#re signed and resigned are two different words

[starsofshadowanddust]

everyone keeps posting about people getting re-signed but no one puts in the en dash and so I keep thinking that someone suddenly resigned from the league or from hockey and I’m honestly losing it over the emotional whiplash

[ballsbalb]

guys please resign and re-sign are two different words if i see one more person saying “RESIGN MO SALAH” im gonna cry

[holly-spell]

I need some of yall to know that “resigned” and “re-signed” are two words with VERYYY different opposing meanings…plz just use “renewed” if you don’t wanna use the dash…plz you are confusing me

[meyer-sensei]

Whenever I think back on the years we spent together in quiet trust, I still remember every word that once moved me, and still lingers in my memory. And the familiar pattern that people gradually withdraw from me without any apparent reason is harder to bear than a farewell brought by death. That, no doubt, is why it has long been lamented that raw silk must be dyed in different colours, and that paths at a crossroads must part. The desolate image in the well-known poem—“The garden of the house where once I saw her is now overgrown. Only violets bloom among the stalks of wild grass”—surely arose from just such a mood.

Commentary

Section 26 of Tsurezuregusa stands out not merely for its elegance, but for the peculiar emotional pattern it reveals in its author. While many readers have interpreted the passage as a melancholic meditation on impermanence, a closer reading—especially when considered through the lens of neurodiversity—suggests something more specific. It is not a general human truth that all friends quietly disappear without explanation. Rather, this experience may reflect Kenkō’s difficulty in interpreting the dynamics of emotional closeness—an experience that aligns strikingly with traits commonly associated with Asperger’s syndrome.

風も吹きあへずうつろふ、人の心の花に、馴れにし年月を思へば、あはれと聞きし言の葉ごとに忘れぬものから、我が世の外になりゆくならひこそ、亡き人の別れよりもまさりてかなしきものなれ。

The Emotional Logic of the Passage

Kenkō writes that when he recalls the time he spent with someone—someone whose words, once spoken with apparent sincerity, remain vividly in his memory—he feels a sorrow deeper than that caused by death. The key phrase 我が世の外になりゆくならひこそ suggests that this pattern, this "custom" of people slipping out of his life, is not exceptional but somehow expected. But this is precisely where the logic falters. The assumption that all friends inevitably drift away without any sign or reason is not typical of most people’s experience.

This tendency to generalise a singular or painful experience into a personal axiom—combined with his evident sensitivity to remembered language and unnoticed shifts in relational distance—could reflect a difficulty in intuitively gauging changes in intimacy or emotional reciprocity. The sorrow expressed is genuine, but the pattern he observes may not lie in the nature of human relationships, but in the difficulty of perceiving and interpreting them.

The Grief of Asymmetry

The grammatical structure of the passage underscores this internal contradiction. The auxiliary ば in 思へば implies repetition: "whenever I remember"—not a one-time reflection, but a recurring and involuntary re-experiencing of grief. The concessive ものから in 忘れぬものから introduces a poignant contrast: even though these words remain unforgettable, the person to whom they belonged has silently withdrawn.

Here the pain does not arise from change itself, but from the asymmetry of attachment. Kenkō remembers and still feels connected; the other has let go. The movement away is not argued, explained, or even signalled. It is this lack of outward sign—the absence of observable cause or shift—that gives the passage its unusual emotional tenor. It reads less as resignation than as confusion: How could this have happened if everything still felt real to me?

Supporting Waka

This emotional pattern is echoed in two of Kenkō’s waka that also deal with the silence and strangeness of emotional withdrawal:

たのもしげなることいひてたちわかるる人に はかなしや命も人の言の葉もたのまれぬ世を頼む我は

and:

つらくなりゆく人に 今さらに変る契りと思ふまで はかなく人を頼みけるかな

In both poems, Kenkō describes a moment when the bond he thought reliable turns out to be fleeting. In the first, someone departs after speaking promising words—leaving the speaker to reflect bitterly that neither life nor language is truly to be trusted. In the second, the speaker belatedly realises that the person’s growing coldness was a sign of change, and laments how vainly he had placed his trust in them.

These poems do not express mere romantic disappointment; they reflect a consistent emotional structure: a delayed recognition of relational loss, the absence of clear signals, and the pain of continued attachment after emotional reciprocity has quietly ceased. In this light, they reinforce the suggestion that Kenkō did not perceive gradual shifts in closeness intuitively, and thus found himself repeatedly wounded by what others may have understood, expected, or even chosen.

Misreading the Normal

The emotional claim that this kind of loss is “more sorrowful than parting through death” might seem exaggerated. But if Kenkō lacked an intuitive sense for subtle changes in emotional distance—a common difficulty for individuals with Asperger’s—then such silent estrangements would indeed be catastrophic. Death is absolute, knowable. Withdrawal without cause is not.

His grief may thus stem not only from loss, but from the inability to read the warning signs before the loss occurred. His sense of friendship may have been literal and word-based: the things people said, the time they shared. If so, the fading of the relationship in practice—without the words to explain it—would remain incomprehensible.

Conclusion

Section 26, read in this light, is not a universal reflection on impermanence, but a deeply personal lament rooted in an inability to understand the logic of emotional detachment. What Kenkō describes as the natural order of the world—a custom, a way things are—may in fact be a misreading born of a different mode of perception. His sorrow is therefore not only poetic, but diagnostic: an expression of how deeply solitude can wound when one cannot grasp the reasons why others leave.

This does not diminish the passage’s beauty. On the contrary, it sharpens its poignancy. It is the testimony of someone for whom connection, once felt, remains permanent—regardless of whether it is reciprocated.

[5ivebyfive]

I swear. I am so sick of people spelling resign when they mean re-sign. Two completely different words!! Oh, you want Blackpink to resign? Well, I want them to re-sign.

See how that works?

[princeanxious]

"Through the Bars of My Cage"(name is still a WIP bc I cannot decide on one for the life of me) aka my first post for Remus-Centric Magic au

[text from the pic above:]

-Magic AU where Remus can see all magic, can even see past glamours and spell affects. Because his own magic is wild and wont be let itself tamed, he's placed in a home for magic users struggling to harness their magic, for the safety of themselves and the general public.

-His magic can manifest in the form of tentacles, especially when excited/overwhelmed

-signs as an easy means to speak when words are too much, and has specific signals for his tics, specifically a 'scream/shout' tic that happens when hes very stressed

-Roman made him a wooden Octopus fidget toy. It's his Favorite toy.

[End of text from image]

Under the cut is the rest of my ramble for this au:

I was going over a few different ideas bc I didn't know where to go with it but

The whole thing is that remus's magic is very chaotic but he suffers from a magical phenomenon that causes ones magic to have difficulty being harness-able the way one uses magic to cast spells, ect. But can still physically manifest and requires an outlet for pent-up magic to release itself to be healthy. So, Remus, like his Brother, has powerful magic within him, but because he specifically suffers from this, it leaves his magic untamed, and often pent up, making his body an erratic and dangerous conduit

But, like i said, there are ways he can work around the phenomenon, it just requires alot more effort on re's end to use his magic

But one of the scenes i was thinking of was of showing off how his magic manifests unconciously, aka through sight.

He has no control over ot, but he can see right through things like Glamours and /know/ that he's seeing through a glamour(bc people dont often walk around with chromatic-like glitter glued to their whole face, usually, yknow?) and see when things are enchanted or when a spell has affected something, or when a curse looms

So, said scene involves a very Glamoured Janus coming to visit him for whatever reason, theyve never met before, but he has a glamour to cover half his face.

Maybe hes a visitor to the home/center that Remus stays in, come to keep people company who have very little, like Remus, ect. And Remus sees right through it

But he knows well enough not to bother saying anything bc this man is very nice and very funny and doesnt treat him rudely

And maybe he lets it slip quietly that the green scales that cover half the mans face are fucking gorgeous, and grins when the man flushes and double checks his glamour, only to get a wink in return from Remus that he's good. "Glamours cant hide much from my eyes, but dont worry, I think theyre[jan's scales] pretty fucking awesome if you ask me"

And maaaaybe Janus keeps coming back for him, to meet him and talk about his progress, because Remus's magic is very fickle and very mean and most of the center-staff just dont know how to deal w/ him and often just resign to letting his magic fester.(not good, but i never said he was in a particularly /good/ place)

(Since his magic is often left to fester, it develops itself on itsown, and thus manifests the tentacles mimicking his favorite toy)

Roman visits him as often as he can?? But he's also having to work to support himself and his brother obvi

But thats kinda all ive got thats actually solidified

One of the thoughts i had was that janus could be a prince

And maybe he'd have his advisor Logan with him during these meetings, and they realize that, one: wow this kid(Remus is like. 17. Roman is also such but Roman's got a secured place to stay) is powerful in a very unique way, and two: this kid and his brother are in a very bad living situation. Like. This isnt fair to eother of them. Remus is v obviously the patient thwt gets neglected the Most bc hes been deemed 'unfixable' but Janus and Logan, and especially Roman, see right through that lie. So they offer to transfer Remus to the castle instead, where Logan can work 1v1 with Remus to actually harness his magic. He will probably never be able to fully control it, like most magic users can, but thats bc Remus's magic is rare enough that its powerful enough to nearly be its own self. His magic does what it wants, thank you. It simply just doednt have hold of the trigger. Remus does. So the best hes really gonna get is learning to work with his magic and go with the flow they make together, rather than forcing either side to take control. As soon as Remus grasps that method of practice, he makes a fuckton of progress in just. Unleashing all that pent up magic.

"My magic wants to manifest like 18 tentacles!"

"Well, could you?"

"Mmm dunno? Most I've ever gotten to was 6 before.. Well, before I was told to put them back, anyway!"

"..I see. Well. Go on, then. Let's shoot for.. 10?"

"Wait, seriously?"

"Obviously. Necktie.

If you can, and you can deduce that it, 1: wont cause harm, 2: wont break valuables, and 3: will bug you more if you don't do it and thus feel worse when you hold it in, then I do not see a problem with opening the metaphorical 'floodgates'. You and your brother share the magic core of creativity. Your core is starved. Let it out, let it play, and in turn, you will begin to thrive and feel more okay."

Manifesting 8 purple rubber ducks! Toads appearing on stools, castle paintings occasionally swirling to life, puppies that can sing, 4-6-10-15 tentacles! Manifested! all! the time! Gils for swimming in the lake! A streak of hair grown white, flipping from walking upright to on the ceiling! It's.. Really chaotic, but mostly just temporary. He's put in a more secluded part of the castle to start off, bc they really cant tell his cores intent yet, but it seems to match Remus quite well the moment hes given the greenlight to match it.

It's just. Enthusiastic curiosity! It's random and fleeing and while it took an hour or two to really gain momentem, by the end of the sixth hour, Remus all but crashes tiredly into his brothers waiting arms, and the rest of them all watch as most of the chaos melts away, back to the way itd been, as if practically untouched by magic as he drifts to sleep from sheer exhaustion.

He doesn't really reach morbid and creepy for a bit while theyre still young but by the time he does, he has built enough balance with his core that that shit doesnt manifest on reflex

Aaaand that's about all ive got so far???

[swbumblebee]

“Stop it.”

Mace Windu was a Jedi Master, and as such had years of training resulting in near limitless patience.

A limit, however, that his closest companion and partner in time-travel was testing with his constant pacing. And huffing.

Plo Koon ignored his request. Mace sighed.

“Would you just sit down? You’re not going to bring them home any quicker and you’re wearing down my rug” he warned.  

Plo looked at him, looked down at the rug, and continued pacing.

“I don’t know what you’re worried about” Mace continued, happily ignoring the sulky silence. “We know their mission goes well, we’ve done this before!” he exclaimed. “It’s a resounding success and half a planet ends up with a crush on Obi-Wan.” He said matter-of-fact.

He felt a reluctant pulse of amusement from Plo in the Force, as much as the man tried to keep it off his face. Mace could always tell.

He stood up, joining him in front of the sofa.

“Nobody gets blown up, nobody gets injured.” He reminded gently. “The Tume agreement is signed, as it is every year, and they both live to worry us another day” he said kindly.

Plo shook his head.

“I know how it went last time. I remember the debate” he corrected. “But things could be different my friend, we have changed the timeline. The smallest difference could be vital, and we have made a very large difference.” Plo explained, in his usual measured voice. “We have altered young Anakin’s temperament; Force only knows that he’ll do. And Obi-Wan has much less to prove.”

Mace frowned. His friend was making some irritatingly good points, but he remembered the two boys standing in the council room not one week ago; a familiar determined glint in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s eye that, in the coming years, would move planets, and Skywalker looking up at all the Masters as if they hung the stars.

“They will not disappoint us” Mace said surely.

Plo stopped.

“I know” he sighed. “I just…worry. It is most unbecoming of a Jedi” the Kel Door admitted.

Mace smiled.

“We are no longer typical Jedi my friend, and you are not the only one.”

It was true. Despite his words of reassurance, waving the two off in the hanger had brought a distinct clench in his stomach, and the training droids in the dojo had had a very long week.

Both froze, two very familiar force presences making themselves known, and not a moment later Mace’s commlink chirped shrilly.

They grinned at each other.

“Windu”

“Master, Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker have just requested permission to land” the unidentified voice on the other end of the call informed them professionally.

“Thank you, Windu out.” He closed the link without a second thought, already grabbing his cloak and joining Plo, standing impatiently, by the door.

“Wait – we can’t both go!” Mace exclaimed, the thought suddenly occurring to him as Plo reached for the door control.  

The other Jedi looked at him, clearly irritated.

“Why not?”

Mace rolled his eyes. One of them had to be sensible.

“Plo, how’s that going to look? Two senior council members waiting for a new Knight and a Junior Padawan? People already think we’re too close” he exclaimed, frustrated with his friend.

Whilst they both had a wildly different attitude towards the A Word (developed over the course of the war and in their new situation) appearances were something they had to be mindful of.

Whilst his expression did not change, the Force around Plo expressed just how much of a toss he gave about appearances.

His friend folded his arms.

“Alright, we can re-convene at the flat later. I will meet them in the hanger.” He said calmly, as if it was some kind of compromise.  

Mace raised one eyebrow.

“Any why do you get to welcome them home?” he asked archly.

“You waved them off” Plo said simply. “It is my turn.”

“Ah that’s not how-Plo!” he cried out, outraged as Plo quickly opened the door and strode out into the corridor, pushing Mace gently back with the Force whilst he made his escape.

Leaving the Master of the Order spluttering at the injustice of it all, in his wake.

---

Plo was working hard to keep his happiness behind his shields as he strode into the hanger just in time to see the temple shuttle land. He ran a critical eye over it, having a sudden vision of Skywalker’s battered old ship in that first timeline. As liable to explode as it was to put the wipers on.

Thank goodness that was a bridge to be crossed in the future. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for Anakin adopting ships.

Obi-Wan ruffled young Anakin’s hair, laughing as the boy tried to squirm away, as they descended the ramp. The playful scowl on Anakin’s face transformed into excitement as he sensed Plo and turned to him, held back from running over for his usual hug by his Master’s lightning quick reflexes, grabbing a wrist and holding him back.

Plo sent a wave of welcome over to them both in the Force as they came closer, a genuine smile on Obi-Wan’s face and Anakin practically buzzing with excitement.

Obi-Wan bowed deeply in respect, clearly nudging Anakin through their training bond to do the same, and the boy hastily followed suit.

Plo held a hand up and nodded at them both as they rose smiling. Both looked absolutely fine, perhaps Obi-Wan a little tired, but Plo had a feeling that was more to do with the energetic ten-year -old he’d just spent a week with, than the challenge of the mission.

“Welcome back” Plo once again pushed his pleasure at them in the Force. Predictably, Obi-Wan’s eyes slid away from looking him in the face, but he smiled gratefully all the same as Plo plucked the bulky pack out of his hands and shouldered it. Anakin nearly skipped as they all headed towards the exit and made for the Kenobi/Skywalker residence.

“Thank you Master, it’s good to see you-“

“Master Plo, it was so wizard we went in a hyperlane and the pilot let me sit up front and Chose was awesome Master it was hailing when we got there, like really hard rain! And they had massive beds and loads of puddings and me and Master Obi-Wan went to a play with singing-“

As the child rambled excitedly on, Plo shared a bemused look with a resigned Obi-Wan, sending him a wave of amused sympathy at him in the Force. Received with a dry raise of the young man’s eyebrows.

It must have been a long week for the twenty-three-year-old.

Content to let the child’s happiness wash over him, and Obi-Wan appearing to enjoy the lack of expected contribution for once, the journey to the flat was mostly uneventful, only a few Jedi casting them amused looks at Anakin’s wild gesticulating.

“Anakin, Obi-Wan!”

They were stopped from keying in the door code by Mace’s cry of greeting as he rounded the corner towards the little group. Ignoring Plo he went straight up to the boys, Anakin beaming at him and Obi-Wan bowing once again.

“Master”

“Hi Master Mace! Guess what? We saw hail on Chose and-

“Anakin” Obi-Wan blissfully interrupted before the whole recount could begin again. “Why don’t we get inside and get the tea on and then you can tell Master Mace and Master Plo all about our mission” he suggested firmly, in a way that was definitely not a suggestion.

“Yes Master”

Obi-Wan keyed in their code and stepped inside, Anakin following happily kicking off his boots by the door.

Mace, still giving Plo the cold shoulder, stepped inside first. And made a distinct noise of surprise. Plo followed curiously looking over his shoulder.

“Obi-Wan – what happened?” he asked, aghast.

Plo held back an unseemly laugh.

The flat was a tip.

There were robes on the floor, he spotted two pairs of boots sticking out from under the sofa and a discarded pack under the table. What looked like the entire Temple’s supply of mugs were scattered on almost every surface, alongside precariously stacked datapads and flimsy piles on the tables and on the floor, some of which had fallen over.

As he picked his way across the room, avoiding random bits of droid and one or two power tools, Plo could spy a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the kitchen counter when he peered inside, and about three days worth of washing up. A laundry basket was sitting next to the washing machine, overflowing with brown and beige.

The two young Jedi stood awkwardly in the middle of the flat.

Obi-Wan flushed a little.

“Ah, we left on quite short notice” he offered.

“I don’t think it’s that bad really” Anakin offered with an awkward shrug, slyly kicking something further under the sofa.

“This is….” Mace was lost for words. Whilst Plo hadn’t spent much time in Master Kenobi’s home the first time around, he had always thought the man to be fastidiously clean, and what he had seen had been very tidy.

Anakin however, was no surprise.

Plo could sense Mace doing the same thing he was, adding “domestic help” to the Obi-Wan Support List. They’d been so focussed on studies and their boy’s personal development they completely forgot that the Knight had never lived by himself before, never mind taken care of a youngling!

Obi-Wan apologetically shoved some pads and an old robe off the sofa to make space and disappeared into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

The two Masters sat down gingerly. Anakin on the floor opposite.

“Your mission was a success?” Plo asked conversationally as Obi-Wan reappeared with the mugs of tea. Plo caught Mace peering at the rim for signs of prior use, and gave him a look.  

“Yeah” Anakin answered before Obi-Wan could get a word in “the Chosians didn’t like me at first but they really liked Master Obi-Wan and they spent ages talking. And people kept giving him stuff.” The boy explained with a disgusted expression. “Flowers and cakes and-“

“Yes thank you Padawan” Obi-Wan interrupted loudly, his ears turning a rather bright shade of pink. Mace smirked at him and Plo sent his partner a mental swat.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“The mission was a success and the Tume Agreement has been updated and signed.” The Knight took a sip of his tea. “We will not need to go back for a while, it should be valid for another ten years” he finished casually as if accomplishing something no Jedi had managed before, on his first mission, was an afterthought.

Mace and Plo shared a look.

Just like last time.

It was a huge relief that their presence had had no adverse effects on the Negotiator’s skills. As Plo sat and listened to Mace congratulate the blushing young man he had a thought.

What could these two, The Team; the best Jedi of his generation and the most powerful force user ever, accomplish with the support of Mace and Plo this time around?

The Sith had better pack their bags. He thought smugly.

---

To get a feel for the whole set up of Obi-Wan Anakin’s first mission when they were assigned it “the first time around” read this Snippet Of Nothing, which is the mission being discussed, and is from the councils point of view. 

[peachtree-dish]

Chapter 5: Acqua agitata

13 ottobre 1969

There were many things that Luca loved in Signora Mia’s casa, besides the woman herself. He had been fascinated for his first few weeks in Genoa exploring all her books, odds and ends, and souvenirs. When she had first separated from Massimo, Mia had traveled all over Europe spending time in Greece, France, and Whales. From each country, she’d brought home at least one object or decoration, each one holding a special story and memory. Being an artist meant that she had many paintings, most of which were created by her hand, and every wall had been hand-painted by her design. On one wall, in particular, she had painted a colorful homage to the coast of Porto Rosso, featuring Massimo’s house and a detailed view of the town square. This was Luca’s particular favorite, and often while both Mia and Giulia were sleeping at night, he’d sit in front of that mural and read, letting the bright colors wash away his homesickness.

While she was never to be seen without a paintbrush in hand, Mia was also meticulous about keeping her furniture and floors paint-free, any splotches or spills were lovingly restricted to her paint room. Said room opened as both Luca and Giulia walked down the hallway, shredding backpacks, and school jackets as they went.

“Already home, miei cari? The day went by fast!” Mia briskly wiped her paintbrush down and stuck it in the front pocket of her jumper. “Hey, you ragazzi know better than to leave your stuff in the hallway!” She danced around the dropped articles of clothing and made her way into the kitchen space, watching in amusement as both teens sheepishly put the cookie jar back on the counter, a large Amaretti stuffed in their mouths.

“Scusa,” they both mumbled. Luca was the first to return to the disorganized hallway, pressing a crumb-filled kiss to Mia’s cheek in greeting before running to take his things to his bedroom. Nerone yapped playfully at his feet, eagerly hoping for any sweet leftovers as the teen dashed into his room and threw his coat and book bag on the chair by the window. Unlike Giulia’s room in Porto Rosso, there was no direct view of the ocean, however, on clear days he could make out the familiar blue outline above the orange rooftops of Genoa. Today the skies promised rain and Luca briefly wondered if the storm had already hit Alberto and Massimo.

As he pulled the necessary work from his bag, a blue paper slipped out and fell gracefully to the floor. Picking it up, Luca was reminded of his gym teacher’s earlier announcement. The thought made him wince as he re-read the glaring title: Maturazione e salute sessuale. Luca had hoped that he had escaped such discussion from his family during the summer; apparently, he would not be so lucky at school. Deciding to leave the permission slip for later, he grabbed his schoolwork and left the paper on his bed. Luca and Nerone made their way back into the kitchen where Giulia was already sat and speaking animatedly to her mother.

“Signora Bianchi explained energy to us today in earth sciences and said that it can’t be destroyed, only transferred,” Mia nodded as she pulled out a large circular pan before lighting the oven. If his intuition was right, and it usually was when it came to food, that meant pizza.

“And in math, we’ve been adding l’alfabeto in our equations; I wish they wouldn’t do that, it makes everything more complicated,” Giulia groused, pulling out her own math assignments.

“It’s easy if you think about it as balancing the equation,” Luca suggested, unsurprised when Giulia responded by glaring at him across the table.

“But the equation doesn’t look unbalanced to me. Besides,” she rolled her eyes, “why do we care what x is? Maybe x doesn’t want to be found.” Luca snorted and returned to his writing assignment, absentmindedly scratching Nerone’s head as he thought.

“Ah, bambini, not to worry, in three short years you won’t have to worry so much, although,” Mia mused, pressing the dough onto the counter, “if you both study some form of science, I’m afraid math is a must.” She pressed a kiss to Giulia’s forehead when she groaned, laughing with mirth.

“Also, don’t forget that tomorrow is mail day, any letters you have, need to be ready to send and on the table before you go to school, si?”

“Grazie, Signora Mia,” Luca thanked, now thoroughly distracted from his assignment, and wondering how he was going to fit this week’s events into Alberto’s letter.

“How’s your painting, mama?” Giulia asked a few moments later, obviously avoiding the equations that remained blank on her page.

“Benissimo, amore mio, I think my customer will really like it, they wanted something unique, and I doubt they’ll be disappointed!” Signora Mia flipped her wooden spoon in hand and gently nudged her daughter’s shoulder with the handle. “However, I think your professore will indeed be disappointed if you turn in a blank assignment.” Well and truly defeated, Giulia glumly returned to her homework, her expression forlorn.

After trudging through homework and eating a delicious Margherita pizza, the small family of three gathered into the sitting room and played a few rounds of Scopa, Signora Mia’s favorite.

“Aha!” the artist crowed, slapping her cards down in victory, “I win, again!” Luca groaned in defeat, placing his cards next to Giulia’s he sat back and popped his neck. Giulia had resigned herself to fate long ago and simply accepted her loss with a sigh.

“I still think you have a secret strategy that you haven’t shown me yet, mama.” She grumbled good-naturedly. Her mother shrugged smugly as she cleaned up the cards.

“Or the divine simply has favorites,” Stretching her arms, Mia stood to diffuse the fire. “You both have everything you need for tomorrow, vero?” Giulia nodded while Luca paused.

“Actually, Signora, there’s a paper I need you to sign,” He tapered off, fingers twitching nervously. The woman stared blankly at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Ah, it’s part of my health class, I’ll go fetch it for you.” Ears burning, Luca quickly returned with the offending paper and placed it face down in Mia’s waiting hand. As her eyes alighted upon the title, sudden understanding filled her expression and she smiled sympathetically at the embarrassed teen. Giulia peered over her mother’s shoulder and frowned in confusion.

“How come I didn’t get one?”

“Your puberty course happened two years ago, tesoro, this is a continuation for everyone a few years older.” Mia patted Giulia’s face, which contorted into horror at the memory, “I imagine your sex education will start next year.” She mused, her eyes crinkling with unhidden amusement.

“No, grazie, that presentation was enough to last a lifetime, I don’t need to know more.” The small redhead made a face of disgust as she fled the room. “Good luck, Lu!” She called before closing her bedroom door with finality.

Luca and Signora Mia sat for a moment staring at each other, Luca growing redder with each passing second and Mia showing no inclination of saving him from embarrassment.

“So…” perhaps if he prayed hard enough, the ground would swallow him whole. Nerone snored unhelpfully at the side of his chair.

“So, cosa?” She was merciless. Luca’s head began to inch farther between his shoulders.

“Will you sign the slip for me?” he mumbled, eyes nailed to the colorful rug below him.

Mia broke the tension with a laugh, which startled Luca enough to look at her beaming expression.

“Well, the question is if you really want me to,” she motioned to the paper, “if we’re being honest, caro, they won’t teach you much. If you’d prefer, I can answer your questions along with Giulia, or you may go to the presentation with your classmates. The choice is yours, really.” She handed the slip back to him, and he bit his lip in thought as he scanned the dreadful title over with his eyes.

“I think I want to do a bit of both, but” he pressed his teeth harder into his bottom lip nervously, “I’d rather ask questions without Giulia if that’s all right?” Mia smiled warmly at him before nodding her consent.

“Molto bene, what would like to know? I’m not sure if things will be different for you because of your biology, but perhaps some things will cross over.” She sat back in thought and waited patiently for Luca to form his thoughts into words.

“Why don’t we start with what you know, hm?” She pressed gently. Ok, that shouldn’t be too hard, right? Luca felt his stomach drop as he thought.

“W-well, I know that eggs are formed from two mates and that males and females are physically different. That’s…that’s all I know I think.” His nerves started to fade as he thought about what information he had, his logical side pushing his emotions out of the way. “Oh, and I know that girls have their cycles every month to prepare their bodies for new eggs.” He had learned that particular lesson last year when Giulia’s cycle started for the first time. Luca remembered vividly how she had been in pain for nearly a week and often had to wash her clothes and sheets when the bleeding became too heavy. Giulia had learned over the year how to manage it better and be prepared, but Luca did not envy her one bit.

“Do female sea people experience cycles?” Mia interrupted. Luca screwed his face in thought; he couldn’t remember his mother or grandmother mentioning anything.

“I’m not sure, I think there has to be something similar, but I don’t think they have blood cycles.”

Mia hummed in thought. “Is that all you know?” She continued when Luca nodded.

“Well, that’s a good place to start. Maybe let’s talk about the basics, okay?”

They spoke for longer than expected and Luca surprised himself with how many questions he had the more Signora Mia explained.

By the time the first hand on the clock reached one, Luca’s eyelids had begun to grow unbearably heavy, and the fire had become a gentle glow of embers.

“Bene, I think it’s time we both head to bed, no?” Luca nodded his head gratefully. As he bid the older woman goodnight, he stopped short at his door and turned back to Giulia’s mother with renewed trepidation.

“Signora, one more thing?” The artist paused in turn, her bleary eyes focusing on the youth.

“Is it possible for two people of the same…well, the same gender to experience that kind of relationship?” His heart pounded as he waited for her response, and he felt as if his lungs had stopped working properly. The Signora’s eyes immediately sharpened into focus, her gaze appeared to see right through him, and Luca began to fear that she could read his mind.

Then, as if satisfied with what she found, the older woman’s gaze softened, and she smiled again. “Any form of love is a gift, Luca. And while some people may not accept such relations, it is not uncommon for men to find happiness with other men, nor for women to do so with other women. And” she smiled ruefully, “some prefer to not have any relations, sexual or romantic.”

Luca eased his grip on the doorframe and offered his thanks before he hurriedly closed the door. He pressed his back against the white wood, its coolness seeping through his shirt and into his flushed skin. He couldn’t quite admit why that specific question had tumbled out of his mouth, but throughout their conversation images of Alberto and him together had entered his mind and now refused to leave.

Groaning dejectedly into his hands, the brunette threw himself onto the bed and buried himself beneath the covers, begging his mind to stop.

22 Octubre 1969

Walking the hallways alongside Giulia often helped Luca feel grounded where he would otherwise feel distant and out of place. While those of his class were aware of his true form, other grades did not, and he preferred it that way. However, whether they knew or not, Luca often felt like the proverbial ‘fish out of water’, full pun intended. It wasn’t that anyone made him feel different or were unwelcoming, quite the contrary, but Luca couldn’t help but feel isolated at times. With Giulia being a grade younger, their only time shared was before school, during lunch break, and their time at home. The one person he did consider to be a friend and true ally, was Donte Castello, who was quite happy to accompany both him and Giulia in between classes. “Vero, but what was the point of tricking their families if they weren’t going to at least communicate the plan to each other? They could have easily lived and avoided the whole fiasco.” Dante pinched two thick fingers together in exasperation, his expression one of exaggerated disappointment.

“They had to be convincing! I’m not saying it was smart, but you have to admit that teenagers aren’t the best people to trust with secrets.” Giulia rolled her eyes as if this were the most obvious fact in the world. Dante dramatically slapped his hand across his forehead, pretending to faint.

“Are you calling me untrustworthy, Marcovaldo? I feel wounded,” He draped himself pathetically across Luca who stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden weight.

“Are you listening, Paguro? Will you not defend your favorite classmate?” Giulia snorted while Luca chuckled. He patted Dante’s back consolingly.

“I’m sure, you’ll make a quick recovery, Castello.” The taller boy pouted before returning to his upright position.

“Bene, now I know to not come to you when I need anything,” Dante grumbled. His pouting was cut short when a mass of black curls and dark skin ran right into his side. Being nearly the height of Massimo and on his way to being of the same build, Dante hardly budged from his spot. The torpedo that was unsuccessful in sinking his ship, however, had landed on the floor in a dazed heap.

Luca had never seen such curly hair in his life, which was saying something when one considered he knew both Alberto and Giulia. The girl blinked owlishly at the trio before her, her face panicked. She couldn’t have been much older than Giulia, with skin the color of rich coffee and eyes that shined like honey.

“Mi dispiace,” she squeaked, jumping to her feet, and flattening her clothes before ducking into a doorway next to them.

From down the hallway, students were ducking out of the way as a group of students made their way angrily through the corridors. Choruses of laughter followed them, and it soon became clear as to why. Two girls were drenched with water, their makeup creating colorful rivers down their cheeks and splotches on their shirts. The three boys next to them looked as if they had lost a fight with the school trash cans, their scowls just as terrifying as the smell. Luca and Giulia instantly stepped in front of the doorway, further shielding the mystery girl from sight. Once they passed, Dante turned around to face the quivering youth, his arms crossed.

“I don’t suppose that mess had anything to do with you, eh ragazza?” The girl winced when three pairs of eyes focused on her, and she shrank even more.

“They were trying to hurt me,” she mumbled.

“What would a bunch of upperclassmen want with you?” Dante narrowed his eyes disbelievingly. The young girl jutted her chin out defiantly and glared back. “Let’s just say I’m different and they didn’t like that. Are you going to be just like them?”

Luca raised his hands and placed himself between them, not wanting to start any more drama before lunch. “E abbastanza, ragazzi. No, we’re not like them,” he stared pointedly at Dante, who eventually relaxed and shrugged his shoulders in surrender. “I’m Luca Paguro, these are my friends, Giulia Marcovaldo and Dante Castello.” The teen offered his hand, and the girl reluctantly shook it, her expression of distrust clear.

“Luisa Corallina, piacere.”

“You’re new aren’t you? I thought I saw you in the first period.” Giulia asked, her head tilted in contemplation. Luisa nodded reluctantly, her gaze uneasy.

“I… my family just moved here from Sicily this week.”

“Woah, that’s a long way, it must’ve taken you forever to drive that far.”

Luisa merely lifted her shoulder in response, her anxiety only increasing. Luca nudged her empathetically, he knew what it was like to prefer privacy.

“Well, you’re welcome to hang with us-”

“There you are you little puttana!” A furious voice interrupted the group, and Luisa turned pale when she heard the screech.

The group of soaked and smelly teens had returned, their expressions were mutinous. The girl with shoulder-length blonde hair whipped her hand out, pushing Luca aside in the process, and snatched Luisa by the arm. Her soaked touch instantly turned Luca’s arm blue with scales, much to his chagrin.

“I’m going to make you pay for your little magic show stunt, witch.” Luisa bared her teeth, which suddenly appeared to be sharper. Before Luca could step in, Dante was already using his large stature to separate the two girls from one another.

“Calmati, Aurora. I’d hate to see this get ugly.” Dante stared down the furious teen, who scowled in return.

“Stay out of this, Castello,” One of the older boys spoke. He isn’t quite as big as Dante, but he stood at least a foot taller. “This little urchin needs to be taught a lesson.” He leaned over imposingly. Dante rolled his eyes and merely scoffed.

“If a puny freshman can cause that much damage to a bunch of upperclassmen, I think it’s you five who need a lesson. Get on your way before I tell my mother about this, I’m sure she’d be happy to discuss this and your future program applications in her office.” He raised an eyebrow at the unsettled group, his stance unmoving. They were saved by a response when the bell rang, signaling the start of classes. Auror stomped her foot angrily before pointing a finger at Dante.

“You keep that witch away from us. If I catch her alone, it’s over.” She sliced a finger across her neck menacingly before being pulled away by her shorter friend. When they finally disappeared for good, the group heaved a collective sigh of relief.

“I wonder if she’s related to Ercole. I had no idea there’d be two empires of evil to destroy.” Giulia mused.

“What is it with girls being so dramatic,” Dante asked, looking rather bewildered. Giulia slapped his arm indignantly with a shout of “hey!”.

“That just proves my point!”

Ignoring the bickering behind him, Luca turned back to Luisa, intent on checking she was okay, only to find her staring blankly at his arm. To his horror, his arm was still damp, and his scales glistened under the damp white fabric of his arm.

“I-it’s just a birthmark!” He squeaked, instantly wishing he could slap himself. What kind of sane person would believe that?! “You’re just like me,” Luisa whispered, her golden eyes turned hopeful.

“What?” Luisa pushed her own arm towards him, pink scales formed perfectly beneath a handprint.

“Mostro marino,” Luisa breathed.

“Ah, merda, here we go again.” Dante groaned.

[heademptynothoughts]

Close My Eyes and Feel My Chest Beating Like Thunder

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: i suck at summaries so check out this post for what the fic is about. the title is of course from finally free because that song is a coming out anthem and no one can convince me otherwise. i wrote this in 2 days which is insane and it was honestly one of the best writing experiences of my life, so i’m super excited to share it with you guys and i hope you like it :)

Alex

Realistically, Alex knew that Julie would accept him. He knew that the world as a whole was a lot more accepting than it had been twenty-five years ago. He knew that Julie was kind and caring and that she loved him and the boys with her whole heart. She was one of his best friends. Yet, Alex couldn’t help the doubt that trickled in, couldn’t help the past that weighed him down and the fear of the worst that always arose when he thought too hard about it. Because the worst had already happened once. People he loved, who he thought had loved him, abandoned him when they found out the truth, when he told them the truth. Because love wasn’t always unconditional, and sometimes the conditions were too much to bear.

Realistically, Alex knew that everything would turn out alright once he finally worked up the courage to come out to Julie, but that didn’t stop the voice in his head from running through every single thing that could possibly go wrong if he did. So he kept quiet. Because for the first time in a long time, (after)life was good. He was happy, the band was doing great, and they could actually touch Julie (which had kind of freaked him out at first once the initial euphoria wore off because none of it made sense but he really truly loved having the ability). He didn’t want to screw it all up. So he kept quiet and asked Luke and Reggie to keep quiet too. Because he wasn’t ready yet, and didn’t know if or when he ever would be.

Julie

If there was one thing the boys lacked, it was subtlety. Julie knew that Alex was hiding something from her. She knew that it had to do with his friend Willie and she was pretty sure she knew exactly what it was. She was just waiting for Alex to tell her.

After coming home from school and finishing up her homework, Julie went into the garage. Luke was on the couch, notebook in hand, foot tapping as he scratched out lyrics while Reggie was sitting on a stool across the room, trying out different base lines. They both looked up at her with smiles on their faces when they noticed her arrival.

“Jules, perfect timing. I need help with this pre-chorus and Reggie keeps suggesting country riffs.”

“Hey! You’ll thank me for those one day.”

Julie chuckled and took another glance around the room, “Where’s Alex?”

“Oh, he’s with his ghost friend,” Reggie said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, hanging out with Willieee,” Luke added, smirking.

The two of them then shared a look, eyes wide, and immediately schooled their faces into neutral expressions. Yep, subtlety really wasn’t their strong suit. But Julie chose to ignore it, knowing that Alex would tell her himself when he was ready.

Two or three hours later, Alex poofed into the garage. Even if she hadn’t asked the boys, she would’ve still known that he had been out with Willie. His face was flushed and he was softly smiling as he stared starry-eyed off into the distance. Julie knew the signs even if Alex wouldn’t say anything.

“How’s Willie?” she asked, hoping it would open the conversation up for him to tell her what she already knew.

Just like Reggie and Luke had done earlier, Alex schooled his face into a neutral expression. “He’s good” was all he said as he sat down on the couch beside Julie and rested his head on her shoulder.

Julie kissed the top of his head, and rested her own head on top of his. She felt Alex relax against her and closed her eyes, perfectly happy to just be sitting there with him. She would wait however long it takes, content with the knowledge that their friendship was strong, that she loved him and he loved her, and that nothing would ever change that.

Alex

It was time. Alex was ready. All he had to do was wait for Julie to come into the garage. Except the wait was killing him and he didn’t know what to do with himself, and why oh why did he decide that today was the day? He knew why though. Because it was only a matter of time before Luke or Reggie slipped up since neither of them could keep a secret, especially not from Julie. Because they had told him that he should just do it already and reassured him that everything would be fine. Because Willie had held his hand and listened to him talk about all his fears about what could go wrong and convinced him that it would all work out in the end.

Enter Julie.

It was time. Alex was ready. All he had to do was say two little words. Except his heart was beating out of his chest and it was getting hard to breathe and he couldn’t stop pacing and he was digging his nails into his palms and it was too much too much too much.

He didn’t know when Julie had crossed the room to get to him. All he knew was that his hands were in hers now and she was dragging him towards the couch. She pulled him down, still gripping his hands tightly, as she sat down next to him, snuggled into his side and put her head on his shoulder, staying like that until his breathing was back to normal. When he had finally relaxed, Julie looked up at him with soft eyes, telling him that no matter what it was they would get through it together. Alex took a deep breath, released it, and said those two little words.

“I’m gay.”

The first time he said those words to someone, it was met with smiles and hugs and cheering. He had been surrounded by his friends, his bandmates, his brothers, and he had never felt more joyful.

The second time he said those words to someone, it was met with denial and disappointment and silence. He had been surrounded by his mother, his father, his sister, and he had never felt more alone.

The third time he said those words to someone, it was met with a smile and a hug and the promise that he was loved, that nothing would ever change that. He was with his favourite girl in the world, and he had never felt more safe.

Julie

Julie and Alex were still cuddled up on the couch when Luke and Reggie poofed in. Reggie immediately grinned and jumped on top of them, “Cuddle pile!”

Alex groaned, “No, you oaf!” before a resigned, “Okay…” left his lips.

Luke ruffled Alex’s hair and squeezed himself into the middle of the group so that he was touching all of them at once, “I’m assuming everything went well today?”

Julie smiled at Alex and interlocked their pinkies. Alex smiled back and replied, “Yeah, all good.”

They stayed like that until Julie was called in for dinner and as she untangled herself from her boys, she felt an overwhelming amount of love wash over her. This was the happiest she had been in a while and she was so glad that Alex now trusted her with such an important part of himself.

After dinner, Julie returned to the garage and grabbed Alex, taking him up to her room. She sat down cross-legged on her bed and patted the space across from her. Alex sat down where she had motioned and looked at her with his eyebrows raised.

Julie giggled, excited, “Alright, tell me everything about Willie.”

Alex blushed, “Okay,” and launched into a detailed re-telling of every moment he and Willie had spent together from their first meeting to screaming in a museum to their hug outside the Orpheum to every other moment he could think of. He went on about Willie’s hair and eyes and laugh and the fact that he called him Hotdog. Julie sat back, taking it all in, just enjoying listening to Alex talk and seeing him so happy.

When Alex was done, though, he turned the tables on her, “So what about you and Luke?”

Julie hid her face in her hands and peeked up at him through her fingers, “Is it that obvious?”

“To everyone but him, yeah.”

So for the rest of the night, the two of them went back and forth talking about Willie and Luke, teasing each other about their crushes, and really just talking about everything and nothing.

Alex

The next day, Alex was sitting at his drum kit ready to start rehearsing when Julie walked up behind him. She swung an arm around his shoulders and spoke into his ear, telling him that he should invite Willie over some time.

Alex smiled, his heart full, and readily agreed.

[ettawritesnstudies]

A New Town

This is the wild result of Weswin and Alric taking over my brain for the night having me write 6 pages in under 2 hours. This scene will MAYBE be from Book 2 of the main Lacohe trilogy if I decide to keep it, but for now I wanted to share because I thought it was cool

1254 words. tw: depersonalization

While Weswin went to barter with the gatekeeper for entrance to the town, Alric wandered over to the notice board and gazed over the various flyers and posted warnings. He noticed one corner in particular – plastered with bounties for various criminals and highwaymen. He squinted at them in the red setting sunlight, searching for if any looked familiar, then glanced over his shoulder at his traveling companion. The red hair faded into an auburn and freckles disappeared as he approached. Alric blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. He ought to keep an eye on that one, to make sure he didn’t lose him the minute he wandered away. He was about to turn around to re-join Weswin when his partner shook hands with the guard and hurried over to the notice board, shoving their papers in his knapsack.

“We’re good to go in! He said that there’s a tavern in want of entertainment just a block off the main plaza. We can head there, and barter for lodging for the night.” He said, handing over the directions so that he could look them over.

“Sounds like a good a plan as any,” Alric mumbled, turning away from the board. Now, Weswin squinted at the posters over his shoulder.

“Are you wanted?” He asked.

Alric scoffed, “Not here, thank the gods.”

He’d be wanted by no-one but the mages, if they knew what he’d done.

“Where then?”

Alric started at that. He shot Weswin a scowl. “You shouldn’t ask about that so close to the guards,” he hissed, jerking his head back towards the gate.

“Aw, they don’t care. As long as you’re not their problem. Hell, if you ticked off the right people they might welcome you as a hero, fanfare and all.”

“And you’d know?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been run out of….” He paused and counted on his fingers. “Six towns now. And treated like a prince in two. Not looking to improve that record though. The last one was a long time ago. I’ve gotten better at being inconspicuous.”

As he stood near Alric, his hair turned back to the jet black that it had been when they were alone together in the woods. He shrugged and shifted his lute onto his other shoulder.

Alric narrowed his eyes at that. “You’re not going to cause any problems, are you?”

“Only if you do. Then I’d want in on the fun.”

Alric rolled his eyes and stalked in the direction of the gate. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

Weswin followed him with a spring in his step. “I’ll pay if you tell me that story.”

“Not a chance.”

Weswin shrugged and whistled for Eep, who currently looked like a mouse. It scampered over and scrambled onto his boot. He bent to pick it up and plopped it comfortably in his vest pocket. Then they made their way into the city together. As they entered the throng of people, he pressed his lips into a thin line but said nothing.

“What should I call you?” Alric whispered as they passed through the crowded entry courtyard.

“Wait,” he whispered.

Alric nodded and continued, following the directions. Weswin trailed a half-step behind so he could keep an eye on his friend and not get lost in the business. City markets were both his blessing and his curse. He loved sitting amongst the people, watching their endless faces and mannerisms, imagining stories for each of them. He loved the way the different ways they talked, smiled, gestured. He loved the mothers trying to buy groceries as their children tugged at their skirts. He loved the shopkeepers selling a thousand different wares. He loved the way they haggled and complimented and lied through their teeth to make a sale. He loved the way the soldiers stood at attention for hours under the sun and the brief moments someone cracked their momentary sternness. He loved the way the elderly gathered around the central cistern to gossip and lecture and catch up on the good old days. He loved the beggars, waiting for charity and helping each other when they could. He loved the big stages for the orators who wove arguments with silver tongues, for the performs flipping and tumbling with no regard for their necks, for the musicians that would lighten everyone’s lives with a little song. He was all of these people, and they all were him. His breath mingled with his brethren, his footsteps combined with theirs to make the ground almost rumble, his heartbeat in time with the heartbeat of the city itself.

It was all a part of him but he would never be a part of their daily lives. He would never be the friendly face at the cistern, He would never be the one whose house you came to when you needed a spare cup of flour. Communities don’t tolerate a perpetual stranger. Too many years of heartbreak taught him that. He’d come with a gust of wind and he’d go with the next storm. That was the way of things. It stretched him thin and left him with a hollowness in his chest, an ache in his bones, and exhaustion that a night in the tavern could never truly take away. On his own, he could almost forget. But in the market, his soul was split among a million different lives.

He stopped and took it all in, eyes shut, feeling his magic stretch in every direction. It hurt. He wanted to enjoy this trip. Eep quivered in his pocket. You feel it too, don’t you?

A gentle nudge on his shoulder shook him out of his reverie, and he opened his eyes to see Alric peering at him with a concerned expression.

“Wes-“

“I’m ok.” He shook his head but didn’t attempt to move.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“mmhmm.” What had that looked like to an outsider? He hoped he hadn’t worried his friend too much. Or scared him, for that matter. Alric didn’t say anything else on the matter. Instead, he took his elbow and steered him in the direction of a less-crowded side street. Weswin came to his senses as they approached the door of the tavern. This was where he could function. He pulled the papers from his sack. They were made out to Israa Hendry – the name he’d come up with at the gate.

“How close do I look to before?” He asked Alric.

“Black hair, not red. Still long, but straight now. Your nose is smaller too. I think you’re about the same height.”

“Close enough.”

“By what metric?”

“By the ‘the guard didn’t write any of that information on the papers, just the time we came in.’ metric. No ID, that means I can bluff.”

“You’re going to… bluff your way into buying a room?”

“Sure. It’s not like the barkeep is going to check this.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier for me to make the transaction?”

“You playing?” Weswin asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the lute. Alric frowned, then shook his head.

“Fine.”

“Didn’t you say you are wanted somewhere? I don’t suppose you’ve got a fake persona to use while we’re in town?”

“um…”

“Didn’t think so.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Sure. Until then, let me do the acting. Besides, if anything goes wrong, nobody will notice me anyhow.”

Alric grumbled for a moment, then handed over the paper with a resigned look. Weswin beamed at him, and led the way into the tavern, showing no sign of the earlier lapse.

He hoped.

[addercharmer]

When Izumi wraps her arms around his bicep Hizashi is a little startled, he knows he's a cryer, and maybe he should have tried to keep it under control better.

"Please don't cry!" The little girl begs him which makes him cry harder thinking about a three year old trying to comfort him.

He hears Izumi take a deep breath, and then she's singing an unfamiliar song in English. The words are somewhere between heart breaking and resigned, Hizashi is so confused on how this little girl can get those feelings across.

By the time she's stopped singing Hizashi has stopped crying and he knows his face shows his wonder and confusion. He's pretty sure the others are looking at her the same but Hizashi can't drag his eyes off his daughter.

"That was very pretty." Tsukauchi says, his voice sounds a little choked up, he must not have heard Izumi sing before just then.

"You sing very well, Izumi-chan." Shōta speaks, Hizashi can tell his throat is tight with emotion.

"Mmmm." Izumi hums at them as her cheeks pink a little but doesn't seem to believe either of the men.

Hizashi struggles a little but he really wants to talk to this tiny human, he takes a large gulp of his cooling tea before asking softly. "Do you like music?"

Izumi's eyes are open now and looking right at him, close up he can see that she has darker green spirals in her iris, they are almost unnoticeable in like his own darker green rings around his pupil.

"Un, a nice grandma that lived by Inko taught me lots of old old English songs." Izumi tells him brightly. "They taste good, songs that have lots of feelings taste good."

Hizashi furrows his eyebrows, asking. "Taste good?" He looks at Shōta quickly before focusing back on Izumi.

"Uh huh, that song tastes salty but with a lot of slow spice. Like some words I say taste different." Izumi says, Hizashi doesn't understand but he wonders if it's her quirk showing early.

"I don't taste music." Hizashi tells Izumi as he arranges his expression into a pout. "If I sing do you still taste the words?"

Izumi shakes her head, her green hair bouncing with the force and pouting, and Hizashi can see himself in every line of her plush lips, almond eyes, and button nose. He also sees little bits of Shōta in her high cheekbones, wild hair, and defined jaw.

Sometime during the short conversation Izumi had let go of him and backed out of his personal space, Hizashi kind of just wanted to pull her back in and hold on.

They hold eye contact, Izumi doesn't seem to find his eyes weird like many other children and it relaxes Hizashi just a smidge.

"Why are you here if you don't want me?" Izumi asks, her voice is so even and unbothered Hizashi had to struggle not to start crying again. "Or are you here to take me to the orphanage?"

Shōta takes a deep breath at the first question, the second has him releasing it like he's been sucker punched in the guts.

"Children are a big responsibility." Shōta is trying to say something but Hizashi doesn't know what.

"Uh huh. But I take care of myself, I can get a job and everything, I just want a place to live, you don't have to be re-spon-sa-ble for me." Izumi cuts him off, shaking her head.

"I'm sure you are very responsible." Shōta says.

Hizashi is sure Shōta has a point even though he's going in circles.

"If you come live with us, your only job will to be a kid." Shōta tells her. "Do you know what our jobs are?" He then asks as an afterthought.

Izumi shakes her head, Hizashi isn't all that surprised.

"I'm an underground hero." Shōta tells her and nudges Hizashi a little.

"I'm the hero Present Mic, I also just started a radio podcast, hopefully soon a radio show." Hizashi says with a smile.

Izumi's eyes are wide, and then she goes on to quote in the closest her high soprano can. "Hey, listeners. It's Present Mic signing on."

"Yes, exactly." Hizashi says half dazed that Izumi listens to his show.

"Ah." Izumi gives a short sound of understanding. "That's why you don't want me, you're too busy." She says this like it's the answer to all life's questions as she nods slowly.

"No!" Hizashi yelps at the same time Shōta says it firmly.

"No." Shōta says again. "We just want you to understand our jobs are dangerous, and it's likely we will get hurt. That's not something you should see." He tries to explain.

"But, I have seen people hurt." Izumi starts her argument and Hizashi feels his stomach drop. "Hisashi used to bring men home, and Inko made me help fix them before I had to clean up the blood."

Hizashi feels like he's going to vomit.

"I can do stitches really good now." Izumi informs them.

"That's not what I mean, Izumi." Shōta says, Hizashi can tell Izumi is at the end of her patients.

"Then what do you mean, do you want me or not, stop trying to make me feel better, and just tell me!" Izumi finally breaks, instead of trying to be calm.

"Stop trying to give me something and take it away at the same time!" Tsukauchi is trying to unearth himself from cats and pillows to get to where Izumi is standing.

"YES OR NO!" She screams loud enough to almost rival Hizashi using his quirk before she turns and runs from the cafe leaving three stupified men behind.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Tsukauchi all but roars at Shōta. "This is why I didn't want you to meet her unless you were going to take her! You can't fucking use logic on a three year old!"

Tsukauchi takes a deep breath then calmly adds. "She's right, figure out your answer 'yes or no' you have the week, that's as long as I can give you. I have broken protocol to not put her in a foster home, I can't push it off much longer."

Hizashi sees the resignation in the detective's face, sees how attached the man had become to her, sees his anger at the two of them and he understands.

"Shouldn't you go after her?" Shōta asks, he sounds angry but Hizashi can't tell if it's at Tsukauchi or himself.

"No, Sansa has been parked outside the entire time, but I am leaving." Tsukauchi's words are clipped, then without offering a 'goodbye' he's striding out the door.

"Fuck." He hears Shōta swear but he's looking out the window to watch as the detective walks across the street.

[worldcrawlerhp]

Draco is confused by Hermione’s words and gets a little help from Blaise

--- a short drabble from something a little longer I am writing. Takes place in the classic return to Hogwarts 8th year ----

Blaise sighed.

“What is it Draco?”

“What is what?”

“Oh please you’ve been glum since the night of the common room party - something is clearly on you mind.”

Draco shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds before rubbing his forehead.

“Its Granger,” he said finally.

Blaise nodded and waited for him to continue. Draco seemed to be debating something his his mind, but eventually he must have decided to take Blaise into his confidences.

“The other night I helped Granger out with the whole Mc-slaggen situation,” he started, unconsciously clenching one of his fists at having to mention the incident. “Afterwards Granger says something along the lines of ‘I owe you one Malfoy’-”

“Good imitation.”

“Thanks. Of course it was a ridiculous thing to say, so I said ‘we are far from even, don’t you think?’… and she gets angry!”

“She got angry? What did she say?”

Draco shrugged and his brow furrowed slightly. “She said… wait I wrote it down so I could remember…” he shuffled and brought out a piece of parchment that had obviously been folded and refolded various times.

“You wrote it down?”

“It didn’t make any sense Blaise! I needed to figure it out.”

“Granger said something you didn’t understand so you wrote it down. On parchment. And have been trying to decipher it…”

“Me writing it down is not the point! Look will you focus?” Blaise rolled his eyes but nodded, indicating Draco could continue. “Right here it is: ‘The only thing you owe me Malfoy is a fucking apology for anything that happened before this year. Everything else has to come from the bottom of that black little heart of yours.’”

He looked up at Blaise expectantly but was only greeted with an elegantly raised eyebrow.

“I’m not seeing what the problem is mate.”

“The problem is that it makes no bloody sense! Alright, I know I need to make everything up to her so why is she angry when I do something nice?” He threw his hands in the air and slumped back in his seat.

Blaise started to laugh, drawing a narrow eyed look from his friend.

“Mate. She has given you the easy way out of this! Typical Gryffindor move. And she’s told you how to do it.”

At the confused expression on Draco’s face Blaise sat forward on his chair.

“My mother left two… no… three different husbands because they were unable to apologise to her. So you could say I am an expert here. Art thou ready for me to impart knowledge and clarity to you?”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Just bloody get on with it Zabini!”

Blaise chuckled. “Alright, lets start with some questions. You were a bit of a shit to Granger yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“And you did some stuff that is pretty bad to her right?”

“Which part,” replied Draco bitterly, “when I wished death to her and everybody like her? Or when I attempted to kill the only wizard likely to defeat the Dark Lord in a duel? Or how about when I watched her get tortured on the drawing room floor by my Aunt and did nothing to help?”

“Tortured? Lestrange?”

“It was… I’d rather not talk about it.”

“No offence but why the fuck did Granger even testify for you at your trial?”

“Merlin knows.”

“Right. Well. That was a little more than what I had thought, but it will serve to prove my point. So some pretty awful things happened, and you admit you are wrong and we’re all obviously in her debt for getting us all out of the war. Do you think that helping her out a couple of times this year would put you two back on even footing?”

“No, obviously not! That’s why I said we weren’t even!” cried Draco indignantly.

“But you implied that you could be even. That if you kept being nice to her some day you could level out. And you’ve just admitted to me right now that you couldn’t be.”

Draco was silent for a moment. “So there’s no way I can make it up to her, is that what you’re saying? Because I’m not going to stop trying even if that is the case!”

Blaise sighed.

“No Draco, listen. You cannot make it up to her, right, you just can’t. Implying that you could is insulting because, fuck, in what situation could that ever be the case? So you see why she got pissed off at you?”

“Ugh. Fine. I guess I get why she was mad. But the rest of what she said made no sense either!”

“She actually… she’s such a Gryffindor its painful… she actually gave you an easy way out of it. She said you owe her an apology for all your issues before 8th year. That’s what she wants - you to tell her you are sorry, you were wrong, you will be different from now on blah blah blah. And she wants you to mean it.”

“What? That’s it? Just say sorry?”

“I’d put a little effort into it if I were you. Apologise properly. Tell her exactly what you are sorry for and why, yeah?”

Draco nodded. “Alright, so I don’t assume I can make it up to her, apologise properly… so what did she mean by ‘Everything else has to come from the bottom of that black little heart of yours.’?”

“You were being nice to her right?”

“Well I thought so!”

“She’s jut questioning why you were being nice to her. See if you thought you needed to ‘get even’ with her and were only being nice to her because of that, then we’re back to where we started - you’re insulting her by believing you can be forgiven through racking up enough nice things you do. That doesn’t mean you’re being nice to her, only that you’re being nice because of the situation.”

Draco groaned.

“Blaise you’re not making any sense!”

“How is this so complicated? Fuck no wonder my mother has gone through so many men! Ok how do I explain this. So… see, if you think you owe Granger, and you think the way to make it up to her is to be nice, then you are only being nice because you owe her. Not because you think she deserves your respect. So then add in that she is muggle-born and you hate mugg—”

“I don’t—It doesn’t mean shit to me anymore!”

“Well you have all the time we’ve been at school! The point, Draco, is that if you go around being a prick to all muggle-borns apart from her, then you are essentially saying ‘nothing has changed, I just owe Granger some niceness for a while’, and when you believe you have paid off your debt you can go back to treating her like dirt.”

“Well that’s not what’s happening, and I don’t sound like that,” huffed Draco, pouting and crossing his arms over his chest.

Blaise shrugged. “Then make that clear. You need to make sure she knows you are treating her with respect because she is somebody worthy of respect - and not despite being muggle-born, but because she is a human being. Make sure you’re treating everybody the same - pure blood, half blood, muggle-born - and she will be happy with you.”

“So I apologise, and then continue treating her nicely, and also be equally unpleasant to everybody else regardless of background?” asked Draco, turning it over in his mind.

“If you want to put it that way… and really Draco, she gave you the easy way out. If she were a Slytherin she would have been calling in favours for ever and it would never be enough.”

“Bloody girls so complicated,”muttered Draco, tapping his fingers on his knee, “why couldn’t she just say so!”

“She literally did!” cried Blaise, exasperated with his friend. “Re-read your little piece of paper and you’ll see its all in there.”

Draco glared at him, but unfolded his parchment again and re-read her exact words, grumbling to himself.

Eventually he signed in resignation. “You’re right,” he bit out.

“I’m sorry, what was that? It sounded like Draco Malfoy admitting I was correct…”

“Fuck you. You were right. Happy?”

Blaise grinned. “Extremely. Where are you going?” he asked as Draco gathered his belongings to leave.

“To go and draft an apology. Respectful apologies to deserving witches is something my father actually did do well…” suddenly a feral grin took over his face, the type he would sport after carrying out a particularly good prank. “I bet Lucius would absolutely love it if he knew I was using his skill to apologise to Granger!”

“Your father any good at respectfully wooing witches too?”

“What? Why?”

“Oh you know… in case a certain muggle-born witch were to occupy your ‘little black heart’ as well as your mind!” Blaise winked at Draco as he pushed passed to leave the room and a spluttering Malfoy behind.

[joezworld]

Fools in Love (3/10)

Worst Thieves Ever

The next week passed in a blur of emotions and happiness for both engines.

Henry was astonished that he'd managed to miss all of the now-obvious signs that he was romantically attracted to Bear, and was now fully in the throes of "happy sickness", and genuinely felt better when Bear was nearby.

Bear, meanwhile, was on top of the world. Acknowledging that he was now actually in love meant that all of the pent-up emotions from the past decade were coming out all at once. He was downright chipper when he was alone, and when Henry was nearby, he was so absurdly upbeat that the other engines were wondering if The Fat Controller had bought another Hymek and swapped the numbers again!

“So,” Bear asked Henry as they sat in the yard between trains. “What do we do, now that we’re together?”

“I don’t know,” Henry said thoughtfully. “I know that humans go on things called ‘dates’, where they go to dinner and then the cinema, but I don’t think we can do that...”

“We certainly wouldn’t fit into the building.”

“And I don’t think we could eat dinner without bothering our crews.”

“Unless you want to pull a Thomas and crash through the restaurant wall.”

“Hah! We could always save that for the holidays.”

-

“Henry’s getting awful chummy with the Hymek, isn’t he?” James muttered suspiciously from the coaling stage.  

“Goodness gracious me,” Duck said. “It’s almost like he’s known Bear for an extended period of time. What is it that happens when you spend a long time near somebody? I think you become friends with them.”

“You know what I mean. It’s like they’re different locomotives.”

“Perhaps their personalities contain more than one side. I hear that some engines can achieve that.”

“And what are you implying by that??”

“Your paint is dirty.”

“AAACK! Someone get a rag and some polish!”

-

46 040 smiled to herself as she watched the steam engines bicker. This was a funny little island, with so much more character than the Midlands.

Engines were nicer here, and they welcomed her as a friend on the first day she arrived - even if it had taken some time for their in-joke to be explained to her - she couldn’t believe that she’d rescued Spamcan’s rescuers. There was no in-fighting, no yard politics, just close-knit friends, even across class lines.

They also didn’t seem to give any mind to ‘how the railway should work’, as some of her classmates might say. As she backed down onto her train, she was acutely aware that the only engine newer than her was the laughing diesel-hydraulic in the yard. Everywhere else she looked, there was nothing but steam, steam, and more well-kept steam.

Modernization seems to have missed this island altogether. She thought as passengers bustled into the coaches. Even the rolling stock was antique - a bunch of ‘Big 4′ era corridor coaches, all nicely painted into a unified livery. On the mainland, the Mark 1s had displaced these old carriages from even maintenance trains, but Sodor was using them on top link services.

“Eurgh. Can you believe this, 40?” Oiled an unpleasant voice from alongside her.

She glared at the Class 56, annoyed by both his existence and his sudden appearance. From what she understood, the North Western Region often borrowed engines from other regions temporarily, which explained why she was still on the island and why the destable 56 was sullying this otherwise pleasant station. “What can I believe, 031?”

“This!” The diesel sniffed dismissively as 040 rolled her eyes. He had evidently decided that anything new to him was bad - a problem considering that he was barely two months old. “All of this outdated junk!  I feel like I’ve been driven into a black-and-white film! Steam engines here, teak coaches there! I don’t think these vans are even fitted with brakes!” He looked back at his train - a line of surly looking vans glared back, clearly insulted. The brakevan on the rear seemed to be resigned to a difficult run before the train left the station. “I am immeasurably pleased that this is my last train on this island.”

“I think it’s charming.” 040 said quietly.

“You would.” 031′s tone was cold.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’d fit in here - you’re non-standard, just like they are.”

040 wanted to say something that would turn the air as blue as her paintwork, but before she could do so, a whistle blew, and 031′s driver began to drive the rude engine out of the station. “I don’t believe we shall meet again - your class’ time is coming sooner than you think.” 031 said with startling levels of nonchalance as he rumbled out of the station, his vans angrily trailing behind him.

“And good riddance to you too, you slag sucking shitstain.” 040 muttered to herself as the train rattled out of sight.

Shortly, her own guard blew his whistle, and she set off with the midday express.

-

Crovan's Gate Works - That night

"I didn’t think we'd be back here so soon." Henry whispered to Bear as they rolled into the Works yard.

"I didn’t either." Bear said, trying to disturb the rest of their train.

It was well past midnight, and both breakdown cranes, the support coach, and the battered Class 46 had nodded off on the slow ride from the accident site.

"Is she all right?" Henry asked quietly. He was leading the train, and couldn’t see.

"As well as she can be." Considering that the lightweight parcel vans had been reduced to so much kindling by the accident, it was amazing that the 46 was as uninjured as she was - just a few torn and warped panels, some gravel abrasions, and a broken nose.

If Bear was being honest, he thought that she'd gotten off better than the 56, who was physically intact, but had been subjected to one of the longest and angriest dressing-downs that The Fat Controller had ever given.

The poor engine had looked utterly shell-shocked as he took what remained of his train on to Barrow.

The two were silent as they pushed the sleeping 46 into the works proper, and then backed the breakdown train into its siding. Their crews were dead on their feet after eight hours plus overtime, and shuffled off to the works' bunkhouse for some well needed rest.

Henry and Bear watched them leave, not even remotely tired. Since their mutual revelation last week, neither engine had been able to sleep for very long, their minds spinning with thoughts of each other.

Even after a week, they had run out of all possible conversation, but could still spend hours without a word between them.

"D'ya think that this counts as a date?" Bear said after many minutes of comfortable silence.

"I think an argument could be made." Henry said thoughtfully. "We did something together, but from what I understand, usually there's supposed to be 'romance', and 'courting', not smashed vans and breakdown cranes. Also, I assume that, on a date, we should be enjoying ourselves and not wondering if someone is hurt."

Bear considered that for a long moment. It had been a pretty terrible date, considering they were clearing up a train crash. "Do you want me to court you?"

"I think that's supposed to happen before you fall in love, and I already have."

"Oh. Then what do we do if we're already..."

"Madly in love with each other?"

"Yes."

"I don't know."

"Well," Bear said finally. "Then we'll have to figure that out together."

------

Three Days Later

Henry didn’t see the 46 after he and Bear left in the morning - the massive service disruption caused by the accident meant that he spent most of the weekend shuttling ballast wagons back and forth between Cronk and Arlesburgh, as well as soothing Gordon’s temper over having to ‘dilly-dally in work zones all day’.

Fortunately, there wasn’t a great deal of damage on the main line, and after three days of frantic work, the maintenance of way crews had put everything back to normal. Henry was the first train through the rebuilt section with a massively-delayed Flying Kipper, and was surprised at how much damage the men had managed to reverse - the only remaining signs of the accident was the torn up lineside vegetation.

 Arriving at Barrow, he found the yard in disarray - three days worth of goods trains were clogging the small yard, and the diesel shunter was so overworked that he forgot to be rude to Henry as he took away the fish vans.   

The yard was so crowded that Henry couldn’t even get into the sheds to rest before his next train, and was forced to sit in the middle of the yard while his crew went for their tea break. 

He wanted to get some rest as well, but the shunter was moving around the yard at such a rate that it was impossible to get more than a few minutes of rest before the Class 03 scuttled by with more vans.  

After one large rake of hoppers were shoved out of the way, another engine became visible a few roads over - it was the 46. 

Henry was surprised to see her - there hadn’t been enough time to fix any of her panels in the last three days, and indeed, she was just as battered and bruised as she was when he and Bear left her in the works. The only indication that anyone had done anything at all to her was the existence of a splint that had been taped over her broken nose to re-set it. 

More worryingly, she looked almost haunted. Her eyes were wide, with a thousand yard stare, and she was mumbling something to herself over and over again. 

“they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me”

Henry wanted to ask her what was wrong, but before he could, a shout arose from deeper into the yard. The shunter had split a switch with some wagons and was now trapped in a dead-end siding. Men began rushing out with tools to re-rail the cars, but it was obvious that it would take some time. The yard master, seeing this incident, didn’t go over to the shunter, but instead made a beeline for Henry, his crew trailing behind. 

“If he’s done for, then we need someone to organize this mess!” The man called, clearly not giving Henry a choice in the matter. “And you’re it!”

---

After 35 minutes of careful shunting, Henry was on his final shunting move before he could enter the sheds and rest, while the men seemed to be turning the corner on freeing the 03.

“Right, then there’s this Peak!” Called the yardmaster, who was riding on Henry’s footplate with a sheet of train orders in his hand. “It’s the 0Z59 for tonight, just put it somewhere out of the way.”

He scanned the yard. “Track 33 looks clear. let’s leave it there and be done.”

“Zero-Zed?” Henry asked. “You’re not going to move her, are you?” A zero headcode was intended for light engine moves, while a Z prefix meant that the train was to be handled specially by the dispatcher. The 46 was battered enough to require special treatment, but her unrepaired condition meant that she should not be moving under her own power. 

“Nah, they’re gonna send an engine for ‘er later,” The yardmaster replied. “She’s going right to Derby.”

Henry sighed as he buffered up to the still-catatonic diesel. Sometimes life was easier if you didn’t ask questions. 

“they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me”  The diesel said, her voice thick with horror. Her eyes looked at Henry’s face but saw nothing. It was obvious that she was off in her own little nightmarish world.

Then again, Henry had never had an “easy” life.

“What are they going to do to her at Derby?” He asked slowly, afraid of the answer he’d be given. 

After flipping through his papers, the yard master gave a one word answer: “Scrap”

Henry stared morosely at the 46. She didn’t deserve this at all. 

It took only a few minutes to move the 46 to an isolated siding near the sheds. As his driver uncoupled her from him, the 46 abruptly jerked out of her trance. She looked at Henry and his driver, her eyes suddenly clear and full of understanding.

“Save me. Please.” She said quietly. “They’re going to kill me.”

Henry was struck dumb by her request. The 46 had put more emotion in one sentence than some locomotives did in their entire lives. He wasn’t the quickest of thinkers to begin with, and now he had no idea of what to even say, let alone how he could help. 

Fortunately, Sean - his driver - was much faster on the uptake. “Do you still work?” He asked her conspiratorially. 

Both engines looked down at him. “Yes.” The 46 said after a moment. “They tested my motor and it works fine but they still said I wasn’t good enough to fix and oh god I’m going to die...” She trailed off in horror. 

Sean turned an interesting shade of pale as he set the diesel’s handbrake. “We’ll do something. Just you wait.” 

With that, he clambered back into Henry’s cab and set off for the sheds. 

“We have to do something and I have no idea how we’re going to do it.” He said as soon as they were out of earshot of the diesel. 

So concerned was Henry that he barely noticed Bear sitting in the shed as he pulled in. 

“Is everything all right?” Bear asked as he saw the look on Henry’s face.

“They’re going to kill that 46.” Henry said without prompting. “She’s barely damaged and they’re going to take her to Derby and cut her up.”

“Right.” said Bear, looking like he just took a sack of bricks to the face. “Let’s figure out how we’re going to fix that.”

-------------

The harried yardmaster burst into the sheds. “Alright, up you get! The Hymek’s failed and we need you to drag his sorry carcass to the works!” 

Henry, who had been pretending to be sleeping, set off at once.

Entering the yard proper, he found Bear at the head end of a train of cement tankers.

"Ah! Henry!" Bear called out in the least convincing voice anyone had ever heard. "As you can see, my complicated and unreliable gearbox has failed, rendering me immobile. Can you please pull me to the works?"

"Of course Bear!" Henry said in the same way that one would discuss the weather. "I will tow you to the works so they can fix your complicated and unreliable gearbox!"

The yardmaster watched in confusion as Henry backed down onto Bear's train. It was obvious that they were planning something, but what? This was about on par for a steam engine's level of deception, but diesels were usually craftier than this.

After a few minutes, Henry set off - or rather, he didn’t.

As he set off, his wheels slipped suddenly, his driver immediately closed the regulator, and both engines disappeared into a cloud of steam as Henry wheeshed in faux pain.

"Oh dear! He called from within the cloud. "I seem to have suffered a mechanical malfunction of some kind! Whatever will I do?"

"Who gives a toss about you!" Wailed the Class 03. "What about my work? You just blocked off half the yard!"

It was true - Bear had failed just before the switch to the main line, and when Henry had backed down onto him, he had completely covered the points. Now that he had failed as well, a large portion of the yard was inaccessible.

"I am terribly sorry." Henry didn't sound like he meant it. "Another engine will have to move us, as we cannot possibly move ourselves."

To his credit, the Class 03 tried, but with Henry and Bear's combined weight (and Henry holding the brakes on when nobody was looking), his little wheels just slipped on the tracks. "Super Rescue my buffers!" He scowled as the yard master started pulling his hair out. The yard was in a worse state than before, and there were no other engines that could reach the failed train.

Unless...

"Does that 46 work? The man yelled at his underlings, in the process missing the elated looks that flashed across Henry and Bear's faces.

"I think so!" Said one of the men. "They drove it here last night."

"Right!" He said with no small amount of relief. "Get that thing going - it'll be Crovan's problem and they can deal with it."

It took a few minutes for a crew to be found and for the 46 to be started, but soon enough she was being backed down onto the increasingly long train.

Henry and his crew watched with anticipation. Instead of damping his fire, Tim the fireman had been shoveling more and more coal into Henry’s firebox, while Sean had been nonchalantly walking around both engines and putting large amounts of sand under each driving wheel. As 46 040 was backed down onto the train, he gave a signal to Bear and his crew before climbing back into Henry’s cab.

The yard crew quickly coupled 040 to Henry, and waved to the signalman, who lined the points and dropped the signal arm.

The arm dropped. Henry and Bear's eyes followed it as it fell into the 'clear' position.

"Now!" Henry bellowed, and Bedlam ensued.

Sean hauled back on Henry’s whistle cord while shoving the throttle into the wide open position, sending sparks into the air as Henry’s wheels spun on the rails for a moment.

At Henry’s whistle, Bear's driver shoved the diesel's throttle to its furthest stop.

Black smoke belched out of both engines as they surged ahead. Henry slammed into the back of 040, shoving her along as his wheels found purchase on the sand covered rails.

Bear, his engine roaring, lurched ahead as he followed Henry, taking the tankers with him. The cement wagons yelled as the slack in their couplings was let out all at once, banging against each other as they were yanked into motion. A ripple of shock whipped all the way down the train, and the coupling in the last tanker was almost ripped out of its buffer beam from the violent departure.

040's crew were shoved forward in their seats by the sudden impact. Her driver had the throttle lever in his hand, and as he flew forward against the control column, he inadvertently shoved her throttle ahead to its furthest stop. The diesel shrieked in surprise as her motor revved to full power and she surged ahead with the rest of the train. 040 was a powerful express diesel, and she quickly began to pull the rest of the train along behind her as her engine reached its highest power setting.

"Go go go!" Henry yelled as the train accelerated away.

The yardmaster and the Class 03 watched in shock as the train thundered out of the yard. In just moments, it had cleared the yard boundary, and in just a few moments more, the last cement tanker was rattling over the lift bridge and onto Sudrian metals.

"What was that?!" The man said as Henry's triumphant whistle faded into the distance.

"More Sodor shite, I'd imagine." Said the little diesel as he rolled back into the yard - as much as he wanted to, he didn’t have time to speculate on what went on in the smokeboxes of those nutcases. "They're always up to some bollocks or another."

-----------

Henry and Bear yelled in triumph as they raced though Vicarstown and into Sodor proper.

"We did it!" Bear shouted.

"We did!" Henry chimed in. "You see that, 46?" He called up to 040. "That’s Sodor! You're safe!"

040 was astonished to the point of tears. "Thank you!" She said, her voice choked with emotion.

--------

Crovan’s Gate

Charles Hatt stared at the trio of unapologetic engines in front of him, unsure of whether he should be proud or upset. 

“If I told you three that you damaged several of those cement tankers, the yard switches in Barrow, and exceeded the legal speed limit for a train of that configuration, would you be sorry in the slightest?” 

“No sir / I’d do it again / Not at all” came the responses from Henry, Bear, and 040.

The Fat Controller hung his head in his hands. They didn’t even have the good graces to look sorry. The Peak was beaming from buffer to buffer, Bear looked sheepish but unconcerned, and Henry looked positively defiant. 

“And you did this...?” He trailed off.

“Because otherwise they were going to kill her.” Henry said with a surprising undercurrent of steel to his voice. 

“Yes. That...” Charles said again. “They truly told you that you were to be cut up?” He asked 040, slowly. 

“Yes sir.”

“They did sir. There were train orders for it.” Bear said quickly. “She was supposed to be the 0Z59.”

“I see...” He turned to the 46 directly. “Who told you this?”

“Mister Stevens. He came down from the Midlands region to inspect me.”

“I see...” Charles mulled this over. He was vaguely aware of the nasty rumours surrounding the supposed railwaymen that the Midland Region was now employing, and this 'Mister Stevens' seemed like he fit the bill perfectly. “And you two did this... to help out your fellow engine?”

“Yes sir” Henry and Bear said in unison. 

One hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

On one hand, these two had just damaged a significant amount of railway property and stolen an engine from a different region.

On the other... he did have a motive power shortage, and 46 040 was a class 4 - exactly what he needed. 

And she clearly wasn’t needed by her region any more. 

And stealing engines from the scrap heap was practically a Sodor tradition by now. 

And he had acquired Bear in an almost equally brazen manner. 

Sir Charles Topham Hatt II was many things, but a hypocrite was not one of them. “I must make a phone call. Talk amongst yourselves.”

The engines watched as he retreated to the foreman’s office. The phone was mounted on the outer wall, and his end of the conversation was very audible. 

“This is Hatt, get me the London Midland Region please.”

“Yes, can you please inform Director Macready that Charles Hatt needs to speak with him regar- oh hello Lachlan.”

“Why yes, this is about 46 040.”

“I will have you know that we did not ‘brazenly make off with your property.’”

“To begin with, she was needed because the engines pulling the train ha- yes I understand that they didn’t actually fail, but-”

“Now there’s no need for that tone of voice-”

“Lachlan - Lachlan - Damnit Lachlan! That engine has only minor damage to it! You -”

“You clearly do not  need it if - Spares? Lachlan, you just said that they were ‘going to the chop soon enough’, what could you possibly need spares for?”

“Now that’s just inappropriate.”

Whatever was said next was obviously deeply impolite, as the Fat Controller lost all patience with the Director of the Midland Region. “Now you listen here you limp-wristed disgrace of a Scotsman. That locomotive is mine now and will be forever more,  you understand? If you ever try to come down from the ivory tower that has lodged itself in your rear end and do something about it, I will personally beat you to death with an Adze! Am I understood!”

After a brief silence, he spoke again. “I expect the transfer to be sent over at once. If they aren’t, I will forge your signature myself and I won’t stop with just those papers. Goodbye Lachlan.”

With that he hung up the phone and turned around to face the trio, who could barely contain themselves, and most of the works’ staff, who were surprised to see their controller use such harsh language. 

“Don’t just stand there!” He said after a long moment. “Get to work! We have a new engine to repair!” 

The noise from the locomotives was deafening. 

[wedreamedlove]

[FIC] Sea Anemone

Rating: T Characters: Xu Mo/Reader Word Count: 2670

Tags: Mild angst. ABO. Omega!Reader. ?!Xu Mo.

Summary: An excellent hunter approaches their prey in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. But, in nature, bright colors are a warning for poison.

A/N: Set in the same universe as Bai Qi's "No Other But You" but they're not connected.

Xu Mo was taking the day off.

This is what you’re told when you drop into his office at his research institute. You are looking for him because you know he returned from an overseas trip in a morning flight today and that he would choose to continue working instead of resting like a normal person. However, contrary to your expectations, he actually took a leave of absence.

Concern is your first and foremost emotion at this abnormal situation. After all, it’s rare for Xu Mo to take any days off and you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard of or seen him being sick. In your mind, the intelligent man is always in good health and more likely to be the one taking care of you for being sick or overworked.

You step out of the research institute, shading your eyes from the bright sunlight, and it only takes a second to decide on your next action. You take out your phone and give Xu Mo a call.

He answers at the fourth ring, “Hello. Is something the matter?”

For a moment you don’t recognize the voice that answers. Xu Mo’s usual dulcet tone is hoarse and exhaustion clings to his words.

“Hello?”

You respond hurriedly when you hear him again and explain how you came looking for him at his work, but he wasn’t there and so you became concerned. Were there any problems with his flight? Was he feeling okay?

“Ah…” He hums, “The trip made me more tired than I expected, that’s all. It’s nothing serious. If you were looking for me to talk about the next program on your show then I can—”

You immediately cut him off. Nope, he’s not to exert himself at all today and he needs to rest.

There’s a pause at the other end of the call, as if Xu Mo is surprised by your vehement rejection, but then he sighs, “… I’m not that fragile. But, very well, I’ll be good and listen to you.”

His voice gentles in the second half, lowering slightly, and it seems to carry one part resignation, three parts helpless warmth, and six parts doting. It tickles your ear and lets loose a kaleidoscope of butterflies in your stomach because he sounds like he’s indulging you, and will happily do so for any other demands you have.

You clear your throat, pulling your mind back together, and check the time to see that it’s just past noon. You ask whether or not he’s eaten lunch yet.

“No,” he says at first, reconsiders, and then adds more onto his short answer, “But I don’t have much of an appetite.”

His reply sets you off. You know it’s likely he hasn’t eaten anything this entire day, especially when you consider the time zone differences during his flight, and so he should fill himself up with a light meal. Even if he’s going to take a nap later, it’s better to pad his stomach with something. Keeping to a regular meal schedule is important to staying healthy.

The next thing you hear is his laughter.

You ask him what he’s laughing about, growing flustered at the amusement in his voice.

“I’m glad to see all those times I told you to take care of yourself has made an impression on you.”

You realize that every word you just lectured him with are things he tells you when you’re sick. Your cheeks warm even as you grumble about how he should know better then and you shouldn’t have to repeat his own words to him. But, since he hasn’t had lunch, you offer to head over to his place to make something. Or you could grab something outside for him. It was actually why you were looking for him in the first place; you wanted to catch up over lunch since both of you haven’t seen each other after he left for his trip overseas.

“There’s no need. I can make something at home. It would also be inconvenient for you to return to work afterward.”

You insist though, especially now that the idea has settled in your head. Work is in a quiet period, which is how you even have the time to find him for lunch, so you only need to send a quick message to Anna. Besides, he probably doesn’t have any ingredients at home since he just got back from a long trip, and didn’t he say he was going to listen to you today?

Xu Mo surrenders when you bring up his earlier words, “I did and so I suppose I can only give in to my stubborn girl. But don’t rush back and be sure to button up; the weather is cool today.”

You promise to be careful, understanding his implied meaning, and give him an estimate as to when he can expect you in front of his apartment before you hang up. After you make sure the scent glands on your neck and wrists are still covered by your clothes you set off in a new direction. Time to go grocery shopping!

~~~

You stop at your apartment first to put away your work bag, coat, and store the groceries that you bought for yourself before you step back out to go to the neighboring door to knock.

It only takes a few seconds after knocking before the door opens to reveal Xu Mo. He’s wearing a well fitted black turtleneck that outlines his lean figure over dark gray slacks; however, these dark colors also emphasize his sickly paleness and the circles of exhaustion under his eyes. Putting aside your concern, somehow you ended up wearing the opposite of him with a cream cardigan over a short sleeve shirt and jeans.

He pauses upon seeing you, something flickering through his eyes too fast for you to catch, before he smiles gently and steps aside. “Please, come in.”

You thank him and head inside.

This isn’t your first time entering his apartment but it’s instinctive to breathe in whenever you enter someone’s space to get a general idea of them, because scents are the most important communication tool in this world and anything could change in an instant. However, you just feel your usual slight sense of discomfort and, ironically, it’s this sense of discomfort which reassures you that this is Xu Mo’s space and everything is normal.

Unlike most of, well, everyone you know, Xu Mo has a mild—almost bland—scent. It’s a clean smell but at the same time impersonal and, while you can see signs of someone living in this apartment, there’s no sense of possession. Alphas, Betas, and Omegas all love to mark their homes and their scents release automatically in places where they feel comfortable and safe. But you just assume this is his scent and it’s always carried this intrinsic quality, so it would be rude for you to bring it up and make a point out of it.

Xu Mo closes the door behind you as you go into his kitchen and start to bustle around, putting away the groceries you bought and also setting aside the ingredients to make a light meal for two. However, when you see him reaching out to help you put things away, you make a noise of exclamation before slipping yourself between him and the groceries.

Nope! You remind him that, like you said earlier, he’s not supposed to do anything today and you’re going to take care of everything.

Xu Mo presses the joint of his finger against his smile, as if to control the involuntary lift of his lips. “You’re bristling like a kitten.”

You bare your teeth with a light reprimanding growl. This cat has claws.

He holds up both hands in front of him and complies with your order for him not to do anything. He even gets shooed out of the kitchen, except he only goes as far as the entrance and then leans against the doorframe there, watching you with warm eyes. You realize this is probably the best you’re going to get and so you turn back to the kitchen, pulling out your personal apron which you shoved into one of the grocery bags when you dropped by your apartment earlier.

You roll up your sleeves first before reaching for the apron, but the cardigan you’re wearing is loose and the sleeves continuously fall down. You struggle over this for a while until you decide to shrug the cardigan off without much thought, so that you can just wear the apron over your inner shirt.

But a well-defined hand beats you to the apron and then you hear over your head, “Let me.”

There’s an odd note in Xu Mo’s voice, but since you’re facing forward you can’t see his face. He puts your apron over you and ties the strings into a knot behind you with quick, efficient movements.

You tilt your head back to flash him a smile and thank you. He returns your smile, eyes dark, and raises his hand to touch your head lightly before he steps back and leaves you to your cooking.

~~~

Exactly like you said you would, you made a light meal which the two of you finished over a casual conversation. You asked about his trip overseas and did your best to understand all the scientific terms he brought up (although he always patiently explained to you anything you didn’t recognize) and, in exchange, he asked about your work and your days while he was gone. There’s a niggling feeling that you ended up speaking much more and for a longer time than him though.

Now, after lunch, you’re in the kitchen washing the dishes and setting them to dry while Xu Mo peels an apple at the dining table.

Originally, you were going to prepare the fruit you brought over, but before you realized it Xu Mo had already taken the apple and knife out of your hands and began to smoothly peel the apple. In his words, it was the least he can do, seeing as you did the cooking and washing. You decided to pass this job to him, especially after seeing him create a symmetrical and unbroken apple peel.

Leaning forward to scrub at a particularly stubborn stain on a pan, you shake your head to get your hair out of your way. But it continues to slide past your shoulder and cling to your cheeks until you’re fed up. You see that there’s an elastic band set on the counter though—it must have come from one of the groceries—and you pause in your dish washing to dry your hands and grab it. Pulling your hair up with a quick twist, you use the elastic band to make a messy bun on the top of your head.

The instant you do that you hear a sharp intake of breath and then a metallic tang spreads through the room.

You whip your head around, alarmed at the smell of blood, and see that Xu Mo has nicked his thumb with the knife. You rush over and grab his hand before he can do anything, not noticing how he goes utterly still when you come into his space, and lean down to examine the cut. Blood is welling up on his skin already but fortunately it doesn’t look like the injury is deep; it just needs some pressure and a band-aid.

You tell him this while inwardly patting your chest with relief and then you look up and freeze.

Xu Mo is staring at you with an expression that you’ve never seen before. The position you’re in forces him to angle his head down to look at you and, because of that, his eyes are half-lidded. His long eyelashes cast shadows over his eyes, making those royal purple irises appear darker than they are.

“Silly girl, did you forget what I am?” His voice is low.

You don’t understand his words. But then you do.

It only takes a second.

There is suddenly a massive presence. His scent floods the entire room, as if a dam which had been holding back a tumultuous torrent had burst, and you find yourself under the illusion that the room is filling with water—even though that can’t possibly be happening—and there’s a crushing pressure around you like you’re being dragged underwater, deep into a trench.

The edges of your vision darken—no, that’s just Xu Mo leaning closer.

His dark eyes encompass your sight, and they’re so dark you can only barely see a glimmer of purple. The fine hairs on the back of your neck rise. What should have been a blessing to see color in the black abyss is now a warning that something dangerous lurks in the water, circling just a little bit out of your senses but letting you catch glimpses of it to heighten your terror.

He comes even closer.

You’re not even breathing anymore. The air is caught in your throat as you stare at him, frozen with wide eyes.

Xu Mo’s cool breath splays across your face and you tremble minutely when you feel his nose brush past your cheek. The predator, the Alpha, in front of you is going to consume everything of you until there’s nothing left. He’ll eat even your bones.

But then it’s all gone as suddenly as it came.

You think you hear something snap and then your hair comes down from its bun, tumbling across your shoulders and covering your neck.

Xu Mo draws back, a serene smile on his face, and his scent recedes into him like a massive tide pulling back. The oppressive air is completely gone and you can breathe again, which you do, and you inhale what seems like a mouthful of wet air. The whole room almost smells damp, as if it went through a flash flood and now the tropical storm has moved on, leaving behind just a heavy blanket of humidity.

You gawk at him, dazed, until he reaches out to tweak your nose.

“Next time, don’t be so oblivious. Not all Alphas have my control.”

You’re brought back fully to yourself by his words and it’s only now that you realize how shameless your appearance had been around him. You were exposing your neck with your hair put up and you even lowered your head and bared your nape to him. Even if it was accidental, it's basically like you stripped and threw yourself onto him like a juicy steak, begging to be taken. No wonder he snapped.

He’s right in that you’re lucky you were around him instead of anyone else.

You ignore the small part of your mind that whispers how you wouldn’t have minded if he marked you right then and there. Not to mention, there’s now a small seed of curiosity about how he will look if he slips the reins of reason.

Xu Mo’s eyes darken as you continue to stare at him and this time he pokes your forehead. “What are you thinking about now? It can’t be you’re too comfortable to move from here?”

You suddenly realize that you have a hand on his thigh, his injured hand held in your other hand, and you’re still bent over and looking up at him. Heat rises to your face and you don’t need a mirror to know how red you are right now. Scrambling off and away, you holler that you’re going to grab a band-aid and rush out of the room with his gentle laugh sounding out from behind you.

Unbeknownst to you though, when your back is turned, the smile slips off from Xu Mo’s face and he grimaces in pain, raising his uninjured hand to press it against his chest. He curls his fingers into his shirt, right above his heart, and his eyes follow after your color, the shadows in them deepening.

[bookishbarnowl]

Stained-glass Secrets

Tommy most definitely doesn't have a secret. There is nothing Tubbo could potentially find out about him that would have a negative impact. Nope. Shove off. 

Or: the wingfic I’ve been meaning to write for months

Warnings: None

Relationships: Tommy & Tubbo (platonic)

Word Count: 1,451

Ao3 Link: Here

Tommy hurriedly yanked a shirt over his head, wincing as the fabric rubbed over the bandages on his back. His wings twitched uncomfortably under the restraints and he grimaced, wishing he could let them flutter free. They’d been trapped for over 24 hours now, he hadn’t been able to let them out since Tubbo was sleeping over at his house for the night. They were also the reason he was getting dressed in the bathroom. He ruefully ruffled his hair and twisted around as best he could to look at his back in the mirror, making sure his wings were laying flat.

His brow wrinkled. There was an odd pucker visible through his shirt. One of his bandages must’ve come untucked during the night. He tugged it off and craned his neck, examining the loose end. He wouldn’t be able to get it to lie flat without re-doing it. He heaved a sigh and grabbed the end, unwinding the wide strip of cloth and wrapping it around his wrist as he went. He arrived at the end, and his upper left wing flickered free.

He let it rest for a moment before he had to tuck it back in, admiring the way its veined panels flashed in the fluorescent lights. It was styled after a dragonfly, tinted emerald green with hints of teal around the edges. Only Phil and his brothers knew he had the mutation, and with all the prejudice Altereds faced he was going to keep it that way. Techno, whose boar tusks were impossible to hide, had given him enough lectures to make it abundantly clear that he would be treated differently if people found out about the four insect wings he had hidden under his clothes.

Above all, he wanted to keep them secret from Tubbo. He couldn’t bear it if his best friend didn’t want to be around him anymore. He sighed in resignation and reached out for the tip of his wing, pressing it flat to his back and folding it in half so the end would sit in the small of his back.

A knock sounded on the door, and he jumped, letting go in surprise as Tubbo’s voice called to him from the other side.

“Do you have my toothbrush in there?” he asked. “I didn’t get it last night.”

Tommy glanced to the side, and sure enough, the unfamiliar green-handled brush was sitting on the side of the sink. “Yeah,” he replied.

“Have you got your trousers on yet?” his friend asked.

“Yeah, but-”

Tubbo didn’t wait for him to finish, flinging the door wide. Tommy yelped and grabbed for his wing, desperately trying to shove it behind him before it was seen, but it was too late. His best friend was staring straight at it, mouth dropping agape as his eyes went wide. 

Running on pure panic, Tommy reached out and slammed the door in his face, throwing his body weight against it so it couldn’t be reopened. 

“Tommy, wait!” Tubbo yelled, jiggling the handle. 

“What the heck, man!” he shouted back. 

“I just wanted my toothbrush, I didn’t think you’d have a frickin’ wing flapping on your back!”

“You didn’t have to barge in on me like that!” Tommy knew he was being defensive and angry, but he didn’t care. His secret was out now. He’d just lost his best friend. “Go away,” he snapped.

“No,” Tubbo stubbornly insisted. “Why would you want me to leave? We’ve gotta talk about this!”

“No we don’t,” he said in reflex, then Tubbo’s words caught up with him. He wasn’t leaving right away, surely that was a promising sign? “You can say what you want from the other side of that door.”

Instead of being angry, like Tommy expected, his friend’s voice rose into a plaintive whine. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I don’t exactly make a habit of showing people,” he snapped. “You’ve talked to Techno, you know what he deals with.”

“Exactly! Do you ever see me doing that to him?”

Tommy paused and considered this. Now that he thought about it, Tubbo had never seemed bothered by his brother like most people were. “No…” he acknowledged.

“Just come out here.”

Tommy’s anger was burning away into embarrassment. He reluctantly turned around and opened the door again, looking away when Tubbo’s face split into a bright smile. The pair sat down on his bed, Tommy’s gaze fixed on his hands clenched tightly in his lap and his friend unable to look away from the twitching dragonfly wing on his back. He reached out a careful finger.

“Can I?” he asked. 

Tommy nodded. Tubbo lightly brushed his hand over the glassy appendage, oohing and aahing over the glossy texture. After a few moments of fawning he too folded his hands in his lap.

“I haven’t told you about my biological dad, have I?” he said softly. 

Tommy shook his head. “Dream adopted you when you were three, right?”

“Yeah,” Tubbo confirmed. He grabbed his phone off of the dresser and opened his camera roll, starting to scroll. “But I met Schlatt for the first time a couple years ago, before you moved here.” 

He tilted his screen and showed Tommy a picture of him and another man, smiling and laughing over an ice cream sundae. The man was broad and scruffy, staring down at Tubbo with a brilliant grin. He had a navy baseball cap crushed over dark, wavy hair, the hat slightly pushed up by two large, curled ram horns on the side of his head. Tommy’s eyes went wide.

“That’s your dad?”

Tubbo giggled at his shock. “Yup. He lives over in the States. Dream went through paperwork hell trying to get me his phone number so we could meet.” His happy expression dulled. “Altereds have it a lot worse over there. That’s kinda why I ended up with Dream.”

“Oh.” Tommy wasn’t exactly sure what to do with that piece of information. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. He’s going to try and make another trip this summer, if he can get his passport renewed. You can meet him too! He’s awesome.” He put his phone down, eyes returning to Tommy’s back. “You can take your other wing out if you want to, now that I know.”

Tommy’s gut was swirling with beautiful relief. Tubbo honestly didn’t care if was an Altered or not. He reached behind him, tugging at the ends of the other bandages. “I have three others, actually,” he announced as his lower left wing sprang back into shape. His right pair soon followed.

“That’s so cool,” Tubbo gushed admiringly as he flapped them a few times. “Can you fly with them?”

“Of course,” Tommy scoffed, standing up and heading over to his closet. “I got going over 50 kilometers an hour once.”

“That’s incredible!”

“Yeah, I’m an awesome flyer,” he boasted, pulling out one of the shirts that Wilbur had cut a wing slit into and pulling it over his head. He arranged the fabric around his wings and did up the zipper under them, smirking at Tubbo’s awestruck expression.

“Could you carry me?” he asked next.

“Sure I could.” Probably. He’d never flown with anything very heavy before. Wilbur weighed enough to prevent him from taking off, but Tubbo was a lot lighter than his beanpole of an older brother. He could manage him.

“Where do you go flying?”

“There’s an old campsite a ways away with a lot of empty space that nobody ever goes to. Y’know when Dad takes me fishing? That’s where we go.”

“So that’s why you never wanted me to come. I thought it was just some weird paternal bonding thing.”

“Ugh, no. I hate fishing. Techno tried to take me once and I was bored out of my skull. Flying, on the other hand-” he lifted a few inches off the ground, wings beating into a buzzing blur and sending breezes scurrying through the room- “is never boring.”

Tubbo was completely starstruck. “You’ve gotta take me,” he begged. “Next time you go I’m going with you.”

Tommy dropped back to the ground, grinning fiercely. “Absolutely.” 

He was so lucky. It felt so great to have the secret off his chest at last, and he no longer had to worry that every hug he gave his best friend would end in disaster. He ran forward and grabbed his surprised friend in a tight embrace, laughing as it took him a few seconds to return the hug. 

“Thanks, Tubbo. You’re awesome,” he told his best friend, his wings fluttering joyfully behind him. Sunlight caught their edges and made them look like a glowing kaleidoscope. Everything was okay, and he couldn’t be happier.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer Ch 13: Cap’N Crunch

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Episode Summary: The investigation begins to slot together...with some suprising results.

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!!!!

Episode Pairings:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Song for Episode:  The Imitation Game by Alexandre Desplat

A/N: This is a LONG chapter guys, but  the case  is cracked... ooooohhhhhhh!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments  

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List // Main Masterlist I'd look at one of my stonecutters hammering away at the rock, perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet, at the hundred and first blow it would split in two, and I knew it was not that blow that did it, but all that had gone before. - Jacob  Riis

By the time they had arrived at Pierce’s, the press were already circling like vultures. Steve called Fury on the way to fill him in on what they had found in Stan’s notes and to his surprise the Commander wasn’t as shocked as Steve had expected. Mind you, he had stated to Steve that he suspected a cover up had happened so maybe this was simply cementing his initial suspicions. The Captain drove carefully through the crowd which was being parted by a number of Thor’s officers, before the large blonde himself gave them both a nod, lifting the tape to allow him to steer his car into the inner boundary. They parked up, climbed out and headed up the drive way which led to the double garage at the side of the large house.

Tony, Sam and Bruce were already in the garage along with Bucky and Commander Fury.

“Sir.” Steve nodded to the man, watching in the corner of his eye as Katie approached the car, stopping by the driver’s side to get a look.

“I take it that’s what killed him.” She said, nodding to the body. Steve walked up behind her, stooped down and his eyes flickered to the single bullet hole straight between Pierce’s eyes.

“Yup.” Tony said. “No other marks or bruises. The blood splatter indicates that he was shot where he is now, so we’re not looking for a second crime scene, same as the others in that respect.” “Yeah, and here’s your cereal…” Bruce said, holding up a clear bag “I’m no expert but these look like Apple Puffs to me.” “Well that fits.” Bucky said “AP, Alexander Pierce.”

“Time of death?” Steve asked and Tony looked at him.

“Judging from the body you’re probably looking at between 5 and 6 hours ago.” “We’ll know more when we get him on the slab.” Sam said, and Steve nodded.

“5 or 6 hours ago means he was killed in daylight.” Fury said, and Steve took a deep breath.

“I’ll get Thor to have his team conduct a door-to-door.” he said, and Fury nodded as the Captain turned to Bucky “I take it there were no signs of breaking and entering?”

“No.” Bucky said. “Natasha and Clint are in the house supervising the detailed forensics sweep but so far nothing. No forced door, picked locks, smashed windows.”

“Which confirms, as with all the others that Pierce knew his attacker.” Steve nodded.

“This is all pointing one way.” Katie said, “Rumlow. He fits the Profile to a tee…”

“But if what you found in those files is right, Pierce has been shielding Rumlow, hell, hey all have one way or another. If it’s him, why is he targeting them? Fury asked

“And why is he suddenly breaking with his MO?” Steve asked, “None of our other bodies have been killed at home or in broad daylight.”

“Maybe he’s just getting sloppy.” Bucky shrugged

“No.” Katie shook her head “That was an execution. Nothing about this is sloppy. If you want my opinion, he’s reached the end, everyone on that list of people involved in the conspiracy is now dead. This was done on purpose so we would find him like this, he’s taunting us…look what I did before you figured it out…”

“But that doesn’t answer my question.” Fury said “Why would Rumlow target the people who protected him?”

"Maybe he's just a fuckin’ psycho." Bucky shrugged “I mean, hey, Sam…”  Sam looked up at his shout “You said the last body, Schmidt, had been beaten in a blind rage right, symptomatic with someone losing their temper?”

“Yeah…” Sam nodded before he bent back over into the car, continuing his examinations and Bucky looked at her

“Point proven, he’s a loop.” “No. He’s not. He's too meticulous.” Katie shook her head and looked at Bucky “Each killing escalated in violence right? I think he was doing that to frighten Pierce. Leading him to think he was going to meet the most violent end of all.” she bit her lip. “What is it?” Steve asked.

“Rumlow can't have known for long...that Pierce was his father I mean.”

“His what?” Bucky spluttered as he looked at Katie then to Steve as Sam let out a huff of surprise too.

“Oh, yeah, there’s a lot we need to fill you in on…” Steve looked at the sergeant apologetically. “But not here…” Bucky nodded and Katie continued.

“If he had known, he would have been using him long before the rape case to progress his career because that's what he was like, a narcissist. Everything was about him. When Sarah Klein turned him down, he took her anyway...and then tried to do the same with me.”

“So he finds out about his parentage...he tells Pierce to make the rape case go away or he blows the fact that he got an underage girl pregnant.” Steve looked at her and she looked at him.

“That’s my guess, yeah.”

“So Pierce plays ball otherwise his career and reputation are dead in the water.” Fury mused “Which leaves Rumlow free to continue at the 99…” “And then he assaulted me.”  Katie swallowed “Which is where my dad comes into it. The assault charge against me is dropped as well, and we can assume Pierce was to thank for that too, only this time they hadn’t factored in Dad’s amazing ability to kick up a shit storm…so Pierce has no alternative but to force Rumlow to resign.”  she paused again and Steve spotted the look on her face, the look she wore when things were finally slotting into place.

“That’s what this is about…” she continued and looked up at Steve, then to Fury then to Bucky “In Rumlow’s eyes they all failed him…” she looked back at Steve “Rumlow had no family, no wife, nothing but the job so take that away from him and he becomes a no-one, which is the worst thing in the world that can happen to a narcissist.”

“But why wait 5 years?” Bucky looked at her.

“He didn’t.” she said, shaking her head “He killed the person he blamed at the time- My dad. Then 18 months or so later he gets busted for the robbery and handed 3 years. Only Pierce doesn’t bail him out this time so he spends his sentence getting angrier and angrier, because everyone else is to blame but himself. He gets out, and starts hunting the rest of them down. One by one. Anyone and everyone that he feels is at fault.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“Well…” Fury looked at Katie, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards lightly “Looks like you just cracked it Stark…”

And damned it, Steve couldn’t help the proud smile that spread across his face. His girl was clever, and he fucking loved her brain as well as her beauty.

“No wonder you wanted to bring her back from DC. Well, apart from the obvious more selfish reasons…” Bucky muttered to Steve, who looked at him, raising his eyebrow.

“I told you Buck…” he said, watching Katie who was talking to Fury now “She’s the best in the business.”

“…we still need to find him.” her voice said as Steve tuned back into what she was now discussing with the Commander. “And I need to prove it too. Back it all up with facts so it isn’t merely supposition…and I still want to know for sure what the fuck the cereal is all about.”

“So do I.” Fury said, as he looked at his watch “Ok, I’m gonna head back to Plaza, speak to Rhodes and Wuntcsh. We need to handle this press release carefully.” “I think we need to put Rumlow’s face out there.” Katie said “Let’s name him, have everyone in the country looking for him.”

Fury nodded “I agree, time we went public. Keep me up to speed.”

“Sir.” Steve nodded and watched the man make his way down towards his car. He turned back to his troops just as Natasha and Clint emerged from the house “Anything?”

They both shook their heads “Nothing out of the ordinary.” “Alright, in that case can you organise and supervise the house to house, Nat, get Thor onto it. Someone has to have seen something. Meanwhile, we’ll head back to the station.” he looked at Katie, Clint then Bucky “We’ll start digging into this theory, see if we can make it tie up. We could use your hawk eyes on this one Clint.”

“Happy to oblige Cap.” he saluted, before he turned to Nat “You keep my car, I’ll grab a lift off Super Serge…” he said, patting Bucky’s shoulder.

“Lucky me.” Bucky rolled his eyes, playfully.

***** They had been back at the station for roughly 2 hours, digging through everything they could think of whilst sprawled in the Incident Room. Clint had ordered pizza in for them, and as such there were discarded boxes along with cans of soda littered around the place, adding to the general chaos of the room.

Katie had written the key points of her theory on the whiteboard, and they were busy tacking documents to the board which seemed to back the different points up. The idea being, as Katie said, they could make connections, trace one link to another easier if the visuals were right there in front of them

It struck Steve just how like Howard Katie was. She worked in a very similar way, his mantra always being that if you eliminated the impossible, no matter what remains, however improbable, it had to be the truth. His daughter seemed to do the same. She was eliminating things that didn’t matter, that couldn’t possibly be true, things that were unimportant as she was following this one thread through the entire case. She’d said right from the off Rumlow was involved, even though they’d had no hard evidence to back that up. Well, now they did, and they were uncovering more and more as they worked.

Steve looked up as he saw Katie reaching for her phone. “Yeah, you get something?” he watched as she paused, her hand running through her hair before she grinned “Tony’ you're a fucking genius..."

She put the phone down and she stood up, moving to the board and pulling the DNA results off from where they'd been tacked up

"These are duplications..." she says "Tony's been digging and talking to a few of his friends in the private sector...apparently these were run originally by a Dr Armin Zola, who was struck off not long after for malpractice. The originals were mailed out to a Mr Brock Rumlow a few weeks before the rape took place...and guess what? Zola turned up dead a week or so later...choked on a steak."

"How the fuck did Tony find that out?" Bucky looked at her.

"Ok, when I say talking to a few friends...I actually mean hacking, but that's not important. I was right, Rumlow didn’t know until that point and ever since he's been using it. Pierce keeps him out of jail but when he's done for robbery he can't…” she tapped at a photo on the board, “because the CCTV footage, everything...it's too much. It would attract attention.”

Steve looked at her, then Bucky before Clint spoke up.

“Yeah, and I've been digging into Rumlow's financials. The guy was destitute. After leaving the police he struggled to find work- was doing the odd bit of security but nothing big, and he couldn't take his pension yet. This was the prosecutions main angle during the robbery case- that he needed the money.”

“The cereal…” Katie mumbled. “Fuck, when I said about the caviar and silver spoons normally being used about making a point, people being rich.”

“He is making the same point, but the other way around.” Steve looked at her and she nodded.

“No posh or fancy silver spoons for me, just mundane cereal. He’s bitter. Bitter he never had the fucking lifestyle that being Pierces kid would have brought him.”

“So he kills Zola…” Bucky looked up “And makes it look like an accident?” Katie bit her lip and something else flashed in her eyes and her mouth dropped open.

“What is it?” Steve looked at her.

“I don’t think he did…”

“The MO…” Bucky started, but she shook her head.

“It’s different. None of the others actually died from choking. They were hit with a hammer, or in Pierce’s case shot.”

“So someone else did Zola…” Bucky looked at her and Steve let out a sigh, the dots connecting in his own mind.

“Pierce.” he said looking at Katie. “Rumlow approaches him with the evidence and he kills Zola to keep his dirty little secret quiet...”

“And then when my dad uncovers all this…he killed him, and mom too.” She shook her head, looking down before she reached for her chair sinking into it “It was Pierce…he killed my parents…I can’t believe it.”

The room fell silent as the 3 men all exchanged a look and Steve turned back to his girl, whose eyes had filled with tears. And at that point, he decided enough was enough.

"Alright, I'm calling it." he said "It's midnight, it's been a long day.” he took a deep breath “Rumlow must have been staying somewhere since he got out of jail. Tomorrow we need to find out where” he turned then to Clint, “We’ll reconvene here at 8 am sharp. Barton, first thing I want you and Nat to follow any lead, no matter how small we got from the house to house. And before you go, get onto Thor...I want all eyes out for Rumlow on the night shift. If they see him, arrest on sight.”

****

Steve, Katie and Bucky all climbed out of Steve’s car in the underground parking lot attached to the apartment block. Steve headed to the trunk and pulled out Katie’s bag, which Bucky noticed was larger than normal meaning she was intending on staying for longer than the night, but he refrained from making any snarky comment. She’d hardly spoken a word all the way home and he couldn’t blame her. Instead he simply observed as Steve reached for her hand which she took and the two of them walked slightly ahead of him to the door that led to the elevators.

They emerged onto the landing and Steve unlocked the door, swinging it open to let Katie in first. Once she was in she took off her jacket, hung it on the coat stand by the door and turned to them both.

“I don’t want to be rude but I’m exhausted. I’m gonna take a shower and get in bed.” Bucky gave her a smile “Don’t blame you Doll Face.”

She managed a roll of her eyes with a smile at the nickname and she moved to take her bag from Steve but he shook his head.

“It’s ok, I’ve got it.” he said and she smiled at him before she turned back to Bucky.

“Night Buck.” “Yeah, see you in the morning.” he said.

Steve followed her down to his room where he deposited her bag on the chair in the corner and she turned to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. The rain was beating against the bedroom window and he glanced outside, his chin resting on the top of her head as he gave a sigh. Looked like this shit weather was in for the night, which was fairly apt really all things considered. Eventually she stepped back and looked up at him and he leaned down pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Go get sorted.” he said, “I won’t be far behind you. Do you want a drink or anything?” “No, I’m good thanks Stevie.”

He smiled again and then left her to her own devices. When he walked back into the kitchen Bucky was sat at the breakfast bar and slid him an open beer as he dropped onto the stool besides him.

“She ok?” Bucky asked.

“Not really.” Steve sighed

“And what about you?” Bucky looked at him. “You were close to Howard. That’s bound to have been a head fuck.” “You’re not wrong.” Steve sighed “We gotta catch this bastard Bucky. Pierce will never face justice for what he did but Rumlow can.” “And he will.” Bucky said, taking a mouthful of his beer “We’ll find him.”

The two friends sat talking until their beer was finished and at that both decided to call it a night. Steve’s room was dark when he entered, the only light coming from outside street lighting which flooded through the crack in the curtains. He went to pull them shut tightly but Katie stopped him.

“Don’t, I like the light.” He chuckled as he turned to face her “Now we both know you’re not afraid of the dark, Star.” “I know…” she said as he pulled off his Henley, discarding it over her pile of clothes on the chair “I just like it, that’s all.” Once he was down to his boxers he crawled over her, dropping a kiss to her lips “I’ll be 5. Just gonna shower.” “Ok.” she yawned, settling herself down further under the covers.

Steve took the hottest shower he could stand, willing the warmth to wash away the events of the day. His shoulders ached from them being so damned tense and he rolled them slightly, cracking his neck from side to side as the water beat down on him. Once he was done he headed back to his room, towelled off, pulled a clean pair of boxers on and settled down besides Katie. He pulled her to him, her back pressed to his chest as he dropped a soft kiss to her bare shoulder just to the side of the strap of her cami top. They lay silent for a while, the only sound was the rain falling outside, but he could tell she wasn’t asleep from her breathing.

“Remember that trip we took to Camp Lehigh.” Katie broke the silence and Steve took a deep breath.

“How could I forget?” he smiled. And he meant it, that weekend was ingrained in his brain forever. He’d split up with Peggy a few weeks before hand and Katie had split up with Grant a couple of months before that as well. The pair of them had been miserable, basically slumping around her apartment or his, wallowing in their joint grief and pity before Katie had decided they needed to go and do something, something fun. Camp Lehigh had been somewhere that her parents had taken her and Tony every year as kids, an activities camp of sorts, with little cabins and all kinds of sports and activities to do, so on a whim she’d booked them in for the weekend and they’d headed off. It had been great. They’d gone hiking, done the assault courses, paintballing, kayaking, drunk round the campfire with the other people there. In fact, that was where her star necklace had come from, the gift shop. It was a cheap, sterling silver pendant but he’d wanted to say thank you as the weekend had been a balm to his soul. Upon leaving they’d vowed that was it, their lives started over and they moved forward. Which was what they had done, and every spare bit of time they had they’d filled with something fun.

“You made me take the top bunk.” She said, “You were afraid if you took it you’d come falling through and land on me in the middle of the night.”

“Well on the second night we both ended up in the bottom one anyway.” he said, his arm pulling her closer “It was raining, like it is now, and then it thundered and you shit yourself.” “I did not…” she said indignantly, causing him to snort. “Ok, maybe a little…”

They fell silent again, and she shuffled in his arms, turning to face him. “You know, that night when we just lay there and we were talking for hours until you fell asleep…I could feel your heart beating in your chest and I remember asking myself how Peggy could have ever let you go.” Steve looked down at her, brushing her hair back slightly off her face as she continued. “In fact, I think that’s the moment I realised I loved you. I mean, I’d had those feelings for you for a long time but that was the time I finally understood why whenever I was with you I got that safe, happy feeling.” Steve pressed a kiss to her lips, his forehead resting against hers. “We wasted a lot of time Doll.”

“I know.” she sighed. “So stupid when you look back on it isn’t it?” “Well, there’s no point thinking about it now.” he said softly, his hand gently sliding up and down her back “You’re stuck with me forever.” “Promise?”

“Cross my heart Star.” he said, his lips catching hers again in a soft kiss before he grinned. “Even if you are afraid of thunder.” “Piss off…” She chuckled, shoving him gently.

“You know, I always found it odd…how you could be so scared of thunder but quite like a Storm…” he quipped and she let out a groan.

“Again, Steve?”

“Sorry, sorry…” he chuckled, “I know, it’s just…well it was only a week ago tonight that I thought I’d lost you again when you left with him.” “Keep on mentioning him and I just might do it again.” “Uh-uh…” he said, grinning as he rolled her onto her back. “Like I said, you’re stuck with me forever. You’re never leaving.” “Never?” “No.” “What you gonna do? Handcuff me to the bed?” Steve let out a soft groan as she tilted her hips upwards, pushing into his groin “Don’t tempt me Star…” She bit her lip as she looked up at him. “You wanna go all bad cop Captain?”

“Yeah, well, you bring out the absolute worst in me…”

“You love it.” she teased.

“No, I love you. The rest of the shit just comes along.” he mumbled, his lips catching hers again. This kiss this time fevered as her tongue slid into his mouth, tangling with his own. She gave a soft moan which almost died in her throat as she pulled back and looked up at him, her hands tangling in his hair. It took a while for the fog to clear from his lust addled brain, but eventually Steve pulled back, searching her eyes in the dim light of the room.

“Sweetheart, you need sleep…” he said, clearing his throat as his nose brushed up against hers. “After everything that’s happened today, I-“

“I need to forget…” she whispered, cutting him off, her hand cupping his face. “Please, make me forget Stevie…” She whispered into his mouth.

And that was it. Suddenly he was pulling her top over her head, his mouth nipping and sucking at her chest as she writhed and keened underneath him. His hand worked into the waistband of the shorts she was wearing and she gasped as his fingers gently started to tease her, before he upped the pace slightly, and with a flick of his wrist pushed two inside her, curling against that soft spot that he knew would leave her boneless and pliant underneath him.

“I love you…I love you so fucking much…”He said, making her groan again as he continued to work her with his hand. Eventually she couldn’t take it anymore and she wriggled underneath him.

“You want something?” he teased and she raised her head, glowering at him.

“Steve if you don’t fuck me right now I swear to God…” “You’ll do what?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll call Storm…”

“Doll, don’t threaten me…” his voice grew low. She was such a mouthy little shit at times and she knew what buttons to press and when to press them, fucking brat.

“Or what?” she propped herself up on her elbows. Oh he knew exactly what. In a flash he had reached out, and grabbed at her hips, flipping her over so that her front was pressed into the bed covers. She let out a little shriek, followed by a dirty giggle which made his already evident arousal even harder as he crawled over her, nipping at her neck. In seconds he had her moaning again, and grinning to himself he pulled back slightly and she let out a cry of frustration.

“Steve…” she said, her voice pleading. He completely ignored her as he hovered over her, his mouth tracing a line down her spine as she continued to whimper. His lips formed a smirk against her skin and as he reached the dip of her lower back he wriggled out of his boxers and grasped her hips, pulling her ass off the bed. He easily discarded her shorts before he positioned himself behind her, the tip of his aching, rock hard cock simply teasing at her entrance.

“This what you want?” he practically purred and she groaned.

“Yes, Jesus Christ…” In one swift move he was buried to the hilt and she let out a load moan, her face muffled slightly by the pillow.

“Ah, ah Star” he said, as his hand reached out and gripped her shoulder, he pulled her back so she was propped up on her elbows “I wanna hear you…”

Katie bit her lip as he started moving, hard, fast, deep. He could tell that every thrust was rocking her very core and she was putty in his hands within minutes. As his hips snapped back and forth, loud grunts and groans filled the room, mingling with the sound of skin slapping on skin as he continued his ferocious pace, his hand still on her shoulder pulling her back onto him with every pound forward he made. Steve bent over her to nip at Katie’s neck, a little harder than usual, and he spoke into her ear with a growl. "You feel so good. So fucking good.”

"So do you…" she moaned to him as he kept up his relentless pace, and she felt the release creeping up through her belly. “Shit…Captain…” Captain…fuck he loved that! He gave another nip to her neck before he pulled back, looking down at the place they were joined, were he was pumping in and out of her as he continued his salacious assault on her spot. He felt her legs go rigid and she tightened around him, her head tipping back.

“Come for me doll…” he groaned and a loud cry ripped from her throat as her hands fisted around the sheets and her entire body shook. Unable to control herself she collapsed and in a flash Steve curled his arm around her waist, he’d never let her fall. A few short thrusts and he was done, the entire world around him tilted on its axis as he spilled himself inside of her with a low growl, before he collapsed forward, letting her down as gently as he could, finally face planting onto the bed, sweating and spent besides her. Neither of them moved for a moment, the only sounds that could now be heard was deep breathing from both of them as they came down from their high, fighting for composure. Eventually Steve felt Katie move and he turned his head lazily to the right to see she was led on her stomach, her head turned towards him, and at the sight of her looking utterly wrecked thanks to him, he couldn’t help the smug grin spreading across his face.

“I kinda like Bad Cop.” She mumbled and he laughed, reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear before he pulled her face towards his for a soft, gentle kiss.

********

Steve's eyelids were heavy the following morning and he struggled to open his eyes before rubbing them and giving a yawn. His bladder was full but his mind wandered to the events the previous day, exhausting as they had been, which had led to a no less exhausting, albeit for better reasons, night. He smiled as he turned around to reach for Katie only to find the left side of his bed empty. He ran a hand over the vacated space and sighed at the cold touch.

After the customary visit to the bathroom and putting on a t-shirt, Steve went out of his bedroom and headed for the kitchen, following the clattering sounds of breakfast getting ready as if he was following the Pied Piper. When he reached the kitchen door the smell of something just baked mixed with the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee hit his nostrils.

But something even more delicious caught his sight. Just as he had predicted Katie was already up, making breakfast. She was wearing one of his Henley shirts over her lacy panties and nothing more. He was sure. He had spotted Katie's bra discarded over the back of the chair with the rest of her clothes from the previous night before heading out. Steve felt something stir inside his boxer briefs at the sight of his shirt covering the curve of his girl's ass and how it hung over the upper part of her thighs. Fortunately, he had decided as a last minute decision to put on a pair of pyjama pants.

He couldn't deny the sight of Katie, in his clothes, making breakfast in his kitchen like she just belonged, made his chest burst with happiness. To the point that he let out a contented sigh from where he was leaning on the kitchen's door frame.

It was then that Bucky, who was sitting at the breakfast bar eating his plums, noticed his presence and turned around. He saw his friend, and observed the way he was staring at Katie and mouthed Pervert at him.  Steve just smiled and said "Morning." At that Katie turned to greet him back and Steve instantly saw the stains on her cheeks. She had been crying. He gave her a concerned look before turning to look at Bucky who didn't need any words to understand what he was expected to do.

"Erm, I'm gonna get ready." he said as he just sat up before nodding at Steve as he left the kitchen giving them some space.

Steve then crossed the floor of the room towards her and Katie simply leaned into him, wrapping her arms round his wide back. Her face pressed into his T-shirt, inhaling his scent. He didn't say anything. He just rubbed his girl's back as he thought he could get used to her being there in his arms every morning, before stepping back and wiping her face with his finger pads.

"Sweetheart, how much sleep did you get?" he asked her softly.

"Few hours." she shrugged. "I just couldn't stop thinking about mum and dad... and how Tony needs to know we're pretty sure Pierce did it and..."

Steve sensed her beginning to spiral and decided to take the matter in his hands.

"Shhhhh...Star, just breathe... let me help you with this ok? We'll go to the station, check on the status of the search for Rumlow and then we'll go speak to Tony." he cooed, hugging her against his chest again.

Katie nodded and Steve, satisfied with how things were turning out, tried again with another distraction.

"What were you cooking?" he asked nodding towards the stove.

"I did cinnamon buns, your Ma's recipe...and was just whipping up some eggs and bacon." she answered as she resumed her position in front of the bowls and pans that were scattered over the kitchen counter.

Steve realised then she had to have been up for hours if she had managed cinnamon buns as whenever she made those, she usually got them ready the night before to bake in the morning.  He shook his head in a disapproving gesture before approaching her again, hugging her from behind this time, and kissing her head.

"Ok Doll, let's get those ready and we can eat." he suggested.

"I'm not that hungry..." Katie began to explain.

"That wasn't a request. You're already sleep deprived. I don't want you fainting because you haven't eaten." Steve stated, nearly ordered, going into concerned Captain mode.

She saw Katie smile, instead of getting all pissy at his commanding tone of voice, and bite her lip.

"What?" he asked.

"You'll make a great husband one day..." she said with a simile that reached her eyes.

And just like that Steve was brought back to his ma's banter about the ring and the proposal for the second time in less than 24 hours.  And not only that. Fucking hell! It hadn't even been a week since they had got back together. What day was today anyway? Friday? Just the previous Friday he was moping around and getting dragged to the Compound in a stormy, you could say, turn of events. But then again, as everyone liked to point out lately, they went back to 10 years before any of this. Everything they've done...it really was like they had dated but without the physical side. How the fuck did he not see what was right in front of his damned eyes for all that time? Coz you're a stupid, punk. His little inner voice answered for him, a voice which was annoyingly similar to Bucky's. But back to the husband thing....

"Well, as long as it's your husband Doll..." Steve said as he felt his cheeks flush.

Katie stopped what she was doing to look at him and simply smiled again, that damned smile that got him weak, before giving him a gentle kiss.

He then grabbed a tea towel from the breakfast bar and threw it over his shoulder to start helping Katie.  He was loving the domesticity. How she directed him around as if they were a pair of newly- weds getting breakfast ready on a lazy Sunday morning. Again those marriage thoughts but he didn't mind as he helped her with the food before shoving more coffee on. And then their domestic bliss was broken by a piercing sound.

"Can I come back in now? I'm starving!" Bucky shouted from somewhere in the living room.

"Jerk." Steve yelled back.

"Smells good, doll face" Bucky said when he appeared in the kitchen a few seconds later.

"That fucking name!" Katie said, throwing a spoon at him.

"You know? I still remember the first time I called you that and you got mad." Bucky grinned catching said spoon expertly in his right hand.

"I hated you back then." Katie retorted as she whipped the eggs.

"You didn't doll face. You loved me. And HIM." Bucky said gesturing to Steve.  "Even though you pretended otherwise." he shrugged before biting another plum.

Steve then saw Katie stop what she was doing and slowly turn to look at his friend with narrowed eyes. There she is, he thought, his face cracking into a grin at the dirty look she was shooting his best friend.

"Piss off Barnes."

Bucky laughed before looking at Steve. "Steve tell her how you were mad at me coz you thought I was hitting on her."

"No...that's...I never said that..." Steve tried to protest as he looked from Bucky to Katie.

"Oh you absolutely did." Bucky said nodding exaggeratedly.

"Seriously Steve...you can't lie for shit." Katie said after watching him for a couple of seconds, a smile playing on her face.

"Remember when they all gave you the slip and I bought you lunch?" Bucky asked Katie. “Well apparently I did that because I wanted to bone you…” At that Katie let out a huge laugh and Steve sighed, shaking his head.

"Ok, maybe I was a little paranoid..."

"Yes, paranoically in love...." Bucky quipped.

"Do you wanna eat this breakfast or wear it, jerk?" Steve said with feigned indignation. Well, maybe not so feigned. Although it was true, he didn't like being exposed like that. Not that Katie didn't know how he had felt about her, though.

Katie chuckled and shook her head as she started to plate up breakfast.

Bucky then shot Steve a wink, to which the captain mouthed Thank you. He really appreciated his friend's efforts to keep her distracted from her thoughts again. Even though Bucky could be like an annoying little brother at times, Steve felt the dynamic the three of them had set was remarkably good. True Katie and Bucky had hit it off from the beginning, despite their constant bickering, but the addition of Bucky to the equation that was his and Katie's budding relationship was flawless. Mind you, he could be a teasing jerk sometimes, and there was no way he didn't hear them the previous night the way they were going at it but he hadn't passed any comment. Not yet, at least.

They headed for the station without further ado that morning. There was so much to do, so many phone calls to make, so many reports and evidence to go through once more, now the case had taken a much needed, though unexpected, turn. They had no time to waste and they were also eager to know if the search on Rumlow had thrown any light.

So Steve pulled the car into the station's parking lot after a quick stop to grab their usual morning coffee treat, seeing as it was his turn to buy and Bucky wasn't willing to let it go. No matter how busy they were, no matter what the circumstances were. Steve wondered what was with Bucky and just eating plums for breakfast first thing in the morning and not having his dose of caffeine until much later through the day. Unless he was hungover that is, which was happening a lot quite recently.

When the three of them entered the station's main office they were met with a face they weren't expecting. Sure, they didn't expect to find Wanda but her replacement had arrived fast and might have caused a stir in the organization of another precinct.

"Gina! Oh my god..." Katie squealed, approaching the woman with her arms open.

"What are you doing here? Not that I don't want you here but are you Wanda's replacement?" Steve asked, trying to understand.

"Kinda... I'm gonna be doing 2 days here, 3 at the 99 until Fury finds someone." Gina explained as she stepped back from Katie’s embrace.

"Fury didn't tell me he was calling you in." Steve frowned.

"Well, there's a lot of things he doesn't tell people." Gina shrugged, as if she hung out with Fury on a daily basis.

Steve went quiet and looked at Katie, who was unsuccessfully trying not to laugh. His own mouth was quirking as well when he turned around to look at Bucky who had an expression of utter whatthefuckness, if that was even a word, all over his face. But Gina didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest, as she continued sharpening the pencils Wanda had left in the pencil pot at the reception desk before asking. "What did you do to Maximoff."

"I didn't do anything to her, she quit." Steve informed, yet a bit offended.

"Ah, maybe that's why she resigned... Anyway Captain, your post is on your desk and I sent pretty eyes out for a Danish." Gina said, turning into assistant mode.

"Who's pretty eyes?" Bucky asked.

He had met the woman twice, once when he had been at the 99 with Katie to fetch Rumlow's case files and the other a week or so ago on the night out. He remembered clearly on their trip to the 99 Station, she had been teaching Holt how to trash talk. Frankly, the woman was something else.

"Clint..." Katie said, smiling as she sat down on her chair and switched her computer on.

"Is he married?" Gina asked nonchalantly.

The three of them then paused and looked at one another. They didn't know what to say because, truth be told, they hadn’t got a clue.

"I dunno actually, ask Romanoff..." Katie was the first to speak.

"She's kinda scary..." Gina trailed.

"No more than Diaz." Katie quipped, winking an eye at her.

"Yeah, ok, fair point. Anyway I'd love to chat all day but I got stuff to do so stop distracting me." Gina shrugged and started to sort some post on Romanoff's and Barton's desks.

Steve frowned and opened his mouth to say something to the woman but he was utterly lost for words. If whatthefuckness really wasn’t a term then someone needed to add it to the dictionary because that was the only thing that came to his mind right then. So he closed his mouth again and looked at Katie, who again was trying not to laugh.

He was so lost for words to express what he had just experienced that he didn't think too much of it when he dropped a kiss to Katie's cheek who looked up at him surprised.

"Oh... Ok... Finally." Gina said casually before heading back to her desk.

Steve then went bright red at the realization of what he had just done. That was not what he was supposed to be doing in the office he thought as he headed for his office door in a rush, cursing internally, without glancing in Bucky's direction. He didn't need to look at him to know he would be grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Thank God, Clint and Nat were nowhere to be seen.

Speaking of the devils, just as Steve was closing the door of his office he saw Clint walk in with Natasha with a brown paper bag, presumably from the deli round the corner. He could hear the banter the two detectives were having with Gina as he took off his jacket hung it over his chair's back.

He ignored the muffled sounds that came from the main office and decided to have a look at his post. He picked up a few letters and went through them. It seemed to be just the normal internal memos and stuff. There was also a note from Fury to say Gina would be starting. No shit Sherlock, he thought.

He then noticed one manila envelope that was a bit larger than normal. He frowned as he opened it to discover it was a box of special K cereal. He instantly dropped it and stood up giving a very loud “Fuck!”

Steve could hear the sound of chairs being dragged and concerned words he could not fully understand in the main office before his office door was slammed open and everyone headed inside, Katie leading them. But they all stopped on their tracks as they spotted the cereal box on his desk.

"Shit, he hasn’t finished...” Katie looked at it, as she glanced at Steve “Special K... SK...Fuck Steve, he's going for Sarah Klein." Katie stuttered, but still managed to get her thoughts expressed.

Steve blinked at the cereal box just as Katie's words sank in and instantly went into Cap mode.

"Buck, get onto Interpol. We need to inform the German Authorities, warn them. Barton and Romanoff I want everyone looking for Rumlow right now. Get Thor to step up patrols. He has to have been staying somewhere, so find him." he called it, nearly barked.

"I'll grab an evidence bag, get that to Tony." Katie offered.

"Doll, you don't have to do that, I can send someone from patrol..." Steve trailed, his voice softening.

"Did he just say doll?" Clint asked Nat, quirking up his eyebrow.

"Loud and present." she answered.  

"I can do that, Steve." Katie said, ignoring Bucky's smirk as he had overheard Clint and Nat too.

"I’ll go with you, I said I would..." Steve insisted, but she cut him off.

"No, it's fine. I want to talk to him about what we found yesterday and think its best I do that alone. And besides, you're needed here."

"Ok, get to it. I'll call Fury, keep him updated." he said after a moment’s hesitation, nodding.

And that was the cue for everybody to retreat to the main office and start working on their Captain's orders. There was no time to waste. Steve grabbed his phone and was about to dial Fury's extension number when he noticed Bucky hadn't left his office and was smiling at him.

"What?" he asked, placing the phone on his desk again.

"So, before you kissed her cheek, and now you called her Doll in front of everyone." Bucky said, slumping on one of the chairs in front of Steve's desk.

Steve groaned and blushed again before asking “Did I? Fuck... It came out naturally, I didn't mean to..."

"Don't worry, Pal." Bucky said, waving whatever embarrassing thoughts Steve might be getting with a movement of his hand.

"I should control it though, Fury..." Steve said, ignoring his comment.

"Steve, Fury is on your side. Otherwise Katie would be cleaning toilets at Police Plaza instead of being here." Bucky tried to calm him.

But he remarked the last word and Steve got what he was trying to say. It was Saturday. Officially Katie should be off the case, but here she was working on it despite Fury’s orders. Mind you, Fury had been there yesterday when she had basically cracked it and had also, albeit maybe not expressly, given Steve the permission to keep her involved on an unofficial basis…but he would be damned if he abiding by the official orders and benching her now. And he was willing to bet no one in the station would go and tell Fury. With Wanda out of the picture, they were a perfectly assembled team again, watching each other's six.

Steve smiled at him and Bucky stood up and turned to go just as Katie came back with an evidence bag and gloves. He watched as she methodically put the box in the evidence bag and looked at him, nodding.

"Ok, I'll call you in a bit." she said.

"Ok..." Steve nodded and smiled at her. Then he checked around and decided this time it was safe, no eavesdroppers or unwanted witnesses, before saying "Love you. Try not to worry."

"I will and love you too..." she said back before heading off, nodding to Thor who was passing her.

"You're in a rush little Stark?" he asked.

"Gotta get this down to the lab. Talk to you in a bit..." she nodded.

"This is taller and stronger, is he married?" Bucky heard Gina asking Nat.

For the following hour and half everyone was doing what they had been told to as if doing it was second nature to them. The bullring was like a busy marketplace, full of people talking. Thor was helping Nat organize a sting whilst Clint was on the phone talking to some contacts, all of whom seemed to be some sort of former spies if you asked Bucky based on the odd bits of conversation he could get from his desk, trying to trace Rumlow and emailing his photo left, right and centre. Bucky was focused on getting onto Interpol, Rumlow's photo was already at all major airports, but they have to alert the Munich Police force to take Sarah Klein into protective custody.

Gina was assisting them all in whatever phone number or data they might need while screening calls according to importance or relevance to the priority case and taking messages for all of them and Bucky had to give the woman credit, she was doing it well.

At some point Bucky saw Gina stand up from her desk and beeline to Nat's desk where Thor was perched revising some notes on the police operative for the sting.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she said looking at the tall blonde as she pointed in the direction of the kitchen with her right thumb. "Maybe tea?" she insisted, seeing Thor was looking at her wondering who the woman was.

"I don't drink tea." he stated plainly.

"What do you drink?" Gina asked again, now curious about the man.

"Not tea." he stated again as if it was obvious.

Bucky chuckled as he saw Gina look at Thor as if he was some kind of mixture between an alien from another planet and a God, and just as she shrugged and moved to head for the kitchen she nodded at the photos of cereal brands that Natasha was shoving back into a file.

"By the way, what's with the cereal?" she asked.

Natasha then started to explain but soon Thor cut her off and started rambling about how every victim had a different make of cereal shoved down their throats once they were dead. There had been Puffed Rice, Jump Start, Juicy Skulls and finally Apple Puffs.

"God, that's so unimaginative. It should be a cereal that represents the person..." Gina spoke her mind.

"It did." Bucky explained. "It was their initials."

"No. I mean like their personalities..." she said before elaborating on her idea. "So, I would be something sophisticated, like a Granola."

Bucky, Thor and Natasha looked at her, finding it hard to believe what she had just said and Clint snorted as he lifted his eyes from the screen of his computer. At that point Steve walked out about to ask for an update when Gina continued her charade.

"And Captain Hottie Rogers here would be Cap'n Crunch" she said with a flourish of her hand and a wide grin, proud of her own joke.

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked her. "What is she talking about?" he asked again, looking at Natasha this time.

"She's just critiquing the Cereal Serial Killer's choice of breakfast snack." the detective said, smiling slightly.

Steve took a deep breath, reminding himself she wouldn't be here for long, before speaking. "Ok, can we focus, please? Thor, report on your troops."

"The gates of hell are filled with..."

Steve stopped listening to Thor, who seemed to have been infected by Gina's nonsense rambling, as from the corner of his eye he saw Clint whisper something to Nat, who snorted. Steve then glared at her. He had too much on his plate right now as it was and they were starting to give him a headache with their shenanigans and high-school whispers.

"Care to share with the rest of the team?" he asked Clint, sternly.

"Sorry, Cap. It…it was a bad joke." Clint apologized.

"Well, it was clearly amusing so let's hear it." Steve insisted.

Clint looked at Bucky, who nodded discreetly at him. Steve had used his Captain voice, he was pissed off. You'd better answer him, pal.

"I just reminded Nat of a joke we used to make... how Katie would be your Special K, that's all, was just a..." Clint explained. “We code named our matchmaking plan Operation Cap’n Crunch and Special K…you know, it…”

"Ha, that's amusing." Thor's laugh echoed throughout the main office, earning an appreciative look from Gina. "Cap'n Crunch and Special K..." he added, shaking his head.

But instead of laughing at the lame joke a cold feeling washed over Steve as the lightbulb suddenly lit up in his head. "Shit."

"Sorry..." Thor trailed, starting an apology.

But Steve wasn't listening to him, his eyes darted at Bucky instead whose mouth had dropped open.

"It's not Sarah Klein..." Bucky mumbled, looking at his friend.

Steve pulled out his phone and pressed the call button. Bucky saw his hand tremble as he brought the device to his ear and yelled "Buck, call Tony. Check if Katie is there. Hurry!"

Clint and Nat shared an understanding and concerned glance just before Gina asked "What's going on?"

Natasha looked at her and swallowed before answering. "Special K...it's Katie Stark... not Sarah Klein."

"Steve..." Bucky's voice which was slightly shaky attracted all the attention just as Steve looked at him. "Tony says Katie hasn't been to the lab..."

"Fuck!" Steve hollered. "Son of a bitch!" he swore again, kicking a chair before turning and starting barking orders, going on full Captain mode like they had never seen him before.

"Natasha, get the CCTV up from the parking lot." he ordered before pointing at Clint "If she left in her car, get on to traffic, pull up any cameras on the way to the lab, see if they track her plate."

Next he pointed at Thor, then Bucky "You, you with me now, we'll take a patrol car and run the route to the lab..."

There was a flurry of movement in the office as everyone jumped to it. Steve, Bucky and Thor literally ran from the office as soon as Steve had grabbed his jacket. He was trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but his breakfast wasn't willing to cooperate.