March Writing Challenge: 100 Stories, 1 Month

[Kailin Bishop]

#44 Together

“Fi! Come look!”

Two girls stood in a room, not much bigger than a closet, but in the back of the room was a window. And beyond that window? The view of the city. Neon lights flashed green, gold, red, and blue. The nightlife of Miami was absolutely beautiful. The city had character, and it was something they loved. But today, they had a music festival going on in the streets. People were dancing, laughing, and all Ivy knew was that she wanted to be a part of it.

“Yeah?” Sofia moved to stand on the stool beside the elder twin, her hand instinctively moving to pull away the hair that was no longer there, from her face. It had been a week since Ivy had cut the youngest twin’s hair to a pixie. It was oddly liberating for the twelve year old to not have to worry about the issues associated with having long hair; that, and getting ready in the morning was a breeze. Ivy turned to Sofia, pointing with an excited grin toward the streets below their third story apartment.

“Look at all the people and the lights! Look at how much fun they are having, Fi!” It was inspiring to see people with that much joy. They rarely had any, but they craved it. They wanted to be able to walk outside and laugh and just play. Hand in hand they tried, and hand in hand they struggled. It was a difficult thing, but they both tried to stay optimistic.

Fi grabbed her elder twin’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “We’ll be happy like that one day. Just wait.” Sofia wasn’t the inspirational one, nor was she the strong one emotionally, but the blonde was absolutely sure that they would get away from this. They would get away from the horrors of home.

“Together?” Ivy breathed.

“Together.” Sofia responded.

[Damien Tremblay]

23. Crush

After a long day of law theory and its’ practical applications... Damien’s head was practically swimming on information overload. As much as he’d worked for it, there were some days he didn’t think he could handle one more minute of school.

At least it was almost over. He only had a few more months, and then he’d graduate. He was already looking at law firms in Vancouver that were taking on assistants, and a few looked promising.

But for today, he was done with everything related to school. Instead, he was going to his girlfriend’s dorm. With school drawing to a close and graduation creeping up on both of them, he had been doing a lot of thinking.

On the way back to the dorms, he stopped and picked up a small handful of yellow roses for Christine, hand tied with a pretty blue silk ribbon. Not for any particular reason. He didn’t need a reason to be sweet.

He dropped his bag off at his own dorm before heading up a floor to Christine’s room. The woman had done wonders for his confidence. He was so much less of a wallflower now, and found it almost natural to go out to the club after classes on a Friday night with a pack of friends. What made it better was Christine on his arm, giggling and being her free spirited self. With her, everything seemed easier.

That was why he wanted to talk to her. She made him feel complete in a way that made him realize he’d never been complete in the first place. She was feisty, beautiful, and for the moment, all his.

Smoothly pushing the flowers behind his back, he knocked and willed it to be Christine that answered, and not her roommate. Not that he had a real problem with her roommate or anything. He just wanted to talk to Christine without jumping through hoops.

Thankfully, the blonde, blue eyed woman he so completely adored opened the door. “Damien! Hi! Sorry, the room’s a mess.” She beamed as she backed away from the door, toeing things away from it as she went. He waited patiently until she’d made a path, then carefully stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“Here.” He smiled and offered out the roses to her, which made her gasp in surprise and delight.

“Oh my God, Damien. I love them! Thank you!” She took a flying leap at him, causing him to catch her in surprise and hold her close, laughing softly as she nuzzled into his neck.

“I thought you might.” Carefully, he let her slide back down to the floor and pressed the little bundle into her hands. “Go put them in some water. I can wait.” Christine flashed a playful grin before bounding away to the little kitchenette, fishing out a vase and filling it with water and the package of flower food.

“You’re too sweet sometimes, D. Seriously. Best boyfriend ever.” Once the flowers were set in the vase, she practically danced back across the dorm to slide her arms around Damien’s neck, smiling sweetly up at him. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. I saw them and I thought of you. Or is that against the law, now?” He grinned down at her, prompting her to roll her eyes and kiss his neck again.

“You’d know, Mr. Law School.”

“Mn. Buying flowers isn’t a crime, no. But eye rolling, that might be a one way ticket to serving some time.” Christine fluttered her eyelashes and feigned innocence.

“Oh no, not time. But I might know someone that could get me off.” Damien considered that before smirking and shifting so that he could scoop the blonde into his arms, tossing her over his shoulder.

“Off, up, same thing.” Christine squealed and flailed, giggling the whole time.

“Damien Tremblay! Put me down right now!”

“You know, I would, but I didn’t hear a magic word in there.” One hand shifted so that he could poise his fingers at her side, ready to delve into a tickle fight. Christine stilled for a moment.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I might. You never know.” Gently, his fingers brushed her side, causing her to squeal and thrash.

“Okay, okay! Stop! Please! Please put me down!” Damien grinned and shifted so that her feet met the floor again.

“See? That easy.” Christine grinned and rose up on her toes to kiss him softly.

“You’re trouble.”

“Only a little.” He gently took her hand, stooping to kiss it before letting it slip away. “That’s not why I came by, though. To cause trouble, I mean. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?” The blonde regarded him with curiosity dancing in her bright blue eyes. “What about?”

This was where Damien was nervous. He didn’t quite know how to word it, and he was afraid that everything was going to tumble out in an uncoordinated mess. “Well... you. And me. ... Us. I wanted to talk about us.” Christine tilted her head slightly and smiled at him.

“Okay then. What about us?” Damien rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, not sure of where to go from there.

“Well... we’re graduating soon. And I’m already looking for jobs in Vancouver. I just...” He glanced up to study his girlfriend. “I love you, Christie. And I was thinking about looking at apartments in the city. I want you to come with me. And maybe when I’ve got a job and security, then maybe... maybe we could even look at being a family? Because there’s no one I’d rather spend my life with then you.” His cheeks were flushing, and he knew it. He could feel the heat creeping up. But this was Christie. He loved her, and she’d certainly said that she loved him back more than once. He honestly couldn’t see himself spending his life with anyone else, and –

And she was looking at him oddly. Like she was confused. Mentally, he backtracked. He hadn’t screwed it up, had it? Okay, maybe it wasn’t as eloquent as it could have been, but it made sense, didn’t it? So why did she look so confused?

“Oh.”

‘Oh’ was not the response he had been hoping for. Damien attempted to regroup himself as Christine glanced awkwardly at the ceiling before meeting his gaze.

“I didn’t... wow. Um. Damien, I love you and all, but after university... settling down is the last thing I want to do. I want to travel. You know. See the world.” She shrugged and picked at the sleeve of her shirt.

Damien stood still, trying to absorb what she’d just said, and trying not to show the disappointment on his face. Slowly, he exhaled before forcing a smile.

“So that’s it, then? Once we graduate, you’re leaving to see the world? I don’t... Christie, do you even have a plan?” He couldn’t help it. Christie could barely plan a week of school in advance, let alone months of travel.

“Not really. Wherever my feet take me, I guess. It’s going to be fun!” A tiny frown crossed her face. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“What?” It was Damien’s turn to look confused. Mad... no. He wasn’t mad. Hurt, yes, but not mad. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure if you would be mad or not. That’s why I hadn’t told you yet.” She smiled brightly. “University relationships never last anyway. It was going to happen sooner or later. We just want different things. But! We still have a few months left, so let’s make the most of them, hey?” She held out her hand for his. “C’mon, let’s go round up some people and go downtown.”

For one of the first times in his life, Damien pulled his hand away and gave her a look. “Actually, I think I’m going to go back to my room and study.”

“Oh c’mon, D. Nothing’s changed! I still love you.” And that was hurt the most. The more she said it, the more Damien’s heart felt like it was being crushed.

“Don’t,” he said softly, more of a plead than anything else. “Just don’t.” With that, he headed back out into the hall, every step more and more painful until he reached his dorm. He didn’t talk to his roommate. He didn’t even bother to shut his bedroom door behind him. He just flopped on his bed, face pressed into his pillow, and cried.

[Damien Tremblay]

25. Rewind

The Wii Angie had given Damien at Christmas had sat in its’ box for almost two weeks before he attempted hooking the thing up. He’d seen Marcus’ dozens of times, and it didn’t take long for it to be up and running. With Josef working a few classes on the Saturday, Damien figured he had some time to be six years old for a bit.

He’d started out with Wii Sports, seeing an advantage to having his own gaming system. He could practice at home, and the next time he saw Marcus, the kid would be going down. About time, too. The kid always beat him, unless he threw the game on purpose to give Damien a break.

Well. He was going to make this more challenging. He was going to practice all the games, and Marcus was going to be sorry the next time he had to sit him for Angie.

The moment Josef stepped in the door, he had to do a double take. Damien was moving around the living room... looking like he was doing a very watered down, very wrong set of martial arts moves. For a man that had never shown much interest in learning, despite the offer always being on the table...

“Uhh... Damien? What are you doing?”

“Karate,” came the answer as Damien swung his arm again, a grin lighting up his face. Josef crossed his arms, watching the images on the screen.

“They’re doing it wrong.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m getting good at it. Marcus is going down the next time we play.”

“It’s still wrong.” And that wasn’t sitting well with Josef. How could game makers put out stuff like this when it wasn’t even right?

“Oh, what, like you could do better?” Damien finished the level he had been working on and paused the game. The controller he had dangling from his wrist was pulled off and offered out to the older man. “Here, you try.”

Josef never could say no to a challenge.

“This is so stupid.” There was grumbling.

“That’s not even a move!” Lots of grumbling.

Finally, Josef dropped his arm to his side, letting the controller hang from his wrist. “Where’s the rewind button? I’m trying this again.” Damien stared at him for a moment, trying very hard to determine how much trouble he would get in for laughing.

... Oh, screw it. He couldn’t help it. He had to laugh. Yes, Josef was technologically challenged at times, but this...

“There is no rewind button. It’s not a VCR.” Josef gave him a look that told him in a second that yes, he was in trouble. But trouble with Josef wasn’t always bad trouble. “... Gimmee. I’ll fix it.” Josef shifted, holding one hand out to hold his boyfriend and bay, the other holding the remote out of reach.

“No. I’ll figure it out myself.”

“You’ll never get it. Give it.”

“No.” A certain look had crossed Josef’s face. Yes, he was being stubborn, but there was more to it than that.

He was playing. Damien lit up, his own expression turning somewhat mischievous.

“Watch it. I’m better at karate than you.” His tone was full of teasing as he inched closer. Josef rolled his eyes and shifted into a better defensive stance.

“Right. Karate master in ten minutes.”

“More like an hour.” He inched closer again before lunging at Josef. Normally, Josef could have fought him away relatively easily, but... he let it go. Instead he just checked his body to minimize any potential damage, and let Damien knock him over. He just made sure to roll so that the remote was tucked securely under his body. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but it kept the thing away from his boyfriend. Damien pushed himself up, arching an eyebrow. “Ohhh, you want to play like that, do you?” If he knew one thing about Josef, it was that he was ticklish. Slipping his hands against Josef’s sides, he just waited. “Surrender the remote.”

“Make me,” Josef murmured, twisting to look over his shoulder at his boyfriend. Was this ridiculous? Of course it was. But it was also fun. Damien grinned and leaned down to kiss him before beginning the tickle assault.

In the end, nobody won. Both men were too breathless to do much other than lie on the floor and struggle to regain normal breathing patterns.

It wasn’t until they were making dinner together, watched by three pairs of adoring eyes, that it was even brought up again. As Damien crossed to the fridge to pull out some chicken, he placed it in front of Josef with a sly smirk.

“I’m still better at karate.”

“I still look better in a gii.” And that, Damien couldn’t argue.

[Raylaigh Hawthorne]

47.Holiday

“RAYLAIGH!!” A voice bellowed behind him as Ray went careening down the hall. His older brother Kyle came barreling out after him. Raylaigh cackled, Kyle’s phone in his hands.

“‘You’re eyes are more beautiful than a sunset,’” Raylaigh teased reading one of the text messages from his brother to his girlfriend. He pitched his voice mockingly into the tone of a love struck teen. Well this was what Kyle got for not telling them he had a girlfriend. And for telling mom that Ray got his ear pierced.

“Give it back, you fag!” Kyle yelled and popped into the living room where Raylaigh’s feet had taken him.

Van rose to his feet and took Kyle by the collar and shoved him onto the couch. “Hey! Don’t call him that!”

Kyle jumped to his feet and faced off with the oldest Hawthorne brother. “Why not? He’s a stupid son of a bitch—”

“Hey that’s your mother you’re talking about,” Ray cut in with a laugh.

“—tell him to give me back my phone!”

“Don’t call him that ‘cause he is!” Van yelled back catching his younger brother in a headlock. “Apologize the Ray!” Kyle flailed in Van’s strong hold and Van started to run his knuckles over Kyle’s head. “Do it now!” An outside observer might not actually realize that Van was 21 and Kyle 18 for the way they were acting like children.

Andrea popped down the stairs to see what the commotion was and crossed her arms at the brothers. She looked up at Ray and shook her head. “Our brothers are idiots.”

Raylaigh nodded emphatically and yipped in surprise when Kyle teleported out of Van’s arms and in front of him. Ray’s wings gave a good beat and he bounced back several yards.

“Give me back the phone Ray!

“I don’t have it!” Ray said and tossed it to Andrea holding his hands up in innocence.

Andrea tossed it to Van who dodged Kyle a few times before tossing it back. Raylaigh held onto his sides as Andrea found a very corny line. “Really, Kyle? This works for you?” She asked.

Ray caught it when she threw and quickly scrolled to another one. “Aw! ‘I miss you!’ ‘I miss you more’. Geez, Kyle, I thought I was the gay one!” Raylaigh laughed and yelped as Kyle tackled him. Raylaigh held the phone back over his head and he and Kyle scrambled over it.

His older brother glared then sat on Ray’s torso and gave an evil grin. “I’m gonna do it.”

Ray’s eyes widened. “No.”

Kyle laughed, “I’m gonna do it!”

“No!” Raylaigh squirmed. Kyle licked his fingers before sticking them in his brother’s ears. Ray swatted at Kyle and Kyle snatched the phone away and Ray covered his ears making noises of disgust and displeasure.

Van had since collapsed into giggles and Andrea was shaking her head at the immaturity of her older brothers. The door opened and a loud sigh called their attention.

“Kyle, stop torturing your brother.” Their mother said a touch of amusement in her voice.

“He started it,” Kyle declared getting off of Ray, who being able to propped himself up on his elbows and glared.

“Yeah? Well, I’m finishing it,” Mom was the source of all authority and Kyle grumbled, “No you and Vanel go get the tree inside.”

“C’mon, lover boy,” Van said taking his brother under his arm and steering him outside.

Ray got to his feet and shook his head, god he hated those. He rubbed at his ears trying to get the unpleasant sensation out of them. “Ray, get the lights up will you, and Andrea, you can help me get the ornaments from the attic.”

“Kay,” Raylaigh said and took the lights from his mother and grabbed a few tools and headed outside to ornament the house like a glazed doughnut. He glanced at Van and Kyle who were wrestling a large tree off the top of the car. He was glad he was useful elsewhere. He jumped into the sky and hovered as he nailed lights up. He laughed lightly, just another typical Christmas at the Hawthorne’s.

[Erik Stewart]

88. Surprise


As far as he knew, Dominique had never wanted for anything. He had asked. Erik had wanted to be subtle about it, of course, but he very rarely succeeded in that; he’d never learned how to speak in any way except plainly.
They’d been in a store around town. He’d noticed Dom looking. “You like that?”
“What?”
“That.” He flicked his head over at a bottle of cologne sitting on a shelf. “Over there.”
“No.”
“You were lookin’ at it.”
“It’s just that they actually have Aramis here. I thought it was a myth. Dégueulasse.”
Erik sighed. “But y’like that kinda thing. Right?”
Dom quirked an eyebrow. “Some of them.”
“You wear it. I smell it.”
“Sometimes.”
“So – which kind?”
Dom turned away. “…Some of them.”
“Wow,” Erik said. “Am I talkin’ to that wall over there? I can’t tell.”
Dom let out a huff, which might have been either exasperation or amusement; Erik couldn’t say. “What are you doing?” he replied, instead. “You’re asking questions.”
“Nothin’.”
Clearly he did not believe him. “Hm,” he hummed, and they left it at that.


What did you get someone who had everything? He was at a loss and he didn’t have much time to ponder it. It had to be nice, but something he could afford, it couldn’t look like he was trying too hard, yet it couldn’t be a party favor, and none of these could he navigate, and it just rolled around and around in his head and he put it off, off, off, until just the day before…and he was in no better a position than when he’d started.

It all made him keenly aware of his shortcomings. It was obvious why he wanted to be around Dom, after all. Dom was up somewhere in the stratosphere, above the clouds: like royalty, almost, blue-blooded, tall and beautiful. And himself – well, Erik had crawled right out of a swamp. He was made of snakeskin and ashes. He was angry and sullen and cruel. Dom could have had anyone fall for him, he figured, yet he didn’t seem to mind the company of someone like him, for reasons Erik couldn’t understand himself.

He certainly didn’t like to be reminded that he had so very little to offer.

His birthday came anyway, on a day much too cold for spring. It was gray and drizzling. Erik only intended to swing by his dorm and drop a little something off; he figured Dom had plans, probably something to do with family, what with the twins thing and all. He paused before his door, self-conscious.

“I got ya something,” Erik said, as soon as Dom answered.
It was a six-pack. He held it up for him to see: a little more on the expensive side than what he usually had, but it wasn’t anything particularly special. It was something he procured with great effort, at least – he was only seventeen.
He looked for any change in Dom’s face, but there was very little. He, too, had a habit of answering any visitors with much less welcome than expected. “What’s this?” he asked.
“It’s for your birthday,” Erik said, tilting his head. “You’ve heard of birthdays, right?”
“I’m familiar with the concept.” He could sense the hint of humor in his voice. “Yes.”
“Great. Then you’ll need this. I thought you might wanna go ‘n party. Get wasted. That’s what I do.”
Dom didn’t take the lip of the cartridge that held those bottles together until Erik held them out, and even then, he could tell, it was with some reluctance, or thoughtfulness, or something quite different from eagerness. He observed it as Erik shifted. After a second Erik tried again. “D’you…like it?”
Dom’s pale blue eyes looked at him then, and he could see his brows lower, and his lips pull in something other than a smile; he could almost hear the words before he said it – a frank “Keep it,” as he extended the cartridge back to him.
Erik took it. He was disheartened, of course. The words stung first, then sank into his skin. He could scarcely utter something in return (maybe just a sore ‘fine’) before he heard Dom’s voice again; he picked up his head.
“I was hoping for a kiss,” Dom told him, “instead.”
That gave him pause, and he stood there, his fawn-like legs rooted to the spot, for a second or two; then he blinked, and flushed. “What,” he said.
“Will you?”
Erik straightened up, hopefulness turning to gladness, which swept away that cold sinking in his chest like a wave. He contained it but it was clear to see. It entered his eyes; broke out from beneath his lips in a smile. “Well, sure.” He watched Dom’s face, his yellow hair, bright as the sun. “For the birthday boy.”

and then they kissed THE END

[Adaryn Breslin]

29. Dark

Sometimes someone gets upset, and then it passes as soon as it had started. There are no lasting effects; no pain that always remains deep in the pit of their stomach. But then there are those who aren’t so fortunate; there are those whose life is spent waiting, eyes always glancing back, for the pain to erupt full force with no sign of relenting. Those people are always taking a step forward, but running back ten feet. It’s a never ending cycle that leaves them staring at the light that is ages away, only to be perpetually trapped in the dark that surrounds them.

Adaryn closed her journal, waiting for the nauseating symptoms of anxiety and depression to be masked with something –anything—that would leave her feeling something different, or even nothing at all. Another nightmare invaded her dreams, and the sixteen year old was becoming exhausted; so exhausted, in fact, that she was terrified of another relapse. She’d probably have to go for another visit with Dr. Neville in the near future, just to avoid anything catastrophic from happening. After all, she knew herself, and if one little thing made her snap, it could potentially become deadly.

But currently, she was alone. Well, in her room. No doubt the two twin sisters that shared her dorm and the other girl were dead asleep. But unlike the twins, she had no one to go to at 3 in the morning. Well, maybe Monroe who was undoubtedly awake at this time could probably come over, but that would be breaking the rules.

The blue-eyed brunette grabbed the phone off her charger and stared at the lock screen for a good three minutes before building the nerve to actually text him. It took her a few months to actually get the money for a decent phone and cheap plan, and she barely even used it, she might as well start now.

Monroe…?

Adaryn glanced anxiously at the phone, half afraid he wouldn’t answer, and half afraid she woke him up. She doubted the latter, but that didn’t stop her from considering it. Her phone buzzed, and she nearly dropped it, fumbling to the messages.

Yeah? Are you okay?

No, she wasn’t really okay. The tightening of her stomach and the pounding of her heart made it very clear that she was not okay. But he didn’t know that, and she really didn’t want to admit that there was a problem. So instead, she simply texted back:

Can you come here?

Normally the girl would never request the presence of another person, but Monroe wasn’t just any other person. He always knew what to say, even if he didn’t realize it, to make her feel better. Plus, he probably was bored out of his mind if he were texting her back as quickly as he was. She hoped.

Be there in a few


With a breath of relief, Adaryn fell back onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. He was coming. He’d be there. She wouldn’t have to be alone. Thank. Goodness. Just those thoughts alone helped ease the anxiety.

Soon enough, she heard a soft knock on the door. Monroe. “Come in,” She spoke loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to wake up the others. The door gave the familiar squeak, and the sound of footsteps moved toward her bedside right after the click of the door closing.

“Hey,” she said, not looking at him.

“Adaryn, what’s wrong?” Monroe asked in a careful yet questioning tone.

“Nothing. I just figured you’d like to be here while I stared at the ceiling, thinking philosophically.”

She sighed, moving her gaze from the white wall and to his shadowed form. He wore no shoes, which was shocking, pajama pants and a black t-shirt. He didn’t look amused, but she gave him an apologetic smile to make up for her lack of cooperation. He was the kind of guy who didn’t ask many questions, usually, but managed to wiggle the answers out of you anyway. The girl adjusted, scooting her back against the wall to make room for him. He seemed to know where this was going, and took a seat in the voided space.

“Nightmares,” She breathed, closing her eyes. She felt him shift, and the familiar burning sensation of a gaze reddened her cheeks.

She was waiting for ‘What about?’ or something of the like, but he didn’t say anything just yet. Instead she felt him lie down on the bed, shifting close enough to her that if she were to move her head forward just an inch, it would press against his chest.

“Turn around, Addie.” He whispered.

And so she did; Adaryn had learned to trust him and not ask questions, which was a feat for the girl who lacked trust in even her therapist at times. She adjusted, twisting her body around so that she was now facing the wall, her back towards him. That was when she felt his arm slide around her waist, and she leaned back against him. This felt so odd, but so nice.

But with him there, Adaryn knew she wouldn’t be alone, even in sleep. He would be there no matter what, helping her. Was this love? She didn’t know. But what she did know was this:

Adaryn didn’t have to be afraid of the dark anymore.

[Gryphon Matsuoka]

26. Rain

They walked.

They were walking.

That's all they were doing. Of course, they were walking past things and places and people, but did that matter to either of them? Not past the extent of making sure they didn't walk into anything. Usually, they would both be panicking a little inside and overthinking how to take every second breath without looking stupid, which of course, when they thought about it, made them look stupid.

It really was a rare day though. Gryphon and Kodi held hands lightly, wandering about who-knows-where, going to God-knows-what. Some place in town. They'd probably end up at Hammel. It was all the same.

Gryph hummed happily, a small but clear smile curved onto his features. It was a lovely day. Kodi agreed, although neither said this point out loud.

Forget April Showers, this was fucking April Floods. They were out in the open, with not much shelter nearby, so as the droplets began to fall, foreshadowing the future tidal wave of water, Gryph and Kodi looked minorly concerned. Gryph said something about not wanting to get wet and Kodi made a bad joke, snickering stupidly at it as Gryphon flicked him over the head.

that's what you get

Then the heaven opened up and let down gallons of water, drenching the pair as they skidaddled down the sidewalk. After a few exclaimed profanities from Kodi and some explosive laughter in response from Gryph, they both ducked into a bus shelter, where they sat, side by side, hands still held together. Time seemed a lot slower, all of a sudden.

Kodi's head gradually fell onto Gryphon's shoulder and the winged boy smiled, tilting his own head so it was on top of Kodi's. They could worry about the future another time - they were too busy enjoying themselves right now.

Plus they were kind of trapped in a bus shelter; unless they decided they wanted to become drowned rats.

A woman scurried along and slid herself under the clattering plastic, sending the pair a smile. Gryph straightened up politely and Kodi ignored her, like the gentleman he was. The older boy began to converse friendly with the buisnesswoman, and the younger had to keep suppressing the urge to get up and push her into a puddle or something. Mumble grumble. Stupid lady.

The bus came at some point. The lady got on, but the pair stayed there. Kodi asked Gryphon why he had bothered to be nice and the winged boy told him that it just seemed friendly and polite. The rain slowly started dying down. They stood up, hand in hand, and Gryph quickly kissed the blonde boy, just for a few seconds, smack bang on the lips. Kodi smiled and growled and repressed the idea of shoving him in a puddle instead and then showering him in really awkward puddle kisses which would probably end in him flailing around and getting soaked through.

Gryphon walked towards the edge of the bus shelter as the Sun peeked out from behind the clouds, checking that the coast was clear before shining bright in the sky. The boy held out a hand and, feeling no more rain, walked out again, taking his... fucking hell, taking Kodi with him.

what a pair of lumps fin

(EDIT: i'm gonna make this longer)
(EDIT 2.0: i made it longer... yup)

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

59. Family

Vermont weather was, at time, unbearable. Regardless of how many layers Penelope wore, the bitter wind still managed to get under her skin. So when the Brit arrived back to Lucy and Sawyer's apartment, she immediately headed towards the shower. She had, officially now, been living with the pair for thirteen days, and the psychometrist was still trying to wrap her head around it also being her apartment. It was still strange to be there alone.

Her skin twitched under the hot water as it adjusted to the sudden change in temperature. For minutes, Penny just stood under the water, allowing herself to warm up. She let out a long, relaxed sigh as she rolled her shoulders.

When the bathroom door clicked open, the psychometrist took in an involuntary breath as she smiled. She hadn't been expecting her counterpart to be home so early; it was a pleasant surprise. Still, she remained silent, listening carefully to the way she closed the door behind her.

“Heya, Pen!” The shower curtain drew back, and Sawyer poked a head in, grinning over at her new roommate.

Penelope's eyes widened, and she immediately tried to cover herself the best she could in the given situation. “Sawyer!” It wasn't lost on Penny how the voice mimic's eyes glanced downward. The Brit sucked in a sharp, frustrated breath, physically stepping back. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“I'm showering.”

“I can tell.” The voice mimic grinned.

“No.”

“But--”

“No,” Penny's jaw tensed as her eyes narrowed on Sawyer, “There's a better time for this.”

Something of a pout spread across Sawyer's lips as she withdrew. “Sheesh, Pen. It's not like I wanted to do anything.” Again, she peeked inside the shower, raising her eyebrows suggestively at the Brit, “I mean, unless you want to.”

“Get out.”

This time, Sawyer simply laughed as she pulled away. “I'm borrowing your hairbrush, by the way.”

Again, Penny's eyes widened, and this time she made an attempt to draw the shower curtain away. “My hairbrush?”

The door was already closing before she could stop the other. Penny let out an exasperated sigh, pressing her back against the tiled wall. This was too much.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

57. Warmth.

Lucy huddled herself closer to the psychometrist, curling into her side on instinct. She offered a small, almost disgruntled groan at a seemingly unforeseeable fact. She was irritated; that much was obvious to penny simply by the sound she offered. “I don’t like it.” Lucy finally stated.

Drawing her eyes open finally, Penny glanced across at the ink manipulator with mild confusion. “What?”

“This. Or that. I never have.” Lucy explained. Or rather, she assumed it was a clear explanation.

But it wasn’t. Penny breathed a slow, audible sigh through the confusion that was building in her mind. “…What?”

“It’s too…” Lucy struggled, glancing across at her briefly before pulling the blankets closer around herself. In the same vein, she hooked an arm around the Brit and pulled herself in closer. If that were even possible.

Finally, realisation dawned on the psyhometrist. Her eyebrows raised, and she resisted the urge to look amused. “You’re joking.”

“What.”

“Lucy.” Penny pressed her lips into a hardened line; “Really.”

“Shut up.” She dropped all emotional content from her voice on a dime.

“It’s not cold.”

Lucy was quick to rebuff; “Yes the fuck it is.”

“No.” Penny argued flatly. There was absolutely no way her counterpart was suffering through fabled cold right in this moment.

“It looks cold.” Lucy reasoned, her eyebrows furrowed as she glanced towards the window.

Penny’s mouth twitched into a grin; “So you feel colder?”

“No.” Lucy retorted sharply, but her jaw dropped. Lips parted. A word caught in her throat as the amusement on Penny’s face simply grew. “Yeah.” She corrected, but her eyes widened slightly when a smug quality interrupted the humour on the Brit’s face. “Fuck. Maybe.”

Maybe was as good as nothing.

It was rare for Penny to laugh, really. To laugh at the Australian. But she breathed the amused sound, curling her fingers into the covers before Lucy could bury herself in them further.

“I can almost guarantee it’s colder in Vermont right now.” Penny offered. “Significantly.” Still, she moved to rest her face into the ink manipulator’s hair, pressing a kiss to the side of her head amidst her gentle laughter. If nothing else, she found the mistake endearing.

Her company, more so.

“Hn.” Lucy dropped the revolutionary sound by accident, and that much was obvious. “Then I like Blackpool a hell of a lot more already.”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#72 – Locket

William Neville was the governor of New York. The Neville family was one of the wealthiest in all of the increasingly expanding United States of America. Due to a number of factors affecting fertility and infant mortality rates, William Neville had only one son.

Universal conscription was a myth. Those with enough money or connections could evade the brutal civic duty, as could those whose absences would cause undue hardship to their families. Likewise, those too young or too old or too crippled or too crazy or otherwise unfit were never called to service.

As the only son of a well-respected and powerful politician, as the heir to a lavish fortune, and as a man nearer to the end of his fourth decade on Earth than he was to the beginning, Doctor Sean Neville could have avoided military service. He was useless as a soldier. Although his boyhood lessons included fencing instruction, his aim left something to be desired, and he felt uncomfortable with a firearm of any type. He was a man of medicine, sworn to preserve life rather than take it.

Doctor Sean Neville had been given the rank of an officer, in deference to his socioeconomic status. Doctor Sean Neville had been placed in the medical corps, in deference to his Hippocratic Oath and as tacit acknowledgment of his limitations as a soldier.

Doctor Sean Neville had once run a highly successful medical clinic, catering to a variety of patients. Those who could afford to pay did so, and their contributions, in addition to his family fortune, sustained him so that he could provide services to those who could not afford to pay. Delivering babies in the filthiest tenements, serving as the General Practitioner to most of the men and women in his parents’ social circle, attending medical conferences to learn the latest developments in vaccinations and Germ Theory...his duties in the Army bore no resemblance to his past medical experience. Or little resemblance, since he had the prior training.

Sawing off gangrenous limbs. Removing bullets from boys so young that Sean himself could have delivered them. Treating outbreaks of venereal disease, syphilis, typhoid, the list went on. Quarantines and death surrounded him.

So many bodies found their way into his medical tent, where he could only offer them a shot of whiskey for comfort. So many bodies found their way into the ditch, faster than the gravediggers could bury them.

So much death. So many lives lost.

At no point in time did Sean question whether the fight was necessary. The freedom of millions, and countless more in future generations were at stake. Slavery had to be abolished; those millions and their children and grandchildren deserved no less than total freedom and reparations to try to mitigate some of the lasting damage from the generations of enslavement.

But there was so much death. So many of the survivors had lost limbs or eyes or their sanity.

Doctor Sean Neville prayed not to join those ranks. He would do everything he could for these boys and men. Just as he had for his patients back home in New York.

Yet, the death toll, the blood stains upon his clothing, the fetid odor of gangrene, and the screams of men in their death spiral all weighed heavily upon him. Even when he closed his eyes, he still saw the anguished expressions, and the blood and other fluids that seeped from every natural orifice, and from the holes created by the bullets. He woke at night from screams.

His father sent care packages. Food of far higher caliber than the soldiers received as provisions. Letters from home to keep him apprised of the life that he was missing due to his service.

Occasionally, the nurses and other doctors asked about his family life. He didn’t drop names, but it was impossible to come from New York with his surname and mannerisms without arousing questions. Occasionally, they asked why he wasn’t married at his age.

“I like my life as it is, and I haven’t found a woman who would want to settle with me for the right reasons.”

That was enough to make the other personnel cease their inquiries.

Fortunately, because he didn’t want to explain the locket he wore around his neck and which he never divested. Nor the fact that it contained a picture of his Jewish, male housemate.

It was the only way that he could keep Joshua close to his thoughts and his heart in this war-ravaged Hellscape.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#21 – Midnight

“The Rocky Horror Picture Show is back in town. Do you want to go to the show tonight?”

“I can’t. I’m busy.”

“What could you possibly have to do at that hour of the night?”

“It’s personal.”

“If you don’t want to go, you can just be honest and say so.”


Robert Hopkins had warned Sean many times throughout his adolescence that this vocation would strain personal relationships. Sean had believed him, the same way that he had believed everything that Robert had told him. Yet, in this one instance, he wished that his mentor had overstated the risks of duty.

The hunter was far from anti-social. He liked people. People liked him, but his schedule created barriers to deeper connections. That caused the most frustration; if he was misanthropic, then he had no problems.

Sean harbored no resentment towards Robert for placing him in this position. He remained grateful for the tutelage that Robert had provided him. The older hunter had taught him all of the skills he needed to survive in this world, how to defeat creatures of the night, and how to protect innocent people around him. More than that, Robert Hopkins had loved Sean the way a father loves his son, had treated him as though they were related by flesh and blood.

He could never resent Robert for anything that flowed from that kinship.

Even if it meant that he could never pass for normal.

Sean’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps below him. The hunter chose this spot for his patrol, because he had yet to be disappointed here. Never a wasted night.

The odor of decaying flesh reached his nostrils, and Sean deliberately slowed his breathing. While he’d grown more used to the foul stenches after decades of this vocation (under Robert’s tutelage and then on his own), he would never, could never, find such fetid stimuli pleasant, or even particularly tolerable.

No matter. He would dispose of the cause soon enough.

Revenants never learned. In a city of almost nine million people, and which had a long history post-colonialism, and a longer one pre-colonialism, there were plenty of corpses to go round. The supernatural creatures in the underbelly of the City took advantage of that.

That knowledge only strengthened Sean’s resolve, only caused greater devotion to his sworn duty.

After all, if Sean didn’t intervene, who else would? Supernatural creatures outpaced Hunters in terms of sheer population at least several hundred to one, and in many places, the ratio was far, far more lopsided.

Besides, while Sean didn’t boast, he could quietly acknowledge to himself that he was the best in the business. After Robert Hopkins, of course.

The revenant was on the move, and Sean quickly scaled down the side of the building, using the fire escapes for greater mobility. He loved the City; it was so easy to get around. Hunting in the country was so...frustrating, far less exhilarating.

The hunter landed on his feet gracefully but with a loud noise, the inevitable result of his boots hitting pavement. Given that he had announced himself due to physics, Sean saw no reason to mask his intent. “Drop her!”

The revenant turned around and hissed at him, yet its grip remained tight on its victim.

The hunter was neither surprised nor dissuaded. He didn’t have sympathy for the wretched creature to begin with, but any chance of moral quandary dissipated. If it wouldn’t heed his direct and unambiguous warning, then Sean would experience no remorse for his actions. The dead had to go, for the safety of the living.

Two shots from his crossbow, his aim impeccable. One through the eye and then the other through the chest, where the heart should be.

The revenant collapsed. Sean moved quickly to pick up the woman before she cracked her skull on the pavement. “I have you,” he promised. “Let me get you back home.”

His telepathy ensured that he would find her home easily.

“Who are you?” She asked warily.

“A friend.” That was a promise.

He was humanity’s friend, even if his own didn’t realize that.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#53 – Vanilla

Sean loved his friends. They shared his political ideals, they shared his compassion for those who suffered in the world, and many of them came either from college or from medical school, long familiar with his particular idiosyncrasies. He had fun with them; they treated him well, and he counted on them to have his best interests at heart, and vice versa.

Occasionally, this led to his friends taking his romantic life – or lack thereof – by the horns. “You don’t want to be alone forever,” Greg and Daphne pointed out time and again. Friends from medical school or from the office building wherein his office resided made similar observations. Sean was inherently a homebody, someone who, more than anything, yearned to settle with a partner and make a family. Someone who was happier coupled, although he could play the part of the bachelor without falling into a pit of despair.

“I met a guy at a club,” Greg told him. “He isn’t my type, but I think you’d get along well with him.”

Greg was the only one who tried to find him a boyfriend. It wasn’t for lack of access to women, since, no matter how old the architect became, women continued to find him charismatic, charming, attractive, and alluring. Inevitably, the blond informed them that he was gay. The blond had not tried to get their phone numbers for his tall doctor friend since college. Instead, he found men in bars and tried to subtly (and not so subtly) direct Sean’s attention to them.

Everyone else tried to find him girlfriends. Either because they didn’t know where to go about finding a boyfriend for another man, or because his dating history was so obviously skewed towards heterosexual relationships, or because, as he suspected in Daphne’s case, she expected that he would tell her if he wanted a boyfriend instead. Everyone who had known him when he and Josh had dated knew that he considered that relationship untouchable and unattainable in several respects.

Most of the suggested dates never went anywhere. Many of the women demonstrated no interest in seeing him for a date at all, for which Sean couldn’t fault them. Blind dates were uncomfortable, and most people didn’t have telepathy to help them to fill in the blanks. Blind dates also included more risks for a woman going out with a man whom she had never met before, than for a man in a similar position.

Even the dates that did make it to the first introduction rarely went beyond that. Sean did want to settle down in a long-term relationship, but not everyone who met him had the same inclinations at all, let alone wanting to do that with him. The telepath didn’t mind; he knew that it was hit or miss.

Sometimes, he thought that his friends were more invested in his love life than he was.

“You have a date,” Dave informed him, barging into his office during his lunch break. “This Friday. You’re meeting her at St. Andrews.”

The psychiatrist blinked. “The place with the kilts?”

“Trust me.” The other man approached the psychiatrist’s desk and slipped him a folded sheet of paper. “I wrote down all of the relevant information. Oh, and wear your leather jacket.”

“Why?”

“Trust me.”

That Friday night, after Sean had ended his last session, he’d returned home long enough to shower, trim his beard, and change into a more comfortable outfit. Following Dave’s advice, he donned his leather jacket before leaving the house.

A quick stop at the local fruit market allowed him to buy a rose to bring along as a token.

The telepath arrived at St. Andrews before his date. He gave his name to confirm the reservation, and gave her name so that she could find him when she arrived. He then placed an order for wine and waited.

Ten minutes after the date was to begin, a harrowed-looking blond woman was led to his table. “I’m so sorry!” She rushed to apologize. “The subway blew past the station and then everything went downhill from there.”

Then, she smoothed her skirt and blouse so she looked less rushed. “I like that jacket,” she said with a smile. Then she offered her hand. “I’m Felicity.”

“I’m Sean. It’s nice to meet you.” Touching her hand, he understood precisely why Dave had insisted he dress his way.

Idly, he wondered how the other man had managed to meet a woman like this. No matter, as Felicity was his date, not Dave’s.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#14 – Jealousy

Joshua Bernstein never regretted his friendship with Sean Neville. The telepath was loyal. He was generous. He was compassionate. He never failed to remind everyone around him that, while they were all his friends, Joshua Bernstein was his best friend, his closest friend in the world. He felt no shame in the fact that they were two grown men who still claimed each other as best friends. He always found time for the attorney, even though they now lived several states away, separated by four-hundred miles and a long train ride or a shorter trip by airplane.

Josh cherished the time they spent together. The letters and the telephone calls and the weekend sleepovers. Josh thought that Sean felt the same way, after all, the telepath certainly said as much.

Still, there was the creeping fear of being replaced. That was the only aspect of their friendship that filled the attorney with unease. What if Sean found someone better?

Josh spent more time than he would care to admit worrying about that possibility. Some part of him considered it inevitable. Sean would find someone better, and then they would no longer share the easy banter and emotional intimacy that came as part and parcel of their friendship.

After all, the attorney had seen first-hand how relationships functioned. How Sean functioned in relationships. Eventually, there was no room for friends or other activities, because the relationship eclipsed everything else.

That Sean’s subsequent relationships had yet to reach that point proved nothing. Eventually, Sean would meet the person that he would marry, and family would come first. Not only would family come first, but family would be the telepath’s only priority. Each of his friend’s relationships brought with it tightness in Josh’s chest, the fear that this one would be the nail in their coffin of their friendship.

For someone was perceptive as Sean was, the older man seemed blissfully unaware of this aspect of Josh’s emotional state. For better or for worse.

Without fail, the attorney always found a reason to dislike the telepath’s paramours. They were meddlesome, they were domineering, they were irritating in their aggressive friendliness, they had terrible taste in music and books and politics, and even if they didn’t, they always liked those things for the wrong reasons, which invalidated any enjoyment they professed to have.

The thought of Sean settling down with any of these people hurt. The thought of losing his friend to Felicity or Orion or any of the rest hurt. Josh knew that he was flawed; he knew that Sean could do better than him. He believed, in his heart of hearts, that Sean should do better than him. Yet confronted with that possibility, he always tensed, yearning for something he knew that he didn’t deserve but still didn’t want to lose.

Josh pushed those thoughts from his mind. Sean’s train was due any minute, and he didn’t want his friend to pick up on any of those pesky vulnerabilities. Even if the telepath had yet to remark on them, or yet to notice, he didn’t want to press his luck.

When Sean emerged from the track, reaching their agreed upon meeting place in Penn Station, he had his typical warm smile on his lips. However, the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

The telepath might be able to fool the people with whom he’d traveled, but it wasn’t that easy to fool his best friend.

“What’s wrong?” It wasn’t the greeting for which Josh had hoped, but he was worried. Perhaps someone was ill; he knew that Robert was getting up there in years.

“She chose to break up with me right before I left for the train station.” The telepath sighed and then hefted his suitcase again. “She didn’t want me to have the time to react.”

That was a terrible way to break up with someone. “That’s awful,” he said, and he patted the older man on the back, offering reassurance.

He meant that; it was awful, and Sean didn’t deserve that. He knew that the telepath had wanted the relationship to work out just as he wanted all relationships to work out. For his friend’s sake, he was sad.

That didn’t prevent him from breathing a silent sigh of relief. For now, Sean was all his.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#62 – Bells

Josh didn’t have good taste in music. This was the conclusion that Sean had reached one weekend when his friend was at his parents’ house for some holiday or another.

Not all of it was bad. Sean rather liked the Simon and Garfunkel vinyl records, and Bob Dylan had a couple of nice albums as well.

However, he didn’t really get most of Josh’s other music. No matter how many times he tried to listen to the Dolly Parton tracks or to the best hits of Brookes and Dunn, he just couldn’t get into it. Not the way he could with some of the folk music.

At first, he chalked that disconnect up to his own deficiencies. Yet, with the research he did online, he had slowly come to the conclusion that this was on Josh more than it was on himself.

That did nothing to diminish the esteem he had for the other man. After all, Josh did everything for him.

The attorney was a good friend. Sean got the impression from the younger man that Josh did not agree.

Sean couldn’t imagine why. After all, Josh graciously allowed him to stay in his home until he recovered his memories. Josh was kind to him, didn’t press him or otherwise make him feel awkward despite the fact that Sean remembered nothing of his life prior to living with the attorney.

Josh was the only social interaction he received, aside from the visits to the doctor, the ones that his former employer attended but during which the older man never spoke. None of Sean’s supposed friends or coworkers ever came to visit him; he had no family, as Josh had informed him that his parents had passed years ago, and that he and his sister didn’t get along. Sean didn’t know why, but he didn’t feel it appropriate to ask, nor did he want to call her, since they didn’t get along. He might not remember, but she did, and surely she wouldn’t want to hear from him. Josh’s friends largely ignored him, and Josh’s mother acknowledged him, but she didn’t say much that was directed to him, when she visited. Typically, it was the other way around; the attorney visited his mother, leaving Sean at home to wait.

Since Sean didn’t work – wasn’t allowed to return to his job until he regained his memory – Josh brought all of the income into their little home.

Most importantly, Josh remembered. The attorney alone provided all insight and tenuous connection to his past that Sean had. In that way, irrespective of whether Josh understood, Sean relied upon him for everything.

Thus, while Josh worked, Sean tried to regain any skills that he could, and, barring that, learn anything that he could from scratch. He wanted to ease his friend’s burden for Josh’s sake. For his own, he wanted to remember his own life. Even if he inwardly feared whatever dark aspect of himself had everyone around him so concerned. That had managed to push all of his other friends away such that they wouldn’t, or couldn’t, visit him.

Digging around Josh’s front closet one day, he found a keyboard. It dusty, as though it hadn’t been played – or touched – in years. Sean couldn’t fathom why his friend kept it, since, as far as the attorney had led him to believe, Josh couldn’t play any instruments and he didn’t know how to play music.

Yet, for some reason, Sean was drawn to it.

He dusted it off, and then set it up in the living room. Slowly, he experimented with the keys, unable to shake the sense of familiarity, as though he knew how to use this. He needed to ask Josh later if he knew how to play the piano.

In the meantime, he looked up instructional videos on Youtube. Nothing felt too familiar, but to his elation, none of what he found was particularly complicated. Sean hoped to share this with his friend when the younger man returned home from work that day.

Josh nearly had a heart-attack when he entered his home and heard Carol of the Bells on the piano. He had long forgotten that he'd bought the keyboard for Sean to play during visits, if the telepath was stressed.

To his disappointment, Sean still didn’t remember. He didn’t even remember how he never used to play for pleasure. He was so excited to share this with the attorney that Josh didn’t have the heart to correct him.

[Joshua Bernstein]

75 glasses

The room was littered with photographs and Xeroxed fliers.

has anyone seen this man? followed by a number. If anyone called that number now they would only reach an automated operator proclaiming that the line was disconnected. There was no more agonized waiting on the other end, hoping for some clue, some sign.

Hoping for the missing half to return home.

The fliers had been torn down, those that were remembered. Some were doubtless left up, forgotten by the one who had posted countless printed pleas all around the City, and passed, invisible, by those who lived there. Another paper among many.

Another missing person they never expected to see.

And so they wouldn't.

The photographs had all been pulled out when he'd first gone missing, in a frantic search for one that might be clear enough that he would be easily recognizable. Smiling, facing the camera. That hint of facial hair he insisted was a beard clearly visible, blue eyes bright behind the glasses he had resisted getting.

They'd all been pulled out again today.

He'd been looking through the sofa cushions when he'd found them. Thick rimmed, one lens cracked. JB]/i] was engraved along the side.

The memories flooded back, the emotions of realizing they would never reconcile again. Never hold hands, never hug, or drink together, or argue over the presidential nominees.

He held the glasses in both hands, and he cried.