what if the hitchhikers game was made by sierra instead of infocom

bonus under cut: That One Death from the actual game, warning for pixel blood

The Helping Hand

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Word Count: 3000 approx

A/N: Sorry for the wait I've been a little busy the last couple of weeks. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Next chapter will be Civil war I hope to upload again soon. In the mean time if you have some ideas or thoughts send them my way.

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.7

Chapter 8: Time and Irony Walk Hand in Hand

Ch.9

"Well this is nice…" You say as Natasha drags you along. You see currently you and Natasha are quote on quote shaking a tail. Whatever that means… "Shut up and keep moving." You stop moving and pull your arm away. "Stop Nat we've gone far enough. It was probably just a coincidence we didn't really get that far from the food truck." Finally taking the time to catch your breath. "I think we should get back to the compound. Tony and Bruce must be waiting for me." You say looking around for a cab lucky for you one stopped right before you and you got in.

The ride back to the Compound was quiet. When she's about to make her way in, you stop her. "Nat… I know that didn't go the way either of us wanted it to go but I still had fun. And again what I'm trying to say is that I would like to do things your way, candlelit, waiters, and wine. If you want to of course." You fidget with your fingers waiting for her response. "Y/n I would love to… but I like the way you do things. You're not the Wine and Dine type... I like that." She mentions as she walks back in. You quickly follow suit after she makes a comment about your blatant staring.

Once you stop on the elevator FRIDAY greets you. Telling you that Tony and Bruce are waiting for you in the lab. "Well Nat this is goodbye for now, see you around." You say stepping off of the elevator. Suddenly this weight comes crashing down on you. Remembering what Bruce told you the worry in his eyes. Dread fills your body when you're walking towards the lab. "Guys I'm back… anything good for me?" You state casually trying your hardest not to sound hopeful. "Well yes and no…" Tony states putting the tablet down. "I'm going to be honest with you… your heart is trashed, absolute garbage."

"Way to make a girl feel special." You say with a dry laugh. "But I think we can build something. And with my arc reactor technology we can make it work." He states tapping at his chest. This is where Bruce jumps in "with the help of Dr. Cho we could try and make a new cradle… and use it for its intended purpose this time around. Making a heart powered by the arc reactor." You nod taking all the information in. "Well this is good right? How long would this take." This is where both Tony and Bruce go quiet. "Y/n the process is relatively easy, what's difficult is getting our hands on the Vibranium."

"Which is basically a non existent problem at this point… Bruce is just paranoid, my contact will pan out you'll see." Tony jumps back in clearly annoyed that Bruce was disclosing such trivial issues. "Even if we do get the Vibranium Y/n there's something we don't know… If you'll even survive the transplant." Your eyes meet his and he elaborates. "Your body might not be strong enough to handle it." Suddenly the inevitability of the situation dawns upon you. "Well I'm still doing it… I'm dying anyways. What difference does it make if it's a month from now or five. I'm doing it." 

"Well, let not be hasty alright. We can still look for other alternatives." Bruce tries to argue. "Look, this is Y/n's decision. She's old enough to make her own decisions. Plus the more we work on this the higher survival chances are." Tony argues. You clear your throat when you notice some visitors standing by the door. "How long have they been there?" You ask, trying to mask your anger. Pietro and Steve both give you sheepish smiles that don't quite reach their eyes. "Look Y/n we just wanted to make sure you were okay… and by the looks of it you're not." 

You stand making your way to stand in front of Steve who had just taken a defensive stance. "Well you're right I'm not okay. Now what are you going to do about it Cap… Other than feeling pity every time you look at me." You say pushing your finger on his chest. "This does not leave this room you understand?" You say looking at both Steve and Pietro. "But, My sister…" You nod "Figure it out pretty boy. Now if you could leave the adults have to talk." They both sigh but take their leave. You turn and notice Tony and Bruce staring, not saying anything. You can only laugh at the sight. 

As much as you did want to be mad you couldn't. You were starting to come to terms with the fact that your business was now becoming their business. "I just wanted to watch them squirm." You clarify making Tony laugh. "Well I'd say you achieved that." Bruce mentions. "I'll give them til the end of the day. What do you think?" You say looking at Tony. "How much are you willing to bet, Billionaire to Billionaire?" He asks, challenging you. "50 million dollars." He scoffs. "Don't be a prude, make it Euros." You nod. "Best money there is." You say agreeing with him. "I'll hold you to that Y/n." He says as you leave the lab.

Two days later you were busy. You'd been in contact with Bruce and Pepper. Currently you were looking for someone to mentor. Someone you could leave your legacy with. Logan was an obvious choice but you knew he wouldn't take it. "You wanna give it a break Y/n you're not going to find the perfect candidate in so little time." Logan mentions. When suddenly your secretary enters with more forms. "Ms. Krast these are the applications from Midtown Science High. There's only four. Liz Allan, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, and uhh Peter Parker." You sigh with a smile forming on your lips. "They've got to be here my mentee. These kids are geniuses." 

You say as you look through the applications. Slowly crossing off the first two, that Flash kid and Liz. Ned and Peter it was a tough choice until you saw some of yourself in Peter's eyes. "It's him." You say under your breath catching Logan's attention. "Peter Parker… I want him, he will be the future of our company. Make arrangements. I want him to feel welcomed." You say as you start to gather your things. "Send out the acceptance letter today." You say to Logan on your way out. "Will do Boss." He says with a smile growing on his face as he reads the file. Peter didn't have it easy on the contrary he lived through a lot but he still managed to be him.

The next week went by in a blur. Your will and testament were drafted and certified. You were set on that end and now on the other front. You were currently parked outside Midtown High waiting for the bell to ring. When it does a couple of minutes pass when a fresh faced kid is knocking on your window. "Y/n Krast nice to meet you kid." You say rolling down the window. He seems a little nervous. "Come on in Peter. We're going to get to know each other a little before we begin working with the internship." He nods enthusiastically, a small smile forming on his lips. "Tell me about your Peter, I mean outside of what I already know."

"Well I'm what most people would call a nerd. My aunt may always say that's not true but it is." You hum in agreement pulling out of the school parking lot. "Well being popular is overrated anyways." You jump in. "And Ned, my best friend, we're huge fans of you and your work." He says his speed increases as he starts to ramble about how he followed your trajectory as soon as he found out who you were. "Well I'm glad you like what I do Peter but in my eyes were equals. I will teach you my ways and hopefully you'll take over once I'm dead. Keeping my legacy alive long after I'm dead." You say seriously making him settle and quiet down. 

"Ms. Krast you can't be serious." He says giving you an incredulous look. "I was an orphan… I was given a chance. Someone believed in me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you remind me of me… and I would like to give you that same chance that I was given." You say sincerely. "Y/n that's too generous… Plus I don't think that I'm what you're looking for. I'm clumsy and…" You stop the car making him look at you. "You may not be ready now or tomorrow but if you let me teach you, you will be." You say reassuringly. "Plus I don't plan on dying anytime soon." You say playfully at the end causing Peter to laugh successfully lightening the mood. "Also another plus for you after this year's audit we'll be working hand in hand with Tony Stark."

At the mention of Tony's name he lit up ten times more than you thought possible. It made you laugh a little but you understood him. "That's amazing. Me working for Y/n Krast and Tony Stark, a literal dream come true." You nod at his statement. The day went by incredibly fast. He was a nice kid, respectful and smart, a little naïve but overall sensible. You went to his favorite pizza place and talked, went to Krast Industries and introduced him to Logan. Showed him his dedicated work space. "So here's your badge, don't lose it. Umm… you'll be here every other day after school, and if you have some special dates tell Margaret the secretary and she'll make a schedule around it." You say as you're walking towards the elevator. 

Peter stops abruptly turning to face you. "Thank you really." He then proceeds to rather hastily pull you into a hug. You're shocked initially but hug him back nonetheless. "Don't sweat it kid." You say patting his back. "I'll have one of my drivers give you a lift home alright." He nods. Just before you press the button for the elevator the doors open. Revealing Pepper Potts and Tony Stark. It makes you laugh internally knowing that the young boy beside you just had his world rocked. "Ms. Krast this is real right?" He asks in a high pitched voice. You nod.

"Pepper Tony, I would like you to meet my new mentee Peter Parker." You say nudging him forward. "Hi, you're Tony Stark." He says in a daze. "Yes kid I am Tony stark and you are?" Tony could literally not care less. Until you gave Pepper a look and she nudged Tony. "Alright kid it was nice meeting you." He says overly enthusiastically. Peter takes the compliment either way. "Alright Peter go over to Margaret she'll take you to the driver. We have some urgent business to attend." He nods and waves goodbye shyly and takes his leave. "Right what do you guys need." Pepper clears her throat "Well actually Tony and I wanted to invite you out to lunch." 

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get going." You say walking off with Pepper. "You'll be pleased to know that you won our wager. They know..." Tony mentions at the restaurant. You laugh. "Told you!" Pepper gives you a look. "They're worried about you." You sigh. "Pepper, believe me I'm worried too." Tony quickly steps in. "Which you don't need to worry about too much, everything is in place. Everything panned out Dr. Cho was more than willing to help us. So whenever you want." He says again not meeting your gaze. "I was… ummm. Actually thinking we should hold off on that." 

"What… why?" They both ask almost immediately. "I'm okay right now." Tony scoffs. "So you rather wait till you have another episode to undergo the procedure." You hum. "Precisely see you get it." Watching their confusion you continue. "I've got things I have to leave ready. Time that I can't take for granted." Before they could argue with you said. "I need time… I-i drafted my will a couple of days ago." You say burying your head into your hands. "It's funny really… how you get things you're willing to live for. And life just comes along and takes it from you." Your mind drifts off to Viv and David. You wipe your tears and excuse yourself. Just as you're about to leave you remember. 

"Put the money in a college fund for the kid." You grab Peppers shoulder and nod. "We'll keep in touch." You say leaving the restaurant.  

Three weeks later 

Pretty early on you noticed Peter's jumpy behavior. It wasn't long till you found out his little secret. Again smart kid heart of gold even, but too naïve for his own good. You'd had one of your AI robots track him after he'd shown up a little dinged up. Telling him you knew took some time. You didn't know the extent of his capabilities, but you'd seen the kid walk on walls and kick some ass.

As cute as he looked in that makeshift costume you had a better one in mind. "Peter I would like to show you something." You call out from your workstation in the lab. "Ward pull up spider schematics please." You call out. "What do you think?" You say as Peter glances at his new suit. "I-i um… It's awesome but who is at for?" He said quickly. You almost burst out in laughter right then and there but you played along. "Well I was in Queens the other day and there was this mugging and some hero came out of nowhere and stopped the mugging." You say as you deconstruct the specks of the suit. Watching as peter gawks at the hologram. 

"When I noticed his suit wasn't really a suit, I made him one. You think he'll like it?" Peter nods eagerly, you hum in response. "Alright then try it on, see how it fits spider boy." Peter stands there with his mouth hanging open and you could swear saliva came out. "You aren't that good at keeping secrets kid." You say handing him the suit. "I expect you to be careful, kid." Peter starts to ramble trying to explain himself and begs you to not fire him. You physically had to stop him from pacing. "No ones firing anyone. I'm proud of your kid again, just be careful." Emphasizing the last part. "I will" after all that's out of the way you and Peter spent the day testing out the specks in his new suit. Web slingers and all. Yo I didn't leave until he got the hang of it. It took a while but it was well with the wait. 

The next day you wake up to the news seeing a familiar twin on the news. Not good Lagos had gone wrong, the building collapsed and Wanda was to 'blame'. You hurriedly made your way through your morning routine and raced to the compound. As soon as you make it to the common room you can tell something's off. "How is everybody?" You asked Steve who was the first you saw. "I'm assuming you heard about the incident." You don't have the heart to say yes so you just nod. "We're all a little down on morale. Nothing we can't fix." You say, giving you a small smile. You hate that he is down playing this because of your current dilemma. "It wasn't your fault." You say. As you walk off towards Pietro. 

"Are you okay?" You ask this time actually worried Pietro doesn't seem like his usual self. "No...It's Wanda. She hasn't talked to anyone she hasn't eaten she hasn't left her room." He says all in one breath. He finally stopped stirring and slid down to the floor and sat. "Its my fault. I-i could've moved faster, I could've saved them." He says defeatedly. "Maybe… Maybe not" You say bluntly sitting in front of him. "You can't go back now. And I know it's a sour experience. You made the right decision." You sigh. "You made the choice that saved the most lives." He nods letting out a deep breath. "I know… I know but Wanda. If I had saved those people Wanda wouldn't be feeling like this right now." You shake your head. "You fail to realize that if you had done that you would've died along with the other victims. Wanda will come around and let me talk to her." He only nods. "She's in her room."

You knock on her door a couple of times… no answer. So you make yourself comfortable and prepare yourself. Your knock every minute or two and you're constantly yelling in your head. Half an hour goes by and nothing. You go back to mentally yelling, when suddenly you're being dragged by the collar of your shirt into the room with the doors shutting behind you. "You're stubborn like a mule." She says not sparring you a look. "Yeah well I'm dying what are you gonna do about it." You quipped smiling at her. She chuckles. Suddenly the light leaves her face. "I killed people… I put people in danger, I put my own brother I'm danger." You nod. "You also saved hundreds of people. God only knows what that gas would have done. So thank you Wanda. You're my hero." You say sending her a smile.

Right when she's about to say something a certain red friend phases through the wall. "You will never cease to amaze me Vision." You say while looking between him and the wall. "You have very good taste in clothes." You mention as you eye him. He smiles. "Vision. We talked about this, there's a door for a reason." Wanda states. "Yes, well the door was open so I assumed…" He says, explaining himself. "What did you need Vision?" Wanda asks cutting him off. "Well Mr. Stark asked me to come and get both you there is a team meeting. With secretary Ross." 

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— masterlist, AO3

Chapter 3 on 12

Chapter wordcount: 5,241 Rating: General Warning: You know the drill by now, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ swearing and technobabble!

Author’s notes: Soft engineer goes yeehaw.

Tag list: @hathorik​, @pheedraws​, @the-blind-assassin-12​

Does anyone else wants to be added to the tag list? Let me know. 💙

— Chapter 3

In front of the mirror, Vivian was enjoying a pretty flattering image of herself in this Old West apparel; it was brand new, from boots to hat, all worn looking with some sort of a distress effect for which Vivian had actually paid good money. The staff didn’t always get to choose among the bespoke best of the best considering the renting was free… But if one aimed for ever so slightly better, it wasn’t anymore!

For now, Vivian regretted nothing, except maybe that she wouldn’t get to keep it all at the end of her stay. She even afforded a gun!

But considering where she intended to go, it wouldn't be just a pointless luxury. And neither would be looking a bit more weathered than as if straight out of the tailor's shop…

Filled with pride, Vivian flushed at the thought she hoped not to be the only one to think her pretty, and to make an impression on the other guests. For no reason other than to boost her self-esteem. She pulled her hair up, trying to shape them into some fancy beachy waves, same as for a western starlet, Sharon Stone in that antic 95' movie, "The Quick and the Dead"… but not as sexy. Also, less blond.

And clearly, everything else was so frickin stylish as well! Thanks so much, Design.

All the available outfits for the clients were carefully recreated with historical sewing patterns but with all the benefits of current materials. And the gray linen shirt, the vest and the pants Vivian was wearing were cut better and no doubt from much more comfortable fabric than her everyday clothes that it was borderline upsetting!

Still, she smiled to her reflection while tying a large beige and red kerchief around her neck.

This time, she chose what she would wear. No way she’d suffer dresses or puffed sleeves and flowered hats ever again!

Her first visit in the park, not too long after she started in Behavior, was on the occasion of a "team building" week-end of some sort but after a few hours — a day, maybe? — everyone had scattered around in the limits set to them during their onboard train briefing… So much for team spirit!

That being said, Vivian was fine with that; she was of the quiet kind, more observing than extroverted, and to go forth befriending new people, stuff like that, wasn’t really her strength. Even if everything had been set up to spur her on that way. Like, a Team Building week-end…

But then, it was also because she was the way she was — alone and no strings attached — that Vivian had grasped this golden opportunity to work as a coder for Delos in their now famous park. She only had a few friends all around the world, mostly online, and didn’t keep much contacts up with her family, especially her sister with whom she shared an old resentment.

It was this lack of ties that could let people believe her more focused and available than her otherwise committed colleagues.

These thoughts discarded, Vivian put her stetson on, stuffed her gloves in her gunbelt and picked her saddlebags up before leaving the dressing room to walk the hallways down to the elevator. It took her in one go all the way to the level right below the surface, from which the maglev shuttles' terminal was distributing the entirety of the park; she almost jumped out of the cabin and kept a brisk pace in the last long corridors to reach a plainer hall than the client’s terminal.

Shifting her saddlebags’s weight on her shoulder, Vivian moved across the space, ignoring the curious eyes to get to one of the shuttle’s platform. She was already getting in character, and she enjoyed it. 

Maybe a bit too much, she thought as she tipped her hat to three techs in suits and apron. She was discovering herself an unsuspected confidence that she liked very much; she giggled with pleasure as she stepped in the shuttle she was about to share with a group of techs from various departments and two guys from QA’s security, including one who gave an enormous yawn.

The shuttle carried them at high speed and stopped first at Vivian's meeting point, where she was the only one to step off.

With a peek at her pocket watch, Vivian hoped she wasn’t late, provided that she didn’t get stood up. But passing one of the many concrete pillars in the huge low lit tunnel, her worries faded; Graham didn’t let her down. He was there, waiting for her next to a freight lift, holding a beautiful chestnut horse by the bridle. At least, she wouldn’t have to walk, or rely on the train and start all the way back from Sweetwater.

"Thanks, Graham! Sorry for the trouble…"

"No problem," he answered. "You’re aiming to make a mess someplace, aren’t you?"

Vivian scoffed and buckled her saddlebags to her steed’s gear.

"No, not even! I’m just gonna visit remote corners, far from the tourists’ standard circuit."

"Mmh, good luck…" Graham replied lazily, handing her the reins. "Cry for help and shake your arms to the camera if you need us to come get you!"

She punched him lightly in the arm and he smiled, unfolding a tablet on which he confirmed Vivian and her horse’s exit in the logs.

"You’re good to go."

"Thanks, Graham."

"Yeah, yeah…"

He waved her away towards the glass lift; as she was getting ready inside, her horse still held by the reins, Graham ordered it to go up — the doors closed, and the cabin shook in its tubular frame.

"Yeehaw, babey!" he shouted, playfully.

Vivian shrugged before patting her horse’s shoulder as to calm it. It didn’t need any of that, it was actually more about alleviating her own stress by petting it. The lift slowly raised Vivian and her horse to the surface where the bright daylight was jarring. She lowered her head to look around under the brim of her hat; a great plain spread out in front of her eyes, surrounded by crisp red hills covered in tall grass and a few crooked trees like old charred bones.

The lift shook again before coming to a stop, startling the horse that jolted at the end of its reins. Vivian patted its neck and when the doors opened she steered it out; a gust of wind full of a warm earthy smell rushed a cloud of dust against the armored glass.

Gathering the reins on her horse’s neck , Vivian hoisted herself in the saddle; it wasn’t something new by any means, but the feeling of it was strange anyway — she hadn’t been on a horse for a very long while. But as they said, it was like riding a bike…

For now, she was happy just by staying in the saddle, unmoving, and took the time to put her gloves on to observe the landscape. According to the map she did her best to memorize, Las Mudas was north-west from this outpost, within a few miles. On horseback, it wouldn’t take long. And she would find the road eventually, even before reaching the town.

Vivian clicked her tongue to encourage her mount to walk, and it obeyed; she was in no real hurry but if she hoped to be in the right place at the right time to smoothly intercept the narrative of her choice, she ought to end up galloping at some point, fast!

She picked in her pocket, pulling out her watch; it was past two in the afternoon and, provided she didn’t wind up lost, she’d be there around four. Comfortably set in her saddle and stirrups, Vivan pushed the pace of her horse with another click of her tongue while the freight lift was quaking back down.

Gallop wasn’t uncomfortable, but galloping that long could quickly become so and, once she reached the dirt road meandering in the sparse vegetation all the way to Las Mudas, Vivian let her horse go back to a trot. And that gait was straight down uncomfortable but she preferred riding all the way there rather than popping up through a building access right in the middle of the town, fresh as a daisy, hands in her pockets, saddlebags on her shoulder… and without any pony.

Not fishy at all…

The truth was she didn’t had much of a choice about the available access points, really! She did what she could with what was among the closest. But it was fine by her. It would make the experience more authentic and gave her the time to check what she could have overlooked before leaving, or even think things through instead of just dive head first into trouble.

That being said, she hoped there wouldn’t be any; she wasn’t there to go on an adventure, but to hold a promise… while taking notes on her script in field conditions.

The thought that she’d remove it if it caused any issue was kinda gut wrenching but she thought it best to blame it on hunger. Vivian hadn’t had lunch yet so nervous she was, and now, she was starving.

But, at last, the shape of the town’s walls cut out on the hills gray with garrigue. Maybe she’d eat something once settled there. She had heard that the food was kinda good around these parts…

Vivian let the reins loose; only a few yards and they entered, walking, on the town’s dusty square. Even if her poor horse had done most of the work, it wasn’t the only one to be tired by this scamper; they both had a sore back and stiff legs. Getting her feet back on the ground would be an interesting experience in a few moments…

She stretched her shoulders as she was slowing down her horse, until it stopped, nose in front of the fountain. Apparently, she was better at parallel parking with a horse than with her car!

That thought made Vivian snicker as she slowly slid down her steed. As she expected, dismounting was tough; the pain surge from the sole of her feet all the way to her thighs, getting her knees to shake. She stood still for a second, taking the time to pat her horse who had already dived its big grey nose into the water of the fountain.

"Good idea, buddy,” she whispered, out of breath.

She took her canteen from her saddle horn to take a long sip from it. The water wasn’t that fresh anymore but it still did the job; Vivian felt like all the dust of the road was in her throat right now! Her steps heavy, betraying her lack of habit to ride for so long, she sat with less grace than hoped on the edge of the stone basin, beside her still drinking horse. Vivian took a hot minute to breathe and watch the scenery of Las Mudas; she could make out the colors of the house fronts under the dusty patina, feel the cool air and hear the quiet bustle of its inhabitants. Children were running after a few panicking chickens with a dog barking in excitement and wagging its tail like a whip.

Vivian removed her gloves and untied her neckerchief to wipe her face. When her horse raised its head, its mouth dripping with water on her shoulder, she chuckled and avoided its forehead coming a bit too fast in hers. Then, she plunged her hands in the water to wet her face and neck. That felt really good.

Vivian tied her neckerchief back while a plump red hen came pecking pebbles at her feet, fleeing when her horse stepped on the side; she snorted as her eyes followed the hen’s erratic dashes. Vivian enjoyed the calm ambient, the subtlety in details, but at the same time, she was recognising the work of this team, that department… Vivian grunted as she turned away from the daily life scene and leapt to her feet, startling her horse. She shouldn’t let her insider knowledge get in the way of what she came to do here, she shouldn’t "trash her own immersion" as much as she should be careful of what she was going to say, and to whom.

After this little clarification with herself, she brought her attention back to the people around her; the border between hosts and guests was finally getting a bit blurry — that guy who was scraping horse shit from his soles on the edge of the cantina’s boardwalk was just that, a man… And these kids, bickering around who would be the hunter in their next game of hide and seek, were all just kids. It was more pleasing to imagine oneself like a time traveler — she had to adapt to what was around her, not the other way around.

Her horse cut her thoughts short with a soft headbutt to her back, like a nudge to immerse herself back in and she took it to the hitching post, a few steps away; Vivian rolled the reins around the rod, searched in her saddlebag for a few coins she pocketed in her vest and walked without hurry to the cantina’s rickety tables. She pushed her holster back a little on her hip and sat on a chair. Even though she had spent the last few hours with her butt sticked to a saddle, she felt like it was the first time she was really sitting since the morning! Her shoulders stooped in relief and she stretched her legs with a grunt, propping one heel on the seat in front of her. 

"Shit…" she sighed between her teeth.

She noticed the three patrons at the closest table staring at her. When their eyes met, under the brim of her hat, they turned away, focusing back on their tumblers full of whisky and their domino game.

"What are you having, newcomer?"

Vivian almost jumped; the barkeep was standing right beside her, a dirty rag in his hands. His face was as weathered as the walls and he looked simply tired to be himself.

"Actually, I’m looking for someone," she explained.

The barkeep’s whole face wrinkled as he frowned, wincing a smile that was as embarrassed as it was embarrassing.

"What kind of someone?" he asked, cautious.

Vivian understood her mistake. It might not be the best way to break the ice to accidentally imply that she was a bounty hunter or something, as she suddenly realised. She tried to fall back:

"Someone with good knowledge of these parts to take me to Pariah without going in circles."

The barkeep couldn’t have looked more relieved had he cracked a fart, Vivian thought, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Oh," he said before flicking glances around. "You’re sure gonna find a great deal of good folks like that around!"

He gestured towards one of the domino players.

"Carlos, here, can take you. Hey, Carlos…"

That one turned a suspicious look towards Vivian’s table, but stood up anyway to step forward; he was the dirtiest of the three and under the brim of his own hat, his face had something alarming — maybe because of his broken nose and missing teeth. With a calm motion of her hand, she stopped him to make another step. Carlos froze, looking frankly disappointed and Vivian glared at the barkeep.

" Someone trustworthy."

Carlos grumbled and spat some black tobacco goo on the ground, through the spaces between his teeth before sitting back among his cackling friends. Vivian looked back to the barkeep who winced again awkwardly.

"D’you have that around here?" she quipped.

Far be it from her to be disparaging; she was only being playing the game… She figured out that the barkeep wasn’t a model of bravery, or honesty, and he needed to be pushed a little for her to get what she wanted. He shrugged, twisting his rag.

"Yeah, yeah," he assured her, nodding almost exaggeratedly. "Sure! There’s…"

He cleared his throat and one of his shaking hands flew from the rag to point her towards the stables — or at least what looked like it — opposing the cantina on the other side of the street.

"Thanks," she answered, almost ironically.

But he heard nothing of it, bobbing his head without adding a word before leaving for a table where a guy was calling for him loudly. Vivian stood up without haste, sparing her sore muscles useless efforts, before heading to the wooden awning. The street wasn’t very large between the cantina’s boardwalk and the stables and yet, she had time to come across enough people to wreck her immersion; two women were walking down the southern aisle, commenting almost out loud on the realism of the place. 

"Feels like the real thing!", a guy uttered as he caught up on them after having thanked a woman who had given him direction on the doorstep on her house.

The real what, exactly?!

It’s wasn’t like they were in the middle of Sweetwater, which was more or less the  park’s entry point, with all its market-tested banalities! No, this was one of these remote areas where things started to get a bit more "hairy" as Margaret said… "Epic", according to Thawal.

Basically, what the fuck were those tourists doing here, in this area of the park, if they weren’t going to forget, not even for a second, the limits of this questionable reality they were clinging onto at each step to focus on all the possibilities of where they were right now?

Vivian let out a slow sigh. She shouldn’t get angry, or judge; maybe these people lacked self-confidence — she knew all too well what a pain it could be — and were afraid to lose control; control of themselves, or the situation.

Vivian rubbed her neck under her kerchief and slowed down as she arrived in front of the stables. From there, exited a tall black guy with broad shoulders under his long duster, and with one look, he seemed to evaluate her from head to toe as he went past her, leading his horse by the bridle. He nodded to Vivian, and she nodded back. 

By the fountain where he hoisted himself in his saddle, several others came from the nearby street; she heard the guy giving orders to the troop gathering around him and they all went ahead, galloping towards the western gate, frightening the chickens away to the sides of the street, scattering their feathers as they flapped their flightless wings. A strange silence fell on the town after the riders disappeared.

Despite her being kinda bothered about "tourists", Vivian would admit that long-returning guests like that man with the duster, had an uncanny ability to blend themselves in the narratives, to make them theirs to the point of changing the entire thing sometimes. At least, until the next reset.

Vivian brushed her hair off her forehead under the brim of her hat to try to gather her thoughts, and courage, before stepping in the stables; two men had their backs turned, at the right of a bay horse’s tail, facing to talk to another Vivian couldn’t see, except for his worn hat between their heads. At the moment, he seemed more concerned about his saddle’s straps than about what the two other men were telling him on a hurried but hushed tone. Vivian couldn’t hear everything from where she was; one of them didn’t want him to leave, not now, and the other was arguing that it was exactly what "the other brother" was waiting for, that he should at least let them come with him…

The horse shifted its weight, nudging the man leaning on its croup — he and the other moved aside, clearing the line of sight to the third, someone Vivian recognised with no effort. Even dressed.

She sucked her teeth and wrinkled her nose as to hold back a laugh. But all cheerfulness vanished when the two men turned to her, almost threatening. Certainly surprised by the sudden silence, Lawrence then looked up, letting go of the straps he had just finished buckling around a Winchester scabbard.

"The fuck d’you want?" spat the one of the two with a big mustache and a split leather vest.

Vivian didn’t answer right away, and that silence prompted the other to slowly put his hand to the handle of a knife in his belt. The unspoken threat made Vivian’s heart rush. Yet, she kept her chill — way more than she imagined herself able to. So, she explained:

"The barkeep sent me here when I told him I was looking for someone trustworthy to take me to Pariah."

The one with the mustache glanced at Lawrence, himself staring at Vivian with an expression she could have qualified as grumpy or disappointed.

"I can pay, if that’s what concerns you," she added to break the silence before it settled.

Lawrence suddenly unfroze and shook his head, before checking a second time on the straps securing his rifles’ scabbard to the saddle.

"No," he grumbled. "Sorry, lady… You’ve been fed some bullshit."

He patted his horse and tugged a bit on his saddle blanket to adjust it.

"Thing is… I can’t right now."

He was playing "hard to get"! Vivian would’ve almost laughed at that. Not that she found it ridiculous or anything, on the contrary; it was nice, and unexpected!

Looking away towards a rider passing in the street near the awning, she nodded slowly, not repressing a smirk, and sliding her thumbs in her belt.

"Alright," she simply said. "Thanks anyway…"

Vivian waited for a second to pass in silence. None of them broke it until she added:

"Evenin’, gents…"

She tipped her hat; one of the men nodded as an answer and Vivian was already leaving the stables when she heard another swear a bunch, on a quiet tone. She was still repressing her smile when she reached the cantina to sit back at the same table, still available. This time again, she was more than happy to sit down.

Vivian threw a quick glance at the stables and snorted, amused. She easily guessed that he wasn’t engaged on any other narrative than his own for now but… she wouldn’t insist anyway. Maybe later? Or maybe she’d follow him and pretend to come across him somewhere along the way… Vivian had nothing outlined, really, and she didn’t want to outline anything. She, too, would improvise!

The barkeep finished to fill a glass at the nearest table and walked to Vivian’s to whom he asked:

"Something to drink, after all?"

He shook the brownish alcohol bottle he had in his hand.

"Cider, you have that?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure! I-I’ll get it now…"

And without waiting for any approval or comments, he left for the inside of the cantina. Vivian let out a long sigh; every intentions put aside, it was a nice moment to spend in the coolness and the calm of this small town between the hills. At the southern gate, the entrance of a cart pulled by a prancing donkey caught Vivian’s attention but she turned away from it as the barkeep was coming back already, holding a clay bottle and one small glass, same as for the other patrons, barely bigger than a shot.

"Did… did you find what you were looking for?" he asked, opening the bottle.

"You can say that…"

The barkeep didn’t comment and poured a glassful of dark cider, generous enough to spill all over the table — she guessed that it was a dry one but she hoped it would also be a good one. She nodded, thanking him silently, and the barkeep went back inside. A second had barely passed and a man stood up from his table to come and sit in front of Vivian who was trying her best to raise her glass without spilling more; she only acknowledged him with a curious eye while working on the careful rise of her almost-a-shot of cider.

"Heard ye're lookin’ for someone to get ya to Pariah, over there?" he jabbered with a thick accent.

Vivian didn’t answer, watching him above the back of her own hand as she was swigging a good half of her drink; his skin was tanned under his salt-and-pepper beard, his eyelids heavy and his eyes yellowish.

"Ah can take ya there,” he continued under Vivian’s scrutiny. “Less than three days!"

He nodded vigorously.

"Truth be told, ah did it on the way in awright," he completed, without taking note of Vivian’s stubborn silence. "Gimme first half now and the rest as soon as—"

He never finished his sentence, pulled out of his chair by the grip of another man who tossed him aside without a word; he almost fell over but didn’t complain, and on the now available seat settled Lawrence. The expression on his face was a subtle mix between annoyance and remorse and Vivian only raised an eyebrow while putting her glass down on the table.

"My apologies for my bad manners, before," he said, not looking her in the eye for too long. "My cousins and I… we didn’t agree on somethin’."

Vivian didn’t reply and leaned back in her chair… now that she could take her glass without spilling it everywhere.

"I take it you want to go to Pariah?"

It wasn’t really a question, and Vivian didn’t reply to it either, holding his stare. The barkeep was coming back to their table anyway, a bottle and a glass in his hands. However, he didn’t say anything as he poured the whisky in the glass he had put in front of Lawrence who asked again:

"Why is it you want to go there?"

This time, it was a real question. The barkeep had a knowing grin for Vivian before walking away; he was so proud of himself, that one!

"I… I’m supposed to meet someone," she answered, looking back at Lawrence. "Someone who… who owes me."

Vivian clenched her teeth, and her fingers on her glass; it was only half a lie, as she’d find an outpost somewhere around the town but still, she lied. And, herself, she wasn’t proud of that.

The truth was that she had planned her starting point, but not her arrival.

But the answer seemed to convince Lawrence — at least, enough for him to recline in his chair, an arm resting on the table. Without taking his eyes off Vivian, he was tapping with his fingers on the scratched, stained table, next to his glass he still hadn’t touched yet. Vivian enjoyed that detail in his bearing; she could guess that he was thinking. About what, she wasn’t sure, but she was eager to hear what he’d chose to answer.

"If I may," he started with caution. "I don’t think this is a good place for someone… someone like you…"

He waved towards her in a lazy move, still close to his glass. And Vivian wasn’t expecting such a comment. She even doubted that it was part of his standard library; so, her surprised was perfectly honest.

"I can take care of myself!" she bristled.

Again, Lawrence shook his hand and smiled a little, nodding.

"Don’t get me wrong," he tempered. "It’s just that… you might be too polite for a lot like these ones."

Vivian’s puzzlement was unending. Frowning, she heard him adding:

"I only hope you know what to expect over there. But, then again… ain’t my business! I’m goin’ there today."

He picked his glass and took it to his lips.

"And I wouldn’t mind havin’ some company, after all."

Then, he emptied his whole drink in one go. Vivian nodded, tapping with her fingers on the base of here own glass; she displayed some sort of disinterest, like she was totally not impressed while, in fact, her nervousness was starting to take over. It was so different than being in analysis, in the controlled environment of her lab, she realised that too — she was the one in his world, now…

And things wouldn’t be as easy as they looked like. Not for her, anyway. However, she managed to let no more than a few seconds pass before recovering her ability to speak:

"Perfect."

Finishing what cider remained in her glass, Vivian thought how much her own improvisations were about to be wicked awful. She put her glass back down, without a sound.

"The question is," she continued carefully. "How much do you want?"

This elicited a genuine but quiet laugh from Lawrence; he watched her for a second, still smiling. But as much as his sudden cheerful mood was catching, Vivian was wondering what was so funny in what she said.

"A whisky before we leave and somethin’ of the kind when we’re there sounds fair to me," he declared, with a look around the boardwalk of the cantina and the surroundings of the fountain behind Vivian. "It will at least take us two days to get there."

He nodded towards someone out of Vivian’s sight before adding:

"If you need supplies, now’s the right time to think about it."

Vivian agreed — aside from a can of water and a travel kit that, in all honesty, was more of a survival kit, she had nothing in her saddlebags.

"Thanks," she said, simply because she had no idea what else to say — and because she was too polite. "Mister… ?"

Lawrence lowered his head and shook his hand, lazily.

"No, no, please…" he replied, a frown on his face but without any real annoyance. "We’re in for quite a trip together, you can call me Lawrence."

Vivian nodded.

"I’m Ivy…"

It was her real nickname — one her few friends had given her and that she adopted fondly. In front of her, Lawrence leaned towards the table to hold out his hand, palm open as though he had a change of heart about payment. But Vivian got it; he was offering her to shake his hand. And a smiled appeared on his lips as she did.

"Nice meetin’ you, Ivy…"

His politeness effort didn’t slip past Vivian who, even though she appreciated it, couldn't ignore a twinging thought; should she come back in the park after this visit, he wouldn’t remember her… and this "first encounter" would become one among many that only she would remember. That, even with the help of her script.

Lawrence let go of her hand before standing up.

"I’ll be at the stables," he said. "Got some stuff to deal with before leavin’, too."

"Very well."

She observed him as he walk towards a young man, hopping up and down with anxiety and he started to talk really fast to Lawrence as he arrived. The boy was radiating so much stress and guilt that Vivian felt nervous just to look at him. She turned away to see the barkeep coming her way. Without even waiting for him to give her the prices of the drinks, Vivian dropped a few coins next to the empty glasses.

"Keep the change," she muttered as she stood up too.

"Oh, thanks!" he replied, visibly pleased, gathering the coins without waiting. "Safe travel and come back soon!"

She replied with a simple, tight smile before walking down the street to the western gate, towards what looked like a grocery store. 

Not Allowed:

Really late for this but it’s loosely based on the first McGenjiweek prompt “I Love What’s Not Allowed”.

He knew love was supposed to hurt sometimes, but it always made up for that in the good times. At least, that was what everyone said. So he did not really understand why he felt like his was muted. He did not hurt that bad and he did not feel all that good.

There was a lot of things love was supposed to do for people that it did not for Jesse.

Jesse McCree thought he knew what love was. Thought a little bit of charm and a splash of infatuation was all it took to have someone love him back. To feel the same way he thought he did about them.

First it was with the boy down the street of his little house in New Mexico, the one that would come over and play with him outside in the summer sun. They would wrestle and run and share candies and a soda from the gas station in town that shut down soon after that. Jesse would smile at him and laugh, thinking that the grin brighter than the sun that he got in return was love.

Then, he told his Mama, and she yelled at him, forbade the boy from coming back over. Jesse had not understood why at first, but as he grew up, he saw his mother’s nerves when he was with other boys and watched her pray that her son would not disgrace the Lord. Bullshit, was his next thought.

There were many throughout the years, they came and went. He loved his Mama dearly, but it took her some time to come to terms with who he thought he loved. Sometimes, Jesse wondered if she ever really did.

It did not matter after she passed and he was left running to Deadlock for a spot to put his delinquent ass, starting up the gang with another person he thought he loved. Ashe was sharp tongued and an even sharper shot, and Jesse thought the admiration and envy he felt was love. She had money, people who respected her, and power at her fingertips. Jesse liked that, liked the way he felt at her side. Mistook that feeling for it being her doing, and got a punch in the jaw for it. She had been red as her eyes, though, Jesse laughing it off and did not try again after that.

His version of love tended to rise quickly and fade even faster after he was turned down or it was discovered to be lust rather than love, a pattern that repeated itself and got his heart broken more than a few times.

The next time he thought he had been in love was something dangerous. Gabriel Reyes was a hard man, but he was giving towards Jesse. Helped him back to his feet and gave him a good path to follow when he had nothing going for him. A puppy crush, was what they called it after Reyes gave him a hard shake of his head and a firm “No”.

Jesse found his interest faded quickly once more after getting a blunt lecture about it and shrugging it off. Would have been a bad idea anyways, in hindsight. Besides, Reyes had his eye on someone else.

He knew love was supposed to hurt sometimes, but it always made up for that in the good times. At least, that was what everyone said. So he did not really understand why he felt like his was muted. He did not hurt that bad and he did not feel all that good. There was a lot of things love was supposed to do for people that it did not for Jesse.

Years passed and Jesse did a lot of growing up in them, the missions in Blackwatch hardening him more than even Deadlock had. He understood why Reyes was so tough after seeing the chaos the world could fall into, when they were tasked with reigning it in and not letting anyone know they were on the brink of global disaster. Sure, the Omnic Crisis was over, but there were still wars waging in its wake and organizations like Talon rising from the ashes.

The inside jobs were the worst, and often left them with less people coming out of them than those that went in. Or, on special occasions, they gained a member. On one occasion.

“Mission Log 3887, Shimada Castle. Time: 02:32. Location: Blackwatch Headquarters, Rome. Commander had me doing scout and recon, the usual since I had been posted in Japan. Then, we got a distress call around 22:58, somethin’ about our inside man needing help. Comms went dead after that, so Reyes sent me in to check it out. Found our man—or what was left of him—in a pool of blood, limbs hangin’ off, lots of him missing. Gruesome stuff I’ll save the gnarly details of for the medical reports on the poor kid.”

Jesse exhaled slowly, rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. Itching for a cigarillo to chew on or some nicotine to calm his nerves.

“Apparently, it was fratricide. I don’t really know the ins and outs of it, but whatever happened was rough. I’m surprised he’s still alive. Anyways, we got him outta there and back to Angie, er, Dr. Ziegler, and he’s gettin’ put back together at the Swiss Headquarters. He’ll be shipped back to us when he’s ready, already signed the deal and all that. Shimada clan business is still on our radar, but until we get this guy back on our side, it’ll be put on hold. Shimada Genji is his name, I think. And other than him, there were no casualties. It was a quiet mission through and through. End report.”

Jesse sighed as he set down the earpiece he had spoken into, reading through the transcription and muttering darkly over the words it had trouble identifying from his accent. He sent it off to Reyes when he was done, leaning back in his bed and staring up at the ceiling. It had been a quiet mission, but seeing Shimada in all that blood was still giving him nightmares.

He wished he could leave out the gruesome details from his mind as well as the report, but as it was, they stayed burned into his memory. Shimada had still been choking on his own blood, the bottom half of his jaw torn from his face, throat constricting, eyes rolled back. Strange scars covered the one arm he still had and laced over his face, like a burn but darker and in his veins. Legs cut from behind, bone twisted and flesh ruptured.

Jesse rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. It was awful, the smell of iron and ozone still stuck in his nose. With another sigh, he set aside his tablet and tried to get some sleep.

-

The weeks passed and Jesse forgot about Shimada for the most part, too caught up in his own issues and missions keeping him busy to be worried about someone he did not see on a regular basis. But then, he was seen on a regular basis. Genji Shimada showed up to Rome like a shadow, his eyes dark and glowing red. Body an amalgamation of metal and wires and synth skin. Scars where there was flesh, though, he hardly had any of that left. He barely spoke, kept out of sight for the most part, and did his job with ruthless efficiency.

Even with all he did to avoid the people around him, Jesse still managed to find a way to be near him. Sometimes he even impressed himself. Genji was cold towards everyone, and the cowboy was no exception. He did not mind, though. Talking to himself was better conversation than Genji provided, and being in a Talon interrogation chamber had held more welcome than the ninja did. He did not mind that, either.

Having teammates to work around seemed like a chore to Genji, all the mandatory training and mission work something he did alone as best as he could. When he could manage to shake Jesse off his back. The only person who had not been deterred by the rather obvious signs he was putting out.

Jesse knew defense mechanisms when he saw them, and Shimada had been through hell and back before he was shoved down into a new level of it. Anyone would be distrusting and distant after what he had gone through, after signing his life away to an organization that only valued him for his deadly skillsets. Jesse knew the story, he had been there and lived it too. Still did, but at least his chapter was not so binding.

Even with all that Shimada did when he should not have and did not do when he needed to, Jesse still enjoyed hanging around him. He was genuinely interested in learning more about Genji, wanting to gain his trust, if possible.

Training was the easiest way to do that, when the ninja had to show up and pick a partner or work with a team that generally had Jesse in it.

“You’ll be working hand-to-hand today, a lot of you are getting too reliant on having a long-range weapon on you. Partner up with someone in your skillset, and I’ll move you if I see you need to be moved,” Reyes ordered, Jesse looking around to see if Rei was close to him. They were well matched when they sparred occasionally in the gym, and Jesse considered himself one of the more well off of the group of them when it came to hand-to-hand. Training with Shimada forced him to be better at it.

He waved at her when she came into view, and she motioned to a free spot on the sparring mats. And then Shimada was walking up to him, staring up at him with those red eyes expectantly. Jesse paused, glancing at Rei over the ninja’s shoulder.

“Hey, uh...Sorry, partner, but I was already paired up with...” he trailed off, motioning towards Rei, who had her arms crossed over her chest, brows raised. Shimada turned to look at her for a moment, then scoffed, the sound quiet as it was filtered through the metal of his mask, eyes shifting back to Jesse.

“You are better than her and you know it.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t say that.”

“I do. And no one else is a decent match for me,” Genji shrugged one shoulder, the movement striking Jesse as odd since the rest of his body did not quite move with it.

“But I am? C’mon, Genji, you beat my ass into the mats every time.”

“You’ve gotten better.”

“Not good enough, though. You’re outta my league on this one, bud.”

“Do not call me that.”

Jesse raised his hands placidly, smiling a bit.

“Sorry, I forget sometimes. You should train with Reyes, he’ll actually give you a run for your money.”

Shimada’s brows furrowed, Jesse about to reach out to pat his shoulder consolingly before he remembered that it was a very bad idea that had already gotten him into a real fight with the cyborg and a black eye by the end of it.

“We can spar some afterwards if you’re feelin’ up to it, how’s that sound?”

Genji did not answer him, merely sighing and turning on his heel, heading towards the commander. Jesse watched him go, only shaken from it by Rei calling for him.

“Oi! You coming or what? I can’t spar with the air!”

“Yeah, I’m comin’!”

Jesse jogged over and sank into a defensive stance he had learned to relax into from Genji, something with enough distance between him and a metal fist to the gut and room to dance around the ninja’s attacks. Except he was up against Rei, who circled him like Reyes had taught them, light on her feet but firm in her stance. Jesse kept his eyes on her hands, his own held up to his face protectively. Waited for the first move.

Rei struck fast, but Jesse avoided easily. Genji was faster. He ducked beneath the follow up punch, shifting his weight and turning his hips into the hook he caught her side with. Rei stumbled back with a wheeze as Jesse hopped back into his regular stance, still on guard. Pulled back and spun when she overcompensated just slightly on her next punch, landing a kick that pushed her back again. There was a frown on Rei’s face as she finally caught his next strike, shoving it down and away from her shoulder.

“Where’d you learn to kick like that?” She asked between heavy breaths, Jesse shrugging.

“You get hit with them enough, you learn how to do it for yourself.”

“Yeah, well, I think I’m well on my way through that lesson...”

Jesse grinned and motioned for her to come at him again. They went back and forth, trading punches and blocks, Jesse getting wrestled to the ground and managing to twist his way out of a lock. He was back on his feet not a moment later, a blur of red catching his eye over Rei’s shoulder. Shimada sparring with Reyes.

He moved like water, flowing around the commander’s more rigid style with a flurry of attacks that seemed to land every time. Sweat dampening his hair, body folding a bit as he caught the kick Reyes sent his way. Jesse’s eyes followed the way his spine arched, the metal pieces of it moving almost hypnotically. Then, he was punched in the jaw.

“Fuck—!”

“Shit, sorry, Jesse! I thought you were looking at...What were you looking at?” Rei asked as she crouched next to him, glancing over her shoulder. Jesse rubbed his jaw, eyes still not leaving the way Shimada danced around the commander. It truly was like a dance, each step effortless in the way only years of training could make it, his body spinning and twisting around attacks and into his own smoothly. Like he only felt comfortable in his body doing this. Doing what he was made for.

Jesse was caught staring when they took a break in their round, Genji’s eyes flicking over to his. They held his gaze just a beat too long. And then Jesse did what only he did best. Gave a grin and a wink, and probably ruined a whole lot of things.

Genji shook his head and finally looked away, Jesse’s smile growing as Rei made a sound of realization.

“No, don’t do that, Jess. You’re gonna get gutted if you keep that up.”

“Says who?”

“Says the look in his eyes. I wouldn’t go after someone like that. Hell, I wouldn’t go after anyone here at all. It’s not gonna end well.”

“Yeah...You’re probably right.”

“I know I am. Now will you please pay attention so I don’t get my ass roasted by Reyes for punching your face? I’ve already done three hundred push ups today.”

“Fine, fine.”

-

Genji tore himself apart during missions sometimes. Did not quite avoid a bullet here, stayed in the line of fire to deflect just a little too long there. Wires ripped and sparking when he came limping back, the red light in his eyes flickering. Jesse had a feeling that part was not because of a mechanical malfunction. Muttering darkly to himself in Japanese as he swiped a mix of blood and those strange biotics that kept his cybernetic system running in synchrony with the human parts of him from his hands. Black mixed with crimson, those eyes flicking to Jesse when he came over to survey the damage Genji had done. Both to the Talon forces and himself.

“They didn’t stand much of a chance, huh?”

Genji never answered his tries for small talk, not when he was like this. Now was not something special. Jesse holstered Peacekeeper, sighing as he pressed his comm.

“Jefe, we’ve cleared sector five.”

“Good work. Sending in evac, stand by for Fio’s confirmation.”

“Copy that.”

Genji shifted by his side, gaze cast down as he rolled a Talon agent over gracelessly with his foot. Part of their face could be seen from where Jesse had put a bullet through their helmet.

“I wonder if he thought he was doing the right thing, or if it was not really his choice...” he murmured, tone cold and unfeeling. Something about it was distant, as most things he said were, like he was lost in memory. Jesse barely caught it, frowning a bit as he glanced at the cyborg.

“Probably just doin’ what someone told him. Not sure it’s that deep.”

“Just following orders.”

“Yeah...”

“That was the only thing he could do right,” Genji hummed, straightening once more and gazing out at the city lights in the distance, hair moving slightly in the breeze. The cords on the back of his neck swayed lightly, shoulders rising and falling steadily with his breath.

“I wonder if we are any different.”

Jesse took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, raising his brows with a crooked little grin.

“Can’t say if I’m completely sure we ain’t, partner. Though, I’ve never been particularly good at doin’ everything I’m told, I got a different kinda noose around my neck.”

“And what’s that?”

“Lil’ somethin’ called loyalty. To a fault, some might say. That’s where I think we are different than these guys. They’re just hired guns. Us? We’d take a bullet for our team. I’d die for you guys, almost have. Everyone here would. We got connections, teammates, a family where we never had one before. It’s one of the better things about being pulled into this organization, if you ask me.”

The ninja went quiet again, Jesse looking over at him and putting his hat back on. He was surprised to find Genji’s eyes already on him, something curious behind them. Something hidden further back that Jesse could not place.

“You are rather optimistic,” he muttered, Jesse laughing.

“Maybe I am. I’ll end up payin’ for it when it all comes to an end, but while we’re all still here, that keeps me straight.”

There was another long pause, Genji shifting his weight, fingers flexing.

“I suppose it is not a bad thing until it is.”

“Ain’t all things that way, to some extent? I can’t say I agree with everythin’ we’re up to on these missions, but I do know it keeps people safe in the long run. That we’re keepin’ the peace as best we can while we’re at it. Until somethin’ happens to show us it was wrong this whole time, which will probably end up happening, knowing our luck. But until then, we just do our best and stay alive, just like anyone else would.”

“We are not like ‘anyone else’.”

Jesse grinned, chewing on the end of his cigarillo.

“Nah, I guess not. Philosophical conversations ain’t really my forte, I prefer just takin’ each thing as it comes. Reality is hardly ever what we like to imagine it to be, that’s the only truth I’ve found. And I’ll probably be in the ground next to these guys sooner than finding out anythin’ else.”

Genji stared out at the city skyline again, eyes flickering over it as he thought. Always thinking, always pondering, always lost in it. Always so obvious to read, always impossible to read.

“Perhaps you are right.”

“All we can do is find out.”

“You boys ready for a ride home?” Fio announced over the comms, Jesse jumping slightly at the intrusion, cursing softly before clearing his throat and recovering with a grin.

“You betcha, sweetheart. Thanks for rememberin’ us.”

“How could I forget my favourite cowboy?”

“Aww, darlin’, you’re makin’ me blush!”

Genji rolled his eyes, standing a little stiffer and crossing his arms over his chest. Jesse nudged him good-naturedly with his elbow, getting a glare in return but nothing more. Back to his usual aloof demeanor.

“Stand by for pickup, ETA two minutes.”

“Copy that.”

-

“Don’t fucking touch me! Just leave me alone, McCree! I don’t want your fucking hovering!” Genji shouted, Jesse backing away with a glare as his hand was slapped away. Upgrades had left the cyborg stiff and uncoordinated, his shoulders shivering slightly with the whir of his machinery. His eyes flickered and he stumbled again, hitting the wall with a thud.

Jesse watched him. Simply watched. Saw his fingers curl and hands go up to clutch at his arms, leaving indentations in the flesh and synth skin, his eyes going wide as he gasped and fumbled at the faceplate, hands shaking. Saw it clatter to the ground and Genji follow it, knees hitting the linoleum hard.

Saw his face, the scars, the metal of his jaw, the raw line where skin met it, the pieces of his face that were missing covered with a sculpted vision of something that was not quite human. His mouth parted—just what the bone would look like, no synth skin or lips yet, like something dead or burned—a static sounding cough leaving him. Sweat dripping down his brow, hair sticking to it, wires hanging around his face. Jesse knelt, and whether Genji did not have the strength to push him away or not, he allowed the grip on the back of his neck.

“You’re panicking. Just breathe.”

“I-I’m not panicking I’m—I can’t breathe I can’t feel anything but it all burns, it burns, Jesse it hurts so much I—”

“Listen to me. Just listen to my voice. Your systems are probably just gettin’ used to the things they’ve done to you, it’s no different than last time. Just breathe, you’re in control.”

“I can’t see, I can’t see you—” Genji cut off with a choked sound and began rambling in Japanese, his hand whipping up to grab Jesse’s forearm. It hurt, his grip tight enough to leave bruises. Jesse would wear them the next day, and neither would say anything about it.

They had done this before, played the game. And they both lost, every time.

Jesse waited it out with Genji, let him tear at his arm and mutter and stare at the floor, lost somewhere in his head while he murmured softly in return to just breathe, Genji, you’ll be fine, I promise. Until he was fine again, or some weak semblance of it.

Until he had his knees pulled to his chest, hiding his face between them and the arm he laced around them, hand sliding down Jesse’s arm to slowly, slowly take his hand. They did not talk about this part either. The calm after the storm. Some days it was worse than others, and all things considered, this was one of the better episodes.

Jesse squeezed his hand lightly, nothing more than an affirmation that he was in the present, that his reality had not been stolen from him again. That was all Genji needed. That was all Genji allowed.

-

Jesse took a drag off his cigarillo and blew the smoke up into the brilliant blue of the sky in a slow stream. He was sprawled out on the roof behind some crates and watch towers, one arm tucked beneath his head and eyes closed. There were a few empty beer bottles between himself and Genji, the ninja not having any but seeming rather amused at how loose Jesse had gotten in the past hour.

He was not drunk to the point of sloppiness, no where near that, and the beer had been too cheap to do much to him anyways. It was just to take the edge off of what the nicotine could not. To relax for a few hours without that constant nagging train of thought in the back of his mind.

Genji seemed less tense as well, if the way he closed his eyes against the breeze and turned his face up to the sun was any indication. It was nice, seeing him at ease. As if he was forgetting, even just for a few moments, how much things hurt.

Jesse tapped him with his foot, grinning a bit, the alcohol running through his system making his mouth run more than it already did. Genji glanced at him, raised a brow.

“What’cha thinkin’? I know you’re always thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’, and I’m sure it’s interesting.”

Genji tilted his head, then shrugged.

“Not much, at the moment, if I am being honest. Which is a nice change.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. You...You make me feel at peace, in a strange way.”

Much quieter this time, Jesse cracking his eyes open and squinting a bit against the light.

“Well that’s awful nice of you to say.”

“It is simply the truth. You do not judge me, even though you have seen more of what I am now than anyone else besides the doctors,” Genji murmured, his fingertips gracing over the cowboy’s stomach. Featherlight touches, barely there. Jesse’s brow furrowed.

“You talk to me still, you train with me. You make me feel like a part of this team. You make that small part of me that still desperately wants to belong somewhere feel at home.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them as Genji’s hand came to rest over his heart, fingers rubbing the fabric of his shirt. And then he leaned over, pressed his faceplate to Jesse’s lips where his own would be, and ruined a whole lot of things. Jesse froze. Stared at Genji when he pulled away, sitting up and fixing his hat.

“Gen, I ain’t that drunk,” he muttered with a shake of his head. And oh, that was not the right thing to say at all. Jesse knew as soon as it left his mouth. Watched the words hit Genji like a physical thing, his eyes widening slightly, darting away. He stood abruptly.

“Forgive me.”

“No, wait, Genji—Don’t just run away from this, if you’re gonna pull a stunt like that, you can’t just leave now—”

“I should not have done that, I’m sorry, I—I did not think...I was not thinking.”

Jesse reached out, taking Genji’s arm, making him stay. He did not fight it, but he did not look at the cowboy either.

“Genji. You can’t be serious.”

“I-I was not.”

“No?”

“It was my mistake, we can just blame it on the alcohol.”

“You didn’t drink anythin’,” Jesse reminded him slowly, Genji shaking his head.

“I will not do it again, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t—I ain’t mad about it, but I also know it’s...I mean, us? Really? The way we are now, the mess of who we are? It ain’t the best idea, trust me. It’s not that I don’t like you or anythin’—”

“Jesse. You do not have to explain. That was uncalled for on my part, and I understand. You do not have to reciprocate what was my mistake,” Genji murmured, his shoulders stiff and eyes narrowed, glaring at the ground. Tone cold and abrupt.

“You ain’t even gonna listen to me now?”

“What more is there to say? You told me no, I should not have done that, now let me go.”

Jesse did let him go, but he did not immediately run off like he had expected.

“So that’s it then? We’re gonna pretend it didn’t happen without even talkin’ it through?” he asked, arms going out to wave uselessly before slapping back against his thighs. Genji did not reply.

“Alright. Alright, you know what? That’s fine. I’ll let it go like I do for everythin’ else you do that I really shouldn’t let you get away with. It’s alright, Genji. We’ll say it never happened and walk away from it like we always do. If that’s what you really want, so be it.”

“It is.”

Jesse shrugged, nodding and giving a halfhearted lopsided grin. Genji’s fists clenched and unclenched, but he still had not left.

“Okay. See you at trainin’ then, partner. But one last thing, before you go,” he raised a gloved hand, eyes hardening as he pointed, lips pressed in a tight line. “If you are actually serious, lemme remind you that I won’t always be around when you decide to tell me the truth. I only gave caution, not a no.”

An offer. Another way out, should the ninja want it. A choice to make, one Genji could allow the both of them. But Genji turned, walking away without a backwards glance. Jesse stared after him, breathing in deep. He spat out his cigarillo and put it out under his boot, hands on his hips as he looked up at the sky. It finally hurt the way people always said it would. And he had not even known he was falling until he hit the ground.

“Damn you, Genji Shimada...”

~~

Isolation update.

Day 71 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

“Hey, Grandma, you OK?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen, finding her slumped at the table, her chin propped up on her hand, miserably swiping through pages on her tablet.

“Yes,” she sighed.

“That didn’t sound convincing,” I said gently, sitting down opposite her. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, not really. I’m just getting a little tired of all of this lockdown business.”

“I think we all are,” I sighed in agreement.

“I know I should be grateful that we have such a nice place to spend it, but I just want a chance to see more than these four walls, to go out somewhere with the family, maybe for dinner, you know? Somewhere nice where I don’t have to cook and can relax a bit.”

I didn't mention that it would be nice for all of us if she didn't feel the need to cook.

“I know, I just need to stop complaining and get on with it,” she huffed, clearly annoyed with herself as she got up to fetch another cup of coffee.

"Don't be silly, you're allowed to have a little moan now and then, it makes you human. The boys have been complaining non stop since this started. We're all restless and moody."

"There are people a lot worse off than us," she sniffed. "We aren't struggling, we live on a paradise island that many would kill to even spend a day on. We should count our blessings."

"Yeah, we should," I agreed softly, but my mind was whirling. There had to be something we could do to make her feel better, she did so much for us all and I didnt like to see her this way. It wasn't like I could conjure up a restaurant right here… or could I? Not a full restaurant, but maybe a nice meal for her, a chance to dress up and have a good night? That I could do. I pulled out my phone and sent a group text to everyone but Grandma, invoking the summoning that no one was allowed to ignore. “Council of war!”

***

We all assembled in the lounge, leaving Grandma to bang around in the kitchen in a foul mood.

“Guys, I have a plan,” I announced.

They all groaned.

“No! Be nice! Seriously, this is a good plan, it’s important. Grandma is having a bad day, she’s feeling a bit restless and down right now. She said that what she really wants is to be able to go out somewhere for a nice family meal.”

“She’s always loved going to nice places,” Jeff agreed.

“That’ll be a little hard right now unless she wants to sit in a street somewhere with a burger,” Scott said, scratching his chin vigorously. Yes, the beard beginnings were still there and apparently still annoying them.

“ I don’t think that's quite what she had in mind,” Virgil laughed.

“So, here’s my plan," I continued before they could go off on one of their tangents. "I think we should make her favourite dishes and then all dress up nicely, I’m talking suited and booted, eat in the dining room and be all fancy. But keep it a secret for her.”

They didn't look too convinced at first, but slowly they saw the merit of my brilliant idea.

“If we handle the cooking and the table, can you and Kayo distract Grandma for the afternoon?” Virgil asked.

“Sure, I’m sure we can think of something, but are you sure we can trust you all to cook?”

John rolled his eyes. “We are perfectly capable of cooking for ourselves, you know, we are grown men.”

Now it was my turn to not believe what I was hearing.

“Seriously, you can trust us,” Alan promised me.

“Really? Usually you all need wrangling just to get through the day. You honestly think you can do this without arguing?”

“It’s for Grandma,” Gordon shrugged. “We’ll do it for her.”

That was a statement I couldn't argue, they would do anything for her.

“OK. Kay, this is going to be tough on both of us, but we’re gonna have to be brave.”

“Why?” she asked, immediately suspicious.

“Because we’re going to let her dress us up.”

***

Leaving the boys with recipes and strict instructions to behave and follow the plan to the letter, we tracked down Grandma.

“Grandma, wanna join us? We’re having a girly pampering day,” I asked.

“Both of you?” she clearly didn't believe that Kayo had been involved with the planning of said day. Time for plan B.

“Kayo lost a bet to me, and I said that, in payment, she has to allow me to put makeup on her and make her wear a pretty dress.” There, that sounded more believable, the glare Kayo was throwing in my direction certainly went a long way towards making it look more convincing.

“To make it fairer I said I’d dress up to, want to help?”

“I get to dress you two up?”

Kayo and I glanced at each other, in my case for moral support and strength, in hers to shoot me another death glare that promised retribution.

“Sure, as long as you dress up too, we’ll make an afternoon of it and have fun.” I nudged Kayo.

“Yeah, great fun,” she agreed. “So, are you in?”

“Heck yeah I’m in. When do we start?”

I spotted Scott peeking around the door and making shooing gestures at me.

“How about now?”

“Now? But I’m not done cooking yet.”

“Don’t worry about that now, there’s stuff in the freezer, I’m sure we can throw something in later,” I soothed.

“Alright, that sounds like a solid plan, let's do it!”

***

“Kay, hold still!”

“You just poked me in the eye with a tiny spindly brush covered in black gunk and you’re telling me to hold still? What, so you can blind me a second time?”

“It’s mascara, you sarcastic moo, and it’s your own fault you got poked. If you kept still and only blinked when I told you to it wouldn't have happened.”

“You can’t tell me how to blink.”

I gave her a look that said I’d smack her the second her back was turned. She, as always, was unphased.

“I saw what you did to Scott, you’re not making me look like a clown are you?”

“Lies!” I hissed. “I did no such thing! He looked beautiful, his eyes were blended to perfection and his cheekbones could have cut glass. It was Gordon that looked like he’d been drinking while playing with paint and that was down to Virgil, not me.”

“You both look beautiful,” Grandma smiled. “This is what I missed out on having only boys to look after, doing girls hair.” She continued to manhandle Kayo’s hair, brushing out her perpetual pony tail and attempting to twist it up at the back of her head into some kind of chignon that honestly was looking more like a deflated balloon had mated with a dead squirrel. “Why won’t this thing stay put?”

“I’ll fix it in a minute,” I promised as I brushed a little bronzer over the apples of Kayo’s cheeks, giving her already gorgeous tawny skin a little more depth. She had the nicest skin to work on, seeming to be unhindered by even the slightest of pores or blemishes, just perfect, the cow. Here’s me, I look at sugar or fat and I put on six pounds and have a breakout.

We had started by letting her do her own makeup while following my instructions as I did mine but Kayo is not the most delicate of creatures and when I spotted her stabbing a brush into the eyeshadow pallet, swirling it around like she was casting a Wingardium Leviosa and proceeding to scrub the colour (a startling shade of neon green) over her eyelid I’d called time. I ordered her to wash it all off and had taken over.

She didn't actually need much makeup, a little sweep of a dusky rose and darker brown over her eyelids, mascara to make her already long eyelashes stand out, a subtle dusting of bronzer, some loose powder to set it all and some burgundy lipstick and she was done. I took a lot more work to look that good.

Grandma had taken my makeup kit and helped herself, going for the classic blue eyeshadow, bright pink cheeks and vibrant red lips that had last been popular in the 1980’s. It didn't flatter her in the slightest but she was having a great time telling us all about how she had pictures of her mother with that look and she had thought that she looked so beautiful that she hadn't been able to resist trying it out. I couldn't talk, my habitual mashup of goth punk rocker with a side of geek wasn't exactly in keeping with the rest of the world either.

We dug through our wardrobes and selected possible outfits that we thought would do and held a mini fashion parade, allowing Grandma to make the final choices for what we would wear. Kayo’s evening wear selections seemed to mostly be made up of jumpsuits and Grandma eventually settled on one in black that had a sari style drape going over one shoulder that was accented in gold. I immediately made Kayo sit back down so I could accent her eyes with a little gold glitter eyeshadow powder to match.

Grandma seemed to be incapable of purchasing anything that wasn't purple, not that I could talk, it was one of my favorite colours too. She had chosen a nice, if slightly boxy looking, dress that stopped below the knee, with a rounded neck and no sleeves. She borrowed a black lace wrap from me and called it good.

Her hair had been growing out too and was a little too long to stay in its trademark flicked up end curls, so she allowed me to whip out the curling wand and give her a few waves that bounced happily around her face.

I fixed Kayo’s hair disaster at the same time, twisting it up from the nape of her neck, pinning it in place and then curling the ends which I’d left loose.

“You both look amazing, now wasn’t this fun?”

Kayo mumbled something that didn't sound quite like a yes but wasn't entirely negative either.

“Just for fun, shall we keep this on for dinner and surprise the boys?” I asked innocently.

Grandma grinned. “Oh yes, that would be great. You girls have really cheered me up today. We might not be going out for a nice meal, but this has been a close second.”

“When all this is over we’ll have a night out in London, we’ll drag the boys along, it’ll be great,” I promised as we made our way down to the kitchen.

“I thought you said the boys were handling dinner tonight?” she accused, looking at the table, currently bare of its usually after dinner debris of dirty plates and charred cooking dishes.

“Maybe they haven't started yet?” Kayo suggested.

“You have so little faith in us,” Scott announced from the doorway where he, Jeff and John stood. They had actually scrubbed up well, each foregoing their usual casual wear for a nice shirt -Scott and Jeff's were both white while John had chosen a midnight blue one- ties and smart trousers (we live on an island, it’s far too hot for jackets unless they wanted to sweat all night). they had even made an effort to try to neaten up their unruly hair. Their chins were still a disaster, the scruffy buggers, but at least they tried, it seemed that even a posh dinner wasn't a good enough reason to give up on an active competition.

“What are you boys up to?” Grandma asked suspiciously.

“We came to escort our guest of honour,” Jeff answered, offering her his arm and leading the way to the dining room.

The other boys looked just as well turned out, even Brains with his tufty regrowth on his head had dressed for the occasion, although his suit was a complete eyesore, a powder blue monstrosity with a ruffled shirt that looked as up to date as Grandma’s makeup, but bless him he tried.

Gordon was still wearing a hawaian print top, but it was a full shirt, with a real collar, and was tucked in to his trousers, which actually reached his ankles so I’d call that a win.

Alan was wearing a shirt that was just a little too large for him, obviously borrowed from one of the others but his trousers fit well. He had a properly knotted tie and looked so much older than he usually did, so smartly turned out, although he still managed to look adorable.

Virgil had on a mint green silk shirt and black suit trousers combo that should have made him look like a cheesy Vegas magician but he somehow managed to pull it off.

They had made the dining room look amazing, laying out the fancy china and real wine glasses, even lighting candles and piped through some soft classical music (I’m pretty sure I know who was responsible for that). The table held covered dishes that actually smelt edible and they had even hunted out some cloth napkins instead of the usual paper towel we used on a daily basis.

“You boys did all this?” Grandma gasped, seeing everything for the first time.

“We thought you could do with a night off from taking care of us,” Jeff told her, helping her into her chair.

“This all looks so nice and you boys look so handsome, although you'd look better without the face fuzz.”

“Small victories, Grandma, we got them to dress nice, we can’t ask for miracles,” I smiled.

She nodded, her eyes looking a little moist in the candle light but none of us dared to comment on it.

“We all thought you deserved some special treatment for looking after us all so well,” Virgil told her as he poured her a glass of wine and we took our seats.

Dinner was actually quite nice, it appeared that the boys had managed to cook without killing each other and follow the recipes, maybe finally realising that following instructions isn't always a bad thing had stuck with them.

They had stuck to simple but delicious dishes, a simple soup to start, followed by a nice italian style carbonara, garlic bread and crisp green salad, and apple pie with ice cream for dessert. Yeah, it probably wasn't something we’d have in a posh restaurant, but it had been made with love and I knew that that would mean more to her than anything.

Grandma was treated like the queen she was all night, being served first, her glass kept topped up and not allowed to lift a finger.

We refused to let her help clean up, insisting that she retire outside with Jeff to enjoy the beautiful night. We joined them after we finished taking everything to the kitchen, loading the dishwashers and hand washing a few delicate items.

We finished the evening with some of Virgil’s fancy coffee while they all reminisced and told stories of other family dinners.

She made sure to hug each and every one of us extra tight as she said goodnight, leaving us to finish the coffee and put ourselves to bed.

It had been a lot of work, but the smile on her face and the joy in her laughter had made it all worth it. That's what you have to do in times like these, make a special effort to look after those that look after you so selflessly, to show you care and that you appreciate them. These unusual times are hard on everyone, but we all know that if we stick together and do our best to think of others before we think of ourselves (something the International Rescue boys do everyday of their lives) then we can get through anything.

A soul is an electric force, full of potential energy.

——Can we find souls in unlikely places, and set them into motion?

中古技術 〜 Electric Spirit Seance

#01  Lullaby of a Deserted Hell

From a bird's-eye view, the figures of two sprightly maidens would appear like dolls amidst the surrounding range of artificial mountains, a stunning silvery wasteland.

The taller of the two small-looking girls, Maribel Hearn (Merry) planted her hands on her hips as she surveyed the junk that encircled them in all directions.

   – "I can't believe you managed to convince me to go dumpster-diving.  Is this a step up or down from graverobbing?"

   – "We didn't rob anything from the graveyard.  I definitely want to find something worth taking from here, though."

   – "So this is a step down."

   – "Nah, it's fine.  These are all things that no one wants."

   – "Or things that no one wants to be seen.  Of course, that means…"

   – "It's the perfect place for the Secret Sealing Club!"

The club's current president, Renko Usami, pumped her fist with plenty of good cheer.  Merry smiled back, although she had mixed feelings about calling a land of literal garbage home.

   – "We can't just have normal dates, can we?"

Fortunately, at least, the garbage was not excessively odorous or grimy.  The site was a landfill specifically for electronic waste: frayed wires, boxy television frames, old phone models of all kinds.

The time was just around sunset -- more specifically 7:42 and 33 seconds, according to Renko's discerning eyes.  The mild starlight reflected off of broken LCD screens, making them appear ever so slightly less lifeless.

 #02  Rigid Paradise

   – "What exactly are we looking for...  Let me guess.  Hoping to find some retro videogames?"

   – "I won't lie.  That'd be great."

   – "But finding both a game and the console to go with it is going to be tough."

   – "Did you know, if a company manufactures more games than it can sell, they end up buried underground to get them out of circulation?"

   – "How wasteful.  At least they were given a proper funeral."

   – "The first time this happened was long ago in another country.  Thousands of unsold cartridges...  Just because they weren't popular at the time, now they'll never be played.  I'd love to give them a chance."

   – "Hee-hee, so much for a funeral.  I suppose we're not in the business of letting the dead rest in peace."

In this unique sort of graveyard, the bodies had been piling up for countless years.  Most of the material would never biodegrade, so the mounds kept accumulating, one layer buried under the next.  In fact, despite the oceans rising drastically over recent years, this dumping ground remained unusually high above sea level for the sole reason that its foundation was constantly being reinforced by layers of tightly packed waste.  

Renko, who had taken the precaution to wear pants and gloves on this excursion, knelt down to examine a mess of circuitry at the bottom of a looser heap.  Merry meanwhile nudged the tip of her shoe against the ground, pondering how deep down was the earth.

#03  Poison Body ~ Forsaken Doll

The girl in black and white impatiently murmured the time, for the fourth time that hour, before stretching her back and turning around to check on her partner.

   – "Find anything interesting yet, Merry?"

Merry, who had been spacing out for some while, quickly darted her eyes around for an improvised answer. A glint of light led her gaze to a long, flat cell phone teetering unceremoniously atop of a pile.

   – "This...  Haven't I seen this model in advertisements recently?  How did this already become trash?"

   – "Oh, you know.  Technology becomes out-of-date awfully quickly these days."

   – "Mm.  I'd like to see it as a sign of progress, but…"

   – "Yeah, it's not good at all.  We're in an age of quantity over quality."

Manufacturers who design their products to poor standards, so as to improve on them soon after, are akin to the type of trickster youkai that disguises itself in beggars' clothes to take advantage of others' low expectations.  In this selfishly self-deprecating society, it had become a disadvantage to show one's best.

   – "Everyone knows this, but thinking about it makes me so irritated."

   – "Right?  Humanity is really holding itself back."

   – "On top of that, don't they know that this is how vengeful tsukumogami are born?"

An object that has gone unused for 100 years is believed to develop a consciousness.  Some end up harmless -- but if its short life was spent being used as nothing more than throwaway capital, naturally it would make sense for it to become unhappy.

Merry laid one hand gently on the phone, as if in a gesture of sympathy.

   – "Hey, be careful not to touch more than you need to.  It may look clean, but the chemicals released by e-waste can still be toxic."

   – "Ah, right..."

She felt a bit sheepish for needing safety lessons from Renko, of all people.  But, having thought too hard about it, it became difficult for Merry to view the objects as just physical material.  A great majority of one's life was lived by virtual communication, so this material had great amounts of personal information stored in it.  Of course, the information's original source was in people's minds, so it's not as if it would be instantly forgotten once the plug was pulled.  But there were certainly more petabytes of raw data in a square meter of this dump than a human brain could hold.

#04  Electric Heritage

   – "Come to think of it, though, have you ever actually heard a story about an electronic object becoming a tsukumogami?"

   – "Well, no..."

   – "I have a theory about that.  I don't think e-waste is even capable of that transition."

   – "How do you figure?"

   – "Consider the crossover of electromagnetic fields and the detection of spirits.  Electricity is a simulation of life energy, almost too spot-on.  Like forces repel... so true life energy can't coexist with it.  Because they're flowing with this imitation power, I don't think electronics get a chance to develop real souls."

   – "I see.  Then, we can't properly call this a graveyard..."

   – "...if these bodies were never truly alive."

   – "I can't decide whether that makes me feel relieved, or lonely."

Merry let out an audible sigh against their eerily silent backdrop.  Then she braced herself to deliver the next news.

   – "But, if that's so... then why can I still feel something spiritual around here?"

Renko's eyes lit up instantly.

   – "Do you?  I was hoping you'd say that!"

   – "It just started... which is odd, since we haven't covered all that much ground since getting here.  It's as if a border connecting to somewhere else just opened."

   – "That supports the second part of the theory.  Like forces repel, but opposite forces attract.  They may not have souls themselves, but these empty vessels surely attract souls."

It felt fairly certain, now that both of their minds had helped confirm it:  Some spirit, human or non-human, seemed to have decided to take up residence in the wasteland.  Merry took a moment to feel proud of herself for her invaluable contribution.

   – "By the way, where do robots fit into your theory?"

   – "Well... I mean, there's no doubt we're getting closer every day to the A.I. revolution."

   – "Oh, my.  I knew I should have tipped our e-waiter last time we went to that café."

   – "But that's a completely different phenomenon than what births a tsukumogami, right?  It has to do with the software, not the hardware."

   – "Yes.  Though, it would seem to imply that there is a border of 'false' and 'true' life that can be crossed..."

  #05  Entrusting This World to Idols ~ Idolatrize World

   – "Now all we have to do is narrow it down, and we'll --"

As if on cue, Renko's thoughts were interrupted by a loud crashing sound from behind... music to her thrill-seeking ears.  She whirled around to catch the culprit, her eyes fixating on Merry and the dark-colored object that rested a few paces away at her feet.  The blonde girl threw her hands up in a display of innocence.

   – "I didn't do it.  It moved on its own!  I just saw it fall out of nowhere."

Renko's attempt at a professional retort failed to conceal her excited, twitching grin.

   – "Merry, Merry...  This is the most basic of physics.  An object can't move on its own!  Unless..."

They approached the rectangular object and peered over it.  It seemed to be a tablet PC, roughly twenty centimeters in length.  It had landed face up, luckily enough to not have not shattered the screen, though there was a significant surface crack down its center.

   – "Hm..."

   – "We've ruled out tsukumogami.  You think it could be... a poltergeist?"

   – "I don't know.  Rather than an outside force, the energy seems very contained in here."

   – "So then... a spirit living inside?"

   – "Something like that."

In response, the light of the screen flashed briefly on and back off.

   – "Ahh!  Electricity, a simulation of life energy..."

   – "It also works the other way around!"

This was a very lucky revelation for the two investigators, as it would have been nearly impossible to find a compatible charging cable.  In an age where each and every product was developed with its own unique cord design, this feature was marketed to consumers as a collectible game; the infinite variety, a controlled channel for creativity.

The device seemed to call out to them, understanding what they wanted.  The power flashed again, on and off and on, in a quirky rhythmical pattern that almost evoked a personality.

   – "We've definitely found something worth taking home!"

   – "Wait.  Isn't it wrong to remove a spirit from the place it's attached to?  We can't just adopt a ghost like an abandoned baby."

   – "Like you said, it's attached to the item, not the place. We're just fostering it for a bit before it moves on!"

   – "All right...  Just don't raise it to be wild like you."

   – "And you, Merry, make sure you don't spoil it!"

#06  Nostalgic Blood of the East ~ Old World

The pair reached Renko's dorm with the haunted vessel tucked inconspicuously into their satchel, grateful that the spirit hadn't chosen to bind itself to a full desktop monitor or CPU instead.  The question moving forward would be how to unlock its secrets.

   – "How old do you think it is?"

   – "Because it wasn't buried under anything, it seems like we should assume it to be fairly new.  But it just feels so out of place."

   – "Actually, I meant the spirit."

   – "Oh."

Hand in hand with the phenomenon of planned obsolescence, the fashionable aesthetics of electronics changed as often as water under a bridge.  Sleek designs were popular, then retro designs, then designs that mimicked the mimicry of two eras past, a vaguely deteriorating cycle.  As a result, it was difficult to tell which era this piece of technology belonged to.

   – "Remember that I saw a border open?  Maybe not just the spirit, but the whole item came from somewhere else..."

They had been scrutinizing the home screen for quite some time, attempting to navigate the ancient interface, and hadn't made much headway.  As far as they could tell, the data was heavily corrupted, and most of its history had been erased.  They were able to access only the most basic types of apps, like the calculator and the keyboard.

   – "Hey, Merry.  I think we should use that other thing we picked up."

   – "That?  I don't even understand how we would use it..."

As evidenced by her smug grin, the more scientifically-minded of the pair had full confidence in the strange idea she was about to suggest.

#07  A Tiny, Tiny Clever Commander

   – "I mean, really?  A mouse?"

Renko had insisted that they bring home a wired peripheral mouse, which she had spent an extra half hour scavenging for.  However, of course, the end of the cable did not match the outlet on the tablet.

Currently, she was back in the scavenging position, digging through the pile of unorganized junk that cluttered her closet (mostly books and occult items). Or rather, it looked unorganized, but she seemed to know exactly where everything was.  ...Or rather, Merry concluded, it truly was unorganized, but her eyes were sharp at scanning through even a complete mess.  She wondered if this small pile would ever become as large as the one at the dump.

   – "A-ha, found it!"

Renko had managed to track down the very particular treasure she was seeking, the final piece of their forgathered puzzle.  A small cube with many variously patterned notches rested in her open palm.  The material's finishing was uncolored and plain, likely to have been produced independently with a 3D printer rather than as a commercial product.

   – "W-Where did you get a thing like that?"

   – "I have connections you don't know, Merry."

Merry thought she had heard this line before, and felt a bead of sweat roll down her neck just like the first time.  The source was certainly shady.  Universal adapters were not at all legal.  Treating it like a Rubik's cube, and glancing back and forth for reference, Renko cleverly manipulated the block in her hand in ways that Merry was unable to understand.

Renko's partner, who had long embraced being an accomplice, appreciated her resourcefulness; she only wished to be kept more up to date when the other girl's mental plans ran ten steps ahead.  But she supposed that this was how Renko felt in return when it came to supernatural sights that she couldn't see, so perhaps they were even.

   – "Just like that?  Like magic..."

   – "Tell me, Merry.  Can you see the border of magic and science?"

With all the pieces aligned, Renko ceremoniously linked the mouse to the tablet through the intermediary box.  As a pop-up window indicated the drivers being registered, it was, they determined, a truly magical feat.  The light on the screen dimmed a bit, as if the spirit were expressing slight disappointment that it was no longer their only option for a power supply.

   – "Still...  Better technology has been around for decades.  These are so unwieldly.  Does anyone use an optical mouse anymore?"

   – "No, but no one's done this ritual in a long time either."

#08  No More Going Through Doors

Renko took Merry's hands in her own and conveyed them in a stack atop of the mouse.  Holding this pose, Merry squinted at the screen in front of her, which displayed a neatly spaced virtual keyboard with a complete set of lettering.  A mild shiver ran through her, either nervousness or excitement.

   – "Hang on.  This setup looks familiar somehow."

   – "That's right.  We're having a séance!"

Although Renko was very skilled with computers, hacking was not her expertise.  She did, however, have the kind of mind that was able to think around the box, discovering back doors.  The opportunity here was simple:  If they couldn't reach the secrets, they would consult the only one who knew -- the spirit itself.

   – "Huh!?"

   – "This mouse is a perfect planchette to use as an interface.  Sure, we have voice and touch technology.  But you don't want the spirit to possess your actual body in order to touch the screen or activate your voice, do you?"

   – "Definitely not.  ...Wait, did I ever say I wanted to be the medium at all?"

Merry pulled her hands back from the mouse and saw the screen's light flicker weakly.

   – "Oh, er...  You're right.  We didn't really decide that, did we?"

   – "Mm..."

   – "I think you'd be better suited, but I'll gladly go first.  I've always wanted to try something like this."

Merry's eyes glazed over as she thought about the prospect of communicating with the spirit.  They had assumed the sealed entity was harmless enough to bring home, but could there be some risk in directly channeling it?

Then again, what was the other option?  To leave their investigation at a dead end?

You don't belong on this side of the unknown.

A faint voice bubbled up inside of Merry, almost like an intrusive thought.  This had been happening to her increasingly often lately, though she always forgot about it after the fact.  Because, at the same time, they certainly felt like her own feelings...

Maribel Hearn was sparked with a surge of curiosity that made her want to take the lead.  These were precisely the club activities she had signed up for.  How much more dangerous could it be than anything else, so long as one made sure to follow the protocols and say goodbye at the end?

   – "No...  I'd like to do it."

Renko blinked in surprise.

   – "Really?  ...Well, gee, make up your mind.  You made me get all excited for myself.  Go ahead, but I call next!"

#09  Shoutoku Legend ~ True Administrator

Having cleared the area and turned off all the lights, Merry sat with her back straight against a chair and took a deep breath.  No candle was necessary, as the warm glow of the screen cast a ring of illumination around the table.  They had thoroughly discussed the questions they desired to ask, though the words felt awkward to speak out loud.  Nevertheless, the young medium opened her mouth.

   – "What is... your name?"

...

The atmosphere of room was deathly still.  Merry let all the muscles in her arm relax, preparing.

...

I...

   – "It's working...!"

The spirit was conscious and listening.  The planchette began to glide beneath Merry's loose grip, landing on the letter I.  When it paused on the letter for several seconds, she clicked the mouse button to confirm before the involuntary movement slowly began again.

...FO RG OT.

   – "Ah.  So it's going to be up to us to give it a name."

   – "Did you own this tablet?"

While Merry was lost in thought about a potential name, Renko chimed in with a question of her own from the opposite side of the table.  However, the spirit seemed to hesitate in answering.

Suddenly, the other girl's focus returned.  On an instinct, she broke the silence with an unexpected change of the question.

   – "Does this tablet own you?"

...

YE S.

   – "Huh... The tablet owns the spirit?  How did that happen?"

Although Renko's words were more thinking out loud than a direct question, the spirit was responsive.  Merry's hand immediately began to move.

...

SN AP.

   – "Snap...?  That sounds kind of scary."

   – "What does that mean?"

The cursor then swerved dramatically past all the letters on the keypad and down to the app menu along the bottom edge of the screen.  It hovered over an icon barely recognizable as an antique camera.

   – "Ah..."

The app launched, reproducing a dark, blurry image of the table on which the device's lens was turned.  Upon clicking the screen, a photograph was taken, and the damaged speaker emitted a distorted snapping sound.

   – "Spirit photography!"

The two girls burst out in unison, solving the riddle simultaneously.

   – "Right.  We've all heard the old belief that getting a photograph taken of you might steal a piece of your soul."

   – "It has some basis.  If captured in a photograph by accident, a minor spirit's energy might become trapped."

Somewhere in the hidden files, such a photograph must exist, binding some foreign essence to this device.  The spirit was likely eager to get free.

Merry minimized the camera app and returned to the keyboard.

   – "Who took the picture?"

...

Unlike its own, this name seemed to be one the spirit knew.  The pair observed with bated breath as the cursor navigated itself around the maze of letters.  Ultimately, it came to a halt, and Merry clicked on the final letter.

   – "...Eh?  Merry, stop kidding around!"

Merry turned to her partner with a genuine, solemn expression.

   – "I'm... not.  I swear."

Renko's face went pale. In ink-black font, three familiar syllables stood on display beside a blinking cursor.

#10  Dream World Folklore

To disprove the influence of the ideomotor effect, they had asked the question several more times, using both girls as mediums, until the spirit ultimately stopped responding altogether.

   – "Oh, no.  We scared it away..."

   – "Well, it did spook us first."

   – "Renko...  You weren't kidding about your connections, were you?"

Renko scratched her head with lingering bewilderment.

   – "Is the spirit messing with us?  Or could it be..."

Her gaze wandered over to the stream of occult paraphernalia still spilling out of the crack of her closet door, and she experienced a strange sense of longing.  The adventurous scientist was heavily accustomed to investigating mysteries from an observational and objective point of view.  Finding herself personally a step closer to the subject was a bizarre and almost gut-twisting feeling.  She supposed that this was how Merry felt in return when the focus of investigations was on her own powers, so perhaps they were even.  Almost.

After a few more sessions of séance, they managed to navigate to an encrypted folder.  A full-screen photograph had flashed open... but, before they were able to make out any details, the tablet's power instantly cut off.  Following this, it no longer responded to any input.

Their assumption would be that the spirit had been able to cross over, after deleting its digital ties to the physical container and unsealing the information it was attached to.

   – "I suppose this is goodbye..."

   – "Is the spirit free now?"

   – "I think so."

   – "That's good for it, at least."

   – "Too bad for you.  If we kept it, maybe it would have served as your personal shikigami."

   – "Isn't that a bit cold-hearted?  It was supposed to be our child!"

A shikigami is the perfect phantasmal servant.  The owner may input commands, and it carries out orders with extraordinary speed and calculation.  Of course, a normal computer already fulfills essentially the same purpose.  Outside world humans of the modern era aren't in need of such a spirit under their possession.

Even so, the force of attraction that had drawn them to cross paths with this spirit would be a mystery to chase going forward.  The two present members of the Sealing Club had a new story to tell, an urban legend that could be shared only amongst themselves.

Afterwords

Hello, this is someone who absolutely promised themself that they would publish at least one Hifuu fic per calendar year.  The idea for this one began with a conversation with my real-life partner (as is usually the case of inspiration) about the excellent aesthetic of using a computer keyboard as a Ouija board.  This subject in turn came up because of a "ghost" that haunts her keyboard by making a certain cryptic message appear on the screen at random times because the "." and "0" keys are in an easy position for us to accidentally press.  So, this story is dedicated to our precious child, ".0-chan."

Then, while it was already being written, WBaWC came out and confirmed that a technology-themed fic would be totally appropriate, and my favorite song from the soundtrack had the perfect title to be used in it.  (Also, its blatant dystopian themes justified playing up the similar themes of the Sealing Club's society even more than usual.)  And yet, despite many things lining up, it almost didn't get finished in time.  It's been such a busy and stressful year, which I hope gets better next year...

Another source of inspiration was the blog "Yukarisuggestion," whose portrayal I respect a lot.  When they drop minor bits of supernatural trivia, it definitely feels like they are coming from the youkai sage herself, very natural to accept.  I latched onto these posts in particular, finding the concept fascinating, and I only hope I interpreted it acceptably.  ...I was really aiming sharply this time at the Sealing Club's conversational aesthetic of "casual confidence in super obscure things that outside listeners would hear as nonsense," so I'm afraid some parts may have crossed the border of B.S.

Also, I wonder if it's okay that the second half of the song choices are almost entirely bad puns?

ASA    (Our ghost child's pen name would be "0.4" / "Rei-ten-shi"!)

Hifuu CD-style stories:

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  自封夢幻 〜 Sentimental Reverie

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  陶然夢幻 〜 Transcendental Revelry

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  羨望横断 〜 Unenviable Crossroads

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  外来土産 〜 Adventive Reminiscence

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3] 中古技術 〜 Electric Spirit Seance

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  幻想惑星直列 〜 Phantasmal Syzygy

Hiya.

So I’m not the be-all-end-all of all things artsy, but I know the struggle when you’re in that awkward place in which you’ve got some skill and you’ve got a lot of people who will tell you you’re producing good work (because they want to be encouraging – and good on them for that) but when it comes time to actually get people to cough up some cash… crickets – or at least less business than one would hope from people calling the work “wonderful” right?

I mean in some respects the journey of an artist is never really over but I’ll tell you point blank that your art isn’t quite there yet. I’ll be the first to admit mine isn’t either, but I’m cynical enough to kill my darlings and realistic enough to give a sober appraisal for all that’s worth.

1. I don’t think you enjoy drawing, plain jane, humans that much. I can’t tell if you rush through those drawings, you’re less practiced at drawing humans, or a combination of the two but ultimately those pieces look more rough than your anthropomorphic or animal work from what I’m seeing through art only mode.

You would probably benefit from getting some life drawing practice of humans if you want to remedy this. I can tell you’ve been able to glean some insights on what you as an artist can get away with in terms of exaggeration of the human form by watching cartoons and anime – and that certainly has helped. But if that’s your foundation? You run into problems because it’s hard to understand the *why* behind the initial exaggerations.

For example, have you ever sat down and asked yourself what giving a character big alien sized eyes is actually accomplishing for you from a design perspective? Usually it makes a character more “baby-like” and that can elicit endearment for a character in an audience so long as you don’t go uncanny with it.

2. Speaking of design, you’ve only really scratched the surface of it in most respects.

     A. It is one thing when you’re drawing Discord who’s a “solved” character in terms of design or you’re lifting the “solved” design template of ponies in MLP (even if putting your own twist on it and making it your “own” – which isn’t a bad thing mind you). It is an entirely different ballgame when you’re designing something for yourself from scratch. You need to learn what it takes to design a character that’s going to catch the eye and tell an audience exactly what they need to know about them at a glance – not easy. Unfortunately from what I gather from your work you’ve barely crossed the threshold into this arena.

     B. You need to practice backgrounds. I know you’re trying. But I also know you fear them. You need to learn them. You need to put them under your belt and you can’t really drag your feet on this because your comic work is suffering from it, but when you approach this, instead of thinking “I’m gonna learn how to do backgrounds!” think of it that you’re going in learning how to do landscapes and the such – fetching in their own right. Not just window dressing for characters. As a comic artist? It’s *not* essential for you become a master of the landscape. You just need to wrap your head around enough of it so that you can hint and imply at a world beyond your characters *effectively* – but you do that through a lot more practice, and in these practices? No characters. Has to be strong enough to stand on it’s own or else you don’t quite got it yet.

Also, look into the golden mean. It’s especially applicable here.

     C. Your line work doesn’t demonstrate an understanding of line-weight variation and while there is such a thing as getting too fussy with line-weight considering color can get so much more immediate impact and audiences respond far better to it… there’s a certain richness that your work lacks due to this. Study contour drawings with good line-weight and practice it for yourself. Make a drawing pop without using color as a crutch to really get a handle on this so that later when you do incorporate color it’s like putting butter on a freshly hot blueberry muffin instead of a cold unbuttered blueberry muffin (still good, but not as good as it could be).

3. You use and abuse the hell out of the airbrush and it’s holding you back. I’m not saying you can’t ever use an airbrush, but I am saying you could stand to shelve it during practice sessions and force yourself to expand your toolbox – get out of that comfort zone.

A stagnant artist is a dead artist.

I’m going to leave it at that because this is already a lot and that covers the most glaring things I saw at a glance. Sooner you hammer these things out the sooner I think you’ll find more success in general as an artist.

I want you to know here that I’m not telling you all this to tear you down. It’s tough. It sucks. I know you’re stressed, but you do have skill. Unfortunately people don’t usually convey concise enough information on what to improve to make the greatest leaps forward by saying art is either “great!” or “shit!” and yet that’s the average commentary from non-art backgrounds.

I don’t know what else to tell ya other than best wishes and best of luck.

We’ve all got a long road ahead of us.

1- On humans, I used to draw nothing BUT humans in highschool and I couldn’t draw animals worth a damn, but I was trapped drawing nothing but the anime style.

And in my opinion it looked bad, I wanted it to look genuine but I never felt it did and eventually I gave up and tried to adopt my own style that mixes other styles I like. I finally did find my preferred style, but now it’s a matter of mastering it and figuring out what works best for it in order to make it look its best, including line work, coloring, anatomy, what to exaggerate or not. Sometimes I take the time to do anatomy studies and sketches but I only have the internet to work with for that and not a whole lot of time to spare.

2A - I have books and tutorials on character design I keep reading over and over, I think my biggest struggle is my aversion to making things look ‘too anime’. Anime has a VERY distinct look and I feel like it doesn’t suit my needs, but I’m so used to it that it’s difficult to make simpler but still more stand out characters. I am learning though, considering I went from this:

To this:

And this:

To this:

Again it’s about escaping the anime stuff that I had drilled in for over 10 years, too much of the same face shapes. I have photos of people in my drafts right now that I’ve been meaning to practice with, they help me come up with new shapes to make faces more interesting and distinctive.

Example:

2B- I keep asking people for tutorials and any kind of help on backgrounds I can get and all I’ve really gotten is Bob Ross and that doesn’t entirely help digitally unless I get all the right brushes for it x-x I’m not sure where to go to understand backgrounds better or how to simplify them for comics, I’m not sure what good speedpaint techniques are for it. I take way too long on backgrounds and they look awful and I know there’s an easier way to do it but I just can’t figure out how :[ It’s making me nervous because I’m running out of time and I don’t have much time to practice any more because of being bogged down by all this extra work. If I didn’t have to worry about my pony projects or commissions I’d be able to do this more, but as is I can maybe spare 4 hours a week at most? Aaaa I need help so badly on this >_<

2C- What’s funny is I keep thinking I figured out line weight, and I do it for a while, but then I somehow just forget it again and have to relearn it. It’s driving me crazy. Part of the problem is I keep drawing with my wrist and I’m trying super hard to get in the habit of drawing with my elbow and shoulder, but this tablet and setup doesn’t give me a lot of space to do so comfortably.

3- I am really starting to hate the airbrush honestly. At this point it’s only good for subtle shading and highlight, but I’m currently discovering all the new brushes I downloaded for Clip Studio (over 300) and I’m trying to find the ones that work best for what I’m trying to go for. I was hoping to use Dotty as my testing ground for techniques to figure out what to do for MMG but I’m running out of time it feels like and I’ve been slow on the updates.

Thanks for all this btw it’s more or less confirmation on what’s been bugging me and what I know just isn’t working right, I just need to figure out how the hell to get through it.

Villain I appear to be || Vanya Hargreeves x Reader

Description: You were the eighth member of the infamous Umbrella Academy. Your adopted father, Reginald Hargreeves, had raised you and your seven other siblings to fight crime and stop evil, however, as you grew older you found yourself straining farther and farther away from the life of a hero your father always wanted you to be.

This will be a One-shot series or something? I don’t really know what it’s called. It’s like, same title and concept but different stories and pairings per chapter. If that makes sense. ùwú

Pairing: Vanya x Reader

Word Count: 2194

ONE-SHOT

Vanya unlocked her apartment door with an audible sigh. Her violin was strapped uncomfortably around her left shoulder along with several grocery bags hanging from her fingers. She walked into her comfortable little apartment before shutting the door behind her. Vanya's lids hooded over her tired eyes as she trotted over to her dining table and practically threw three plastic bags on it's surface while she gently propped the violin bag on the chair. As she took off her coat, a loud meow suddenly came from the couch. She looked over to the cushions and saw a cat.

"Mr. Puddles." She was exasperated. "You scared me. Why do you keep coming here? I don't have any food for you." She went over to the feline and hoisted him up on her shoulder, however, as she moved towards the door the weight of the cat on her arms and chest suddenly doubled, alarming the rather petite woman. Before she could let go of Mr. Puddles the cat quickly morphed into a bigger entity with human limbs that wrapped around her body. "(y/n)?" she said, realizing what was happening before you could even shift back to your original form.

"Hey, Vanya." You said pulling away from her as you looked at her with Mr. Puddles' eyes before you blinked and they  returned back to your normal orbs of (e/c). "What's up?" Vanya sighed. "Can't you just knock or something. I would've let you in anyway." You laughed. "That's too... Ordinary for my taste." you joked but Vanya only gave you an impatient look. "Yeesh, tough crowd." you scoffed as you jumped on the couch and plopped your bum on its soft cushions. You crossed your legs and turned your head to her. "Getting a bit feisty with me, aren't you, Vanya?" You smirked. "Finally found the courage to actually fight for yourself? I'm impressed." Vanya huffed "What are you even doing here, (y/n)?"

"Can't I visit my favorite sister whenever I so please?" you asked, your smirk showed no sign of disappearing. Vanya shook her head "Last time you came here I caught you stealing my groceries. Not to mention you pawned my favorite white violin. I had to borrow money from Allison just to get it back." You shrugged. "That was a long time ago Vanya. I'm a changed..." you morphed into a small girl, then a fox, then a teenaged boy, before morphing back to yourself "... Whatever I am. Besides, the pay for a world class thief is getting higher by the day. You will not believe how many zeros are in my bank account." You laughed but Vanya's expression showed no amusement. She sighed again, shook her head and walked to her newly bought groceries and started to put them away.

"Hey, Vanya. Think you can fix me up a drink?" You said from the couch. Vanya felt her eyebrows twitch but she complied anyways. She grabbed a glass from her cupboard and poured some gin in it. She gave it to you and you said, "Thanks.". She didn't reply. She went back to cleaning her dining area but not before taking her pills. She put the orange cylinder back in her pocket and proceeded to grab some fresh grapes and placed them in the fridge.

You just watched her silently, the cocky look on your face was gone as you firmly grasped on your red stained left hip. You tried not to groan from the pain but you eventually started to let out quiet heavy breathes. You pulled your hand up and cringed at the amount of blood that was coating it. Not wanting to stain Vanya's couch you stood up and just leaned against the wall.

"You know, you should really get locks for your windows." you suddenly said, breaking the silence. Vanya looked at you and your smirk crawled back to your lips. "I'm just saying, a lot of people could break in and steal something. Exhibit A." you gestured to yourself. Vanya's patience was stretched thin at this point. Her brows furrowed as she turned to you. Her expression made her look like she was going to explode and it took you by surprise. "(y/n) can you please just...." she closed her eyes, turning her head has she breathed deeply.

You looked at her with a raised eye brow. You've never seen Vanya look this frustrated before and it kind of made you feel bad. "...Just.... Go.... I'm pretty sure you already got whatever it is you came for so please just leave me alone." she turned around a perched herself on the counter as she got her pills from her pocket and drank a tablet or two.

You said nothing, not wanting to inconvenience her any longer so you did what you were told. Vanya heard the click on her window and turned around to find no one else there. "Why can't you ever use the door..." she sighed before grabbing her violin case.

A black cat stalked quietly on top of the roof before stopping at the edge. The cat's yellow eyes peered down the dark alleyway before it jumped down the fire escape and slowly made its way down a large garbage bin. You morphed back into your original form and huffed at the pain on your sides. You opened up the garbage bin and threw out a man clad in all black and a bloody face. He groaned as he hit the ground and turned to look at your glowing feline yellow eyes. "... You're a demon..." he sputtered out and you tilted your head as you walked over to him and stepped on his chest making him scream in agony. "I could be worst." you put more pressure on your leg and the man whimpered. "Listen to me you disgusting bag of human flesh. If I ever catch you going inside that apartment again..." your eyes flashed red "I'll make you eat dirt. You catch my drift?" The thief nodded as he stared into your ruby orbs before they went back to yellow. You lifted your foot from his body but before he could sigh in relief you stomped on his nether regions. "That's for ruining my favorite shirt." you said, motioning to your red stained hip. The bloody criminal laid helpless and whining in pain on the cold cement as you walked away from him, eyes shifting back to their normal (f/c) hue.

Sirens and red and blue flashes suddenly came closer to you and you turned yourself back into a cat before scampering away.

Weeks have passed since the incident in Vanya's neighborhood. Apparently a notorious burglar had been found half dead at the side of her apartment building. Police are unsure how that man got his wounds  and when asked about it he refused to mention a name. Detectives conducted a door to door interview with the residents near the area including Vanya but they didn't get anything useful. After his recovery he was sent to jail for theft.

One night, as a sleeping Vanya was warmly snuggled inside her blanket a loud crash could be heard from her living room. She instantly became conscious and grabbed her phone. She called 911 as she got out of her bed slowly approached the door. She told the operator about her situation and told them her address. The lady on the other line told her to stay calm and wait for a few minutes as they police were already on their way. Vanya thanked them and hung up as she pressed her body on the door. She listened for a bit but heard complete silence for half a minute. She furrowed her eyebrows as she wrapped her pale fingers on the doorknob she slowly turned it and peaked through the small crack on her door.

There was a large hole on her window, wind blew through the curtains but other than that there was no other movement inside the room. A sudden meow broke the silence as a shadow of a cat jumped on the head of the couch. "(y/n)?" Vanya asked with an 'are you kidding me' tone. She turned on the light switch next to her door frame but she screamed as soon as she saw you. Your fur was coated in thick red liquid and one of your eyes had been scratched and bloodied. You let out one last weak meow before falling onto the couch. Vanya was about to run to the your side but you quickly turned back into a human and told her to stay where she was. Vanya was already next to you and her eyes grew wide when she saw another man laying on the other side of the room with scratch marks all over his body.

"Go back to your room Vanya. He's not completely down yet." You said as best as you could as you looked at her with your one good eye. "I can't just leave you out here." she said. The intruder suddenly twitched making Vanya flinched away when her eyes caught the movement. "Vanya. I'll be fine. I can't exactly stay here when the cops show up." the man started groaning. "I'm not going anywhere without you." she said sternly. You looked into Vanya's eyes and realized there was nothing that could change her mind. You sighed as the man slowly started to get up. "Fine." You turned into a fox and ran into the room with Vanya close behind you before locking the door.

It didn't take long for the police to arrive and luckily the thief wasn't able to get away fast enough so the cops were able to apprehend him as well as his partner that was thrown out the window. You were also arrested on the spot even though Vanya told the police that you had nothing to do with the break in. Sadly, your one good deed wasn't enough to excuse you from the hundreds of sins that you have committed. You plead guilty in the court of law and judge reduces 2 years off of your sentence.

As soon as you were thrown in prison Vanya was the first to visit you. The both of you sat in front of each other, a glass wall dividing you with only a phone to connect with each other. She greeted you and asked how you were doing. You responded with laugh and told her not to worry about it. Vanya kept glancing at your now scarred face but her eyes lingered longer at your sliced eyeball. "Why didn't you get a prosthetic?" she asked. "With all those zeros in your bank account, I would've thought you'd have enough money for glass eyeball.".

You chuckled as you gave her a shrug. "Every cent under my name is dirty money Van. Don't want the coppers sniffing around for all that dough, I'll get bankrupt. Besides, I've grown quite the... Er... attachment to my original eye." it was Vanya's turn to laugh. You smiled, feeling a bit proud to have made her this happy at such an odd time.

"10 years of jail time..." she sighed and shook her head. "You think you can handle it?" your smirk grew wider. "You underestimate me number 7.". Vanya glanced at the calender behind you. "I would never." she said. "Want to watch a movie at my place this tomorrow?" she asked and you shot her a wink. "I don't know, I'm a little busy but I'll try to make it." You both laughed. For the rest of the visit you and Vanya joked around with each other until it was time for her to leave.

The next night, sirens echoed around the prison as armed men frantically ran around as soon as a guard reported the absence of Inmate 19. A reporter stood in front of the prison not an hour later and broadcasted the breaking news all over the city. "(y/n) Hargreeves, a world renown thief has escaped city prison and is on the loose. Police are now on the look out for a (h/c-"

The TV switched to another chanel and Vanya placed the remote back on her coffee table. A Black cat had jumped next to her rubbed itself on her arm. She smiled as she petted the cat between it's ears. "Did you hear that? A big bad criminal is running around the streets. We should be more careful when we go outside." Vanya cooed jokingly. You meowed in return and laid down on her lap. Vanya giggled as she felt you purr and continued to rub your head.

"Maybe you aren't so bad after all."

AN:

I wrote this after apocalypse suite and I may have portrayed Vanya as herself in the comics rather than her Netflix counterpart.

The Fallout - Part Twenty-One (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: You had been a ghost for years, taking down the bad guys from the shadows that had once enslaved you. That is until the Avengers finally caught up with you and yet again your life changed. But your past won’t stay dead and everything starts to shift when a familiar face joins the ranks: Bucky Barnes. He may not remember you, but you certainly remember him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Slow burn, language, fighting, blood, heartbreak, call back to rape threat, pain, just all the things!

Word Count: About 4k

A/N: Couple things to know! We are throwing back to Part Fifteen and have a call back to Part Four because I’ve been playing the long game here people! Secondly, this is The Scene for me. This was the first scene I thought of six months ago that started this whole story. The story evolved over time (while in my mind this scene didn’t) so there’s this huge conflict in me between what this story is vs. how I had imagined this part to play out. I thought I would be able to write and post this chapter immediately because I’ve lived with it so long. Not at all the case. I ended up drastically changing this (after multiple rewrites) from the original idea and I would appreciate all the validation you can give lol!

MY MASTERLIST // THE FALLOUT MASTERLIST // PART TWENTY

There had been a protocol in place, long since established, aptly named the “Rogue Protocol”. It was an order implemented by the Team’s A.I. on command for protection, and today it would be the protocol that ended them.

Let’s say someone turned to the dark side. Let’s imagine they went full evil in the darkest timeline, hell bent on causing damage to the Avengers. It certainly was possible by say Loki’s sceptre, or perhaps Hydra’s triggering, or any number of evils that lurked and thrived in this world. But Jacosta was there just in case of this.

With a word from the Avengers the A.I. would completely erase all access a user had. They would not be allowed near the home base or any safe houses. They would be shut off from any and all Avenger intel or information. Security access would be stripped. Comm lines scrambled and changed. Even their face and name and details sent out to every government and secret security organization around the world in warning. A total and complete shut out.

Simple and efficient.

And clearly, as you had shown, necessary.

But on the eve of one Hydra-baiting party, there had been a change to this protocol. And it had gone rather unnoticed:

“Well not exactly.” Tony typed something into his tablet before tapping it on seemingly nothing in the air.

Immediately a hologram pulled up in the centre of the room in front of you. It looked like a ball of light and squiggles, all in a luminous purple glow. They moved and flowed in the space with an intricate pattern you saw but couldn’t predict. Again, this tech was too advanced for you, so you waited for him to continue.

“This is Jacosta, who’s been parading around as F.R.I.D.A.Y. since the whole Vier Gliedmaßen thing. There was a line in Fri’s programming that was altered. Corrupted. They got their hands on my tech somehow and got in. But’s that my mission to solve, not yours.”

He looked at you with a tight smile at that. You knew he had been wracked with guilt since the day The Black showed up. And then when he berated you for killing them, using his cutting remarks as some sick test. Then when the comms went down at Vier Gliedmaßen, causing you to dive in headlong after Bucky. So yeah, he had a little bit of a tough go lately.

You just hoped this party wasn’t going to add to that growing list…

“I don’t blame you for The Black or Hydra getting in.” you said, your heart too over-run with emotions to keep a grudge in there too anymore. “Tech or no, we relied on each other and we got out alive. Now we know more about what we’re dealing with.”

“Yeah, a suped-up Hydra. Gone are the days of rudimentary one-man subs and goofy lasers huh.”

“You’ll figure it out Tony,” you reassured, seeing through his muted free-falling self-esteem. He put on a good show but he wasn’t as haughty as others might think. Not always.

“Though I might just take a closer look at Jacosta sometime. Just in case.”

“Permission granted,” he said with a small smile. After those previous debacles, you doubted he would deny that request.

So later that day you waited, anxiety and vulnerablity setting into your bones. It drilled deeper into you with every minute, not having felt this way in half a century. Because yes, despite your glossing over it at the time, Tony’s tech and procedures had failed you. And yes, your mind had been wiped by your worst and most intimate enemy, ripping away your ability to fight and defend yourself. So now it felt like you were staring down a barrel of a gun.

The threat of Hydra, of torture, and worst of all becoming the Siren again had you more than rattled. It had you sick to your stomach you were so terrified. Not even the quarter drunk bottle of whiskey you had been working on quelled that feeling yet, though you had no intention of stopping until that bottle was completely empty.

That night you were being forced out into a situation you thought you couldn’t reasonably win, if it really came down to it.

And it wasn’t because you didn’t have the support and protection of your Team. You did, certainly, and knew they would go to any lengths to protect you. But without your fighting ability at full strength (you were basically as useful as a puppy in a fight) you just felt helpless, the feeling foreign and infuriating.

Last time Hydra came to the Tower they had done so by way of siccing The Black on you. You had been caught on the wrong side of a locked door, forced to pretend you weren’t fucking dying inside as they pinned you to the ground, outnumbered thirteen to one. You could only wait for your team members to show after a purposely devised pointless mission, desperately needing to know they hadn’t fallen into a trap themselves before making your move. 

In those hours you had to shut off every emotion, kneeling there on the floor as Steve and Bucky came into view, faces dropping in horror as the situation sunk in. You watched their anger and hidden panic as a glass wall and locked door kept you apart, listening to the threats of the leader and snake, Frenz. And worst of all you had to see the look of disgust in Bucky’s eyes as you killed every single one of the thirteen men that were there to rape and kill you. And you had to watch your revolted friends stand there numbly as you cleaned up after it.

And that night, of all decisions to make, Tony and the Team had practically invited Hydra back into your home. They had proved they had the means to enter and infiltrate before, why wouldn’t they do it now, when that you were weakened? Unable to put up much of a fight?

But with two simple words, Tony had given you permission to check into Jacosta’s programming. To alter it. Or override it if need be. You had complete and full admin access, rivalled only by Tony.

If the situation came down to it again, and they locked you away from your friends and protection- from your now only means of survival- you had to find another way to win.

So, you gave yourself permission to unlock any door.

Simple. Basic. Mostly used to calm the rattling inside you and give you enough courage to face that night.

In doing so, you had to completely removed any protocol restrictions or barriers blocking you, so no matter were you found yourself, you had a means of escape. It over-rid everything, permanently, unless specifically altered after the fact. Right down to the Rogue Protocol.

Now, Jacosta was new and learning, which was an advantage to you, the Siren. You bet your freedom that Tony wouldn’t go digging into the Rogue Protocal too deeply, trusting the system he had created without checking the alterations done at its base programming before starting it up once Hydra took you. It was buried and rooted behind walls of security, and only one soul had access it. 

Well, two at one point. But that was enough.

There was always a massive probability that the system would right itself or Tony would find it before you even got here. You knew this plan was a fucking longshot from the get go. A lot of oversight was needed for this to work.

But if it hadn’t, you would still found another way. You would’ve waited until a team member got to close to your little prison and snapped their neck. Or you would have slit your throat and held a doctor hostage. Maybe started a fire with sparks from your metal hand somehow. Or perhaps you would have slowly faked returning back to your original self, building trust and using that against them. Regardless, you would have found a way to cause pain and eventually figure another way to freedom.

But this was much better.

You had used this simple alteration for your own protection at one time. But now you were using it for escape.

And by some dark miracle, it fucking worked.

“Jacosta,” you said calmly. “Open the cell doors.”

No one outside your cell moved or made a sound, not actually believing that the A.I. would listen to your calmly stated command. Even as the door swung open on its hinges, everyone was still, not immediately believing what they were seeing.

The air seemed fresher, lights brighter, and vision clearer as you placed one foot in front of the other beyond the threshhold and into freedom.

“Now,” you said, arms out and eyes as black and cold as space, voice not much warmer. “Let’s play.”

Your immediate craving was Bucky, looking to him with hunger in your gaze, but the man was motionless, having stumbled back in confusion as you opened up your little prison. Even as horror turned to rage he stood there shocked still. You were loose in the world again- in his world- and you were going to burn it to the fucking ground. You could almost see flashes of the horrors you had committed in the past months in the blue of this eyes, of what burning fire you could reign down now that you were free again. On the world. On the Team. On him. And it would be his fault all over again.

So it wasn’t Bucky- who never had a love of fighting- that got this party started, but actually Sam.

He had come in at Bucky’s call just before your escape, hanging back as you commanded their precious A.I. to betray them. But now he bolted down the hall, emotions kicked aside and military training kicking into high gear. You were an enemy and you needed to go down, and, like the friend he was, wasn’t going to make your ex-love try it first.

You sized up your competition as the ex-vet sprinted towards you, muscles tense, thoughts of his own safety or odds abandoned, dark green shirt unstained with sweat or blood.

You would have to change that.

He knew he would have to come at you with some serious power and force, and the man did.

Always having favoured his fists, he ran right up to you trying to use his momentum to try and force you back into your cell, throwing punches with force and precision. You blocked one hit with your forearm, then the next in quick succession with your elbow, then the next with your arm again. All the while you watched him half-amused, easily tracking his movements. He was a military man with practiced movements and you had taken down thousands of those in your time.

A knee came up hard to your ribs to try and pushed you back, but your fist swung down hard on his knee before the other one swung up at his jaw. Throwing your metal fist with some serious might, you heard an audible crack as you made contact with the quick one-two punch. It sent him up in the air before smacking down on the ground, face in shock as his breath wouldn’t come but the pain certainly did.

Before he had even hit the ground you were running to him, foot raised to stomp down on his neck and the life out of him, when Bucky finally broke through his shock and made his decision to take you down.

He launched at you mid-stomp, his momentum crashing into yours, grabbing around your waist and sending you both flying to the side. Both his and your metal hands scrapped along the floor, shrieking and spraying sparks as you went careening into the wall with bone crushing speed.

The white lights above you cut out and turned to blue flashing lights lining the hall, signalling your breakout.

You ignored them easily as immediately after crashing against the wall you brought up your knees to the groin and stomach of the hulking wall of muscle pinning you, twisting your body to get loose of Bucky’s grip around your middle. You managed to end up with his hips between your thighs as he lay on briefly on his stomach, your hand grasping his neck and wrist. But his elbow cracked up and connected with your face with such force you were thrown clean off him, sent skidding back to the floor with a shower of blood exploding off your face.

You flipped back into a roll instantly to stand, ignoring your bloodied face as he came at you again.

Bucky, furious and far more unhinged than the Soldier had ever fought, did not pull his punches as he swung, forcing power behind his swinging arms and fists. It was wild and abandoned and full of pain, but you were prepared for this.

He was a tank, that much you knew from long years together. But you had power too. And speed. And ingenuity. Plus a drug-adrenalin combination that made you all but oblivious to the pain. He just had brute strength and a broken heart.

Swinging in broadly he tried to push you back, but you weren’t willing to lose ground. Dodging and blocking you grabbed his metal fist sharply with yours, and jumped straight up, twisting your leg around to kick him square in the chest.

It was his turn to go flying back, sparks flying again in the blue flashing room. You immediately dove on him to keep your upper hand in the fight, punching over and over, drawing blood and causing his body to thrash around under the force of your fists.

But he got hold of you, clutching your wrists hard threw his head into your face before flipping you over so you were on the ground and he was looming over you, you lungs sputtering with the blood you swallowed.

He pinned you, wrists held tightly in his hands: your metal hand to his metal hand, your flesh hand to his. His hair hung down, brushing your face, and it was unable to hide his burning eyes or anger curled lip. He hated this situation, hated fighting you, hated hurting you.

His body was hovering directly above you, and you would take any advantage where you could get it.

He expected you to keep fighting or to struggle as he held you fast underneath his body pinned to the floor, feet hooking yours in place to keep you from kicking free. But you didn’t even try.

Lifting off several inches from the floor, your hips ground into his hips, then followed the rest of your body in a smooth slow roll, pressing your abdomen, chest, shoulders, and face right against him.

You purred into his corner of his mouth, lips vibrating against the edges of his with the sound.

“I just knew you wanted to pin me down.” you teased seductively. “Knew you wanted to feel what it was like to have me pressed against you again.” 

At that Bucky threw himself off of you, releasing you as he tried to step back, face contorted. But before he could fully move off of you, your hands briefly freed, you twisted to the side so you could get your arm up around to the back of his neck. You slammed him down to the ground, his face hitting the floor with a crack.

For the first time in minutes, everything stilled as silence hung in the hall. 

Pushing him off, you got up and briefly looked down the man at your feet. You could have killed him, and if you were any other one of Hydra’s agent, you probably would have. But you weren’t a creature whose priority was merely efficiency like the Soldier had been. You had only barely begun torturing Bucky, and to kill him now would have been much too quick. Much better than he deserved.

This Bucky had been far too emotional. The Solider wouldn’t have made such a mistake. The man in front of you was far too human.

Quite unlike you at the moment.

Now, with no bodies between you and the door, you rolled your shoulders with a smile as a jolt of euphoria snaked through you, leaving the two poor things to bleed behind you.

Under the blue flashing light, you knew that someone else must have set them off as you set off down to the end of the hall. There was a small chance it was the A.I. but you doubted it. You could feel it in your bones, another presense lurking somewhere in this vast compound.

You sauntered up to the security panel on the wall by the door, absently wiping the blood still flowing from your face. It misted off your metal fist as it slammed into that panel, breaking it open. You ripped out the wires and sparks flew, igniting the little box into small flickers then full flames. You ripped off your hoodie and shoved it in there, fabric catching and beginning to smoke then be licked at by orange flames.

After a moment a loud siren rang out, repeating every few seconds and the lights dropped, the blue being replaced by a bright red flashing. You looked blood covered and it sent a thrill down your spine. Another buzz sounded nearby and immediately the door unlocked and spread open.

If there was someone still in the security room monitoring all this, they would have deleted your “open door policy” access by now most likely. Or at the very least Tony would have been notified of what was happening, and trying to man it from wherever he was in your little goose-chase.

So fire was your option. Starting one would unlock all hallway door checkpoints where any Avengers were to the safe zones: either exits or security rooms to monitor the situation. That had been the procedure in the Tower, and was clearly the same here too. Now all you had to do was follow the unlocked doors to your next destination. And you weren’t ready to leave just yet.

Turning down several silently deserted corridors, there was an eeriness in the air you brought with you, nothing but red flashing light as your company. As you walked closer into the compound (presumably), you began to slow down.

Your steps became leisurely, pace not as determinedly set. A smile cracked through the blood your face, black eyes wide and searching the long and wide corridor you found yourself in.

“Natasha...” you whispered tauntingly, cool and creepy voice drifting lightly down the hall as you walked. “Natasha... where are you…”

You could feel her, your senses keyed up and adrenalin absolutely flooding you. It reacted with the drugs still in your system and dialled everything inside of you beyond ten. Your eyes were wide and shimmering black, your hearing was picking up everything around you, and you could smell her telltale scent of mahogany, cinnamon, and something bitter lightly reaching your broken nose.

Quicker than most could move, a door to your left was thrown open and Natasha came running out, throwing her knee up to slam against your body, snapping up a wire at her wrist in preparation.

She would have slammed her knee against you, knocking you off balance and making you hunch down as you faltered. She would have taken her opportunity then to jump up and wrap her legs around your neck, perched on your shoulders. She would have tied that piano wire around your neck until you passed out.

Because unlike Bucky, she was stealth and speed and maneuvering. She had complete control over her body, able to fight and win along side superhumans, gods, and armoured suited geniuses. But she came into fights with just her skills, a small wire, and sometimes a gun or two. And time after time she would win it, because Natasha was just that fucking good.

But you would show her what real power looked like.

Your metal hand snapped out as Nat did from the shadows, forcing through the wire she was a second from trying to wrap around your neck. Instead, your grip clutched her throat as you planted your feet, stopping her short and sending her lower half jerking back at your immovability.

You could have crushed her windpipe and ended her right there. But she needed to feel the power you had over her. Reaching down you grabbed under her knee and hoisted her up, flipping her right over and slammed her onto the ground. 

Your grip didn’t let up as her eyes went wide, face red as you cut off the circulation to her head while you smiled widely down at her. She couldn’t even sputter. She tried to reach her legs up and wrap them around you, tried to hurt you with her fists and feet and body, expertly done, even if she was fast suffocating.

But you felt none of it. Instead you punched down over and over, seeing and feeling blood spout from her face. Her blood was hard earn and the spray that hit you felt like refreshing mist on your skin.

The feeling was short-lived though.

You didn’t hear it, the sound almost too loud for your brain to process, bursting through your ear drums. What felt like a concrete wall hit you, sending you flying back off Nat, airborne for a second before hitting and cracking against the wall.

You recovered as fast as you could- unnaturally so for a normal person- head knocked way too hard against the unyielding wall to snap back instantly though. You took uneasy but quick steps forward, turning to face the source of the explosion, but distrated briefly by someone else.

The first thing your mind seeing beside subtly flaming debris scattered around you was the beaten sight of Bucky running in, face bruised and covered in as much blood as your own.

The next was when you turned to where the source of the explosion was, and standing there on top of the pile of rumble was Iron Man.

You shocked yourself for a moment, feeling simultaneously relieved and furious at the sight before you. It added an undercurrent of confusion to your feelings, you not realizing why relief was in the mix at all. You certainly did not want him there. A couple normal humans and one ex-Hydra agent were easily handled. But it was harder to punch through an Iron Man suit. Though not impossible.

“Bucky,” came his voice, hands raised and threatening as he stood like a coward covered by his gleaming suit on top of a caved in ceiling, unlike your exposed and bleeding skin. “Back off. Just turn around, I will handle this.”

You looked to the man, calculations on your next moved briefly halted as you watched Bucky’s face flinch. Maybe from pain. Maybe from the anger and sadness there in him now. Something was off. Something information was missing.

“Don’t leave me to him,” you said, exasperated, trying to cause division. “You know how angry he was before when you caught me; he’s more likely to kill me than lock me up again!”

But looking at Iron Man you took in his cold metal exterior. You couldn’t sense his emotions, or discern his body language through it. But you could taste it in the air. You knew that taste.

He knew you would kill everyone. You almost had killed three of his team members in a matter of minutes today. And once securing this compound and letting Hydra have free reign of the system, you would have tortured them. And you wouldn’t stop. Ever. 

You smelt the need for blood on him.

You knew he would try and put you down before you put his entire Team down. Maybe Bucky or Steve wouldnt be able to ever stomach or consider that option, but Tony was not cut from the same cloth. 

You waited in the silence, only Bucky inching towards you, ignoring Tony completely. But your eyes were on the suited Iron Man in front of you, narrowed and waiting, because in that moment, you just knew.

Oh god, he really was going to try and kill you.

As that little speck of relief turned to sad understanding, your overwhelming anger turned to bitter rage.

“You’re going to try and kill me?!” you barked, harsh and spitting blood. “I’m your fucking friend you bastard! And you think you’re the one who gets to kill me?!”

“No,” Bucky said, confident and firm, eyes only on you as Tony watched him. “No one is going to kill you, Y/N. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

It was like an electrical baton was shoved in the base of your head, connecting with your spine and sending the feel in a shockwave through your body and brain.

I’m safe. He’s got me.

The piece of you which had turned to understanding, shifted again back to relief.

The words blanked out your vision for a moment, blocking you from seeing Bucky relax at your sudden drop of tense muscles. You didn’t notice Tony turn away from you back to Bucky. You didn’t see him wordlessly raise his hand and blast Bucky in the stomach, sending him back down the hall in a flash of white. You didn’t catch any of it, numb and fuzzy to the world for a moment.

But you did see Tony flying at you, only a second from colliding with you when the fuzziness took a back seat in your mind. Your only course of action was using your hand, grabbing Tony’s as he reached for you in a blinding shine of red and gold. Using his momentum, you swung him around your body, crushing his hand in his suit with yours.

The momentum knocked you down too, scrambling up to get away, mind still moving too slow to do what you needed it too. But a flash of black passed you from behind, you eyes clicking into place that it was Bucky running up protectively to meet Tony, who was launching at you.

Again Bucky was full of reckless abandon, arms swingly with wild power as he pushed Tony back, the man no match for Bucky’s hand-to-hand combat skills. Furious groans and the unbearably loud sound of metal crushing metal rang out as the two clashed.

You always had back-ups and quick mind to calculate the next best possible move, but as more chaos entered into the mix here, your plan began to splinter at its seams.

You didn’t think, just started moving, the familiar face of Steve in your sightlines running down the hallway. You pushed out all thoughts of how the hell he was here and how the fuck both Cap and Iron Man got back so fast and not at your bomb sites half a world away.

Steve didn’t even seem to be running for you but looked like he was heading straight for Bucky, probably thinking he had gone Winter Soldier on him. You scrambled up to a half crouch before diving at his knees just before he reached his friend who was pummelling Tony.

The pair of you had barely landed when hands grabbed both your arms from behind and threw you off of Steve. You barrelled down the hall, rolling uncontrollably with your body smacking the floor as you went. Blood in your eyes and head spinning you looked out to see Iron Man come huddling towards you too, the force of a punch square to his chest from Bucky sending him flying back, before Steve and Nat- who you presumed threw you off of Cap- could catch him.

Tony whizzed passed you, hand catching and searing across your calves as he careened down one side of you. Bucky was immediately running your way, seeing you lying there with nothing between you and Tony now. Steve and Nat were running after him, but they weren’t the real threat here now.

With the space Tony had away from Bucky, he was able to stabilize himself mid air before crashing against a wall. A hand went up but it wasn’t his blaster that was aimed at Bucky, but a little launcher sprung out from his wrist.

Without thinking, you jumped up in front of Bucky as Tony fired, pushing Bucky down with all the strength you had and standing in his place.

Right after that moment, the chaos died down.

Everything went oddly quiet as you stood there, teetering ever so slightly. The sounds around you were instantly gone. Your mind stilled. Even your heartbeat and racing blood in your veins had disappeared for a moment.

Looking down slowly you saw your abdomen, once clothed in a smooth black fabric, was now torn and anything but smooth, chunks of your flesh spread across it, hanging limply and bloody.

It had only been one bullet, but it exploded like a buck shot of sorts. It had just done so inside of your body, spreading out organs and muscles and red liquid everywhere.

In a blink of an eye you were on your knees, catching yourself on Bucky’s open arms. You didn’t have the space inside you to feel shocked at suddenly being on the floor and him suddenly being there to catch you.

A hiss of air tried to escape your lungs as you turned to him, eyes wide and furious angry melting into something quite different.

Your spine seemed to quit as you collapsed back, Bucky catching you again and hovering above you on the ground, hands holding yours over your gaping wound. Blood poured like a waterfall, Hydra chemicals and drugs running out with it.

“Y/N,” Bucky said, voice sounding higher than usual though calm, but eyes beginning to brim with tears and panic and agony. “It’s okay, I have you. You’re okay. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

I’m safe. He’s got me.

Your body settled, embracing the pain you began to feel, not fighting it. Your jaw unclenched. Your fist released their grip. Your whole body relaxed. The anger and walls that had been put up fading away and emptied out of you like the blood pooling on the floor.

I’m safe. He’s got me.

He’s safe. I’ve got him.

Slowly you reached a hand to his face, the slightest bit of colour returning to your irises.

You whispered one thing to him, voice small and cracked before you were ripped from him, Bucky instantly screaming out after you, eyes wide and body thrashing wildly to get you back.

“...Bucky?”

PART TWENTY-TWO

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To hear your voice is enough - but I wish there was more...

Shiro

“lance?”

His breath caught in his throat as he looked down at the fizzling black screen. His mind had a hard time getting back on track due to his nightmare and subsequent panic attack so he tried to shake it off.

“Hey Shiro,” thank god his voice didn't waver or crack. “Couldn't sleep?”

“I slept maybe, two hours but it feels so… I don't know… not wrong, maybe weird?”

Lance hummed at that. It must have been really tough for Shiro to find himself being dead and to have to deal with the knowledge your team basically adopted a clone of yourself. But how could they have known? Kuron sounded so genuine. He probably had been, before Haggar took control.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lance asked, cursing the fact he dropped his tablet weeks ago and forgot to ask Hunk to repair it. It resulted in the screen and the camera not working, often an hassle when he got contacted.

“Yes, if that doesn't bother you. But can we go outside to do it? Keith and Krolia are sleeping, I wouldn't want to wake them up. And… It is making me nervous not to be able to see and touch the person I talk to.”

“That's no problem, dude. I think the 'rain’ stopped so I'll join you outside in a minute.”

“Sounds good. Thank you, Lance.”

The communication cut and Lance groaned outwardly, hiding his face in hands. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to talk to Shiro or being near him but he still felt the guilt lingering in the back of his head. The thought of being so useless in noticing that the Shiro they had hadn’t been their Shiro, but a creation so alike they still would have been fooled if it weren’t for Keith, ran deep. Keith and his stupid superpowers that apparently included “save the goddamn day, every damn time he did something as simple as entering a room.

Lance should have known something was wrong with Shiro after ‘stepping’ out of the mindscape and hearing him call after him, only for the man to be dismissive about it when Lance asked a bit later. He should have known when ‘Shiro’ had been losing his temper more and more often but the genuine way he felt guilty and apologized afterward reminded Lance that he had been trying to stay afloat, to stay ‘himself’. Lance could only think fondly of the M&M game they had played together and how the clone had been so intent on being a Paladin.

Being a paladin. That was all he wanted. To live. To laugh, to be as nerdy as possible. Yet it all came to a stop because he hadn’t been their Shiro, just a creation of the horrible witch Haggar.

And that body now hosted the mind and soul of the ‘original’ Shiro. Lance knew he wasn’t the only one who had some difficulties adjusting to the news and Lance was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who felt guilty not to have seen it sooner. But this wasn’t time to dwell upon the past; Shiro, his friend, needed him in the present and not focused somewhere else.

Lance needed to shove his mourning and guilt aside to concentrate on Shiro here and now. Shiro who  was still weak from his resurrection, missing an arm and probably horribly stressed from the whole ordeal. Shiro who was still his friend even though he had missed several months of it. Perhaps Black let him get informations from time to time? This was definitely something to ask.

Groaning again at how complicated the situation was, Lance placed the tablet on his bed, careful not to drop it again. He didn’t need any more reasons for Hunk to berate at him to take more care of his belongings.

Pulling on his shoes, he patted the interior of Red’s mouth as he slowly walked down the stairs, looking around for Shiro. He was there, just as he said, using his left hand to pet Kaltenecker who was appreciating the attention. The cow was just so chill with anything, it was kind of hard to get her something she disliked. Apparently not being with Lance was one of these things. Who could have guessed that a cow would appreciate his presence so much.

“Ahw you don't match anymore.” Lance said with good humour, crossing his arms over his torso because he unfortunately didn’t have any pockets. Shiro lift his head towards him, a small smile etching on his face. It was temptative and a bit shaky but it was there. Good. Being somber didn’t suit him that well.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk, Lance.”

“Dude, I wouldn’t be able to call myself your friend if I didn’t like spending time with you.”

“Everyone is just so hesitant with me, I can honestly say it’s making me crazy. I’ve even thought you were avoiding me.”

Uh oh, abort mission, abort mission! That was too close to the truth for Lance to be comfortable because he had been avoiding Shiro. But for his defense, the man had been sleeping 24/7 since he had been brought back to the world by Allura. It had been easy not to go to him to talk or anything else. and on the rare moments where he would go outside and walk, Lance always made sure he was busy doing something, far away from him.

Man, what guilt can make you do.

“Nah, Keith just told me to go easy on you, since I can exhaust anyone with my sparkling personality. Your body took quite a shock in such a short timeframe, it’s just normal we’re going easy on  you.”

There was that soft smile on his face again as he kept looking at Lance, his now pure white hair sparkling, dyed a soft red on the edges from Red’s barrier. It was there a short moment before disappearing again, replaced by a more concerned expression.

“Lance… you seem, distant. Not just with me but with everyone else. Did something happen?”

Going for the kill much, eh? But that was normal for someone as observant as Shiro, even as weakened as he was.

“I just…” There was no way he was going to spring it on Shiro, not after everything he had endured. Poor man had it way worse than just a two minute cardiac arrest. “I’m just bummed out we had to sacrifice the Castle. We could have gone home so much rapidly with a wormhole. But at the same time I’m kind of glad because that’s more time to prepare myself for the earful my mom is going to give me.”

He leaned toward Shiro with mischievousness in his eyes.

“She’s so scary when she’s angry, scarier than Allura, I can tell you.”

This elicited a laugh from the man and Lance sighed with relief internally. If Shiro was able to laugh and relax, then he was recovering well.

There was a lapse of silence and Lance took advantage of it for observing Shiro a bit more. Apart from the white hair and the missing arm, Shiro had dark bags under his eyes and he was still paler than habitual. His movements were hesitant and often with a delay as if he wasn't synced with his body just yet.

A high pitched whistle cut his reflection short as the heavy rain starts again, shooting down rocks from outer space. Apparently having two moons meant asteroids would be launched toward the ground at pretty irregular intervals. Good thing they were with their Lions. It was dangerous yet as he watched it inside the protection of the barrier, Lance appreciated the show it made.

Up until some of those rocks began to drop directly on their protections, muffled noises making his hair stand on the back of his neck. It would have been fine on its own if the matter those rocks were made of didn’t fizzle and spark against the particle barrier, making the whole protected zone buzz around them. Lance felt his throat closes up as his attention was enraptured by the noise, cold sweat making his whole body shivers. His gaze who had been previously turned toward the sky was becoming vacant as the noise become louder and louder.

“Guess I'm not going back to Black just yet.” Joked Shiro before turning toward Lance with a concerned expression when the later doesn't come up with a quick retort but Lance was too busy trying to regulate his breathing, trying to ground himself to something that wasn’t his mind twirling and shifting. His muscles spasmed without his consent even as his arms were tightly crossed around his lithe frame, making his shivers more pronounced and painful. His face was flaming yet his whole body was freezing cold.

“Lance?”

Shiro’s voice seemed muffled like Lance was drowning, the water rushing and roaring in his ears as the buzz was the only constant thing he could hear. He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t breath, he can’t-

A hand entered his field of vision and like breaking a spell Lance lurched forward, hunching over himself as sweat rolled from his forehead and his jaw hurt from gritting his teeth. There was still a thunder in his ears but now with Shiro in front of him, looking extremely worried, Lance could focus. He realized Shiro’s hand was pointed toward him in a placating way while Lance couldn’t quite make out what Shiro was saying, he automatically nodded.

Shiro carefully pulling him into a hug and making the both of them sit on the floor wasn’t what Lance thought would happen but it did make him feel a bit better. The weight of Shiro’s arm on his back and the warmth of it made him relax and with that, his breathing got more regular. Shiro’s hand was rubbing his sweat drenched back but for the moment, Lance didn’t care. He felt safe.

He didn’t really know when he began to cry or when he stopped, cocooned by Shiro’s larger body. There was a blank and a headache, muscles hurting and feeling gross all over. He felt spend, both emotionally and physically and if it weren’t for Shiro tethering him with his touches, he would probably have floated about a lot more.

“Hey buddy, feeling better?” Shiro’s voice was soft, right next to his ear and Lance nodded slowly, sniffling. He felt like shit but it was definitely better than the high strung state his panic attack had left him in.

“Can you try and talk? I won’t push you but this, this is not something I can ignore, Lance.”

Lance wiggled his fingers from where they were gripping Shiro’s shirt, trying to get feelings back into them. It felt like having tiny branches on his hands, difficult to move. It even felt like they weren’t really attached to his body. Just like his legs but that was going to have to wait a little. Shiro’s arm was deceptively comfortable.

“Lance, you have to tell me. Bottling it up will only hurt you.”

“Did.”oh god, was that really his voice? Cracked and small. “- did it hurt when you died? Is it… ok to still be scared?”

“Lance, wha-”

“I don’t want to be s-scared, but I am! and it’s so awful because it wasn’t even that important, I just did what I thought was best but it had,” he couldn’t look at Shiro, couldn’t even talk louder than a fearful whisper because of the anvil on his ribs “,hurt, it had hurt so badly. But Allura was here and it was like, everything is alright, there’s nothing to worry about which is obviously crap but there was somewhere else to go and I felt fine! I was fine, maybe a bit jittery but we were all under duress and you - wel the other you - was under so much more stress. It seemed all unimportant and I thought I was fine.

“I had been fine for a few weeks. There was just a lot to, a lot to be concerned about like Lotor or your clone, the Galras and all so we couldn’t just take a pause - well except for the M&M game we did which had been fun - and think through it. And now, now? There’s nothing to do but think and my sleep who had been pretty bad is just going worse and I can’t hear this stupid-” his breath hitched just thinking of it, could swear he could hear it “- stupid crackling sound without going full tilt into panic but I can’t complain! I can’t complain! You died and was replaced by a clone whom had us all fooled but also he was so genuine?

“I can’t go to anyone else because they’ll just think I want to be dramatic or bother them because obviously it wasn't’t that bad but...” His breath caught on a sob as he fought really hard not to cry again. “but now I’m just pouring it all on you and that’s just unfair because you were dead for months and there was someone else in your spot and me? Nothing apart a lion swap and… “He forced his hands to stop cramping so hard, gasped on a breath that was more of a hiccup than anything, “and feeling my muscles spasming and my heart stopping but I told you, Allura was there so it’s nothing to be worried about. So why am I still scared about it?”

There was silence, a shocked, muted thing that hangs between them as Lance fought to keep his breathing under control yet again, fought not to cry even more than he already did as Shiro was looking at him with extreme concern.

“You died?” Shiro’s voice was so soft as if not to scare Lance more and the boy could only be grateful for it. he was sure that if Shiro had been a bit less in control of his reactions, that would have set off a chain of reaction none of them would have liked to endure.

Lance nodded and choked back more tears.

“I’m sorry to make it all about me, you’ve got it so much worse and I told you, it was just for not even two minutes. And now,” his laugh was clipped and rough “now I’m just whining because I had a small heart attack.”

“Lance…” Shiro’s voice was still soft but there was this edge that was making it impossible to ignore and Lance lifted his gaze to look at Shiro, tears rolling down his cheeks. "How could you do that to yourself?"

Lance frowned, not really understanding where Shiro was going.

“How can you believe for one moment you dying is ’fine’?” Shiro’s voice, albeit still low was now laced with something akin to anger but way more worried. “How can you negate your own experiences just because someone ‘had it worse’?”

“But… that’s…” Lance was cut off by Shiro, who used his hand  to lift Lance’s chin so they would be eye to eye.

“You died. This isn’t nothing. This is something traumatic that happened to you. Dying is not something one is prepared to endure, whatever the cause. Coming back… it’s even harder to know. Some will, some won’t; we’re the ones that lived on and that should be something you need to focus on. Not whether or not you are entitled to a ‘tough luck buddy’ by someone who experienced the same.

“Is this why you are so withdrawn currently? Because you think you are undeserving of comfort?”

Lance sniffled, shaking his head. His head, while clearer was still all over the place but he felt calmer.

“I’m sorry, Shiro… I thought… the longer I acted like I was fine, the quicker I would be.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I know that, now.” Lance laughed, a sharp sound he quickly put a stop to, cheeks growing hot.

“We’re your friends, Lance. We are here to help you. I am here to help you. You just have to ask.”

Lance nodded as he placed his head back on Shiro’s shoulder. He missed this, his missed the physical contact and the reassuring presence of their friend and leader during these few days were the clone had been into cryostasis. Lance knew this conversation wasn’t going to fix everything immediately but it was a start. Tomorrow he’ll go talk to the others, tomorrow he will start walking down the path of recovery.

“Shiro? I need help.”

“Guardian Angel.”- G.D.

Grayson Dolan x reader

Warnings: some bad language. That’s about it.

Word count: 6159

A/n I saw this writing prompt and kind off fell in love with the idea. I hope you guys enjoy this one, I really worked hard on it. It holds my love for mythical and supernatural beings and my interpretation oh Heaven and Hell.

Prompt from @writing-prompt-s :  -Hell is getting kind of full, and honestly, you’re getting tired of managing it all by yourself. You hire an angel to convert some of Hell’s denizens into proper god-fearing entities so they can be moved to Heaven and become someone else’s problem.-

Every human knows at least the slightest bit about Hell and Heaven, at least in theory; what they don't know is, that it's real. But, let me tell you; Hell is not just a pit of fire burning up the souls of sinners and spitting out demons, with a huge throne in the middle where the devil himself sits and enjoys the chaos; and Heaven isn't a shiny, clean sea of clouds where angels guide around souls whilst they wait to meet God himself. It's all a bit more complicated, you know? Just like the human world, there's rules you have to follow and jobs you have to do. Well, not you, you're already dead, if you're in one of both places. Demons and Angels also have responsibilities and jobs. Trust me, it's disappointing that, we Demons, don't just go around haunting your houses and possessing humans. Of course there are Demons doing just that, but that's because the gates of hell have been locked to them. It's a life sentence set for something they've done without the kings approval. Oh, and did I mention that the devil has no word here? Yeah, Lucy is kind off locked up, and the throne of Hell is taken by a self-proclaimed king, whose name shall not be spoken. I, as a Demon, won't tell you too much about Heaven, but God isn't there. I think that's worth knowing. He shows up there twice a year, just like your beloved Santa or The father of Christmas 'checks you twice a year'. He shows up, gives the Angels a speech, collect your unanswered prayers and then disappears for another half a year. That's all I'm going to tell you, thought. I'll be as honest as a Demon could be, this place is boring for a 17 year old like me. Since, Demons take their immortal form after they turn 18, I've never been outside Hell. I guess it's worth mentioning that time here is way slower than in the world humans live in, besides we don't sleep. I've been 17 for the past 4 human years and I'll turn 18 in 2 more. For my age and confusing/ complicated past, the king trust me with a pretty important job. I'm the Hells Soul keeper. I can't decide whether it's like babysitting a bunch of toddlers, or being a storekeeper in a magical castle where everything in store floats around on its own creating a chaos. Except storage wouldn't be crying or shouting 'Where the Hell am I?' every three seconds. My job as a Soul keeper isn't boring, sometimes the unfortunate souls just need someone to talk to; and again, as honest as a Demon could be, I explain to them, that they have died and now are in Hell. Doesn't work out, as you would expect, but hey, their reactions can be pretty priceless. We used to be two Soul keepers. Mars was older so he would do the collecting part in the human world. He was the only Demon I dared to call a friend. It was like having an older brother with who you actually had a good relationship. It didn't last long, though. There was an incident and he showed up at the wrong place and wrong time, and ended up dead. Even immortal beings can be killed, you just need the right weapons. You see, a Soul keeper gathers the souls in the human world, then brings them down to the 'waiting room', which is a huge hall with the capacity of 600 thousand souls. Then all of the souls have to be divided in smaller sections and guided in specific halls depending on their sins. Soul keeper watches over those as well, until Demons that watch over the specific sins collect them and guide them further through the ten layers of Hell. Soul keeper is the most important Demon in Hell, otherwise some souls would pay for crimes they never did, and believe me, you wouldn't want to be tortured by the highest standards just because you licked some frosting off of that birthday cake in your grannies fridge, even though your mom told you not to. Also, how else would lost souls find their way to hell? Someone needs to collect them. Something wasn't going as it should in the Hells system. The souls that were already sectioned, weren't being collected and the waiting room was filled with more souls than it should. I had to collect souls above the ground today, and looking at the stack of papers filled with names of dead sinners, there was a good hundred thousand of them. I was so tired of having to babysit over a 800 thousand souls every day, might need to remind you that I don't sleep, and neither do they. There's someone crying all of the time, there's someone screaming all of the time, because of those two groups- there's everyone else complaining, and taking in all of this can get kind of heavy on my shoulders. Since no one in the lower layers of Hell wasn't showing up or answering, I sent a letter to Heaven asking to send someone to help. I didn't get an answer, so I'm kind off hopeless at this point. I snapped my fingers teleporting myself into the break room. I changed out of my all black working uniform, putting some casual clothes on. I grabbed a cd and went to the control panel playing 'Harry Potter' on the TVs in the waiting rooms and sections to distract the souls whilst I'm away. After the movie started playing, I walked over to the weapon section and took a small knife with which I cut a line in my left palm. As the black blood like liquid showed through the cut, I drew a symbol that opened the Hells gate for me. Grabbing my tablet that had all of the collectable souls listed, I left through the gate, the portal closing behind me. "Alright, let's do this!" I said to myself as I showed up in a dark alley located in Kansas. Collecting souls was pretty easy. I teleported from place to place showing up near the graveyards or spots where someone was killed and found the wandering orbs flying around  searching for its human vessel. I guess I could compare collecting the souls to humans catching lightning bugs in jars. Except, I don't catch them in a jar, I catch them in a crystal. After I had collected about the third part of all the sinner spirits on my list, I decided to enjoy a bit of human life. Walking in a small café in Paris, I took a seat next to a window that had a clear view on the Eiffel tower. A waiter came around asking for my order, even if I can't taste anything besides atoms, I still ordered a muffin and a cup of coffee. Whilst I was enjoying the view and waiting for my order a young boy walked inside the café only to be soon followed by someone who looked a lot like him. It was clear as day that they were twins, the only thing off was that they weren't talking to each other. The boy with slightly longer hair took out his phone and started scrolling away, whilst the other one just sat besides him, clearly bored out of his mind. The waiter came around with my order. I thanked her and payed right away with some money that I 'borrowed' from a rich business man, who, I know for sure, will be sent to Hell after his death. I'd say I enjoyed my meal, but the only thing I tasted was atoms. I had to get back to work, so I stood up to leave when the black Soul crystal fell out of my pocket. "Crap!" I whispered to myself reaching down for it. Apparently it caught the attention of the few people that were at the café, since they all looked my way. I took the crystal in my hand and showed my hands in my pockets, quickly walking out of the place. The next soul I had to collect wasn't too far away, so I figured I'd walk there. Walking down the street I felt like someone was following me, and I wasn't wrong. One of the twins was running after me, so I turned the next corner in a small empty street, making myself invisible to the human eye by snapping my fingers. He walked in the street his eyes set on me. "How is this possible?" I tough to myself. "You're Y/N, right? The Soul keeper of Hell?" he questioned still standing there. I guess he figured out, that I had no clue of who he was and why he could still see me, so he showed his wings. It was the most beautiful set of Angel wings I had ever seen. They were clear and white with a hint of blue in the glow, meaning that he was supposed to be a human, but something went wrong. "Yes, I am the Soul keeper." I finally answered his question. "You asked for help." he reminded me of my letter. "Uh, yeah. I wanted to hire an Angel to purify some souls." "I'll be honest, this is the first time I'm out of Heaven, but I was assigned to help you, so here I am." "What about your brother?" "He's a human." "Oh, I'm so sorry." "You're a Demon, you don't feel anything… but It's alright." He was right, Demons don't feel sorry; at least most of them. "Alright. Have you ever collected souls?" "No, I've collected prayers." "Well, then you're in for a treat before we go downstairs. What's your name?" I asked as we made our way to the next soul. "My parents were going to name me Grayson, so I guess that's it." "Well, nice to meet you, Grayson. I'd tell you my name, but you already know it. So, the next soul we have to collect is Frank Hudgens, a twenty year old man who is being rejected by Heaven, because he robbed his aunt and stabbed a policeman." I informed Grayson. Grayson was quiet, for the biggest part of the whole collecting experience, by the end he seemed to ease off and started to talk to me. He told me the slightest bits he knew about his own life, and soon after we were finished with our job. "Well that was the last one." I said after my crystal sucked in the last orb of soul. "We're going to Hell now?" "Absolutely." I took his hand in mine and snapped my fingers, teleporting us back to the gate in Kansas. I opened up the gate and lead us inside, never letting his hand go. After we finally showed up in Hell, I showed him into the break room. I put my stuff down on a table, and quickly checked the cameras to make sure the movie was only now ending. I turned  the next part of the franchise on, so I could finish up all of my works before I had to turn all of my attention back to the whining souls. "Alright, here comes the uncomfortable part." I announced to Grayson walking over to cabinet to take a empty grace jar. "And that would be?" he questioned before sitting down on the couch. "I'll need to take your grace." I took a silver feather that had fallen out of Lucifers' wings and turned back to him. His eyes grew bigger in shock "My what?" "Your Angel grace. Don't worry, not all of it. There will be enough left for you to remain as an Angel." I walked up to him and motioned with the sharp feather to stand up. "Will it hurt?" Grayson stood up, making me slightly stumble back as he was taller than me. "No, it'll just be the worst pain of your never ending life." I quickly mumbled holding eye contact with him, before I cut a line over where his heart should've been. He screamed in pain whilst I held the opened jar next to the cut and let his grace fall inside of it. Once half of his grace was in the jar, I put the lid on and touched the cut with my hand healing it instantly. "Why was that necessary?" "Did they tell you anything about what you will have to go trough?" "No?" "Wow, Angels really are dicks, aren't they?" "That's offensive, kind off." "You'll thank me later." "For cutting my chest open and taking my Angel grace?" "Well, maybe not." "I thought you were going to rip my heart out." "Hate to break it to you, but you don't have one. Now stop talking and rest a little. You're half human now." "I'm what now?" "Half human. And what did I say about talking?" "I'm half human?" "Can you shut up?" I asked now standing by the counter and placing the jar in the storage. Grayson actually shut up and I turned to my next job, which is releasing the souls from the crystal into the waiting room. "Whatever you do, stay in this room." I instructed Grayson just to turn around and see him sleeping. I went to release the souls in the waiting room, then went back to the break room and filled in all the papers before sending them to Marcus, managing to slip in a note asking about the belated collecting. When I was done with all of my jobs, I went to all of the souls giving somewhat of a guidance to the 'newcomers'. I just went with my usual agenda, until Grayson woke up. Making my way back to the waiting room I ran into Marcus, who apparently was searching for me. We walked to the door of the break room together before he started talking. "I got your note." he stated, resting against the wall opposed from the door. "Great, and?" Am I really about to get some answers? "Hell is over populated, that's why it's taking so long. The king is trying to search through the imprisoned souls to turn them into demons." "Don't they need vessels for the souls, to turn them into demons?" "That's why it's taking so long. By the way, Kings assistant asked to tell you that you should hire some help from 'up there', maybe they'll agree to make some exceptions and agree on taking some sinners up there. At least until we have some free space." "Already did it. They sent an angel to purify at least some souls." "You have an angel down here?" "Yes?" "I've never seen a pure angel. Did she show you her wings? Were they golden?" "It's a he, and the wings are white with a blue glow." I whispered with a hint of annoyance. "But that means-" Did I mention that Marcus is a bit of a nerd? "He's not a pure angel. I know." "Then how is he gonna be able to purify any souls?" "With his grace." "You need to drain it from him." "I already did that." "You didn't turn him into a human, did you?" "I took only half of it." "You do know that a guardian angels grace is less powerful than a pure ones, right?" "We'll have to do with what we got." I shrugged knowing well enough that he was right. "There are some stuff that could make it more powerful, even if it's just a little bit, but I need to see the grace before I get the ingredients." Marcus suggested, pushing away from the wall. "I didn't know you have purified souls before." My arms were now crossed on my chest. "I'm older than you think and I've done more than you know." I sighed unfolding my arms and opening the door to the break room; revealing a pretty tired looking Grayson standing next to the screens where all the crying souls were shown. "Do they ever shut up?" He questioned me annoyed, as I walked into the room, Marcus following behind me. "No, but if you press that blue button on under the screens, the sound will turn off." He pressed the button, muting the sound. "Man, those are crying souls. What kind of an angel are you?" Marcus was obviously surprised by the lack of manners. "A regular one?" Grayson questioned his own answer. By just that one question, he made it clear that he doesn't know that he's a guardian angel. Marcus also catched the unsure answer, before looking at Grayson with his eyes slightly squinted in confusion. "What's your job 'upstairs'?" "Up until now, I had to collect all the prayers from the listeners and delivered them to the next office." Grayson answered sitting down on the couch again. "So, you're like the postman of prayers?" "I guess. Why are you so interested in that?" "He's going to help us with some stuff we need for purifying the souls, Marcus just wanted to know have you ever done anything like this before, that's why he asked." I spoke before Marcus could say a thing. Something in my head was telling me that Grayson was clueless for a reason. "No I was-" "Being a curious demon? That's nothing new." I cut him off. I guess he finally understood me, he changed the topic. "Yeah, anyways. Show me the grace?" He gestured for me to move. I took the jar with Graysons grace and gave it to him. He put the jar close to his face inspecting it and seemingly thinking about something, before he took a look at Grayson, then at me and then back at the glowing light. "Alright. I'll go get the needed stuff and we'll make the serum." "How long are you gonna take?" "Depends if Cassandra is gonna show up. She might not be happy that you brought an angel to hell without telling her." "She did say that I should hire some help." Marcus nodded my way before leaving the room. I turned my attention to Grayson. "Your family is from America, right? Why was your brother in Paris?" "They're on a vacation." "Oh. How about we go and collect some souls that have a potential to go to heaven and section them into a separate room, to pass the time?" I suggested. "Can I get something to eat before we do that? I'm pretty hungry." "Oh, right. You're half human again." After we found something for Grayson to eat, we went through a list of all of the souls that were under my responsibility at the moment, picking out the ones with the smallest sins. We then transferred them into a separate room where we would purify them, once Marcus was done making the serum. Marcus took way longer than expected. By way longer I mean a month. It was a long enough time for Grayson to become used to my working agenda. He helped out every single day, in return I brought him food from the human world. We became something that humans would refer to as best friends, and I will remind you- the only person I ever called a friend was Mars. The fact that he was half human, doesn't mean that Grayson was just hungry and tired from time to time. He also started feeling things. Things he never felt before. As an angel or a demon, you're not completely immune to feelings. We feel the basic emotions that humans have- sadness and happiness, just in an easier form, since our anatomical system barley holds any nerves. But during the time Grayson had to spend with his grace partly missing, in Hell, made his body grow a nervous system in a fast speed. The feelings he felt were ones that I've heard of a lot about, like sadness and misery. But he told me about this weird feeling, he couldn't explain, that stood out for me. I had heard about it from some souls, but wasn't sure how real it was. "It's like, I want to smile all of the time, when I'm around you and my stomach starts turning when you smile. It's the weirdest thing ever." "Maybe you're just so disgusted of me that you want to puke." I chuckled. "But I'm not. It's like the feeling is unpleasant, but good at the same time. God, it's so confusing." He shook his head before taking a bite from the sandwich I got him for lunch as we sat on the couch. "Yeah, we don't mention that guy down here." "Sorry, I just don't understand so much and it's making me sick at this point. Life without feelings was easier." "Don't worry, once we get to purify those souls, you'll be able to go back to Heaven and your grace will be given back to you." "Is it weird that I don't want to go back?" I was used to his questions by now, but this one kind of took me off guard. "Why don't you?" "Up there I'm nothing more than someone who delivers prayers from one office to another. Everyone there is so obsessed with their jobs and themselves, that they don't even talk to one and other. No one explains to you what you have to do or why things are the way they are. I feel like I don't fit there." "And how exactly is Hell better?" "You talk to me. You answer my questions even if they are stupid." I bit my lip as I listened to him speaking, "It's like you care. Like you're a human too, at least partly." "Yeah, I'm not. I've just picked up human like habits." "You know I was talking to some of the souls we selected for purifying. There was this soul of an old lady. I explained that strange feeling. The one I feel only around you. She said that it sounds exactly like love. I didn't get to ask what 'love' is, but I think it's a good feeling." I shook my head letting a laugh past my lips, "You need a heart to feel 'love' and you don't have one, Gray. It's probably something else." The room went quiet for a second before Marcus stormed in. "Guys it's ready, but we kind off have a small problem," he seemed out of breath, "There's not enough grace." "How is that possible?" I asked knowing that I took enough. "It's not strong enough to work. Otherwise it's all good." "Well then, Y/N, take some more." Grayson shrugged like it was nothing. "If I'll take more you'll die." My voice grew unexpectedly loud, making me shout that at Grayson. "I know we’re in Hell and it tends to get hot in here, but could you not shout and chill out." Marcus said. "I'm not taking any more of your grace." I stated, my voice lower than previously. Grayson looked at me for a second and then at Marcus, "You won't, but he will." I looked from Grayson to Marcus who stood there unaffected. "I can do it." Marcus gave Gray a look, agreeing. "What? No! Marcus, can you leave us alone for a minute?" I pushed him out the door. "Why not? So what I'll die. You might be holding it a secret from me, but Hell is going to break loose if we don't clear it out. And then shit is gonna go down. No one wants that." "How the fuck do you know about that?" "I heard you and Cassandra talking the other day. If something will go wrong, they'll put it on your shoulders and the king will cage you up with Lucifer." "Don't you understand it? If we take any more of your grace, you will die. If you'll die then I'll have problems with Heaven because I hired you. I was the one who signed underneath that deal! If I'll fail Hell, I'll get tortured and I can deal with that. I can't fail Heaven, I  can't fail God! Not again." "Again?" "Your minute is over!" Marcus stormed in. "Get out for another one!" Grayson yelled. It was a side of him I hadn't seen yet. Marcus looked taken back, but still left closing the door behind him. "What are you hiding?" Grayson asked. I was quiet. I couldn't believe that after all this time I so easily slipped up. And because of what? A weird painful pinch in my chest that holds me back from killing Grayson? Pathetic. "Y/N, what did you mean by that? What are you hiding?" "Nothing, I just- just chose the wrong words. We- uhm- we should go to Marcus and figure out what we can do about this." I was weirdly lost in the situation. "Marcus can wait." "For another minute? Seriously guys? Maybe I should give you another month, I'm starting to get annoyed by this." Marcus peeked through the door. "No, let's go to the hall and figure out what we can do with the purifying." My voice was unusually shaky as I walked past Grayson, pushing the door more open to slip by Marcus and make my way to the next room. Marcus and Grayson soon followed. "So what are we going to do about the serum?" Marcus asked once we all walked into the hall. "How can we make it stronger, without taking the rest of Graysons grace?" I asked. "Y/N, I tried everything. That's why it took so long. There is no other way." "That can't be possible." "It is. Maybe next time you hire an angel to help, look for it to be a pure one, not a guardian." "Guardian?" Grayson suddenly questioned. "Why did you-" "Why didn't you tell him? The guy's been living in Hell for the past month and you don't even care to tell him that he's not fully an angel. For fucks sake, Y/N!" "Marcus, just take my grace and let's get this over with." "No!" I shouted again, rage was pumping through my body. Or was it fear mixed with pain? "What's the point? I don't fit in Heaven, turns out I'm not even a real angel. Just let me do at least one useful thing in my life and save you from being tortured!" Before I could say a thing Marcus pushed Grayson to the wall and cut open his chest over the heart area, making every last bit of grace out of his body. Grayson grew weak in matter of seconds as all of his energy was put out in painful screams. There was something off about the whole situation. It made me feel pain. Pain that only grew. Marcus collected all of Graysons grace and poured in the mixture he had been preparing for the past month. Grayson sat on the floor, weak and almost lifeless. The worst part about an angel being drained from its grace was the slow and painful death. I stood frozen, for some reason not being able to move. "Alright, now, Y/N, take this," Marcus gave me the serum "I'll help Grayson to get to the purgatory." He went over to Grayson picking his limp body from the ground. Grayson hissed in pain. We teleported to the purgatory, where all the souls, that were going to go to Heaven, were. Marcus sat Grayson on the ground on the side of the room. "Alright, Grayson, you'll need to spread your wings, okay. Gather all of your strength and do it. We'll do the rest of it. It was nice knowing ya, buddy." Marcus instructed him, "Let's go, Y/N. We need to get the serum into the system, and set the room on fire." I didn't move. My eyes were set on Grayson who was trying to pull together all of his last strength just to spread his wings. He was in obvious pain. Tears rolling down his cheeks. "Y/N! We have to go. We need to start the purifying before he dies!" Marcus came closer to me snatching the serum out of my hands. "We have to go!" he shouted, "We still have to start the system and set this room on fire, stop acting human and move!" "I'll set the fire." I whispered not moving. "Then move! Otherwise he'll die and this will all be just wasted time!" Marcus shouted at me before walking to the door. "Lock the door behind you." My request was simple. "What now? Seriously, Y/N. Stop acting like a goddamn human!" "Lock the fucking door." "You'll die-" "Lock the fucking door!" I shouted at him, requesting one more time. Marcus mumbled something underneath his breath, before walking out and locking the door. "What are you doing?" Grayson questioned, his voice barely audible. "You're too weak to spread your wings. It won't work without the presence of angel wings." "I would've died either way, right?" "No. If you'd have enough grace in your vessel, you'd be able to take it. You'd survive." I kneeled down next to his body. "But how you staying here will help? We'll both die now." there was blood spilling past his lips as he spoke, coughing in-between his words. I wiped the tears from his cheeks and blood off of his chin. "You'll survive." I felt my own tears rolling over my cheeks as his weak gaze was staring into my eyes. I reached to the back of my neck untying a necklace that I always had but never took off. In it was tied up a small, snuggly bottle. It was so dirty that you couldn't see through it. "You see, Gray. Even the biggest monsters have at least the slightest bit of humanity in them. And not everyone in hell is a demon.” I said whilst rubbing the little bottle with my fingers. Soon enough the secret, I had hidden my whole life in hell, started to glow in all of it's bright blue glory. "What is that?" he questioned but I didn't answer. I opened up the bottle and poured its content onto Graysons cut, afterward touching the cut to heal it. Judging by the amount of time that had passed, the system was going to start running any moment. I stood up, ready to set the fire. There was a slight creaking noise and the sprinklers on the ceiling went off. "That was my angel grace." I explained to Grayson before spreading my own blue angel wings.

They weren't as beautiful as his. My wings were missing feathers and had blood splashed all over them. One wing was cricked. "You weren't supposed to be an angel, Grayson. That's why you didn't fit in Heaven." I snapped my fingers and fire instantly spread throughout the room exploding, burning up all of the sins of the souls. ~~~ "Hey, Grayson! Wake up, dude!" Ethan said shaking his twin brothers shivering body awake. Grayson sat up in his bed, cold sweat running over his hot body. Ethan sat down on the bed besides his brother. "You alright?" "Just a nightmare." Grayson breathed out. "Just a nightmare or-" "I keep seeing the same thing. Like every time… and it always goes the same. I die, the doctors don't save me on time, I go to heaven, then I meet her, then go to hell-" "The same dream over and over again." Ethan nodded, upset at the tough that his own twin brother almost didn't make it. At the thought that Graysons heart stopped for almost a whole minute. "But always a day before our birthday… just then." Grayson stood up from the bed, "It always feels so real too, you know? Like, I always feel the pain. The fucking feather cutting open my chest and the fire burning me up. It used to be just the pain, but now since last year I feel way more than that. I feel her taking my hand when she brings me to hell. I feel her hand on the right side of my chest when she's collecting the grace. I feel her hand on my cheek when she wipes my tears away and the blood on my chin. And her touch whilst she heals up the cut. I feel every single little thing. It's like she's real. Like, I'll just meet her one day." Grayson didn't care that he sounded crazy and that his brother probably didn't even believe him. He cared about the fact that Y/N saved him and he couldn't even say 'thank you' to her. ~~~ Grayson and his family were celebrating his and Ethans 18th birthday when Grayson suddenly felt dizzy. He excused himself from the dinner table and said that he'll go for a short walk outside to get some air. Grayson walked around the backyard, crossing the small frozen river and walking into the forest he knew all too well. The twilight sky making it harder to see, he decided to just stay on spot. He sat down on the snowy ground by his thinking tree and looked up, seeing some stars between the naked branches of the trees. "It's a bit cold to sit on the ground, Grayson." A female voice said, it sounded familiar yet unknown. He looked around, his heart slightly racing. The owner of the voice came closer, but Grayson couldn't recognize the person until she sat on the ground right in front of him. "Hey! It's been a while." She greeted a small smile plastered on her lips. Grayson went slightly pale, recognizing the girl in front of him. "Y/n?" "Yes?" "You, you're-" "I'm real." "Wha- How?" "You remember everything, don't you?" "I keep seeing nightmares." "It's your memory, not nightmares. See, when you were in hell, throughout that time when you became more and more human, a heart developed in your body.

When I gave you my grace it went straight to your heart; which then caused a ripple in time. It went to the moment you died, and it saved you.

My grace is the reason you see the nightmares, it carries it all as a memory set in your heart."

Y/N explained answering all the questions Grayson was dying to ask… except for one. "So you're an angel now?" that wasn't the question. "I always was." "Then how did you end up in hell?" neither is this one. "I was your guardian angel. I failed my job to save you, so God sent me down to hell. In order for us to never meet." "But we met after all… and you still saved me. Are you still living in hell?" "Grayson, that's not the question you want to ask. But I do live in hell, only in the one up there, it's practically the same." Y/N knew there was something else aching to be asked. "Is it possible- Is it possible that I fell in love with you?" His heart sped up again, the pulsing noise so loud, he thought the whole world could hear it. "You're the only one who can answer that, Grayson. I don't even know if I, myself, have a heart." "You definitely stole my heart." "I don't steal hearts, I collect souls." "Well then you accidentally have taken my heart." "If I would've, it wouldn't be beating in your chest right now." "No. You own my heart, you're the reason it keeps beating, and you will always be the reason." "Happy birthday, Grayson." Y/n stood up, spreading her wings that had been cleaned and healed. They looked exactly like Graysons set of wings when he was an angel. Grayson stood up, understanding that Y/n was about to leave. "Oh, a little message from Heaven; you're still Ethans guardian angel. Look after him!" "That's it? You're just going to leave?" "Grayson, this is the last time you’re going to see me. Hopefully the last." "What? Why?" "I'm here to take my grace back. You're 18 now." "But how will I remember that you saved me then?" Y/n stepped closer to Grayson taking his face in her hands. She placed her lips on his kissing him softly and taking the memory of her, hell and heaven away from his mind. The moment they lips parted she was gone and Grayson, all alone, standing in the forest forgot what he was doing there. The only memory left was just the pure fact of him having weird crazy dreams in the past, but in his heart Grayson still knew that there was an angel always looking after him.

the basement

Chapter one

 Glover university was not a great one according to various rankings around the country, it not even the better on his own state. If you were looking for discussion group, advanced scientific projects, or at least an average football league, you wouldn´t find it there. Despite the posible philantropy of his acts, when Horatius Glover thought in 1887 in found a high studies academical institution, this was percibed as another simple whim of a millionarie; and his pragmatism and impatience for results confirmed this idea in the Leadtown’s townies; after all-thought some guy and especially the majority of local high society of his time- Glover was in his youth a simple farm boy, who left school at third degree and since then, he did many rudes works: he was successively farmer, lead miner (in the time of the local boom of lead and iron mining), soldier of the Union and finally, in 1865, after the war end, lumberjack in the abundant Minessotta pine forest, and it was in there where, with the time, his savings of two decades of hard work enabled him to buy a very modest sawmill and this would be the first brick in the building of his all state reputation as a tough and sucessful paper magnate; but despiste his pride, many townies from Leadtown saw in Glover a pronounced inferiority complex, which impulsed him to acts that remain for long time in people´s memory, even after his death and, there is a better witness of the greatness of mankind that an institution responsible for the transformation of societies with the shining light of knowledge?

 Whatever his intentions were at the moment of the university building, Glover was not well asesored, and the academic team was not the most adequated for an institution with the profile that he imagined. In his times, Glover university began with only three faculties: Law, medicine and arts; but as a practic man who come from the poverty, he estimated this last as unnecesary; Leadtown people- he said- need lawyers and doctors, because poems, novels and pictures cannot put meal in tablets. Ironically, after his dead, ten years later, the first world war, the great depression and the negligent administration first of his widow and later, of his two sons, arts became the only one profitable among the twenty faculties of the campus. There was even a time when to study arts at Glover were for youth as in there than in other nearbies states, the same as to study law at Hardvard; and altrough Art Faculty began finally to be reached by the decadency of the whole university, its ruin wasn´t never as severe.

 Glover was sadly famous among other things for the poor quality of its graduated, its ruinous campus, for to be the target of rejected studens from the whole state, for the questionable behavior of guys in many of its fraternities and overall, for a very particular urban legend: The Horror Tales Club.

 Horror Tales Club was a nonsense created by some lazzies from Glover on the 70´s; they gathered the first Sunday night of every month in a shabby bassement of Arts Faculty to tell by turns the most sordid tales in the county history. Was not until the missing of four of its members under quite stranges circunstances that this began to be seen with some suspicion; under high pressure, Leadtown county police commissary closed the case six months later, without not many advances and the murder wasn't never known; they were declared dead after a week of fruitless search, but their bodies didn't never appeared. Ironically, the club and its members became another horror tale more in the colective memory of folks and rumours went from a psychopath infiltred in the group to the interventions of paranormal forces; but whatever the cause was, the basement was allegedly fullfilled with concrete by faculty’s authorities in an atempt to finish with the mud wave that splattered the already enough damaged campus image.

Not Allowed:

Really late for this but it’s loosely based on the first McGenjiweek prompt “I Love What’s Not Allowed”.

You can read it here on Ao3 too.

He knew love was supposed to hurt sometimes, but it always made up for that in the good times. At least, that was what everyone said. So he did not really understand why he felt like his was muted. He did not hurt that bad and he did not feel all that good. 

There was a lot of things love was supposed to do for people that it did not for Jesse.

Jesse McCree thought he knew what love was. Thought a little bit of charm and a splash of infatuation was all it took to have someone love him back. To feel the same way he thought he did about them. 

First it was with the boy down the street of his little house in New Mexico, the one that would come over and play with him outside in the summer sun. They would wrestle and run and share candies and a soda from the gas station in town that shut down soon after that. Jesse would smile at him and laugh, thinking that the grin brighter than the sun that he got in return was love. 

Then, he told his Mama, and she yelled at him, forbade the boy from coming back over. Jesse had not understood why at first, but as he grew up, he saw his mother’s nerves when he was with other boys and watched her pray that her son would not disgrace the Lord. Bullshit, was his next thought. 

There were many throughout the years, they came and went. He loved his Mama dearly, but it took her some time to come to terms with who he thought he loved. Sometimes, Jesse wondered if she ever really did. 

It did not matter after she passed and he was left running to Deadlock for a spot to put his delinquent ass, starting up the gang with another person he thought he loved. Ashe was sharp tongued and an even sharper shot, and Jesse thought the admiration and envy he felt was love. She had money, people who respected her, and power at her fingertips. Jesse liked that, liked the way he felt at her side. Mistook that feeling for it being her doing, and got a punch in the jaw for it. She had been red as her eyes, though, Jesse laughing it off and did not try again after that. 

His version of love tended to rise quickly and fade even faster after he was turned down or it was discovered to be lust rather than love, a pattern that repeated itself and got his heart broken more than a few times. 

The next time he thought he had been in love was something dangerous. Gabriel Reyes was a hard man, but he was giving towards Jesse. Helped him back to his feet and gave him a good path to follow when he had nothing going for him. A puppy crush, was what they called it after Reyes gave him a hard shake of his head and a firm “No”. 

Jesse found his interest faded quickly once more after getting a blunt lecture about it and shrugging it off. Would have been a bad idea anyways, in hindsight. Besides, Reyes had his eye on someone else. 

He knew love was supposed to hurt sometimes, but it always made up for that in the good times. At least, that was what everyone said. So he did not really understand why he felt like his was muted. He did not hurt that bad and he did not feel all that good. There was a lot of things love was supposed to do for people that it did not for Jesse. 

Years passed and Jesse did a lot of growing up in them, the missions in Blackwatch hardening him more than even Deadlock had. He understood why Reyes was so tough after seeing the chaos the world could fall into, when they were tasked with reigning it in and not letting anyone know they were on the brink of global disaster. Sure, the Omnic Crisis was over, but there were still wars waging in its wake and organizations like Talon rising from the ashes. 

The inside jobs were the worst, and often left them with less people coming out of them than those that went in. Or, on special occasions, they gained a member. On one occasion.

“Mission Log 3887, Shimada Castle. Time: 02:32. Location: Blackwatch Headquarters, Rome. Commander had me doing scout and recon, the usual since I had been posted in Japan. Then, we got a distress call around 22:58, somethin’ about our inside man needing help. Comms went dead after that, so Reyes sent me in to check it out. Found our man—or what was left of him—in a pool of blood, limbs hangin’ off, lots of him missing. Gruesome stuff I’ll save the gnarly details of for the medical reports on the poor kid.”

Jesse exhaled slowly, rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. Itching for a cigarillo to chew on or some nicotine to calm his nerves.

“Apparently, it was fratricide. I don’t really know the ins and outs of it, but whatever happened was rough. I’m surprised he’s still alive. Anyways, we got him outta there and back to Angie, er, Dr. Ziegler, and he’s gettin’ put back together at the Swiss Headquarters. He’ll be shipped back to us when he’s ready, already signed the deal and all that. Shimada clan business is still on our radar, but until we get this guy back on our side, it’ll be put on hold. Shimada Genji is his name, I think. And other than him, there were no casualties. It was a quiet mission through and through. End report.”

Jesse sighed as he set down the earpiece he had spoken into, reading through the transcription and muttering darkly over the words it had trouble identifying from his accent. He sent it off to Reyes when he was done, leaning back in his bed and staring up at the ceiling. It had been a quiet mission, but seeing Shimada in all that blood was still giving him nightmares. 

He wished he could leave out the gruesome details from his mind as well as the report, but as it was, they stayed burned into his memory. Shimada had still been choking on his own blood, the bottom half of his jaw torn from his face, throat constricting, eyes rolled back. Strange scars covered the one arm he still had and laced over his face, like a burn but darker and in his veins. Legs cut from behind, bone twisted and flesh ruptured. 

Jesse rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. It was awful, the smell of iron and ozone still stuck in his nose. With another sigh, he set aside his tablet and tried to get some sleep.

-

The weeks passed and Jesse forgot about Shimada for the most part, too caught up in his own issues and missions keeping him busy to be worried about someone he did not see on a regular basis. But then, he was seen on a regular basis. Genji Shimada showed up to Rome like a shadow, his eyes dark and glowing red. Body an amalgamation of metal and wires and synth skin. Scars where there was flesh, though, he hardly had any of that left. He barely spoke, kept out of sight for the most part, and did his job with ruthless efficiency. 

Even with all he did to avoid the people around him, Jesse still managed to find a way to be near him. Sometimes he even impressed himself. Genji was cold towards everyone, and the cowboy was no exception. He did not mind, though. Talking to himself was better conversation than Genji provided, and being in a Talon interrogation chamber had held more welcome than the ninja did. He did not mind that, either. 

Having teammates to work around seemed like a chore to Genji, all the mandatory training and mission work something he did alone as best as he could. When he could manage to shake Jesse off his back. The only person who had not been deterred by the rather obvious signs he was putting out. 

Jesse knew defense mechanisms when he saw them, and Shimada had been through hell and back before he was shoved down into a new level of it. Anyone would be distrusting and distant after what he had gone through, after signing his life away to an organization that only valued him for his deadly skillsets. Jesse knew the story, he had been there and lived it too. Still did, but at least his chapter was not so binding. 

Even with all that Shimada did when he should not have and did not do when he needed to, Jesse still enjoyed hanging around him. He was genuinely interested in learning more about Genji, wanting to gain his trust, if possible. 

Training was the easiest way to do that, when the ninja had to show up and pick a partner or work with a team that generally had Jesse in it.

“You’ll be working hand-to-hand today, a lot of you are getting too reliant on having a long-range weapon on you. Partner up with someone in your skillset, and I’ll move you if I see you need to be moved,” Reyes ordered, Jesse looking around to see if Rei was close to him. They were well matched when they sparred occasionally in the gym, and Jesse considered himself one of the more well off of the group of them when it came to hand-to-hand. Training with Shimada forced him to be better at it. 

He waved at her when she came into view, and she motioned to a free spot on the sparring mats. And then Shimada was walking up to him, staring up at him with those red eyes expectantly. Jesse paused, glancing at Rei over the ninja’s shoulder.

“Hey, uh...Sorry, partner, but I was already paired up with...” he trailed off, motioning towards Rei, who had her arms crossed over her chest, brows raised. Shimada turned to look at her for a moment, then scoffed, the sound quiet as it was filtered through the metal of his mask, eyes shifting back to Jesse.

“You are better than her and you know it.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t say that.”

“I do. And no one else is a decent match for me,” Genji shrugged one shoulder, the movement striking Jesse as odd since the rest of his body did not quite move with it.

“But I am? C’mon, Genji, you beat my ass into the mats every time.”

“You’ve gotten better.”

“Not good enough, though. You’re outta my league on this one, bud.”

“Do not call me that.”

Jesse raised his hands placidly, smiling a bit.

“Sorry, I forget sometimes. You should train with Reyes, he’ll actually give you a run for your money.”

Shimada’s brows furrowed, Jesse about to reach out to pat his shoulder consolingly before he remembered that it was a very bad idea that had already gotten him into a real fight with the cyborg and a black eye by the end of it.

“We can spar some afterwards if you’re feelin’ up to it, how’s that sound?”

Genji did not answer him, merely sighing and turning on his heel, heading towards the commander. Jesse watched him go, only shaken from it by Rei calling for him.

“Oi! You coming or what? I can’t spar with the air!”

“Yeah, I’m comin’!”

Jesse jogged over and sank into a defensive stance he had learned to relax into from Genji, something with enough distance between him and a metal fist to the gut and room to dance around the ninja’s attacks. Except he was up against Rei, who circled him like Reyes had taught them, light on her feet but firm in her stance. Jesse kept his eyes on her hands, his own held up to his face protectively. Waited for the first move. 

Rei struck fast, but Jesse avoided easily. Genji was faster. He ducked beneath the follow up punch, shifting his weight and turning his hips into the hook he caught her side with. Rei stumbled back with a wheeze as Jesse hopped back into his regular stance, still on guard. Pulled back and spun when she overcompensated just slightly on her next punch, landing a kick that pushed her back again. There was a frown on Rei’s face as she finally caught his next strike, shoving it down and away from her shoulder.

“Where’d you learn to kick like that?” She asked between heavy breaths, Jesse shrugging.

“You get hit with them enough, you learn how to do it for yourself.”

“Yeah, well, I think I’m well on my way through that lesson...”

Jesse grinned and motioned for her to come at him again. They went back and forth, trading punches and blocks, Jesse getting wrestled to the ground and managing to twist his way out of a lock. He was back on his feet not a moment later, a blur of red catching his eye over Rei’s shoulder. Shimada sparring with Reyes. 

He moved like water, flowing around the commander’s more rigid style with a flurry of attacks that seemed to land every time. Sweat dampening his hair, body folding a bit as he caught the kick Reyes sent his way. Jesse’s eyes followed the way his spine arched, the metal pieces of it moving almost hypnotically. Then, he was punched in the jaw.

“Fuck—!”

“Shit, sorry, Jesse! I thought you were looking at...What were you looking at?” Rei asked as she crouched next to him, glancing over her shoulder. Jesse rubbed his jaw, eyes still not leaving the way Shimada danced around the commander. It truly was like a dance, each step effortless in the way only years of training could make it, his body spinning and twisting around attacks and into his own smoothly. Like he only felt comfortable in his body doing this. Doing what he was made for. 

Jesse was caught staring when they took a break in their round, Genji’s eyes flicking over to his. They held his gaze just a beat too long. And then Jesse did what only he did best. Gave a grin and a wink, and probably ruined a whole lot of things. 

Genji shook his head and finally looked away, Jesse’s smile growing as Rei made a sound of realization.

“No, don’t do that, Jess. You’re gonna get gutted if you keep that up.”

“Says who?”

“Says the look in his eyes. I wouldn’t go after someone like that. Hell, I wouldn’t go after anyone here at all. It’s not gonna end well.”

“Yeah...You’re probably right.”

“I know I am. Now will you please pay attention so I don’t get my ass roasted by Reyes for punching your face? I’ve already done three hundred push ups today.”

“Fine, fine.”

-

Genji tore himself apart during missions sometimes. Did not quite avoid a bullet here, stayed in the line of fire to deflect just a little too long there. Wires ripped and sparking when he came limping back, the red light in his eyes flickering. Jesse had a feeling that part was not because of a mechanical malfunction. Muttering darkly to himself in Japanese as he swiped a mix of blood and those strange biotics that kept his cybernetic system running in synchrony with the human parts of him from his hands. Black mixed with crimson, those eyes flicking to Jesse when he came over to survey the damage Genji had done. Both to the Talon forces and himself.

“They didn’t stand much of a chance, huh?”

Genji never answered his tries for small talk, not when he was like this. Now was not something special. Jesse holstered Peacekeeper, sighing as he pressed his comm.

“Jefe, we’ve cleared sector five.”

“Good work. Sending in evac, stand by for Fio’s confirmation.”

“Copy that.”

Genji shifted by his side, gaze cast down as he rolled a Talon agent over gracelessly with his foot. Part of their face could be seen from where Jesse had put a bullet through their helmet.

“I wonder if he thought he was doing the right thing, or if it was not really his choice...” he murmured, tone cold and unfeeling. Something about it was distant, as most things he said were, like he was lost in memory. Jesse barely caught it, frowning a bit as he glanced at the cyborg.

“Probably just doin’ what someone told him. Not sure it’s that deep.”

“Just following orders.”

“Yeah...”

“That was the only thing he could do right,” Genji hummed, straightening once more and gazing out at the city lights in the distance, hair moving slightly in the breeze. The cords on the back of his neck swayed lightly, shoulders rising and falling steadily with his breath.

“I wonder if we are any different.”

Jesse took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, raising his brows with a crooked little grin.

“Can’t say if I’m completely sure we ain’t, partner. Though, I’ve never been particularly good at doin’ everything I’m told, I got a different kinda noose around my neck.”

“And what’s that?”

“Lil’ somethin’ called loyalty. To a fault, some might say. That’s where I think we are different than these guys. They’re just hired guns. Us? We’d take a bullet for our team. I’d die for you guys, almost have. Everyone here would. We got connections, teammates, a family where we never had one before. It’s one of the better things about being pulled into this organization, if you ask me.”

The ninja went quiet again, Jesse looking over at him and putting his hat back on. He was surprised to find Genji’s eyes already on him, something curious behind them. Something hidden further back that Jesse could not place.

“You are rather optimistic,” he muttered, Jesse laughing.

“Maybe I am. I’ll end up payin’ for it when it all comes to an end, but while we’re all still here, that keeps me straight.”

There was another long pause, Genji shifting his weight, fingers flexing.

“I suppose it is not a bad thing until it is.”

“Ain’t all things that way, to some extent? I can’t say I agree with everythin’ we’re up to on these missions, but I do know it keeps people safe in the long run. That we’re keepin’ the peace as best we can while we’re at it. Until somethin’ happens to show us it was wrong this whole time, which will probably end up happening, knowing our luck. But until then, we just do our best and stay alive, just like anyone else would.”

“We are not like ‘anyone else’.”

Jesse grinned, chewing on the end of his cigarillo.

“Nah, I guess not. Philosophical conversations ain’t really my forte, I prefer just takin’ each thing as it comes. Reality is hardly ever what we like to imagine it to be, that’s the only truth I’ve found. And I’ll probably be in the ground next to these guys sooner than finding out anythin’ else.”

Genji stared out at the city skyline again, eyes flickering over it as he thought. Always thinking, always pondering, always lost in it. Always so obvious to read, always impossible to read.

“Perhaps you are right.”

“All we can do is find out.”

“You boys ready for a ride home?” Fio announced over the comms, Jesse jumping slightly at the intrusion, cursing softly before clearing his throat and recovering with a grin.

“You betcha, sweetheart. Thanks for rememberin’ us.”

“How could I forget my favourite cowboy?”

“Aww, darlin’, you’re makin’ me blush!”

Genji rolled his eyes, standing a little stiffer and crossing his arms over his chest. Jesse nudged him good-naturedly with his elbow, getting a glare in return but nothing more. Back to his usual aloof demeanor.

“Stand by for pickup, ETA two minutes.”

“Copy that.”

-

“Don’t fucking touch me! Just leave me alone, McCree! I don’t want your fucking hovering!” Genji shouted, Jesse backing away with a glare as his hand was slapped away. Upgrades had left the cyborg stiff and uncoordinated, his shoulders shivering slightly with the whir of his machinery. His eyes flickered and he stumbled again, hitting the wall with a thud. 

Jesse watched him. Simply watched. Saw his fingers curl and hands go up to clutch at his arms, leaving indentations in the flesh and synth skin, his eyes going wide as he gasped and fumbled at the faceplate, hands shaking. Saw it clatter to the ground and Genji follow it, knees hitting the linoleum hard. 

Saw his face, the scars, the metal of his jaw, the raw line where skin met it, the pieces of his face that were missing covered with a sculpted vision of something that was not quite human. His mouth parted—just what the bone would look like, no synth skin or lips yet, like something dead or burned—a static sounding cough leaving him. Sweat dripping down his brow, hair sticking to it, wires hanging around his face. Jesse knelt, and whether Genji did not have the strength to push him away or not, he allowed the grip on the back of his neck.

“You’re panicking. Just breathe.”

“I-I’m not panicking I’m—I can’t breathe I can’t feel anything but it all burns, it burns, Jesse it hurts so much I—”

“Listen to me. Just listen to my voice. Your systems are probably just gettin’ used to the things they’ve done to you, it’s no different than last time. Just breathe, you’re in control.”

“I can’t see, I can’t see you—” Genji cut off with a choked sound and began rambling in Japanese, his hand whipping up to grab Jesse’s forearm. It hurt, his grip tight enough to leave bruises. Jesse would wear them the next day, and neither would say anything about it. 

They had done this before, played the game. And they both lost, every time. 

Jesse waited it out with Genji, let him tear at his arm and mutter and stare at the floor, lost somewhere in his head while he murmured softly in return to just breathe, Genji, you’ll be fine, I promise. Until he was fine again, or some weak semblance of it. 

Until he had his knees pulled to his chest, hiding his face between them and the arm he laced around them, hand sliding down Jesse’s arm to slowly, slowly take his hand. They did not talk about this part either. The calm after the storm. Some days it was worse than others, and all things considered, this was one of the better episodes. 

Jesse squeezed his hand lightly, nothing more than an affirmation that he was in the present, that his reality had not been stolen from him again. That was all Genji needed. That was all Genji allowed.

-

Jesse took a drag off his cigarillo and blew the smoke up into the brilliant blue of the sky in a slow stream. He was sprawled out on the roof behind some crates and watch towers, one arm tucked beneath his head and eyes closed. There were a few empty beer bottles between himself and Genji, the ninja not having any but seeming rather amused at how loose Jesse had gotten in the past hour. 

He was not drunk to the point of sloppiness, no where near that, and the beer had been too cheap to do much to him anyways. It was just to take the edge off of what the nicotine could not. To relax for a few hours without that constant nagging train of thought in the back of his mind. 

Genji seemed less tense as well, if the way he closed his eyes against the breeze and turned his face up to the sun was any indication. It was nice, seeing him at ease. As if he was forgetting, even just for a few moments, how much things hurt. 

Jesse tapped him with his foot, grinning a bit, the alcohol running through his system making his mouth run more than it already did. Genji glanced at him, raised a brow.

“What’cha thinkin’? I know you’re always thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’, and I’m sure it’s interesting.”

Genji tilted his head, then shrugged.

“Not much, at the moment, if I am being honest. Which is a nice change.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. You...You make me feel at peace, in a strange way.”

Much quieter this time, Jesse cracking his eyes open and squinting a bit against the light.

“Well that’s awful nice of you to say.”

“It is simply the truth. You do not judge me, even though you have seen more of what I am now than anyone else besides the doctors,” Genji murmured, his fingertips gracing over the cowboy’s stomach. Featherlight touches, barely there. Jesse’s brow furrowed.

“You talk to me still, you train with me. You make me feel like a part of this team. You make that small part of me that still desperately wants to belong somewhere feel at home.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them as Genji’s hand came to rest over his heart, fingers rubbing the fabric of his shirt. And then he leaned over, pressed his faceplate to Jesse’s lips where his own would be, and ruined a whole lot of things. Jesse froze. Stared at Genji when he pulled away, sitting up and fixing his hat.

“Gen, I ain’t that drunk,” he muttered with a shake of his head. And oh, that was not the right thing to say at all. Jesse knew as soon as it left his mouth. Watched the words hit Genji like a physical thing, his eyes widening slightly, darting away. He stood abruptly.

“Forgive me.”

“No, wait, Genji—Don’t just run away from this, if you’re gonna pull a stunt like that, you can’t just leave now—”

“I should not have done that, I’m sorry, I—I did not think...I was not thinking.”

Jesse reached out, taking Genji’s arm, making him stay. He did not fight it, but he did not look at the cowboy either.

“Genji. You can’t be serious.”

“I-I was not.”

“No?”

“It was my mistake, we can just blame it on the alcohol.”

“You didn’t drink anythin’,” Jesse reminded him slowly, Genji shaking his head.

“I will not do it again, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t—I ain’t mad about it, but I also know it’s...I mean, us? Really? The way we are now, the mess of who we are? It ain’t the best idea, trust me. It’s not that I don’t like you or anythin’—”

“Jesse. You do not have to explain. That was uncalled for on my part, and I understand. You do not have to reciprocate what was my mistake,” Genji murmured, his shoulders stiff and eyes narrowed, glaring at the ground. Tone cold and abrupt.

“You ain’t even gonna listen to me now?”

“What more is there to say? You told me no, I should not have done that, now let me go.”

Jesse did let him go, but he did not immediately run off like he had expected.

“So that’s it then? We’re gonna pretend it didn’t happen without even talkin’ it through?” he asked, arms going out to wave uselessly before slapping back against his thighs. Genji did not reply.

“Alright. Alright, you know what? That’s fine. I’ll let it go like I do for everythin’ else you do that I really shouldn’t let you get away with. It’s alright, Genji. We’ll say it never happened and walk away from it like we always do. If that’s what you really want, so be it.”

“It is.”

Jesse shrugged, nodding and giving a halfhearted lopsided grin. Genji’s fists clenched and unclenched, but he still had not left.

“Okay. See you at trainin’ then, partner. But one last thing, before you go,” he raised a gloved hand, eyes hardening as he pointed, lips pressed in a tight line. “If you are actually serious, lemme remind you that I won’t always be around when you decide to tell me the truth. I only gave caution, not a no.”

An offer. Another way out, should the ninja want it. A choice to make, one Genji could allow the both of them. But Genji turned, walking away without a backwards glance. Jesse stared after him, breathing in deep. He spat out his cigarillo and put it out under his boot, hands on his hips as he looked up at the sky. It finally hurt the way people always said it would. And he had not even known he was falling until he hit the ground.

“Damn you, Genji Shimada...”

~~

Negan’s Rose - Chapter 4

Word count: 3039

Warnings: mentions of being underweight. I don’t want to spoil it but maybe just maybe some freaky deaky.

This one took me a while gorls feedback would be great xx

—————————————————————-

You lazily silenced your alarm, groaning at the shrill ringing sound of it in your ear. You were yanked out of your blissful sleepy state by the the familiar alertness and the streak of anxiety you always felt waking up, anticipating walkers. Your eyes took a couple of seconds to adjust to the quiet room and your surroundings and your panic instantly evaporated. You weren’t out in the cold woods, exposed to the dead and the walkers, you were at the mysterious sanctuary and you were safe, if not still a bit confused. It was going to take time to adjust to this new feeling of security.

You stretched your arms and legs out, letting out a yawn as you blinked a couple times, waking yourself up. You took a swig of water from a fresh bottle that had been left in the kitchenette and brushed your teeth over the sink. You splashed some of the water over your face to wake yourself up and took your two tablets hoping to clear up the lingering dizziness from your injury. It was a warm morning, but the concrete floor kept you cool as you made your way over to the small dresser. It was nice to wake up in light comfortable pyjamas instead of your usual heavy survival ensemble. Your shoulders felt lighter without the weight of your backpack, something that would also take a while to get used to. So did your bare feet, free of your heavy boots and worn socks. You picked out a black vest top and a striped blue and green t shirt with a little bird on the pocket. You recognised it and checked the label, seeing that it was Hollister. You laughed softly, you would’ve never set foot into a hollister shop before. Teenage Americana summer beach romance clothes weren’t your thing. It reminded you of high school and the sickly sweet perfume from that shop that all the girls in your year wore. You were never one of the lip gloss girls and it felt strange to even think about vanity or self appearance in this new world when you just wanted to survive.

You found a pair of blue tracksuit bottoms and slipped them on, not wanting to wear anything too fitted until you gained some more healthy weight. Pulling the shirt over your head you noticed the red marks on your shoulders from carrying that wretched backpack around from so long. You avoided looking at yourself in the small mirror until you were dressed, not wanting to deal with your body. You had become dangerously skinny and lanky, your bones tired from constantly being on the move and your already deathly pale complexion seeming paler, however you had a hint of colour in your cheeks from your good sleep and having ate properly.

You considered wearing your hair down, but you were starting your new job today in the garden and wanted it off your face and neck. The trainers had a firm sole and were instantly comfier than your boots. You opened the blinds, letting yourself bathe in the warmth, standing with your eyes closed as it worked it’s magic on your freckles, letting it fill up the room with it’s cleansing energy. A knock on the door brought you out of your trance as you made your way over to it.

You presumed that this was Arat and let your eyes trail over her face, firstly noticing the small frown line in between her eyebrows, then noticing her strong nose and cheekbones. Your eyes dropped to her lips for a second and you admired her sharp defined Cupid’s bow. Your eyes met hers as the frown line softened and her lips parted slightly.

“I’m Arat, I’ve been assigned to show you around” she said in an authoritative but soft voice, her lips curling up hinting at a smile before going back to a line. You couldn’t deny that she was very pretty in a strong almost masculine way. “I’m rose.” You replied, realising this was the first time you had told anyone here your name. “Rose” she repeated softly with a small smile, almost unaware she had even said it. It was comforting to hear another human being call you by your name and you almost didn’t recognise it after being isolated for so long. The two of you fell into an understanding silence for a few seconds and if you weren’t wrong, you would say she had a tiny crush on you. She handed you your familiar switchblade, interrupting the growing intensity. Her glowy bronzed skin contrasted with your translucently pale hand as you took the weapon. Her smooth hand, nails chipped and painted black, lingered on yours for a split second before she dropped her hand. “You’ve been trusted with this, only use it if you absolutely have to.”

you murmured a quick thanks as you put it in your pocket, and with a “Follow me” the two of you were off.

She took you to the bustling metropolis that was the marketplace, explaining the points system to you. It was full of people but the energy was very sullen and the people seemed to merge in with the grey architecture of the room. Then you were shown the cafeteria which was reminiscent of hogwarts with its long tables. Arat grabbed two trays passing you one as you waited in line for breakfast. It was starting to get busy with all the workers getting up in time to start their shifts for the day but you managed to get a decent portion. Plain porridge and if you had the points, a squeeze of honey. Arat took you to a table at the quieter far end of the hall where a few saviours were seated. You recognised simon and although he had an air of arrogance you felt more comfortable now that you knew two people here. Arat introduced you as you took your seats. A blonde disheveled man caught your eye and you took in his disfigured face, not holding eye contact for too long for fear of making him uncomfortable, training your eyes onto your porridge instead. “The Sanctuary’s unique charm growing on you goldy?” Simon taunted with a smile. “It’s very uh, grey” you said sheepishly in response. The blonde man let out a soft laugh at this and introduced himself as Dwight. He had a reserved, quiet nature and didn’t say much for the rest of the conversation. Not wanting to overwhelm you, they chatted about supply runs and sanctuary gossip leaving you with your thoughts. You focused back into the conversation when you heard the name Negan talked about, a small sliver of fear and excitement darting through you as you remembered Arat said you were to meet him today. “Oh, rose” Dwight said your name softly like he had just remembered something. “If the run goes well, negan usually hosts a party for the saviours in the basement of this place. You should come by as my plus one.” A small blush coloured his cheeks and he averted your gaze as he said the last part. “I’d love to, I’m dying to meet the guy.” He smiled at you but it faltered as you said the last part. You didn’t have time to dissect it Arat noticed the interaction and quickly interjected. “You don’t want to be late for your first shift. Come on.” You detected a hint of jealousy in her voice.

Working in the garden was tough labour, but you enjoyed being out in the nature and feeling the dirt and earth in your hands. It was good to start slowly building back up your strength. The garden was massive and impressive with rows upon rows of vegetables that you spent the day tending to. The people were friendly, but kept their distance. You had been given special treatment with your own bedroom and free medical supplies and word had gotten round. The sun was beginning to set as you finished your shift and made your way back to your room. It was six pm and you managed to miss the rush of workers in the shower block, quickly freshening up and shaving parts of your body that had been neglected for a long long time now.

It was exciting to be getting ready for a party and you hadn’t felt the familiar buzz since college. The nicest clothes in your small dresser were a green flared sleeved blouse that complimented your hair colour and eyes, and a pair of tight black trousers. It felt alien, almost wrong to be dressing to look nice for once, not for convenience and survival. You let your hair down from it’s braid and it rested on your shoulders in neat waves. The blouse was floaty enough to cover up how skinny you were but still showed some skin. Dwight knocked on the door and you gave yourself a fleeting glance in the mirror on the way out, reminiscing on how you used to spend so much time applying makeup and straightening your hair. You still had the subconscious desire to look nice but it wasn’t as ever present now. Caring about things like that just seemed futile. Dwight greeted you with a shy smile and a murmured “you look nice.” You liked his quiet energy and grounded nature and wanted to become good friends with him in the future. The walk was mainly silent but it was companionable silence, not awkward.

You could feel the thumping bass in the corridor as you got nearer the designated party basement. You were quickly learning just how big the sanctuary was and were probably most definitely going to get lost at some point. The doors swung open as you two entered the room, and the atmosphere was electric. The room was filled with saviours and workers, dancing to the infectious 80s beat that pumped through the speakers. It was a popular song called Blue Monday by New Order and it was impossible not to dance to it. Someone had found a dance hits compilation cd on a run and it was a big hit with everyone. “Let me buy you a drink” Dwight shouted over the loud music and you felt a small hand on your lower back as he ushered you over to the bar. You leaned back onto the bar as he waited on the barman and you scanned the room, looking to find simon or Arat, instead catching the eye of a dangerously handsome man leaning against the wall across from you. He was surrounded by five women all dressed in black cocktail dresses, pandering for his attention. It was hard to see with the low light and all the people, but you could make out a small smirk on his face as he gazed at you with a drink in his hand. He had jet black hair and tanned muscly arms that were clinging to a simple white t shirt and you couldn’t look away. You weren’t sure if sexual tension could be created from a single look across a busy room but you felt a heat and a longing stir inside you. “Earth to rose?” You heard Dwight say with a laugh as he brought you out of your transfixed gaze. “I said, what’s your poison?” You forced your eyes away from this mysterious stranger and feigned a laugh to Dwight. “Sorry, got lost in my head there, vodka’s fine with me” you lied. Vodka always went to your head the quickest and some of your best and worst night outs had been fuelled by the precious Russian potato juice. You maintained idle chit chat with some of the people around the bar getting drunker and drunker as an hour flew by, sneaking glances at the man across the room, your face turning bright red every time, as he caught you, every time. It was like as if there was a magnetic force was pulling you towards him and you could feel his eyes on you all night.

Arat stumbled off the dance floor and made her drunken way over to you, laughing and smiling as you tanned another shot. It was nice to see her this relaxed knowing how tense she normally was after meeting her only once. “Hey girrrlll! Get over herree” She slurred, grabbing your hand and dragging you into the floor. The music had changed tempo to a seductive bass charged melody with a hypnotic rhythm. You swayed to the rhythm, running your hands through your hair and closing your eyes getting completely lost in the song. It felt so good to be immersed in a song for the first time in so long. You felt a pair of firm hands on your waist behind you, immediately knowing who they belonged to. He leaned in so his rough beard was touching your soft cheek as he spoke into your ear sending a thrill down you.

“So this is the little devil that’s been eye fucking me all night.” He drawled his words out slowly and seductively. His voice was deep and dripping with filth and re lit the fire that had been burning all night from the sexually charged fleeting glances. You leaned back into his strong body as the hands on your waist explored the plains of your smooth stomach under your blouse, the contact making you shiver. His hands were warm and firm and you wanted them all over you. You moulded into him perfectly and could feel his rock hard erection through all the layers making you gasp slightly. You slowly started to grind to the music, feeling his hot heavy breath on your neck, realising you had synced yours with his. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night doll” you liked this nickname and you could feel him laugh wickedly as his voice drove you wild. How could someone’s voice alone set you on fire like this? You deliberately rubbed against him eliciting a small groan from him and an electricity to pulse through your clit. You were already soaked and felt a longing in your core. He suddenly grabbed you by the wrist firmly making you wince. He noticed and loosened his grip gently, rubbing his thumb across it as he pulled you to the small door at the back of the hall. Nobody noticed the two of you leave amongst the sea of bodies, or so you thought.

The cool night air was fresh as it hit your rosy cheeks and was strikingly chilly with all of the heat in your bodies. The electricity between the two of you was primal and tangible and you had never felt this with anybody before.

He shut the door and immediately pushed you gently but firmly against it. You could make out his features vaguely under the moonlight. Your vision was a little blurry from the alcohol but he had a strong chiselled face and grey sprinkled stubble. His hair was slicked back but disheveled and a single strand was hanging over his face. The look in his eyes was burning with desire and wonder as they bore into your own, which were wide with shock and an intimidation that you didn’t know if you were comfortable with. You were so drawn to him in that moment that you couldn’t look away. You waited on him to pounce, make his move. You anticipated a rough, passionate kiss but instead the look in his eye softened as he brought his hand up to your face, gently cupping it as your aroused panting slowed down. You were caught off guard by this surprisingly affectionate action but your face naturally leaned into the curve of his large strong hand, the roughness contrasting with the smoothness of your cheek as he brought his calloused thumb over the plains of your cheekbones. You were both communicating non verbally and it was a strange mixture of lingering arousal and unspoken understanding. Like a messed up yin and yang. “fucking magnificent” he muttered softly as he took a delicate curl in his large fingers, placing it behind your ear. He leaned in so his lips were inches away from yours and you could smell the warm scotch on his breath. His lips parted slightly and your heart rate sped up as he closed his eyes. You waited on the kiss, desperate to feel his lips on yours to satisfy the longing you had felt all night but a fuzz from his walky talky interrupted the hazy atmosphere as he groaned, picking up the line. “This better be fucking good Dwight” he spat out. He was irritated and a frown had set in place. You lowered your head, suddenly feeling awkward and disappointed, not sure what to do with yourself. “A fight’s broke out between some of the workers at the bar. One of the bastards tried to steal some liquor it’s getting ugly negan.” Your eyes widened at the mention of his name and you realised just who you were with. He took a step back from you. “I’ll sort it.” He replied abruptly. There was an intensity about the way he looked at you while talking into the walky tally to someone else that you liked. The way he never took his eyes off of you was almost erotic. The haze from all this affection and the alcohol was making your head spin and you could feel all the alcohol in your stomach churning. His eyes met the ground as he ran a hand over his face in an effort to compose himself before letting out a sigh. You moved away from the door letting him open it, the music and shouting from the fight pouring out into the calmness of the night. “I wanna see you again, this isn’t over.” He said with an authoritative voice, giving you a lingering look before heading back into the party. You felt a warmth in your chest at the possibility of seeing him again. You had had intense spontaneous seances with people before but nothing quite like that. As soon as the door closed, you threw up everywhere.

September 25, 2017 -- Later this week, the March for Racial Justice will—I hope—choke the streets of our nation’s capital. If the current momentum against President Trump can be channeled to full potency, I believe it could be the most significant display of public fury on issues of race and inequality since Martin Luther King’s march on Washington in 1963.

Sadly, I won’t be there. I can’t be there.

I’ve attended a handful of rallies since Trump ascended in January. The largest was the Women’s’ March in D.C. the day after inauguration. As empowered as I felt that weekend, I knew I was there as a supporting actor: That day belonged to women. I had my own existential fears about the incoming administration, but I was there to support others—and did so consciously, so as not to coopt their stage.

The Racial Justice March, however, would be unreservedly a day for me to express my experience—mine and the millions of people of color like me. The time to wear out my shoes and lose my voice, to stand with the like-minded on a national and world stage and tell the current administration exactly why and how its values—to the extent that it even has any—are anathema to me.

It wouldn’t have been my first foray into demonstration. My Jewish progressive mother and my Black working-class father had me attending events before I could walk. My childhood was filled with Civil Rights-era hymns and folk songs, learned both at my Brooklyn daycare center and my Yiddish leftist summer camp. I spent many weekends on buses down to Washington attending peace and human rights rallies that I mostly didn’t understand.

As I was growing up, the names Amadou Diallou, Abner Louima and Sean Bell rang in my ears. The only time I remember seeing my father scared was when he spoke about the murder of Patrick Dorismond and how easily it could have happened to him. My father had a set number of emotions he would display regularly: Fear—until that moment—had not been one of them.

And then it happened to me. I and others in my generation witnessed the murders of Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, and Eric Garner. I felt the same fear, the same terror—and the same need to make my voice heard.

But in a cruel twist of intersectional fate, the march has been scheduled to coincide with Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish Calendar—which means I and many of my racially conscious Jewish Comrades will be unable to take part.

***

In the summer of 2016, Trump was running for president—but at that point it seemed unlikely that he’d win. I was walking home after taking part in an anti-police brutality protest when I stumbled into my own terrifying interaction with the NYPD. As I neared my home, I saw three officers outside my door. I asked them if anything was wrong. One of the officers moved for his holster. I remember how his hand lingered there, neither removing his service weapon nor dropping to his side. I remember how unapologetic he was. Turns out they were standing there for no reason at all. But I remember fumbling with my keys as I struggled to get inside, and the feeling of relief when I was safely in my own apartment.

At that point, I was already pretty scared of Trump; his racist rhetoric a harbinger of dark times for Black Americans, but the incident flipped a switch. This was less than a month after the snuff videos of Philando Castile and Alton Sterling shocked the country. My fear and anger were refined by the terror of my own encounter. So the election felt like more than a mere quadrennial civic exercise. To me, it seemed like a referendum on the validity of the African-American existence. I was not only angry at Trump voters, but third-party voters, non-voters—anybody who didn’t utilize the full force of their electoral might to thwart him.

...The post-election protests enabled me to realign with my leftist roots. My mother’s father was a member of the Communist party. Through the various other leftist organizations, I became more committed to progressive causes. So when a racial justice group organizer sent me an invitation for the march in September, I clicked “attending” without even looking at the date: Whenever it was, I thought, I will be there.

Then I saw the date—maybe the one and only day of the year I COULDN’T be there.

The nature of the commemoration added a subtle irony in the otherwise divisive incident is that it stems from a point of cultural similarity. Jews have a long tradition of observing occasions of sadness well as occasions of joy. Half the dates on the Jewish Calendar are in some part anniversaries of sorrow. We commemorate the dead not on the day they were born, but on the day that they left us. The fast of Yom Kippur, one of pure spirituality, is equaled by only one other day, The Ninth of Av, when a litany of tragedies and massacres befell the Jewish people.

In response to the furor, March organizers released a moving and compassionate explanation and apology. In the statement, organizers noted that they chose to use the event to commemorate an atrocity that often eludes the collective American memory: September 30th is the anniversary of the Elaine Massacre, when as many as 237 blacks were killed. It makes sense that the march be should against the most conspicuous expressions of racism. They also noted “[that] mistake highlights the need for our communities to form stronger relationships.”

...It’s a trying moment for me. Confrontations on race, language and politics have often put me at odds with the Orthodox Jewish community. That lack of ideological solidarity was eventually filled by social justice organizing. So, being sidelined on the left at such a defining moment is gutting. The unfortunate scheduling of the Racial Justice March only exacerbated some of the anxiety I felt as a Jew on the Left. The oversight was not as aggressive as some harsh language BDS resolution or the confrontations that pro-Israel Jews have experienced at various pride marches, but it was another point in a growing constellation of Jewish discomfort in the progressive spectrum. Yes, many of us will be marching the next day, but separately and with diminished sense of solidarity with the movement at large.

Every black Jew will tell you that maintaining both identities is a constant battle; internally and externally. The Jewish community has an innate thread of solidarity built in it’s always there even when philosophical differences lead to animosity, the bonds of a commonality exist; sometimes adding fuel to the fire. The Jewish calendar is sprinkled with festivals and holidays that are observed collectively. To not adhere is to be excised from the people; one of the worst consequences in Jewish Law, even worse than death.

On the other hand solidarity is crucial to civil rights. If MLK had walked alone on the Edmund Pettis bridge, where would we be? Would his speech at the March on Washington have resonated if it was given to the empty reflecting pool? For the disenfranchised to challenge the powerful, they must access their own power. This power lies not in arms or in capital, but in numbers. To stand apart from comrades at such a moment is to withhold my individual power from the collective.

So, which does one choose?

Thankfully in the end, there’s a compromise; and perhaps, in a way, this is as it should be. Even though it wasn’t the organizer’s first choice, I’ve come to think that their choice of day is ultimately the correct one—a feeling I was able to realize because, their own expressions of hope for solidarity with and engagement with Jews and the Jewish experience felt real and forthcoming and honest, and devoid of the noxious if subtle dogwhistling and worse going on inside some pockets of the left these days. The white-knuckled indignation I had felt at the organizers exclusion intersectional oversight has been replaced by begrudging acceptance that there’s something beneficial to the FOMO I and other Jews will feel. So we’ll take to the streets the next day; not in Washington, at the seat of Trump’s empire, but in New York, on our shared home turf, doing what Jews have always been commanded to do and speaking truth to power.

Read Ben Faulding’s full piece at Tablet.