#i could never be a therapist like my backup plan says god damn it

[thedragonemperess]

Guess who failed their chemistry midterm

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

This is my first time publishing any of my reader insert work so don’t be too hard on me. Y/N is a psych student that needs a favor and asks her therapist for help. Lmk if you want to see more.

It was an unmistakable conflict of interest, your relationship with Hannibal. He was your therapist, your mentor, your partner, and many years your senior to boot. You recognized this monumental power imbalance. You put on a façade of embarrassment for the people who expected it; people whose proclivities were done in the shadows and therefore easier to get away with. Why should you be expected to rationalize your loving, mutually beneficial relationship to a person who regularly cheats on her boyfriend?

You'd dated men your own age before, and without fail, you always found yourself waiting for them to grow up. Hannibal made you feel comfortable. Both emotionally and physically. You had a side of his bed and a spot in his arms to fall asleep in every night. Given the choice, you could truthfully say you'd never want to leave his arms.

Like many unlikely relationships, it didn’t start out in the most romantic of ways. Clutching your laptop under your raincoat, you hesitated knocking. Your therapist had, of course, seen you at your lowest points and was sworn to secrecy, but this was a low you didn’t want even him to see. Standing outside of his home, in the so-incredibly-not-business-hours dead of night with mascara running down your face. 

You finally worked up the nerve to knock, telling yourself that he was probably asleep and wouldn’t hear you. This rationalization fell apart when the interior light turned on and the door unlocked. Although you’d been seeing Dr. Lecter for quite a while, his presence never failed to intimidate you. Now it was even worse. His severe expression was fixated on you as he silently awaited an explanation. 

“Dr. Lecter...” You lowered your head and fumbled with your computer. You made a point to kiss your last shreds of dignity goodbye before you opened your mouth again. “...could I please borrow a book?” 

Dr. Lecter narrowed his eyes. “I take it by the hour, this is an urgent matter, Miss [L/N]?”

“My midterm. It’s due in...” You glanced at your watch. “Eight hours.” 

“Well you don’t have a moment to waste, now do you?” Dr. Lecter said, a slight upturn in his voice connoting amusement. “Come in. Let’s find you that book.” 

You felt your muscles relax as he stepped aside to let you in. The house was spacious. Much too large for one person. That was really the only thing you could bring yourself to notice before he shut the door behind you. 

“Now what is this all-important book of yours called?” He asked, pulling your raincoat from your shoulders like he always did. 

“It’s called Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism.” You explained, tucking your computer under your arm. “By Robert Jay Lifton.” 

“You’re in luck, Miss [L/N].” His thin lips turned up into a smile. “I have a copy from my own years as a student.”

You breathed an audible sigh of relief. You tensed your muscles and held in your excitement at the prospect of something finally going according to plan, even if that plan was your third or fourth backup.

You followed him into his office, which reminded you more of Belle’s library than any workspace you’d ever encountered. He must have had thousands of books in this room alone.

“It’s a fascinating read, but not one you could finish in eight hours.” Dr. Lecter's voice echoed from somewhere in the office, getting lost in the books. “Even for the most ravenous of psychology students, of which I know you to be.” 

"Hardly." You muttered under your breath. "If that were the case, I wouldn't be begging for help at 2am before the final paper is due."

"Procrastination is only human, my dear." He assured you, his voice drawing closer. "It's common in those with deep-rooted insecurities about their competency."

"Now that sounds more like me." You joked, leaning back on your heels. "Should you really be trying to validate my bad habits? I feel like that's counterproductive."

"Scolding you would be more counterproductive." He corrected. "You've been scolded many times before and you continue your bad habits. Only when we get to the root of your behavior can you begin to reverse it."

He emerged from the bookshelves and handed you a beat-up copy of Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism, which you graciously accepted. 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Lecter.” You said, placing your hand over your heart. "I owe you my life."

"I'd hardly equate your life to a used book, Miss [L/N]." Dr. Lecter said. "I feel like, as your therapist, we should talk about why you do."

You looked away, smiling sheepishly. "Maybe sometime in daylight. I've taken up enough of your time as it is. I'll get out of your hair now."

"It would take you more time to get back to your dorm that you could use writing." He said, matter-of-factually. "Write your paper in my office."

You looked at him in disbelief. Your judgment was clouded with energy drinks and desperation. So your usual self-sacrificing polite denial was steamrolled by a very enthusiastic acceptance. "I would be forever indebted to you, Dr. Lecter."

"Miss [L/N]," Dr. Lecter cut in. "You're a student, you need to study."

You didn’t really remember a lot of what happened after you wrapped your arms around his waist, too overwhelmed with gratitude to think if an embrace was even appropriate. It was the middle of the night, so you had an excuse if he shoved you off him. But surprisingly, he didn’t. 

You broke the embrace and gathered up your book and computer. “Seriously, I owe you big time for this. You’re really saving my life here.” 

“Go write your paper, [F/N].” He ordered. “We can discuss why you conflate your academics and your life during our next appointment. For now, make yourself at home.”

And that you did. Dr. Lecter retired back to bed and you spent a solid four hours typing away. An antique grandfather clock kept count for you. When you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer, you sent the paper off to your professor, editing be damned. You let sleep compel you, comforted by the fact that you didn't have to think about your paper for at least another week before the grading period was over. 

Dr. Lecter’s desk was the most comfortable surface in the world to you that night, because you slept for six hours with only your arms as a pillow. It was the first rest your body had gotten in quite some time. You were gently coaxed awake by the smell of something delicious. 

You followed the smell into a kitchen that could rival those of Michelin-starred restaurants. Dr. Lecter was hard at work, cooking something that enticed your nose. He cracked an egg and looked up at you. “Good morning, Miss [L/N].”

“I’m sorry.” You said, shaking your head shamefully. 

“For?” He asked, fixing his attention back on his recipe.

“Falling asleep.” You dropped your shoulders.

“I told you to make yourself at home, did I not?” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. This time, he sounded like he was actually going to scold you. “Tell me, do you sleep at your desk at home?” 

“I try not to.” You answer with a shrug. 

“But when you feel yourself falling asleep, you usually put yourself to bed, right?” He continued.

You started to feel a bit stupid. “...yeah.” 

He poked at some sausage links in a frying pan, letting out a sizzle. “You could have taken the couch.”

“I guess I was just too sleepy to think of that.” You explained, preparing to be psychoanalyzed no matter what you said.

“No, you were just too polite to push the imagined boundaries of my invitation.” He concluded, busying his hands with plating whatever it was he was making. His tone was comfortingly familiar. “Miss [L/N], don’t sacrifice your comfort for what you think I perceive to be rude. If I found you rude, you’d know it.”

"I'm sorry." You repeated.

"Don't apologize." He said, reaching for the pepper mill. "I know your anxiety disorder makes you feel like you are a burden. I assure you, you are not. I want you to know for next time that the couch is open. Or you could take the guest bedroom."

You stopped yourself before you could apologize again. You momentarily pondered what he had to say before uttering a quiet but convicted "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Dr. Lecter slid a plate across the table in your direction. "Eat, my dear."

You didn't need to be told twice. You usually didn’t care for sausage, but reconsidered when you took a bite. The meat was so flavorful and rich, a little noise of delight escaped your lips.

Dr. Lecter smiled, your little moan sending his ego through the roof. “You like it?” 

“It’s delicious.” You put your fork down, your face flush with embarrassment. “Way better than the food at the dining hall.” 

“Miss [L/N],” Dr. Lecter began, putting an extra sausage link on your plate. “If you find yourself in need of psychology texts, I’d be happy to extend my invitation indefinitely.” 

You nearly choked on your eggs. “On god?” 

“Given that you arrive sometime before midnight and perhaps call ahead, yes.” He answered. “Your studies are your life and breath, after all. You would find yourself very accommodated to here.”

This time, you'd really take him up on his offer.

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

This is two parts because I got carried away. I wrote this on my phone and proof read as much as I could.

Warnings: cheating, male masturbation, m/f sex, minor spoilers for “Defending Jacob”.

——————————————————————————————

Plain Gold Ring

“Plain gold ring on his finger he wore

It was where everyone could see

He belonged to someone, but not me

On his hand was a plain gold ring”

-Nina Simone

When the Barbers moved to your building every old bitty in the place was buzzing with excitement. You had loosely followed Jacob Barber’s case as it played out on the evening news. The whole thing was bizarrely too neat and tidy for your liking. You tried to stay out of idle gossip as much as possible. But, when you heard Andy Barber was interviewing for a senior position at your firm, you had questions.

Andy was brought in to interview for a position that you were also interested in. You requested a meeting with your boss and you went in guns blazing. Your poor boss was not ready for all the excitement.

“Am I still being considered for junior partner?”

“Y/n, calm down.” When he saw you winding yourself up, he popped an antacid an a few ibuprofen.

“Calm down? Calm down he says. I’ve been with this firm since I clerked for you in Law school, Stan. I’m the best fit for this role and you know it.”

“I know you are, kid. I’ve been out voted.”

It’s common knowledge that the partners don’t want too many women gunning for their jobs. They already have one token female partner. They didn’t feel the need to add another. You were infuriated. You stomped back to your office and slammed the door.

All of the work you put in. All of the late nights. You don’t have time to even date. And all for what? You had to calm down now because you were starting to cry out of sheer frustration. You took a deep breath and started going through your to do list. With a relatively light schedule you decided to leave for the day. You mumbled something to your assistant about a doctors appointment and headed for the elevator.

You saw some of the senior partners headed your way shaking hands with Andy. You pressed the elevator button furiously trying to avoid them. Could you make it down seventeen flights of stairs in your stilettos? The elevator dinged and you jumped on just as Robert called your name.

As soon as you put your car in gear, your assistant called. You sent her to voicemail. She called again. Declined. Finally she texted call me back ASAP. Emergency. Fuck.

“Caitlan I said I had an appointment. What’s the emergency?”

“Sorry. Mr. Cramer insisted I call. He’s standing by my desk” she whispered. “They want you to have lunch with them today. Maybe it’s about the job.”

“Did you see guy shaking hands with them? That’s the new junior partner. They are asking me to lunch to reject me. Fuck! Where?” You rested your head against the steering wheel.

“Commander’s at 1:00.”

“Fine.” you groaned.

You went home to freshen up and send out your updated resume. You made sure to include “Willing to relocate” at the end to broaden your prospects. You had a friend in Chicago who worked for a very high profile firm. They were always looking for new blood. You shot her a text to let her know you were looking then emailed your resume. The prospect of starting over completely made you nauseous. You would have to go through the ranks and probably waist another five years to get exactly where you were right now.

When you arrived at the restaurant the maître d brought you to the table where Stan, several other senior partners and Andy were waiting. Andy stood up to pull out your chair.

“Gentleman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Sit down, Y/N. We wanted to introduce you to Andrew Barber.”

“Andy. Please call me Andy. It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N. These guys haven’t stopped talking about you all morning.”

“All good things I hope.” The men laughed and ordered a round of martinis. Good thing you ate a big lunch at home. No one likes a sloppy drunk girl.

“Yes. Well, Y/N, as you may not know Andy has accepted the junior partner position. We would love if you brought him up to speed on anything you’re working on and show him the ropes.”

You were seething. “Of course Mr. Cramer. Happy to.”

“Oh. Good. Let’s order huh? I’m starving.”

You were silent for the rest of lunch ordering two more martinis very dry and a salad. Dressing on the side of course. The men spoke loudly and never even tried to include you in the conversation. You excused yourself to use the restroom. Andy, ever the gentleman, stood up at the same time.

You didn’t go back. Not that it would have mattered. You ordered an Uber and checked your email. You didn’t notice Andy at the valet stand.

“I’m headed back to the office. Need a ride?” he called to you.

“No. I’m good. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” He watched you pace back and forth reading a message almost out loud.

You didn’t look up from your phone. “Shit.” You scowled looking at the screen. You dialed Caitlan’s extension. “Caitlan, Sloan Treadaway’s deposition was moved to today. I need it pushed to Monday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I figured you would be coming back so I told them it was ok to push it up. I can call them back.”

“No. Don’t bother. I’m on my way back.”

“Looks like you can use a ride after all.” Andy was grinning from ear to ear.

He held the door and rushed around to the other side. You pulled a small bag out of your purse. You freshened your hair, popped some breath mints, lotioned and spritzed away the smell of booze. Andy thought this must be commonplace for you. It’s not easy trying to run with the guys. He could walk into this deposition piss drunk and most people wouldn’t care. You had to be perfect. He always hated that aspect of working in a big firm like this.

“Sorry. I’ll pay to have your car cleaned.” It smelled like you now. Expensive perfume and minty breath. Sweet but not sickly so. He inhaled letting his nostrils flair breathing you in. “Don’t want your wife to be pissed.”

“Lori? Don’t worry about her. She’ll understand.”

“How is she doing with her job search?”

“Doing ok. Thanks for asking. She’s interviewed with a few places.”

“She worked for a non profit right?” When he looked at you quizzically, you quickly explained yourself. “I hear things. Anyway. I know the director of a non profit organization that might be a great fit for her. I’ll pass along her information.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Stan told me you were the front runner for this position. I know how hard it is for women in this industry. I want to say how sorry I am…”

“Let me stop you there. First of all, don’t be sorry. You’re high profile and a damn good litigator. They would be stupid not to offer you the moon. You’re over qualified for this job. You didn’t come here gunning for me. I’ll be fine. Besides, a few of these old bags have one foot in the grave. It won’t be long for me.”

Andy smiled at you but still kind of felt like shit at the way the firm treated you. When you pulled into the garage you offered a quick thanks and rushed into the building to prepare.

Andy stayed behind for a bit. He spent a few precious moments breathing in your scent, letting it linger and wash over him. He hoped his clothes would smell a little like you. Stan said you were a “fire cracker”. Andy always hated that analogy. He knew by the way the group of men talked about you that he would like you. Your quick banter in the car confirmed it. Throughout the rest of the day you would invade his thoughts. He and Lori were still married but their relationship was long over. You had excited him more in a couple of hours than she had in years. When he got home he didn’t eat dinner or speak to anyone. He went right to his room where he replayed your exchange over and over. The ghost of your perfume lingered on his shirt. Both of your scents mixed together gave him a raging hard on. He kept your shirt over his face while he fisted his cock.

——————————————————————

The next morning you decided to face the day with a fresher attitude. Sometime yesterday you heard from your friend. She was thrilled that you reached out to her. She has been trying to get you out there for a while. Knowing that you had a solid backup plan was giving your hair volume and clearing your skin.

You thought you were early but Andy was already in your office waiting for you.

“Morning, Mr. Barber.” God he loved how you said that.

He scoffed, “Andy. Please. I brought you a coffee. I hope it’s ok. I got your order from Caitlan. I thought we’d order in lunch today. We have a lot of ground to cover. You should probably let your family know you’ll be missing dinner.”

“I don’t think my dead ficus will worry too much.” Your tone was dry.

“I apologize for the assumption.”

“Not necessary. Though my mother and my therapist would both be pleased to know that I look like someone who could have a family.”

You were funny. You seemed to say whatever thought popped into your head. You had one hell of a poker face though. He didn’t know if you were trying to be funny or if this was just you. When you didn’t look up from your computer screen he didn’t laugh.

As the day wore on you warmed up to him a little. You filled him in on the three big cases you were working on. You were actually going to trial on a very important case soon. He insisted you rehearse your opening statement a hundred times.

During the third run through Andy’s phone was blowing up. He finally turned it off and told you to keep going. He watched you pace around the room and coached you on your stance. “Stand with authority not arrogance.” He chided. He showed you himself then, asked if he could touch your shoulders. “Round them out like this. Good. Back straight. See?” he pointed to your reflection in the window, “It’s not menacing or arrogant. But you look like you’re in charge. You look perfect.” Hell. Was he flirting with you? By the time you looked at the clock it was 9:30.

“Fuck is that the time?” he said with a boisterous yawn.

“Shit. We should pick this up tomorrow.”

“Let’s go get a drink. I’m buying.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m sure your wife and kiddo are dying to see you.”

He stacked some folders neatly on your desk and looked up at you through his lashes, “I’ll be sure to tell my therapist that I look like a guy who has a happy marriage and a good relationship with his kid.”

Your cheeks heated. The way he was looking at you made you sad but it also warmed your insides. “I’m sorry.” you mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. We said we would stay together until Jacob went away to school. He pretends to ignore the fact that we have separate bedrooms. We put on happy faces everyday. We’re a typical American family.”

You laughed at his admission. His whole story was so fucked up. You wanted to know everything about him. “You know, I think I will let you buy me a drink.”

“Good girl.” he said in a low voice that went strait to your core. The whole way to the car you repeated a mantra in your head reminding you not to get involved with a married man. It didn’t matter how unhappy they were. But you wanted him. Every time he touched you, your insides would quake.

The bar was packed with regulars from the DA’s office and other firms. You introduced Andy around. The guy was a legitimate pro. He was so smooth working the room. The whole time he kept finding small ways to touch you. The brush of his fingers on your arm his breath against your ear when he asked if wanted another drink. Your heart nearly stopped. You stuck with him for a while until your feet couldn’t stand anymore. Every time he caught your eye from across the room he winked at you.

For the first time in a long time Andy was enjoying himself. Your friends were fun and not at all stuffy like he thought this crowd would be. You were adorable. Your laugh was cute. The way you brushed against him on purpose was cute. You were openly flirting with him the more you drank. He had a massive crush on you. What grown man has a crush these days. He thought maybe if he fucked you and got it out of his system he’d get over it.

Your friend Liz sat down at your table trying to talk to you for a solid minute before you noticed. “Sorry. I was distracted. What were you saying?” She threw her head back laughing at you.

“I said you two would make a gorgeous couple.”

“Stop. He’s married.”

“Happily?”

“That doesn’t matter. Married is married.”

“So that’s a no. He’s been eye fucking you all night. Shoot your shot, darling. We get so few in this life.” The light hit his wedding ring just right making you feel horrible for even entertaining the thought. Do not get involved. You kept chanting it in your head over and over until Andy slid in the booth next to you. He leaned over so he could talk over the din of the crowd.

“Hey, you. Wanna get out of here?”

“You don’t need to bring me home, Andy. I can catch an Uber.” That was such a ridiculous statement since you lived in the same building.

“That’s not what I asked. I said do you wanna get out of here?” His eyes were fixed on your mouth. A salacious grin splayed across his lips just knowing you’d give in.

“Andy. I….” You stuttered over your words. Your brain stopped working when you felt his warm breath on the shell of your ear. “Let’s get out of here.” Your breath hitched in your chest when he touched the small of your back. He payed his tab and lead you out of the bar.

You held hands in the car. His thumb rhythmically traced patterns on your knuckles. Every touch sent bolts of arousal to your aching cunt. It felt electric. You were ready to crawl into his lap by the time you made it into the garage. He parked in his spot and followed behind you to the elevator. You lived two floors below him. You glanced back at Lori’s sensible suv next to his car and felt embarrassed. He caught you looking and stopped you in your tracks. He took your chin in between his thumb and index finger forcing you to look at him.

“I understand if you don’t want to invite me in. I’m asking a lot of you. But I really like you, Y/N. You are funny and intimidatingly smart. And, fuck me, you are fucking stunning. I can go to work tomorrow like nothing happened. Don’t worry about Lori. Worry about what this means working together. Can you handle this?”

Your brain was no longer working and deferred to your pussy for any and all further decisions. You had not had even mediocre sex in six months. You just knew Andy was going to blow your mind. All day you have been working together so well. You challenged each other and he encouraged you when you faltered. Would this change the dynamic at work? Absolutely. Could you handle it? You’re damn right you could.

“I can handle it.”

“Good girl.” You all but sprinted to the elevator. He wouldn’t touch you until you actually got inside of your apartment and closed the door. When you did, he pushed against you and covered your lips with his.

You tasted the golden flavor of beer on his tongue as it probed your mouth. He unbuttoned your blouse and pushed it over your shoulders letting it hit the floor. He kissed his way down the column of your neck to the swell of your breasts. You panted underneath him raking your nails through his hair.

“God you smell incredible. At any point if you don’t want this….”

“Andy, shut up and fuck me.” He growled low in his throat before he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom. You could see how hard he was through his impeccably tailored slacks. You unzipped his fly and took the whole throbbing appendage in your mouth.

“Fuck, baby yes.” he hissed. You relaxed your throat muscles and swallowed him deeper. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He moaned your name over and over soaking your panties. “Stop, honey. Let me see that pretty pussy.”

He eased you down onto the bed and undressed you painfully slow. It had been so long since he was intimate with someone, he wanted to take his time. He started with your feet removing your heels and massaging your insteps. His hands ran up the length of your legs to your skirt. He took off your panties first letting the skirt material pool around your waist. “So wet for me. So beautiful.” He slipped two fingers in between your folds hitting everywhere but your clit. He built up a tortuous rhythm that had you begging for relief. He smiled down at you watching completely fall apart. When he dipped his fingers inside of you, you were done. Your orgasm spilled out in one glorious cry. Before you could catch your breath he pulled off your skirt and unhooked your bra. His cock was weeping at the sight of you. A large hand held the back of your neck holding your head in place so you could look at him. Your eyes locked as he buried himself inside of you. There were no more words as he moved inside of you. Only breathless moans and sighs would escape your lips. He increased his pace and your orgasm started building again.

“Fuck. Andy, I’m….fuck!”

“I’m with you, honey. Come with me.” His words were your undoing. You latched your whole body onto him. He held you tight whispering praises in your ear. He kissed you slow and deep easing you back down to Earth. “You ok?”

“I think so.” You both laughed at the sight of yourselves. Sweat glistening off of your skin, lips puffy and kiss swollen. He eased off of you and rubbed your thighs to relax you. You thought he would get dressed and rush out but he crawled under the covers instead.

“Can I stay for a while?” Big arms pulled you down to his chest. He stroked your back softly to help you drift off to sleep.

“I’d like it if you did.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and let his eyes flutter closed.

When dawn found you a few hours later, you were still tangled with each other. You jolted awake panicking because Andy was still in your bed. “Andy, wake up. You stayed all night.”

“I know. What time is it?”

“6:45.”

“Then we have time. Go back to sleep.”

“But Lori…”

“I told you not to worry about her. Get back on this pillow and let me hold you. Please.” The poor guy was so touch starved you guessed. Andy Barber was not a man who did well being single. He loved being in love. He longed for a connection. For passion. He knew those things would sometimes fizzle out of a marriage. But, with you, he couldn’t see that. Your fire matched his fire and Lori was the wet blanket that always snuffed him out.

He supposed that wasn’t really fair. Two people were in their marriage. He worked long hours and spent very little time doing anything but being an ADA and being a dad. He didn’t give the same dedication to being Lori’s partner. The stress of this past year pushed them further apart. He felt obligated to be with her. It was his idea to stay together for Jacob’s sake. He regretted pushing for it.

He pulled you close to his body and wrapped an arm around your waist. He nuzzled your hair and fell back to sleep. You did too.

[booksandlewks]

Intensity in Insmire | A Jurdan AU

Happy Holidays to my wonderful knife wife @starborn-faerie-queen!! I’m so lucky to have you as my friend and now snusband (we’re def married now) <3 I was so excited to see that I got to try and write something for you. I also have to thank everybody in the @jurdannet discord for helping me with my writer’s anxiety throughout, and @jurdannetrevels for hosting this secret santa event! 

So this was a prompt you didn’t ask for, but that I hope you will like. I thought of this right when I saw your name and have had a blast making it a reality. One of our first conversations in the discord was about none other than Lauren Layne, so I thought I’d give it my best go at making it Jurdan. I picked what I think of as the iconic scene in Passion on Park Avenue because Jude and Cardan literally define passion. You also put Nicaryn, so in my head when I wrote this they’re already dating and Jude just hasn’t noticed. 

"Be careful, you're going to drop that!" Jude said watching her twin throw down yet another box full of her merchandise.

 It was times like these that Jude wondered about her choice in friends. Not that she had so many choices in friends to begin with, something about her being "abrasive". People may not always appreciate her edges, but that edge is what landed her on the 30 under 30 list. She was grateful, if not confused, about her new-found friendships. While the ladies made for excellent company, and fellow schemers in action, a moving company they were not. Not that Jude would say a word against their help out loud. She was still so grateful to have her twin back in her life.

Jude would thank Locke for bringing them together, if she'd thought it was even remotely a part of his plan. Maybe she could thank him for dying, so that they could find each other in the park that fateful day. Not likely, she had better people to think on.

Nicasia kicked a box into the corner with the toe of her Louboutin heels, "You worry too much, they're not going to break because I didn't gingerly place every single one of your hundreds of boxes down."

"I'm not worried about you breaking an accessory," Jude said huffing as she moved to open the box Nicasia had kicked to prove a point. She held up the lipstick tube, twisting to expose the blade to prove her point. "I'm worried about one of my accessories breaking you."

"Oh, I like that," Taryn laughed, her eyes widening, "Can I borrow that for my next date?"

"Well, it is just a sample," Jude nodded her head to the truck parked outside her new building, "You can keep it if you help me unload the rest of the truck." 

"You drive a tough bargain, a days labor in exchange for one accessory?" Nicasia teased.

Jude put one hand to her heart and the other to her forehead dramatically, "Oh you're truly suffering going up and down the elevator while carrying small boxes."

"These boots were not exactly made for walking Jude," Nicasia said flicking her hair over her shoulder, and punctuating it with an all too casual check of her nails. Why she wouldn't just concede to putting her hair up was beyond frustrating to Jude. She wasn't sure if she hated or respected Nicasia's commitment to always looking perfect.

 "I mean I didn't get to where I was by giving things away for free, but I may have also ordered us pizza and tiramisu from the Italian place on Lexington Ave."

 "Ahh I knew you were my favorite twin!" Taryn said wrapping her arms around Jude and kissing her cheek with an exaggerated smack.

 "I'm your only twin, and you definitely did not know it."

 "The real question isn't why I can't move things in these heels, it's why you think I should be doing this in the first place," Nicasia said glancing speculatively.

 "Wait, yeah, aren't you meant to be rich now Jude?"

"Well, according to my accountant, approximately I am," Jude tilted her head and pretended to tally with her free hand, "filthy rich." She moved the box that had been hoisted on her hip onto the floor of what would be the main living area.

Jude wasn't insane, the larger items like the couch and industrial garment racks would be delivered by a moving company later. She just knew that she could handle the smaller boxes herself. She'd always survived by being self-sufficient, so she wasn't going to start changing what was working now. She'd moved herself into her first shoe box apartment, all her belongings compact and loaded into the back of her ancient little two door.

 "Then why on earth are we moving all of this by hand?" Taryn said turning to her sister, exasperated to see the determination gracing her twin's face. She hated that look, especially when it was on the face that was practically her own under all that stubbornness. "Nic, I need backup here, we're entering dangerously uncharted areas in stupidity. "

 "Jude, love, remember when we agreed to stop each other from entering another toxic relationship?" Nicasia said gently, her hands up as if coaxing a small animal.

 "No, I've blocked out the entirety of Locke's funeral out of a sense of self-preservation," she said voice and face purposefully blank.

 "Why stop there, why not erase him from your entire mind?" Taryn said a bitter edge to her words.  

 Jude laughed, "Me and my therapist are hard at work doing just that."

 "Well while you're working on that, have her work on the toxic relationship you've got with your stupid pride," Nicasia said checking her already perfect nails.

 "Wait, was all of that just the set up for the punchline to your dumb joke?"

 "Woah Tar, harsh words from the woman who asked for my backup in the first place." Nicasia pursed her lips clearly displeased that Taryn had not enjoyed her attempts at humor. "Maybe you should try being nicer to me considering that I have the power to save you from Jude's torture."

 Jude laughed as Taryn started to pester Nicasia to tell her what she meant. While they'd all become fast friends on the fateful day of the funeral, Jude couldn't help but feel that Nicasia and her twin had gotten closer over the summer. She supposed it had to do with the fact that they both had to worry about their reputations and what the fallout from Locke's infidelity would do to it.

That old wound started niggling at Jude again. She may not have been in an official New York society relationship with the man, but she'd had to mourn the loss too. She supposed it hadn't affected her societal standing, being Locke's dirty secret, but she hadn't gotten out unscathed. The bastard had known about her fears. She'd confided in him, about her mother's cheating and how she'd grown up not wanting to get attached for fear of ending up in a similarly messed up situation.

 He'd comforted her, talking about how cheating on somebody wasn't in her character. He'd spelled out what their story could be instead, spinning a story of comfort, safety in his arms, and safety in that future. It made Jude's skin crawl to think about now. How he could say all of this while cheating on her with Nicasia and Taryn, and using her to cheat on them. Some nights it actually made her physically ill. She was such a careful woman, and yet she'd never suspected.

 She wondered if lying to her was part of the game to him, it had to be. Jude thought about how she'd considered bridging the gap and calling Taryn to tell her that she'd met somebody. She'd been too scared to reopen that wound. At eighteen Jude walked away from the stifling role of being Madoc's daughter. She hadn't thought about what leaving Taryn behind to deal Madoc's only other eligible daughter would do. She left her behind for him to put all of his stupid high society rules and dreams into. She'd wondered about her twin over the years, but could never pick up the phone and just dial. What would things be like if she had? Thinking about it wouldn't change anything.

 During Jude's musings Taryn had moved into Nicasia's lap and was switching between pleading and apologizing. Her groveling was so over the top that a warm spot bloomed in Jude's chest while watching her. She had no idea how much she'd missed Taryn, and yet having her take up space in her apartment just felt right.

 "Okay, okay, fine!" Nicasia said standing up and taking Taryn with her. "I happen to have a friend through the New York royalty network, as you call it, and he lives in this very apartment complex."

 "Oh thank god, I love you Judie Bee Jones, but this is the worst."

 "Woah no, I never agreed to having anybody over," Jude said walking over to lock her door, "and wasn't the point of having you ladies around to avoid the assholes."

 "How can you call them an asshole when you don’t even know who it is?" Nicasia asked unlocking the door. Jude went to stop her, but Taryn simply took her face in her hands and pointed it towards the window where the open moving truck stood idle.

 "I promise he's good people, we grew up together," Nicasia said clearly forgetting that her and Jude had not exactly grown up as friends.

Jude did not have much of a chance to consider who might be coming to the rescue she did not need, as there was a knocking at the door.

The warmth she felt from being with her friends left her the second she opened the door and saw Cardan Greenbriar standing there. She'd never seen Cardan look anything less than impeccable, so she was even more furious to see him standing there looking like a Saks Fifth Avenue model from the catalog to help her move. A cable knit sweater, really, to move boxes. With an overcoat no less. No, no, this couldn't possibly be happening. Jude would rather move every single box one by one, than have Cardan Greenbriar help her.

What on earth could have even possessed him to try. She thought she'd made it clear when she'd damn near bitten his head off in her "entry interview" to the apartment complex. It wasn't her fault. Cardan had a particular way of getting under her skin, and the fact that he'd known her from her twin and had not even bothered to look at the application resting in his hand the entire interview had gotten her blood boiling. She'd never actually wanted to live in Elfhame.

The stupid application had been filled out for her and sent in by her mother ages ago. Eva Duarte had been so proud of Jude's success, it had never occurred to her that her mother had plans to use it as a statement. She'd miss her mother's mean streak, and wished she'd been around longer so Jude could understand this plan. Jude had been shocked to be called in for the interview to move into The Palace, and caught completely off guard to see Cardan on the day of the interview.  

 She must've released an actual snarl at seeing him darkening her new doorstep because Taryn and Nicasia pried her away from the door and invited him to come in. This was ridiculous ; she was not a rabid dog to be put in the corner. Although, she was considering biting Cardan.

 "And hello to you too Jude," Cardan said laughing as she struggled to break free of the grip of her friends, "Lovely as ever to see you."

"Why am I seeing you?" 

Cardan raised an eyebrow at that, "Not a very friendly greeting neighbor."

"I read over the paperwork your father sent over and it said that the building takes care of pests in the apartments."

 "Ha ha, very funny Jude," Cardan said stalking closer, "I do hope that's true, as I'd love to see them take you out of here."

 "Really, we're going to resort to I know you are but what am I?" Jude intoned, "On day one?"

 “Is this really our first day together, Judiebeet?"

 "Don't call me that!"

 "As much as I do love seeing you upset my sweet villain," he said trailing a finger over her cheeks, "I didn't come to pick a fight." Jude knew her cheeks had to be bright red, she always got flushed when she was mad. She hated that he had command over her, more than she appeared to have over her own body. Which only made her more upset when he called her that stupid name.

"Why did you come, I had demon summoning scheduled for later in the day," Jude said ignoring the looks Nicasia and Taryn were shooting her.

 "I was informed of a damsel in distress, and princely duties demanded that I come to your aid."

"Oh no, that's it," Jude turned on her friends glaring, and pointing at the door while practically shoving Cardan out, "Everybody out, I'll move them all myself."

 "Wait, but I brought champagne," Cardan said materializing a bottle from the inside of his coat. 

"Jude you can't kick the man out, he brought Dom," Taryn said pulling Cardan back into the apartment by his arm. Jude watched as he re-entered what was meant to be her space, unwilling to fight with Taryn.

"Fine, but if he's here he works," Jude said looking at Cardan as if to say 'unless you've got a problem with that.' The Cardan she knew would never deign to do a day's labor on his own. Always calling somebody his father employed to do things for him instead. So Jude was shocked when all he did was set the actually quite nice bottle on the counter, and gesture his hand towards the door with a look that said 'after you'.

Jude was not sure if she was pleased or pissed off when Cardan actually matched her for work ethic for the rest of moving. He eventually took off the coat, and the sweater, tossing them on the counter with his welcome gift. Jude wished he had not, as she'd been determined to carry more than him before that. She would have managed it too, if he had not rolled up his white dress shirt to the direct center of his forearm. Where it hugged just below his elbow as he worked.

She dropped one of her merchandise boxes when his arm brushed hers while reaching for another, shocked by the contact of his skin hot against her own. Furious with herself for the look that graced his face when she cursed and picked up the box, she decided to be less ambitious with how much she carried.

They had not actually had all that many boxes left. Which made it all the more traitorous that Nicasia had called in for help. As the work dwindled Nicasia and Taryn gave up the pretense of pretending to want to help move the boxes, and sat on the benches that were near the building's entrance. They sat close talking and laughing quietly at each others jokes. Jude could be funny too, but her humor was more dry and wicked. Just as Jude was sprinting to get the very last box, the pizza delivery driver had pulled up to the curb. 

Taryn had gone from commiserating with Nicasia, to giving Jude puppy eyes in 10 seconds flat. Jude laughed softly as she went to go pay the man. Her path was blocked by Cardan who'd made a beeline for the car as it pulled in, while she'd been distracted. If she hadn't been so focused on his damn arms she might have missed how he went to get his wallet from his back pocket. Hell no.

Jude stood one shot at having Taryn and Nicasia not mention her attitude since Cardan walked in, and that was to buy their silence. Nothing says be on my side like hot pizza and good dessert. Which is why she was going to pay for it. Cardan was already handing the man a crisp bill when Jude went to shift the box she'd been holding to under one arm. God, she hated him so much. She'd already missed out on getting to bond with her friends over how annoying moving was because of him, and now he was going to ruin their meal too?

He'd already ruined Jude's childhood, but she was an adult now, and he would not even get a single day from her. She grabbed the boxes of her food and walked to the elevator clicking the button for her floor and slamming on the door close button before he could follow. She walked into her apartment, and she would've locked Cardan out if it not for the fact she had to wait on Taryn and Nicasia to follow. If she had to face him again today, it was going to be on her terms and her rules.

 Jude moved to the boxes now all neatly lined up in what would be her living room. She scanned the barcode stickers on the top of the boxes, each item had been carefully cataloged so that she could be sure that she didn't lose anything important in the move. Downsides to owning and running a successful companies that sold accessories with a dangerous edge? There was so much inventory to keep track of.

 She found what she was looking for and swapped her sneakers for stilettos. She'd love to see Cardan try to look down on her when they were eye level. She'd give a new meaning to the term glaring daggers. She was perfectly capable of paying for a damn pizza.

The door of her apartment opened and Cardan strolled in, his arm around each of her friends. Jude let out a breath that his shirt had been set back to normal, although she was not sure if she was relieved.

 "Really, my own twin?" she said putting a hand on her hip and looking at Taryn who moved, hands up, to sit on the counter top.

"Jude, he got us pizza, please be reasonable," Taryn said in a placatory tone.

 "I got you pizza, this interloper just stole it because pizza is joy, and he can't let me have it."

"You need to stop, you're hangry and turning into rude Jude," Nicasia teased using the family nickname she knew Jude hated. That was just low, she'd revealed that in a 2 A.M. group chat. Which every woman knows means it’s classified information.

 She was being rude, she knew, but well...frankly he started it. Years ago, but she was a petty elephant and would not forget.

 "Fine, have a slice of pizza and then get the fuck out."

When Nicasia and Taryn turned their looks at her, Jude just blinked her eyes slowly a few times. She had never claimed to be a saint. 

"Can I at least get a drink before you kick me out on my ass?" Cardan asked the corner of his mouth upturned.

"Nope, sorry," Jude started and feeling her friends angry stares added, "I just moved in, and I haven't stocked the fridge yet."

"Well, then it's lucky for us my friend was kind enough to drop in to christen the home with champagne," Nicasia said as she made remove the muselet. Jude watched her carefully grip the wire as she twisted it off with effortless ease, and admired her friends grace. Jude would've likely embarrassed herself biting at it. She'd been served champagne at events, but it always came in a glass if she was honest.

 With the sound of the popping cork her control of the apartment got further away from her. She watched as the three of them opened cupboards and looked at an empty counter top as if expecting glassware to simply appear. Jude knew she could easily scan the boxes and find her glassware, but business had taught her to spot an opportunity.  

 "Oh darn, it seems like we can't get you that drink after all."

 "Yes, you seem very forlorn about it," Cardan said shaking his head at her, amusement in those dark eyes. 

Jude gave him a mock apologetic shrug of her shoulders, lips pulled to one side of her mouth. The amusement in his eyes turned to challenge. Unbeknownst to Jude, Cardan's newest hobby was complicated jigsaw puzzles. He had needed something to do while being able to keep an eye on his father, and he found that once he started he just couldn't resist figuring out how the pieces fit together. She'd just presented him with his newest game, and he was going to figure out her pieces.

"Don't worry my darling, like I said we're neighbors now," smiling when Jude scowled at the pet name, "I can just head to my place, and get us some glasses."

It was clear that he'd gotten under Jude's skin when she stalked towards Nicasia and took the bottle from her, and into her own hands. Nicasia just looked at Taryn, and whatever that look meant Taryn must have understood. She moved to the edge of the counter top and invited Nicasia into the circle of her legs, resting her chin on her the top of the other woman’s head.

"How very unfortunate for high-born little princes like you, that you can only sip champagne from the finest of glasses."

She looked right into his eyes as she began glugging the expensive bubbly from the bottle and drinking it like watered down beer. She raised an eyebrow at him as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I do hope I haven't offended you Cardan," she said snarling out his name as if it was foul, "I'd hate to scare you off from ever visiting again."

"Not at all, I'm quite charmed by your lovely manners," he said walking over to where she stood by Nicasia. "Do not expect others to share my depraved tastes," he said taking the bottle from Jude's firm grip and drinking directly while their gazes stayed locked in a battle of wills.

 "Nic, you feel like we're interrupting something here?" Taryn said from where she sat inches away. It shocked Jude out of her stupor, and her sister hopped off the counter as Jude made to reach for her. She was suddenly stricken, it was all fine and well to hurt Cardan, but she wouldn't lose Taryn again. Not when she just got her back.

"Ugh I thought you'd never ask, this is all too straight for me," Nicasia said taking Taryn's hand and making for the door.

"Wait guys, don't go--"

 "Nope, text us when you're ready to act like a person again," Nicasia said laughing as the door shut behind their quickly retreating figures.  

 "Way to go, you scared them off with your stupid smoldering thing."

 "Jude, I think you'll find I'm not the one in the wrong here, although I am delighted to hear you think I smolder," Cardan said backing away from her.

"I meant that stupid staring," she started but trailed off when she noted his smug face.

 "Jude, all I've done today is bring you a housewarming gift and offer help at my friends request."

Jude opened her mouth to protest about the pizza slight, but stopped as she'd realized she'd just dig herself into a deeper hole. All he'd really done was cover her food for her and her friends. Was it possible that her childhood tormentor really had come here without the intent of torturing her. She'd been too caught up in trying to catch his next move, that it hadn't occurred to her. He’d clearly taken her silence to mean something else, because he went to gather his coat and sweater.

"Look, it's clear you don't want me here and I'm not actually trying to hold you hostage in your own apartment."

Jude's pride stopped her from correcting him. She'd been working so hard to get him to leave, that she couldn't exactly walk back her position now. She wanted to though, she wanted to grab him by those rather toned arms and hold him in place. To explain herself or make him explain himself, she wasn't sure. Instead she nodded her agreement, and silently watched him leave. She watched as he walked down the hall, opening and then closing his door. Only then did she finally unfreeze from her doorway and shut her own door.

She sat for about 30 minutes just trying to process all that had just happened. She was not sure when she'd become the villain in this story, but she didn't enjoy the feeling. He was the bully, not her. If his actions today were to be trusted, maybe not even him any longer. Jude stood up suddenly confident in her movements as she scanned the boxes searching for her glasses. She hadn't actually moved everything today, so all she was able to find was some coffee mugs. She looked down at her "I Rule" coffee cup, it'd have to do.

Jude went to where the remains of the bottle was left on the counter, and poured it into the cup. She wouldn't apologize, as she was not truly sorry. Even if he was not the menace he used to be, one day of rudeness was the least of what he'd deserved. She did however write what she'd call her concession. She'd apologized for the coffee mug. The note told him that while her fine Waterford Crystals were still in storage, it should taste just as good coming out of a mug. Jude left the note under the cup, and knocked on his door before leaving.

[wwwafflewrites]

Five Times Sherlock Shrugged Off John, and One Time He Couldn't

5. Danger

Once in a blue moon, a case would land on the outside of society, where Sherlock Holmes and John Watson would be left hiking through muddy hills and tripping over dampened sticks in search for their suspects.

While cases like this were rare, they were always unpleasant. John found that the icy wind would breathe through clothing, and that the path was never recognizable. Every tree was similar to the next. And while John couldn't navigate the forest, Sherlock definitely could. With his bizarre way of thinking, he could recall their location to the exact meter. So, of course, Sherlock wanted to split up.

"We'll cover more ground, John," Sherlock argued, eagerness bleeding into his tone. "It may even spare us a few hours!"

John pinched the bridge of his nose, "You're excluding the hours you'll spend making sense of where I've gone! That is, if you don't forget me and leave with the suspects."

Sherlock gaped his mouth slightly, seemingly insulted and, if John hadn't known any better, hurt. "I would not." His lips flap for a moment, words dying before he repeats: "John, I would not."

John's lips clip together. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Sherlock's expression was unamused, but determined. "John, as long as you stay on this path, you will be perfectly fine. My path diverges west, but I've studied the maps and calculated the distances. This is safe."

"This is bloody stupid. That's what this is. What if I run into them? Hm? Usually, I would call you, but there's no service within a hundred kilometers! How would you know if I found them or not?" John huffed.

Sherlock grinned. "That's why I've brought flares."

"You… oh God… Sherlock, no."

Sherlock revealed two red flares.

"You have got to be joking."

"I'm afraid not, John." He grinned at his clever stock. "They're quite small, yes? Fit right into your coat. Light, concealable, handy…"

"This isn't… this isn't a goddamn tampon commercial, Sherlock. This is a dangerous, bloody stupid plan, and you're handing me flares. Jesus Christ..." He glared at the detective for a moment, who was watching him with raised eyebrows, rendered silent. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'll take the path. If anything happens, you're going to start listening to me?"

"I swear."

"Swear on what?"

"...I swear… on… on my cigarettes."

"Damn right. Go on then. I don't want to be looking for a pair of wandering lunatics when the moon is up."

John was going to regret this. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones. That churning in his gut and the anxiety in his throat. The altogether ill-feeling in his stomach. This was going to be bad.

John found himself repeatedly checking his gun. Was it loaded? Yes.

Yes, it was loaded.

Or was he checking it wrong?

Yes, it was definitely loaded.

What if it jammed?

It was loaded.

On more check and he would go crazy. John sighed, stopping to look at the stars. Despite his wish to not let the case lead on into the night, he couldn't deny that the hours were ticking by. His feet were killing him, sore from maneuvering around low-hanging branches and thick weeds to stay on his tiring path.

Fortunately, his mind paused it's conflicting thoughts when he noticed something dark along a fallen log. Unfortunately, when he reached out to examine it, his fingers met warm, sticky blood. Warm. This… this…

Alarmed and alert, he heard a growl to his right, and he grabbed his gun. Just barely through the shadows, he caught flashing eyes and a victim rabbit, which had already been flayed and dismembered gruesomely. When the snarling animal approached John, and he pulled the trigger without hesitation. When nothing moved, he crept forward, squinting in the dark to identify the bloody shape. It was a… dog. While it could be mistaken for a wolf, it's coat patterns were sharp, like a German Shepard mix. It was a large one, with powerful jaws and wolf eyes. This was the sort of dog he'd expect to find with a police force. John pitied the dog, however, he was thankful he had trusted his instincts. Through the canines, reddened spit bubbled and foamed. Rabid. These people weren't messing around.

"Sherlock, you idiot," he muttered as he scrambled for his flare.

He hesitated. This would alert his location to not only Sherlock, but the others, as well. Hopefully the gunshot would be enough to inform Sherlock that something was very wrong.

When a branch snapped to his right, he held his breath, back pressed against a disfigured oak tree. These men were as blind as he was. Using it to his advantage, he evened out his breathing and fought his racing heart. He forced himself to think rationally, taking in their build and height like Sherlock would in this situation. One was thicker, sturdier, with a noticeable gut; while the other was taller, not as tall as Sherlock, with thin arms and bony knees. Shoot the larger man, he thought, you can take the skinny one. With his war face on, he zeroed in on one of the two figures, took aim, and fired.

Click. The gun jammed.

John fought ever urge to pull the trigger again and again as he panicked. Every nerve in his body screamed to do so. His hands were shaking and the trigger trembled, but he was still.

The two glanced around, paranoid. The larger one shouted far to the east, calling for backup. Dog howls erupted in the distance.

If Sherlock didn't hurry up, he was leaning toward the rabbit's fate.

Unexpectedly, a wash of red light sparked above the crown of trees, and John flinched as they popped and rattled, but they weren't fireworks; they sounded nothing like gunshots. It had come from farther up, but west some, showing how much farther Sherlock had trekked than John. Curse his short legs.

The group changed their direction, leaving John to investigate the outburst. John could hear more people though. More dogs, more men. It was more than they could take on. What had Sherlock been thinking?!

This was bad. So so bad.

Dying out in the woods. The adrenaline was fuzzy in his brain, rattling and nauseating. His breath was shallow as he struggled to breathe. Distantly, he recalled his therapist's infuriatingly calm explanation of a panic attack. He knew what a panic attack was; he was a doctor, for God's sake. She had warned him that his PTSD might spark up or latch onto a memory. He had denied her words.

What an idiot he was.

The soil in his hands was cold and moist, but dry enough to crumble. He was tense, wheezing into his arm to muffle his noises. His legs were jelly, and his hands trembled. He had to stand. He had to stand. There were flashlights now, waving over the ground, if they caught him-

The beam fell over his shivery form.

 No, no, no, no, no…

"Oh, thank..." Sherlock's relieved voice cut into his panic. "John!"

John's lungs became less constricting and he sucked in a ragged breath. Sherlock was here. They were a team. They would solve this together.

He felt significantly safer knowing he had Sherlock's intelligence with him.

Sherlock grabbed at John's coat, sitting him up. His face was tightly scrunched, examining so intensely John thought he would break something.

John let out a jittery, breathy laugh. "You've lost your cigarettes, just so you're aware."

Sherlock's expression faintly softens, although still stressed. He fumbled through John's coat for the second flare as John rested against an uncomfortable tree trunk. "They're not important anyway," the detective responded, shrugging.

John's eyebrows rose. He knew Sherlock wouldn't be saying so a week later while the man paced back and forth within the apartment. That would be a headache of its own. But it was a tolerable headache.

"And you're not hurt?"

John took a second to reply. "I'll be okay."

It wasn't an answer, but Sherlock didn't push it. Both men knew could observe it himself.

Sherlock was fidgety, glancing at the darkness at every faraway bark or unintelligible shout of criminals. "The Scotland Yard is on its way. I told Gertrude to have his men report the flare. Regardless of whether we are safe or not, I organized it as a safety precaution. Very soon, there will be officers crossing our path. I… I apologize... for all of this. I'll understand if…" Sherlock trailed off, unable to force the words out.

John stared at him incredulously when deciphered what the detective was implying. "For a genius, you're an absolute idiot," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're still my friend."

Sherlock didn't reply, but John could see the relief in his calculating eyes.

He checked his phone. "Well, you won't need to worry about working this case at night any longer," Sherlock said, genuinely smiling.

John froze. Was he getting service? What was he on about? He cautiously asked, "Why?"

"It's three a.m."

John's shoulders dropped, shaking as he laughed. "Oh my God."

Smile still playing along his face, Sherlock eyed the flare. "Can you hear that? It's the Yard."

They both stilled, tuning their ears. Sure enough, they watched the twinkling flashlights far in the distance. Their were a dozen police cars, parked with swirling reds and blues above them. Two ambulances were on scene as well, prepared for the worst.

"Looks like that's our ride," John said.

"It seems so."

[ikesenhell]

Moon Phase (1)

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here or become a Patron of mine! NOTES: This was a commission for @forallyourikemensengokuneeds - Thank you so much! If you want to commission a piece of your very own, please see here. THIS IS GOING TO BE IN MULTIPLE PARTS. She wanted a piece a la Professional Integrity.... so here we are. 

Much like the moon, she had her phases.

Mitsuhide knew her long enough to get to watch them. Over the years she passed in and out of changes like a butterfly emerging from the different soft shells of a cocoon. It was so impossible sometimes for him to look at the woman she’d become and remember the little highschooler he’d once known.

“You were such a frail thing,” he teased her at one holiday party. She clicked her tongue at him.

“Ooh, do you want to fight me, or are you trying to flirt with me?”

“Flirt with you? Now now. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“I wasn’t. I was just about to let you know not to waste your time. I’ve got standards.”

He should have anticipated that sharpness. Still it was so unexpected that he laughed until his sides hurt.

They stayed close. Well--it was always a stretch to call his attachments to anyone close. He knew full well what he deserved and what he didn't. And as for her--well, he’d always carried something of a flame for her, a small, soft light that he couldn’t bring himself to squash. Once upon a time Masamune had even called him out on it.

“Just say something,” the man pushed. “Come on.”

“Don’t tell me that.” Mitsuhide laughed it off. “Besides. She deserves far more than what I can give her.”

She had her phases, and this one wasn’t pleasant.

“Hey, by the way.” Hideyoshi called on occasion to talk. Mitsuhide more often than not wound up letting the man talk about his own life rather than volunteering any information about what he was doing. Working in public relations wasn’t all that fascinating. It just took a bit of fancy talking on occasion. “Have you heard from the Princess lately?”

“No. I figured she was busy. Why?”

“Because apparently she quit her job.”

Mitsuhide paused a long time to think about that. She wasn’t the kind of woman to just up and let something go without having a backup plan. “And?”

“And nothing. That’s exactly it. She just quit and now none of us have really managed to get in contact with her.”

He didn't need to ask to follow up on the last part of the thought. He still lived closest to her. After all the years, somehow she and he had never managed to separate by more than a few streets. “I’ll look into it.”

“Thanks. I just knew that you don’t really get onto Facebook all that much anymore, so I thought I’d let you know.”

“I appreciate it.”

She didn't answer the front doorbell, but her car was in the driveway, so Mitsuhide let himself in the garden gate and rapped against her backdoor too. Nothing. Frowning to himself, he backed up and gathered a few small pebbles from the pathway, juggling them experimentally in his hand.

Her bedroom window flew open before he could throw the first one. “Oh no you don’t!”

“What?” Mitsuhide snickered. “Close that. I didn't even get a chance to serenade you with a boombox over my head. Let me have a little fun.”

“You’ll break my window is what you’re going to do!”

“Alright.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Why won’t you answer the door or the phone?”

She scowled down at him. “I’m an adult. Do I have to tell you why I do anything?”

“No, but it is terribly out of character. And why did you quit your job?”

Her mouth worked then shut. “I was tired of it.”

“Bullshit.”

She moved to close the window, so Mitsuhide threateningly pulled out the pebbles again. With a heavy sigh, she reopened it. “You’re not going away, are you?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Fine. Just--just give me a second.”

A ‘second’ turned out to be more like fifteen minutes, and when she finally opened the back door, her hair was soaking wet. He appraised her freshly-washed locks and tired circles under her eyes and the disarray of her kitchen with the same impassive stare, drinking it all in.

“I’m presuming I don’t have to tell you you can’t quit a job without a backup.”

All the venom was gone from her glare. “No.”

“I thought not.” Shedding his coat, he draped it over a kitchen chair and set about washing the stack of dishes in her sink. “Have you seen a therapist?”

“Twice a week,” she answered miserably, having a seat at her table.

“Is the Prozac not working?”

“Not well enough. They’re looking at other options.”

He finished scrubbing the first one and set it in the drying rack. Only once before he’d seen her like this, and that was back in college. She nearly failed a semester because her depression made her miss three weeks of class. It figured the damn disease wasn’t going away, but he’d foolishly hoped that it wouldn’t strike as hard as before. “Did you quit, or were you--”

“I quit,” she answered immediately. “I didn't want to get fired if it got bad enough, so I quit.”

“I see.”

He turned on her Keurig and brewed two coffees, retrieving them after he’d dried his wet arms. She accepted the mug silently, staring into its dark surface as if it would give her a fortune.

“So what’s the plan?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I have a couple weeks of severance, and probably a backup job in the works, I just…” She shrugged. “In the meantime I know I’ve got to do something. I just don’t know what I need. It feels like I’m in this hole.”

“Well.” Mitsuhide mulled over her options. “You could always go visit the others. Go on a bit of a road trip, as it were. I imagine some fresh air and a change of scenery for a week or so might do you some good.”

She stared off into the backyard. “Yeah.”

“You could even borrow my camper. I’m not using it at present.”

She didn't answer that at first. Mitsuhide almost took this as a surface-level rejection, but very suddenly she fixed him with her dark-eyed stare and said, “Could I borrow you, too?”

He froze. “Pardon?”

“A roadtrip sounds nice, but without the company it just sounds exhausting.” A beat. “I mean, I know you’re actually employed and have responsibilities, so if you can’t, that’s fine, but I was just--I just wondered if that was something you might want to do. It sounded like you’d enjoy it as well.”

Flipping out his phone, he thumbed through his calendar and found it oddly clear. That wasn’t common these days. He had as much luck getting a free day as getting an audience with the Dalai Lama. “I suppose that could be arranged, in theory.”

Her whole expression bloomed. “Really?”

“Apparently so. I wasn’t holding out hope, but as it so happens, I’m not needed around the office for a bit.” Wagging his phone at her, Mitsuhide pocketed it again. “It’s not a very big camper, mind you. We might be a bit cramped.”

“It can’t be any closer quarters than that one summer we went to Hideyoshi’s lake house.”

He almost barked a laugh through the mouthful of coffee, barely swallowing in time. “Yes, it would have been great if the man had warned it was only a two bedroom affair beforehand. I’ve never seen Ieyasu so angry to share a bed with someone.”

“You ass, you were getting bunked with Ieyasu and insisted you just had to trade with Mitsunari. You were the cause of that.”

“Oh, was I? I don’t recall.”

For the first time their whole conversation, something like a real smile sprung forth fully formed. She ducked behind the coffee mug, but it was too late, so she gave up the ghost and allowed herself a good laugh. “God, he was so pissed. Didn't he wind up just sleeping on the front steps?”

“I think so.”

Setting down her mug, she cupped her chin in her hands and smiled at him openly. His stupid heart thudded hard in his chest, reminding him painfully of the crush he’d never quite seen to school before now. Was this such a good idea? For a fraction of a second, he questioned the wisdom of confining himself to a shared space with her for over a week.

“I missed hanging out,” she admitted, and all of his misgivings dissolved. “Really.”

More tenderly than he meant, Mitsuhide answered, “I’m glad to help. Have your things ready by the day after tomorrow.”

[iris-writes-things]

Crazy, Millennial Love Story chapter 9

Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut!

After years of near radio silence, Shiro follows up on an invitation to have dinner with the Holts; the family he had carefully avoided since getting Matt and himself into an accident 3 years ago. On top of that, Pidge has an announcement to make!

Chapter 9 of ? Ongoing 2226 words Modern/romance

Shiro stood silently in front of the Holts' front door for a solid five minutes, contemplating whether he should ring the doorbell or go home. Deep down, Shiro knew Keith was right. Besides, now that he'd made contact with Katie-- Pidge again, there was no way he could avoid the family forever. They were a family of cops and cryptid hunters after all. If they wanted him, they'd find him.Finally, he took a deep breath and pressed the damn button. He flinched when the door was opened immediately, only to be greeted by Matt's smiling face. "H-How long were you standing there?!"

"About as long as you." He said, looking at his watch. "Give or take five minutes?"

"Was it really that long?" Shiro asked, growing flustered in embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you didn't bail on us." Matt said, ushering him inside, patting his back reassuringly. "Hm, no Keith?" He noted.

"No, he's taking pictures at his first wedding."

"Ah, so he's finally getting his photography thing off the ground, huh? You can take home whatever we don't eat today, so he won't miss out." Matt smiled.

Shiro found himself forcing a smile back, awkward and disingenuous, but it quickly faltered. He hoped Matt hadn't noticed, and when the other pushed him into the front room, he figured as much.

"Guys, look who's here!" Matt announced cheerfully.

The inside of the house was just as cute and quaint as he remembered it, very little had changed after all. The walls had been painted a slightly off-white, and the furniture was slightly rearranged, but other than that, it was the same. Where there was no furniture occupying the wall space, the walls were covered with family photos, meticulously arranged in chronological order. Shiro had been there for most moments since Matt’s teenage years, but he noticed there had been new additions to the photo wall since he last visited. Holy crap, had Pidge already graduated high school? She must have been so disappointed in him...

"Shiro!" Was the only warning he got, a mere fraction of a second before a much smaller body threw itself at him

"Oof..." He groaned from the sudden impact. "Hey Pidge."

"Honey, be careful with our guest, will you?" Her mother, warned. It was strange to Shiro, seeing the medical examinor in her very homey open kitchen instead of her cold lab in the precinct’s basement.

"Don't worry, he’s been tackled by people three times her size and made it out okay.” Matt chuckled.

“Only because you picked the fights. Don’t think I never read through your partner’s paperwork, son.” His father teased, glancing up from his newspaper.

“Aah, good times.” Matt sighed, a nostalgic grin plastered on his face.

“I’m really fine, dr. Holt, captain.” Shiro said as he attempted to pry their daughter off him.

The two looked at each other for a moment in surprise. “You know you can just call us by our names, right? We’re all friends here, Shiro.” Dr. Holt, Colleen, said, carefully choosing her words.

“Yeah, friends…” Shiro couldn’t help but look down as the feeling of guilt crept back up on him, spreading through his chest and mind like poison. His lip quivered, and his grip on Pidge tightened ever so slightly.

“Shiro?” The little girl whispered.

“Dude, are you okay?” Matt asked, reaching out for him, but Shiro recoiled, staying out of his reach. Matt’s face fell, he sighed. “Shiro, listen, it’s not like you didn’t lose anything that night. Hell, if anything, you lost more than me.” He mumbled, staring at his friend’s prosthetic arm.

“But you lost your future as a detective.” Shiro argued. “There’s no way you’ll get through the city police’s psych evaluation, and that’s because of me.”

“And neither will you! How long will it take to get that through your thick skull?! Look, I’m seeing a therapist to get back on my feet, and who knows, maybe I’ll be a detective like dad someday, but right now I’m having the time of my life working as a private detective and helping Pidge with her monster hunting. Just because maybe you weren’t as ambitious as I was doesn’t make what happened to you any more okay than what happened to me! And I know you’re getting there too thanks to Keith, but I’m going to need you to let go of that night, and for the love of God, stop avoiding us. We miss you.”

“You done, buddy?” Pidge asked, looking up at her brother. “I think you broke him.” She said as she nodded towards him.

“Uh-oh…”

Shiro stood speechless and unmoving, mind racing to catch up with what the Hell just happened. It was small and weak, his voice trembled when he spoke a few moments later. “I know. And I’m sorry, I knew I shouldn’t have avoided you guys, but there was just always this nagging voice at the back of my mind that you guys would never forgive me…” His voice was barely above a whisper as tears started to form in his eyes.

“It’s okay, Shiro. You’re here now, that’s what counts.” Captain Holt, Sam, smiled, placing an encouraging hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

“And, for what it’s worth, we never blamed you for what happened. Not for one second. You just got a call for backup and answered it. You couldn’t have known they would gang up on you guys. It was an accident. It could have happened to any officer in the area.” Colleen added, cupping Shiro’s face in her hand, forcing him to look at the melancholy expression on her face. “If you’d like, you could still come over for dinner once a month. You know, like you used to.” She offered.

“Yeah! He deserves at least one decent meal every month.” Pidge piped up. “Keith can come too! Or your girlfriend, maybe.”

“Girlfriend?” Matt asked, turning to Shiro, who only shrugged and smiled apologetically. “Shiro, you sly dog! When were you planning to tell me?”

“She’s not technically my girlfriend, yet. But I’d like her to be.”

“I sent my friend Allura that same Buzzfeed article I sent you. You know, the one with Shiro’s naked torso?” Pidge said, shit-eating grin plastered on her face. “She went on a date with him the very next week.”

“H-hey, that was for business! She wanted me to model for her…”

“And by ‘your friend Allura’ you mean your hot friend Allura, right?” Matt asked his little sister, ignoring Shiro’s excuse.

“Smoking.” Pidge pointed out, smirking devilishly at Shiro, who tried and failed to hide his embarrassment, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh my God, Shiro, you lucky bastard!” Matt chuckled, punching his friend in the arm. “Seriously, if she likes you as much as you like her--”

“And she does.” Pidge cut in.

“You should totally go for it!”

“A-are you sure?” Shiro asked them, stammering.

“Yes, we’re sure.” The Holt siblings insisted in unison.

“Just trust me, you have more than a chance with Allura. You guys are seriously good for each other.” Pidge winked, elbowing him in his right side.

“And if you need any help, we’d be more than happy to.” Matt said, mirroring his sister’s motions and elbowing him in his left side.

Shiro couldn’t help but laugh. Seriously, these two seemed to be linked on a telepathic level. It was like they should have been twins, but had been born seven years apart for some odd reason. “Okay, if you guys say so…” he drew a deep breath. “I guess I’ll give it a more serious shot.”

The siblings cheered, only to be cut off by their mother.

“It’s great that you guys are having fun, but can you please come and have dinner before the food cools down again?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Even though Shiro had been hesitant to join the Holts initially, he was glad he showed up after all, and even more grateful that Colleen always made enough Thanksgiving dinner to last the family three days. If he was completely honest, this was the best home cooked meal he had eaten in literal years.

It was making him sentimental, not just about the good food, but about sharing it with so many people he loved, as well. Of course, Shiro loved Keith too, but it was different in a way. These were people he had called family for years before suddenly breaking almost all contact with them. The fact he was now re-establishing that relationship felt surreal to him, but in the best kind of way.

“Okay, so, now that we’ve all had dinner and everyone seems to be in a good mood, I have an announcement to make.” Pidge said as she stood up from her chair.

Shiro glanced around the table to find Pidge’s parents and brother wearing the same surprised expression as he was.

“Alright… I’ve been thinking about this for a very long time… And breaching this topic is pretty hard, because it’s both a complicated concept, and I have no idea how you guys are going to react to this, but anyway, here goes nothing.” She paused to take a deep breath before continuing. “So, uh, you know how computers work on binary code, right? Zeroes and ones?”

Shiro nodded, assuming the rest of the family did so too, prompting her to go on.

“Okay, so, like, that’s also the way society tends to look at gender identity, right? Even on the rare occasion the mainstream talks about transgender people, we’re still talking men and women, zeroes and ones, a binary of gender identities, if you will.” She said as she adjusted her glasses. “But it’s weird, because we all know there are more numbers in the Arabic numeral system than just zeroes and ones, right? So it’s not really that far-fetched to think that there are more than two gender identities. Like, if boys are zeroes and girls are ones, then twos could be agender people, bigender people could be threes, demiboys and demigirls could be fours and fives, and so on! There’s like a bazillion different gender identities out there that each don’t fit in the traditional gender binary, and what I’m trying to say is that I don’t fit in the traditional gender binary either, and I’ve decided I’m not gonna try to fit inside it anymore. So... If you guys could call me Pidge and refer to me with gender-neutral pronouns like they/them from here on out, that’d be great. Thanks for coming to my TED talk, I guess.”

The family kitchen was quiet for a time, but there was no real tension. Not like Shiro expected. Everyone was just collecting their thoughts, Shiro assumed. He knew he was. However, he could read in Pidge’s face that they were feeling the non-existent tension nonetheless. The speech they had just delivered was heartfelt and obviously came from deep within the kid, but was practiced and worded in a way that made the concept easy to understand. Despite being bi himself, he had never met many trans people, let alone non-binary ones. He had a lot left to learn, he felt.

Finally, the silence was shattered when Sam spoke up. “Honey, I’m glad you discovered this about yourself. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to open up about this.”

“Exactly. And if you ever need help with anything in regards to your self expression, you just let us know and we’ll do what we can.” Colleen added. Shiro was sure he heard Pidge letting out a relieved sigh. “You’re still our little baby, and we’ll do anything we can to make you as comfortable as possible.” She reassured.

“Thanks, mom. Thanks, dad.” Pidge mumbled, smiling, but tearing up a little.

Shiro looked at Matt, wondering what he had to say on the matter.

“Honestly? I knew this was coming. I’m just disappointed you didn’t use the powerpoint presentation you made.” Matt shrugged, the same old, stupid grin plastered on his face. “I’m proud of you though, no matter what.”

“I’m with Matt.” Shiro said simply. “I thought something was up when you asked me to call you Pidge instead of Katie, but I decided not to push.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t very subtle back there, was I?” Pidge giggled. “I’m so glad you guys are okay with it, though.”

“What can we say? We’ve always known you were different from the other kids, but that’s the best thing about you.” Sam smiled at them, prompting Pidge to hug him tightly.

“I love you guys so much.”

“And we love you, too.”

“Whoa, like, I always thought Pidge was a bit of a tomboy, but she’s not a girl at all?” Keith asked, looking at Shiro. His eyes wide like saucers.

“Nor a boy, apparently. Pidge is just Pidge.” Shiro yawned. “It’s actually a pretty nice way to look at it; not being a boy or a girl, but just being yourself…”

“I guess. I’m still very comfortable with being a man.” Keith shrugged.

“Me too.” Shiro yawned again, his eyes starting to droop in exhaustion. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m gonna hit the hay. If you’re hungry, there’s turkey, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie in the fridge.”

“Thanks Shiro.” Keith smiled. “Good night.”

“Good night, Keith.”

[rosalindmosis]

Jane Foster Week - Day 2 - Associated Quote

Okay, this is technically song lyrics, but it reminds me of Jane so much.... 

‘ They look down At the ground Missing But I never go in nowI'm looking at the big sky I'm looking at the big sky now I'm looking at the big sky You never really understood me You never really tried.’

The Big Sky, Kate Bush

(Content warning- cancer, death, suicidal thoughts- but there is a happy ending!)

As Dr Bastrop was talking, Jane wondered how many times he’d had to deliver death sentences. Did he speak to his therapist about it? Did he get drunk? Did he cry? Probably not cry, otherwise he’d never stop. Would her reaction, or lack thereof, stick out in his memory at all? She was probably younger than most he delivered this news too, but maybe not the youngest. She wished she could ask him, but… it didn’t seem like the right time.

‘Do you… understand Dr Foster?’

It was nice he actually used her title, even if he had just informed her that she had maybe eight months at best. It was the little things.

‘Yes,’ she managed, distantly.

‘I can go through anything if you wish…’

‘No no…I’m… alright, hah, or not.’

He managed the merest trace of a smile, indicating to her that he’d heard his fair share of gallows humour in the past.

‘Is there anyone you wish to speak to?’ He asked, quietly ‘Or for me to contact?’

There was one, to start with.

‘My lawyer,’ she told him, looking at her phone ‘I need to speak to her straight away.’

Ms Jennifer Walters was someone Jane had known for years. They were at Culver, albeit in different departments, and she had a reputation for being quiet but determined. Her outwardly mouse like exterior hid something that won her cases and Jane admired her for that. She also admired the way that Jen had brought in the most delicious, artisan coffee she could find for their meeting.

‘I’m so sorry Jane,’ she told her, indicating a seat before drawing her into a hug first. Jane returned it gratefully.

‘Thanks,’ she whispered back ‘um, yeah, could we… get down to it?’

Jen nodded ‘Of course! Sure!’

She went behind her desk and retrieved a file from a drawer. Jane recognised it.

‘Most forward thinking thing I’ve ever done,’ she said, mostly to herself.

‘Is… is there anything you want to change about it?’ Jen asked.

‘No… well, how much would it be if I recorded a video message as well?’

Jen frowned ‘Nothing.’

‘C’mon Jen-’ Jane began.

‘Nothing whatsoever,’ Jen repeated, firmly ‘I’m serious.’

Jane sighed ‘Okay, fine… but that’s the only thing I want to do. Nothing has changed. Same people. Same stuff.’

‘Same plan?’

Jane nodded ‘Same plan.’

Jen said nothing for a moment, before pressing a button on her intercom ‘Hey, Dean? Could you bring in the paperwork for a video will? And set up the studio?’

A young male voice replied from the other end.

‘Sure thing Ms Walters.’

Jen sat back in her chair and nodded to Jane’s coffee ‘Drink up. That’s the best stuff I have.’

Jane nodded and drank deep- it was perfect. Probably the best coffee she’d ever drank. God the smell was heavenly, with a proper creamer, not some diner garbage and a nice ceramic mug instead of a paper cup.

‘You need a tissue?’ Jennifer asked, her voice seeming to come from a long way off.

‘Yup. I really do.’

‘That good?’

‘Hmmph,’ she sniffed.

Well, I already look pretty bad, Jane reflected, blowing her nose before finishing her coffee so I might as well cry.

Eventually, she collected herself enough to be led into Jen’s will-studio, complete with dull murky backdrop and school-photographer set up. She passed her own reflection and saw that she had endured a year of chemo. No hair, pale skin, skeletal appearance… man. Red eyes did nothing to improve the fact she looked half dead already.

She sat on a reclaimed bar stool, whilst Jen’s cute assistant, Dean, asked if she wanted cushions or some water which she declined. Jen handed her the will she’d made the week she had been diagnosed. She glanced at it. She hadn’t had much hope back then, but she promised herself this was for peace of mind. She didn’t really think she was doomed, it was just… a precaution.

Jen coughed ‘We’ll start rolling and… you just read whenever you’re ready.’

Jane nodded and took a breath ‘Okay… I’m good to go.’

‘My name is Doctor Jane Foster, this is my last will and testament- the full legal document is kept by my lawyer; Ms Jennifer Walters, but I wanted to make a video so that… so that it felt more… I dunno, personal? I guess? And um… yeah… I just… If I am making this, it’s because I’ve decided to take the cancer with me… rather than let the cancer take me, if that makes sense? I’ve made arrangements. You probably will not find a body if all goes well.’

She slowed her breathing and started again.

‘I um… I am sorry to everyone. I know some of you are probably going to be mad that I didn’t say goodbye in person but… um… yeah, pretty selfish of me I guess, but there’s something I’ve always wanted to do and… this is my last chance. I don’t know if it will work but… what the hell. I’m dying anyway.’

That was the first time she’d said it outloud. God.

‘Um, I’ve filed several patents, the numbers are listed in my will and all the proceeds from them go to a Miss Darcy Lewis… who I owe big time. I can never pay her back for her time or emotional labour, but I can compensate her financially… if my last experiment works, then the equipment listed is eventually going to make her very well off indeed. Just in case it doesn’t work, I have savings of about $7,000 which I am leaving to her as well… and, if I may get super unprofessional for a moment… Love you Darcy. I’m sorry for this.’

She’d sold her Mom’s London apartment after she’d died. She couldn’t bare to be there any more. The place was worth a surprising amount, but she’d spent a lot of it on her treatment and… a few other things.

‘All of my equipment, notebooks and backup drives currently in my apartment are to go to the University of Culver, Virginia. Again, a full list is available in my will. To Erik Selvig, there’s a list of data drives and a server in storage at a facility in Norway. The address is in the will- I am leaving it to him. All of it. I hope… I hope he can make good use of it… and I’m sorry I’m the second Foster he’s had to watch get sick, but I’m damned if I’m going to be the second Foster he watches die so… sorry Erik.’

She blinked and continued.

‘Anything further is detailed in my will…. Um… there is one more thing.’

She looked dead into the camera.

‘If Thor comes back somehow and… and sees this, tell him… I mean if you’re watching this Thor… Oh god… I’m also sorry. Sorry that I had to… Had to end it this way um… I didn’t want to end it this way, but I also didn’t want you to know about this...that I was sick. I thought you were way better off not knowing about me...that the universe needed you more than I did. I hope you can forgive me. I wanted to protect you from the dangers of my world.’

She coughed as she recovered from the impression. Dropping her voice to that octave hurt at the best of times. Jen and Dead laughed. She took some grim satisfaction.

‘Okay, that’s all. That’s all I have. I… I love you guys. I am sorry. I hope… I hope I either die in the name of science or… finally get to go to space on my own and… die out there. Also in the name of science.’

She waved to the camera and Jen clicked it off.

‘That was a pretty great Thor by the way,’ she told her as Dean offered her help off the stool she was sitting on.

‘Eh, had plenty of practise,’ she shrugged ‘thanks.’

‘So… what’re you going to do now?’

Jane bit her lip, before turning off her phone and handing it to Jen.

‘First… get a van.’

There wasn’t much left of Puerto Antigua. No one decided it was worth rebuilding. It was regrettable, but it worked for her. After finding the site of the old garage where she had first found Thor and the Einstein Rosen Bridge- god had it really been eight years? No, closer to nine now. She glanced up and down what remained on the main street. The whole place was a ghost town now. She looked little more than a ghost herself.

Perfect.

Even now, probably as it had done for thousands of years, there were readings. All she had to do was… open it up.

Dealing on the black market had not been the best option, but it was the only way she could find the power sources she needed. The Chitauri army had not been able to open the portal without a massive boost, but there was enough for one person… in theory. Aiming was another problem- but she had a rough… idea of where she was going. Thor had taken her to the libraries of Asgard once, long enough for her to cross-reference a place- the Alfheim system. She was certain a group of astrophysicists in Hawaii had found it and they were happy to share the data with her. If they were wrong- well she’d end up floating in space and would mostly likely die quickly. Or in the middle of a star. Or something… worse. Well, she had a contingency plan, provided she could move her arms and legs.

The black market was a good place for cyanide capsules as it turns out.

The platform was a crude octagon of spires that tapped into the weak spot left by continuous Rainbow Bridge use. It was faint, but present. The power source were some crystals, circuits and the engine of one of the floating hover boards linked to a remote controlled unit. It had taken her years of work and, she wasn’t wholly confident. She had been doing it since the convergence. She hadn’t told Thor… for some reason. She meant to. Really. Perhaps he’d worry about her safety. Perhaps he’d try and stop her. She wasn’t sure, but she hadn’t said anything. She’d simply disappeared into a converted shipping container she’d rented and hoped no one would find it. Darcy knew, but she’d assumed she’d abandoned it after she’d got her Nobel and focused on Astronomy instead. She had for a while… but the cancer had put her right back in there.

Screw it, she had thought, at five am in a cold static shipping container in the middle of Staten Island, I might be dying anyway.

There was only one certainty in her future now. The only question was when and where. So she wasn’t all that different from everyone else really. That was a good way to think about it.  

She checked her watch. An hour. Time for a final once over. She tested the signal, applied more duct tape, checked the wind resistance… a lot of it felt more out of nervousness than anything else. Her hands shook, but they shook all the time lately. She was cold, but it was the desert at about 10pm, so that wasn’t surprisingly either.

But yeah, she was scared. Uncertainty had never sat right with her. She needed to know, but right now, that wasn’t going to be possible. She could only hope she didn’t end up dying in a stupid way. Just in an awesome way.

She checked her watch again- now it was twenty five minutes. God. Too much time, yet not enough… She rechecked her backpack- food, supplies, a water purifier, warm clothes, ancient mp3 player, old digital camera (as if anyone would ever see what she recorded) changes of underwear, painkillers… and the way out. The cyanide were in an otherwise innocuous little pill bottle that she placed on the inside of her jacket. Just in case she… over shot? Undershot? This would be interesting, if nothing else.

Ten minutes.

She had ten minutes of time on Earth. That’s all. What the hell could she do in ten minutes? Pretty much nothing. Especially not out here.

Oh god. What if… hah. What if what? She died? That was happening anyway.

‘I’m looking at the Big Sky…’

Her Dad said-sung that when he was high on morphine, as he faded away. He was, as a nerdy British man who was in college in the seventies, a huge Kate Bush fan. He adored her. He had her records on in the car. One of her earliest memories was listening to Hounds of Love on the way to pre-school. The song that she loved the most?

The Big Sky.

They look down

At the ground

Missing

But I never go in now

I'm looking at the big sky

I'm looking at the big sky now

I'm looking at the big sky

You never really understood me

You never really tried

She wasn’t the best singer ever. But… if there was an appropriate song to go out to, then this was it. She pulled out the mp3 player and put the headphones in, finding the song quickly. Her voice was lost in the desert night, echoing into nothing as the equipment began to hum into life. She checked her watch.

One minute.

That cloud, that cloud

Looks like Ireland

C'mon and blow it a kiss now

But quick

'Cause it’s changing in the big sky

It’s changing in the big sky now

We’re looking at the big sky

You never understood me

You never really tried

She was aware of the equipment warming the air around her. The buzz and hum as they began to open the way around her. She took a breath as the pressure made her ears pop painfully, but she had no time to check if she was okay before-

-she was thrown.

Well, she wasn’t thrown exactly, but it sure as hell felt like it. She’d realised early on that she could die on impact if she tried to recreate the Bifrost exactly. She aimed for more of a tunnel type thing that would allow her to walk out. It still felt like she was pulled by a gust of wind. Her eyes watered as she saw blackness speed past her, feeling as though she were being buffeted. She wondered if it would ever end, as nausea and pain began to creep up her throat. Oh god…. Oh god what’s-

This cloud, this cloud

Says Noah

C'mon and build me an ark

And if you're coming, jump

'Cause we’re leaving with the big sky

We’re leaving with the big sky

We’re leaving with the big sky

She opened her eyes. The sky was blue, pure, clear blue, with soft clouds that would indicate a sunny day. She winced and got up, feeling stiff and sore but, apparently in one piece. She glanced around, trying to take everything in. Either she was hallucinating, or there was a lot of grass here. Like, it was a field of tall grass that flowed and waved in the breeze. She gazed to the west of her and saw what looked like a settlement of some kind- a town? It was so far away…

She hefted her bag onto her shoulders and stood up straight.

Either I am dead and this is heaven or… or I made it to somewhere in the Alfheim system. Or… somewhere else.

She patted her pockets- her mp3 player was there, still in her pocket, but the headphones had been lost. She had packed another set, given her past experience with camping trips, and set herself up with some more Kate Bush.

The sky above her was bright and big, there were people up ahead and here she was… ready to head out. She’d done it. She’d left.

She’d made it. Holy…

‘Holy shit!’ She giggled ‘Holy shit!’

The thought that perhaps no one would know where she was or what she had done… hurt, but only briefly. The mortal world with her friends, her work, her legacy… it was still there. They’d have to sift through the pieces. Maybe… maybe they’d find something.

Hopefully.

But that wasn’t her concern any more. She had left.

She set off.

[sensitiveeeeee]

It’s odd to feel like someone else’s life is in your hands. There is a low chance of the worst happening, but the worst has happened before. The chance will never be low enough.

Judy is a tough veteran. She’s been with the agency for 15 years. I don’t know how she’s stayed after what happened. I don’t think I could. It’d give me PTSD, but maybe she’s so used to the PTSD from her time in the military that she can’t imagine her life without it. Or maybe she feels like she owes her life to this place or something, even though what happened was not her fault, of course. Or maybe she’s simply tougher and stronger than I am. She hasn’t shown a lot of emotion. But I dared to ask her what happened that night, years ago. I could see her visually recalling it.

“She had actually been acting silly that night, rolling the towels up and whipping people with them and laughing. She got so upset that we wouldn’t let her go home because of her behavior. We didn’t have a lot of backup. She ran out and got all the way to the bridge. She jumped to her death.”

I had so many questions, but we were interrupted. I cannot comprehend that, and I pray to God that I am never forced to. I don’t think I’m strong enough. So I am hyper-vigilant during crises, but I guess that’s what’s needed.

It’s been a couple hours since the last crisis I witnessed and took part in, but I can’t stop seeing the fire in this girl’s glazed-over eyes. I remained calm. This was not the worst of my battles here. Not worse than the black eye and not worse than being pinned to the ground. I feel numb to all this. People seemed surprised that I didn’t seem scared. And I truly wasn’t scared for myself this time. But my mind still won’t shut up.

I ran to the scene after hearing my radio go off. She was surrounded by therapists. I guess she’d had a tough session, and her fight/flight response was going off in her “trauma brain.” She decided to make a break for it, so I ran ahead of her, and she sped up as soon as I got in front of her and blocked the door. The alarm sounded for the first time that day.

I’ve always loathed any extra weight I’ve had, but in this moment I was more body-positive than ever, thanking God for every bountiful feast He’d ever given me. Those indulgent sins allowed me to use more weight than she had to my advantage and possibly save this girl from getting out and running into a car, or finding that damn bridge. Shit has gotten more real than I ever expected it to, but tragedy like that is when it becomes “too real” for me. That’s when I’ll have had enough, even though in some ways I’m a glutton for punishment. Not. On. My. Watch.

I pressed all of myself against that exit door, but this didn’t stop her from turning around and darting down the hall to the opposite exit. I flew past the others. I probably said something rude in my anxiety, like “come on guys.” They weren’t very used to these situations. Not the way that I was, a lowly floor staff member. They didn’t even have radios on them. They didn’t even know how to use the radios. But luckily, someone else met me at the other door and was blocking it, while others stayed put to block other exits. We danced around for a bit until she found the unlocked door to the multi-purpose-room, where she began banging on windows. The others tried all other kinds of verbal de-escalation tactics, some of which I internally cringed at, not that I really blamed them for trying. I just knew that she wasn’t in the space to listen to anything we were saying. Any rational part of her brain was off-line at this point, so she wasn’t going to process any lesson-teaching or insight-building.

At this time, all we could really do was wait until she wore herself out. At one point, she barricaded herself in a corner with chairs placed in front of her, which I was perfectly fine with. At least I knew she’d be safe that way. It appeared that she was calming down, but she was really just regaining her strength. She made her way to the door I was blocking. We struggled a lot. At this moment, the director knocked on the door. “Not now,” I said. I guess I could be ruder in moments of such stress. The girl made her way back over to the windows, and I cracked the door open. I told my boss where we were at in this. When I saw the girl eying the door again, I politely told my superior, “I’m gonna shut the door on you now.”

She came over and fought with me again. She never tried to hit me because I wasn’t trying to soothe her by touching her, as the therapist kept doing. She hit the therapist several times. The girl I knew would never hit anyone, but this wasn’t the girl I knew. In this time, that girl was gone.

This same therapist took it upon herself to “lead” us, this unlikely team of therapists, nurses, a case manager, and me. These were the people who happened to be around during the onset of the crisis, with the exception of me, who was summoned. She ordered us to open the door and escort this girl to the seclusion room. There were more team members waiting on the other side of the door, so I put my doubts aside. I really don’t have a leader personality, even though I seemed to have the most experience in that room. They probably wouldn’t have listened to me anyway, being the youngest and of a “lower” position. But I digress. We opened the door.

She made her way to the nearest exit and struggled with those who were waiting there, and I made my way to the opposite exit. But soon I saw her reflection through the glass door, running toward me before anyone could warn me. I turned around and took my blocking stance as I stood face to face with her, and the director joined me. Even though I tried my best, she was able to squeeze herself between me and the door. This door wasn’t the exit. It was a glass door in the hallway leading to the exit. Of course, in that moment, she had more leverage because the door opened out, not in. So all I could do was pull the handle with all my might as she pushed her adrenaline-filled, panicked body against it. The director told me to not hurt myself, probably fearful that something would happen to me again and I’d be angered with the agency. But again: Not. On. My. Watch.

The girl tried to pry my sweaty, slippery hands off the metal handle. I somehow managed to push the girl back and quickly let myself out, where I could push the glass door from the other side rather than have to pull. Now I had more leverage. So even though the door had no lock, no matter how many times this girl threw herself against this door, I was keeping it in place.

At this moment, Judy walked up the stairs and came behind me, looking at the scene, and I caught her gawking expression through the reflection of the glass. “Hey, Judy,” I calmly greeted without turning around as I remained leaning against the door which this girl was currently trying to break down. “Hey,” she said, and walked up to stand next to me. I think at this point the girl moved on to another place. Maybe it was this time that she shattered the window leading to the therapy offices. My colleague and I stood there watching as I remained guarding my post. We spoke without looking at one another. “She’s gone,” I said. “Oh yeah,” Judy said. “She should get tired here soon.” I really thought she would’ve already. We exchanged a few more words and Judy returned to her work with the other residents, and the CEO joined me. I think at this time, the girl ran back to where I was and made a running kick to my door, but it didn’t move. I still had the leverage. I think this was the last little battle I fought before the girl finally de-escalated at the sight of someone with higher power who could make changes to her case plan, which is what she was truly afraid for and was trying to fight/flight.

I’m not sure why this is the incident I took the time to recount. Maybe because this was long enough to be significant to me, but it was not too detailed and upsetting like other times I’ve had. I don’t know where my life is heading, but I know I won’t forget times like this, and I need to process them in some way. This helps me process so that I can do it again tomorrow if something arises. It is a very different feeling, when you feel like someone’s life could be riding on your physical strength. And my physical strength is very limited.

In my own childhood and adolescence, I had a very sheltered, privileged, simple life. Maybe my self-loathing is why I chose not to stay in that bubble. I didn’t feel like I deserved to be protected from things like this. I felt drawn to the darkness that so many of these teenagers run from. Maybe it’s because I felt that I needed a reason to be as sad as I felt when I was that age? And they have every reason to be. How fucked up is that? It makes me hate myself more.

I don’t know how to end this dramatic, angsty, possibly pretentious “essay” I’ve written. I’m exhausted. But I will wake up tomorrow and try again.