#sorry i need to like have a job? that happens to be sedentary

[needsmustleap]

sending strength to rachel zegler bc the hate she's been getting is FUCKING wild jesus christ. the comments on her latest youtube video????? it's been wild to see them change as more ppl beyond her subscribers have watched it.... it's just so fucked

[cupidkenji]

ghost in the machine

Pairing: Unsub!Spencer Reid x Agent!Fem!reader CW: Fluff, longing, mild angst, one paragraph with heavy implications of sex, cursing, mentions of reader being in a car accident, mentions of suicide and death, suggestive Ig? idk Spencer kind of taunts reader, if I miss anything please tell me! Summary: An unsub targeting local political powers starts calling you. With virtually no memories of your life before 15, you're tasked with finding out why his voice feels like home. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby. She's not physically described in this but reader is literally always a bigger person. Anyone can read but I wanna clarify <3 WC: 7.8k I lokey feel like I fumbled this one but this idea has been in my head since I saw a post about it like last month so i'm sorry in advance if it sucks 💀 I'm not saying looping ghost in the machine by SZA while reading this will elevate the experience but just know it's strongly advised and im even giving you a link to the song for easy access.

The fourth case this month. This was the fourth battered politician you’d forced into handcuffs while ducking away from the recoil of blood spewing from his mouth. The men you’d arrested had all protested strongly - and wetly - while being walked to the back of your cruiser, demanding to know why you were arresting them even though they were the victims. They were always the victims. They’d been burgled and beaten - yes- oftentimes you were restraining them while they sat in bathrobes or pajama pants, but this unsub always jumped the gun. Somehow they managed all this damage while simultaneously kicking the dirt that had been sedentary for years out from under the rug. The men would call the police themselves -  I’ve been robbed, I’ve been beaten - always astounded when you’d taken their statement then turned them around and recited their Miranda rights. This unsub was meticulous, planned down to the second. Somehow, the media always broke the story hours after the arrest with full fledged details on the crime - ones the BAU didn’t even have yet. 

The first time this happened, you’d questioned every media worker from Quantico to DC. His target zone never seemed to reach beyond that, giving you an offender right in your backyard. Those were always the hardest to stomach.  Journalists, Newscasters, even cameramen had been turned inside out as the team scoured for any connection. He was just too good. 

“How can it be just one man?” Derek spoke first, but that was the question all of you were about to ask. 

“Wife and kids were outta town. It was a sleeping 50 year old man against the element of surprise.” Prentiss was right, it wasn’t a difficult job when viewed like that. “Description is consistent with all the victims. All black attire, mask over the face.” She flopped the folder down in front of her for emphasis. 

“Either he has another guy or he’s incredibly tech savvy. Some of this information was encrypted, it would take weeks to compile all of this. If he’s hitting a new vic every week that’s not nearly enough planning time for something this orchestrated.” Hotch checked the time on his watch. “We’re not finding him tonight. The local PD are investigating. We don’t have clearance until tomorrow. Everybody go home and get some rest, we need to crack down on this.” 

As much as you loved your job, the departure was a welcome relief. The day had drained you, you had to basically drag yourself back to the BAU for the regroup after the case. It was routine, and incredibly necessary as this unsub continued his streak, but your brain was mush, and you didn’t know if you were capable of any breakthroughs in your current state. You were grateful, currently, that at least you weren’t dealing with a serial killer. He had an agenda, that much was obvious, but chasing a serial killer for a month bred a different kind of stress than chasing an anarchist. 

The AC blast that hit you upon entering your home seemed to steal the tension from your shoulders. It was summer, so on top of hunting an unsub who was essentially a ghost, you were also bearing through the violently humid nights. You locked the door, pulling up your sleeves as you walked deeper into your house. The lights were on, you never left them off for long, and your eyes locked on the pile of notes sitting on your counter. Three small papers, torn at every edge, were draped over each other. Evidence, you thought. You’d kept them for evidence. Once you told the team the unsub had been reaching out, you would show them the notes. It was that simple, you were planning to tell them. You didn’t know why the information hadn’t entered their radar yet. This unsub was clearly infatuated. You could be a valuable part of solving this case, the notes could be the reason you solved it at all. Those were words straight from the source, they would tell you more about the unsub than any crime scene analysis would. Something about them just stilled your tongue, though. You never particularly liked the feds, the cops, the higher ups. You became one of them begrudgingly, you’d been good at reading people your whole life. You wanted to solve things, see justice. It was never primarily about helping people for you, and you feared the reputational repercussions if your team members ever found out about that. You weren't ignorant, you had morals. You simply lacked the place of purity they came from, the virtue your team members carried was one you were void of. Half of the time you walked away from a case, you disagreed with the verdict, and you were ashamed.

You had only realized you zoned out when the phone rang, effectively breaking your gaze away from the notes and onto the ‘Unknown caller’ screen glaring at you from your cell. Morgan just got a new phone, you remembered. He’s probably checking in. You picked it up, stating just your last name in greeting as a reflex from almost exclusively talking to other agents. 

It was quiet for a moment, reaching the period of time where your stomach knotted up and almost forced you off the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” The voice was a new one, it pulled at certain strings within you. You knew him, but you didn’t recognize him. 

“Who’s this?” The spark of familiarity filled you with guilt. A car accident when you were 15 had stolen most of the memories from your childhood and left a bountiful amount of scars in their place. You barely remembered your own parents, if this man was an old relative, you definitely didn’t know who he was. As much as your family tried to be empathetic, you could tell it hurt them when you were none the wiser.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice.” The man was smiling as he spoke, you could hear it in his tone. “Your number was shockingly hard to find. Feds really don’t mess around, huh?” Your shoulders tensed, you looked around. Blinds were closed, your house was the same as when you left it. You're sure it wouldn’t be hard to find your address if he’d found your number. “I’ve been trying, believe me. I left those notes while I was looking, although it’s really not the same, is it? Phones are so revolutionary, I mean writing you a letter is one thing but it’s so underwhelming in comparison. A piece of paper doesn’t let me listen to you, doesn’t let me hear those little breaths you take when you get scared.” You didn’t even realize your breathing had changed until he called you out. 

“Do I scare you?” He sounded so domestic, the contrast between the genuinity laced in his words and the actual words themselves just about knocked you over. “I hope I don’t. I’m not trying to.”

“What are you trying to do?” Your mouth felt sealed shut, just barely managing to grate out the words.

“If you’re asking about my agenda, I’m afraid that’s a private affair for now.” He was so casual about this, sarcastically sucking air in through his teeth like he was telling you he couldn’t meet for coffee next week.

“What do you need with me, then? You don’t want to share and you aren’t calling to gloat. What’s the point?” 

You heard him click his tongue at the question. “Everything is so technical with you agents.” You could basically sense his lips quirk up, gaining some type of sick intuition for the man’s tendencies. “Maybe I just wanted a word with the pretty detective working my case.” 

Your knees were trembling, your grip getting looser on the phone as you struggled to keep your hold through the tremors of your hands. You had to focus, you could take advantage of this. “Why politicians? What happened to you?”

“Personal grudge.”

“How do you get their data so fast?”

“I know a guy” He knew a guy?

“So you have a partner?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s no one of importance.” Sibling, maybe?

“It’s important to me.”

He chuckled at that. You needed to hang up.

“Y/n-” Could he sense your fucking muscles tensing? “Don’t tell your friends.” He could hear your heartbeat from where he was, you were sure of it. 

“Why?” You were instantaneous, barely letting him finish before responding. “You gonna hurt me?”

“No.” He scoffed. “If you tell them, I’ll have to stop reaching out.” You swore you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Is that really something you want?” Cold sweat pierced through the skin on the back of your neck. You yanked the phone down from your ear and hung up. 

No, it wasn’t. 

–

You dreadfully greeted the sun as it peeked through the slits of your blinds. You’d slept maybe a half hour in total last night, sleeping in five minute increments while bearing through a paranoid haze only comparable to the first time you’d smoked weed. The world felt unreachable. You could see it like a screen but your true consciousness sat captive in his hands. He’d known you. That was the fact stuck in your throat, that’s why you couldn’t sleep. Does that mean you knew him?

“Jesus.” If you had to guess, the sight of your sunken eyes and hunched shoulders was the trigger for Morgan’s reaction to the sight of you. Walking into work wasn’t going to be fun, you knew that, but you hadn’t expected such an immediate acknowledgement. “Someone have a rough night?”

You wished you could banter with him. Morgan always made working here feel lighter, he was fun to be around, but you were guilty. If you were tired from a one-night, insomnia, even if you were drunk and puking your guts up all night, you would have joked back with him. Now, you had to force yourself to make eye contact. A childish part of your brain was scared he'd smell it on you. At this point, you were fraternizing with the enemy, and it’s repercussions were draped over you like a curtain. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Clearly.” He handed you a mug of coffee. “Is it the case? If it’s bugging you that much, one of us can stay with you for a couple nights. It’s no trouble.”

“No, Morgan, that’s not necessary.” He was so kind it was nearly suffocating. If someone stayed, he either wouldn’t call or you’d have to decline it. Both of those options making an uncomfortable amount of unease stir inside you. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.” 

“Just tell me if you need anything.” He nodded at you, you nodded back, then you both headed into the conference room. 

“Any leads?” You walked to your seat as you asked, unsure what you were hoping to receive as an answer.

“None.” Everyone else was gathered around the table, Hotch scanning through the file as he replied to you.

“We’ve pretty much ruled out the media workers.” Prentiss spoke up. “This guy’s most likely an anarchist. His previous victims haven’t belonged to a consistent party so he’s not lashing out at the opposing side.” She thought for a moment. “What path leads somebody to anarchy?”

“Maybe he’s been kept out of office.” Morgan started speculating, just trying to sweep together something they could pin to him. “If he’s been running long enough, maybe he gets angry, changes course. He could be jealous of his targets.” 

Your brain was half focused on the case, half focused on him. Two sides of you were fighting, one instilling a sort of protectiveness over him, one howling at you to do your fucking job. 

“I don’t think he’s an anarchist.” You leaned forward in your chair, revving up to present your theory. “He’s been described in the same outfit for every victim. Long Sleeve, cargo pants, gloves and a ski mask - all black. That’s as minimal as it gets. Some pretty low income areas are well within his safe zone.” You paused, looking around to see if they were understanding what you were getting at.

“He’s poor.” Hotch had a glint in his eyes. Almost. 

“So - what?” Morgan prompted. “He’s doing this for money? This is way too elaborate for somebody needing cash.” He shook his head as he spoke. “Hotch, there was evidence of Scopolamine injections. A man who either knows how to make the chemical or already has enough money to buy it wouldn’t be in a position that warrants this. Plus, the kind of tech it would take to get the information he steals? Way more than your typical Best Buy - this is Garcia level stuff. He injects them and probably forces them to help with the robbing, he beats them senseless - he’s getting some kind of kick out of this.”

“He’s not poor” You concluded. “But I’m pretty sure he used to be.” You sat up straighter to elaborate. “A lot of times, kids who grow up homeless or with no money feel wronged by politicians. Here they are going to school hungry while the mayor rolls in cash and lets them bear the consequences of a put-off promise to help the community.”

Prentiss sat back in her chair as she considered your words. “To build this type of anger, though? This is a vendetta.” She glanced down at the crime scene photos as a reminder. 

“Exactly. Anger is expected in normal cases. Something extreme clearly had to happen to explain this type of outburst.” Personal grudge, you remembered him saying. You felt like you were airing out his secrets as you spoke. A weak sense of betrayal tugged at your guts. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, going over what type of event could cause something like this and I think I have an idea.” You pulled out your phone while talking to call Garcia, the woman answering immediately.

“Garcia, can you look up children in the Quantico to DC area who died from complications with chronic illness? Probably late 90’s to early 2000’s, I don’t think our guy is old enough to have been running for office.” 

“That’s gonna be a large list. Any more parameters you can give me?”

“Look for families making less than 20,000 a year.” 

“Got it. There were three families making under 20,000 that reported losing a child of illness. One was of stage 4 cancer with no plausible recovery and the other two said they couldn’t afford the medication needed for treatment. I just sent them over.”

“You’re the best.” 

“Don’t I know it.” You hung up the phone, pulling up the files she found.

“What exactly are we looking for here?” Morgan looked to you.

“We can rule out the first family. Dying of cancer wouldn’t create the effect needed for our unsub.” He looked like he was about to reiterate his question. “What we’re looking for is a sibling. If your family is struggling, you already have the seed of anger that this guy has. I think a family member dying from the lack of money might just give him the motive he needs.”

“That’s good thinking, he could be avenging someone.” Praise from Hotch always felt better than others. “The Bryson family was just the mother and the daughter who died. She worked in janitorial for the local middle school.”

“Doesn’t exactly fit the profile.” Morgan was right, all the testimonies had described a man. Plus the assumption of decent financial prosperity didn’t fit someone still working at a middle school.

“Who does that leave?” You were searching for the answer to your question, but Prentiss was quicker.

“Diana Reid and her two sons. Henry had type 1, seems like they could afford the insulin for a little while but something must have happened. He went into DKA and died a week later.”

Two sons. “What about his brother?”

“Uhhhh-” She scrolled down on her tablet. “That would be one Spencer Reid who…” She scrolled just a little bit further to find the whereabouts of the man, the hope in her eyes snuffing out with the information she read. “is dead. Says he committed suicide a couple years after his brother died.” The whole table deflated a bit as she said that.

“It was a good idea.” Hotch, despite being a monotone man, usually tried to keep things optimistic. “We’ll continue pursuing that angle. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to go back to the first crime scene. I’ll call Dave and we’ll head to the latest.” The mentioned agents nodded their heads and started making their way out the door. 

Your eyebrows furrowed at your lack of instruction. “And me, sir?”

“Go home.” He looked you over for a moment. “You look like hell.” Then he was gone, calling Rossi on his way out. How mortifying.

– 

It had been three days since Hotch’s dismissal of you. You managed to get some sleep, convincing your co-workers of normalcy when you went back into the office the next day. In truth, you were anything but. You had been noticeably distracted but the others chose not to mention it until it hindered your performance, which it had yet to do. You were on a timer, counting down the seconds until your next call with him. You seemed to be endlessly tugged back and forth between excitement and pure dread. Everytime you got home, you took a moment to stare at your phone, almost like you could will him to call if you glared at it long enough. The day was just shy of a week since his last attack, and you were nervous as hell. Your phone buzzed once, then it buzzed again. He was calling. 

“You’re early.” You didn’t find it fitting to greet him. You knew who it was, why be friendly? “Is there another one?”

“Relax, honey.” His voice lit a fire in you. Jesus. “I didn’t know I was only permitted one call a week.”

“What are you playing at?�� You tried to sound sturdy, but your voice hit your ears with more desperation than you’d ever expressed. 

“I could ask you the same.” You could hear the tilt in his words, he was so sure of what he was doing. “You didn’t tell them about us.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m not in cuffs, am I?”

“You think we’d catch you if I told them?” Was it your fault he was still free?

“No.”

“Maybe they’re listening.”

“Maybe.” He was so unbothered by the notion. You were never a good bluffer.

“It wouldn’t bother you?” You narrowed your eyes at nothing, staring at your wall as you tried to read him through the phone.

“You could bring in the whole nation, Y/n.” You listened more intently than you ever had. “It wouldn’t keep me from you.” You felt like you were choking on your own heart, feeling it beat at the confines of your throat. Jesus Christ.

“Do you know where I live?” Your lips were too weak to hold back the question. It’d been the only thing on your mind since the first note had been left on your car.

“Why?” His smile bled into his words. “Are you inviting me over?”

“Answer the question.”

“Why don’t you answer a question of mine?” He was so intentional, his MO proudly showing in the way he spoke to you. “Haywood or Clancy?”

“Are those your actual choices?” You tried to analyze him, justifying your actions with the ruse of investigation. He’d tell you more if he wasn’t monitored. “Or are you trying to throw me off your trail?” It was certainly plausible. Get you running after two men not of interest, leaving his real victim neglected by your team. 

He laughed, breathy and soft. “I don’t know.” You could almost picture him tilting his head, faceless and so enticing in your imagination. “Pick one for me. Maybe I’ll do him next in your honor.” 

“What do you know about honor?”

“Everything I do is about honor.” What did that mean?

“The only thing that would honor me is you turning yourself in.”

“What do you know about honor, agent?” His voice was taunting, you heard his body shift. “What do you think that team of yours would think about us, hm? Those are their words, not yours. You’re the one who’s waiting on calls from the enemy.” Shock paralyzed your tongue. You felt your head pulse with the blood rushing to your ears. “You don’t have to be guilty about wanting it, honey. You don’t fit with them.” 

“As opposed to what? Fitting with you?”

He chuckled. “You’ve thought about it.”

“Nightmares, maybe.” 

“That’s the angle you're going with?” He saw through you. “If you dreamt of me, I doubt they were nightmares.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“I don’t know where you are.” You didn’t feel relieved. “I have no interest in hurting or robbing you. Why would I want your address?.”

You slipped your hand under your shirt to trace the scar across your chest. Gift from the accident, now a nervous habit of yours. “What do you want?” God, you were a broken record.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Y/n.” You could barely hear him over the thrum of blood in your veins. Your entire body felt tuned into his words. You’d never felt so far away while connected. “Only what I can do.”

“You take everything from them. More than just money. Clearly you lost something.” You were so sick of asking this question but you were getting farther from the answer with every conversation. “Why are you doing this?”

“They made the first move.” Jesus what did they do to this guy? “I’m not the bad guy, honey. I’m just defending my side.” 

“This isn’t a game.”

“It might as well be.” He was quick with his responses. “It’s all the same to men like them.” You stayed quiet for a moment. How did you reply to something like that? “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Give me less crime scenes to look at and maybe I’ll sleep more.”

He smiled, you could hear it in his tone. “Every mean has an end, agent.” You held your breath, and as if gaining consciousness, you hung up the phone. You felt the brick of the encounter sit heavy in your stomach. He wasn’t lying. You were guilty, and you wanted it beyond belief. 

–

You’d talked to him four more times over the past two weeks. There’d been two more victims corresponding with those calls, continuing his routine of a new one each week. Your understanding of your feelings had become less hazy as you talked to him more. Your guilt wasn’t from withholding information from your team, it was from the fact you wanted to. It stemmed from your instinctual desire to keep him to yourself. Let him exist differently in your home life than he did in your work life. It was difficult keeping something from profilers. It made you feel worse that they definitely knew something was up, but chose not to push it because they trusted you. Did this truly make you untrustworthy? You were only human. 

You’d spent what was meant to be your day off at the BAU working. When there was a case like this, rest time seemed to take the backseat. You were drained, more emotionally than physically. You were lying to your friends, but truly, you didn’t know how deeply you considered them friends. They were good people, easy to like and easy to work with. You were starting to wonder if that's where it stopped, though. Everything about their company was easy, but it lacked gratification. His company was hard on you, but it was so rewarding, so filled with feeling that you started to wonder what your morals even were. You wouldn’t find them here, you thought. You certainly tried. You stared into the chipped white paint aging poorly on the brick wall of the bar as if the pigment of the words would organize your thoughts better than your malfunctioning mind could. The liquid in your glass was nearing it’s end. The drink had loosened your joints, loosened your mind. You hadn’t come here to get drunk, you were basically still sober, you just needed the warmth of a drink. There was a certain coldness within you, there had been since the accident. You accredit the feeling with driving away any potential love interests of yours. There was always a sense of being stuck, like you were interrupted in the middle of moving on, and never fully got to close the chapter. This wasn’t hard for others to sense. You were as emotionally nonreciprocal and unresponsive as a corpse.

“Mind if I join you?” A man who’d immediately caught your eye upon entrance gestured to the barstool next to you.

You motioned to it. “Please.” A casual invitation. You didn’t know how to talk to random men in bars. You took a good look at him, something subconscious stirring beneath your skin. The minimal buzz of the drink you had making you write it off, preferring the focus of his eyes on yours. 

“What’s your name?” The smoothness of his voice could have rivaled the most expensive whiskey in that place. 

You told him your name. He nodded, murmuring a “pretty” under his breath as he took a sip from his glass. 

“I’m Matthew.” 

“Pretty.” You reiterated, raising your eyebrows slightly as you joked. He chuckled, and you asked if he was new to the area. 

“I’m a local, actually. I grew up here, surprisingly never been to this bar, though.”

“Really? I grew up around here too. This place is old as dust, been here forever.” You looked down, finishing the last of your drink. 

“I know. I’ve wanted to come here for a while because it’s so old.” Something about him was so off putting but so irresistible. You’d never encountered such an uncomfortable concoction. It was intoxicating. “I lost the knack for drinking I had in my teen years. Back then my friends and me would just buy a 12 pack and get drunk in the field on Fromage.” 

You lacked the memories to know if you related to the man, but you weren’t going to delve into why and kill the mood, so you lied. “That field used to scare the shit out of me. Everyone at my school said there were bodies out there.” 

His eyes held a certain glint in them when he looked at you, his lips perked up at the edges slightly, if you hadn’t been a profiler you might have missed it. “Really?” Maybe you imagined it all, that or he caught on to you, the look leaving his eyes after lingering for a moment. The slight promise of something more sinister pulsed throughout them. The hairs on your arm were standing. “Mine said the same thing.” He smiled, looking away, shaking his head fondly as he remembered. “My school was full of dumbasses though so I never really took it seriously.” And you laughed. 

You laughed a lot throughout the time you sat there with him. A few hours, you’d guess. He lowered your guard so easily, walking leisurely through the gates of you. You’d practically rolled out the red carpet for him. You wondered if he could see how easily he got in, how much you welcomed the feel of him in your veins. He didn’t seem to mind if he could. When he’d wanted to take you home, your lips parted, and you said you’d like that. You don’t really remember driving, knowing one of you did, both of you sober by the time you’d left. He’d been so gentle, so all-consuming. He’d run his thumbs along the scars he encountered, punctuating the sensation with his lips following close after. Mumbling praises against your skin and rhetorically asking “does that feel good, honey?” as your legs shook around him. He melted you down to pure liquid gold with just his touch, knowing exactly how to map you out. You’d felt him everywhere, his fingers burning their respective shadows on your skin, seeping slowly into your soul to leave marks there too. He’d felt so safe, the pure want joining the two of you together. A euphoric distraction from all the disaster you’d let befall you. He was gone before you woke up the next morning, but you saw him in your shadow, felt him in the soreness of your legs. He’d been a deviation, something put in your path to confuse you. What a brutal fucking night.

–

The same day, you’d gone to work, gone home, and then ended up back at the BAU an hour later. There had been another victim. Two days early. This was his eighth, and up until now he hadn’t strayed from his weekly pattern. This was a bad sign, if he was ramping up, who knows how many more he wanted to hit. The story had stayed the same, and that night you were arresting another board member, this time for solid ties to human trafficking. He really knew how to pick them. You’d give him that, at least.

The meeting post-arrest basically just shared what you were all thinking. He was ramping up, and you were getting no closer to catching him. Stating the obvious was doing nothing but wasting time. He was good. One of the best you’d ever seen. Nobody really knew what to do at this point. You watched their faces get more and more helpless and you felt bad. Nothing in your calls with the man would have helped you solve this case, you were almost positive. Any aspect that could have helped was one you explored. 

Emily had said the name ‘Spencer Reid’ and the way your stomach lurched made you feel like you had to be onto something. You’d never had such an intense gut feeling about something only for it to be absolutely impossible. You hadn’t told them, but you looked more into him. His death was an easy one to fake. As much as you hated speculating on what could very well have been just a heartbroken boy, you couldn’t deny the theory you were building. His mother had found a suicide note, they hauled a body out of the river a month later and just assigned Spencer’s name to it, marking it down as conclusive. You weren’t convinced.

–

You got home within the hour, locking the door and pulling out your phone. You hadn’t called him before, but it was the same number every time, and you needed to talk. The phone rang so long you were almost sure he wouldn’t pick up. Almost.

“Y/n.” He greeted you. “This is new.” 

“You broke your pattern.” You started with the topic at hand. “Why did you do that?”

You heard a chair squeak slightly as he leaned back. “What can I say? You being so interested gave me some extra motivation.”

“Interested?” What the fuck was he talking about? “This isn’t - I’m not fucking interested in anything. You’re a criminal.” You were slightly out of breath. When you lied to him, no matter how small the lie, air seemed to gain a disinterest in staying within your lungs.

“Mhm.” He was smug. That wasn’t a good sign. “I don’t believe that. You seemed pretty interested last night.” 

He had pulled a lever, and your stomach dropped to your shoes. “That was you?” You sounded as defeated as you felt. Your eyes were watering from the pure shock, feeling the drop of the bomb shake you down to your core. 

“You kept tracing that scar on your chest, you know that?” You hadn’t known that. “Almost like you could feel it.” Feel what? He didn’t elaborate. “You sounded so pretty when I touched it, when I kissed you. Been thinking about it all day.” He was breathy, sounding like he was trying to put himself back in it as he spoke. 

You steadied yourself before you opened your mouth. “You lied to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” He sighed. “You lied to me, though.” You hadn’t imagined it. “That field used to scare you?” He laughed slightly. “You were the one who told me about it. Took me over there once to look at the moon in the back of your dad’s pickup.” 

God, this was frustrating. “Who are you?” The tears were dancing the border of your eyes, begging to run down your cheeks. “I knew you?”

“You know me.” He was so sure of it. “I’m still in there. Everything is.”

You had to ask, at this point you were near certain of it. “Spencer?”

He sighed, relief intertwining with his words. “There she is.” It was such a soft delivery, the moment he took before replying had you wondering if you’d said anything at all.

What kind of situation even was this? “Is this about your brother?”

“You know, when we were younger, my mother knew the mayor. He used to babysit my brother and me when she worked nights.” His tone was humorous, bitter, like he couldn’t believe the stupidity of what he was explaining. “I listened to him promise us he would change the community when he got the time. Get us a house with more than one bedroom, get us into a school system deserving of us. He used to call me a genius.” He scoffed at the thought. “Then my mom couldn’t afford the insulin, and he let my brother die.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“The payments wouldn’t have even made a dent in his pockets.” You could visualize him, alone in a room somewhere, that familiar crease between his eyebrows as he talked. You were going to be sick, you thought. “One man for every year my brother got to live. Seems only fair.”

“Two more to go, then?” You couldn’t identify a single thought in your head. All of them speeding past you like bullets before you could latch onto one. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, quiet and subdued. “It is.”

“I - um” A tear finally fell, breaking the dam. You wiped it away quickly, two more taking it’s place almost immediately “I have to go.”

“Y/n-” but you were gone already. You put your hand over your mouth, laughing into it slightly at the absurdity of your situation and sobbing into a moment later as you took the cold plunge into reality. You texted your parents, knowing they were asleep, asking if you could swing by when they woke up. If anyone would know something, it was them, and you had every intention of shaking them down to find out exactly how you’d known the man. You had to know. You spent the night preparing the questions you’d ask and trying to fall asleep. You were almost paralyzed with the weight of him on you. There was no getting out of it now.

–

The outside of this house always felt alien. You knew you’d grown up here, but it lacked any sense of home. You wondered as you stood out front how much Spencer had to have meant to leave more of a mark than the place you spent your first 18 years in. The sun was nearing it’s peak in the sky, it was almost noon. Your parents had texted back at eight am, worried and eager to know what was wrong, eager to see you. You’d fallen asleep barely an hour before that, waking up at eleven and quickly getting ready after seeing the text. You were scared. These were practically strangers to you, and you were betting an ungodly amount on them. That’s not fair, you thought. But honestly, nothing was fair, and you calmed your guilt with promise of filling the void in your gut. You broke your staring contest with the front door and leaned forward to knock, the thing opening almost immediately. 

“Hey.” You spoke before they did. You found that being the first to talk usually decreased the amount of warmth in their greetings. “It’s good to see you guys. Thank you for having me, I know my texts were sort of alarming. I just needed to talk about something.” You held eye contact to the best of your ability. They brought out a deep feeling of shame, knowing they didn’t blame you for the distance but still being responsible for it nonetheless. 

“Of course.” Your mother talked while your father looked down. “It’s good to see you too. Come in, please.” Your father broke from her side to go sit down, while your mother opened the door to usher you in. You stepped forward, nodding at her in thanks as you passed her, joining your father where he sat.

“Um…” You faced both of them as your mom took the place by his side. How did you even start this? “Well, in a case I’ve been working on, somebody came up.” You couldn’t tell them he was alive. “And he just…seemed familiar, I guess. Did I know a boy named Spencer Reid growing up?” You watched the sparks of recognition ignite in their eyes as you said the name. Your mother’s grew teary, while your father’s seemed to harden. 

“Knew him?” Your mother chuckled at the thought of it being so simple. “You two were more in love than your father and I.” She rolled her eyes as she held your father’s arm, the man laughing lightly at her words.

 “He was the first friend you talked about. I remember picking you up from the first day of kindergarten and listening to you rave about the boy who was ‘smarter than the teacher’.” Her tone got lighter at the end, seemingly trying to imitate the excitement of your adolescent self. “You two were always close, you know?” She seemed to remember him fondly. “When you got older, you would get so defensive if  I asked after him so eventually I stopped. But I knew. I knew you two would end up together from your first playdate.” She was on the verge of tears, giggling at her own words as the stories she told surrounded her, smiling at the past. 

“His family really struggled. Such a sweet kid, him and his brother both. They were over here a lot.” Your father took the role of speaker as your mother’s emotions got the better of her. “We went back and forth for a while after the accident on whether to tell you or not. It just seemed cruel to. He died the night before you got hit, and you were such a wreck we just -” He struggled to find the words. “We considered it a blessing you didn’t remember him.” Your father’s guilt was apparent, twisting his features slowly as he explained their choices. “You were so in love, sweetheart. You didn’t know who he was when you woke up and we figured, you know, what’s the point? When the only thing that could come from it was pain, it just seemed futile.” 

You don’t think you blinked the entire time they were talking to you. You only knew you were crying when your vision went blurry, completely neglecting the beading of tears down your cheeks. You remembered the day your mother was talking about, seeing the children you once were illustrate the world in front of you. You could almost see his face, how it would have looked when he died, how he used to look at you. Like he was staring at the universe’s secrets, easing his hands through the veil to touch them - to touch you. You remember the feeling he gave you, something warm and distinct, reserved for the two of you only. If you could have seen yourself in the moments you shared, you’re sure you would have worn the same look in your eyes. 

You started speaking, but couldn’t manage much. “Yes, yeah, you’re right.” Reassurance usually worked well. “It was a…a good call.” You had trouble with your words, remembering the feelings of him but lacking the visuals. “Do you have any pictures?” Your mother nodded in response, detaching from your dad and going to retrieve something that held the memories you sought. 

“I’m-” Your dad started. “We’re sorry.”

You shook your head. Your parents were the last people who owed an apology. “It’s ok, dad. I’m glad you did it.”

“I could never myself look back at these. Thinking about what happened to them I just…I can never look at them knowing they’re gone.” Your mother re-entered the room holding a camera, dark pink and cheap. “It was meant to document your childhood, but he was around so much, it’s basically just a compilation of you guys.”

You held the thing in your hands. It was everything you wanted to happen but you couldn’t force your fingers to move. Did you even want this? He was alive, sure, but you’re certain the boy next to you in these photos would never see the light of day again. All your birthdays for thirteen years, field trips, science fairs, even just the two of you sitting together reading. It was all here. All consumable. You felt the urge to boil them down and burn your skin with the residue. Anything to keep a semblance of this life with you. You had a right to them, they were yours. Your teeth clenched at the sting of the absence. He had been yours and you couldn’t even remember. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course.” You’re sure the thoughts in your head were obvious to them, spinning like a cyclone in your eyes zoning out on the camera. “I’ve thought about giving it to you for a while now anyway.”

–

They’d made you lunch, then dinner. They told you tales of your past and you let them glance into your present. It was dark by the time you left, setting the goal to talk with them more. You walked to your car, having parked down the street, and tried to shake yourself out of the trance that house put you in. You thought you were seeing things at first, squinting slightly to focus on the chunk of passenger door that was shrouded with out of place darkness. Someone was leaning against your car. You didn’t feel defensive. 

“Spencer?”

“Hey.” He pushed off the door and walked closer to you, facing you on the sidewalk. You could see him now, lit up by a streetlight. He took you in, too. Glancing at your hand and grinning. “I remember that thing.” You had forgotten you were holding the camera until now. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know, honey.” He shrugged, matching your exhaustion at the situation. “I guess I wanted to see how much you remembered.” He looked at you, his eyes just as bright as they’d been a decade ago. “How much I could make you remember.”

You sighed. God, if only it worked that way. “Do you want to-” What the fuck were you thinking? “Do you want to come over?” You’d looked through every picture on that camera. You missed him. You missed him in your space, on your bed, waiting for you at the bus stop. That knot of feeling stuck only wanted to unravel if it were his hands tugging at it. “I can drive us.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise blending seamlessly with the undiluted hope he carried as a kid. “Ok.” He smiled, just a tiny lift at the corners of his lips. The image of that smile resting on his teenage face struck you so violently you felt it in your bones. You looked at him, starstruck. His presence was a trance of it’s own. 

“Ok.” You repeated him, trying to elongate the moment. You weren’t sure when you’d be ready to look away. He’d have to move first, and he knew it, so he walked to the passenger door. You blinked, grounding yourself, and unlocked the car. 

You were preparing for an awkward car ride, but clearly your subconscious was more than familiar with him, being silent with him came as second nature to you. You took the long way back to your house, trying to enjoy the comfortability as long as you could. He added an elevation to your existence that you hadn’t been aware you were lacking. You pulled into your driveway ten minutes later, parking and turning off the car. 

“Did you really not know where I lived?”

“No.” He was looking out your windshield, taking in the sight of where you felt safest. “I meant what I said. I never needed to. 

You walked into the house first, hearing him shut the door softly behind him. You’d been listening to see how he’d close it, not sure what it would tell you, but deeming it important regardless. He’d been nothing but respectful of your space both times he’d been here. You sat down, nodding your head to the chair near you. 

He let a moment pass, waiting to see if you had something to say. You had too much to say, too much to articulate. “I want you to leave with me.”

“Spencer-”

“Don’t.” His eyes were pleading, glistening with his unique mix of hunger and control. “Don’t write me off, Y/n. Nobody would know. They’re not gonna catch me. You can quit, and we can leave.” You looked away, down towards your hands. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” It was all you’d been thinking about. Usually in dreams - obviously your mind was more up to date than you were. You were going to do it, you thought. Of course you were. You looked at him and knew you’d go anywhere he asked you to. Still, though, you had a life. One you needed time to wrap up before you could leave it. You were a federal agent, if you went missing, they’d send the entire nation to step on your heels. 

“Can I think about it?

He looked at you, suppressing a smile and tilting his head slightly. “Sure, honey.” He could read you so easily. He’d known he had you from the moment he asked. “I’ve still got two more.” The burning in your stomach wasn’t a resistance to the words. It was an admiration, a feeling you could wallow in. You weren’t an opposing force to him. Had you ever been? Truly?

“What happens if I don’t go?”

His eye contact had a way of transferring, enveloping any part of you it could reach. You were testing him. “Don’t force my hand, Y/n.”

You didn’t plan on finding out what that meant.

[kindness-ricochets]

I’ve been seeing a lot of thoughts and hc of autistic wylan lately and you seem to also be a fan of the concept. May I ask why? Exactly? I could definitely kinda see it but wanna hear you thoughts you’re always so eloquent

Hey there anon! Sorry for the delay—I’m guessing you already found an answer to this elsewhere while I was off Tumblr for a bit, but just in case, here are my thoughts. This will be heavily personal, but… well, you can’t very well ask an autistic person about autism and expect neutrality!

Autism is different for everyone and can be difficult to pin down, so while Wylan is arguably autistic, he misses several beats that for me would have made him definitively and undeniably autistic. For example, when the bells start to ring, triggering black protocol—I work in a place with a lot of bells and am frequently caught too close to one and normally press my hands over my ears until it’s over because that sound is like shrapnel raking across my insides. All of them. Not just the ear and brain parts. Wylan doesn’t have that sort of visceral reaction, but that may just mean he doesn’t have the same sensitivities that I do, or to the same level. He also never, that I recall, eats meat—as weird as that might sound, eating meat is incredibly complicated with heightened sensitivities to taste and texture. I’m not sure how old I was when I realized it was strange to get up from the table to spit out my food because it viscerally repulsed me. So it might be that Wylan is autistic and has different experiences than I do. Those are things I would include in a story as major indicators of a character being autistic. This might also mean that his father’s way of raising him taught him to hide unusual reactions and stimming behaviors. It’s not that much of a reach to assume a man who tried to abuse the dyslexia out of his son would take the same approach to autism. (More on autism and abuse later.)

So while I’m going to lay out why I read Wylan as autistic, that’s why I think it’s valid to read him as not being autistic as well. Both are valid.

A final caveat, I am well overdue for a reread of the books, so I likely left something out or could have found better examples. Take this as a few of my reasons for a personal headcanon. Anyone who feels differently, that's fine! We can each read things our own way :)

1 - Hyperfixation: The way Wylan loves music

Most of the Crows’ backgrounds color how they see the world: Kaz’s shrewdness, Matthias’s tactical thinking and superstition, Inej’s faith and Suli wisdom, etc. That’s a sign of good character writing. But very little of Wylan’s upbringing seems to have influenced how he sees the world. It comes closest when he thinks about how his father would scorn his new friends, but we never see that scorn from Wylan.

The way a hyperfixation feels, it’s like you’ve always lived in a close parallel world, never fully been a part of the other one where it seems like everyone else lives, but suddenly there’s this bright shining piece of your soul laced through the other world. It lets you connect, it lets you exist in their realm, and you can’t help but filter everything new through that lens because it’s the brightest, most wonderful thing. (I had been between hyperfixations for a while when I started a new job; six months into that work, I read Crooked Kingdom. One of my coworkers thought I had fallen in love, it was that marked a difference.)

So, combining these: Wylan never really acts like he was part of his father’s world, and indeed is in some ways separate from the other Crows, but he parses everything through music, his hyperfixation. He sets words to music to remember them, like he does with the contract. Even his own anxiety is made sense of through music, when in his first narrated chapter, he sets it to music: what am I doing here what am I doing here…. When he’s overwhelmed, his thoughts are “a jangle of misplayed chords”. The Crows have backgrounds that influence how they react to the world, but Wylan’s hyperfixation is his means of experiencing and understanding the world.

2 - Literal thinking: Wylan responds to exact words

In this post, I went into detail on the line where Wylan suggested waking up men to kill them. Wylan is generally unsupportive of killing people—Oomen, Smeet’s clerk, his father… he advocates not-murder in each of these situations. Accepting his aversion to murder, his suggestion to wake men up and kill them seems like a genuine reaction to Jesper saying he doesn’t want to kill unconscious men. Wylan takes things literally.

This happens the most with Jesper, probably because Jesper talks to Wylan the most. Nina and Matthias don’t really register him past how he might be useful, Inej is usually quite direct, and Kaz is very deliberate when he speaks with Wylan. This really interests me because Kaz tends to vary his speech more than the others do, he adapts more to being around other people. He jokes a little with Jesper, spars with Nina, speaks more openly and more sharply with Inej, and he’s precise with Wylan. Kaz may not know what autism is, but he recognizes what’s effective with Wylan.

Another example is when Wylan is sketching the Ice Court plans and Jesper says it looks like a cake. There are plenty of valid responses here: pointing out that concentric circles look like lots of things, that it’s just a sketch, telling Jesper to stop looking over his shoulder. Instead, Wylan says that the Ice Court is sort of like a cake. That… doesn’t sound like something Wylan would normally say. He’s not addressing the whole situation, he’s addressing the specific words Jesper said.

One of the most heartbreaking examples of this (to me, anyway) is with Marya. Wylan does the same thing with his mother, when she asks if he’s there for her money and says she hasn’t got any, and his response is, “I don’t either.” We understand as readers that what Marya is communicating here is that she is so accustomed to being utterly ignored unless she is being used, and if she told Wylan that no one visited but to take advantage and she assumed he was here for the same reason, he would say it wasn’t the case. But he just responds to the immediate statement.

There are a lot of examples of this.

3 — 0% perception, 100% creativity

Wylan can identify things that don’t make sense or that he doesn’t understand, but at the beginning of the series he can’t make leaps, only ask questions. On the Ferolind, he wonders about the source of water at the Ice Court; though Kaz doesn’t say as much, he was clearly wondering, too, because he eventually figured out the underground river. There’s an interesting parallel here where, in the beginning of Crooked Kingdom, Wylan asks a question about how they’ll break into Smeet’s and Kaz tells him to use his eyes instead of running his mouth—at which point Wylan is able to figure it out. I don’t think this is because he never tried before, though, but because no one ever bothered to teach him. Kaz can be harsh but he gives harsh corrections rather than harsh rejections and Wylan learns from him.

It’s hard to understand the world for people with autism. The world is designed and run by and for people whose minds are fundamentally different from ours, whose thoughts and experiences are unlike ours. Imagine trying to learn English or Spanish or Mandarin or any other spoken language if your first language was olfactory. That’s sort of what it’s like for someone with autism to just get dropped into the world and expected to figure this out.

This can be attributed to Wylan’s upbringing, but I disagree with that because none of the others were brought up in the Barrel, either, and Wylan doesn’t understand trade or politics with any special skill. Kaz wasn’t born in the Barrel, but he managed to go from “stealing is wrong” to “wrong isn’t my concern” real quick; Colm Fahey didn’t raise his son on gambling and firefights; the Ghafas never expected their daughter to be away from the family. Only Nina has relevant training—and even that’s precious little, she left school way too early. The others figured it out; Wylan needed a bit more help. He also seems surprised by the way his father conducts business. Wylan takes things on face value—like the time he’s surprised someone would do something, simply because it’s unlawful. This is something he expresses to a group of gangsters. He’s never been taught the way of any world and these things are not intuitive to him.

But Wylan isn’t stupid.

He doesn’t know how to understand the world, but he does understand how things go together. Given a pointy diamond, a handle, and a screw, he cut through Grisha glass. He carries flashbangs and magic napalm, he recreates military hardware—Wylan understands how to make things interact for a specific result. But to me the most telling thing isn’t just that he puts together chemical pieces, it’s that he figured out Jesper controlled bullets. He saw the pieces and put them together.

Wylan can understand when things don’t make sense, but he can’t make sense of them—yet when he understands things at their basic level, he understands them without preconception, for what they are. This is a very autistic way of thinking about things, it goes back to the literalism. He can’t make the leaps of logic other people can, but he also doesn’t make the assumptions they do—“I’ve never heard of a bullet Grisha, so that’s not a thing” vs “Well Jesper’s an almost impossibly good shot and he controls metal and bullets are metal, so why not?”

4 - Broken brain/body connection

Wylan’s great at chemistry and drawing and playing flute or piano—but he’s something of a disaster other times. This is in particular contrast to the other characters, all of whom are physically adept. Meanwhile it’s a challenge for Wylan to climb a rope ladder and he spends a full paragraph trying to figure out what to do with his hands. It’s easy to say, well, he’s used to a sedentary lifestyle, but at this point he’s not. He’s worked in the tannery for months. He’s just physically awkward.

I have less to say on this point only because it’s about something I don’t fully understand myself. I don’t really understand what it would be like to have a body that just… does things? Like normal stuff? Without tics and stims. No idea. Only that Wylan’s discomfort in and seeming lack of mastery of his own body feels very relatable to me.

5 - Abuse

One of the most familiar things about Wylan is how he has been so thoroughly abused and broken down that he’s afraid to do or say much of anything. Again, this is a place his background can be an obscuring factor. Of course Wylan didn’t think to blow up the walls when the first met the parem-juiced jurda and got trapped, he’s a spoiled rich kid! Except, he also startled when Jesper said his name later. Wylan didn’t hesitate because he was spoiled, he hesitated because he had no confidence.

He also thinks Kaz would laugh at him for playing music at his mother’s grave. Now, personally, I can’t see Kaz laughing at Wylan—being indifferent, thinking it’s pointless sentimentality, shaking his head, maybe commenting sharply that they need to go if they don’t have the time. But not laughing. Kaz is a snarky, sharp-edged jerk sometimes, but he doesn’t go out of his way to criticize, he just lets people know when they inconvenience him.

Wylan has been trained to identify attention as negative by an overbearing abusive father who literally saw him as less favorable than a demon. Now, that may have been hyperbole, but Jan criticized everything he could about Wylan—art, music, emotion—and made clear that he was worthless and competent to nothing. (Jan Van Eck can suck a rotten donkey dick but that’s neither here nor there.)

A lot of people with autism experience levels of bullying that have similar impacts. Or as the kids these days are calling it: we go to school. We go to school where we are weird. Where we look weird and move weird and talk about weird things and there’s a whole little bevy of asswipes to makes sure we know it. I got teased more for playing Pokemon and sitting alone reading than the kid who pissed himself onstage at assembly. (This was before Pokemon was cool. I’m old.) And that is not unusual for autistic kids. It’s also not unusual for this to be compounded by relatives or even parents who may be trying to help but don’t understand and can make things even harder.

So we can’t read social cues and we’re taught at a vicious age that everything that comes naturally to us is wrong. Imagine trying to interact in society with that background. There is no guide and most advice from neurotypical people isn’t actually what they mean. It breaks you down.

Wylan’s anxiety isn’t definitive of autism, but isn’t something that was incredibly familiar as someone whose neurodivergent experiences created a strong level of anxiety.

6 — High Compassion, Low Social Competence

Wylan isn’t very good at making friends. In fact, none of the Crows likes him much in the beginning, and only some of them soften toward him by the end. (Matthias and Nina come to respect his skills as a chemist but neither seems to particularly like him.) But you can see throughout the books that Wylan wants to connect with them and be one of them, he just… isn’t. He’s off-beat. He’s weird. He asks questions and mimics behaviors (trying to be cool and tough like Jesper, saying “mission” like Matthias does, imitating Kaz’s scheming face) but he doesn’t quite get how to adapt.

But he still cares about people. Not just them. Everyone. He cares about the people they leave in the ditch outside the prison wagon, he cares about Hanna Smeet, he cares about Alys. He cares about the people who’ll take a hit from Kaz’s sugar caper.

Wylan’s awkward social skills have undeniable big autism energy. I posit his compassion does as well. This is simply who Wylan is, and that means being someone who cares about everyone. I have nothing to back up that this is related to autism. I can say that it’s like me. (Not to brag.) I can’t turn off the part of my brain that says everyone matters. Individuals can opt out of that compassion, but they have it by default. There’s a certain agony in feeling a pull toward and love for just about everyone and yet an inability to develop meaningful connections with them, and that keen loneliness… it just burns.

Again, it’s not definitive of autism, but it’s very similar to an autistic experience.

I said in the beginning that I didn’t think Wylan certainly had autism and I stand by that, but he is a powerfully honest reflection of many people who do. So he can be understood to have autism, and that’s part of the reason some people have that headcanon.

[astrowithkaro]

Hi, hope you’re doing well! I just wanted to request the language of birthdays for April 1st. Thank you 💖💖

Language Of Birthdays: April 1 - Aries

[You can find the rest of the series here; or check out my masterlist]

The Day Of Dignity

Those born on April 1 are usually straightforward, self-disciplined, thoughtful and hardworking people. Although they may be masters of their craft, they rarely if ever flaunt their talents. Even as children they manifest a serious, conscientious attitude toward daily life, shouldering many responsibilities that other children would find a burden. As they grow, they invariably develop into reliable figures who friends and family can depend on year in and year out.

Although the star quality of an April 1 person is undeniable, they do not seek the limelight early in life. It is not being the center of attention which is important to them, but being at the center of what is happening. All they really want is to get on with their work. Their fixation on work is pronounced and they are likely to be certified workaholics at various times in their lives. Many born on this day impress others as being shy, even withdrawn. In fact, they are not overly sociable people, unless sociability is required by their profession.

The subtleties of technique can become a mania for an April 1 person. They are interested in mastering every aspect of what they do; to ask others for help would only be an embarrassment for them. Super-capable, they usually learn their craft on their own. outside of school. Attending classes can make them itchy; many born on this day can't wait to leave school in order to begin their self-educative process. Able to learn from experience and observe the methods of those they admire, they soon develop a style which is uniquely their own.

Though April 1 people are capable of originality, their work is rarely highly daring or unusual but more likely to be conservative and measured. Often those born on this day have a passion for history. for studying how things were done before and why they did or did not succeed. It is not their own success that concerns them, rather the success of their projects and endeavors.

The drive is very strong in April 1 people to bring matters of concern to a satisfactory conclusion. Thus they will finish a project no matter how much energy is required or how great the sacrifice. April 1 people do not depend on others to provide pleasure for them, and do not surround themselves with friends or admirers. Others sometimes feel sorry for April 1 people, thinking them solitary, isolated or lonely, but in fact those born on this day are quite happy living on their own and functioning autonomously. April 1 people may have a problem of demanding too much from themselves—thus they must avoid taking on too many projects at one time. The only recreation attractive to these disciplined individuals is often itself a hobby, which they pursue with such zeal that others may mistake it for work.

Strengths:

Goal oriented

Sincere

technically skillful

Weaknesses:

Isolated

One-track

workaholic

Advice

In order to be healthy and stay healthy, April 1 people need a substantial amount of physical exercise. They should pursue professions, whenever possible, that give them the opportunity to stretch their legs or be in the open air. Should they happen to be tied to a sedentary- job. they absolutely must seek some form of vigorous exercise in their spare time. Since April 1 people are explorers and trailblazers in everything they do, such activities as hiking, mountain climbing and horseback riding come naturally to them.

Commune more with your fellow human beings; don't insulate your personal life too much from the world

Share both joys and sorrows with loved ones

Hew are of taking on too much; avoid putting yourself under time limits and pressures

Learn to relax

[pekorosu]

just a lil “if ash lived” headcanon that i need to unload somewhere bc i've been holding it in for a long time

- set within the manga ‘verse

- takes place when ash and eiji are in their early 30s... so around the mid 1990s?

- i don’t get the weird animanga trope where older = longer hair, so they’re gonna look the same... maybe with slightly shorter hair bc they get regular haircuts now 

- (note: i've always interpreted long-haired eiji as symbolic of the fact that he couldn't move on from ash’s death)

- ash and eiji will continue living in the states, idk if still in NYC or somewhere else. they’ll move around a lot though.

- ash will mostly remain underground as he had to fake his death after lao’s stab, but he does it in a "hiding in plain sight" kind of way. only a handful of people know he’s still alive.  

- ash spends most of his time on the computer, mostly coding, hacking, being a nerd, among other fun stuff.

- he also takes on “jobs” anonymously, and occasionally from max (who’s still into investigative journalism) when he needs info that can only be obtained through Dubious Means.

- i also like to think that ash's a bit of a hacker robin hood lol. but he isn’t doing it purely out of the goodness of his heart, as part of it is a subconscious need to atone for his “sins” and cleanse the gnawing and persistent feeling of shame that gets amplified when he’s around eiji.

- also whatever he’s up to these days would ofc still be Highly Dangerous and Illegal, but it keeps him busy and would sate the part of him that’s still hungry for adrenaline without him having to engage in stuff like active bloodshed or substance abuse. basically that’s how i imagine he’d try to cope with life the only way he knows.

- eiji continues to do photography and other part time gigs bc he does not like the idea of mooching off ash forever, and he slowly makes a name for himself.

- ash and eiji live together but they are NOT together in a romantic sense... not yet >:)

- therefore eiji will probably date other people in the meantime, which gets a little troublesome bc it's not like he can bring them home to where his secret Very Important Friend is secretly hiding.

- ash will maybe have one-night stands every now and then. or not. idk. this isn’t a very important detail.

- anyway there will be lots of clueless but mutual pining :)

- ash especially, is of the opinion that they should start living separately bc someone will eventually track him down, maybe someone who has a past or present grudge on him. combined with his current activities, it’s only a matter of time before eiji would unwittingly get dragged into his problems again.

- eiji is v adamantly against that plan bc he's sorta developed a debilitating sense of paranoia that ash might just get killed somewhere while he’s not looking. not that ash isn’t paranoid either, but his insecurities often tip the scale over to “eiji is safer away from me” than “with me”.

- basically they’re doing their whole “stay. no, leave. no, stay” dance all over again, but like, dragged out over MANY YEARS.

- you thought eiji’s letter would’ve cleared up any crossed wires? 

- HELL NO

- like yea, there was probably a beautiful honeymoon period of about a year or two after they reunited, before their respective trauma and issues started creeping in and fucking things up again.

- esp on ash’s end, i think he’d engage in a lot of self-sabotage. and eiji is only human, he has his own limits and baggage too.

- there will be a government conspiracy plotline but on a smaller scale compared to canon that i am unfortunately not knowledgeable enough to worldbuild on, but it will probably have something to do with cybercrime/cyberterrorism/stuff like that bc it needs to tie in with ash's hacking shenanigans.

- i've heard that sing ends up becoming some sorta political big shot in yasha? idk, i haven't read it myself, but since china’s rising status was mentioned in GoL i imagine the plot should relate to that somehow.

- therefore sing would also get to be in this story! 

- i guess this means yut-lung would come into the picture at some point as well, and it would be a good opportunity for a redemption arc but i haven’t given it much of a thought bc i’m indifferent to his character orz SORRY.

- look i can’t do plot, but i am basically envisioning a political thriller with a side of slow burn romance (wait, you mean like a rehash of canon?)

- i’m thinking max is the one who kicks off the story by bringing something fishy to ash, and they just end up uncovering more and more and MORE stuff as they keep going.

- so for like 80% of the story, ash and eiji will be separated bc ash will be busy spying or infiltrating something... and being at the center of Plot Things, while max and eiji will be more on the outside dealing with the journalist side of things. i’m fond of max-ash interactions but i’m also REALLY CURIOUS about max-eiji’s dynamic :D

- meanwhile sing will be like, half in and half out i imagine. he's versatile like that lol

- ...i did NOT mean that in a dirty way

- anyway, this will provide ash and eiji ample space to work out their issues separately, as i think living in close quarters for so many years has actually been aggravating them. ofc those issues don’t get 100% resolved by the end, but some time apart from each other to cool off and spend with other people should provide a bit of perspective.

- i want ash to make some NEW FRIENDS (!!!) that are on the same wavelength as him bc there’s only so much that he can tell eiji and i’m sure he gets rather lonely, so there will be OCs that he will meet in the middle of Plot Things.

- ash will get trapped at some point. preferably with sing so they can have a much needed heart-to-heart talk. they’ll have a lot to hash out, ranging from the events in BF, shorter’s and lao’s death, all the way to ash’s love life. 

- btw i like the idea of eiji and sing being close drinking buddies who confide in one another but ash is kinda, justalittle, not very happy about that LOL 

- i mean, it's not like eiji can confide in ash when ash is the topic at hand, ya get me? as for sing, he’s similar to ash in the sense that they live dangerous lives, so i imagine he just finds it nice to be able to hang out with someone mundane like eiji every now and then.

- not to say that ash and sing aren’t talking to each other at all, but i think they’d have a bit of a rift between them. sing probably does feel some resentment, both at ash for killing lao AND at himself bc he knows deep down that given a choice, he would’ve saved ash over his own brother. ash can sense that tortured vibe, so eiji’s like their middle man. AND THAT’S WHY THEY NEED A HEART-TO-HEART TALK

- (SIDE NOTE: i want akira to have a role in this too. i actually have a separate headcanon that happens prior to this story... kinda like an alternate GoL? 

akira goes to the states to visit eiji, but ash is also there, yeah? akira and ash start out sorta prickly with each other bc ash is all weird and standoffish and always cooped up in his room. she probably mistook him as a jobless model mooching off eiji at first since 1) eiji and ibe have never spoken about him back in japan (cuz he’s supposed to be dead), 2) why would eiji be living with some random hot guy? unless they met during one of his photography gigs? right??? 

and then she ends up witnessing them in the middle of a tiff, which makes her not like ash even more bc HOW DARE HE YELL AT POOR OKUMURA-SAN??? UNGRATEFUL JERK!!!

but over the course of her visit, she snoops around learns a bit about their history and gathers hints as to why their r’ship is kinda strained. also ash and akira somehow end up bonding (reluctantly) over their emotional insecurities and part on a friendly rivalry to win over eiji’s affections (which eiji is completely oblivious to. also akira may have been 100% serious but ash was just jokingly playing along with her (OR WAS HE???)). anyway long story short, ash teaches akira some cool tech/IT stuff along the way so that leads to her gaining an interest in the field. 

she won’t be able to do much in this story, but a minor role would be cool :)

 ^ a lighthearted gyoza-making scene amid all the angst)

- (SIDE NOTE #2: i ALSO want cain to feature in this, but bc canon provided very little bg info on him it’s hard for me to figure out where he’d fit. but i suppose that’s precisely why it would be great to include him, since i can just make up my own backstory! lol. for now, i think he should be connected to one of the new OCs to make him more central to the plot. or heck, he can be involved himself! ...yeah, i’m just salty about how cain was treated more like a convenient plot device compared to the other major side characters. we barely know anything about him even though he was one of ash’s most trusted allies. #caindeservedbetter2k20)

- anyway, back to the main story. ash (and his new "friends") barely escape where they’re held hostage. ash would be rusty with combat now as he’s spent the past few years doing only stealth work and being rather sedentary. 

- so there’ll be lotsa old man!ash jokes like them poking fun at him whenever he complains about his back hehe

- when they finally emerge outside they find themselves in the middle of nowhere! they then hijack a passing pickup truck and do a roadtrip back to civilisation. ROAD TRIP FTW

- at this point, quite some time has already passed and ash even has a fuzzy beard and mane and all. he’s standing at the back of the truck with a small smile on his face and the wind blowing in his hair, thinking GONNA GO BACK AND SEE EIJI, MISS HIM LOADS, HELL YEA 

- (bonus: this song and this scene is the catalyst for this entire headcanon btw)

(drew this about a year ago. i was trying to imitate the manga’s art style... and the ash i had in my mind was a little different. i’m too lazy to redraw, but he’s fuzzier now okay! MORE FUZZ! like an actual freakin LION!)

- meanwhile, eiji and max will get into some deep shit around this point? 

- eiji in the pic above was me imagining that the Bad Guys had tossed some damning evidence (eg. severed body part?) on the ground like “ash’s dead/ash’s in a lot of danger now so hand over all the info u have”

- and eiji and max are like. SHOOKETH

- this would be the 3rd time ash has “died” after all, and as they say... 3rd time's the charm...

- eiji almost gives in, but then max spits in their face like fuck no and then... yeah. they get beat up and taken away or something lol

- EDIT: hmm... what if the Bad Guy is someone IN the government, and he uses his power to get eiji and max arrested for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive (ash). and then ash has to rescue them... JAILBREAK STYLE

- also it might be cool to introduce ash's mom somewhere in this story... maybe SHE'S the villain! mwahaha *drama intensifies*

- anyways they will get saved by ash and gang bc that’s just the way things go, BUT! only on the condition they already made it out at least 80% of the way bc GODDAMN IT👏LET👏EIJI👏BE👏BADASS👏FOR👏ONCE👏 

- (that is, after he overcomes the initial shock of ash possibly being dead again... again...... again............)

- there will ofc be moments of “oh my god, you’re okay” "i thought i lost you...!"

- something like this, because one can never have enough cheesy reunion scenes

- this will eventually lead to REVELATIONS (of the romantic kind, yes) 

- buuuut they will never say "i love you" directly to each other bc ash is too emotionally constipated and eiji is too japanese. it's okay, they will communicate it through heated stares 👀

- i would love for there to be a scene where they have to be separated again for Plot Reasons and ash sorta hesitantly goes all "...will you wait for me?" as a direct parallel to canon!eiji's "i'll be waiting" and it’s like,

- FINALLY! 

- FINALLY!!!!!!!!!! ash has finally allowed himself to ask for this, to let himself want it! 

- and eiji would be like OF COURSE I WILL YOU BIG DUMMY, ALWAYS AND FOREVER

- but i think it'd be hilarious if eiji pops up while ash's in the middle of the final showdown and ash's like WTF I TOLD YOU TO WAIT FOR ME and eiji's like I WAS WORRIED OKAY YOU WERE TAKING SO LONG

- idk how this is supposed to end...

- oh wait! since the plot is government-related, maybe Someone will be able to pull strings to wipe out ash’s criminal record (past and present) and give him a brand new 100% legal identity, as thanks for his efforts? or maybe ash (or sing) just does it himself somewhere along the way LOL. anyway, he’ll be able to start over with a fresh clean slate and finally work on recovery FOR REAL NOW. yes this is a happy ending AND it didn’t require him to go to japan /flips off canon

- ...i realise it’s never going to be that simple but W H A T E V E R

- (also they probably will visit japan in the future with that shiny new passport... gotta meet the in-laws and all y’know)

- who do i gotta pay to write this cheesy self-indulgent fic for me

[marjansmarwani]

The Boss’s Son (Part 4)

A 911: Lone Star Role Reversal AU

[Read on Ao3]

[Part 1]   [Part 2]   [Part 3]  

Firefighter Carlos Reyes and Officer TK Strand’s secret relationship is out in the open now, thrust into the spotlight when TK was shot.

They’ve taken their time to regroup and heal, growing closer all the while. Now the recovery period is over things are going back to normal and they’re learning that there is no such thing as business as usual anymore. This experience has changed both of them, and now they have to find a way to live in this new reality. Thankfully they have each other, and that is the one thing they know for sure.

---

Tarlos Week Day 7: Writer's Choice

Finally finished Day 7 of @tarlosweek2020 just in time! If you haven’t read the rest of this AU requested by @buttercupstrand that I started back in May and thought I was done with (I was wrong). Essentially, Carlos is a firefighter at the 126, TK is a cop with APD, they meet and hook up not knowing Carlos works for TK’s dad and then things happen from there. The first three chapters follow season 1 fairly closely, but this new one concerns events after the end of the season. 

Should I maybe not have written a 10k extra chapter to an AU for an event? Probably, but I did so here you go. It has been a pleasure writing for this week and seeing and reading what everyone else has put out. I am once again in awe of this fandom. I sincerely hope you have all enjoyed my works this week and that you enjoy this one!) 

------

TK tucked his shirt in neatly, before moving his hands to do up the last two buttons of his uniform shirt. If still fit just as well as it always had, but it felt foreign now; unfamiliar. It felt like a remnant of a different lifetime and in a way, it was. 

 It had been over a month since that night and that call; a month since TK had kicked open a door and been shot by an 8-year-old. He could still feel the ghost of the bandage on his collarbone, could still feel the phantom pull of the stitches. He noticed that his hands trembled over the last button and he let it go, forcing them back to his sides, willing them to stay steady. 

 He was fine, really. It was just desk duty. He wouldn’t be allowed back into the field until he had been fully cleared by a doctor and department psychologist. He could handle this. 

 The most ironic part, he thought to himself as he examined himself in the mirror, studying his uniform for imperfections, was that before this he never would have thought for a moment that he might have even a moment’s hesitation about jumping back into the field. He became a cop to help people, and he didn’t see how he could do that from a desk. (There was also the mountains of paperwork to consider, but that was another matter altogether.) He had never been a very sedentary person - his father had often joked that he hadn’t seen him hold still since the moment he was born and one time he had the flu when he was 8. He had never thought that given the chance there would be any hesitation, any doubt in his mind that jumping back into the action was the right thing - the only thing. 

 Now in the after, he was filled with hesitation. It wasn’t fear per se; and it had nothing to do with the actual pain and injury. It had everything to do with the people he loved and the hurt he had seen in them when he almost didn’t pull through. TK had always known the risks of his job, had always known there was a chance that something could happen to him. But until he had seen it, until he had known the effect that it had on the people he cared about most, he had never truly appreciated it. He didn’t want to put any of them through that ever again. 

 A voice from the doorway interrupted his reverie, “still fits, huh?” 

 He turned to find Carlos, also ready for work in his AFD uniform, sipping a cup of coffee as he leaned on the doorframe. 

 “Like a glove,” he responded glibly. Carlos set his mug down on the shelf by the door and crossed the room so he was standing in front of TK. He studied him closely before reaching out a gentle hand to straighten his badge. TK watched as he trailed his fingers up from the badge to his collar, pausing almost imperceptibly in the spot where just weeks before a bullet had ripped through his flesh and almost ended it all. Neither of them said a word as Carlos pulled himself back to the present and continued his journey up to TK’s collar, straightening it with a gentle tug. 

 “It’s just desk duty, Carlos,” TK said into the silence, “it’ll be fine.”

 Carlos blinked and seemed to come back to himself, “Of course it will be.” But the smile he gave TK didn’t reach his eyes. TK reached down to find Carlos’s hand, still resting on his collar, and covered it with his own. “It’ll be fine,” he repeated using his other hand to softly lift Carlos’s chin so he could look him in the eyes, “I promise.”  

 Carlos nodded again and this time his smile seemed more genuine. “Now that I believe in.” 

 TK returned the smile and leaned forward, capturing Carlos in a kiss. Carlos leaned into it and TK reached down to snake his arms around the other man’s waist, pulling him closer. He deepened the kiss, but Carlos pulled away, causing TK to let out a disgruntled sound. 

 Carlos chuckled, “Sorry babe,” he said as he pressed a light kiss to TK’s forehead,  “as much as I would love to keep going with this, we both have to work this morning. Personally, I don’t think your dad would find this an acceptable reason to be late and am sure Mya will be waiting not very patiently for you at the precinct. 

 “Spoilsport,” TK complained with a pout. Carlos chuckled again as he leaned forward to speak into TK’s ear. “Besides,” he began, voice low,  “it would be a shame to wrinkle that uniform before you go to work. We can save that for later.”

 Then he pulled away, walking back towards the door to pick up his abandoned mug and exited the room. 

 TK stood rooted to the spot, still standing in front of the mirror, dumbfounded. It was several moments before he was able to get words out. 

 “You’re a menace, Carlos Reyes.” 

 ---------- 

“How’s Lover Boy’s first day back in the saddle?”

 Carlos looked up from his phone to find Judd staring at him with raised eyebrows. “Must you call him that?” he asked drily. 

 “Since you knew exactly who I was talking about, yes, I think I do.” 

 Carlos rolled his eyes before returning his gaze to his phone. He could feel Judd’s gaze still on him. He ignored it for several long moments but when he realized the older man had no intention of stopping he sighed and looked up again, “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “He hasn’t sent me more than a mention that Mya says hi all morning and I don’t want to bombard him so I’m just...waiting.” 

 “You’re not very good at waiting,” Judd noted. 

 Carlos shook his head ruefully, “Don’t I know it. I mean,” he continued, “it’ll be fine. I have nothing to worry about. It’s desk duty. He’s fine. It’ll be fine.” 

 “You know if I were to hazard a guess, I might say that you don’t believe a word you’re saying.” 

 “I don’t know,” Carlos replied wearily, “I just...I don’t know.” 

 Judd nodded sagely, “Glad we cleared that up,” he noted as he took a sip of coffee. 

 Carlos was debating whether he needed to dignify that with a response or if a rude hand gesture would suffice when Paul entered the kitchen. “How’s TK’s first day back going?” he asked Carlos as he reached for a mug. 

 “He doesn’t know,” Judd answered helpfully. 

 Paul paused and looked frowned over his shoulder at Carlos, “How do you not know?” 

 “TK hasn’t said much and he doesn’t want to keep texting him so he’s just waiting.” 

 Paul nodded solemnly, “He’s not good at waiting.” 

 “Do I even need to be here for this conversation to happen, or are you two good on your own?” Carlos snapped. 

 Both Paul and Judd gave him pointed looks, “Someone’s feisty today,” Judd noted as he took another sip of his coffee. 

 Carlos groaned, but forced himself to take a deep breath and put his head in his hands. After a few moments, he looked up again. “I’m sorry guys,” he said somewhat sheepishly, “I really didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just…” 

 “Concerned?” offered Judd.

 “Worried?” Paul suggested. 

 Carlos nodded in agreement, “and I don’t really want to say anything to him about it because he looked a little freaked out himself when he was getting ready this morning. He doesn’t need my worries on his mind too.”

 “I hate to break it to you man, but he probably already knows,” Paul informed him.  

 Judd nodded his agreement, “You don’t exactly have the best poker face brother, especially not when it comes to your man.”

 Carlos ran a weary hand through his hair. “You’re probably right, but I wish he didn’t know. I wish I were better at hiding it. He has so much on his plate, he doesn’t need my irrational fear too.” 

 “I don’t know if I’d call it irrational,” Paul responded reasonably, “especially considering recent events.” 

 Carlos turned to him with a raised eyebrow, “So it’s normal to be worried about my boyfriend the cop getting murdered at his own desk in the middle of a police precinct in broad daylight?” 

 “No, I think that might cross into irrational territory,” Paul allowed. 

 “Good to know I’ve got that going for me,” Carlos responded drily. 

 He could see Judd and Paul exchanging looks, but they were saved the trouble of having to respond to his neurosis by the alarm. They set down their coffee cups in tandem and jogged over to the engine bay. 

 “It’s going to be okay man,” Paul assured him softly as they climbed onto the rig. Carlos gave him a tight smile in response but while he appreciated his friend’s effort, he just couldn’t move past this. Not yet. 

----------------- 

TK entered the bullpen to applause. He was so taken aback that he froze, trapped in the entrance like a deer in the headlights. When the familiar faces of his colleagues registered he felt himself relax and smile. He held up a placating hand as he crossed to his desk, smiling at his coworkers and receiving more than one affectionate pat on the shoulder. 

 He paused again when he reached his desk, or where he had at least thought his desk was. What stood in front of him now seemed more like the inside of a recycling bin on Christmas morning than any desk he had ever seen. Wrapping paper and bows covered almost every inch, save for about 8 inches on the front where a sign declaring “Welcome back Strand!” was visible. He raised a bemused eyebrow at his desk before turning his gaze the desk beside his own where Mya sat, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

 “Your doing, I assume?” 

 “Why would you say that?”

 “Oh I don’t know,” he said mildly, setting his coffee cup down on a corner that was relatively level, “it has a certain kind of flair that reminds me of you.” 

 She chuckled, “I would be flattered, but the Lieutenant's kids were here last night and they helped. They may have gotten a little carried away,” she added with a ‘what are you going to do?’ kind of shrug. 

 TK laughed appreciatively, “remind me to thank her later.” 

 He located his chair between some particularly ambitious bows and pulled it out before taking a seat. Mya joined him, perching herself on the corner of his desk. She studied him intently. “How are you feeling?” she asked. 

 TK rolled his eyes, “You literally saw me two days ago Mya - I’m fine. I was fine then and I am fine now. It’s fine.”

 She peered at him suspiciously. “What?” he asked defensively. 

 “Just wondering if maybe you were a little too quick to say how fine you are.”

 “Why would I lie Mya? I’m…”

 “Fine?” she suggested. 

 “Yes,” he agreed firmly, “completely, totally, 100% fine.” 

 She was still looking at him with a doubtful expression, so he changed the topic in self-defense: “Don’t you have a partner you’re supposed to be patrolling with?”

 “Temporary partner,” Mya reminded him, “only until you’re back in the field. And that better be soon - I don’t know how much more I can take of Thad.”

 “His name isn’t really Thad, is it?” 

 Mya nodded solemnly, “While you’ve been out recovering I have been stuck with the latest rookie - Thaddeus Sterling, the third.” 

 “You’re making that up,” TK accused.  

 “I am not. I wish I was.” 

 “There are two more Thaddeus Sterling’s in the world?” 

 “It’s a ‘family name,’ apparently.” 

 “Ouch.”

 Mya rolled her eyes, “I’d feel worse for him if he wasn’t such a dense pretty boy.”

 TK raised a skeptical eyebrow, “that bad?” 

 “The man has been flirting with me for three straight weeks, TK. He does not understand the concept of a lesbian and the fact that I have zero interest in dating anyone of the male persuasion, let alone him. Not to mention that his entire personality revolves entirely around the fraternity he was in at UT. If I have to hear anymore about the Longhorn’s defensive game this year, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.” 

 TK winced sympathetically, “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” 

 “Just get better so you can be my partner again,” Mya said with an exasperated sigh, “I can handle him, I just don’t know for how much longer.” 

 Any response TK could have made was cut off when a young guy with artfully spiked hair appeared at the side of his desk. “Ready to ride Esquilin?” he asked Mya, before sparing a glance at TK. Somewhere between the wrapping paper explosion that was his desk and his proximity to Mya, something seemed to click for him. “Oh hey,” he exclaimed, turning to face TK, “You must be Strand, right? The one who got shot!” 

 “Yep, that’s me,” TK confirmed. 

 “That’s intense,” the kid - Thaddeus Sterling III, TK assumed - observed. “But hey, you gotta have a cool scar now, right? I bet the chicks dig it!” 

 “I wouldn’t know,” TK responded drily, ignoring Mya’s dramatic eye-roll from behind Thad’s shoulder. Thad, for his part, simply looked puzzled. TK wondered if he should elaborate, but was saved the trouble by Mya slipping off his desk with a sigh, “Let’s get moving Sterling, we have work to do. And I am not ready to ride, I am ready to drive. Don’t think you’re going to pull a fast one on me.” 

 As Thad walked away Mya paused to glare down at TK, “You better get well soon.” 

 “You know, most people don’t make well wishes sound like a threat.”

 Mya gave a significant look at Thad’s back before turning her expression back to TK with raised brows. He held up his hands in surrender, “Fine, I get it. I’ll do my best.” 

 “That’s all I ask.”

 “Remember, murdering your partner is bad!” TK called to her retreating back. Her only response was a rude hand gesture thrown over her shoulder. 

 TK chuckled and shook his head fondly. It was nice to be back. He didn’t know what he was so worried about. It would be fine, really. 

 He was so lost in thought that the slamming of a desk drawer at a nearby desk startled him back to reality. It caused him to jump and sent his heart racing. He peered around the bullpen only to see that no one else had reacted: to the slamming drawer or his reaction. He closed his eyes and took several deep, measured breaths. 

 He was fine, really. 

--------------------- 

The ladder truck arrived at the scene of a multi-vehicle accident and the crew piled out, each taking in the scene with a practiced eye. There were some scenes that you pulled up to and knew instinctively that they were going to be bad. Full of pain and suffering and images that would haunt you for days or weeks to come. 

 This wasn’t one of them. 

 Sure there was an alarming amount of vehicles involved but the atmosphere radiated annoyance and anger, not fear and despair. A quick survey didn’t reveal anything beyond a minor injury - Carlos hoped that maybe that could hold true. 

 They split up and waded into the crowd and cars, checking in with each person, searching for anyone trapped or seriously injured. Thankfully the initial assessment proved correct and there were none. The scene still needed to be cleared and injuries needed to be looked at, but there was no immediate threat staring them down. They all got to work and Carlos found himself helping Michelle and her team with basic first aid until a familiar voice called his name. 

 He turned to see Mya, a younger guy with very deliberately styled hair at her shoulder. He grinned at her as the woman he had just finished with jumped off the gurney serving as his exam table. “Hey Mya, how’s it going?” 

 She raised an eyebrow as she drew closer, “My day is fine, but that’s not what you're asking, is it?” 

 He gave her a sheepish grin and she rolled her eyes but answered his unasked question: “He seems fine. He says he’s fine.” 

 “What do you think?” 

 She shrugged, “Too soon to tell, but I don’t see any reason not to believe him. If he says he’s fine, then he probably is.”

 The younger guy pulled level with them and looked between them suggestively, “Someone you need to introduce me to, Partner?” 

 Carlos’s eyebrows rose as Mya heaved an exasperated sigh, “Carlos, this is Thad - my temporary partner. Thad, this is Carlos - TK’s boyfriend.” 

 Thad looked puzzled and Mya rolled her eyes at him, “You know, TK. My regular partner: has been out on medical leave, you met him this morning?” 

 “Yeah, I remember,” he said “I just thought that you two…” he trailed off suggestively and Mya took a deep, measured breath. 

 “No, we are not. I don’t like men, remember? We’ve been over this like, 5 times.”

 “Huh,” was all he said and seemed to be seriously considering this information. Mya gave Carlos an exasperated look and gave Thad a nudge. “Go find something to help with,” she instructed with a gesture towards the accident scene, “I’ll be along in a moment.”  

 He obliged with a parting wave to Carlos and they watched him leave before Carlos spoke, “he seems like fun.” 

 “Oh yeah, a barrel of laughs,” Mya deadpanned. 

 “His name isn’t really Thad, is it?” 

 “Thaddeus Sterling III.” 

 “You’re making that up.” 

 Mya rolled her eyes, “I swear you two are the same person, it’s ridiculous.” 

 Carlos frowned at her, “Me and Thaddeus?”

 She swatted at him, “No! You and TK. I had the exact same conversation with him this morning. You two are so alike sometimes it’s scary.”

 Carlos laughed appreciatively before the mention of TK’s return to work reminded him of his concerns. “You really think he’s okay?” he asked Mya again. 

 She shrugged, “He seems to be. Only time will really tell, but right now he seems fine. Almost like nothing happened.” 

 Mya’s name was called and they both looked over towards the accident scene to see Thad waving his hands in the air and looking far too pleased with himself. Mya sighed again, “I better go see what he wants. Hopefully, he didn’t break anything this time. The faster TK is back in the field the better; I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” she flicked her gaze back to Carlos, “Catch up with you later?” 

 He nodded and gave her a smile that she returned before striding off to find Thad. The moment she was gone Carlos let the smile slip. He knew Mya would never put TK at risk and would never push him to do anything before he was ready, but their conversation had filled him with dread. 

 He shook it off and pulled himself up straighter. He had a job to do now - he could go back to worrying about his boyfriend later. 

------------------ 

“Please, take a seat, Officer Strand.” 

 TK sank into the chair indicated and watched as the department psychologist - a woman in her mid-40s - settled into one across from him, crossing her legs neatly at the knees and balancing a clipboard in her lap. 

 “Have you ever participated in any kind of therapy before, Officer Strand?” 

 TK nodded, “I have been seeing a therapist off and one since I was about 16.” 

 The psychologist - Dr. Said - nodded and gave a small smile, “Good, then you should be fairly familiar with how this works. That should make this easier - people who have never done any form of therapy often take a while to feel comfortable enough to effectively share.” 

 TK nodded and drummed his fingers, waiting for the doctor to lay the groundwork. As the silence dragged on he could feel his anxiety growing. “So how does this work?” he finally blurted out, caving to the crushing silence. 

 Today we are just going to have a chat. This is considered the beginning of your probationary period, for lack of a better word - of being cleared for full and active duty. We will meet once more toward the middle of this mandated time, and then once again at the end. Then my reports and recommendations, along with your doctor, and your Captain will all be reviewed and a determination for your fitness to serve - both physically and mentally - will be made.” 

 TK nodded, running all the steps and names through his head once again. “How long does this usually take?” he asked. Dr. Said shrugged, “somewhere between 2-4 weeks. Since your injury was severe I would say that your case will be pushed out closer to the 4 weeks mark so everyone can feel certain about their findings.” 

 TK nodded. He glanced around the office, avoiding the doctor’s piercing gaze as he asked the question he truly dreaded: “and if I am not deemed fit to serve?” 

 Dr. Said readjusted her clipboard and uncapped her pen, “Then alternate options will be discussed at that time. But let’s get started before you start jumping to worse case scenarios. It won’t do any good to dwell on them.”

 TK nodded and Dr. Said continued, peering at him over her clipboard, pen poised and ready: “Now,” she asked, “what can you tell me about the night of the incident?” 

 TK swallowed. This was not going to be fun, at all. 

-------------------- 

Carlos entered his house to find the light already on and upbeat music drifting from the kitchen. He smiled as he dropped his bag by the door, kicking off his shoes and heading towards the noise and his boyfriend. He turned the corner to find TK bobbing his head to the music as he pulled plates out of the cupboard, turning and setting them down beside a platter of food on the counter. Carlos crossed the room and found TK’s phone on the counter. He reached across and using the side buttons, lowered the volume. 

 TK spun around as the music faded, but his surprised look faded into one of pleasure when he noticed Carlos. 

 “Hey babe,” he said, crossing the room to give Carlos a kiss, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

 Carlos raised a single eyebrow, “I’m not surprised. I don’t know how you can hear anything with the music that loud. I am surprised the neighbors didn’t call to complain.” 

 TK waved off his concerns, “They’re fine. Besides, the windows are shut so there is no way they should have heard that. My phone speaker is not that powerful.”

 Carlos rolled his eyes and then narrowed them when he noticed the food. “You didn’t cook, did you?” he asked, glancing around the kitchen, “I don’t see any scorch marks.” 

 TK put a hand over his heart, “Ye of little faith!” he exclaimed dramatically, “do you really think I cannot manage even a basic dinner without property damage?” 

 “Yes,” Carlos deadpanned, “because I have extensive experience to prove that point. Do I need to remind you of the breakfast in bed incident?” 

 “That was not my fault,” TK said quickly, “but no, I did not cook. I ordered this from that Korean place you like.”

 Carlos chuckled and leaned down to place a kiss on the side of TK’s neck, “my hero.” 

 TK laughed lightly but reached forward to grab the food. “Can you grab the plates? We should get to this before it gets cold.” Carlos obliged and once they were settled at the table with full plates, he asked the question that had been eating at him all day.

 “How was your first day back?” he hoped his voice didn’t betray any of the anxiety he had felt all day. 

 TK shrugged and she scooped some rice onto his fork, “Pretty uneventful. Mya wrapped my desk in wrapping paper, and then I had to spend all day at it doing paperwork.” At Carlos’s raised eyebrow he added, “I took off the wrapping paper halfway through the day, the crinkling was driving me nuts.” 

 Carlos grinned, “I ran into Mya today actually. Met her new partner.” 

 “Temporary partner,” TK corrected quickly, like a reflex. 

 “Right,” Carlos amended, “temporary partner. Did you get to talk to him at all? He seems…”

 “Interesting?” TK provided. 

 “That’s one way to put it.” 

 TK nodded, “She can’t stand him. She keeps telling me I need to get back out into the field before she snaps and murders him.” 

 There is silence in the wake of the quip, as they both realize the elephant in the room has just been brought into the light. Back in the field is a statement that haunts both of them, for different reasons. 

 “I had my psych eval today,” TK blurted out, cutting through the silence. 

 Carlos looked up from his food, “You didn't say anything about it before,” he noted. He kept his face neutral while all the while his mind raced with implications. 

 TK shrugged, “I didn’t really know what to tell. I wasn’t sure if it was a one and done kind of thing of if it was a process. Turns out, it’s a process.”  

 TK’s voice was neutral, but Carlos knew him well enough to know that it was forced. He wasn’t feeling as calm about this as he was letting on, but Carlos wasn’t sure why. 

 “What kind of process?” 

 TK sighed, leaning back in his chair as he explained, “It’s going to take 3-4 weeks, at least two more meetings with the department psychologist, a recommendation from my Captain, and then they all have to agree on it. But it’s pointless, there’s nothing to agree on - I’m fine.” 

 Carlos considered that before he spoke. He noted that TK’s posture was anything but relaxed. His arms were crossed so tightly against his chest Carlos wondered about the possibility of bruising. He was tapping his foot against the floor in a light staccato pattern. Carlos liked to think he had come to know TK Strand fairly well over the past few months, and this was not TK Strand relaxed. 

 “Isn’t that a good thing though?” he asked eventually, “Isn’t it for the best to make sure, isn’t it smart to be absolutely sure that all the officers in the department are at the top of their game? Letting someone in the field who’s not ready to be there, that could lead to problems. It could be dangerous, for both the cop and anyone else involved. Isn't it better not to risk that?” 

 TK shrugged, but Carlos could see some of the tension leaving his body, “You’re right,” he agreed, “but it’s still frustrating. I’m fine.” 

 Carlos nodded. He turned his attention back to his dinner, but not before adding one last thought: “It’s okay to not be fine yet Ty.” 

 TK met his gaze for a moment before looking away quickly. “I know,” he replied softly, “but I am.”

 Carlos gave him a smile but as they turned back to their meal in silence he couldn’t shake the feeling that TK was lying.

[Read the rest on Ao3 - it was too long to post it all here!]

[technicolordeams]

June 7, 2020

“I'm the girl nobody knows until she commits suicide. Then suddenly everyone had a class with her.” -  Tom Leveen, Party

This has been my status on discord for about a month now. It just feels too relevant to me at these times.

I know I said I was going to update my blog back in May, but it’s taken me until now to get to doing it. Things have been hectic both with me and in the world. I am dealing with emotional trauma still (But I’m not going to talk about it on here. I do not feel safe enough to do so and I’m going to keep it to myself, my therapists, parents, and pastors at my church. Maybe two other people that I know too. Some people know that something went down with me recently but I won’t spread it around anymore. I’d rather not deal with anything... But it has caused me to have renewed trauma from when I was growing up. Surprisingly I don’t have an association with a girl I considered my best friend for seven years who turned out to be a pathological liar and manipulator. I guess I was able to get closure with that one and just be done with it. But the ones from before that... It just brings those back up. Anyways, I won’t go into any further detail about that in this blog.)

So I’ll try to summarize things a bit... But I’ve never been good at keeping things short. xD 

First off, in November of 2019 I started having really bad pains in my stomach. Just... horrific pain. (Before this started, I was working getting a job with the aid of a job coach.) I landed in the ER a total of 4 times, could have been 5 but that fit wasn’t as bad and went away after a couple hours. But in December after my 3rd ER visit to get pain relief and more testing... and some morphine (sorry but this stuff was good. But I know limitations and wasn’t going to the ER for it. It was strictly to ease the pain so I could rest) I had a couple tests done... I FINALLY got an x-ray of my stomach and it showed I had a slightly inflamed gallbladder. Before this, the nurse that was working with me and my parents just believed I was having constipation and I was being too sedentary. That miffed me big time. I remember coming home one day from shopping for groceries and such that my mom was just telling me off about how I need to exercise more... (I have a fear that is ingrained in my head over exercising. Thanks Children’s ED center.) I just went to my room, no lights, didn’t take my jacket off at all, just curled up on my bed and cried as quietly as I could even though I wanted to wail. I was sick of people not believing me when things aren’t going right with my body and I have been mistreated for many things. I didn’t want to hear this from my parents. There was something wrong and I needed help. I did end up getting a HIDA scan after meeting with a surgeon who said the x-ray wasn’t enough proof that there was something wrong and didn’t want to do anything drastic that possibly won’t help me. But I got the HIDA scan which confirmed that there was something wrong with my gallbladder and on my birthday (Horray horray. Legit though I was so happy) I was approved for surgery to get it removed. The surgeon cut my gallbladder open and found A LOT of small gallstones. He was kind of shocked. Over all of this... I lost probably 10lbs? max? Either way, enough to be concerning to me. Now I’m using this experience to get my parents to actually freaking listen to me when I say I’m having problems and that it needs addressed as quickly as possible and quit dragging your damn feet and believe ME.

Also from the surgery, they had to put a breathing tube down my throat. But something happened and has caused me to have chronic coughing fits where I couldn’t even breathe without coughing. And because of my phobia of throwing up, I didn’t want to eat so I started to restrict for a while. Lots of testing was done to figure out what was wrong there... I got an asthma test and it showed that I had a breathing abnormality but the ENT doctor the day before gave me steroids to help. Said it wouldn’t affect my asthma test the next day. It did. :) Had to wait until May to get retested and another test done. The steroids did help for a while... But getting to that point I had been seeing my regular doctor and he gave me a stronger cough medicine that gave me auditory hallucinations... That was terrifying. So I quit that. Was put on another cough medicine that had a controlled substance in it to suppress my cough. It helped... but not enough. In the end since I didn’t want to wait until May to get tested, my doctor got me an inhaler. It actually has helped a lot. I still cough, but it’s not to the gagging/can’t breathe point anymore. I was very scared and stressed and made my dad take me to get lots of tests. Even speech therapist. Due to the covid-19 threat though, I have been heavily isolating myself at home and my asthma test that I was supposed to get last month got canceled/put off to a later date. So I’m stuck paying for an inhaler at full price because insurance is a dick. Anyways that’s that...

In April, I got a puppy. I finally got a dog that I had been thinking about for months and praying for... His name is Echo and he is a yellow lab. The first couple weeks were absolute hell. He would get up at random hours of the night and needs constant supervision. He’s almost 4 months now, but he’s still very much a puppy. He knows sit, stand, down, looks at me if I call his name with a treat in my hand so he’s recognizing his name... And sometimes off when he will listen. I have plenty of bite marks on my hands and stuff xD I had to have an extreme learning curve on how to take care of him. He doesn’t have accidents in the house as much as before, he will usually indicate he needs to go potty by sniffing around and pacing or going to the door and looking at me like, ‘human. I must defecate.’ xD And he’s got quite the attitude. Which I don’t mind as long as he’s not ripping my clothes or biting me or jumping at me. Dad has stepped in to help me during the mornings take care of him since I’m not sleeping well. Which has helped me out a lot. He’s doubled in size already and I’m so happy with how he’s acting for the most part. The past couple days this past week we’ve learned how the hose works and how to have fun in it since it’s so hot outside. (Also learned I’m allergic to grass. Yay.) But there were several days where I was so stressed and scared that I couldn’t keep up with him and take care of him and I’d have to give him away... But I already invested so much money in him and time and have already fallen in love with him, I won’t give him up. Right now he’s sleeping under my desk as I write this post. Lots of the time though I have to force myself to pretend to be happy and praise him and play with him and teach him what to do and what not to... And it’s emotionally exhausting. Especially this past week.

I had a couple triggers the past two weeks. One was a possible fractured toe from jamming it super hard into the corner of my desk... Another I was woken to Echo making a horrific gagging noise that scared the shit out of me. Then I’ve been working with a grief counselor this past month in addition to regular therapy (obviously over video chat because of infection chances...) for extra support. Thankfully it’s pro bono so I don’t have to pay anything and neither does any of my insurances. But while working on a section in my WRAP plan (Wellness Recovery Action Plan) there was a part where I just started shutting down and falling apart. The Crisis Plan. “This is what I look like when I’m well:” That is where everything started falling apart. It has been like 7 months since I have felt well at all. I can identify what it looks like when things get too bad to handle on my own for the most part... but when I was asked about if my behavior endangers or has negative effects on me or others I want my supporters to... I locked up. I realized I do not really have anyone who I can go to for any sort of help. My therapist is the only one I can go to really about anything, but I can’t get the amount of help that I need from just her. She has told me that if there was no virus threat and that I was in a different city, she would recommend me to go to a mental health program there... That’s how bad I’ve gotten. 

In December my suicidal thoughts have sprung back up and I have withdrawn slowly and then faster from everyone. My parents don’t know how to handle me when I’m dealing with emotional distress... They are not very knowledgeable about mental illnesses and are pretty cold to emotional reactions. Sometimes mean. I love them very much yes and I know they would do whatever they could to help me... but when I need support from them specifically, things just go downhill. And I no longer have people I consider friends online anymore. I don’t feel safe to call anyone that right now. A girl from my church who was also in the Bible study I was attending before covid hit has been trying to reach out to me. Her and another lady at church are the only ones really actually reaching out to me. My pastor only stepped back into the picture after I posted asking for prayer for me since I called the suicide hotline the night before. And the things he has said to me already have been rather infuriating. Which makes me feel resentful towards the church I’m attending. That and the fact that nobody else actually reaches out to me at all. I know life has been thrown upside down and many have their own families with small children and such... It just feels very two-faced sometimes. I know that’s my distorted thinking kicking in as well... But it’s there and nobody’s around to disprove it. I am very grateful for the one girl who has been trying hard to reach out to me and encourage and just be there, but I know she knows little about the world and the crap in it and has experienced much if it first hand so far. But God bless her she really does try and care. My therapist has talked with my pastor after I signed a release form for her to do so and my parents have also talked to him about me last week. I have yet to hear from him since then though. They are busy though I know trying to figure out how to deal with this covid crap and how to manage the church so people who can’t go physically can still be sort of included...But I just don’t know if I want to go for a while. 

But yeah. While I have been dealing with the loss of my entire online friend group and then being harassed on facebook and only seeing horrible news about covid and people insulting different people and politicians and crap on there... I disabled it for a while. I posted that I was going to do that several hours before I did and told people to message me if they wanted to keep contact with me somehow... Maybe two people did. Granted I had only 69 people on my friends list and a good chunk were family members from the Philippines and don’t usually speak english... I do feel better about not being on it though. The first couple days when I woke up I’d automatically go to fb to look at my notifications and silly stories that I’d get recommended, but after that I felt complete relief. I did get into a bit of an argument about two weeks or so before I decided to do this with a childhood friend I had... She just irritated me... Making it sound like she shouldn’t be forced to stay in like people higher in risk of infection/death because she was healthy and yada yada... Not going to argue on here. I just realized fb is just a toxic social media outlet and I didn’t want to be a part of it. I’m especially glad I got off of it while I did before the rioting happened. I would rather not have my timeline flooded with it. 

Oh yeah, we did get rioting here where I live. Actually 10min away from where I live. That was scary the first couple nights. First night I was home alone with Echo when it started going down while my parents were at work. Thankfully though, our mayor put in a curfew and my parents’ work was closed down at exactly 5pm for EVERYONE. Including employees. Dad had to work on barricading one entrance way in case of looting. Sent me pictures of what he had to do... it was surreal. Not only do we need to be afraid of covid but now hostile people. (Note: I do NOT condone what those police officers did. They are getting punished heavily I assume. If anything, we shouldn’t have been rioting but instead having a vigil in honor for the man killed. Protesting is fine too. But when it becomes violent... I don’t agree with it. That’s just me though. Anyways enough political crap. I don’t want to discuss it on here.) The past two nights the mayor put up a curfew again for two days but two hours later than before (8pm) just to be on the safe side. My parents’ work has gone back to normal hours today. I did go out yesterday to get some groceries and medicine I needed. My car’s A/C has died. That was two hours of hell. 

But yeah...uhm... The depression has increased this past week. Actually... a couple weeks before that. I had a meltdown over Echo chewing through the wire of my drawing tablet... I had it still hooked up even though I can’t draw anymore (Long story... recent bunch of trauma related reasons) because of trauma and also lazy to get in the back of my computer to unplug it. And sort of hope that I might pick it back up again... But that destroyed me that night. I wasn’t mad at him for doing it. He’s a baby he doesn’t know anything. It was my fault for not paying attention and taking a bit more care with those wires. Dad was able to fix it though. But I can’t look at it. That same night I received a text from a friend I made in treatment that I love to death... Telling me that she had just got home from being hospitalized and then placed in a psych ward after trying to commit suicide. I think I broke then. Ever since then, I haven’t been able to process very much emotion... Sleep has become very bad... I fell asleep in my chair a few nights ago. Last week was the first time I’ve been able to have any sort of reaction to emotion aside from a heavy depression... I need a big trigger to happen so that I can finally release these emotions inside because it just won’t come, but I feel it waiting behind a thick glass wall in my head. I’ve even started watching movies and shows that would scare me normally and would avoid just from reading the premise or a trailer. I don’t really get much feeling from it (aside from the one night I watched the new Carrie movie and I had to take Echo out at night and it was foggy and very spooky). 

I think I’ll leave this here now and be done for a bit... I’ve written quite a lot and I’m sure very few people know of it’s existence and will look. But at least I’ve finally gotten some of it out... somewhere... Hopefully Echo will let me take a nap in a little bit. I would like to talk about my eating disorder at some point and how I’ve been since I got out of the treatment facilities in 2018 and maybe some other things. Been watching a bunch of videos of different mental illnesses because I’ve been running into a lot of people with them and I want to be able to at least know what’s it about and how to be a better person towards them and also not offend anyone so nobody goes off on me again.

[sherlockfanficwriting]

Greg Lestrade “Seeing London Part 2″ (x reader)

Slow and steady beeps woke you up from a deep sleep. Your eyes were shut closed and you were lying down somewhere. The air was cold but fresh. You opened your eyes. Bright lights blinded you. You groaned and looked at your surroundings. It was quite evident you were in a hospital. You tried to move, but you squeezed your stomach from the sharp pain. Everything came rushing back to you. You were stabbed. You thought for sure you would die in that taxi. Greg saved your life. Before you could ponder upon what you would do to get out of here, someone came storming in the room. It was Greg. 

“(Y/N!), you’re up? Dear, how are you feeling,” he asked. His voice showed concern. His eyes were red and it looked as if he hadn't slept for a while. His shirt was stained dark brown. Blood. Your blood. 

“I feel..fine. Much better,” you lied. You just wanted to get back to work, normally. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). This was all my fault. I shouldnt have left you alone. I didnt think he was there. Oh that pain I-.” 

You cut him off. “Greg, thank you for saving my life. I wouldnt be here if it wasnt for you. Im fine, I really am,” you said assuringly. A slight wave of relief washed over him. He walked over to you and touched your hand. It was still rough, but he held it firmly with a tight squeeze. Finally he bent over and hugged you. You knew human emotion very well and you could tell many things about him from his hug. He was stressed. He was sad. He was angry, at many things, but most of all he felt something strong toward you like he wanted to protect you. You’ve never felt that from someone, and you didnt know what to think of it, but you liked Greg even if this happened to you. Suddenly a doctor and the short man you saw earlier emerged through the doorway. Sherlock came following behind them. Greg quickly stood up. 

“Well, the surgery was quick you have actually been out for a while. Unusual in a situation like this, but you seem to be recovering quickly. The wound will cause you some pain for awhile, depending on how much you can tolerate. I think you are able to resume work in a day or two depending on how you feel. You could leave today as well,” the doctor spit out. You smiled. That was perfect. No matter the pain or situation you wanted to go back to work where you thrived. 

“Are you kidding she-,” the short man said. 

“Excuse me, but i AM the doctor and those are my orders. She clearly has a quick recovery rate and her body is very strong. Everything is perfect,” the doctor said. 

The short man didnt reply but instead stood there with his mouth open. You looked at Greg. He was too, speechless. 

“You heard him, John. I’m getting a cigarette,” Sherlock said, walking out of the room

“I can come back to work,” you said to him. 

“I-uh, yes. I would love to have you back, but if you’re never feeling up to it just let me know. I’m here for you from now on. We are all here for you,” Greg said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You nodded and started to rise from your bed. You placed your legs on the ground and suddenly started to feel faint. This wasn’t uncommon for you especially because you had some low iron, but it wasn’t too alarming for you. You placed a hand on Greg’s shoulders, saving you from falling down. 

“You alright, (Y/N)?” Greg asked. 

You nodded. “Where are my clothes?” You had to get changed, you couldn't walk out of here in a hospital gown. 

“Here. Your pants and blazer are fine, but your shirt is rather...ruined,” John said, handing you the clothes. You thanked him. John left the room for you to change, but Greg just stood there, awkwardly. You haven’t quite figured him out, he was acting strangely, but it wasn’t too concerning. But, you had to change and it was a little unsettling he wouldn't leave yet. 

“Lestrade,” John called from out of the room. Greg quickly turned and left, shutting the door behind. You were able to put your pants and heels on, but you didn't have any shirt, nothing underneath the blazer. You opened the door and found the three men huddled together right outside. 

“I’m going back to Baker Street, guys. Call me if you...need anything, and get some rest, (Y/N),” John said and walked away with Sherlock, who gave a slight wave. Greg stood next to you. 

“We can go back to Scotland Yard,” you told him. 

“Whatever pleases you. I have plenty of paperwork to catch up on,” he said. The two of you walked together to the exit, Greg standing close to you, in case of a surprise fall. When you stepped outside, the cold air blasted you, traveling right to your bare skin. You stopped and clutched your blazer, trying to wrap it around your body tighter, compensating for not wearing a shirt. Greg noticed and without saying anything took off his jacket and wrapped it around you. You thanked him. He put his arm over you as you walked for a cab. 

-----------

The ride was short to Scotlnd Yard as you both hopped out of the car. You were feeling very weak, but you absolutely hated being sedentary especially at a hospital. Doing detective work...that was it. Greg kept his arm around you as you two walked inside. You felt random eyes on you as you walked, but it didnt shock you. You probably looked horrible and the whole building must have heard what happened to you. You reached Greg’s office as he held the door for you. 

“Thanks again, Greg,” you said. A soft red blush painted his cheeks. He scratched his head. 

“Well yeah of course, but I- anything to make it up for what you have just been through.” 

You shook your head. “Don’t worry. Really, I’m fine.”

He smiled and sat down on his chair. A stack of papers lay flat on his desk. You looked around. The office was professional, but it lacked something important. A special someone. A family. A daughter. A pet. Nothing. You only spotted a small desk frame with Greg and a few other people presumably friends. You sat down in front of him. 

“Is there anything I can do?” You asked him. 

He pondered for some time. “Well, maybe you can tell me a bit about yourself. But firstly, are you securing this job? I mean you have a month for confirmation, but do you like it in London?”

You didn't know. You loved being a detective and the first day was a shock, but would you stay here or in America? You have only been in London for some time. For all you knew, America was your home, but you didn't have much family there, except for a few friends and your parents. That was good family, but you needed a fresh new fun life. But what did London hold for you? You had to admit, you found Greg intriguing in a different way, but you liked him so far. 

“I like it, but I need something more to really get me loving London, you know?” He nodded. 

“Being a detective here is the best for you. London is nothing like America. What can I do to make you stay here?” His eyes were pleading. You looked at your lap, trying not to blush. Your blazer was barely opened, but your whole body felt exposed to the pure air. You knew all about Greg now. 

“I don’t know, surprise me?” 

“Dinner?” His mouth cracked into a charming smile.

You laughed and so did he. “Done.” You held out your hand for him to grab it, which he did. It felt softer. You slyly touched his wrist. He had a very rapid pulse. He was nervous and was into you. You tried not to laugh, it was somewhat adorable. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. 

[queen-of-deans-booty]

It’s A Terrible Life- Part 1

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,005

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Groaning, you turned your head before turning off the alarm without opening your eyes. Time for another day in the line of work, boring yourself with everything that happened around you. The only good thing about this job was Dean. He was cute, respectable, and you two had something going on even if it was just flirty banter.

Getting out of bed, you started you morning routine: coffee while you ate some toast, shower for about 45 minutes, get dressed, put on some flattering makeup, make sure you smell nice, grab another cup of coffee, then head out the door. Before you got to work, you stopped by a Starbucks to get yourself and Dean a coffee. Knowing what he liked, it was quick and easy to get it before heading off to work.

Arriving in the building, you passed by some college, waved to them, before heading to the elevator. Your boss always arrived at work before you did, but only by a few minutes. Being Dean’s PA meant a lot of work, but you managed to do it and still run the whole floor. He was the director of sales and marketing, but your job list contained a lot more than just getting his coffee and taking his calls.

Exiting the elevator once it opened, you walked to your desk before setting your purse and coffee on it. Looking up, you saw Dean in his office as he typed on his computer. Smiling you walked over to his office, knocked on the door, and opened it.

“One vanilla latte,” you said as you entered his office.

“You read my mind,” he chuckled, thanking you as you placed it on his desk.

“You’re welcome,” you smiled before taking the stack of papers off his desk that were meant for you.

“I do need those copied, filed, and faxed to the main office.”

“Yes sir,” you lightly smirked.

“I know you’ll do a good job, you always do. I wouldn’t be me without you,” he flirted. He was so handsome which is why you blushed, but you hid it well from him.

“Please, Mr. Smith, you can barely steam yourself a latte without burning yourself,” you laughed before walking out of his office. He grinned as he looked at your ass before going back to his job. Taking a seat, you got to work in doing exactly what he asked of you.

All morning, you have been working your ass off to get things done with Dean interrupting a few times. It’s not like you minded, you always jumped at the chance to be near him. When you walked in there the first time for him to sign some documents that came through the fax, you made sure to stand close enough to him so he could smell your perfume. Putting on the one he absolutely loved, you knew he would love the scent.

The second time he called you in was when lunch started. He didn’t usually leave his office to have lunch in the break room which is why he invited you to sit with him. It just being you two, you enjoyed how you could talk like friends only to go back to be professional in an instant. He was one of the best bosses you worked for since it felt like you two had known each other since forever.

The rest of the afternoon was spent working on your job until you got a phone call from his mother, Ellen.

“Hello, Mrs. Smith,” you answered the phone, glad to hear her voice. Some people might think it weird to be good friends with their boss’ mom, but you didn’t find it weird at all. Again, it was just something that felt right.

“Y/N how are you doing?”

“Good, just sitting here, doing paperwork,” you chuckled.

“Is Dean around? Could I speak with him?”

“Let me check, hold for just one moment,” you said as you put her on hold. Pressing the button that called Dean’s office, you waited until he picked up.

“Yeah?”

“Your mother is on line one. What should I tell her?” you asked as you looked into his office. He looked up as you raised your eyebrows, and he just shook his head.

“I’m a little busy right now. Could you take a message?”

“Sure thing, boss,” you hung up before going back to her line. “I’m sorry, Ellen, but he’s a little busy right now. Could I take a message?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing too important. I just wanted to know how he was doing, you know, catch up.”

“Well, I can assure you,” you looked up at Dean as he typed, “that he is fine. Really… fine. I’ll tell him you called.”

“Thanks sweetie,” she said before hanging up. Going back to your work, you did what any other mindless PA would do: work. As the day went on, more and more people left the office to go home to their families. As long as Dean was here, you had to be here in case he needed you. With him being the boss, that meant a lot of late nights. It’s a good thing you have no one to go home to, otherwise they would be pissed.

Getting up, you walked to Dean’s office before knocking on the open door. He looked up before motioning you in. Leaving the door opened, you took a seat by his desk before crossing your legs. He was on the phone, but it wasn’t about work.

“Oh, I hear you. No, I haven't been to the gym in ages. Carrying a little bloat around myself. It's a sedentary lifestyle, my man, no two ways… Alright, tell me one more time. You said lemon and—what was it? Cayenne and maple syrup, are you serious? How much did you lose?” Dean asked the person on the other line before nodding in appreciation. Once he hung up the phone, you chuckled in amusement.

“What?”

“Diet stuff? You look good the way you are,” you flirted.

“Is that flirtation I hear?”

“Just speaking the truth,” you smirked as you finished the paperwork in your hand. Once you were done, you flopped the files onto his desk just as he stood up.

“It’s getting late. I’m sure you have someone waiting for you.”

“Yeah,” you stood up, “and his name is Jack. Last name Daniels.”

“Nice,” he snickered before shutting off his computer. Putting the files you finished into his briefcase, you walked with him to the elevator before pressing the button.

“Seriously, you don’t need all that diet stuff. I meant what I said,” you chuckled.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said just as the elevator opened. Stepping inside with Dean, you looked at the other person inside, Sam Wesson. He was one of the tech support guys from down below. Since that wasn’t your jurisdiction, you didn’t go down there much, but when you did, you always said hi to Sam.

“Hi, Sam,” you smiled as the door closed. He looked at you in a weird way before looking at Dean.

“Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so,” Dean responded.

“I come down to tech support every now and then,” you said after you cleared your throat.

“Yeah, but, you just look really familiar. Both of you do.”

“Save it for the health club, pal,” Dean said as the doors opened. Looking at Sam, you left the elevator with Dean before you two said goodbye and going your separate ways. That was your daily routine, only to do it all over again.

“I got you something different this time. I think you’re going to like it,” you said as you entered Deans office the next day. He looked at you before taking the coffee from your hands. Taking a seat on the end of his desk, you watched him take a sip before a smile grew on his face.

“Hey, this isn’t bad.”

“Told you,” you winked before getting up.

“Hey, do me a favor, would you? These came to me by mistake,” he handed you some files that belonged to tech support. “Could you take them down for me?”

“Sure,” you smiled before taking the files. Leaving his office, you headed for the elevator. After getting on, it stopped at tech support which you got off at. Walking down the rows of cubicles, you approached the head of tech support before handing over the files. Nothing exciting ever happens down here which is why you rarely came down here. Leaving, you started to approach the break room where you heard Sam and one of his colleagues talking.

“You're just gonna be a dick about it,” Sam scoffed.

“What? No way. I won't say a word. Total respect. Go.”

“I dreamt that I saved a Grim Reaper named Tessa from demons,” he confessed, making you frown. Looking at the ground, you didn’t laugh because that didn’t seem all that weird. In fact, it felt right what he was saying, like you experienced it with him. The colleague left the breakroom, making you snap out of your thoughts. Taking a few steps, Sam walked out of the room and right into you.

“I am so sorry,” Sam said as he steadied you. “Y/N, right?”

“Yeah, and you’re Sam.”

“Yeah, what are you doing here? Aren’t you Dean’s PA?”

“Yeah, he got a file that was supposed to be for here,” you were just about to leave when you had the urge to say what you were thinking. “I couldn’t help but overhear your dream. I don’t think that’s crazy at all.”

“Why?” he asked, a little surprised by this. Before you had a chance to answer, your phone rang, signaling you that you had a message. Looking at it, you saw it was Dean who wanted you back in his office.

“Sorry, duty calls. I’ll see you around, Sam,” you left his side to rush back to Dean who was waiting for you. The entire way up, all you could think about was the warm feeling you got from thinking about killing demons.

“I can’t believe you got a call like that,” you laughed as you waited for the elevator to reach the bottom floor. In the middle of the day, he had gotten a prank call which sent you laughing until your sides hurt.

“It wasn’t that funny,” he chuckled, trying not to disturb the other people with you. The elevator stopped on another floor to which Sam walked in. The two men made eye contact just as everyone else left, leaving you three alone.

“Can I ask you two a question?” Sam wondered.

“Look, man, I told you, I'm not into the, uh—”

“Oh dude, come on, I'm not either. I just wanna ask you one question.”

“Be nice,” you whispered to Dean before turning to Sam. “What’s up?”

“What do you think about ghosts?”

“Ghosts?”

“Do you believe in them?”

“Uh, tell you the truth, I've never given it much thought,” Dean laughed.

“Vampires?” Something sparked in your mind when he said that word. Something that shouldn’t feel familiar but did.

“What? Why?” you asked.

“Because I've been having some weird dreams lately. You know what I mean?”

“No. Not really,” Dean answered for you.

“So, you've never had any... weird dreams?”

“Alright, look, man,” Dean was clearly fed up, “I don't know you, okay? But I'm gonna do a public service and, uh, let you know that—that you overshare.”

Sam stared at you two as the elevator reached the basement floor. Dean ushered you out, walking with you to your car.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You know you will,” you chuckled.

“I really like having you as a PA.”

“And I really like having you as a boss,” you admitted. Dean stared into your eyes before nodding.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he smiled, backing up a bit before going to his car. Sighing dreamily, you got into yours to go home alone once again.

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[dgsurfers]

(two people in an apartment living room, standing in the kitchen, talking to each other, and eating cereal. it is 9:16 am)

2: hey wait whats that sound?

1: what sound? 

\*building explodes and they both get incinerated*

2: \*wakes up* ..huh? where am i? \*looks around*

2: i'm in my closet... what just happened... was i just dreaming?

2: \*peers through the closet shades* holy shit... that's me, sleeping in my bed... what the fuck? am i asleep now, dreaming, or did i just wake up from a dream? i know i am asleep now, over there, but am i dreaming now?

2: oh... im getting up... this must be this morning, because it's 8:30 now, i can see it on the clock, and i remember this morning because i woke up and was surprised that i happened to wake up at exactly 8:30...

2: i left the bedroom... \*gets out of the closet*

2: i remember at 8:35 i left to chase down the paper boy because he forgot my paper... and i came home around 10 minutes later... i have to wait a couple minutes and then i have 10 minutes to leave the house.

2: \*exits down the stairs and through the back doors*

2: thankfully i woke up in the clothes i dressed up in before i woke up in the closet. i guess i must have encountered some phenomenon, or i'm hallucinating...

2: wait .... what am i supposed to do... i just woke up here randomly, what the hell? am i supposed to start living my life again as a second me? i cant even live in my own house?!?!

2: i guess i could go talk to myself if that was the case. i think i wouldnt mind living with me.

1: hey… hey… hey!!!! what are you doing over here? i thought that i just saw you running the opposite direction… after the paper boy…

2: huh? um… uh… oh, well i got my paper. he gave it to me, and i got it. im just taking a stroll now. i heard it isn’t good to be sedentary after you run, so i’m just cooling down now.

1: oh okay.

2: are you still trying to sell packs of hot dogs on the street?

1: heh, yep. no but seriously, i’ve sold so many. I don’t need a summer job at all, people really love me.

2: i understand doing it at night… when people are drunk, or hungry, or something… but it’s so early in the morning… what kind of people are you trying to sell them to? 1: well, i keep seeing people barbequing, mostly old people, right? so i figure, the only people who are up at this time are old people. and you… and if they want to save a trip to the store later, they can just buy a pack from me.

2: okay.

1: it works because i look very clean.

2: well that… oh crap.

1: what? 2: \*dashes behind a bush* 2 (1): \*walks up behind 1* hey dude 1: huh? \*turns around* you totally disappeared for a second... 2 (1): what?

2 (2): (that’s me… that was me this morning, when i came back from getting my paper i saw 1 outside in the back and went to say hi… and then i asked if i could come over…) 2: ok that doesn’t make any sense because this is the first time i’ve seen you this morning. anyways… do you want to hang out in your apartment and eat breakfast or something together…

1: eat breakfast together? yea… why not.

2: okay, let’s go. \*leaves* 2 (2): oh, shit, i probably shouldn’t follow them or anything, i’d just have to be hiding the whole time because i don’t want to have to explain anything… frick... wait, but…

2 (2): oh, my god! they’re going to get to the apartment and it’s going to explode! i remember now! is this a second chance? have i been sent… i’ve been sent from another timeline to save another version of myself…

2 (2): but i’m completely the same… you know i always thought that me from another timeline would be different slightly… oh well.

2 (2): i have to save myself… i’ve been given a task by the universe, or god, or the clouds! i have to go after them to warn them!

2 (2): \*runs in the street and gets hit by a car*

2 (2): ahh.. what the fuck happened? i’m in the closet again? i forgot what happened… why... 

2 (2): oh shit… i got hit by a car… i was going to save myself… my task… my task… my task…

2 (2): it’s 8:29, i can still see myself sleeping in my bed. i got another chance? i really have to save this timeline. it must be important, for some reason.

…

2 (2): okay, i left the house finally… \*runs out through the back doors to outside*

1: hey… hey… hey!!!! what are you doing over here? i thought that i just saw you running the opposite direction… after the paper boy…

2 (2): \*at the same time* after the paper boy, i know.

1: huh? what? how did you know i was going to say that…

1: well, i guess you were the one running after him, so you would know i would say something like that

2 (2): well that’s the more likely answer but this is the truth: i’m me, but another version. the other version of me, the one you know, is going to come around the corner in a couple minutes, and ask to hang out.

1: what???? 2 (2): it’s true. i woke up in my closet, after we were hanging out in my apartment, and it exploded, it literally exploded, and i woke up this morning, because that happens later… you havent had it happen yet, it’s going to happen…

1: WHAT?

2 (2): i’m explaining this bad! i have to say it right, see, it’s going to happen when i come around the corner in a couple minutes, the other version of me is going to ask if you go to the apartment and then you’ll go and eat cereal and talk about anime or something and then the building just EXPLODES!!! i’m serious, and then that happened to me but i WOKE UP in my closet and i’m being given a chance to save myself in this timeline!! it’s a task given to me by god or the universe or something!

1: AAAAHHH THAT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE YOUR CRAZY!!!!!! \*STABS YOU TO DEATH WITH A HOT DOG SKEWER*

2 (2): oh god, i messed up, i’m in the closet again… what happened? i can’t remember at first...

2 (2): i saw 1… i was trying to explain it, i got stabbed to death i remember now… that’s so scary…

2 (2): and, i get a third chance? i just really have to do this. it feels like a really simple task but i just keep getting killed…

2 (2): maybe, i should just keep living here. and i should just be able to keep living. because what’s going to happen to me after i fulfill this task? 2 (2): but … i have to … i love the universe, and the sky… i never thought like this before but i know that i love series of events, and i will serve my duty. it’s justice…

2 (2): i’m already out of bed now… i’ll head down in just a couple minutes. i’m just going to head over to the apartment first thing, i’m not even going to try and interact with anyone this time.

...

(two people in an apartment living room, standing in the kitchen, talking to each other, and eating cereal.)

2: where did you get this cereal? it’s not english right, it’s a japanese product. where did you get it? 1: there is a store nearby that has a section that is imported products from japan

2: why did you go?

1: well i've been really into slightso flife anime recently… so i wanted to really... “immerse myself in the culture.” you know, i go on the forums right. a lot of people say it’s good to do that.

2: what?

1: huh?

2: why did you say it like that... you said "slice of life" but with like a weird pause... and a "t"... what?

1: what is it supposed to be?

2: it's slice - of - life. like, like a slice of someones life

1: oh... i see now... i thought it was "slightso, flife".

2: why??

1: i thought it was japanese words

2: hey wait whats that sound?

1: what sound?

2 (2): \*runs in* YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!

1: what? why?

2: holy shit- this guy looks exactly like me?!

2 (2): we don't have time guys, this building... is about to explode!

1: WHO ARE YOU? WHAT?

2: what?

2 (2): yes, and we have to leave. i have to make sure you don’t get hurt.

2: you’re me, right?

1: WTF????

2: no, dude, relax. i trust this guy. i think we have to trust this…

1: okay… i trust you...

2 (2): i am you, but i don’t want to explain it all, i need you to get outside!

\*all run outside*

\*building explodes moments after they are distanced from the apartment*

1: whoa!

2 (2): we made it... thank god… i did it, i fulfilled my task...

2: how did you get here?

2 (2): i don’t want to get into it... its for the better... something is happening to me now… i’m fading away…

2: you're going already? but you're me... i want to know more...

2 (2): sorry... it's too late...

2 (2): (to 1) goodbye... \*smiles as a tear rolls down cheek*

1: what?

2 (2): \*fades away*

1: okay. weird.

[joeyvoeman]

Whittle Me Timbers | Joey & Miguel

Joey and Miguel run into each other on a hike, and have another enlightening conversation.

@bumblingbrujo

Miguel was hiking, only because he sorely needed a climbing partner. He wasn’t enough of a dunce or a daredevil to climb by himself. He wondered vaguely as he walked if he could do a spell to give Molly opposable thumbs. But as he glanced at his lovely familiar, he realized that would be the scariest thing in the world, a dog with hands. “I won’t do that to you,” he said softly. And Molly just grinned her doggy grin at him and wagged her tail, happy to be with her dad going on a walk. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he added. It was evening, but the sun set so late due to how far north they were. It was weird sometimes, and it messed up Miguel’s sleep schedule. But the extra daylight was kind of nice.

Joey had the day off, and for most that meant relaxing in front of the TV, reading a book, or generally being sedentary. But not for him. He had a need to be on the move, and today that took the form of hiking. He even had a bag packed in the event he decided to camp out for the night. He missed spending time outdoors like he used to, so he tried to make every minute of it when he could. Up ahead on the train, he spotted a person and their dog, a smile spreading across his face when he recognized the dog, giving him a pretty good idea of who the man was next to her. "Miguel!" he called ahead, waving his arm above his head as he walked.

Miguel jumped at the sound of his own name. It was unexpected just when he was lamenting his solitude. He looked around and saw that chiseled atronach. Miguel waved back and Molly barked. “Hey Joey!” He paused and waited for the other man to catch up. “Going camping?” He asked as he eyed the backpack on Joey’s shoulders. He was so... rugged.

Joey picked up his pace, lightly jogging up to Miguel and his familiar, letting out a sharp breath as he stopped in front of them. "Oh, yeah, maybe," he said, adjusting the pack on his shoulder. "I like to be prepared. I was a boy scout, after all." He smiled brightly, the still harsh sun probably reflecting off his teeth at this point. "You two enjoying this great weather?"

Miguel nodded. “It’s pretty nice.” He started walking at a more ambling pace, mindful of the weight on Joey’s back. “A Boy Scout?” That made Miguel chuckle just a little. “Somehow I didn’t peg you for the type. But now that you mention it...” he looked Joey up and down dramatically. Yeah I can see it.

Joey nodded, amused. "Had my fair share of uncomfortable moments but they taught me a lot." And so did the military, but he kept that one to himself. "How far are you into your hike?" he asked.

Miguel glanced down at Molly. They seldom planned their treks. “We just go until we get tired,” he said with a shrug. “How about you, planning a campsite?”

Joey shook his head. "No, I usually do the same. Though I did see this place with a little spring and waterfall the other day. Lots of good camping ground 'round there." He usually didn't find himself with nothing to say, but he found himself grasping for words now for some reason. Any silence between them made his skin crawl. "So how you been since I last saw you?"

Miguel didn’t need constant talk, not with Joey. He liked him already. But he didn’t mind words, and would happily prattle on about anything if he knew Joey wanted noise. “Alright. Got cursed, solved a riddle, cured the curse. Lots of work. I’m studying pediatrics at my job right now. Which is nice because babies are so cute! And I guess I’m too young and single to have kids of my own,” at his self deprecating tease he chuckled. “Plus the other doctors at the clinic are so nice to be teaching me.” It was an all witch clinic but Miguel didn’t say that, Joey seemed to squirm around witches. Miguel wondered why, but that wasn’t exactly something you asked. “How about you, anything exciting happening?” Miguel asked with his usual friendly smile.

Joey raised his eyebrows, his face clearly showing how impressed he was. "You sure keep busy," he said. "And you're so excited about your work. That's cute." He wasn't one to call another man cute, but maybe it was Miguel's age compared to his own. He felt like a geezer compared to most in this town. At least he had more stamina than a geezer though, or this hike wouldn't be happening. "Surprisingly, no. Had a pretty quite week on the job." Which he was thankful for. "Oh, the spring is this way," he said, pointing across himself so they'd turned.

Miguel chuckled. “I sure try. I like being busy. And I like helping people.” Lord he sounded like a nerd. Or maybe a dork. But Joey called him cute and he blushed a little, grateful that his skin didn’t tend to show it too much. “I feel like In your line of work, no news is good news. My line of work too I guess. Though my version of doctoring is less exciting than some.” Miguel paused when Joey pointed and trot in the direction he was being told to go. Molly wagged her tail and flounced off with him. “Is this one of those magic springs or is this a regular spring?”

"Yeah, 'suppose it is different," Joey said with a nod. His mind wandered to all the wartime injuries he'd seen, and how many he'd had to patch up himself when the medic got overwhelmed. All that blood. "So what happens if you need to heal yourself, God forbid. Is that any different?" He glanced down at Molly, giving her head a little pat as she trotted between them. She was so adorable. "I'm not sure. Didn't get close enough to it to feel anything resonating. So, uh, I guess we're gonna find out together."

Miguel downright sparkled when Joey asked about self healing. “That’s the easiest part! Healing myself. That’s my magical base, I guess you could say. I can only heal other people because I take the wound, and then healing myself is a snap.” He pat Molly’s head as they walked. Hadn’t checked huh? It had the prospect of being a problem for Miguel, but he kept quite. If it was going to be a problem then they could sort it out once it became troublesome. “Lead the way then.”

Joey was fascinated by Miguel's magic. He had no idea why his mother had been so wary of witches (other than the obvious specism passed down the generations) because they were so powerful on their own. Yes, his kind was much more powerful, but Miguel had yet to make a move on him, and he hadn't yet met a witch that tried. They arrived at the spring and it was indeed a magical one. He could feel the natural magic resonating from it, as he could with most nature based magic. That's part of how he'd found this town in the first place. "Wanna take a breather?" he asked, sliding his pack off his back and setting it against a tree, before putting his arms in the air to stretch.

Miguel could feel the magic too and he fell back a bit. “Sure. I can’t get too close,” he told Joey. Miguel shifted nervously from side to side. He didn’t look very relaxed. “The Magic is too potent in the spring water for me. It tends to make me ley sick.”

Joey stopped stretching and reached out to grab Miguel as he stumbled backward. "Oh, dang, I'm sorry. I didn't know." Joey himself found the magic invigorating and refreshing. Like a nice glass of lemonade on a hot day. He couldn't imagine how it must feel to get sick from it. "We can go somewhere else if you want."

Miguel smiled, a little sheepish, a little anxious, a little apologetic. “It’s okay as long as I don’t touch it. You can fill up... or uh... whatever it is you get from it.” The grab was invigorating. He could feel Joey’s own magic as well as the magic that flowed in through him. Natural and refreshing. Miguel would always be vaguely jealous of the fae and their innate abilities. They were magic. Not just vessels for it. And it made Miguel feel inferior, a feeling that would always leave him a little sore. “You know... I’ve always been jealous of you guys. Not you specifically just... all the fae. I feel like witches have it so... half hearted in comparison. We can channel magic. But it’s not ours. You have something all yours. And it’s... sorta beautiful.” He smiled and tried to reframe his negative emotions. He didn’t want to be sore and jealous anymore. He wanted to celebrate the diversity of life and magic.

Joey nodded as Miguel confirmed he'd be fine, giving him a gentle pat on the arm before letting him go, walking over to his pack and grabbing a canteen out of it. He walked over to the spring and filled it up, before sucking it down in one go, some of it dribbling down the front of his shirt. As he did this, he listened to what Miguel had to say about fae, and he let out a little laugh after he finished off the spring water. "It's funny, my Mama always told me to be wary of witches. Said y'all wanted to steal our magic." He smiled warmly at Miguel, striding over to put his canteen back, before picking up a stick and swinging it casually. "I don't believe that though." He held up the stick, nodding toward Molly. "She play fetch?"

Miguel watched the water with a sense of panic. But atronachs didn’t get ley sick. And Joey seemed to perk right up when he drank the water. Not that he had seemed particularly weak before. But it didn’t turn him into a writhing mass of magic. Maybe it made him comfortable enough to share the origin of his witch wariness with Miguel. Joey’s mama hadn’t been completely wrong. Miguel was reminded sharply of Milo - and the guilt bubbling up from his stomach had no outlet. He couldn’t apologize to Milo, and talking to this new friend about it would nip their friendship in the bud. “Not all witches are nice,” he said, as if it was some sort of middle ground. “Just like not all humans are nice...” No one would doubt that Miguel was nice, but did that override his hunger for power? He glanced at Molly, who had already caught a glimpse of the stick and was bounding toward Joey with a wagging tail. “Sure.” Miguel chuckled a little, happy Molly was enjoying Joey’s company.

Joey threw the stick once he got the go ahead, down the trail they'd just came from. He had quite an arm on him, so the stick went a ways, and Molly wasted no time bounding after it. "Not all atronachs are nice either," he said, his tone a little more serious than he'd intended. He thought of himself as a good person, but he had his moments, just like everyone else. "But I think it best not to think in generalizations. I've seen what that can do when pushed to the extreme."

Miguel watched Molly bolt down the trail and back up, to drop the stick at Joey’s feet. Her tail still wagging and her doggy grin out, tongue shooting off to the side. She would sleep well that night. “You’re right,” Miguel agreed with Joey’s sound reasoning. It was interesting, the wariness Joey has for witches was something Miguel had for everyone but witches. Maybe he could learn something from the atronach. “How old are you Joey?” Miguel asked suddenly. Then cleared his throat. “I mean, well, I don’t mean to be nosy. But you’re just... very...”

Joey picked up the stick again and immediately threw it, giving a little chuckle at Miguel's question. A sad, throaty chuckle. "That's a complicated question, Miguel," he began, picking up another stick from the ground and fishing his knife out of his pocket, before sitting down on a stump and starting to shave off the bark. "Technically I'll be 94 this year."

Miguel gave a low whistle as he watched the grandpa play fetch with his familiar. “That’s impressive. You don’t look a day over 39.” Miguel was terrible at guessing ages. He inches over to watch as Joey began to whittle. Molly brought the stick back and Miguel was the one to toss it. He didn’t want to disappoint her. “How Long was your tharn state?”

Joey shrugged. "Fifty some years," he said, very matter of factly. "Would've been longer but some developers were trying to build a ski lodge where I was sleeping. Tried to drill right into me." He gave a sharp chuckle, stripping the last of the bark off the branch and starting in with shorter cuts, not quite sure what he was going to make, just letting his knife move across it and seeing what happened.

Miguel inched down the tree he was leaning against, until he was sitting. Molly came, breathless from running. And he pat her gently while watching Joey whittle. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt...” he said softly. It was hard to hurt an atronach. Especially one that was a sleeping rock.

Joey was thankful Miguel didn't ask him why. He actually sighed in relief because of it. He'd rather talk about the war than his moment of weakness that made him give up. "Yeah, me too." Too bad the developers didn't fair as well. He started whittling at the wood a little more aggressively, leaving rough, jagged edges.

Miguel kept watching. There was something very satisfying about the sound and movement of the knife. But Joey seemed turbulent, and he wasn’t sure if his presence was helping him or making things worse. But the sun was going down and Molly was tired. So he stood back up and dusted himself off. “I think I’m going to start back down. It was nice bumping into you.”

Joey kept whittling, getting ahold of his emotions enough to stop marring up the wood and actually make something. He was a little startled by Miguel suddenly announcing his departure, however, and stood out of politeness. "Okay, yeah, nice bumping into you too," he said. "I'm probably gonna camp out here for the night." He glanced down at the figure he'd made out of the branch in this hand. "Here, take this," he said, walking over and placing the fox figure (x) into Miguel's hand. "Sort of reminds me of you.”

Miguel blinked at the little figure. It made his heart stop. A fox. Of course. He thought of his alibrije - a shimmering blue-gold fox on butterfly wings. Miguel took it with two hands. “Thank you,” he said, open and honest and sort of blown right open. He felt incredibly seen by Joey. Though maybe it had just been a coincidence. “See you later, Joey. Have a good camp.”

[deluxedolans]

94 sister!reader??? 😘😘😘

SIERRA!💙 thank you so much for sending this in. also, this kind of turned into more than a drabble?? idk what happened honestly, i got carried about with protective!daddygrayson. anyways, i love you with all my heart and thank you so much for wanting me to write something for you; that is so NICE💙

*I am no longer accepting drabble requests at this time!*💙

Prompt: #94 “Did they hurt you?”

“Chloe, be careful please!” Grayson called out to his three-year-old daughter as she ran up the slide, her bare feet slipping on the smooth plastic.

Grayson sighed; lately his daughter had been playing more and more with her cousins, Ethan’s sons, Bennett and Sean. While Chloe was most definitely having a blast playing with her cousins, she was also most definitely coming home with more injuries than usual; the boys opting for more adventurous games rather than playing house, like Molly often did with her friends. Chloe was never the little girl to shy away from playing rough; she had no issue defending herself and holding her own with Bennett and Sean, but, Grayson always feared that the boys were being too rough with her whenever she came home with bruises.

“Gray, relax, she’s fine,” you assured him, picking up a pool noodle off the lawn and sticking it in a storage bin. Grayson could most definitely be overprotective of his only daughter and it showed, especially when she played with her two twin cousins. Grayson often talked about how him and Ethan used to torture Cameron, somewhat explaining his concern for his own daughter when she played with her twin cousins, as well as his tendencies to be slightly overbearing.

“She came home with a bruise the size of a golf-ball the other day, Y/N, I just want her to be more careful,” Grayson squinted his eyes as he attempted to see Chloe and the boys as they moved farther into the backyard.

“She’s three, babe, she’s gonna have bruises. Have you met this kid? She’s wild; she’s literally you only she’s female.” You lightly hit Grayson’s arm in an attempt to have lighten the mood; he smiled, but did not break his gaze from the toddlers. Chloe, and Bennett were now chasing Sean with plastic shovels as they pretended they were swords. “Grayson, would you stop watching them and relax? She’ll be fine; also, it’s not like she hasn’t given them a few bruises,” you reminded him, as he sighed.

“Yeah, but–.”

Your eyes narrowed, “I swear to God if you say ‘it’s different because they’re boys’ I’ll kick your ass.” Grason merely rolled his eyes in response at your lecture as you continued on, “Babe, if you coddle her her whole life she’s gonna be a weenie. You don’t want a weenie for a daughter, do you?” You looked at Grayson as he stared at Molly who was now laying in the grass like a starfish, making grass angels with the two other kids.

Grayson looked at you as soon as he saw the children were sedentary, “Well, no,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“I didn’t think so.” You smirked, leaning against Gray, you wrapped an arm around his waist as you admired the children of your family underneath the glowing orange sunset that pierced the evening sky above your yard.

“I just get nervous, because she’s so little. I know they’re little, too, but they have each other to look out for …  what if they gang up on her?” Grayson worried, his brow furrowing with fear. Your heart melted at the concern Grayson had for his little girl; as a twin, he understood the bond of brotherhood and how that could outshine one’s morality, only strengthening his instincts as a protective dad.

“Gray, she kicks their asses all the time when they’re picking on her and you’re not around–she has to learn to fight her own battles.” Just as you finished that sentence you watched one of the boys pick up something from the ground and throw it at Molly, hitting her square in the face. It was a rock.

 Immediately the little girl started crying and Papa Gray sprang into action.

“Famous last words,” you muttered to yourself under your breath. Grayson immediately ran through the spacious backyard to where the three children sat in the fluffy green grass; the two boys had scooted away from Molly upon her meltdown, and Molly sat on her bottom with her hands over her eyes as tears streamed down her face.

“Moll, what happened? Did they hurt you?” Grayson scooped Molly up in his arms, holding her tight to his chest. Molly continued to whimper, nodding her head into his shirt.

“He frew.” Inhale. “A rock.” Exhale. “At meeeeeee.” Molly sobbed as she rubbed her eyes, her little fists digging into Grayson’s chest. Grayson let out a puff of air; he just knew this was going to happen. However, he also knew that you were always right, so he could use this moment to either A.) hinder you from becoming a resilient young lady in the face of your struggles, or b.) help you become a bad bitch who was independent from her parents.

“I saw that. Boys, which one of you threw the rock at Molly?” Sean slowly raised his hand with his head down low, Bennett backing away as soon as his good name was cleared.

“Why you do that?” Molly piped up, her tone laced with frustration. Grayson was surprised at her question, however, instead of intervening, he instead chose to see how it played out.

“I got mad ‘cause you chased me with the shovel.” Sean pouted, his little brows scrunching as he recalled the memory. Grayson had to hold in a laugh, Sean looked just like Ethan did when he was little and his facial expressions were hilarious.

“Well, I was just playin’,” Molly shrugged, her nose still congested from her sobbing session.

Sean paused, not sure how to respond to her answer. Grayson then decided it was his turn as the adult to direct the conversation, “And how did you feel when Molly chased you with the shovel, Sean?”

Sean looked up at Grayson with his round hazel eyes carefully pondering his uncle’s question, “Mad! I ‘jus wanted to play with ‘em and then they started chasin’ me!” Sean’s voice began rising, his anger evident as his voice rose.

“Molly, do we leave people out of games?” Grayson asked, making eye contact with Molly before she quickly looked away, knowing she was partly in the wrong.

“No.” She responded quietly, her head so low it was touching her chest. Grayson nodded, “And Sean, when we’re upset with someone else do we throw things at them, or do we tell them with our words why we are upset?” Sean mirrored Molly’s position as he stared at the ground in self reflection.

“We use words. No hitting.”

“Okay, so Molly, we need to include everyone in all the games. How would you feel if you were getting chased by Bennett and Sean?”

Molly put a hand on her cheek, propping her head up on Grayson’s shoulder, “sad … I don’t like it when peoples do that to me.”

“Okay, and Sean, how do you feel when someone hits you?” Grayson prompted, shifting his weight onto his hip, to shift Molly into a more comfortable position.

“Not good. I don’t like it.” Sean shook his head, demonstrating his disapproval for pain.

“Well, alright then. So I want you two to give each other hugs and say you’re sorry. No more being mean and leaving people out, and no more throwing things at each other. We love each other in this family, okay?” Grayson stated firmly, carefully placing Molly on the ground. The two toddlers stared at each other for a moment before Molly began to run towards Sean, squeezing him in as much of a bone-crushing hug as a three-year-old could muster. Grayson’s heart swelled; the scene in front of him was picture-perfect, and too cute.

“Aw, see, that’s so nice.” Grayson smiled, admiring the three children in front of him. You stood off to the side, your heart full of love for Grayson and his ability to mediate any situation. As you stood there with a goofy, love struck smile on your face, eventually Grayson caught your eye, flashing you a thumbs up and a grin.

You mouthed good job, when Grayson decided to brush imaginary dust off his shoulder as he sauntered back over to you, a parental legend in his own mind.

[muses-of-creation]

Thiefs

Our job was simple. Stealing magical artifacts from dangerous people and trying to not get killed or captured by a organization called Holy Trinity. Everything was going smoothly, until two devil hunters have butted in our job claiming we were demons. This is about a story about how a wizard and a necromancer got themselves into troubles with the two most dangerous devil hunters.

You can also read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18566482

Good reading~.

Dante had gotten a new job from Morrison. As much as he wanted to refuse it, Morrison again decided to cancel all pizza orders until he paid the bill in full. To add, Lady too had arrived, and made even more pressure, because of the debts Dante still owed her. With no choice, he went to the mansion Morrison had told him.

Much to his surprise, as he was approaching the mansion, he met an unexpected person. Nero was there, too. Dante greeted him “Hey Kid! What are you doing here?”

Nero sighed in a mixture of irritation and annoyance at the sight of Dante and said “A job. I hope you're not here for the same.”

"So it looks like we're going to have to work together because I have a job here, too." Dante announced, pointing to the mansion.

"Aren’t you too old to take jobs? You should be reforming soon.” Nero retorted not happy with the news.

"And miss all the fun? Do not even think about it. Rest assured I can still play with you. You don’t need to worry.” Said Dante back.

“Go back to sleep old man. I think you're already dreaming.” Said Nero, turning more and more irritated, walking to the gate of the mansion.

Dante laughed and followed him, ending up messing his hair up like Nero was a little kid. That was the end for Nero. If there weren’t so many people on the streets Nero had already started a fight there with Dante, which was what Dante probably wanted, but Nero wouldn’t let him win. He took Dante's arm by the wrist with Devil Bringer and warned him “You do that again, and I’ll rip your arm off.”

“You're in a bad mood, Kid.” Dante observed "recovering" his arm. "Kyrie is not satisfying you, or something like that?"

This made Nero very frustrated with such a question, especially since Dante was not ashamed to say such things wherever he went. Eventually Dante saw Nero’s face the color of his coat. To Nero's great salvation, a butler came to greet them at the gate, thus ending that conversation.

"Please come with me. My master is already waiting for you.” The butler announced with a bow.

Then he turned his back and began to guide them, first through the house, and then to the master's office.

"This rich people don’t have nothing else to do with money." Dante remarked as he watched the house, which was quite rich in pieces of art, but the architecture itself was rich.

“I just hope the work pays well.” Nero thought loudly, with little desire in having to share the reward.

Waiting for them was a man in front of a window. He wasn’t too tall, already old, probably in his seventies, almost eighty years. But he still had short brown hair, a little bald though. He was thin and wore round glasses with a golden wire frame. His eyes were already of a very dull green and he was dressed in a suit, leaning on a cane, which was equally rich, with embed designs and precious or semiprecious stones, like his collection and house.

As soon as he saw his guests, he smiled at them and asked for them to sit down, and they did it.

“Thank you very much for accepting my invitation. Can I offer you something?” Asked the man, in a sympathetic tone.

"If it's not too troublesome, we'd rather go into the details." Dante answered, trying not to be rude, which he failed miserably.

“Of course.” The man nodded, making a sign to the butler, who brought a box with a bracelet that looked quite simple with a pink stone in the center and the rest made of silver. "I got this recently, but I'm afraid about what might happen to it.”

"It sounds simple enough.” Nero remarked in his ignorance.

"That's because you don’t know the true value of it." said the man in a rather rude manner, as well as incredulous with his ignorance.

"Are you saying the bracelet is cursed?" Nero tried to figure it out.

“Nothing like that. And it's a bangle bracelet, not just a bracelet.” Corrected the man. "It may not seem so, but despite its simple appearance, behind it hides a great power. Because of this I fear that it will catch the eye of demons.

“As well?” This time it was Dante who asked, because he didn’t see where the man wanted to go either.

"Haven’t you heard of the demons who steal artifacts? Usually are two, but sometimes four.” Said the man. "I've heard several stories, and several of my friends have been stolen by them.”

"I'm sorry, but we kill demons, we don’t catch thieves. So… you should go to the police.” Commented Dante.

"I don’t think I'm explaining myself well then." The man looked a little unhappy. “Everything happens supernaturally.”

"You'll have to do better if you want to convince us that these thieves are demons." Nero announced.

“I can see it. Usually they’re never seen, very strange things happen when they steal the pieces, like sudden descents of temperatures...” the man began.

"Now it looks like we're talking about ghosts. Not yet our category.” Interrupted Dante.

"No. To solve this, they need an exorcist.” Completed Nero.

The man took a deep breath trying to not to get angry and continued his explanation, as if they hadn’t said anything. "The security systems don’t pick up anything, but the piece from one moment to the other disappears.”

"They still look like ghosts to me." Dante interrupted the man again.

“Can you let me finish?!” Asked the man already angry, eventually losing all his composure.

Both Dante and Nero were silent. The man cleared his throat and continued what he was saying "When they’re confronted, they usually kill everyone in a real bloodbath, or in a rather painful way, like burned alive, melted with poison, among other types of deaths, which have been recorded. No matter what you try, they always end up having what they want. And as they appear, they disappear without leaving any trace.”

“Registered? Are you saying they recorded all the deaths that happened?” Asked Nero, somewhat surprised.

"Yes, just like the robbery happened. If you want, I can give you those records.” Said the man.

"Then let us see those records, and then we'll talk." Asked Dante not believing the man's word.

The man gave the butler a new signal and he fetched a tablet with all the videos and files that had been spoken. The butler handed them the tablet and Nero picked it up so they could see. After watching the videos, they were practically convinced.

"I'll pay you whatever you need for your services. But please get rid of them. It has been very difficult to live in the Art Market in this way.” Asked the man again, half desperate for not being able to see if they would accept it or not.

“Worth trying.” Decided Nero.

“As long as I receive my reward in the end…It's fine by me.” Dante agreed.

And so, they sealed the deal there. All that was left was to know when the attack was going to take place.

 §§§§§

I was surfing in the internet when I got new information about a magical artifact that had recently moved. I saw everything that was accompanying the photograph of the artifact. As always came with the purchase invoice of the object, which ended up giving the rest of the information. From the invoice I looked for the rest and found the place where the person lived, only needed to do the rest of the recognition, including see if Inna was interested too.

As soon as she reached the cafe, where we had arranged to meet, I turned the computer over to her and announced “Just look at what just came.”

“Uh ~. New artifact?” She asked excited.

“Yup. I haven’t yet seen which artifact is, or what it does, but I’ve already found who has it and where it lives.” I told her.

"Then we must deal with the rest." Inna decided.

"I was just waiting to see if you'd be interested in participating." I said.

“Of course, I am. It's been a while since the last.” Said Inna clearly annoyed.

“Unfortunately, or fortunately this is how this market works.” I nodded.

“Tonight?” She asked, referring to the house of the new owner of the artifact to analyze the situation and how we would make the robbery plan.

“Sure.” I nodded.

“By the way. Do you think the Holy Trinity is also behind this one?” Asked Inna. "He seems to be one of those who, though simple, is very powerful."

“That's because it is. We'll probably have some fun.” I concluded with a smile.

“I hope so. I need to exercise a little.” Said Inna, smiling, pleased with the novelty.

I laughed and commented “I thought you had become sedentary.”

“Look who's talking.” She retorted. “Just because of this, I give up being sedentary. I hope at least someday I'll find that damn artifact.”

"I'm sure we'll find it sooner or later. Aside from that Catherine and Asura also have an eye on it.” I said.

"Yes. Although they prefer to go around killing demons, rather than artifacts.” Inna wasn’t very confident in them.

"In the end, we're going to be adventurers like Lara Croft, or Nathan Drake." I tried to cheer her up.

“Indiana Jones to by the way.” Added Inna.

“Of course. Who refuses such an adventure?” I asked.

We laughed and we still spent time at the cafe, not only to enjoy the excellent cakes they had, but also the drinks, because they’re divine. In the meantime, we also made more research not only on the artifact itself, but also on the man and his own house.

Ah! Do you want to know the name of the rich man? Fine. His name is Arthur Smith. A not very sociable man who lived basically from his large private collection of art, always looking for more. That's how he got the artifact. The artifact was going to be auctioned, but because he knew the auctioneer, he got it before it was even announced for the next auction, so there were no records of it.

The Magic Academy was where I got the information. It is an organization of protection of magical artifacts, that tries to find them and to surrender them to its rightful owners, or to whom they must belong. Trying to the maximum that they’re used by the wrong people, or even coming into the hands of demons, or the Holy Trinity.

The Holy Trinity is basically the opposite of the former. All that matters to them is to have the power and the maximum knowledge possible to serve their own ends. Thanks to this, we came across them a lot of times and things didn’t go very well, because usually they ended up dead. This made us targets for them. They aren’t only interested in artefacts, but also work with demons, even protect them. Nothing that seemed like the relationship of necromancers with their demons.

Usually the artifacts we steal are already in someone's hands. Even if someone doesn’t know the power he has in his hands. In these cases, the Magic Academy usually deals with these people and ends up giving you an even more valuable offer than the artifact has for these people, only when the Trinity interferes is when someone has to steal it.

Usually it's just me and Inna who do this, but there are two other girls who sometimes help us, Catherine and Asura. Sometimes we end up with the artifacts, because we liked them, the ones we did not like, we give them to the Magic Academy, just the way they wanted it, since they don’t know everything we steal.

We started this because each of us is looking for a specific artifact. In the case of the Inna, is one that is useful to her, because it is an artifact for necromancers that had been in the possession of her master / father, but eventually disappeared. And mine, is one that is specific to me, a wizard, that by chance my grandpa had been looking for him for a long time.

As agreed, that evening, we met at Arthur Smith's house and began to see how we were going to prepare the plan. See what kind of security the house had, how could we get into the grounds where the house was, in which part of the house was the artifact. That kind of boring stuff.

Unfortunately, it took us longer than we’d thought, and it took all night for that because it’s huge. The artifact was in what we took to be a secret mini-library. While I was checking the security where the box was, Inna began to walk, to see what could be there of interest to steal. She reached the desk there and saw an envelope on the table with a seal, which she recognized immediately.

“Rin-chan. Look at this.” Said Inna, showing me the envelope seal.

“Holy Trinity.” I said as soon as I saw the design of the seal.

"It seems that this gentleman here has connections with them." Inna concluded.

“Yeah. I just hope it gives us enough time to steal this.” I said.

"Unfortunately, I cannot say that. Only the envelope is here.” Inna observed. "But that just means we're going to have to steal it tomorrow."

I agreed and we finished everything we had to do there. Now that we had everything done it was easy to draw the plan and we could put it into practice the next night.

The next night we met at the point that had been marked as the meeting place. This time we were fully prepared to make the assault. We even had brought our firearms, which they usually have magical ammunition, because if there were human beings ignorant of the dark edge of the world, we could not use magic to deal with them. The most troublesome would be if the Holy Trinity appeared, after all the work we’d done to be the ones claiming the prize, but in a situation like that, we could use magic at will.

Inna had Lapuree with her to serve as a flying watchman, who was a dragon demon still small, but looked more like a butterfly demon. I did all the spells I knew so we wouldn’t be easily noticed and we could go into the woods and head for the house. Fortunately, everything was as before, which meant that we hadn’t been noticed the night before, and there was still no sign of the Holy Trinity.

We entered the secret mini-library carefully and there was nothing different from yesterday. I took the gadget out of the box and slipped it into a concealed coat pocket, where I was sure nothing was going to happen to it. After this we hastened to get out of there.

We were once again walking through the forest toward our exit, when shots were fired in our direction from our two sides. Luckily Lapuree was more noticeable than us and warned us, giving us enough time to get away. It wasn’t normal to leave anyone to tell the story, much less someone who had noticed us like that, which meant that they couldn’t be normal humans.

We changed our trajectory and shortly after we reached a glade, we stopped with our backs to each other, in the center. We grabbed our firearms, in the case of Inna a shotgun, and in my case one of the pistols, and each one of us pointed at his sniper.

They came out of the forest with their guns pointed at us, too, but they did not fire. They were two white-haired men, but one was older and had a very stylish red coat, and the other was younger and had a shiny arm.

Lapuree was sitting on Inna's head. She made a few sounds, which meant she had something to say, but only Inna noticed and understood.

"She said one of them is half demon, and the other is only a quarter." She translated Lapuree so I could understand.

That was in the minimum curious, and I bet Inna thought the same thing. But there was no time to think about it. They advanced toward us, until they saw a pleasant distance of safety. We watched them, trying to read what their next step was.

“Look that! It's just two girls.” Said the man in a red coat, clearly happy, but in a tone that seemed to degrade us.

"Let's see if these girls can’t be smarter than you”. Inna threatened, disliking his tone.

One thing was for sure, our main goal was to get away. We could not afford to take too long, otherwise the Holy Trinity would appear and make everything more complicated.

“Calm down, babe.” Asked the man, laughing at her attitude.

Inna liked even less than he said this time, eventually giving a shotgun shot, which passed close to his head, since the goal was not to kill him until he proved what they were.

“Don’t call me that!” She warned him.

In response the man whistled and made another comment, but was interrupted by the other man with the luminous arm "Yet they are demons and they are our targets.”

“Devils?” We both asked, clearly confused by the revelation.

But instead of someone giving us an explanation, the man in the red coat said “You're no fun Kid. Here we are. With two cute girls and you don’t care.”

"And one of them has already shot you and is still pointing a gun at you." He twitched the other rolling his eyes.

"I knew I should have shot him in the head.” Said Inna more and more annoyed that we were wasting time there. “Can I kill him?”

“No.” I answered. “That's not what we’re here for”.

"So, we created a new goal.” Inna tried again.

"That will only make us wasting more time." I protested.

"Let's try to do things well.” Said the man in the red coat. "You give us what you have stolen and you can come back to your life.”

"They are demons. You never can get things right.” Retorted the other.

“This is ridiculous.” I announced with a sigh because they continued to call us demons.

“At least we have two hot guys following us.” Commented Inna.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“What? We'll never have such handsome men behind us except for this.” She twisted, seizing the moment for a few seconds.

“Can we go now?” I asked already annoyed.

“Sure.” Inna agreed.

"No." said the two men.

“Fine.” We said both at the same time.

But we didn’t want to know what they wanted, or they didn’t want to. As a distraction we put down our weapons. Just when they were distracted by it, it was time for us to run again in different directions, to get out of there. Still they responded quickly, eventually intercepting us again.

“Already leaving us? The party is about to start.” Commented the man in the red coat to Inna.

“Sorry, but we have to attend another one.” Inna answered with a fake smile, bringing up her naginata, to see if she could make a way to go.

“I won’t let you go.” Said the other man who stopped me.

“Oh yeah? I want to see you try.” I turned back in a defiant tone and smiled, making my sword appear.

They also took each one their swords and we started a fight. If we did a battle of skill and strength, they won clearly, but that wasn’t our fighting style, either. Inna called one of her demons, Alvaro, who was a gunslinger, which made the man in the red coat protest “That's not fair.”

Except that the moment he finished speaking, he was shot in the middle of the forehead by Alvaro.

“Alvaro!” Protested Inna.

"Lady, I know that's what you wanted to do from the start” Alvaro declared with a smile.

“That hurts!” Protested the man in the red coat rubbing his forehead.

This was something that surprised her immensely, because he was supposed to be death, but there he was as if he’d never been shot in the head. They returned to fight each other, but this time Inna began to use also magic to fight, being able to stand better against him.

In my case I started to use the elements in my favor, starting with fire. He was avoiding everything, but my goal was not to hit him, it was too warm his sword hilt. It worked because he finally dropped his sword. This gave me the opportunity I expected, to make my next attack. What I wasn’t expecting was that he would defend himself with the luminous arm, as if it were nothing.

“Let's get this over with.” He said, opening and closing his hand, which now I could see it wasn’t human.

He was going to attack with that little hand from the distance we were, so I formed a shield, defending his attack still with some ease.

“Interesting.” I watched his arm with a smile. "That's really interesting."

“Do you want to taste it?” He asked as he attacked me again.

“If you can get it right.” I challenged him again, this time diverting.

We weren’t going anywhere if we continued this way. Unlike them, we were growing tired and we were already feeling the consequences of it, eventually being pushed back to where we started. Each of us picked up our guns again, but instead of firing at our opponent, we fired at our opposing opponent, which worked. Because the bullets we used were magical we did them some damage.

"How fair is that?" Protested the man with the luminous arm, a little irritated by it.

"You men do not swallow your pride and bow before the circumstances." Said Inna.

“We observe and execute what is best suited to the situation.” I added.

The man in the red coat snapped his sword on the ground and leaned on her, laughing.

“Because of this… it was worth the job.”

He was going to attack us again, but at that moment the Inna ninja immersed and threw one of her smoke bombs to the ground while I did a quick teleportation spell. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do it outside.

"Since our situation could not be better…" Inna began, looking at a spot.

I looked and what I saw there was demons.

“It's perfect.” I commented sarcastically.

“We'd better be quick on this.” Alvaro advised us. "They're already coming our way."

“Wow! How annoying!” I protested already without patience.

"At least they're handsome, but this time I have to agree with you." Said Inna.

We defeated the demons that were there, and we were on our way again, for new demons to appear.

"Do not tell me they smelled the artifact!" Protested Inna.

"They shouldn’t!" I replied. “I took all precautions!”

We got rid of the demons and we met again with our two stalkers.

“Seriously?!” Asked Inna, clearly irritated.

“Our luck is fantastic.” I sighed.

"If you want something with me, you first call me on a date, and then we can talk." Said Inna.

“They are more like ex boyfriends who never leave.” I retorted.

“Seriously? So, you wanna go out with me, babe?” Asked the man in the red coat with a smile.

“Enough!” Exclaimed the man with the luminous arm.

"Demons killing other demons. This is rare now.” Commented the man in the red coat.

“Okay. Now you're going to have to explain it.” Started Inna. "I know I invoke demons, but being one it's still going a long way. Or does this make me one?

"You aren’t a demon, but you have the personality of one, so ..." I said.

“I'll kill you.” Inna looked at me with a murderous look.

"Kill them, not me."  I asked innocently.

“Stop it!” He ordered clearly angry.

“Wait. Aren’t you demons?” Asked the man in the red coat, now confused.

"That's obvious!" Protested Inna.

"Just because we use magic doesn’t mean we are demons.” I added.

"But you killed humans." Nero retorted, not convinced.

"He must be speaking of the Holy Trinity." Inna remembered. "The time we went to one's house, remember?"

“Ah! That time. But how do they know that?” I asked.

"Stop talking like we're not here!" Exclaimed the man with the luminous arm.

“It’s all recorded on video.” Replied the man in the red coat.

“What?!” We both said both clearly surprised.

“That’s is impossible! That means ..." I thought, but I had no time for anything.

The next moment I was shot in the left shoulder, putting me on my knees on the floor. It had not been any of the men and Inna just didn’t take one either because Alvaro was faster, yet she carried one in the leg from another angle. We turned to see who the snipers had been, to meet some people in suit.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” thanked a woman with glasses and a ponytail. “Demon hunters Dante and Nero.”

"What's going on here?" Demanded the man with the luminous arm.

“Holy Trinity.” I said as I tried to get me back on my feet with one hand where I had taken the shot.

“Ruby Campbell.” Said the woman, turning to me with a sadistic smile.  “Do you like our latest bullets? They are made of iron, so your magical abilities won’t work. And the same goes for you Inna Walker.” She said, turning to the Inna.

"You ..." Inna was about to start cursing.

Alvaro was about to shoot them, but he eventually disappeared, making Inna extremely surprised.

"We have our own measures against necromancers.” Said the woman.  “Take them.”

"Why not kill us already?" Inna asked irritated.

"Because you’re useful to us alive.” Replied the woman.

The men who were with her were going to get us, but the man in the red coat gave a shot that killed one of them.

“What do you think you're doing?” Asked the woman, unhappy with his attitude.

“I'm so sorry, my finger slipped.” He replied.

Then the other man stretched and shot in the other. “Ups. My bad. He excused himself.”

"If that's what you want. You don’t even need to be paid." Said the woman, taking a whip.

The men who were with her also prepared to fight. But before they could do anything, they were all unconscious. And when the man in the red coat came to the woman's feet, which was already leaning against the trunk of a tree, he declared "We don’t like being deceived. Our job is to kill demons, not to kill humans.”

And then he put her unconscious. While Inna was in charge of killing some of the men with my pistol, I used my sword to form a spell that killed the rest, including the woman. This caused me to start bleeding from the nose because I was going beyond the limits I could get with an iron bullet on my shoulder. I took the rest I had to freeze my right shoulder so I could not feel any pain.

“Why have you done that?” Asked the man with the luminous arm.

"They're not human anymore. Apart from that it would give us a lot of work if they were still alive.” I explained.

The man in the red coat crouched at the foot of the Inna and went to take her in his lap, but she pointed the pistol at his head, asking "What are you going to do now?"

"We have no reason to kill you. You’re not demons.” He replied.

"If you'd heard us from the beginning, you'd known that for a long time.” I said.

“Yeah. That's why we have to help you now.” He said, carrying Inna in bride style, not caring about the pistol she was aiming at him.

“Get off me!” Inna protested, trying to shoot him, but he swerved.

“Let us help you.” Asked the man with the luminous arm.

"It's not like we can fight any more.” I gave up, managing to get up at great cost.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Asked the man in the red coat.

“It's too far.” I said, almost losing my balance if it were not for the man with the luminous arm.

“Okay. Then let's go.” Said the man in the red coat, starting to walk.

“Where do you think you're taking me?!” Protested Inna.

"It's not on a date now, babe.” Replied the man in the red coat. “To my store.”

I followed him with the help of the man with the luminous arm. Fortunately, such a store was not far away. When we got there the man in the red coat sat Inna on the couch and I let myself sit on the floor without further strength.

“What do we do now?” Asked the man with the luminous arm concerned.

“That’s the question.” Said the man in the red coat, still thinking about it.

I remembered the artifact in the pocket of my coat and pulled it out to see if it was everything okay with it. Luckily it was intact and it felt good to have it in my hand. At that moment something occurred to me.

“Help me.” I asked the man with the luminous arm with a signal.

He was kind of confused yet it helped me to get up and get to Inna.

“What are you going to do?” Inna asked with a little fear. “You're dangerous.”

I laughed unhappily and then I said "I think you're going to want to bite something."

I put the bracelet on my right wrist and felt magic returning to my body, also lifting some of the tiredness. Inna was suddenly scared, yet there wasn’t much she could do. I placed my right hand over the bullet wound on her leg and created a kind of ice box around the bullet, since iron and magic do not mix. When I finished, I left a kind of handle coming out of the wound.

"Does anyone want to do the honors?" I asked.

"I think I'd better do it." Replied Inna after recovering from the pain created by the ice.

"Then whenever you want." I said. “Just pull.”

Inna picked it up and started to pull. It was better if it was pulled quickly, but the body wouldn’t respond as she wanted, although as she was doing so, I was using the magic of the artifact to drastically accelerate the healing process. When she had finished pulling, the wound was already closed.

“At least some luck in the middle of everything.” She said with some difficulty.

“It’s true. Who would have thought it was a supporting artifact.” I nodded.

The men were stunned to look at us. But I was still missing, which was going to be slightly more complicated. I defrosted my left shoulder and did the same thing I had done to Inna, the only difference being that I was feeling everything now. At the end of everything I fainted exhausted with everything that had happened that day.

When I woke up again, I was still on the floor, but there was a woman I did not know next to me, but she seemed to be taking care of me. She smiled to see that I was awake and announced “You’re awake.”

I sat down and checked the spot where I had taken the shot, seeing that it was flawless. I looked at her again and asked “Who are you?”

“Ah! Excuse. My name is Kyrie.” She said with a smile. “Your friend is awake too.”

I looked at the place she pointed out and saw Inna eating something that smelled pretty good, like she hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Ruby.” I introduced myself.

“Nice to meet you. Come on, you must eat too.” She said, taking my hands, leading me to the table where Inna was eating.

“Rin-chan!” She exclaimed, only realizing that I had woken up when I got to her.

“Heya.” I said back seeing what the food was.

“This food is fantastic.” Said Inna, eating more.

“Thanks.” thanked Kyrie.

I started to eat and saw that Inna was really right, that food was very good. We ended up eating everything that was there, which made Kyrie surprised, but at the same time very happy. That was also the time when the men arrived.

“We're home.” Announced the one with the luminous arm.

“Welcome back.” Kyrie said with a smile.

“Hey! Where is the food?!” Asked the man in the red coat, looking shocked at the table.

"They ate everything.” Kyrie answered.

“What do you mean?” Asked the man with the bright arm in disbelief.

We looked like two little children looking at them making innocent eyes, as if it were nothing to do with us.

"I've noticed that you two are already fine.” Concluded the man in the red coat.

“Ready for another.” Agreed Inna.

“Please no.” I asked.

We all laughed at each other, only getting Kyrie out because she wasn’t sure what had happened that night.

“We never got to introduce ourselves. Dante.” Announced the man in the red coat.

“Nero” said the Bright arm men.

“Inna.” Inna introduced herself.

“Ruby.” I introduced myself. "Thank you for helping us yesterday."

"Though that situation could have been avoided, if they hadn’t appeared.” Added Inna.

“We already apologized. Okay, babe?” Dante defended himself.

“My name is Inna. Remember it at least.” She asked.

“But it's true. If it was only me, I would’ve known at once you weren’t demons and none of this had happened.” Agreed Nero.

"Are you blaming me now, Kid?" Dante asked.

“I'm just stating a fact.” He defended himself.

"Just because you have an arm who can detect demons, doesn’t mean it illegals you from what happened yesterday. You're as guilty as I am.” Said Dante.

They started arguing there, if it had not been for me. Hearing that last piece of information about Nero's arm, I looked at Inna who had also been surprised. I went to his feet and took him by the hand and began to see the differences, causing him to be surprised.

“Excuse me.” I asked, dropping his hand. "Like I said yesterday you have a very interesting hand."

“Thanks?” He said, not sure what to say.

"Well ... Now that's settled. We can leave.” Said Inna, rising without further delay.

“True.” I nodded.

“Hey! What about my date?” Dante was shocked by the revelation.

“What date?” Asked Inna, confused. “Wait? Were you really serious yesterday?”

“Of course, Babe.” He answered without further delay.

"I'll think about it. It's just that I usually don’t accept invitations from guys who tried to kill me the night before.” Said Inna with a smile.

We all laugh at that situation, except for Dante.

"But what was that yesterday?" Asked Nero, still curious about what had happened.

We looked at each other, wondering if we should tell or not. But as they technically saved us, we thought it was the least we could do.

“Well ... If you ever need anything, call Devil May Cry.” Dante announced with a smile, sitting on his desk, putting his feet on top of it.

“Devil May Cry?” We both asked at the same time.

“That's where we are.” Replied Nero.

“Sure.” We agreed with a smile.

"And if you need…" Inna said, writing her number on a piece of paper.

“Babe! I mean, you don’t want to go out with me, but you give me your phone number.” Commented Dante.

"Just call if you have to, you idiot." She said, already a little irritated.

“Here.” I handed one with mine, too. "Usually we only steal magic artifacts, but whatever magic deals with, we accept."

“Even kill some demons.” Inna concluded.

We departed from them and left as if we had known each other long ago.

“Hey. Do you think he was really serious when he called me on a date?” Asked Inna on our way home.

“Who knows. Were you interested in him? For someone who wanted to kill him yesterday… it's a drastic change.” I commented.

“Shut it. He's hot.” Asked Inna.

“I know he is.” I agreed.

“And you, huh? Aren’t you interested in Nero?” Asked Inna.

“Even if I had. I'm sure that girl is his girlfriend.” He said without much ado.

“How do you know that?” She asked.

"The way they were looking at each other?" I replied.

"You're not so blind after all." Inna looked.

“HEY! If you already knew why you asked?!” I protested.

"You might not have noticed and said something like, He's so handsome I’m sure he has a girlfriend.” Inna explained.

“You ...” I was going to insult her.

“What? In love everything is worth. Never say no before you try.” She declared.

“Yeah yeah.”

And so we made our way to our houses, where we were still considering whether we stayed with an artifact as useful as that, or whether we would deliver it to the Academy of Magic.

[kootenaygoon]

So,

Tamara was unhappy, and everybody knew it. 

Upper management had reassigned her to sports, an entirely different gig than she had been originally hired for, and now they were squabbling with her over vacation time and other HR issues. She was six months into her gig, and had done some incredible work during that time, but she was becoming increasingly frustrated with Calvin. One particular habit she found intolerable was how he’d blurt out “You’re fired!”, Donald Trump-style, if you made any kind of mistake. It was like a nervous tic, a non-joke he deployed multiple times an hour, while hunched over his computer and snickering to himself. Then one afternoon he said it yet again, when it was only the three of us in the newsroom, and Tamara stood up from her computer chair and cleared her throat.

“You know what, Calvin? That’s inappropriate. I’ve been meaning to say something for months, but saying things like that creates a totally toxic work environment. Do you understand that? You actually have the power to fire us, we’re your employees, so making jokes like that … it’s just not funny,” she said.

“Well, it’s not like I mean it for real,” Calvin said, horrified. “You know that.”

“Whether you mean it or don’t mean it, it’s inappropriate. That’s not how you should be speaking to your reporters. We look to you for guidance, we don’t need you tearing us down.”

“I didn’t know, I was just quoting…”

“Yeah, you should know better, though. You’re the editor. And hearing you say ‘you’re fired’ over and over, do you know how that makes me feel? Like shit.”

My back was turned to Tamara, but I could hear the trembling emotion in her voice. This had been a long time coming. I struggled with the urge to spin and face them, but instead sat motionless while they squared off.

“If I had any idea you were so offended by it, I would’ve …”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you when things are offensive. It’s about being professional. And it’s not professional to make jokes about taking away somebody’s livelihood. That’s cruel. Do you get that? Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“Of course. I’ll stop right away. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

There were little squabbles like this, but for the most part the Star was running smooth. The stories were light and predictable going into December, as we prepared our Year in Review issue. I interviewed Santa Claus, Nelson Brewing Company released a new pale ale, and one of the schools unveiled a mural in collaboration with the Sinixt. Tamara had become my primary ally, especially when it came to dealing with management drama, and a few times we hung out after work to gossip and strategize about the future. I wanted her to stick around. It was nice having some feminine energy in the newsroom, and it was hugely beneficial to be able to routinely get her perspective on everything from whether a particular bathing suit photo was suitable for print or whether our handling of a sexual assault story headline was sensitive enough or not. 

Tamara had done a lot of traveling, and had experience from a diverse array of jobs, and she put that knowledge to good use in her copy-editing. On the weekends Tamara would work with her dog Tana, her companion on her many outdoor adventures. She would come back with pictures, some that ended up in the Star (and above), of the various summits and vistas she’d discovered. She made me feel like a sedentary slug in comparison.

“You just let him have it, eh?” I asked, once we were alone in the newsroom. “I’ve never seen you so angry like that.”

“It’s been building up for a long time. He’s been really negatively affecting my mental health and I’m so sick of it. It’s not right.”

“Deep down inside I was like ‘go, Tamara! Preach!’”

She smiled. “Thanks, Will. I think it made me feel better, having you in the room. Just having your support, even if you didn’t say anything.”

“In my head I was like a little cheerleader,” I said, waving imaginary pom-poms. “Let’s go, Tamara! Let’s go!”

“I’ve just worked in so many male dominated industries and I’ve dealt with so many men like Calvin throughout my career, and I’m just done. I’m not putting up with anymore shitty, abusive behaviour. I’m going to speak out, every time. Because they need to be held accountable.”

“They?”

“Men.”

Regardless of how everyone was getting along with Calvin, we’d actually really gelled as a team following the municipal election. Production days were smoother, Greg was starting to take more hours, and we were reliably covering each of our beats. I took colourful photos at rehearsals for the local pantomime, and splashed them on the cover. There was a lot of laughter, a lot of newsroom banter, a lot of YouTube videos. There were some controversies, though, such as when we accidentally published a letter to the editor with virulent anti-Muslim rhetoric, and repeatedly Calvin found himself having closed-door meetings with members of the community incensed with him. I admired how he never dodged blame, always took the responsibility head on. The guy knew how to deliver a mea culpa. I think he could feel the tide turning on him in Nelson, and he knew pretty soon he was going to have to make a decision.

Before things could escalate any further, Calvin dropped the news: he’d taken a different gig across the province. His wife didn’t feel at home in Nelson and hated that it was far away from the rest of their family. They quickly packed up their house and put in Calvin’s two-week notice, with his wife leaving ahead. At first I was relieved at the news, even jubilant, but then I felt a bit sad as well. Though he was my favourite punching bag, and Paisley had to listen to me vent about him nearly every day, a genuine affection had developed between us. On his final night in town, he asked if I could help him move his last few pieces of furniture into the back of his truck. His house was in Fairview, within sight of the bridge, and seemed barely lived in. He stood in his driveway wearing a puffy leather jacket, looking morose, and squinted at the white evening sky.

“I feel like I just moved into this place,” he said. “I’m getting too old to be moving this much, you know?”

“It’s exhausting. That’s why I’m trying to stay put.”

“You should. You actually fit in around here, with all the weirdos and hippies.”

“I’m feeling like I can really build something here.”

“I believe that. The paper’s lucky to have you, now you just need to learn how to play nice with the Carpenters.”

“Right.”

“And remember: not every hill is worth dying on.”

Afterwards he drove us slowly around town, at one point parking to gaze up at the skeleton of the halfway-constructed Nelson Commons project. Eventually we headed to the Hume Hotel for a cheeseburger and a beer at Mike’s Place. I watched him slaughter his meal, sucking ketchup off his fingers, while we reminisced about all the stories we’d worked on together. He took long, healthy pulls from his beer and unleashed a rapturous belch. He seemed relieved to be leaving, but also scared. He’d been working as a journalist for over two decades, but things were evolving fast. Was there still a place for him in this industry? Would he end up finding the editor position he craved? Would he find some community where he belonged, where he could live long-term? I thought back to what George Binns had said, about how Nelson embraces some people and ejects others—was I seeing that happen in front of my eyes? And if I was still here, did that mean I’d been chosen to stay?

“We should get another beer,” Calvin said. “Do you want another beer? On me?”

“I’m in for one more.”

“Good man,” he said. “Who wants to drink alone?”

“Not me. If I go home shit-faced, though, I’ll hear about it from Paisley. She hates that.”

He grinned. “I like Paisley. You really lucked out there. She’s way over your head.”

“I think so.”

“So do the things she says, listen to the things she says, even if you disagree and even if you think she’s in the wrong, just do it. It’s not about your pride, it’s about the relationship. Does that make sense? In my relationship, it’s always been about learning when to swallow your pride and just let the other person win,” he said. “I know that’s not in your nature, though.”

“I’m as subtle as a hippopotamus, you mean?”

He laughed, wiping beer foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. “If I can make a marriage work, so can you. And I can tell she really loves you. Have you talked about kids?”

I nodded. ��We even have a name picked out, for if we have a daughter.”

“What if you have a son?”

“We’re pretty convinced we’re going to have a daughter. I’ve always dreamed I’m going to have a daughter one day.”

“So what’s the name?”

I sipped my beer. “Cora.”

Calvin smiled, nodded. “Well, here’s to Cora then.”

We clinked glasses.

After another half an hour, I waved off the suggestion for another drink and stood up. My house was only a few blocks uphill, so I could walk. Calvin stood too, and came around the table to offer me a solid handshake. He blinked into my face and grimaced, well aware that this was probably the last time we’d see each other. I felt a strange mix of emotions, but mostly gratitude. We’d worked together for less than a year, but I knew I’d remember him for a long time.

“Thank you for everything, Calvin,” I said. “I mean that.”

“Take care of yourself, buddy.”

The Kootenay Goon

[feisureapa1983-blog]

It has never had large populations because its geology couldn sustain large populations. During the economic depression of the 1930s it had a population of 16,000. Are you telling me every region with 16,000 ppl should be put on the map? Would 16,000 ppl be recognized as a state in any normal historical circumstances??. STOPS. TALKING. And they're all stories about himself, hyping himself. As I going to start I ask him if he has anything on him. He starts to pull away and 남원출장안마 his hand shoots to his waistband. That when I see the outline of the gun. Honestly, turning 25 and working a desk 8 5 job in my degree field. I been working at the same company in my hometown for two years (my uncle the CEO), straight out of college, and I just felt everything in my life was going down such a predictable path. I felt so sedentary.. I am so sorry this has happened to you this has unfortunately happened to me, and it never fair 남원출장안마 to feel like your sense of safety and security has been violated. As others have stated, start with telling your mom. While it may worry her, she absolutely needs to know and will want to know. Rule 5: No self promo: Self promoting your paid book / paid app / paid therapy services will result in an instant ban. Free / ad supported apps or ebooks will result in a warning and constant self promotion a ban. Personal blogs will be removed. The "amateur" in either circumstance. Moreover, I think I actually preferred the "amateur shots in the controlled environment as they seemed to get more personality and less of that sulkiness that the model brings, not the photographer. I would go so far as to say I much preferred the "amateur shots in the first setup. They purchased their representation and don need to be concerned with how their agenda is advanced, so long as they are still making money. So, I think it less that they are idiots and more that they are in this position specifically because they understand their only job is to bark if their masters tell them, otherwise to maintain or grow their influence. I don think they have any greater strategy at even the highest levels of the party.. On the fire. Ali is on the grill"and"Where is Ali? Where is Riham? Where is Saad? It too bad Ahmed didn burn as well."Police and court officials present did not interfere. Israeli Arab parliamentarianAhmad Tibiput up as video capturing the incident[63][64][65]. There are also atleast two possible androids. There was a xenophile who hired by Xi or Banu under pretense of market research for an alien animal potential as pet and live stock. He was tricked to broke his contract after he found out he was hired to check if he can find out one of his coworkers is an android. According to my mother, I stank to high heaven when she picked me up the next day. Never went back to that house again and my friendship with that girl declined a lot since she started getting really promiscuous in unsafe ways. She also claimed that the ghost of her past life husband visited her and fingered her in her room.. One of them was a Slytherin pennant i got down in UniversalEven if I don like someone, I wouldn steal their fucking stuff We are in a college STEM program, could we not do this petty, childish crap? No? I hope the founder of this program gives you the best "I very disappointed in you" look if the security cameras can figure out who you are.luckykitty99 2 points submitted 19 days agoI made an appointment to get Voluma injections to prop up my saggy middle aged face and my period came 4 days early that means it's going to realllly hurt (don't ask how I know, just don't get injections when you're on your period). I can't move the appointment because I have a business trip with 200 of my colleagues in 2 weeks and I want to be bruise free and less saggylicious by then. Plus I can't really afford the injections but I've been so depressed about myself I was hoping they'd make me feel better.

[migleefulmoments]

CrissColfer Musing #1

The head gang of CCers have created and spread the “ Darren’s Failing Health” Trope until I want to puke.  They can’t shut up about Darren’s very active lifestyle is dangerous to his health.  Of course their version entails contracts  evil handlers, missions to destroy Darren and always the beard. 

The questions we will be pondering today are

Does travel lead to health problems?

Can you get sick from being busy?

Does traveling to NOLA for the weekend risk one’s physical health?

Does traveling 12 days before your tour lead to health problems for everybody?

Will Darren break if he doesn’t “rest”?

I cannot start this discussion without discussing qualifications.  Are the CCers who have created this trope actually even qualified to talk about Darren’s imperiled health or ANYONE’S health? NO.  

According to their own admissions one is an immigration lawyer, one does something that includes PR work, one is a high school student. From the conversations that I have read the others aren’t medical pros either.  

Am I qualified? I am a double boarded Nurse Practitioner who happens to be married to a professional pilot (airline and military)...no shit! I’m SUPER QUALIFIED to talk about this. The take away here is that none of the main CCers who have been assessing Darren’s health are qualified to make medical assessments. More importantly, It is NEVER appropriate to make a MEDICAL ASSESSMENTS on a stranger VIA SNAPCHAT, INSTAGRAM photos, OR INSTA-STORIES video. That includes ALL doctors, nurse practitioners and internet trolls.  

Now let’s explore what they are talking about. Over just the last few days they have written the following: (me in italics) 

“Nothing like burning the candle at both ends.”

“I get it, I’m just tired for him.” (Those damn BOUNDARIES again) 

“I’m already exhausted from just watching him being exhausted…” (You should work on your stamina...that might help you get through watching him.)

“I want to close him in a room with a bed and not open it until he sleeps for a week straight.” (Unlike bears, humans don’t actually need to hibernate) 

“ I absolutely know this one is important and for ACS but I want sleep for him so badly.”

“Also, trips to NOLA to pick up a new sponsorship is just ridiculous and risking his physical health. As is having him at that bar night after night when he is in LA....But we all know D’ physical and mental well being is not even remotely on their radar. If it was they would take one look at him and force him to sleep for two weeks and eat as he remains shockingly thin”. (***More on this one later because I can’t pass up this statement about the bar) 

“He just came back for a trip overseas, he travelled back and forth in the country to please the tp and do his job, another major, important trip like this and only twelve days before the start of the tour isn’t the ideal at all. I know they don’t care about his health, but this is too much for everyone. He’s not a robot, he will break if you keep pushing him like you do. Then what? You could choose anytime and you choose now. That is what I’m asking myself.” 

I have no doubt that this branch of the CC family- who cannot shut up about Darren’s failing health-also believe that going outside in cold rainy weather gives can make you “sick” or that sleeping in a drafty room makes you ill or swimming after eating will give you cramps.  Taking a play from the CC handbook, I mean  “WE KNOW that the CCers believe being outside in the cold rain makes you sick, sleeping in a drafty room makes you ill and swimming right after you eat will kill you” 

Ok, ok, I’m sorry. I will be serious now.  Where were we?

We KNOW that the CC tribe have no qualifications to diagnose Darren’s health and we know that NOBODY would ever do so over social media photos, but are they correct?  Does frequent travel cause health problems? I mean we all know that if you sit next to Sneezy Smurf during a flight, you will be rewarded in 36-48 hours with SARS (cuz you inhaled Sneezy’s recently expelled body fluids into your own nasal passage...yummy ). It is also possible to get a blood clot if you sit in one position for too long. But does TRAVEL itself make you ill? Of course it doesn’t. Working from sun-up to sun-down is how people lived before technology made us sedentary in the last 40 years. Sitting at a desk all day at work and then going home to “relax’ with a glass of wine and playing on our phone all night or watching TV is a luxury of first world, white collar workers. Lots of people- Hospital nurses and doctors, construction workers, farmers to name a few- are on their feet all day at work.   Does the world Darren does by going to music shows or the theater several nights a week or playing at the bar every single night- or even flying to NYC for a day and then NOLA for a weekend and back NYC and then to LA a few days later compare to a small organic farmer who works sun-up to sun-down 7 days a week using only a tractor and his own physical labor?  Being active is not dangerous to Darren’s-or anyone’s health.  

What IS dangerous to our health is sitting on our asses.  In fact it is extremely dangerous to our health. Americans (I live here and I only speak of what I know) are dying because we sit around all day. Quickly off the top of my head...hypertension, obesity, high blood sugar, cardiac disease, vascular disease, fibromyalgia, low back pain, joint pain and depression are directly attributed to being sedentary. People are literally dying because they aren’t moving any more. 

Now that we understand that being active is healthy and being inactive isn’t, let’s look at other people who travel a lot to see if we can find any clues about their health. Do I know anyone who travels a lot?  Oh, my husband and the dozens of airline pilots I personally know. Hmmm, odd but not one of them is frequenlty ill or near their breaking point or has their physical well being in peril.   And don’t forget...THEY ACTUALLY FLY THE FREAKING PLANE; Darren DOES NOT. While Darren is “traveling” to Australia or Mexico, he can sleep while my husband and his coworkers monitor a jabillion gauges and monitors. 

The example that I hope finally shuts down this trope is John Kerry.  John Kerry is currently 74 years old.  From 2013-2017 he was the United States Secretary of State. During his time as SOS this 70-something traveled  1, 417,575 miles; visited 91 countries; traveled 596 days and spent 3,055.52 hours in flight. The SoS works 15-16 hour days in high pressure talks with heads of states from all over the globe. If John Kerry can do that much traveling and deal with that much pressure at ages 69-73 then I think 31-year old Darren Criss will be just fine traveling a tiny percentage of that and spending his work time talking to the Hollywood press about how he prepared to play a serial killer, sorting his friends into Hogwarts house for Buzzfeed and singing Teenage Dream and Duck Tales. 

To the CCers who Can’t. Stop. Talking about Darren’s health:  When you talk about Darren’s health- whether the risks of travel or the danger from his work ethic or his lack of sleep (because he never posts photos of himself sleeping so he must not sleep)- you sound ridiculous. You clearly have NO understanding of health, disease processes or frankly, the human body. Making ridiculous, nonsensical comments  over-and-over-and-over doesn’t help your argument that you are so much smarter than the rest of us, you know....the  “GA”. who can’t-or won’t- see the “truth”  So really, I'm just looking out for you... helping you see reality through your CC colored glasses which are SUPER blurry and make you see things that just aren’t there.