#people think I’m so nice but they don’t be knowin what’s in my brain

[allofuswantgwinam]

i haven’t even posted a single thought today so it’s safe to say I’m feeling better today 🤣💀 but i have THOUCHTS AND FEELINGS

there’s this guy i work with and it is a battle bc he gets on my nerves so much *it is not jsut me also wanna throw that out there😭* he only works Saturday’s and I usually don’t have to close with him but I do tn and I just wanna pat myself on the back bc I have been doing really good with all my annoyance with him. bc sometimes it is me asf, like he gets in my nerves sm but I do not need to be an asshole but he is so arrogant and never stops talking and acts like he is the smartest person in the world and it DRIVES ME INSANE BUT IVE BEEN DOIN SO GOOD IM SO PORUD but I also am still me and real at the same time. I just try really hard to be a distance or to just remind myself “he is who he is, deep breaths and do not choose this battle” oh my god. Cause he’s not even an awful person he just is exactly what I said lol he is very nice but I just do not enjoy working with him at all but im mfing doing it and I’ve conditioned myself to just not even fucking care bc it’s just one day. only one. 1 more hour. that’s all 😭🤣

[aeoki]

SHINSEKAI - Empire of Fantasy: Chapter 2

Location: Jungle Characters: Mika, Shuu & Sora

Mika: …………

(Ngh~... I knew it, this is a dream.)

(When I opened the door of the inn, a jungle was in front of me.)

(That’s just not impossible. It’s just a dream, how stupid.)

(Accordin’ to the rumours from the official announcement, it seems “Trickstar” did somethin’ foolish and they were thrown into a jungle.)

(Why a jungle…? I remember thinkin’ that’s so far-fetched and that they should’ve made things more realistic.)

(...So maybe that’s why I’m also dreamin’ of a jungle.)

(But it sure feels real for a dream. The ground and the rustlin’ of the leaves all sound real.)

(I-It sure is a scary dream. I wonder what deep part of my psychology the dream is showin’?)

(Seriously, if I was thrown out to an unexplored jungle like this, I’d die a dog’s death in less than three days.)

(Oshi-san is a clean freak so he wouldn’t be able to last a few hours, either.)

Shuu: Eeeeeeeek!?

Mika: (......!? Huh? What was that voice just now?)

Oshi-san? Heeey, you’re over there, right, Oshi-san?

Shuu: K-Kagehira…

Non! You’re not supposed to be calling me “Oshi-san”.

Not that you’ll be able to comprehend the “order” or a difficult rule in that brain of yours!

Mika: No no, I did some thinkin’ knowin’ what it means, you know~? If you’re livin’ in my brain, Oshi-san, then you should know that, right?

Shuu: What? Inside your brain?

Mika: Yeah. This is my dream, isn’t it? Which means the Oshi-san I’m lookin’ at right now is an Oshi-san that my brain made up, right…?

Shuu: Stop calling me that!

Mika: Ngh~? I know but I haven’t come up with another name for you just yet~

Shuu: You can just call me “Itsuki-senpai” or something along the lines of that. What is there to think about?

Besides, the current me won’t get angry if you refer to me with something rude.

Mika: Ngh~? Maybe it’s ‘cause I’m in a dream but Oshi-san is so nice ♪

Fufu. In that case, can I call you Onii-chan…? ♪

Shuu: Non! I cannot understand why you would call me that but it feels sickening!

Mika: What~? You’re part of my dream so I want you to give a nicer reaction!

Shuu: What have you been talking about? This is my dream, isn’t it? Which is why the things you say are the opposite of real life…

Mika: Ahaha. An inverted reality, huh. Sounds like Alice in Wonderland.

Shuu: If I were to wander somewhere, Wonderland would have been preferred. No, this is not the time for this! I must wake up from this awful dream!

You can never know what sort of repulsive insects and beasts are crawling all over the jungle! I don’t even want to breathe a single second in here!

Mika: Ngh~ Onii-chan’s a city boy, after all~♪

Shuu: Stop calling me that! I don’t remember having a younger brother like you!

Mika: T-Then, could I call you darlin’ instead…?

Shuu: God, this conversation is going nowhere! This must be a dream – a nightmare…!

Sora: “HaHa~♪ HiHi~♪ HuHu~♪”

Shuu: ……!? That voice, it’s–?

Mika: Ngh~ It’s the fairy I saw before ♪

Now that I take a closer look, it looks exactly like Sora-kun. It says the same things as him~♪

This is my dream, right? It’s not weird for people I know to appear in it.

Shuu: If it really is a dream, it must be mine…

Non! No! Deep down, I don’t wish for adorable children to be this tiny in size!

Mika: No one said anythin’ ‘bout that, though? But he really is tiny. So cute ♪

Sora-kun is normally like a fairy in real life but he looks even more like one right now.

Shuu: You mean a dwarf. Fairies have a translucent pair of wings and are barefoot…

Sora: “HeHe~♪ HoHo~♪”

Mika: Ahh, he’s leavin’! Wait, Sora-kuuun!

Shuu: W-Wait! Don't chase after it without thinking! You won’t know what’s going to happen if you act carelessly!

← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[theimpossibleg1rl]

Yes, Captain

AU!Alpha!Cap!Bucky x Omega Reader

Warnings: it’s just smut, you guys. No plot, just so, so dirty. ABO dynamics, so much language

You drove him absolutely insane.

Stubborn. Defiant. Mouthy. Never listened to anything he said. But that wasn’t the real reason that you got to him. Not the real reason why you made him so crazy. But that was Bucky’s dirty little secret. He’d never tell a soul.

Of course Sam saw through it. Gave him shit at every turn. Never let him live it down. Reminded him as often as he possibly could. Because Sam lived for annoying the Captain. It was his favorite pastime. The game he loved to play.

“Get your shit together, Y/N!,” Bucky barked through the comm device, causing you to roll your eyes so far back you were sure you could see your brain. “Don’t be reckless. Don’t be defiant. And most importantly, don’t be stupid.” You shook your head. “Yes, Captain.”

God dammit.

If you only had any idea. Every time. Made his cock twitch in his pants. Made him wanna pin you against the nearest wall and knot you until you couldn’t see straight. Fuck you so hard that the only word you knew was his name. Make you beg, plead. Cry for it.

“Don’t be a pain in the ass. Get the info. Get your ass out. Understood?” He was fuming.

“Yes, Captain,” you hummed, picking the lock of the server room, taking a quick glance around. Your heat was close. Too close. But you’d ignore it. Focus on the job at hand. Not think about anything else but retrieving the data and getting the hell out.

Definitely not thinking about the Captain.

****

You were taking too long for his liking.

He huffed, picking up the shield and trotted down the hall, carefully. Quietly. Until he reached the door. “Fuckin’ pain in my ass. Every god damned time.” He pushed it open, spotting you toward the back.

Partnering up for this mission had been a bad idea. But only two people were needed. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, you were the best. Good at fighting. Hand to hand. Handling a weapon. Good with the tech.

“I’m coming,” you sighed, watching the screen as it moved incredibly slow. “This computer is probably as old as you,” you quipped, making him clench his fists and his jaw. God damned pain. “Like, seriously Cap. It’s fuckin’ ancient. Who still works with shit like this besides old ass men that don’t understand technology?”

“Any insight?”

“Shut up and get the data,” he hissed, keeping an ear out for anything unwanted. “You talk to fuckin’ much. Always runnin’ that mouth. Someone should put it to good use. Put you in your place. Teach you a lesson.”

You froze at his words. Was he suggesting something? Or just being typical asshole Bucky Barnes?

“You wanna do it?,” you taunted. “Wanna put me in my place, huh? Show me who’s boss?” You knew by the way his nostrils flared that he could smell your arousal. Your scent. It was making him fuzzy. Brain in overdrive.

“Should I?,” he shot back, not moving an inch, watching you from afar. His eyes shamelessly took you in. “Should I put somethin’ in that smart mouth? Get you to finally shut the fuck up? Teach you not to talk back?”

“Yes, Captain.”

He was on you before you could blink.

Pinned against the wall. Heavy, hot breath against your neck. Panting. Trying to maintain control and failing miserably. His metal hand went to your throat, squeezing gently, making you whimper. “Smell like sin, sweetheart. When was the last time you had an Alpha between your legs? Too long?”

“Yes, Captain.”

He growled, low. Feral. Primal. Like a beast, a wolf threatening to emerge. To take it, take you. Knot you. Own you. Make you submit because that’s what good little Omegas did. And you? Well, you were no good little Omega, were you? But this Alpha? He had some pull over you.

“Say it again,” he groaned, his hand undoing your belt, desperate to feel you. See if you were as wet as you smelled. “Say it. You want it? Want a big, strong Alpha to fuck you into next week?” His fingers found your soaked folds and he groaned again.

“Fuckin’ stunning. Greedy little cunt, isn’t it? Needs an Alpha to fill it up, doesn’t it? Tell me, Omega,” he breathed, lips a breath away from yours. “Tell me to give it to you. To fill you up. Fuck you like you need it. Fuck you like an Alpha fucks his Omega.”

“You need it?”

“Yes, Captain.”

You heard the clink of his belt, dropping to the concrete floor. His fingers pushed inside your waiting heat, searching for that little spot. He wanted to see your face, hear your cries. Wanted to taste you on his tongue. See if you were sweet as you smelled.

Once you came, he pulled his fingers and swirled them in his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. “For someone so bitchy and mean, you taste as sweet as candy.” You moaned at his words, blissed out. Completely fucked and he hadn’t even been inside yet.

“Gonna feel so good around my cock. Bet you’re aching, aren’t ya? Bet you need it, huh? Need it deep. Hard. Fast. Need to come again, baby? Need your Alpha to fuck you good? Dick you down until your beggin’ me to stop? That what you want?”

“Yes, Captain.”

It was low, breathy and he swore he came a bit at the sound. “Then be a good little Omega and face the wall.” You obliged, your face pressed against the cool wall, his hands pulling your hips back, fingers running through your folds. Dragging his cock over you, collecting your slick.

“So wet,” he moaned, “gonna just slip right in, aren’t I?,” he teased, the head of his cock pressed against your ass. “Gonna swallow me up, huh? Gonna take your Alpha’s cock like a good little girl? Gonna let me knot you up so good?”

You were a panting, whining mess. No words would come so you just nodded furiously. His flesh hand came down on your ass hard, making you cry out. “Good Omega,” he growled, doing it again. Back arched, desperate. Whiny, needy. Fuck, you needed him to do something.

“I own you after this, understood? You are mine. My Omega. You’ll belong to me. No one will ever touch this beautiful body again. No one. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Captain.”

He slid inside with a harsh thrust, stretching you in the best kind of way. Your walls hugged him, already quivering, so close to coming. “Squeeze me, Omega,” he demanded. “Feels so good,” he sighed softly, his head falling back at the sensation. “Come on, sweetheart. Come on my dick. Show me how good it feels.”

You gripped his flesh arm for balance, but your legs were threatening to give. His hard, harsh thrusts. His moans and groans. The way his vibranium hand squeezed your throat, thumb against the pressure point. It was all too much. Overstimulation. You couldn’t even think straight.

“Fuck!,” you cried out, panting hard, sweating. “Let go,” he whispered, the sound low and throaty. “Let go for your Alpha. And I’ll give you my knot. Fill you up nicely, so full. You’ll be feeling me for days, baby girl. Achin’ in the best way. Knowin’ I’m the only one who can fuck you like this. You want it? Want my knot?”

“Yes, Captain.”

That was it. You screamed out as your release hit. Harder than you’d ever had, white stars behind your eyes. You felt him swell and catch. Roaring behind you. Hands gripping your hips. He’d leave bruises, marks. His lips pressed against your scent gland, silently asking for permission.

“Yes, Captain.”

[genuflectx]

4th Dimensional Being/OC - CH3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 

Full Length: 19,543 Chapter Length:  2,218

Main Themes: Other dimensions, tentacles, confinement, nsfw Other Warnings: politics,  "godly" behaviors, vomit, feeling of loss of autonomy, comparison to a toy

(all images in aesthetic board are labeled for reuse with modification or are mine)

The next chapter gets nasty...

The 4DB Chapter 3: The Virus

They were all chattering like cicadas, a loud distant drone in the back of her head. Chris missed her phone. She missed Vincent. She even missed Mildred's occasional snarky comment. Instead she was here, the beginnings of a headache blooming, listening to the test subjects debate the pros and cons of their situation. Chris absently and quietly picked at her food.

John was grumpy. He complained that he shouldn't even be here. “Whatever this thing is it's keeping me from my job,” but he secretly thought that perhaps he'd be revered for his 'sacrifice,' assuming he was allowed to even talk about it after it ended.

“What do you do again?” Asked Cole at Chris’s side smartly.

John became red in the face but kept his composure. “Very funny.”

Aaron, nearly slumped over the cold metal table, shrugged and snorted. “Why's a ~mystical being~ need any of us anywho? A security guard, an energy-guy, a mayor, a fucking clerk for God's sake,” he gestured towards Chris.

“Well I know why he'd want me!” Boasted Nathan. “Must of saw me on the field and thought wow, I need him in my soon-to-be-cult!” His laugh was so loud. John sneered when he elbowed him.

The conversation just felt so shallow. Chris should have opted to sit with her roommate Morgan, but she had looked out of it ever since she'd first spoken with Gabriel the day before.

“So uh, what did it say to you guys?” Cole changed the subject suddenly.

Chris looked up, glancing around. Some of the men looked rather uncomfortable.

“Fucker wanted me to describe war to him,” Nathan answered quickly, his expression confused but vaguely amused. “Apparently they've had no wars. Not one. I think he's a liar, what a load of shit.”

John shrugged, leaning back a bit. “I was asked about my job. It was very tame.”

“Hey Chris, what did it ask you?” Cole nudged her from her thoughts.

The security guard chuckled. “How to send a letter?”

She ignored him. God, some of these guys were obnoxious. “It asked me about our government and how it treated me,” she shrugged, looking back at her food.

“I wonder what the eggheads will do with those recordings,” Nathan interjected. “Not like they can hear the bastard. It'll just be a bunch of government losers ranting about their jobs. Oh, and then me having to explain every damn World War like I was a school teacher. Whatever that thing is... it knows nothing about us.”

At least Chris could agree with that.

The experiments continued. The scientists began to fill out; the building became more abuzz with life than it had at the start. Suddenly the subjects felt surrounded. There was always some straight-laced woman or expressionless man beside them. Tailor, Sparrow, Rock, Dove, they all came with some codename. And, even in the reports of which the subjects could not access, Chris and her comrades were coded as well. Like they were trying to hide who they were, what they were doing, to keep their discoveries a secret from the rest of the world.

Regardless, a week had gone by and the only thing they'd discovered was that the 4DB was communicating directly inside of the subjects' heads. They tried to figure out a way to at least record the brain readings of the subjects' during sessions, and indeed found ample evidence that the auditory system was being stimulated. It was telepathy. Unfortunately they were having difficulty figuring out how to translate the brain's signals into actual words. They would have to stick with word of mouth.

“Have you learned anything about us?” Chris asked, walking around the pink square casually.

“Much. You are each individuals, like us. However, you are perhaps more individually inclined than I estimated,” they admitted curiously.

“I hope that helps you re-consider exterminating us. Cause... ya know, I sorta wanna live.”

Gabriel paused. “All things want to live. Even a virus wants to live.”

She scrunched her brows, angry. “We are not a virus, Gabriel. Grow up.”

“...No, I suppose you are not.” Gabriel went quiet for a while.

Chris calmed a bit and finished her circle. She leaned against the wall. “I wish I could go back home. I miss my friends. The people here- they're... I don't know. Not my sort. I'm tired.”

That was almost enough to make Gabriel feel some guilt, but if they had not plucked Chris from her home they'd have plucked someone else. “I do see the way you look.”

She rose a brow, confused. “Huh? What's that supposed to mean?”

“The way you look. When they speak.”

For a moment she was beside herself, believing they were saying some sort of gibberish. But then it clicked. Her brows shot up and her head went light. “You watch us when we're not in the chamber?”

“Of course I do. I am not confined to one spot,” they shook their heads.

She paled. Then she reddened. “Nooo no no, do you...” her voice got quiet. “...see us when we... pee? And shower?”

Apparently that was funny because they laughed strangely. “Yes. Now I see you are embarrassed. Do not be embarrassed, for I can see any part of you at any time if I wished. I can see all your organs. Like now, your heart has sped up.”

Chris placed her hand to her heart as if she could hide it. It was sort of cute. “Y-yeah? Well can you see I'm going to vomit?”

They looked to the right, down the vague rivers of time. “Maybe. A long, long time from now.”

She sighed, sort of sick. “Well Gabriel, nice knowin' ya. I'm out for the day.” Chris absconded from the chamber five minutes early. The scientists were not pleased.

As days ticked on Chris could see how the results of these studies were wearing away at the morale of the scientists. Some were exhausted, some were disappointed, some were scared and angry. They grew impatient with the 4DB. It still only spoke to them to issue commands. Then, one day, when a particularly irritable scientist got cocky, the 4DB actually laughed and shoved them. Right in front of their colleagues. None of the subjects saw it, but of course they heard about it through the grape vine.

The scientists wanted to stop sending the subjects into the chamber to test the limits of the 4DBs relationship with the lab. However, too many feared some retaliation so such a test never came to fruition. Instead, they spitefully released one lesser subject's contracts and then started increasing the amount of time the remaining subjects would spend with the scientists. Gale began to meet with Chris once a day, though in a much more comfortable room than the one they'd first conversed in.

“How have you settled in?” Gale asked, leaning comfortably in her chair and crossing her long legs. “A week and a half far from home... you must miss your friends.”

At this point she was almost too nervous to voice her true feelings. “Yeah, it feels more like a month,” she answered instead, uncomfortable.

Gale nodded and drummed her fingers on the table between them, observing Chris. She changed the subject masterfully. “You know, your recordings are the most interesting.”

That made Chris perk up, a bit of adrenaline pushing into her veins. “What do you mean?”

The other smirked, entertained. “You're the only subject so far who sounds almost friendly with the 4DB. And don't think we didn't notice you named it, too.”

Chris didn't want to admit that hearing that made her feeling sort of... special. “I didn't know you listened to the recordings,” her cheeks tinted.

“Of course! And transcribe as well,” Gale explained. “You call it Gabriel. Like before it made its presence known to us, like Gabriel's Children. The other subjects... well. Gabriel seems to get something from them that we just don't.”

Chris glanced down at her hand fidgeting in her lap, embarrassed.

“But wow, does it talk to you. Maybe it's your time in retail. You just have a way with small talk,” she began to laugh. “So Chris, I have a proposal for you.”

She lifted her eyes. “Um... y-yeah?”

Gale leaned forward, face friendly and tone pleasant, but Chris could feel the strange aura emanating from her piercing eyes. “Get closer to it. Make it friendly. It obviously favors you and we need that. We are more then well aware- based off your recordings and reports- that the fate of the world, no, maybe the whole solar system, depends on Gabriel's opinion-”

“Well there are more than one 4DB,” you interrupted.

She looked only slightly aggravated at the interruption, then continued. “-And Gabriel's opinion might just fall on its opinion of you. Try to get it to talk to us more naturally. Not just commands. It's not working with us like we'd like. And in return? You'll get cell phone access again,” she winked. “Have some time to chat with those friends you miss so much.”

Chris agreed. That wouldn't be so hard. All she had to do was keep doing what she was doing. The world would learn more, she would get her cell phone back, and maybe with some luck Gabriel wouldn't vote to destroy the Earth.

But then, during the next session in the chamber with the pink square, she found a tense heaviness in the air like standing underwater.

“I heard your conversation,” Gabriel said immediately, emotionless.

Shocked and anxious, Chris tried to play it off as nothing. “That was just... it was just-”

Gabriel cut her off. “Quiet. You miss your human friends.”

She was uncertain if she was allowed to reply or not, stunned. Instead she just nodded stiffly and crossed her arms.

“And if I comply by being more 'cooperative' with your knowledge keepers they will allow you to speak with these friends,” they went on. After a pause they added: “I am indifferent to your plight.”

When Gabriel said nothing else Chris took it as her cue to respond. She was quiet, as if trying not to be picked up by the small microphone clipped to her shirt. “I... nothing would change. All we have to do is talk. Just like before. That's all they really want.”

“We shall see,” Gabriel said plainly.

The problem was that their plan began to work, despite Gabriel being aware of it. Though they didn't necessarily speak directly to the scientists they did grow warmer to Chris. Chris had a way about her that just made Gabriel so... interested in her. She didn't make cutting remarks (as if that would have hurt anyways), she didn't refuse to answer their questions, and she didn't make light of the atrocities of her country. She just talked. Like speaking with Gabriel was the most natural thing in the world. They didn't quite mind the nick-name anymore either, if they were honest. They hated that they were warm with Chris.

Gale was 'happy' the two of them were still getting along. Chris didn't tell her Gabriel knew about the plan, but they obviously suspected it. Everyday the scientist looked a little more intense. Gale continued to drill it into Chris's head to get Gabriel speaking with the scientists. Was it more cooperative today? No. How about now? No. Gale held back her irritation. At the end of each daily session she was led to her room feeling uncomfortable and alone. Chris still hadn't gotten her cell phone back. Her friends probably thought she was dead.

“Has it really been three weeks since this whole thing started?” Chris sighed, sitting on the cold floor. She fiddled with the rim of her shirt's neck, knowing full well that would cause sound disturbance in the recording. She'd get a mouthful about that.

Gabriel, who was sitting comfortably beyond the barrier, twirled their tentacles around one another absently. “For you.”

Chris nodded. She was quiet a moment. “Then how long is three weeks in your dimension?”

“For you it is sixty seconds to a minute, sixty minutes to an hour, twenty-four hours to a day, seven days to a week. For me it is... time functions differently,” they tried to explain. “I've only met you a few 'days' ago.”

That was hard for her to wrap her head around. “And are you really learning by doing this? Keeping us here in a box? Just talking?”

“Yes,” they replied simply.

They really were. They not only listened to word-of-mouth, they saw into the deep wrinkles of the subjects' brains, saw their bodily chemistry rise and fall. They watched for reactions to key words, how the subjects interacted with one another and their human 'captors.'

Chris shrugged, pursing her lips. She didn't seem to believe them. “Ooookay. Ya know this could go a lot faster if you also spoke to the scientists.” Of course they both knew what Chris was trying to do.

“So eager to hear your judgment.”

She shrugged again, somehow feeling rather fond of Gabriel in that moment. “Nah... just to hear my friends' voices again.”

Soon, Gabriel automatically thought, surprising themself.

Chapters 4, 5, and the epilogue will remain Patron-only content! However, eventually the full story will be edited more and added to Gumroad as an e-book as well. So if you’d like to get to the nsfw or read the rest, check out NSFWGenuflect on Patreon or wait for the Gumroad release :}

[neon-junkie]

Hi ~ May you write some KieranxBill fluff, if you feel so? May be somethig about asexuality and insecurity? Or whatever you like, I just love this ship and your writings so much 👉👈 Thanks a lot ❤

ahhhh this ended up not really being a ship fic, but kieran coming out to bill about him being asexual. I’m deffo gonna write kieran/bill in the future though!! hope this is alright in the meantime :^) ------

It's another pleasant eve at Clemens Point. The sky is a deep shade of orange, few clouds overhead and the air is still hot. The waters pleasant, lapping against the shore at a calm pace. Few birds fly overhead. It's a picturesque setting, and that's exactly why Kieran enjoys sitting where he is, overlooking the water on the outskirts of the camp. Sadly, this calm moment soon comes to an end as Kieran overhears heavy footsteps approaching. They're far too recognizable, and Kieran turns his head over his shoulder just in time to see Bill walking past, finishing his shift on guard duty, gun still in his hands. Bill had no idea Kieran was sat there, jumping a little as he notices the much smaller man sat beside the bushes.

"Kieran?! What'cha doin' out here?" Bill asks as he approaches. "Just mindin' my own business," Kieran replies. "What? Don't you get sassy with me, boy," Bill scowls, coming to a halt beside Kieran. "I ain't." "Well then, what is you doin'? You look upset," Bill questions, looking down at Kieran. "Nah, I ain't. I'm just thinkin', that's all," Kieran tells him, moving his gaze from Bill back to the landscape, his neck aching a little from looking up at the other man. "Oh... what about?" Bill asks. "Oh, it's nothin'," Kieran replies, swatting his hand softly as he brushes off his thoughts. "Now don't you say that," Bill begins as he takes a seat next to Kieran, crossing his legs and placing the gun down next to him. "I ain't the smartest fella, but I know somethings wrong when I see it." "You really that fussed about knowin'?" Kieran lightly laughs, turning his gaze over to Bill. "Course." "Alright," Kieran shakes his head, "well... erm... you know how when you like someone you tend to get a little... you know, towards em?" "Soft?" "No, well," Kieran laughs, "the opposite." "Hard?" "Yeah. I mean, you tend to get those erm... sexual feelings," Kieran explains. "Where is you taking this?" Bill narrows his eyes. "What I'm tryna say is... I don't really get that," Kieran shrugs. Bill pauses for a moment, the cogs in his brain attempting to turn. "I ain't got the slightest idea on what you're talkin' about." Kieran sighs, his eyes flicking to the landscape, then back to Bill. "Right. I ain't sure what's wrong with me. Normal folk, when they see someone they like, they get horny. I don't do that. Damn, I've only ever really been horny like three times in my life... I ain't got a clue what's up with me. I thought it would have fixed itself by now, but it ain't," Kieran huffs, fumbling over his words as he speaks faster than he can think. "So you don't get hard?" Bill questions. "Not usually. Well, I get hard sometimes, but I don't get the feelings attached," Kieran shrugs, surprised that Bill hasn't called him a few slurs and walked away. "So?" Bill shrugs. "So? What do you mean 'so'?" Kieran sighs. "I mean, so? What's wrong with it? They is just feelings," Bill shrugs again, not fully understanding why Kieran was getting so worked up. "Bill, I ain't right," Kieran rubs his face with his hands, groaning as he does so. "You know, I used to date this girl back when I was a teenager. Real pretty, real nice. She was a darlin'. Well, she started gettin' intimate with me, rubbin' on my crotch and all that. I felt kinda iffy but I figured I gotta at least try it. So I did. I had sex with her and I just felt sick the whole time." Kieran continues to talk fast, finally forcing all this weight off his shoulders. He wasn't expecting to ever have this conversation, especially not with Bill of all people. But here they were, so he might as well make the most of it. "You felt sick? Did you eat somethin' funny beforehand?" Bill asks, still not quite clicking on to it. "No, Bill! The sex made me feel sick. Sex makes me feel sick. I just... I just don't wanna do it. I don't wanna think about it. I don't want nothin' to do with it. But that ain't right, is it? It ain't normal for a fella to be put off by that stuff." "So you don't want nothin' to do with sex?" Bill asks again, finally clicking on to it. "Nothin'. Not one bit," Kieran shakes his head as he speaks. Bill pauses for a short moment. Kieran's eyes are fixed on Bill, watching his expression, trying to pick up on any signs of negativity. He's expecting Bill to start laughing, to humiliate him, to stand up and run back to camp telling everybody about Kieran's business. Instead, Bill says something that Kieran instantly feels stupid about. "Well then, just don't do it?" Bill states the obvious. "Huh?" "You heard me. If you don't like it then just don't do it," Bill laughs a little. He's unsure of why Kieran was getting worked up over something that he perceived as a small thing. "But..." Kieran stutters, ready to explain his reasoning but Bill's quick to cut him off. "You heard me, Kieran. If you don't like it, don't do it." "But it's sex?" Kieran asks, his words overlapping the end of Bills sentence. "So?" "What do you mean 'so'?" Kieran asks for the second time. "I mean, so. It's just sex, it ain't even that excitin'. There's a lot more to life than that stuff, I guess," Bill shrugs. "And you don't think this is weird?" "I couldn't give any less of a shit. No offense..." Bill pauses for a moment, trying to back-track his blunt response after seeing Kierans face drop. "I mean, maybe folk could find it weird, but it ain't their business. It's your business, not theirs. So why you gettin' so worked up over it?" Kieran looks back over the water, mouth parted, thinking about what Bill's just said. He's right. Why is he getting so worked up over it? So what? he doesn't like sex. Bills blunt mindset might be the right approach that he's looking for. Just shrug it off and move on with life. It's not Kierans usual style but if it works, then why not? "You're right," Kieran manages to reply. "I know." "Thanks, Bill," Kieran says as he turns back to him. "I wasn't really expectin' you to understand if I'm honest, but I'm glad you do. But could you just keep this between us?" "Sure," Bill shrugs. "Now, is you comin' back to camp? I heard Pearson shout that foods ready 'bout ten minutes ago." "Nah, not yet. I'm gonna stay here a little longer," Kieran kindly rejects his offer. "Suit yourself," Bill says as he stands up, picking up the gun by his side. "I'll see you around then." "Yeah. See you in a bit, Bill," Kieran gives him a gentle smile, watching the larger man make his way through the horses, back down to the camp. Kierans eyes move back to the water, enjoying the way the sun sinks into the lake. He never thought he'd have this conversation with anybody, and if he did, it'd be with someone caring like Arthur. But it's done. There's a lot of weight lifted off Kierans shoulders and a new path ahead of him. For the first time in a long time, Kieran feels content. He understands that he's not broken or weird, just a little different. But aren't we all?

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Aces in Spaces Chapter 18

*runs in* Mom’s on the phone so here ya go!

Warning for a little angst at the beginning but they work it out!!! Takes place after the last chapter

Also, warning for allusion to past trauma, nothing is strictly mentioned but I don't want to have it be an unexpected thing--

The song they sing is the Elephant Medley from Moulin Rouge!!

Tags: @sunshinepascal @rentskenobi @princessxkenobi @agent-450 @maybege @obaby-wan

Masterlist

It’s not that he insists that she follow any set course of behavior per se. It’s just that, well, if she was happy with their current situation together, it certainly wasn’t showing.

It’s not that he doesn’t understand, not at all, in fact he thought it might have moved a little too fast too, but its been two months since that first sleepover and instead of getting closer, more open, and being around more often; its like she’s further away than ever. The first few sleepovers had been about a week apart, always fun, not awkward even at the beginning and then, Roman wasn’t sure when exactly but, something had changed. She’d cancelled two in a row and that was ok, he understood being busy, understood having things to do, they were both adults but, then she started cancelling dates, almost like she was avoiding him. He’d tried to bring it up over a phone call, ask if she was ok but she seemed to get off in a hurry once he did. Everything seemed to be at the beginning of a spiral, creating a moment that Roman knew might be the one he looked at as the beginning of the end of everything if he didn’t play his cards right.

Which led him to where he was now. Prepping himself to call her and ask to meet somewhere for dinner, calm, casual, like he did at the beginning when she was still skittish around him.

She picks up after four rings, probably debating letting it go to voicemail his brain reminds him cruelly.

“Hello?”

She sounds, off. Not in immediate danger off, but not like her normal self either.

“Hello love.”

He pauses when she doesn’t respond, trying to steady himself, because somehow everything is coming down on him at this moment and it’s all cutting about as deep as the time she said she wanted to leave him, but he goes on.

“I, um” He fights off another wave of heartbreak because he’s trying to fix this, neither one of them has done anything drastic there’s no need to panic. Yet.

“I was wondering if you were free for dinner tonight? Maybe at the Italian place you like? The weather is supposed to be nice tonight and they have a, outside, balcony, thing.” He stutters out the last part, praying to whoever is listening that a) she doesn’t already hate him, and b) the nauseous feeling in his stomach goes away soon.

“That sounds nice.”

Her voice still sounds slightly strained but, she agreed, which is better than things had been going.

“Do you want me to send Butch for you?”

“No” Comes the hurried answer, “No, I can meet you there.”

Roman frowns quietly, to object to him was normal, a lot of people did but, Butcher and Erica had always gotten along. He thinks sometimes she trusted Butcher before she trusted him.

“Ok. Um. I love you?” He hadn’t meant for it to be a question. Damn it.

“I love you too” Comes the response before he can correct himself, voice tight but not in an angry way like she didn’t want to say it. It sounds sad, there’s a finality to it. That didn’t seem to add up.

“I’ll see you, around six then?” Questioning, hopeful.

A small huff that may have been a laugh if it had been allowed to grow comes from her end, “Six is good” her voice is still strained, almost as if, had she been crying?

“Ok. Love, I love you. Please don’t ever forget. I know—I know I haven’t said it as often but—”

“I know, Roman, I know.”

It isn’t meant to silence him, or if it is it does so gently. Gently enough he doesn’t really want to heed it.

“I know but—”

“Roman I have to get back to work, I’ll” her voice breaks slightly but she disguises it as an ‘um’ and he knows now that she’s been crying and he wants to help her. Reach out and cradle her to his chest and let her brush her fingers along the nape of his neck the way she loves, kiss the top of her head and dance with her in the living room like they used to.

“I’ll see you tonight. Bye” The ‘bye’ is barely above a whisper and he hears the click before he can even respond, heart shattering at the small sound.

He collapses into the chair, mouth resting against his knuckles to keep his own composure before moving to plant his forehead against it. Where had he gone wrong? Surely there were always ways he could be more accommodating, he thought he had been. He plants both elbows on the table now, holding his own head before gripping his hair and wishing he could rip it out. A sight that would be.

Some amount of time passes while he sits in agony and eventually he hears a tentative knock at the door.

He turns his head toward the sound but can’t remember who he’s expecting.

Erica. His brain suddenly supplies.

What if it’s her?

He nearly runs to the door, jerking it open, face wide in reception—

But its only Butch. He’s just as glad to see him, throwing himself into the other man who hasn’t quite recovered from the shock of the door being thrown open, let alone the (possibly crying) man who is now firmly wrapped around his torso.

Calling to mind the phone call he’d left him alone to make Butch wraps his arms around Roman.

“Tell me what happened?”

Roman nods, pulling away to walk back into the house and towards the living room, leaving Butch to shut the door.

“Did she break it off?” He calls through the hallway.

“No” Comes the meager response from the other room and Butch makes his way towards it, knowing Roman has more to say. “Probably will tonight. And this time I probably won’t be able to talk her out of it. I barely got in by the skin of my teeth last time and, and this time I don’t even know what I did!”

Butch doesn’t think he knew last time either but he takes a seat in the chair across from Roman and listens anyway.

Roman’s been pacing but he falls to the couch in a heap after all of two laps. “I don’t want to loose her Butch, not over something silly, or even something huge. What did I do that is so terrible she can’t even stomach looking at me?”

Butch leans back. “You didn’t—” He gestures vaguely downward, “did you?”

Roman looks confused then horrified. “OF Course Not! I wouldn’t dream of a thing like that!!! I’m not a monster! Not like the horrible people she’s known before, I’d never do something she didn’t want me to---”

He stops abruptly in his gesturing (and near shouting), blinking at the ground. A few moments pass. “She only told me about all that lately. Do you think she’s afraid?” It comes out in a whisper. As if he were afraid of the answer.

Butch regards him gently, leaning across the distance to hold out a hand. “Maybe it isn’t you she’s afraid of.” Roman takes his hand. “Maybe its just, puttin herself out there like that, knowin you know somethin really, y’know, personal about her.” He stops to take a deep breath before continuing softly. “Movin in together is a big step. I don’t blame anybody for gettin cold feet.”

Roman nods, swallowing hard. “She agreed to dinner” He manages hoarsely. “Six o’clock.”

Butch retrieves his hand to check his watch. “The Italian place?”

“yeah”

“Gives us an hour and a half to whip you in to shape. Allowing that you want to be 30 minutes early like you do when you’re nervous.”

“yeah.”

“Alright then.”

Somehow, Butch does it. Roman’s been at the table 15 minutes now and he hasn’t cried so it’s a win. They offer him wine but he declines. As much as he’d like to be drunk for a rejection, if Erica really isn’t afraid of him specifically, he might still have a chance, and he’d rather be sober for that.

He scans the restaurant and entryway every few minutes (seconds if he’s honest with himself) but he’s come up empty every time. He checks again anyway.

Short woman, strange looking man, that nice waiter that offered him mints, random teacher looking person, a tall and beautiful woman with very short hair, another waitress, hostess--- wait.

His eyes snap back to the tall woman who currently has her back to him, seemingly scanning the restaurant as well. He half stands, those shoulders, the curve of her neck—that looks like—

She turns.

“Erica” He gasps before managing to catch his own breath. He doesn’t think she managed to hear him over the background noise (that should be there but has completely faded since he saw her) but her eyes find his shortly after anyway. She’s, wonderful.

Erica looks around a moment longer before she thinks she hears someone gasp, she turns her head (it feels like she overdoes it, compensating for the hair that’s now missing, which is ridiculous because its hair but somehow, its true) to look for the disturbance only to find—Roman. Beautiful, Wonderful, Roman. Half out of his chair and looking like he’s seen a ghost. Great. So it really was that bad. It’s what she did it for she supposes, unable to suppress the hurt that flashes across her face before making her way to him. He fully unfolds himself, arms beginning to reach for her before they still at his side, and that hurts a little more.

“Is, is this why you were staying away?” He does lift a hand now, holding it about two inches from the side of her face—just like before. Like nothing had changed. Like she hadn’t changed.

She blinks at his hand, trying to swallow around the cotton that seems to have made it into her mouth, taking a breath before answering. “I um, I got it done a few days ago.”

“oh” Roman falters. She takes a shuddering breath (and all her strength) and lifts his hand up to her hair. His fingers barely graze her ear and she steps away from the contact, dropping his hand immediately, hating herself. She frowns at the floor, willing the tears away and hating. Why did she have to be this way? Why couldn’t she just be normal? Enjoy human contact like everyone else? Have a healthy relationship she wasn’t actively trying to destroy in an effort to punish herself? Roman’s stepped back when she opens her eyes again.

“I do like it. You wear it well. It—” he bites his lip “Frames your face nicely.” He smiles at her when she finally looks at him, and she looks over at the table before responding.

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

When she looks up again his mouth is slightly open. “Why would I--?”

The waitress walking up disrupts them both.

“Do you want to move to the patio now Mr. Stanton? I held the table if you’d still like it.”

Roman looks to the woman before looking back at Erica and raising his eyebrows in question. Erica barely holds his gaze before smiling at the woman. “Outside would be lovely.”

Roman’s heart breaks a little. He remembers when she used to use that word to describe him.

She pauses next to him for barely a second as she moves to follow the quickly retreating waitress and he offers his arm just before she steps away. He bites his tongue. She turns the slightest bit back toward him, reaching an arm to curl it around his and he steps forward hurriedly to allow it. He notices her eyes are glassy before they turn to admire the ceiling. She mumbles out a ‘thank you’.

He hesitantly places his hand over hers.

She moves her fingers just enough to tangle with his.

They make it to the table, its off to the side so they have some privacy but not far enough that Erica’s worried. It, well, if there’s a full moon and she magically transforms into someone who isn’t a coward, it has enough privacy she could tell Roman she does actually love him and she’s only been pushing him away because she’s scared. But that’s not very likely. Not unless there’s some kind of magic involved.

Roman reaches to pull a chair out for her. She lets him, sitting down slowly and catching his hand where it rests on the chair before he can walk away. Normally, he rests his hands on her shoulders after he does this. Sometimes leans down to give her a kiss of some kind before moving but today he’d begun to withdraw with nothing. She doesn’t know why she stops him but she looks up and her heart is in her throat.

“I thought—” his eyes search hers before he continues, “Sometimes you don’t like contact so I didn’t want to push”

Right. The halter top. Her shoulders are completely exposed. Now she wants to cry.

“Roman I—”

She squeezes her eyes shut and looks at the table. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry.

Romans excusing the waitress and kneeling down, hand never leaving hers.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

It’s so soft, so gentle and kind, steady but tender. Lenient in the sense she knows she doesn’t have to answer, but devoted in the sense that if she does he’ll listen. He’ll help.

She breaks. A sob that manages to be a gasp as she pulls him into her, uncaring of smudging makeup on his coat, uncaring of all the people around them that will undoubtedly worry, not caring about any of it. All she can think about is him, how much she loves him, wants him close, and how much that desire is outweighing the terrible fear that’s demanding she push him away.

He just holds her. Hand brushing along her lower back where she’s covered (God bless him) and then someone is gently laying a (blanket?) jacket across her shoulders. It feels enormous and she can’t begin to process so she just grips Roman tighter, trusting him.

Then she hears it. The soft rumble of Butcher’s ‘I’m the bodyguard and I’m in charge here’ voice and she realizes, it must be his. She relaxes a fraction. She stops the crying best she can, and reaches up to wipe under her eyes, mumbling out an apology that Roman quickly affirms there’s no need for. She’d pulled him up toward her otherwise they’d both be sitting on the floor, which, considering the setting probably wouldn’t be appropriate. Roman leans down to whisper to her tentatively.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

She nods, eyes watery. “Yes”

He nods back, already pulling away to spring into action before she grips his jacket again. “Our home”

He freezes before leaning down and squeezing her to him a little tighter. “Alright love, home for both of us”

Butch has already cleared the way and they leave with little fuss, Erica attempting an apologetic smile at the hostess but the woman doesn’t pay her any mind, Roman keeping her close to his chest. She slides into the car with him, immediately moving to slip off her shoes before cuddling herself into his side, turning toward him and laying her head on his chest.

Butch passes a box into the back seat before shutting the door and moving up front.

Roman reaches for it, putting his arm around her as he opens it, grabbing a fork and holding a bite out to her before she even processes what it is.

“Cake?”

“It’s the chocolate one you like, I thought it might help.”

She nuzzles his chest briefly, words leaving in favor of soaking up his comforting presence, then leans forward to take the offering. It is her favorite, after all.

She chews thoughtfully. She opens her mouth again and he reaches for the box without a second thought before her hand goes out to stop him.

“I, I need to tell you things, first.”

Her lip wobbles as he looks to her in confusion. Then his face clears and he smiles soothingly.

“I’ll listen as long as you need love.”

She nods. “I, I cut it because I wanted you to hate me.” She looks down at his shirt but plunges ahead. “I sometimes, I punish myself when things feel too nice and, and—” she looks up to his eyes “And you are nice Roman, wonderful and kind and so much more than I could ever deserve.” She gives a small fond smile as she watches him struggle between telling her how wrong she is about deserving things and staying quiet until she finishes. He settles on the latter, gesturing for her to continue with a nod.

“I, it all felt too good to be true all the sudden and, after I told you all those things, I thought you would” She looks down again, in shame this time. “Feel differently about me.”

He puts hand over hers where it rests on his chest, eyeing Butch in the mirror and communicating that they can drive awhile (at least he hopes that’s what he communicated). She starts again, but much quieter.

“I pushed you away because, I got scared. I thought you would, I don’t know, shun me, or try to fix me like they did and I just- I just reverted back to how I used to be. Cold. So I figured I would make it easier. For myself and you. If you hated my hair you could make it about that and it would be painless. Or if you made it about something else then I could pretend it was my hair whenever I wanted to cry about loosing you. Convince myself you were shallow and that’s why it didn’t work.”

Roman’s been quiet this whole time and she chances a look up at him.

“Do you like it?”

“Like… My hair?”

He nods.

“Well” It’s an abrupt change of subject but she takes it in stride, “I suppose so, I didn’t do it for that though.”

“Can I touch you? Your face?”

The rest of her is still shielded by the jacket but she concedes willfully with a nod. His knuckles brush her cheek slowly, before he checks again.

“Can I touch your hair?”

She nods.

His fingers, long and slender, brush through the cropped hair on the side of her head (carefully avoiding her ear) and his head tilts just slightly so his eye line can follow them. He tilts the other way then, eyeing the opposite side before his hand comes up to brush against the top hesitantly,

“Can I--?”

She hums.

His fingers sink into the tuft at the edge of her hairline, brushing back slowly, catching slightly on the product she’d used to muss it up. He increases the pressure the slightest bit so his hand brushes against her scalp with the motion and her eyelids flutter shut, pushing gently against the sensation and humming like a cat would purr. His hand continues its course, sliding down the back of her head and to her neck before he brings his knuckles to drag along her face again.

“I think its lovely.”

She opens her eyes to gaze at him and smiles softly. “I thought I’d need magic to get all that out but, it was easy. You made it easy.” She tilts her head at him, “I guess loving someone is like magic sometimes.” She says it with a far away look in her eyes as they drift to his chest, pondering her own words.

“All you need is love”

The smile crawls across her face even before her eyes meet his. “A girl has got to eat”

“All you need is love” This time it comes out a little slower, more like the song.

“Or she’ll end up on the street!” It’s said without any real belief

“All you need is, love” he hangs on to the last word, flitting his gaze over her face.

“Love is just a game”

“I was made for loving you baby, you were made for loving me” Roman adds the slight shimmy just for her and she laughs a little before answering.

Butch glances in the rearview mirror one last time before telling the driver to make for the penthouse and pulling out his phone. Hannah picks up after one ring.

“Yeah they’re singing, I think they’re gonna be ok.”

“Oh thank goodness.”

******************************

Erica's new haircut that I imagine--

[blackaquokat]

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 6)

Link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 5 !

A/N: This one is a little short, my apologies. And this is around the point I got stuck back during NaNoWriMo, so I can’t promise consistent updates from here on out, but I promise it’s not over yet.

The poem quoted at the end is called “Wild Duck” by Lola Ridge. It’s a lovely piece.

And I’m a horrible person, because I keep forgetting to credit @timelords-13 as my beta for this fic. Your help is greatly appreciated, my dear, and I apologize for falling off the wagon!

---

When you wake up, feeling strung out and dried of all the moisture in your body, you realize you’ve been tucked into your bed. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and see Yancy at the foot, legs crossed underneath him, reading the Sound and the Fury. 

“Have you been there all night?” you croak.

“Not a bad book, this one,” Yancy says.  “A little...boring, but the writing’s nice. Confusing--”

“It switches perspectives a lot,” you agree. You wipe the crust from your eyes. “You...why did…” You sit up, slowly. “You stayed down here with me?”

Yancy shrugs. “Youse asked me to.”

“No, I didn’t. Not really.”

Yancy looks sheepish. You’d dare say vulnerable. “Don’t push youse’s luck, we’ve got plans to make.”

His reminder pulls you further into the waking world. “I assumed you were joking, last night, when you said you had a plan.” You lean closer to him. “You were joking, right?”

“Does this look like the face of a joker, to you?” Yancy winks. “Listen, youse was right. This is big. I can only do so much to keep you safe if even the guards can be turned by this guy youse investigating. So, best bet?” He shuts the book dramatically and tosses it between the two of you. “I get you back on the outside, youse take down the guy trying to kill you, and I get no more assassinations I don’t order myself in here.”

You roll your eyes. This is mostly a cover to keep you from outwardly freaking out over the fact that Yancy just said he’d break you out of prison. “You are so lucky I’m off the clock. So where do we go from here?”

Yancy taps his fingers against his chin. “I need to get some...affairs in order. But we should be good to go by tonight.”

“So soon? You don’t need more time to plan?”

“Eagle, I know every single nook and cranny in this place. Getting out’ll be a piece of cake. Just gotta wait for nightfall again.”

You nod. “Enough time to...to say good-byes. Or, well, I imagine you don’t want me giving away the plan, so...I’ll be subtle.”

“Eh.” Yancy waves his hand dismissively. “I think some of them suspect. They’ll help you get ready, no worries.” He leans forward to whisper conspiratorially, “Might wanna give them a refresher on that library system youse trying to set up.”

---

It catches you off-guard, the realization that you aren’t going to get to hang out with Yancy’s group in this capacity ever again. (What does it say about you that you have no doubts that Yancy will get the two of you out without a hitch?) Here you are, standing with them in the yard, wondering how the hell you can cope with saying good-bye.

Oddly enough, they make it easier for you. Jimmy pulls you right in for a hug. “Yancy may not have wanted to see it, but we knew you wouldn’t stay here forever. Good luck on the outside, Eagle.”

You receive similar farewells from Sparkles, Shithole Hank, and Bam-Bam. Tiny, on the other hand tackles you hard into a much harder hug than Jimmy’s. “Don’t die out there, Eagle.”

“I’ll do my best, Tiny.” You hug her back. “Look, I’m going to get that volunteer program for the library set up as soon as possible. Every third Sunday won’t be enough to see all of you guys. You all better stay safe too, okay?”

And then, later, when you’re heading back to your cell, Rex passes by and nudges your arm gently with his club. “I’ll miss seeing you in that cell, Eagle. But I better not see you in there again, you hear?”

You can’t help but laugh, despite how serious he looks. “I hear you, Rex. I’ll try to get more poetry sent to you, okay?”

Rex turns away and strolls down the hall, but not before you hear him sniffling.

Yancy is waiting for you in the cell, on his top bunk. “You ready, Eagle?”

You suck in a breath and let it out, taking one last look around the cell. The one that was decorated after you started reading poetry to the inmates every night. 

This was very close to a home for a long time. You won’t forget that.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

“Good.” Yancy pops up and holds up a long length of black cloth. “Now, before we do, I need you to put this on.”

“...I’d like to remind you of my trust issues--”

“Listen, Eagle, much as I like you, I don’t need anyone else knowin’ the way out of here. You think it’d be so good for peoples in here to be breakin’ out when they shouldn’t be breakin’ out? Didn’t think so, now put the blindfold on and we’ll get started.”

You take in a breath through your nose and take the blindfold from him. “It’s cute that you think I’d broadcast the path out of the prison.”

“I’d rather not take my chances, Eagle, now youse wanna be free or what?”

---

“And here we are!”

The blindfold drops from your face and you take a step back in utter astonishment. 

You’re outside. On the other side of the prison gate. The free side. Just yards away is the woods.

Yancy’s still inside, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “Told ya I knew all the nooks and crannies, didn’t I? Oh, and uh, one other thing.” He flicks his hand and the photo of your mother suddenly appears between his fingers. “I took a little detour by the warden’s office for a ‘chat’ and thought I’d swipe this back for youse.”

So the warden is most likely dead, you think. I’ll need to work on my surprise when it pops up in the paper later.

Your thumb traces over your mom’s face. The lump in your throat grows and you try to clear it so you can speak again. “Thank you.” 

It doesn’t hit you until that moment. You’re out. You’re free. You’re not out of the woods (literally or figuratively), but this is a start. You can seriously get to work on your case and get your name cleared.

And yet...you can’t bring yourself to look away from Yancy.

When you don’t immediately run off, Yancy’s brow furrows. “Everythin’ alright, Eagle? Freedom is just a gander-on that way.” He points behind you. You can’t tell if you’re imagining the slight trembling in his hand or not.

“Yancy,” you start. You don’t know if you’re just stretching out this last moment together or if you’re honestly hoping he’ll accept the offer you’re about to make, but here you are. You can’t help but feel like if you don’t at least mention it, that you’ll regret it later. “Do you want me to look into your case? See if I can get you a parole hearing scheduled?”

You try to make it clear that this is his choice. That you aren’t presuming what he wants. That you aren’t coming from a place of pity. Lord knows this man has a big issue with pity and presumptions.

Yancy seems floored by your offer. But the next moment, he shakes his head. “I’d...nah, don’t do that. I’ve done bad things, Eagle. A lot of them. And...well, I belong here.” He gestures back at the prison. “This is home.” He doesn’t sound as sure as he normally does. “I...it is for now, I mean, I don’t...”

You nod your head slowly and pocket the picture. “Well...if you change your mind, or if parole comes up without my help and you decide to take it…my guest room is pretty cozy.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You’re offering the human equivalent of a semi-feral street cat a place to live and somehow you are not questioning your sanity at doing so. 

(The last person to live with you besides your mom was Damien, but those days are long past. Maybe...maybe it’d be nice to have a housemate again.)

Eventually, you look back up and, to your surprise, Yancy looks as if you just plucked the moon from the sky and handed it to him. 

How can I say good-bye to you? How can I just leave you here? I know it’s what you want, that you’re taking responsibility for your crimes, and it’s one of the reasons I think I--

No, no, cut that thought off at the roots, do not even let it linger--

“I’ll, erm…” Yancy clears his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind, Eagle.” His hand rubs anxiously at the back of his neck. “Maybe when parole comes around, I’ll...maybe…” He shakes his head hard, then, and forces a grin. “Anyway, I better get back. Don’t get arrested again, and hey, don’t forget about visitation! Every third Sunday, Eagle, you hear?!”

“Yancy, wait--!” 

But he’s already faded back into the shadows. Back into the prison.

The gaping ache of regret in your chest threatens to swallow you whole. Out of nowhere, you remember Lola Ridge. 

So my soul...emptied of the known you...utterly... / Is yet vibrant with the cadence of the song / You might have been…

You swallow past the tumor in your throat. You force your hands to release the bars of the gate. One step back. Another. Another. Another. Until you manage to turn away and scurry into the woods.

The last line of that damn poem drops into your brain like a feather, but no less devastating than a comet crushing and burning you to ash.

A word that rattles well in emptiness: / Good-by.

---

Thank you for reading! Please reblog/comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged for the rest of this series or this pairing, please leave a message in my inbox!

@starcrossedforever87 , @dontworryaboutanything , @beereblogsstuff , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @memetoyoko , @soul-wolf , @marki-dumb , @withjust-a-bite , @raimeyl , @scribbeetle , @its-dari , @neverisadork , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @axolittle-boi , @wildfandom , @shrinkthisviolet , @purple-anxiety-blog , @conceitedink , @skidspace , @missksketch , @day-dreaming-fox ,

[henryfcknbowers]

TEXTS: HENRY ✉️️ BELCH

SUMMARY: Just random bullshit. A little talk about the carnival. A little talk about growing weed. The carnival is in San Francisco, Henry got there just a day ago. 

Henry: Yo.

Reg: Hey man. Sup?

Henry: 

Nothin'. I know you're busy and shit, I'm just bored. There ain't nothin' to do in yer trailer and I ain't used to sittin' still for so long.

Reg: You’re all good, I get ya. I mean, do you wanna come work with me? I can talk to the HBIC, I’ll bet she’d be fine with it. Or, if you ain’t interested in what I do, there’s lots of other shit around.

Henry: 

What do you do, exactly?

Reg: I deal with all things concessions. Gettin the machines up and runnin in the mornings. Getting all the popcorn popped and cotton candy premade. Making sure we’ve got enough candied apples and funnel cake batter. I help out where they need me, if the lines get too long, taking orders and shit. It ain’t glamorous or nothin but it’s chill, and nobody bothers ya.

Henry: I guess I could help ya. You helped me on the farm. Doesn't sound too hard.

Reg: If you wanna, you’re welcome. I want ya to be able to do somethin you enjoy here. If that ain’t your thing I get it. There’s animals and shit, but that loser Hanlon works over there. If you were interested in maintenance or helpin with the rides and machinery you could talk to Patrick Curtis, he can always use good guys. But you know I ain’t gonna say no to you bein with me either.

Henry: I don't wanna talk to anyone else, I'll stick with you. Fuck that loser Hanlon, and fuck the other guy too, for now. You really like it here, huh? You seem to know all the people.

Reg: Cool. You’ll probably have to meet Ms. Kirsch, she runs this whole dog and pony show. But, she’s cool, I think. And you know I’ll vouch for ya. Yeah. I mean like I said, it ain’t exactly glamorous but when have I ever needed that? I got a roof and a paycheck. Good enough for me. Yeah, you get to know these people, pretty much living with em. But it’s different than normal. Nobody asks questions about shit. It’s like...Everybody just knows the rules. Don’t ask don’t tell.

Henry: That don't sound too bad. I mean, I can deal. I'll stick with you for now, we'll worry about what I do for ...permanent, later. Lemme guess, she's the authority 'round here? Tells bitches what to do and shit? At least nobody's gonna ask me shit. I ain't answerin'.

Henry: It's weird. Watchin' you work a regular job thing.September 30, 2020

Reg: Is it?

Henry: Yeah. You're good at it.

Reg: Well that's...Thanks, Hen. Believe it or not, I do actually try here. Don't wanna fuck it up, ya know? Especially knowin' I don't...I mean other than you, I ain't exactly got much else.

Henry: So you ain't runnin' the place like we were at home. Doin' whatever ya want. Yer followin' the rules and makin' nice.

Henry: You know the losers are here.

Reg: I may not be runnin the whole show, but I'm runnin somethin. That's good enough, for now. I've only been here 6 months, I don't wanna stir the pot too much, just yet. Not til I've made it clear I'm essential and shit. I'm tryin to be strategic about shit.

Reg: Yeah. I know. I was waitin' on you to say somethin. Hanlon was here when I got here. Beaverly, too. Tits just got here, though, and boy does he think he's hot shit.

Henry: You run into him? He say somethin' to you?

Henry: It's always you with the brain. I just wanna beat some ass. This is fuckin' weird. I'm waitin' for a campfire and everyone to start singing.

Reg: Not really. I said some shit to him, he thought he might get cute back. I think some of that brain got lost with the weight. Anyway, not a big thing. He'll get his, I know it.

Reg: Nah. You're the real brains of any operation we're into. I wouldn't follow ya if that wasn't true. And, you're gonna be waitin a while if that's what you're lookin for. We might all be polite and shit, but that don't mean this is some kinda hippie dippie shit.

Henry: Yer right, he is gonna get his.

Henry: Yer just butterin' me up. I make the rules, I make the orders, I run the show but you always call me on it when I'm runnin' in half cocked. And you knew how to keep us outta trouble. You found this place too. Seems pretty hippie dippie to me. I dunno how everyone just lives with everyone else.

Reg: How'd I know that was comin?

Reg: Nah, you know I wouldn't do that to ya Hen. I mean it. You're smart as fuck. Everyone needs a little...Perspective sometimes. Everyone. That I do try at. Y'all don't always make that easy. Which is fine. I do love a challenge. To be honest with ya, sometimes I think it's more like this place found me. Sure, it might look that way. But it only works cause we all mind our own.

Henry: 'Cause ya know me. I'll take care of it.

Henry: If you say so. Shit's fuckin' weird. And it feels like I've got snakes in my veins, I can't just sit here. I dunno what to fuckin' do with myself. You think it found you? How so? I guess. I'm still ready to swing if anyone so much as bumps into me.

Reg: I know ya will, Hen. You're good like that.

Reg: Man, you've gotta chill. I know what you need.

Henry: He'll fuckin' regret whatever he said.

Henry: What do I need?

Reg: Hen...

Reg: Here, open that little top drawer right there. It's where I keep the 'stash'. Light one of those puppies right on up, and enjoy.

Henry: Nobody says shit to you. Not a single damn thing. Least of all him-- maybe I'll finish that little piece of art on his ugly gut, only this time the goal will be HUGGINS. Make sure he fuckin' remembers.

Henry: Holy fuckin' shit, yer a lifesaver. You do know what I need. You don't gotta tell me twice.

Reg: You're incredible.

I've got you, Hen. always. Even if ya don't think so. I'll always take care of ya.

Henry: He should know better.

Henry: Yer the only one I might believe that from. People are shit. I don't need 'em anyway. You growin' or somethin'?

[vanchlo]

MC Profile / Harry / The Assistant

Thanks so much to Court @heart-attack-harry​ again for tagging me to do this fun little character challenge, and this time for the point of view of my character, Harry, from where I’m currently in my story, The Assistant! This was a lot of fun, I enjoyed picking Harry’s brain hehehe. 

Rules: Choose a few favourite photos/aesthetics of your tagged character, answer the questions below from their point of view and tag some characters/authors you would love to see answer next!

1. How do you display affection? What’s your love language? Well, I don’t think ‘m very good at showin’ affection in general or thru words, but ‘m tryna get betta at it. ‘d reckon I show affection by spendin’ time with that person, through touch like hugs, rubbin’ their back, squeezin’ their hand or arm, ticklin’ ‘em, sumtimes gifts, and ‘specially by payin’ all o’ me attention t’ ‘em when we’re talkin.’ I think I like t’ receive love in any o’ these ways, but quality time and touch ‘specially, which may be surprisin’ t’ some people who know me, and othas not so much. 

2. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? Bloody hell, if I thought ‘bout it long enough, I could come up with a list a mile long. Hmmm, tha thing ‘d like t’ change most ‘bout meself is I wish I wasn’t so scared all tha time, and that ‘d be mo’ willin’ t’ take risks without bein’ afraid o’ it turnin’ out badly. I also wish I was betta at sayin’ what I feel when I feel it. 

3. What’s your ideal Saturday morning? My ideal Saturday mornin’ would start with a cup o’ coffee and prolly a doughnut which ‘ve been likin’ recently with me coffee. Then a nice slow start t’ me mornin’, preferably watchin’ a li’l news or a fav’ tv show, and mos’ likely playin’ guitar at tha same time. I prefer t’ sleep in, but afta so many years o’ wakin’ up at tha crack o’ dawn, I can neva get meself t’ sleep in past like nine, ‘s rubbish. 

4. What is your drink of choice? Non alcoholic? Alcoholic? My drink o’ choice tends t’ be a coffee, and these days, I drink it black. I used t’ like macchiatos and sumtimes I have one, but they’re too sweet sumtimes. I guess ‘m gettin’ old and borin,’ it even shows in how I take me coffee, and how 'm always drinkin’ water. Othawise, I have a tea e’ry once inn’a while. Then if ‘s past five in tha evenin’, sumtimes ‘ll have a few fingas o’ tequila or whiskey, or a mixed drink with eitha. Sumtimes a Guiness ‘s good, and ‘ll take a beer if that’s all me mate has, or those sissy wine coolers I used t’ get Becks. But I try not t’ go too far, ‘cept tha occasional night out with’a mate. Unsurprisingly, Rory always manages t’ get me drunk, I dunno why I keep goin’ out fer drinks with him knowin’ that’s what’ll happen. I had a bit o’ a problem afta Becks left with drinkin’, but I gott’a handle onnit and don’t drink as much anymo’.

5. How competitive are you? Blimey, ‘m far too competitive fer me own good sumtimes. I guess I found tha perfect profession fer it, bein’ a lawyer. I always wanna win me cases, but ‘s humbled me ova tha years o’ practicin’ that ya can’t win ‘em all. Myles eggin’ me on doesn't help eitha, or bloody Rory. ‘s even worse when we work a case togetha, and then we’re mos’ likely buttin’ heads tha whole time, hence why we rarely work togetha onn’a case. 

6. When did you last have sex? Fook, these questions keep gettin’ worse, don’t they? Um, this ‘s gonna take me a while t’ rememba . . . It was prolly a few months befo’ I broke up with Amber. She was always gone towards tha end and we were fightin’, and I jus’ didn’t feel that way ‘bout her anymo’. Fookin’ hell, that’s bleedin’ ova two years ago now, ‘m pathetic. 

7. What is your idea of a perfect date? Um, ‘m not very picky when it comes t’ a date, I don’t think. ‘Course I want it t’ be perfect, ‘specially if ‘s early on in tha relationship. I think a nice dinna out would be nice with some good drinks, but ‘d be happy cookin’ fer sumbody and watchin’ a film on tha sofa togetha. I reckon as long yer comfortable with tha otha person and yer havin’ fun, that’s all that really mattas. I admit I do like t’ impress at first tho’, and take ‘em out for a nice meal. 

8. What is your most treasured possession? ‘d hafta say me most prized possession may be my leather journal that I write in often, but not much lately, unfortunately. I just kinda write whateva’s on me mind or songs ‘ve written, which also reminds me my Gibson acoustic ranks fairly close t’ bein’ me most prized possession. ‘s been with me through a hell o’ a lot and holds loads o’ memories fer me seein’ me late granddad gave it t’ me as it was once his. Becks even tried t’ play it once and my was that hilarious, and fookin’ cute. ‘d sure like t’ see her try it ‘gain.  Lastly, e’ryday I use me li’l pink pig tea infuser Becks got me and I think o’ her e’ry time I see it or use it, no wonder I drink loads o’ tea. 

9. Would you ever get a tattoo? Don’t really hafta answer this one, do I? Seein’ as me entire body ‘s almost covered in ‘em. ‘d definitely like t’ get loads mo’ tho’, like tattoo me kids’ names on me one day when I have some, so they’re always with me. I also recently have been wantin’ t’ get anotha flower thanks t’ a certain sumbody ;) 

10. Do you believe in love at first sight? Have you experienced it? Eh, I dunno ‘bout love at first sight, but I reckon ya can tell loads ‘bout a person from when ya first meet ‘em, like whether you’ll get on or not. Ya can’t tell if you’ll fall in love with ‘em, coz that takes far mo’ than jus’ seein’ ‘em fer tha first time. I do think meetin’ fer tha first time can be tellin’ tho’, and ya sure as hell can tell if yer attracted t’ ‘em from tha first sight o’ ‘em. I think tha closest thing t’ love at first sight ‘ve had was ratha promisin’, and it happens nearly e’ry time I see her too, God. I jus’ knew when I saw Becks fer tha first time there was sumthin’ different ‘bout her, sumthin ‘d been waitin’ me whole bloomin’ life t’ feel, and two years on ‘m still feelin’ it. 

*

Hmm I just did one of these so I don’t really know who to tag who I haven’t already, but if anybody would like to do it you can go ahead and say I tagged you! :) 

[artificialqueens]

To New Hytes (Group fic) 2/? - Mac

AN: Again, this entire work would not be possible without my lovely betas Meggie and Grapefruit. You girls keep me young!

Summary: Blair and Kameron find themselves bonding over their respective passions, Brooke loses her cool at Vanessa, and Nina and Monet think they all should just make out.

Blair sat back and admired her work.

Vanjie - or as the young dancer has insisted - Vanessa, looked like a vision in gold. Blair patted herself on the back mentally for the fringe that hung off of her small frame ever so delicately.

“Now I know she said you ain’t performin’ for a few weeks, but thought I’d get your measurements and stuff done heada time.”

Vanessa gave her a winning smile.

“I don’t mind pretty girls like you takin’ my measurements.”

Blair blushed and ducked her head a bit. The young costume designer wasn’t used to getting compliments often, so she tried to ignore how her brain short circuited at the statement.

“What about shoes? You good in a heel?” She tried to change the subject.

Vanessa nodded. “Nothin’ too tall though. Can’t be breaking myself out there.”

Blair laughed lightly and turned to the closet on the far wall. She rifled through a few boxes before coming back with a sensible heel.

“I’m a size six.”

“I know.”

“Who told you?”

“Nobody. I just got a gift for knowin’ people’s sizes I guess.”

“Pretty and smart, huh?”

Blair blushed again. “A dancer and a flirt, huh?” she shot back.

Vanessa laughed, loud and unhinged. It took Blair aback for a moment before she let herself laugh too. It felt freeing in a way.

“Not to rain on your parade or nuthin’, and I appreciate the compliments, but I don’t date dancers.”

“Oh yeah? Too many broken hearts?”

Blair nodded firmly and Vanessa didn’t press the issue.

“Oh well.” Vanessa sighed overdramatically. “Guess I can settle for friends.”

Blair smiled. “Friends it is.”

…

Kameron never imagined she’d end up here.

Maybe she was torturing herself. Being so close to the thing she loved. The thing she still craved like a drug.

It didn’t happen suddenly either. She had been with the company since the beginning. When it was just a thought Brooke tossed out one drunken night.

Brooke, Nina, and Monet had gone over to Kameron’s place with the thought of going out and letting loose, but had ended up on her worn down furniture passing a bottle of wine around in a circle. Nina has been too focused on Monet’s antics to really hear the idea, but Kameron jumped up as soon as she heard it, albeit she jumped up gracelessly and almost fell back on her ass.

She smiled at the memory now. She doubted anyone knew that she was one of the original co-founders of the now acclaimed company. Not that she cared much for the recognition.

She had spearheaded the whole process, looking into spaces to rehearse and business laws. It was a lot of work and long nights. Brooke had been right there with her through it all though. It had been nice to have a friend, a sister almost, supporting her and putting in just as much work.

Nina and Monet had thought they were crazy. Off and running with this idea that was never going to pan out.

They were all fresh out of out of NYU after all. They were baby adults, living off of ramen noodles and Red Bull, but still…No one expected them to make it.

That was when Kameron had the idea. A YouTube channel. They could rent a dance space for a few hours and bang out three to four videos. She and Brooke performed duets and solos, any style they wanted. They had fun. Kameron sometimes would miss those days before their lives got so hectic. When she and Brooke would pass out on a studio floor because they had filmed in one night enough videos to last them a week.

The channel grew slowly, and then not so slowly. Almost overnight they had amassed enough followers and garnered enough views to buy their own studio. It was teeny tiny and run down. It needed a lot of TLC for sure, but it was theirs.

Almost overnight the dance world was looking to them for the next big thing. It was incredibly intimidating, scary even, but Brooke and Kameron were ready.

Nina agreed to stage mom duties as well as marketing, and Monet enthusiastically accepted the offer to take pictures, dusting off her old camera.

It was all starting to come together.

Then it all went wrong.

Kameron quickly pulled herself out of those thoughts. The memory of a too bright stage light still burned her eyes.

“Are you ok?” came a small voice to Kameron’s left.

Kameron had been so lost in thought that she hardly realized she had been sitting on the floor for nearly ten minutes now, back leaning against a large speaker.

Kameron sat up immediately and looked at Blair. The sweet girl was looking at her, concern creeping into the reassuring smile she gave.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well, your nose is bleeding a bit there.”

Kameron’s hand shot up to touch lightly at her aforementioned affliction. When she pulled her hand away, bright red coated her fingers.

“Come here, darlin’, come sit with me.”

Kameron bit back her reply that this happened all the time, curiosity getting the better of her.

Blair took Kameron’s hand and the older girl surprisingly didn’t jump at the contact.

Blair weaved through the backstage area like she had done it a million times before. Kameron supposed she had. The costume designer rarely made it out on stage, except during rehearsals to solve a fashion emergency, so moving around in the shadows must have been a frequent pastime of hers.

Blair opened the door to her small office space off near the side exit of the theatre. It was cluttered with half-finished garments on every surface and sketches that lined the walls. The mannequins looked passively at the two as they made their way to the stools near the back of rows of costumes.

Blair tilted Kameron’s face up with the pads of her fingers that left sparks in their wake. Kameron looked up at her as the young woman searched for tissues in the crowded workspace.

Kameron let her eyes wander around the office until they fell on a nearly finished sketch hanging out of a notebook on the desk.

“What’s that one? It doesn’t look like any of the girls we have on tour.”

“Oh that’s nothin’.” Blair quickly shoved the paper back in the notebook, but winced at the crinkling sound it made.

She came to stand in front of Kameron, eyes trained on the red liquid still fresh around her nose. Blair dabbed at it hesitantly, almost as if she were scared to hurt Kameron. Kameron’s heart surged at the thought.

Blair studied the area closely, but avoided eye contact. She resolutely kept her eyes trained on the afflicted area, and no higher. It made the tension in the room raise noticeably.

When Blair was satisfied with her work, she sat down in the stool across Kameron, their knees would be touching if Blair hadn’t pulled hers closer to her body, almost unconsciously.

“All better.”

Kameron smiled at her and Blair smiled back. It was a rare moment of silence. Of peace.

They both started laughing at the same time. Breaking the silence and the ice between the senior stage crew member and the costume designer. They must have looked crazy. Sitting and laughing at each other like old friends.

They hardly knew each other, really. If you didn’t count passing greetings in the hallway they were perfect strangers. Still, Kameron hadn’t laughed this hard in a while. It was refreshing and terrifying that this person, this stranger, could bring a part of her she thought she’d lost, to the forefront.

Kameron stuck out her hand. “I’m Kameron, but everyone calls me Kam.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Kameron. I’m Blair.”

“Oh, I know who you are. I’ve seen you around before. Never said ‘hi’ or anything ‘cause most people treat us crew members like we got the plague.”

Blair suddenly looked seriously at her. “I’m sorry for that. Y’all are the reason the whole show is possible, I imagine it’s frustratin’ not havin’ your hard work appreciated.”

“You’re one to talk! The costumes you make, you make from scratch, yeah? All of them original and come from your head. That is a talent that goes underrecognized, I bet.”

Blair blushed and looked down, avoiding eye contact. “Well, yeah, I suppose. But I’m not in it for the recognition. I just love designin’, ya know?” Blair looked up, meeting Kameron’s eye finally. “You ever had that thing you love more than anythin’ else in the world, and nothin’ could ever take you from it. Like even if you tried you couldn’t give it up?”

Kameron nodded. She did have something like that once.

“Show me your favorite design then. Something you wouldn’t give up for anything in the world.”

“Oh, I don’t have a-”

“Don’t give me that. I know you’ve got one. C’mon, I’m sure it’s just as phenomenal as all the other ones, if not more so.” Kameron winked.

Blair blushed and looked away again. Kameron thought she looked even more beautiful with color high on her cheeks.

Blair stood up and turned back to the notebook Kameron had eyed earlier. She opened it up and Kameron saw every page covered in different outfits on the same model. The model girl looked nothing like any of the dancers they had in the company.

As if sensing her question, Blair quickly rambled out, “She isn’t supposed to be anybody in particular! Just a model for the outfits. I don’t know why she keeps popping up in my head, but when she does, I sketch out a costume for her and send her on her way.”

Kameron looked up at her with a goofy smile.

“I’m not crazy! I know I sound it sometimes,” Blair defended herself.

Kameron laughed. “You don’t sound crazy at all. But you are lying to me.”

Blair looked taken aback for a moment before Kameron explained. “She is somebody in particular. Who is she?”

Blair sighed. “You’re good at that, ya know? Readin’ people.”

“I know,” Kameron answered confidently.

Blair laughed but it was with less joy than before. “Her name was Brianna. We dated for almost three years. She danced and I did her costumes.” Kameron nodded along, encouraging Blair to keep going, if she wanted. “We worked well together, ya know? One of those couples that just worked.” Blair took in a breath. “And when it stopped workin’, we just didn’t mention it. We pushed on for the sake of her career, and mine too, but mostly hers.”

“Wait, Brianna Palandrani?”

Blair groaned. “Yup. That’s the one.”

“She married that Giovanni guy right? The heir to that million dollar makeup company?”

“They got married a week after we broke up.”

“You’re kidding! Oh my god Blair, I’m so sorry.”

Blair shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s really not. That’s horrible.”

“Her career was important to her, I always supported that, but then it became more important than me and my feelins.”

“I’m so sorry, Blair. You deserve better.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

Blair swallowed heavily, the tension was suddenly back, but it felt a bit different this time. “What’s done is done. But I made a promise to myself that day: no more dancers.”

Kameron’s heart sank a bit at that. “So you decided to surround yourself with them every day of your life? Seems a bit counterintuitive.”

“I’m puttin’ my career first. For the first time, I’m being selfish and focusin’ on me. Gettin’ my designs and name out there.”

Kameron smiled wide. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Kameron.”

“You can call me Kam, you know, everyone else does.”

“I like Kameron. It suits you.”

It was Kameron’s turn to blush.

Their little bubble of peace was suddenly broken by a disheveled Yvie slamming the door open, looking around the room wildly.

“Kam. We may need you onstage.”

Kameron looked at her quizzically, but followed after the contortionist. She shot one last apologetic look at Blair before the door shut silently behind her.

…

Never in her life had Brooke yelled at someone like this. Let alone one of her dancers.

“You can’t speak to me like that, I’m your boss!”

“You sure don’t fuckin’ act like it. Gettin all mad and shit from a little comment. Not very professional of you, mami.”

Vanjie was calm, collected, and cocky, which made Brooke lose it even more.  

“What the hell would you know about acting professional?”

“Clearly a bit more than you, since I’m not currently screaming at one of my employees.”

Brooke was seeing red. She wanted to scream some more, wanted to put the fear of god into Vanjie. Wanted to wipe that smug fucking smile off her face for good. And suddenly it hit her like a ton of bricks.

It took all her willpower not to smirk triumphantly. She breathed in and out and suddenly, Brooke was composed, calm, yet predatory.

“I’m sorry, Mateo. That was out of line.”

Vanjie’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. Everyone’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. Was Brooke Lynn Hytes, the Head Bitch herself apologizing? To Vanjie of all people?

Vanjie didn’t have a response. Didn’t have any words.

Brooke let herself smirk at that reaction. She wasn’t going to give Vanjie the fight she was aiming for. She was going to give her the opposite. Two can play at Vanjie’s game. And Brooke hated losing.

Brooke turned her head to her other dancers and raised her eyebrows expectantly. “The show must go on, ladies. Up and at ‘em. Let’s go.”

The dancers quickly made their way up the stage, shock still clear on their faces, but the boss was still the boss, apology or not.

Brooke surveyed them for a few minutes before she decided to cool down in her office. She made her way up the stairs but paused when she reached the office door.

She heard muffled voices through the wood.

…

Nina sat in her and Brooke’s shared office. Brooke liked to think of it as her own office, but as Nina did all the heavy lifting, she considered it a shared office.

Monet was sitting in the armchair across from the desk looking through photo after photo from the camera around her neck. Nina watched her. She found herself watching the younger girl a lot these days. Call it mere exposure effect, call it fate, call it the lack of girlfriend, Nina didn’t care. She liked looking at Monet. Liked how the younger girl carried herself. Liked that she put others first.

“Any salvageable ones?”

Monet smiled, still looking down at her camera.  “Hmmm, I dunno. You tell me.” She hopped up from her seat and came around the desk to stand next to Nina. She pulled out her memory card and some device Nina still couldn’t figure out, although she was sure Monet had explained it to her many times over. Monet plugged the device into the computer and they waited in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before the pictures popped up.

Nina clicked on the first few. They were of Violet, of course. Monet had admitted once that Violet was her favorite to take pictures of. “She gives so many good angles, and there’s not a flaw to be seen on that bitch.” Nina had rolled her eyes.

Monet pulled up a chair and the two sat side by side scrolling through pictures. Most of them were incredible, as always, a few were silly candids. The one that caught Nina’s eye though was a picture of herself.

It was of her backstage, with the stage lights in front of her. It was clearly edited with a black and white filter over it, but it didn’t look staged. It looked organic. It captured Nina in her favorite spot, just offstage. Supporting her friends and their passion. It looked like some artsy film project from college. She looked majestic. Nina paused on it for a minute.

Monet looked at her worriedly. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s beautiful.” Nina meant it.

Monet shrugged. “I had a lot of beauty to work with.”

Nina could have snapped. Could have acted on the growing attraction they both had been feeling for the past few months. Could have just leaned over right then and kissed Monet senseless.

She didn’t.

Monet broke the suddenly thick tension with a cough. “There’s more.” She reached across and clicked to the next picture. It was another picture of Nina, this time, her face was visible and she was looking off - probably at one of the dancers - she looked so incredibly happy. Monet blushed and clicked through what must have been at least twenty more photos before finally coming to one that wasn’t of Nina.

This one was of Brooke standing with her arms crossed looking up at an equally cocky looking Vanessa.

“I think you captured their dynamic perfectly.”

Monet laughed again, effectively breaking up the tension a little more. “Honestly, I’m waiting for one of them to snap and just start sucking face one day.”

“Me too!”

“No way, you were getting that vibe too! God, I swear they just need to fuck some of that anger out of each other, maybe it would make Brooke less uptight.”

“Hey!” Nina said defensively.

“Oh bitch, we all friends, don’t pretend she hasn’t been a stick in the mud since she became the boss.”

“She’s just stressed,” Nina insisted, less forcefully this time as the smile started to eat away at her face.

“Know how she could get some of that stress out?”

Nina laughed and it echoed around the room.

…

Brooke’s mouth hung open so long she was surely going to swallow a bug.

Did her friends really think she was into Vanjie? Sure the girl was hotter than hell. Sure she met every one of Brooke’s comebacks with an equally snarky one. Sure she had wormed her way into Brooke’s mind from day one. Sure Brooke thought about her all the time.

DidBrooke like Vanjie?

“Fuck.” Brooke was pulled out of her thoughts by the door to her office being swung directly into her face.

“Oops! Sorry, B!” Monet apologized immediately, then she paused. “Wait, how long have you been standing there?”

“Since you two started flirting, so, the whole time.”

Monet blushed but pushed past Brooke and headed for the stairs she had just come up. “Well, you know what they say about eavesdroppers,” she spoke over her shoulder.

“What do they say?” Brooke called after her.

“They only ever hear the truth.”

[somedayonbroadway]

The Call

Chapter 2

A/N: Hi friends! Sorry about the long wait on this pic for my Tumblr followers! I have seen all of your guys’ comments on “The Resistance.” I am going to be honest, I don't think I ever had any intention of continuing that fic. I did not think it would really get a reaction, much less a reaction that passionate. But I am excited to announce that I will be continuing that story and there will be a tag list! If you’d like to be on it, head on over to that post and reblog/comment with a note telling me to place you on it! Thank you all so much!

Anyways, here is a completely different story. Hope you all enjoy!

It was all over the news. Everywhere. Benjamin Neilson, allegedly kidnapped; taken right out of his own bedroom in the middle of the night. Anyone with any information was supposed to come forward. To save this boy's life.

David hadn't slept the night before. This was his doing. One stupid mistake might've cost this little boy his life.

"Hey, Davey... Smalls told me what happened last night n'... just let me know you're alright, okay? I know that this's gotta be hard but... talkin' about it might help..."

David had chucked his phone across the room when he'd gotten Jack's voicemail that morning. Everyone new. This was his fault.

It was hard to get out of bed that morning. It was hard to face the facts. That was all real. It had actually happened. And now, a sixteen year old was most likely fighting for his life in the hands of a complete stranger. He'd been a target and David didn't know why and he didn't know how to make it stop.

And he couldn't stop hearing about his failure.

It was part of the job. He knew it was. There would be bad calls sometimes. Sometimes, bad things happened. And he couldn't control them. But this seemed to be the one that was pushing him over the edge.

"L.A. county police continue their search for missing teen Benjamin Neilson, who was allegedly abducted from his home in Hancock Park last night. L.A.P.D. sources say the lack of witnesses and evidence in the case are frustrating the effort. Neilson family issued a statement late last night..." The stereo in his old car was too loud. He slammed his hand over the button that would shut it off.

He only missed four times. The heel of his hand hurt after that. He was sure there would be a bruise.

The second he'd walked into his place of work, he couldn't feel anything but anxiety. Phones were ringing everywhere. People were talking quickly and furiously and trying so hard to be the one thing standing between the caller and death itself.

His desk seemed so far away all of the sudden. There was an odd kind of feeling in his chest as he forced himself to take a step forward. He couldn't bring himself to appreciate the place he had loved so much just yesterday. It was stressful for sure. But that didn't mean it wasn't completely necessary.

As he passed by Smalls, the young woman turned to him, just having finished up he last call. "Hey there, Mouth," she called in her always seemingly sarcastic tone. David hated that Jack's nickname for him had caught on. Sure, he liked to argue with the other man, but seriously, that was the best he could do?

"Hey, Smallsie," he forced out, just as he reached his desk.

He was supposed to sit down now. That's what came next. But he couldn't move. He could only stare. The screams still bounced around in his brain, taunting him.

Smalls still had not taken another call. "Ya gonna be okay, Davey?" she asked. It was odd to hear this kind of concern from such a tough, suck it up kind of woman.

All David could do was nod, mutely. Suddenly, it felt as though he couldn't speak. But he forced himself down to the chair, scooting himself forward and letting his hands hover over his spacebar. He had to click it to let the computer know he was ready for a call. But his hands were still trembling. He wasn't sure they'd ever stopped.

He tried to take a breath. Tried to steady himself. He did this everyday. This was normal. This was what happened everyday. There were some bad calls. There always would be.

He hit the spacebar.

"911, what's your emergency?"

The scream that met his ear made David flinch.

Panic courses through David's veins. Someone was dying. He was going to get someone killed. He froze. His lips were glued together. He couldn't speak. He could hardly breathe.

"Get someone here! Please! Please get someone here!" The man was trying like hell to snap out of it. It was like the entire weight of the world was suddenly rest on his shoulders. "Please! Please send help!"

The man completely froze up. All he could hear was Benjamin's panicked cry before the call was ended.

"Hello?! Are you there?" a woman cried over the phone. "There is a bat in my daughter's bedroom! Please get somebody!"

Immediately, some kind of relief fell over David. He could handle this. It was going to be okay. "Yeah... yeah, I'm here," he assured as he typed things out on his computer. "I'm sending you animal control. They'll be there soon, okay?"

The woman gasped a view times, seeming to calm down. "Okay... Thank you..." and just like that, she hung up. David couldn't help but sag in relief.

This was bad. Really bad. He's frozen. Right there. In the midst of a call he'd just stopped. "Pull it together, Jacobs," he hissed at himself, sure that no one else could hear him. "You got it... you're fine..." He blinked the tears from his eyes as he forced his fingers to click down on the spacebar once again.

"Goddamn it! What'd I do now?"

At the familiar voice, David felt himself smile a bit. This, he could handle. "Hey, Mr. Kloppman. How ya doin'?" he asked, glad for the familiar distraction.

"Not good, kiddo! They put me in jail again..." The operator was content to let the man ramble about his misfortune. It was fine. The small issue was nice. It wasn't an emergency. David was okay.

Until he spun around and caught sight of the giant screen displaying the news.

He stood up quick, ripping the headset off as he recognized the boy's picture on the screen. Benjamin Neilson. Missing Teen Found Dead.

It was like a train wreck. He fought like hell to look away but he couldn't. He could only watch helplessly as the helicopter's cameraman got a shot of the body being dug out of the ground. The entirety of the kid's body was blurred. Because he had no clothes on. The picture wasn't clear. Details wouldn't be released that easily.

But David's imagination was running wild. So he did too.

Anything to just get out of there for a minutes. This was his fault. That child was dead and it was his fault.

"Everyone's lookin' for ya down there..."

Jack's voice hardly brought David out of his daze. He could hardly look up from the city below them. Somehow, he'd made it up to the roof of the building. Somehow he'd sat on the ledge, letting his feet dangle above Manhattan. Somehow, it had been two hours. And the man could hardly bring himself to care.

His best friend sat beside him, watching him simply nod, still speechless. "You know they can't run that place without you, yeah?" he asked, pointing back inside where he was supposed to be. David did not respond. He just sat silently with his legs swinging over the big city. "Davey... talk ta me. Why're ya beating yourself up over this? You've had bad calls before..." Jack sighed, though his tone was sympathetic and light. He was just trying to understand.

But David hardly understood himself. He'd had bad calls before. Jack was right. But this one... it was the one that seemed to trump them all. "You know my dad was a cop, right? Before he... um..." Jack nodded, not wanting the other man to go into much, knowing how painful it was to speak of the accident. The one that was the reason David had been tasked with providing for his family since he was just sixteen. "Well... he told me once that the hardest part about bein' a cop was knowin' that you might be the only thing standing between someone living and someone dyin'..."

Jack nodded. That much was true. It was something he thought about everyday.

"And once ya can't shoulder it no more... it's time ta get out..." David finished, taking in a deep breath. He wondered what would've happened if someone else had gotten Benjamin's call. If he hadn't made that stupid mistake, maybe the kid would still be alive.

It was clear there was nothing Jack could say to change the man's mind. He knew this man. They'd been friends for a while. And he had been damn good at what he did. But if he thought this was the right step, there was no way he wasn't taking it. "So that's it, huh?" he questioned. "Just like that David Jacobs is outta the game?"

All David could do was shrug. "I dunno... yes? It's just... that kid-"

Quickly slinging an arm around the other man's shoulders, Jack shook his head, silently telling him not to continue. It wasn't his fault. He wasn't the one that had taken that little boy to his death. "Look... I just need ya ta know that you got me, yeah? Always..."

David nodded, looking out over the big city again. One that carried on even though a little boy that had once thrived in it was gone.

"Always," he agreed, lifting up his left hand. Jack shook it immediately. David couldn't help but be grateful he'd grown out of the spit shake that Jack had always done throughout high school.

David didn't go to dinner that night to meet Jack's boys. David had gone to a bar, gotten blackout drunk and fallen asleep hanging off of Jack while he practically dragged him to an Uber. He'd just wanted to forget.

But those words still played over and over in his brain.

"It's already done."

And now it was over for David. The words and an ear shattering scream proved to be his undoing. David couldn't shoulder it anymore.

David Jacobs was out of the game.

[sweetly-cider]

Under New Possession

Part 11

Co-Written with @mamajuliet

Ale's own inner voice had sputtered to a stop, his energy slowly fading hopessly when he saw the reaction.

<... No... Dammit, not again, just leave him alone,> he pled pitifully. <Please stop. What are you even doin' there's no point.>

Max widened his eyes, the glow quickly fading as he let go of Ale’s shoulders. Ale’s hands quickly gripped Max’s cheeks, his eyes quickly turning to a mad, almost insanely excited expression. “Aw no ya don’t, don’t you run from me Wrath, you know I’ve been trying to speak to you.”

Max scowled, then swung at Ale, punching him. The moment Max hit him, Ale’s body would have collapsed to the ground, Maria’s grip and control over Ale gone as she went silent.

"Dammit, quit doin' that," Ale grumbled, rubbing his sore jaw, though he looked far from amused. "Nice throw, there, pal."

Ale didn't know how long he had until the demon tried to take control again. The least he could do for now was climb to his feet. If she tried taking over again, he was not going down without a fight.

"Look, it's me, it's me," he said quickly, holding up his hands. "Don't punch me again?"

Max studied him, his hand still clenched in a fist as he looked Ale over. He sighed then nodded and rubbed his head. “Yeah yeah, I can tell. I’m still not happy with what you’ve done.” He still reached over and slammed his fist into Ale’s arm, but not hard enough to knock him down. “Green doesn’t look good on ya, ya know?”

He closed his eyes and laced his fingers together, placing his palms on his head. He took in a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. “She’ll be out of it fer a while. She hasn’t been in ya long enough to recover as quickly as she does normally.” He sighed. “Better go do what you want while you can.”

Ale blinked up at him, then nodded before pulling himself to his feet. For a moment, he stood there scratching the back of his mug. What to do first?

"Guess I'd better go see if Swirl's home before I get stuck, eh?" He tried to offer a good humored smirk, then sagged. "Damn... Really got myself in a mess this time."

However, something seemed to be bugging him in the back of his mind.

"Hey... Max, can I ask you somethin' first? Why... Why was that lady so hell bent on makin' ya mad? With that... thing in ya."

“Isn’t that what ya normally do best though? Get into messes?” Max chuckled then heard his next question and he sighed. “They are up to somethin’. My demon isn’t the only one they’ve tried to find. But I do know that a demon who is in control of a Nephaelm is something to be feared. It also gives a lot of power from the soul. Something the Devil and Joel both use to gain power.”

He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I am sorry this is happenin’ to ya, Ale.” He said solemnly. “Joel....they’re not one to just go after innocent people, or those who are tryin’ go build a better life by makin’ amends. So remember that. It might help ya.”

Ale listened silently, then slowly nodded. Inwardly, the wheels in his brain were turning and churning as thoughts ran wild, without any need to restrict them for now. Or, so he assumed. There was someone else he needed to see now.

"... Yeah, I get ya," he said with a sigh and a tired smirk. "Though... There's still one more place I gotta go before I can work on cleanin' up this mess. I... You know I had 'ta promise 'er I'd come by soon as I got the chance." He tapped on the side of his mug for a moment. "I'm just hopin' little miss bossy here stays asleep long enough. Knowin' my luck, they'll make me do somethin' stupid in front 'a Swirly as revenge or whatever."

Max chuckled and shrugged. “I don’t think ya need help there buddy. Yer pretty good at doin’ somthin’ stupid yerself.”

He sighed then looked back at the bar. “Ya know, I didn’t realize that Joel could do things like this. Must be more to ‘em than I thought.“ he turned back to Ale. “If ya go see shortcake, just be careful. Joel isn’t a happy camper when he wakes up after being knocked out. Don’t get too frisky with pinky er I bet ya he will make ya regret it.”

"Oh, come on, it ain't that kind'a visit," Ale said with a slightly annoyed scowl. "What, ya think I can't carry a conversation with my lady without endin' up in bed? I ain't that big'a an asshole."

He snickered, then sighed.

"But, yeah, I'll be careful. Here's hopin' they stay out for a while. I haven't seen 'er for a couple'a days, so it'll be nice gettin' ta see her. Y'know. Ask how the new job's been goin' an' all. I heard her sister is goin' steady with someone new, too. It'll be nice just 'ta talk. I'm... Not gonna tell 'er about this, though," he added quietly. "It'd break 'er heart if she knew I was gonna be... Well... that I ain't got long..."

Max reached over and pat Ale’s shoulder. “Hey, I ain’t gonna let that happen. If we can’t find another way...I know..I know someone who could help. I don’t know just how willing they would be to help me, but I know they have the capability to help others. I just...I just gotta learn how to apologize first.” He reached back and scratched his head. “Maybe...maybe I can ask Applin to help me with that.”

Max laughed nervously. “If I walk with ya, pinky will know something bad happened.” He sighed and rubbed his head. “‘Sides, ya really need me to ’hold yer hand’ through this? If somethin’ bad does happen when...they wake up, I can’t do anything ‘bout it. I’ll just have to stand an watch.”

He sighed dejectedly. “It’s not cause I don’t care buddy, it’s because if I overstep boundaries, Joel will have power over me. Ya think my demon was bad, you don’t wanna know what happen’s when two demons work tagether.” He shuddered. “I don’t wanna know how it feels to be ya buddy.”

"Right," Ale muttered to himself. "Well, thanks anyways."

Ale had grabbed onto his neck, letting his head dip for a moment before he finally let his arm slip down. He rolled his neck before finally settling into a step forward.

"Better get goin'. Thanks for your help, I guess. Sorry I got ya stuck in a pickle... didn't think it'd make things so complicated. Heh. Course, when don't I make things complicated?"

He shrugged and let out a dry laugh.

"Anyways. See ya when I see ya. Take care, Max."

Ale gave him a pat on the shoulder, then began making his way down the road, lost in his own thoughts while he still could be.

STORY END

BACK TO THE BEGINNING

[tarnishedhalo]

Observations

{A Vignette written cooperatively with the lovely Pumpkin-Mun ( @ronmanmob ) and myself }

It was not unlike filming a nature programme. Wild Kingdom but in place of animals, there were inmates.

He hadn’t caught the entirety of the conversation but Ron’s voice was unmistakable just then. “Mean it as a compliment, madam, when I say I could lissen t’ya read aht th’phonebook ‘n not get bored f’even a moment.”

And suddenly he’s scribbling notes about this.

And the way his sister smiles at Ron, that waifish look about her that brings to mind downy April afternoons and pixie-coloured clouds. He hasn’t seen that smile on her face...since they left Hawai’i what feels like a lifetime ago. And internally, Riley’s sending out a firmly geared riot squad, loaded for bear.

Then something about her ability to finger-knit being abjectly fascinating, and he actually enjoys listening to her drone on about the joys of Hawai’i. Riley doesn’t know what’s more infuriating, the fact that he thinks Ron’s pulling one over on her, or the fact that she’s gotten more words out of the man in half an hour than he does in a week of sessions.

So of course the moment she’s out of ear shot he brings the very thing up. “I think you’re putting one over on her.”

 The very look he’s given takes Riley aback, makes him wish he was still in a tiger cage by the sheer ferocity of it, paired with a very terse, 'Beg y'pardon, what?'

He corrects course. “You’re messing with her. Ah...humouring her.” Riley thought he’d had a handle on the local slang.

'N 'ere I f'ort y'knew me bettah. Ain't got th'energy t'umor folks I don't av tah.' A pointed look at Riley. 'She's a nice lady. 'As a nice voice. Got good numbahs abaht 'er. Why'd I wanna 'urt tha? Aye?'

"You have siblings. I'm sure you know what it's like not to have a moment of...oh, nice. Nice, Mr Kray. And she is a nice girl. And that's why I don't really want her out and about with your...peers. So I am hoping you took my hint and decided to try to...dissuade her visits."

'I 'av bruvvahs, which're different t'girls.. .. ..There's shark infested wa'ers 'ere, I know. I live 'ere. Bu' I doubt she'd lissen if I tried. Got some will in 'er, that'n.'

"Believe me I know. Been trying to fix that my whole life. And she clearly won't listen to me, so maybe she might you. I think she's a bit sweet on you. Thinks of you less as a patient and more as a friend. How does that make you feel...then?"

A blink. 'Didn't say she needed fixin'. Said she's got a strong will. 'N I ain't 'er patient, am I. M'one'a yours. If she likes Ron th'person, I don't see any wrong in tha. Adult woman, ain't she. Knows 'erself 'n wha' she likes in people. Knows 'oo I am. Wha' I am - convict; priz'nah; skizafrenik crozzie addict, right?.. .. ..Any time she's in tha' day room there's guards. Y'know tha'. 'N when she ain't there she ain't anywhere else wiv patients in it.. .. ..I feel y'fear, bruvvah-Bef.. ..Fink she'll be alrigh though.'

"Thank you, Mr Kray but I think I know what's best for my sister." Clearly Riley disagrees about her being broken. "She does in fact care about you, thinks you're badly maligned. She has an idea of you that fits in with her view of the world, and you've gone above and beyond letting her believe that, and for that, I commend you. But she's not..you don't understand. My sister is...special. The world doesn’t make much sense to her. But that's really not my point." 

A pause, a sigh. "Yes, you're a convicted man, and yes, you have an illness. And this conversation is about you, not her. What I want to know is...how does it effect you to have someone admire you unconditionally? Do you find conversations with her helpful to your day to day, or is it simply a distraction from the situation you're in? What fear is it that you think you share?"

"Me fear? Mate, there's worse than me by leagues tha' live 'ere. Y'know tha. Y'read their files. I empa'fize wiv y'concern abaht y'siblin'. If me sistah Violet 'ad survived 'n lived t'be Bef's age 'n decided t'volunteer in a mental ward I'd worry meself inta th'friggin' place. There's dangerous people 'ere. I undastand y'concern. 'N 'ow admiration effects me? Same as it would you, I fink. Makes y'feel nice abaht y'self a li'le, don't it. 'Avin' someone t'talk wiv 'oo don't wince at th'look ov yah, or try 'n dissect y'for 'idden meanin's 'n this 'n tha's. She's jus Bef, 'n she takes me as jus Ron. 'N tha's pleasant. Enjoy 'er company; she's nice, like I say. Easy t'lissen tah. Don't want nuffin' off us. Don't ask miracles. Don't pick at me past. She's all, ow y'doin' t'day Ronnie?. Opin' f'good, yeah?. Got yah paper? Wan do d'crosswords wid me?.. .. ..People don't talk t'me like tha' 'ere.. ..S'nice. Special bu'.. .. ..' 

Then gentleness in his regard curdles into something a lot more sour. 'Not like you say th'word.. ..Wha's mattah? Fink she's a bit like me? Bit touched? Tha' scare yah?'

A metric ton of new notes with circles and arrows, jotted down crisply 

"Do you often feel others react poorly when they interact with you, or are trying to winnow information from you, searching for something else? And no, I don't count. What makes her easier to listen to? The fact that she seems like she doesn't want anything other than your company or seek to correct your behaviour? You must know you need to realise that you are, at times, erratic and can pose danger to yourself or others, something that lent itself to your previous line of work, no doubt. But by learning the right tools, you can help monitor yourself. "How do you perceive people here talking to you? I've noticed most of the others tend to give you a wide berth if they can, and I think I might like to add a group session once or twice a month to your schedule." A glance up from the notes. "How do you think I mean that, Mr Kray? When I call her special? What upsets you about that? And if we're to be perfectly honest with each other...yes."

A sharp shake of Ron’s head at the very mention of group sessions. 'Told yah b'fore. I don't want t'talk t'these f'kin people. Maybe two I like th'look ov, 'n tha's jus th'look. Fink they're 'andsome. Bu' tha's it. Got no time f'em beyond tha; no want t'bare me f'kin soul or mind or any soddin' fing while m'sittin' in a li'le circle full'a cunts I'd've given LYE bafs to when I was aht f'wha' they've done t'women; t'children. ' ‘N they know tha, mate. I ain't quiet abaht it. Predatahs, yeah? I fuckin' eat em - even if i's only in their brains. Knowin'. Wincin' aht th'way'a me b'cause they know wha' I've done t'their like 'n wha I will do t'them if I catch 'em off their guard. Men like tha? They ain't werf pr'tectin'. Ain't werf y'time or y'ferapy. They're werf wha' story tellahs said 'appened t'Edward th'Second.. .. ..Y'know abaht 'im? Said t'av caught an 'ot pokah with 'is intestines by way ov 'is arse.. ..Tha's all they're werf.' A brief pause for a sip of tea; changing tracks in his brain.  'Bef's easy b'cause she don't force us f'rew this.' A gesture between them; their conversation indicated. 'Learns us by watchin' 'n seein' - lissenin' when I speak wivaht needin' t'ask f'th user's manual. ' ‘N erratic?' A little chuff. ‘ 'M'told I am. Tellin' a skizafrenik man tha is like callin' wa'er wet though, ain't it. Low 'angin' fruit there. I also 'ear fings 'n get paranoid easy. Paranoid. Skizafrenik.' A point to himself. 'Wa'er's wet.' Ron blinked then. Another track skip. 'Y'answered y'own question there too - special. Y'use th'term t'imply she's mentally ill; some'ow touched, like me.. .. ..Knowin' tha though. Suspectin' it. D'yah support 'er? Elp 'er wiv it, wha'evah it is? Le' 'er know she ain't alone? B'cause I'll tell yah sumfin, I'd've paid me 'ole fortune away when I still 'ad it t'be free'a tha' feelin - th' f'kin soul-destroyin' aloneness ov 'avin' th'world seem so different t'wha it is t'ovvah people; so confusin' 'n...off.'

Riley, caught off guard and quite exposed by the candidness of the conversation, fails to answer the litany presented. His mind races to process information old and new under the glaring light of truth, a battle presented on two fronts; Ron Kray at the vanguard, and a tiny slip of a thing flanking from behind. Her hand is gentle and all feathers and air at the small of his back as she peeks around him. The way she’s always done since she was old enough to walk.

And it’s hard for him not to see her that way still, but also see how much has changed over twenty years and a bit. How confidently she takes the empty chair at Ron Kray’s table as if it’s a Parisian cafe`. Tucks into the little basket at her feet and pulls out a small plate.

“T’ough’ ya migh’ like dis. Our neighbour help f’ make. Called Brandy-snap,” she murmurs, sliding the few precious treats over, with a Vaudville glance at her brother. “But no has real brandy. Someone no li’dat an’ made us leave off.”

She leans over and whispers something into Ron’s ear and Riley’s heart stills, half expecting the man to snap her like a twig there and then. But then his sister laughs and it’s all wind-chimes and apple-trees and still curious, Riley retreats back to his post. Back to observing.

For now.

[ronjonjo365]

Joe - Raindrops are tappin' the tarp. It's 9:30 in the morning and I'm kicked back in my recliner enjoying my second cup o' coffee. I slept well, this same drizzle was a lullaby on my tent last night to accompany the sound of glacial melt rushing down the Matanuska waterway 100 yards from camp. It's shaping up to be a day best spent under shelter close to supplies and reading material and I'm nodding off lost in those thoughts. Me and the dog detect the sound simultaneously. He bounces out of my lap as I strain to visually confirm my suspicions. An old Chevy truck pulls up to the bridge. I know that sound. I know that guy. I hope I'm wrong about knowin' what he wants to do. I'm not. Wayne rounds the corner onto the camp trail grinnin' like a goofus. He gives me one of the beers he's carrying, pops the top on his and sits in the dog's chair (yeah, the dog has a chair, it's a recliner...not bad for a homeless guy eh?) and announces his intention to drag me off to some bay on the coast of Alaska and help me catch salmon. "Right now?" is my initial query. Can't I finish my nap and wait for the weather to clear are my immediate thoughts... "Pack yer shit, here's some dry bags. Ya got a fishin' pole?" FUCK! It takes half an hour and we're heading south. I packed for cold and wet. Wayne says we're snaggin' 'em. I don't know what that means, I don't know what to expect. "People are trying to come with us, a woman with kids," he explains, "I ain't no babysitter, we gotta get outta town before she can find us." We stop at the govt game office for a proxy permit. They say no. We go to a coffee shack for some biscuits and gravy. I read the fine print and point out a flaw in their reasoning. We go back to argue with the govt. they say no. Wayne's head is gonna pop. We gotta get outta dodge. We're waiting on traffic trying to exit the parking lot and make good our escape when the woman with kids appears out of the line of vehicles. She pulls up and rolls down her window. Apparently she wants to make some plans. Wayne is turning red, "OK," he rolls up his window and we're on our way. There's a friend in Anchorage. We stop for a packet of powder guaranteed to enhance our expedition experience and increase our salmon harvest. Travelling the Turnagain Arm road the truck starts acting up, starvin' for gas is the prognosis. We stop at a pullout and pop the hood. I gotta pee. I retreat to the trees. In the process it occurs to me what are the odds that woman and those kids will find us here. I zip up and turn around in time to see her truck pull up. I have yet to meet any of these people. Wayne's been cussin' 'em out the whole way so I don't expect much. Through the side I can see eyes and hair in the back seat and skinny limbs hanging out the windows. Much noise emanates from the area. She wants to make more plans. "OK," Wayne says and we close the hood and leave. The weather clears but the mood is stormy She trails us all the way into Seward. We find a place to park and access the water. Poles are set up with inch long treble hooks with a 10 ounce weight in the middle. The woman has poles and hooks for all in her party. Wayne takes notice. The tide's coming in so we have a long walk to where people are fishing. They cast the hook halfway across a 30 foot channel then jerk the rod. Pull in the slack like a fly rod then jerk again, pull the assembly out of the water and toss it to the middle again...over and over in hopes a passing salmon will get impaled on one of the treble hooks. If the surroundings weren't so beautiful this repetitive slinging and jerking would get monotonous. Then some guy 15 feet downstream pulls 5 pounds of fighting salmon out of the slough and you redouble your efforts. It's a maddening way to spend an evening. Thank dog for beer. Wayne is warming up to the woman and her kids when she shows they can take care of themselves and we don't have to babysit. Hell, even her 7 year old daughter is standing in the water slinging and jerking. We all get skunked. The tide is coming in fast and the water's getting deep so we head back to a tent camp we spotted in town. The woman is completely unprepared for camping. She comes across a tent tucked away behind the debris collecting in the back of the truck but nobody thought to bring a sleeping bag or blanket. The powder works its magic and I don't sleep a wink all night which is funny when you think about it. Here I am all rolled up in a kingsized sleeping bag with my eyes bugging out of my head, my brain working overtime and not a chance for zzz's to kick in while the woman and her kids are huddled and cuddled up in a cheap tent trying to spread body warmth. I feel bad now...I didn't then. I did donate a polar fleece shirt . I was tired of watching the 7 year old shiver. I'm 6'3" she's 3' nuthin' I figure she could use the shirt as a sleeping bag. I've yet to get it back. We find better water access for $20 in the morning. We meet some interesting people on the way. One guy named Darrell from Cedar Rapids Iowa."I just like to kill shit and eat it," is his philosophy. Interesting. That was my dads name and that's where he was from though that wasn't my dad's philosophy. Another guy named Rich from Anchorage who grows pot professionally. I get his phone number. Another guy from Ukraine whose story was so convoluted I'm still confused. Wayne catches a couple fish. The woman caught one too. I get skunked again but I'm privy to a heartwarming scene: We are trudging to a new channel 'cause the one we were fishin' wasn't producing. I pick a spot next to an old guy sitting on a bucket holding his head in his hands. Wayne taps the guy on the shoulder and asks if everything is ok. The guy looks up and says, "Yeah, I'm just a little tired. I just want to catch a fish." Wayne says, "Ok but you can't catch anything if yer hook ain't in the water." "I know," the guy sets up to restart the slinging and jerking process. Wayne walks past a couple fisher folk and starts fishing. We're not here five minutes when Wayne hooks into a salmon. He keeps the rod tip up, excuses himself to get around 2 guys with poles and presents the old guy with his rod, "Here's yer fish." The old guy grabs the rod like a pro, passes his to Wayne and reels in the catch. The smile on his face will stay with me for a long time. I'm still skunked but the kids are a joy to be around. They're not stupid and they're not whiners. They smile a lot, stay active and are capable of coherent conversation. The weather includes sunshine and warmth and things are looking up even if I can't catch a damn fish. Eagles are common as crows with all the fish food the anglers leave behind but they're still impressive. The $20 dollar entrance fee includes camping so we find a place in the weeds, away from a flock of screeching sea gulls and pitch tents. The demon dust works its spell and my body rests but my mind wanders through another sleepless night. The morning finds me and Wayne sitting around a campfire talking ourselves into the long walk to the water for a final attempt. The woman and her kids are still snoozin', we don't need no stinkin' food, we pack our nostrils, grab our poles and head out. A mile later we're at waters edge. Not a channel, this is the bay at low tide. We're casting 50 yards into saltwater. My first cast lands a flounder. He gets to swim again. My second cast hooks into a nice sized salmon. Heehee I'm not a vegetarian ('vegetarian' is native for 'bad hunter'). Wayne pulls one in too. The action slows so we go. The woman and her kids are out fishing so we break camp and head out. Highway traffic is at a crawl on this 2 lane main artery. Tourists are gawking, roadwork is halting progress and we need ice for the fish. We have to wait till Anchorage for the frozen cubes but it's a beautiful day and we have food. It's a good trip!

[darlingpetao3]

An Accidental Seduction (Part 2/2)

Being a CCPN journalist had its perks, for sure. For instance, when the crew gathered around the meeting room table last week to pitch ideas for the next issue, you already had one in mind for yourself to cover. You had been adamant that you should cover a certain famous author's children's book reading at the Central City Public Library coming up. The editor waved you off like, yeah, yeah, you do that.

You didn't even mention that it was your boyfriend giving the reading.

Yeah, that's right. Boyfriend.

For almost a month, now!

How you managed to snag H.R. as a boyfriend is beyond you, but he has really proven himself to be a caring, attentive, one-girl kind of guy. You are truly blessed with the way he treats you. In fact, he made a reservation at Central City's fanciest restaurant for your one month anniversary. The waiting list for that place is always insanely long, but self-name dropping doesn't bother H.R. in the slightest. And if it gets you guys benefits like this, you're all for it.

But before you dine with the love of your life (though those words have yet to be uttered by either of you), you have to get through this kids event. The children's section of the library is packed. Young kids sit cross-legged on the floor in front of a large armchair, while mothers wait around in their spiffy day-clothes and preen themselves. You pardon your way through them, carrying your work camera around your neck, looking for a good angle. H.R. arrives shortly after and the librarians are quick to offer him the key to his heart – coffee. Those sneaky librarians, they know what your man likes. Soon enough, the event is underway after a library staff member introduces the guest of honour.

H.R. runs into the room with a massive smile for the kids and an expression that exudes I'm one of you! Just bigger! He high-fives them on his way to the armchair especially for him.

“Hey, kiddies!” he greets them with high energy. “How're you all doin'?”

“GOOD!” a collective reply.

“I'm so psyched to get to read to you guys, today! Which book would you like to hear?”

“MCSNURTLE THE TURTLE! MCSNURTLE THE TURTLE!” they chant. H.R. chuckles at their enthusiasm and picks up his award-winning picture book. You hover your camera close to your eyes to get a good shot of him as he begins to read in the cutest voice ever.

“McSnurtle the Turtle likes to bite. McSnurtle the Turtle stays up all night. He carries his home up on his back, like a handy dandy little packsack.”

Click. Click. Zoom. Click. These shots are perfect. He's perfect.

H.R. pauses for a second and spots you off to the side. He grins wide.

“Say, I need a helper for this next bit,” he says playfully. “Who shall I pick?”

“ME! ME! ME!” the kids bounce for attention. H.R. feigns thinking carefully about his choosing process. Through the lens of your camera, his finger points directly at you.

“Excuse me, Miss, would you care to join me up here?” Suddenly embarrassed by the number of eyes now following your every move, you silently accept and make your way over to him. You don't even think about making eye contact with the moms in the crowd.

“Is this really necessary?” you whisper.

“Just think of it as a great twist to your article,” he puts it. What a man. You take a seat on the arm of the chair. H.R. looks up at you with his smiling blue eyes that twinkle whenever he sees you. “Go for it, hun,” he encourages you quietly. You clear your throat and read the next line.

“'Is being a turtle as easy as pie?'”

Then H.R. reads the next couple lines."'Being a turtle is hard,' he says with a sigh. 'I'm small, and I'm green, and so very slow, it takes forever to get to the places I go.'"

“That McNabbit the Rabbit is really fast!” you continue. “So fast, he always leaves McSnurtle in last.”

"'But that's okay, I'm friends with him. We all have our gifts, and mine is to swim!'"

"'Sometimes we get ourselves into trouble, but together we put our brains on the double.'" The two of you can't help but lock eyes. You could totally swoon off this chair right now if it weren't for all the witnesses. H.R. joins you in reading the final lines of the story.

“McNabbit is glad he's friends with McSnurtle, for together, there's nothing that they can't hurdle!”

The kids applaud like wild little monkeys while their now disinterested mothers pretend to clap, making no noise. But none of them matter because you become lost in this beautiful moment while looking at your gorgeous man. You were so lucky.

Thinking it best to move aside and let H.R. continue to do his thing and woo the crowd, you head to the back of the room. You can hear H.R. starting to read from his other kids' book, ABC Labs.

“A is for Aberration – a mistake that could be created by, say, altering timelines.”

Taking out your notebook from your bag, you start to jot down some notes when a woman's voice catches your attention.

“Ahem.”

You spin around to find a vaguely familiar face... Oh no.

It's her.

The woman in the green dress. From the night you met H.R. With her phone in your hand!

“Hi,” is all you can manage, as you try to play it off as if you have no idea who she is.

“Oh, please. You remember me.” Damn. “And I know it was you.”

“What was me?”

“I went back to Jitters after I realized I had lost my phone and it was on the chair you were sitting in! With the word 'maybe,' that I sure as hell never texted!” Her voice is harsh and hushed. “Next thing I know, you're shacking up H.R. and turning him monogamous!”

“What's wrong with that?” you ask seriously irked by this witch. “Or are you just jealous it's me with him, and not you?”

“G is for Grodd,” you can hear H.R. from the back. “A psychotic, telekinetic gorilla. No, really!” The kids laugh.

“I have half a mind to tell him,” she threatens.

“Oh and what? You think he'll come crawling to you?”

“J is for Jitters – the best coffee on Earth-1. I mean, just regular Earth. Yeah.”

“He's a man. Men never really change. A few words with me and he'll be back to his... old self again.”

You scowl hard at her and she retaliates with an I'm-better-than-you shrug and a checkmate folding of her arms. At that, one of the librarians walks up to the pair of you. You assume she's about to shush you.

“Excuse me, ladies. Would either of you happen to own a red Prius?”

Your opponent's face drains of colour while your hand flies to your mouth to stifle a laugh. She flees the scene with a “hmph!”

“X is for X-Ray – a scan that lets you see your broken bones. I get these a lot from mouthing off. Remember that, kids!”

Tonight's the night. It's the night you're going to tell H.R. you love him. Really, truly love him, and this dinner will have the perfect atmosphere to say it. It'll be like a beautiful dream come true.

There's just one small problem.

Ever since earlier today, talking with that horrid woman, you couldn't get something she said out of your head.

He's a man. Men never really change.

You know she was only trying to get inside your head, but what if she was right? What if H.R. is just trying you out on a monogamous test drive and finds that one woman isn't enough for him? What if he wants to go back to serial dating or whatever he was doing before? Women constantly throw themselves at him. How can a man resist so much of that? And then a worse thought comes to mind:

What if he doesn't truly, fully love you back?

No, no. That's just ridiculous.

But...?

H.R. is checking out the photos you took earlier. “You should use this one in your piece,” he suggests, shaking you out of your reverie. “You've really captured my essence, here.”

“Your essence?” you giggle, taking note of the photo he wants, all the while putting in the earrings you had chosen for tonight.

“Yeah, you know. What I'm all about. Fun loving, freewheeling.”

“Hopefully not too freewheeling...” you mutter under your breath.

“Hmm, what's that?” he asks, thankfully missing what you had said.

“Nothing! I love that one too. I'll definitely use it, sweetie.” You plant a kiss on his cheek. “You ready to go?”

“I am, believe it or not! You won't have to wait for me this time.”

“I'm surprised! You normally always take longer than me.”

“It's the hair,” he blames. You never mind that reason in the slightest. His hair is always so gloriously styled, sometimes you daydream about it when things are slow at work. Among other things...

The restaurant isn't far at all from his apartment so you opt to walk the short distance. On the way there, a little boy walking with his parents spots H.R. and runs up to him excitedly.

“Hey, Mister! You were really funny today!” the boy praises.

“Why, thank you,” H.R. replies, crouching down to the child's level.

“When I grow up, I wanna write a book, too!”

“Right on, little man! Well, I can't wait to read it!” H.R. sticks out a fist to give him a fist bump, but the boy ignores him and goes in for a hug. You could cry, this is so sweet. H.R. glances up at you with potentially glistening eyes. The little boy says his goodbye and runs back to his parents.

Outside the restaurant, there's a line filed out the door and down the block of people waiting for a table. H.R. has his hand on the small of your back as you walk by them all. When all is said and done, the hostess assigns you two 'the best table in the house.'

“You were amazing today,” H.R. says, taking your hands in his.

“Me? Are you kidding? You clearly had those kids positively enthralled!”

“I still think you were a major factor in making that happen,” he insists. His eyes bore into yours. “I don't know how I got so lucky enough to find you.” Your eyes flick over to something moving a few tables over. Someone.

Please God, no.

“And to think,” he continues. “This all started with you texting me!”

Green Dress' lips curl when she sees you've spotted her.

“Ha ha! Yeah, right?” is all you can muster. She's standing up, she's coming over. Goodbye cruel world! It was nice knowin' ya!

“Pardon the intrusion,” Green Dress says in a cringingly smooth tone. “But I must speak with you, Mr. Wells. It's urgent and dare I say eye opening.” She shoots you a dirty look, while H.R. looks confused as hell. When he sees your unsettled expression, he even does that puppy-dog-head-tilt thing.

“I'm on a very important date, here,” he tries. “I'm sure you underst-”

“It won't take a minute of your time.” Pushy witch. She walks him over to the waiting area and has some very lively words with him (of which you can't quite make out). A few times she even points in your direction. H.R.'s face is in a constant frown. Not good. You were worried it would end like this. You didn't even get the chance to tell him how you really feel.

You can't watch this train wreck anymore so you bury your head in your hands on the table. But then a ruckus is heard all throughout the place. Yelling. GD's yelling, to be precise. Upon turning around, it's impossible to ignore the fact that two large men are carrying her out of the restaurant. H.R. is soon back at the table with you and exhales a breath.

“Now, where were we?” he says. You can't lie, you're a little dumbfounded right now.

“What was that?” you demand.

“What, her? Just some stalker, I guess. She was insisting that she was the one who sent those um, racy texts you sent me last month during the reading.” He makes a 'coo-coo' gesture. “Oh, and that you stole her phone to make it look like you had, instead. Ha!”

“Okay, I did not steal her phone, I put it back on the chair!” You gasp soon after the words escape your mouth. Cue another round of the puppy-dog-head-tilt plus a frown.

“So you're saying you didn't...”

“Didn't send those texts, no. It wasn't my phone,” the truth starts pouring out of you like a faucet. “She dropped it, and you caught me holding it. And I couldn't believe you were paying attention to me, not when we were in a room filled with leggy, bombshell women completely ogling you. What chance did I have? It was what you believed, and I-I went along with it.” You feel so defeated. How could he see you the same way after knowing your whole relationship started out with a lie? You can't bear to look at him and start to brace yourself for the inevitable heartbreak.

...

...

Was H.R... laughing?

“Why are you laughing?” Now you're the one totally lost.

“Why aren't you? It's pretty funny if you think about it. Think of what a great story that'll make!” H.R. gasps. “In my next novel!”

“Wait, so you're not upset with me?”

“Why would I be?”

“I don't know, maybe because I lied to you?

“(Y/N), you lied about not sending texts. That's nothing to break up with someone you love about.”

All you can do is blink.

“Did you just-?”

“Say 'I love you'? You're damn right, I did. I mean it with all my heart and nobody, nobody, can come between what we have. Of that I'm sure.” Okay, now you're really going to cry. He gets up out of his chair and stands you up out of yours, taking you in his arms. His soft lips find yours to cement his love.

“H.R. I love you so damn much, you big loon,” you say, holding his face while laughing and choking up. His face lights up in the way it does when he has an idea.

“What do say to ditching this place for-”

“Big Belly Burger?” you finish his sentence. “I thought you'd never ask.”

[the-spoony-bard]

A Matter of Leverage - 12

Fandom: Fire Emblem Awakening

Style: Leverage!AU; modern setting; adventure/drama

Word count: 3166 words

Read on Ao3

“I am really starting to think you are crazy, Bubbles,” Gaius accuses as soon as the hotel door is closed safely behind them.

 “We had the money for Donnel and you just threw it away!” Nowi adds. “Money! Beautiful, green money!”

 “T-this is b-bigger than just Donnel now,” Olivia says, coming to Robin’s defense.

 Robin, for her part, ignores the chatter as she pours herself a drink. Olivia turns on her as she does so.

 “Robin, please!”

 “You’re right, Olivia.” Robin turns around slowly, carefully swishing the glass around and watching the clear golden brown waves. “This is bigger than just one client. Four hundred homes… this is a chance to give a voice to so many more victims.”

 “It’s also a chance to get caught by the cops,” Lon’qu cuts in, eyes narrowed. “There’s too many ways this can go wrong with them involved.”

 “But if played right, it can go even better.”

 “What are you talking about?” Nowi laughs uncomfortably. “You’re always so weird and cryptic when you’re drunk. And you’re always drunk, so…”

 “Nowi,” Olivia cringes.

 “We’re going much bigger,” Robin presses on, ignoring the dig at her alcohol problem. “An even bigger scam. So Norris likes to invest in people’s misfortune? Let’s see how willing he’d be to invest… in death.”

 Silence reigns in the hotel room as Robin stares pensively out the window. Nowi takes a deep breath.

 “I’m sorry, you said invest in what?”

 ○

 “You see, it’s very simple,” Robin spreads out her arms to her audience of two: Olivia and Norris, sitting together in the office at Roddick’s house. “You have your average run of the mill person. Hasn’t done anything too extraordinary. Except now, they figure out they have a fatal disease with only months to live, if that. What would you do in a situation like that?” Robin pushes her chair back and stands. “You want to live even more! Travel the world, spend more time with the kids, things like that. But see, most people have no savings left after preliminary treatments. So you’re let knowin’ that you’re gonna die, and on top of that, you’re broke.”

 “Okay,” Norris says, hardly convinced, instead glancing down at his phone.

 “Now here’s where it gets interesting.” Robin points at Norris, attracting his attention again. “Your big juicy insurance policy is just sitting there with nothing else to do. So what we do, our group—” she gestures to Olivia “—we buy their policy. They get a nice chunk of change now, and we can get our pay after they kick the bucket. It’s a win-win for everyone. They get to enjoy their last days, and we get a healthy profit from the exchange.”

 “Lyn’s been in insurance for over ten years now,” Olivia explains. “She approached us with some… insider information.”

 “You wanna know what I got?” Robin asks enthusiastically, clapping her hands together. “I’ve got databases full of sick people and some specialists with detailed reports that helped me compile a short list of people with fat policies and less than six months to live.” Robin leans forward conspiratorially, passing the list to Norris. “Do you have any idea what I’ve just handed you? This is a game changer, my friend. This, well… this will triple your money or more.”

 “Lyn has a select number of investors already,” Olivia inserts smoothly. “With your contribution, we could buy even more policies.”

 “Eh?” Robin grins expectantly.

 Norris glances over the list before shaking his head, handing it back.

 “No. It’s too risky. You can’t control when someone’s gonna croak.”

 “Are you not listening?” Robin replies with a half laugh. “This list is our golden goose! I mean, just look at it.” Robin clears her throat before reading with gusto, “here we go. Lung cancer, middle aged man in Renais. Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, twenty-something in Gallia. Do you see this Rolex? Yeah, this baby’s all thanks to some sucker’s melanoma.”

 “Alright, alright!” Norris relents. “But I want independent confirmation myself with a doctor of my own choosing.”

 “Hey, fair enough,” Robin grins. “But…” she pauses as she picks the list back up, swinging it back and forth in the air. “We do have one condition. No one gets a look at this list without a little buy in first. Ten thousand up front.”

 “Of course,” Norris snorts.

 “Of course,” Robin replies as they shake hands. She hands him back the list. “Take your pick, my friend. Take a good, long look. Pick a patient, any patient…”

 “Uh… okay,” Norris points to a name. “Sain Kent, inoperable brain tumor. He’s even nearby.”

 “Well…” Robin smiles humorlessly. “Nice choice. I’ll set it up. You bring your doctor.”

 “Alright,” Norris makes a note of it as the phone rings. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he snickers at the caller ID. “Florina!”

 Olivia hurries over as Norris answers, putting the call on speaker.

 “You damn weasel!” Murray exclaims without preamble. “You had one job, man. All you had to do was write the check!”

 “Oh, but I did. Just ask our friend Florina.”

 “What? What’s she doing there?”

 “Oh, I’m sorry, darling,” Olivia cuts in. “We just decided to… go in a different direction.”

 “What—what did you say to her?” Murray shouts.

 “Oh, I wouldn’t know. I just sit alone in my office all day counting numbers,” Norris returns in a mocking impression of his brother. He and Olivia share a laugh.

 “Norris, you little asshole!” Murray thunders. “We’ll see how happy you are when dad hears about this!”

 “Sorry—kssshh—you’re—kssh—breaking up!”

 “Norris, you fu—”

 Norris hangs up, then spins around in his chair to look at Olivia.

 “Oops.”

 “Now that is what I call control,” Olivia chuckles. She looks up and meets Robin’s eyes. “We’ll meet you later at the hospital, then.”

 “Yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”

 “I’m looking forward to a prosperous partnership,” Robin says, shaking Norris’s hand.

 ○

 There’s something relaxing about driving with no destination in mind, even more so when Robin thinks about all of the griping she faces back at the hotel. Between Olivia’s attempts to talk about Robin’s reasons for drinking and the other three still hung up on the decision for Olivia to refuse the check, being alone on the road with vodka in a water bottle sounds like the better alternative. Robin pauses at the flashing red and blue lights in the mirror. Confused as she is, she pulls over, stashing the vodka safely away and shoving a couple mints into her mouth in an attempt to mask the smell. She rolls down the window.

 “What seems to be the problem, offi—”

 The man opens the back door and sits down behind Robin.

 “Ah. Judging by the ill fitted suit…” Robin chuckles despite herself. “Now, what would the state police want with my business, Lieutenant…?” She pauses for the name.

 “Deen. Racketeering and Corruption Task Force. What business do you have in Alabama?”

 “Oh, you know, I just like the country side.”

 “We know you came from a meeting with Norris Roddick. Now, what I want to know is why an ex-insurance agent is trying to make a deal with that family?”

 “Racketeering? That’s what you’re trying to get them with? I realized that you couldn’t get them on the fraud, but… you must be pretty desperate.”

 “We’re going to get the Roddicks.”

 “Oh, of course.”

 “Now, if you and your people still happen to be around when that happens, well… we’re not going to stop to sort all of that out.”

 “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t be talking to me right now if you had anything. You’re fishing.” Robin looks at him in the rearview the mirror. “I must have hit a nerve. Either way, two days. Two days, and the Roddicks will have made a mistake, and we will be gone and out of your way. Just keep your eyes and ears open, and they’ll be yours.”

 “There’s no reason I should trust a drunk.”

 “Your choice, Lieutenant.”

 The lieutenant leaves without a backward glance. Robin watches the other cars go by for a while before she pulls back onto the road.

 ○

 “How are we going to do this? It’s not like any of us have any brain tumors,” Gaius quips, rolling a lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other.

 “Nowi, would you be able to edit the image on the computer?” Robin asks.

 “I don’t think so,” Nowi replies from her seat on the bed of the medical scanner, legs swinging back and forth as they dangle over the ground. “Not easily, anyway. The images from the brain scan go directly from here to the computer, and trying to make any adjustments between the two could get messy. I don’t do messy!”

 “Sure…” Robin trails off, recalling all of the times Nowi’s visited her apartment.

 “Not in my work anyway!” Nowi adds with a pout.

 “So our only option is to scan a brain with some sort of artificial tumor that we plant in there directly.”

 “Yeah… no,” Gaius cuts in. “I am not risking permanent brain damage for you, Bubbles.”

 “We’re obviously not going to put anything in your brain. We’ll need another one…”

 “Creepy~” Nowi sings.

 “Even if we get another brain, how will we scan it if Gaius is in this one?” Lon’qu says from his spot near the door.

 “The computer from this bay doesn’t need to be attached to this scanner,” Nowi grins.

 “There’s another bay next to this one,” Robin says thoughtfully. “Nowi, if you could cross the wires and send the scans from the other scanner to this computer, we can get through this without having to kill Gaius.”

 “Why do you always talk like you have plans where I die?”

 “Don’t ask question you don’t want the answers to.” Robin favors Gaius with a sly grin.

 “Creepy~” Nowi sings again.

 “Well,” Robin takes a deep breath, clapping her hands together. “We need to secure both rooms and a brain for tomorrow morning. Let’s get on it.”

 ○

 “There you are!” Nowi calls, jogging forward to Lon’qu pushing a table with a sheet covering what can only be a body.

 Olivia jumps in surprise as they burst through the door together. Her eyes zero in with horror at the motionless lump underneath the sheet.

 “Do—do I w-want to ask wh-where you…?”

 “No,” Lon’qu answers.

 “Olivia,” Robin says from the earpiece. “Norris should be here soon. Could you join me in the waiting room?”

 “S-s-sure!” Olivia scrambles out, giving the body a wide birth.

 Lon’qu pushes the table next to the bed then slides the body over. He flinches as he notices how close Nowi hovers behind him, though she seems not to notice.

 “So what do we have?” she pulls back the sheet and immediately jumps back, throwing her arms in front of her face. “Oh gods! Gods, so icky!”

 “What were you expecting?” Lon’qu asks dryly. “This is even a clean corpse.”

 “It smells!” Nowi protests, two fingers pinching her nose closed to accentuate her point.

 “Just do it,” Lon’qu sighs, grabbing the injection from the nearby table and holding it out.

 “No!” Nowi cries, recoiling as if struck. “You’ve killed people before! You do it!”

 “I’ve never killed people by sticking giant needles into their cranial cavities,” Lon’qu says, an edge of discomfort in his voice.

 “Excuses, excuses!” Nowi says shrilly, attempting to push away the needle that Lon’qu still holds out to her.

 “One of you is going to do it or I’m coming up there,” Robin threatens in a voice so stern and threatening that only a mother can really manage it.

 With a shudder, Lon’qu jams the needle in. Nowi spins around, making gagging noises.

 “Worst job ever! Worst job ever!” she cries, not even looking at the garbage bag that she holds out for Lon’qu to deposit the evidence into.

 “Hey, guys!” Gaius opens the door and pokes his head in. “Which hospital gown should I wear? Dead inside off green, or borrowed time rose gold?”

 “Pink! Pink!” Nowi replies.

 “Really? I thought the green brings out my eyes better.”

 “Just pick a dress and put it on,” Lon’qu deadpans, brushing past him into the hallway.

 “Norris is here,” Robin reports. “Get in position.” She steps forward with Olivia, shaking hands with both Norris and the doctor he’s brought with him. “A pleasure,” she smiles once introductions have been made. “Shall we?”

 A few minutes later they stand in front of the glass window as Gaius is shown in by a rather disgruntled looking nurse Lon’qu. He looks blankly ahead as he is directed to the bed.

 “That’s Sain Kent?” Norris peers inside as his doctor preps the computer to receive the scans.

 “Yes,” Robin replies. “Poor guy.”

 They watch in silence as Gaius is laid down on the bed, then slid inside.

 “I’ve got our other brain scanning in here,” Nowi reports from the room next door. “And we’re sending you our other brain… now!”

 “Well… what do you think, doctor?” Robin asks the balding man Norris brought with him.

 “Oh, he’s terminal alright,” he replies, leaning forward to better view the screen. “It’s almost too large to believe… he has weeks left; a month at best.”

 “There you have it,” Robin says to Norris after the doctor had been thanked and sent on his way. Norris smiles, half chuckling as he stands in a quiet hallway facing Robin and Olivia.

 “I had my doubts, but yeah,” Norris concedes. “So, what’s my cut?”

 “Your cut? Oh,” Robin laughs. “That’s it?”

 “Yeah, I put my money in, now I want my cut.”

 “Fine, fine,” Robin holds her hands up in surrender before pulling out her checkbook. “Gone scared on us. Can’t say I’m surprised; you don’t look like the sort willing to take a risk. Let’s see, first stage investor?” Robin pauses to give Norris an appraising look. “One hundred grand?”

 “What is wrong with you?!” Gaius howls from over the coms. Robin doesn’t even flinch.

 “This just might work out after all,” Norris whistles, looking up only just in time for Olivia to recover from her grimace.

 “Yes,” Olivia chuckles woodenly. “With this money you could even start your own company and leave your father entirely.”

 “Yeah,” Norris says, perking up. “Yeah, it would be easy. I just need to move some accounts around and—”

 “What?” Robin cuts in, flinching away. “Moving some—moving accounts? What sort of… who do you think we are? We don’t operate this way!” She whirls on Olivia as she throws her hands up in the air. “What is this nonsense? Who did you bring me to?”

 “You don’t understand, I just—”

 “No, you don’t understand,” Robin interrupts Norris, turning away to storm down the hallway. “I can’t help you, sir. You just don’t get it. It’s fine. Keep the money. We don’t need you.”

 “What is she…?” Norris looks helplessly to Olivia.

 “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ll talk to her,” Olivia says hurriedly before rushing after Robin.

 “I want serious investors, Florina!”

 “Lyn, a word?” Olivia chases Robin around the corner into one of the dark hospital rooms.

 Robin is met with three intense glares as soon as the door is closed securely behind them.

 “I know,” she says evenly, not intimidated in the least. “Save it until we’re back to the hotel.”

 She receives nothing but more stony glares as she leads her team back to the van.

 ○

 Nowi immediately races to her laptop as soon as she steps foot inside the hotel room.

 “I’ll have the payment canceled in a jiffy!” she announces with forced cheerfulness amidst the general animosity directed towards Robin.

 Robin, for her part, remains unfazed, already reaching for a bottle and glass.

 “Just let it go,” she remarks, settling down in a chair as Gaius stalks over to her, brows angled downward over his narrowed eyes.

 “Let me just get this straight so you get how stupid you are, Bubbles. We had half a million dollars, and you tossed that away. That’s enough on its own. Now you’re offering up a hundred grand of our money. Our money.”

 “Please, you know how this works. It’s just a stall.”

 “You use a stall when you have someone on the hook.”

 “Guys, please. I know what I’m doing. You’ve got to trust me. You’ve trusted me before.”

 “Not when you’re drunk like this,” Lon’qu cuts in.

 Robin pauses for a long moment, matching Lon’qu’s look with one of her own. She sighs when he shows no signs of backing down.

 “Please,” she scoffs, aiming to play it off when no other argument can be found.

 “Robin…” Olivia starts uncertainly.

 “Listen,” Gaius cuts in, pacing back over. “You’re welcome to drink yourself into a stupor for all I care, but I’m not going down with you.”

 “Pfft,” Robin tips her glass back with a snort. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re all exactly the same as you were before. Always caring about nothing but yourselves.”

 “I need to speak to Robin alone!” Olivia blurts out suddenly, standing between Robin and the others.

 “Good luck with that, Twinkletoes,” Gaius mutters, shoving a chair aside roughly on his way out. Lon’qu and Nowi follow him in similar humors.

 Olivia moves only once they are alone, turning around to face Robin in silence. Robin rolls her eyes, swirling her glass around moodily.

 “You’d better not give me some kind of ‘but we’re all family’ speech.”

 “No speeches,” Olivia shakes her head, looking down pensively for a long moment before raising her gaze to look at Robin’s eyes. “Just… a question: is this helping you?”

 Robin silently watches her bourbon swish around in her glass.

 “I-if you help Donny and his mother to keep their home and stay together, will you find some peace?”

 “Olivia, you know me,” Robin says, though she finds herself unable to meet Olivia’s eyes. “You know I can do this.”

 “I knew you two years ago, Robin.”

 “I’m still the same person.”

 “N-no. No, you’re not.”

 Robin pauses, at last tearing her eyes away from her glass to look at Olivia. The usual pity is gone from her eyes, replaced by a grim sort of acceptance. Robin lets out a sigh, feeling those two years all too well as their weight settles down in her bones.

 “No, I’m not.”

 They lapse into silence, neither one wanting to broach all of the unspoken thoughts and questions hanging between them. It’s Olivia who breaks the spell, averting her eyes as her cheeks flush pink.

 “…Sorry.”

 “It’s fine,” Robin says, though she feels far from it.

 “I-I’ll… let you sleep.”

 Olivia slips out of the room as silent as a ghost. Robin watches her glass of bourbon again for a few moments before setting it down on the counter. Slipping off her shoes, she shuffles over to the bed and falls face first into the pillow.