#maybe the occasional crying in the breakroom

[confused-red-head]

I'm currently looking into positions at the local libraries in my area because I kinda hate my current job. Wish me luck on living out my librarian!reader AU dreams or that i at least get a library with an abundant manga selection.

[dead-dove-yandere]

To be honest I already miss Smiley in a totally very normal amount. I recently got into the silly little goober and honestly kind of want a drabble about them if that's alright with you. Maybe about darling who got close to a fellow co-worker and seems to have a small crush on them, only for darling to receive a long ass note about why darling shouldn't hang out with them, followed by that co-worker to go missing shortly afterwards.

— 👾

Of course!! Smiley is huge silly billy lol - one thing known about them for sure is that they’re a huge overthinker based on all the notes and assumptions they make so absurd no coworker is making it out alive if they get too close lmao.

I tried to keep the love rival coworker gender neutral/ambiguous jic. :]

TW: Stalking, Obsession, Murder, Taunts

Office jobs are lonely, and even more so when you have a stalker, so gaining an unexpected ally was a godsend in your eyes. It started purely by fluke - you both accidentally grabbed each other’s lunches from the fridge since you used the same brand of sandwich bags and ended up meeting in the breakroom to swap them, followed by some small talk to break the embarrassing tension. That’s how you met Sam, and gained a new friend. It did cross your mind that perhaps Sam could have been your stalker, but there wasn’t a surefire way to know whether or not that was just paranoia. It wasn’t until by chance you learned that Sam only used blue pens that you let your guard down, at which point you confided in Sam.

Sitting together, alone in the breakroom one lunchtime, you show them the notes that have been left on your desk, asking if they recognised the handwriting. Sam’s mouth hung agape as they read the post it notes, unable to believe that this had been going on.

“No, I don’t recognise it. Have you been to HR about this?”

“I tried,” you tell Sam, “but they claim they can’t do anything.”

“That’s such bullcrap! Don’t they realise you could be in danger here?” Sam pauses for a moment, before speaking again. “Tomorrow’s Friday again. My family has a holiday home, maybe you can crash there until it’s safer.” You don’t waste any time agreeing, feeling as though a weight has been lifted from you. You both spend the rest of the day planning the escape as you pretend to work, occasionally going to each other’s cubicles to let each other know that the holiday home is definitely empty right now or that you booked paid time off or other such important details. They people in the neighbouring cubicles raise their eyebrows as they notice you both sticking close to each other.

At the end of the day, just as you’re putting your coat on to leave, a coworker whose name escapes you walks past. Cheerfully, they call to you, not stopping even as they speak.

“Seems you and Sam have taken a shine to one another!” Their voice is cheerful, mocking. You go red from the embarrassment.

“It’s not like that,” you say sheepishly, but they’d already walked away. You didn’t have feelings for Sam - not at first at least. But now you were questioning yourself. Sam was kind, and selfless and extremely generous to have offered a place to stay, and they were fairly attractive in your opinion too. But you didn’t want to take advantage of their good deed. Besides, it was too early to tell if you really liked them; but you’d have plenty of time to get your head straight and figure it out. There was no rush.

Friday morning arrives and you’re excited for your trip, but the moment you walk into the office, something seems off. You walk to your cubicle and see your coworkers all in small huddles, or quietly sitting at their desks but not working. A few are even crying. You make a detour, going to Sam’s cubicle to ask what was going on, only to find they weren’t at their desk.

“Ah, you were a friend of Sam’s, weren’t you?” A coworker asks tenderly as they come up behind you. You freeze, your blood running cold.

“What’s happening?” You ask, but you already know.

“They found Sam in a gutter. They aren’t sure yet how they ended up there but… well, it doesn’t look good.”

You can barely comprehend the news, and you end up in a daze as you leave, going back to your own cubicle. Tears cloud your vision and you sob the moment you reach your desk. Through the grief, it takes a while to notice the note on your desk. You grimace and snatch it up, crumpling it in your fist as you read it.

“Is this why you’re never home? Too busy enthralled by some office floozy? It’s alright, Darling. I forgive you. That homewrecker isn’t ever going to get in our way again. ╹◡╹”

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

[that-writing-kangaroo-fish]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN WHO WANTS A POKEMON AU FIC (pokemon au of course belonging to @im-feelin-sick) ABOUT HOW NNY GOT A GHOST DOG (and if you'd prefer an ao3 link here it is)

part 4/???

prev

It was a slow day at Nny’s gym. Nobody cluelessly wandering their way in, none of the ghosts causing a ruckus. Just a good day to relax and--

“NNY! I think there’s a new ghost out in the alley!” Sableye called from another room.

--So much for that.  

“And why is that MY problem?!” Nny yelled back, already heaving himself off the couch.

“One of us is the resident ghost-type magnet, and it’s not me!”

...He had no counterargument to that, so Nny kept his mouth shut as he made his way to Sableye. 

The gym, such as it was, was occasionally nightmarish to navigate; he wasn’t sure whether or not any of the Ghost-types could fuck with architecture like that, but he wasn’t particularly inclined to bother looking it up.

It’s not like finding out the reason would make it stop, since a decent chunk of the Pokemon lurking around had... less than positive opinions of him. Most didn’t listen to him.

He found Sableye in what was probably a breakroom at some point in the past, rummaging around in the cabinets. “I figure that maybe this time you can get off to a good start with a new Pokemon, instead of it immediately trying to bite your arm off or something, yeah?” Sableye explained, pulling away from the cabinets and holding up a can of Pokemon food.

“Good point,” Nny admitted, taking the offered can before asking, “Did you get a look at the thing outside?”

Sableye shook its head, exiting the breakroom to lead Nny to the alleyway. “I saw a candle flame, that’s about it. Could’ve been a Litwick, maybe, but it didn’t seem interested in talking. Ran off before I could ask what it was doing.”

Nny hummed, an affirmation that he was listening, while his focus was more on getting the can open with one of his knives. He’d done it enough times that the risk of an accident was low, but not impossible.

Fortunately for him, he was successful, popping the lid off and tossing it aside. “At least it didn’t jump straight to fighting. Might actually be friendly for once,” he said.

Sableye huffed in amusement. “Bringing the tally of Pokemon that tolerate you up to, oh, about 2% of the gym’s population, sure.”

Nny sputtered in indignation, about to go on a slightly-joking tirade in his defense, when he stopped. “--Ah, door’s here.”

Sableye stepped to the side, giving Nny room to open the door and take a look outside.

The alleyway behind the gym tended to be empty - any squatters were either scared off or killed after trying to settle down. That usual emptiness was present, except for a burning candle set right outside the door.

“...Sableye, you’re sure that’s it? It’s just a fucking candle--” Nny started, before getting interrupted by a faint rumble and an unsettling cry as something burst from the ground.

Both Nny and Sableye reacted the way one might expect from a Pokemon and trainer who’ve spent the last few years living in a gym full of vindictive ghosts: Poorly. 

Both were poised to attack, but when the dust settled, what stood before them was a small, gray dog with a candle on its head.

“Huh. Never seen a Ghost-type like this before,” Nny observed as he stowed his knife away, rummaging through his jacket pockets for his Pokedex. It was an old model, the paint chipped away in places, but functional enough.

Finding it, Nny crouched down and set the can of food before the Pokemon, holding up the Pokedex to scan as it ate.

“Greavard, the Ghost Dog Pokemon,” chimed the Pokedex after a moment. “Some say that a dog Pokemon that died without ever interacting with a human was reborn as this Pokemon. Its bite force is strong enough to shatter bones. Th--”  The Pokedex abruptly stopped, its screen going black.

“Fuck’s sake-- I need to get this damn thing fixed,” Nny muttered, glaring at it before glancing back at the Greavard. It looked up at him, its tail wagging as it took a few steps closer. “...Y’know, despite the bear trap situation with its mouth, ‘s a cute dog,” he admitted, scratching it behind the ears.

“And it hasn’t tried to bite your arm off,” Sableye added. Nny rolled his eyes and headed back inside, gesturing for the two to follow. 

---

Around a week or so later, Nny sat cross-legged on his couch, idly channel surfing. As had been the case for the last week, Greavard sat dutifully in front of the couch, chin rested on Nny’s leg.

“Fuckin’ clingy, huh?” He asked, tearing his eyes away from whatever inane garbage was on the screen. “You aren’t very talkative, either, so I don’t expect an answer,” he added, brow furrowed as he thought back to their first encounter.

That Pokedex entry had gotten cut off by its abrupt shutdown. Maybe it had more to say?

With that thought, Nny got out the Pokedex, skipping through the list to Greavard’s entry and reading ahead, instead of relying on the readout. 

“This friendly Pokemon doesn't like being alone. Pay it even the slightest bit of attention, and it will follow you forever.”

...

Shutting down the Pokedex and putting it away once more, Johnny reached down to pet Greavard.

[turtlethebean]

Carchelle Week Day 2: Grief.

Inspired by Grief by Dead & Loving It.

Also on AO3: Grief - Turtle_The_Bean - Criminal Case (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Carmen Martinez saw her future in vivid lights two nights ago.

She was sat on the balcony, sipping wine with her colleague, Michelle Zuria, and watching the sunset from afar. Sanjay was asleep, so it was peacefully quiet as the two sat there, occasionally cracking a joke or complimenting each other.

Carmen had feelings for Michelle. Inexplicable feelings that would probably impede on her work if she ever said them out loud, but maybe one day, once Sombra was over and their lives were not as at stake as they were in the present, the two could be together.

But now that was ripped away.

Carmen now sat in her bedroom, unsure of what to do with herself. The reality of Michelle’s death had finally settled in after the adrenaline rush that she usually associated with solving murders. Now, she felt like she was rotting away on her bed, unable to lift herself.

Still, it felt like Michelle hadn’t left her to move on to the afterlife. It was like her ghost was walking along the halls, and her name was plastered all over the apartment – where the two had sat on the balcony, the bed where they slept together that night, even the kitchen where Carmen woke up to Michelle cooking her a surprise breakfast.

Carmen didn’t necessarily believe in a god; she was agonistic at best. However, if there was one out there, she would scream and shout at them to bring Michelle back to her. She would beg and pray until her voice went hoarse and she could no longer speak, but it probably wouldn’t be worth it. Whatever cruel god was out there had promised her everything she ever wanted, then ripped it away from her the moment she got too close to achieving it.

The Bureau felt like a broken home yesterday. It was like she had made her office a bed for two people to sleep in, and now it was empty.

The entire building was full of grief as everyone mourned the death of their colleague. Hell, she saw Elliot cry. That kid didn’t even cry when he got kidnapped. It made everyone realise just how close he was to her. Carmen knew the kid never had any siblings growing up, so she figured Michelle was the closest thing he ever had to a sister.

Every time she entered the breakroom, she stared at the picture Sanjay had found on Michelle’s desk. They had such a good time, teaching her how to interrogate suspects while cracking jokes. She got so good at those jokes; it was a shame that she would never get to use most of them. She held back her tears, thinking about how they would never get to joke like that again.

The picture reminded her to check on Jack. He also got pretty close to her, so he was probably struggling with the loss as well. She wasn’t surprised to find out that he wasn’t in the office that day. He was probably hung over after everyone went drinking to mourn her last night.

Carmen didn’t go with them; she was exhausted after solving Michelle’s murder. Or maybe the fact that Michelle had died was starting to settle in, along with all the grief and heartbreak that came with it.

She sat down at her desk, trying to drown herself in work to make the thoughts and feelings she had about Michelle disappear, but the only work she had to do was write the report about her death and the investigation. She couldn’t bring herself to recount the previous day – the sorrow she felt upon seeing Michelle crushed to death by that bell, the anger that took over as she started investigating, and the emptiness she felt after arresting the killer for their crime.

Her hands hovered above the keyboard as she tried to get herself to start typing, but the more she stared at the blank white screen in front of her, the more she could feel the tears prickling in her eyes.

Dammit! She was supposed to be the tough guy, the bad cop to Jack’s good cop. She was an agent of the Bureau, a journalist who investigated a whole war and gave a detailed account of all the atrocities committed during it. Did this death really shake her enough that she couldn’t even write a single word on a blank document?

She couldn’t make a mistake, and she was not okay. She had changed. Maybe she needed to change.

Her anger issues were a problem that she didn’t want to solve for years. However, Marina’s therapy did help. She realised how sick and tired she was of doing everything herself, so professional help was much needed in her quest to feel at least somewhat normal.

Carmen opened her eyes after closing them for a little bit to make the stringing go away. It went away, but only because she had let the tears go. Her cheeks were drenched in tears as she cried over what could’ve, no, should’ve been. Michelle didn’t deserve to die. Sombra was the cruel, unwavering force that killed her for not following their rules.

Carmen gave up on the report and returned to her apartment, where she went back to lying on the bed. There was a thunderstorm outside, which had let the Bureau grounded until it cleared. The rain and thunder were soothing to listen to, like static that entered her brain to clear out her thoughts.

However, she knew she couldn’t keep bottling up her emotions like this. That was what gave her anger issues in the first place. She turned on her side, facing the wall so that nobody would see her face, and let the tears flow from her eyes and onto her pillow. After a while, she grabbed the other pillow and hugged it as if to replicate her last hug with Michelle.

It wasn’t much, but letting her emotions go like this gave her a sense of freedom. Like the tears were dissolving the shackles that bound her to her emotions. They wouldn’t fully heal the mental wounds of what happened, but she wouldn’t be bottling up her emotions anymore.

She was finally free.

[aonebear]

Bokuto One Shot

SFW One Shot about Bokuto as a Co-Worker you have a crush on. (Time Skip)

Sorry It took me so long to write something else I hope you guys enjoy!

“Hey, (y/n)” you hear the overly excited voice of your coworker Bokuto shout. 

You smiled back and waved at the boy standing behind the register. Sad that today was gonna to be your last shift together. You both just graduated from university and were moving on. The time you both spent in this store has been a  blessing. You both started around the same time and hung out outside of work as well. It would be a lie to say you didn’t have a crush on him. You had one rule: don’t date coworkers. So, you never told him about your crush. Though you didn’t think he would feel the same anyway. You guys were friends and for the most part you were okay with that. 

“Can you believe today’s the last shift?” Bokuto asked you as you logged into your register beside him. 

“It’s not like we won’t see each other again, we'll still hang out outside of work.” You say trying to keep from being sad.

“But it won’t be the same.” He admittedly whines at you with his bottom lip out in a cute little pout.

“You’ll be okay.” You say teasing him and crumbling up a receipt that a customer said they didn’t want and tossing it at him.

He caught it and threw it back at you causing you to laugh. Yeah, you were also going to miss these fun moments with him. Soon you both got absorbed in your jobs. Only occasionally having moments to talk and joke around like you normally did. Time seemed to tick on no matter how much you silently willed it to stop. You had just finished checking out the last customer in line for the time being when Bokuto called out to you again. 

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” he asked you. The hint of worry in his normally confident voice confused you. 

“No, Why?” You asked, giving him a questioning glance. 

Your answer brought a wide smile to his face. He rushed over and gave you a hug. Making you freeze in your spot confused. Only for a moment though you soon hugged him back. He let go of you honestly way too soon for your liking. When he did he began to head to the backroom probably to do some other task that he had been assigned earlier today. 

“I’ll tell you once we close up for the night.” He shouted at you “I love you (y/n).” 

“I love you Bokuto.” You called out it was something you both did all the time usually when you were teasing each other. Something about this one felt different to you though. Maybe you were just hoping for too much. You watched him retreat to the backroom you wondered what he could be thinking about. You glanced at the clock on the wall behind you. Three more hours until closing. 

The rest of the night you worked at the register alone Bokuto had gone to help with unloading the truck. Your crush on him started not long after you started working here. You were having a particularly rough day and hadn’t even wanted to come in that day but you did. Things were going smoothly until a particularly nasty customer was rude to you. Bokuto found you in the breakroom crying. He admittedly started to fuss about you in the cutest way. He gave you a hug and patted your head and talked about silly things and how he would throw that customer out if he ever came again. All his fussing made you laugh and since that moment the two of you had been friends. It wasn’t until a few days later that you realized that your crush was also present. 

At closing you and your manager sat in the back doing the deposit. Bokuto was already off for the night and you felt slightly disappointed. Maybe he forgot he was going to tell you something. You said goodnight to your manager and headed to your car. That's when you noticed Bokuto was leaning against the side of your car waiting on you. He must have felt you staring at him because he looked up in that moment and started smiling and waving at you frantically. Again you found yourself smiling uncontrollable because of this man. When you got to your car you stood directly in front of him. Trying to not be too aware of the small distance between the two of you.  

“So am I allowed to know why you asked if I was free now?” You asked him with a bit of a teasing tone. 

“Umm…” Is all he gets out before you see his anxious side slowly start to come out. 

You reach out and take his hand and give him a reassuring squeeze. Something you started doing for him whenever this happened. He said it helped ground him and keep him out of his head. He squeezed your hand back but continued to stay silent. He had also turned his head so he was now looking at the ground and not at you. 

You leaned down so he was forced to look at you and not the ground, “Hey you know you can talk to me what's up?” 

Then in a rush he blurts out “Will you go on a date with me tomorrow? Like an official date.” 

Shock coursed through your body at his question. You know stood back up and he looked up at you too. Fear lining every muscle in his face. Without even thinking anymore you began nodding your head frantically. The fear left his face as he realized what this meant. Finally you found your ability to speak again. 

“Yes, I would love to go on a date with you.” You said a wide grin spread across your face. 

He grabbed your other hand and tugged you forward into his chest. Where he wrapped you in his arms and gave you a comforting squeeze. Being in his arms felt safe; it felt like being at home.  You were laughing happily. Seeing him return to his normal confident and happy self made you relax more. He started to lean down but he still had you wrapped in his arms. Lifting your head to look up at him. Before you could register how close he was you suddenly felt his lips on yours. 

“I’ve been waiting for a long time to do that.” He finally said when he took his lips off of yours. 

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

11. Wait

Patience is a virtue, which demons, especially little mischievous imps, do not have at all. …Not that Joey was ever a patient man before losing his physical humanity. (Set in an AU where by yeeting Joey into the ink machine before going through the portal-door in the kitchen, Henry is accompanied by a chatty, useless, and overall insufferable little imp.)

“I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’D JUST DO THAT TO ME!” ‘Bendy’ yelled at Henry in a voice that sounded like his human self’s voice. If the former director had been a child and had inhaled a bunch of helium beforehand. The little imp was simply impossible to take seriously when his voice was cracking up worse than a weak shelled egg. “I CAN’T… HOW DID YOU EVEN MANAGE TO BREAK SCRIPT?! YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO MOVE DURING CUTSCENES! LET ALONE DO… THIS TO ME!”

He gestured at his body as Henry’s mouth twitched as the old animator fought back the urge to smile, he knew the action would quickly turn into him laughing and crying on the floor so hard that it would hurt his ribs.

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t answer your questions.” Henry whipped out the seeing tool and began to scan the room for new messages. They never changed as long as he could remember, but it never hurt to look. “But maybe some of our old friends downstairs can help. I know Sammy’s been deeply invested in the occult and dark arts ever since his ‘enlightenment’, and Susie seems to know a thing or two about how and why humans turn into ink creatures. I’m sure they’ll be happy to help us.”

Joey audibly gulped, his eyes widened in fear, and he fidgeted with the collar of his pajama top that was now far too big for him while chasing Henry, who was seemingly physically on autopilot as he was going through the top floor of the studio.

“H-hey H-Henry C’mon! We still have time to turn back-”

“No we don’t.” He deadpanned as the pair passed by the dead Boris. “The door always locks behind me when I enter.”

“I- uh- Okay, so you’re right… but we don’t have to start the story! We’ll just keep the machine off and we’ll just live on the top floor of this studio for the rest of our possibly endless lives!”

“Okay.”

“I know it’s not the most- Wait, what, really?”

“Yep, sounds like a plan.”

Henry walked down to the breakroom with Joey following on his heels (occasionally tripping on his own pants/bathrobe), grabbed The Illusion Of Living, sat down on a couch, opened the book and began to read.

The newly minted Imp was both relieved and confused, while he liked the idea of not having to face the horrors he created, he thought that Henry would fight back a bit more than this.

“...You’re not even going to argue?”

“Joey, I’m too tired to argue right now and honestly, it’s nice being able to just... slow down and not be rushed by invisible puppet strings to go through the same hopeless horror story over and over again.” The man adjusted himself on the couch into a more comfortable position and stuck the book into his face, ending the conversation. “It’s also nice to finally get to wait and have a damn break to myself where I’m not unconscious or imprisoned against my will.” He added under his breath.

The imp nodded and left Henry to his reading, sensing the hostile tension in the room.

It took roughly fifteen minutes for Joey to realize that living in the safe, monsterless, top floor of the studio was boring.

He couldn’t draw for self-entertainment as in addition to the issue of his new four-fingered hands, his art skills had been “Comedically” diminished to being no better than a kindergartner's, and it hurt him to look at his new works when seconds ago he was a master of the art form.

The reels upon reels of cartoons in the storage? The man already knew them all by heart, no need to waste time by setting them up in the projector.

Read the books? Pretty much all the books on this floor were in the breakroom. …So not while Henry was very obviously still mad with him.

Darts? Same issue as the books.

He tried stacking as many soup cans as he could find but that got boring quickly as well.

For the longest, most agonizing two and a half minutes, he just laid down on the floor and stared at the ceiling waiting for something to happen.

Okay, he couldn’t live like this. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was just itching to do SOMETHING productive. And why should he be stuck as an imp in the studio anyway? He knew the path back to his own world like the back of his hand! (both as a human and an imp.) It wouldn’t be TOO difficult to just accompany Henry through the usual romp of the set story and have everything go back to normal afterwards.

The toon made up his mind and started setting up the ritual, plugging in the ink machine, and realized he still needed Henry, the ink, and the book. Luckily for Joey, the tension in the air seemed to be lifted when he went back inside the break room.

“Henry, I changed my mind, we can’t live here.”

“Figured you’d say that.”

“Oh thank goodness...”

The two stayed there in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time as Henry read his book.

“...Well?”

“Just wait until I finish this book, it’s getting interesting.”

Curious, Joey peeked at the cover, something that Henry noticed.

“So about Kyle…”

“OH MY GOD!” Joey tried to snatch the book out of Henry’s hands, but the old man was faster and now much taller than him. The animator simply stood up and held it above his head. “GIVE IT BACK!”

“Nope.” Henry grinned. “You have to wait until I finish it before I hand it over.”

“YOU MONSTER!” Joey shouted, his face was a bright red, and tears of embarrassment were prickling in his eyes, which if you brought them up to him he would swear were just from the stress of losing his humanity and all that jazz. “I BET YOU WERE JUST WAITING TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS ALL ALONG!”

“Nope, I just saw the opportunity and took it. Now sit down and wait until I finish the book and we can talk later. I’m sure if you continue looking, you’ll find something to entertain yourself with, something much more interesting than a forgettable old man like me.”

The imp balled his fists, let out a wordless frustrated scream, and stomped off to sulk somewhere.

[kaylaxwrites]

Resurrection

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader Words: 2200 Summary: Matt is dead. Until he isn’t.  Request: “Do you think you can do a Matthew Murdock x Reader where they were in like a pre-exisiting relationship, but then Defenders happen and it is like set in Season 3 time and she is finding out that Matt is back from Karen and Foggy instead of Matt himself.” (anon) A/N: Maybe this isn’t exactly how you wanted it to go, anon, but I hope you like it nevertheless! There’s a little less fluff at the end than what you probably wanted, but I liked those lines as the last ones and I wasn’t exactly sure how to go past them. But enjoy!

You curled up with Matt on the couch as gentle music floated through your speakers. The attack on Midland Circle was going to happen any day now and you were spending as much time as you could with your boyfriend, unsure of what might happen in the coming days. If there would be time together after. It wasn’t something either of you were willing to voice, but the thought rested heavy on both your shoulders.

Matt played with your hands. “I was thinking about the future…” he tried to bring up casually.

You cut him off. “I thought we agreed to not think about what might or might not happen,” you said, sitting up to better face him.

“I—we did. But this is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time and I want to ask before…” Before I die. Even without saying them, the words hung heavy in the air. Matt fished into his pocket and pulled something out. He kept his fist tight around it so you couldn’t tell what it was. “I’d have a lot of regrets if I didn’t ask, so…” He slid off of the couch and knelt in front of you. He unfurled his hand to reveal a beautiful ring. You gasped. “Will you marry me?”

The memory played in your head as you sat with Karen and Foggy in the middle of the precinct breakroom, waiting for the return of your heroes. You stared at the ring Matt had pushed on your finger that night, watching as it caught the light. He used it as a promise. When he made it back to you, you would get married. It wasn’t going to be a matter of if, but when.

Karen sat next to you as she clutched your hand tightly. It almost hurt, but you were squeezing back just as hard. This wait was killing you as each moment past without you knowing whether or not your boyfriend—your fiancé—was alive.

You quickly stood when someone entered the room. They were back! Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for Matt to arrive. Jessica entered the room first, looking exhausted as she searched the room for her sister. Luke and Claire stepped through the door soon after, holding each other’s hand tightly. Danny and Colleen followed soon after. Colleen’s white jacket was covered in blood. Your heart constricted in your chest.

Now it was Matt’s turn.

You stared at the door, waiting.

And waiting.

A n d     w a i t i n g.

Your world crumbled with each second until the floor fell from under you. Your knees buckled and you clutched the table for strength. But your legs couldn’t hold you up for very much longer. A warm hand under your elbow kept you from falling.

Luke.

You turned to him, a question on your lips. Where was Matt? Maybe he got held up outside? He had to change out of that ridiculous costume before walking in, right? Right? The words died before you could speak them, but Luke answered them anyway.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said and the phrase pierced your heart like a white-hot knife.

You shook your head, unwilling to believe it. Unwilling to let your tears fall. You turned to Foggy and Karen for confirmation. Luke had to be wrong. But Karen was crying into Foggy’s shoulder. The look on his face was heartbroken. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the door. Still waiting.

You dimly noticed Claire stepping by your side. You tried to make out the words she was saying, but you couldn’t focus. Matt is dead. You were pushed into a seat. Matt is dead. She knelt in front of you. Her lips were still moving. Matt is dead.

Matt is dead.

Your pain, your anger, your agony pooled in your stomach until it tore through your chest in a heart-wrenching scream. You collapsed in on yourself, sobbing, until there was nothing left in you.

That was months ago.

Matt’s body was never recovered.

Without a body, you couldn’t bury him and you were left without closure.

You avoided the apartment as much as you could—leaving first thing in the morning and staying out well past dark. The grief was too much for you to be there any longer, surrounded by him, his things, his clothes. Karen helped when she could. She would drop off food for you and allowed you to sleep on the couch in her office more times than you could count. Foggy would check in occasionally, but he could rarely bring himself to step foot inside Matt’s apartment.

More often than not, you found yourself visiting the church where Matt grew up. Catholicism wasn’t really your thing, but, oddly enough, you felt closer to Matt when you were here. The pain in your heart lessened and you finally felt like you were able to breathe. It also helped that Father Lantom wouldn’t constantly question you about your well-being, like everyone else you knew. Occasionally, he’d even bring you coffee and donut holes from the fellowship hall. And other times, he’d join you there in the very last pew, offering you silent companionship as you mourned.

You weren’t entirely sure why you found comfort in the church. The crucified Jesus statue at the front of the hall intimidated you and you were never entirely sure what was being depicted in the stained-glass windows. But you could feel Matt here at Clinton Church. You even thought you could sometimes catch glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye, but you knew the thought was ridiculous. Whenever you turned, there was only shadow and you knew your mind was playing tricks on you.

It didn’t help when Karen swore up and down that some masked vigilante she saw had to be Matt. An argument had nearly exploded when she first brought the topic up and you hadn’t talked much with her since. You didn’t want your hopes to brought up, only for your heart to be shattered all over again whenever they found Matt’s body at the bottom of Midland Circle. You didn’t know if you could handle that kind of pain again, so you refused to believe it.

You didn’t want to believe even when Foggy told you himself.

You were surprised when Foggy knocked on your door early one morning. You were just about to have a quick breakfast and leave for the day when he arrived. “Foggy, what are you doing here?” you asked as you opened the door. He was dressed in a suit and tie and held his briefcase in his hand. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Good morning to you, too,” he tried to joke. He ran a hand over his hair. His eyes were red and tired. When he sat on your couch, his leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. He was upset. “You should sit down. We need to talk.”

Panic filtered through your chest. Your heart pounded. You quickly hurried to the chair opposite Foggy, stumbling in your haste. “What? Why?” You gasped. “Did—did they find him?” Your words were barely audible.

Foggy shook his head. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You weren’t sure how to feel—were you relieved? Should you be upset? Were you angry?

“No, it’s, uh… It’s…” Foggy stumbled to find the correct words. “Matt’s alive?” he said at last, but it sounded more like a question.

You quickly stood, turning to face away from him. You scrubbed your hands over your face before crossing your arms protectively over your chest. “Get out.”

“No, Y/N, wait—” He placed a hand on your shoulder and you angrily spun to face him.

“No, Foggy!” you exclaimed, tears welling in your eyes. “We’ve been through this! Matt is gone, okay? I don’t want it to be true as much as you do, but at some point—” Your voice cracked. “At some point we have to face the facts. At some point, we have to—we have to realize that…that an entire building fell on him.” You throat grew tighter with each word and it was getting difficult to speak. “H-How could one man survive that? And if he did, why wouldn’t he…why wouldn’t he—” Your voice finally gave out, the pressure in your throat so tight you could hardly breathe. You pressed a hand against your mouth, trying to will the tears away.

Foggy finished for you. “Why wouldn’t he call us? Why wouldn’t he come see us? Why wouldn’t he give us a sign?” You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded. “I asked myself the same things. I honestly thought Karen might’ve been going crazy when she suggested that maybe he was out there. But she’s right.” Your eyes flew open. “Matt, he…he found me last night and—”

“He found you? And you saw him? In the flesh?” You needed the clarification. Maybe Foggy just saw someone who looked like him or was imagining things.

“I saw him, clear as day. I hugged him, I felt him, he was real. He was alive.”

You took a stumbling step back, trying to process what you had just been told. Foggy kept talking, saying something about Fisk, but you weren’t paying attention. Your energy was spent trying to wrap your head around the fact that Matt was alive.

You knew you should have been relieved, happy even, but you were angry. Angry he didn’t come to find you to serve as messenger he was alive. Angry he didn’t come to find you at all. Angry that he had been hiding this whole time. Whenever you had entertained the idea that Matt was alive, you always imagined that maybe he was in a coma or had amnesia and that was why he never called, never came home. Where had he even been staying this whole time? You knew for a fact he wasn’t coming to the apartment…

And then it hit you.

The church. He had been staying at the church.

You raced to find some shoes and threw a jacket over your shoulders. “Where are you going?” Foggy demanded.

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” you answered, lacing up your sneakers.

“To who? Matt? I don’t even know where he is!”

“I do,” you threw over your shoulder as you made your way out of the apartment. You slammed the door behind you.

You didn’t hear Foggy muttering as you left, “Sure, Y/N, that’s fine. Leave me in the dark. I’ll lock up your apartment. No worries.” On his way out, he stole the pieces of toast you had abandoned on the kitchen counter.

You stormed into the church, stomping your way up to Father Lantom’s office. He had barely said “come in” before you were throwing open the door and striding to his desk. “Where is he?” you demanded before the Father could get a word out of his mouth.

“Where’s who?”

You anger and desperation nearly washed out of you then and doubt crept in. Maybe you were wrong and Matt hadn’t been here. Maybe Foggy was wrong and he wasn’t even alive. “Please don’t play dumb with me,” you begged. “I need to see him. I need to see Matt.”

He opened his mouth to speak—maybe to question how you knew, maybe to question your sanity—but then he shut it again. Sighing, he stood and closed the book on his desk. “Come with me,” he said and he led you out of the room.

He led you to the church’s basement, which you had never been to before. As you reached the last flight of stairs, you nearly (quite literally) ran into a nun. It was Sister Maggie, you realized. She had offered you condolences on one of your first visits here. She glanced you over before raising an eyebrow at Father Lantom. “It’s time,” he offered. But time for what, you weren’t very sure. Sister Maggie sighed and continued her way up the stairs. Father Lantom ushered you forward, but didn’t follow as you rounded the corner.

You gasped when you laid eyes on Matt for the first time in months. He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes and he was a little paler than usual. You took a small step forward and his head darted up as he noticed you for the first time—too busy in his thoughts, you assumed, to notice you earlier.

He seemed to panic for a moment, surprised at your unexpected visit. “What are you doing here?” he asked after a moment’s silence.

Agitation rolled through you, washing away your initial relief at seeing him in one piece. Those were the first words he was going to say to you? “‘What am I doing here?’” you repeated, your voice creeping up into shrill tones. “I could be asking you the same thing!” You crossed over to him in three strides and shoved his shoulder with all your might. “What the hell were you thinking? I’ve been distraught for months thinking you were dead.” You continued nearly screaming at him, unleashing months’ worth of pain and sorrow. Your anger channeled out through blows to his chest, which he made no motion to stop.

Then he put his arms around you and you nearly collapsed, sobbing into his chest. You held him tight with every ounce of your strength. “I hate you, Matt Murdock.” But there was no truth behind the words. You loved him with every fiber of your being.

[thatonerandomfan4]

Rockwell’s History [READ WARNINGS]

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Fandom: Madness Combat

Characters: Dr. Crackpot, Dr. Hofnarr, Dr. Jebediah Christoff, Phobos, Hank, Sanford, Deimos, 2BDamned, Jebus, Tricky, Rockwell (My OC), Rockwell’s Parents

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Gore, Attacking, Detailed Gore Scenes, Cursing, Transphobia, Crying, Injuries, Very Sensitive Topics, Angst, Heavy Angst, Long Story

Summary: Talking About Rockwell’s Backstory And How He Became Part Of The Madcom Group.

Word Count: 2,681

Notes: Rockwell Is Trans. His Original Name Was Roxannie (Pronounced As Roxanne) Roxannie Will Be In The First Half Of The Fic Until She Makes The Transition.

If You Feel Very Uncomfortable/Dislike The Topics That Are Going To Be In This Fic, Please Leave The Fic Now So You Don’t Have To Experience It And Triggers You. 

Also, If You Dislike Fics That Involves Peoples Made Up Characters (OCs), Then You Are Welcome To Leave The Fic. 

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Roxannie Woke Up To Her Alarm Clock And Quickly Got Dressed, Heading Downstairs To Get Breakfast. Her Mother Greeted Her With A “Good Morning” And A Warm Smile. Roxannie Sat At The Table, Greeting Her Father. She Took One Bite Of Her Cereal Until The Table Was Knocked Over. With A Frightened Look, She Looked At Her Father And Screamed. His Head Was Chopped Clean Off With His Chest Wide Open, Revealing That His Internal Organs Were Tampered With. She Was About To Cry Until She Heard Her Mother Scream. 

Instead Of Staying At The Table, She Ran To The Room Her Mother Was In. As Soon As Roxannie Stepped Foot In The Living Room, She Was Met With A Horrifying Sight.Her Mother Was Brutally Cut In Half With Her Face Missing From Her Head. The Top Half Of Her Body Hung From The Ceiling By A Sword Which Impaled Her. The Bottom Half Of Her Body Was On The Floor, In A Pile With Her Internal Organs. Annie Almost Gagged At The Sight, Until She Saw The Man Who Had Caused Her Parent’s Deaths. A Tall Dark Figure With Red Eyes Approached Her With A Hammer. It Grabbed Her Firmly By The Neck And Bashed Her Head Twice, Revealing Her Brain. 

It Left Her On The Ground Struggling To Stay Alive, Leaving Only A Tablet Behind. Rox Used It To Contact For Help, But Could Barely Stay Conscious Due To Her Brain Being Exposed. Luckily, There Was A Fast Response. The Mysterious Person Was Immediately Able To Track Her Location And Tell Her To Stay Where She Is. She Agreed And Just Laid In Front Of The Tablet, Trying Not To Lose Consciousness. About 45 Minutes Had Passed So Far, And She Was Starting To Feel Her Eyelids Get Heavy.

A Man Rushed In And Immediately Injected Her With Some Type Of Medicine. She Immediately Struggled To Stand Up, Before Being Forced To Sit Down. Her Head Was Bandaged Properly Before She Was Helped Up. She Didn’t Even Get A Chance To Thank The Strange Man Because He Immediately Rushed Her Out Of The House And Into His Vehicle. The Whole Car Ride Was Quiet Except For Roxannie’s Cries, Mourning The Death Of Her Parents. 

She Couldn’t Even Form Sentences Or Explain To The Man That Saved Her What Happened Because Of How Upset She Was. He Felt Bad For Her, Trying To Give Her Anything She Could Keep Her Mind Busy With Until They Got To The Place. She Didn’t Really Want Anything Though, Other Than To Let Out What She Was Experiencing Now. Once They Arrived To Their Destination, She Was Immediately Brought Into A Lab Where A Bunch Of Scientists Were Working. The Man Led Her Into A Room Where A Small Chubby Man Chatted With A Tall, Stern Looking Guy.

Dr. ??: “Hofnarr, Christoff. I Uh….Got The Child.”

The Two Men Looked Over And Immediately Rushed To Roxannie. They Hugged Her And Did Their Best To Comfort Her In Any Way Possible In That Moment.

Dr. Christoff: “Thank You, Crackpot. We’ll Let You Know If We Need Anything Else.”

Crackpot Nodded And Left The Room, Leaving The 3 Alone As Christoff Shut The Door. Hofnarr Tried To Calm Her Down And Talk With Her. It Was Very Hard To Understand The Girl Through Her Crying And Incoherent Words, Even For Him. Hofnarr Just Held Her Close And Consulted Her, Doing His Best To Calm Her Down. Christoff Sat Down Next To The Two And Offered Rox With A Glass Of Water. She Took The Water And Drank Half Of The Glass, Keeping The Drink In Her Hand While The Two Older Men Did Their Best To Help Her Relax.

Once She Was Calm Enough, They Finally Got Her To Explain What Had Happened. She Told Them Every Detail From This Morning, Keeping It Short And Sweet At The End. Hofnarr And Christoff Frowned, Hugging And Comforting Her Again. It Was Very Hard For Someone To Go Through All That Trauma, Especially For Someone At Her Age. Hell, The Kid Was Only 14. She Barely Knew How To Even React Or See Something Like That. She Needed A Lot Of Therapy To Get Past That Traumatic Event.

Hofnarr: “Hey Christoff. Do You Think Phobos Will Let Us Keep Her Here With Us?”

Christoff: “Maybe, With A Lot Of Bribing.”

Roxannie: “F-Forgive Me For I-Interrputing Your C-Conversation...But Wh-Who’s Ph-Phobos?”

Hofnarr: “Oh! Don’t Worry, You Aren’t Interrupting Anything. And Phobos Is Our Boss. We Need All Permission From Him To Do Anything Around Here.”

Christoff: “Kinda Sucky, But We’re Even Lucky If He’s In A Good Enough Mood To Pay Us.”

They Chat For A Bit Before Heading To Phobos’ Office, Staying Together The Whole Trip. Once They Reached Their Destination, They All Greeted Phobos Before Saying Anything About Roxannie. Phobos Obviously Had To Ask First And The Two Scientists Explained The Whole Situation. Phobos Took A Minute To Think Before Accepting Their Request To Allow Her To Stay. Ending It With “I Don’t Care How, But As Long As She’s Not A Big Distraction To You Two And Works With What She Can.” Of Course They All Had To Agree To That.

They All Headed Out The Door And Back To The Breakroom. Hofnarr Figured She Was Still Hungry And Offered To Make Her A Snack And A Drink. Christoff Just Offered Her To Stay With Them So She Has A Place To Sleep And Stay Instead Of The Lab. Rox Agreed To Both And Walked With The Two Men. On The Way Back To The Lab, Hofnarr Was Smiling, Gently Gripping Onto Rox’s Hand. Christoff Took Notice Of This And Chuckled. He Watched His Husband For A While. It Was Only Now When He Asked About His Sudden Cheery Mood.

Christoff: “What’s Got You All Giddy, Hoffy?”

Hofnarr: “We Have A Child Of Our Own Christoff! Aren’t You Excited To Be A Parent?”

Christoff Just Smiled As Hofnarr Went On About The Wonders Of Raising A Child Of Their Own. He Goes On Fantasies About Vacation, Family Outings, Family Dinners And Other Things. Roxannie Gripped Her New Parent’s Hands Gently, Smiling Softly. She Was Going To Start A New Family And These Were Her New Parents. She Didn’t Mind That, She Loved Supporting People Who Were In Relationships With The Same Gender.

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A Few Years Later…

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Hofnarr: “Rox, You Ready?”

Roxannie: “Yeah I’m Coming!”

She Placed Her Bandana On And Adjusted It To Be Over Her Bandages, Flattening Out Her Lab Coat. She Turned The Light Off In The Bathroom And Headed Downstairs To The Door, Greeting Her Two Dads As They Hugged Her. They Headed Towards The Lab While Hofnarr Was Going On About How Lucky They Were To Be A Family. Christoff Occasionally Threw In A Few Things, Chuckling At Hofnarr’s Responses.

Once They Got To The Labs, Everything Seemed Normal Except For A Few Stressed Out Scientists. The Shaking Scientists Greeted The 3 And Gave Them Information To Keep Safe. Hofnarr Took Roxannie With Him As He Usually Does For The Morning. Christoff Set Out To His Office, Looking Around At The Messed Up Experiments. He Scoffed At The Thought Of Phobos Actually Trying To Be Successful With This….Project. Christoff And Hofnarr Agreed That This Whole “Project Nexus” Thingy Would Not Be On For Long. Someone Would Definitely Stop Him, Even If It Had To Be One Of Them. 

Not Even A Minute Later, Hofnarr Had A Worried Look On His Face As The Sound Of Gunshots Could Be Heard From The Other Lab. Rox Stayed Close To Hofnarr Just In Case Anything Happened. They Kept Hearing Gunshots From The Other Lab, Not Knowing What On Earth Was Going Down. Hofnarr Was Upset, What Was Happening To His Husband? Was He Ok? Was He Hurt? He Held Onto Rox As He Tried Not To Cry About The Thoughts That Were Running Through His Mind.

Hofnarr: “I Hope Christoff Is Ok. I Don’t Want To Lose Him Like We Almost Lost You.”

Roxannie: “I-I’m Sure He’ll Be Ok, Dad. And Hey, If I’m Still Here, He’ll Still Be Here.” *She Hugged Him Close. Hofnarr Gave Her A Soft Yet Sad Smile.*

Hofnarr: “I Sure Hope So.”

They Waited About 30 Minutes To Half An Hour Until Someone Entered The Room. As The Two Turned Around, Hofnarr Rushed To Hug The Man. It Was Christoff, And Thankfully He Wasn’t Injured That Badly As He Though. Christoff Went Over To Rox And Hugged Her, Handing Her A Gun As He Also Gave Hofnarr A Gun. He Wanted To Keep His Family Safe While This Whole Messed Up Thing Was Happening.

Hofnarr: “You’ve Made Quite A Mess Christoff.”

Christoff: “They’ve Gone Too Far. If We Don’t Stop This Now...”

A Few Agents Entered The Room, And Christoff Killed Them With The Help Of His Husband And Daughter. Hofnarr Sweated And Gulped, Keeping Roxannie Close To Him.

Hofnarr: “I See We Have No Other Choice…”

They Murdered The Agents Who Kept Coming And Headed Out. Hofnarr Unlocked All The Control Panels As The Continued Through The Lab, Killing Any Agents, Zombies Or Any Failed Experiments. It Took A While Until They Got The Whole Place Cleared But They Were Able To Do It Without Much Harm Going To Them. They Got To The Last Room With The Control Panel And Hofnarr Started Getting Worried. He Looked At Christoff While They Got Rid Of The Last Few Agents With Rox Guarding The Door.

Hofnarr: “Ya Know Phobos Will Finish Us For This.”

Christoff Looked At Hofnarr After Shooting The Last Agent, Ending The Life Of The Betrayer.

Christoff: “Phobos Better Watch His Back..”

Hofnarr Unlocked The Last Control Panel And Looked Around The Room. He Started Heading Out After Christoff And Roxannie, Staying Close To Them While They Walked. Eventually Hofnarr Took The Lead Of The Group To Make Sure That The Other Two Were Safe. He Opened The Door Outside For Them Both, And Closed It After They Were Far Ahead Of Hofnarr. He Followed Them And Took The Lead After A Few Minutes. He Then Looked At Christoff As They Approached Phobos’ Tower.

Hofnarr: “Everything Depends On You Now.” *He Used His Key Card To Unlock The Door And Let Christoff In, Keeping Roxannie Back* “Good Luck, Old Friend..”

They Watched Christoff Walk Into The Tower, And Headed Back To The Lab. Hofnarr Kept His Daughter Close To Him, Trying To Keep Her From Breaking Down Like How She Was When They First Met. They Knew Christoff Was Only Doing This For Their Own Good, And To Stop This Whole Thing From Ruining Nevada Even More. They Walked Into The Lab And Immediately Went To The Breakroom, Setting Their Weapons Down By The Table When They Got There.

They Got Some Food And Drinks While They Chatted, Sitting Down So They Wouldn’t Fall If One Was Upset Or Panicked. They Chatted About Christoff And How….Cold He Looked When He Walked Into Hofnarr’s Lab. Rox Was Scared By His Look, As It Was Her First Time Seeing Him Like That. Hofnarr Had Already Known This Look So He Was Pretty Used To It. 

They Kept The Conversation Going By Talking About Other Stuff Like Work, Family Life, Dinners, And Especially That One Dinner Night. That Was The First Time Rox Had Seen Hofnarr Angry, And Not A Playful Or Slightly Irritated Angry. It Wasn’t His Fault They Were Banned From That Restaurant Though. The Boy Walked Up To Rox And Went “Tsk. You Wanna Be Trans? That’s Gross. You’re A Girl And You Will Always Be A Girl.” Hofnarr Was Just Defending His Daughter...By Attacking The Boy With A Chair.

They Were At The Lab For About An Hour To An Hour And A Half Just Chatting And Wandering Around. After A Bit, They Headed Outside And Met Up With Christoff Again.The Only Difference About Him Was That He Was Wearing The Key Fragment On His Head. Jeb Greeted The Two And Lead Them Back Inside The Lab. This Was Going To Be A Strange Experience For All Of Them.

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A Few More Long Years Later…

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Sanford And Deimos Turn The Corner, Shooting The Agents That Tried Approaching Them. The Two Headed Into The Room And Killed All The Agents In Sight. Then They Saw Her….Roxannie On The Floor Unconscious. They Both Inspected Her Body And Picked Her Up, Keeping Her With Them. They Finished With Their Mission And Brought Her Back To Base. The Brought Her To Hank And 2B Where They Inspected Her Body. 

After She Woke Up, She Made A Request To The Doctor. She Wanted To Be A Man. The Doctor Hesitated Before Agreeing, Putting Her Under Anesthesia. He Waited A Few Minutes Before Finally Getting To Work. He Wrapped Him Up And Successfully Did Both Top And Bottom Surgery. Doc Finished With Replacing The Bandage On His Head, Cleaning The Wound Before Putting Anything On There. 

After That, Doc Gave Rockwell Medicine To Help With The Pain. He Helped Rocky Walk And Get Used To Using The Bathroom. After That, Doc Gave Rockwell Some Clothes To Wear: A White Shirt With Ripped Sleeves, A Black Vest. A Belt To Go Over His Chest, Black Pants And Another Belt To Keep Them Up, Black Boots, Goggles With One Side Red And The Other Black And A Gas Mask. He Also Put His Hair Into A PonyTail.

Rockwell Put Everything On And Headed Outside, Ordered By Hank, To Fight The Clown. Rocky Took A Look At The Clown And…….Wait….That Lab Coat Looks So Familiar…..Was It..No It Couldn’t Be….HOFNARR?! But..He Looked Way Different Than Before.

Tricky: “WHO ARE YOU?! NEVERMIND THAT- CLOWN KILLS YOU!!”

Rockwell: “No Wait-!”

Tricky Whacked Rocky Pretty Hard In The Face, His Gas Mask Had To Be Removed. After Rockwell Removed His Goggles, Tricky Gasped And Dropped His Stop Sign..He Looked Like He Wanted To Cry.

Tricky: “Ro-Roxannie…?”

Rockwell, Holding His Jaw In Place: “It’th Rockwell Now, D-Dad.”

Tricky Immediately Hugged His Child, Healing His Jaw And Forming A Metal Plate Over The Injury. Rockwell Hugged Tricky Back, Both Squeezing The Shit Out Of Each Other. Tricky Kept His Son Close, Until They Heard Footsteps Approach From Behind Rockwell. It Was Jeb….Well...Christoff But He Didn’t Look That Different. 

Jebus: “Tricky, What Are You Doing?! He’s On Hank’s Side!” *He Took Out His Binary Sword, And Swung It Up*

Tricky Backed Away And Ran To Jeb, Trying To Stop Him.

Tricky: “JEB NO HURT HIM!! GUY IS-”

It Was Too Late. Jeb Swung And Cut Rockwell Almost In Half.

Tricky: “Roxannie-”

Jeb Looked Frightened. Oh God, What Had He Done? He Removed His Sword And Watched Rockwell’s Limp Body Fall To The Ground. The Savior Broke Out In Tears. He Just Murdered His Own Child, Or He Thought He Did. He Was Relieved When He Heard Rockwell. He Was Still Alive! How? That Didn’t Matter, He Was Just Happy His Son Was Alive Still.

Jeb Rushed Over To Rockwell And Healed Him, Summoning Bandages And Wrapping Him Up. He Was Still Crying From What He Had Done. Tricky Joined Them Both, Starting A Group Hug With All Of Them As They Reunited. Sanford, Deimos, Hank And 2B Rushed Out As Tricky Helped Rockwell Up And Jeb Healed Him Again.

Sanford: “Oh Cool, So I Guess We Can Call A Truce.”

Deimos And 2B Agreed, Hank Didn’t. Wimbleton Didn’t Like The Idea Of Living With His Enemies, Especially If They Act Nice And Turn On Them In The End. Hank Disagreed And Left To Blow Off Some Steam, It Was Gonna Take A Long While To Convince Him. Sanford And Deimos Ended Up Adopting Rockwell While Tricky And Jeb Readopted Him. Rockwell Now Lives With The Crew, With Having 4 Parents Who Support And Care About Him, 2B Who Takes Care Of His Wounds And Trans Stuff, And Hank...

[space-helen]

Would I get on with them? - CSI

Starting this series with CSI characters since I'm most into the show right now.

Hopping into it under the cut! (Not proof read at all)

Gil Grissom

Ok, I don't think this man would hate me in the slightest but he'd take a sec to warm up to me. We know the man has loads of random knowledge in his brain and so do I but I sometimes just spurt it out at the most random times and most of the knowledge doesn't make sense. We wouldn't hang out at all but I feel like we could eat lunch in the breakroom together and it wouldn't be awkward at all? We could also do a car journey together and it'd be silent most of the way until one of us eventually broke the silence. The silence wouldn't have been awkward though it would just be natural, both in our brains thinking things over? I get the vibe he'd welcome me into the team pretty well and would defend me to others but also would be disappointed when I fuck up. I think our vibes are slightly the same so we'd get on and have a weird friendship but not going on. TBH he'd probably treat me very similar to how he treats Greg but slightly nicer. In summary I would get on with him but not in a best friend kind of way.

Catherine Willows

I get the vibe she'd like me and would find me funny in a way with the awful jokes I tell but instead of finding the jokes funny she'd just find me and my awkwardness funny? However, she would not let me fuck up and would go in on me bad if I did if I was in the first couple of years being a CSI but after our friendship grew a little she'd be a lot more forgiving. We'd probably get to a friendship point of being able to have a meal together or a drink together but we would never plan it? It'd only happen say after a shift on a whim together. We'd be close but not best friends knowing absolutely every aspect of each other's lives. All in all Catherine has good vibes and I think we'd get on. I'd want to be her friend and learn from her. We'd be able to throw banter around and we'd be able to work well together. She'd probably see me as more of a 'family member' than a friend if you get my drift?

Sara Sidle

I love Sara but I do not think we'd get on at first. I think she'd dislike how shy I was and how long it takes me to warm up to everyone. My main way of bonding or working with people initially is kinda through humour to test the waters and I know she wouldn't like that at first. However, I think after her initial dislike for me for the first couple of cases or weeks or whatever I think she'd realise we actually work well together on cases and compliment each other with our working style? Then she'd slowly be more friendly and jokey with me and open up herself. We'd take a long time to be close friends with each other and I think the only way our friendship would grow is because of our friendship with others in the team. So would I get on with Sara? Not initially but let's say after like 6 months we might have lunch together. I do admire her and her work but... yeah I think we might be a bit too similar in some ways. I think eventually after we build up trust and a mutual understanding we'd then be friends and do things together outside of work (but it doesn't happen often because she'd invested in her work)

Warrick Brown

Now this is hard to say. I think initially he'd try to be open and welcoming but would have a little too much going on to care but would banter with me if we came across each other. He's serious on the job but a lil hot headed, I mean I'm the same but I tend to internalise it and not speak out about problems and might just cry about them? He'd probably try and argue a point and even if I agreed I would probably not say something if I was still new to the team and he'd probably get mad at me for it. However, I think I might break through with him with my humour or something really random or like a random fact which is so bizzare he's like 'who the fuck is she?' and laughs it off and enjoys it. I feel like we'd eventually be friends but not in a way to talk about our lives irl more like if we've had a long shift and need to pull a double and haven't stopped for food he'd throw a sandwich or coffee at me. So friends in a caring or sibling like way y'know? Banter but not completely open with each other but we know little facts here and there. We'd hold mutual friends and that'd what probably aids the friendship. So would I get on with him? Initially no fucking way but after a hot sec yeah.

Nick Stokes

Here he is, here's our boi. Now yes I may be bias here because I do like Nick but I genuinely think we'd get on because we're both kinda emotionally softies on the inside. However, initially he might get frustrated at how closed off I am and awkward when he tried to speak to me, giving short answers etc. But once I crack some awkward and nervous jokes he'd realise how nervous I am and try and get through to me in that way with jokes and banter. I think he'd actually help if I fucked something up or missed something and would point it out in a nice way compared to how someone like Sara would. I think he'd open up to me randomly? Also I feel we could chat shit randomly to each other y'know? I think we'd be in a weird friends stage for a long time and then it would get to best friend territory? Y'know? Going to see movies or hanging out outside of work. Also hard cases we'd support each other. I think my friendship with Nick would be the thing that helps my friendship with Warrick for sure and aids with Sara. So would we get on? Yeah we would and he'd question why Sara and I don't.

Greg Sanders

He's chaos. I can be chaos. He'd appreciate my jokes and would banter back. Would be on the same wave length a lot of the time I think. I think I'd be the more chill version of him in some ways? Idk. I think we'd be friends and he'd be the person I build a friendship with the fastest. Like I think it would be he and I friends first, then Nick and I, Catherine and I then the others after. He'd obviously try to flirt with me because it's Greg but he'd respect me? We'd probably go for coffee a lot and he'd want to give me a tour of Vegas or some shit if I hadn't been there long. He'd probably get frustrated though at how chill I can be sometimes but would enjoy the fact that I was also friends with Nick and if all three of us were put on a case? Well that would be funny and would make a great episode. Don't get me wrong though we'd work well together. So would we get on? Hell yeah!

David Hodges

I don't think he'd dislike me but he wouldn't entirely like me either but he'd have a respect for me? I'd tolerate him and would joke with him though but I wouldn't say we'd be close friends or anything. Once he finds out I also like Galaxy Quest (idk I like Star trek irl so I'd probably like galaxy quest) we'd talk about it occasionally and might go to a convention together if we had no one else. So would we get on? Slightly, we'd tolerate each other and make friendly conversation.

Henry Andrews

I think we could have a laugh and a joke and that's it. I'd probably want to be his friend more than I do Hodges but we're both very awkward but we'd have a respect and understanding for each other. I would go to his birthday celebration if I was asked too. So would we get on? Yeah...

SuperDave

Eh I think we'd just have a basic friendship and very much colleague relationship. I don't think he'd appreciate my humour at all and would just want to do his job. But if I was with someone else on the team or if Doc Robbins was also there he'd be a bit more friendly? He has super super nice vibes I just think we're both a little too awkward and closed off and we probably wouldn't be able to go past small talk or work related talk. So would we get on? Yeah in a colleague sort of way.

Doc Robbins

(Lmao i can't insert anymore gifs)

I think he'd enjoy my jokes and would explain things in a nice way if I didn't understand but we'd never be friends or anything. I think he'd respect me and enjoy my presence in the morgue but we wouldn't engage in like intentional real life talk. So not purposefully asking about family etc. Maybe something random would come out in an autopsy or whatever. So would we get on? Yeah more that Superdave and I would

Jim Brass He wouldn't hate me but I wouldn't be his favourite person. I tend to stay out of trouble so he'd like that the most. He'd probably appreciate that I stay quiet and listen before having an input. He'd probably worry about me though if I was held hostage or shot or something y'know? He wouldn't not care. So would we get on? Yeah in the same way Grissom and I would get on but slightly less that that.

LMAO this series is gonna be weird af but it is what it is. I don't expect anyone to read it. Hence not proof reading.

[saveyourblood]

Stolen Dance | Ch. 5

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

(x)

Notes: Ya bitch is at it again. 

Word Count: 4.3k 

Song: Deep End - Birdy (slowed)

Warnings: graphic depiction of administering CPR, mentions of suffocation, flashbacks, symptoms of PTSD, implied torture, angst... regular CM warnings. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

_____________________

“I’m gonna ask you to close your eyes for a minute, all right?” 

The four of you stood in the arcade, Jeremy in front of his favorite machine. It was the one he was playing before Katie disappeared. 

Jeremy looked over to you. You smiled and nodded slightly. 

Jeremy closed his eyes and faced the game. 

“I want you to go back to when you first walked into the arcade earlier,” Derek asked. “In your mind, I want you to try to picture what it sounded like in here. Picture what it smelled like. Was it crowded?”

“It was loud,” Jeremy said. 

“Were the people loud, or were the sound effects loud?” Spencer asked.

“Both,” he replied. “Some kid was yelling at his game. When I started playing, Katie started crying, said she wanted to go find her mom.”

“Do you remember what she was crying about?” Spencer said.

Jeremy, eyes still closed, shook his head. “It was too loud.”

“Okay, Jeremy, go back to your game,” Derek instructed. 

A small smile appeared on the boy’s face. “I was winning.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Awesome. Proud of myself. Kind of embarrassed,” Jeremy said. He began to bite at his cheek. 

“Why were you self-conscious? Who was watching you?” 

“I could smell her shampoo.”

The three of you shared a look. 

“Katie’s?” you asked softly.

He shook his head again. “I talked to her for one second… and then Katie was gone.”

“Did she say anything before she disappeared?” You asked. 

“She said she wanted ice cream.”

Jeremy bit the inside of his cheek again. You looked to Spencer.

“Anything else?” Spencer asked gently. 

“No,” Jeremy replied. 

“What do you think he’s not telling us?” You asked, taking a sip of coffee from your disposable cup. You stole some from the security office for you and Spencer.

“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted. “I think he’s protecting someone.”

The two of you sat at a small table in the mall’s breakroom. You returned Jeremy to his parents, and Derek was called away by Hotch. You weren’t supposed to leave the mall until Katie was found, being a paramedic and all. Spencer hadn’t been assigned anything else, so you and him spent your time occupying each other. 

“Probably,” you agreed, “but who?” 

Spencer shrugged.

Derek approached the two of you. 

“They found Katie’s necklace in a trash can,” Derek said as he entered the room.

You sat up; you didn’t realize your feet were in Spencer’s lap until that second. 

“Why throw away a girl’s necklace?” You asked.

“It wasn’t just thrown away — it was ripped off of her,” Derek replied. “Not to mention that it’s made of real gold.”

You raised your eyebrows in disbelief.

“Who gave it to her?” Spencer asked.

“Parents say she found it on a playground.”

“No way,” you shook your head. “Someone would know if they lost a necklace like that.” 

“Katie’s parents gave us permission to search the house,” Derek said, looking at Spencer.

Spencer turned to you.

You smiled encouragingly. “You should go, make sure Morgan doesn’t miss anything.” 

“Oh, new girl’s got sass,” Derek teased. “I’ll get you back for that one, Y/L/N.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you said sweetly, raising your glass in his direction. 

The boys left, leaving you alone. You used the chair Spencer sat in as a footrest, leaning back. You hoped to clear your mind, but no matter what, your thoughts seemed to race. 

Why would the UnSub rip the necklace off of Katie? It’s an irrelevant detail to a stranger. Ripping off the necklace was personal. If it was personal, Katie knew the UnSub, but she either trusted them or was too afraid to say anything. 

You stood up, walking out of the breakroom. You found your way back to the security office. 

“Hey, Garcia?” you asked, sitting on the table beside her. 

“Yes, my love?” She asked, busy typing away on the computer. 

“Can you do me a favor?” 

“What’s going on?” Jeremy asked. “Why are we here?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

Derek had called you a few minutes ago, telling you to swing by the food court and find a place for you and Jeremy to be alone. You had yet to figure out why.

You looked up to see Spencer standing outside of the room. 

“I’ll be right back, okay Jeremy?” you said, standing up. You patted his shoulder on your way out. 

“Derek thinks Katie is being molested,” Spencer said the moment you closed the door behind you. “She’s been wetting the bed, and her Barbie looks… disturbing.”

“In that case, the necklace makes sense,” you said. “It’s not uncommon for abusers to buy their victims gifts.”

“...Jeremy stole a pair of earrings 6 months ago.”

You frowned, then immediately shook your head. “It’s not him.”

“You don’t know that, Y/N,” Spencer said quietly.

“I do,” you insisted. “How can a 13-year-old boy know where to hide her? This mall is massive, but most of it has been searched. We would have found Katie by now if Jeremy was the one hiding her.” 

“We’re interviewing the father now,” Spencer continued, as if he heard nothing of what you just said. “Hotch asked me to speak with Jeremy.”

“Okay,” you said, laughing softly. “You can go in, Spencer. Go do your job.” 

He nodded, then stepped into the room. 

You could faintly hear what the two of them were talking about, but for the most part, you were swimming in your own thoughts. You bit at your nails occasionally, hoping and praying that Garcia would get back to you soon. You had a gut feeling, and your gut has never been wrong before. You refused to believe today was the exception.

Your phone rang. You picked it up before the first ring finished playing out. 

“You hit it right on the head, my dear — Susan Jacobs quit her job at the Potomac Mills Mall a little over two years ago. She worked at a local clothing boutique, then in a furniture store, then a jewelry shop before ultimately quitting.” 

“And all of those jobs were within the mall?” you asked. 

“Indeed it was,” Garcia confirmed. 

“That woman must know this place like the back of her hand,” you muttered. “Garcia, thank you,” you said, then hung up. You immediately called Emily.

“You need to talk to the aunt,” you said, neglecting to even greet her. “She worked three different jobs in this mall less than 3 years ago.” 

The line was silent for a second as she processed. “She’d have the layout of the building memorized at that point,” Emily said.

“Not to mention any reservations that have been done,” you agreed.

“Meet me in the food court,” she said before hanging up. 

“You and Richard have been separated for months,” Emily stated. “Why else didn’t you realize he hasn’t smoked in over a month? He has no use for a new lighter.” 

“We’ve been trying to work things out,” Susan said calmly, but already, her composure was breaking. 

“Did you really believe that getting rid of that little girl would take away his sickness?” Emily asked.

“You’re not making a bit of sense.”

“Did it occur to you last week after you heard a little girl was snatched from the local mall, and she was found dead three days later?”

Susan didn’t respond.

“Do you know what having an asthma attack feels like, Susan?” you asked.

She shook her head slowly. 

“It’s like…” you approached her, leaning forward, effectively invading her personal space. “It’s like someone has their hands around your throat,” you said, reaching your hands up. You obviously weren’t allowed to touch her, but you put your hands in a position that could effectively strangle someone. “It’s like someone is pushing on your throat,” you moved your hands closer, “harder, and harder, and harder. Your lungs feel like they’re on fire. Your throat burns with each breath. But no matter what, you can’t seem to get enough air in, and that’s when you breathe out of your mouth. Do you know what happens when you can’t, because it’s covered with duct tape? You can die.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen to my family,” she whispered. 

“What wasn’t?!” you shouted, standing up quickly. “You weren’t supposed to abduct your niece? Of course you weren’t! But that’s not it, is it? No, you weren’t supposed to marry a perv.”

“Stop,” Susan said, a few tears streaming down her face.

“Your husband isn’t supposed to prey on children that are vulnerable, scared, alone, confused. Your husband isn’t supposed to be an animal. But you know what, Susan? He is. And you’re protecting him. You’re protecting an animal rather than your own fucking family.”

“Please, don’t,” she begged.

“You seriously thought getting rid of Katie would fix him?” you pressed. “You thought killing an innocent girl would fix your broken marriage? Your husband is sick; Richard is a monster. And there’s nothing you can do to change that.” 

“No, no, no,” Susan muttered.

“You robbed Katie from her childhood!” you screamed. “Are you gonna steal the rest of her life too?!”

“Enough!” Susan sobbed.

You leaned in close, making it so she had no choice but to look at you. “Where. Is. She,” you said in a low, demanding tone.

Susan wiped a few tears away. She cleared her throat. She looked down.

“They renovated the basement before I left,” She said, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear. “She’s in a cupboard in the seasonal storage closet.”  

You bolted out of the room, grabbing your medi bag as you went. 

“Derek!? Hotch!?” you shouted as you ran down the steps. 

“In here!” Derek shouted. 

You followed the sound of his voice and ended up where Susan told you Katie was.

“She’s in one of these cupboards!” you called, rushing to the first cupboard you saw. You began slamming every door open.

In the very last one laid a little girl in pigtails, bound and gagged with duct tape over her mouth. 

“I got her! I found her!” you shouted as loudly as you could. 

You put one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees. You laid her flat on the floor and removed the tape from her mouth. You dropped your medi bag to your side, unzipping the corner pocket and pulling out an exacto knife. You cut through the ropes around her hands and ankles. 

You put your first two fingers over her carotid. Nothing. You put the stethoscope around you neck in your ears and pressed the bell to her chest. You watched and listened for movement. Also nothing. 

You maneuvered yourself to be directly over Katie and began compressions. Countless officers were swarmed around you, and it took you a moment to realize Derek and Hotch were crouched beside you.

“Get out the AED — it’s in the big pocket,” you instructed, mentally counting compressions. “There’s a pediatric CPR mask and a pair of scissors in the front pocket.” 

Derek scrambled to get the supplies, setting up the defibrillator to the best of his knowledge. 

“I need the scissors,” you instructed reaching a hand out. 

Once they were handed to you, you quickly cut through Katie’s shirt to expose her chest. You grabbed the defib pads, sticking one underneath her right collarbone and the other at the bottom of her left rib cage. You pressed a few buttons on the AED, then raised your hands in the air.

“Clear!” you shouted, though you doubted anyone else was touching her. The AED administered a shock, but she was still flatlining. 

You began manual compressions again, stopping after 15 to administer two rescue breaths. The automatic voice on the AED warned everyone to clear, beeped a few times, then shocked Katie again. Still, nothing.

“Come on, sweetheart,” you mumbled, once again beginning compressions. “Come back.” 

By then, Katie’s parents were in the room, and her mother was wailing and begging. You could hardly hear her. You were running off of adrenaline and instinct only; the rest of the world didn’t matter. All that mattered was saving her. 

You administered a breath, then another. The AED warned for another shock. It shocked her.

The heart monitor began beeping. 

Katie took a deep breath and began coughing.

The whole room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

You took the mask off her face, rolling her to her side and rubbing her back. “Welcome back, honey,” you cooed, a smile on your face. 

You reached into your medi bag, pulling out the small tank of oxygen. You rummaged around in the front pocket, coming up with a pediatric oxygen mask. You unwrapped it, straightened the tube, and connected the mask to the tank. Derek helped lift her head so you could slip it on. 

Katie was still coughing, but after a few fits, she began sucking in the air. You moved to the side, taking off your jacket and laying it over her to give her back some privacy.

Her parents rushed over, sobbing with relief. You stood up and stepped to the side so they could have a moment. 

You wiped some sweat off your forehead, taking a deep breath. You looked up to see Spencer standing in the doorway. He smiled.

You smiled back. 

“Thank you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but smiled. “For what?”

“For letting me,” Spencer said.

You untucked a corner of your bed, throwing back the sheets. You then turned around and began digging through your wardrobe.

“Letting you do what?”

Spencer took a seat on the other side of the bed. “For letting me talk to Jeremy. You trust your instincts more than anything, but today, you trusted me too. Thank you.” 

“Of course I trust you,” you said, almost shrugging it off. You laughed to yourself. “Spencer, I love you, but sometimes, you have no choice but to do the job. I get that. Believe me, I get that.” 

You quickly changed into your version of pajamas (which was a plain t-shirt and a pair of boyshorts) before crawling under the covers and joining Spencer. You turned off the light on your nightstand before curling up against him, your face tucked into his neck.

“Hey, Y/N?” Spencer asked, voice soft. You felt the words rumble through his chest, vibrate against your face. It made you smile.

“Yeah, Spence?” 

“I love you too.”

You froze for a moment, wondering why he said ‘too’ rather than a simple ‘I love you’. It took you a second to realize you had, in fact, said you loved him. You relaxed, though, when you realized it didn’t feel wrong.

In fact, in felt pretty damn right.

Dorado Falls. 

You never thought two words that were so irrelevant to you could affect you so greatly.

It was an interesting case — a former Navy SEAL was experiencing a psychotic break due to both his PTSD and a car crash he was in. The break caused something called Capgras Syndrome, or a mental disorder that makes someone think people in their lives were replaced by imposters. According to Spencer, Capgras Syndrome rarely made people homicidal; it was simply Luke Dolan’s past that made him able to kill without a second thought. In fact, he killed both his former team leader and parents because of the tricks his mind was playing on him. Had the BAU not intervened, he would have killed both his wife and daughter.

Of course, the BAU did intervene. Unfortunately, this lead Dolan to believe they had been kidnapped, so he ended up taking a hostage of his own in an attempt to exchange with the Bureau. Rossi talked to him over the phone, and Garcia managed to triangulate his call. The warehouse the call came from had the man he captured, but there was no sign of Dolan.

That is, until he pressed the barrel of his sub-machine gun to the back of your head. 

“I want my wife and my daughter,” he said calmly. “If I don’t see them in three minutes, the girl dies.” 

You took in a deep breath, closing your eyes. 

“No one is seeking revenge here,” Rossi said calmly. “You’ve created this conspiracy in your own mind.”

“You took my family,” Dolan argued. He pressed the barrel harder against your head.

“We took them to protect them from you,” Spencer said, swallowing nervously. “Let her go, and we can talk about it.”

Dolan didn’t budge.

“You want to know what’s going on?” Spencer asked, stepping forward. “You were in a car accident three nights ago, and you suffered a head trauma.”

“If I don’t see Jenna and Ally right now…” Dolan said, “...she dies.” 

Your mind shut down after that. You thought you heard someone over the intercom, but the only real thing you could hear was ringing. Loud, high-pitched ringing, like a bomb had gone off right next to your head. 

“You have one minute,” Dolan said, once again pressing the barrel to your head. 

It felt like it took hours for Dolan to finally set the gun down. Derek swooped into handcuff Dolan, gently nudging you forward. 

You couldn’t move.

You saw Spencer approach you, looking into your eyes and setting his hands on your arms. You could see his lips moving; he was asking you something, probably if you were okay. You couldn’t formulate a response. You felt a tear slip down your face, but it wasn’t the dam breaking. In fact, it was only the start of the storm. 

You crouched to the floor silently, clasping your hands over your ears as you brought your knees to your chest. You curled yourself into a tight ball, pulling at the hair above your ears.

“Please, let me help him,” you whispered, tears rolling down your face. “Just let me help him…”

“Let me help him!” you shouted, fighting the chains that bound your hands above your head. “Please, let me help him!” 

It was dark, and dirty, and it smelled like piss and shit. You weren’t supposed to be here. You were never supposed to end up here. Neither was he.

“Please, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know!” you begged, thrashing. “Let me down so I can help him! Please!” 

“Please!” you shouted, clothes drenched in sweat as you thrashed around. “Please, let me down! Let me help!”

“Y/N!” Spencer called for you, brushing back some of your hair.

You sat straight up, panting heavily. Your heart was racing, and your mind was foggy. It felt like you had just ran a marathon.

“It’s okay,” Spencer promised, setting a hand on your shoulder. “You’re safe. I promise.” 

You got out of bed, walking through your apartment until you reached the living room. You slid open the glass door and stepped onto the porch.

It had been getting colder for awhile now; most of the trees were bare, and by 10PM, it was getting close to freezing. You guessed it was somewhere around three in the morning when you went outside. You didn’t go back in until the Sun began to show.

The more nightmares you had, the less time you spent with Spencer.

It was a gradual practice; you stopped going over to his apartment unannounced. You stopped inviting him over after a case. You stopped making plans with him on your off-days. You spent more time working and studying then you did with him. It was concerningly easy to distract yourself, at least from Spencer Reid. 

You eventually stopped attending classes altogether. You lied to your professors, saying the BAU needed you more than you realized. They of course understood and accepted the news without further questioning. You used the newfound freetime to work as an on-call paramedic for local EMS. Between being on-call, schoolwork, and the BAU, you had no time for yourself, let alone someone else. 

That was exactly how you wanted it. 

A case popped up in Florida. It seemed pretty run-of-the-mill in terms of victimology: young, beautiful women. The only strange thing was the UnSub didn’t seem to have a racial preference.

The team put out a profile relatively quickly. They determined the UnSub would be middle-aged, successful, a family man and most likely known by the community. He was the kind of person you’d least expect. Of course, there was more than a handful of successful family men in Atlanta, but eventually, the team and local law enforcement were able to narrow it down. 

The lead detective on the case got restless and arrested a suspect prematurely. William Harris was in the eyes of the BAU, but no one made a move because there wasn’t enough evidence to arrest him yet. Now, with Harris in custody and less than 12 hours until he walks free, the team was working to find the evidence needed to keep him in custody.

“Y/N,” Hotch said, drawing you out of your daydream and back into reality. “You’re pursuing a minor in English, correct?”

You nodded. 

“Garcia found something on Harris’s computer,” Hotch said. “Go find Reid, see if you can help him.”

You nodded again, this time, more stiffly. “Yes sir,” you said, before dismissing yourself.

You wondered if Spencer had anything to do with that. 

You eventually found Spencer working in a corner of the police station. He already had 3 different boards behind him, two of which were whiteboards, one of them a corkboard. His back was turned to you as he pinned pieces of paper to the corkboard.  

A part of you wanted to say that it would be much easier if he just got over his aversion to technology already. 

“Hotch told me to find you,” you said instead.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Hey,” he said. It seemed like he wanted to say something else.

“Do you need some help?” You asked, approaching the board.

“Uh, Garcia found an untraceable blog on Harris’s computer,” he explained. “I’m going over the entries.”

You looked over the papers he already had pinned. Frowning, you began to notice a few inconsistencies. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t authors generally stick to using either dashes or ellipses?” you asked. 

“That’s right,” he confirmed. “Why?” 

You picked up a marker and began to highlight a few things. “There’s an equal number of both,” you said, mostly to yourself. “And here — the guy who uses dashes? He calls soda ‘pop’, but the other one calls it ‘soda’.”

“Dashes versus ellipses is almost entirely a style choice, but pop versus soda is regional,” Spencer agreed.

“‘Pop’ is a midwestern thing,” you said. “Isn’t Harris from Ohio?”

Spencer nodded in confirmation. “So the real question is… who’s the other writer?” 

You and Spencer worked on the blog posts, pointing out the inconsistencies and the different voices each author used. Of course, Spencer was a lot faster than you were — you suspected he slowed down, at least physically,  so you didn’t feel left behind. You appreciated the thought.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a while.

You felt your body stiffen. You cleared your throat in an attempt to recover. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been acting weird the last few weeks. Is something going on?” 

You shook your head but refused to look at him. “Nothing’s going on.” 

“Okay,” he said. “It’s just weird for you to miss date night. I thought I’d ask.”

You set down your marker and grabbed Spencer’s arm. You pulled him across the bullpen, down a hallway, and into an empty room. 

“Don’t,” you said right after closing the door. “Don’t do this. Not here.”

“I just want to know if you’re okay,” he persisted. “After what happened with Dolan…”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated. “Please, don’t mix… us with work.” 

“I’m not!” Spencer argued. “I’m checking in on a friend. I love you, Y/N, and it hurts me to know that you’re hurting.” 

“No you don’t,” you muttered.

“...What?”

“No you don’t,” you said louder, but your voice was fragile. “You don’t love me.” 

“What do you mean?” He said, taking a step forward. “Of course I do.”

“Spencer, you don’t know me,” you said, tears forming in your eyes. “We laugh, and we have fun, and we have a good time. But you don’t know anything about me, and honestly, I don’t know anything about you. All I am is a girl you met in Colorado and couldn’t seem to shake.” 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. The tone of his voice was enough to make a few tears fall onto your cheeks.

“Doing what?” you whispered.

“Invalidating everything we’ve been through,” Spencer said. “Invalidating me… invalidating us, Y/N? I don’t understand.”

“We spent a week in Vegas and we tricked ourselves into thinking we’re soulmates,” you said, smiling sadly. “That’s on me. And I’m sorry. But we’re not in love.”

He stepped closer to you. “That week is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

It killed you, but you took a step back. “We’re strangers,” you whispered. “We don’t know each other's favorite color, what elementary schools we went to, why we felt a calling to our jobs… We don’t know anything, Spencer. At least, I don’t.”

“Whatever happened, we can figure it out,” Spencer said. “I can help you, Y/N! You just have to let me in.”

“No one can help me,” you said, sucking in a breath to avoid a sob. You closed your eyes and wiped your cheeks feverishly. “I’ll give you back your things when we’re back in Virginia.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said. “I just… can’t.” 

You walked out without taking a look back. 

[koryuusei]

He Was Here

It was warm in the breakroom where Kory sat, headphones in and a pencil in hand. Her lunch sat nearby, getting cold as her pencil glided across the page of a notebook, filling it with a rushed cursive script. Occasionally, she looked up from the page to glance at her phone where a Girbeagly VOD was playing to see what Brian was responding to in chat, a giggle escaping her from time to time. 

Her pencil paused as her mind hit a creative wall. She signed and set down the pencil, grabbing a nearby can of soda as she pondered what would happen next. The brief pause was enough, she grabbed her pencil and started writing again. 

“Brian…”

Brian froze. The voice sounded like it had come from behind him.

Suddenly Kory felt chilled. She frowned. She set down the pencil, grabbed her phone, and walked over to the corner where her coat had been hung. She pulled the jacket on and went back to her seat. She took a quick glance at the clock on the wall. Lunch was half over already. She looked at her lunch. She really should eat something. She took a quick bite and then dived back into the story.

“Koryuusei…”

Kory looked up. She took one of the earbuds out and looked around the breakroom. There were a handful of people, but none of them looked at her. She shook her head and rolled her eyes; no one here even knew her as “Koryuusei.” Maybe she was spending too much time online answering to it. Feeling a bit silly, she sighed and glanced again at the clock.

Shit! It was time to go back to work. She hurriedly closed the notebook, tucking it into the binder full of doodles, gathered her things and packed them all into her bag. She then took everything over to the cubicle under the coats and set her stuff inside an empty one. She took off and hung up her jacket and placed her barely eaten lunch back into the fridge. She then grabbed her vest and clocked back in a few minutes late.

The rest of the day passed as usual - busy and hectic, but quick. Four hours later, Kory clocked out, took off her vest, gathered her things, and walked out to her car. She drove the short distance home, dropped her stuff on the floor, put the VOD she had been watching on the TV, and sat down to work on her story more, typing it into her laptop. Peanut jumped into her lap and curled up into a small ball.

As she worked, Kory slowly became aware that the apartment had become cooler than normal. She paused in her work to rub her arms. 

“Sorry, Cuddlebug. Mama’s gotta get up.”

With a cry of disapproval from the cat, Kory nudged her off her lap so that she could get up and grabbed a blanket from her room. The laptop screen, filled with text, flickered for a second. The TV went silent.

“Kory…”

Kory stepped out of the room slowly, blanket in hand. She came around the corner and looked at her TV. It was paused. 

She frowned. “Weird…”

She went back to the chair, grabbed the XBox controller and pushed the A button to unpause the video. She looked back at her laptop. The story was almost finished. She wrapped the blanket around her and got back to work, not noticing that the Brian in the corner of the television screen was no longer playing the game, even though the game play audio and commentary continued to play. Instead, it watched her work, smiling. 

When the story was finished, she opened minecraft and bought a book from the library in the community server. She copied her story piece by piece into the Minecraft book, hoping she didn’t make any typos in the areas she had to hand type to finish the pages, signed the book, and tossed it into Lav’s chest. She then logged off the server and copied and pasted the text into the subreddit. Finished, she closed the laptop, turned off Twitch, and went to make some dinner. After she finished eating, she did a few chores, took a quick shower, and crawled into bed for the night. 

As she slept, her phone screen lit up suddenly, unlocked and open to Samsung Notes. 

THANK YOU

FOR CALLING ME 

OUT TO PLAY 

KORY :)

[koryuusei-writing-portfolio]

He Was Here

It was warm in the breakroom where Kory sat, headphones in and a pencil in hand. Her lunch sat nearby, getting cold as her pencil glided across the page of a notebook, filling it with a rushed cursive script. Occasionally, she looked up from the page to glance at her phone where a Girbeagly VOD was playing to see what Brian was responding to in chat, a giggle escaping her from time to time. 

Her pencil paused as her mind hit a creative wall. She signed and set down the pencil, grabbing a nearby can of soda as she pondered what would happen next. The brief pause was enough, she grabbed her pencil and started writing again. 

“Brian…”

Brian froze. The voice sounded like it had come from behind him.

Suddenly Kory felt chilled. She frowned. She set down the pencil, grabbed her phone, and walked over to the corner where her coat had been hung. She pulled the jacket on and went back to her seat. She took a quick glance at the clock on the wall. Lunch was half over already. She looked at her lunch. She really should eat something. She took a quick bite and then dived back into the story.

“Koryuusei…”

Kory looked up. She took one of the earbuds out and looked around the breakroom. There were a handful of people, but none of them looked at her. She shook her head and rolled her eyes; no one here even knew her as “Koryuusei.” Maybe she was spending too much time online answering to it. Feeling a bit silly, she sighed and glanced again at the clock.

Shit! It was time to go back to work. She hurriedly closed the notebook, tucking it into the binder full of doodles, gathered her things and packed them all into her bag. She then took everything over to the cubicle under the coats and set her stuff inside an empty one. She took off and hung up her jacket and placed her barely eaten lunch back into the fridge. She then grabbed her vest and clocked back in a few minutes late.

The rest of the day passed as usual - busy and hectic, but quick. Four hours later, Kory clocked out, took off her vest, gathered her things, and walked out to her car. She drove the short distance home, dropped her stuff on the floor, put the VOD she had been watching on the TV, and sat down to work on her story more, typing it into her laptop. Peanut jumped into her lap and curled up into a small ball.

As she worked, Kory slowly became aware that the apartment had become cooler than normal. She paused in her work to rub her arms. 

“Sorry, Cuddlebug. Mama’s gotta get up.”

With a cry of disapproval from the cat, Kory nudged her off her lap so that she could get up and grabbed a blanket from her room. The laptop screen, filled with text, flickered for a second. The TV went silent.

“Kory…”

Kory stepped out of the room slowly, blanket in hand. She came around the corner and looked at her TV. It was paused. 

She frowned. “Weird…”

She went back to the chair, grabbed the XBox controller and pushed the A button to unpause the video. She looked back at her laptop. The story was almost finished. She wrapped the blanket around her and got back to work, not noticing that the Brian in the corner of the television screen was no longer playing the game, even though the game play audio and commentary continued to play. Instead, it watched her work, smiling. 

When the story was finished, she opened minecraft and bought a book from the library in the community server. She copied her story piece by piece into the Minecraft book, hoping she didn’t make any typos in the areas she had to hand type to finish the pages, signed the book, and tossed it into Lav’s chest. She then logged off the server and copied and pasted the text into the subreddit. Finished, she closed the laptop, turned off Twitch, and went to make some dinner. After she finished eating, she did a few chores, took a quick shower, and crawled into bed for the night. 

As she slept, her phone screen lit up suddenly, unlocked and open to Samsung Notes. 

THANK YOU

FOR CALLING ME 

OUT TO PLAY 

KORY :)

[skookumfiles]

Case 117: Ole’ Yeller

S.C.U.C.M (Skookum) files: Case 117- Ole Yeller                It was a pretty standard infestation case of a nest of werewolves in a liberal town, on a University campus, woven into the on and off campus life. The risk management assessors of interdimensional insurance had been monitoring the situation and noticed the disappearance rate and pack size had begun to proceed at an increasing pace. At the next full moon, there would be an easily predicted mathematically significant event known as a rising. The pack would consume a large number of pedestrians and turn an even greater number. Policy holder risk was becoming too great, as was the visibility of both Social Justice Warriors and Werewolves on this particular earth.                Every mundane agency uses contractors for roof leaks, termites, and the occasional oddball problem of Africanized honey bees. Interdimensional insurance was no different. You can’t beat someone at what they do for a living, so you pay the people who specialize in the problem to make it go away discreetly so the neighbors aren’t alarmed.                So it is with werewolves that the contracts were nearly exclusively handled across dimensions by a group of enthusiastic individuals under the umbrella of an S-corporation known as Social Justice Complications and Unintentional Consequences Management. Skookum, as they were known in the insurance business breakrooms, were capable of handling a broad range of lycanthropes, aquatic leviathan, genetically mutated horrors, and your occasional chimera. They were particularly good at sniffing out the clever ones who embedded in the social justice communities where people made any number of excuses that allowed the proverbial, and literal, wolf into the henhouse. Their handling of the great werebear incident on Earth 2312 was legendary in the halls of numerous branches of the agency, mostly because the underwriters were ready to write off the whole planet as a loss- and that would have been a significant ding to their reputation of good customer service. Some even had Skookum coffee mugs and calendars at their desk. It was rare to find an agent without a Skookum pen or pencil that they protected jealously, especially one with Georgia’s name on it.                That’s the secret to risk abatement: value. Underpromise and over deliver.                If you can maintain assets, discretion, and a thorough routing of the problem, you’re a top shelf contractor who understands customer service to the agency, and by extension the ethic of customer service the agency extends to customers.                The case #117 is a classic example of how the agency now refers to making a problem Skookem when it seems impossibly out of hand for the average or beginner who is more suited to groundhogs, vampire voles, or the troublesome Gleendoric parasites of Earth 220. ______________________________

The meeting was going over time, but the rapt attention that most were paying to PeaceLilly was signaling that the meeting of the social justice and equality league (Not every acronym has to form an English word, you Anglo-normative ethnocentric paraquat- PeaceLilly). Peace Lilly had begun by talking about the peace garden project they were due to be working on that weekend, even though the neighborhood they’d be driving to in her biodiesel powered Mercedes wagon needed clean needles and a grocery store more than a garden. When she got going she passed the garden project by in short order and launched into a speech about diversity and how they all needed to check their privilege when in a neighborhood populated by POC (people of color) and to remember that gender bias was stronger in those poorer and darker cultures. That led into another 10 minutes of speaking about how if someone hit on them that they should feel ok with hooking up because people would never be able to experience the culture of University life when so poor and hopeless. Knowing what it’s like to have sex with a college student could be valuable to the residents and spur them toward higher education.

The room responded with “right on” and “yes!” shouts to all of these exhortations as she moved on from pity sex to reminding the 2 males in the room that they should be open to hooking up with men or women because they were so privileged that discomfort was something that would bring them closer to the experiences of the women and fluid genders around them.                Below them, on the ground floor of the student center for activities and outreach, the doors automatically closed and locked to the outside as the clock struck 5 PM. The dull thud and bright click echoing through the halls, reminded everyone that the official time for the meeting was up, but they would stay as long as they liked, or until some white male came to tell them to leave.                “Uh, PeaceLilly, I thought we were going to have food tonight?” asked one scrawny guy who was sitting in the back of the room.                “Yes, there will be a meal.” She said, looking irritated that he interrupted her while she was taking a breath between rants. “We have a guest coming and then we’ll start.”                As if on cue, a polite knock on the door interrupted the man from asking any more questions. Peace Lilly opened the door and turned with a big grin to the group.                “Everyone, meet Ember Moon! She is tonight’s guest here to talk about more social justice topics and what it’s like to be a female in a male dominated field.”                Ember stepped into the room. Her patchouli scented patchwork clothing swished as the corduroy sections brushed against each other with her strides to the front of the room. Her big head of mousey dishwater blonde dreds swayed down to her lower back in big fat links of matted and rolled perfection. Her sizeable belly poked from under her dull scissors shortened Joan Jett t-shirt.                Everyone in the room kind of held their breath as she dramatically paused before she started.                “I kind of like to ground myself in the space. Really connect with the energy of the room. You all smell really great and have such a nice energy. I’m guessing you’re all vegetarians or vegans, right?” She began in a low and husky voice of a woman who had been smoking a lot of weed for a long time. Her sallow face was marked with the lines of either laughter or pain, maybe both. She looked to be between 30 and 50, but who can tell when you abandon personal grooming for a philosophical statement about your personal values?                “We’re all plant based consumers, except for Keightlynn and the gentleman in the back- I’m sorry, what’s your name?” PeaceLilly interjected.                “Uh, my name is Tommy. My pronouns are cis dominant, but I self identify as a non-gendered being of light having a physical experience.” Jimmy said matter of factly. “I, uh, eat meat as a part of my physical experience.”                Peacelilly seemed to soften a bit toward Jimmy after he introduced himself. Maybe he wasn’t just here for a free meal. after all?                “So, who is Keightlynn?” Ember inquired. “Just raise your hand. We’re not on a witch hunt here. Just want to know who the carnivore is.”                A small but fit young woman in the 2nd row, near the door Peacelilly was standing beside, raised her hand. In a meek voice she declared herself to be “here” wherever that may be in the philosophical landscape.                She was dressed in a pair of loose fitting pants, sported some shoulder length black dreds over a black tshirt, and her pale skin had a nice glow to it. She didn’t seem as hollow cheeked and spindly as the rest, even in a seated position.                Ember pointed to her with a quick jab of her right hand and said “cool…” as she seemed to make a mental note.                Ember began to speak about the need for outreach, and about how the world needs us to go out and find the people willing to listen to the truth and actually hear it. Naturally this was women and POC, but in rare exceptions those outside the spheres of the downtrodden could be reached as well. “White people” she said with a sneer, despite her own caucasian features and skin, were the problem until you could “reverse brainwash” them.                Two hours passed and as the sun went down the silvery light of the moon illuminated the sidewalks and vehicles parked outside the building.

               Ember moved on from the ideas of simple outreach to talk about “food deserts” and how many people didn’t know how difficult it was for some to obtain food in their communities due to special dietary needs, lack of decent food sources, and the privilege of some to deny others what they needed through stigma. Privilege was a main problem, apparently. The root of all things negative and oppressive were wrapped around the vague idea of privilege, particularly the ideas around food culture and dietary necessity.

A loud knock on the doors downstairs made Peace Lilly excuse herself to “let more guests in.”                “So, when are we going to eat?” Tommy, the being of light, interrupted again.                “Oh, we’re not going to eat.” Ember continued, glancing out at the silvery light bathing the parking lot. “Well, you’re not.”                She walked over to the window and stood in the moonlight. Her skin began to darken and her limbs began to thicken. Her face grew and triangulated as big sharp teeth replaced her peglike human chompers.  In just a few seconds she had gained at least a foot in height and was covered in a blonde coat of thick hair. Her patch work clothes had fallen to the floor and her Joan Jett t-shirt was stretched tight across her chest. She ripped it off with a quick slash of her claws.                The room full of plant grazers moved quickly to the door, finding it locked. They began beating on the door. Tommy shoved them out of his way and put his shoulder into the steel door, a loud thump issuing into the empty hallways outside.                Then a noise of metal sliding across a cheap vinyl floor sounded and the door swung open into the hallway. The mass of crying and frightened smelly people started out the door then scurried back in, like a school of fish moving away from a shark. Two more werewolves stepped into the doorway and blocked egress from the room. Both dark haired and smaller than Ember, but still larger than PeaceLilly who stepped into the room between them.  She locked the door behind her.                One of them began sniffing the air and followed his nose over to Keightlynn who was still seated in the 2nd row by the door. He let out a little cough, like he smelled something rancid, and looked over at Tommy, then at Ember.                Ember nodded toward the mass of people in the corner of the room and the two began to herd them tighter into the corner.                Peacelilly held up both hands to the group.                “Diversity is one of our most cherished values. And we all must check our privilege of thinking we are the top of the food chain. We all have a chance now to be lupine-Americans, if we wish to engage in a participant observation that will change the way people see eating meat and not supporting their neighbors of all colors.”                She looked over at Keightlynn who was still in her chair.                The two smaller ones got closer to the group, smelling them and licking their faces with long red hot tongues. Finally, overcome with bloodlust, they jerked one girl out of the crowd, a vegan named Mary Bell who had the muscle tone of a tomato and the fat content of a broccoli stalk. They tore wildly at her body, swallowing entire chunks of her, pushing her long bones into the corner of their mouths to crack them open and eat her marrow.                The mass of people in the corner screamed and writhed into an impossibly small wad as blood sprayed on them from Mary Bell’s punctured body, and the sound of her bones and flesh being torn and rent filled the space between high pitched wails.                There was another heavy pounding on the door.                PeaceLilly opened the door and let one more werewolf in, quickly closing and locking it again.                “Everyone is here. Good.” She said, shoving the key in the medicine bag that hung off her neck. “Now, everyone calm down. It’s time to decide if you want to be part of the solution, or part of the problem. Checking your privilege has never been as important as it is right now.”                The third smaller werewolf, overcome with bloodlust, jumped on Mary Bell’s head and began gnawing at it, causing the three to engage in a rolling fight with one another as Ember looked on.                PeaceLilly then changed and jumped into the fracas, pushing them all away from their meal. She was smaller than Ember and bigger than the 3. She managed them easily despite their numbers.                It was then that PeaceLilly, now a dark, large, and panting werewolf, began to walk back to the mass of screaming social justice club members and began savagely eyeing them.                Suddenly she was knocked clear across the room and began kicking desks and chairs away from her as she writhed on the floor holding the side of her head.                The three smaller ones turned in time to see Keightlynn coming at them. One, two, three, all of their heads were severed from their bodies and gouts of red blood gushed onto the floor as their bodies fell limply and began to turn human again. Keightlynn leapt over 4 desks with a battered bronze blade in one hand and a pair of old brass knuckles in the other.                PeaceLilly snarled and started to leap at her and caught another left hand in the face, the silver cast into the knucks burning and caving in part of her head. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth across her hideous teeth and she fell back dazed. Her head struggled to repair itself around the impact of the silver, but it was not nearly quick enough. A moment later and the bronze sword found her neck, her heavy lupine head hitting the floor with a hollow thud as it began to turn human again.                The Social Justice club kept screaming, still tightly coiling and writhing. They were a primal frightened mass unable to make a coherent thought.

Now Ember’s eyes widened in fear as Keightlynn stepped toward her.                “Ah-ite, ole yeller. End of the line for you.” Keightlynn said in a thick East Tennessee accent.                Ember quickly morphed back into her human form. Only very old and very powerful werewolves could do that neat trick at will during a full moon.                “That name is ableist and ageist! You don’t understand, but if you’d just listen…” She began.  “You have the privilege of eating meat and yet you would begrudge us our goddess given right to…”                Keightlynn’s left hand flashed again and the knucks caught a glancing blow on Ember’s chin, though it would have been a knockout if Ole Yeller hadn’t feinted to the right so quickly.                Instantly, Ember changed back to her werewolf form and with a deafening snarl leap at Keightlynn.                Unfazed, bored even, Keightlynn moved toward her, then to the side, causing Ember to have to recalculate and turn to see where she was going. A left caught Ember on the side of the head changing her northbound leap into an Eastbound rolling tangle of hairy limbs and falling teeth that all piled up against the wall. The Social Justice club continued to shriek and try to shrink to nothing in vain.                One young man who came to the University as Jeremiah Simms, and was now simply called Trayvon, put a hand on each side of his head and shrieked “Mamaaaaaaaa!!!” as he scuttled backward against the wall, his eyes wide with terror and confusion.                Keightlynn stepped over to Ember who was trying to gather herself to counter the whack to her head that smoked and bled.                A quick swing of the bronze blade, mostly with the wrist, not the broad desperate swing you see in movies, and Ember’s head hit the cheap vinyl floor with the same watermelon thud as the others.                “Four weeks. It took me four weeks to track you from UCLA to Berkeley to UT and here to South Carolina. Lotta dead kids. Lotta damage. But I knew I was gonna put you down. Wish it was sooner than later, but done is done.” Keightlynn zipped open the fanny pack on her waist and hooked a short tether onto the pommel of her bronze blade. She dropped the whole sword into the depth of the small fanny pack and zipped it up. Then she reached over and touched something on her knucks. An instant later, she only had a thin brass ring on her middle finger. She sent a text on her phone quickly as Trayvon stared at her from across the room and shouted “thank you, Keightlynn! You saved us!” “Mah name ain’t Keightlynn, dipshit.” She said, sending one more text after a beep noted she’d received a response. Suddenly the door opened and the room was filled with people in Tyvek suits and respirators who were putting Mary Bell, Ember, PeaceLilly, and the others in heavy plastic bags. “Well, what is your name?” Trayvon queried loudly as the others were starting to flag from the adrenaline and panic they’d been maintaining. “Georgia, from Tennessee.” She said in a distracted tone, picking up a small but complicated looking hand held radio that one of the cleanup techs handed her. “Hay Stranger, you got your ears on?” “Tom Stranger, here. Are we…” he paused “Skookum?” “Yeah, code name Ole Yeller got herself put down.” Georgia said matter of factly. “We should be Skookum tight and wrapped up in a jiffy.” “I can always count on you.” Stranger said, a chuckle crackling over the radio. “Well, darlin’. Customer service is so very important.” Georgia cooed into the mic, a small smirk spreading across one corner of her mouth.  “And you are my fay-vo-rite customer.” She flipped the radio back into the hands of the cleanup tech and walked out the door into the hall as Tom Stranger’s voice crackled something over the airwaves that didn’t sound like insurance business.