crammed into the small stretch of time, he offered a simple, “Yes.” 

Blaine clenched his fists together tightly and painfully tore his eyes away from his brother to look at Kurt.  Whatever he was thinking, it was no longer evident in his expression.  His tone had changed entirely.  There was no anger or urgency anymore.  Instead, he sounded almost confident as he asked, “So about that introduction?”

“Right,” Kurt replied numbly.  Blaine the actor had finally made an appearance again.  The one who had always been able to shove down his own emotions into the farthest depths as he prepared to perform for the world around him.  The transition had always been so subtle.  Something completely natural and unnoticeable.  As Kurt’s body moved on autopilot to stand and navigate Blaine into the living room towards Isabelle’s faint laughter, he wondered how he had never been able to realize whenever Blaine managed to flip the switch between personalities. 

‘Of course I’ve never noticed, he’s probably used the same trick on me a million times.’

In the living room, Burt was being completely steamrolled by Isabelle’s excitement as she jabbered away.  Her face lit up when Kurt wheeled Blaine into the room.  “Hello, my darling!” She glided over to him as though she was some ethereal being simply floating above the floorboards and wrapped an arm around Kurt in a one handed embrace.  In her other hand she was carefully balancing an aluminum pie tin.  She pulled away, positively beaming, and turned her attention to Blaine.  “And you must be Blaine, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Uh-oh, is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Blaine jested and smiled, extending his hand out to her.  “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s a good thing.  I’m a hugger, if that’s alright with you, darling,” she leaned over to give him the same warm hearted welcome she had offered to Kurt once he had lowered his hand and agreed.  “Sorry, I’m late.  You know how these family get togethers go.  Put us all in a room and the sun will be rising if no one cuts me off.” 

“I can see why Kurt gets along with you so well,” Blaine laughed.  Kurt was finding it far more difficult than he was to slip into the idea of normalcy as the scene played out.  He was roused from his daydreaming when Blaine had subtly reached out to touch his hand and smiled without missing a beat.  

“Sorry, don’t mind me.  Starting to slip into one of those post food comas,” Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand gently, tethering himself back down again.  

“I hope you’ve saved room; this pumpkin pie isn’t world famous for nothing!” Isabelle held it up as though it was an Olympic torch.  “Do you need help setting anything out?”

“No, no, don’t be silly,” Burt interjected.  “Make yourself comfortable, I’m going to help my wife bring out the rest of the desserts.  Can I get you something to drink?”

“A coffee would be fabulous.  Thanks so much.” Isabelle set the pie plate on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch as Burt disappeared into the kitchen.  “Did you boys have a good Thanksgiving?”

“It’s been eventful, to say the least,” Blaine mumbled to himself.

“What’s that?” Isabelle asked.

“Nothing,” Blaine straightened up in his seat.  “How are you liking being back home? Kurt said you grew up in Ohio.”

“It’s always nice to see everyone, but I would be lying if I said I missed actually being here.  My heart’s still in New York.  It gets too quiet here for me, I need the buzz of the city.”

“There really is nothing quite like it,” Kurt agreed fondly.  

“Sounds like you both really miss it,” Blaine said.  His act had betrayed him and the statement had come out sounding forlorn and distant.  As Kurt opened his mouth to reply, Burt returned carrying a large platter with assorted cookies balanced on one hand and Isabelle’s coffee in the other.  Behind him the rest of the family followed in line, Finn carrying some small plates, Carole with a homemade chocolate cake, Cooper with silverware and some napkins, and Emilia, who had managed to make herself appear more composed.  After everyone had settled in, the remainder of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of laughter as Isabelle regaled them with stories of what she liked to call ‘New York Moments.’  Blaine contributed to the conversation, flawlessly falling into step with Isabelle’s ardor as though they were old friends.  Kurt had been so caught off guard, he struggled to keep up with them.  His mind still lingered on just how seamlessly Blaine had managed to transition into this character he was playing.  A character that looked a lot like the old, ultra-confident boy who had taken hold of Kurt’s hand at Dalton and led him down a hallway towards a performance that literally had changed their lives.  As he took the backseat and observed their interactions, some tiny part of his brain chirped quietly from his subconscious. ‘Which Blaine is the real Blaine?’

At around midnight though Blaine had seemingly exerted all of his energy and was struggling to stay awake.  Every few seconds or so Kurt noticed him nodding off and waking with a jolt as his chin came down towards his chest.  He would cross his arms and straighten his back, trying to sit tall and keep himself awake.  After the fourth time it happened Kurt subtly leaned forward to whisper to him as Isabelle continued to entertain everyone else, “Time for bed?” 

“M’supposed to talk to Coop and my mom,” Blaine drawled on sleepily and rubbed his eyes. 

“There’s always tomorrow.  Plus you have an early start, don’t you?” Blaine looked puzzled and Kurt continued.  “Your follow up appointment and then you have that session with Dr. MacManus.” 

“Oh, right.  I forgot.” The words came stretched on the wings of a long yawn.  Blaine rubbed his eyes again and Kurt patted his thigh lightly. 

“Come on, I’ll lie down with you,” Kurt said. 

“You can stay up if you want,” Blaine paused through another long yawn and pulled on the chin strap of the helmet.  “I know you probably want some one on one time with Isabelle.  Don’t argue, I know that you do,” He added before Kurt could protest.  He was not wrong; Kurt did want to catch up with her away from everyone else.  Especially after the performance Blaine had just given.

“Okay.  You want me to help you to bed at least?” 

“Yeah, could you, please?” He pulled on the helmet strap again.  “Can’t wait to take this thing off.” 

Kurt smiled sympathetically and stood up.  “I’m just gonna help Blaine to bed, I’ll be right back.”

“I didn’t even realize how late it is,” Cooper announced in reply.  “Mom, I should probably drive you home.  We have to be up early tomorrow,” Emilia looked as though she wanted to argue, but thought better of it and nodded.  “Burt, Carole, thank you for having me,” Emilia said sheepishly.

“Our pleasure,” Burt responded. 

“Blaine?” She approached him tentatively and stopped just shy of arm’s reach.  He looked up at her, his head heavy with drowsiness.  “Can we talk tomorrow?” 

Blaine nodded slowly in his sleepy trance and she smiled wearily before turning on her heel to approach Cooper.  “Wait,” Blaine’s small voice drew her attention back to him and he shyly continued, “You’re not gonna hug me goodbye?” Something broke within her and it was evident on her face as she leaned over to embrace him.  Kurt watched them sadly, knowing full well that he was going to stay up and wait for Cooper to return to press him for the details of their earlier conversation.  When they finally broke apart everyone took their time saying their goodbyes before Cooper and Emilia left. 

“Isabelle, could you hang around for a bit?” Kurt asked as he unlocked the wheelchair brakes. 

“Of course, darling.”

“Kurt, I could help him to bed if you want,” Finn surprisingly announced.  “If Blaine doesn’t mind, that is.” Kurt and Blaine simultaneously responded. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got—”

“I don’t mind.” 

Kurt yielded control of the wheelchair to Finn and gently patted Blaine’s shoulder.  Blaine brought his hand up and placed it over Kurt’s, lingering momentarily before dropping it down onto his lap again.  As they rounded the corner and disappeared he turned to Isabelle.  “Wanna step outside for a minute?” They navigated their way through the kitchen and towards the garden table.  The second Kurt had slid the screen door shut, Isabelle’s animated voice permeated the quiet air, “You’re positively smitten with him.” 

“That obvious, huh?” Kurt’s shoulders slumped and he sank down into one of the dark green metal chairs.  “I know you said to set boundaries, but I realized that’s all I’ve been doing since I got home.  Setting rules and keeping my distance.  It was exhausting.  He’s apologized a million times and I really do believe him.  I want to forgive him.  I want to trust him again.  I want him to trust me because it’s obvious to see now that he’s been holding so much of himself back.  Does that make me crazy?”

“How did it feel when you kissed the other night?” Isabelle asked.

“It felt,” Kurt could not help but smile as he reminisced.  “Like coming home.”

“I don’t think it makes you crazy, Kurt.  But have you two talked more about everything since then?”

“A little,” Kurt replied guiltily.  “Not really.  Not as much as we should have.  There are just so many other things going on right now, I’m waiting for the right time.”

“Can I give you my honest opinion?” 

“Always.”

“It sounds like you’re avoiding some of the difficult stuff because you’re trying to protect him.  Which doesn’t seem fair to either of you,” Isabelle said. 

“So, what should I do?” Kurt asked desperately.  “Everything is such a mess and I just want it to be normal again.” 

“What’s keeping you from forgiving him?” Isabelle asked.  “Are you afraid he’ll do it again?” 

“I was,” Kurt replied automatically.  

“And you aren’t anymore?” She probed.  

They sat in silence as Kurt contemplated his response.  Deep down, he really did believe Blaine had regretted his actions.  That he had acted only out due to a combination of their miscommunication and his own mountain of insecurities.  The more he was coming to learn about Blaine’s past through his accidental confessions the more he came to understand the complex machinery of his ex-lover’s inner world of twisted turmoil.  Aside from Cooper, anyone Blaine had ever come to trust or rely on had completely betrayed or disregarded him.  He had been singled out and bullied not only at school, but at home too.  Two of out of his three previous attackers had been allowed to walk free from an assault and murder charge.  And while Kurt had offered him his own trust and love, Blaine still kept himself guarded.  He had only allowed Kurt to view tiny glimpses of his life, and even that appeared to be an act bred of his own need to please others while casting himself aside.  He thought back to Blaine’s confession in New York — ‘I thought I was losing you’ — and felt his stomach lurch.  He had let his demons fester and infect their relationship to the point of believing Kurt would abandon him the same way everyone else he had ever come to rely on did.

“He wouldn’t do it again,” Kurt said finally. 

“Something is keeping you from forgiving him though.  And until you figure out what it is, you’re going to be stuck in this same loop, sweetie.  Where things sort of feel normal, but you’re still avoiding these major problems and they inevitably resurface,” Isabelle offered a sympathetic smile and reached over to the table.  Kurt slid his hands into hers.  

“I think,” Kurt said slowly, the wheels in his head still turning slowly as he continued, “What’s holding me back is that it feels like he can’t trust me enough to show me who he really is,” he exhaled sharply and tilted his head back slightly as his vision became blurry with the threat of tears on the horizon.  “And if he can’t trust me to let me in, how can I trust him? That Blaine you just met in there? That’s partly him, but it makes me wonder how much of himself he keeps locked away when he isn’t trying to please everyone around him.”

“Well,” Isabelle said softly, “There you go.” 

“I keep wondering if he would still be keeping everything to himself if he was able to control it.  I think about it a lot, actually.  He’s become completely incapable of keeping secrets, and I’m scared he’ll just hide himself away again the second he’s able to,” Kurt sniffled loudly.  “If he’s able to, I guess.  Since they have no idea what kind of lasting damage there will be.  God, this whole thing is just terrifying.  I wish it never happened.” 

“I'm sorry, sweetie,” Isabelle offered consolingly. “I find it best not to let my mind wander too far away from the situation I’m in.  Otherwise the possibilities will never end.” 

“It’s funny you say that because I’ve been parroting the same response to everyone else,” Kurt laughed sardonically. 

“Time to practice what you preach then, my friend.” 

“I suppose you’re right, as usual,” Kurt pulled a hand away to run his fingers through his hair.  

“I know it’s difficult to think about, but what are your long term plans, Kurt? Say you forgive him and you boys make up, then what?” Isabelle asked with innocent curiosity.  The way she posed her inquiries never felt like the interrogations that Rachel usually subjected him to.  And he loved her for that.  She had a sort of candor about her that could make anyone feel right at home.

“I really don’t know,” Kurt replied quietly.  There had not been much time to consider the possibilities of reconciliation between them when everything forced him to focus on the moment.  The scope of his vision had been reduced to day-to-day, measured in good ones or bad ones depending on how much Blaine had either regressed or accomplished. 

“Just something to ponder and maybe discuss with him, don’t you think?” Isabelle cocked her head to one side and smiled half-heartedly.  He knew she was right.  Of course she was right.  She had been right about everything already thus far.  

“Yes,” Kurt replied, resigned.  “I’ll talk to him this weekend.  We need a mature heart-to-heart, that’s pretty evident.”  Isabelle squeezed his hands and smiled.  “So,” Kurt continued, shrugging his shoulders slightly.  “What did you think of him?”

Isabelle laughed.  “Well, he’s certainly a teenage dream, that’s for sure.”

“Yes,” Kurt laughed quietly.  “Yes, he is.”

___________________________________________________

“Tell me again why we had to make this appointment so early?” Blaine drawled in the passenger seat and dragged his knuckles across his eyes in a desperate attempt to knead away the exhaustion overtaking his eyelids.  Beside him Cooper spared a moment from scanning the road for the right building to roll his eyes.

“Since when is ten o’clock early for you?” 

“Lay off, it’s not my fault,” Blaine responded grumpily and folded his arms across his chest. 

“I’m only teasing,” Cooper smoothly navigated his way into a parking space and shifted the gear into park.  The car lurched briefly as it came to a still and he twisted the key in the ignition, abruptly cutting off the song Blaine had been quietly singing along to.  “Was last night as bad as the rest of the week?” 

“You mean you somehow slept through all the screaming?” Blaine mumbled as he unlatched his seatbelt and slid it across his chest slowly.  

“I only came back this morning to pick you up,” Cooper replied.  “I stayed at home last night.” Blaine tugged at the strap of his helmet and spared a sideways glance at his brother.  “Didn’t plan on it, but I kind of got into a screaming match with dad and then stayed up late talking to mom after.  I just ended up napping there for a few hours before I came back to get you ready to go.” 

“Oh,” Blaine offered quietly.  

“I know you want to ask about it, I can tell,” Cooper responded.  “But we’re gonna be late, so we can talk about it later.  I promise.” Blaine nodded meekly and sent his mind into overdrive as Cooper exited and proceeded to help him out of the car.  It was another conversation to add to the growing list ahead of them.  He thought back to his outburst at dinner last night after Cooper and their mother had returned to the table and found himself lingering on the way she studied him with such pity in her eyes.  He felt naked and embarrassed being exposed like this, constantly under observation from everyone.  Despite their best efforts, he knew they were all walking on eggshells around him.  He hated it.  It made him feel fragile.  One false move and he would crumble to pieces before their eyes, just like they all expected him to.  

______________________________________________

“So how was your holiday?” Dr. MacManus asked.  She was sitting opposite Blaine on a red leather, cushy armchair with one leg crossed over the other.  Perched against her thigh was a yellow legal pad.  Blaine propped his head up on the arm of the wheelchair and stared out of the window into the parking lot.  The sky has become overcast in dark grey between his first appointment and the trip to her office, bearing the threat of an impending storm.  The irony was not lost on him.  “Your brother mentioned your parents came home.” 

“I saw my mom,” Blaine stated tonelessly.  “Not my dad.  What else did he tell you?”

“I want to hear your version of events, Blaine.  Not his.”  She folded her hands atop the pad and waited patiently. 

“What if I don’t feel like talking right now?” Blaine said bitterly.  In actuality, he had come prepared with a million burning questions buzzing around his head until the news from his follow-up appointment earlier in the morning wiped everything away.  While Cooper had already reminded him of the upcoming brain surgery they had scheduled for mid-December, neither of them were prepared for the news that Blaine’s knee might never heal properly even with the elective surgery to repair his ACL.  At the mention of the word ‘cane’ Blaine had completely shut down and tuned out the rest of the conversation.  While the vertigo had him worried for when he felt well enough to start dancing again the thought of never being able to dance again at all had been too much to bear. 

“That’s okay too, if you don’t feel like it right now,” Dr. MacManus’ voice cut through the buzzing self-pity and he sighed heavily. 

“This just fucking sucks.  All of it.  It’s not fair,” Blaine finally stated.  He turned away from the window to face her and had suddenly adapted Kurt’s habit of speaking with his hands as he continued to lash out.  “I just want it to stop.  I want to stop feeling so useless and scared.  I want everyone to stop looking at me like a pathetic broken toy.  I just— Is it so much to ask for a fucking break? Just one.” He dropped his hands onto his lap and returned his gaze to the window. “Maybe I deserved it.”

“What do you mean by that, Blaine?” She leaned forward in her chair. 

“What?” Blaine begrudgingly glanced in her direction, keeping his eyes downcast to pretend like he was not trying to notice her, before returning to gazing out at the parking lot. 

“You said ‘maybe I deserved it,’ what did you mean by that?” 

“Goddamnit, I didn’t mean to— I can’t even keep my own thoughts private either.  Everything is just out on display for everyone all the damn time!” Blaine raised his hands up in exasperation.  She offered a sincere, sympathetic half-smile in return.  He dropped his hands down into his lap and curled them into fists, tugging at the fabric of his pants.  Kurt would have a heart attack if he saw the wrinkles he was working into the material.  “I don’t want to talk about that.” 

“Alright, well can you tell me what kind of person you think deserves what happened to you?” Dr. MacManus asked politely.

“I don’t know,” Blaine replied, losing the edge in his voice.  “No one.” 

“If you believe nobody else does, then why would you think that you do, Blaine?” 

“Because,” Blaine replied automatically and pursed his lips together to try to stop the remainder of the thought.  As usual, it came tumbling out before he could stop himself.  “I’m a bad person.” 

“Why?” She pressed on. 

“Stop,” Blaine whispered.  He wanted to scream.  Wanted to rip up the ugly beige carpet she had lined her office with and hide himself away like all of the secret things you kept away from the world beneath the floorboards.

“Why do you think you’re a bad person?” Her tone was gentle, but the alarm bells in his brain still told him it felt like an attack.  She was interrogating him.  Pushing him.  Even after they had established he did not need to discuss anything he did not want to talk about. 

“Stop,” Blaine repeated, louder this time.  “Stop it.” 

“Blaine,” She set the blank legal pad aside and uncrossed her legs.  “I think you have a lot of anger and pain that you don’t know how to deal with any other way than turning it inward toward yourself.  I know you aren’t going to exactly trust me after the one session we had at the hospital, but I am on your side here.  I can’t help you if you don’t let me.  Deep down past this barrier you’ve put up I think you do want that help, or else you wouldn’t have agreed to keep seeing me once you were discharged.  I could guess at things.  I could bring up all your brother’s concerns.  But we both know unless you bring yourself to say what’s bothering you it’s not going to matter what I do or don’t know.  It has to come from you.” 

Blaine chewed on his lip and ran his fingers over the clasp of the helmet chin strap. “I think my dad hates me,” he surrendered quietly.  “I don’t know when it started, but I think that he does.  And for as long as I can remember, which— let’s be honest, that doesn’t mean much these days,” He added the small jab of self-deprecation as a joke.  She did not laugh.  “I figured there must be something wrong with me.  Something I must have done.  Because what other reason could there be? And on top of that, what do I go and do to the one person I love more than anything in this whole world? Cheat on him.  Hurt him.  So, yeah, maybe I deserved what was coming.  Maybe it was just the universe fighting back to balance the scales again.”

“And I think truly terrible things happen to very good people sometimes, Blaine.  There’s a lot to unpack here so let’s break this down a little bit, okay?” He nodded stiffly and took to chewing on his fingernails instead.  “What makes you think your father hates you?”

“Before he started completely ignoring my existence?” Blaine said bitterly before he ripped off a piece of his nail between his teeth.  He spit the fragment into his lap.  “He used to hit me and lock me in closets.  Would tell me I wasn’t his son.  After the first attack he just took to flat out ignoring and avoiding me.” He moved onto another fingernail to gnaw on.  After confessing this all to Cooper, Kurt and Finn the other day it seemed easier now to let the words come tumbling out to her.  

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Blaine.  Can you remember how old you were when this started?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like 10? Things get kind of jumbled around when I try to think about it.”

“Can you remember anything before then?” 

“Sometimes, but not really.  Bits and pieces with Cooper, but a lot of it feels,” He paused as he wracked his brain for the right word. “Fuzzy? I don’t know.” 

“Barring your physical injury, there could be a number of things attributing to that,” She said and pulled the legal pad back to her to finally begin writing on it. 

“Like what?” He shifted in his seat to sit up and a sharp jolt reverberated from his knee straight down the rest of his leg.  He grimaced and casually placed his hand over his knee as though he could press the pain back down into the synapses responsible for causing the painful response to his sudden movement.  Dr. MacManus’ eyes were on the pad, focused on writing.  She had not noticed. 

“There’s a chance your brain could have repressed certain memories, sort of like a defense mechanism.  Sometimes people are simply just unable to remember things past a certain age.  Your recent trauma, coupled with the previous assault, has also had a profound effect on you and PTSD can cause lapses in memory or blackouts.  There are some exercises we can try in later sessions, but right now I want to focus on things you can remember.  You say you think you were around 10, do you remember anything leading up to the moment?” 

“Not— No, not really,” Blaine ripped off another nail fragment and shoved his hands beneath his thighs to stop himself as Kurt’s voice sounded off in his head to dissuade him against the further mutilation.  “I just remember him shoving me in.  He was,” He squinted as though it would bring the fuzzy image into focus.  “He was angry about something, I could barely understand him, he was screaming so loud.  I couldn’t tell you what he said, it’s just this like… garbled static.” 

“Was anyone else at home?” She peered up at him, her pen still poised on the pad.

“Cooper was gone by then, moved out to LA.  My mom,” Blaine frowned and strained to recall.  “I don’t know if she was there.  I don’t think she was.  I think it was just my dad and me.” 

“Who would let you out again after he locked you in?” 

“He would,” Blaine shifted and pressed his hands down against the seat to fight the urge to start chewing on his nails again.  “I don’t know how much time would pass in between.  Progressively, I think he kept me in there longer and longer.  The harder he hit me, the longer it felt like I was in there anyways.” 

“Can you remember any happy memories with him?” 

“Some, I guess.  Mostly the ones involving Cooper.  Just me and him though? Barely.  It’s been harder to remember things like that lately.  I get… confused sometimes.  This week has been kind of tough.”

“Do you want to talk about that at all?”

Blaine squirmed and caved in, resorting to chewing on his thumb nail.  His words came rushed, just as they had last night, with very little space in between the sentences.  “I’m guessing Cooper told you about it already.  It’s been getting worse.  I can’t sleep through a single night anymore.  I forgot who Kurt was the other day.  That’s never happened before.  I wanted to die when they told me, because that’s what it felt like.  Like I’d been kicked in the chest and my heart was going to stop.  I’m terrified I’m gonna just lose it all one day.  That everything will be wiped away and I’ll just be some helpless blank slate who can’t even remember his own name.” He seemed shocked at his own admission.

“Did you mean to say that out loud?” She asked.

“I think I did, actually,” Blaine replied.  She smiled. 

“It’s difficult to accept when things are out of our control.  I have to imagine that constant fear makes it nearly impossible to concentrate, which can be why you have such a difficult time with your memories.  Again, I’m sure the physical injury has something to do with it, but you saying it’s been getting worse since the nightmares and flashbacks have been progressively getting worse leads me to believe it’s more the anxiety you’re feeling than anything else.  I want to give you a prescription for Zoloft, I think it can help with the panic attacks.” 

“Great, more meds,” Blaine grumbled.  He remembered the name from a television commercial.  “Isn’t that for depression?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with needing a little extra help sometimes, Blaine,” She smiled sympathetically.  ““It can help with PTSD and anxiety too; it’s called an SSRI.  If it’s the right medication for you then we’ll start to see a decrease in those panic attacks and feelings of fear and helplessness.”  She cast a sideways glance on the clock above the door.  “We still have a little more time; do you want to talk more about your recent break up? It seems to be weighing pretty heavily on you, based on your previous statement.  It must be really hard being around your ex with completely different dynamics.” 

Blaine hovered his palm over his mouth to hide the way his lips had tugged into a smile.  He had no clue what to call whatever was happening between him and Kurt.  The entire thing confused him to no end, but he worried bringing attention and talking about it would cause whatever good thing they had going to come to a screeching halt.  No.  He wanted to keep that for himself for now.  “Can we talk about something else?” 

“Sure, Blaine.  Have you been practicing those relaxation and grounding exercises I passed along to your brother?” 

“I try to.  Kurt’s been helping me with breathing exercises too.”  ‘I can almost do them without his help.’ The thought had remained contained within his own head for once. “I’ve been okay for the most part when I’m awake, but when I fall asleep,” He trailed off.  The image of Kurt’s face from the other morning when he had forgotten him, terrified and absolutely devastated, had become ingrained into his thoughts.  If there was anything he wished he could permanently erase, it was that pained expression.  “I can’t control what happens then.” 

“Are the nightmares about the recent attack?” 

“Most of the time.  Sometimes the first one.  Sometimes,” Blaine swallowed hard and cleared his throat quietly.  There had been more than a few nights when he could not tell which nightmares were actual memories or over exaggerated depictions of his darkest, deepest fears.  “Sometimes it’s other stuff, but mostly that.”

“Extra stress can sometimes be an added trigger.  It’s going to take some time for the Zoloft to kick in before we notice any changes.  I know it’s a difficult thing to ask, may even seem impossible, but working on managing that stress and focusing on staying relaxed is probably the best thing you can actively do right now.”

“You’re right,” Blaine restlessly brushed his fingers over his lips.  Their hour long session was starting to feel like a director’s cut version of a Lord of the Rings film.  “That does sound impossible.”

“You mentioned breathing exercises, do you do those regularly or only in response to the panic attacks?” 

“Usually after I’m already worked up or starting to feel really anxious.”

“I want you to try to incorporate it more throughout your day.  I would try to do it right before bed.  Or something you find relaxing.  I remember you mentioned your love of music at our last session?” Blaine nodded once to affirm her recollection.  “Do something you enjoy, make your bed feel like a safe place instead of treating it like somewhere you go to relive your worst memories.” 

“And if that doesn’t work?” Blaine asked apprehensively.

“Then we’ll think of something else.  One step at a time, Blaine.” 

“Yeah, well I’m not exactly taking any actual steps anywhere anytime soon,” Blaine grumbled under his breath and tugged at the chin strap.  

“I take it you got some bad news?” She inquired.  By then he’d had enough.  He could not remember what time they started, but there was no way they had not exceeded the hour. 

“Can we end here for now? I just,” He shifted in the chair again.  Within the last fifteen minutes he had grown progressively more restless and uncomfortable.  “I’m really tired and I’m just really sick of talking about myself today.” 

“Okay,” She smiled politely.  “You did really well today, Blaine.  I know it may not feel like it, but you are making progress in your recovery.”  He returned her statement with a tight lipped smile.  “Is it still okay that I talk to your brother? You still want him involved, correct?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.  Do I need to be in here for it?” His hands were already positioned on the wheels, ready to leave.  At the first sign of her head tilting forward he was wheeling himself towards the door.  With some effort he twisted the doorknob and maneuvered his way out into the waiting room where he had left Cooper at the start of the session.  He was in the exact same chair, his legs stretched out in front of himself with his arms folded across his chest.  His head was tilted down towards his chest.  He appeared to be asleep.

“Coop?” Cooper immediately lifted his head and looked in his direction.  He looked as exhausted as Blaine felt and the fragment of the early morning conversation came fleeting from the depths of the abyss to remind him that Cooper had also not gotten much sleep the night before.  Blaine glided over to him and did not wait for a response.  “She wants to talk to you.” 

“Go okay?” Cooper unfurled his arms and stood up, stretching languidly.  

“Yeah, I guess,” Blaine shrugged.  “I’ll wait for you here.” 

Cooper gave his shoulder a gentle pat and disappeared into Dr. MacManus’ office, leaving Blaine to sift through a pile of magazines.  It was moments like this he wished he still had his phone.  He made a mental note to talk to Cooper about getting a new one sometime soon.  He glanced at a clock on the wall and was shocked to discover it was nearly half past four.  After the events of the day he was not sure where he was supposed to muster the energy from for the conversation he was still meant to have with Cooper and his mother.  If it was still happening.  Cooper had not mentioned it at all yet.  He took to wheeling himself around the table in the center of the waiting room to pass the time, trying to force himself to stop stealing glances at the clock.  The more he tried to avoid it though, the more his head jerked upwards to see that the minute hand had only moved a fraction of an inch.  

He sighed loudly and decided to go back to the pile of magazines.  At first glance, they all seemed to be outdated copies of Psychology Today.  At the very bottom of the pile, the last glossy booklet caught his attention.  The words ‘DANCE’ was written across the top in bold yellow font, with ‘The world at your feet’ in smaller text beneath it.  The text beside the man featured on the cover said ‘Andy Blankenbuehler’s Broadway.’ The subject, presumably Andy Blankenbuehler, was dressed in charcoal gray slacks and a long-sleeved white button-up dress shirt.  Both the top two and bottom two buttons were undone, letting the shirt fall loosely over his clearly toned physique.  Around his neck was an undone green and black checkered tie.  Perched atop his head was a black felt bowler hat.  He had been photographed mid pose that very much reminded Blaine of a scene straight out of Chicago, it was a classic sexy jazz pose.  He had one leg bent at a forty five degree angle, the other straight out, as his torso twisted towards the camera.  Only the profile of his face was visible, especially with the bowler hat tipped down.  One hand was positioned near the brim of the hat, his ring finger resting comfortably against the accessory to tilt it downwards.  

The image sent chills down his spine as he plucked the magazine off of the table and continued to study it in his lap.  He knew this move.  Had practiced and perfected it in his bedroom and the McKinley auditorium.  Seeing it now had ignited something in the pit of his stomach.  At first he thought it might have been jealousy or some rampant form of self-pity festering and bubbling up to remind him of the conversation from the doctor’s office earlier.  But as he continued to stare, he recognized that it was not a malicious feeling.  It was motivation.  He was not going to sit and be told what was and was not to be expected of his recovery.  They had repeatedly told him what a shock it was to see him awake from the coma with so many pieces of himself still intact.  So why should he force himself to be resigned to the possibility of never being able to dance again just because some doctor had told him so?

He was still staring at the cover by the time Cooper had returned with Dr. MacManus at his side.  “Ready to go?” 

Blaine glanced up at them and nodded.  “Dr. MacManus, can I keep this?” He held up the magazine.

“Sure, Blaine.  Nobody usually reads them anyways.  Enjoy it.” 

They said their goodbyes and confirmed the next appointment set for Tuesday.  In the car, Blaine had kept the magazine propped on his lap and silently continued to study the image as Cooper drove.  The radio volume had been set so low the music was barely audible, causing a strange white-noise sensation to fill the space surrounding them.  As Cooper pulled onto the highway, Blaine’s eyes were still on the cover as he spoke, “I don’t care what they say, I’m gonna dance again, Coop.” 

“I know you are, Blaine.”

_______________________________________

This is the magazine cover

[danetobelieve]

Hail Mary || Marley and Winston

When: 20/10/2020 Who: @detectivedreameater & @danetobelieve Where: The Police Station Summary: Bloody Mary gets bloody annoying! Warnings: n/a  

Winston was once again working late. No surprises there. They found that the job was more time consuming then what they had been sold but they weren’t complaining. Keeping busy stopped them from worrying about … well everything. It was dark outside of the window of the breakroom as Winston slipped in to make themselves a hot drink that would keep them going. The mirror on the opposite wall to where Winston was stood held a slightly dirty visage of Winston and they weren’t completely thrilled with how exhausted they looked. Yawning, they scooped up a mug of coffee and turned at the sound of the door behind them opening. “Oh,” Winston flashed Marley a quick smile, “hey marley, are you doing okay? Working late?” 

Things had calmed down for a minute finally, but Marley found relaxing just wasn’t her style. There was still so much to do, so much to prepare for. Even with Tommy dead and Roy on his heels, they still needed to be careful. Methodical. Being home alone felt...strange. But Roy or any one of his other goons could come after them at any time, so staying with Anita also wasn’t an option. So it was the precinct, instead. Marley looked up from the file she’d been staring at for ten minutes and realized she’d zoned out, shaking her head. It was time for some more coffee. She grabbed her mug and headed for the break room-- everyone else, save for the nightshift boys downstairs, had gone home for the day long ago. So it was a surprise when she heard Winston’s voice, stopping in the breakroom doorway. “That’s Detective Stryder to you,” she said once she’d recuperated, frowning. But she wasn’t really mad and her voice reflected that. Winston was one of the only people here who she let see her soft side. They’d wormed their way in somehow. She gestured at them. “Alright, hand over the coffee. Quit hogging it.”

Laughing gently, Winston finished pouring their own coffee and added a generous helping of sugar to it. Something told them that they would need the sweetness to get through tonight. They still had to work out how to convince Agatha that the disappearing man on the footage hadn’t found some way of hacking all of the cameras or they had to accept that it was a losing fight and take matters into their own hands. Either way it was easier said then done. “Oh my apologies detective, I should’ve known better then to address you with your name.” The nice thing about not being the intern was that you could get away with a little more. Besides they had an understanding with Marley and their relationship was certainly better then it was with many of Winston’s other colleagues. “Here you go,” they said passing over the jug of coffee before turning to glance in the mirror once more, “you’re working late tonight, I didn’t realise you were on a shif-“ their sentence fell short as they caught sight of something in the mirror. 

“Thank you,” Marley quipped, rolling her eyes. The door shut behind her and she hardly even noticed. Made her way over towards them, taking the pot gratefully, ready to shoot back her lame excuse when Winston stopped mid-sentence. They were looking somewhere and Marley turned to look, too, but stopped short, coffee pot in hand. She froze. There was someone else in the mirror. “Don’t move,” she said to Winston in a low voice, slowly moving to set the pot down. She inched herself between them and the mirror-- the figure in the mirror-- hoping she hadn’t seen them yet. But in the next moment, hands were reaching through the glass. “Oh, shit!” she hissed, jumping back as a hand swiped for her. “Run!”

Freezing in place. Winston had learned enough in their time within the supernatural world to learn that sometimes you just did what you were told by other people who were more experienced then you. Marley was one of those people. For a moment there was nothing. Marley inches towards the mirror and Winston’s heart hammered in their chest. Then Marley jerked backwards. It was like something out of a surrealist painting and Winston couldn’t help the high pitched yelp that escaped their lips as they jerked backwards. “Oh fuck, what the hell!?!” Winston could feel the sweat beading on their forehead as they headed out of the door of the break room and into the deserted and dark hallway. “What- what the fuck?! Mirrors?! Are mirrors not safe now??” Winston was wondering just what was safe now as it felt like the list was growing much much shorter as time plodded on. 

Marley followed Winston out quickly. She slammed the door shut behind them and held it in place for a moment. Whatever that thing was, she hoped it couldn’t phase through walls. Glancing back at Winson, she tried to stay calm for a moment, wracking her brain for knowledge of any creature she knew that traveled through mirrors. Too bad she couldn’t think of one. “Fuck if I kno--” she started, but was cut off mid sentence when a cold, slimy hand wrapped around her wrist. Her head swiveled quickly back to the door, expecting to see it open, or perhaps the hand coming through it or under it or something-- but instead, she saw that same woman, now reflected in the breakroom door’s window. Marley’s instincts kicked in and she turned intangible, yanking her hand away through the gnarled woman’s, stumbling backwards. “That’s not normal!” she breathed, putting her arm out and shoving Winston down the hallway. “Keep running!”

Yelping again as a hand that almost seemed to be dripping with damp wrapped around Marley’s wrist, Winston was about to try and help when Marley seemed to just phase through the hand. That was something that they would discuss later. Who knew that Marley could quite literally ghost you? Stumbling slightly as she shoved them further down the hallway, Winston wracked their brain trying to think of what the fuck this could be. The truth was that there really wasn’t that much that would explain this. They hadn’t heard of anything that would do this. “It’s definitely not fucking normal,” Winston said as they sprinted away from the door and into the now deserted bullpen of the precinct. How was she managing to reach them out of glass? It was weird, it didn’t make any sense that she could just appear in glass. What even was she. “Have you upset something that lives in glass?” Winston’s brain was racing, trying to solve this problem before it got worse. “I think, I think we’re okay.” They turned and reached over to scoop up a tablet that was sat on one of the desks, hoping that the internet would have something to offer. As they did they spotted the reflection of the woman once more, she reached out of the reflective surface of the tablet and grasped past Winston, swiping at Marley.

“You know, I generally upset a lot of people,” Marley huffed as they ran, making sure to keep herself close to Winston in case the crazy mirror lady popped out of nowhere again. “But I usually try to avoid pissing off crazy mirror women!” Each window showed their reflections, and Marley felt the hair on the back of her neck prickling, arms tingling. “We need to get back to the bullpen, I need my weapon.” As the skirted around the corner, Marley came to a stop, realizing that, perhaps, this was a mistake. How many reflective surfaces were there in the bullpen? Too many. Way too many. Winston made a grab for the tablet and Marley reached out to stop them, too little, too late. “Winston, no--” the clawed hand grabbed her wrist once more and yanked. Marley stumbled forward, shoving Winston away, and watched in muted horror as her hand disappeared into the tablet surface. “What the fuck!” she shouted, dropping the thing-- and her arm went with it, as if stuck inside. She turned herself intangible again, but her wrist remained stuck. “Get it OFF!” she shouted stepping on the thing and yanking. “Get it the fuck off!”

“What is it about crazy mirror women that makes you prioritise not pissing them off?” Winston was sure that the sarcasm wasn’t helping but defence mechanisms weren’t exactly made to be helpful. Weapons sounded like a good idea although Winston wasn’t sure what good it was going to do against reflections but there was a reason that Marley was the fighter and not Winston. Winston however realised their mistake too late. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” That was all Winston could think to say as a slimey hand reached out of the tablet and pulled Marley’s wrist into the tablet. Marley seemed to be struggling to get out but whatever it was that she was trying to do Winston could see that out wasn’t working. Fortunately it was tech, this was tech. Winston knew tech. Winston lived and breathed tech. They could do something about this, of that they were completely sure. “This is probably going to hurt and I’m really sorry about that,” reaching out Winston willed a pulse of magic through the tablet, they weren’t sure if this would work but they were hoping that whatever it was gripping Marley’s wrist would be forced to let go. Wrapping their hands underneath Marley’s armpits Winston hauled hard and pulled hoping that Marley would’ve been dislodged. 

“I just don’t want them ruining my good looks,” Marley said back, though her voice was strained. Her arm was inching further and further into the tablet and she really didn’t want to think about what might happen if it reached her shoulder. “Just do it!” she growled when Winston proclaimed what they were about to do might hurt-- because whatever it was, it wouldn’t actually hurt her. Not at night. The pulse went through and up her arm and into her head, before shooting down her spine with a jolt and she tugged, feeling Winston grab her and pull as well. With one large heave, her foot braced against the tablet, her arm came free and the two went toppling backwards, crashing into a desk. Marley shook her head of the daze, reaching out and grabbing Winston, hauling them up. “We’re leaving,” she called out, shoving them towards the stairs, “get in the stairwell! There’s no reflections in there!” She could process later that whoever this women was, she could touch Marley at night, and whoever she was, she didn’t seem interested in Winston. That was probably a good thing. Marley didn’t feel much like having to protect a kid again. 

“Let’s hope that won’t be a risk,” Winston grunted as they hauled Marley free from the tablet before crashing backwards into a desk. A dull pain lanced through Winston’s back as the desk collided with their shoulder blades.  Groaning, Winston was about to disentangle themself from Marley but she was already pulling them off the ground and pushing them towards the exit. Despite the ache of their recent collision with furniture, Winston knew that there was some sound logic in heading for an area with no reflections. Maybe they would be safe there. Though Winston wasn’t sure if this was something that they would be able to wait out or if they were going to have to undertake some form of action to try and keep them safe. Either way they weren’t sure that they wanted to find out either option. Something told them that waiting this out might not help. Panting, Winston wiped sweat off their brow after they had pressed the door to the stair way closed. “What. The. Fuck?” 

Marley collapsed into the hallway, pressing her back up against the door even as Winston threw it closed, leaning her head back against the cool metal panel. Every noise echoed so loud in the stairwell, but they had recently painted the railings matte and the walls were brick. She turned her head to look at Winston, still panting slightly. “Yeah, I was just about to ask you that,” she exhaled, running a hand through her hair. She moved away from the door finally and glanced around, double checking. “You’re the wizard here, and that was definitely some crazy ass magic shit.” She held up her arm, checking it, pulling the sleeve down-- but there was nothing strange about it. Just the marks from Morgan that were slowly healing and normal skin. She looked over at Winston and gave them a morbid half-grin. “Think she’s just collecting hot women cause she’s lonely?”

“I don’t have any answers,” Winston had been trying to think of what the fuck that could possibly be and had not come up with anything, “I’ve never come across anything that fucks with reflections, well apart from this weird hall of mirrors but that just pulled me into a mirror realm and it was more like the mirror itself was magic rather then something literally pulled me into it.” Winston sighed gently and shrugged. “I prefer the term spellcaster but fine, wizard, whatever, crazy magic shit or not I have never ever met something that could do that before and if it can just pluck people out of thin air whenever they go past a reflective surface….” Winston had to admit that they had no clue why it was targeting Marley. “Somehow your attractiveness or how perceived to be attractive you are doesn’t seem to be what would make you a target, but I don’t know for sure, who can tell for certain.” Winston chewed on their lip. “Besides, it’s not like you really want to spend the time with her there.” Winston pulled out their phone and tapped in a few searches to do with mirrors. Gulping at the result. “I’m only getting one repeated result here and I really don’t think it can be right. Of all the things that I expected to be a tale, well the only thing I’m getting is bloody mary….” 

“It was a joke, kid,” Marley said, exasperated. She huffed, stepping away from the door, glancing around. How were they going to get out of this? Winston was talking, but Marley wasn’t really listening to them. She needed to figure out how to get them out of here, because it wasn’t like they could just stay in this stairwell forever. Perhaps she could call someone to come cover some of the windows in the main hall so they could run out, but phones had reflective screens, and pulling one out would be-- “Hey! Woah, put that away!” she shouted, slapping the phone from Winston’s hands and shoving it in her pocket. “Screens, kid!” she gestured wildly, running a hand through her hair. “Phone screens are reflective and I don’t think I’ll fit into a phone if she tries to drag me in again.” She then looked over at WInston again, rubbing her head. “Okay, seriously? Bloody Mary? That can’t be right.”

“Okay well I make the jokes and you’re the competent person that stops us from getting killed…” Winston would’ve laughed but there was a bit much on their plate. Winston bit their tongue, doing their best not to chastise Marley for slapping their phone from their hand. “That’s expensive, you don’t slap phones. Is this why all of the tech that we give to the detectives and officers always comes back looking like it’s been put through the laundry?” Winston was pretty sure that some of the time it actually went through the laundry. Frowning gently, they wracked their head. Not being able to use anything that had a reflective surface was … not great. “I guess if it would happen anywhere then it would be here, the real question, at least the real one that I want answering is …. Well why is … Bloody Mary after you exactly?” Winston tried to remember who Bloody Mary was, the problem was that she was so remarkably vague and so very shrouded in folklore and superstition that Winston wasn’t sure that they’d ever heard an account of the tale of Bloody Mary that made sense on more then a single occasion. “

“Hey, my jokes are funny,” Marley said, frowning. She paced through the stairwell again, looking it up and down. There was no point going to the roof, but did they risk heading downstairs and into the lobby? “You know, it could be that our job is demanding and sometimes we get into physical altercations, but sure, laundry,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Phones are replaceable, relax.” People, however, were not. She looked back at Winston, giving a pause. They were mumbling about Bloody Mary and why she was here and why she was after Marley, but it didn’t really matter to her. She’d been chased by a demon, what was some stupid mirror ghost compared to that? She rolled her shoulders. “How about we ask those questions once we’re out of here and away from her?” she said, heading down the stairs, “C’mon, we’re gonna have to just make a break for it. If we go through the lobby, there’s only the exterior windows and the one computer screen we have to worry about. I think if we stay low and move quickly, we can make it outside.” 

Winston bit their tongue from making another snide remark. It probably wasn’t going to make things better and there was only so much ‘humour as a defense mechanism’ that could be excused. “I am sure that some of the reasons are that your job is demanding and you find yourself in physical altercations, but the truth is that I’ve found one too many pairs of headsets that have definitely got excessive water damage and look like someone forgot to take them out of their pants before they washed them.” Sighing gently, Winston was about to say that the phone might be replaceable but that was no reason to treat it badly, but again decided better of it. “You think that we can make it outside?” Winston was chewing on their lip, they wondered if there was something that they could do that would prevent the surfaces from being reflective. “I’m sure I could work out or design a spell that would prevent the surfaces from you know, reflecting, it’d only take me like thirteen maybe fourteen hours tops…” something told Winston however that Marley wasn’t going to go for that. 

“Well, I don’t do that, so don’t look at me,” Marley shrugged, “i don’t know, ask Greg. He seems like the kind of person to do that.” She glanced back at Winston, already halfway down the stairs. “Are you serious? You wanna hole up here for that long? What happens if she gets in somehow? What happens if you get hungry or have to go to the bathroom or you get hurt? We can’t afford to wait. We need to get to a car, cover the mirrors, and get out of here. Who knows, maybe she even left. Gave up on us cause she can’t get to us.” As if they would be so lucky in this town, but Marley wasn’t willing to hedge a bet on that. “Once we’re out, you can figure out a spell. Alright?”

“I wasn’t blaming you, but you know… what’s the saying … if the shoe fits right?” Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston decided to drop it. This probably wasn’t worth the fight that it required. “I mean, I just know that it is the…” Winston swallowed, perhaps now was the time for courage and not for caution. “Okay, okay, you’re right, let’s go and sneak out of here and hope that we don’t get caught by this terrible … thing. Flexing their fingers Winston looked left and then right as they cracked the door to the stairwell open. “Okay, well I can’t see anything so let’s go.” They pushed it open just wide enough for them to slip out and then in a low crouched position Winston began to creep out of the staircase. Heading towards the lobby, Winston prayed that they weren’t going to get caught. “Thirteen or fourteen hours was kind of conservative anyway.” They whispered as they headed past the first of their obstacles, a very nice looking window that overlooked the carpark. 

Marley nearly rolled her eyes, following the kid out, keeping low. “Gee, really building my confidence here,” she mumbled quietly. Kept her eyes on each place she thought a reflection might show up, hoping she was right and the ghost was going to leave them alone. Bloody Mary. Ugh. That was going to be shitty if it was true, if she was real. They were nearly to the front doors when Marley felt a chill. She barely had time to glance back over her shoulder before hands reached around her neck and pulled. “Fuck, Wins--” she tried to call out, tried to turn intangible as fast as she could, but before she knew it, her head and shoulders were swallowed by the glass window. The figure-- Bloody Mary-- still had such a tight grip on her neck, Marley could barely breathe. She jerked, trying to yank away. The world around her shimmered with a distorted wave, rippling out. She felt as if her lungs were filling with ice. Whatever this place was, it wasn’t good. She pulled back hard, planting her hands firmly on the window sill, pulling harder. 

It all happened too fast for Winston to really do that much. They swallowed in fear as they saw Marley get yanked through the window and knew that this time there was little to no chance that they would be able to pull her free. There was just too much reflective surface and she was already halfway in. Trying to breathe, they focussed on the window, focussed on the reflective surface before extending their consciousness out from them and into the glass. Muttering a few words of an incantation, they waited for a moment. For a second they saw the glass ripple before it wobbled and ejected Marley from the window. Panting, sweat beaded their brow but Winston wasn’t done, cracking the glass, they watched it shatter and forced it to evaporate into as many tiny pieces as they could possibly manage. There wasn’t much more they could do until they could study this thing further. Rushing forward, they pulled Marley to their feet and out of the building getting as far away from any reflective surface that they could see. “You okay?” they panted.

Marley gasped heavily, sucking in a large breath when her body broke free from the glass, pulled by some otherworldly force out. Magic, she supposed, as she fell to the ground and saw Winston muttering something. Before she could say anything, a loud crack rang through the hallway as the window shattered into a million tiny pieces, evaporating away. Shit, that sure was handy. Hands above her head to try and cover her face, Marley moved stiffly, only to be yanked up by Winston. What a strange turn of events. They sped into the parking lot as fast as possible, away from the building, before they finally stopped, panting for breath. “Oh, yeah,” she exhaled, giving them a thumbs up, “peachy keen. Love being choked out.” 

As they moved away from the police building, Winston prayed that they would be able to get to the CCTV footage and deal with it in time. After all this would look very questionable if anyone not in the supernatural loop were to see it. “I’m not going to kink shame you but I didn’t think that you’d get that much of a kick out of a near death experience, but each to their own I guess.” Winston couldn’t help the smile as they looked around them at the mess they’d made. Captain Maynard would be very pleased.

[gold-and-rubies]

In It For The Long Haul - Chapter 8

Violence Warning, especially for the ending. Mac POV.

MacCready leaned against the wall behind where Flynn was sitting. She was sat in front of the synth detective’s desk. He did not trust him as far as he could throw him, but Flynn was right. They did not have any other options at the moment.

What he did not understand was why the reporter was still with them. She had barely added an extra edge when they went to rescue Valentine, and he had practically felt judgement radiate from her when he had first met her. She was not offering anything now, but if he was honest he did not think he was either. He did not completely understand why she was having him stand there, and not buy more provisions since they had burnt through some ammo already.

His gaze shifted from the opposing wall to Valentine when he spoke. It was unsettling. He sounded just like a human. Maccready had always thought the earlier generations would sound more like the robots he was used to.

“When you’re trying to find someone who’s gone missing, the devil is in the details. Tell me everything you can, no matter…” Valentine paused for a moment, as if searching for the right word, “painful it might be.”

Flynn nodded. He could not see her face from where he was standing, but he could see from the way her shoulders were slumped that ‘painful’ was the right word.

She took a deep breath before speaking, “We’re looking for an infant named Shaun. He was my neighbors’ son. I have no idea why someone would want to take him.”

“That’s a good question,” Valentine said, “Why an infant? They require lots of care, so this isn’t just some run of the mill kidnapping. What else can you tell me.”

“They had to take him from his father. He wouldn’t let them take them. He fought back as best he could, and uh… they shot him,” MacCready could hear her voice getting noticeably weaker. He shifted, unsure whether he should go comfort her. He trusted her more than almost anyone else at this point, but he did not know if they were close enough for that. He recalled the glassy look on her face the few times they had talked about the vault.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anymore,” the secretary, Ellie said.

“So we’re talking about a group of cold-hearted killers, but they waited until something went wrong to resort to violence. That and the fact that it was an infant that was taken confirms it. This isn’t a random kidnapping. Whoever took him had an agenda,” he deduced.

MacCready wondered if the mechanical brain helped him come to that conclusion so quickly.

“Hmm… There’s a lot of groups in the Commonwealth who take people,” he continued, “Raiders, super mutants, the Gunners, and of course, there’s the Institute.”

“Well, it definitely was not super mutants, and they were too quick, clean, and professional to be raiders,” Flynn explained.

“And it definitely sounds like a job the Gunners would take, but they wouldn’t decide to do that on their own,” MacCready interjected.

“Which leaves the Institute,” she sighed, “Do you really think they're responsible?”

“Well, they’re the boogeyman of the Commonwealth. Something goes wrong, everyone blames them. Easy to see why. Those early models are a force of nature, or science rather. Killing anything that gets in their way. Then you have the newer models that are as good as human. Pulling strings from the shadows. And no one knows why they do it, what their plans are, or where they are. Not even me,” Valentine explained. MacCready was not sure how much he bought the fact that Valentine did not do anything. He hoped he was not lying.

Flynn shook her head, “Either way we need to focus on Shaun.”

“You’re right. All this speculation is getting us off topic. Let’s focus on what you saw. What did these kidnappers look like?” he asked.

“You’ll, uh, need to take this with a grain of salt. I was… I was stuck in a cryostasis pod, and the glass was foggy,” she warned, “There were three people there, I think, but I only saw two. One was wearing a hazmat suit, so I couldn’t see her face or anything. The man on the other hand, I did see his face. He was bald, and I think he had a scar on the left side of his face.”

“Wait,” he said, his expression suddenly changing, “It couldn’t be… You didn’t hear the name “Kellogg” at all, did you?”

“Uh, I don't think so? Why?”

“It’s way too big of a coincidence. Ellie, what notes do we have about the Kellogg case?”

“The description matches,” she said, looking through her notes, “Bald head. Scar. Reputation for dangerous mercenary work, but no one knows who his employer is.”

“I doubt it’s the Gunners. I’d recognize the name,” MacCready blurted.

“Which doesn’t help matters,” Valentine sighed, “Anyway, he bought a house here in town, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, that’s right. The house in the abandoned West Stands. The boy with him was around ten years old.”

“He had a kid with him? That’s not reassuring,” Flynn groaned.

“No kidding. Whether it’s another kidnaped kid, or his own. Either way they left a while ago, but the house is still there. Why don’t we take a walk over there? See if we can figure out where he went.”

“Alright,” She said standing up and turning to MacCready and Piper, “Why don’t you two wait in the market or something? We’ll come get you when, and if, we find anything. I think all of us going up there will cause a bit of a scene.”

“You’re not taking Dogmeat with you again?” MacCready asked. Part of him hoped they would not be including Piper anymore. He was already getting tired of the suspicious ways she glared at him.

Flynn frowned at him, “I was talking about you and Piper. Besides, I am taking Dogmeat with me. Might need his nose.”

“Whatever you say, Boss,” he sighed. He knew there was no point in arguing. There were more important things they needed to get done.

Together they all left Valentine’s cramped office. Instead of heading directly to the market, he leaned against a wall, and watched Flynn, Valentine, and Dogmeat ascend the stairs.

He noticed that Piper had not wandered off either.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked sarcastically.

“You’re a merc, aren’t you?” she asked. He could hear the judgement in her voice. He was more than used to it at this point.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I am. Why do you give a f- why do you care?”

“Because I don’t understand why you two are traveling together. She’s the general of the Minutemen, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” he said simply.

“So, why is she traveling with a mercenary?”

“Because she hired me, pays me well, and I do a damn good job of watching her back,” he scoffed, turning to the market. He wondered if he could buy any stimpaks off of the doctor.

“Shouldn’t she be traveling with one of her Minutemen?” she demanded as she followed him into the market.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but she doesn’t want to spread everyone too thin, and we aren’t here on Minuteman business.”

“But-”

MacCready cut her off, “Look, I get you aren’t thrilled about having to work alongside a fu- damn merc, but I’m not going to go anywhere. Take your issues up with the Boss.”

She pursed her lips, but did not say anything more. He knew at this point she was probably invested in where this was all going, given she was a reporter. It was going to be an interesting story, he could not exactly blame her for sticking around.

She walked off to where who he assumed was her sister was, selling her news articles. He walked over to the doctor to try to buy some stimpaks off of him.

Just as he finished up bartering with the doctor Dogmeat went bounding past him being followed by Flynn and Valentine.

“We gotta go!” was all she said as they ran past. He pocketed the stimpaks as he took off after them. Despite what he had hoped, Piper followed them as they ran past.

Neither Nick nor Flynn offered any explanation as to what was happening until Dogmeat stopped running, and started sniffing around at a pond just outside of Diamond City.

”When we searched Kellogg’s house we didn’t find anything but some of his old belongings, so we’re using Dogmeat to track his scent to find him,” Valentine explained.

“Makes sense to me,” MacCready said, panting slightly. He really needed to stop smoking.

“Another one of his stogies,” Flynn muttered while picking up a cigar. Her face wore a steely expression. This was more than focus. MacCready had seen her focused on taking down raiders and Gunners, but this was different. This was personal. As personal as taking down Winlock and Barnes, but he had no idea what was going through her head.

She held out the cigar for Dogmeat to smell, and he took off again. She ran after him wordlessly. She barely reacted when they were ambushed by molerats, but there was a flicker of pure anger on her face when they found a group of dead bodies. They looked like raiders, but there was no way to be sure. That look she had made him glad he was on her side.

“Do you think Kellogg did this?” Piper asked, voicing his thoughts for him.

“If it was, it was pretty irresponsible for him to leave this behind,” Valentine responded, picking up a swath of bloody bandages.

I thought he was supposed to be a professional, he thought, as Dogmeat picked up Kellogg’s scent.

When they got up they were met by a pack of feral mongrels, which were more of a nuisance than anything else. MacCready always felt a little bad having to deal with them. He wondered how many were just abandoned pets. Then a yao guai attacked. He felt bad about killing it, because he knew they wouldn’t be able to get the meat. A waste in his eyes. It was better than having to live off of molerat.

“He really chose the path of most resistance, didn’t he?” Valentine quipped as they fought their way through a pack of ferals.

MacCready would have responded, but he was more focused on keeping the ferals off of him and Flynn. He hated them so much. He hated the way they moved, and he hated the noises they made.

“Mac,” a voice said, tearing him from his thoughts, “we gotta keep going.”

He looked up at Flynn. There was a different worry on her face. He glared at the dead feral one last time before running to catch up with the others. They had gotten a fair ways away.

“Damn,” he said when he finally caught up. The dead body of a woman, an innocent trader probably, lay next to a completely dismantled protectron. The goods she had been hauling were strewn across the broken pavement. On the opposite side of the road a heavily damaged assaultron was barely online.

“Alert: critical signs,” it repeated over and over.

“Do you think Kellogg did this?” Piper asked. Her voice was quiet with horror.

“Identity confirmed. Tracking known mercenary Kellogg…” the assaultron answered.

“Bastard,” Flynn cursed as she picked up the cigar that had been discarded next to it. Her steely expression was slowly forming into anger. He could see bits of frustration working their way in.

“We’re going to find him, Boss.”

She simply nodded in response, before they took off again. They stumbled upon another wad of bloody bandages and a herd of radstags. He was starting to wonder if he was leaving the bandages behind on purpose.

MacCready glanced at his watch. They had been chasing down Kellogg for a little over two hours at this point. As they ran into a crumbling town MacCready was about to suggest they take a break. If Kellogg was as much of a threat as he was made out to be, they were going to need all of the energy they could get. Just as he was about to say something, he noticed Dogmeat was leading them to a large building with live turrets on the roof. Luckily he was not the only one to notice.

Flynn quickly shrugged off her bag. She had sewn a patch of cloth onto her bag to look like a pocket. In reality it was just a flap to cover a handful of grenades clipped to the side of her bag.

“How good are you at throwing things?” she asked Valentine and Piper.

“Probably better than most,” Valentine responded.

“Unless you want me to help break down the wall, I’ll pass,” Piper said.

Flynn nodded, handing Valentine a grenade. Together they lobbed the grenades forward. Both hit their marks. She threw a third, which destroyed the final turret.

The moment it was a pile of scrap metal Dogmeat was on the move. He led them up the steps of the building to a barricaded front door. He stopped and started barking.

“I think we’ve found where he is,” Valentine said.

She nodded. She bent down to pet Dogmeat and to tell him how well he did. When she straightened back up she reminded him of when she had first introduced herself, except angrier.

“Then we’ll find a way in. I think there is an entrance to a parking garage on the side of the building we came from. We should start looking there,” she said. She sounded like she did when she gave orders at The Castle.

She led them down to the parking garage, and found that she was right. There was an unblocked door that led directly into the building.

The moment he walked into the building, MacCready was met with the sound of more turrets. He groaned quietly. Flynn was going to run out of grenades at this rate.

There were stairs to their left, and a door right in front of them. Dogmeat immediately went to the door. Flynn went to open it, but it would not open.

“Damn. It’s chained,” she explained.

They carefully made their way up the stairs instead, following Dogmeat. MacCready marveled at how smart he was.

On the second landing there was a terminal, a protectron unit, and a set of doors. One of the doors was hanging off of the frame. Flynn approached the terminal. MacCready assumed it was to try to disengage the turrets, but immediately stopped when they all heard robotic voices. They were not the typical robots.

“Gen twos,” Piper whispered.

Neither MacCready or Flynn knew enough about the Institute to question her. Flynn nodded at him to poke around with his rifle, and see if he could take down a few.

He took one step forward when they heard one of voices say, “An enemy may be utilizing stealth.”

He looked at Flynn, waiting to see what she wanted to do. She looked at Valentine, unsure what to do.

“You cannot remain undetected for long,” the voice said. This time it was accompanied by the sound of footsteps. He watched as her face morphed to say, ‘Fuck it.’ He immediately got the memo, and moved to let her go in front of him, the way they had fought together over the past month. The others quickly caught on to the plan.

Together, guns ablazing, they cleared out the floor. It was crawling with synths. MacCready was impressed that Valentine’s guess that the Institute was somehow involved was right. Their suspicions that Kellogg was there were also correct, as the synths kept talking about him.

When all the synths and turrets were dealt with, Dogmeat led them to an elevator.

“I hope this old thing can hold all of us,” Flynn muttered. She pressed the call button.

MacCready watched as she awkwardly played with the collar of her vault suit. The nerves were finally getting to her. Part of him wanted to say something to reassure her, but the elevator dinged and opened before he could even open his mouth.

They took the elevator down to the lower level where they had originally tried to enter. They followed Dogmeat deeper into the building destroying every turret, trap, and synth that got in their way. Eventually they arrived at a door with a tension trigger.

As MacCready knelt down to disarm it a voice came over an intercom.

“Well, if it isn’t my old friend, the frozen TV dinner. Last time we met you were cozying up to the peas and apple cobbler,” it taunted.

“Was that him?” Flynn asked, turning to Piper and Valentine. Her voice was a mixture of anger, determination, and, although it was barely noticeable, worry.

“Yeah,” said Valentine.

When he disengaged the trigger, he turned and looked up at Flynn. Her face Looked exactly like her tone.

“We’re going to take him down, Boss,” he said, trying to comfort her.

She did not acknowledge him. Instead she put her steely face back on, and followed Dogmeat. That worried him. He did not want to see her fall down a hole like that. Taking down raiders and Gunners was one thing. It was the right thing to do. Something like this, however, it was a slippery slope due to all the emotions.

Kellogg continued to taunt her, as they drew closer and closer. He was not sure what to make of her lack of reaction. She never got like this when the raiders or whatever bad guys taunted her. She always taunted them back.

Eventually they got to what looked like Kellogg’s makeshift bedroom. On the opposite side of the room there was a security door with the locks engaged.

Before any of them walked in MacCready blocked the door. He wanted to do his best to keep her from going down that dark road, but he knew she would not listen otherwise. It was his job to keep her safe.

“What are you doing?” she asked impatiently. Valentine and Piper gave him a quizzical look.

“Before you properly face him down, you need to listen to me, Boss,” he explained.

She looked at him expectantly.

He took a deep breath, “Look, I know you are no stranger to taking down the bad guy, but this is not some random raider boss. You’re doin’ this for more personal reasons. This stuff can fu- can mess up your head. I’m just making sure you don’t let him get in your head.”

“He’s not wrong,” Valentine agreed, “I’ve seen this stuff ruin good people.”

She stared up at MacCready, and sighed, “I’m not letting him, and I’m not going to let him get in my head. I promise.”

He believed her, or at least he believed that she was not going to let her anger get the better of her. He stepped aside and let everyone in.

As soon as Flynn approached the security door Kellogg’s voice came on the intercom again, but this time it was not to taunt her.

“Okay. You made it. I’m just up ahead. My synths are standing down. Let’s talk,” he said, and the door swung open.

She glanced behind her shoulder at them all, and nodded. She switched her pistol for her shotgun, and headed through the door.

As they entered the command center the lights dramatically switched on. Kellogg walked out into the open with his arms raised above his head. A synth stood to his right behind him. MacCready noticed another behind them in the corner near the door.

“There she is,” Kellogg said, “The most resilient woman in the Commonwealth.”

“Where’s the kid?” Flynn demanded. Dogmeat stopped right at her side, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

“You mean Shaun? He’s a good kid. A bit older than you last saw him, but I think you know that by now. You’re not going to find him,” he said cooly. The calmness of his voice sent a shiver down MacCready’s back.

“Don’t you think you’ve underestimated me enough?” She said, leveling her gun.

“I’m not underestimating you. At least not now. You aren’t going to find him, because he is in the Institute. His home.”

“The Institute? As if that’s going to stop me. I’ll find him, wherever he is,” her words sounded like a promise.

“You know, more people should act like you. You’re acting the way I would hope to if I was in your shoes. But I think we’ve been talking for long enough. You know how this has to end,” he said, almost completely emotionless.

“Fuck you, Kellogg.”

She shot him twice in the chest before he could even raise his revolver. The two synths fell almost as quickly.

MacCready turned from the synth he had just gunned down to where Flynn was standing over Kellogg’s dead body. She had a look of defeat on her face.

“You did the right thing. He wasn’t going to talk,” he said. He did not get a response for her.

“‘Kidnapper and Murder Gets His Brains Blown Out By One Of His Only Surviving Victims.’ It would be a great headline if we still didn’t have one of the biggest mysteries in the Commonwealth to solve,” Piper sighed.

“Gets his brains blown out… hmmm,” Valentine said before MacCready could turn to glare at Piper.

“What?” Piper asked.

“His brains. A man like him would know how to get into the Institute,” he explained.

“But like I said, he wasn’t going to talk,” MacCready said.

“And I don’t feel like opening a portal to Hell,” Flynn muttered.

“I’m not talking about the paranormal. There’s a place called the Memory Den in Goodneighbor. They specialize in memories, and the doctor there is an expert on brains.”

“I know the place. I’ve never been there myself, but I’m pretty sure they need the people to be living,” MacCready said.

“We don’t have any other options. You’re going to need me to introduce you to the doctor, and I need to go there anyway.”

Flynn finally looked up at them and flatly said, “I’m not dragging a dead body all the way to Goodneighbor.”

Under different circumstances MacCready would have laughed, but the broken tone of her voice curbed any laughter.

“All we need is his brain.”

“Nick, that’s disgusting,” Piper said, gagging slightly.

“We could probably use one of the medkit boxes…” Flynn muttered.

“Seriously?” Piper and MacCready demanded.

She ignored them, and focused on Valentine, “Do you think you’re going to be able to do anything about this?”

Realizing that they were going to actually go through with it, MacCready turned around. He was fine with different bullet wounds, but when violence was taken to this level he had a weak stomach. It just reminded him of the horrible things mutants and ferals do. Dogmeat must have sensed his discomfort, as he pressed himself against his leg. He heard them shuffle around, and then the sickening crunch of the skull cracking. He heard other disgusting noises as they did whatever they were doing.

“What the hell?” he heard Flynn exclaim.

“Cybernetics,” Valentine explained, “We just hit the jackpot.”

He heard the snapping shut of a plastic container, before Valentine said, “I’m going to poke around in that terminal.”

After a few moments the security doors swung open.

MacCready did turn around, as he did not want to see the carnage. He asked over his shoulder, “Find anything.”

“Just that he wasn’t lying.”

Flynn sighed, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

As she walked past him, he reached out and squeezed her arm gently. Physical affection was not something that existed between them, but he wanted to do something to comfort her. She did not jump or pull away. She simply stared at his hand. When she looked at him, he tried to give her a sympathetic look before he let go.

They all walked to the nearest elevator, and piled in. It opened into a room on the roof. A security door was on the other side of the room with a terminal right next to it. MacCready heard an odd noise coming from outside, and he could not quite place it. Flynn used the terminal to open the door, and he was the first to step outside. Immediately his eyes flew to the hills, and found the source of the noise.

“Son of a….”

The Brotherhood of Steel’s airship was coming in over the hills surrounded by vertibirds.

“I don’t believe it,” Piper exclaimed.

As the airship sailed overhead a voice boomed from it, “People of the Commonwealth. Do not interfere. Our intentions are peaceful. We are the Brotherhood of Steel.”

Together they stood there in shocked silence as they watched it sail toward Boston.

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing.”

Valentine’s words hung in the air, giving it a chill.

It took another moment before Flynn finally spoke up, “What. The. Hell.”

“I dunno, Boss, but it certainly isn’t good.”

“I hope I don’t have to deal with that too,” she sighed before leading the way off of the roof.

[henrikvanderswoon]

Double the Kill: A Nancy Drew Play Written by 12-year-old Yours Truly - Readthrough Reactions

Okay, guys, I went through two cups of super strong coffee reading through this thing and I think I can hear colors now so… Have fun reading this!

I sincerely haven’t read this thing in probably ten years and I legitimately forgot almost everything about this play I wrote for myself and my twin/two best friends to perform. We used to write plays for each other all the time, as well as play Nancy Drew games together, so… this was all very fitting.

Anyway, this is a super long one and I APOLOGIZE but also I hope you enjoy reading this thing as much as I enjoyed writing it 😂

Okay, for starters, this story is titled: “Double the Kill” for two reasons that I can remember: (1) someone actually gets murdered, and (2) someone beheaded the Lincoln Memorial statue. 

…

You know when you’re in middle school and you’re assigned some topic to research for a project and suddenly you have this stupid amount of knowledge about something you don’t know what to do with? 

That’s what happened here. 

Anyway.

So, apparently I didn’t know what the word “pervert” was when I was 12 (poor, sheltered creature) so I legitimately named a character Blake Pervey and I’m gonna fling myself into the sun. 

Oh my gosh, I wrote up a case profile for this, complete with character roles and everything. Incredible.  

Let’s provide that for you guys:

The Case: Billionaire Erving Nickels is holding a benefit concert at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C., where the band “One Love” will be performing. Erv senses trouble, so he calls Nancy Drew and her best friend Bess Marvin to watch out for anything “suspicious.” But about an hour before the concert’s about to start, One Love’s lead singer Terri James is found dead near the Lincoln statue and the head of the statue is gone!

Contact: Erving Nickels - a billionaire who’d arranged the benefit concert. He asked Nancy to come and watch for anything “suspicious.” 

Suspects: 

Erving Nickels: Goes by Erv, for short. As it turns out, this man has actually gone bankrupt recently. Could he go to desperate measures to gain back his wealth?

Blake Pervey (I still want to die): One Love’s back-up singer. Terri had broken up with him recently because he’d attempted to cheat on her (huh, maybe he really is a pervert after all). Did he murder her to get revenge and take her place as the lead singer? 

Lyza Benton: The make-up artist. Lyza is always on the prowl for the next juicy gossip to spill to the press and gain publicity. Could she have killed Terri to create the ultimate story?

Myra “Ryan” Williams: One Love’s guitarist. She was the person Blake had attempted to cheat with, but she’d refused. Terri didn’t believe Ryan’s story and blamed her for everything, which caused the two women to hate each other.

Victim: Terry James

Okay. Already this is a little better than “Murder at Turquoise Inn,” because there are actual suspects with actual motives??? aMAZING. 

Wow, Nancy’s a bitch. She didn’t even tell Erving that Bess was coming along. 

Erv keeps saying that he thinks something bad is going to happen tonight, and Nancy and Bess are both like,“Can you please explain why?” And he’s like, “I just have a feeling.” Like boi, that’s sketch. 

Bess: “Sorry to change the subject, Mr. Nickels.” 

Erv: “Please, just call me Erv.” 

Bess: “No thank you.” 

Bess…I know Erv is a weird name, but…why? 

Mr. Nickels is taking Nancy and Bess on a tour, right? And I keep peppering in random facts about the Lincoln Memorial I learned for school and it’s SENDING ME. 

“I’ll watch and wait for our groovy band to arrive, while you girls split up and watch for suspicious activity. Now, let’s boogie!”

Asfbadka Erv, no one talks liKE That! 

I would just like to take a moment to preface the rest of this post with the fact that I wrote this for me and my friends, and we were always writing the stupidest dialogue for each other because we thought it was hilarious. Um…which hopefully explains lines like these: 

(1) No one calls Erv Nickels, the handsome billionaire, “Darling.” Except his mother.

(2) [We’re going to change.] No, don’t change. We like you guys just the way you are. *laughs obnoxiously* 

…

I hate myself. 

So Blake and Terri arrive in the limo and let me tell ya’ll Blake is definitely flirting with Erv right now and I’m so fucking confused. 

Terri: That man’s got problems. I guess money does that to people. 

Blake: But we have money and we don’t have problems. 

Terri: Maybe it only happens to men.” 

Blake: But… I am a man. 

Terri: Exactly.

Okay, you can tell my love for writing banter was here from the fuckin get-go. 

Oh god, now Blake is flirting with Nancy. Fuckin hell. I may not have known what the word “pervert” was when I was 12, but this man was aptly named. 

Suspicious, suspicious.*Mocking* ‘Can you girls watch for anything suspicious?’ Something suspicious, yeah right. Oh look! A BUG. Oh, soooo suspicious.

Bess…. I love you. 

Okay, as dumb as everything is in this thing, some of this dialogue is fucking cracking me up so hard.

Bess: No! Honestly. I swear, it’s almost like he’s trying to keep us busy so something bad can happen.

*A faraway scream cuts in from offstage*

*Nancy and Bess look off in the direction it came from, way too casual*

Bess: What was that?

Nancy: I dunno. 

*They pause, then their eyes widen in realization* 

Nancy: Oh crap.

Listen, I know I’m a comedic genius, but this is getting out of hand. Dsbfsjkdsjfbk

Bess: Mr. Nickels! What woman was screaming so high like that?

Erv: That was me. 

I CAN’T BREATHE. 

I saw Terri lying there on the floor, apparently dead. 

Erving… the woman is DEAD. What do you mean “apparently?” 

Nancy and Bess find a letter Terri was going to give to Erving to tell him she can’t do the concert because she also felt like something terrible was going to happen to her, and all Bess can do is repeatedly laugh at the word, “Flee.” 

Hey, too bad “Honest Abe” is missing his head, otherwise he could tell us whodunnit.

Wow, yall. Bess is my favorite. 

You know, the funniest thing about this is that you can definitely tell how many of the games I played between writing my horrible novel at the age of ten and writing this. If this thing had better dialogue and more fleshed out story/characterization, I could picture this as an actual game, not gonna lie. 

And… maybe if it didn’t involve removing the whole-ass head of the Lincoln statue…

Yanno, tiny details like that.

Lyza: *laughing* Scared you, didn’t I? 

Bess: Oh, “scared’"is such a strong word. I’d say more… "severely startled.”

So Erving reveals to Nancy that he’s actually not dumb as bricks, but puts up the facade because he’s broke and doesn’t want anyone thinking he’s not still super rich and air-headed. I’m crying. 

You sensed something bad was going to happen. You should have called the police to stand guard! Not some amatuer teenager who calls herself a detective and her little friend!

…. The pervert has a point. 

So Lyza likes to meddle in people’s business. Ryan had written about Blake’s advances in her journal and Lyza blackmailed her about it, Terri blamed Ryan for Blake’s attempted cheating. Blake tried to bribe Ryan into going out with him by telling her he’d discovered a way to get his hands on a fabulous collection of priceless jewels, and Terri broke it off with him. He’s upset, Ryan’s pissed that Terri thinks she went along with Blake, Erving borrowed money to organize the benefit concert (in order to benefit himself) and now he’s in even deeper debt because the concert has been cancelled and Lyza is having a fuckin field day. 

BOY AM I ON BOARD FOR THIS SHIT.

Before he came into wealth, Erving worked in a museum in Chicago, and Bess finds a piece of paper on the floor of Ryan’s trailer with the phone number to this exact museum. Nancy calls to see if there is any connection between that museum and the Lincoln Memorial and apparently there’s a theory that the head of the Lincoln statue contains jewels that the museum talks about in a part of their exhibit. 

*kronk’s face* Oh yeah. It’s all coming together.

Nancy: For all I know, you could be the murderer. 

Erv: Why would I do that? I needed the money from the concert!

Nancy: No you didn’t. You could’ve just–I dunno–stolen the head of Abe over there in search for the ALLEGED JEWELS INSIDE.

Ya’ll… please don’t ask me how the FUCK one person would get tools to remove that head without anyone noticing. Please. 

Blake: Hey, guys, have you seen Ryan anywhere? 

Nancy: Why? You gonna ask her out again?

Kjdbfisfdosidnf FUCKIN’ SAVAGE, NANCE. 

oH MY GOD THE CULPRIT SLIPPED UP SO EASILY I’M SCREAMING. 

oH my god, Nancy told Erving they needed something to pick the lock on one of the trailers and he’s all: “Like a bobby pin?” And just takes off his hat, removes a bobby pin, and “lets his long hair cascade down and over his shoulders like a waterfall” and I’m crying. I can’t fuckin’ breathe.

Oh shit, wait… the first culprit was actually covering for the real culprit all along I’m losing my mind. My twelve-year-old brain was so advanced I just threw a curveball at myself sjdbfshdbfagh

Okay, so I’m not gonna spoil anything because I think it’s hilarious to keep you all wondering what the fuck is going on and who the hell did it and why, but I would just like you all to know that this play literally ends with one of the characters singing Hannah Montana’s “The Best of Both Worlds” completely off key because I thought it would be hilarious and I think that really tells you a lot about who I am as a person.