#WHY WOULD YOU DEFAULT TO WALKING INTO THE POLICE STATION LOOKING FOR ME

[captainjonnitkessler]

You know the first time I watched Nimona I was pretty firmly in the “Ambrosius is being a shitty boyfriend” camp. But the more I think about it, the more I think that if my boyfriend murdered someone in front of me, vanished off the face of the planet for potentially weeks?? and didn’t bother to so much as send me a text message explaining what the fuck happened, probably leading me to believe that I’d accidentally fucking killed him, and then he suddenly showed back up at my job, apparently totally fine, to commit a little light domestic terrorism before booking it the second he saw me . . . I would also probably not be in much of a listening mood the next time I saw him

[planetkiimchi]

the strings of fate | l.mk

no. 5 of my song collection (requested!)

featuring: mark lee x gn!reader, chenle

word count: 7351

warnings: arson, fire, burning, people die in the fire, death (funeral), rooftops (?) if you're scared of heights, there's mentions of nudity but not described, swearing, you'll probably hate me for this fic but idc

playlist: anaheim - niki; 10:35 - tate mcrae; psycho - jun; adelaide - johnny orlando; let me go - hailee steinfeld + alesso + florida georgia line + watt; after you - gryffin + jason ross + calle lehmann; haunt you - x lovers + chloe moriondo

summary — when mark lee, student council president of riize highschool goes missing, you’re the first suspect. as his best friend and well-known crush, you stood to gain the most from it. you’re also vice-president, and with mark gone, you’ve stepped up to be the president and predicted valedictorian. all eyes are on you, and one wrong move can send you to your downfall. but who’s that lurking in the shadows, tugging on the puppet-strings of fort irwin? the city is small, but you feel smaller as things go spiralling crazily out of control. OR mark loves you more than anything else in the world, but you're too broken to receive his love.

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

5 months ago — if i could, i’d freeze this moment, make it my home

“Mark?” You peeked into the room, footsteps resounding in the hollow space. Mark had promised to meet you at the auditorium, but he wasn’t there, leaving you stranded in the middle of the school in a dark room with only the dark red seats to keep you company.

As you turned to leave, you heard a muffled sound that sounded suspiciously like someone landing on the carpet floor. You looked behind you just in time to see Mark removing his mask, breathlessly calling after you, still clad in his Spiderman outfit.

“Just as I thought I’d been stood up,” you told him.

“Nope. In fact, I would have been early if someone hadn’t tried to mug me on my way here. It took some time to get changed and wrap him up in spiderwebs before I dropped an anonymous tip to the police station.” As he spoke, Mark reached into his back pockets, which were luxuriously deep and could seemingly fit as many things as Doraemon’s bag.

“I brought you the book you said you wanted,” Mark said as he pressed it into your hands. His smile was contagious, and you couldn’t fault him for having a heart of gold. It wasn’t his fault that he wanted to make things right, so you forgave him for it.

“Aren’t you gonna get changed?”

He blushed and made some vague motions with his hands before settling on, “Yeah. If you could just- turn around?”

You turned around swiftly, lips pressed together as you tried to ignore the hot blush spreading across your cheeks. You fiddled with the book in your hands, the thumping of your heart making it difficult for you to hear when Mark told you he was done.

He gave you a thumbs-up, and you saw his mask hanging out from the open pocket of his bag. You walked over to him, tucking the mask inside and zipping the pocket up before reaching up, tiptoeing slightly to reach his head, and smoothed out his hair.

He shook his head slightly and wiped the sweat off his brow with a grin. “Better?”

“Better.”

“Since we’re already here, why don't we take advantage of the projector and watch a movie?”

You hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “I’m a little busy,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck as you thought about the countless assignments you had piling up.

Mark smiled disarmingly and extended his hand, shooting webs from his wrist. They reached the control room, hitting the “on” button. The screen blinked on, showing the default screensaver. “I didn’t mean it as a question, more like an invitation. I know you’re still not over Chenle, so I thought this might cheer you up.”

You were given little choice when Mark slipped into one of the back seats, procuring popcorn from his bag like a magician, patting the seat beside him as he projected his Netflix account onto the screen, and “Little Women” started playing. You couldn’t lie, you had a soft spot for that movie, and seeing it playing was all it took for you to cave in and slump into the seat next to him, dispelling all thoughts of work from your mind.

“Are you supposed to be using your student council pass to get access to the auditorium for a movie?” You asked curiously, reaching for the popcorn.

Mark passed you the box with a dismissive shrug. “If they didn’t want me to take advantage of it, they wouldn’t have given it to me. Perks of being liked by the teachers, I guess.”

That was Mark Lee for you. Handsome, smart, popular—well-liked by both the student body and the faculty. He was perfection in a nutshell, and his heart was yours. You only regretted never being able to give him the same.

3 months ago — you’re all i want to, want to know

Dangling your feet off the rooftops, breeze soft against your skin as you watched the sunset. Yellow waves of light washed over the red sky, turning it gorgeous shades of orange and pink and purple, if you squinted hard enough.

The sky was a vast expanse of intangible matter, the whispers of the wind calling out to you. Instinctively, you reached out for it, hands grasping at thin air. It felt like it was just out of your reach, and you leaned further, hands outstretched…

You forgot that you were on the rooftop, stomach rising to your throat as you fell from the building, scream caught in your throat which was squeezed so tightly you could barely breathe.

Every second of the fall was torture. You could feel the air rushing past your face, hard enough to chafe but not dense enough to cushion your fall. Your hands flailed about, scrabbling for something to hold onto, desperately searching for holds to grab onto, until you felt a tug on your back.

Mark lowered himself to your height, and you found yourself swinging like a pendulum from the top of the building while Mark leaned into his pants like he was going rock climbing with his friends for leisure, fully trusting his webs to hold him up.

“You good?”

You nodded, gulping nervously. Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down…

Mark seemed to sense your fear, one hand wrapping around your waist reassuringly. The concrete touch of his arm against your back calmed you, and you inhaled deeply while staring straight into his eyes, refusing to look down for fear of how high up you were.

“You know, if you wanted to swing around town, you could’ve just asked.”

Your face dropped as you glared at him, your grip around his torso never loosening even for a second. “Ha ha, very funny. Please bring me back up before I throw up.”

“My pleasure.” Both of you shot up suddenly, and you almost collapsed in relief when your feet found hard ground again, but you made sure to move far, far away from the edge that time.

“I think I’m happy just staying here,” you said cautiously from the middle of the roof, as far away from all the sides of the building as possible. You knelt down to feel the ground, afraid that it wasn’t sturdy enough, before falling into a cross-legged position with a grunt.

Mark bent down to sit beside you, guiding your head onto his shoulder as he rubbed your back comfortingly. “I know it’s scary, but hey, the sunset’s worth it.”

Its beauty was almost comparable to Mark’s.

2 weeks ago — i can tell you mean it when you kiss me slow

Your hand tightened in Mark’s as he ran gleefully towards the ferris wheel, dragging you along behind him as he stood in line for the ride.

Autumn was all around you, in the air as auburn leaves drifted past on a breeze, gently gusting over your hair and leaving you feeling chilly but not cold. The crunch of your footsteps against the ground, the smell of apples all around, the earth heralded the third season of the year.

Mark’s figure was stark against the rest, dressed in all black against the neutral tones of fall, taller than everyone else. Mark was your rock, and sometimes he seemed a little larger than life.

The queue moved slowly, but Mark kept you entertained with silly jokes while it inched forward, and you found yourself lost in the sound of his laughter. It sounded muffled to your ears, like you were hearing it while you were submerged underwater. How could you bring yourself to hurt someone like him?

Your knuckles whitened as they gripped the side of the carriage tightly when you boarded the ferris wheel, eyes staring straight ahead—anywhere but down—while you fought to calm your racing heart.

“It’s not too scary if you look at me, right?”

You had to admit that he was right. If you focussed only on Mark, the world disappeared into a blur of white lights and cloudy skies, and the ground felt solid under your feet.

It was a reassuring thought to know that Mark had your back. So when you reached the top of the wheel, sky-high above the rest of the world with no weight on your shoulders, and Mark kissed you, you kissed him back.

You kissed him like your heart didn’t belong to someone else, like you didn’t care if it hurt him. Because you selfishly wanted his heart, even if you could never reciprocate his love for you.

1 day ago — but please don’t ask me, the answer’s no

You woke up in Chenle’s bed, his hands tangled in your hair while you wrapped your arms around him. The blanket was at your feet, having been kicked off in the night. Chenle’s breathing was peaceful, and the steady rise and fall of his chest pulled you out of your trance.

Chenle had done nothing to Mark, yet he had unknowingly hurt him again and again. You kept coming back to him even after you had broken up, slipping into his arms after shitty decisions late at night, clothes strewn over the floor as you willingly hurt yourself again and again.

To Chenle’s knowledge, you were single, and it was true—to a certain extent. You didn’t love Chenle, and he didn’t need to love you either. You had come to a mutual agreement that he would keep you warm on lonely nights, and there would be no questions asked.

In the mornings, you would leave, and there would be no expectations of breakfast or loving words when you woke. 

And so, you became a ghost of yourself, hovering in spaces just long enough for you to be seen before vanishing again, never happy or satisfied.

You pried yourself from Chenle’s hands, slipping into your clothes, running your hand through your hair in the mirror before rinsing your mouth and washing your face quickly. You left no traces of yourself behind, save for the guilt-ridden kiss you left on Chenle’s cheek with a sad smile.

Mark didn’t know what had happened when you met him that morning, reaching out to envelope you in a hug when you stiffened, pushing him away with a grimace. “Don’t- I don’t want to do this to you, Mark.”

He raised his hands in surrender, but you could have sworn heard his heart shatter, the pain in his eyes too much for you to bear. You turned towards the school, firmly avoiding his gaze as your lead-filled limbs brought you further and further away from him.

now — in a perfect world, i’d kill to love you the loudest

mark: can we talk? mark: i feel like there's something you're not telling me mark: i'm always here for you, you know mark: even if just as a friend

(i don’t know if that’s enough for you)

The messages he left on your phone burned a hole through your pocket. You didn’t want to answer them, but you didn’t want to ignore him either, so you opted to climb into a cab and asked it to take you to an isolated area just out of town. It was close enough for Mark to go to, but only as Spiderman. If he took any other form of transport, he would arrive too late.

you: 📍live location you: come over you: please

“Y/n?” Mark was in his Spiderman suit, eyes shielded by the mask. You couldn’t decipher any of his mixed emotions, but you saw his fingers twitch slightly before he reached out to touch the fence that separated you, hesitance laced in his voice. He sounded unsure, afraid even.

“Are you okay? What are you doing out here?” You had never heard Mark scared before. To you, he had always been the brave one, the one who walked first in haunted houses and killed insects while you screamed and leaped away. He wasn’t afraid of heights or those he fought against, and he seemed to shrink in front of your eyes when he was afraid.

“Can you come over to this side?”

Mark scaled the fence and dropped silently in front of you, cautiously moving towards you as his hand reached to pull his mask off.

“What’s going on?”

Mark felt somebody grab his hand, pulling him towards them with his face away while they held him in a chokehold. He felt a needle poking into his neck, injecting anesthetic into his bloodstream. He went limp in his captor’s arms, and was gently laid on the ground while his captor reached for their phone and stopped the recording.

“I’m sorry,” they whispered as they anonymously sent the video of an unmasked Spiderman to the news station they could count on to deliver their news the fastest.

but all i do is live to hurt you soundless

Mark came to in a dark room, hands tied behind his back. He tried to move his feet, and found that they were also tied to the legs of the chair. Defeated, he slumped in the chair, breathing heavily as he surveyed the room. It was small and empty, and he was the sole occupant inside it.

Welcome, Mark Lee. I hope you make yourself at home. With that, the speakers crackled and went quiet.

Chills ran down Mark’s spine as he heard the voice playing. Where were you, and why couldn’t he remember anything? His mind was foggy and he couldn’t remember a thing, except for your text. He remembered receiving it, and going to a shady, isolated place….

Could someone have kidnapped you and taken your phone to trick him? The idea of it caused his throat to seize, heart thumping painfully inside his chest.

The clanging sound of a door opening startled Mark, and he strained to see where the door was. He heard metal grating against the floor and the thump of footsteps, coming face to face with a masked silhouette. The white of the mask was a stark contrast to the dark cell, and it was the only thing Mark could make out.

A spoon clattered to the floor as the silhouette knelt down and set a tray of food on the floor, the water in the cup sloshing out at the impact. The silhouette’s voice sounded robotic when it spoke.

“I will untie your hands, and you can reach down to take your food. This will last you until tomorrow, so ensure that you don’t finish it all in one sitting. If you struggle or try to escape, just know that you won’t like the consequences.”

Mark’s hands felt numb, and he winced at the feeling of pins and needles as the blood gratefully rushed to his wrists, and he rubbed at his sore shoulders. He bent down gratefully to take a bowl of rice and meat from the ground, and when he sat up again, the masked person had vanished like a wisp of smoke.

say you see i’m lying, babe, and let this go

Mark was going insane. An entire day of silence was enough to drive a man to the brink of insanity, but Mark was just barely holding on. He had estimated the length and width of his cell, tried to write it down and realised that the best way was to write it in his food; hopped around, trying to stand up, and fell multiple times; and was growing bored.

He counted the seconds it took for him to breathe one full breath, then held his breath for as long as he could, then glanced back down impatiently at the analog clock he had found on his food tray.

If it was telling the right time, then 12 hours had passed since he had first woken up in his cell. He had fallen asleep in his chair during what he hoped was nighttime, but woken up with a crick in his neck that had been irritating him the entire day.

It didn’t feel like daytime, although it was supposed to be past noon, simply because there was no natural light filtering into the cell, and the only way he could see was by the light of the clock’s hands and numbers, and the dim light coming from what he assumed was a corridor outside his cell.

Mark drummed his fingers against his lap and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. He had eaten breakfast when he woke up, then lunch just after noon, but his water was running low and his parched throat itched.

It was odd, he thought, that the food that he had been given actually wasn’t that bad. It was simple, but the meat wasn’t as hard as he had expected, and he had been so hungry that he had scarfed it down in one go.

He was just about to risk hopping over to the door of the cell and yelling for help when the speaker that had scared him the night before suddenly crackled to life.

Fort Irwin is a little small for mysteries, but the latest case of Spiderman had everyone puzzled. Mark Lee, 17, was reported to be missing yesterday evening. According to reports from 35.7Hz Radio, the unmasked Spiderman circulating on the internet is exactly the same boy that has gone missing.

However, the hero was spotted swinging by a Target today, persuading a teenager to return the goods they had shoplifted from the store. Has Mark simply run away from home but felt obligated to continue enforcing the law, or has he been kidnapped?

And, more importantly, if Mark Lee has gone missing, then who is his replacement Spiderman?

Mark’s heart dropped as the speaker went silent. There had been a video of him being unmasked in his Spiderman suit? But he hadn’t even worn it in the past 24 hours—oh. Mark looked down at himself to check that he wasn’t wearing it anymore, finding his own clothes on his body.

Odd. He had only brought his phone with him when he went to find you, and he never wore his regular clothes under his suit. However, the clothes that he was wearing were definitely his—they even smelt like the laundry detergent his mum used when she washed his clothes.

If he was wearing his own clothes, then where had his Spiderman suit gone? He craned his neck to the side to look for it, immediately wincing in pain when he felt the burning pain sear through his neck. He had completely forgotten about his stiff neck.

He rubbed his neck, and the door creaked open, the masked silhouette standing there. “Good afternoon,” they said casually, picking up the empty bowls and cutlery from the floor. Mark had been bored enough to stack them up, so it was an easy task for his captor to collect the items and place them on the tray.

“If it were a good afternoon, I would be at home doing homework,” Mark snapped.

i can never promise you tomorrow

“Watch your tone,” his captor said. “I could kill you if I wanted to.”

“They’d find you,” Mark said, but he wasn’t very sure that they would.

“I don’t need to set my hands on you to drive you crazy. In fact, you’re already halfway there,” the silhouette sneered, and Mark could hear the contempt in their voice. He shuddered at the thought of going crazy, knowing that the boredom would surely drive him to do things he never would if he were in the right frame of mind.

“You should show me your face.” It was a weak attempt, but Mark didn’t want to hear anymore about his future loss of sanity, and he wanted to at least be able to identify the culprit if he ever got out alive.

“You’re changing the topic. And I don’t think I will,” the captor said. They grabbed the back of Mark’s chair and forcefully turned him around, facing him away from the door as their footsteps retreated out of the confines of the cell.

Later, the clang of a metal tray on the ground informed Mark that his food and water had been replaced, and he found that it had come with a chamber pot.

‘cause i have yet to learn how not to be his

Chenle’s hand traced lazy circles over your back until you turned to face him, legs intertwined in his.

“How are you- what do you think of the… y’know, the Mark situation?” He asked hesitantly. It was crossing some boundaries, that was for sure. Your and his relationship was meant to be free from emotional baggage, romantic gestures, and only meant as a way of comfort for both of you.

But at the end of the day, Chenle and you had dated once. Even if you had hated him for a while after the breakup, and he had ignored you for a good couple of months, he did still care about you, although he didn’t know how to—or whether he should—show it.

“I’m dealing with it,” you responded curtly. The truth was, it hurt more than it should. You were being investigated by the police, and when they found the last texts you had sent to him, it didn’t help your case much. The best you could do was to defend yourself, telling them that you had really only been in a bad place and wanted a friend to comfort you.

What they forgot was that he was still your best friend, and even if you didn’t love him back the way he loved you, he was still important to you. You didn’t want him to come to any harm, though it might seem differently to some.

You were, after all, vice-president on the student council. Now that Mark was incapacitated, you were the acting president. Besides, Mark’s crush on you had never been a secret, and half the student body thought that you had taken advantage of his crush on you to get rid of him.

His parents were the most worried, and you could barely look them in the eyes, knowing that you might have been the reason that Mark was missing. They didn’t suspect you, fully trusting you as Mark’s friend, but you didn’t want to let them down if the police found that you had led the kidnapper to Mark.

Mark’s exposed identity was also an issue. You and his parents had known since he decided to create an image for himself, but he had always wanted to keep it private for two reasons: he believed that good deeds did not need to be rewarded, and he was shy.

He didn’t want people to think of him differently because he was a “hero”. You admired him for that, but you also hated him for it. That he could be so noble and righteous, and you hated the jealousy you felt when you saw him walking around school and waving at everyone.

Superhero student council president Mark, who was only missing a lover in his otherwise perfect life.

this city will surely burn if we keep this as it is

Riize Highschool has been set on fire. 5 bodies have been recovered, and the number of injured individuals is 36 and counting. Authorities are working with the school to investigate the source of the fire. It is suspected to have been an arson attempt.

Mark’s mind ran wild with questions. Who could have tried to set the school on fire? Why? What was going on in the world, and why had his “replacement” not done anything about it?

His hands itched for something to do. The cell seemed to grow smaller by the day, the space constraining him and shutting him in. If he couldn’t escape soon, he would explode, and all the parts of him he’d tried hard to keep hidden would be on display for all to see.

He tried to pull his legs from the metal chains strapping him down for the hundredth time, pushing away from the back of the chair until he lost his balance and fell face-flat on the floor.

Blood dripped from his lips from where his teeth had torn skin, and he tried to push himself up from the floor. But the exhaustion and the weight of the chair on his back combined made it difficult, and his arms quivered from the effort.

He lay on the ground, breathing unsteady as he wondered if it was really better to be left in there alive or to leave the world peacefully.

i'd give anything to stop time

Mark missed being able to walk. He missed the sensation of sun on his face, of light reaching his eyes, he missed the freedom of not being trapped in isolated boredom the whole day. He missed his family and his friends, and most importantly, you.

He missed the curve of your neck and the warmth of you when you leaned into him on a cold day. He missed the way your waist felt in his on the rare occasions you let him hold you, missed your smile when you laughed at a silly joke on your phone.

He missed the way your face lit up when you saw him, missed sending you texts between classes, he missed everything about you. And he realised that lately, you hadn’t even felt like friends anymore.

Mark. You have fifteen minutes to leave this cell. You have been given all you need to leave, and I suggest you do it quickly.

Oh, by the way, your beloved Y/n is also trapped here. If you don't rescue them and leave in time, you can imagine what will happen.

Mark couldn’t tell what was going on in the cell, but it seemed to him that he could smell gasoline and smoke. His head whipped towards the door, seeing a flash of silver in his peripheral vision. A pair of wire cutters lay on the floor near the door of the cell, and he lunged for it, hands shaking as he tried to cut through his chains.

It was hard work, and his arms were tired and sore, and he struggled as he tried to free himself. When the second chain finally snapped, he dropped the wire cutters on the floor as he leaned back, spent.

But the reminder of you in danger spurred him on. He stood up shakily, fumbling for the key on the floor, and his trembling fingers only made it more difficult to unlock the door. As soon as he did, he stepped out into the hallway.

Smoke drifted in slowly, illuminated by the lights along the corridor. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but it was getting thicker by the minute.

“Y/n!” He yelled, voice hoarse from dehydration and misuse, desperately hoping that you would answer.

He almost collapsed from relief when he heard your voice. “Mark?”

“I'm coming! Please just keep talking, okay?”

“Okay.”

He ran down the hallways, your voice keeping him company as he searched for you.

“I miss you. I’m tired. I want to go home. Mark, we’ve all been worried sick while you were gone. I hate the responsibility you shoulder even more now that I know what it feels like, and I can’t believe you had to go through all of that. You’re insane for holding out for this long and I’m so glad you’re alive. Most of all, I miss every part of you. I’d give anything to have you back.”

“You sure about that?” The proximity of Mark’s voice filled you with relief. You turned towards the sound of his voice, and the blindfold over your eyes was the last barrier before you got to see him again. You heard the creaking of the door hinge and felt Mark’s hands land on your shoulders before he wrapped you into a hug.

As soon as he removed your blindfold, you were taken aback by how exhausted he looked. Dark circles were prominent under his eyes, his face gaunt and the cheekbones that used to be covered in a soft layer of fat seemed like a thin layer of skin over bone. His body, which used to seem taller and bigger to you just a week ago, had grown skinnier. He wasn’t taller, but somehow his body proportions looked off. He was smaller, taking up less space.

The outgoing, cheerful, popular Mark was gone — he had been replaced by someone a little awkward and unsure of himself, having grown used to living in fear.

You were in no place to comment on his appearance, however. Neither of you were in great shape; you were trussed up and your wrists were red from struggling against your bonds. Your ankles were bound tightly with rope, and it was clear to Mark that you had not been meant to stay there for long.

“We have to get out of here.”

“Yeah, no shit. Do you have a map or something? What’re you gonna do, navigate us out of here?” You were taken aback by Mark’s tone, and hurriedly amended your statement.

“I know there’s something in this room that you’re supposed to take. I was told that I would be able to get us out. Can you search the room?”

Mark scanned the room quickly before his eyes landed on you. Without a word, he knelt down in front of you, searching your pockets thoroughly. Your jeans pockets were empty, but there were a few surprises hidden in the thick folds of your hoodie.

“Got it,” he said triumphantly. He opened up his hand, and in his palm lay a few crucial items. His phone, car keys, and a sticky note.

“These are my car keys… how?” While Mark looked between his car keys and his phone, the gears in his mind whirring as he wondered how it could be, you snatched the sticky note from his hand and read the message aloud.

“Drive home, and never come back. Your car is outside. Leave.” The note ended on that threatening note, messy handwriting trailing off into a scrawl scratched across the page. Smoke drifted into the cell and you grabbed Mark’s hand.

“Run!”

As if on command, you saw the pathway lighting up. At the end of the corridor, a door opened up into light and with it, freedom. You ran toward it, the fire lapping at your heels. Although it hadn’t touched you, you could feel the blistering heat of it on your back, and the first thing you could think to do was flee.

The signs of freedom continued to greet you in the form of Mark’s car, and you ran over to the driver’s side while he unlocked the doors.

and drive around anaheim at sun down

Mark was blinking furiously, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand while you sped off, unused to the influx of light. Luckily, you hadn’t been in darkness for long, so you adjusted quickly enough to be able to drive safely.

You sat in silence like that for a while, and Mark leaned across to stare at the building, watching it go up into flames.

You said nothing as you turned on the highway, heading towards Anaheim. It was your hometown, and though it was a little out of the way, at least no one you knew would be there. For the time being, both of you needed some peace and quiet.

When the main road branched off, you took the first exit, finding yourselves next to a grass field. You shifted the car into reverse, parking along the side of the road and turning towards Mark.

“C’mon,” you gestured to him over your shoulder and went outside the car, feet sinking into the ground as you laid back onto the grass.

The sun had set on the drive there, and you could see the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, the small visible crescent shyly waving at you. You grinned back in response and felt Mark plop down next to you, one of his arms snaking under your neck and settling on your shoulder.

to teach my mind to put you first

Even if it was Mark’s hands around you, all you could think of was Chenle’s lips on yours and his hands in your hair, and not a single thought your restless mind conjured up was of Mark.

You wanted to rip the grass from the soil and scream into the void. Why couldn’t you just love him back? After all that Mark had done for you, all he had sacrificed for you, all he had given up just for a sliver of your heart? Why did your traitorous heart despise him so?

Perhaps it was because you didn’t deserve him, and despite all the selfish greed you harboured, you knew deep down that Mark deserved so much better.

here you are, a hero

Mark had grown comfortable next to you, breathing quietly as he let loose of every muscle in his body. He could feel every knot filled with tension dissipate, could feel the pain of every cut and bruise on his body finally sinking in, almost as if he’d been too scared to register it.

"Mark-"

"Y/n-"

"You go first."

"No, you."

“I want to kiss you” was his confession, blurted out like a bad choice from the depths of his subconscious, said aloud before he even had time to think it through.

“I’ll try hard not to make this feeling a crime,” he said as he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you tenderly, tears falling silently down his cheeks.

You knew you were only putting salt on the wound when you kissed him back, claiming the parts of his heart you had known were yours all along. You knew he liked you, and you hated hurting him but you never wanted to lie to him. You didn’t want Mark to think you loved him when you didn’t. Though you’d done so much to him, you didn’t ever want Mark to have his heart broken by someone who told him they loved him when they didn’t.

Not with all of their heart, at least. You did love Mark, platonically, but the important parts he wanted were the ones he couldn’t have, the ones that belonged to someone else.

You could feel Mark’s sadness piercing through your heart, his tears saltier than the dead sea. He was so genuine, so raw with his hurt as he kissed you, you almost caved and told him you could give up on Chenle. Almost.

But you couldn’t- you couldn’t do that to him.

you wanna be my new home

He pulled away, and as you stared at him, the pale yellow glow that emanated from him seemed to grow brighter before it faded. Mark, your guardian angel, who had fallen from glory and had been reduced to naught but a shadow of his former self. Everything that had made Mark stand out was gone.

And it was all because of you.

You had first started to want to know how to make Mark's webs synthetically when he first used his powers on you for target practice. His webs were long and unwieldy, and uncomfortable to use. You had been curious to see if you could possess those powers too, perhaps better than Mark.

The point where your intentions went from harmless to harmful was when you were about three-quarters of the way through the process. Mark had told you that he had won a scholarship that you had been eyeing.

It had been a tiresome period of jealousy for you, constantly feeling outdone by Mark. Him getting the scholarship you wanted had been the tipping point for you, and you were jealous that it seemed like Mark had the perfect life, while you were always competing with him. Sick and tired of it all, you had decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Your turn,” Mark said, interrupting your thoughts. “What did you want to say?”

“It was me, a week ago, that knocked you out and kidnapped you. I had been planning it since you had gotten that scholarship I had wanted, and by the time I realised that I wasn’t upset with you any more, it was too late. You had been gone for 3 days and I didn’t know how to let you leave without anyone figuring out that it had been me.

“I wanted to come clean, yet I was scared of the repercussions. It took me a few days to come up with a plan to get you to ‘save’ me so you wouldn’t suspect me, and I would burn the place down so no one would ever know.

“I wanted to live your life, Mark. I wanted to know what it was like to have everyone adore you, to be at the top of the world, carefree and loved. I was sick of hiding in your shadow, I wanted to know what it was like to be a hero, to no longer settle for second best.

“But after experiencing it? I don’t think I want that life. It’s not for me. The amount of pressure you must have been under every day of your life is not something I envy. I understand now why everyone admires you. You’re worthy of that, and I’m not.”

Your palms were clammy with sweat, unsure how he would react. “I’m sorry for all I did. I hope now you understand why I would never be worthy of your love. And I hope- I hope that you won’t love me anymore in ways I can’t return.”

You didn’t know what you had expected from Mark, but it definitely wasn’t acceptance, much less his forgiveness.

When he said, "It's okay," you looked at him in confusion. What was he talking about?

"What you've done is in the past. We're both here now, aren't we?" At that, you understood. It was because he was Mark Lee, angelic and purer than you could ever hope to be, with a heart bigger than the universe. Only he would be able to forgive you after everything you had done. You nodded, and when you stood it felt like your feet were weightless against the cotton candy clouds soft under your feet.

but baby, let up

By then it was getting late, and the sun was starting to set. Mark had been silent for a while, and though it worried you, you had other concerns. The most important one at the moment was how you were going to get back home, because you were still stuck on a little road in Anaheim when you lived all the way in Fort Irwin.

It was late at night and Mark’s phone was dead, so you handed him your phone to ask him to navigate. It was an unfamiliar place and you couldn’t wait to be back in the comfort of your home, and you wanted to get Mark back to his parents as soon as possible.

Deep down, maybe you wanted to prove that their trust in you wasn’t misplaced, wasn’t unwarranted. But when you slipped your phone into Mark’s hand, it was freezing cold, and when you turned to look at him, it sent shivers down your spine.

“Mark?” He disappeared before your eyes with a sad smile, fading into nothingness while you grasped at him in a panic, refusing to believe that he wasn’t real. Your attempts were all futile as your fingers met with cold air until all that was left of Mark was your memories and regret.

i won't ever recognize these roads

You sped back after that, unsettled and afraid. If you hadn’t saved Mark, then your guilty conscience wasn’t cleared after all. How long had you been hallucinating him? Had Mark ever been real, or was he simply a figment of your imagination? How much of your reality could you trust?

Your foot on the accelerator never let up, speeding across the highway with a sinking feeling in your stomach. If Mark was real all along, and you had kidnapped him, but he wasn’t there with you, then there could only be one possibility…

'cause i am lost, but not in you

“Chenle,” you managed breathlessly while Chenle looked at you in horror. He was dressed in pajamas, as if he had been about to sleep, and you knew you were a mess.

Your wrists were red from struggling against the bonds that you had tied for yourself, an effort to make your kidnapping look real to Mark. Parts of your hair had been singed in the fire, and you smelt strongly of smoke and sweat. Your clothes were stained brown from the wet soil of the grass fields, and your shoes were falling apart.

“I think I killed him.” You wished the revelation would hurt, but Chenle slamming his door in your face hurt you more. You sank to your feet, defeated, back against his door as you sighed.

Perhaps it would be better if you ceased to exist, too. At least in hell you would get the punishment you deserved.

epilogue.

The sky burns bright like ochre, burnt umber streaks like autumn. As if on cue, as the coffins are lowered side-by-side into the earth, thunder rumbles across the sky. The sky weeps as if haunted by memories, harbouring the guilt of the murderer and the pain of their victim.

The land sings its heart out, crickets chirping and nightingales drifting by as the sky darkens. Chenle tightens his grip around the chrysanthemums in his hand as he watches the disfigured silhouettes descend.

He doesn’t know what to do. Mark Lee had been a friend of his. Granted, not a close one, but a friend nonetheless. And to think that his fuck-buddy had killed him in cold blood was a burden he wasn’t sure he wanted to bear.

He breathes in and sighs. Even if he loved you, it was too late to change the course of things. All that had happened would have happened some way or other, and all he could do was try to right things in his own way.

Chenle watches on in silence as the families of the bereaved pay their respects. He’s hidden under the shelter of the umbrella, drawn to his eye-line so no one can make eye contact with him. He observes silently as the families mourn their loved ones, not knowing that the two best friends hadn’t been kidnapped, but that one had killed the other.

When you had showed up at his door, Chenle had the fright of his life. Your pants were dotted with blood, tears streaming down your cheeks. When he heard what you had done to Mark, his first instinct was to deny it. He slammed the door in your face, head spinning, stunned by your confession.

There was nothing else he could have done.

He could not have stopped you, headstrong as you were, heading back the entire way to Mark’s deathbed, where you hugged him tightly as flames enveloped you, burning away all traces of your guilt.

When the authorities found you a day later, the forensics seemed to match up to logic—the unknown killer had killed both of you, burned you to erase their footsteps, and you two had huddled together in fear during your last moments.

He kneels to the ground and weeps with the sky, umbrella dropping to the side as the downpour drenched him and the earth as if they were one. His sorrow would melt into the soil if it could, but as it could not, it remained heavy in his heart.

Onlookers would see a grieving boyfriend, crying for his lover and friend. It was not far from the truth, but nothing they thought would come close to what had really happened to the unhappy dead.

If only they knew the truth.

fin.

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

[stillvapors]

“When?”

Jeff didn’t sputter, but very nearly. “What do you mean?” “Your son passed away when exactly?” The man in the tan jacket asked firmly, though not unkindly. He’d stood up from the lunch table and looking a bit intense. “It’s important.” “Spring of ... ‘86?” “The date, please, I need the date,” the man urged, his jacket rolled back to reveal a watchmaker’s nightmare of gears and bobs. He jabbed at the crown of a clock face the size of a dollar pancake, which was a moving target - the whole assembly revolved around the axis of his wrist. The man was pulling a face as he harassed his machine. The face was average if a little haragged, and may have been ... Arab? White? Puerto Rican? One of those. His build seemed slight, but obscured with the jacket and black denim pants. Jeff had the insight this man would be difficult to describe to police. “I don’t know why you--” The whirring coming from the stranger’s device seemed to mean business and he defaulted to honesty, “April 17, 1986.” “Do remember the time?” Jeff hadn’t forgotten. Just after some dinner in the hospital cafeteria with his wife, walking back up to Peter’s room to check in. Sneaking in that bootleg tape of Highlander the people at work were swapping around. Getting pulled into the little room near the nurses’ station instead and told your little boy was gone. You don’t forget something like that. “Six. Thirteen past six. We just missed it,” his voice felt leaden. This really wasn’t how Jeff expected his lunch break to go. Then this guy at the cafe started asking about the children’s hospital and they got to talking about what happened, and well ... The man paused his ministrations to sigh, “I’m sorry.” Jeff nodded. It was one of those things, and it had been thirty years. The man’s face was sympathetic even if still glued to the thing running up one elbow. It was mouthing out “five fifty eight” while his tiny screwdriver turned a recessed notch. Finally the man seemed satisfied and patted at the inside of his jacket. He ran a finger along the lining. “Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome, right?” “Doctors were never sure, but they think so, yeah,” Jeff trailed, not recalling having mentioned it. “What’s this all about, anyway?” “Something went wrong and I’m going to fix it.” The man handed Jeff a business card. “That’s all I should say.” “Oh,” Jeff mumbled. He didn’t really look at the card. The stranger must be an insurance adjuster or some kind of cold-case worker with the hospital. Kind of guy to get REALLY into smart watches. He felt a little stupid for getting intrigued. “Well, thank you.” The man palmed something from the inside of his jacket and turned to the door. “No, thank you for lunch, Jeff.” He paused at the door, “I’m sorry I’ve got to go, but I think you’ll understand why.” Before Jeff managed, “No, I really don’t,” the man’s hand touched the doorknob and a buzzer rang out. It opened on a fluorescent-lit hallway. Jeff was very certain outside the cafe was a sidewalk and some parked cars. His was one - or had been. He rose to his feet. The man cupped his ear. Jeff was too scared to speak. Together they heard a PA system drone, “Doctor Malcom to report to room 337.” “That reminds me. The room?” the man asked. Jeff puttered, “517″ despite the dropped jaw. The man nodded and stepped through, but doubled back, “You probably won’t see me again, but word to the wise: Christmas 1986? You can’t go wrong with Nintendo. Control Deck bundle is probably enough.” Jeff nodded dumbly. The man waved as he closed the door. Jeff’s body decided to stop being terrified and raced after him. The door opened to the sidewalk he’d expected and his Ford Focus parked nearby. Jeff decided now would be an excellent time to read the card. It didn’t say much, only two lines: DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS

“No, the other one.”

[chazukekani]

Previous // Next

Here comes the summary of Code:02 (chapter 2) of Stormbringer. Enjoy!

p.s. Please beware that it was just a summary so some part is skipped.

Recap: The flags were dead.

Adam was walking on the street. He was holding a big bag in front of his body. What's inside were chocolate, hard candy and gummy bear. Adam bought it all for Chuuya because he knew humans need sugar in order to live and to stay happier.

'Good morning!' Adam shouted. He was in a church with a hundred participants. Youth choir was singing hymns and attendants were all wearing black clothings.

It was a funeral, with five coffins placed in the center.

'Chuuya-san, I am here to pick you up,' Adam said.

'Quiet! The funeral is in progress!' Chuuya said impatiently.

'There is some new information about Verlaine,' Adam replied.

Hence, shortly after, Chuuya followed Adam to go somewhere else which was quite far away from the church. Adam asked for Chuuya's permission to override his own command authority. By command authority, Adam explained that this was something written into his system, where he had an order of priority of certain people that he could listen to their commands. The first priority was always following the command of the investigation authority, and the second is Dr. Wollstonecraft. However, Adam wanted Chuuya to be the first priority for now.

Chuuya agreed, and the priority was then alternated, which Adam now called Chuuya as Chuuya-sama. The teen was slightly embarrassed by the new title.

'Can you change the way of how you call me?' asked Chuuya.

'Yes I can. This is just my default,' Adam answered, 'But you will no longer be my first priority.'

'What? That's so annoying. Nevermind then. Don't you have something about Verlaine to tell me?' said Chuuya.

'Yes I do. But may I take a gum before I do that?' Adam said. The robot seemed to like gum very much.

Adam pointed out that Verlaine probably hired a third party to assist him entering Japan. There were only very few illegal smuggling services which were not under the control of the Port Mafia, so it was actually fairly easy to find out which organisation helped Verlaine. Adam said he hacked the database of the police authority, and found the exact personnel who was hired by Verlaine.

'I am glad to know that you can actually do something,' Chuuya mocked.

Apart from hiring people to provide assistance on smuggling, Adam pointed out that Verlaine also asked those people to order three things for him.' The first one is four branches of white birch. Adam explained that there was also a white birch founded in the billiards bar, so he believed that the birch was actually a signature of Verlaine after completing a murder. Hence, there were supposed to have three birches left. Meanwhile, the other two things were entry licences of a car factory and an old fashioned blue colour flip phone.

'I know where he is,' Chuuya acknowledged something, 'Let's go,'

'Where are we going?' Adam asked.

Chuuya didn't answer. He grabbed Adam's final piece of gum, and put it into the mouth. Chuuya blew a bubble from his mouth, and Adam was shocked.

-

-

Inside the car factory, there was a teen working. He was grabbed by his manager because he wanted to invite him to have a meal after work. However, the teen was then brought to the meeting room. The teen saw someone.

'Chuuya...' the teen spoke.

'Shirase.' said Chuuya

-

-

Chuuya explained himself to Shirase because he knew Shirase was Verlaine's next target. Shirase was the reason why Chuuya joined the Mafia (as recalled from 15 years old). If Shirase was killed, then Chuuya no longer had a reason for staying in the mafia, such that Chuuya could leave with Verlaine.

Chuuya asked Shirase to help him, but Shirase refused because he hated Chuuya, and he did not want to be a bait either. He escaped by riding a bike so Adam and Chuuya chased afterwards. While Shirase was escaping, he was stopped at a police checkpoint.

'Shirase Buichirou! I am going to arrest you for keeping weapons illegally!' A police officer, roughly around his 40s and wearing a dark green outfit, said. Chuuya ran forward because he knew this officer.

'Hey- How are you Chuuya? Did you eat properly?' said the officer, 'You can't grow if you don't eat well.' They chatted as if old friends.

'I suspect you may be the accomplice of Shirase, so please come to the police station with me as well.'

Chuuya suddenly realised that such an arrest was not a coincidence. It was the factory manager who had plotted them.

-

-

Adam, Chuuya and Shirase were all in the police station. Apart from Shirase being detained, the rest of two were staying in the investigation room inside the station.

'Chuuya-sama.'

'...'

'Chuuya-sama.'

'what...'

'It's your turn. Our game of '"Discovery of human's uniqueness".'

Chuuya didn't answer.

'Then it's my turn,' Adam said. 'Hmm, I think what's special with humans is, they will be embarrassed by sounds that were made apart from their voice, such as the groans of their stomach.'

'Huh?' Chuuya was confused.

' "Huh" right? Thanks for responding to me,' said Adam.

The game continues.

'Shall we ban gaming next time?' said Chuuya.

'Is this an order?'

'Yes.'

'Understood, I will no longer play the game of "Discovery of human's uniqueness".' Adam answered.

'Why you look super sad...' Chuuya noticed the disappointment on Adam's face.

Chuuya proceeded to ask whether it was possible for Adam to ask for help from his own organisation, but Adam denied this possibility because the EUROPOLE was bound by a regulation of 'non infringing country's sovereignty' when the organisation was founded in the post-war period, so this strategy didn't work.

-

-

[Change in perspective] Here was an abandoned area, a piece of land that was forgotten by everyone. Different kinds of garbage was thrown here, regardless of transportation container or corpses. In the middle of this area, was where Dazai lived. He's living in a container, with basic furniture such as a fridge, fan, table, chairs and bed equipped, together with a small light bulb.

Suddenly, someone opened the door of the container.

'You are really living in an interesting place, Dazai-kun,' that person greeted, 'My god, why are you living in this place? To avoid tax or something?'

'I am afraid of you, Verlaine-san,' Dazai replied without a single emotion.

'Lie,' said Verlaine, 'I was trying to kill you two days ago, and you didn't feel anything back then.' Verlaine touched some documents on the desk, and those were the top secret of the mafia.

'Two days ago, I didn't kill you because you promised to give me these documents. I don't think you handed me this because you wanted my spare you right?' said Verlaine.

'It's simple,' Dazai said, 'I just want to see the Mafia burns.'

'Why?'

'I'm fed up,' Dazai looked at Verlaine for a second, 'I found nothing after all,' Dazia then murmured to himself.

'I see, I understand what you mean,' Verlaine, 'thanks for your cooperation, Dazai-kun.'

Verlaine flicked a coin, and boom, it exploded. All the surroundings apart from Dazai's container were blown up and gone, and Verlaine was about to leave

'Where are you going?' Dazai asked.

'You should have known right? To the police station,' Verlaine answered.

-

-

Chuuya was called into an investigation room to be questioned by that police officer, his name was Murase. The officer proposed an idea which he could set Shirase free, but in return, Chuuya needed to expose some secrets about the Mafia.

'Are you telling me to betray the Mafia?' said Chuuya.

'Just tell me and I let you and your friend go home,' the police officer was writing his report.

'Give me your pen,' Chuuya said calmly, then wrote 'eat shit' on the signature spot of the report.

-

-

Adam was somewhere near Shirase's detention. He hacked into the database of the police authority, and acquired the detaining number of Shirase, and successfully deceived the guards. Adam found Shirase, and was about to bring him away from the police station, but Shirase didn't look happy at all. Adam told Shirase that there was actually no need for him and Chuuya to protect him, but Chuuya wanted to protect him. Adam explained what happened during one year ago and revealed the reason why Chuuya joined the mafia to Shirase because Chuuya wanted to protect him.

Suddenly, when Adam and Shirase were about to leave, the teen said something.

'You... where have your left leg gone?' said Shirase.

Adam realised that the part beneath his left knee was gone, and he immediately fell down.

'Robot investigator is surely a tough job isn't it?' said by a voice.

'Verlaine...'

Adam could not handle the attack from Verlaine because he was using gravity control which made Adam not able to move.

'Don't... don't come near me!' Shirase was horrified.

'Shirase-kun, I have done research on you. You have known Chuuya for the longest in this city. Shirase-kun, please tell me, how was Chuuya when he was a kid?'

'We are... the founding members of The Sheep... and we thought Chuuya was just an orphan. He was the one who spoke to us first: "What's that brick?" Chuuya said that.'

'It was bread, we answered,' Shirase continued, ' "Do you wanna eat that?" I asked, and he said yes. The moment he wanted to move, and fell down and fainted. He was very thin and almost dead by then. Despite there were some members who objected to my idea , I found some food and water for him and brought him back to The Sheep.'

'You are Chuuya's brother right?' Why do you want to kill me? There was no one apart from me saving your brother! Is this how you return your favour?' Shirase yelled at Verlaine, but he didn't say a word.

'I understood, there is no common sense in this world. I am killed because I saved someone. Now, hurry up and kill me,' said Shirase.

Verlaine stepped forward and walked closer to Shirase. Adam calculated, and deduced that there were 168 possibilities, and among all of them, Shirase would be killed either way. It was impossible that the 169th possibility would occur.

Yet, Chuuya was here and kicked Verlaine off horizontally, and that's the 169th possibility.

A fight broke out between the brothers. Chuuya hit Verlaine harshly and violently, which made Adam think it was probably his first time seeing how a person could beat the assassin king that severely. The wall and the surroundings were destroyed by the battle.

'It has been a while since I last saw my blood,' Verlaine's voice sounds dry.

Chuuya aimed for Verlaine's arm, and punched it. He hit the wall as if touching the water surface and broke through it. That was unbelievable, Adam thought. Outside the wall was the car park of the police station, and Chuuya was hit by a car that was coming for him, and there were more cars incoming. Chuuya finally stopped attacking.

'Chuuya! Are you alright!' someone shouted from the back of the car park, it was Murase officer.

'Officer-san...why are you here? Don't come!' Chuuya yelled.

'Finally you are here,' Verlaine whispered.

Verlaine came forward to Murase-officer and grabbed his neck.

'Stop it!' Chuuya shouted, but it was too late. Murase officer was dead. Adam came forward to the body, and found a cross that was made by white birch. Chuuya was holding the body of the officer, and he found something inside the pocket. It was an old-style blue colour flip phone. That was the exact model that Verlaine acquired before he came to Yokohama.

Chuuya realised, the target of Verlaine was always Murase officer, and never was Shirase.

But why?

-

Code:02 Ended

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed The Radio Star- Chapter 3 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Same things applies with the asterisks in this chapter, I hoped it helped last chapter! Please remember that if anything relates to you in this series that you are not alone and you are loved! I am begging you all to read the warnings and be safe. Thank you for all the love and support! Please enjoy this chapter. Love, Em :)

Warnings: Infidelity, cursing, blood, gruesome imagery, mentions of suicide, disturbing content, sex talk, sensitive material ahead (After the interrogation a very dark scene will occur, please, please be wary)

Plot: The team start to piece some new information together and get a little bit closer to finding you, Morgan and Reid unknowingly meet with their Unsub. 

Word Count: 3k

The first shop Derek and Spencer visited was a tiny shop just around the corner from the library, they proceeded to bombard the manager with questions. Had they seen a beautiful woman come in here, asked if anyone had bought an insane amount of roses around Valentine’s Day. They got an abundance of death glares for that question, it did seem stupid.

They didn’t get anywhere till store number five, a slightly bigger store that seemed to be closer to your apartment complex. Behind the counter stood a red-headed woman, looking extremely bored. Her name tag read, Sorrel, and her posture became straighter as the two men approached the counter. “Welcome into the Rose Bud, how can I help the two of you today?” her voice didn’t seem to match her, Spencer assumed it was just her ‘customer service’ voice.

“Hi,” Derek motioned between the two of them, smiling, “I’m Derek Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the FBI. Are you the manager?”

Her eyes went wide at the sound of ‘FBI’, but she didn’t seem nervous just surprised.  “Manager? No, our manager is Heather.” She glanced over at the clock mounted on the wall before frowning “Heather left early today around four, usually, she’s here from open to close but she got a call from her husband and left.”

Spencer spoke up this time “What time do you open?”

“We’re open from nine in the morning till seven in the afternoon. Why are you asking about Heather?”

“We just wanted to ask her a couple of questions,” Morgan answered gently, he didn’t want to panic the girl more. “Do you think she would be alright with us visiting her house, to ask her some questions?”

Sorrel bit her lip gently, she had a hard time saying ‘no’ to people, so she nodded a very slow ‘yes’. “I don’t think she would mind, no.” she opened a drawer, pulled out a notepad, and started to write down Heather’s home address, handing the paper over to Derek quickly. “She’s not in trouble, right?”

“I doubt it, ma’am.”

Heather lived in the suburbs, a white picket fence adorned with bushels of flowers, rose bushes, azaleas, peonies, etc. There was no doubt she had a green thumb. According to Garcia, her husband was in the navy and had been deployed to Okinawa, Japan. They got married when she was twenty, a couple of years after she dropped out of college.

When she opened the door her hair was wet, but even Spencer took note that she was, indeed, beautiful. She invited the two of them in, getting two glasses of water for them as they sat in her living room. Her living room had grey walls with forest green accents, Spencer found it aesthetically pleasing. She set two glasses on the dark green coffee table using coasters, said coasters had different flowers on each one. She noticed how Spencer’s eyes lingered on the coasters and she smiled before saying “They were a gift,” she sat down “When you work with anything floral people just default to flowers.”

Morgan laughed lightly and nodded “I understand that.” Heather smiled at him before she let out a tiny sigh.

“So, how can I help you?”

“We just wanted to ask some questions regarding your customers, see if you had any regular customers, possibly a woman?”

“I’m sorry, but could you be a little more specific?”

“She probably seemed on edge, came in on Valentine’s Day and bought quite a bit of rose’s?”

“Valentine’s Day? You’re joking right? Everyone buys roses on Valentine’s Day!”

“We know, we know, maybe she came in later on in the day, possibly near closing?”

Heather bit her lip, doing a phenomenal job of not smiling, before she let out a tiny gasp. “Yes! Oh, what was her name?” she asked herself as she tapped her temples gently “Adeline Smith! She came in just before closing, looked like she had been crying all day or something, bought a big order of roses she reserved the day before, all red roses. I remember she used a credit card, it had a picture of her family on it.”  Heather smiled a little, letting it drop as she feigned concern. “We went to college together, well before I dropped, is she okay?”

“I’m sure she is,” Derek said as he stood up, Spencer following quickly. Heather led them to the door, exchanging pleasantries with the two men with the sweetest smile, closing the door gently as the two men were walking down her driveway towards their car. Her smile dropped as soon as the door shut, she turned on her heel and headed upstairs to a sealed door with locks decorating it. She unlocked them as fast as she could. Her mind was racing, you were just right upstairs and those men, those filthy, horrible men could have found you. They could have exposed the love the two of you shared, she couldn’t let that happen. Then she stepped into the pink room.

***

The morphine was wearing off slowly, it started about an hour ago. The throbbing pain in your foot was coming back slowly but now you felt more awake. You were able to sit up on the heart-shaped bed, scooting back so you could rest against the headboard. It was possible that over the course, well actually you didn’t know what day it was, you only knew it was a weekday because the other two days she had been with you almost all day. Your eyes scanned the walls, foam padded them and you didn’t see any windows so you assumed that the room was sound proofed, you frowned.

While you were happy you could have a complete thought, you were slowly become more convinced that you were never going to get out here. Years would pass and you wouldn’t remember your name, you would be Catherine. Maybe Heather would kill you. Then a sudden and terrifying thought snuck in, what if you fell in love with Heather? Would it come to the point that you would be so brainwashed to love someone so delusional?  

The sound of keys jingling and locks unlocking brought you back to reality. You didn’t have time to think about the future, not when Heather was coming in with a frown on her face. “Catherine,” her frown dissipated as she shut the door behind her, quickly making her away over to you. You tried your hardest to move closer to the bed, Heather noticed this and let out a sigh as she sat on the bed next to you. “I know I look mad, some terrible men,” she pulled you over to her by the arm, stroking your hair quickly “Some terrible men, tried to take you away today.” You turned your head towards her, speaking in a shaking voice.

“Men?”

“Men. It’s always men. I hate them, all of them. They’re all pigs, honestly.” Heather pushed some hair out of your face before she continued “My husband, he’s gone right now, thank god, he’s such a bastard. Sleeps around on me, can you believe that? He sleeps with other women, while he’s married to me!” her eyes met yours and she relaxed more “That’s why I’m so glad I have you, my dear Catherine.” she whispered gently as she leaned in to kiss you on the lips sweetly, a shiver shooting down your spine as you tried your best to disassociate from the situation.

Heather pulled away with a soft giggle, she looked so desperately happy, a complete one-eighty from how she was when she came in just a few seconds ago. You tried to think back to college, tried to think about how she used to be. “You know I remember when I first saw you,” Heather spoke up as she ran her fingers through your messy hair slowly “, it was move-in day and you were walking back downstairs when you saw me struggling to pick up some boxes and you stopped, bent down and helped me. I was so happy that someone so kind saw me and picked me.”

You hung on her words, wondering why she decided to say that you picked her, when in fact you just simply helped her. Was that all it took for someone to become obsessed? Your stomach twisted with anxiety as Heather pulled you in her lap, hugging you around the waist.  “If they ever found you, I don’t know what I’d do,” she trailed off slowly before she rested her chin on your back “ If they ever found us, I’d have to kill you and then I would kill myself.” Heather decided in a quick moment, hoping that they would never find you and you, wanting to stay alive, felt the same.

That night, Heather had fallen asleep in the same bed as you. You, however, didn’t get a wink of sleep the entire night, you thought about the keys she had carelessly thrown on the dresser, but you didn’t think you had the strength to make that type of move. In all her madness, Heather had forgotten to feed you. An empty stomach, mixed with veins filled with morphine was not a good mix, and despite your disgust, you were finding it hard to stay awake. As soon as Heather left in the morning, your eyes closed.

***

Spencer and Morgan called Garcia on their way back to the Richmond police station, learning that Adeline was a widow and a mother of one daughter. When they got back, J.J. carefully placed a photo of Adeline on the whiteboard. “It seems like Adeline Smith and Heather Alexander both went to the same college as Y/N L/N, all lived in the same hall and possibly on the same floor.”

Prentiss spoke up “Are we sure the unsub is a woman?” Spencer nodded as he wrote down some information underneath Adeline’s photo.

“It’s possible that when her husband died, Y/N reached out and that’s when the obsession started.”

“Let’s bring her in for some questions before we decide that,” Hotch said, then the team headed out.

March 9, 20XX

The next day, Adeline was cradling her cup of water, seeming extremely depressed as she waited for someone to come into the interrogation room. Her mind should have been at the police station, but all she could think about was her daughter. Her daughter was currently sleeping in a hospital bed. “Adeline,” Prentiss’s voice broke her away from her thoughts in a second. “Thank you for coming in today.” Adeline nodded, feeling suddenly stiff.

“You knew Y/N L/N in college, correct?” Another nod. “Would you say the two of you were close?”

Adeline smiled at the thought of you, of course, the two of you were close, you were at her wedding. “Yes, we were roommates. Y/N was my best friend, she was at my wedding, and when John,” Adeline paused and took a sip of her water. “When John died, she made some dinners for me and Anna, my daughter.” she finished, looking Prentiss in the eyes. Behind glass Reid and Hotch shared a look before turning their attention back to the interrogation.

“Did you ever visit Y/N at work?”

“The library? No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t have the time to visit people most days,”

“Did you visit her after Christmas?”

“No!”

Prentiss sighed, leaning in towards Adeline, “I understand that you love her, you wanted to visit her. You gave her all those flowers on Valentine’s Day.”

“No, I didn’t! Valentine’s Day? I was at the hospital on Valentine’s Day, my daughter, that’s her birthday! I went to Heather Alexander’s stupid floral shop to get roses for her.”

“For your daughter?”

“Yes,” she stopped for a second and looked down at the table “She has leukemia, we, I mean I found out this December and she’s six. She’s six and she wanted her prince charming to come to the hospital with flowers. So I hired an entertainer and bought a shit ton of roses for her. Heather, she and I were never that close, but Y/N liked her, so she gave me a good deal on them and held them for me.”

Prentiss slid a photo, taken on Valentine’s Day, of your apartment covered head to toe in rose petals. Adeline let out a small sound, almost sounding impressed “So, her boyfriend or whatever was being romantic. Is that why I’m here?” She looked up at Prentiss.

“This past few months, Y/N learned she had a stalker, unfortunately, officials can’t step in till something happens. On Valentine’s day, Y/N came home to her apartment that had been covered with red rose petals. This past Saturday, Y/N was abducted from her apartment in Richmond.”

Adeline suddenly felt sick to her stomach, thinking about how her friend was missing and how she was just now finding out because she was a suspect. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She announced, standing up and running over to the bin in the room to vomit.

Prentiss shot a look over her shoulder towards the glass where the rest of her team was standing, unseen, they all knew that this wasn’t their unsub. Adeline was hunched over the trash bin as Prentiss brought her another cup of water. “Thank you so much for your time today, Adeline.”

***

The next day Heather was there in the morning to open up her shop, her smile was as bright as the sun as she flipped the lights on. People usually commented that everyone looks better when they smile, but the smile that Heather was wearing on her lips seemed more sinister. She was moving a hibiscus tree over when she decided that she wanted to go home. One of her other workers, Mac, was already there and she didn’t need to cover any shifts so she went home to her Catherine. When she entered the pink room, she watched your sleeping form from a chair near the bed, she wanted to leave you alone, she wanted to let you sleep but she couldn’t help it, you looked so damn beautiful, she just had to. She walked over to the bed, gently kissing your lips before she was inspired to lift your shirt and kiss your exposed stomach.

You woke up slowly, feeling something gently touch your stomach, you tried to ignore it and go back to sleep but when you moved to turn over, two hands squeezed your waist tightly. Your eyes shot open, sitting up as soon as you realized what was happening to you. “Heather!” you yelled in surprise, trying to scoot away from her, but she held you tight and you didn’t have enough energy at this point to fight back.

“Catherine,” she said your name with a smile before she kissed your exposed stomach lightly. You held back a scream and writhed around with disgust.

“Please I don’t want to,” you whimpered softly, trying to push her hands off of your waist.

“You don’t want to?” Heather scoffed, with a glare “Fine, I guess you don’t love me very much!” She snapped at you as she slid off of the bed, moving towards the dresser. You felt a sigh of relief escape your lips, happy that Heather’s hands were no longer touching you.

Heather pulled a small paring knife out of one of the drawers, walking back over to you as she watched your body tense. You made a move to roll over to the other side of the bed, but Heather grabbed you by your broken ankle, pulling you back to her. “You don’t love me?” she questioned as you let out a cry of pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You screamed as Heather moved to straddle you on the bed, trapping you as she held a knife close to your face. “No, no, please, I’m sorry,” The tiny knife was slashed against your bottom lip, your mouth filled with the taste of blood.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Emma, but sometimes you’re just so stupid!” Heather hissed, spit hitting your face as she traced your chest with the small knife, cutting into your shirt to expose the top of your breast. Heather smiled wide as an idea came to her, she put the tiny kitchen knife into action, carefully carving into your skin.

You trashed underneath her as you cried, painful hot tears falling from your eyes. Every time you would move Heather would snap at you “You’re ruining it, Jane!”

“I’m not Jane, I’m not Emma-”

“Yes, you are!” the blade went in deeper as she finished carving the letter ‘L’. “Hold still!” she screamed before she squeezed your cheeks together in a painfully tight way with her free hand. “Isn’t this better than loving me? Jane?” she let go of your face quickly, continuing with her work. Once she was done, she dropped the tiny knife on the bed with a smile. “Now there’s no hiding what you are, Slut!” she said with a twisted smile as her eyes met your terrified ones, she brought saliva to the surface of her tongue and spat in your face. After she did that she grabbed the bloody knife, got off of you, and headed for the door, locking you away once again.

As soon as the door shut you broke down sobbing, you wanted to scream but the painful cut on your lip made you think twice. You moved a hand up to your chest, feeling around the word carved into your chest, shaking. You laughed softly through your sobs, ‘Slut’, it made sense now. The stupid panties, Heather thought you were a whore. She hated that about you, but apparently, she was in love with you. After you had your emotional breakdown you stayed on the bed, unmoving, staring up at the ceiling as you bled onto the bed with spit on your face.

[fanfics4all]

Painless

Request: Yes / No 

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3200

Warnings: SCHOOL BOMBING, CURSING, it’s criminal minds so read at your own risk! 

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Another day at work. Another day of someone dead. I thought as I walked into the office. I saw everyone was already in the round table room and sighed. Another case. I put my stuff down at my desk and walked into the room. I took my seat next to my boyfriend Spencer and gave a smile at everyone. 

“Does anyone remember this picture?” Garcia asked, bringing up a picture of a man and a girl looking distressed. 

“Hotch and I were there. That’s Principal Doug Gavens. We had to drag him to safety.” Rossi said, making everyone look at him. 

“High school bombing in Boise, right?” Emily asked. 

“School shooter and school bomber.” JJ said and it triggered my memory. 

“A kid named Randy Slade shot three students and then set off an I.E.D. in the cafeteria via cell phone, killing himself and thirteen kids total, but not before posting all his plans online.” I said and Garcia nodded. 

“It was one of those “Where were you?” events. My whole campus was glued to the T.V..” JJ said. 

“Last night, Principal Givens was killed by a bomb modeled exactly like the old one.” Garcia said. 

“It feels like the unsub wants to attack the man who kept the school together after the bombing. It’s a pretty symbolic target.” Morgan said. 

“And this week is the tenth anniversary of the massacre.” Hotch said. 

“And today is the first day of a four day event to commemorate the bombing at the school.” Garcia said. 

“Except commemorating it isn’t enough for this unsub.” Emily said. 

“No. He wants to relive it.” Hotch said. We gathered our things and got on the plane. We were all sitting down and going over the case files. 

“Perpetrators of school violence are often sophisticated with their weapons. Randy Slade carried his bomb in his backpack. This guy hid his in Givens’ clock radio.” Spencer said. 

“Yeah, and progressive. Each one tries to top the body count of the one previous.”  

“And they’re loners by default, not by choice. They try to join various social groups, but they get shut out.” JJ said. 

“Randy Slade wasn’t a loner at all.” Hotch said. 

“The family cooperated fully with us. He was a high-functioning psychopath, straight-A student, varsity wrestler, lots of girlfriends.” Rossi said. 

“With an above-average intelligence that made him incredibly resourceful. His explosive of choice was Semtex.” I said looking at the files. 

“It’s found at demolition sites, but it’s held under lock and key.” Spencer said. 

“Which made us consider the possibility of a partner. Never found one.” Rossi said. 

“Slade was too much of a narcissist to share credit. But he was also an impulsive teen, which is what bothers me about this unsub.” Hotch said. 

“His sense of control?” Emily asked. 

“And the end game that he’s working toward.” Hotch answered with a nod. 

“Slade’s pathology revolved around the big kill. This unsub could have done the same if he’d waited for the candlelight vigil.” Hotch added. 

“Which means there’s no blaze of glory fantasy here. This unsub has more bombs made, and he’s savoring the anticipation of his next attack.” Rossi said. After we talked everyone moved to their own spots to think and relax before we had the hard work to do. I sat next to Spencer and smiled at him. 

“This poor town.” I said and he sighed. 

“I know, but the odds are against them in this situation.” He said and I nodded. 

“I know, but that doesn’t mean it sucks any less.” I said and he nodded. 

“It’s a hard thing to deal with.” He said. 

“Yeah…” I sighed. We tried to keep our minds on things that would help us, instead of how much people were hurting right now. 

As soon as we landed we dropped our stuff off at our hotel then split up. Hotch and Rossi went to the station with Emily and Morgan. Spencer, JJ and I went to the crime scene. We walked inside and it was a mess, not shocking though considering what happened. 

“Okay, so the unsub has to be tied to the school somehow, right?” JJ asked. 

“Current student, alumni, family member who lost someone…” I listed off. 

“It could be Slade groupies celebrating his hero. He taped nails to the exterior of the bomb, specifically to rip open flesh. That’s a sadistic detail of Slade’s the unsub copied.” Spencer said. 

“Except he tricked Givens into blowing himself up. A groupie probably wouldn’t show that much self-control.” JJ said. 

“But someone with an ax to grind against the principal would. Maybe he’s a surrogate for the tomenters in high school he can’t punish.” Spencer said. 

“Who were yours?” He asked us. 

“I don’t even remember.” JJ answered. 

“You don’t even remember? Wait, were you one of those mean girls?” Spencer questioned. 

“No.” JJ said. 

“Valedictorian, soccer scholarship, corn-fed, but still a size zero. I think that you might have been a mean girl.” Spencer said. 

“Spence.” I said. 

“I was actually one of the nice girls, even to guys like you.” JJ answered and I shook my head. There was no stopping this now. 

“Guys like me? I’ll have you know that my social standing increased once I started winning at basketball.” Spencer said, I always forget that he coached basketball. 

“Oh yeah? You played basketball?” JJ asked. 

“Actually he coached it.” I answered. 

“You coached it?” She asked. 

“Yeah, I broke down the opposing team’s shooting strategy.” He said. 

“Is that why Morgan kicked you two out of the pool last week?” She asked. 

“Yeah, it took him three rounds to realize we were hustling him.” I answered with a laugh. 

“Huh.” She said and we went back to looking at the crime scene. As soon as we were done looking we got a call about another murder. So we made our way there. The three of us looked around and JJ decided to call Hotch and tell him.

“You’re on speaker JJ.” Hotch answered. 

“So, we might have another one.” She said. 

“Might?” He asked. 

“One of the North Valley alumni was killed in her motel room.” She answered. 

“No bomb or gun this time. Looks like he used his bare hands.” I added. 

“You got a name?” Hotch asked. 

“Chelsea Grant.” Spencer answered. 

The next day Spencer and I returned to the crime scene with Hotch. It was good to come back and look at it with fresh eyes. 

“The unsub crushed Chelsea’s throat so she couldn’t scream, then he pulverized her ribs, sending fragments of bone into her heart.” Spencer said. 

“Principal Givens was high-profile. Chelsea wasn’t. Right now the only thing connecting them is they’re both on the kill list.” Hotch said. 

“A list that Brandon kept secret for ten years, but he was in custody when this happened. So the question is, how did the unsub get the exact same list?” I asked. 

“Well, we ruled out a partner, but not conclusively.” Hotch said. 

“Slade made every part of his plan public. It doesn’t make sense that he would hide a partner.” Spencer said. 

“He didn’t want to share the credit. And this weekend is the partner’s best chance to claim it.” Hotch said. 

“Let’s go back to the station, we have a profile to deliver.” He said and we followed him. 

When we got back to the station we gathered everyone up and we were ready to deliver the profile. 

“Partners of dominant psychopaths are usually submissive, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t be intelligent or that they’re physically weak.” Hotch said. 

“This unsub laid low after the bombing and successfully evaded police and FBI. That took cunning and patience, which he’s exhibiting now with his current murders.” Morgan said. 

“We think he fits the loner profile Slade debunked. He grew up in an abusive home, which kept him from forming the normal social bonds in high school.” JJ said. 

“We interviewed all the outcasts from back then. How did this guy slip through?” Chief Cole asked. 

“Even outcasts eventually form friendships. But this unsub was the outcast the outcasts rejected.” Spencer said. 

“Exactly, he won’t stand out in any capacity, and as a matter of fact, most of his fellow students probably won’t even remember graduating with him.” I said. 

“And that invisibility is what made him attractive to Slade. This partner wouldn’t steal the spotlight.” Rossi said. 

“Slade targeted the cafeteria because most of the names on his list ate there together during fifth period.” Spencer said. 

“So his hatred festered when the names on the list emerged from the cafeteria as media heroes. And now he wants to finish the job that Randy started.” Morgan said. 

“Emotionally, this weekend is more a high school reunion to him than a memorial. We go to reunions to show who we grew up to be. Often that means changing everything about who we were.” Rossi said. 

“Consciously or not, Randy Slade revealed clues as to his partner’s identity when he detonated his bomb. Agent Prentiss will be conducting cognitive interviews to see what the survivors might remember.” Hotch said. We answered a few questions the cops had then went on to try and work out who this guy could be. Emily was with the survivors now working on them. 

“So, as you can see from your board there, this kill list is weirdly similar to high school. 

“Group on is like the popular kids, prom court, football team, dean’s list. The Heathers, if you will.” Garcia said. 

“Kids in Slade’s social circle.” Hotch said. 

“What about number two?” JJ asked. 

“Uh, mmhmm, that would be the kids from the other side of the tracks, 180-degree difference, kids this close to getting kicked out, Stoners, burnouts, mental cases. Chelsea Grant is on this list.” Garcia said. 

“Maybe Slade targeted them because they disgusted him?” JJ asked while Spencer’s phone was ringing. We have been doing a lot of that since we got here. 

“But they didn’t threaten Slade’s sense of superiority. He wouldn’t have even cared about them.” Hotch said as we ignored Spencer’s phone. 

“So maybe the partner put them on the list. They’d be closer to his social status than Slade’s.” I said as Spencer’s phone stopped ringing. 

“Why would the-” Spencer was cut off by his phone ringing again. 

“I’m so sorry.” He said, taking his phone out and hung up. 

“Why would the unsub list kids that he fit in with?” Spencer asked, putting his phone away again. 

“Apparently that’s how this clique worked. The kids in it were meaner to each other than kids on the outside. Garcia, separate out all the kids who got into trouble regularly. Then eliminate the names that the partner put on the list. Now, who’s left that came to the memorial?” Hotch asked. 

“Right. Whoever made the list wouldn’t put their name on it. Uh… sir, I think- I think I’ve got him. His name is Lewis Ramsey.” Garcia said. 

“Where is he?” Hotch asked. 

“Uhh… According to his cell phone he’s at a local bar.” She answered. 

“Send it to Morgan’s phone.” Hotch ordered and called him. Morgan brought him in and him and Hotch started interviewing him. Once they were done they told the rest of us. 

“You buy it?” Emily asked. 

“He fits the profile, and the evidence points to him, but he seems sincere.” Hotch said. 

“He’s not the unsub. He was the partner, but look at how Slade added “All the losers in this Godforsaken school.” This capitalization isn’t an accident. Look.” Spencer said and wrote it on the white board. 

“L-S-R, Lewis Stuart Ramsey.” He said. 

“So Slade named his own partner.” I said. 

“Ironically, Lewis’ marijuana addiction saved his life.” He said with a nod. 

“Well, that puts us back to our original problem. If the unsub isn’t the partner, how did he get his hands on a list that Slade and Lewis kept to themselves?” I asked. 

“The only answer is that part of the profile is wrong. The unsub’s vendetta has nothing to do with the list. Did you get anything from Jerry Holtz?” Hotch asked Emily. 

“Only that he mixed up the cell phones that Slade used. It felt like he was making the story up, but I only had a hunch.” Emily said. 

“We need to find him now. There’s a connection to the victimology that we’re missing. Whatever he’s holding back might be the key.” Hotch said. We found Jerry, but he was dead. He was killed at the school. We made our way there and Emily met us there. 

“Jerry Holtz? How long?” She asked. 

“Less than an hour. Security guard heard the commotion, but the unsub was already gone.” JJ answered. 

“The only people who knew we were doing the cognitive interviews were the other survivors. The unsub must be part of that group.” Emily said. 

“Well, we don’t know that for a fact. He could have been lying in wait.” I said. 

“Look, Hotch wants me to go through the victims’ lives and find the overlaps. We can compare their histories with the unsub’s.” JJ said. 

“What else do we have to go on?” Emily asked, looking at Spencer and I. 

“Spence said the unsub would have broken his hand beating Chelsea to death. Did you notice anyone with a cast on their hand, someone who seemed hurt?” JJ asked. 

“No.” Emily shook her head. 

“I might know why.” Spencer said and we all looked at him. 

“This unsub doesn’t feel pain.” He said. 

“You mean he has pain asymbolia?” I asked and he nodded.

“We need to get back to the station. Spencer told them about his theorie and no one understood what he was saying.  

“In english for the other people in the room.” Morgan asked. 

“There’s a medical condition called pain asymbolia, where patients register harmful stimuli without being bothered by it. They’ve been documented holding their hand over an open flame because their brain doesn’t send pain signals to the central nervous system.” Spencer explained. 

“Sounds pretty rare. You sure the unsub has it?” Rossi asked. 

“The crime scenes prove it. Once Spencer said it, everything clicked. He displayed an unusual level of savagery towards his victims. And consider this, he smashed through a glass display case, but there were no cuts on Jerry. That means he most likely punched through it as a show of force.” I said. 

“Now, the only way the human body could withstand that level of pain is if he couldn’t feel it at all.” Spencer added. 

“It must take a major toll on someone’s emotional development.” Rossi said and Spencer’s phone rang… again. 

“A significant contributor to our sense of empathy is the way we personally experience pain.” Morgan said and Spencer silenced his phone again. 

“And the unsub didn’t develop his sense of empathy because it was cut off. Does every person with Asymbolia have this?” Hotch asked. 

“Actually, most feel empathy just fine, which makes me think the rest of our profile is still accurate. Loner, invisible, outcast, boiling rage- Son of a bitch!” Spencer said, pulling out his ringing cell phone and answered it. I notice Morgan trying to hide a smirk. 

“Hi! This is Dr. Spencer Reid. I actually can come to the phone right now with a very special message that your mother is-” 

“Reid.” Hotch cut him off and he hung up. 

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I don’t know what got into me. Where were we?” He asked, putting his phone away. 

“I’m going to have Garcia check medical records. Uh, what causes Asymbolia?” Hotch asked. 

“Ssss- Severe trauma produces lesions on the insular cortex, usually after a stroke but this unsub’s so young, it’s most likely caused by an external factor.” Spencer said looking at Morgan the whole time. 

“Like a bomb going off next to him?” Rossi asked. 

“Yeah, like a bomb going off next to him.” He repeated at Morgan. Morgan just smirked and Hotch walked off to talk to Garcia. 

“I will crush you.” Spencer whispered. 

“What?” Morgan asked. 

“What?” Spencer repeated and walked off. I looked at Rossi and shook my head with a smirk. 

“You two are seriously pranking each other while on a case?” I asked and Morgan just smiled. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said and I shook my head again. I swear these two… 

JJ and Emily came by a little later with some new information. JJ was rearranging some pictures on the board. We looked on with confusion. 

“Recognize the top ten?” JJ asked. 

“No.” Hotch answered. 

“They were the students that went in front of the cameras after the bombing.” She answered. 

“I thought all the surviving students were interviewed?” I asked.

“After the initial aftermath, yes, but these are the kids that went on talk shows, traveled to other schools. My guess is that they didn’t self-select who made the cut.” JJ said. 

“Principal Givens did.” Hotch said. 

“That’s why the unsub killed him first. He was an outcast who wanted to fit in. Being a survivor should have been his golden ticket.” She said. 

“But he was excluded again, and that’s why he’s killing them.” I said. 

“Yeah. The rules of high school never changed, not even after a tragedy.” JJ said. Hotch’s phone rang and he put it on speaker. 

“Go ahead, Garcia.” He said. 

“Hey, listen up. I crossed-referenced student files with medical records. Now, there were six kids that were knocked unconscious in that blast, but only one fit the outcast profile. His name is Robert Adams, and he just used his credit card at a local restaurant, the address of which I just sent you right now.” She said. 

“I’m on my way.” Hotch said looking at us. Hotch gathered everyone up and JJ and I stayed back. When they came back Robert wasn’t with them. Hotch had to shoot him, there was no other way this was going to end. Once we got everything sorted we got on the plane to go home. I was sitting next to Spencer, who was resting his head on my shoulder while I read a book. We were sitting across from Morgan and Emily, Morgan was listening to music and Emily was reading a paper. He took his headphones off and we heard Spencer screaming from them. 

“Okay, kid, that was cute. But that’s all you got?” Morgan asked him, he was very clearly pretending to be asleep. Morgan’s cell ran and he answered it. 

“Hey baby girl-” He was cut off by Spencer screaming coming through his phone. Spencer had a smile on his face and Rossi held up a white napkin. 

“Uh-uh. Alright, Reid, it’s on. Just know that paybacks are a bitch.” Morgan said. Spencer just responded with snoring. I shook my head at the two of them. 

“You started this Morgan, it’s your own fault.” I said with a slight laugh. 

“Of course you’re taking his side, Y/N.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Well I am dating him, so yes I’m taking his side.” I said and Rossi chuckled. 

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[wafflefries13]

Walk Me Home

Woop woop! Finally got this one done. I think it got away from me a little there, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. 

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader 

Summary: While trying to avoid a potential stalker, you and a certain hard-headed boy make a deal to keep you safe on the way home. 

Genre: Fluff, suspense  

Warnings: Slight language, references to being stalked, depiction of kidnapping 

As always, I love feed back. Thanks for reading! <3

You were racing the drops of condensation dripping down the frosted cooler glass. Personally, you thought the one on the far left was going to win. The center had been in the lead, but it crashed into a glop of drops and was forced to a sudden halt. The middle left gained a sudden lead by dropping down through an empty space. It veered suddenly and crashed into the far left, both of them stopping dead. 

Well, so much for that. 

That was the fifth race you’d monitored this hour. You’d spent the previous hour walking around the aisles of the convenience store you were holed up in, rotating the chip bags, soda bottles, and cans so that all the labels faced outward. The hour before that you spent memorizing the employee cleaning manual kept under the sink in the customer bathroom. And the hour before that you had spent tirelessly counting every ceiling and floor tile (Ceiling = 237, Floor = 422.) You were kind of surprised the worker behind the register hadn't said anything by this point. His feet were kicked up on the counter, and you were pretty sure he hadn’t looked up from his magazine since you came in.  

It was dark outside by now, the street lights the only way to see where you were going. It had been early evening when you had first rushed in. Abandoning your condensation drop race, you sneaked a look out the wide windows that lined the front of the store. There, half-way hidden in the shadows of the large tree, silhouetted by the street lamp light. You jerked back, heart jumping up 100 beats per minute. God, you hoped he hadn’t seen you. But he had to know you were in here. So why hadn’t he come in? Why hadn’t he left? 

You felt sick. You were going to be sick. 

The door chimed as they slid open. Your fight or flight response kicked into overdrive

 (Definitely flight). You ducked behind a display of dill pickle flavored chips. Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. Did you jinx yourself? Did he see you looking out and take that as an invitation? If he tried to do something, would the cashier help you? Would he even think something was wrong? Would he call a hero? 

“Hey,” A voice broke you out of your panicked internal monologue. “The hell are you doing down there?” 

Wait. You knew that gruff, irreverent voice. 

“Bakugo?” 

You and Bakugo were in the same class at UA. You weren’t sure he actually knew your name, though, much less that you sat a few seats away from each other. 

You looked up from your crouch behind the chips display at his confused and slightly annoyed looking vermilion eyes. Well, his default state was slightly annoyed, so maybe that second part didn’t mean much. He had one hand in his pocket, the other loosely holding a bottle of cola by the neck. 

“Umm,” you said, flustered. “I dropped a 500 yen coin. So, you know, don’t want to lose that. And, hey! These chips are 500 yen, too! So if I find it I can get a bag!” You nervously laughed, still not standing. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, furrowing his eyebrows. Letting your self-consciousness take over, you slowly stood, rubbing your arm awkwardly and not meeting his gaze. Your eyes nervously darted to the large window, trying to see past the glare of the store lights. 

“The hell are you looking at?” Bakugo said, lazily turning his head to look out. 

“Don’t!” You said without thinking. You grabbed his uniform shirt sleeve and pulled him toward you, if only to get his attention away from looking outside. 

He jerked back away from you, bringing up his arm as a barrier between you, as if you could ever do anything to hurt him. “Hah? What the hell?” 

You looked away, wringing your hands together. “Sorry, I just… Can-can you do me a favor?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Outside, across the street, there’s a big oak tree next to the street light. Is there… Is there someone still standing there?” 

His glare turned less harsh. He rotated his neck and shoulders as if he was stretching his muscles, sneaking a glance through the window. He hummed low in his throat and turned back to you. “Yeah, there’s some creep there. Can’t make them out too well. You know that guy?” 

You pressed your lips, slinking farther to the back of the store and away from the view of the window. “It’s nothing. I can deal with it later. Sorry to bother you.” 

“Jeez,” Bakugo huffed, not buying it for a second. He followed your retreat, looming over you as your back hit the cold window door of the fridge. “You’re really bad at lying, aren’t you? What, is he some ex you’re trying to avoid? Owe someone money?” He smirked at his joke, but his face turned serious again when he saw your concerned and fearful expression. 

“The truth is,” you started in a whisper. “I have a stalker. That guy out there has been following me for a few weeks. Usually it’s from school to work, but today he was waiting till I got done with my shift. I-I didn’t want him to know where I live, so I started taking all these back streets to try and lose him. I thought he’d just get bored or something, but he was always just behind me. So I came in here. Maybe if I Just waited here for a while he’d get bored and leave, but he’s been standing out there, waiting for me, for hours now, and I just want to go home and forget all about this but if I step outside…” 

You weren’t sure when you started crying. All you knew was that at some point you couldn’t keep it in any more and everything started pouring out. You started hiccuping with the effort to keep back tears and making a scene, the heels of your hands digging into your eyes. Bakugo awkwardly rubbed the back of his head and looked away. 

“Jeez,” he said under his breath. “I never know what to do when girls cry. Uh, hang in there?” He patted your shoulder, bringing his hand back when you flinched from his touch. “Have you, like, tried calling the police?” 

“Of course I have. They said they can't do anything because he hasn’t actually done anything illegal. And it’s not like I can get a restraining order or something because I don’t know who he is.” You sniffed. 

“Huh. Well. You want me to go kick his ass?” 

Your brain took a second to process his response, then you burst out in a fit of giggles. He smiled back, more like a self-satisfied smirk. You tried to gulp down a breath, laughing becoming frenzied as the stress of the situation finally overwhelmed you. Then, as suddenly as you started, you stopped as an idea slammed into you. 

“Actually, maybe you could do that.” Bakugo quirked his brow at you. “No, not literally. I mean, well, you’re scary looking-“

“Hey!” 

“And I was just thinking that maybe if someone was with me - if you were with me - when I walked home, then he wouldn’t think he could, I don’t know, take advantage of the situation?” 

“You want me to be your bodyguard?” 

“I mean, when you put it like that…” You fiddled with your hands again. 

You stood in silence, the only sound the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you and the hum of the drinks fringes behind you. 

Bakugo shoved his drink in your hands. “Pay for this for me. I’m gonna grab some instant noodles and boa buns too. You know how to get home from here?” 

You blinked up at him, twisting the bottle anxiously in your hands. “If we get to the train station, then I know where to go from there.” 

He jerked his head to the front. “Great, let’s hurry it up. I want to get home too, you know.” 

You blinked. “Wait, really?” 

“Yes, really. Move your ass.” 

You followed closely behind him, paying for the snacks at the counter. You hesitated when the doors to the convenience store slide open, standing half-way out. The street light hit your eyes differently out here, blinding you to the already dark shadows. Was that a twitch of movement? A hidden figure in the mess of shapes cast by the trees? 

Bakugo’s grip on your wrist shocked you out of your grim hyperactive imagination like a bucket of ice water. His mouth was pulled into a frown, but he gently pulled you out of the doorway. He let you go as you walked out of the light of the store. You desperately wanted him not to. 

It didn’t take long before you heard a third set of footsteps join yours and Bakugo’s. You inched closer to him, arms brushing together. Seemingly unconcerned, Bakugo munched on a boa bun. 

“Hey,” He said. The abruptness of it in the otherwise silent night made you jump. “Didn’t you win the 50 meter dash in the sports festival last year?” 

“Uh, yeah?” 

“Cool. This should be easy, then.”         

He whipped around, chucking the boa bun directly at the man following you. You heard a sound of surprise. Bakugo grabbed your hand and took off in the other direction. Your feet pounded against the sidewalk, knees high in a way that you would have considered indecent in your uniform skirt if you weren’t already terrified. Your heart pounded in your ears as he led you down turn after turn, block after block. After the length of several 50 meter dashes, he let go of your hand, Both of your long strides slowing down as you came to a stop in the glow of the train station’s entrance. You bent over, hands steadying yourself on your thighs. Next to you, Bakugo stretched backward, pulling his arms back to ease the muscles. 

“Well, that wasn’t too terrible, huh?” He said with a smirk. 

You gave a breathy laugh. Standing up, you searched the dark around you for any signs of human disturbance. You pushed your hair out of your face, sweat sticking to your forehead from your impromptu marathon. 

“Sorry you had to sacrifice your bun.” 

He shrugged. “You‘ll just owe one. You know where to go from here?” 

The two of you started down the road back to your house. You tried to fill the space between you with small talk. Bakugo would grunt in response every once and a while. You tried to ignore the feeling that he was getting annoyed with you. But whenever you would trail off, he’d snap at you to continue your line of thought.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you finally got home,  just that it was late. The windows were dark and you fumbled with your key. Bakugo skeptically observed your house. 

“You’re not home alone, right?” He asked. 

“I am, actually. My parents work for a pretty new company, so they’re out of the city a lot for business trips.” 

“Hah?” He sounded indignant, like you personally offended him. “They left you alone with this creep around?” 

“I mean, I haven’t really told them.” You pressed your lips, trying not to meet his furious glare. “They already just deal with a lot. And I already told you what the police said. I just don’t want to worry them, you know?” 

He tapped your forehead with his knuckles. “Idiot. Parents are supposed to worry, that’s what they’re there for.” He glowered as his cell phone rang. Fishing it out of his pocket, he mumbled, “Speak of the devil.” He held up a hand in goodbye. You waved a little before dropping in to a bow of gratitude. You could hear him arguing with the person on the other end of the line. 

You triple checked all the locks on your windows and doors, turning on all the lights. You drew the curtains in tight, not looking too deeply into the dark outside. But you were home now, you were safe behind these familiar walls. And besides, that guy didn’t know where you lived, right? 

~~~

You were still half asleep at your desk in school the next day. You hadn’t slept well last night, jerking back awake at the slightest irregular noise. You were becoming a wreck. You weren’t sure exactly how much more of this you could take. After you had woken up for the n-th time last night, you had typed out a text to your mom, explaining what was happening back home. Agonizing over the text, you ended up deleting it. 

You started nodding off. You could just rest your eyes for a second, right? It was a passing period, so you had some time. 

A stack of textbooks slammed down on your desk. You shrieked, throwing yourself back. You would have fallen back if someone didn’t catch your chair. 

“Whoa, hang on there, (Y/N)!” Kirishima caught your chair and set you back upright. Bakugo drummed his fingers on the textbooks he had just stopped your heart with. 

“Thought you were going to bed after I left last night,” He said. 

“Ooh, left last night?” Mina said, sliding over. “Is there something we need to know?” 

“Lay off, Pinkie!” 

“No, it’s no big deal, really!” You tried to salvage the situation, waving your hands in front of you. “We just walked home in the same direction is all.” 

“Walking home together?” Sero said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s a pretty big leap in your relationship, don’t you think, Bakugo?” 

“I said to lay off, you damn extras!” 

The small group started playfully arguing with each other. It didn’t feel at all serious, especially since every one but Bakugo was laughing and joking against his threats. 

“Can’t anyone have a private conversation around here?” Bakugo said angrily. He stomped away, turning back at the door. “Well, aren’t you coming?” Realizing he was talking to you, you quickly excused yourself and hurried after him. 

Bakugo was leaning out an open window, the autumn wind tossing his hair. Not sure exactly what you say, you bowed a little. “Thanks again for last night.” 

“Do you have any clubs after school?” Bakugo asked, ignoring your gratitude. 

You blinked.”No, I don’t. I have to head to work after the final bell.” 

“And how far is that from here?” 

“Not very. It’s a Japanese sweets cafe that opened nearby. I’ve seen some people with our school’s uniform there, so I guess it’s pretty popular here.” 

“And how long’s your shift?” 

“From 4 to 6:30 on school days, 8 to 4 on the weekends. But, um, why?” 

He scoffed, knocking your forehead with his knuckle like he had the night before. “Idiot. Obviously because I’m gonna make sure you get to work and home okay. You said that weirdo followed you from school to work. So we’ll walk there together then back to your place. At least till your parents get back in town, because you’re definitely telling them, you got it?” 

You could feel yourself blushing hard. “Yeah, sure, of course! That’s really kind of you, actually. Thank you!” 

Bakugo waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t take it personally or anything. I just don’t want to be watching the news and hear your dumbass got kidnapped or some bullshit like that.” 

You weren’t really sure how to respond to that, so you just twirled a lock of hair around your finger. “Still, I really appreciate it. It’s really heroic of you!” 

Bakugo whipped his head away, but you were almost sure you caught his cheeks turning pink. “Tch, whatever. Don’t think too hard about it. And I still expect payment! You better be ready to cough up some of those sweets from your job!” 

~~~

“So, (Y/N),” Your coworker, Matsu, said while elbowing you good-naturedly. “Who’s your friend you brought in today?” She winked and nodded her head at a small table set on the patio of your workplace. 

Bakugo was studying, gnawing at the end of his pen. He’d planted himself there after the two of you left school. He’d kept on a steady diet of sweets since your shift started, and you started getting worried about what your paycheck at the end of the month would look like. Once again, you talked the whole way through your walk with only interspersed responses from the blond. But you felt much more comfortable chatting this time, less like you were bothering him. Although you knew he would never admit it, you had a feeling that Bakugo could really be kind under all that ego and anger. 

You started placing chick-shaped meika hiyoko in a tray in the display case. “Bakugo is a friend from school. Well, I think you’d call him a friend, anyway. He’s just waiting for my shift to end to walk me home.” 

You didn’t like the self-satisfied look that came over Matsu’s face. “Ooh, walking you home, huh?” 

“Oh, stop coming up with ridiculous ideas! He’s just…” You trailed off. How exactly were you meant to explain your situation? 

You were saved from responding with a knock on the window. Bakugo mouthed an order of Shingen Momo. You quickly excused yourself despite Matsu’s teasing protests. 

Bakugo had a healthy stack of plates from previous sweets stacked next to his text book. You tried mentally adding a tally of how much his little feast was going to cost you. You set the plate down and looked over his shoulder at what he was studying. 

“Wow,” You commented. “That looks really difficult. Did I miss something in class today?” 

“No,” He said. ���I’m studying for college entrance exams.” 

“Oh, right. You want to get into that famous hero college, right? I guess they have to be pretty tough. I heard Izuku in our class wants to go there, too.” 

Bakugo snapped the pencil he was holding. “That damn Deku! Always trying to take my ideas! Who does he think he is, trying to be a hero, huh?! No one even knew he had a Quirk until recently! He pretty much breaks every bone in his body when he uses it! How’s a loser like that meant to be a hero?!” 

You were a little shocked. You didn’t think you’d ever seen Bakugo this suddenly passionate about anything. Yet, despite his negative ramblings, he came across as admiring the boy with green hair in your class, talking about Izuku’s training schedule and how strong he had gotten since they knew each other in middle school. You couldn’t help but giggle at his sudden uproar. Hearing you, Bakugo cut himself off, quickly glancing away. 

He fished another pencil out of his bag and re-focused on his text book. “That creep is still here.” Your mouth went dry as all frivolity seeped from your body. Bakugo stealthy pointed the end of his pencil to  a garden store across the street. “He’s been walking in and out of stores this whole time. He’s hiding out there now. Definitely keeping an eye out.” 

You gulped hard. “What should we do?” 

“Well, first, you can bring me another momiji manju. Then, go back to work. Let me know when your shift ends. You guys have a back door, right? We can go through that, cut through the big inside shopping center.” He pulled out his phone and opened an app. “I looked it up. There’s another train station near here. It goes right to the one near your house. We’ll jump on there.” 

You expected your heartbeat to slow down now that there was a solution to the probable danger. But instead it kept speeding up as you thought of the work Bakugo had put into researching his escape plan. 

“Wow,” You breathed. “I guess you really are my hero, huh?” 

Bakugo bristled, turning his face away before you could see it turning red (although the tips of his ears were practically a cherry color by now), and shoved an empty plate at you. “Momiji manju! And make sure it’s hot this time!” 

~~~

“He’s still behind us.” 

Your stalker was more cautious this time. He was making more of an effort to go unnoticed, ducking in and out of shops, getting lost in the crowd, but still keeping an uncomfortably close distance. 

Bakugo clicked his teeth. “This guy doesn't know when to quit. You’re sure he doesn’t know where you live, right?” 

“I’ve never seen him around. But…” You let the thought hang between the two of you like a dark cloud. 

Bakugo seemed to be contemplating something for a second. Clenching and unclenching his fists, his hand shot forward to tightly grip onto yours. You started a little at his sudden aggressive hand holding, but flexed your fingers to intertwine with his. Bakugo cleared his throat, looking away. 

“You’re not-“ You could have sworn you heard his voice crack, not that you would ever admit it. Bakugo cleared his throat and started again. “You’re not scared of heights, are you?” 

“Not really. Why?” 

Faster than you could keep up with, Bakugo pulled you closer. His other arm swept down, scooping you up under your knees and holding you to his chest. He took two large steps before kicking off a vending machine on the side of the street. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he took off his support from your back, pointing his hand palm down and releasing a blast. The explosion rocked through your ears as the two of you were propelled upward. A scream died in your throat. Just before you landed on the roof of a store neighboring the street you were just walking along, he released another explosion which propelled you even higher and further. 

“I thought you said you weren’t afraid of heights,” Bakugo said with a laugh in his voice. “Open your eyes.” 

You didn’t really notice how tightly you had clenched your eyes until he told you to open them. You had your head buried in the crook of his neck, the scent of caramelized sugar and smoke overwhelming your senses. You cracked open one eye just as Bakugo launched you both high in the air. You lost your breath, gazing in wonder at the sight before you. The sky was ablaze with red, oranges, and purples as the sun set. A band of stars was just twinkling into existence at the very top of the sky. The town below you looked just like a train-set model, tiny and delicate and perfect. Your stomach dropped as you plummeted back down. You laughed, yelling, clutching to him tighter. He tightened his hold around waist, smirk widening into a genuine heartfelt smile. 

You both stumbled a bit, coming to a rocky landing in your neighborhood. There weren’t any more commercial buildings around, so you thought the residents would be grateful that they wouldn’t have to deal with shoe prints on their roofs. The air around you was crisp with the scent of melting sugar. You were lost to a giggle fit, holding your stomach as you tried to get a hold of yourself. 

“You think he saw that coming?” Bakugo asked with a sideways grin. 

“This is worth all the momiji manju in the world if we get to do that again!” 

Bakugo’s chest swelled with pride as he brushed off invisible dirt. “Hah, what I tell you? It’s going to take a lot more than some creep in a black hoodie to get one over on Bakugo Katsuki.” 

You clapped for him. “Full marks, Mr. Future-Number-One-Hero.” He ducked his head, looking away bashfully. You started walking in the direction of your house. “How did you even come up with that idea?” 

“Rockets. I figure you have to get some pretty powerful force to shoot something that high up. And considering my Quirk is the most powerful force out there, well, it was a cinch.” 

“So is that going to be your hero name, then? Rocket Man?” 

He scowled. “No way! My hero name’s gonna be something way cooler! Like, like,” For someone who had dedicated his whole life to becoming a hero, you thought it was a little cute that he had left off some of the more practical aspects, like what he would be called. He snapped his fingers. “What about Lord Explosion?!” 

You tried to bite back a laugh. You failed. “It’s a little obvious, don’t you think?” 

“Alright then. What about King Murder?” 

“Well, it’s certainly direct.” 

“Wait, I’ve got it! Lord Explosion Murder!” 

You stopped trying to hide your laughter. “Perfect. I can see it on all the T-shirts now.” 

He pouted, no doubt trying to look menacing. “Alright, what’s your great idea?” 

You hummed in thought. “What about Ground Zero? That’s what you call the middle of a major disaster. You know, like an explosion? It’s kind of metaphorical, thematic, and way more marketable than having the word ‘murder’ in your title.” 

Bakugo looked down, eyebrows furrowed. “Damn. That is good.” He gave you a sideways look. “What’s your Quirk, anyway?” 

You fiddled with your fingers. “It’s nothing too fancy. Nothing heroic or strong like yours, I mean.” You pressed your lips together and whistled. Instead of a normal sharp note, however, you replicated a perfect Asian Koel call. Not a second later, you heard a reply from a nearby park. Altering your call al title, a small brown bird with white speckles and red eyes flew down and landed on the back of your hand. You alternated with a few more calls, a Pacific Swift, Gray Nightjar, Kentish Plover, and Japanese Sparrowhawk. One by one, the birds would respond and come to perch on your hand or shoulder, the plover taking a dignified seat on your head. The sparrowhawk squaked at Bakugo when he tried to poke it. 

“I can recreate any birdsong if I hear it once,” You explained. The Koel cooed as you pet under its chin. “I can kind of understand them, too. Not in a Dr. Dolittle way or anything, more just the general idea of what they’re trying to communicate. Danger, hungry, food here, that kind of thing.”

“Must be fun in the spring.” 

“Ugh, you have no idea. It’s impossible to sleep in.” 

“Maybe they’re just trying to chat you up.” Bakugo created a little explosion in his hand. The birds squaked in protest and flew away. “Little bastards. Don’t birds have noises to let other birds know not to mooch on their territory?” 

“You mean a song? And what do you have to defend anyway?” 

He slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close again. “Birds mate for life or some shit, right? They need to know you’re not available.” 

Your heart definitely didn’t skip a beat. Definitely. 

~~~

One of the last things you expected the next morning was to find Bakugo waiting impatiently at your front door. “What am I supposed to do if you just don’t show up for class, huh?” He declared with a haughty attitude. “You’ll make me feel guilty.” He came in, slugging off his shoes at the doorway and collapsing on the couch in the living room. “Let me know when you’re done with breakfast then we can leave.” 

“Oh,” You said. “I, uh, don’t usually eat breakfast. I try to get to school early, so…” 

Bakugo furrowed his eyebrows. “Seriously? It’s the first thing in the morning. How are you supposed to have energy for the rest of the day?” He put on a begrudging air as he marched to the kitchen. He started pulling out pans and rummaging through the fridge and pantry. “Geez, you have nothing here! What, your parents didn’t leave any grocery money when they abandoned you here? Well don’t just stand there. Go finish getting ready. I’ll get something together by the time you’re done.” 

Unsure about leaving him alone in your kitchen, but in no position to refuse him, you headed back to your bathroom to try and make it look like you had been getting a decent night's sleep for the past week. 

Slugging your backpack over your shoulder, you came back downstairs to the smell of warm waffles. How Bakugo had managed to make a giant stack of fluffy waffles in the few minutes you were gone was beyond you. 

“Shouldn’t we eat on the go?” You asked when he set down a plate on the table. 

He tapped the long handle of the spatula against his shoulder. “You have way too many unhealthy habits. You don’t ask for help, you don’t eat breakfast. What am I going to do with you?” He pushed you down into a chair and took a seat in the one next to you, angrily stabbing the top waffle and taking a massive bite out of it before it even made it to his plate. “Eating on the go messes with your digestion. If you want to be helpful, start making a grocery list. You don’t work today, right? We’ll go to the store after school. I don’t need the stress of having you pass out from hunger on top of everything else.” 

You stared at him as he wolfed down his breakfast. When he noticed you still haven’t taken anything, he shoved the plate to you. Taking a waffle, you couldn’t help but have a large smile spread across your face. 

“You really are nice, aren’t you, Bakugo?” 

He choked on his waffle. He refused to look at you for the rest of the morning. 

~~~

Bakugo had been walking you to and from home for three weeks now. People at school had definitely started  to notice. Especially after he started to drag you to eat lunch with him and his friends, lunches that he had made for you. You started showing off your Quirk a little more. Your favorite was calling down crows, bribing him with shinny pins and glass gems. You especially got a kick out of Denki freaking out when the birds mimicking human speech. 

Without really noticing, you had slowly stopped being so nervous. You didn’t triple check your windows and doors at night, you weren’t always looking over your shoulder, you didn’t flinch when the chime over the door at work sounded. 

You had also been growing significantly closer to Bakugo. You didn’t think it was at all possible for someone so rough to have such a sweet side. Sure, everything kind he did was still smothered in his devil may care attitude, but you came to learn that his abrupt remarks and aggressive personality was just a top layer. Bakugo knew what he wanted in life and was never subtle about sharing his thoughts. But his own emotions still came as an annoying mystery to him. He would intertwine his fingers with yours, declaiming with a blush and avoiding your eyes that he just wanted just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get lost or snatched away from him. He made sure you started eating well, something you had all but dropped due to stress. He would pull you into the kitchen with him, having you help him making breakfast and your bento lunches. 

There was one situation where sitting on the patio of the sweet shop you worked at. Your boss had noticed his frequent stays and had recruited him to help test new recipes. Not to mention this helped ease the impact on your pay check. 

Munching on a new flavor of melon pan, you two chatted under the warm sun. Giggling at some remark he made, you froze when you felt his fingers brush your face. Suddenly, Bakugo was less than a breath away from you. He brushed a lock of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. His hand dropped down to your chin, eyes falling to your lips. Your heart started stuttering, breath coming out in shallow gasps. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. 

Bakugo looked up, searching your face. You let your eyes flutter closed, leaning forward. 

You both must have jumped three feet in the air with the interrupting squawk. A crow perched on your head, beak darting forward to peck at the melon pan forgotten in Bakugo’s hand. Bakugo yelled at the bird, waving it away and yelling obscenities at it. But that didn’t stop him from tearing off a chunk of the sweet bread and throwing it to him. 

You both kept the blushes for the rest of the day. 

~~~

You knew that nothing this good could last forever. 

It started out like any other new-normal day. You were walking home from work with Bakugo. It was late autumn now, the days getting shorter and nights longer. The sun had already completely set as you strolled down the street. You didn’t notice something was wrong immediately. But then your stomach started to turn into knots. You shuffled closer to Bakugo who seemed to be noticing that something was amiss, too. You kept telling yourself that you were being paranoid. Nothing had happened for so long now, why would something suddenly happen now? 

And then you heard the sparrow start singing. It was high pitched and panicked. A few swept down, fluttering in front of the two of you before cascading back up to their tree. You knew that sound. It meant danger. 

You latched yourself to Bakugo’s side. “Bakugo,” You whispered. “Something’s wrong.” 

He wrapped his arm around you. “Yeah, I noticed. Stay close, okay?” 

You were afraid that you were practically tripping over his feet. But you didn’t want to move away. Every muscle tense, you looked over your shoulder. He was walking behind the street lights, staying out of the majority of the light. The street lights just barley illuminated his dark clothes, his hunched figure, determinately marching at a steady pace. Was he holding something? Did he just speed up? Was he-? 

Bakugo stopped suddenly. You stumbled a bit, clutching his arm to get your balance again. “Bakugo?” 

He whipped around. “Hey! Asshole!” He turned to you, hesitating for only a second before cradling your face, maybe a little more aggressively than he should have, rattled by nerves, and kissed you. It wasn’t extremely romantic, your teeth clashed for a moment, his fingers burying in your hair. He dropped one of his hands to your hip, pulling you closer and angling his head. The kiss was desperate, urgent, trying to communicate feelings and thoughts that it would have been difficult to vocalize. Your eyes fluttered closed. You pressed back up into him, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other tangerine in his mess of spiky blond hair. 

The seconds stretched on for what seemed like minutes, but when you pulled away it felt like it was over all too fast. You tried to regain your breath, slightly panting. He looked into your eyes with an intensity and softness you had never seen from him, all his layers peeled back to show a soft and caring core. 

His face suddenly hardened. He pulled you into him, turning his face to look back at your stalker, who you had almost completely forgotten about during your kiss. 

“She’s not interested!” He shouted. “She’s got a boyfriend! Get it through your thick skull! And if I ever find out you’re nothing my girlfriend again, I’ll kill you, got it?!” 

You looked at your stalker straight on from the first time. He was this dark shadow that cut through the street lamps lights. He was shaking, with nerves you hoped, but more likely with rage. But at least, standing in front of you, with someone strong at your side, he looked so much more human. This wasn’t a shadow with fangs and claws. Just a person. Sure, an unhinged person who had been following you, but you had back up. A whole team of support both emotionally and physically. 

The stalker didn’t say anything, just stared at the two of you. He looked like he was going to come to you, to fight, to scream. But he just turned, marching away, back into the dark. 

~~~

“Do you think he’s actually done?” You asked. You were back at your house, nervously chopping leeks for lunch in the coming week. 

“Damn better be,” Bakugo said. He reclined on the couch, flipping through a magazine. 

“I guess that means you don’t have to walk me home any more then,” You said, leadingly. 

You smirked when you heard him slam the magazine back on the coffee table. “Like hell! You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you? I can walk you home whenever I damn well feel like it! Or, you know, if you want me to, I mean. You still want me to, right?” 

You tried to press down your grin as you walked back into the living room, sitting down next to him. “So, you were serious about that? You’re my boyfriend now?” 

He scowled. “I don’t say anything you mean. You’re mine now, got it?” 

You smiled and kissed his check. “Only if that means you’re mine, too.” 

He blushed up to his ears, pressing his face to the top of your head. “Sure.” 

~~~

An hour later, there was a knock on the door. 

Bakugo left just a little while ago, and since then you had taken a shower, changing into your pajamas. Coming down stairs to check the locks and lights one last time, you saw Bakugo’s laying across the back of the couch. You picked it up, rubbing your thumb over the collar. You’d have to give it back to him at school tomorrow. You smiled fondly, thinking of what he’d try to say to justify him forgetting something. 

And then someone knocked at the door. 

You started a little. You put a hand to your chest to calm your beating heart. It must have been Bakugo. You supposed Bakugo had realized he had misplaced his jacket and come back. Well, you didn’t mind seeing him again, you supposed. 

Practically skipping to the front door, you opened the door with a smile. You barely had the door cracked when it slammed open, cracking against the wall, the knob indenting in the soft drywall. You shrieked and fell back, landing hard on your butt. Before you could regain your bearings, a heavy weight pressed down on you. 

Your eyes bulged open. A man in all black was on top of you, knee pressing into your chest, one hand securely applying pressure to your throat and the other pressing a too sweet smelling rag against your nose and mouth. The bottom of his face was covered by a black bandana, but his eyes were wide and blood shot. He was muttering something to himself, or maybe you? But the blood rushing to your ears blocked out any cognizant thought. 

Your hands flew around, slapping and shoving, trying to jab your thumbs into the soft tissues of his eyes, clawing at his cheeks. But nothing seemed to bother him too much. And then things started getting fuzzy at the edges. The spiked fear in your head started swirling around. Your limbs felt heavy and stopped responding to your commands. Then everything fell, and the dark pulled you in with an ice cold grip. 

~~~ 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. It was dark, so dark you almost thought you were blindfolded. You were curled  up in an uncomfortable ball, something fibrous was shoved in your mouth. You tried to poke it out with your dry tongue, but it didn't budge. Your hands were fastened behind you with plastic zip ties. You flexed your fingers, coming to grasp  the thin but strong metal bars behind you. You tried to stretch out your legs, but your bare feet came into contact with more of these bars. Trying to sit up, you could only manage an awkward hunch as a roof of bars thunked against your head. A cage. You were in a dog cage. You were tied up in a dog cage in the dark. 

You tried to kick against the bars, but you couldn’t build up much force with so little space. All it did was shake the cage in an awful rattle. You stopped when you heard footsteps. You shuffled on your side to the back of the cage, which wasn’t saying much with how little room there was any way. 

The door to the room the cage was in opened. You squinted against the sudden light, temporarily blinded. Blinking up at the figure of your capture, You felt the blood in your veins turn to ice. Your ears rang with the sudden surge of adrenaline and every muscle in your body told you to get ready to run. 

Your capture, your stalker, stood like a horrible stain, silhouetted in the light. He pulled back the hood on his jacket, beaming down at you. This is the first time you had seen his face up close. Did you know him? You think he might have come into the shop once or twice. But you couldn’t think of any time you would have talked to him. 

He smiled like a kid in a candy store. It made you ill.  “You’re awake!” He said. His voice was chipped, strained from years of smoke. The reek of it hung on his clothes and wafted through the room. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know it’s small and uncomfortable. But I had to make sure, you know? You get it, right? I had to speed everything up, see? I just-” He balled his hands into fists. Suddenly, he slammed down on his knees in front of you. Your shriek was cut off by the gag in your mouth. “I had to get you away from him! The way he was all over you, touching you, grabbing you, k-k-kissing you!” He slammed his fists on the cage, making it shudder. He saw your wide eyes, your trembling. He lowered his voice, leaning down to look closer at you. “I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t your fault. He was taking advantage of you, right? But it’s okay, I have you now! And don’t worry, we’ll get out of here soon. There’s this place, way out in the mountains. We’ll be safe there. I have a room, just for you. A little palace for the perfect little doll…” 

He tried to reach through the bars and touch your face. You screamed through your gag, trying to kick away his hand. He jerked back, surprised. He got angry in a flash. Slamming his fist against the bars again, he got up, muttering to himself about how this would all be solved once he could get you out of the city, how that damn boy had tried to poison you against him. 

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. You had to get out. You had to get out! You squirmed against your bonds, but only succeeded in having them cut deeper into your flesh. 

You felt a chill in the room. You squinted, trying to see through the dark. You noticed a blackout curtain taped around a window. One corner fluttered away. The window must have been slightly opened. If you could just get your gag out…

You chewed at the dense fabric. Bits were coming off in your mouth, getting stuck between your teeth. Working your jaw until it felt like it was about to fall off, you finally managed to work it loose enough to shove it from your mouth with your tongue. Pressing your lips together, you let out a pitiful excuse for a whistle. You swallowed hard, willing saliva back into your mouth. Once more, you whistled, the sound transforming into a Russet Sparrow call. You thought you heard a faint reply from outside, but couldn’t be sure with every one of your nerves rattled and frayed. 

You ran your fingers along the bottom edge of the cage. Along the back side, where the bars met the hard metal floor, there was a small lip of metal, something that had been welded wrong in the cage’s construction. Maneuvering your bound wrists, you started to saw at the zip ties with that jutting piece of metal. 

~~~

He’d forgotten his damn jacket. 

Bakugo was on his way home after leaving your place. Halfway there, he suddenly realized he felt a lot colder than he had when walking to your house. He supposed he could always turn around and pick it up now. It would give him another excuse to see you. But his old hag would probably just get angry at him if he showed up later than normal. Still, maybe he could just use the later hour as an excuse and stay at your house for the night. Sleeping on the couch, of course!  But he did wonder what you looked like first thing in the morning…

Feathers flung in his face.  Bakugo jerked back, swiping at the air in front of him. A couple of those small birds you would chirp at was frantically flying circles above him. One dive bombed him again, chirping nervously and fast. 

“Beat it, dumb birds!” He whacked at them again. Stupid jelous birds. 

Then he noticed their patterns. Sure, they would dive down at him, but then they would shoot up and fly back in the direction of your house, circling back to him. It was almost like they wanted him to go back there…

Bakugo broke out in a cold sprint. His feet pounded the pavement as the birds flew leading the way. He was panting by the time he reached your street, more out of the rising dread in his chest than actual exhaustion. 

Reaching the front gate to your house, he froze. The door was wide open. He launched himself inside, yelling your name. His coat lay in a crumpled heap just inside the entrance. Underneath it was a strange rag. Picking it up, Bakugo felt that it was slightly wet. He brought it to his face and sniffed, jerking it back when the sickly sweet smell hit his nose. Chloroform. 

His mide connected the dots in a flash. He yelled angrily and punched the wall, the drywall caving it without his notice. He dropped the rag and headed back outside. 

He saw the birds chittering in a tree branch. “Hey!” He yelled at them. “You know where she is, right? She sent you to tell me. Take me to her!” At the back of his mind, Bakugo felt like an idiot for yelling at birds in the middle of the night. A sense of relief overwhelmed him when the birds chirped again and purposefully flew away, darting back to him to make sure he was following. 

~~~

You couldn’t tell if you were making any headway with the zipties. Did they feel looser or was that your imagination? Or perhaps you were just losing feeling in your hands from the cutoff of blood flow. But you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop the one thing that might help yourself. 

With a sound that to you mimicked a thunder clap, one of the zipties snapped. You almost sobbed in relief as you brought your hands to your front and rubbed your wrists. You tugged on the other plastic tie around your wrist, but it was still stubbornly strong. You’d have to cut it off with a knife or something. 

A knife! You needed something to protect yourself with. There was no way of knowing if your bird distress call had actually reached anyone. You needed to take care of yourself, get outside, get to a phone or a police station or a hero or something. You knew you had a slim chance of taking on your attacker in a one-to-one fight. He had at least a foot and a hundred pounds on you, not to mention whatever his Quirk might be. 

You fumbled around in the dark, trying to find the latch for the cage. Swiping randomly, your fingers clutched around the pull handle for the door. You tried to yank to open but it wouldn’t budge. Feeling around, you clutched a heavy padlock firmly attached to the handle. Of course your stalker would have taken extra precautions, and you didn’t think you could break the lock with a thin piece of metal. 

No sooner had hopelessness started to creep back into your mind than you heard the door to the room click open. You threw yourself back against the far side of the cage, shoving the gag back in your mouth and putting your arms behind you as if they were still tied. 

Your stalker peeked in, smiling widely like he had a wonderful surprise for you. “We’re almost ready,” He said, giddily. “I can get you ready to move now. You’re just going to have to sleep for a little longer, okay? By the time you wake up, everything will be fixed!” 

You watched in disgusted horror as he took out another rag, licking it to soaking with his saliva. Was that what he had pressed against your mouth and nose back at your house? Did he have some sort of chloroform-saliva Quirk? If you weren’t going to be sick before, you definitely were now. 

But then he fished out a key from the pocket of his ill-fitting sweatpants. His hands shook as he tried to fit the key in the lock of the cage. You still had the element of surprise on him. You pictured your plan of attack. When he opened the cage door to grab you, you’d kick him. Then, while distracted, you’d claw at his face, bite him if you had to. You didn’t need to beat him, you just needed to distract and disorientate him enough to make it out of the room. You could close the door behind you. Maybe there was something near you could barricade it with.  Then just sprint as fast as you could to the door. He made it sound like you were still in the city, in a residential district as the very least. You could run next door, hide in someone's backyard, pound on their door until they let you in to call the police. 

Just as he fit the key into the lock, there was a loud sound from outside the room. It sounded like it came from downstairs, banging. Your stalker glowered, ripping the key from the lock. He tossed it on a desk in the room, slamming the door behind him as he marched out to deal with the intrusion. 

You were barely able to fit your hand through the bars, much less reach the key. You took a steadying breath before starting to whistle the sparrow song again. You heard a faint reply from outside. You whistled more frantically, a sharp song that indicated danger. You could just barley make out a lump pushing against the blackout curtains covering the window. A tiny tan bird head popped up from the corner of the curtain. You could have cried. Quieting your whistle, you nodded your head at the desk with the key. The little bird fluttered its wings, hopping around the room. It probably didn’t have the best night vision either. 

You heard banging coming from downstairs. There was a roar of something you quickly recognized as an explosion. Bakugo? Your message had reached him! And now he was fighting your attacker by himself. You had hoped he would call the police or a hero or something. Honestly, you thought to yourself, you should have seen this coming. 

The sparrow found the desk. It pushed the key off with its beak. The key was about the same size as the sparrow. It had a little trouble carrying the key over to you. It dropped it just within reach of your index finger to pull it into the cage. Using two fingers to hold the key, the most you could fit between the bars, you jammed the key into the lock and twisted it. You had never been so happy to hear a click before. 

You slammed the cage door open, causing the bird to flutter away in surprise. You stretched your aching muscles as you unfolded yourself from the cage. Whipping your head around, you tried to find some sort of weapon you could use to help Bakugo. Seeing nothing in the small room, you opened the door just enough to peak out. As silently as you could, your legs still half asleep from being stuck in a cramp position, you snuck out into the hall. 

Downstairs, you heard Bakugo yell. The little sparrow dove down the staircase and you followed. You saw Bakugo and your attacker grappling in the living room which was crowded with moving boxes. Your stalker had his teeth sunken in to Bakugo’s arm. His arm fell limply to his side as numbness seemed to spread to that whole part of his body. 

Frantically looking around, you saw a half-packed lamp sticking out of one of the boxes. You heaved it up, the weight reassuring in your hands. 

Bakugo spotted you over your stalker’s shoulder. “(Y/N)!” He barked out. “Run!” 

Just as your attacker turned around, you surged forward with the lamp held aloft. With a scream, you brought it down on his head with all the strength you could muster in your addled limbs. He crumpled to the floor like wet cardboard. Blood began to leak from his skull. You dropped the lamp, the feeling on impact still drumming through your fingers. 

“(Y/N)!” Bakugo called again. He stumbled to you, his left side already half paralized by your stalker’s Quirk infused bite. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you? I told you to run, idiot! How did he get inside your house?” Before he had a chance to breathe, much less answer his questions, his left leg gave out on him. You caught him, halfway holding him up. 

“I’ll tell you everything when we get to the police, okay?” You said in a frazzled voice. He tried to haul himself up to standing, but he might as well have been standing on a broken ankle. 

Bakugo told you where the front door was. You half dragged him through the house to get outside. Just as you opened the front door, you felt something hard and heavy plow into the small of your back. You went flying forward, dropping Bakugo who landed with a grunting thud. 

“(Y/N)!” You heard from behind you. You pushed yourself up, looking behind you. Your stalker, face now red with dripping blood and wild eyes, stumbled towards the two of you. “Don’t you see what he’s doing? He’s trying to poison you against me! He’s going to take you away from me! Unless… He already has! He’s corrupted you!” He lifted his leg to kick Bakugo in the stomach. Bakugo lifted his good arm and released an explosion aimed at the stalker’s stomach. The second man yelled in pain and was blasted backwards. 

Bakugo shoved himself up, propping himself up on his good knee and maneuvered his way in front of you. “This time, listen to me and go,” He said sternly. 

“Bakugo!” You protested. 

He looked over his shoulder at you and smirked. “Hey, I’m your hero, right? That means I got to protect you, even if I get hurt.” 

Your stalker roared, thrashing as he picked himself off the ground. The place where Bakugo’s explosion had caught him ripped his oversized hoodie, revealing his belly and chest that now had burns. He roared again and started charging to you. 

You gripped Bakugo’s good shoulder, pulling him back. You threw yourself in front of him, spreading your arms wide and closing your eyes tight. 

Just when you were expecting a blow from your stalker, you heard an annoyed and surprised grunt from him instead. Opening your eyes, you saw the deranged man tangled in ribbons of white cloth. He snapped and tried to lash out at it, but the more he struggled the tighter it became. 

A man appeared behind him, seeming to melt out of the shadows. He tugged the white cloth so it snapped tight around your stalker, pinning his arms and legs so he fell over unbalanced. The man controlling the cloth was dressed in all black, goggles over his eyes and a mess of black hair. He pulled his goggles up, revealing extremely tired looking eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at the two of you. 

“Isn’t it past your bedtime by now?” 

~~~

The next half hour was a rush of commotion. The hero, Eraserhead, who had secured your stalker called for an ambulance and the police. As soon as the red and blue lights were visible, he left, leaving your stalker tied and gagged against a street lamp. You barely had time to thank him while Bakugo grumbled about not needing saving behind you. 

The paramedics gave Bakugo an injection to counteract the poison from your stalker’s Quirk. The police quickly took him away as he shouted obscenities, making promises that he’d come back to you, that he’d save you. You tried to take some comfort in the officer’s promise that the man would never see the outside of a jail cell again. 

You sat in the back of the ambulance, a heavy blanket around your shoulders. You had just finished giving your statement to the police. The neighbors surrounding the house you were trapped in had come outside to see what the commotion was all about. You felt pinned by a million unasked questions, unsaid accusations, prying eyes. You were going to be sick. 

“Hey.” You looked up. Bakugo stood in front of you, rubbing feeling back into his previously paralized arm. He jerked his head to the side slightly. You scooted over and he sat next to you, pulling the blanket over his shoulders too. “So,” he said. 

“So,” You echoed. 

“The police called my parents,” He said after a moment of silence. “Mom’s coming to pick us up. She said she can bring some extra clothes for you to change into, if you want. Dad’s making up the guest room.” 

“What?” 

He gave you a sideways look. “What, you think I’m letting you stay alone in that house after what happened tonight? You think I’m an idiot or something?” He put his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. He spoke into your hair. “You’re staying with me and my folks until your parents get back. Then I’m going to chew them out for leaving you alone for so long, and maybe then we’ll see if you can go back there.” 

You giggled at his statement, half out of frazzled nerves and half out of love of his protective nature. You curled your fingers into his t-shirt, resting your head against his shoulder. “That sounds nice,” You mumbled, exhaustion and worn out adrenaline finally taking hold of your body. “It sure would make walking home easier.” Just before slipping under, you leaned up and kissed his cheek. “My hero.” 

He pressed a kiss on the top of your sleeping head. “Always.” 

[fishandloaves]

Know Your Rights: Advice on Arrest/Police Powers During Protesting (London Edition)

Hey all, I haven’t seen a post like this advising on what to do in the event you are taken to police custody that is UK-based. so I thought I would share some tips/contact numbers/advice. In light of the upcoming #BLM protests coming up in London, I thought I would share some resources/tips on your rights and dealing with the police. 

[Disclaimer: I am not a legal practitioner - this is NOT legal advice. This is all advice that I have collated from various grassroots organisations, charities, and government websites] 

1. Here is a bustcard - print one out and keep it on you during the protest! Always have either this bustcard on you, or write down the contact number of a trusted solicitor and the Protest Support Line at all times. (If you are outside London, check the greenandblackcross website for a bustcard specific to your location)

Plain text version:  ADVICE ON ARREST 

Say “NO COMMENT” to all police questions during casual chats, ‘booking in’ & interviews. At the police station you may wish to give your name, address and date of birth to speed your release. If asked your nationality you must give it. For protection and that of other people don’t answer further questions. 

Do not accept a CAUTION without advice from a recommended solicitor. This is an admission of responsibility and goes on the police national computer. 

You have the right to FREE LEGAL ADVICE at the police station. Duty solicitors do not always have experience with protest law, we recommend asking the police to contact one of the following: 

ITN (Irvine Thanvi Natas): 020 3909 8100  HJA (Hodge Jones & Allen): 0808 252 8678  Bindmans: 0207 833 4433 / 020 7305 5638 (out of hours)  Kelly’s: 01273 674 898 / 0800 387 463 (out of hours) 

You have the right to have someone informed of your arrest. (Make that the Protest Support Line unless otherwise arranged: 07946 541 511).

You have the right to an interpreter if English is not your first language.  If you are or appear under 18, an appropriate adult should be called.

LEGAL QUESTIONS about PROTEST? 

STOP AND SEARCH: You do not have to give your name and address under any stop and search power, see below website for more details. Legally you must be told the reason and the power that you are being searched under. 

If you witness an arrest, want support or have legal questions about protest: courtsupport@protonmail.com  07946 541 511 

Legal Observers are independent volunteers who gather evidence on behalf of protestors and act to counter police intimidation and misbehaviour. Read more about your rights and protest legislation: www.greenandblackcross.org

After arrest &/or if you have a court date & want advice, email courtsupport@protonmail.com

2. Stop and Search: Know Your Rights Linked above is the official gov.uk webpage regarding the police power to stop and search. Read it fully before a protest so you know what your rights are when asked to submit under this power.

Important: ‘stop and search’ is NOT the same as ‘stop and account.’ Under stop and search, you are well within your rights to refuse to answer and walk away! 

Police Powers  A police officer has powers to stop and search you if they have ‘reasonable grounds’ to suspect you’re carrying:

illegal drugs

a weapon 

stolen property 

something which could be used to commit a crime, such as a crowbar

You can only be stopped and searched without reasonable grounds if it has been approved by a senior police officer. This can happen if it is suspected that: 

serious violence can take place

you’re carrying a weapon or used one 

you’re in a specific location or area

Before you’re searched  Before you’re searched the police officer must tell you: 

their name and police station

what they expect to find, for example drugs 

the reason they want to search you, for example if it looks like you’re hiding something 

why they are legally allowed to search you 

that you can have a record of the search and is this isn’t possible at the time, how you can get a copy

Removing clothing: police powers A police officer can ask you to take off your coat, jacket or gloves. 

The police might ask you to take off other clothes and anything you’re wearing for religious reasons - for example a veil or turban. If they do, they must take you somewhere out of public view. 

If the officer wants to remove more than a jacket and gloves they must be the same sex as you. 

3. Key Messages  NO COMMENT  NO PERSONAL DETAILS WHAT POWER?  NO DUTY SOLICITOR NO CAUTION

No comment: 

You do not need to answer police questions, so don’t.

This is for your own protection and for the protection of others.

The police will try to pressure and deceive you into incriminating yourself. Instead of trying to decide when it seems ‘safe’ to answer, just say “No comment” to all questions. During ‘informal chats’ in the police van and especially in interview. 

If your friend in the next cell knows you aren’t going to talk, they will feel better able not to talk themselves. Remember, interviews only help the police - they will not interview you if they already have enough evidence to charge you. 

A good solicitor will sometimes suggest that you make a prepared statement in interview. In that case, you or your solicitor will read the statement and you should answer “No comment” to any more questions. 

For a longer discussion, see the “NO COMMENT” booklet produced by the Legal Defence and Monitoring Group. [Their website seems to down at the moment - will update when I can get the link!] 

No personal details: 

You do not have to give personal details under ANY stop and search power, so don’t. 

On protests, the police often use searches as a way of finding out who is present, both for intelligence purposes and to intimidate you.

Police also use arrest as a means of gathering information, particularly when they arrest a large number of people together (“mass arrest”).

As a default, you do NOT have to give your personal details to the police at any point during the arrest process. However, since 2017, if you have been arrested, the police can require to say what your nationality is and can require you to produce nationality documents, if they suspect that you are not a British citizen.

We recommend not giving personal details to the police for as long as possible – for more information on why, see the page “Do I have to give my details?”. If you have been arrested and taken to the police station you may wish to give your name, address and date of birth at the custody desk to speed your release. Police will usually check the address and may visit at a later date.

Once you reach court, you can be required to give your name, date of birth and nationality.

There are a few situations in which police may have a power to require personal details: if someone is driving a vehicle (or another licensed activity); if they are being fined under a Fixed Penalty Notice; under a particular anti-social behaviour power (which should not generally be used against protesters); or if there is a particular by-law.

What Power?:

Ask “What power?” to challenge the police to act lawfully

Some police officers rely on you not knowing the law. If you are asked to do something by a police officer, ask them what power (i.e. what law) they are using and why they are using it. Make a note of what was said, by whom (numbers) as soon as possible afterwards.

Don’t let them turn this into a situation where they ask you questions though – just walk away once you have your answer, and remember No Comment!

No Duty Solicitor:

Use a recommended solicitor with protest experience. Here is a list of trusted solicitors who are experienced at dealing with cases surrounding police and protest. 

The “duty solicitor” is the solicitor who is present at the police station. They may come from any firm of solicitors, which means they almost certainly know nothing about protest.

Duty solicitors often give bad advice to protesters; we recommend you always use a good solicitor who knows about protest. 

You are entitled to free legal advice inside a police station and can ask for one of the solicitors in the above list. 

If you do not know which solicitor to call, contact the Protest Support Line. 

No Caution:

Cautions are an admission of guilt

Offering you a caution is a way the police may ask you to admit guilt for an offence without having to charge you. It is an easy win for the police, as they don’t have to provide any evidence or convince a court of your guilt.

At the very least, you should never accept a caution without taking advice from a good solicitor.

4. Guides

For supporting yourself:

Key Advice when going on a Protest Stop and Search Being Trans and Protesting Looking after your health on actions Trauma and Emotional Support What happens if I’m Arrested? I’ve been Arrested! What Next? Should I ignore Police Bail? The Post-Charge Legal Process DBS checks and being arrested on protests Key Advice for Protesting in France Demonstrations and International Students

For supporting others: 

How to give Police Station Support My Friend has been Arrested! Support for People going to Court What is a Legal Observer? Witness to an Arrest or Police Violence?

For organising an action:

Guide to Injunctions Planning an Action Protesting on Private Property

Protest Laws:

Filming and Photographs at Actions Laws Commonly Used at Protests Obstructing Workplaces: Trade Union Legislation Police Liaison Officers

Challenging the police:

Holding the Police to Account How do I find out what Information the Police hold on me? Making a Claim Against the Police Making a Complaint Against the Police What is a Judicial Review?

For more information: www.greenandblackcross.org 

5. General protest advice

Look out for things that don’t seem right. Stay alert for undercover white supremacists who may be infiltrating the protest. If anything seems off to you, document it. 

Follow the directions of grassroots black organisers. 

Film safely - do not film anyone’s faces/anything that could identify individuals at a protest. There are other, better resources online for successful filming.

Wear unassuming clothing and face coverings.

Buddy up - write down each other’s contact details on your arm, as well as the Protest Support Line. Make sure someone is keeping an eye on you and check in on them. 

Keep socially distanced - we’re still in the middle of a pandemic! 

Wear masks and protective eye gear if possible. 

Tie hair up.

If you can, leave your phone at home and bring a burner phone for contacting your buddy/contacts.

If you must bring your smartphone, first turn off Face/Touch ID, disable data and location services, and go on airplane mode. Also, watch this video on signal proofing your phone.

Don’t bring anything incriminating e.g. drugs, weapons (including pocket knives) - don’t give them a reason to arrest you! 

Don’t wear contact lenses or jewellery 

Bring water (for hydration and tear gas) 

Bring snacks (thank me later) 

Bring first aid supplies

STAY SAFE AND LOOK OUT FOR EACH OTHER.🖤 

Safe protesting, y’all ✊🏽 #BlackLivesMatter

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 43

You go back to work, and come to terms with what’s happened.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 3k

Genre: fluff, angst, idfk

Warnings: Tiiiny bit of cursing, a hint of depression

|mlist|

<–– Prev   Next ––>

“Girl, he broke up with you? What happened?” 

“I don’t know,” you moan, clapping your hands to your ears. Her voice persists, echoing inside your head.

“He liked her more. You were never even together, and he still couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

“Stop it. Shut up.”

“Poor, traumatized Y/n, who’s been nothing but trouble. Y/n, who’s an anxious little nobody. Y/n, trying to drag a star like him down to your level.”

“That’s not true!” “He hates you. Why else would he do that? He knows what she did to you, and he’s with her anyways. He hates you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But you do, Y/n.”

“Fame, flashlight– gi-give it to me!”

Unlike most of your nightmares, for once you don’t bolt upwards in a panic. Your eyes simply open at the sound of your alarm and blink several times. 

After a moment of stillness, you reach for your phone. It’s time for a change. Waking up to his voice every day used to be a delight, but now… you switch the sound back to the default alarm noise. It’s been all of one day since you awoke to his betrayal– twenty-four hours since the second of the two people you trusted most in the world was lost to you. 

And I had to go from hearing one in my sleep to getting woken up by the other, you think humorlessly as you shove your blanket off and stretch.

Kang Seoyeon. You’ve spent so long thinking only of her attack, that flash of hair, that shove into the river, that learning her name feels like a punch in the stomach. She’s not just a nightmare. You don’t know whether you’re relieved or horrified. 

Doesn’t matter. You have work today. The dark cloud that formed after Lisa’s disappearance, the same one that grew in weight when you saw Seoyeon’s picture on Lisa’s laptop and again when your mom cut you off– it overwhelmed you yesterday after you saw the news about him and Seoyeon. The feeling, the horrible, gnawing darkness got so intense that something inside of you seemed to break, and the pressure simply… lifted. 

You survived an attempt on your life. You didn’t need him then, and you don’t need him now, especially since he’s made it clear that he doesn’t need you either.

And so you get dressed in more layers than you need, put on makeup, and walk to the subway station. You’d take an Uber but now, more than ever, you need to save money. Thanks, Mom. Maybe you can find a flat with lower rent further from the city? Or check with student housing? Right, you’re still a student.

As you approach, you notice a commotion around the studio. There’s a crowd outside, a mix of what look like fans and paparazzi. You tug your collar up in the hopes that you’re not spotted, but–

“Y/n! Any comment on Suga’s new girlfriend?”

“Just a quick photo, please!”

“Do you think Suga cheated on you?”

“Y/n! What do you have to say to Kang Seoyeon?”

“Are the rumors that you’ve been missing work true?”

“How did your relationship end?”

“No comment,” you say, the tidal wave of noise crashing down onto you as you fight for breath amidst the crowd. Despite the heat of all the bodies, you begin to shiver. “Please let me through.”

“Y/n!” A familiar voice rings out above the confusion. Avery, your director, stands tall in the doorway. “Let her pass. We will not be commenting or taking questions at this time.”

With Avery’s help, you manage to push through the mob, half collapsing once the large studio doors have closed behind you. Inside the studio, the cast and crew bustle about, almost busier than usual.

“Are you okay?” Avery asks, concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Avery, look, I’m sorry I haven’t been at filming–”

“It’s in the past,” the director says kindly. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But… well, Y/n, you need a manager. A real manager. I’ve been talking with some of my agency friends, and I think-”

“I have a manager,” you interrupt. Unless… you Googled the statistics of surviving a kidnapping for as long as Lisa’s been gone. The research alone made you feel nauseous. But Lisa’s alive. She has to be. Right?

Avery folds her arms, as though she can tell something’s off. “Really? Then where’s your driver? Who’s organizing your gigs, negotiating your wages? Who’s hiring you a bodyguard? ‘Cause the people outside are showing me that you need one.”

“She just-”

“Where’s the publicist managing your online presence? You shouldn’t have to do this all on your own, Y/n. And for god’s sake, where is the person who’s supposed to keep celebrities like you from going off the deep end?”

“I’m not a celebrity, Avery! I’m not him, okay?”

“I know. But you have to understand, no one has ever been in a position like yours. BTS have a powerful fanbase, and none of them have dated before, least of all dated a virtual nobody. I know your relationship wasn’t real,” she continues, seeing you about to protest. “But it’s what needed to happen to protect both of your reputations. You skipped a lot of steps on the way to fame, Y/n. You need an experienced manager to keep you on track.” Avery shrugs. “I can email you a list of people you should talk to. Now, have you talked to your professors about missing classes? Will you be ready to go?”

“What? Go where?”

Avery raises a brow. “We’re filming on location next week, remember? There’s been an on-set announcement every day this week, and the email was sent out a month ago.”

Oh. What? You’ve barely been onset this week, so overwhelmed were you with the terror that Seoyeon had managed to instill within you. But you’ve been checking your email and your phone messages almost obsessively after you’d learned that the university had messaged you about Lisa’s disappearance first. You won’t let anything like that happen again. And yet… “I haven’t, uh… I haven’t gotten any emails about that.” 

 “Check your spam folder, I’m certain you received them.” Avery says cooly. “Anyways, you’ve missed a lot of work. Can I assume you’re back for good?”

“Yes.” You reply immediately. “Absolutely, ma’am. I’m very, very sorry for not being present lately. I’ll work hard to make up for it.” Is the existence of Seoyeon, and the unknown connection between her and Lisa, still terrifying? Of course. Does his sudden relationship with Seoyeon, after seeing him only two days ago, make your heart feel like it’s being shredded into pieces? Maybe. But you’ve broken yourself back together; no one can hurt you anymore.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Avery says, satisfied. “Now, go on to wardrobe, it’s gonna be a long day. We’re filming three episodes’ worth of your and Yoongi’s scenes.”

You gulp. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Speaking of Yoongi…” Avery checks her watch. “He’s late. Whatever– go get dressed.”

With nothing more to say, you make for the dressing rooms. And of course, who has to exit in full costume but…

“Y/n.”

You nod, your usual irrepressible anger nowhere to be seen. No one can hurt you anymore. “Jeongyeon.”

“I heard about you and Yoongi.” Jeongyeon seems to attempt to muster her usual obnoxious sneer, but it falls flat. You suppose your expression is just pitiful enough to put off her bullying.

“Ah, yeah.” You don’t know what else to say. It was just a fake relationship, so you should be glad it’s over. After all, Bang PD had said the arrangement could end whenever you wanted it to… and clearly, he wanted it to.

“Well, whatever. How does he go from bad to worse, am I right? Did you see his new girl?”

There she is, you think, watching Jeongyeon slip back into the character you know so well.

“Anyways,” she continues. “I heard we’re sharing a trailer for when we film on location. Don’t even think about stealing my bobby pins.”

You salute your costar ironically before brushing past her into the dressing rooms. 

Forty minutes later, you’re finally clothed in all your beautiful layers, your face perfectly made up. You’re an actress, a professional. Whatever is happening in your personal life, you have to put it aside for the sake of your work.

“So pretty~” the stylist coos as she expertly fixes your hair. You hear the door open, but you can’t move to see who entered as the stylist continues: “Doesn’t she look lovely?”

“Ah, yeah.”

Your eyes widen at his voice. The stylist still has a hold of your hair, and you can’t turn to look at him.

After an eternal silence, he clears his throat. “Anyways, Avery sent me here for hair and makeup?”

“Yes, Mr. Min, just one more second while I finish up with Y/n here…” after what seems like a lungful of hairspray, you’re set free. At last, you turn and look at Min Yoongi.

The shadows under his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, and his normally good posture has disappeared for slumped shoulders. Must be the stress of a new relationship.

“Y/n,” Yoongi starts. “Look, I–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, pasting a smile onto your face. “It’s whatever, Yoongi, alright?”

“Uh, right.” Yoongi fidgets with one of his rings, seemingly at a loss.

“I just…” you can feel your facade begin to slip, and shake your head. “Never mind. I’ll see you onset.”

~~~

Yoongi watches you go, clenching his fist. He wasn’t expecting to see you at work today, and he definitely wasn’t expecting… well, whatever that was.

He doesn’t know why he feels a little disappointed to realize how okay you are with this situation. Certainly far more okay than he is. Maybe you really were eager to get out of your relationship. 

Shit. He wishes he could fix this, wishes he could tell you everything. A shiver runs down his spine, though, when he remembers exactly why he can’t talk to you.

“You go to the police,” Seoyeon said, holding out her phone so Yoongi can see, “you talk to the paparazzi, or your precious little girlfriend, and this one will be gone before anyone can find her.”

Yoongi gulped. “How do I know that’s not doctored?”

He received a shrug. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take. Now, we’re going to do this my way. Want to keep Y/n safe? And the other one too?” She nods at the photo on her phone. “Follow my rules, and they won’t get hurt. But I’ll be keeping this one… for insurance.”

“You’re insane.”

Seoyeon winked. “Nope, just a fan!”

Faking a relationship with your attacker, seeing the insurance she’s kept, and knowing that he can’t tell you any of it, is almost too much for Yoongi. But he’s got D working to track Lisa’s phone, and Avery to suggest you hire bodyguards. Sure, he may be stretched thin enough to snap, but he’ll keep everyone safe. He has to.

~~~

You’re hanging around on the indoor set of what’s supposed to be a busy town market filled with extras. You’re always amazed at the movie magic that allows the simple set such versatility. 

You can hear him before you see him: the cast and crew can never help but murmur at the biggest star in the show. And yet, you don’t turn to look. It’s not like you’re avoiding him, but… well, he has to have realized that he hurt you, right? And of course, now you have to play the brokenhearted ex, since all your coworkers think the relationship was real. Which means more lies.

But it’s okay. You’re strong. Stronger than him, stronger than his new girlfriend. 

“Okay!” Avery barks, and the present company jumps to attention. “I know there’s a lot of excitement on set today, so I hope everyone remembers to keep things professional. Now, let’s get started. Episode 13, scene 6. The scene: Kim Ji-Woo has just returned from her trip to the countryside as she recovers from Mr. Moon’s sudden engagement to Mi-Gyeong, the wealthy Mr. Gang’s younger sister. They bump into each other at the market and Mr. Moon invites Ji-Woo to the ball held in honor of the engagement. Ready, and… action!”

You move quickly into the view of the camera, waving at the imaginary coachman behind you. “No, really, it’s alright! I can walk home, Father should have the carriage in any case– yes, goodbye now, good- oh!” 

Not looking where you were going, you walk right into Yoongi. Your basket clatters onto the dirt road and for a second you feel the urge to stay there in his arms as you have so many times before. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr- Mr. Moon?” you allow your voice to tremble for a second. Here he is, the man who had promised himself to you, and then turned around and chose to love another. Here he is, and every feeling you tried to bury comes rushing back. But… no. There’s still your dignity to think about.

“My apologies,” you murmur, reaching down to grab your basket as you curtsy. Basket secured, you’re quick to turn away from the newly-engaged man who, only weeks before, had secretly asked you to marry him. 

“Oh, wait, wait! Miss Kim!” Mr. Moon extends his arm, his hand barely brushing yours. Your skin prickles with equal parts excitement and pain.

You can’t ignore so blatant a summons. You look back at him slowly. “Is there something I may help you with, sir?” Sir. How long has it been since you were able to call him by his given name? 

“Please, I…” Mr. Kim pauses, his jaw tense. “My father is hosting a ball tonight. In honor of my engagement.”

“Congratulations,” you reply, as drily as your good manners will allow. For what reason is he reminding you of his betrayal?

“Would you attend, as my guest? Your sisters are most certainly welcome as well,” Mr. Moon says, his voice just shy of pleading.

Is he out of his mind? No, he’s just pulling rank and expecting you to say yes. No sane country girl such as yourself could ever turn down an invitation from a man of such good breeding.

And yet, he led you to believe he loved you, and you him, before turning tail and running towards a much better match. All the good you saw in him then… where is it now?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, staring at him. “But my family will be unable to attend. I wish you the best in your life, and in a very… happy marriage. Good day, Mr. Moon.”

“Good– ah.” You can’t see Mr. Moon rub his eyes tiredly,  for you’ve already walked away, full of determination. I don’t need him.

“Cut! Holy shit, guys!” Avery claps loudly, a wide grin on her face. “I think that was the best I’ve ever seen you two together. Keep it up! Let’s use that take. Okay, next, episode 14, scenes 30-33.”

The workday is long and brutal, but you’d never complain– at least you still have a job, after the absentee stunt you pulled.

Speaking of absentee… Lisa. It’s been a month now since she’s disappeared, and maybe you could have chalked it up to some quarter-life crisis at first. After all, she bought that plane ticket to America. 

But a month? And the police are still looking for her. They must have a reason to believe it’s more than university angst, right?

You need to face the facts, Y/n. And the facts are that Lisa must have been kidnapped. And to stay alive a month after being kidnapped… 

You can’t think about it. But you can’t not think about it. And if you’re moving past Yoongi, you have to move past your best friend, too. 

“Avery?” You approach the director , who’s giving instructions to an assistant, after the cast has been dismissed for the day. At your voice, she glances up.

“Y/n, what can I do for you?”

“I’m…” You take a deep breath, knowing your nightmares will take revenge on you. “I’m ready to look for a manager. Can you email me your contacts?” Hopefully you receive them– the fact that you haven’t noticed any emails about filming on location is really concerning.

Avery smiles. “Of course, Y/n. I really do wish you the best.”

“Thank you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi wander your way. Avery seems to notice him as well, and manages to disappear before you can blink. The set has cleared out for the most part, with only some cosmetologists and stylists packing up.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet him. Yoongi’s eyes dart back and forth nervously.

“I’m sorry.” He finally blurts out.

“What?” Your voice remains neutral. Is he apologizing for knowing Seoyeon without telling you? For dating her? 

Yoongi reaches for your hand before freezing. “I don’t know how this is going to end, Y/n, but in case something goes wrong, I need to tell you that I’m so, so sorry.”

Yoongi… “You can’t do that,” you say eventually. He can’t hurt you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you won’t tell him the truth. “You can’t play with me like this, Yoongs. You can’t tell me that I’m safe and then turn around and hold her hand. You can’t come back and apologize for your actions after what she did to me. What she might have done to Lisa! Do you even hear yourself?” You’re half-shouting before you realize it, but you can’t stop. “Christ, I knew celebrities were selfish, but this is god-tier bullshit. She could have killed me, Yoongi! Would you still have loved her then?”

“I don’t–” Yoongi stops short before shaking his head. “You don’t understand.”

“So teach me.”

“I… can’t.”

You breathe in sharply, gripping your bag. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you. And, Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

[sharinluna]

MLQC Chapter 20 Translation

Chapter 19 translation

19 1/2 chapter translation

I skip parts and paraphrase a lot when I translate. So that I could let the players enjoy the complete original translated text by themselves when the chapters are released. This is just to give you a small taste of what is going to happen.

I’m using Yōurán as MC’s name since it was the unofficial default name by the writers.

Trigger Warning: This chapter includes actions that reminds of real-life relationship abuse, physical violence, and police brutality.

Once you make your choice, there is no turning back.....

The sound of the underground train entering the station woke me from dreaming.

“We’ll soon be arriving in ****** station. The exit is on the left…”

It suddenly occurred to me that I had to get off and I abruptly stood up and exited the train.

Yōurán: Something’s not right…

A strange sense loss was looming in my head. Like something went away from me with the train.

I tried to remember what my dream was about but everything was foggy. Only snippets of unrecognizable memories remained.

Yōurán: Did I wake from the dream and come back to reality?

I couldn’t know for sure. I followed the crowd out of the station.

Everyone was going their own way. Underneath the gray sky, the traffic jam was flooding the city like usual. It was a different sight from the deserted city during the influenza breakout. But that was a thing of the past now.

Yōurán: I did it!

I looked around the city that turned back to normal. I really did succeed!

I wanted to go back to my daily routine immediately. I wanted to know what the others were doing. I wanted to go to my office and work again.

Passer-by: Look, it’s snowing!

I looked up. Small snowflakes were coming down the sky. I froze. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure if this was real or a dream.

The ringing of my cellphone in my coat pocket woke me from my reverie. I didn’t recognize the caller ID

Caller: Long time no see. I suppose you want to know who I am, right?

The young man’s bragging voice was somehow familiar.

Yōurán: Excuse me but… why did you call me?

Caller: Can’t I call you without a reason?

Yōurán: Well, since it seems you don’t, I’ll just-

Caller: Everyone forgot your existence.

Yōurán: What?

I must have heard him wrong. The young man on the phone laughed at the disbelief in my voice.

Caller: You are not supposed to exist in this universe.

Yōurán: What are you talking about? That doesn’t make any sense!

I denied what he said in panic.

Caller: You can find out for yourself, then…

There was a sound of opening a can on the other side.

Caller: …at the place where everything started, for once…

He hung up.

Yōurán: This must be just a prank call!

I kept telling myself that as I grabbed my phone tightly.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

I arrived at the front of my office building. I took a deep breath and went in calmly. I was about to say hello to the security guard but stopped when he was looking at me like a stranger.

When I arrived at the office I saw familiar faces.

Yōurán: Kiki!

I called Kiki whom I hadn’t seen for a long time. Any moment now, she would see me and yell “Boss!” and run to me, and tell me all the latest gossips.

But she just looked at me with polite strangeness.

Kiki: Hello, Miss. Are you scheduled to meet someone?

Yōurán: Kiki… don’t you remember me?

I blurted out in shock. Kiki hesitated, like trying to remember something.

Kiki: Uh… have we met before?

So what he said in the phone call was true.

Yōurán: You must have… forgotten it…

I clenched my fists so hard that fingernails were biting into the flesh, but I didn’t feel any pain.

Today was not April Fool’s Day, and Kiki didn’t seem like she was pranking me either. I forced out a weak smile.

Yōurán: Never mind, I’m here to meet Anna.

Kiki: Oh, so you’re Anna’s acquaintance! Then perhaps we have met before. You do look a bit familiar but I can’t quite put a finger on it yet. But Anna is very busy today… did you make an appointment?

I was about to answer when Anna came into the office followed by Willow.

Anna: Kiki, is someone asking for me?

Yōurán: Anna! Willow!

I called out their names in delight but they just looked at me confused.

Anna: Who is this…?

Yōurán: I’m Yōurán….

My heart sank at Anna’s reaction. I told her my name without hope. What he said on the phone was true. Every single person had forgotten me.

Yōurán: I’m here to see this company’s boss.

Anna: I’m currently working as the boss’s replacement for the time being. What business do you have with her?

Yōurán: For the time being? What do you exactly mean?

Anna: The current boss is the daughter of the former boss, but she’s unavailable right now so I’m filling in her place.

Yōurán: Then can I meet her?

I asked desperately. Anna furrowed her eyebrows deep in thought. She seemed to sense that something was not quite right.

Anna: Come to think of it, she hasn’t been in touch with us for a long time. I suppose she is busy with her studying…

Willow: Anna, we have to hurry if we don’t want to be late! We have to go to LFG right away.

Anna: Sorry. We are very busy… if you have urgent business, please visit us again tomorrow.

Anna smiled at me politely.

I perked up at her words. LFG…. I had to go there right away!

Yōurán: I’m sorry, I have to go! I’ll come back tomorrow!

I heard Kiki call out after me but there was only one word in dominating my mind. Victor, I had to go see him right away!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

With breakneck speed I arrived at the LFG building only to be stopped by the reception desk.

Clerk: Hello, did you make an appointment?

Yōurán: No, but I can wait.

I knew she wouldn’t let me in, so I had no choice but to wait in the lobby for Victor to show up.

I fiddled with my phone for a long time, wondering if I should do it. Then I made up my mind and called Victor’s number. I was met with “The person you have called is unavailable at the moment…”

My delight at having returned to reality had long since evaporated. I waited for a long time, but still couldn’t meet Victor. The clerk at the desk was eyeing me suspiciously. In the end I had no choice but to go for the exit with a heavy heart.

Yōurán: Let’s go…

I didn’t find out whether Victor forgot about me as well, but maybe this was for the best. I tried to tell myself that as I recalled the last moment of my life.

I began to cross the street when the light turned green. It was just then when my phone rang.

Yōurán: It’s from Victor!

With happiness bubbling inside I stopped at once to take the call. Which turned out to be a grave mistake as I heard the sound of car screeching.

I seemed to be in this kind of predicament quite a lot, and like always, I froze unable to move. I closed my eyes but the crash never came. Someone had grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the sidewalk.

My heart started thumping. I knew who he was before I saw him.

I looked up at the familiar face and tears welled up inside.

Yōurán: Victor…! I found you at last….!

I grabbed his arms at looked at him with pure joy.

But he let go of me and took a step back and looked at me oddly.

Victor: Who are you?

He asked coldly with eyes looking at me like a stranger.

Yōurán: I…

Joy died down quickly. I opened my mouth but no sounds came. My hands, my shoulder, no my entire body started to shake. Despair filled up in my brain and erupted into headaches.

I didn’t want to admit that this was real, but Victor was standing there with no signs of recognizing me.

Yōurán: Don’t… don’t you remember me?

Victor: No, I’ve never met you before.

His answer full of conviction shattered the last of my hopes.

He glanced at his watch before addressing me again.

Victor: Be careful. Someone can’t come to your rescue every time.

He said the same words he said to me when we first met. But this time, they were destroying my last bit of courage and strength.

Standing still defenseless against the cold wind, I could only watch as Victor walked away from me.

Yōurán: Victor!

Sorrow paralyzed my reason as I ran out and grabbed at his sleeves like a drowning man clutching desperately at straws.

Victor didn’t pull his hand away. But he continued to look at me indifferently.

Victor: Are you hurt? Then go to a hospital.

Yōurán: I’m not hurt.

I mumbled trying to come up with an excuse to not let him go so soon.

Yōurán: I… just wanted to thank you for saving me…

Victor: You’re welcome. It was nothing.

He met my thanks matter-of-factly then eyed at my hand still clutching his sleeve.

Yōurán: …Sorry.

I forced myself to let go of him slowly and took a few steps back from him.

As I watched him walk away, my memories from the past life surged up. Seeing Victor with tears in the last moment of my life pained me with no end.

If Victor didn’t remember me, he would also not remember that… Maybe it would be better for him to forget that pain? Without me, he will continue to reign as the triumphant monarch of the capitalist society. He won’t have to succumb to such hurt caused by me.

Yōurán: Victor…

I called out his name to myself again.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

My phone rang again. I looked at the screen hopefully but it was just a news alert. My address book was full of familiar names and numbers, but I couldn’t contact any of them. No one had called me or texted me since the last day of my life.

I didn’t know where I should go to find Gavin. Kiro had been missing for centuries and Lucien is…

I couldn’t continue with this line of thought.

Yōurán: Let’s just go home…

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I saw a giant advertisement featuring Kiro on B.S. Entertainment building. People were stopping by to take pictures.

My mind flashed back to Kiro lying down on the sofa after shooting that advertisement.

Kiro: Uggghhhh…. Miss Chips…. Save me….! They’re starving me without a bite to eat….!!!!

Yōurán: Seriously?!

Kiro: Seriously! Come and give Kiro a hug!

I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered Kiro’s exaggerated whines.

Where was Kiro now? Lots of time had passed since the TV tower, and he still hasn’t come back. I wondered whether he succeeded in being a superhero like he said. I wondered when he could come back and be my little sun again who’s such a foodie.

With nostalgia I walked into the convenience store next to the B.S. Entertainment.

I reached out for the last chip then stopped. The other hand grabbing the chips at the same time as me didn’t appear this time.

I looked out the window as I waited for the cashier. A gust of wind shook the tree outside and snow flurried down. Among the snowflakes I caught a glimpse of a young man wearing a hood.

Yōurán: Kiro?!

Ignoring the bag of chips that I just bought I rushed out the store but couldn’t find where he went. I looked around frantically. Then I finally spotted him crossing the street among the crowds.

Kiro, is that really you?

As soon as the light turned green I ran across the street, pushing past people trying to get to him. I kept knocking into elbows and had to struggle to not be swept among the crowd, which slowed my chase after him.

I bumped hard into someone.

Yōurán: Excuse me-

Even before I finished speaking everything turned blank.

There was a loud boom that was enough to shake my body. The very ground started to quake, fiery inferno covered the sky. People were running in the opposite direction of the flames. Among the chaos there were shouts and panicked blarings of car horns. I heard a laughter in cold mockery.

“Those EVILs will all die…”

I was back in the crowded crosswalk. What I just saw…. was that an explosion of some kind? I replayed the vision in my head. Explosion, cars crashing everywhere, chaos.

I looked around and there was no sign of the person I bumped into.

Yōurán: Oh, no!

I ran forward trying to locate him but I couldn’t even figure out what direction he went. I chastised myself.

Yōurán: How could I miss him?

??: Are you looking for me?

I heard an icy voice from behind. I looked around and saw a young man with silver hair. He had the hood down.

Yōurán: Helios?!

I called out his name in surprise. The person I saw outside the convenience store, the one I was originally chasing, was him. His eyes narrowed as soon as he heard me say his name. He walked toward me menacingly.

Helios: How do you know who I am?

He had no weapon in his hands, but I was paralyzed in fear. It seemed like the Reaper of Death was walking towards me.

Helios: I’m disappointed in them for sending someone so mediocre to spy on me.

He stopped right in front of me. His sneer pierced me like a sharp knife. I quenched down the uncontrollable fear threatening to take over me.

Yōurán: I, I wasn’t spying on you!

Helios: Even your acting skills are rubbish.

His eyelashes did little to cover the murderous intent in his eyes.

Yōurán: It’s true! I’m sorry for following you. I thought you were someone I know. It was a mistake!

Helios: Really? And what other excuse did you come up with?

Yōurán: We’ve met before. You probably don’t remember it but… if you did, you would know that I’m just a nobody.

He still looked at me with doubt. I exclaimed out of exasperation.

Yōurán: Can’t you see that I’m powerless and is of no threat to you?! I don’t know what “they” you are talking about, but would they send someone plain like me as a spy?

I waited for his convict but to my shock he laughed at me, ridiculing me. He looked at me like he was looking at a very interesting specimen.

Helios: Someone plain? I suppose you don’t know yet.

Before I knew it, he took out a silver knife and aimed it at my neck. The cold blade made me rooted to the spot.

Helios: Don’t move.

His eyes flashed gold for a second and as he ordered, I couldn’t move a muscle.

Yōurán: What… what are you doing?!

Helios: Take a guess.

It was too late to regret. I couldn’t move at all no matter how hard I tried.

Yōurán: We’re in broad daylight in the middle of the city! People will see!

Helios: Do you think I’m so careless to not have that covered? You should worry about yourself now.

The cold pressure of the blade against my neck was increasing. My eyes widened in despair.

Suddenly, it seemed like time had stopped and my line of sight was bombarded with blinding white light. My soul was inside a pure-white space. In front of my eyes numerous black lines appeared forming unfathomable patterns. I reached out for those black lines. From the depths within my soul came out waves that passed from my fingertips and converted into soft lights that divided the shadows.

Yōurán: Let go…

For a fleeting moment of 1/1000 second his powers restraining me vanished. I didn’t miss the chance and managed back off and escape from the blade at my throat.

I was shivering with sweat. It was an effort standing still. I kept my eyes at him, wary of what he would do next.

Helios: Your awakening speed is pretty fast.

He took away his knife.

Helios: Do you still think you are just someone plain?

Yōurán: What just happened?

I wasn’t sure but, it seemed like my consciousness had escaped the corporate reality for a short moment. I looked down at my hands but nothing happened. The strange feeling had also vanished completely.

Yōurán: What did you do to me? Did you make me do… whatever I did?

Helios yawned.

Helios: You’re joking if you think I’d do such a charitable act.

The corner of his mouth twitched with scorn.

Helios: If you hadn’t pulled your little stunt, I would have continued where I had left off.

Hearing him say that negated all doubts I had about him and had me back on alert.

Helios: I’ll give you a piece of advice. Never appear in front of any Evolver ever again.

Yōurán: …Why?

He was already walking away. He said his last words without looking back.

Helios: otherwise you’ll be killed.

With that he got into his car and slammed the door. I stood still as I watched his car drive away, leaning against a wall to support my trembling body.

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I walked back to where I had left off. Meeting Helios. Helios threatening me with his knife. Those bizarre black lines that appeared in a pure white space… I had no idea what happened just then.

Yōurán: Helios also doesn’t remember me at all, at least that’s for sure…

“Loveland University has announced to establish a new research institute. Renowned neuroscientist Professor Lucien has expressed his opinions about Darwinism and theories of evolution, causing the criticism of the public…”

I stopped and looked at the news screen to see a video of Lucien in a press conference.

Lucien: The advance of science is founded on continuous sacrifices. That includes the trial-and-error of injuries and deaths. All of which I think are necessary process. Survival of the fittest and the fallback of the rest is an eternal principle of life. It’s what keeps humanity going.

After all this time, he would still….

Seeing him say those words on the screen made my heart throb, reminding me of the principles I cannot forsake and the path that I should not deviate from.

Yōurán: Lucien… what are you trying to do?

Black Swan has been behind the flu epidemic from the beginning. Could Lucien also have had a hand in it?

I didn’t know what to think, but I had made my decision.

Yōurán: Whatever your role is in this scheme, Lucien, I will put a stop to it.

I changed direction and walked the familiar path to Loveland University.

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In front of Lucien’s laboratory were thousands of protesters holding pickets. Commanding that Lucien suspend his unethical research project immediately and condemning him for his justification of sacrificing the minority.

I quietly slipped in the back door that was unknown to the protesters.

I looked at the plate reading “Lucien’s Research Institute” on front of his door. Just like the first time we met, I was standing in front of this door again, but the situation was completely opposite now.

I took a deep breath and knocked. I waited but no one opened the door.

Yōurán: Is he not here?

I didn’t know whether I felt relieved or disappointed.

I turned back and there stood him on a corridor that was deserted just seconds ago.

Yōurán: Lucien…

I couldn’t help but call out his name affectionately. Lucien looked at me with puzzlement then his expression turned searching. His smile was polite but distant.

Lucien: May I help you?

That shattered my hope and reminded me of the cold, hard truth very nicely. I couldn’t help hoping against hope that he would remember the days we spent together. But it turned out to be vain. Why did I think that he would be an exception?

I took out my reporter license and introduced myself just like I had rehearsed earlier.

Yōurán: It’s a pleasure to meet you, Professor Lucien. I’m a reporter from YBC news. I wish to request an interview with you about the press conference you made prior.

Lucien: I’m sorry, but I don’t do interviews for the time being.

He refused right away. He glanced at my license but he seemed to have no intention of examining it closely.

Yōurán: Forgive my indulgence, but would it be so much trouble to just answer a few simple questions? What is your reason for starting this research?

I prodded on, unwilling to give up just yet.

Lucien: Do you have any more questions?

I inwardly sighed in relief that he wasn’t turning me down completely and rapid-fired the questions I wanted to ask him.

Yōurán: Professor, can you tell me when your research will reach the first stage of development? To my knowledge, you have done human experiment before that was acknowledged and legitimized. Do you plan to follow suit in this one as well?

I waited for his answer but all I heard was a quiet chuckle.

Lucien: Is that what you wanted to know by impersonating a reporter?

Yōurán: Sorry?

I was taken aback by his sudden interrogation. His poker-face unsettled me for a second, but I found my cool quickly. Right now, Lucien was just a professor and he couldn’t reveal his Black Swan persona in such a public place. And this time I was just a plain reporter with nothing special.

Yōurán: Professor, if you are doubting if I really am a reporter you can look my name up in the website.

Lucien: I’m not doubting that you’re a reporter.

He interrupted my words with a smile.

Lucien: It just so happens that I just refused YBC’s interview 15 minutes ago.

His eyes seemed to pierce through me and I couldn’t come up with an excuse to cover my act.

Lucien: It seems that I am right.

His expression turned unfeeling. The polite mask fell away to reveal his true demeanor, cold-blooded and calculating.

Lucien: Now, would Miss Yōurán kindly tell me what business she has with me…?

Hearing my name with his ice-like voice, I couldn’t hold back a shiver. It felt like he was freezing my blood with just his words. But I could not back off now.

Yōurán: Like I said before, I wanted to interview you-

Lucien: Repeating a thousand lies won’t make it true.

I instinctively stepped away from him and looked down, not saying a word.

Lucien: You won’t tell? Silence isn’t always the best answer.

My heart was pounding, but I gathered up the last of my courage and looked up at him.

Yōurán: Fine! I came here because I wanted to know why you would continue this research project! If I find any issues that compromise moral principles, I will report it to the media!

Lucien: I see. And?

Yōurán: And then… I will ensure that your project gets shut down and prove that your theory is fundamentally wrong!

Lucien: Is that it?

Lucien’s attitude was still pretty much composed. My words held no threat to him whatsoever.

Lucien: And here I am thinking that you came here because of Evol.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he came closer to me.

Yōurán: Evol?

Lucien: Didn’t somebody just warn you that you are in grave danger?

Helios’s parting advice came to my mind.

Lucien wasn’t hiding his malicious attitude at all. I understood the true meaning of fear as he threw away all pretense to reveal who he really was: a man who is ruthless, brutal and cruel beyond comparison.

Lucien: As you well know, evolution of life cannot be free from destruction and violence, and Evols are not exception to that rule. You are nothing but a “bait” now.

I didn’t understand the underlying meaning of his words, but I got the general idea. He was the hunter, I was his prey. He’d been targeting me from the very first moment.

All parts of my body were screaming “run!” I pushed him away and ran towards the stairs. But he didn’t let me escape. I felt a sharp pain on my wrist and next moment he was dragging me away with an iron grip.

Lucien: Don’t think that I would let you out of my grasp so easily.

I knew it now. He was Ares. He was not Lucien anymore. To be more precise, Lucien…. he doesn’t exist anymore. Despair and sorrow flooded my heart more than fear.

Yōurán: What are you going to do with me?

I waited for whatever he would do next. Whatever it was, I was ready to take it.

Lucien: You seem to misunderstand me. I don’t plan to do anything to you.

He suddenly let go of my wrist. His attitude was back into the typical Lucien-style warmth and gentleness. Like what I just saw was just a trick of the brain.

Lucien: A normal person would soon see that you are not a subject of protection.

With that he walked past me and opened his lab door. He looked back at me and said.

Lucien: I assume you don’t need me to see your way out.

The door closed shut in my face. As soon as it did I sagged down to the floor. It took me a long time until I could find my feet again.

As I exited the research building I did not know that a pair of eyes was looking at me hidden behind the curtains.

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I walked silently in the heavy snow.

I replayed the vision I saw in my head again. The person I bumped into was just a normal passerby, but his future I glimpsed into was anything but normal. Somehow, without reason, I felt that the explosion from my vision was related to me.

But there wasn’t anything I could do about it… I was forgotten by everyone, forsaken by the world, and I had no real power or strength….

Yōurán: Chin up!

I shouted to myself and slapped my face to break out of helplessness.

Yōurán: There are still things that I can do!

I whipped out my phone and called Gavin. He didn’t answer. With a little hesitation I called the Task Force but it said that the number didn’t exist. I didn’t anticipate immediate success, but I still felt a little downhearted.

Yōurán: It’s too early to give up now. Where was the exact place of the explosion…

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I arrived at the riverside square and looked around.

Yōurán: Is it here?

Nothing looked out of place and there was no sign of coming explosion. And my mind didn’t launch another vision.

Yōurán: Did I come to the right place…. or did I see it wrong?

Just then I saw a black figure hiding in the shadow of a tall building. Without thinking I stepped closer to him. Closer, and then closer. Finally I could see him clearly. Black uniform. Straight posture. Snow on his shoulder showing that he’d been standing there a long time.

I rubbed my eyes several times. I was afraid I was dreaming. But I wasn’t. He was right there. The person I have wanted to see for so long.

Yōurán: Gavin!

Unbridled joy took control of my body, but reason kept me from running into his arms. Suppressing my impulse, I hid between the crowds to move closer in his general direction.

Gavin looked thinner than before. What happened to him while I was gone? The possibility that he had forgotten me as well left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Gavin: ...All clear.

Gavin finished talking into his phone and moved out of my sight.

Wait! I yelled silently as I hurried after him. I managed to catch sight of him disappearing around a corner. It was only then that I realized that I was in a deserted alley with no one around. I placed each step carefully.

Yōurán: …Gavin?

The silence made my footsteps sound louder.

Yōurán: Gavin? Are you there?

I tentatively called out his name. Suddenly I felt a gust of wind behind.

Yōurán: Who are-

I tried to turn around but he was quicker than me. He grabbed my arm mercilessly and slammed me against the wall. I yelled out in pain. With a metal click a pair of handcuffs were slapped on my wrists.

Gavin: Freeze!

His voice was threatening and menacing. I looked directly into his fierce eyes. The familiar gentleness was gone.

It was confirmation in the cruelest possible way. Gavin had forgotten me too.

Gavin: Who are you? Why are you spying on me?! Tell me who you are!

His tone was intimidating, like he was addressing a criminal suspect. His strong grip was digging into my wrists to prevent me from escaping. It was so tight that my wrists were screaming out in pain.

Gavin: Answer me right now! Who sent you?!

He asked again when I stayed silent, his hands gripping me tighter. I actually couldn’t breathe because of the pain.

Yōurán: I’m on my own… and I wasn’t spying on you…

The physical pain alone was enough to make my eyes tear up. I couldn’t believe that Gavin of all people would subject me to such violence.

Gavin: Then why did you follow me here?

Yōurán: Why can’t you trust me…?!

Indescribable sorrow surged up and I blurted out the accusation while crying.

The raw pressure on my wrists lessened, but he didn’t let go of me. The level of suspicion in his eyes decreased just a little.

Gavin: How did you know my name?

Yōurán: I graduated Loveland high school just like you. You were my senior(先輩)…

Gavin: Loveland high school? You must have good memories then.

I didn’t know whether he believed me, but he let go of my wrists and released the handcuffs. His eyes were still cold.

Gavin: But that doesn’t explain why you were following me.

Yōurán: I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean any harm…

I looked at Gavin, unable to voice the real reason. Which made me sadder than I could handle.

Gavin: I won’t overlook this next time.

With that he made to leave.

Yōurán: Gavin!

I wasn’t ready to let him go yet, so my emotion got the better of me and I called out to him.

He looked at me with evident irritation in his eyes.

Gavin: You still have something to say?

Yōurán: Don’t you remember me at all?

Gavin: I have very few memories of my high school days. Don’t follow me again.

He walked away from me.

Yōurán: Gavin, wait…

I staggered after him but he was gone.

The winds whistling around me felt like a climax of a requiem.

-----------------------------------------------------

When I exited the alley into the open street everything was dark. The rumbling in my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten anything for a whole day.

I entered into a restaurant closest to me. The snow outside reminded me of the snow-white dream I had. I forgot the contents of the dream, but I remembered it was quite beautiful.

I was staring into space when a voice whispered in my ear: Do you regret your choice? Everyone forgot you. No one remembers your sacrifice. Do you regret it?

I looked up into the gray sky. I didn’t know whether my answer was yes or no. I was too distraught to find out.

A tall man was looking down at me with a grin in his face. He waved his hand at me and walked towards me.

Yōurán: You are…?

He sat down next to me.

??: There you are.

He was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place where I’d met him before.

Yōurán: Uh…. who are you?

??: Don’t you remember me?

Yōurán: Have we met…?

I wracked my brains.

Yōurán: Oh! We met that day on the bus, right?

I finally remembered our short encounter on the bus. But then again…

Yōurán: How come you remember me then?

Right now, he was the only person who didn’t forget who I am! I didn’t really know who he was. I didn’t know whether he had any ulterior motive. But right now, he was my only hope.

The man didn’t answer right away and looked at me with a gleam in his eyes.

??: I’m the one who called you this morning.

I recognized his voice from the phone call.

Yōurán: That was you?!

??: Yes, it was me. The dream-world doesn’t affect me.

Yōurán: Then do you know what happened in the dream? And why everyone forgot me?

??: No, I don’t know what happened in your dream. I only know that the dream is caused by Evol and you’re not strong enough to block it.

He smiled in a mocking way. I found his conceited attitude very annoying but suppressed the feeling.

Yōurán: But can one person’s Evol affect everyone on this earth?

??: It’s not as simple as that. But if we get rid of that Evol then maybe people will start remembering you again.

I looked at him with suspicion. I couldn’t tell whether his words were all true, or if there were some falsehoods in there.

This man knew my number, knew where to find me, and this was the second time we met. All of this could not be coincidence.

Yōurán: Why are you telling me this?

He sensed my distrust but didn’t seem to care.

??: Just… for fun. You have no other choice but to believe me, you know.

I looked at him. It suddenly occurred to me that his careless, casual attitude was his strategy to let my guard down, hiding his true face.

??: What’s so great about this world?

With a smirk he looked out the window. I followed his gaze and looked out as well. Snow was falling and people were moving about busy with their lives. The sight of a peaceful and beautiful city.

I finally found the answer to the question that was asked of me.

Yōurán: I don’t know.

He raised his eyebrows at my honest answer.

Yōurán: I don’t know whether this world is good or not. But that’s not for me to decide alone. Even if I couldn’t find the answer, as long as there is still hope, this world is indeed beautiful and worth it.

So… No. I do not regret my choice. I answered the question that was in my head.

??: Dull.

He smiled mysteriously.

??: I hope you don’t change your thoughts. This world has already changed anyway.

He stood up and leaned towards me.

??: Remember, my name is Ling Xiao.

Ling Xiao: You can have my umbrella. No need to thank me.

He opened the door and disappeared into the snow.

Yōurán: What’s up with him….

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After I finished my meal I hesitated, but in the end took Ling Xiao’s umbrella as I went out into the snow.

This year’s winter was particularly cold. The umbrella became heavier with snow. As I was lost in my thoughts I bumped into someone. What was more embarrassing was… I lost my balance and was about to fall down.

??: Be careful.

With a slight chuckle the person I bumped into grabbed me and kept me from falling.

Yōurán: Ah, thank you.

My face turned red with embarrassment.

??: Are you okay?

A voice that was clear as a melody rang out. I looked up.

A man who was breathtakingly handsome appeared in front of my eyes. Somehow, I could imagine a field covered with ice and snow behind him.

Yōurán: I’m fine…

??: Be careful. The roads are slippery.

He let go of me with impeccable manners and took a step back to farther our distance that was too close. Then went down and picked up the umbrella that I had dropped. Every bit of his act was elegant like a gentleman. I took the umbrella, thanked him and walked away.

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I walked along the riverside. The setting sun was emitting out a mild light above the bridge, coloring the snowflakes with golden hues.

Yōurán: I didn’t know that snow falling on the river could be this beautiful.

I stopped and breathed in the cold air clearing my head. My mind was peaceful like the landscape before me.

I do not regret my choice. I repeated to myself again.

I do not regret dying to save this world.

I do not regret leaving the snowy-white dream and returning to reality.

Because this choice, this path I walk on will lead me to where I want to be.

Yōurán: Yes! It’s time for me to go home!

With light footsteps I finally headed towards home.

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Oh my god that was a long and hard work but it was worth every moment of it!

The first thing I thought when I read this chapter was: I got stabbed in the heart to save the world and this is the thanks I get?

Chapters 15-18 was a tearjerker and heartbreaking, but the shock factor was greater in chapter 19-21.

I already knew what was going to happen since Ling Xiao’s call but it still hurt so much to see the boys not remember Yōurán one by one and mistreat her. (Because let’s face it. Their actions taken out of context is similar to real life relationship abuse.) 

Except Victor, he is completely indifferent and has no concerns for her at all but he is still civil to her, which speak volumes of his maturity. With or without Yōurán, Victor’s character remains pretty much the same. In contrast, Yōurán was a crucial factor in forming the other three’s personality and... well, for the lack of a better word, not being jerks.

Without meeting Yōurán, Lucien would have become 100 % Ares.

Without meeting Yōurán, Kiro would have become 100 % Helios of Black Swan.

Without Yōurán, without the Campus Date, Gavin would have grown to become like this.

If you read again, how Yōurán reunites with each of the guys is a twisted parallel of how they first met in chapter 1. Victor saving her from a car, meeting Kiro in the convenience store, meeting Lucien in his research institute, Gavin finding her first in the city.

I said in this post that the story of MLQC follows a chess motive in Through the Looking Glass. To summarize the points:

The story of MLQC follows a game of chess with characters as chess pieces.

Yōurán is a pawn on her journey to become queen. The LIs are the pieces knight, rook, bishop and king.

I want to continue with this metaphor.

When a pawn reaches the end of the chessboard it becomes a queen. Also there are pieces of the opponent. Yōurán is white pawn and the guys are other white pieces. The white pawn(Yōurán) confronted black queen in chapter 18 and went Through the Looking Glass to the enemy side of the chessboard.

In this world in the mirror(chapter 19~), on the opposite side of the chessboard she meets dark, mirror versions of the LIs(or black pieces of the chess) If the pawn doesn’t give up and walk steadily one square at a time, when it reaches the end of the board she will arise as queen.

“I do not regret dying to save this world and I will continue to do whatever I can to protect the people on this earth.”

This is Yōurán’s words in chapter 19~21 combined into one sentence. I admired her character in this batch of chapters. Her strength, her purity and her philanthropic spirit were part of what made me love this story.

But what do you think about this? How did you find the LIs in this chapter? What do you think of the two new characters, Ling Xiao and the Piano Guy? Do you agree with MC’s choice in this story?

I’m sorry for saying this all the time but brace yourself, for the winter is coming.

[rhetoricalrogue]

Making a House a Home

I got hit with one of those ideas that come to you in the middle of the night.  What if the detective decided to move from their default apartment into different places around Wayhaven?  What would their love interests think?  Slight end of book 2 spoilers for Zoe’s ficlet.

Ava and Lucas

“It’s too exposed.”

“It’s a modern loft, it’s supposed to be exposed.”

She ran her fingers over one of the many windows, her mouth set in a frown.  “There’s a huge security threat downstairs. You never know who is coming or going at any point in the day.”

Lucas nodded. “One of the reasons I picked this spot.  Plus, a coffee house that’s open almost 24 hours right downstairs and a gym that is open all day directly next door? Ava, this spot was practically made for me.”

Her frown lightened as she made her way through the empty apartment. There wasn’t much of a kitchen, but what was there was made out of updated equipment. She could already see him using the concrete countertops to prep his weekly meals.  He was fond of entertaining, and the open area that made up the living room was large enough to comfortably host gatherings.

Climbing the stairs, she looked at the bedroom critically. There were massive closets on either side of a door leading to a spacious master bathroom that she had no doubt would fit his entire wardrobe and then some.

A singular thought occurred to her that there would be plenty of room for her here as well, if she wanted it.

“What do you think?” He asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin at her shoulder.

“The security concerns are going to need looking at,” she started, softly leaning back until his chest was pressed against her back.

“But…?”

She made a hrmphing noise. “It’s suitable. There’s a nice view.”

She could feel him smile against her cheek. “I like the view from here too.”

Adam and Aubrey

“Your commute to and from work should be shorter than it normally is.” Adam commented, standing at the window in the living room.  He could see the police station a half block away, quiet and closed off on a Saturday afternoon.

“It means that I’ll be able to get a good extra ten minutes of sleep in, plus maybe come home to grab lunch if I don’t feel like eating in the office,” Aubrey replied, walking around with a measuring tape in hand, already mentally deciding where her belongings would go in this new little townhouse.  

The garish pink walls would have to be painted over first thing. Judging by the way Adam had squinted as he stepped foot inside her new place, he wholeheartedly agreed. 

“It gets good light.  Your plants will be happy.”

“I’m feeling a but coming from you.  What are you thinking about?” Aubrey set her tape down at the kitchen counter so she could go over to him.  Adam was tense, his finger pressing down on the cheap plastic blinds so he could see out.  “I’m surprised that you haven’t said a peep about security.”

“Because security isn’t an issue.  I’ve already looked the place over and couldn’t find any faults there.  Besides, you now have a five minute walk home after work.”

She tipped her head. “Then what’s wrong?”

He flicked his finger, sending the blind springing back in place. “You used to have a fifteen minute walk before reaching your old apartment.”

Dawning realization hit and she smiled at him. “Adam, are you upset because our regular evening walks are going to be cut short?”

“That would be ridiculous.”  He let out a sharp sigh. “But it is a factor, ridiculous or not.”

Aubrey didn’t laugh, but she did wind her arm around his and press her head against his shoulder.  “Well,” she started. “I guess there’s only one solution to this dilemma.”

“And what would that be?”

“After you walk me home, you can just come inside to spend more time with me.”

He pretended to think her suggestion over before giving her a soft smile. “I believe that arrangement would be agreeable.”

Farah and August

“So, what do you think?”  August poked his head down from the lone bedroom in the tiniest house he’d ever owned.  Granted, it was the only house he’d ever owned, but that was neither here nor there.  He’d just signed the papers and the keys were his.

“I can almost touch one side of the wall with one hand and the other side with my other!” Farah exclaimed, looking in all the empty drawers where she could picture his things going. 

“This reminds me of a treehouse I had growing up. It was about this big and I used to love hanging out in it.”  He climbed down the ladder leading up to the little bedroom area and turned a crank that opened one of the windows overlooking a bare lot.  “And the bonus is that I can hook this up to my car and tow my house around wherever I want.  I’m not stuck in one location!”

“Maybe you could park it by the Warehouse,” she suggested.  “When it starts to get too busy in there, we could just hang out here, just the two of us.”

August grinned. “Actually, I was wondering what you thought about maybe getting something to commemorate the event? I was thinking about another fish.”

Farah laughed. “Auggie, you have a ten gallon tank for Mr. Fish already taking up some prime real estate. I don’t think you can fit another tank in here.”

He dug in his pockets. “Okay, so maybe not an actual fish, though I’m pretty sure I could persuade Mr. Fish to share his tank with one more roommate.” He held up a single key attached to a neon pink and yellow painted metal fish keychain.  “How about it? Wanna have a home of our own to hang out in?”

Farah didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, her gold eyes as large as saucers.  Then she quickly closed the distance between them, her arms wrapping around his shoulders in a tight hug.

“Our home,” she breathed.  “I like the sound of that.”

Mason and Zoe

“Why are you moving again?” Mason asked, building another cardboard box for Zoe to throw her things in.  She wasn’t neat about it, just shoving what little things she owned into boxes and then scribbling what was inside in black marker on top.

There really wasn’t much to box up.  Mason had caught her in the middle of a cleaning frenzy one night right after the carnival, most of her belongings set in different piles.  He hadn’t questioned her when she asked him to take one pile out to the dumpster, though he happened to look inside a plastic crate to find numerous photo albums full of pictures with her and Verda’s family inside.

He’d tucked those away instead of giving them a dumpster burial.  He wasn’t certain what was going on between them, but knowing Zoe, she would regret doing something in anger sometime down the road.

“It’s too noisy here,” she told him, taking another box he built her and heading to the bathroom.  “Plus you hate my neighbors.”

“I don’t hate your neighbors,” he told her, watching as towels and toiletries got packed with a little more care before the box was labeled and carried to the now empty living room.  “Well, not all of them.  That lady one unit down is nosy as fuck.”

Zoe’s grim expression lifted for the briefest of moments. “That’s because she’s an old fashioned gossip who believes that men and women shouldn’t fornicate outside of wedlock.”

He grinned, pointed tips of his fangs showing. “Oh, so that’s why you made sure we were extra loud that one time I had you up against the wall you share with her.” 

“Maybe.”

“Still doesn’t answer me, Sweetheart.  What gives with the sudden move?”

Zoe stopped and looked around the place, then at the four boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the empty apartment.  Fuck, Mason thought.  Her life always feels bigger than just four measly little boxes, a guitar, and a few framed pieces of art.

“I need a fresh start,” she finally said, her voice low.  “This place…” her voice choked off when she noticed a small stuffed rabbit she’d missed sitting on a built-in bookshelf.  She went over to it and held it tightly to her chest, her breath coming out in a shaky wheeze.

“You already have a spot picked out?”

She shook her head. “Yeah. Harry’s got a place over his bar that’s coming up in a week or so that he said he’d cut me a deal on rent if I poured drinks during some of the busy weekend hours.”

“What about the meantime? Where’s all your furniture?”

Zoe ran her fingers over the stuffed rabbit and absently kissed the top of its head. “I put it in storage. Harry said I could couch surf at his place until my new digs were ready.”

He started to pull his packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, but stopped and offered her a package of chewing gum instead. “You could always stay at the Warehouse,” he casually suggested, watching as she took a stick of gum, that first whiff of mint as she took off the wrapper stinging his nose like too cold air on a winter morning.  “No need to couch surf when you’ve got a bed of your own.”

Zoe chewed thoughtfully before crouching down to open one of the boxes and carefully, lovingly, placing the bunny inside.  Mason caught the smallest portion of the word Cara embroidered on the rabbit’s foot before she closed the cardboard flaps once more.  “Harry’s couch is super uncomfortable,” she reasoned.  “And best friend or not, the man snores so loud you hear it through two closed doors.”

“So, you want me to take your stuff back with me?” the question of are you coming home with me was unspoken, but lingered in the air between them.

She licked her lips.  “Yeah.”  She sniffled as her eyes went to the box with Cara’s rabbit in it but then she blinked and gave him a smirk, taking hold of his hands and drawing him towards the shared wall they’d talked about earlier.  “But first, let’s say a proper goodbye to Old Lady Jenkins.  For old time’s sake.”   

Nate and Morgan and Rowena

“So, what do you think?”

Morgan stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket and shrugged.  “Still smells a little like old people in here.  They should have aired the place out before they showed it.”

Rowena smiled, but moved towards the large picture window in the formal living room and opened it, letting some fresh air into the place.  In her mind’s eye, she could already picture a piano taking front and center stage.  No tiny upright electronic thing that maybe sounded like an actual piano, but an honest to goodness instrument like the one she’d been carefully saving up for years to buy but never had room to house it.  There was room for a few comfy chairs and she could easily picture Nate sitting in one, a book from one of the beautifully crafted built-ins in his hand. 

Morgan perched atop the bare window seat and looked out over the front yard.  “It’s quiet.  Not a lot of traffic.”

“It’s a bit of a drive to work,” Rowena commented.  “But I think it’s worth it.”

“Closer drive to the Warehouse though.”  Morgan flipped through the flyer that the real estate agent had handed them as they entered.  “A little big for one person, don’t you think?”

Rowena shrugged.  “It’s a four bedroom.  I figured that one of the spares could be an office for me, another could be a library for Nate, and the third…” she sat down beside Morgan.  “It could be yours, if you wanted it.”

Morgan slowly turned from the window to look at her.  “What, no sharing one room?”

Rowena rolled her eyes.  “Come on, you’ve stayed a night with the two of us on my Queen sized bed.  Nate nearly ended up on the floor and I was pressed up against a wall.  Even if we upgrade to a King, it’s still going to be a tad bit cozy.”

“I dunno, Sweetheart.  I sort of liked pressing you up against a wall.”

Rowena leaned forward, brushing her lips against Morgan’s.  “So did I, just not when I was trying to sleep.  And besides,” she leaned back when she heard the real estate agent’s heels clack against the hardwood floor, “even if you’re not coming over for sex, it’d be nice to have a place of your own to enjoy the quiet, wouldn’t it?”

Morgan cast her eyes around the room.  “You know, it’s not a bad place.  Old person smell is starting to fade after all.”

Rowena smiled and ran a hand over Morgan’s thigh before giving her knee a fond pat.  “I’m going to see where Nate went off to.”

She didn’t have to look very far to find Nate carefully inspecting the cupboards in the kitchen.  “What do you think?” she asked, leaning against the large kitchen island.

“I think this house is lovely,” he replied, moving to lean beside her.  “If you don’t put in an offer, I will.”

“What if,” Rowena asked, leaning against his arm.  “We both put in an offer?”

Nate moved until he could wrap his arm around her, sighing contentedly when she immediately snuggled up close, her head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck.  “Are you suggesting, Detective Kingston, that we make a home here?  Together?”

“I am suggesting just that, Agent Sewell.  Does that sound like a good idea?”  A small part of her at the back of her mind was screaming that this was too soon, that what they had was still so new, that she had a perfectly fine apartment that she didn’t want to break her lease on.  The other part of her at the forefront of her mind was quietly encouraging her to take that leap of faith, that Tina had always loved her place, and that Tina’s lease on her own apartment was going to be up for renewal soon.

“That, dear heart,” he bent his head to give her a lingering, smiling kiss.  “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

“Wait!  I need to test one more thing.”  Before Nate could question, Rowena moved in his arms and began to sway.  “Just pretend it’s three in the morning.”

“Slow dancing in the small hours of the night in your own kitchen is a fantasy of yours?”  He rested his hand at the small of her back as he led them through some simple steps, the two of them barely moving.  “How am I doing? Passing your test?”

“With flying colors.”

“What did Morgan have to say?”

She snuggled closer, the two of them swaying more than actually dancing now.  “She didn’t quite say so, but the idea of having a place of our own outside the Warehouse has its appeal.  Even if we’re just here a few nights out of the week, the monthly payments are cheaper than what I was paying on my apartment.”

He laughed.  “You’ve been thinking about this for a while?”

She ducked her head, but he could still see the faintest hint of a blush across her cheeks.  “Would it be weird if I said that this house has been calling to me ever since I was a little girl?  I used to walk this street on the way to and from school and I always stopped in front of this house, wondering what it would be like to live here, what it would be like to run upstairs and downstairs.  Did it have an attic? A cellar?  Were the people inside happy?  When I was on regular patrol, I drove by here and couldn’t stop looking at the place.  If felt like it was waiting for me.”

Nate thoughtfully stroked his chin as he looked around.  “I couldn’t sense any sort of magic around this house, but it might not hurt to have some of the agents who specialize in that sort of thing make a sweep to inspect.”  He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.  “Or, it could be that some places are simply meant for people and this one was meant for you.”

She ran her hand over the front of his sweater, stopping over his heart.  “For us.”

He nodded.  “Yes.  For us.”  Taking her hand, he spun her around and joined in her delighted laughter.  “Shall we speak with the agent to draw up the paperwork then?  See what the timeline is for making this our home?”

“Yes.  Let’s.”

[snowdice]

Gaps in His Files (Part 4) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy, Virgil (but only in the epilogue)

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts, medical procedures mentioned, very brief unhealthy views of sex

Does anyone see the Easter Egg in here? Probably not. It’s pretty vague...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Patton did not like driving Logan’s “special car.” It didn’t matter what position he put the seat in, he still either couldn’t reach the pedals or he felt like he was too scrunched up; the radio was (somehow) only set up to receive the local news station as well as some weird station that only ran a program detailing crop growing strategies which Patton thought must be some sort of cover for a channel sending messages in code (at least he really hoped it was because otherwise its existence was an affront to humanity); and he’d accidentally zapped himself with electricity while trying to adjust the temperature twice in the past and he still didn’t know if that was a feature or faulty wiring and Logan had refused to give an argument that convinced him either way. Not to mention, the car didn’t legally exist. If Patton got pulled over in this thing, what was he supposed to tell the police? Sorry, my boyfriend doesn’t have insurance, I’m pretty sure he built this death trap himself out of scrap metal because I can’t even discern the make and model.

“The corn! THE CORN,” the radio spewed.

“Yes, the corn,” Patton spat back. “I know. I heard you the first time.” Unfortunately, today, listening to the corn channel was better than listening to the news. The local news station continued to discuss and theorize what had happened earlier that afternoon over and over until Patton couldn’t take it anymore.

A memory gun had hit Logan. It had been a theory at first considering the things Lightwave and Logan had said along with the fact that Logan hadn’t seemed to remember how to fly, and had been all but confirmed a couple of hours ago when news that the police had investigated the dropped weapon leaked. Which all meant Logan was out there floundering with no idea what was going on or who he was. Patton wondered how much was gone. Had it erased all of his memories? Did he even know his name? He’d known enough to be able to use his powers, but was that instinct and muscle memory?

The theorizing on the local news station just made Patton’s blood pressure spike more with every passing second. Not that turning off the radio and being left alone with his own thoughts was much better. So…

“Crop rotation!”

Patton was the only person who knew Bluebird’s secret identity (at least, as far as Logan had told him.) Well… Remy might have guessed, but he hadn’t been officially told, and Patton doubted he’d be any help anyway. So, Patton was the only person who could really look for him. Sure, he was certain the police were searching (as well as some doubtlessly more dangerous people), but Patton was the only one who knew Logan.

You don’t know this Logan.

His Logan would have gone back to his apartment or maybe Patton’s if he were injured.

Patton gripped the steering wheel tighter. Okay. Maybe this Logan didn’t know where his apartment was. Maybe he didn’t know who Patton was. But he was still Logan, and Logan was rational and, more importantly, predictable. Patton would bet that in a circumstance where he knew nothing about what was going on, he would default to general survival tactics and what had he ranted and ranted to Patton about when they’d watched that one survival movie? Follow the water. Water is where you find food and shelter and almost certainly civilization if you follow it downstream. Sure, that was for when someone was lost in a forest or something, not already in a city, but Patton hoped he’d fallen into that strategy despite that, at least until he thought up something else better.

That’s why Patton had been driving up and down the river for the past few hours looking for anything suspicious and listening to someone blather on about corn. He pulled up underneath a bridge. It was a little bit away from the hustle and bustle of the city, but near enough to get to a more populated area quicklym and it had some good shelter around because there were trees. Patton bit his lip. If he thought like Logan, this would be a good place to stop. He decided to get out of the car and go out on foot for a bit.

Before exiting the car, he checked to make sure the mask was still in place. It felt strange on his face; he never really wore one. He clicked the locking mechanism which made the lights flash once but didn’t beep. He turned and froze when he met eyes under the bridge. The stranger didn’t speak but watched Patton intently from what looked like a makeshift house under the corner of the bridge. Patton edged out from beneath the bridge and headed toward the riverbanks. His shoes sunk into the mud a bit. It was starting to get dark which made it hard for him to search for things that looked out of place, especially when he was unfamiliar with the area. He was just running on blind Logan behavior instinct at this point. It was also starting to get cold. Patton hoped Logan had chosen to wear the winter super suit or he’d found a coat or something.

He wandered, looking into dark places and listening for any sounds beyond the river crashing into the banks. Around 15 minutes into his walk, his eyes caught on a large rock in front of a drainage pipe. Perfect, Logan’s voice said in his head. Patton crept over to check it out. No one was there, but it looked like someone had been recently by a smear of mud near the base of the rock that looked like someone’s foot had slipped there. Okay. He peered around him carefully, walking back toward the river. He had the sudden feeling of being watched. Up. He looked up at a small ledge along the bank and sighed in relief. “Thank god.”

Logan stumbled back a step when he realized Patton had seen him and turned tail to run again.

“Wait, L-” he cut himself off. He couldn’t risk it just in case someone was listening. There was a reason he had the mask and the car after all. Patton was the only one who knew his identity and Logan wanted to keep it that way. He thought quickly, head latching onto a story he’d been told one night curled up against a half-asleep Logan. “I’m Devora the Mood Goddess?” he tried.

Logan paused and turned to face him. “You know me,” he said peering at him from behind the mask still on his face.

Patton nodded, shoulders dropping in relief. “I do.” He offered a hand. “Come with me?”

He looked at the offered hand and then at Patton’s face. There was a moment of silence and then he nodded slowly and took a few steps down toward Patton. Patton grabbed hold of his arm when he got close enough, loosely so as not to startle him even though he wanted to latch on and never let go. Something loosed in Patton’s chest at the contact.

“Who are you?” Logan asked, accepting the touch, though he looked at Patton’s hand on his arm in confusion.

“In the car okay,” Patton requested. He nodded after a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I have body aches and from context clues, I assume memory loss,” he said, “but otherwise I feel well enough.”

“Good. Let’s get back to the car.”

They picked their way back toward the bridge through the muddy riverside. Patton groaned softly when there was an unmarked police car parked next to Logan’s car.

“What?” Logan asked at normal volume.

“Shh,” Patton scolded, but it was too late. A flashlight flared to light and turned to them the next second. “Hello Detective,” Patton said wryly. Patton had met Detective Silvia a couple of times, but of course she didn’t know that since Patton was wearing a mask. Logan knew her a bit more as Bluebird. She gave him a very suspicious look that grew almost hostile when she saw Logan was with him.

“Bluebird,” she said.

“So, I’ve come to understand,” Logan replied.

“I’m his friend. I’m here to help,” Patton said.

“Every villain in the city is looking for him, excuse me for not believing your word.” Patton sighed.

“He knows the code word,” Logan said.

She considered him and then shook her head. “I’d still be more comfortable if you came down to the station.”

Logan tilted his head at her. “No,” he said firmly. Then the detective yelped as her feet left the ground.

“Bluebird no!” Patton hissed. “The detective is our friend.”

“She is not my friend,” Logan replied with a frown. “I don’t know her.”

Patton rubbed his temples. “Just get in the car and put her down gently when you do.”

He went without compliant and Patton rounded the car. His eyes fell on the man he’d seen earlier, backed up against the wall with wide eyes. “Thanks for being concerned for him buddy,” Patton said.

They both got in the car and Patton drove away. He saw the detective being placed back on her feet in the rearview mirror. “Well, I’m going to have to send her a fruit basket,” he mumbled under his breath.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 5

[mnetruinedmylife]

Untitled Gang AU

This is just my need to write an AKB Gang AU combined with shameless Yuunaa. It’s written in mostly stream of consciousness writing, so the topic jumps to whatever connection my brain jumps to, it can get a little disorientating at times.  It’s also kind of unfinished, but I didn’t want it sitting in a file collecting dust, so here it is.

Warnings: this piece includes: mentions of violence, though nothing too graphic; traumatic flashbacks; mildly sexually charged scenes, though nothing truly nsfw.

 _____________________________________________________________

The town of Akihabara is a place of conflict and contradictions.

Located in the central ward of Tokyo, it has the highest rate of organised crime activity in all of Japan. The police will claim that there are no gangs in Akihabara – after all, the businesses are flourishing and the tourists come in droves, there is no safer place. Yet, every denizen knows that the infamous 48 Gangs originated in there, and it’s even a point of pride for a few.

If the press interviews a resident, they’ll swear up and down that they’ve never felt safer anywhere else. But more than once has a tourist revealed that they’ve been told by locals scuttling about to either stay on the nearby streets north and west of Akihabara train station after dark, or else not go wandering about at all.

The Akihabara sect of the 48 Gangs themselves are full of conflicting information too.

Sometimes, when the residents manage to acknowledge that they exist, one may hear them whisper in hushed tones about how they’re vigilantes, heroes who do the right thing when the police can’t or won’t. But in the same breath they’d tell you to stay away from one particular café in the Hanaokacho district, and the theatre near Taito station. The members of the AKB sect themselves would laugh themselves sick at the term, all the while shooting a defenceless man in the head without batting an eye, because they’re not heroes. They have their own goals, their own plans, most of which revolve around protecting their own, their members, their family, and if some things extend towards heroism, than that’s just a coincidence, and if some things stretch closer to the other side, well, that’s fine too.

Word on the street says it starts during the days when multiple factions ran rampant all over Tokyo. When kids were recruited right out of high school (and some still in it) into the Project gangs and prostitution rings. Some say a man rose up to create a force that could clean up the streets and keep the gang violence where it belongs – between gangs and not involving civilians.

Aki-P they called him, the man who swept up the capitol’s underbelly.

People say also he’s the same man who created the Sakamichi Syndicate and started the bloodiest turf war Tokyo has ever seen. Some say he did it because he gave up on the AKB sect, when they started losing their way and becoming more dangerous than the gangs they rose up against. Others say he did it after losing control of the 48 Gangs, that he was ousted from the inner circle and so created a rival faction as vengeance.

No matter how different the stories get, they all have one similarity. The 48 Gangs are dangerous, the sect in Akihabara doubly so, and anyone who gets in their way, or harms anyone in their sphere, or dares to challenge their grip over Tokyo, take heed and be on the lookout.

They’ll come for you.

__________________________________________________________)

Okada Nana is fifteen when she boards a train from Kanagawa to Tokyo and doesn’t look back.

Kojima Mako and Nishino Miki are similar ages, and in similar situations when they run into each other, having decided to pickpocket the same mark, and the three of them decide to run together. The streets are a little less intimidating with two sets of eyes to watch your back, and two bodies to keep you warm at night.

Mako’s the devious one, with her heart-melting gummy smiles and disarming laugh, she’s able to charm any passer-by and con them out of their hard earned money.

“Sorry sir, I’ve lost my parents, can I please borrow three hundred yen for the train fare?”

It works more often than not, there’s never a shortage of businessmen willing to play hero and help out a stranded school girl. And if she steals the rest of their wallet when they’re not looking, well they usually don’t notice until it’s too late.

Miki is bolder. She takes items right off of shelves when she walks by, and isn’t afraid to go after other street kids who wander into the space they’ve claimed as their own.

Sometimes she’s a little too bold, “Let’s get lunch from there.”

And that’s where Nana comes in. She’s the cautious one, the voice of reason, the brains behind the operations as small and simple as it is.

“We can’t go in there,” Nana hisses, grabbing the other two by the backs of their collars before they do something stupid.

“Why not? The foods cheaper in there than anywhere else in the city,” Miki points out, not unreasonably.

But Nana is adamant, “Yeah for good reason. That café belongs to AKB.”

The innocuous street side café about a minute’s walk from Akihabara station is something of a local legend in the area. Anyone above thirty avoids it like the plague because of the rumours of it being owned by the 48 Gangs, or perhaps it simply just serves the members of AKB. The little number 48 carved into the brickwork above the café doors is a symbol of that.

However, it is popular amongst the youth of the city for that very reason. With many hanging out there to bask in the rebellious feeling of danger, or on adventurous dares from friends. Whispers fly about AKB recruiting from the youth who flock there. A few yankees even claim to be initiates recruited from there. They’re all bald faced liars. No prospective recruit would be stupid enough to loiter in a known gang-owned establishment.  

A few have, however, been known to have been recruited around the station. Our little trio of street rats like to linger around the area, pickpocketing the stupid school kids, the otakus heading to the Gundam café across the street, and the rich folk visiting the golf club on the other side of the block.

They do that for months before they’re approached by a member of AKB.  

Okada Nana is sixteen when Minegishi Minami approaches her and her friends with an offer they can’t refuse.

Her first job is with Mako and two other recruits. They’re tasked with the simple job of delivering a package and Nana has to wonder what’s so important that there needs to be four of them for this. Or maybe it’s not so important, considering there are four barely trained, fresh faced initiates on the job.

They scuttle about the train line, Mako skipping along merrily, Hikari following behind quietly, with Nana and Ayana bickering the whole way. They deliver the package without any issues worth mentioning to one Itano Tomomi at an upscale bar in the heart of the city. It turns out to be cold hard cash, and Nana goes white at the thought of possibly losing that much money. Or rather, what the gang would do to them if they lost that much money.

The next few jobs follow in a similar manner. Nana gets to know the names and quirks of her fellow runners. Innocent, seemingly useless things like:

Iwatate Saho is stronger than she looks.

“Oh god he’s unconscious…are you planning on joining Team K?”

“No, too dangerous. I’m thinking Team B. You know, manning the cafes and the casinos and stuff.”

Mogi Shinobu doesn’t do so well under pressure.

“What the-!? Mogi-san why didn’t you just shoot him?”

“I panicked!”

“I can’t believe you want to join Team A, you’ll die in a week.”

Murayama Yuiri is stupidly pretty.

“Yuiri-chan…We’re half an hour in the wrong direction. You had the map upside down.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry, usually Naa-chan corrects me when I do this, I mean, I’m not blaming Naa-chan! It’s just she…Naa-chan what are you looking at?”

“Err nothing. Nothing, I got distracted.”

Takashima Yurina has somewhat of a crush on her.

“Naa-chan I bought drinks.”

“Where’s one for the rest of us?”

Uchiyama Natsuki knows a ridiculous amount about the law.

“Article 13: every individual has the liberty of protecting his or her own personal information from being disclosed to a third party or made public without good reason.”

“Somehow I doubt beating him up would fly as ‘taking the liberty to protect our property’.”

Apparently they do a somewhat of a good job, because Nana finds herself selected as part of a joint project between all the 48 Gangs. She, Mako and Miki are the representatives of the Akihabara sect and Nana wonders how the hell the upper echelons decided on that.  

“So, what are your specialties?” somehow it falls to Nana to lead this ragtag group.

The Namba sect representative Shibuya Nagisa is actually the oldest (by a few months) but she’s no more experienced than they are – Nana finds out later, the reason why all of the sects sent their freshest recruits. It’s all internal politics, and a mission too important to turn down, but not important enough to ensure successful. In short, they’re expendable and they weren’t even expected to make it home.

The job is in Tokyo, so Nana takes the reigns by default.

She finds that leadership suits her.

It feels like a natural extension of what she was already doing when they were just three idiots on the street, planning operations meticulously so that they come back in one piece, and utilising the skills of her teammates in the most efficient way possible. There are three more idiots to account for now, but she is familiarised with them soon enough.

Nagisa is the strongest in hand-to-hand combat amongst the seven of them, Sakae’s Ryoha the most accurate shot, Hakata’s Meru joins Miki in being the loud charismatic distraction, while Mako and Hakata’s Mio are swift and sneaky with their hands. It’s the perfect team for covert operations. Which makes sense, considering they’re being sent south of the Kanda river, into Sakamichi territory to gather intel on the new gang that’s popped up by the Roppongi hills.

It seems like a simple mission.

Get in, look around for suspicious activity, get out. There isn’t supposed to be confrontation or combat involved.

But no plan survives contact with the enemy, and no one cares about supposed to be’s when there are guns pointed at their heads.

When she’s desperately wrestling with a knife that wants nothing more than to dig into her flesh, when she’s slammed against the wall, breath knocked out of her, when a pair of hands wrap around her throat and squeeze, and her lungs scream as her legs thrash uselessly underneath, her vision blurs, and the terrifying realisation that she won’t actually get out of this situation alive sets in – oh god is that Miki screaming she hears in the background? – the air is rushing out her lungs and –

“Naa-chan. Naa-chan! Snap out of it, you’re not there anymore.”

Nana eyes fly open, as she dashes up, heart still thudding in her chest. She has to make sure everyone’s okay, what happened to Miki, and oh god Mio was stabbed, and where the hell is Mako, and they lost contact with Ryoha half an hour in, and Nagisa is unconscious, and no matter how deep a breath she takes, it doesn’t seem to be enough. Her chest burns, she can’t breathe and – a hand lands on her shoulder, the accompanying scent of hinoki pine only just barely manages to stamp down the instinct to lash out.

Yuiri’s concerned face drags her back to reality, “It’s okay. You’re home. You’re not there, you’re safe now,” to the little hole in the wall apartment she has (firmly on the AKB side of the Kanda river), to the bed she’s sharing with the pretty distraction on her team. Though, perhaps that would be unkind to say, even if she refuses to think of what they’re doing as anything more than just stress relief, blowing off steam.  

Belatedly Nana realises that she has a death grip on Yuiri’s upper arm, she loosens her grip but doesn’t let go, “S-sorry,” her hands are shaking, she’s trembling and she can’t get it to stop, and Yuiri’s murmuring nonsense things in her ear.

“Why are you sorry? I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot,” Yuiri apologises with a grimace. They’ve established early on that Nana does not like hands anywhere near her neck, that one horrendous mission spoiled that forever, but sometimes Yuiri forgets, and the resulting post-traumatic flashbacks are the most mood-killing thing possible in the bedroom, or sometimes out of it too.

The first time it happens is in a street by the AKB theatre of all places. It’s after a job with just the two of them, when they’re both high on adrenaline, breaths heavy, eyes glazed, still in the heat of violence, fresh from a near-death scuffle. Nana’s not sure who jumps whom first, but suddenly they’re in each other’s space, hands tangled in hair, and tongue against teeth. Yuiri tastes like citrus that night, some kind of lemon mixed, and the deeper she kisses her the more she can taste the metallic tang of blood and the salt of sweat mixed in.

Nana closes her eyes tightly, a low, throaty moan of approval rumbles deep in her throat as her back hits the wall with a light thud, the moan turning markedly louder as the elder girl’s fingers slip inside the waistband of her shorts and shoves them down over her hips. Strong, forceful fingers dig into her and pull her in even tighter as her mouth is once again claimed in a desperate, hungry kiss.

“Yuu-chan,” she moans, gasping at the feel of the other girl’s tongue against her throat.

“Yes?” Yuiri’s lips curls into a smile against Nana’s, she groans low and deep as Yuiri’s hips grinds into her own.

“Don’t stop.”

It’s easier with Yuiri, they understand each other in ways her other teammates simply don’t. Maybe it’s because the most of the others are like what Nana was at first, just street kids and lowly thieves dragged in way over their heads. When Nana and Mako come back from that FUBAR recon mission with their hands soaked in blood, the others look at them different. With wariness in their eyes, with guarded stances, with hints of fear in their faces.

Mako’s stupid grin thaws their hesitance soon enough. But Nana has never been that kind of charismatic. Not in the way that makes other at ease. She’s always been harder, more serious, and that only makes her look much more intimidating now.

“You’re still here?” Nana raises an eyebrow when she realises that Yuiri is still lingering about. These days, most of her team disappear faster than a blink of an eye the moment the job is done, not wanting to be around for longer than necessary.

But Yuiri only looks at Nana like she’s the one being unreasonable, “Don’t we usually go for kakigori after a job?”

“You want to have desserts with me? What, not afraid I’ll snap and kill you?” Nana asks, sadly only half sarcastically, because with the way the rest of the team treat her, it seems that’s exactly what they’re thinking.  

The other girl snorts and actually has the audacity to chuckle, “You’re going to have do a lot more than be traumatised to scare me. I’m sure I’ve killed more people than you.”

Yuiri wasn’t some street kid when she got recruited. She was born into this world, her family neck-deep in the underbelly of Japan, and she’s no stranger to violence. There’s only one other like that on their team, Nana would’ve overlooked Mion entirely if Yuiri hadn’t pointed her out.

“You can always tell when someone’s killed before,” Yuiri says, “It’s in the eyes.”

The months blur into years, and before Nana knows it most of her team have the same eyes, the ones who are still alive anyway. The ones who are left split off into the different teams of AKB eventually. Mako, Ayana, Mogi and Komiharu are sent to Team K, with their dangerous combat orientated jobs and Nana just hopes they keep coming home. Saho and Saki are off in the relatively safer B, the front jobs, manning the café and the casinos and the above-board stations. Yukari and Mion end up in A, and Nana hopes beyond hope that they don’t lose themselves in there.

Nana and Yuri themselves never leave 4. They’re the ones chosen to train up the newbies, and she has no idea who thought that is a good idea. She never actually does anything too important in the gang – up until the moment she accidentally founds an entirely new sect.

She’d been in Fukuoka visiting Mio and Meru, and it’s in Hiroshima, on her way back to Tokyo that Nana manages to get herself recognised and chased. She hated cults with a passion. Why did they have a problem with her anyway? It’s not like the 48 Gangs had territory claimed in Hiroshima –

Ow.

She falls off the fence the she’s attempting to climb over and lands on her back with a dull thud. The grass is soft at least. She spends a few moments just staring up at the night sky, it’s actually quite breathtaking when you’re far away enough from the city lights to appr—

“Are you okay?”

Oh, there’s a kid in pink and purple. A teenager really. Nana can’t tell ages anymore.

“…m’fine. Sorry didn’t mean to land in your backyard,” she says. An apartment complex’s backyard anyway, she realises when she sits up. It’s a rundown building that’s clearly not in official use. It appears there are kids squatting in it.

It’s difficult to tell in the dark, but when Nana squints she can make out maybe two more teens peeking out from behind a window.

“Wanna come inside?” the girl asks, and Nana really really shouldn’t.

A gunshot sounds in the air though, and Nana quickly scrambles to follow the kid inside. Being noble is all well and good, but it definitely doesn’t beat being alive.

When Nana awakens the next morning, she hears furious whisperings back and forth between the teens – and there’s clearly more of them this morning than there was last night.

“—it’s dangerous, she’s clearly a member of the 48 Gangs! You saw that tattoo!” an unknown voice hisses, and Nana wonders when and how they saw the little 48 tattoo on the back of her neck. That’s not usually visible and she’s usually a light enough sleeper to wake up if they touch her.

“Yeah, that means she can help us!” that’s Chiho, one of the girls she remembers half-heartedly greeting the night before. The one with the bruises on her face.

“We can’t trust a gang member!”

“So what else are we going to do? They took Yumirin, we’ll never get her back ourselves!”

Nana’s always had a soft spot for stupid kids. It’s probably why they never took her off Team 4, and how she finds herself hopping all over the setouchi region, rescuing girls from a fox worshipping cult.

Girls who somehow end up forming the Setouchi sect of the 48 Gangs – Sashihara-san comes down from Fukuoka to make it official and everything.

Mogi never lets her forget it.

“Hey Naa-chan, remember the time you went to visit Mio and Meru and ended up playing prince charming and rescuing ten damsels in distress?”  

 _____________________________________________________________)

Might finish it later, might not. Who knows...

[melwritesbadly]

With Wings in All Black

After a tragic turn of events,  Kazama Kaori , AKA Hex, has her  investigation swept out from under her by the #2 Pro Hero. Reluctantly  she joins Hawks in the pursuit of justice. On top of trying to solve the  biggest case of her career, Kaori is still a young woman struggling to  find her place in the world. Life is turned upside down as her  professional and personal lives start to blend.

Rating: T (subject to change)

Content Warnings: slight language, implied violence/death

________________________________________________________

‘Are you aware of the hour?’

                       ‘As if you were sleeping. ANYWAY, I’ve got another one for you!’

‘We’ve discussed your cryptic messages, another one what?’

                         ‘Why another little bird for the nest. I think you’ll like her.’

‘Somehow I doubt that.’

__________

Two for Some Luck

Hex decided to take the 20 minute walk back to her apartment rather than the much shorter flight. It was thankfully peaceful. No assaults, no muggings, just bustling city life despite the late hour.

She thought about her next steps and her current situation. Despite her perceived annoyance she was grateful for the help. She just hated that it cost Kenji’s life to get it, and that was not ok with her…

So why now, after weeks of posting to the Hero Network? And why him. When now, in all honesty, it seemed like a case for the police.

Pro Heroes usually didn’t investigate murders, at least not top charters like Hawks.

Heroes like Hawks were better suited for grandiose villains, not the everyday kind of monsters. That’s what the underground was for.

Because people like Kenji’s mother didn’t get happy endings, no heroic flourish at the end of it all. No triumph. Only grief.

Hex couldn’t protect her from that, just like she couldn’t protect Kenji, and she is no closer to helping all the other missing people either.

Some Hero she was…

The walk was not as calming as she hoped as her mind swirled with guilt and more questions she was not going to find the answers to, at least not that night. Instead she decided on a shower and hopefully a few hours of sleep before she went with the police to the Takei house…then to wherever Hawks decided to meet with her.

From the front of her building Hex could see the light on in her apartment.

Mayu must have got home early from the bar.

Soon her key was slipping into the lock and opening the door to her small shared apartment.

Kaori didn’t have much in the way of money when she left her father’s agency. Without an agency supporting you, hero work did not pay well, if at all. The odd jobs she took around the station were barely enough to cover her portion of the rent and her groceries but bless Mayu. Her roommate didn’t complain when her payments were late or if she had to pick up some extra costs. Her new job at the swankiest Hero club in the city paid big bucks and Mayu was a generous young woman.

“Kaori?” her roommate called from behind the closed bathroom door.

“Yeah, it’s me Yu.” her voice tired as she called back to the other woman.

“You’re early!” a muffled gasp “Bad night?”

“You have no idea…What are you doing in there?” Kaori kicked off her shoes and placed her black coat on the simple rack Mayu kept her various jackets and purses on.

“Oh you know, having another identity crisis”

“Are you dying your hair again?” Kaori asked sitting on the small but comfy couch Mayu had ‘acquired’ during her brief stay at University.

Stretching out along it Kaori pulled one of the colorful throw pillows over her face and briefly contemplated screaming into it.

She heard the door to the bathroom open followed by the barest hints of hair dye and floral shampoo that snuck under the decorative square.

Mayu lifted Kaori’s legs high enough to wiggle under them, setting them back down over her lap.

“What’s wrong pretty bird?” Mayu asked in her sweet voice then gasped “Wait don’t tell me-” she reached for one of Kaori’s hands and held it in her own.

[Glimmers of hope, new links on a chain, soft, red, light as a feather]

“You met someone!” Mayu gasped.

“You know I don’t like it when you use your quirk on me.” Kaori’s voice muffled through the pillow and wiggled her hand free from her friends.

“Sorry PB, you know I can’t help myself. Anyway back to the matter. You met someone!”

“It’s not like that. It’s work stuff” Kaori finally pulled the pillow from her face holding it to her chest instead.

Mayu’s head was wrapped in a ratty dye stained towel. Her round face and large blue eyes made her seem like one of those painted cherubs.

“What color this time?” trying to redirect the conversation away from herself.

“Baby blue to match my other baby blues” she clasped her hand and fluttered her lashes for effect. “And what do you mean work stuff?! Didn’t feel like work stuff.” she prodded, tickling her fingers along her friend’s shins.

“Yu” a sigh “I don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s probably going to be on every tabloid by the end of the week anyway…”

Kaori pulled herself up and stood up from the couch and made her way to her bedroom forgoing the shower tonight and resigned herself to wake earlier while Mayu was sleeping to avoid further questioning or quirk prodding.

“Tabloids, what? What?! PB!”

“Too tired, going to bed.” Kaori ignored her roommate who had jumped from her spot and charged at her rapidly closing door.

Mayu drummed her hand along her door and whined.

“You never go out with anyone and now you tell me the media is involved. What did you dooooo?” she whined dramatically, scratching along the door.

Kaori stripped her dark clothes and slid out of her flight suit and brushed out her hair.

“It’s nothing Yu, just… let me sleep, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”  she paused  “Don’t touch my stuff!” knowing her roommate could use her quirk on inanimate objects too.

“No fun” came one final whine from Mayu who then admitted defeat, for now.

______

The next morning Mayu waited until Kaori had finished her breakfast and headed to the  bathroom to shower. On the kitchen table was a box filled with various pictures, notes, maps and other handwritten details. Mayu held one in her hand not so much reading it but feeling what that paper represented activating her quirk.

She felt the hopelessness, the frustrated exhaustion. The perseverance. Strings and connections winding and wrapping leading nowhere and everywhere.

‘I will save them’

Mayu pursed her lips and placed the paper back in the box.

If Kaori had taken down her pinboard was she giving up? No, there was no way. In the 2 years she had known her if someone needed help Kaori would help them. Hex would help them.

[New links in the chain, hope, feathers] she recalled from last night. Hmm, the first part was easy to decipher. It had to represent whoever Kaori had met, someone new. The chain could maybe mean she was trapped, which would explain why she was so gloomy last night. Hmm, hope and feathers…

As Mayu thought through the abstraction of her quirk she noticed the unfinished cup of coffee and Kaori’s phone which just emitted several pings indicating she had just received messages.

Mayu knew she shouldn’t look but…

It’s not like she was snooping through her phone (it has a passcode and she could not for the life of her crack it)

She would just- check her lock screen for the time and…

Mayu hit the button on the side lighting up the screen. Kaori didn’t have a custom  background, just whatever came default with the phone but it did show a preview of the texts she had just received. The sender’s name caused her to make a confused but amused face.

The nosy young woman was not paying attention and did not hear the shower switch off as she scanned over the small blurb of text. Mayu gave a startled jolt as Kaori swung open the bathroom door and came out in a towel. Kaori was equally shocked to see Mayu up.

“What are you doing?” Kaori asked, eyeing her roommate suspiciously.

Mayu hastily grabbed the used mug and brought it to the kitchen under the guise of washing it.

“Oh nothing, couldn’t really sleep so I figured i’d clean up a bit.” She was a terrible liar and knew it.

“Yu…” the tone of her voice was enough to make Mayu fidget.

“Err, well” Mayu scratched her nose then twisted the ends of her hair. The now blue hair is a little frazzled but fluffy from letting it air dry.   Kaori stood arms crossed waiting for her to continue.

“You see…” she reeled “I was…cleaning up,” she gestured to her the mug in her hand “and well your phone went off and I just happened to see the screen when I was leaning over and…” She spun the mug between her hands, a small smile sneaking onto her lips “Who’s ‘Unsolicited dick pics’”?”

Kaori blinked confused.

“What?”

“That’s who texted you- well that’s their name in your phone!” Mayu giggled.

“My phone?”

Who could possibly be named that Kaori thought. Then stopped when the obvious answer hit her, face falling with an un-amused expression. She shook her head and picked up her phone and flicked it on going to her message app to see the full message.

She replied,

Hawks’s response was immediate and Kaori shook her head setting her phone down.

Mayu was watching her expectantly.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Kaori crossed to her bedroom and closed the door enough for some privacy but enough to continue the conversation.

“Who’s dick pic guy?!” Mayu asked, leaning against the wall next to Kaori’s door. She heard Kaori click her tongue.

“He’s not ‘dick pic guy’. Just some smartass who thinks he’s cute.”

“Ah, so he’s cute now.”Mayu teased “Who is he! You said you’d tell me in the morning!”

From inside her room Kaori sighed adjusting her bodysuit making sure the fabric wasn’t bunched before slipping on the rest of her clothes.

“If I tell you, you can’t make a big deal because it is NOT a big deal and this is strictly for work. Pro Hero business”  A dressed Kaori- rather Hex stepped out and pointed a finger at Mayu.

“Super secret and super dangerous!”

Mayu blinked but nodded.

“I’m serious. It’s no big deal” now it was Mayu’s turn to roll her eyes.

“You keep saying that but It’s making me think it is a big deal. Now spill!”

Kaori breathed in and touched her fingers to each other in front of her face at the brim of her nose.

“Hawks” Mayu’s mouth dropped.

“What.”

“I’m not saying it again.”

“No I heard you, just- what, as in, WHAT? Isn’t he mega hot and like the number 2 hero.”

“Yup, that’s the one” Kaori grimaced, speaking through her teeth.

“So you finally agree that he’s hot?” cheeked Mayu recalling a tipsy conversation they had when the popularity ratings were last posted.

“Just because I’m a bird and he’s a bird doesn’t mean I automatically find him attractive.”

“Attractive you say” Yu tried to fish further casting her a lewd look raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Stop.” Kaori moaned, annoyed reaching up to smooth over the feathers at the back of her neck. They tended to tense and puff up when flustered, or in this case, annoyed.

“He’s not my type- too flashy” This caused Mayu to scoff.

“So says miss ‘I’m black as night spooky-spooky bird lady!”

“I’m not flashy and I certainly don’t like the attention!” Kaori waved her hands to maybe try and physically dismiss the subject. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I’m late already, I need to go.” brushing past Mayu and started to pull on her gear.

“We will continue this conversation later young lady” Mayu mock scolded,wagging a finger at her, Kaori shook her head

“Yes mom… I’ll see you later Yu”

______

Hex met with two officers just outside of Takei’s apartment complex. They did not speak to her but offered her a curt nod before gesturing to her to go on ahead of them.

She had never done something like this. To tell someone that their loved one… had died. It wasn’t something Hero’s did. Hero’s swooped in, stopped the bad guys and swooped back out. In and out of people’s lives, never lingering, never personal…

She hesitated, knuckling inches above the door, letting out a tense breath but finally rapt her fist against the worn door.

A soft ‘just a moment’ was heard beyond.

It seemed like an eternity but finally the door swung open and Kenji’s tired mother was revealed.

“Oh Hex.” she said softly, almost surprised to see her at her doorstep. Mrs. Takei’s eyes drifted to the officers who stood formally behind the Pro Hero. She gave a sad, knowing nod.

“Please… come in.”

They had waited for Mrs. Takei to make herself a cup of tea and settle into a seated position before speaking.

“Mrs. Takei…” Hex paused trying to find the right words “Your son- Kenji” She looked down unable to meet the woman’s gaze.

“Kenji’s body was found last night.” Hex said softly. A sad sigh came from the older woman.

“I see…” was all the woman could muster, Hex saw a slight sad shine at the corner of her eyes.

Hex stood and bowed her head low.

“I promised you I would find your son and bring him back to you. I not only failed you. I failed him. I beg for your forgiveness.” the officers bowed as well.

“Oh, no, please.” Mrs. Takei sniffed “Kenji, my son, he died the moment he went missing, I could feel it in my heart. At least now…” she paused again to compose herself. “Now I can lay him to rest properly.”

“I’m so sorry you are going through this Mrs. Takei. If there is anything I can do?” Hex offered a soft and sympathetic look in her eyes.

“You’ve done more than anyone Hex, I’ll be ok.” She sipped her tea.

“I can do more, for Kenji, for the others. Us Hero’s are not giving up-I’m not giving up.” Hex leaned forward and took Mrs. Takei’s hands and spoke sincerely, meeting her eyes “I will get justice for Kenji and for you.” It was a sad but welcome comfort to the woman.

“I know you will Hex, thank you.” Mrs. Takei squeezed the younger woman’s hands and finally let a few tears slip out.

“These officers will help you as best they can with any questions you might have and you can call me anytime you like ok?”

Mrs. Takei nodded sniffing once more then released Hex’s hands and brushed away her tears.

“Before I leave, I wanted to ask you…” Pulling out her phone Hex opened the picture she snapped the previous night of the business card “Does this mean anything to you?” The older woman examined the picture but shook her head no.

Worth a shot.

______

After excusing herself and leaving the apartment Hex made a quick stop back at her apartment to gather her evidence, she loaded it into a knapsack snapping it to one of her buckles and took flight to the hotel just in time for lunch.

Here we go…

Taking a deep breath is Hex strode into the hotel lobby. A quick stop at the concierge pointed the way to one of the conference rooms on the upper floors. The elevator ride was spent admiring how ritzy the place was and how she would put forth her evidence without sounding like a conspiracy theorist.

The conference room had frosted glass preventing her from seeing anything but shadows.

Should she knock? No- Jeesh why was she so nervous?  She felt the feathers on her neck creep up. She shook her shoulders working out the jitter and opened the door.

An impressive spread of food was laid out on the long table. She felt all attention on her as 3 sets of eyes took immediate notice of her intrusion.

Duke Amazing had a mouth full of some sort of sandwich and lifted his bread in salut and continued to chew, a few crumbs in his mustache.

“Hey! It’s the star of the show!” Hawks called out.

He was kicked back in one of the executive chairs, legs propped up on the table and a can of some sort of energy drink in his hand. His other hand gestured to the projector screen at the front of the room showing videos of… well her.

The other person in the room sat next to Hawks upright and smartly dressed in fitting business attire. Her eyes meeting hers seemingly stared at something Hex could not see. Just at a glance she was certain this woman never smiled.

Hawks noted his manager’s dead eye stare and casually elbowed her causing the woman’s focus to drop and lose whatever it was she was looking at.

“This is June, the agency manager.” Hawks gestured to her then to the table “Take a seat, grab some grub, I think we’re getting to the good part.” he swiveled in his chair a bit, rocking himself side to side as he turned his attention back to the screen.

Hex placed her pack on the table and took a seat opposite to Duke.

“This data is old.” She commented idly picking through the food to find something she liked.

“Well,” the manager clicked a remote rewinding a certain part of the video and letting it play again “You’re about as underground as someone can go. The name Hex doesn’t even register on any hero chart. A nobody” she played the next bit in slow motion.

Every beat of her black wings taking up a frame. The familiar motions slowly rolling through her shoulders and hips as the Hex on screen slowly spun and let loose several pointed feathers as projectiles into the villain on screen sending them back and into a wall subdued. June rewound it and played it in real time, the motion as fast as a blink.

“However…” fast forwarding again and video Hex zoomed along the screen, and two other figures joined her. June paused it. Hex frowned as she started at the on screen version of herself.

“Aello,” the picture zoomed in on the blond in the middle. She fluttered in the air, quirk similar to Hex’s but her wings were white and blue.

“ Ocypete” June zoomed in on the other fair haired winged woman on screen. Her wings were green with sparse flecks of black.

“Finally, Celaeno.” June zoomed one final time, this time on Hex. Her jet black wings a stark contrast to the white and green of her partners. Her dark hair is also in conflict with their uniform blond-ness.

Hex did not speak and only stared at her past self posed perfectly behind her flashier partners. Their costumes matched in every way but color. Blue, green, and black. The black of her suit  and her headgear were the only thing she had retained from this past persona.

The only thing worth keeping

Hex though as she eyed her past smile and eyes, perfect for the camera. Remembering how she had felt presenting herself that way.

“The Harpy Sisters- affiliated with King Crow Agency. Currently holding the number 112th slot on the boards despite missing a member.” She let the footage roll again switching to ground combat.

“Celaeno’s such a pretty name.” June mused more to herself then resumed speaking to the room “Still you’re very on brand for this agency.”

Take your brand and stuff it. Is what Hax wanted to say but felt that was a bit unprofessional. But still wanted to make sure the manager understood her stance on the matter.

“I told Hawks last night I don’t do agencies” Hex shoved a bunch of chips into her mouth making a point to crunch loudly.

“Well, as much as it is his agency. I handle all the logistics. And I’m telling you,” she paused folding her hand neatly on the table “We don’t ‘do’ Freelancers and since you don’t ‘do’ agencies  we can’t ‘do’ a team up.” using the same tone to match Hex’s.

“And why not?” Hex questioned trying her best to not let her tone get too uneven “You said yourself I’m nobody. You have nothing to gain by trying to brand me- no one cares. No one cared that I left King Crow, and no one cares now.”

June tutted and had a constrained grimace on her face.

“True no one gives a damn about you Hex. But people care about Hawks. And it’s my job to protect his image so people continue to care about him. I know things are different working underground but topside? This is his world.” She gestures to hawks who simply shrugs “He’s the number 2 hero. Society chose him to be their hero- whoever is represented by his agency is a reflection on him. If we have ‘nobodies’ skulking around his agency it could make a bad impression”

Hex stood abruptly and walked towards the other end of the table.

“June, look now what you’ve done. Scared the poor girl off.” Commented Duke finally brushing his face free of crumbs.

Instead of leaving, Hex grabbed her bag and stomped to where June and Hawks were sitting. Locking eyes with the woman, Hex undid the fastening and dumped the contents out on the desk before her creating a mess.

“This is what I think of your stupid charts and pretty pictures of Hero’s.” quickly rifling through the paper and pulling out the pictures.

“ Taichi Mizo, missing 6 weeks. Ochiro Honda, missing 4 weeks, Ben Darma missing 7 months.”

Hex listed about a dozen people holding a picture to correspond to the names.

“I have been begging for help for weeks on the HN. For one of your ‘top charters’ to notice. To do something about this. But no.” she tossed the pictures on the pile “You were too busy posing for pictures, and worrying about what others think about Hero’s rather than being an actual Hero. Then you get caught with your pants around your ankles. Go “Woops, my bad.”

“I think you’ve made your point”

“Have I?” Hex huffed “Someone died because the only person who cared was me and I was too much of a nobody to help. Then you come at me and tell me how to do things when I’m the only person who’s done anything to try and fix this problem!” The room was awkwardly silent. Hex felt puffed up but resisted the urge to press down her neck and stood firm eyes never leaving June’s.

Duke stood silently and tip-toed out the room, an extra sandwich and bag of chips in his hand closing the door with a soft click.

“Well, that was intense!” Hawks tried to break the tension taking a loud sip from his can. Hex sighed in frustration and began collecting her papers.

So much for being cool.

“Listen, Hex. It’s bullshit, it’s all bullshit.” Hawks started fiddling with the tab of the can “The glitter, the glory. You’re right, we’re caught pants down, dick out-”

“Language” chided June causing Hawks to gesture towards her.

“See what I mean I can’t even tell it how it is without getting my wrists slapped.” June swatts his hand away “Anyway. I asked you to help. I want you to help. Because you care. I admit I have to drink the kool-aid every now and then but that’s the price we pay as Hero’s. The trick is not to chug.” He sips at his own drink “A sip here, a sip there and even bullshit is bearable if it means I can be the Hero I want to be. Now you said last night you needed resources. If it’s one thing this kool-aid man has is resources.” Hex tutted and  finally smoothed down her neck.

“So It comes down to ends and means huh?”

“Seems so Chickadee”

She placed her hand on her hips and looked up and let out a deep breath.

“Fine then. Limited term contract- my previous conditions still stand. Full access and availability to this case.”

“Very good, a 12 month term with the agency.”

“6 months and I retain and manage my own promotional material” It was June’s turn to tutt.

“Unacceptable, the agency manages any and all images associated with the Hero’s under its employ. 9 months with lodgings.”

“I like my apartment, commuting isn’t so bad. 6 months and I can Veto any publicity I deem unnecessary.”

“8 months and you get 1 veto.”

“8 months and I get 2 vetoes” Hex stood firm and crossed her arms.

“8 months, you get 1 veto, and you get to retain your costume and persona. Even though Celaeno would be better branding for the agency.”

June pulled out a pen and pulled out a folder that was buried under the mess of papers Hex had dumped out.

“8 months, 1 Veto, Hex stays and you,” she pointed at Hawks, “no longer call me Chickadee.” It was his turn to tut resuming his twisting in his chair.

“Ah, there is no way I could sign off on a ‘no Chickadee’ clause in your contract Chickadee. Then I’d have to think of a new nickname for you and frankly that’d be too much work.”

“Worth a shot.” She nodded “Ok, deal”

“Fantastic, welcome aboard Hex.”

June quickly filled out the form then handed it along with a sort of stamp to Hawks. He didn’t bother looking over the contract and simply put his stamp to where it needed to be signed then  used a feather to move the contract over to Hex letting it hover until she grabbed it. Once she did he made the feather do a lap around her prompting her swat it away like a fly. Pleased with her annoyance he recalled it and it zoomed back into place among his other vibrant plumage.

She read through its entirety making sure the agreed upon terms were fairly stated. Those stale management courses she took finally came in handy it seemed.

She was as satisfied as she was going to be given the situation and put a pen to the paper.

“Bottoms up Kool-aid man” she said and signed her hero credentials

“Cheers” chimed Hawks cracking open another can.

______

End Notes: I hope you guys are liking this so far. Sorry if it seems a little slow right now.  Chapter 3 is almost done, and four has some agency fun. Also the text parts might seem a little weird since I’m on android and there is no good social dummy app to make fake texts. Anyway, I’m planning to do little fun half parts in between the larger chapters to give myself some time to work on the next parts so looks for that next week.

Thank you!

[skia-oura]

Closing Costs

A/N: Just a fun lil fic about the Ben Trio going house hunting :)

ao3

___________________________________________________

CORDALINE GABLES

Senior Sales Associate

hello@cordgab.org

Phone  HomeStar Inc. Messaging

 Originally from Fairfax, Old Jersey, Cordaline Gables made her home in Norfolk over a decade ago, and has worked in real estate for nineteen years. She double-majored in Business and Transcendence-Age Architecture at the prestigious University of San Antonio. Her expertise is in finding gems hidden in the crooks and corners of suburban Norfolk, but she is additionally skilled at scouting lovely apartments and homes further away from the city center. When she isn’t matching clients to their dream homes, Cordelia enjoys playing recreational badminton with her partner and taking long walks together with their beloved dog, Sniffles. Please place your trust in Cordelia!

Audio Version             Non-English Versions             Font Adjustment

 -

 New Automated Message: New Customer Application Form

NAME: Torako Lam

PARTNER: Yes [2] ; NAME: Bentley Farkas ; NAME: Tyrone Pines

CHILDREN: No

AGE: 27 ; DOB: June 17 3016

PHONE  EMAIL

PRICE RANGE: Up to $350,000  flexible inflexible

LOCATION: Within [75]km from [Niklakka Labs]

SIZE: 450—600 m2

BD: [3+]        

BTH: [1.5+]    

K: [Yes]          

LR: [No]

GRG: [No]

BY/GDN: [Yes]          

à SIZE: 125—175 m2

ADDITIONAL REQUESTS HERE:

--No dimensional subspaces

--Away from magically-charged hotspots

--Customizable Security Systems

--Garden Shed on premises, please

--Large Windows a Plus

Thank you for accommodating us! We look forward to hearing back about the properties under your purview and making our viewing appointments!

 -

 To: tora@lam.com

From: hello@cordgab.org

SUBJECT: Hello from Homestar Realtors!!

RECEIVED: July 19th, 3042

 Dear Torako Lam,

           It’s a pleasure to make your virtual acquaintance! My name is Cordelia Gables, and I’m your HomeStar Inc. appointed estate agent. I look forward to working with you and fulfilling your needs in this new chapter of your life. I have attached a list of five properties that I think may fit your needs. Please view them with your partners and let me know if there are any that don’t fit your specifications so that we may get them out of the way before viewing the homes in person. I await your reply at your earliest convenience!

 Sincerely,

Cordelia Gables

HomeStar Inc. Realtors

 House Profile 1/5:

1345 16th Avenue

Norfolk, VA 68C 22980

4 Beds  | 2 Bath  |  529 m2  | $298,000

[49 img]

 A lovely four-bedroom family home, this property includes high-quality faux-wood flooring, recently renovated wallboard, and a lovely spiral staircase straight out of a 2500’s property magazine. The kitchen boasts a brand-new stove and oven set as well as a state of the art StayFridge™ made from the finest recycled materials from North Africa. The front garden is already blooming with the loveliest daphnes, and the entire property is fenced in by rosebushes. The backyard is perfect for the smallest feet, whether those be of children or beloved pets. Don’t forget the stylish and practical EverExpanding Cabinetry installed in every part of the house—you will never run out of storage space! Each bathroom boasts a shower-tub combo, and the upper floor bathroom comes with gorgeous hand-tiled floors.

House Profile 2/5:

195 St. Phillip’s Crtwy.

Norfolk, VA 68C 22980

3 Beds  | 3 Bath  |  501 m2  |  $311,000

[12 img]

 This three-bedroom, three-story property sits in the center of the city, a mere five-minute’s walk from two elementary schools and ten minutes from the nearest junior high school. While the original structure dates back all the way to 2258, its most recent renovation was completed less than five years ago in 3039. You are certain to love the open kitchen-dining-living room setup that comprises the bottom floor, leaving the remaining three beds and two baths on the upper two floors. Each bedroom has a Magical View Window, with settings that include worldwide destinations as well as the default ‘Real’ setting for those who prefer to stay close to home. Comes with a Laundry Room in an AltBasement. Gardening space and shed included.

 House Profile 3/5:

98 Summer Estates 29¾ th St.

Norfolk, VA 68C 22981

5 Beds  | 2.5 Bath  |  598 m2  | $253,000

[28 img]

             Don’t let this house’s exterior fool you! This customizable and generous home is sure to make you feel a sense of belonging inside with its cozy ethically-sourced carpets, warm ReelWoodTM paneled walls, and burnished staircase leading to a second floor. This home includes a basement for any storage needs as well as an attic! An antique kitchen with a real non-stasis fridge are sure to fill you with longing for older, simpler times away from the busy heyday of modern life and modern worries. While the garden needs some tender love in the front (perfect for those who love a project!), the back hosts two sheds and plenty of space to grow your own produce!

 House Profile 4/5:

637 S. Felicity Dr.

Norfolk, VA 68C 22982

4 Beds  | 2 Bath  |  645 m2  | $290,000

[118 img]

             Comfortably situated in the hilly outskirts of Norfolk, this property will let you live out all your rural life fantasies without sacrificing the conveniences of urban living. Located close to a municipal transport station and within a ten minute’s bike ride of a small neighborhood shopping center, this two-story house boasts an expansive front porch and a balcony off the master bedroom. Each bedroom is larger than average, and each bathroom has a shower/tub room separate from the toilet and wash sink. The kitchen is recently renovated with state of the art appliances included in the price of purchase. The grounds around the property are large enough for both a garden and for outdoor activities such as badminton or good old fashioned tag. A basement provides adequate storage space without the hassle of dimensional subspace installment or upkeep.

 House Profile 5/5:

12841 NE 112th Pl.

Norfolk, VA 68C 22981

3 Beds  | 1.5 Bath  |  398 m2  |  $215,000

[56 img]

             Boasting a reasonably large garden, this cozy home is at the southern end of the city, within convenient distance of a major hospital, a police station, and several schools. Public transportation is not an issue! And neither will be cooking in the quaint kitchenette, set directly across a furnished dining room. One bedroom and half bathroom are on the bottom floor, and the remaining rooms are located on the second floor. Please see the attached images for more information!

 -

 July 19th

KoraTora

I’ve forwarded you the message the realtors sent me. Objections to any of these before I comb through them for my own preferences?

 DipTipTyrone

i still vote we just shack up with the sheep

 KoraTora

Oh my stars dips that’s

we agreed that’s not a possibility

we would literally go insane

 Bentley:

No, we would go mad almost immediately

Yes what Tora said

Um, looking at them, House 1 is out for sure. You sure you specified no extra-dimensional subspaces?

 KoraTora

You know I did

 DipTipTyrone

i got a perfectly good house up there. antique. ud love it. historians dream. excellent neighbors too. dont pry. no drama.

also protip house3 has some srs bad vibes. I think I actually recognize the basement wallpaper, on second thought.

 KoraTora

????

 DipTipTyrone

Yeah, that striping—oh, that was a pretty good one. Didn’t need to answer a call for the following five years.

 Bentley

In that case, I think we’re not going to do house 3, Tora.

 KoraTora

Ohshit

Whaddya mean, Ben?? Don’t want to live there?? It could???? Be fun!!!!

 Bentley

Yeah no

 KoraTora

Roger that, no worries.

So no to 1 and 3, any others problematic?

Oh wait Ben, u might want to take another look at 2 if u haven’t already.

 Bentley

?

What do you mean, it looked fine?

3 stories are good by me

Sure the counters in the kitchen are ugly in the photos but?

 DipTipTyrone

AltBasement and Magic Windows

u wont like them

 Bentley

Oh

Okay, then 1-3 are all out. You good with 4 and 5, Tora? Dip?

 KoraTora

Yeah I hated 2’s counters too

So I’m good with checking 4 and 5 out for now.

We can always see others after this too!!

 DipTipTyrone

youre the ones actually living there

 KoraTora

Don’t u start on that mister

ur living with us, even if you’re not always around

 Bentley

It’s gonna be your home too, you know

Anyways, I can make time for an appointment next week, Tora, so don’t worry about timing on my end too much

They keep trying to send me home early anyways. Keep talking about PTSD and resting and whatever.

 KoraTora

What happened??

I will drag you home

And lay on you

And make you rest

 Bentley

Nothing happened!! They’re just worried

All the time

…Dipper you did not show up at the front desk.

This is not a good place for you

Dipper

 KoraTorako

Dipper yes!!

But also no!!!!!!

 DipTipTyrone

We’ll be home soon.

Love you.

 KoraTorako

<3

But also that was dumb shit you just pulled

 -

Appointment Notice

7/21/42

SSA: Gables, ID 980039385

CLIENT: Torako Lam +2, ID 64239

PROPERTIES: House #4428, House #6609

START TIME: 10:30, from HomeStar Inc. HQ

END TIME: 12:30, SPECIAL ALLOWANCE Late Lunch Hour, Gables, ID 980039385

NOTES:

Will initially view House #4428 before venturing out to the outskirts of Norfolk to view House #6609. Hopefully one suffices; if not, consider suggesting Houses #1103, #4345, and #3327.

Potentially choosy clients.

 -

 Shari Ndadia, 11:28 AM

Cords, I heard you’re back early?

What happened?

 Cordelia Gables, 11:29 AM

My intuition was right, they are uncannily choosy clients

We didn’t even make it into 4428 before one of them stopped still and said ‘No.’

 Shari Ndadia, 11:29 AM

Holy shit

What??

What was it?? It couldn’t have been the exterior. It was so nice in the pics I’ve seen.

You always snatch up the nice ones.

 Cordelia Gables, 11:30 AM

Apparently

The InvisiFence was too magical

 Shari Ndadia, 11:30 AM

What the?

But, like, almost all the houses in Norfolk proper have InvisiFences?

 Cordelia Gables, 11:30 AM

Exactly

Which is why I thought ‘oh thank God we’ve got 6609, no InvisiFence’

And it went well at first, but then I told them about the security system

And the tall one was like ‘oh no’

And I was also like ‘oh no’

 Shari Ndadia, 11:32 AM

Wait

Wait

You’re still at square one with these clients?

 Cordelia Gables, 11:32 AM

Yes.

 Shari Ndadia, 11:32 AM

You? Queen of Sales?

She Who Strikes Yes On At Least One Initial Property?

 Cordelia Gables, 11:33 AM

Like I said: choosy.

 Shari Ndadia, 11:33 AM

What was wrong with the security system?

 Cordelia Gables, 11:33 AM

Not customizable

Though to be fair

They probably were only going to give that house a maybe

They weren’t too thrilled about the stasis fridge

 Shari Ndadia, 11:35 AM

…choosy.

I wish you luck with them. You going to go through our backlog of communal properties yet?

 Cordelia Gables, 11:36 AM

I’m not that desperate yet.

 -

To: olpink@homstar.com

From: cogable@homestar.com

SUBJECT: Issue with Client Lam [64239]

RECEIVED: July 30th, 3042

Mx. Pinkflax

           I regret to inform you that I have truly exhausted all of our listed properties for Client Lam and her partners. They have refused everything I have offered; I wonder myself if the property they want even exists within Norfolk. Between their confusing and adamant disdain for any kind of dimensional subspace (including things as mundane as storage spaces) and their insistence on customizable security systems, as well as their avoidance and hesitance around any kind of technology that involves stasis in any way, shape, or form, it has been impossible to fulfil their needs with the properties available to us.

           My suggestion moving forward is to either assign them to another Realtor within HomeStar, or to transfer their entire application to another company. If I recall correctly, you are on friendly terms with Lindquist Realtors. Perhaps something in their directory will suffice.

 Sincerely

Cordelia Gables

 To: cogable@homestar.com

From: olpink@homestar.com

SUBJECT: RE: Issue with Client Lam [64239]

RECEIVED: July 30th, 3042

Cordelia,

           Are you sure there’s nothing? You’ve gone through the communal backlog? I’ve looked over the application and I have some thoughts. What about House #7421? Or #8577? They’re a bit above price range, but I believe they could work.

 Olive Pinkflax

 To: olpink@homstar.com

From: cogable@homestar.com

SUBJECT: RE: Issue with Client Lam [64239]

RECEIVED: July 30th, 3042

Mx. Pinkflax,

           With all due respect, I have met with this trio every day for the last week. I dug into the backlog. I have recommended over 50 properties and shown them about a third of those. I was close with #4443, but the damn pet flap and subspace pet room killed it. If I don’t get a break from dealing with these very nice, very terrible clients, I will explode. The brown haired one has taken to very poorly concealed laughter whenever the hoodie-mask one refuses to set foot on the property. I cannot.

           If you have ideas of properties that would suffice, please be my guest. It would be nice to get back into the practical side if things, wouldn’t it?

 Sincerely,

Cordelia Gables

 -                              

 OLIVE PINKFLAX

Senior Realtor

hello@pinkoliv.org

Phone  HomeStar Inc. Messaging

 Born and raised in Norfolk, Olive Pinkflax hasn’t always wanted to be in the real estate business. They studied History of Architecture and Design in Georgia at the University of Savannah with the intent of pursuing a career in either graphic design or interior decorating. They then went abroad to work at non-profit agencies for a total of five years—in which the job market back home changed, largely at the fault of the Recession of 2978. Due to a lack of job openings, however, they eventually took a secretarial position at UniqNorfolq, a small real-estate business. There, they learned the tools of the trade due to insufficient staffing. By 2995, UniqNorfolq had become HomeStar under Pinkflax’s capable hand. While still small, they have grown the company into a name synonymous with quality, perseverance, and dedication to their clients. When not busy at their company, Pinkflax enjoys painting at home and doting on their pet rat, Squeakums.  

Audio Version             Non-English Versions             Font Adjustment

 -

 Client Transfer Notice, HomeStar Inc. Realtors

7/30/42

CLIENT: Torako Lam +2, ID 64239

ORG SSA: Gables, ID 980039385

NEW SSA: Pinkflax, ID 980012114

REASONING:

Client Lam and her partners have proven to be challenging cases. As this is the case, I have decided that the current best course of action would be to handle their properties personally. Attached to their case file are a list of all the properties that they have been recommended and shown, as well as notes describing their reasons for discontinuing interest. I am open to collaboration and ideas.

Pinkflax

 -

 July 31st

KoraTorako

We’ve been transferred to another Realtor at HomeStar, guys. Apparently it’s the owner of the company.

Bentley

I was afraid this would happen.

We’re being so picky.

DipTipTyrone

Better to be picky now and end up with what we want later!

A quickly made deal is always worse for the receiving party. Better to bide our time.

KoraTorako

Yeah, what Dip said

Also, of course we’re picky??? We’re traumatized.

We’re allowed to be picky, even if they don’t know why.

Bentley

I mean…I could live with a subspace we’d never use, I guess

KoraTorako

No

DipTipTyrone

No

Bentley

Why??

It’s my hangup

KoraTorako

You’re already compromising on stasisware

Bentley

We can always replace that!!

KoraTorako

So?? It still makes you super uncomfortable for completely valid reasons.

I still think we shouldn’t compromise on that.

Bentley

If we didn’t compromise on that

There would be nothing in Norfolk

I’m starting to think there is nothing with our current demands

The house on Clement was cute, wasn’t it? It was nice!

DipTipTyrone

It had the subspace pet flap

Bentley

That we’d never use!!

KoraTorako

You looked ready to start sparking

Or glittering

And also you had that ‘I’m on the edge of reexperiencing all of my recent traumas’ face on

Bentley

If I can deal with everything in daily life

I can deal with a pet flap

KoraTorako

But it’s our home

You shouldn’t have to deal with it at home

This is supposed to be a safe space.

DipTipTyrone

Home isn’t daily—ok Torako got me.

Bentley

It’d be better than the apartment we’re living in right now

Which

If you remember

Is where I got kidnapped from

DipTipTyrone

I do keep mentioning we can live with the Sheep

KoraTorako

You make a fair point, Bentley But also, this is a house we’re going to be in for a long while

Let’s make it worth it, ok?

Bentley

I

Fine, whatever

KoraTorako

I don’t want us to live here either

If we need to we can, I don’t know, AirDrop an apartment for a couple months

Keep our stuff in the apartment so that we don’t have to move it all immediately

We can make this work, Ben. We can have our steak and eat it too.

…

Bentley?

 -

Appointment Notice

8/03/42

SSA: Pinkflax, ID 980012114

CLIENT: Torako Lam +2

PROPERTIES: House #7421, House #8577, House #2468, House #1697

START TIME: 12:30, departure from HomeStar Inc. HQ

END TIME: 15:30, departure either from House #1697 or from HomeStar Inc. HQ in best case scenario

Starting with Houses #8577 and #7421 on the very outskirts of Norfolk, we will work our way into the center of town where both House #2468 and #1697 are located. None of the properties have any listed subspace technology integrated into the premises, none of them have magically-powered fences or windows, and only one comes equipped with a stasis fridge. Will make offer to replace fridge with an older but still highly functional device free of charge if the property is accepted.

 -

Client Profile Update

DATE:8/03/42

CLIENT: Torako Lam +2 [Bentley Farkas, Tyrone Pines]

CLIENT ID: 64239

CLASSIFICATION: Buyer

SPECIFICATIONS: Listed below

…

PROPERTY RECORD:

SSA: Gables, ID 980039385

 House #1212: Declined w/o viewing.

Reasoning: Extra-dimensional installations and heavy reliance on Magitech Appliances. [detail: Kitchen Appliances, Cabinetry]

 House #3958: Declined w/o viewing.

Reasoning: Extra-dimensional installations and heavy reliance on Magitech Appliances. [detail: Alternative Basement, Windows]

 House # 2249: Declined w/o viewing.

Reasoning: Basement wallpaper and house history. [detail: 2950’s owners were heavily involved with the Cult of Futures Past, Decorative Preferences]

 House #4428: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: Heavy reliance on Magitech Appliances [detail: InvisiFence surrounding property. Client Farkas refused to cross the boundary, saying “No” nearly immediately. Apparently sensitive to magical energy. Caution moving onwards is advised.]

 House #6609: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: Security System installed in the property is incapable of being customized. [detail: Client Lam has expressed that a non-customizable security system is out of the question. Furthermore, Client Farkas expressed discomfort with the Stasis Fridge. Caution moving onwards is advised.]

 House #1033: Declined w/o viewing.

Reasoning: Interior did not align with Client Decorative Preferences. [detail: shag carpeting, loud wallpaper, windows too small]

 House #3290: Declined w/o viewing.

Reasoning: Security System installed in the property is incapable of being customized.

[detail: Client Lam somehow pieced together the security code engraved around all the doors and windows, researched it, and discovered that the code is unalterable without starting over completely from scratch. IE, a warding expert carefully sanding down the inscribed code and then re-installing it to customer specifications. The House Profile has since been updated. Client Lam has since expressed that she would be open to having an initially insecure home to make secure herself. Uncertain if actually qualified to do such work.]

 House #5533: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: Household Electrical Wiring is too reliant on MagiTech. [detail: Client Farkas, again, expressed his distaste with the whole affair immediately upon entering the house by saying, “No,” and walking out again. How he noticed the wiring through solid wall is a mystery for the ages. Sensitivity to magic alone cannot explain it.]

 House #7567: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: Interior did not align with Client Decorative Preferences. [detail: Upon seeing the decoratively engraved floorboards up close, Client Pines recoiled and uttered, verbatim, “The day I spend any significant amount of time in this accursed home is the day I lay waste to the whole of humanity.” Apparently the script contains excerpts from the original Twin Souls literature. Housing detail has been accordingly updated.]

 House #2675: Declined w/o viewing.

Reasoning: Interior did not align with Client Decorative Preferences. [detail: Apparently, Clients Lam, Farkas, and Pines are not fans of rooster-themed kitchen décor.]

 House #1181: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: Basement too reliant on MagiTech and extra-dimensional subspace technology. [detail: The basement was a secret basement. Client Pines stared at the living room floor for an uncomfortably long time before raising his head and telling the SSA, “You might want to be careful opening that.” Property Owner has since been alerted and advised to proceed with caution.]

[UPDATE 7/29: Property has been pulled from the market while police reopen a case and conduct an investigation.]

 House #4482: Declined w/o viewing.

Reasoning: Interior did not align with Client Preferences. [detail: 3 bedrooms minimum is non-negotiable and the bathrooms were too cramped]

 House #5319: Declined w/o viewing.

Reasoning: Interior did not align with Client Decorative Preferences. [detail: They don’t like the color of the walls. Note to stay away from overly bright greens and yellows in the future.]

 …

[scrolling]

…

 House #5497: Declined w/o viewing.

Reasoning: House Address. [detail: like many other clients before them, the prospects of living at 6969 Dickinson Straightway appear to have caused the clients to decline this particular property.]

 House #9569: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: Building Materials not up to Client Standards. [detail: After showing the clients around the property for fifteen minutes, Client Lam hummed, squinted her eyes at the nearest window, and said, “Does that window look like somebody could break through it to you two?” The next five minutes were spent by Clients Lam and Pines discussing the fragility of triple-reinforced glass against various potential weapons, tools, etc {not limited to but including demonic powers, a bazooka, and a thumbtack} while Client Farkas sat down on the floor, put his gloved hands over his face, and muttered a nearly unintelligible “I’m sorry” to presumably the SSA. These clients are hopeless.]

 House #4443: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: Pet Flap and Pet Room are too reliant on extra-dimensional subspaces. [detail: Client Farkas stared at the pet flap, turned around, and put his hand on the SSA’s shoulder before saying, “No,” and walking out. Housing information has since been updated to include the unlisted Pet Room.]

 House #3944: Declined w/o viewing.

Reasoning: Unclear. [detail: Client Lam, in the emailed response, simply said, “Look, we’re all tired and this house is too square(?) for {Client Pines}, so we’re just gonna give it a couple days before trying again.”]

[SSA is going to file for a transfer of client.]

 SSA: Pinkflax, ID 980012114

 House #7421: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: Distance.

Detail: Too far from nearest transporter station.

SSA Comments: Clients appeared pleased with most aspects of the house. As per SSA Gable’s consultation, Client Lam appears most concerned with matters of household security. Client Farkas is harder to read, due to constantly wearing sunglasses, a hoodie, and a surgical mask despite the weather, but does not hesitate to make his opinions clear. Client Pines is…a mystery.

 House #8577: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: Décor, House Layout, Location.

Detail: Housing does not come with security, but the spackled walls and ceiling are apparently difficult to do the variety of warding Client Lam is used to. Layout is, according to Client Pines, confusing. House 8577 is also apparently on the edge of a minor magical hotspot, as Client Farkas has confirmed.

SSA Comments: The difficulty in getting the clients a suitable home is evident. Client Farkas appears to be the biggest wildcard, despite his consistency in what he refuses. There simply does not seem to be a reliable way to ensure that the properties will not set him against them and are simultaneously up to other standards shared by all three clients.

 House #2468: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: House Size, presence of Extra-Dimensional Subspace, Décor.

Detail: At 780m2, the premises were too large for upkeep. While Client Pines seemed to disagree, offering to do more cleaning in exchange for snacks and ice cream, both Client Lam and Client Farkas weren’t convinced enough to ignore the décor (the elaborate crown molding is too “ostentatious” and “creepy,”) and certainly not when the non-disclosed extra-dimensional subspace was discovered in a false wardrobe.

SSA Comments: After the clients left, I investigated. Inside the subspace, kept pristine likely only by the fact that time does not pass quickly within those places, was an additional bed and a luxurious bathroom. The style of bedsheets and drapes indicates that the subspace was installed nearly a century ago, which seems odd seeing as subspaces in those days were unstable and tended to disintegrate. On a different note, this time it was both Clients Pines and Farkas who balked at the presence of the subspace. Take note to pay more attention to reactions in the future, and to survey properties properly before visitations.

 House #1697: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: Security System.

Detail: Client Lam disagreed with the validity and effectiveness of the existing security system, and upon a close study of it (25 minutes), declared that it would be too difficult to properly alter and that removal would only be slightly easier.

SSA Comments: I would pay for the removal myself if it made these clients buy the house. There were no other issues with it. Upon my making the offer out loud, Client Lam laughed and said, “No, no, that’s all right! I’d rather find something a little more ready first!”

 House #2292: Declined w/o viewing.

Reasoning: House Layout.

Detail: House is built like a townhome, with a main room and bathroom on each of its 5 levels; Clients professed concern regarding the kitchen being on a separate floor from the living and dining room.

SSA Comments: Unfortunate. The building fit all of their specifications—the security system installed is simple to both customize and remove, there are miraculously no extra dimensional spaces on premises, and the only significant presence of magical technology in the entire property is the mailbox, which can be replaced at a very low cost. We investigated ourselves. Client Lam, their partnership’s point of contact, did say that it was a close call, but that ultimately they would only purchase when completely satisfied.

 House #1357: Viewed, but declined.

Reasoning: Décor.

Detail: Client Pines felt the colors were too ‘smorple’ and ‘floreen’ and several other descriptors that do not appear in any dictionary. When asked if he had noticed the issues when viewing the profile sent to them, he confessed that the colors simply ‘were different in person.’ Client Lam agreed that she didn’t appreciate the tile flooring in the kitchen. Client Farkas was quiet.  

SSA Comments: I hate to admit it, but I know a lost cause when I see one. Do they even want a house?

 -

 To: qilarlindquist@lindquistrealtors.com

From: olpink@homestar.com

Attached: ClientRecord64239.qbf

SUBJECT: A Professional Request

RECEIVED: August 7th, 3042

Dearest Qilar,

             I hope that this message finds you well. How is your family doing? I (and Squeakums, for that matter) look forward to our bi-weekly dinner and movie. I know you’ve discussed that the last full moon has left you feeling worn out, and I look forward to relaxing with you for a night.

           I write this message in the hopes that you would be amenable to taking on a client of ours. Unfortunately, we have been incapable of finding a property that would completely satisfy their desires. We have exhausted our listings. I know that you have several properties in Norfolk, and even those close to major terminals outside of Norfolk. I also know that you like a challenge.

           Attached is the client file for your information. Names and personal information have, of course, been redacted. They will be readable upon your agreement to take these clients on. The clients have of course been notified about this possible course of action. Should you decline this case, I would be more than understanding.

 Well wishes to you and yours,

Olive Pinkflax

 -

 To: tora@lam.com

From: hello@qilarlind.org

SUBJECT: Welcome to your experience at Lindquist Realtors!

RECEIVED: August 10th, 3042

 Dear Ms. Lam,

           Hello. My name is Qilar Lindquist. You and I have not had the pleasure of meeting, but I am sure that when we do, it will be wonderful. As you may know, my good friend Mx. Pinkflax conveyed to me their concerns that they didn’t have the property best suited to you in their register. However, with access to a larger company such as Lindquist Realtors, they hoped that you would have more success. If you are still obliging, I am more than happy to take you and your partners on as clients of Lindquist Realtors. It would be thrilling to find you the house you and your partners have been dreaming of. Please respond to this message as soon as you are capable, so that we may begin the process.

 Sincerely,

Qilar Lindquist

Lindquist Realtors

 -

 QILAR LINDQUIST

Senior Realtor

hello@qilarlind.org

Phone  Lindquist Realtors Homepage

Alternative Display Options

             While not born and raised in Norfolk, Qilar Lindquist has been settled in this fine city for the past 20 years. A born werewolf, Qilar has always wanted to follow his parents’ footsteps. He succeeded as well, opening up a new branch of Lindquist Realtors in Norfolk at the tender age of 28. He studied business, architecture, and chemistry at the University of Des Moines. Intelligent, quick-witted, and charming, Qilar Lindquist is dedicated to serving his clients in any way he can. Outside of work, he is involved with the local community theater and can be found volunteering at various non-profit goodwill organizations around the city. His husband often joins him in these endeavors.  

 Back to Realtor Biographies Homepage

 -

 August 13th, 3042

Chat with Saint Akuapem

6:36 PM

Thank you for the scones the other day. Hepsa enjoyed them.

So did I.

How is house-hunting going?

6:59 PM

Sorry, still working that Thompson case.

Thanks for working with me on it.

And the house hunting’s not going so great.

7:12 PM

Of course. You’re bright. I like hearing your input.

Just not situated to be a public officer of the law.

What with your friend.

7:13 PM

I know.

7:13 PM

I’m sorry to hear it is not going as well as hoped.

Would you like to talk about it?

7:14 PM

The realtor company you recommended couldn’t find anything for us

So we’ve been transferred to another realtor.

7:15 PM

Nothing? Really?

What realtor?

7:15 PM

Yeah, nothing. Lindquist Realtors.

7:16 PM

Hepsa says they are good. You are in good hands.

7:16 PM

Yeah, we had our first house hunting today.

I’m just worried it’s going to go nowhere here as well.

7:18 PM

Sorry for saying but. I find that hard to believe.

You will find a house.

What are your specifications?

7:19 PM

Ummm 3 BR 2 BTH Defs LDK

450-600 SQM

Garden with like 100-200 SQM?

No Magitech if possible, no exdim subspaces at all

Security system gotta be customizable or not there at all

We can be a little picky with décor sometimes

And house gotta be sturdy

There’s probably something else

7:26 PM

I see.

That would be difficult.

Are you willing to compromise on anything?

7:27 PM

Price. I put down 350k but if it gets me the house I want

Then I’ll pay more.

7:27 PM

Understood.

Where are you staying now?

7:27 PM

Still in the apartment

Got the lease to finish

Hate it but until we have somewhere else

7:29 PM

…how is Bentley?

7:29 PM

He’s stressed.

With the house, and being here

He’s always having nightmares

So tired all the time

Insists on going to work though and I cant talk him out of it

I want to get a house for him

But I don’t want him to have to deal with all the shit he is in the apartment

He doesn’t see himself as important enough to take care of, sometimes

So I have to take that into account

7:32 PM

What exactly is going on, Torako?

How is Bentley not taking care of himself?

7:32 PM

Like, it’s not that I don’t understand where hes coming from

I get that I might be being a bit unreasonable

But he keeps saying ‘oh I can just DEAL with having an exdim subspace in the house’

‘never mind that it’s a huge trigger for all my trauma’

‘and that I sometimes cant stop looking at it just to make sure its still there and im still on the reality side of things’

‘ill just wear my magic-cancelling glasses all the time’

‘and be unable to sleep from the headache’

‘it’s not that big of a deal, torako, let’s have the magitech here that hurts to look at too much’

‘who cares, it’s just a fridge torako!! Not like it was used to TRANSPORT ME to a FOREIGN COUNTRY so that a MADMAN could CONDUCT EXPERIMENTS ON ME to the point that I almost took FATALLY DRASTIC ACTION’

He keeps saying he’ll just put up with his trauma like it’s a minor inconvenience!!

And he shouldn’t have to do that.

Not in a house that’s our own.

7:36 PM

Bentley was what now.

7:36 PM

Oh right

You didn’t know that part

7:36 PM

You went to get him.

7:36 PM

of course

I love him

7:36 PM

Therapy?

7:36 PM

Bentley? Yeah.

Hell of an NDA.

7:37 PM

No, you.

7:37 PM

She’s the only other person who knows everything.

Like, everything everything.

wait what?

7:37 PM

Torako.

I think you’re not doing as well as you think you are.

7:37 PM

Bentley was tortured

I wasnt

7:38 PM

I’ll believe you on that.

But you still devoted yourself to finding him.

And he was tortured, and you have to deal with the consequences of that too.

7:38 PM

???

7:39 PM

You sound stressed, Torako.

And scared.

7:39 PM

Maybe a little

But Bentleys more important rn

7:40 PM

I would say you’re both equally important.

Sorry, Torako, Hepsa is calling me; we’re going to a late night movie.

I’ll keep my eye out for you.

7:40 PM

OK

Thank you

I really appreciate it

 -

 Client Profile Update

DATE:8/15/42

CLIENT: Torako Lam +2 [Bentley Farkas, Tyrone Pines]

CLIENT ID: IMP64239

CLASSIFICATION: Buyer

CAUTION: PICKY, SPECIFIC, UNCOMPROMISING

SPECIFICATIONS: Listed below

…

LINDQUIST REALTORS PROPERTY RECORD:

SSA: Lindquist, ID 109A854D

…

…

NEW UPDATES 8/15/42

 HOUSE ID: 798A 209X

ADDRESS: 389 West Hampton Drive

SELLER: Mx. Adelaide Hanson

STATUS: DECLINED

NOTES: Unfortunately, despite attempts to the contrary, the clients were not impressed with the security system. We discussed it at length at Lindquist Realtors and felt it sufficient, but Client Lam insisted quite sternly that she needed to have full control over the system. RapierSolutions is a top of the line system. I tried to convey that to Client Lam, but she refused to hear sense. “I need to be able to alter it,” she said. “If I can’t alter it, it’s a no-go—especially with those weak windows and the shallow hinges on the entryways.” Mx. Pinkflax was not kidding around when they said Client Lam was a bit controlling over safety specifications. Possible paranoia?

 HOUSE ID: 665D 187L

ADDRESS: 9821 NW 4736 PL

SELLER: Mr. and Ms. Nakatani

STATUS: DECLINED, INACTIVE

NOTES: We combed the premises for subspaces personally. Nevertheless, Client Farkas quietly pointed out that there was a secret bunker hidden under the premises, and that it spanned the entire property. While he hastened to assure us that it wouldn’t be that much of an issue, Client Lam overheard and insisted that they wouldn’t buy any property with extradimensional subspaces. When Client Farkas attempted to tell his partner that they weren’t going to use that garden gate anyways, Client Lam shut him down. Client Pines also wandered over from where he was inspecting the brick wall of the garden, said “This place might be cursed,” and waved his partners cheerily off of the premises.

Upon notifying the authorities as required by law that there may or may not be a curse on the premises, the police shut down the premises. Any attempt to contact Mr. and Mrs. Nakatani beyond alerting them to the existence of the subspace has been unsuccessful.

UPDATE: the extradimensional basement is now the scene of a crime. 665D 187L is now under government jurisdiction.

 HOUSE ID: 278K 396V

ADDRESS: 421 Wildstar Avenue

SELLER: Mr. Fegelhorn and Mr. Gil

STATUS: DECLINED

NOTES: Client Lam, predictably, criticized the ‘astounding lack of security’ in the warding system, the ‘structural instability’ of a perfectly good cellar window, and the presence of a stasis fridge on the premises. Client Farkas was silent. Client Pines said that he ‘liked the staircase’ but that the upstairs bathroom tub was ‘too small for his preferences.’ Naturally, the clients declined the home.

 HOUSE ID: 525P 792S

ADDRESS: 98 Maplefarm S. Street

SELLER: Mrs. Polinski

STATUS: DECLINED, INACTIVE

NOTES: Surprisingly, it was not Client Lam or Client Farkas who had reason to decline the property. This is probably because Client Pines, five steps past the garden gate, hissed and bodily hauled his partners away from the grounds. When asked what the matter was, he snarled out in the most terrifying voice something about unquestionable evil and the screams of the undead. As required by Law, we have notified the authorities.

UPDATE: Property is now under police jurisdiction. Norfolk Government Demonologists and Exorcists evacuated the entire block for a full 48 hours. It seems Mrs. Polinski was being possessed by a terribly old demon, Hyutgen the Voracious and had been for an undetermined amount of time.

What is up with these Clients and finding horrific crime scenes?

-

August 15th, 3042

Chat with Handsome <3 <3 <3

5:28 PM

Darling, what’s up?

You seem to be staying late at the agency today

As of late, really.

Is it The Clients?

5:57 PM

I’m so sorry.

Yes, it is.

This is much more difficult than anticipated.

Olive called it a challenge and I was foolish enough to think I had it in the bag.

The Clients are insatiable.

There’s always something wrong with the properties. Always.

And they keep uncovering properties as crime scenes??

6:03 PM

I’m so sorry darling.

6:03 PM

I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Bayani.

I’m so tired.

I’ve shown them over 30 properties, personally.

6:04 PM

Do you want to talk it out?

I can get your favorite dinner together

We can curl up on the couch

Put on some Strandson

6:05 PM

You know what?

Yeah.

Yeah, that sounds nice.

I’ll be home in 10 minutes.

6:06 PM

See you soon <3

6:06 PM

<3 <3

 -

 To: tora@lam.com

From: hello@qilarlind.org

SUBKECT: Realtor Change Notification

RECEIVED: August 16th, 3042

 Dear Ms. Lam,

           My apologies in advance for the contents of this email, though I hope it finds you well. Unfortunately, due to my position as head of company, I am unable to continue being your Realtor. I have transferred you to the care of one of my very capable senior agents. Mx. Ya-en. I hope that you understand, and that Mx. Ya-en can see to your needs better than I have.

 Sincerely,

Qilar Lindquist

Lindquist Realtors

 -

 HARLEY YA-EN

Senior Realtor

hello@harleyyaen.org

Phone  Lindquist Realtors Homepage

Alternative Display Options

             Harley Ya-en, despite xir elderly age of 84, is one of Lindquist Realtor’s most capable senior Realtors. A psychic who can read auras, Harley Ya-en is capable of anticipating the client’s needs and emotions. This allows Mx. Ya-en practical insight into which properties will suit a buying client’s needs. Xe also has a wealth of knowledge regarding the Norfolk area due to living here for the past 50 years, and is a font of trivia sure to satisfy the most curious of souls. Xe lives with xir husband and wife, and enjoys taking road trips—

 -

 To: qilarlindquist@lindquistrealtors.com

From: harleyyaen@lindquistrealtors.com

SUBJECT: LOL NO

RECEIVED: August 17th, 3042

 Qilar,

           Holy fucking shit you do not pay me enough for this. You have to transfer them. I cannot work with these clients.

Sincerely,

Harley

 -

 To: harleyyaen@lindquistrealtors.com

From: qilarlindquist@lindquistrealtors.com

SUBJECT: RE: LOL NO

RECEIVED: August 17th, 3042

 Harley,

           What happened?? What did they do??

 Qilar

 -

 To: qilarlindquist@lindquistrealtors.com

From: harleyyaen@lindquistrealtors.com

SUBJECT: RE: LOL NO

RECEIVED: August 17th, 3042

 Qilar,

           They didn’t do anything in particular. They’re just impossible clients—I’m thinking it’s not even their fault, entirely—and I have read their file. Even with that, I was hesitantly down for the challenge until I saw their auras and interacted with them today. I am Not Doing It. I am too old for this. Give me another assignment.

 Sincerely,

Harley

 -

 To: harleyyaen@lindquistrealtors.com

From: qilarlindquist@lindquistrealtors.com

SUBJECT: RE: LOL NO

RECEIVED: August 17th, 3042

 Harley,

           I’m sorry, I need more explanation than this to take you off immediately. I handled a week. So can you. You can’t use your age as an excuse all the time.

 Qilar

 -

 To: qilarlindquist@lindquistrealtors.com

From: harleyyaen@lindquistrealtors.com

SUBJECT: RE: LOL NO

RECEIVED: August 17th, 3042

 Qilar,

           Fine: here it is.

           I only got the two Clients. Client Pines was, as they said, out on important business, who knows when he’ll be back. Something was fishy about that but okay, I won’t pry, and these two are setting me off on edge a little as is so maybe it’s just that.

           Then the more I interact with them, the more I realize that Client Farkas’s aura is just fucking weird. Bananapants, CocoNutPuffs, whatever you want to call it. It’s all muddled and patchy and a headache and a half to read. It’s like somebody took his aura, threw out most of it, and stuffed a bunch of excess aura in to fill the gaps. There’s no way he was born like that, and there’s no way whatever happened was pretty (or probably even painless). He’s definitely trying, though, so I figured aight, we’ll see if we can’t compromise with this whippersnapper.

           The problem is Client Lam.

           Client Lam doesn’t want to be pleased. Client Lam, for whatever reason, is terrified. And overprotective of Client Farkas. And she’s absolutely looking for reasons to be disappointed, or she’s at least seeing shadows where there are none. We could present Client Lam with a fortress and she wouldn’t be satisfied. My bet is that whatever happened to Farkas’s aura was traumatizing, and Lam was impacted by that trauma. I showed her two viable properties at excellent prices with wonderful locations and an astounding lack of extradimensional pockets or Magitech gadgets, and she found fault with them. Neither were crime scenes, thankfully.

           You may want to assign them with somebody who has experience—but you could also use this opportunity to show some junior realtors how tough clients can be. Also, the junior realtors might not be so entrenched in the practice, and they could have some excellent ideas.

           Or you could just…send these clients to somebody else. Your choice. I’m just not dealing with it. They’ll drive me into an early grave if I take this too seriously, and you know how I get.

 Sincerely,

Harley

 -

 To: tora@lam.com

From: hello@amarshir.org

SUBJECT: Realtor Change Notification

RECEIVED: August 18th, 3042

 Dear Ms. Lam,

           Hello! What a pleasure it is to meet you. I’m writing to inform you that unfortunately, Mx. Ya-en is unable to continue handling your case. The upside is that I am able to do so in xir stead! My name is Amar Shirvani, and I’m going to be handling your case from now on. I’m excited to work with you and your partners, and hope that you are as excited to work with me! I promise I will do my best to help you achieve your housing dreams!

 Yours,

Amar Shirvani

Lindquist Realtors

 -

 AMAR SHIRVANI

Junior Realtor

hello@amarshir.org

Phone  Lindquist Realtors Homepage

Alternative Display Options

             Native to Norfolk, Amar Shirvani is the youngest member of Lindquist Realtors at 22 years old. He recently graduated from the Offet University of Business with honors. While not the most experienced, Amar brings exuberance and creative thinking to the team at Lindquist Realtors. He has been involved with volunteer work from early childhood due to his parents—

 -

 TweetyFlaps Trending

#clientwoes

 world aint gonna end til I end it myself

@Silverforks

So I’ve got a kind of sort of customer service job, right. And so far it’s been fine! I’ve had ok clients. And then Bossman slides me a paunchy one cross the table and I start to understand #clientwoes for the first awful real time. 1/ 10:48 AM        23 AUG 3042

______________________________________________________________________

 world aint gonna end til I end it myself                            

Replying to @Silverforks

2/ i know from the start its gonna be a Ride. Like, chalk and candles intensity. Client file is thicc w/rejected properties (im in housing). But I’m game!! Im always game, you know me haha. Unfortunately… 10:50 AM        23 AUG 3042

 world aint gonna end til I end it myself                            

Replying to @Silverforks

3/ these are clients from hell. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were actually demons in disguise. Here to torture me. For something. I aint actually ever summoned nothing. But like, it’s unreal how BAD this exp has been. 10:51 AM        23 AUG 3042

 world aint gonna end til I end it myself                            

Replying to @Silverforks

4/ for 1, they all look normal expt one of them. Head to toe, covered. Would think was vampire, but that’s usu specified in reports. Nobody’s seen his skin other than flashes. Aight, tho, I aint prejudiced, i’ll roll with it. 10:53 AM        23 AUG 3042

 world aint gonna end til I end it myself                            

Replying to @Silverforks

5/ so they super picky clients, right. I thought nah, they cant be that bad!! Just haven’t hooked the right worm yet. So I pick out a coupla worms (houses) that I think they might enjoy and hoo boy was that a chore, but im satisfied! Spoiler: they aint. 10:56 AM        23 AUG 3042

 world aint gonna end til I end it myself                            

Replying to @Silverforks

6/ they aint never gon be satisfied. #1, not-vampire client mentions v v quietly to me that sorry, theres a thing he cant deal with on premises, but mb they can still keep it in mind?? But (super good hearing???) another client hears and squawks about it. he aint having it, apparently.   10:58 AM        23 AUG 3042

 world aint gonna end til I end it myself                            

Replying to @Silverforks

7/ and then third client (Harpy) hears bc squawk, and she SUPER aint having it, so we just go to the next house. And the next one. And—u get it already.   10:59 AM        23 AUG 3042

 world aint gonna end til I end it myself                            

Replying to @Silverforks

8/ and like, im patient. Im pretty lowkey. But today’s house was—perfect?? There was nothing wrong with it. Client Hoodie didn’t say nothing bad. Liked the rooms. Client EllieEars don’t complain bout no weird curses or dead bodies or bad décor. But Client Harpy?? Client Harpy is impossible. 11:02 AM        23 AUG 3042

 world aint gonna end til I end it myself                            

Replying to @Silverforks

9/ u kno what she said?? She said, and I repeat: the front door is too thin.

The front door. Which is a solid 5 cm of wood (real!! Wood!!). is too thin. It’s “Insecure”. 11:03 AM        23 AUG 3042

 world aint gonna end til I end it myself                            

Replying to @Silverforks

10/11 I didn’t say it bc im a good worker, but I really wanted to go off on her. She’s impossible. This is the worst assignment ever. Ive worked so hard my soul’s gonna feel it 5 carnations down.   11:05 AM        23 AUG 3042

 world aint gonna end til I end it myself                            

Replying to @Silverforks

11/11 srsly. 5 cm of solid wood!! Insecure. Unbelievable. #clientwoes 11:05 AM        23 AUG 3042

 -

 August 23rd  

Bentley

Sally Mihn at work sent me this.

You might want to take a look.

https://tweetyflap.com/silverforks/status/1199679934986810752

 DipTipTyrone

oh boy

that’s about us alright

 Bentley

Yeah

It is

Torako

We need to have a fucking talk

 KoraTorako

We do need to have a talk with the realtors

That’s unacceptable

 Bentley

What we need to do with the realtors is apologize

What we three need to do is discuss what the fuck we’re doing

 KoraTorako

No, that was completely unprofessional

And what do you mean, what are we doing?? We’re looking for a house.

 DipTipTyrone

I’ll take care of the tweets for a pack of gummies

 Bentley

No, Dipper

Torako

We have been house-hunting for a month

We have looked at over 200 houses by this point

 KoraTorako

Thanks dip but probs not

 Bentley

And you have said no

To all

Of them

We need to fucking compromise

 KoraTorako

Compromise on what?? Our safety?? Our comfort?

 Bentley

No, on your unachievable standards

 DipTipTyrone

Oh

Oh no

 KoraTorako

Who says they unachievable??

 Bentley

The 200+ houses we’ve looked at to dismiss out of hand!

 DipTipTyrone

This is a fight, isn’t it

 KoraTorako

I’m just making sure that whatever we get will be safe!

 Bentley

Most of them HAVE been safe!

You’re just being STUPIDLY overprotective!

 DipTipTyrone

oh no im the

im the middle party aren’t i

 KoraTorako

I am not!

 Bentley

Yes you are! You need to trust me to make choices for myself!!

 KoraTorako

Well, I would if you weren’t so insistent on ignoring your own wellbeing!

 DipTipTyrone

How does one mediate

 Bentley

I’m just trying to find a fucking house! I’m trying to meet them in the middle!

 KoraTorako

Not on that you shouldn’t!

 Bentley

It’s MY choice!

 KoraTorako

And it’s MINE TOO!

You shouldn’t be in an environment that causes you to have so many fucking nightmares!

Like you are NOW

 DipTipTyrone

Uuuhhh shit shit shit um

You’re both right and both wrong?

 Bentley

Love you, but Shut up dip

And maybe I’m having nightmares because we’re still in this fucking apartment

 KoraTorako

I told you we could stay at another Rental until we found a house!

And shut up dip, im the right one here

 Bentley

You’re the right one???

We can’t solve everything with money, Torako!! And at the pace we’re going, we’d be in that rental place until our current lease is up Next January

 DipTipTyrone

…maybe this is an in-person convo?

 KoraTorako

I just want our house to be safe!! What if something happens again?

 Bentley

It won’t fucking happen again! Fantino was a one-off. I haven’t pissed off any other researchers overly invested in their research lately!

 DipTipTyrone

What about that one guy at work?

Wait no ignore that

 KoraTorako

But it MIGHT! We! Don’t! Know for sure!!

 Bentley

We don’t know that it WILL happen, Torako!

You need to just let this stupid fucking paranoia go

 DipTipTyrone

Uh

 KoraTorako

Stupid?? Fucking paranoia??

 DipTipTyrone

Bentley that was not uh

Not good

 KoraTorako

It’s not paranoia if it could happen again. It happened once.

I can’t forget that, Bentley. I can’t forget going to open that door and finding it unlocked. I can’t forget opening the apartment to you being gone, and to the wards being destroyed, and to everything I thought was keeping us safe not actually keeping us safe.

I’m not doing that, Ben.

The house we’re getting?? Is going to be fucking safe, and I am going to make it that way.

 DipTipTyrone

Torako…

 Bentley

Look, I get that

But there were ways of making the houses we looked at safe that you weren’t willing to entertain.

That one, with the green roof and the cute staircase?? That was totally viable. We absolutely could have torn the security system out with no trouble.

We literally have Dipper to do that for us.

But you said no! Like you said no to the one with the nice garden, and the one with the really big open windows.

I just want a house, Torako.

It’s not even like we’re necessarily going to live here forever? So if it’s not perfect, I’m ok. I just want somewhere to live that’s not the apartment.

 KoraTorako

And I just want us to be safe, Bentley.

I cant do this right now.

I have to go.

 DipTipTyrone

Is it over?

…fuck it isn’t, is it.

Fuck.

 -

To: hello@qilarlind.org

From: tora@lam.com

SUBJECT: Important

RECEIVED: August 23rd 3042

 Dear Mr. Lindquist,

           Hello. I’m writing to inform you that one of your employees—I’m assuming our current agent, Mr. Amar Shirvani—vented about my partners and I on a public forum. Here is the link: https://tweetyflap.com/silverforks/status/1199679934986810752

           While I understand that we have not been very accommodating clients—myself particularly—I don’t believe that this appropriate behavior. Venting is important, but the place where Mr. Shirvani chose to express his frustrations wasn’t the right one. Please convey this to him for me.

           I don’t want him to lose his job. He’s young and hasn’t learned this particular lesson yet. But I also find myself hesitant to keep working with Mr. Shirvani. Would you be willing to either transfer us to another realtor, or recommend us to another company like Mx. Pinkflax did? I would really appreciate it.

 Sincerely,

Torako Lam

Private Investigator

.

-

 To: tora@lam.com

From: hello@qilarlind.org

SUBJECT: RE: Important

RECEIVED: August 24th 3042

 Dear Ms. Lam,

           I’m very sorry to hear about what Mr. Shirvani did. We’ve discussed the incident and he understands the impropriety of his actions. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.

           While I believe that we have exhausted our properties here at Lindquist Realtors, I am happy to recommend you to a few other businesses in the Norfolk Area. They’re smaller, but perhaps they have the specific kind of property that you are looking for. I will do my best to put in a good word for you. Should that fail, I will personally endeavor to find you the house you need.

 Sincerely,

Qilar Lindquist

Lindquist Realtors

 -

 August 24th

Chat with Reynash Pines

11:01 AM

Hey Reynash

Can I ask you a question?

11:02 AM

What a surprise to hear from you via text!

Usually you just pop in and scare my soul out of my chest.

But for your question-- please ask

There’s nothing to do at work at the moment.

11:02 AM

Wouldn’t you usually leave?

Or have things changed again without me realizing it?

11:03 AM

Oh no, normally I would

But I have an appointment at 11:45 that I have to stick around for.

What’s your question?

11:04 AM

Torako and Bentley are fighting over housing.

We’ve told you about the house-hunting, right?

11:04 AM

Oh dear. Yes, I know.

Why are they fighting?

11:05 AM

Trauma. I think. They didn’t say themselves.

But I think it’s trauma.

Anyways, that’s not the important part.

What’s important is how do I help them?

11:06 AM

From the incident back around May?

Oh dear.

Are you sure that’s not the important part?

11:06 AM

Mostly.

Anyway. I just need to know how to mediate.

I haven’t mediated in…

In forever?

I can’t remember.

11:07 AM

…why are you even asking me?

11:07 AM

Because not many people know me as me

And you’re one of the only people who has known me as me for a significant amount of time and are also NOT ben or tora

And also you’re pretty calm mostly except when I show up and scare you

11:09 AM

Well

In my defense, I think most people would be scared if you showed up out of thin air and yelled strange things like WHAT YOU CRAVIN or whatever.

11:10 AM

Are you…sassy?

11:10 AM

Possibly

Back to your predicament: mediating

Have Bentley and Torako been able to talk to each other in person about this?

11:11 AM

No :(

They’ve been very quiet around each other at home.

And Bentley’s going on a trip soon.

So they won’t have a chance for a while.

Do they have to??

11:12 AM

It’s just easier to mediate when you’re all there.

Basically

They have to have the conversation, right?

Your job as mediator is to make sure they stay on task

And that no thoughtlessly cruel words are said.

11:12 AM

So they can say mean things

But they can’t mean the mean things?

11:13 AM

Okay, let me rephrase:

They’re mad at each other. They might say mean things that just hurt each other. Words that are meant to hurt each other.

They should not do that.

That does not help the conversation.

11:13 AM

Oh

Hm

So if one says the other is being stupidly paranoid

That’s where I say no, stop?

11:13 AM

Right.

11:14 AM

And if the other says one is being needlessly reckless with his own mental health

That’s where I say no, stop?

11:14 AM

Er

Maybe not, depending

Is he being needlessly reckless with his own mental health?

11:14 AM

I don’t know? Maybe? How do I tell?

11:15 AM

I can’t believe I’m saying this but

We might need to have this conversation face to face.

Please come he0-awekjhwel

11:39 AM

And remember what we discussed

And the pamphlets I sent you

And also please remind Torako and Bentley that Lata would like to see them sometime next month if they’re able to.

11:39 AM

Thanks Ray!

I really appreciate everything

Sorry for making you scream!

 -

 To: qilarlindquist@lindquistrealtors.com

From: simonkhoo@khoohootrealtors.com

SUBJECT: RE: Professional Request

RECEIVED: August 25th, 3042

 Dear Qilar Lindquist

           Thank you very much for the request. I’m honored that you would consider sending us clients that you yourself could not satisfy. It honestly instills an incredible, renewed sense of capability in us here at Khoohoo Realtors.

           Upon viewing the file you sent, however, one of my junior realtors raised concerns that these particular clients may be too difficult for a firm of our moderate size to adequately deal with. Between yourselves and HomeStar Realtors, these three clients weren’t satisfied. That, to us, is a bit of a red flag. We reviewed their specifications in comparison to our own catalogue, but don’t believe we have anything that they would be interested in actually buying. Therefore, in the interest of saving everybody a great deal of time and energy, I must admit that we cannot at this time take on your clients.

 Have an excellent day,

Simon Khoo

Head of Khoohoo Realtors

 -

 To: qilarlindquist@lindquistrealtors.com

From: lancefraiser@dreamhomerealtors.com

SUBJECT: RE: Professional Request

RECEIVED: August 25th, 3042

 Dear Qilar Lindquist

             Thank you very much for this request.

           Unfortunately, we don’t have the time or patience for clients that would require a great deal of energy. From the looks of the file you attached, that seems to be the case with these clients. Therefore, in short, no.

 Yours,

Lance Fraiser

Senior Realtor

DreamHome Realtors

 -

 To: qilarlindquist@lindquistrealtors.com

From: naitafellen@redfinrealtors.com

Attachment: 2042-PoliceRecoverKidnappedManwithHelpFromCivillian.qbf

SUBJECT: RE: Professional Request

RECEIVED: August 27th, 3042

 Qilar,

           Long time no talk, friend!! Wow it’s been a while, I guess we’ve both been busy. I know this is a professional request and all, but we should get drinks or something!! I hear there’s a great alfree bar that’s just opened up downtown. Apparently it has killer drinks, and it of course it doesn’t have alcoholic stuff so you’re good to drink whatever.

           I took a look at the client rec you sent me, and hoo boy they’ve sure got a record! RedFin usually takes whatever, and you know that, but I don’t actually think we can get them anything?? I’d feel bad chucking properties at them that I know they won’t like. I think they’ve already checked out like three quarters of Norfolk lol. Talk about trying to summon with a broom and a lighter!

           Also, they really remind me of this one tweety I read recently? Oof, if that was one of your kiddos who posted it, you should really tell them that’s a bad call—both for them and the clients. These clients aren’t going to get anything in Norfolk, not with that popular tweety paired with that record. And if it gets out that your kiddo was the one that posted that??? Aint nobody gonna hire them, not with all this client confidentiality and all at stake. Gotta be careful what you post online, even when it is venting.

           Yo, but hey, hope you find somebody for these clients! They seem like they got some scary baggage. The one who nopes around magitec and exdims reminds me of something I read in the news a while ago—it was an article that was hushed down p quickly out of respect for the victim, but I still got the doc. I’ve attached it if you want to read! It might even help you figure stuff out with your clients, even if they aren’t the same.

 Let’s meet up for drinks sometime!

Naita Fellen

Owner of RedFin Realtors, Norfolk

Senior Realtor

 -

 August 27th

KoraTorako

I just received an email from Qilar that he’s going to continue to handle our case, but that it may take a while to comb through what properties they have left.

I said it was fine because Bentley’s off on a trip.

 DipTipTyrone

Great!!

This seems like a good time to have a heart to heart, don’t you think?

 KoraTorako

I, uh, what?

 DipTipTyrone

Bentley’s doing nothing right now! Bentley, talk

Bentley, talk or I’ll make you talk.

Bentley I know you’re at your hotel.

 Bentley

Oh my stars dip

What??

 DipTipTyrone

You guys argued a lot last time we really had a discussion

And you’re angry

And you need to talk about why you’re angry

So that you have a healthy conclusion to your argument

And so that you understand each other’s viewpoints better.

It’s important!

 KoraTorako

But why…now?

 DipTipTyrone

Because you sent that message

And I’m sure Bentley’s feeling vicious about it

 Bentley

No I’m not!

 DipTipTyrone

Yes you are

I can see your aura, and while it’s difficult to read, you’re very dlskajlkwjelkjewnsd;nlab

Aslkdjgwaelkl;kwa;ljk

Dlkjaw-000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

 KoraTorako

What the fuck

 DipTipTyrone

You can’t take my phone away from me!! Ha! I win!

 Bentley

You can’t just half slide through the wall so that I can’t tell you’ve blipped in!

What the hell??

 KoraTorako

Okay okay so youre serious about this

Fine

What do you want us to talk about

 DipTipTyrone

Your feelings, I guess?

Like, Bentley. Tell us how you feel about Torako’s latest message.

 Bentley

You’re not my therapist

 DipTipTyrone

No, but we’re family

Which means communication

So tell us.

 Bentley

Uuuuuggghhh

Fine

Torako, that email proves why it was stupid to just dismiss all the properties as soon as we saw them and I feel vindicated but also tired

 DipTipTyrone

Hey, um, you gotta cut all the negativity against the other person out of your message

Try again!

 Bentley

…

The email proves that it was wrong to dismiss the properties without really thinking further about them. I feel vindicated. I feel tired.

Happy?

 DipTipTyrone

Better!

Torako, your turn!

 KoraTorako

Oh my stars are we really doing this

This is so stupid

 DipTipTyrone

Do it

 Bentley

Yeah tora, do it

If I have to, so do you

 KoraTorako

Fine

I’m just tired, ok?? This has taken so much longer than I thought it would. And I know I’m at fault for some of it!!

But I’m sick of Bentley falling to the pressure of ‘picking’ because it’s what’s expected of us. I don’t want him to feel scared or uncertain or uncomfortable in whatever house we pick, even if we’re only there for a couple years until we can pay off the place.

 DipTipTyrone

Thank you Torako! I don’t see any unnecessarily hostile language in there, so that’s A-OK, you pass. Bentley?

 Bentley

I just feel bad because everybody’s trying so hard

And we’re being so hard on them

And sometimes I just don’t understand why you reject the houses? So what that the security system isn’t perfect. I don’t mind going to the effort of pulling it out and starting it again. Heck, I would pay Dip to do it easy!

 KoraTorako

But that’s not your problem

That’s a me problem

I just…I want it to be good from the beginning. I want it to work from the start so that we don’t have to worry about it.

 Bentley

But that’s not going to happen

Sometimes you have to work to make something work for you

And if we gotta do that

I’m fine with it

 KoraTorako

I…I guess

I’m still not completely comfortable with that

 Bentley

We can work on it together

And hey

If I promise to not say yes to houses that make me uncomfortable will you promise to give things like security systems and house integrity a chance?

Like, not dismiss them immediately?

 KoraTorako

…yeah. I can do that, I think.

 DipTipTyrone

Good!! I’m glad we had this discussion

You know, I’m a pretty great mediator!

 Bentley

Dipper I watched you leaf through those pamphlets during the discussion

But yeah

Thank you, dipper

 KoraTorako

Thank you, dipper <3

 Bentley

He’s blushing!!

Compliment him more

 DipTipTyrone

No!

Stop ganging up on me!

 KoraTorako

You’re so cute, Dips!!

 Bentley

The cutest

Aw, he’s glowing

 DipTipTyrone

I should have let you keep fighting

 -

 August 29th, 3042

Chat with Saint Akuapem

4:12 PM

Torako, how are you?

Hepsa says hello

Are you still looking for houses?

4:15 PM

Yeah, we are

Say hello back for me

I’m ok, but a bit tired.

4:15 PM

Excellent

A parent of one of Hepsa’s students mentioned that their mother passed away recently

And that they were willing to sell the property

It seems the mother was afflicted with a curse that prevented her from using most Magitech

And she didn’t trust extra-dimensional spaces

It was a family home, so there are 4 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a nice garden.

Would you be interested in looking at it?

4:17 PM

Are you fucking serious.

Yes please, a thousand times yes

When can we look?

4:18 PM

Let me ask Hepsa to ask for me.

4:49 PM

Would you be available tomorrow afternoon?

3:30 PM.

 4:51 PM

Oh gosh oh yes

What’s the address?

4:51 PM

Just meet me at our apartment.

We will walk you over.

4:51 PM

Officer you really are a saint

I could kiss you

4:52 PM

Bring some more of those brownies. It’ll be even then.

 -

 “So? What do you think?”

           Torako trailed her fingers across the mantle for the fireplace. It was a real one; apparently, pure electric fireplaces were hell to install and more hell to maintain. There were no runes carved into the rough brick, no faint thrum of magic that Torako could now pick up if she closed her eyes and concentrated really, really hard.

           The whole house had very little by the way of magic.

           “It’s…” Torako looked down at the fireplace proper. It had been cleaned, recently, shiny in the way that old things gleam when properly taken care of. The house had been loved, she was sure of it. “It’s not bad.”

           A touch to her elbow. She looked over at Bentley, whose eyebrows were quirked. “Torako. Please. Be honest.”

           She hummed, turned to lean against the mantle and look out the big windows that provided a view of the garden space. Unmaintained, a little wild. They could put a vegetable patch there, she thought. Maybe a couple fruit trees.

           “I’m not a fan of the front porch steps,” she said, “or the ramp. It’s a bit rickety.”

           “We can fix it up,” Bentley said. He paused, tilted his head, then gave her a sly little grin. “Or at least, we know somebody who works cheap for that kind of thing.”

           “Hey, you can’t let me hear that,” Dipper said from the other room, where he was laying flat on the ground with his ear to the floorboards. “My prices might go up.”

           “Is it all good over there?” Bentley asked in lieu of answering. Torako looked up at the ceiling, where runes or wards or protective magics would be. Magics that would be hers, so they would hurt less to Bentley’s sensitive eye.

           “No creepy basements filled with cadavers or slaughtered cultmembers, if that���s what you’re asking,” Dipper said. Thankfully, Illya had left them to look over her dead mother’s home one last time, so there were no surprised gasps or queer glances. “Though we may want a couple rugs. I think this floor gets cold in the wintertime.”

           “Windowpanes are a little thin,” she muttered to herself. Her fingers tapped against her leg. “Could stand to be a bit more reinforced—though the French doors are probably okay, they seem sturdy enough—”

           “Torako.”

           Bentley’s warm hand slid over the one on her leg. Torako looked at him again. He peered at her over the rims of his oversized sunglasses, golden eye shimmering just a little. “Is there anything seriously wrong with this place? Anything that can’t be fixed?”

           Torako pressed her lips together. The aching anxiety in her chest pressed against her sternum. She tried to ignore it, and the thoughts of shadowy figures cutting through the glass panes, burning through the front door, squeezing through the cracks in the floorboards to steal Bentley away from—

           “Hey,” Bentley said, soft.

           “Hey,” Dipper said, a little brighter and brasher. He took her hand in his human hand. “We’re here, okay?”

           Torako turned her head to Dipper, brown eyes crinkled at the edges (and when had he put wrinkles on?) and grin still just a little too wide for human mouths to stand. She took a deep breath, and exhaled.

           “No,” she said. Bentley inhaled, sharp. “No, not no no! I just meant, ugh, there’s nothing I don’t like about this house that can’t be fixed. That no. Not the ‘let’s not do this’ no.”

           Both of her boys relaxed on either side of her. “Yeah,” Bentley said. “Yeah, I thought this was a good one, too.”

           She twisted her hand in theirs so that she could hold them.

           “Plus, it’s like, dirt cheap,” Dipper said. “Who knew that buying a house without a Realtor handling fee would result in such a bargain?”

           “Okay,” Torako said, a grin starting to pull at the corners of her mouth. The sunlight from the window was warm against her feet, reaching up to soothe the phantom pains in her shins from all those months ago. “Let’s tell Ilya.”

           It would be a good home.

 -

To: olpink@homestar.com

From: qilarlindquist@lindquistrealtors.com

SUBJECT: FWD: Thank you for your help

RECEIVED: August 31st, 3042

I don’t know whether to be furious or relieved. Mostly I’m just tired.

You up for dinner tonight?

Qilar

 >>To: hello@qilarlind.org

>>From: tora@lam.com

>>Attached: NewHouse+US.png

>>SUBJECT: Thank you for your help

>>RECEIVED: August 31st, 3042

>> 

>>Dear Mr. Lindquist,

           >> I email you to thank you so much for all your assistance. I don’t think we would have gotten as far as we did without you. Due to this journey, my partners and I realized some very important things.

           >>As you might have realized based on the name of the attachment, my partners and I have found a house through one of our acquaintances! It was lovely and off-market, and I probably wouldn’t have said no if it weren’t for our experiences with everybody at Lindquist Realtors and HomeStar Realtors. Thank you so much for your time and effort and energy, and I hope that you have a chance to relax now that we’re out of your hair.

>> 

>>Thank you again,

>>Torako Lam

>>Private Investigator

 -

 From: olpink@homestar.com

To: qilarlindquist@lindquistrealtors.com

 Qilar,

           What the fuck, even. Truly. What the fuck.

           I’ll bring the sparkling apple cider.

Olive

[cavitymagazine]

𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖈𝖔𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖉

"this is what happens"; i don't want to say this is what happens, but this is what happens. this is what happens; maybe i'm afraid, maybe I'M afraid, it's too early to say, isn't it, it's always too early, it's never late enough, it never comes time, [because it's always time], and you never get away, no one ever said "don't explore too thickly", what's the implication...? that you'll get ensnared...? that you'll never get out, that you'll never find the sun again, that you'll leave with all you have, and eventually, when the collapse comes, when the collapse comes inevitable when the collapse comes, when it comes when it comes when it comes; it's over. it's already over. why don't you quit? why can't you? it's already over, it's already done, you've failed in every respect; with respect to him: he's failed. in every respect. he inherited his past, forfeited his future, and now he's done. now he's done. now he's done, it's just echopraxis, idle-passive-echopraxia. it's just rewritten. it's Memory, it's Memory dressing you down, it's faint Memory's hot breath in your ear, it's the torque in your brain, letting the chill in. it's what it did to you. it's no one's fault it's what it did to you, it's what it did to you to you to you to you; it's just all over again it's all over again it's all over again! and no one why can't stop and no one why can't stop and no one why end it all up before over again, end it all up before over again; now you've done it, now you've done it. complete the path, end the story, put a nice finishing quote up on it, frame the situation, endure the climax, suffer the consequence oh: it's over

-

ok: this monster of solitudes finally wilted and caught the bus downtown to procure a girl-boy, or a boy/girl, or whichever happened to be least convenient. the kid with the chemicals: K, x, E, crack or heroin, whatever. i'll be the first to admit i was looking for a mother substitute. it was suck suck nursing-time in my ugly depths and i was willing to prostitute myself for even a breath of fresh air, without exaggerating, if that tells you anything. my hypothetical pick-up line was something along the lines of, are you obnoxiously drunk enough that you wouldn't terribly mind if i kissed or held you for a few minutes? what a joke, i am a joke, hahaha. oh no. (parenthetically, i polished off a bottle of yellowtail chardonnay and a good third of stolichnaya vodka before i set out on my way, with a snack of leftover valium here and there.) i wound up in a Club, inexplicably, don't ask me how; i dared myself to enter, against my better judgment. there i stood, more myself than i can ever remember being, practically inanimate, eyes tightly shut while everyone around me swayed, jived, gyrated, grooved and swooned. i stood absolutely still. took a shot of wild turkey. felt nothing. eventually i was accosted by some skinhead for finishing his beer; he threatened to have his burly partner pummel me into a pulp. screaming in my ear over the cacophony. to this i did not respond. I didn't do what I normally would have done, which was laugh. I stared into his eyes, my default weapon. Red heat. He let me be. I loitered a little while longer, then left, without regret or a second thought, or even a first thought, truth be told. Security even inquired after my well-being, how charming--seeing my downcast countenance, carcass hunched against a wall, blank stare, barely standing unassisted, half-dead. Oh whatever. i got lost/drunk for four hours; crossed a street where civil servants were digging a ditch. a female police officer motioned me back, i ceded and walked up to her. bitching about "why did i cross the street when the light wasn't green". i replied, simply and honestly, that i hadn't noticed. she sneered and shot back, well, maybe you'll notice next time you're smack against a windshield. the unbelievable temerity and unbridled arrogance of cops. i told her to fuck off. "pardon Me?" FUCK YOU. i screamed, and a third time, in case she didn't get the message. to say the least it touched a nerve. we all have our limits. i almost wished i had brought my knife so i could tear out her throat. people don't know when to leave well enough alone and this i cannot forgive, regardless; i don't care what social station they occupy, who they might be--fuck them and their like to the ends of the earth. many a time the thought crossed my mind to capitulate, call it quits, throw up my hands and admit myself to the emergency room of the mental hospital... but the notion was dismissed as summarily as it was entertained. why submit myself to the probing and prodding of incompetent hired goons whose only concern is my immediate docility, the mere abeyance of complaint, complacency at heart; assimilation into the normative and thus Known categories? that is not my problem. enough of that. too drunk to conclude, good night and god damn. 

-

worst nightmare of my life this morning. won't recount the vulgar details, very mindfuck interruptus. i came to sitting in front of an end-table with a laptop on it, chatting with my ex-fiancee on AIM (not in a million years), before a towering landfill (outdoors). i nearly fall out of my seat, nonplussed, and a bum remarks, "you really shouldn't be hanging around these parts at an hour like ours." i pause, too stunned to find my tongue. i finally muster, what city is this? it's all a slur. he says Detroit. i'm in a dissociative fugue and don't know anything, or anybody. as if i'm not entitled to properly draw upon the faculty of memory; i can't make my eyes or tongue work right either (no depth-perception / i can only utter forth labials or noncommittal monosyllables). the alpha male of a pack of junkies waves me on and offers me a line of coke, i kiss some freaked-out girls and take the night bus back to the valley in a ... it feels like i haven't been inside my body in years, that i'm still indefinitely removed, and i repeatedly fail to successfully execute even the most perfunctory of flexes and maneuvers... nothing is distinctly perceptible, it's all incoherent argument and foreign hum grating on my addled nerves. underneath it all i'm somehow deeply traumatized, but i am not in a position to understand or accept this. i either have no mind or this mind is not mine; it is neither lucid nor obedient and communicates via elaborate hazards... concealed gestures i cannot divine the wherewithal of. i stagger back to my tiny apartment to discover there is a party in full swing, people fucking, people playing cards, etc. i open my fridge and it is full of hard liquor. i then realize i have been on a steady bender for two weeks.

[Author bio]

Elizabeth Victoria Aldrich made a twitter account in June 2019 to let people know her porn star girlfriend of seven years was dead after she had to ask someone on Facebook and got broken up with for being a bad influence (porn and coke binges were not her idea but let it be known she was a down-ass bitch)  by her not-boyfriend who looks like the doomer meme dude. Now you're reading something by her. Isn't life weird?

twitter: @eris_rlt