Februray Vignette - Love Is a Many Splendored Thing

[Tiffany Korta]

Love Is a Many Splendored Thing

 

Spring will soon be upon us and in honour of a certain special day we've decided to celebrate love in all its myriad ways.

 

So for this month's vignette we’d like you to tell us a story of your character being in love in the past, present or future. It can any be any form of love, both good and bad, but if it’s just physical love remember the sites PG-13 and keep such things to a tasteful fade to black.

 

Post your vignette in this thread by midnight of Monday, February 29 st so that it can be included in this month's post counts.

[EternalPhoenix]

Terrifica

 

Casual Domesticity

 

His name was Stan Gresham. His wife was Dr. Samantha Carson, Ph. D. Sometimes she went by the name of Terrifica and fought crime. He knew, of course. They had no real secrets from each other. She was in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the two of them and their son Lucas. He was three (and a half, the oung boy would loudly insist) and almost as smart as his father. Their daughter, Meili, had already eaten (still on that special diet of Sam’s design) and was doodling Chinese characters on her coloring book. She was smarter than any toddler had any right to be. It was Valentine’s Day. Meili’s second birthday had been yesterday. It had been a loud affair, with several of her friends in attendance. Today was something more subdued. Stan also had a doctorate, but instead of Ph. D at the end of his name he had MD. He was a practicing psychologist, though the doctorate was in psychiatry.

 

Stan was not watching television, like most husbands would be at this juncture. He was reading a romance novel, one of the quality ones that would never be mistaken for beach trash. As a psychologist, he’d become very in demand this past year. However, he’d put his foot down. He worked from nine to five. Occasionally he’d start or end up to a half hour later, but that was it. He’d cooked for Meili’s party, and dinner that night. It was Sam’s turn now. Lucas had a book of his own. Fifth grade science. He wasn’t reading it with any speed, but he was reading it. Sam called out from the kitchen. “Five minutes, Stan.” She wasn’t much for pet names, was Sam. Literal and logical, though not to a fault. She had surprising whimsy at times. And she was a damn fine cook, though she adhered perhaps too strictly to recipes.

 

Stan closed his book, placing a weathered leather bookmark in his place. “Lucas, go wash your hands.” The boy mumbled something, stood up, and walked to the bathroom with the book still in his hands. Like mother, like son, Stan supposed. He wandered into the kitchen and kissed his wife on the mouth. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” He smiled, knowing the old phrase would tickle his wife’s sense of humor.

 

Sam smiled back at him. “Trying something different. Chicken parmesan with stuffed shells pizza. I saw this place was offering it as a special the other night. Have you heard of the Southern Queen?

 

Stan was considerably taller than his wife, so he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her in such a way as not to impede her work. “I think a patient or two has brought it up. Freedom, isn’t it?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yes. There was a minor weapons deal in the area. I broke it up and saw the sign on my way to the precinct to fill out a few forms. Weapons dealing always requires so much paperwork.” She sighed. “If you’ll get off me, I can take the pizza out of the oven and put the cake in.”

 

Stan removed himself. “Cake, huh? Your inner fat girl in the mood for some chocolate again?” He gestured vaguely towards the living room. “I did buy a nice big box of them and such a pretty card too.”

 

Sam didn’t have to turn around to know Stan had a dopey grin on as she pulled the pizza out to cool briefly. She took the cake pan off the counter and slid it into the oven, adjusting the temperature afterward. “Of course you did. It’s Valentine’s Day. I know what’s on your mind.” Two years prior, Sam had still been recovering from delivering Meili. The year before, Meili still wouldn’t sleep through the night. They had some plans for this evening, oh yes.

 

Stan was mock offended. “Can’t a guy just be nice to his wife on Valentine’s Day? I swear, I have no ulterior motives. None.“ He kissed her where neck met shoulder. “At.” Right in the middle of her carotid. “All.” And just under her jawline. She shivered involuntarily.

 

A very un-Terrifica like smirk crawled over Sam’s face. “I know you’ve got more self control than that. The children are still up, and Lucas just sat at the table. Dinner first. Then the dessert courses.” Her hearing was just a little better than Stan’s was.

 

Mock sighing like this was the biggest imposition ever, Stan removed himself from his wife again and washed his hands in the sink. Dinner was coming soon, and this pizza experiment sounded delicious. Though not as delicious as other, later things. He managed to wipe the lavicious smirk off his face before entering the dining room, but it was a near thing.

 

Sam, meanwhile, exhaled a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She wanted to have a go just as much as he did right then. Their conversation was just a dance. One they did every day. Verbally sparring kept things lively, after all. The pizza had cooled a bit, so she sliced it, picked up a bowl full of salad, and headed out to the dining room.

 

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

 

Later, after dinner, Stan lay on his back with his hands behind his head on their bed. Lucas and Meili had been put to bed, and dessert course number one had been served. It was not the baked cake now sitting covered in the kitchen. “Stan? How about this one?” Stan moved his eyes over to Sam, who was exiting the master bath in yet another lingerie set. This was…quite green and lacy.

 

Stan regarded his wife casually. “It’s okay. Green’s a little stereotypical for you, though.”

 

Sam shot a glance at him. “Sometimes I want to be the dragon lady, Mr. Smug. Just because you’re an authority at that one thing doesn’t make you an authority on me.”

 

Mr. Smug looked more smug. “And what thing would that be? I don’t recall you joining my patient list today, so it can’t be that.”

 

The Dragon Lady made her appearance and glared fire at Mr. Smug. “You know what I’m talking about. Now there’s one left. You will pick one, or else no Round 2.”

 

Stan held up his hands in surrender. “Love, I can tell you right now the one I like best. They’re the invisible ones. You were just wearing them, weren’t you?”

 

Sam rolled her eyes and walked back into the master bath. “You’re incorrigible. I don’t know why I put up with you.”

 

Stan grinned widely. “Because you luuuurv me.”

 

Sam’s soft chuckle drifted out the bathroom door. “You think so, do you?” She tossed a glance out the door at him. “Then why don’t you come in here and see?”

 

Stan started to get up. “Well, if my love insists, I can’t deny her.” She never made it easy, and he loved her for it. Everyone else he’d ever met was absolutely easy to handle. Even his patients, for the most part, had problems that weren’t difficult to solve. It just took time, effort, and at times medication. Samantha Carson, on the other hand, demanded his full attention. She refused any tricks or games that were not of her own devising. And more importantly, she didn’t expect him to be anything other than himself. His reputation, appearance, and talent for small talk meant nothing as far as his worth as a person. It was…wonderful. Of course, Stan reflected as he beheld his wife in the shower, other things were wonderful too.

[Avenger Assembled]

Puppy Love

Sea Devil (and Singularity) 

February 2016

 

Petsmart

DuTemps Building

Basement Mall

 

Her head down and her hood up, Aquaria caught the door as it began to swing closed behind Jessie, sticking close to her friend as she led the way into the pet store. Aquaria had been here before plenty of times - usually late in the afternoon when the store was about to close, but then usually she’d come to buy a treat like a bag of goldfish or a box of crickets. But today was going to be very different; or so Jessie had told her, anyway.

 

“Jusst make ssure it’ss a good one,” she suggested to her friend, her whisper sibilant as always. Her feet thumped along in her big black leather shoes and the store was cast into an odd light by the big sunglasses that she wore under her hood. “One that iss not sscared of me.” A dog might be scared of Jessie herself, of course - plenty of creatures were, but Aquaria would never actually say that to her friend.

 

“We might not get one today anyway,” Jessie offered, wrinkling her nose at the astringent smell of disinfectants as they walked into the store. “It’s an adoption event, so I don’t know how many they’ll have. The one I was looking at might be taken.” She clutched a single sheet of printer paper in her hands, already crumpled and disreputable from her nervous fingers, which held the specifics and picture of the puppy she’d looked at online. “Or they might not want to give him to us. Because we have problems.” Jessie stuck very close to Aquaria as they walked, both to protect her and to seek shelter from a world full of strangers. “Erin said I could use her for a reference, or Trevor.”

 

The two women took their time heading towards the dog event at the rear of the store, Aquaria steering them past the fish tanks just so she could watch the delicious-looking little morsels swimming around, muttering the usual dumb things that fish muttered to themselves. Maybe seeing the fish made her hungry - but at least it was something familiar in what was potentially going to be a scary situation.

 

They had left early to make sure they were on time, but as they took in the circle of metal chairs in the rear of the store, it was clear they’d gotten there before anyone else! There were other people shopping, though, families with small humans and dogs, and Aquaria watched them carefully, trying to get a better feel for how Surfacers got along with these strange animals. If she was honest with herself, she hadn’t really taken Jessie’s idea seriously - agreeing as a way of making her feel better. But now they really were here! At the table in the rear, she let Jessie take the lead as they headed for a table where a smiling Surfacer, a big furry dog at her feet that looked old and stringy to Aquaria’s eyes, was waiting with forms for Jessie to fill out, copies of the ones she had already seen online. Aquaria hung back, letting the human do the job.

 

Jessie’s eyes darted to the corners of the store, and she risked a quick look over her shoulder to make sure the exit route was still clear before she walked up to the table. “H-hi, um, hi,” she began, trying to work up a polite smile for the volunteer. It always felt like she was showing too many teeth. Introductions were always so difficult. “I’m Er- I’m Jessie White, I wrote an email to your group. I wanted to see the puppy.” She spread out the wrinkled piece of paper. “Do you still have him?”

 

The volunteer returned her smile in an encouraging, if slightly uncertain way. “Oh yeah, you wanted to look at Truffles. We do still have him, he’s a sweetie pie. He’s going to be a big boy, though. You said you live in an apartment?”

 

“Yeah, I mean, yeah, we do,” Jessie replied. “This is my roommate Aquaria, she’s helping me find a dog. And big is okay, big is good. We have a permission paper.”

 

“Hmm, let me see here,” Sally the volunteer looked over the paperwork, nodding. “This all seems to be in order. And it’s just the two of you in the apartment?”

 

“Yup, just us,” croaked Aquaria, ducking her head nervously when Sally gave her a very uncertain look for a moment. Aquaria was speaking normal English - but her voice didn’t sound like a normal human’s. Trying to keep comforting Jessie, Aquaria kept talking, though, the better to make her friend feel better and to make herself sound normal to the volunteer’s ears. “But the apartment is big. And we will take him to many different places.”

 

“Do you have any experience as pet parents?” Sally asked, still looking at the two of them carefully.

 

“I had a dog when I was growing up,” Jessie offered. “I helped take care of him and stuff. And I’ve read a lot about it on the internet. I found a vet, and a groomer. And I know an apartment is small, but I go to school, and I come home early every day. And I run twenty or thirty miles most days, so he’ll get all the exercise he wants.” Jessie tried to keep her words from going too fast and tumbling into each other. “My sister has a cat and he’s nice, but I really just like dogs better,  I think.”

 

“I like dogs too,” agreed Aquaria, “Cats make a terrible smell when they void,” she added, wrinkling her snout. “And they don’t like water. I will help take care of him,” she promised, both Sally and Jessie, as she stepped up next to Jessie to sign her part of the form - proof that everyone in the den was going to take care of the animal. “Jessie is very good, and very strong. She will be a good dog person.” With a moment’s hesitation, she took out her gloved, three-fingered hand, then dashed off her name in the blurred English characters that were her usual handwriting.

 

By now a line of people were beginning to form up behind them, encouraging Sally to move them on, and soon they were (at least for the moment) sitting on the cold metal seats, waiting for the arrival of the dogs from the nearby room where they were being kept. Aquaria could hear the yapping and whining of the puppies, and gave Jessie a reassuring smile, her face mostly hidden by her hood. They were an odd couple - but they were on their way to a dog. Or so she thought, anyway.

 

Jessie sat absolutely still in her seat, fingers laced together, not fidgeting, barely seeming to breathe. There were three or four families waiting to see the dogs now, most with at least one kid in tow. The kids were fascinated by Aquaria when they noticed her, but they wisely kept their distance. Children tended to make Jessie nervous, but she was all right for now with her attention a million miles away. After three or four minutes of silence, she murmured to Aquaria, “You don’t think it’s weird, do you? Getting a pet? Like… it’s not weird, right?”

 

Aquaria blinked a few times, sorting out the best way to respond to that. “It’s ssomething Ssurfacers do - so it’ss not weird for you to do it. And I’ll help you take care of it, because I’m your friend.” She patted Jessie on the arm, and gave her a reassuring smile. “It will be like having a hairy baby. We can teach him thingss he needss to know.”

 

“Okay, Baymax,” Jessie replied, a rare, quick flash of humor peeking through her tension. One of the other families was meeting a puppy, so all the people had gravitated temporarily to the far side of the room. “I know it’s something people do, but is it weird to do it instead of the other things people do. Like… like some kind of substitute because I’m never going to fall in love with anybody for real, but at least I can have a dog and he’ll be fuzzy and sweet and stay with me. People do that too, like people who get ten cats. I don’t want ten cats.”

 

“There are lotss of kinds of love,” said Aquaria, thinking back to Deep Ones that swam freely beneath the clear blue waters of the Caribbean. “Just becausse you don’t have a mate doessn’t mean you don’t have love.” Privately, she thought that Jessie would have fine spawn some time many years in the future, but that was a conversation for another year. “Wanting to share love to ssomething that needs it must be good.”

 

“Beats not having it at all,” Jessie agreed. She looked up sharply as the door from the back room opened again and a creature that looked like a cross between a dog and a lightly-toasted marshmallow pranced out on the end of a leash. Before the volunteer even got all the way over to their seats, Jessie was on her knees with the puppy, her fingers knuckle-deep in his extraordinarily fluffy fur. He was all kinds of different dog, according to his shelter notes, but he’d apparently inherited the fluffy trait from all parts of his ancestry. “I want this one.” Jessie declared immediately, slightly muffled where he was trying to lick her face. “He’s perfect.”

 

“He looks sweet,” agreed Aquaria in a croak that definitely got the dog’s attention. He yapped at Aquaria and wriggled free from Jessie’s hands, stopping at the Deep One’s big feet and nervously sniffing. With a look first at Jessie, then at the volunteer, Aquaria ducked down and began petting the dog too, brushing her gloved fingers softly against its fur. Excitedly, the puppy began bounding up to try to lick her face too, obviously very interested in how she smelled and tasted. “He has many kisses!” Aquaria added as the dog nuzzled her face with a cold wet nose, whimpering.

“Animals always love you more,” Jessie complained, mostly good-naturedly. “Look at how big his paws are. He’s gonna be huge when he’s grown. And he’ll need puppy classes, and somebody to trim all this ridiculous fur.” She smoothed the fuzz down on the puppy’s face, enough to get a look at his eager brown eyes. “He needs somebody to take care of him.” Jessie’s face clouded for a moment with uncertainty, as though she were unsure she could do all that caretaking. Jessie wasn’t the one who took care, she was the one who was cared for, provided for, supervised, monitored. The last time she’d tried to take care of a helpless creature, it had been a tragic disaster she couldn’t even recall except in borrowed memories. Then the moment passed, and her face went stubborn. “Truffles, I think you should come home with us,” she told the dog. “And I think you need a new name.”

 

[angrydurf]

Beginning of a Great Adventure

(Sandman)

 

February 14th Sanford Residence, Kingston.

 

4:21 AM  Ellis quietly locked the door behind him and crept up the stairs.  They’d done good work that night, given the twelve year old patient a new lease on life, literally, with a new pair of lungs.  Of course it would be nice if donor organs became available in the middle of the day more often rather than the end of an already long shift.  But this was the life of a doctor on the FCMC transplant team.

 

4:25 AM  Making his way quietly up stairs after carefully and silently slipping off his shoes and jacket and delicately setting his briefcase on the counter Ellis made his way up the stairs.  Peeking in through the slightly cracked door letting a single slice of light from the hall illuminate his eldest room he smiled loosening and taking off his tie.  Her younger brother had pulled the trundle out from under his sister's bed and insisted once more on sharing her room it seemed.  A thin tendril of ephemeral sand reached out to brush each of their foreheads smiles creasing their lips as they in tandem let out satisfied sighs at the pleasant dreams sent their way.

 

4:40 AM  Ellis flicked off the light in his ensuite and quietly padded across the floor to his bed.  Not needing sleep it turns out did not make its promise any less sweet it seemed as he lowered himself into the warm embrace of memory foam and down duvet.  

 

4:59 AM Ellis’ eyes snapped open as the heavy breathing and sounds of crinkling construction paper pierced his sleeping brain.  Stiffening he drove his head back into his pillow as his eyes tried to focus on the face inches from his own, “You’re ‘wake!”  His son bellowed happily and shook the homemade valentine at his father excitedly sending a rain of festive glitter and sequins over the recently somnolent parent, “Happy Valentines Day Daddy!”  he and his sister squealed in delight.

 

5:15 AM “Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes!” echoed in stereo through the kitchen.

 

5:25 AM two plate scrape across the counter as the keurig ceases sputtering its hot caffeine injection into Ellis’ mug, one bare the other still festooned with  a sticky mass of untouched pancake and syrup, “I want a donut.”

 

6:30 AM Ellis emerged from the shower and stepped into his bedroom to dress for the day.to be treated to a chorus of giggles, “BUTTS!”  exclaimed the youngest before the pair fled the room to peals of laughter.

 

7:00 AM  “Am I See Kay EE Whyyyyy!  Em Oh You Es EEEEE.” came the chorus from the den as Ellis sipped his now lukewarm coffee and tried to use the pocket of time afforded by the clubhouse to answer a few pressing emails, why pressing emails were still in his inbox early Sunday morning was a matter he’d never manage to decipher.  Closing his laptop he slid it back into his briefcase and stood in the door to the den as Jenny and Gabe cavorted about the room shouting helpful advice, and unhelpful scatalogical commentary ‘OOOH POOOOO-Dles, uncontrolled laughter’

 

8:00 AM  “You have to wear pants if we’re going out Gabe”

 

8:15 AM “I know it’s your favorite Jenny but you spilt mustard all over it last night it needs a wash.”

 

8:20 AM “I mean it mister, pants!  Now!”

 

8:30 AM “All buckled?”  he called out looking over his shoulder at the kids to be met with stereo demands for headphones, Tangled, and desparate need to use the restroom all at once.

 

8:45 AM “All buckled?”  Ellis called out, “Staarbucks!” the only reply.

 

9:30 AM “Welcome to the Hunter Museum of Natural History.”  the docent greeted kindly and winked at Ellis, “You’re a good man giving the wife a morning off for Valentines.”

 

9:45 AM  “Dinosaurs!”

 

10:00 AM  “Dinosaurs!”

 

10:15 AM  “Dinosaurs!”

 

10:30 AM  “Dinosaurs!”

 

10:45 AM  “Dinos-  Emergency!”

 

10:50 AM “-aurs!”

 

11:00 AM “Daddy I’m very hungry.” Gabe intoned woefully pointing at his stomach, “My tummy is so eeeeeeempty.”  Jenny paused in her spinning to stare at her brother, “We just had breakfast like five minutes ago.”  

 

11:05 AM “I’m starving!”  Jenney decried hanging limply against the ropes making up the line as they awaited their lunch, “Why is it taking for eeeeeeeeveeeeeeer?”

 

11:10 AM  *chewing sounds*

 

11:50 AM  Two plates scrape across the table on clear of all food the other half eaten and drenched in ketchup and chocolate milk, “I want a donut.”

 

12:30 PM  “LET IT GOOOOO LET IT GOOOOO-”

12:45 PM “Why isn’t the car moving, are we out of gas, did the car break, are we lost, should you call Grace?  She has GPS on her phone and never gets lost.”  “It’s just traffic on the bridge sweetie.”

 

1:00 PM “How’re my favorite niece and nephew!”  Grace exclaimed scooping them up in turn, “Good morning big brother?”  she asked with a grin at the somewhat haggard Ellis.  “Sorry We’re late Aunty Daddy got lost cus he doesn't have GPS.”  Jenny informed her aunt matter of factly.

 

2:00 PM “You sure you’re gonna be alright with them for the evening?”  Grace asked as she slipped her pumps on and headed for the door.  Ellis shook his head, “Go, celebrate, Frank got those tickets three months ago.”

 

3:00 PM “Aieeeeeeee!!!!”  *crash*  *Clatter*  “oops…”

 

3:01 PM “Who wants to go to the park!”  “Yay!”

 

3:05 PM “Gabriel where are your pants?”

 

3:20 PM Ellis sits heavily on the bench as the children cavort and leap from step to step on the play structure and charge from one piece of equipment to the next.  “Aren’t they just a treasure?”  asks the elderly couple at his side, “So good of you to let your wife have the afternoon off for Valentine's day.”  the older woman suggested and nudged her husband with her elbow, “Now there's a good man not like that layabout your son is shacking up with.”

 

3:30 PM “No ma’am I’m really not sure how much time in Grindr is appropriate for a married man.”

 

3:35 PM  “Alright kids time to go!”  “Awwwwwwww”

 

3:40 PM  “Alright kids time to go!”  “Awwwwwwww”

 

3:45 PM  “Alright kids time to go!”  “Awwwwwwww”

 

4:00 PM “Starbucks!”

 

4:30 PM “Alright one piece of valentine candy before dinner but only this once.”

 

4:40 PM “My tummy hurts.”

 

5:00 PM Ellis looks down at the pan then to the box then back to the pan and shakes his head, “I want a donut…”

 

5:30 PM “DONUTS!”

 

6:00 PM “Inside Out!”  Jenny and game replied in chorus, “Alright, but then straight to bed.” Ellis allowed.

 

7:15 PM “Take her to the moon for me. Okay?”   “Is Bing Bong ok?”  Gabe asked distraught, “He will be.”  Ellis assured shooting Jenny a look as she moved to argue, “Because Riley will be ok.”

 

7:40 PM “OK little monkeys bedtime.”  Ellis ordered with an easy smile as the credits rolled, “Wash and brush both of you.”  he commanded and marched them down to the bathroom for the bedtime rituals.

 

8:00 PM “Grace is home!”  the children exclaimed as they heard the door open and grace and frank came back in, “We have to say goodnight daddy!”  “OK but make it snappy.”  Ellis acquiesced and guided them down for hopefully brief greetings and goodnights with their aunt and uncle.

 

8:30 PM Ellis tucked Gabe down in the trundle once more the youngest Sanford letting out a big yawn as Ellis planted a gentle kiss on his son's forehead, “Goodnight big man.”  he intoned and headed for the door pausing as he turned out the light, “Daddy?”  Gabe asked tiredly, “Yea champ?”  Ellis replied with a little smile, “I miss momma.”  Ellis let out a slow breath as the sleepy childs statement hung in the air as he drifted off, “Me to kiddo, me too.”

[Avenger Assembled]

 

The Flame That Burns Lowest Burns Hottest

Harrier/Gina Evans

 

5:00

 

Steve stepped inside the house he shared with Gina, the warmth of climate control greeting him after the chill February day outside. Neither temperature really were an issue for him either way - what mattered was who was here. He didn’t bother calling, knowing her security systems would have been watching him the moment he approached the porch (never mind the tracker she’d installed under his skin), instead he headed below to find Gina. She was working late, as usual, deep in the crucible that she used when piloting Miss Americana. He leaned down and kissed her, lips still cool against her cheek. “Good evening.”

 

6:00

 

Dinners were rarely a high maintenance affair at Gina’s house, she was too busy to cook and he didn’t care much what he ate so long as it wasn’t obviously toxic. But tonight was ostensibly a special occasion, and what good was having money if you didn’t throw it around ridiculously every once in awhile? Steve had to meet the caterer at the door and politely reiterate the fact that no, they were not allowed to come in and set the table, but thank you anyway. There were no candles in the house, but with a little ingenuity, Gina mocked up a couple of white PVC tubes with LED pinpoint lights on the end. It was maybe more amusing than romantic, but the surf and turf with crusty rolls and a chocolate fondue for dessert was delicious. They talked about work, and she ate everything on her plate.

 

7:00

 

After dinner, they adjourned to the living room couch - the usual place where they spent their evenings together. They watched a movie called Across the Universe as Gina waited for her food to digest, a title which had initially puzzled Steve given that it turned out to be a romantic story about two young people finding love fifty years in Earth-Prime’s past against a musical backdrop from the same era - there was not even any interplanetary travel in the film despite this dating from the era of both the early civilian missions to Earth’s moon as well as the Freedom League’s involvement with the Grue. The plot was interesting enough - as was the music, but eventually they found more interesting things to do with themselves. Without much conversation besides body language, Steve pulled Gina up onto his lap and kissed her, long and slow and thoroughly.

 

8:00

 

The movie was boring anyway.
 

9:00

 

Gina didn’t necessarily need to bathe and freshen up before she slipped back into her crucible to animate her morning Skype call to the Archetech field office in Mumbai, but it certainly helped. It went longer than she’d hoped - and not well, but when she was done Steve let her curse a blue streak without trying to interject - and disappeared to come back with her favorite brand of hot chocolate - the kind that came with a few marshmallows and a shot of peppermint vodka. Steve had a cup too, and listened to her talk some more about the morons who didn’t know a million dollar deal when they saw it.

 

10:00

 

Steve was the only person Gina knew who had appointment television on the documentary channel. Still, it wasn’t much of a hardship to cuddle up on the couch with him and let him watch his show while her mind wandered downstairs, linking into her computers and worrying over a particularly thorny problem that had cropped up in the newest version of her Miss A autopilot program. There was a fine line between designing a program that would provide a convincing simulacrum of sentience for a few minutes or an hour and risking the accidental creation of a new sidekick she’d have to house in Sharl’s old partition. Gina definitely wasn’t ready for kids, no matter how they came about.

 

11:00

 

Steve watched the documentary intently, making notes with his free hand as Gina rested underneath his arm. The documentary was about people who chose, for ethical or health reasons, to live on vegetable matter solely rather than on animal flesh or the things made by animals. While the lifestyle was not one he would choose to embrace, it was interesting, as was so much else about Earth-Prime - and it would surely make interesting conversation at work in the new day. People in Earth-Prime were very interested in what they ate - and what others ate.

 

12:00

At midnight, an alert chimed inside Gina’s computer, and she tucked away work for awhile to send her consciousness drifting back upstairs. She blinked and stretched under Steve’s arm. “I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow for a breakfast meeting with our Congressman. I think he wants to be immortalized in a robot body nearly as much as he wants to be reelected, and he’s hoping ArcheTech will help with both. You should come to bed too, you could probably use the rest.” Voice commands and helpful robots powered down the house, leaving just the noise of softly whirring ventilation fans, airing out a home that was never open.
 

1:00

 

In bed beside Gina, Steve watched the back of her head as she spent the last few minutes of the evening programming her phone - she swore she found it relaxing even if it wasn’t actually necessary given her powers. When she finally fell asleep, he reached over and took her phone and set it on the bedside table, then watched her sleep some more. In his mind, fires raged outside their sealed bedroom window - and the screams of the dying and the damned. But the room was quiet - and Gina breathed softly, quietly, peacefully. It was a good sound. It was a good day.

 

“Good night,” he murmured, before rolling onto his back (making Gina wobble in the mattress) and to stare up at the ceiling. It would be a long night until he fell asleep in the predawn hours. But he wasn’t alone.

[angrydurf]

Diamonds and Rust

(Ace Danger Vignette - February 2016)

 

February 13th 1979 Midnight

Mehrshahr suburb of Karaj, Iran

 

The radar absorbent materials had performed as promised Donna would be pleased to hear that certainly Ace made a note to let her know when this was over.  After a final check of his harness the indomitable spy, diplomat, and man of action lept from the plane as it banked over the foothills of the Alborz range.  The pilot would return to Turkey Ace had another exit plan in place after the package was delivered.

 

As the wind ripped across the flight suit he wore Ace carefully zeroed in on the dark patch of orchard that was his drop zone.  Tucking his limbs in tight to reduce drag he shot down toward the surface as the alarms on the jump-suit’s altimeter blinked warning, 2000’, 1500’, 1000’.  Ace tugged his chute loose just as it crossed the 700’ mark, the canopy unfolding above him in seconds and pulling hard at the harness as it rapidly cut his speed.  There wasn’t much time for maneuver as he set down along an empty dirt track through one of the outlying orchards but this wasn’t the first time he’d dropped in under radar, nor would it be the last.

 

Reeling the chute in at the touch of a button Ace rolled to the side into the high grass bordering the track.  The turmoil of recent months hadn’t perhaps completely shut down the operations here but it wasn’t far off.  Slipping out of the flight suit and stashing it and the chute in a drainage pipe for later retrieval Ace checked to ensure the package was secure and began the trek towards the village outskirts.  

 

It had been over twenty five years since Ace was last in Karaj, it had hardly changed, or rather it had changed a great deal and yet remained much the same.  Sticking to the orchards dotting the landscape up to the outskirts Ace evaded the few patrols of police or revolutionary guard with ease, this wasn’t exactly a high value target for counter-revolutionary forces after all, not that many were left now to guard against.

 

Ace crossed from the orchards to vault the low wall around his target and crept through the darkened rows on silent feet before he came up on his goal.  The flowing persian script identified the grave as that of Rahim Gilani Loyal Son, Husband, and Father.  Pulling the package from the worn leather satchel where he’d kept it Ace looked down at the grave solemnly and stood silent vigil for several minutes as he wrestled with his emotions.

 

Leaning down he spread the red roses over the grave and flicked a sprinkling of rosewater atop them, “I miss you my friend.”  he said simply reaching out to lay a hand on the headstone.

 

Behind him a voice spoke up, “Red for remembrance.”  the soft feminine tones remarked, “Your lessons are not it seems forgotten.”  Ace turned slowly to face the woman who’s mourning garb had nearly hidden her in the shadows of the darkened cemetery.  “It is a dangerous time for Americans in Iran Mr. Danger.”  she remarked as she stood regal and unbowed by the presence of the famed adventurer.

 

Ace watched her for a moment jaw set tight before he spoke, “It is a dangerous time for the revolutionaries to try my patience Firuzeh.”  Ace replied with a hard look at the grave of his friend as he straightened and shook his head, “But worry not, my anger will not put you or your children in danger here.”  he let out a slow breath, “It is not what Rahim would have wished.”

 

The Persian woman nodded a polite acquiescence to his statement acknowledging her concern and his absolvement of it in a simple gesture.  “I hated you for many years Mr. Danger.”  she said finally, “There was always something held back and I could feel it keenly, he was a good man a good husband, a good father, but he was never truly mine.”  she intoned without bitterness, “He said you would come, I am glad his faith was this time not in vain.”

 

“You are not the first nor will you be the last Firuzeh.”  Ace replied simply and met her gaze once more, “Despite that though, he chose you in the end.”  the ageless Danger countered simply and took a step back towards the shadows and was gone.

[alderwitch]

Handprints on the Wall

(Phantom Vignette - February 2016)

 

Faretti Manor: February 14, 2016

 

After double-checking with all the many senses available to her, Taylor was as certain as she could be given Jack’s proclivities, that he was not currently hovering over her shoulder in the shadows. Still, she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder as she snuck into her Sanctum Sanctorum, ghosting through the wall and wards. She’d have to work fast. Nothing roused her vampiric husband’s suspicions like attempting to sneak around the manor. She wasn’t, after all, especially gifted in such matters and Jack had an unfortunate tendency to jump to the worst conclusions. 

 

Vampires, as it turned out, were not overly fond of surprises. Especially the one that she had married. 

 

Taking a breath that Taylor actually didn’t need, she reached her hands between the dimensions to very carefully pull out a small package. It had taken some serious favors and perhaps a small bit of scrying through time that might have made Time Keepers cranky, were they to know of it. It was all worth it, though, for the final product. This year, Taylor thought, she might actually have the better present for the silly Hallmark holiday. 

 

As she pulled out the top envelope, Taylor carefully lifted up the first glossy image as if the picture were impossibly precious. Irreplaceable. Her smile might have been just a little misty as she set aside the image of a red faced, red eyed squalling newborn to move onto the next.

 

In the end, Taylor had probably sixty or seventy simple photographs spread over her desk, spanning the last five years, from the early dates at the movie, and their engagement while the city burned to more recent pictures of the boys as they headed off to school.

 

Certainly pictures were precious to any family, but in the Faretti household, there were only a few painted portraits as the only person able to show on traditional film was Taylor herself. Which meant she'd had to track down a few colleagues capable - and willing - to take memories and scried imagery and turn them into something that could be printed on photo paper. While formal oil paintings certainly didn't look out of place in the odd, haunted house that they called home, there were not candid pictures of their lives decorating the walls, nor anything like a baby book for the boys. At least, until now. 

 

Quickly, but with no less care, Taylor assembled the thin album into some semblance of order within the unassuming leather cover before she closed it and wrapped a blood red ribbon around the book. Clutching it too her chest, Taylor ghosted through the walls of the manor until she reached Jack’s library where she left it without any fanfare on his desk before she settled in to wait with ill concealed impatience. 

 

It was harder and harder to find a Valentine’s day gift for Freedom City’s Vampire King, but this year, Taylor thought she’d outdone herself.

 

It wasn’t every year that she managed a gift that was just as good regardless of whether or not Jack was watching the whole time.

[Tiffany Korta]

A Cat’s Tale

Triakosia

 

As he snoozed he mused that whilst humans were strange the one he was currently staying with was stranger than most. Still staying with her was a lot better than the people he'd stayed with previously, who were really mean to him so he'd left them to stay a while on the streets.

 

They'd first met when he'd went up to her to ask if she'd share her tuna with him. After explaining his case carefully she’d seemed to be happy to see him and share her lunch with him. He’d allowed her to fuss him a little and scratching him behind the ears whilst talking to him, and whilst he didn't really understand humans mewing apparently he seemed to cheers her up. After finishing their lunch they both decided it would be good for him to stay with her for a while.

 

Her house was a little small but it was comfortable and she often left the window open so he could explore the surrounding area around their new home. And she also feed him quite regally and generously, though sometimes she was late and he had to remind her instantly how hungry he was, which often resulted in extra treats so he forgave such treatment.

 

This mostly made up the strangeness of his owner that he'd first notice when the carrier came our, a certain sign of an impending visit to the dreaded vet. He was going to run and hide under the couch but somehow he was in the carrier before he could even react. The second time this happened he'd managed to hide on top of the cupboards, but she'd flow up and picked him out of his hiding place. He'd been carefully watching humans for some time now and he'd never seen anyone else flying, at least not close up. He'd dug his claws in to show his displeasure but they didn't seem to have any effect so he'd gracefully allowed her to take him that time. He still hadn’t worked how she managed to find him each time,but that wouldn’t stop him trying.

 

Despite these occasional misunderstanding he’d come to appreciate her company and tried to look after her. Often he’d sit on the machine she tended to spend ages working on, to take a break and pay more attention to him, or occasionally bring her a bird of mouse as she never seemed to eat anything healthy.

 

As she snoozed he had to admit he was quite happy living here with her.

 

 

 

Dancia sat down heavily on the couch reaching over to scratch Centurion, her big orange cat, behind the ear. She’d drawn the short straw of this month's fluff article which had to be some kind of quirky take on love.

 

“How can I write this when I’ve only got you in my life? Maybe I should write this about you Centurion?” he opened one eye giving her a look suggesting what he thought of the idea.

“Yeah I guess you right! I wonder sometime what exactly you are thinking...”

[R. Bluefish]

All the Way Home

Starlight

February 2016
 

(Vignette spoilered due to length)

 

Spoiler

Sam paused outside the gates, the wind snatching at her clothing as she rested one hand on the chain-link fence that encircled the schoolyard. The metal was like ice against the skin of her palm, chilled by the cold New Jersey air. I can go anywhere in the world, she thought to herself, and I still live in %#$#ing Jersey.

 

It was times like this that she would give nearly anything for a cigarette. Or just a stiff drink. Hell, a power nap. Something to calm her jangling nerves. Of course, if she actually regained the ability to do that, likely as not there would be a needle in her arm before you could say ‘relapse.’ So maybe it was all for the best.

Still, she was dying for a smoke. Gum was no substitute. Carrot sticks weren’t even worth the dignity of consideration. The best replacement she’d found so far was a toothpick, and the one that was dangling in her mouth now was nearly chewed straight through.

Well, putting it off wouldn’t make it go any smoother. She pushed away from the fence and entered the schoolyard, the weight in her jeans pocket thumping against her leg in time with her stride. School was only just letting out, which meant packs of kids exploding out of the building en masse, chattering excitedly, with a single harried-looking teacher doing her best to corral them into something that at least resembled order.

She headed that way, hands jammed in the pockets of her jacket, dodged a pair of kids that sprinted past - watch where you’re going, you little brats - and tapped the teacher on the shoulder. “Hey,” she said. “Sam Lawrence. I’m here to pick up Arthur?”

The teacher glanced up from her clipboard. She looked even more frazzled up close. “Arthur? Oh yes, his aunt called about this. You’re the…?”

Despite herself, Sam felt heat creep into her cheeks. “Mother.” It came out sounding slightly more defiant than she intended.

“Ah.” The teacher’s gaze flickered over her, taking in the close-cropped hair, the studded earrings, the combat boots, and the black leather jacket. There was an infinitesimally brief pause that the teacher still somehow managed to use to convey disapproval. Somewhat self-consciously, Sam took the toothpick out her mouth and stowed it in her pocket.

“I just need your signature here,” the teacher held out the clipboard and a pen. Sam scrawled her name on the indicated space. It came out an indistinct squiggle, as always. “And he’s right over…” the teacher scanned the throng of children, chin up like a prairie dog.

But Sam had already spotted Artie, only just emerging from the building, alone. His head was bowed, his fingers hooked into the straps of his backpack. His thick winter jacket and woolly hat, combined with his small frame, made him look like a walking sofa cushion with glasses.

Sam left the teacher and went to meet him. He looked up as she approached, blinking owlishly. His face was surprisingly inscrutable for an seven-year-old, displaying neither enthusiasm nor apathy.

She realized her heart was thumping in her chest, and a lump had formed in her throat. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen him since going straight - Becky had, reluctantly, agreed to occasional supervised visits. But this was the first time she’d been alone with her son in…in more time than she wanted to think about right now.

She spoke past the lump in her throat. “Hey. Hi there…” honey, sweetie, baby, buddy, “Artie.”

“Hi.” His voice was high, and tentative in that special way reserved for shy children.

She waited just long enough before replying to be sure he wasn’t going to call her Mom, which he didn’t. She didn’t blame him. “Your aunt asked me to walk you home today.”

“I know,” he said, as if it was no big deal. It probably wasn’t to him. He hadn’t taken the entire day off work for this, or spent the previous 24 hours in a state bordering on constant panic attack.

“It’s…” she wondered if there was anything she would say here that she wouldn’t end up regretting later. “It’s good to see you, kiddo.”

“You too.” Her kid was polite. Apparently genetics didn’t count for everything.

They started walking. As they passed through the school gates, she reached out a hand for his backpack. “You want me to carry that for you?”

Wordlessly, he shrugged out of the straps and passed it over. She made a show of hefting onto her shoulder. “Oof. What are they teaching you about, bricks?”

“Just math and stuff.” Either he didn’t notice her joke, or it wasn’t funny. Probably the latter, she thought.

Silence rose between them. The crowd thinned around them as they got further away from the school, walking side by side. Sam was racking her brains for something else to say, something a normal parent would say, but her mind was empty of ideas.

They reached the crosswalk. With a cursory glance in either direction, Sam was halfway across before realizing she was alone. She stopped in the street and turned to see Artie waiting on the curb, looking at her patiently. “Oh. Right.” Nice one, Sam. Parent of the year. She walked back over to him and held out her hand. He took it, and they crossed the street hand in hand. He was so small that the top of his head barely reached her elbow.

By some unspoken consent, they both let go of each other’s hands at the same time when they reached the other side of the street.

She spent the next full city block trying to decide whether or not to try another joke when he spoke unexpectedly. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Cold?” She looked down at her T-shirt and leather jacket, her breath frosting in the air. “Oh. Uh…” She had gotten so used to not worrying about the temperature, she hardly noticed anymore when her usual wardrobe wasn’t weather-appropriate. “No, this is…a very warm jacket. I’m fine.”

His eyes were still on her, decidedly unconvinced. She changed the subject quickly. “So how’s school going for you? What’s your favorite subject?”

He shrugged. “I like learning about the planets and stuff.”

“Astrology? Yeah, I like that one too.”

“Astronomy. Astronomy’s a science. Astrology’s, like, fortune-telling.”

“Oh. Yeah, I knew that.” Sam, you idiot, you name yourself after a solar body and you don’t even know the right term. Now you’re getting schooled by a third-grader. Probably not a great way to make the kid respect her intelligence.

She was mulling over the prospect of finally trying for her GED when Artie piped up again. “We learned about solar eclipses today.”

“Oh yeah?” She instantly began calling to mind every random tidbit of information she had ever heard about eclipses, determined to impress the kid with all her grownup knowledge.

He started talking more rapidly now, in the way kids did when they were excited. “They used to think that the sun actually went out whenever one of them happened, but then they figured out that it was actually the moon going in front of the sun. And when the moon was right between the sun and the earth, it blocked the light. So the light wasn’t actually gone, there was just something blocking it, so you couldn’t see how bright it was.” For emphasis, he pointed up at the sun above them, a pale white orb that burned coldly in the winter sky.

She waved a hand in front of his eyes to block his gaze. “Hey, you shouldn’t look right at the sun. It hurts your eyes.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He looked at her like she had just said the stupidest thing in the world. “Why does everyone always say that? It doesn’t hurt at all.”

She felt goosebumps prickle her arms. “It…” Crap. “It really doesn’t hurt your eyes?”

He shook his head firmly. “No.”

She tilted her head back to look up, straight at the sun. “Yeah,” she sighed. “It doesn’t hurt mine, either.”

Two more blocks passed in awkward silence, Sam trying to both process this new information and think of something else to talk about. All at once, she remembered the weight on her pocket, and seized on it like a lifeline. “I just remembered,” she said. “I have something for you.”

He looked up curiously. “What is it?”

She reached into her pocket and produced a rounded, oval-shaped stone, the surface of it so glassy-smooth it hardly felt like stone at all. “Here.”

He took it, blank-faced, and turned it over in his hands. “What is it?”

“It’s…” Suddenly she felt like a complete fool. What had been her plan here exactly? Had she been planning to tell him the truth - that it was a rock she had picked up herself from the surface of the moon? Had she been planning to tell him about the countless hours she had spent painstakingly carving and polishing it with laser-focused energy from her fingertips?

No. That was one cat that needed to stay in the bag. “I…just thought it was kind of a cool rock,” she muttered. It’s from the moon. “I thought you might like it as a…paperweight.” It’s a %#$%ing rock. Why didn’t you just get him a comic book?

He looked at it for a second more, then dropped it in his pocket. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Sam stopped inwardly berating herself just long enough to marvel at her son’s politeness. If someone had given her a rock as a present when she was a kid, she probably would have written curse words all over it and thrown it through their window.

They came to another crosswalk, Sam remembering to take Artie’s hand this time. Halfway across, a waiting car honked at them to go faster, and Sam flipped him the bird by pure reflex. Conscious thought caught up wither her about a millisecond later, and she hurriedly thrust her hand back into her pocket, but a nervous glance down at Artie confirmed that he had borne witness to the whole thing.

“You gave him the finger,” he said as they reached the curb, his expression one of mild fascination.

“Yeah.” She winced as she imagined the tirade Becky would subject her to if she found out. “Shouldn’t have done that. Don’t, uh, don’t tell your aunt about that, okay?”

“Okay.”

She felt like she should say something more, so she added, “And don’t give people the finger. It’s bad.”

“Okay,” he said, looking slightly crestfallen.

The pair continued on their way. A police car roared by at full speed, sirens blaring. Sam turned her head to stare after it for a moment, chewing her lip, then looked ahead again. Ignoring a potential crime wasn’t particularly heroic, but neither was ditching your own kid in the middle of the city to go cruiser-chasing. This was Freedom City, for crying out loud. Someone else would get it.

They rounded a corner, and there it was - Becky and Omid’s apartment. A narrow but pleasant two-story, indistinguishable from the countless others like it that lined the block. The end of the line.

Sam stopped outside it, Arthur stopping with her, looking up at her as though expecting something. Now that they had arrived, she felt a sense of almost panic, desperately searching for one last thing to say, anything to stave off being left alone again. Creativity failed her in the heat of the moment, and almost by accident, she went with the truth.

“Artie…” she hesitated, the squatted down, so their eyes were on the same level. “I just wanted to say that…I love you, okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

She kept going, the floodgates now open, racing her own tears. “I mean it. I know I didn’t always show it, and I, I know I wasn’t a very good mom, but I,” her eyes burned, her cheeks felt wet, “I love you. I love you more than anything in the world, and I always will. And you don’t, you don’t have to forgive me, you don’t have to do anything. I just,” she groped for the right words, her throat choking. “I just need you to know that, okay?”

He hugged her. At first she was so shocked she hardly knew what was happening, but he was undaunted, wrapping his little arms around her neck and burying his face in her shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation, she returned the embrace, pulling him close, the tears now flowing freely down her face.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed - it could have been seconds or hours - but at some point she came to be back on her feet, brushing a sleeve across her face. Arthur was looking up at her, dry-eyed and poker-faced. She felt a tinge of strange disappointment, like she had been hoping for him to be affected as strongly as she was. But why would he be, she realized? He hardly knew her.

Her stomach hurt. "Go on inside, Artie," she said giving him a weak nudge towards the door, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. She shrugged out of his backpack and handed it  to him. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay."

Without further ceremony, Arthur turned and let himself into the apartment, locking the door behind him, then immediately bounding up the stairs to his room. Throwing his backpack on the floor, he knelt on the bed so he could see out the window. His mom was still there, on the sidewalk below, staring expressionlessly at nothing he could see. After a moment, she rubbed her eyes, squared her shoulders, and took a toothpick out of her pocket, placing it in her mouth like a cigarette. She chewed it for another moment, then turned and set off down the block, striding away so fast it was like she thought something was chasing her.

Arthur watched her until she was out of sight. Then he climbed down off the bed, reached into the pocket for the stone his mom had given him, and carefully slipped it under his pillow.

 

 

[Heritage]

Some Adjustments

(Grimalkin and the Shrike)

 

February, 2016 

 

It started the day of the Goodman incursion.

 

Gretchen told Lynn she'd drop by the store later that day, but she never showed; she didn't even respond to mental sendings, which was very alarming. She sent her senses into every piece of glamour she could think of in a two hundred miles radius, but still nothing; the changeling was beyond distraught.

 

She's dead, lying in a ditch somewhere, just like Mom always said. And somehow it's my fault.

 

She sat in her living room, practically pulling out her hair with anxiety, when she smelled fresh blood with just a hint of sandalwood soap, the same kind Gretch used, and it was close by. She followed her nose out onto the weird little patio between the two apartments. "Gretch, is that you? Are you okay?"

 

Suddenly Gretchen threw back her hood and appeared hunched forward in one of the garden chairs, staring off into space; she reeked of blood and several other body fluids. "I didn't want...the blood. Inside."

 

Lynn's eyes went wide with shock and terror. "Holy s###, what happened?!" It took a while to pry the truth out of her assistant, who was deeply traumatized and practically catatonic. The changeling went into full-on Mom Mode, getting Gretchen into first a long hot shower and then an even longer hot bath. Afterwards a huge fluffy bathrobe, roaring fire and a hot whisky toddie awaited her, and she passed out on the sofa in a matter of seconds.

 

Then came the duffel bag.

 

It held a change of clothes, toothbrush and a bar of sandalwood soap, and it became a permanent resident in Lynn's guest room. She'd forgotten how much she missed cooking breakfast for someone, or doing the New York Times crossword puzzle over coffee. Gretchen didn't stay over every night, just if she'd had a rough time patrolling, or inventory took longer than expected, or they drank too much wine on Movie Night. It was just once or twice a week. Then three or four. Then every weekend.

 

And then came the question.

 

"What are we doing here?"

 

Gretchen looked up from her book in her chair by the fire and looked around; Lynn was sitting on the sofa across from her, holding a cup of tea. The young barista cocked her head and peered across at her boss. "What do you mean?"

 

"I mean, somehow we've managed to become a couple without actually being, y'know, a couple..."

 

Gretchen blinked and set aside her book. "So what, exactly, do you want to see happen here? Do you...want to be a couple?"

 

Lynn shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I don't know...maybe? I've never..."

 

"Been with a girl before."

 

"No...I mean, yeah."

 

The younger woman rubbed her face with her hands. "Oooookay, if this is something you want to explore or consider, we are in absolutely no rush to do anything. I have to admit, I would...love that, but I would never push you in any way. We can move with glacial slowness, and if things don't work out, then they don't work out, okay? No one's feelings need to be hurt."

 

The faerie clasped her hands together and squeezed her eyes shut. "I just...know I like spending time with you; that's the one thing I know."

 

Gretchen smiled, possibly the warmest smile she'd ever smiled. "And I like spending time with you." She picked up her book and indicated the sofa with a nod. "May I join you?"

 

Lynn nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah! Totally!" She scooched over, simultaneously thrilled, terrified and deeply embarrassed; her whole head felt like a thermal beacon you could see from space. Gretchen gently settled in next to her, their hips barely touching, for once the more confident of the two in a social situation.

 

"Just relax. Drink your tea, and enjoy this moment."

 

"Okay. Okay." Little by little, she felt the butterflies fade, though they didn't disappear completely; she'd be unhappy if they did. Then Gretchen shifted and laid her head on Lynn's chest, her torso lying along hers, and an explosion of happiness rumbled deep in her heart. And the ageless changeling was just a girl who felt loved, for the first time in a long time.

Edited March 8, 2016 by Heritage

[alderwitch]

Forever

(Psyche and Phalanx)

February 2016 Vignette

 

Papers whirled around the large open space of the penthouse at AEON like a miniature tornado - well, a semi-controlled psychic tornado. It was clear why Alex had the place designed with a large multiple story central area, with two fliers in residence but especially, apparently, when she had work to do.

 

“Five more minutes,” had been the muttered response everytime Mike had poked his head out to see if his pint-sized partner was ready for bed. Even though Mike generally woke early, since the recent attack at AEON, Alex had been late to bed and early to rise, bookending her busy days as a CEO and super hero with research into the terrorist Terminus group. Every new discovery had made her frown furrow deeper as she realized the depth of information that she’d missed in minor heights.

 

Floating in the center of the space as she utilized both the multiple computer screens and her copious notes, Alex heard the door crack open as she crooked a finger and pulled over a new set of files, “Five more minutes!”

 

Her tall fiance ducked a report of some kind as it whizzed past his head as he tugged a tight fitting tank top over his head and stepping into the room tightening the drawstring on his pyjama bottoms.  “Yea so you said.”  Mike replied in a low tone of concern as he watched the papers whip around the room as screens flickered with rapid fire information, “You said it five minutes ago, and ten, and fifteen, and twenty….”  he trailed off and floated up through the center of the room to hover next to her in the eye of the vortex.

 

He reached out gingerly to lay a hand on Alex’s arm, “How much have you been sleeping?”  he asked earnestly, “Really Alex.”  he added more firmly, “You’re burning the candle at both ends.”  the concern in his voice was clear but there were no recriminations.  

 

“I know this,”  he gestured to the maelstrom of data around them, “Is important.”  Mike quirked a brow and pursed his lips, “But you can’t do everything, you can’t know everything.”  he was silent for a long moment and looked to her in profile, “You can’t keep this up.”  he intoned solemnly.

 

“Not indefinitely, no,” Alex agreed, but under her usually unflappable tone was frustration. This was personal to her, and worse, a personal failing for not having seen it coming sooner. With a gesture she sent this particular stack of papers over to the wayside and gestured for a different one as she pivoted in place to better frown at Mike.

 

“But it could be worse, next time. We have to be prepared! I have to be prepared,” she added, her tone stubborn before she turned away once more with every intent to immerse herself in the paperwork again. “Just five more minutes. Really.”

 

Mike fixed a hard look on his fiance and shook his head as he caught her shoulder, “You can’t, and you couldn’t have.”  he said firmly without doubt in his mind.  “That’s their whole point.”  one big hand moved to cup a delicate cheek as he met her gaze with his own.  “You knew this was coming.”  he said firmly, “You’ve talked about the backlash against the hate for years, built this to buffer it.”  he gestured at the building around them and shook his head.

 

Mike let out a low sigh, “They’re terrorists Alex,” the big paragon declared openly, “They thrive and survive on striking at innocents and with surprise and you made sure that when they did you would be there.”  his eyes gentled, “Be there to stop them and if you couldn’t, be there to put the pieces back together.”

 

Long impossibly strong arms pulled her in toward his chest, “You can’t predict where they’ll strike next, or when.”  he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, “You can make sure that when they do you’re ready to help, not exhausted in a fugue in your apartment.”  he opened his arms and floated a few paces away before slowly beginning to sink to the ground, “Come to bed.  Not in five minutes…”  he trialed off feeling he’d made his point as well as he’d be able.

 

Alex sighed but as the paper madness began to float back to their neat piles in corners of the room, Mike knew he’d convinced her. Landing on bare feet, Alex’s shoulders slumped inward and some of the exhaustion showed in her features.

 

“Maybe I could,” she still argued as she tipped her head up. Twisting one braid between her fingertips, Alex still continued to protest. “If I just looked at all the angles....” She added with a look towards her research once more, wavering in her agreement to go to bed like a sensible person before she sighed once more and walked into Mike’s waiting arms, with a mumbled complaint. “It was awful.”

 

Enveloping her in his warm embrace mike made a low shushing noise, “It always is.”  he replied frankly, “But it would have been worse if you weren’t there.”  he countered plainly and ran a hand through her curls, deftly undoing the clips she’d pinned her hair back in.

 

“And that is why we do it, remember?”  Her muscular fiance pointed out gently and pulled her effortlessly up into his arms.

 

Running his cheek along her own he breathed in and out, several long slow breaths as he let breathing match his own and waited for the tension to leach from her slim frame. Gently kissing along her jaw, he whispered his voice a low rumble felt more than heard as he set to unfastening her clothes with the same gentle care that he’d taken with her hair,  “You can’t get lost in the missed opportunities and setbacks. You did good and tomorrow you’re going to get up and do more good.”

 

Slowly padding to the bedroom Alex still in his arms Mike smiled a small loving smile at the woman who had so thoroughly captured his heart, “You have to choose life Alex.”  he intoned, his voice a deep rumble against her neck, lips feathering along the smooth curve of her skin.  “It’s all any of us can do, choose life and live it and try to leave the world better than we found it - and that’s what you do, every day.”

 

A push of psychic energy pushed the door closed behind the couple with a very faint click.

 

I love you.

 

I love you too, Alex.

[Gizmo]

Let's All Go To The Lobby

Set and Ouroboros - February 2016

 

The gangly usher ducked awkwardly out of the way as Set stormed out of the theatre, nearly bowling over a couple who’d made a side trip to the concessions stand rather than sit through the trailers before the show. Barely keeping her oversized popcorn bag upright the blonde began to snap something at the passing godling but with brief crackles of electricity sparking angrily in Set’s bright red dreadlocks decided it was better to just head into the movie.

 

In the lobby Set covered his face with both hands, only becoming more frustrated as he felt the heat from his cheeks on his palms. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to ensure that this would be a nice, normal date, tying back his hair and adopting a pair of tortoiseshell glasses along with a more modern outfit than he usually bothered with. He’d convinced Sekhmet to take some time to herself and even - miracle of miracles - turned off his phone even before they’d reached the theatre.

 

But then they had to go and play that trailer before the movie. “Augh! The… the nerve! The utter lack of respect!”

 

“Hollywood.” Huang agreed as he approached the tetchy godling with a fond hint of a smile. He had worried for a moment his date’s sudden departure had been something of his doing before he had fully realized what had been playing on the screen and hurried after Set as he fled in outrage. Keeping a safe step back from any risk of errant lightning he gave the god a moment to collect himself.

 

“Soooo,” he finally inquired, “You still need a moment?” Huang was not unaccustomed to such reactions to the film industry’s creative license when it came to that which it termed ‘mythic’ of course. His father's feelings on the entire lineup of classic movie monsters was the stuff of legends. “You should trash it on Twitter,” he suggested with a grin. “Take them to school on Egyptology.”

 

“Don’t imagine I haven’t already!” Set promised, turning about and throwing his hands into the air in a way that made his suitably ironic cardigan flare out dramatically for a moment. “They announced the casting ages ago, you know. One might suppose that were they to cast a Scot they might at least find one with red hair!”

 

At the stares of patrons waiting in line for another screening the Heliopolian got his electric display of displeasure under control but Huang still noticed a little more of his accent slipping into his words. “Apologies, sweet,” he sighed in a lowered voice, pushing the glasses up slightly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Should have been no great surprise, I’ve been fielding questions online more and more since the posters started going up. Seeing that travesty larger than life--” He paused and looked up at his date with a sour expression. “Ra’s buttocks, I believe I’m actually being triggered. Tis a wholly perverse sensation.”

 

If anything Huang seemed charmed by the outburst and dramatic displays of pique. The rather delightfully hipster chic costume the god had chosen was an attractive look on the Heliopolian - that certainly helped - but Huang was nothing if not a product of his upbringing and passions and outrage were traits of desire in the Faretti household after all.  

 

He stepped in as the lightning dampened and brushed a stray dreadlock back over Set’s ear. “Hey, you have nothing to apologize for,” he said firmly and ran his arms around the godling’s waist into a light hug. “It’s a crappy thing to be erased from your own history, being pissed is the only reasonable reaction.” A hint of a fanged smile tinted his lips as the dhampir leaned in. “Besides you’re cute when you're full of righteous fury.”

 

“I’m always cute,” Set corrected mulishly, letting his head fall to rest on Huang’s shoulder. As always he ran a few degrees hotter than a mortal human would have, not feverishly so but as though he’d been sunning himself under a desert sun for hours rather than trudging through the New Jersey winter. Pressing against his date seemed to quiet the last of the brewing storm, leaving only a melancholy sigh.

 

After a few moments of stillness, the godling muttered, “They cast me as the villain.” He pulled back enough so that he could look Huang in the eyes, expression glum. “And I was. He was. My elder self. Yet even so…” He signed and turned his head to look away. “I suppose I have little room to complain on that front.”

 

“Well then I stand corrected,” Huang replied with a dimpled smile as he wrapped his arms around the shorter boys shoulders. “It happens,” the dhampir lamented. His father's side of the family rarely made for heroic leads in film themselves, and when they did it was usually best forgotten.

 

“The real you is complex and varied and, well, real,” the tall teen pointed out resting a cheek on the crown of Sets head. “That never plays on film, dark is bad, light is good, straightforward narratives so no one gets lost, entertainment by lowest common denominator.”

 

Huang used one knuckle to lift Sets chin and smiled a dimpled smile with just a hint of fang down at his boyfriend. “Besides who wants to be good all the time,” he suggested with a wink and leaned in to plant a firm kiss on the godlings lips drawing more than a few looks and, as people realized who was in the theatre, grainy cell phone pictures to later disappoint and confuse the internets when the famed teen god appeared to be receiving a thorough kiss from the air.

 

As the kiss broke Huang shrugged. “Let's get out of here,”  he suggested cavalierly, “I know my mom is all up on this normal dating thing but the fact is we’re not normal and that's what makes this...” He pointed between himself and the well dressed godling. “...work so well.”  

 

He turned the arm over Set’s shoulder to lead him out. “Let’s go see something real,” he mused. “I could portal us to Egypt, you could tell me about the glory days?” he suggested with a grin. “Or we could go haunting Romanian ruins and spook some superstitious locals!”

“Remain good, sweet,” the Heliopolian chided with a pleased smirk, slipping an arm around Huang’s waist and allowing himself to be led out of the theatre. “Events have take a truly troubling turn when I must serve as the positive influence.” Mood improved by the dhampir’s words and in no small part the public display of affection he paused for a moment before adding, “Though I do dearly love a good ruin…”

[Electra]

Say Yes

Wander 

 

The mirror was enormous. If it hadn’t been curled around on itself into a near-circle, it could’ve served as the wall of a dance studio. Erin stared into the mirror, and felt a dozen, a hundred copies of herself glowering back at her. It reminded her of pretty much any trip she’d taken into the multiverse. At least giving the stink-eye to her own reflection helped distract her from the fact that she and all her many doppelgangers were wearing nothing but underpants and a strapless bra. It was a weird trip to the multiverse.

 

“Frank?” she called over her shoulder. “Have you got it? I’m freezing!”

 

“Just one tiny little moment,” Frank’s voice assured her from somewhere beyond the mirror. “I’m basting.”

 

“You’re what?” Erin had a sudden vision of Frank with a turkey baster somewhere in his sewing kit. The hell?

 

“The skirt is too long, you’re all torso,” Frank complained good-naturedly. Erin did not believe that actually answered her question. “You won’t like it if you don’t think you can fight in it if you need to, so I’m not going to show it to you without the hem.”

 

“Oh. Okay.” Erin didn’t exactly feel enlightened, but she had to agree with the conclusion. “Um, if I don’t like it, will there still be, you know, time to do anything? I know I’ve been putting this off.”

 

“You still have almost two months,” he assured her, “and I am a known worker of miracles. If you don’t make your decision until the day before, well, maybe I won’t be able to work in as many of my special touches-”

 

“You mean it won’t double as a parachute and have Kevlar lining.”

 

“-But you will still be a vision of loveliness.”

 

Erin and her army of doubles raised an eyebrow. “You’re good, Frank, but even you-”

 

“Every woman is lovely on her wedding day,” Frank interrupted, coming up to the one break in the mirrors with a double armful of white fabric. “And you give me more to work with than you like to believe. I’ve been dressing you for six years now, and waiting for nearly that long for a chance to put this dress on you. So how about giving a little trust to an old man, hmm?”

 

She smiled at him in the mirror, her cheeks reddening a little. “You haven’t steered me wrong yet,” she admitted. “I just wanna know, when Trevor comes in here, does he have to stand in the mirror in his boxer shorts and socks?”

 

“That’s privileged information,” he told her archly, making her laugh as she raised her arms to let him drop the dress over her head. “He will definitely be getting a new tuxedo, however, even if I have to drag him in, muttering and grumbling monosyllables. Lean forward and hold up your hair.” Erin did as ordered, oofing slightly when he pulled hard on the intricate laces that ran up the back of the bodice. “There we are. Now take a look at yourself.” He stepped backwards as she straightened up and got a good look at Frank’s handiwork

 

The dress was definitely long, nearly brushing her toes even with the quick, long stitches that Frank had added to the hemline. It wasn’t very fussy, with most of its design coming from darts in the material rather than beads or lace. It had no sleeves, which was usually a deal-killer for Erin because even after being out of high school for five years, she was still self-conscious about her arms, but the look wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. Erin studied herself soberly in the mirror for a long minute. She looked… strong, she guessed. She pretty much always looked strong. But kind of regal too, though she squirmed at the description even inside her own head. Like if she wanted to, she could pick up a bat or a sword and lead an army of guys dressed in armor. Which was a weird thought for her wedding dress, but maybe Trevor’s endless tactical planning was bleeding over into her thoughts as well. But when she looked at the mirror, she could still see herself. Trevor would be able to see her.

 

“It’s good,” she told Frank, her voice unusually soft. “It… it’s really good.” She pursed her lips tightly, glared at Erin-in-the-mirror even as she blinked hard against filling eyes.

 

“It really is all right if this isn’t the one,” Frank reminded her quietly, coming up behind her left shoulder. “You don’t even have to decide right now. I know this past year has been stressful, and you’ve been putting off a lot of the planning. People would understand…”

 

“No, I know it’s right,” she assured him as she pressed her finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose. “It’s exactly what I want to be wearing, to do exactly what I want to do,” she added, very firmly. “I’ve never been so sure about anything as I am about Trevor, and Alex has most of the planning sewn up so tight, I’m almost afraid to mess with it. All of that’s going to be fine.” She took a deep breath. “I just wish my mom were with me today.”

 

Frank nodded and gave her arm a quick squeeze, then left her to collect herself for a moment in privacy. She scrubbed her face and straightened her hair and gave her doubles a stern mental pep talk about stiff upper lips and self-control. They all seemed better for it. “Do you think maybe the hem should be a little shorter?” she called over the mirrors. “It still seems long.”

 

“Your shoes have two inches of heel, darling,” Frank reminded her, coming back with an armful of accessories that had Erin giving him a dubious look. “It’ll be perfect once they’re on. Your young man may have to wear lifts, but we’ll all manage just fine, I’m sure.”

 

“Yeah,” Erin said on the edge of a sigh. “I think we will.”

 

[Gizmo]

Walk Through My Garden Forever

Bombshell, Jack of all Blades and Willow - February 2016

 

“I caught a nap, you needn’t fret,” Talya laughed as she went to shoo her partners out of the house and onto their planned escape. “It’s hardly the first time that I’ve watched these two, after all. Go. Have fun. Don’t come back for a few hours as we have a fully planned tea-party to attend to.”

 

“Tea party!” Eden agreed with enthusiasm that had far more to do with the promise of sweets and a parent’s undivided attention than grasping the indoctrination into appreciation for proper tea time.

 

“Fretting? Who’s fretting?” Erik balked even as he strained his neck to survey the kitchen and visibly ran down a mental checklist again. “Neither of us is halfway British enough to ‘fret’. I’ll admit to brooding on occasion, once I even experimented with fussing but fretting? Never!”

 

His rambling didn’t fool either of the women in the apartment, of course; where Min and Talya were more able to let things flow naturally Erik hadn’t quite gotten past worrying over the logistics of balancing their three person relationship. Even if they’d all agreed that the current arrangement was a lot more practical than always trying to hire a sitter that didn’t stop him from looking a bit like a confused puppy when leaving either of them at home with the girls.

 

With a laugh Min grabbed Erik's arm and gently - the dryad was all too aware of her strength - tugged him toward the door. "You're rambling, love," she said, flashing Talya a conspiratorial look. "And it sounds an awful lot like fretting." Min's tone of voice was considerably gentler than her winter aspect would typically allow but that wasn't surprising; Erik and Talya were equally aware that their presence smoothed out the ancient guardians personality to something a little closer to human.

 

"Come," she said, "before we decide to stay in tonight."

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Crisp fallen leaves crunched under Erik’s boots as he shifted the basket under his arm so that he could pull his scarf up toward his chin with his free hand. There wasn’t quite frost on the ground but the weather had been hovering around the right conditions for it. Fortunately for him the trees in the denser part of Wharton State Forest took most of the bite out of the wind, reducing it to a sort of low sigh that rose and fell as they hiked.

 

He actually found the brisk air invigorating in a way, which he suspected was Min rubbing off on him. It hadn’t been that long ago he’d have balked at the thought of spending any length of time outdoors in late winter. The dryad, of course, had no such issues with the season, walking beside him as comfortably as though it had been summer. “Lemme know when you see a good spot, florecita.”

 

Min gave her husband a thoughtful look then nodded, the ghost of a smile on her lips since they both knew she could make a good spot but she appreciated the gesture. She heard the spot before she saw it, the faint sound of water stubbornly flowing when by all rights it should start to freeze, and a few minutes later Erik and Min were by the edge of a small brook flanked by conifers.

 

It was a cute little spot, one that obviously hadn't seen much in the way of human activity despite the proximity to a major city, and the trees were such a good windbreak that it was practically cozy. "Perfect," Min said taking the basket from Erik, giving him a small peck on the lips before turning to set up.

 

While the dryad unfurled the blanket with characteristic grace her husband unpacked two thermoses of soup along with all of the sealed containers he’d spent the early afternoon in the kitchen preparing. Little puffs of steam rose up in the chilly air as he lifted one lid to reveal wedges of quesadilla neatly packed into a row with seasoned potato wedges stuffed more haphazardly into every available gap after he’d realized he’d made more food than would easily fit into the basket.

 

Sprawling out once the blanket was laid down Erik unzipped his jacket and propped his head up on one elbow, giving Min a lopsided grin as he gestured to the spread of food with a theatrical wave of his free hand. “Your banquet,” he drawled, waggling his eyebrows. “I just hope now that you’ve lured me out into your cold, dark woods you had a plan for keeping a poor human cook warm.”

 

An impish grin crossed Min's face and she laughed, pushing Erik over onto his back and straddling his waist.  "I have some ideas," she said as she leaned across him, her breath warm against his skin.  The food, as lovingly prepared as it was, was soon forgot.

 

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Talya came up from the crystal clear water of the Danger pool with a sudden sharp gasp for air. While she’d certainly come to admire all the many ways that Min’s utter lack of a need for oxygen was useful in enjoying an unguarded pool, Talya still needed to breathe.

 

Her voice husky with lingering pleasure, she reached out gentle hands to pull up the dryad to join her on the surface. “Did I not tell you the Danger gardens were a sight to behold?” Talya murmured as she draped arms around her lover’s shoulders.

 

Min's copper-hued cheeks were flushed a dark bronze as she leaned into Talya, the warmth of the Englishwoman's skin against her own providing delightful contrast to the water.

 

"They are fascinating," Min whispered into Talya's ear while her hands remained below the water's surface.  She spun the other woman around, leaning her up against the edge of the pool while her curtain of white hair flowed behind her.  "But," the dryad purred into her lover's ear, "you are by far the prettiest flower in the garden."

 

“Flattery… the second best way to my heart,” Talya all but purred as she twisted in the water to twine her arms around the dryad’s neck and leaned forward to nibble her own path from one elegantly curved ear towards the water line.

 

A gasp interrupted Talya’s plans for a second round of antics in the pool as one very startled groundskeeper rounded the corner. It took a lot to make one of the employees at Danger Manor blush but blush he certainly did as the spy laughingly pulled her lover from the water to escape deeper into the gardens.

 

Getting caught, after all, was at least in some amount, part of the fun.

 

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Although Talya’s expression remained somewhere in the realm of pleased, Erik knew her well enough to recognize the thread of excitement below the surface that he generally associated with costumed activities and capers. Apparently when she’d mentioned a desire to go dancing, it had meant more than she’d actually expressed. Of course with the blonde British woman, that was hardly a surprise.

 

Talya was all legs and heels, the short black dress loose enough to both dance in, and still fit in a way that she deemed flattering. With a wave of her fingertips, she pulled Erik past the line at the door, and the bouncer, and into the club itself with a certain degree of familiarity. The floor was already thick with couples enjoying the live band. Rather than drag him to something akin to a hip-hop club, Talya had instead chosen a venue more like what she’d grown up with - even if now it was predominantly hipsters dancing lindy-hop.

 

Her fingers laced in Erik’s, she didn’t pause for a table as she headed for the floor with an assurance of, “It’s easy. With all the acrobatics you do, it’s just like falling off a bike.”

 

That was almost certainly not the proper idiom.

 

Erik straightened his chocolate brown dress shirt with a tug of his free hand and took in the bustling club with a glance. “I’m sure I’ll pick it up in no time,” he agreed with a confident grin, allowing himself to be pulled past the tables toward the dancefloor. Inwardly he was a little less sure but this was just about the most charged he’d ever seen Talya without a mask on. If keeping that smile on her face meant a little faking it until he got the hang of things, that he could do.

 

Perhaps surprisingly, Talya drug him to the side of the dance floor rather than into the throng. Once she’d cleared out a small swath of space, she pivoted neatly into Erik’s arms, one hand lightly resting on his shoulder and the other tucked into his hand.

 

“If you can manage fencing footwork - which clearly poses no trouble for you - this is really not all that different,” was her laughing response. “Just watch my feet.”

 

“Just watch you, huh?” Sliding in close enough against Talya that he was more feeling for her movements than seeing them he matched her footwork, gradually getting a better feel for the music. Hand on her hip, they might as well have been alone in an empty room for all the attention he gave anything but her. “I think I can manage that.”

 

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Talya’s laughter was soft, well aware that at this hour both the children would likely be asleep, and the last thing she wanted to do was rouse them. She, after all, had plans yet for the evening; plans that depended on all three adults having no other demands on their time for the immediate future.

 

With her high heels dangling half-forgotten from one slender hand, her other ghosted along the small of Erik’s back as he dealt with the door. Her voice was low, husky, and laughter lingered in her tone as she asked, “Min still up? If not, I have a few ideas on how to rouse her…”

 

A quiet home greeted Talya and Erik as they entered the apartment, though a light was on in the living room and their ancient lover was curled up on the couch sound asleep.  She held a book open in her lap - one of Talya's more racy romance novels - and a blanket around her feet.

 

It was obvious that she fallen asleep waiting for them to return home.

 

The scene turned Erik’s grin into a low laugh to match the blonde’s as he set the keys down quietly on the coffee table and leaned into Talya’s side. “Well, let’s see if great minds think alike, then, ha.” Slipping out of the half embrace he slid silently onto the couch next to the dozing dryad and ghosted a kiss onto the tip of one pointed ear.

 

“The bed is more comfortable,” Talya suggested none too subtly as she discarded her shoes by the door and crossed the room on silent feet. As Erik nuzzled Min awake, gentle hands folded up the blanket and put the books aside. With a little nudge to Erik’s shoulder and a kiss to his cheek, she added her voice low, “Put those muscles to use, hmm?”

As Erik lifted his wife up into his arms, Min’s amber eyes fluttered open and she gave Erik and Talya a sleepy smile.  “Mm, welcome home,” she murmured.

[Avenger Assembled]

Comrade Frost 

February 2016 

Cold Winter 

 

The old man in the bed opened his eyes as he felt a chill on his skin, a faint smile tugging at his sagging cheeks at the sight of the man sitting next to his bed. “Ah,” he murmured, twitching an age-spotted hand as if to wave at him in greeting. “So nice you could make it, Dr. Peshkov,” he said, his voice thin and reedy as he spoke through his oxygen tubes. “What brings you back to the Ukraine? Is it the weather?” 

 

“Shirking,” said Dimitri sternly. “What’s this I hear of you laying down on the job, Borisov, when there is work to be done?” The old game didn’t feel right, though, not when his old friend lay here all alone in this hospital of a nation that had so suddenly become his enemy - so he ‘relented’, burying his hands inside his pockets and falling silent. “...this room should be bigger,” he finally said, looking around at the four walls with their cracking plaster, listening to the tinny old radio playing in the other room, smelling the distinct scent of imperfectly clean bedpans. “You are a veteran of the Great Patriotic War and you deserve better than this. I will talk to the administrator and-” 

 

“No,” said Borisov, shaking his head. “no, the younger men need bigger rooms. I am not a Yank, Peshkov, I don’t need a color television and fancy things…” He fell silent - and it was clear the words had taken something out of him. Well of course it had - he was ninety-seven years old and though he’d avoided the frailty that came with so much senescence, time had caught up with Dr. Dimitri Peshkov’s orderly. God, he was what, twenty-two in the old days? And he looked like he had barely learned to shave. 

 

Silence fell between them, broken by the sound of Yuri Borisov’s slow, regular breathing. Dimitri folded his hands in his lap and closed his eyes, wondering where the hell Yuri’s damnable grandsons were. With their fat wives and children in Kiev, no doubt, he thought irritably. Waiting for an old relic of the past to die. “Yes, well...their girls are pretty, though. Those tight costumes they put the superwomen in, it’s obscene! You would love it.” That got him a smile, and so he kept talking, sharing a series of creatively dirty stories that would have gotten him a sound beating had anyone overheard them in Freedom City. 

 

When he’d finished, Dimitri realized that his old friend had fallen asleep. He sat there and looked down at the old man’s face, Borisov’s mustache and hair both snow-white, and remembered the night of the breakout from Leningrad. When the German riflemen had opened up on their not-so-sneaky little company, Borsov had picked up his commanding officer from where the latter had collapsed in terror, pointed to the forest, and yelled “RUN!” What did I get for hiding in terror? The Peoples’ Heroes - and you would have had a penal battalion if I had not asked for you as my second when I became Comrade Frost. What a country we served. 

 

Taking out his pocket leather notebook, Dimitri took this opportunity to begin planning out the insults he would use when he showed up at Borisov’s grandsons’ doors to shout at them to go pay some respect to the heroic old man who had risked his life so they could be fat, lazy cocaine addicts. Late into the night, Borisov woke up, his arms and legs moving slightly, and cast his eyes up at his old commander. “Dimitri, it’s so cold...” he whispered. 

 

His dead heart thumping in his chest, Dimitri was on his feet, pulling the bed’s thin blanket over the frail old man, painfully realizing how cold it had to be inside the small room. “Let me go shout at the damn janitors,” he said, rising to his feet, “turn up the steam in this place!” He walked away, keeping his pace brisk, and down in the building’s basement found himself shouting in fury at a frightened-looking maintence man to turn up the heat in the hospital’s old steam boiler. When it was good and hot in there - and the hospital’s radiators were particularly warm, Dimitri came back upstairs, his boots squeaking on the stained tile floors of the old Soviet military hospital - now a much-neglected Ukranian veterans’ home. Those who had fought in the Red Army were less than loved, these days. 

 

When Dimitri came back upstairs, Yuri Borisov lay in his bed, sheet tucked up to his chin, a look of peace and comfort on his still face and in eyes that still were open. Comrade Frost stared down at his friend for a long moment before reaching down to close the old man’s eyes. It was done. 

[Avenger Assembled]

Edge - Monsoon

February 2016 

Mount Nyiragongo

The Democratic Republic of the Congo 

 

Edge and Monsoon arrived on the edge of the volcano's crater, both of them nearly wilting from the terrible heat. Even with the volcano relatively quiet, the air was thick with volcanic gases and the scent of sulfur. If the eruption got any worse, even they couldn't stay long. Peering down into the crater below with the binoculars from his belt, Mark felt his heart twist at the sight in the volcanic lake below, only occasionally visible through the clouds of smoke and bubbling lava that covered the surface of the lake, which was about a kilometer on a side. Resting on the surface of the lake amid smoldering patches of ash lay the personal aircraft of Dr. Nzambi, whose attempt at fleeing the UNISON force that had come to seize her stronghold had just come to an untimely end. 

 

"Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un," said Monsoon, hand to her mouth as she joined Mark in studying the scene in the crater with despair. "Those poor bastards. It landed on the heat shield, see," she said, pointing, "but there's no way to get them out of there. I'd never survive flying over a half-kilometer of molten lava, and you can't teleport through that much smoke and superheated air. Nzambi's no loss to the world, but those poor guards. Oh well, I suppose they-Mark!"

In a move that Nina supposed she should have predicted, Edge was sliding down the side of the interior rim of the volcano, down towards the superheated air of the lava lake. "It's fine!" Mark was calling up to her, "I'll just turn the lava solid and cool when I walk on it! I'll get 'em out of there." 

 

"But why?!" Nina demanded of Mark, barely keeping her feet as the volcano shook beneath them, the lake suddenly bubbling over with bursting balls of hot lava. This close, she was probably going to get a rash - what was going to happen to Mark if he stayed down there long? She didn't try and stop him, knowing the physical impossibility of that feat - but she also knew what could happen if he stopped paying attention down there in that lake, and with no one to fish him out of the water. "She's a supervillain! They're fanatical cultists! Why would you risk your life for them?" 

 

"Cause the volcano's real hot, babe!" said Mark, looking from her to the volcano before continuing his careful slide down the inside of the mountain. He concentrated, thinking good thoughts about clean air and cool water, and paused just for a moment at the edge of the lava lake before he began walking out onto the surface of the lava, the rock cooling beneath his feet almost instantly. I love Nina, but sometimes I don't know what she's thinking...He didn't even notice when the volcano began erupting in full force, instead simply striding through the lava bombs with the slow, deliberate concentration of a man walking a tightrope. 

 

-

 

The truth was, Peter Myton and most of his fellow mercenaries had never been cultists of Dr. Nzambi - the supervillain who had named herself for a god didn't hire cultists as her personal protectors for obvious reasons. But as he felt the floor heat up beneath his feet and saw the looks on the faces of his fellow mercs, watched the volcano's eruption grow outside the window, saw  the look of desperate concentration on Nzambi as she tore apart the spaceship's control systems to try and jury-rig something that even Myton could tell was doomed to failure, he rather wished he had a god to believe in. Oh well - at least this is an interesting way to go. He looked out the window, trying to fill his eyes with the terrible beauty of the volcanic lake before the floor melted beneath his feet...and saw a man out there walking towards them. "Jesus, is that a ghost?" he demanded of the others as a blue and gold-clad figure strode across the actively bubbling lake, waving his hand to stem the eruption like a figure from a dream. 

 

The men exchanged a frantic conversation with each other as the figure outside drew closer and closer, Peter somewhat belatedly noting that the man outside had his hands cupped to his face to amplify his voice. Turning on the exterior microphone, he heard a voice shouting in English, "Hey! Hey, it's okay, I'm Edge from UNISON! Don't be scared, we're gonna get all you guys out of there! It's okay, everything's fine!" 

 

Nzambi, her face covered in grease and a look of truly divine frustration on her face as she made her way out of the pilot's chair, boiled up to stand next to Peter, yelling into the outside broadcast system just as Edge reached the window outside. "How will we be fine, fool? Even if you're fireproof, none of us are!" 

 

"It's fine, I'm not even fireproof! I'm just trying not to get hit out here!" came the response of the blonde, blue-eyed American outside. "Hey, I'll tell you what!" he rapped on the window, his hand only a few inches from Peter's. "You'll be fine if you stick close to me, I'm really lucky like that. Come out on here." 

 

-

 

When the first mercenary stepped out of the hatch, Mark was there to greet them with a smile, heedless of the volcano that surrounded them but felt no more threatening than a theme park ride. "Oh ye of little faith!" he joked. "C'mon, it'll be fine..." 

 

-

 

Nina gave herself a bath in the tent that night - an interesting process to watch with the water sliding over her skin and right under her clothes, scraping away dirt, ash, and the blood of other people and pooling on the towels beneath her feet as it slid down her cuffs. "Looks like they have the evidence to charge Nzambi and the others," she commented to Mark, who was in the process of carefully shaving with a razor and a hand mirror. "They'll be in the Hague soon enough. The kind of people you're willing to die for never ceases to amaze me, darling," she told him with an affectionate smile. He'd apologized for making her wait on the volcano's rim, watching with her heart in her throat, reports of an imminent eruption in her earpiece matched by the way Mark was casually dismissing the eruption. 

 

"Yeah, well...there's only one person I want to live for." He leaned over and pecked her lightly on the cheek, the two of them too exhausted for much more right now. "And you're right, that was a jerk move earlier." He grinned. "Next time, you're coming in the volcano _with me_." 

 

[Electra]

Ready to Begin

Midnight II and Fleur de Joie 

 

The dark haired young man met Stesha’s van as she pulled up to the end of the long, curving driveway that ended in front of the Hunter Manor. She’d first met Trevor Hunter while he was still in high school and while he’d certainly grown and matured into his tall frame in the intervening years it was still a little hard to believe that the taciturn heir was getting married. His customary sunglasses and the brim of his hat hid much of his expression but the way he was subtly fidgeting with the cuff of his burgundy dress shirt struck her as unusually restless.

 

“Thank you for coming,” Trevor greeted her as she opened the door, stepping around the front of the vehicle and checking to see if there was anything she needed help carrying out. “Know you don’t do this much anymore; didn’t trust anyone else to do it perfectly.” And there was that restlessness, nearly hidden by his reserved body language and level voice but still there, like the tension before a fight.

 

“It’s my pleasure!” Stesha assured him, closing the door of her little-used minivan and giving Trevor a quick hug. “I’m so happy for you and Erin, and I’ve always loved doing weddings. The grounds here are going to be spectacular in another two months, and I’ll just gild the lily. So to speak.” She laughed and walked around to the back of the van, popping it open to reveal a huge tangle of thin metal poles. “This is an arbor trellis, well, on a good day. It needs a little sorting out,” she admitted. “Have you decided where you want the ceremony?”

 

Wordlessly Trevor gestured with one arm around the side of the mansion before leading the way. It took a few steps before he modulated his longer stride so that the green haired florist didn’t have to jog to keep up and he shot a quietly apologetic look her way as he did. The pace he set brought them around to the back of the grounds in short order to view a wide open lawn.

 

The field of grass was given shape by touches of landscaping and a well maintained pond bisected by stepping stones in one corner. There were several large beds of dark, rich looking topsoil but clearly no one had taken up the challenge of filling them with plants in more than a few years. The towering junipers that formed a green barrier around the perimeter were at least tidily trimmed and looked after. Without comment Trevor looked to Stesha for her opinion, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

 

Stesha looked over the scene for a few moments, before letting out an appreciative “Wow…” She crouched down and ran her fingers through the dead grass, scooping up a bit of loose soil and crumbling it in her fingertips. The grass she’d touched began to stir and come to life, greening and growing as though spring had come early and incredibly fast. “This is beautiful, Trevor. You could do just about anything you wanted here. How many people are you inviting?”

 

“Ah,” the groom-to-be replied after a beat of silence, straightening his back with the air of a student who had just been called upon in class. He’d done his customary amount of preparation before Stesha had arrived, compiling a list of flowers he knew Erin liked, cross-referenced with those that were appropriate for the climate and time of year, taking some basic soil samples with the manor’s copious scientific equipment and even doing cursory research into the most common pollen allergies.

 

It was perhaps time to admit, however, that there were some sizable gaps in the planning he and Erin had managed to wade through. “That… is an excellent question.”

 

His response earned him a startled look from Stesha, who quickly modulated her expression back to something more appropriate to a wedding vendor. Old habits died hard. “That’s probably going to be a question you want answered soon,” she offered. “If it’s just a gathering for people who are in the know about Midnight, I can get a little bigger and more creative with the arrangements, if that’s what you’d like, otherwise you’ll want a little more muted. You and Erin met at hero school, right?”

 

Trevor made a soft sound of confirmation without looking over to the shorter woman, instead focusing on some point in the distance. “Public face of the Hunter fortune now that-- hn.” His mouth briefly twisted into a sour expression before he schooled into an even more impassive mask than before. “Weddings are important society events. Smart thing would be to invite large crowd, extravagant in expected fashion.”

 

When he finally looked down to Stesha he was wearing a faint frown, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark slacks. “Don’t want to share it with them.” It seemed to take an almost physical toll on Trevor to admit that, a palpable sense of embarrassment for not immediately committing to the most reasonable, responsible route radiating from him. With another inarticulate sound he turned away again.

 

“I’ve always been of the opinion that people should be able to have what they want for their own wedding, and not what other people want for them.” Stesha pursed her lips, studying both the venue and the groom-to-be. “You go into it figuring you’ll only do it once, so you want to get it right. You could always throw another party later, a big reception for all the folks who didn’t come to the actual wedding. It’d add to the expense and the hassle,” she admitted candidly, “but you’d get to have your wedding cake and eat it, too. And if she’s got family and friends who aren’t in the know as well, maybe that could make it easier for them too. You know big hero gatherings can be targets.”

 

“That angle is covered,” he replied much more certainly though without elaborating. He’d already seen to it that anyone who even contemplated causing trouble within the same postal code as the wedding would dearly regret it. Mulling over her words with quiet deliberation he eventually decided. “Reception is a good idea. Could make that work.”

 

“It’ll be like a destination wedding in your own backyard,” Stesha told him cheerfully. She walked up to a knot of dormant hydrangea bushes near the house, which began to bloom under her absent attention. Reaching into one cluster of blooms, she pulled out a tape measure and began to measure the planting boxes. “So, are you excited?”

 

For the first time since she’d arrived the corner of Trevor’s mouth turned upward in what was probably a smile. “Yes. Very.” He followed Stesha to the boxes, watching everything she did with studious interest and an eye for where he might lend assistance. With some small hesitation he spoke up, “Thank you again. Was concerned weddings might be a… difficult topic, now.” He’d been at her own wedding and their didn’t seem to be any delicate way to address the way that had ultimately ended.

 

Stesha’s own smile slipped for a moment, then returned as a slightly crooked, tireder version of itself. “Don’t worry about it,” she assured him. “I love weddings, honestly. I love the idea of weddings, two people falling in love and throwing a party to celebrate that love with everyone who’s important to them. I loved my wedding, even though the marriage fell apart. I’m so happy for you, Trevor, that you’ve found someone you love enough to make promises to. I’m honored that you asked for my help.You’re going to have a wonderful party, and everybody’s going to have a great time.”

 

The restlessness seemed to leave the tall young man’s posture as he listened to Stesha, or at least was lessened enough that he was better able to conceal it behind his practiced stoicism. He parted his lips to speak before pressing them into a thin line and trying again to order his thoughts into words. “I feel…” he trailed off on his second attempt before trying a different tactic and simply spreading his hands apart to indicate a span far exceeding the capacity of his chest.

 

“That’s good,” she assured him with a soft chuckle. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel. All the rest of it is just the details. Though some of those details are important!” she added, mock-sternly. “You’ll want to get that guest list sorted out very soon so your invitations are timely. Or you could just have that friend of yours, Edge, pop everyone into their seats whenever you decide to get married, but that might cause some inconvenience.”

 

Finished with the tape measure, Stesha tossed it in the direction of the hydrangeas, where it was immediately sniffed out and gobbled up by one particularly assertive stalk of flowers. “So listen, what I’m thinking is we put the arbor trellis up by the pond and run mostly-white flowers along it, with plenty of greenery. Wisteria, clematis, maybe even morning glories for a little color. Mini-bouquets run along the aisle, every other row, a couple of big arrangements in standing containers at the end of the aisle instead of an altarpiece. We’ll fill these planter boxes with a spring garden assortment that will last all the way into the hot months, and you and Erin can decide on what colors you want for the rest of the flowers. Basket of rose petals for your flower girl, corsages, bouquets and boutonnieres for the wedding party and all the parents. What do you think?”

Trevor followed her description as she indicated one area of the estate after another, mentally picturing the sprawling arrangements and not for the first time imagining the day itself. Softly taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and was silent for a long moment before turning to Stesha with a slight curve to his lips that was unquestionably a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

[Gizmo]

Love in the Dark

Kimber Storm and Tarva the Black - February 2016 

 

It had been one of those evenings where Tarva had work to do - which meant bending over with her black ink pens and notebooks, the scratching of her writing the only sound in the quiet of the common room. Late one night, when they were alone for a little while, Tarva looked up from her notebook over at Kimber, the yellow legal pad covered as usual with her narrow, tightly wrapped scrawl - the black letters so small that she could fit two whole lines of text in between the rules. “Darling, do you think a full dimensional disruption would destroy-” She hesitated a moment, looking down at her notes, then said, “Feh, what have I been thinking! I should have been talking with you about this from the beginning. I’ve been a fool. Do you have a moment?”

 

The soft clacking of knitting needles stopped as soon as Tarva spoke up, the implements hanging still in the air several feet above the shadow witch’s head along with a partially finished project and book of patterns. Floating nearby with her toes pointing toward the arching skylight and her fingers intertwined behind her head, Kimber beamed downward. “For you? I might even have two.” She was grateful for the excuse to take a break; the runes she was trying to incorporate into the midnight blue shawl weren’t quite coming out the way she wanted and a dropped stitch in the wrong place would render the whole of the spellwork useless.

 

Dropping down to Tarva’s recliner she flew in a tight circle around her partner before settling down on the armrest with one leg crossed over the other and her shoulder rubbing companionably up against the other woman. “So, what are you destroying tonight?” Her grin wrinkled the dusting of beryl freckles across her nose that were only clearly visible up close and she craned her neck to look curiously down at the notebook.

 

“Well, hopefully nothing,” said Tarva, her pale cheeks blushing obsidian for a moment. Bashfully, she showed Kimber her work, leaning against her with comfortable ease. “I’ve been making contingency plans for what we should do if the castle is conquered by...you know. Them.” She hesitated just a moment, looking down at her work, then back at Kimber, then spoke with the sort of assured authority that meant she’d been planning something out in great detail. “I was planning on a deadhand spell, the sort that would go off even if I was already gone. That’s simple enough - but the execution is difficult.” She smiled for a moment at the private joke. “I’d thought about something specific for each of us, but maybe a full dimensional disruption, really shattering the local fabric of reality, would be the most effective in getting the job done cleanly. I just worry it would be too easy for Them to detect and deactivate.”

 

“You take gallows humour so literally, licorice whip,” the poltergeist sighed without entirely managing to hide a small smirk of her own. Shifting her posture she draped an arm over Tarva’s shoulders. “You know how I feel about worst-case planning. It is not happening like that. If those-- mmh.” Kimber bit her tongue rather than indulge in some uncharacteristic profanity. “If They come looking for trouble, I’m not letting them lay a slimy finger on you.” She studied Tarva’s face for only a moment, however, before relenting, the levitating knitting supplies neatly stacking themselves in a tidy pile on the nearby table. “If it makes you feel better, love. How local are we talking? There are innocent people living right below us, remember.”

 

“I remember,” agreed Tarva, “which is another reason I think the disruption is the way to go. The end of reality is no time to be selfish.” She tapped her pen against the paper and went on. “I could collapse the dimensions of the whole building if I place the ritual seals in the right places. No one would have to feel a thing.” She looked at Kimber, catching a reaction on her face, and pain flashed in those dark eyes, pain that burned with the inner fires that she sometimes let Kimber see. “And I know how that sounds to someone from Prime.” She folded her arms around herself, her height making it difficult for her to draw up into the ball she obviously wanted to be in. “But there are things that this place is not prepared for, things that I... I want to keep from you, darling.” She pulled a hand free and reached out for Kimber’s cheek. “I want to keep them from everyone.”

 

“I knew how you meant it,” the smaller woman promised, taking Tarva’s hand in her own and kissing the tips of her fingers. Kimber had seen enough to know that saying that being conquered by the Annihilists was a fate worse than death was no hyperbole and as much as it hurt her she did understand that her lover would rather die than return to that horror. Just as Tarva understood, she suspected, that she was fundamentally incapable of accepting the sort of no-win scenario the sorceress took as simple fact.

 

It wasn’t an argument that had ever gotten them anywhere so she took a different direction. “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea here, in Freedom,” she began, keeping her tone light and academic even as she held Tarva a little more tightly. “When I was working on the Jotunheim portal it turned out opening it was a lot easier than it should have been. There’s so much dimensional travel here it’s all swiss cheese. If somebody intersected your seals…” She puffed out her cheeks then with a touch of dry comedy mimed letting out the breath she couldn’t actually take. “I wouldn’t mind so much going out in a blaze of glory with you but I’d rather not be half of an interdimensional t-bone accident.”

 

Tarva seemed to relax when Kimber didn’t begrudge her feelings about the Terminus - or the mercy they would give people by letting them not experience it. “You’re right. There’s too much risk - I’ll have to go back to the drawing board.” She wrapped her arms around Kimber, pulling the smaller woman up into her lap as if she didn’t weigh anything. “Really, with the defenses we have here, that’s the only crisis I’m worried about. Your local terrorists and malcontents are no real threat. Though there is the question of those dreadful shapeshifters.” She smiled at Kimber, lightly patting her cheek. “Luckily, I have a very detailed knowledge of your body. And if need be, we can spend all our time afterwards performing a very intimate examination to make sure everything is as it should be.”

Kimber made a show of rolling her eyes at the unsubtle flirtation but that didn’t stop her from draping herself more comfortably against the shadow witch. “Well there you go,” she hummed, lightly tracing the neckline of Tarva’s dress with one index finger while her cheeks flushed a deeper azure. “Suddenly I’m much more interested in discussing contingency plans. Should we run a few drills? It’s so important to be properly prepared.”

[Heritage]

The Bonds of Affection

 

Miracle Girl

 

US Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, CO. Saturday, February 13th, 2016, 10:45 am.

 

Josh wouldn't go into specifics over the phone; he was just really insistent about seeing his sister over Valentine's Day weekend. That in and off itself was rather odd, as he'd never had much use for the holiday growing up. He'd always had girlfriends in high school, but he usually complained bitterly about the 'made up' holiday and the expectations of gifts and dinner reservations.

 

Still, Casey adored her big brother, and didn't mind an excuse for a cross-country trip, so she was up early that morning, quickly packing an overnight bag and making sure the straps were secure before taking off into the February sky. At just over seventeen hundred miles, Colorado Springs was typically a three and a half hour flight for her, though she could do it in just under three if she pushed herself, which she certainly did today being so curious about what Josh had to say that couldn't be said over the phone.

 

She touched down discreetly right by the airport, so she could take a shuttle bus to the academy like a normal person; Josh met her at the North Gate and gave her his best attempt at a crushing hug, which she eagerly reciprocated. "Mmmmm, it's so good to see you!"

 

"You, too, Case! How was your flight?"

 

"It was good! Hit a little turbulence over Kansas, but nothing major." She noted another cadet standing somewhat sheepishly nearby, a good-looking African-American boy with big, warm eyes, and offered him a friendly smile. "Who's this?"

 

"Sorry, yeah! Casey, this is my friend Mitch Anderson from Kalamazoo, Michigan; Mitch, this is my little sister, 'Head Case'."

 

The blonde powerhouse rolled her eyes as she shook the offered hand. "Stoooop! Nice to meet you, Mitch."

 

"Nice to meet you, too! Josh is always going on about you."

 

"Oh! All good stuff, I hope!"

 

"Nah, mostly about the iron grip you held over the local Girl Scout cookie racket."

 

Casey laughed as she shouldered up her bag again. "Okay, that is true; I ran this town like my own 'Boardwalk Empire'!"

 

Jason smiled and seemed to sigh with relief, though his sister was unsure why. "So, uh, breakfast?"

 

The Claremont student nodded vigorously. "Yes! Anytime, anywhere!"

 

At the cadet dining hall, Mitch raised his eyebrows a bit at the simply huge pile of eggs, pancakes, sausage and toast Casey loaded onto her plate, though her brother took it in stride. The three had a very genial conversation about school, the Air Force, Michigan versus Colorado winters, and Casey's life in Freedom (all discussion of heroics aside); finally, the visitor from the East Coast couldn't bare it any longer.

 

"Okay, so what was so important that you couldn't talk about it over the phone? Inquiring minds want to know!"

 

"Right, right..." For the first time she could remember, Casey's big brother looked uncertain; his glance flickered nervously between Casey and Mitch, who merely nodded. Josh took a deep breath, them let it out slowly. "Okay, uh, here goes: I am in a relationship-"

 

"That's great!"

 

He reached out and firmly grasped the hand of the young man next to him, who had tears in his eyes. "With Mitch."

 

There was a long pause as Casey sat there for several seconds, mouth open and forkfull of pancakes frozen in midair. "Um..." She set the fork aside, wiped her mouth with her napkin, and closed her eyes; she could feel the blood rushing into her cheeks. "I, uh-" When she opened her eyes again, she saw something in Josh's face she'd never seen before: fear. The fear that his little sister, whom he adored, might reject him now that he'd revealed this important truth about himself. And in that moment, she hated herself for hesitating, for putting that fear into his eyes and heart. There wasn't even a question that she still loved him and embraced every part of him; he was freakin' Josh.

 

"That...is awesome." She reached over and took her brother's hand, nearly crushing it in a vice grip of love. "That is freaking awesome." Then she looked over at her brother's boyfriend and smiled through her tears. "It's nice to meet you, Mitch."

Edited February 28, 2016 by Heritage

[trollthumper]

Temperance/Citizen 

 

Water and Electricity

 

It was, when she considered it objectively, absurd.

 

Eliza was not really one for “objective.” That was what happened when she lived in a world where philosophies could take form and argue for themselves. She lived in a world of pelicans that negotiated with fish for feeding rights, fires that organized when circumstances allowed for a good five alarm, and street battles between the various incarnations of American values.  She saw the spiritual bodies that stood behind the landscape of everyday life, the incarnations of the various building blocks of existence.

 

And then there was Sharl.

 

His origin was not an issue. She had met people and other entities that had come from stranger places and managed to establish a fine position in the great hierarchy of existence. His nature was not an issue, either. While all evidence backed up the fact that he may have no soul, he was still a thinking entity with emotions. Weird arguments about “p-zombies” from the students in her Philosophy 102 classes aside, that was enough for her to consider him an equal. He was intrepid, he was caring, and he always took everything in stride.

 

Except, that is, for the parts of the world she was immersed in.

 

He didn’t bring it up all that much, mainly because he really didn’t have the same interactions with them that she did. After the first time she’d taken him backstage, she realized that the experience had unsettled him and hadn’t been quick to replicate it. But it wasn’t exposure that prompted it sometimes. It slipped out sometimes, when he considered what he must have seen as the absurdities of the world.

 

Little mentions of “people following things that order them around.” “Things pretending to be gods.” “Extradimensional parasites that latched on to humanity and ruled by faith.”

 

It was his thing. She knew that. It came with the way he was raised, and it didn’t have them at each other’s throats. But every so often, it bit at her. The way he viewed the world she lived in as a charade, a grand cosmic Ponzi scheme pulled off by invisible con men great and small. The fact that it meant nothing to him sometimes brushed hard against the fact that it meant everything to her.

 

But the strangest part was… that everything was not enough to overshadow everything else. She did love him. There were just… those little moments.

Out among the stars, Sharl had learned something important - or rather, been reminded of a lesson that the children of Tronik were taught every day. 

 

 

 

They were nothing. 

 

 

 

In the vastness of the universe, the stars were a handful of grains of sand tossed into the vast emptiness of the sky - the planets, the continents, the cities, the people that lived on them, all were as insignificant to the functioning of the universe as an atom's motions were to the movement of a mighty ocean. Life was an accidental byproduct of matter and sentience an accidental informational byproduct of life - and when that information was gone, whatever psychic byproducts might linger in some remote corner of the multiverse, it was gone. 

 

 

 

Yet amid all that, sentient life dared live. They dared to tame their worlds, their bodies, their minds, with the pure science that freed them from the dark ages of superstition, fear and want. They dared paint pictures and write songs, build arcologies and sculpt holograms, as tangible proof that by will alone they had made themselves more than the dumb matter that had produced them. They dared love; and they dared venture out into the stars. 

 

 

 

If he rejected the supernatural, it was not out of blind skepticism - it was because everything was, by definition, natural. Everything was matter, or energy, and would one day be mastered by the forces of science that had first pulled sentient life from the dumb beasts they had once been. The creatures that promised their followers eternity, or gave power to those who could gaze between dimensions and discover them, were feeding a comforting lie to their followers, the comforting lie that the universe did have a purpose, that existence was _made_ for them, for someone, for anyone or anything. 

 

 

 

They chose a fundamentally finite eternity and rejected the fundamentally infinite worlds all around them. 

 

 

 

Sharl could understand why people believed it - but not why Eliza did. But he knew he wasn't easy to like, especially for someone raised on Terra with its still-peculiar ways; and if Eliza could ignore the arrogance that he had to admit was his greatest flaw, then he could ignore hers. 

 

 

 

After all, they weren't eternal beings with perfect souls. They were only human. 

 

 

 

She knew she wasn’t human. But she was human enough to know that she didn’t abide by the laws of the spirits. She also knew that Sharl was… not human. In many aspects. He was a digitized intelligence incorporated from the memories of a species that was close enough to humanity for comfort. They were people, even if they were at angles from “human.”’

 

Perhaps that was it, she realized. They were people, adrift in something greater than themselves. Be it space, cyberspace, the ethereal, or just the vast reaches of this one planet. They were two people, trying to figure out what the hell it all meant, and willing to stand by one another, even when they didn’t understand the other’s territory.

 

And some days, that was more than enough.

[Brown Dynamite]

Thinking of You

(Foreshadow and Synapse - February 2016)

 

"I know some of my start up investments have grown enough to bring me up a whole tax bracket.  But, that doesn't mean hover bikes grow on trees.  Ease on the throttle a little."  Erick Sloane teased as his female companion pulled them into the garage of his Hetfordshire estate.  In truth, Dee's driving didn't even rank among the actual near death experiences they had experienced during the course of the day.  Vanguard coming together to stop yet another dangerous supervillain was a matter left the pair looking to wind down after a long day.

 

The estate lied fairly isolated in the countryside.  So much so that they could openly ride the gravbike without the incident up to the property.  The fence around the property helped a little too.

Dee Farrington was already easing up on the throttle of the alien hoverbike that had come into Erick's possession when he began teasing her about her driving.  As she guided the vehicle into the garage, she glanced over her shoulder at Erick and gave him a playful scowl.  "Maybe the idea is to insure you continue to hold on tight."  She replied, glancing down at his arms around her waist before focusing forward once again. 

As she brought the hoverbike to a halt, Dee rotated it around a full one-hundred and eighty degrees before gently bringing it down to land.  Powering the vehicle down, the young Englishwoman let out a deep sigh, thankful the long day was over.

"Well if you'd like to circle the property a few more times that can still be arranged."  Erick replied rather coyly.  Even the occasional shooting pains that came with a day of crime fighting knew well enough to stay quiet in that moment.  Keeping his arms in place even after the vehicle powered down and maintaining the embrace.

 

"Speaking of inspired ideas.  I do have a surprise meal planned.  But, no peeking."  He pulled his arm out from under her waist.  Giving the top of his head a poke as to clarify just where she shouldn't be taking a look.

Dee was in no hurry to extract herself from Erick's embrace once they touched down in the garage.  When he finally did remove his arms, she let out a small, playful sigh, although that was more at his teasing her about reading his mind while he prepared a late dinner.  "Fine."  She replied, although there was no real force behind the statement.  <I will just stick to transmit and receive.>  She then added mentally. 

Climbing off the hoverbike, Dee removed the small mask she wore as Synapse, tossing it onto a workbench.  Although she understood the need to wear a mask when potentially out in the public with Vanguard, she still was not completely comfortable with one, even she had grown accustom to the rest of her costume.

"The gravbike is probably due for a bit of maintenance, so that should be enough to keep me out of trouble for awhile."  She stated with a small grin.

"Perfect.  Treat her well, she might be the most important lady in my life" Erick winked at Dee to assure her of the humor in the statement.  He wasn't quite so quick to slip out of his own mask after rising from his vehicle.  Beginning his trek inside without another word uttered.  At this point holding two simultaneous conversations with Dee was second nature for the prescient acrobat.  In fact it hearkened to the first real conversation the two had, which was also the first time he shared his identity with another hero .

 

Dee glanced over at Erick at his comment about taking good care of the gravbike.  "Talk like that could lead to an accident.  It is a good thing I find her fascinating."  She replied with a small smile before turning back to her work. 

 

From the beginning there weren't any secrets.  And even less left unspoken.  Which made the time Erick spent researching and planning how to recreate a favorite recipe of Dee's all the more entertaining for him.  Making his way to the pantry Erick began the mental small-talk.  <I don't know if you realize this.  But it's been two years since we met Miss Farrington.>

Although she was focused on the gravbike, the Englishwoman left the mental connection open with Erick as he made his way into the house.  In the years since gaining her powers, she had never used them with anyone she was involved with, let alone so casually.  When Erick sent the message about the recently passed two year anniversary of their first meeting, Dee continued removing part of the outer casing of the gravbike as she replied.  <I do happen to have a photographic memory.>  She paused a moment, then added, <But yes, I was aware that is has been just over two years now.>

Erick began sifting through his cutlery a smile plastered on his face in retort to her 'accident' quip.  <I may have never got my chance to compete on the big stage, not that I'd pass a powers screening anymore, but I certainly left the Olympic Village with the gold.>  Erick placed his mask on his kitchen's island, removing it more out of habit than actual risk to his vision  <I'm just wondering if after we make it another two years, we should go ahead and book a flight to South Korea.> 

 <Normally I might be a bit put out being compared only with gold.>  Dee replied with a smile in her mental voice as she began checking the power relays inside the gravbike.  But as nonchalant as the Englishwoman was being, she was keenly aware of the impact to her life that had resulted from attending the Sochi games.  Learning early on that Erick was Foreshadow had allowed Dee to be far more open than she might otherwise be.  It had also helped her become a more comfortable with the role with Vanguard she had taken on.  Of course, there was still part of her life that she had not yet fully reveled to Erick.  For some months now, Dee had been feeling it was time to change that.

<But then, given the context, I suppose that is the highest complement.>  She then added, as she continued her work.  <Although I would say we both won those games.> 

<While I certainly would not pass up a trip to South Korea in two years, why wait that long?  I am sure we can still arrange for one to Rio this summer.>

<Well that was my not so subtle way of saying I'd hope we'd still be booking trips with each other two years down the line.>  He pondered the invitation to Rio for a moment.  A wry smile formed

<Hmmm, I suppose we will have to see.>  Dee replied teasingly as Erick mentioned hoping they would still be together in two years.  While the Englishwoman had never been one to think too long term about her life, she had little reason to not expect her and Erick to still be together then when the next Winter Olympics came around. 

Erick's last trip to Rio wasn't exactly uneventful.  Getting into a fight within a seedy den of iniquity.  Making enemies of a notorious gang in the process.  And that was before the cape business.  <Rio it is.  This time I actually speak the language.>  

 

Preparing the food was going swimmingly, Erick's body acting entirely under muscle memory.  Something that was useful for when his mind ran elsewhere.  His hands momentarily fumbling as he traced along one of the compartments in his costumes belt.  "Move halfway across the world for a girl, and I get nervous giving her a spare key."

Finishing her check of the gravbike's systems, Dee began putting everything back together.  <Well, done here.  I still have time for a quick shower before the food is ready?  She asked over the mental link as she finished up with the work

Just as the question had been asked, Erick had transitioned from the prepwork to actually cooking.  There was certainly time to spare for a little personal hygiene.  His eyes darting towards the garage door.  Not about to miss when she began her walk upstairs after coming inside.

 

<Yeah sure, make yourself right at home.  Actually on that subject...>

[trollthumper]

Cavalier

Red Skinned Space Dudes

 

 

The first time Kyle Steward met Duren Varkaris, he was, of course, completely nude.

 

 

Then again, that hadn’t really been by choice. He’d been dragged from the plinth/operating table on this strange Giger-esque nightmare ship, body still bearing faint traces from the knives that left shallow scars but cut deep. The things that ran the ship had either all been shot down or killed themselves when the boarding party engaged them—and now the boarding party was dragging him and the other captives out, shouting things at one another in what sounded like complete nonsense.

 

 

Two of the boarding party were carrying him out, with one arm over each shoulder. They were probably the most human of the group, and that was saying something. The woman was basketball player tall with skin like emeralds, and the man… well. Skin smooth like human but the color of a lobster, black spiral glyphs tattooed up and down his arms, clad in leather and body armor, with hair that was… was “leonine” the right term?

 

 

In retrospect, Kyle was glad that he was so out of it to be distracted by the large red alien, because that meant he didn’t feel it when the large-bore needle went into his neck. The first sign he had that something was different was the cool rush tracing up his spinal column, settling in his brain. In seconds, the harsh barking of the red alien gave way to, “…this one come from?”

 

 

“They fragged the manifest, Duren,” said the green woman. “We’ve got nothing to go on. Best we can hope is that it’s somewhere that’s made contact, and that this one’s capable of speech--”

 

 

“He is, yes.”

 

 

The two looked at him. “You understand us, right?” asked the red one.

 

 

“No, this is just what I usually sound like when I aimlessly flap my lips.” The sensation in his brain seemed to quicken, and he stumbled on his feet. “Whoa, whoa, I—“

 

 

“This one is severely out of balance!” A large pill bug with a voice like a cartoon bee slithered down the hall, medical instruments in its hands. Kyle recoiled, but the two were there to hold him back. “Hyponatremia, hypokalemia, all sorts of hypos! You two! Get him to the infirmary, now.”

 

 

Over the course of a few hours, Fleshmender Calasxa managed to get him back towards something approaching homeostasis. It was also a great opportunity to lay out just how out of his depth he was. The green woman was Jarella, armsmaster for Rygar’s Runabouts. The red man was Duren Varkaris, who valued his fists and his words when Jarella favored blade and pulse rifle. Kyle had been the lucky hanger-on of a rescue effort, they had no idea what this “Erf” was, and their star charts were completely useless to him. He was alone.

 

 

And, again, nude.

 

 

“Hey, listen,” he said during one of the quieter moments, “I don’t think I’m going to be much good to you guys in a hospital gown, and unless the planets you’re visiting have some really lax nudity taboos…”

 

 

Jarella got it immediately. “Duren, I believe you have some old castoffs?”

 

 

“He’s going to be swimming in them…”

 

 

“Better than skinny dipping. Do you mind helping him out?”

 

 

Duren led Kyle to his room. True to what Kyle had taken to be the man’s aesthetic, most of the stuff looked like it had no right belonging on the slight teenager. He looked at himself in the mirror, wearing clothes that looked designed for bikers from the future who had 40 pounds on him.

 

 

“It will require a belt,” said Duren, “or three. We can do some tailoring on the ship, but for a better fit, we may need to wait until we hit the markets of Volanis. Should be a day or two.”

 

 

“Good,” said Kyle. “Afraid I might get lost in this.” He paused, trying to catch up with everything that had happened and falling rather short. “Hey, uh… Duren, right?”

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

“…thanks.”

 

 

“It’s nothing, kid. You want to give thanks? That comes tomorrow.”

 

 

 

 

Volanis had come and gone. The Majestrix’s son, the true goal of the Runabouts’ rescue mission, had been returned to his mother. Kyle had gotten Duren’s old clothes tailored to fit, and had learned, to his distress, that no one really had any idea what this “Erf” thing was. The Runabouts had been glad to take him on as another set of hands that might one day hold a gun. For now, though, he was mainly on chore duty, learning the operations of the ship and making sure nothing exploded.

 

 

Duren had kept his distance – there was the promise of hand-to-hand combat down the line, but that would likely come somewhere after Moritus made sure Kyle knew every last detail about the ship’s engine. And, the more he saw Duren from afar, the more he noticed new things about him.

 

 

The grace with which he scaled the sides of the ship when it was in drydock.

 

 

The particular cinnamon-like scent he gave off at times.

 

 

The warm laugh he let up while at the dinner table.

 

 

It wasn’t like it was a slow revelation. Kyle had known he was gay around the time he was starting middle school. He hadn’t had any boyfriends in high school, but that was more out of a desire to focus on his schoolwork than a need to keep the closet bolted shut. It wasn’t that he was denying it. It was that he was denying that it could happen. They were in close quarters—the most close of quarters, given the void of space outside—and everything about Duren gave off the vibe of someone who wasn’t into dudes.

 

 

At least, until that one sparring practice.

 

 

“Lower!” Duren said. Their hands were latched together, their toes were raised, and they were trying very hard to pull one another to the mattress. “If you raise your arms, you’ve got more of a chance of being overpowered.”

 

 

“But if I keep my arms raised… more leverage…”

 

 

Duren tugged hard, and the next thing Kyle knew, he was down on the mattress. Duren loomed over in, hands still gripped and leaning in close. “So do they. It’s about keeping them on edge, making sure they tire out first. Not overpowering, just… waiting.”

 

 

Kyle looked up. Duren looked down. Duren looked down for a lot longer than Kyle would have expected. Almost unconsciously, he broke his grip and reached up to touch Duren’s cheek. Somewhere, in the distant recesses of his mind, he wondered just what the hell he was thinking.

 

 

Duren smiled as Kyle’s fingers touched his cheek. He leaned in a fair bit closer. “You know… I was wondering when you’d want to talk about that.”

“Wait, wait a minute. Your entire species is dudes?”

 

 

It was some time later. The two were back in Duren’s quarters. Things hadn’t gone too far; right now, Kyle lay on Duren’s bed, in his arms, just watching the stars float outside.

 

 

“We don’t really see much of a designation.”

 

 

“You kinda have to. I mean, do you… um… how are babies…”

 

 

“Among us? We’re sort of… monotremes, I think the term is. When we need to, one of us creates material as the seed, and another—traditionally his larsazt—‘waters’ it.”

 

 

“Larsazt?”

 

 

“Life mate. Of course, ever since we took to the stars, we started realizing that there are a number of species we can interbreed with.”

 

 

“That should… I mean, Star Trek aside, I can’t believe that…”

 

 

“Our geneticists kinda found it hard to swallow, too. We’ve got no idea. All we know is, the Father asked us to act as nurturers and defenders to all we see. And we’ve started seeing a lot.”

 

 

“So… when you saw me, on that ship… were you thinking, ‘Here’s a lost little lamb. Let’s take him in’?”

 

 

Duren laughed. “Not like that! I mean, I wasn’t gonna leave you drifting out there, but… I mean, I wanted to make sure you were safe, but… I didn’t wanna do this. Until I got to know you.”

 

 

Despite himself, Kyle blushed. “Know what?”

 

 

“I just… I’ve seen a lot. But you’ve seen things I never have. And that I may never see. I was told by the oracles to watch and learn as I traveled the stars. And I want to hear your thoughts on these things.”

 

 

“You will, Duren. There’s… so much I wanna talk to you about. I don’t know where to start—the Himalayas, baseball, movies, popcorn--”

 

 

“In time.” Before he could continue, Duren was on top of him, lips landing on his. Kyle was lost, drowning for so long, until finally, he came up for air.

 

 

“Duren, I… if we’re going to… this is my first time. Ever.”

 

 

Duren ran his hands through Kyle’s hair. “Then I’ll have to make this good. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

 

 

Outside, the stars trailed on, weaving trails as the Starforger pushed ahead. But Kyle really didn’t notice.

“They can’t do this! They can’t possibly do this!”

 

 

“Can. Did. Will unto perpetuity, blah, blah, blah.”

 

 

Kyle and Duren were burying themselves in drinks. Ryger’s Runabouts were no more. After the incident with the military base and the rampaging nanotech, their charter had been torn up by the authorities to provide cover for the scandal. Most of the rest of the crew had drifted, swearing to remain in touch. At this point, it was just Kyle and Duren, pouring through their last few credits with one hell of a resort weekend.

 

 

“We can do something else, right? I mean, I’ve heard a lot of talk about troubleshooting over the years. Getting a license should be easy, the remit’s different enough from merc work… c’mon, you and me! Steward and Varkaris, PIs!”

 

 

Duren looked down into his drink.

 

 

“What is it?”

 

 

“Kyle… when you were out of the room… I got a call from my father. After the stroke... he's on his feet, but his energy comes and goes with each day. He… wants me to take over his position in the Senate back on Lamozra.”

 

 

“Well, I… that’s great, then. We can go back there, and…”

 

 

“Kyle.” Duren looked sad. “You’ve told me a lot about Earth. I know what you’re been looking for. If we went back to Lamozra, together… if I were to take this post… there’s been unrest in the Senate. You’d be tied down enough not to search, but you wouldn’t have enough influence to have others doing the searching for you.”

 

 

He understood, even if he didn’t want to. “I… I want to go with you, Duren. I… I love you. Please, I…”

 

 

“But you love Earth, too. And your family. Which do you love more?” Duren looked him in the eyes. “Please. Don’t think I’m trying to… this hurts. You have no idea how much it hurts. But tell me… if we were back at my house, and I woke up in the night… would I find you there? Or would be out on the porch, staring up at the stars, and wishing?”

 

 

Kyle knew, in that second. He knew he couldn’t deny it to himself. He put his hand on Duren’s. “I love you, Duren. And I want you. I want to come with you, or I want you to come with me. But… I guess I know what we need.”

 

 

Duren stroked Kyle’s cheek. “We’ll have each other. When our paths cross. And if you get back… you’ve got to find some way to tell me all about it.”

 

 

“I will, Duren. Promise. Until then… when do you need to be back on Lamozra?”

 

 

Duren smiled. “Oh, it’s going to be a while.”

 

 

“Then let’s make it last.”

Kyle Steward, Cavalier, sat on a tall tree at the edge of Wharton State Forest. The green lay out before him in an endless sea. It was a familiar sight again, but it still felt great to see. Especially given how much he’d been pulling patrols at Citadel. He was back on Earth to see his family and check in on local affairs. And to check in on one that was far from local.

 

 

He touched the quantum-entangled communicator in his suit, using it to establish a connection through to some of the Star Knights who’d been set up in the Large Magellanic Cloud. One signal bounced to another, to another, and…

 

 

“Senator Varkaris. If you got this number, I’m guessing it’s important.”

 

 

Kyle smiled. “Hey, Duren. Got something to show you. Not sure you can be here, but… oh, the things you could see…”

[Ecalsneerg]

"Cassandra"

 

Geckoman
January 29th, 2016

 

“Chris, I'm in labour.” 
 

“I'm... I'm sorry, what?” Geckoman nearly dropped the phone. He could have misheard. Sometimes the mask muffled phones. “Did you just...?”

 

"I'm in labour, Kenzie,” Liz sighed down the phone, as if it was the most perfunctory thing in the world. “You know, the whole baby thing.”

 

Geckoman pursed his lips and nodded. “I'm familiar, yes.” He glanced around himself, at the several men lying face down with their hands handcuffed behind their backs. “I'm kind of tied up right now?"

 

"Who are you talking t- mmf!” He gently pushed the struggling man's face back into the concrete.

 

"Is that someone you've just hit?” 

 

“Yes, dear,” said Geckoman distractedly. 

 

A long, put-upon sigh came down the phone. “OK. I'm heading to the hospital now. Get Dick to come collect them, and get your ass over here.” 

 

Geckoman looked around blinking. Well, crap.
-----------

By the time the FCPD showed up, he was pacing back and forth, and wringing his hands. Dammit, dammit, dammit, why didn't bank robbers have better timing? A weary, stubbled detective in a rumpled suit wandered over, rubbing at his chin. “Kid,” he acknowledged. 

 

“Detective Giordano.” Geckoman watched anxiously, as the cops slowly began to read the robbers their Miranda rights, loading them into the cars. “Could we hurry this along? Uh, she's in labour.” They tried not to use names. That way, Dick Giordano wouldn't feel obliged to arrest her. That was the unspoken agreement. 

 

“Really?” Giordano shifted to stand beside Geckoman, watching his men work. “I'm sure it'll be fine.” 

 

“I just don't know if... if I'll be a good dad.” Chris looked down at his feet, shifting nervously from side to side. 

 

Giordano just smiled. “Kid... how long have we known each other? You'll do good. It's tough with the job, but you'll look at that kid, and, well...” He put a hand on the other man's shoulder. “You won't have a damn stupid thing to say, I'll tell you that.” 

 

Chris burst out laughing. “I would really not advise you to put any money on that.” 

 

The detective patted his shoulder, and walked over to join his men. “We'll see. Get going. Go see your kid.” 

 

“Cheers, Dick!” Geckoman immediately turned and began to sprint, calling down the Pitchoo en route.
-----------

Chris skidded into the hospital ward, hair ruffled, wearing sweats and an old t-shirt he'd found under his pilot's chair. His face was red and sweat trickling down his face. “Lawlett?” he breathlessly gasped to the nurse on the station. She smiled wryly, having seen this exact situation over and over again.

“Right this way,” she said, leading him to the delivery room.
-----------
Liz lay, a little sleepily on the bed, holding their baby in a pale yellow blanket. After the requisite screaming and wailing and cutting, she'd eventually fallen asleep, eyes closed, tiny fists clenched. Chris curled up on the bed beside her, one arm around her shoulders.

“So, did we agree on Cassandra?” she said, glancing at Chris.

“Yeah,” said Chris slowly. “I mean, this family is all going to have long names which nobody ever calls them. It's traditional.”

“Yeah.” Liz sighed. “Isn't she the cutest thing?” She turned, holding up the blanket. “Do you want to hold her?”

He awkwardly took the bundle from her. Support the head, right? He nervously sat, tensely, scared of dropping her. Chris  looked down at the little bundle in his arms. His lips opened and shut, but he didn't really have anything to say. She was so tiny. The most beautiful thing he ever saw. She stirred a little in the blanket, and a huge smile formed on his lips.

“Hello, Cassie,” he said. “I'm your dad."

Cassandra Jean Lawlett-Kenzie
Born 29th February 2016

[alderwitch]

Agape
(Renegade: February Vignette)
Saturday, February 16, 2015

 

Eternal Ink was always closed on Saturdays, it had been for as long as Ray’d been running the place. They closed shop, without fail, exactly at midnight on Friday evening and then didn’t reopen until Sunday mid-morning. So, it was unusual to see the heavily tattooed owner fumbling with his keys in one hand and mumbling curses as he tried not to spill coffee on himself with the other bright and early Saturday morning. 

 

“I, uh, really appreciate it, man,” his companion offered in a voice long run ragged by smoke and worse as he shuffled past the blonde tattoo artist. “I mean, I know that y’don’t normally do stuff today but, uh-“

 

“Hey, one year is a big deal. I get it,” came Ray’s mellow response as he dropped his things on the counter and went to get the chair set up. “We agreed that I’d do this piece for you if you managed a full year. How’s the baby?”

 

The harsh lines of his client’s face eased and he began to extol his toddler’s many virtues with all the passion of a religious convert. All Ray had to do was make the occasional appropriate noises and prompt a question here and there. He’d long ago found that people sat better under the needle when they were distracted from the sensation of being poked with a needle countless times. 

The piece in question was an addition to work that he’d started a year ago, exactly. Eventually, if Jerry could keep his sobriety going, he might get a full sleeve from Ray for free. At the moment, though, Ray was merely adding the next band to the half sleeve. 

 

His concentration was momentarily disturbed as Jerry shifted topics to ask a question of his own.

 

“So, the not working on Saturday? Is that, y’know, like a religious thing?”

 

Ray paused briefly before offering a reluctant smile.

 

“Sort of,” he agreed as he pulled back to examine his handiwork rather than the client. “But more it’s about reflection and reconnection.”

 

Jerry laughed and Ray was glad he’d stopped the tattoo before the man’s shoulder jiggled. He waited until he was still once more and leaned in to put the delicate scrollwork of Jerry’s daughter’s name into this year’s marker. 

 

“Sorry, man, it’s just - you’re not the Sunday school sort, y’know?”

 

A bemused smile curved Ray’s features and he bent his head over the tattoo. “Well, no relationship is perfect, Jerry. They’re all just… works in progress. So, same time next year?”

 

"One day at a time, my man. One day at a time."

Edited March 1, 2016 by alderwitch

[Avenger Assembled]

Fast-Forward and Hologram 

 

Cause I Got High 

 

Twenty-three years ago

 

It was Day 3.

 

Richard slammed the fridge door shut with a boom, shaking the house with the force of super-speed vibrations. It was going to be a problem for the people who usually stayed in this vacation cabin, tucked away in the woods of upper Maine, but that was the last thing on his mind right now. “There’s no more eggs! Goddamit!” He put his head against the upper door and realized he was crying. “Why aren’t there any damn eggs? What the hell are we supposed to eat, goddamned deer?” He zipped away, into the living room. “This is stupid! We’re going to run out of food, and we’re going to have to go into town and steal something, and then we’re going to get caught, and weregoingtogotojailandImgoingtoloseyou!” he was babbling at super-speed when Paige caught up with him.

 

Paige had been napping on the couch when the deafening crack of the door woke her up; she was almost starting to get used to it by now. Restlessness, insomnia, anxiety, she remembered all of it very well from her own withdrawal, but surely she hadn’t been this bitchy about it. Surely. And when Richard didn’t sleep, neither of them slept. She clambered to her feet and followed the banging and yelling through the entire house until they both wound up back in the living room.

 

Catching up with Richard wasn’t easy on their best days. She finally reached out and grabbed his arms, broadcasting peace and reassurance as hard as she could. Her multicolored hair stood on end in spikes from her nap, giving her even more of a punk-rock look than usual.  “Come on baby,” she cajoled, “we’ve got plenty of food. We don’t need eggs, we’ve got all kinds of good stuff. I’ve got a King-Size Snickers bar with your name on it for after dinner. You wanna help me cook?”

 

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” said Richard, burying his head in her shoulder and hugging her tight, his voice moving quickly to a sob. Always labile, his emotions had been moving as fast as his feet the last seventy-two hours. “I didn’t sleep much and it blooows chuuuunks.” He did follow her into the kitchen, but as she’d expected was obviously having trouble focusing, moving from thought to thought in the time it took her to dig out a Hungry Man breakfast. “I just kept thinking about how I’m going to do something stupid while we’re here, and they’regonnasendinthepigs, and-” He sniffed and slowed down long enough to grab up a paper towel and messily blow his nose, his eyes red-rimmed as he looked at her.

 

“I shoulda done more when you were doing this. I’m the worst boyfriend any girl’s ever had. You’d be better off with Gary and June.” He had legitimately gone into the kitchen with every intention of helping, but now he was sitting in the big overstuffed easy chair in the living room, looking with disgust at his sallow, unshaven reflection in the room’s wall mirror.

 

Paige bit back a comment about how not sleeping definitely did suck, and instead concentrated on grating potatoes into a bowl. She was getting better at the whole cooking thing, when she felt like doing that instead of takeout, or when she was desperate to put at least a psychological space between her boyfriend and his bad habits. Logistically, there was nowhere on Earth they could go where Richard would be out of reach of his drugs of choice, but so far the isolation seemed to be holding him in place. She could’ve wormed her way into his brain and made him stay, but that seemed way too wrong, even for a good cause. “I don’t want to be with Gary and June. I want to be with you,” she called into the other room. “And I didn’t use as heavily as you. You know you have an addictive personality. It’s just going to take time.”

 

“Better not want to be with them, I’d kick their cyborg asses anyway…” Richard muttered, the ghost of a joke before his mind went back the situation at hand. I can’t believe three days is sooo looong…” he complained, running his hands over his face. “Tell me something good,” he asked, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to look at his own nasty strung-out face. “Or maybe - when this is over, we got a big pile of money we’re not blowing anymore.” His mind moved, fast, even though it felt like rusty gears were turning in his head as he talked. They didn’t have any painkillers. Too many painkillers would be bad - and too much Advil wasn’t going to help either. “We should buy a house. You know?” He was up, and in the kitchen with her, looking over her shoulder. “Just a house somewhere that we’re not squatting in or renting from some douchebag.”

 

Paige laughed. “You don’t want a house,” she pointed out, nudging him gently aside so she could heat a skillet on the stove. “You get antsy if we spend more than a few months in one place. Neither of us has legal documents good enough to put on mortgage paperwork anyway, and if we used our real names, my father…” She pursed her lips and went silent, still not ready to talk about that after almost four years. “How about after you kick the habit, the two of us go down the East Coast for awhile? New York, Atlantic City, Freedom City, DC. See some old stomping grounds and have some fun, right? We’ll get some money and do Atlantic City like high rollers.” She dumped the potatoes into the oil and watched them sizzle. “Penthouse suite, shows, high-stakes gambling, spa days. Sounds like more fun than home repairs, right?”

 

“Mmm. That does sound real nice, baby.” Richard smiled, getting overly affectionate despite Paige’s need to cook. “Go down to...no, screw Miami and the whole damn state of Florida,” he said with some heat as he mentioned the place where Paige had seen him pick up the single greatest volume of cocaine. “After DC, let’s go to...Vegas, yeah, and spend our ill-gotten gains on the biggest penthouse suites, the fanciest jewelry, and the...well, I’ve already got the hottest babe in Vegas right here.” He put his arms around her, a little wobbly. “We’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.” It was obviously said for his own benefit as much as hers, she could feel the hope, and disbelief, mingled in his voice.

“Of course we are,” she told him, patting his hands where they crossed over her chest, while still flipping potatoes with her free hand. “Think about all the crap we’ve already had to deal with, so much that’s just been awful, heartbreaking, terrifying. We came through all that, didn’t we? Weren’t you there when I was homeless and living invisible in a mall? Weren’t you there after my brothers and sister died? I’m here for you now, and always, and we’re going to be on top again in no time flat. We’ll be better than okay,” she assured him, her voice and mind full of confidence.