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Jun. 29th, 2023 10:27 pmTitle: 5 Things DCI Catton Let Go (and 1 Thing She Couldn't)
Original Universe: Strange Natures
Rating: gen.
Summary:
Warnings/Triggers: None
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Original Universe: Strange Natures
Rating: gen.
Summary:
Warnings/Triggers: None
( more )
Title: Cygnet
Rating: Teen for violence, I think.
Summary: A colony finds a mysterious alien child in the reeds of the riverbank. (This is the two 100 words drafts combined into a whole).
Warnings/Triggers: violence, blood, gore.
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Rating: Teen for violence, I think.
Summary: A colony finds a mysterious alien child in the reeds of the riverbank. (This is the two 100 words drafts combined into a whole).
Warnings/Triggers: violence, blood, gore.
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Jun. 23rd, 2023 05:53 pmTitle: Change Places
Original Universe: Strange Natures
Rating: gen.
Summary: the prompt was 'The Shoe Being on the Other Foot'. Blythe finds herself with the information.
Warnings/Triggers: None
( More )
Original Universe: Strange Natures
Rating: gen.
Summary: the prompt was 'The Shoe Being on the Other Foot'. Blythe finds herself with the information.
Warnings/Triggers: None
( More )
(no subject)
Jun. 23rd, 2023 05:51 pmTitle: Honeypot
Original Universe: Strange Natures
Rating: gen.
Summary: the prompt was 'Nerdy Honeypots'. K'teffrik gets dragged out of his workshop for a very different operational role.
Warnings/Triggers: None
( more )
Original Universe: Strange Natures
Rating: gen.
Summary: the prompt was 'Nerdy Honeypots'. K'teffrik gets dragged out of his workshop for a very different operational role.
Warnings/Triggers: None
( more )
(no subject)
Jun. 23rd, 2023 05:48 pmTitle:
Original Universe: Strange Natures
Rating:Teen
Summary: Written for the prompt "I'd love some outisder POV for this universe, maybe a new recruit to the Odd Squad?"
The child-murder case DS Blythe is working on is transferred to the Odd Squad; she's not sure whether she can let it go, even though that might destroy her career.
Warnings/Triggers: Vague references to child murder.
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Original Universe: Strange Natures
Rating:Teen
Summary: Written for the prompt "I'd love some outisder POV for this universe, maybe a new recruit to the Odd Squad?"
The child-murder case DS Blythe is working on is transferred to the Odd Squad; she's not sure whether she can let it go, even though that might destroy her career.
Warnings/Triggers: Vague references to child murder.
( Read More )
100 words of "Call Off Your Dog"
Aug. 21st, 2022 04:24 pmThere’s duct tape residue on her wrist. Thewlis picks at it absently, mostly to help herself keep a mask of calm. You’re a stone-cold bitch. Remember that. Being kidnapped in the middle of the night is just a day ending in a Y.
It’s a lot easier to keep that mask on now than it might have been a few years ago. There’s something to be said for practice.
So she leans against a mobster's desk as though she isn’t wearing Lilo & Stitch pyjamas. As though the blood-soaked fabric isn’t cold and clammy against her skin. She stands there and rubs left-over glue into grey blobs with one thumb. Relaxed, as though the screams and useless gunfire don’t bother her. As though she isn’t mentally totting up the body-count. Just a day ending in a Y.
The blood isn’t hers. Most of it belongs to the former owner of the disembodied arm that lays by her bare foot like an offering.
“Call off your fucking dog,” Bain says from the corner he's crawled into. His voice is a hoarse whisper, the sound of a man who’s also totting up a body-count, and doesn’t like what it means for his own survival. A man who regrets his attempt to remove the head of the Odd Squad from his case. Then his eyes widen, his gaze fixed on something behind her. All the blood drains from his face.
She doesn’t look. She doesn’t have to. She’d recognise Toby’s deep, bass rumble purr anywhere.
The vampire takes his customary spot on her left, the position his subspecies instinctively reserves for the pack-leader’s favourite. He doesn’t say a word, but his stance is a plea for orders. Eager to please the human he imprinted upon.
Bain’s eyes widen even further when the screaming and gun-fire don’t stop, evidence of more than one monster. They almost bug when Thewlis holds up a hand for Toby to rub his cheek against. It's tacky with blood, dragging against her fingers.
“Here’s the thing, Bain, I can barely call off this big ol’ puddy-tat,” Thewlis says as Toby’s purr crescendoes. Any louder and it might drown out the grown man pleading for his mummy in the next room. “You’re on your own with the rest of them.”
*
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/559509.html?thread=3407168149#cmt3407168149
It’s a lot easier to keep that mask on now than it might have been a few years ago. There’s something to be said for practice.
So she leans against a mobster's desk as though she isn’t wearing Lilo & Stitch pyjamas. As though the blood-soaked fabric isn’t cold and clammy against her skin. She stands there and rubs left-over glue into grey blobs with one thumb. Relaxed, as though the screams and useless gunfire don’t bother her. As though she isn’t mentally totting up the body-count. Just a day ending in a Y.
The blood isn’t hers. Most of it belongs to the former owner of the disembodied arm that lays by her bare foot like an offering.
“Call off your fucking dog,” Bain says from the corner he's crawled into. His voice is a hoarse whisper, the sound of a man who’s also totting up a body-count, and doesn’t like what it means for his own survival. A man who regrets his attempt to remove the head of the Odd Squad from his case. Then his eyes widen, his gaze fixed on something behind her. All the blood drains from his face.
She doesn’t look. She doesn’t have to. She’d recognise Toby’s deep, bass rumble purr anywhere.
The vampire takes his customary spot on her left, the position his subspecies instinctively reserves for the pack-leader’s favourite. He doesn’t say a word, but his stance is a plea for orders. Eager to please the human he imprinted upon.
Bain’s eyes widen even further when the screaming and gun-fire don’t stop, evidence of more than one monster. They almost bug when Thewlis holds up a hand for Toby to rub his cheek against. It's tacky with blood, dragging against her fingers.
“Here’s the thing, Bain, I can barely call off this big ol’ puddy-tat,” Thewlis says as Toby’s purr crescendoes. Any louder and it might drown out the grown man pleading for his mummy in the next room. “You’re on your own with the rest of them.”
*
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/559509.html?thread=3407168149#cmt3407168149
100 words of Patching Up a Grumpy Monster
May. 20th, 2020 08:22 pmJenny woke to her entire world tipping over, sending her sliding off her bed and crashing to the ground with a whump. She tried to get up, chest burning, but it righted itself just as abruptly and knocked her back down. For a moment she kept still on the floor, still winded from the impact, one hand gripping her mattress, the other the bookcase under the gunwhales. She shifted her grip from the paperbacks to the shelf, hoping for more security while she got her bearings.
Okay, so she was on Orion’s narrowboat; that explained the movement itself, if not its cause. Normally when he got back from patrolling his canals he tried to keep the rocking to the minimum. So what was happening?
A whispering noise filled the air, but it wasn't words: something rubbing against something else; a low, endless susurration. Not the sort of thing you wanted to hear in the middle of the night. Jenny glanced at the clock on the wall, and saw that it was only just past two in the morning. Orion and Nine had told her they wouldn't be back until dawn, something about an encroacher on their territorial boundary, which was apparently a very big deal when you were a genius loci. But if it wasn’t them, then...?
The thought chilled her to the core. She tried to scramble to her feet, but a deafening scream sent her back to her knees. Slapping her hands over her ears didn't help. The air itself seemed to vibrate around her, caught in a reverb so alien it felt like her brain wanted to crawl down her throat and take cover in her rib-cage.
“Shhh, you’ll wake Ten,” Nine said. Her words were clear through the din, as though she was on a different frequency, and it sounded more like she was scolding a hyperactive child than whatever was shaking the fabric of reality itself.
The telling-off seemed to work: the sound dulled down to breathy whimpers, each still filled with that awful reverb, but quiet enough for Jenny to gather her wits. Definitely quiet enough for her to recognise Orion’s voice when he whispered, “Why couldn't you just dump me in the canal like I asked you to?”
“You want to make her sick...?”
A silence, then: “You think the bites are contaminated?” It was followed by another horrifying screech.
“See,” Nine said, “they're all gooey. Look: ewwww.” She drew the word out like a little kid might. There was a splattering thud noise, like toy slime being thrown against a wall. “Can’t get it off my fingers.”
“Then stop sticking your fucking fingers in it!” Orion gasped.
“We could stick a towel in it?”
“I don’t need a towel!”
“But you’re leaking.”
“It’s my bathroom, I can bleed to death in it if I want to!”
What the hell was going on? Jenny made a second attempt at pulling herself to her feet, battling both her bruised ribs and the way the reverb in Orion’s voice made her bones feel as though they were softening inside her. She clicked her fingers experimentally. They seemed solid enough, so it was either her imagination, or she was sensing a different aspect of reality... Christ, her world had changed since she’d found out that her twin brother hadn’t been the victim of a senseless murder, but instead a human sacrifice to create a minor deity.
The same minor deity who was currently defending his right to bleed to death in his own bathroom.
“Grumble-bum,” Nine said.
“Just give me some peace and quiet, and don’t turn the pumps on. I’ll be fine before dawn; we can work out if I’m contagious then.”
“Ten’s awake.”
“Oh, for the love of... Jen, stay in the saloon! I'm fully manifested right now!”
It took everything Jenny had to not do as she was told and retreat to the couch. All the warnings about what the sight of her hosts in ‘full aspect’ could do to her brain suddenly felt very real, but something made her take a shaky step toward the narrow corridor that led to the bathroom. Probably the same lack of self-preservation that had her trying to connect with what was left of her twin, she thought as she took another step, pausing against the counter in the galley. Seeing what he really looked like now had to be progress, right? And maybe they were distracted enough to not stop her. “What happened?”
Orion let out a weak, breathy little laugh. “A pyrrhic victory. You oughta see the other guy.”
“Should’ve let me kill her,” Nine said.
“First of all, she could’ve killed you; second of all, I didn’t want the grown-ups fretting about us technically being an invasive species again. We bought ourselves river-crossing rights; that’s enough. Ow-ow-ow-ow-will you stop that! I’m fine, it’ll grow back on its own.”
Jenny decided not to think about ‘invasive species’, or what might be growing back. She took a deep breath, and looked around the corner into the narrow corridor. The side hatch was open, stained with multiple hand-prints picked out in glowing purple. There were spatters and streaks of the same liquid across the walls and floor, making the scene look like something out of a TV crime drama after the investigators had gotten out the luminol and a black-light. But the average crime drama wouldn’t have tentacles trailing between the hatch and the bathroom door. They writhed and squirmed in a mass of shadows and lights; fractal patterns of shimmering, iridescent scales; indigo, violet and pewter all constantly shifting in and out of reality.
In and out of the reality I can perceive... Jenny thought as a cold, prickling sensation settled itself across her shoulders and scalp. Her brain made another valiant effort to hide in her rib-cage, but she gripped the edge of the galley counter and concentrated on how real and solid it felt; the texture of the wood grain, and the way it warmed up beneath her fingers.
She didn’t need to perceive all realities to see the bite marks. Something had torn literal chunks out of her brother, and the protective rage was an anchor too.
“What the- Jen, what are you doing?! Don’t look!” Orion snarled, and this time the eldritch reverb in his voice snapped her out of her daze. “The last thing I need is for you to claw your own eyes out!”
“You can borrow two of mine if you need them,” Nine called out, as though she was offering something as normal as a jumper, or taxi fare.
This was it; now or never. Jenny swallowed down the bile that threatened to choke her, and peered around the bathroom door.
At first glance it was something out of a hentai video: a seething mass of glowing tentacles filled the small room, burying the floor, the walls, even the ceiling. Large and small; thick as her thigh, thin as a whip; all of them in constant, flickering motion. Jenny could barely make out the edge of the three-quarter bathtub. Inside it Nine was straddling a squirming mound of fractal nightmares, looking very small and fragile against the backdrop of their brother. An honest-to-god angel in a tattered and stained sundress, her form sketched out in silver and cobalt blue light: four crumpled wings and a thousand glowing eyes taking up every inch that Orion wasn't already occupying. She was half buried under tendrils that gripped her long hair, her feathers, her wrists, all holding her in place. At the mercy of the monster...
Then Nine frowned, pulled her wrist free with an ease that made the violet tendril holding it seem intangible, and pressed the towel she was holding against a bleeding wound, eliciting another barely-stifled screech. “Stop being such a baby.”
Orion grabbed at the edge of the tub with multiple tentacles and one hand, claws clicking against the white enamel, painting it with streaks of his own blood, and Jenny realised that there was still a humanoid form within the morass. Somehow that was worse than an unknowable eldritch tentacle abomination. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she recognised his face - glowing, three-eyed, but still her brother, because this was Jamie now; this was what lay beneath the surface; this was the Franken-creature that had been stitched together from the pieces...
She vaguely heard him scream, “Close your fucking eyes!”, before the darkness took her.
***
Jenny woke with a start. There was something looming over her, and for a moment she remembered the tentacles, Orion's horrified face, and then her mind skittered to one side of it and she realised that Nine was hovering over her with one foot either side of her head. Bathroom floor? No, her bed: the fold-down dinette in Orion’s narrowboat. Nine was sitting on the headboard that was normally the back of one of the benches, peering down at her. Had it all been a nightmare?
“Bad Ten,” Nine said, booping her on the nose. “No biscuit for you.”
“Wha... what happened?”
Nine cocked her head. “Who’s the president?”
“What?”
“I watch movies.” Her tone was somewhere between accusation and defensiveness. “Okay, fine, you can have a custard cream, but no chocolate hobnobs.”
It was too early in the morning to deal with the shambles of half-finished thoughts that was a conversation with Nine. Jenny sat up, ignoring the fact that it put her head right between the angel's thighs. “Where’s Orion? Is he okay?” She was vaguely aware that Nine was petting her hair, but it didn’t matter right then.
“He’s mad at me,” Nine said, nodding at a crumpled bundle of blankets on the couch. “It’s not fair. We need new towels.”
Jenny didn't answer; she stared at the arm that stuck out of the blankets, at the very human-looking skin, and the black symbols of the bespelled tattoos that held the component parts together... Light and shadow; violet and indigo and pewter; rippling metallic scales on too many limbs to count; a thousand fractals forming and collapsing; a monster beneath the skin; an unholy terror. Fingers gripping the side of the bath, talons scraping against the enamel; screaming at her to look away. Bleeding out from dozens of wounds, but his concern is for her.
She snapped out of it with a start. He was Jamie; he wasn’t Jamie. She didn’t know any more. But he'd been scared for her, and it was a solid anchor in the whirling horror that wanted to engulf her and drag her down.
She didn't know how long she'd been lost in her own thoughts, but the air was heavy with the smell of bacon; the pops and crackles were an anchor too. And Nine was humming while she cooked, a sound too full of layers to be human. She was among monsters. She was among friends.
She steeled herself, got out of bed and walked over to the couch, taking a seat next to Orion’s head. He was covered with make-shift bandages, and where they’d slipped free she could see the bite-marks. Almost healed now, but whatever it was that attacked him left a lot of damage.
“The Ouse is alive,” Nine said, as if that might mean something to her.
Jenny thought about asking for clarification, but decided against it, instead stroking a strand of Orion's pewter hair out of his eyes. He never slept, so why was he asleep?
He cracked open one eye, and a sparkling glow of purple and pewter flame briefly flashed across his iris before vanishing into his pupil. Human again, at least on the surface. He licked his lower lip, and asked, “You okay?”
She wasn’t sure she could say ‘yes’, so she nodded instead, trying not to think about the bathroom.
“Oh, thank fuck.” He tried to move, then hissed out a breath and reconsidered. “Next time I tell you not to look at something, don’t look, okay? One batshit crazy sister is enough; I can’t cope with two.”
She nodded again, still not trusting her voice.
“I heard that," Nine said.
Orion ignored her. “And don’t go thinking this means you can handle looking at other gods," he said. “Nine and I aren't complete; we’re still pieces that only add up to one layer. It’s... less reality to take in at once.”
Jenny reached out and touched one of the black bars inked into his fingers, tiny symbols packed so close together it almost looked solid. Stitches to keep the pieces together. Her brother and three other beings; a quarter of each. An unholy act to create something holy.
Orion wasn’t Jamie; after what she'd seen the night before she had to accept that he never would be. But... he cared about her. And she wanted him to be safe, eldritch abomination or not.
Maybe it was enough of a foundation to build something new on. He wasn't her twin, but technically they shared some genes, right? She wouldn't be alone...
Blood was thicker than water, even the sluggish, silted muck at the bottom of his precious canal.
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/426480.html?thread=2532393968#cmt2532393968
Okay, so she was on Orion’s narrowboat; that explained the movement itself, if not its cause. Normally when he got back from patrolling his canals he tried to keep the rocking to the minimum. So what was happening?
A whispering noise filled the air, but it wasn't words: something rubbing against something else; a low, endless susurration. Not the sort of thing you wanted to hear in the middle of the night. Jenny glanced at the clock on the wall, and saw that it was only just past two in the morning. Orion and Nine had told her they wouldn't be back until dawn, something about an encroacher on their territorial boundary, which was apparently a very big deal when you were a genius loci. But if it wasn’t them, then...?
The thought chilled her to the core. She tried to scramble to her feet, but a deafening scream sent her back to her knees. Slapping her hands over her ears didn't help. The air itself seemed to vibrate around her, caught in a reverb so alien it felt like her brain wanted to crawl down her throat and take cover in her rib-cage.
“Shhh, you’ll wake Ten,” Nine said. Her words were clear through the din, as though she was on a different frequency, and it sounded more like she was scolding a hyperactive child than whatever was shaking the fabric of reality itself.
The telling-off seemed to work: the sound dulled down to breathy whimpers, each still filled with that awful reverb, but quiet enough for Jenny to gather her wits. Definitely quiet enough for her to recognise Orion’s voice when he whispered, “Why couldn't you just dump me in the canal like I asked you to?”
“You want to make her sick...?”
A silence, then: “You think the bites are contaminated?” It was followed by another horrifying screech.
“See,” Nine said, “they're all gooey. Look: ewwww.” She drew the word out like a little kid might. There was a splattering thud noise, like toy slime being thrown against a wall. “Can’t get it off my fingers.”
“Then stop sticking your fucking fingers in it!” Orion gasped.
“We could stick a towel in it?”
“I don’t need a towel!”
“But you’re leaking.”
“It’s my bathroom, I can bleed to death in it if I want to!”
What the hell was going on? Jenny made a second attempt at pulling herself to her feet, battling both her bruised ribs and the way the reverb in Orion’s voice made her bones feel as though they were softening inside her. She clicked her fingers experimentally. They seemed solid enough, so it was either her imagination, or she was sensing a different aspect of reality... Christ, her world had changed since she’d found out that her twin brother hadn’t been the victim of a senseless murder, but instead a human sacrifice to create a minor deity.
The same minor deity who was currently defending his right to bleed to death in his own bathroom.
“Grumble-bum,” Nine said.
“Just give me some peace and quiet, and don’t turn the pumps on. I’ll be fine before dawn; we can work out if I’m contagious then.”
“Ten’s awake.”
“Oh, for the love of... Jen, stay in the saloon! I'm fully manifested right now!”
It took everything Jenny had to not do as she was told and retreat to the couch. All the warnings about what the sight of her hosts in ‘full aspect’ could do to her brain suddenly felt very real, but something made her take a shaky step toward the narrow corridor that led to the bathroom. Probably the same lack of self-preservation that had her trying to connect with what was left of her twin, she thought as she took another step, pausing against the counter in the galley. Seeing what he really looked like now had to be progress, right? And maybe they were distracted enough to not stop her. “What happened?”
Orion let out a weak, breathy little laugh. “A pyrrhic victory. You oughta see the other guy.”
“Should’ve let me kill her,” Nine said.
“First of all, she could’ve killed you; second of all, I didn’t want the grown-ups fretting about us technically being an invasive species again. We bought ourselves river-crossing rights; that’s enough. Ow-ow-ow-ow-will you stop that! I’m fine, it’ll grow back on its own.”
Jenny decided not to think about ‘invasive species’, or what might be growing back. She took a deep breath, and looked around the corner into the narrow corridor. The side hatch was open, stained with multiple hand-prints picked out in glowing purple. There were spatters and streaks of the same liquid across the walls and floor, making the scene look like something out of a TV crime drama after the investigators had gotten out the luminol and a black-light. But the average crime drama wouldn’t have tentacles trailing between the hatch and the bathroom door. They writhed and squirmed in a mass of shadows and lights; fractal patterns of shimmering, iridescent scales; indigo, violet and pewter all constantly shifting in and out of reality.
In and out of the reality I can perceive... Jenny thought as a cold, prickling sensation settled itself across her shoulders and scalp. Her brain made another valiant effort to hide in her rib-cage, but she gripped the edge of the galley counter and concentrated on how real and solid it felt; the texture of the wood grain, and the way it warmed up beneath her fingers.
She didn’t need to perceive all realities to see the bite marks. Something had torn literal chunks out of her brother, and the protective rage was an anchor too.
“What the- Jen, what are you doing?! Don’t look!” Orion snarled, and this time the eldritch reverb in his voice snapped her out of her daze. “The last thing I need is for you to claw your own eyes out!”
“You can borrow two of mine if you need them,” Nine called out, as though she was offering something as normal as a jumper, or taxi fare.
This was it; now or never. Jenny swallowed down the bile that threatened to choke her, and peered around the bathroom door.
At first glance it was something out of a hentai video: a seething mass of glowing tentacles filled the small room, burying the floor, the walls, even the ceiling. Large and small; thick as her thigh, thin as a whip; all of them in constant, flickering motion. Jenny could barely make out the edge of the three-quarter bathtub. Inside it Nine was straddling a squirming mound of fractal nightmares, looking very small and fragile against the backdrop of their brother. An honest-to-god angel in a tattered and stained sundress, her form sketched out in silver and cobalt blue light: four crumpled wings and a thousand glowing eyes taking up every inch that Orion wasn't already occupying. She was half buried under tendrils that gripped her long hair, her feathers, her wrists, all holding her in place. At the mercy of the monster...
Then Nine frowned, pulled her wrist free with an ease that made the violet tendril holding it seem intangible, and pressed the towel she was holding against a bleeding wound, eliciting another barely-stifled screech. “Stop being such a baby.”
Orion grabbed at the edge of the tub with multiple tentacles and one hand, claws clicking against the white enamel, painting it with streaks of his own blood, and Jenny realised that there was still a humanoid form within the morass. Somehow that was worse than an unknowable eldritch tentacle abomination. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she recognised his face - glowing, three-eyed, but still her brother, because this was Jamie now; this was what lay beneath the surface; this was the Franken-creature that had been stitched together from the pieces...
She vaguely heard him scream, “Close your fucking eyes!”, before the darkness took her.
***
Jenny woke with a start. There was something looming over her, and for a moment she remembered the tentacles, Orion's horrified face, and then her mind skittered to one side of it and she realised that Nine was hovering over her with one foot either side of her head. Bathroom floor? No, her bed: the fold-down dinette in Orion’s narrowboat. Nine was sitting on the headboard that was normally the back of one of the benches, peering down at her. Had it all been a nightmare?
“Bad Ten,” Nine said, booping her on the nose. “No biscuit for you.”
“Wha... what happened?”
Nine cocked her head. “Who’s the president?”
“What?”
“I watch movies.” Her tone was somewhere between accusation and defensiveness. “Okay, fine, you can have a custard cream, but no chocolate hobnobs.”
It was too early in the morning to deal with the shambles of half-finished thoughts that was a conversation with Nine. Jenny sat up, ignoring the fact that it put her head right between the angel's thighs. “Where’s Orion? Is he okay?” She was vaguely aware that Nine was petting her hair, but it didn’t matter right then.
“He’s mad at me,” Nine said, nodding at a crumpled bundle of blankets on the couch. “It’s not fair. We need new towels.”
Jenny didn't answer; she stared at the arm that stuck out of the blankets, at the very human-looking skin, and the black symbols of the bespelled tattoos that held the component parts together... Light and shadow; violet and indigo and pewter; rippling metallic scales on too many limbs to count; a thousand fractals forming and collapsing; a monster beneath the skin; an unholy terror. Fingers gripping the side of the bath, talons scraping against the enamel; screaming at her to look away. Bleeding out from dozens of wounds, but his concern is for her.
She snapped out of it with a start. He was Jamie; he wasn’t Jamie. She didn’t know any more. But he'd been scared for her, and it was a solid anchor in the whirling horror that wanted to engulf her and drag her down.
She didn't know how long she'd been lost in her own thoughts, but the air was heavy with the smell of bacon; the pops and crackles were an anchor too. And Nine was humming while she cooked, a sound too full of layers to be human. She was among monsters. She was among friends.
She steeled herself, got out of bed and walked over to the couch, taking a seat next to Orion’s head. He was covered with make-shift bandages, and where they’d slipped free she could see the bite-marks. Almost healed now, but whatever it was that attacked him left a lot of damage.
“The Ouse is alive,” Nine said, as if that might mean something to her.
Jenny thought about asking for clarification, but decided against it, instead stroking a strand of Orion's pewter hair out of his eyes. He never slept, so why was he asleep?
He cracked open one eye, and a sparkling glow of purple and pewter flame briefly flashed across his iris before vanishing into his pupil. Human again, at least on the surface. He licked his lower lip, and asked, “You okay?”
She wasn’t sure she could say ‘yes’, so she nodded instead, trying not to think about the bathroom.
“Oh, thank fuck.” He tried to move, then hissed out a breath and reconsidered. “Next time I tell you not to look at something, don’t look, okay? One batshit crazy sister is enough; I can’t cope with two.”
She nodded again, still not trusting her voice.
“I heard that," Nine said.
Orion ignored her. “And don’t go thinking this means you can handle looking at other gods," he said. “Nine and I aren't complete; we’re still pieces that only add up to one layer. It’s... less reality to take in at once.”
Jenny reached out and touched one of the black bars inked into his fingers, tiny symbols packed so close together it almost looked solid. Stitches to keep the pieces together. Her brother and three other beings; a quarter of each. An unholy act to create something holy.
Orion wasn’t Jamie; after what she'd seen the night before she had to accept that he never would be. But... he cared about her. And she wanted him to be safe, eldritch abomination or not.
Maybe it was enough of a foundation to build something new on. He wasn't her twin, but technically they shared some genes, right? She wouldn't be alone...
Blood was thicker than water, even the sluggish, silted muck at the bottom of his precious canal.
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/426480.html?thread=2532393968#cmt2532393968
100 words of Not Today, Satan
May. 12th, 2020 05:54 pmPerdita stared up at the vast, stone doors. All the lights behind them were out, and everything was quiet. Which was... unusual. Even the hot, still air seemed to have paused itself around her, waiting to see what was going to happen.
“I only came to apologise for the first time,” she yelled. There was movement inside, something like whispering that swiftly quieted the moment it realised it had been detected. She swore under her breath. “Fine, the seventh time! There’s no need to turn the bloody lights out and pretend you’re not home! You’re only embarrassing yourselves, you know!”
More silence. Clearly reputation meant nothing. She glared at the scrap of singed paper on the door again - or, rather, at the neatly penned message written upon it: “Not today, Satan.”
Like it was her fault the grumpy twat couldn't take a fucking joke.
Still, at least she had a funny story for the next time someone told her to go to hell.
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/381094.html?thread=2234605734#cmt2234605734
“I only came to apologise for the first time,” she yelled. There was movement inside, something like whispering that swiftly quieted the moment it realised it had been detected. She swore under her breath. “Fine, the seventh time! There’s no need to turn the bloody lights out and pretend you’re not home! You’re only embarrassing yourselves, you know!”
More silence. Clearly reputation meant nothing. She glared at the scrap of singed paper on the door again - or, rather, at the neatly penned message written upon it: “Not today, Satan.”
Like it was her fault the grumpy twat couldn't take a fucking joke.
Still, at least she had a funny story for the next time someone told her to go to hell.
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/381094.html?thread=2234605734#cmt2234605734
100 words of Not Today, Santa
May. 12th, 2020 05:53 pm“Muuuuuuuuuuuummm!”
The wail roused Perdita from her doze. She flicked her awareness out instantly, searching multiple facets of reality for threats, anything that could harm her family, and found... Nothing. Nothing but the twins, Raina and Smudge, trying to rip each others’ heads off. Again.
Shit. She sprawled back against the pillows and wondered vaguely whether Ajhan would deal with it, like the good house-husband he was, or whether she should go break it up before the pair of them bothered their other mother. She didn’t get chance to contemplate the cost/benefit ratio of Vivienne’s annoyance before she heard pawpads thundering down the corridor, and fifty pounds of juvenile sphinx landed square on her stomach, his little tailed puffed up like a bottle-brush.
“Mum, she’s doing it again!” Smudge wailed. “You have to tell her!”
“Tell-tale tit!” Raina shouted after him. "Your tongue will split, and all the doggies in the street will have a little bit!"
"Will not!" he screeched back.
Perdita tried to catch his face so she could calm him down. “Doing what again?”
“Setting a trap for Santa.”
She blinked, trying to imagine how that was going to turn out. Grandpa Abby probably hadn’t factored it into his planned Mid-Winter performance... Oh, the grumpy old bugger wouldn’t know what had hit him. Stifling her laughter, she smoothed down her youngest child’s ruffled feathers and fluffed up fur, and asked, “Did she say why she wants to trap Santa?”
“She wants to make him answer a riddle before he can come in!” Smudge said, absolutely scandalised.
Biting her lower lip was the only way to keep from laughing. Perdita nodded, and made what she hoped were appropriately horrified sounds while she listened to his complaints. She couldn’t let the laughter out now, not when something so tempting reared its head. This was one hundred per cent a good idea, no 'at the time' about it. “You know what,” she said, finally, “I reckon your sister makes a good point. If Santa’s going to use arbitrary judgements like naughty and nice, well, he needs to expect you two to take your duties as guardians of the threshold seriously, doesn’t he? It’s only right and proper.”
“Told you so,” Raina muttered, peering around the door.
“Shush,” Perdita said as she beckoned her daughter closer. “Can’t blame your brother for getting confused - ambiguous moral judgements are Santa’s game, that’s why his rules are so vague, and you know how our family deals with those who want to play silly buggers, don’t you?”
“We change the rules,” Smudge replied. He beamed at the proud smile he got in return.
“Exactly,” Perdita said, gently booping his nose. She waited until Raina hopped up onto the bed next to him, before asking, “So, daughter of mine, what exactly did you have in mind?”
Abby was going to get the surprise of his very long life.
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/381094.html?thread=2234572454#cmt2234572454
The wail roused Perdita from her doze. She flicked her awareness out instantly, searching multiple facets of reality for threats, anything that could harm her family, and found... Nothing. Nothing but the twins, Raina and Smudge, trying to rip each others’ heads off. Again.
Shit. She sprawled back against the pillows and wondered vaguely whether Ajhan would deal with it, like the good house-husband he was, or whether she should go break it up before the pair of them bothered their other mother. She didn’t get chance to contemplate the cost/benefit ratio of Vivienne’s annoyance before she heard pawpads thundering down the corridor, and fifty pounds of juvenile sphinx landed square on her stomach, his little tailed puffed up like a bottle-brush.
“Mum, she’s doing it again!” Smudge wailed. “You have to tell her!”
“Tell-tale tit!” Raina shouted after him. "Your tongue will split, and all the doggies in the street will have a little bit!"
"Will not!" he screeched back.
Perdita tried to catch his face so she could calm him down. “Doing what again?”
“Setting a trap for Santa.”
She blinked, trying to imagine how that was going to turn out. Grandpa Abby probably hadn’t factored it into his planned Mid-Winter performance... Oh, the grumpy old bugger wouldn’t know what had hit him. Stifling her laughter, she smoothed down her youngest child’s ruffled feathers and fluffed up fur, and asked, “Did she say why she wants to trap Santa?”
“She wants to make him answer a riddle before he can come in!” Smudge said, absolutely scandalised.
Biting her lower lip was the only way to keep from laughing. Perdita nodded, and made what she hoped were appropriately horrified sounds while she listened to his complaints. She couldn’t let the laughter out now, not when something so tempting reared its head. This was one hundred per cent a good idea, no 'at the time' about it. “You know what,” she said, finally, “I reckon your sister makes a good point. If Santa’s going to use arbitrary judgements like naughty and nice, well, he needs to expect you two to take your duties as guardians of the threshold seriously, doesn’t he? It’s only right and proper.”
“Told you so,” Raina muttered, peering around the door.
“Shush,” Perdita said as she beckoned her daughter closer. “Can’t blame your brother for getting confused - ambiguous moral judgements are Santa’s game, that’s why his rules are so vague, and you know how our family deals with those who want to play silly buggers, don’t you?”
“We change the rules,” Smudge replied. He beamed at the proud smile he got in return.
“Exactly,” Perdita said, gently booping his nose. She waited until Raina hopped up onto the bed next to him, before asking, “So, daughter of mine, what exactly did you have in mind?”
Abby was going to get the surprise of his very long life.
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/381094.html?thread=2234572454#cmt2234572454
100 words of Chess With Death
Mar. 16th, 2020 11:24 pm“I know chess is your favourite, why the fuck else do you reckon Molly never played for keeps with it?” Perdita said. She kept her face carefully blank as she felt the brush of Molly’s presence against the back of her eye: a quick tickle of a component part giving the outside world a disapproving stare.
Molly Woods, who’d challenged Death and won over a dozen times on behalf of others, then gone down in an act of self-sacrifice and denied her long-time opponent the final grudge match.
Death had been livid.
But that was then, and this was now. Perdita moved her bishop, and then slouched comfortably into the cool sands of the Place Between. They weren't playing for keeps today - well, not exactly. She’d built a far different relationship with The Fairest Of Them All. Still antagonistic, to be sure, but along an angle that probably hadn’t even occurred to her avatar.
Plastering the cheekiest, most irritating grin she could muster across her face, Perdita stretched out her leg and nudged her toes beneath the hem of the night-dark robe, seeking a slender ankle.
She’d lost her shoes and socks three matches ago, but it was to be expected: strip chess just isn’t her game.
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/415065.html?thread=2457688921#cmt2457688921
Molly Woods, who’d challenged Death and won over a dozen times on behalf of others, then gone down in an act of self-sacrifice and denied her long-time opponent the final grudge match.
Death had been livid.
But that was then, and this was now. Perdita moved her bishop, and then slouched comfortably into the cool sands of the Place Between. They weren't playing for keeps today - well, not exactly. She’d built a far different relationship with The Fairest Of Them All. Still antagonistic, to be sure, but along an angle that probably hadn’t even occurred to her avatar.
Plastering the cheekiest, most irritating grin she could muster across her face, Perdita stretched out her leg and nudged her toes beneath the hem of the night-dark robe, seeking a slender ankle.
She’d lost her shoes and socks three matches ago, but it was to be expected: strip chess just isn’t her game.
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/415065.html?thread=2457688921#cmt2457688921
100 words of A+ Parenting
Oct. 21st, 2019 07:15 pm“Come on,” Nev said, nudging Elfie. “Remember what mum always said?”
"Kick ‘em in the crotch, our kid?"
“Um, no...”
“The best way to a man’s heart is to go under the rib-cage, not through?”
“...Not that one either.”
“Violence is never the answer, but it’s a fun place to start the questions?”
“No.”
“Ladies don’t start fights, they fucking finish them?”
“Still no.”
"It's always the red wire, unless it's the green one?"
"No."
“Oh, I know: few problems can’t be fixed with tea, murder, or a little creative arson.”
He blinked. “Gods, I miss her.”
"Yeah, me too."
*
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/393474.html?thread=2316927490#cmt2316927490
"Kick ‘em in the crotch, our kid?"
“Um, no...”
“The best way to a man’s heart is to go under the rib-cage, not through?”
“...Not that one either.”
“Violence is never the answer, but it’s a fun place to start the questions?”
“No.”
“Ladies don’t start fights, they fucking finish them?”
“Still no.”
"It's always the red wire, unless it's the green one?"
"No."
“Oh, I know: few problems can’t be fixed with tea, murder, or a little creative arson.”
He blinked. “Gods, I miss her.”
"Yeah, me too."
*
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/393474.html?thread=2316927490#cmt2316927490
100 Word of Magic Lessons - the Odd Squad
Aug. 3rd, 2019 06:20 pmDC Novell wondered why he’d ever been excited about learning magic. Actually, that was wrong, he’d been excited because he’d been reared on a diet of fantasy novels where phenomenal cosmic power came with the price of quests, or magical amulets, or maybe a soul, at most?
Not seemingly endless, exhausting physical drills.
“Again,” DS Witman said, sliding through the formation with practised ease. She’d barely broken a sweat - apparently she didn’t even need to go through the full rigmarole; this was for rank amateurs. “Refilling a shield spell needs to be pure instinct: second nature. You will only need this after you’ve taken a hit, but if you have taken a hit then you do not want to be left in need. Do you understand?”
“Yes, boss.” He closed his eyes and focused again as he went through the stances, shifting his body from one to another in the pattern that drew power up from its source. He still felt a small thrill when it answered, trickling into his body and refilling the spell carefully drawn across his skin, but the pleasure was muted compared to his first successful try: a couple of thousand reps would do that to you.
“So what’s next?” PC Diyab asked, entirely too cheerfully for Novell’s liking. She hadn’t broken a sweat either. She also hadn’t been handed the huge Odd Squad manual like he had, and when he’d asked why she didn’t have to learn about all the different kinds of supernatural entities in their jurisdiction he’d only been told: “You’re a detective, aren’t you? Work it out.”
He hadn’t quite worked it out yet - or maybe it was more accurate to say that he had all the pieces, but wasn’t happy with the picture the jigsaw made. Especially that part where Diyab hadn't needed to be approved by the local god, since he apparently already knew and liked her...
“How about you, Novell?” Witman barked, snapping his attention back to the present.
“Yes, boss," he said, automatically. Regret set in the instant he saw her smile. He’d walked right into whatever trap his inattention had created.
“Excellent,” she said. “Hit the showers as soon as you’ve finished your reps, and meet me at the desk. I need to speak to the DI.”
Novell waited until she’d left before whispering to Diyab, “Reps?”
“Yeah,” she said, “you just agreed to do a hundred more.” Grinning at his horrified groan, she added, “Cheer up, no drills tomorrow; we’re helping to set up the venue for the Lupercalia - you’ll get to meet some of my family.”
Novell closed his eyes again. Lupercalia. The Roman festival of wolves.
No, he didn’t like those jigsaw pieces at all.
*
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/381693.html?thread=2238583293#cmt2238583293
Not seemingly endless, exhausting physical drills.
“Again,” DS Witman said, sliding through the formation with practised ease. She’d barely broken a sweat - apparently she didn’t even need to go through the full rigmarole; this was for rank amateurs. “Refilling a shield spell needs to be pure instinct: second nature. You will only need this after you’ve taken a hit, but if you have taken a hit then you do not want to be left in need. Do you understand?”
“Yes, boss.” He closed his eyes and focused again as he went through the stances, shifting his body from one to another in the pattern that drew power up from its source. He still felt a small thrill when it answered, trickling into his body and refilling the spell carefully drawn across his skin, but the pleasure was muted compared to his first successful try: a couple of thousand reps would do that to you.
“So what’s next?” PC Diyab asked, entirely too cheerfully for Novell’s liking. She hadn’t broken a sweat either. She also hadn’t been handed the huge Odd Squad manual like he had, and when he’d asked why she didn’t have to learn about all the different kinds of supernatural entities in their jurisdiction he’d only been told: “You’re a detective, aren’t you? Work it out.”
He hadn’t quite worked it out yet - or maybe it was more accurate to say that he had all the pieces, but wasn’t happy with the picture the jigsaw made. Especially that part where Diyab hadn't needed to be approved by the local god, since he apparently already knew and liked her...
“How about you, Novell?” Witman barked, snapping his attention back to the present.
“Yes, boss," he said, automatically. Regret set in the instant he saw her smile. He’d walked right into whatever trap his inattention had created.
“Excellent,” she said. “Hit the showers as soon as you’ve finished your reps, and meet me at the desk. I need to speak to the DI.”
Novell waited until she’d left before whispering to Diyab, “Reps?”
“Yeah,” she said, “you just agreed to do a hundred more.” Grinning at his horrified groan, she added, “Cheer up, no drills tomorrow; we’re helping to set up the venue for the Lupercalia - you’ll get to meet some of my family.”
Novell closed his eyes again. Lupercalia. The Roman festival of wolves.
No, he didn’t like those jigsaw pieces at all.
*
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/381693.html?thread=2238583293#cmt2238583293
The kittens were adorable, from the tips of their tiny noses to the ends of their stubby little tails. Five of them in all: four black and white, already elegantly tuxedoed with white ruffs and paws, and the fifth completely black. They snuggled together in Nine's lap while their mother perched on her shoulder and purred, her eyes half-closed in contentment, as though she wasn't entrusting her offspring to the tender mercies of a goddess of death and destruction.
Still, Karen thought, if you didn't know what Nine was it painted a sweet picture: a pretty girl curled up in front of the stove, fussing over her new pets. Hell, maybe it did anyway. She turned to Orion, and quietly murmured, "Do I want to know?"
"It's nothing," he replied, offering her the biscuit tin. While she was finding herself a chocolate hobnob, he added, "Some twat decided that the animal shelter was too far away, and he'd drop off some unwanted kittens in my canal instead."
That sounded ominous. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the guy on the news earlier, would it? Fell down three open manholes within a twenty-four hour span, house flooded in a freak accident, and somebody broke in and stole his cat?"
"Mama wanted to be with her babies," Nine said, looking up from her tiny charges and scritching said mama behind one ear. "I found her and asked her if she wanted me to bring her here, and she did, so I did." She made it sound like it was a logical progression of events, and that any questions like 'how did you track her down?', and 'did you cause the flood?' were extraneous details that no reasonable person could possibly be interested in.
Except a flood wasn't Nine's style... Karen turned and gave the god of the local canal system a meaningful look.
"Hey," he said, with an unrepentant smirk, "I just express when I'm displeased by an offering; I don't micromanage the follow up."
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/378261.html?thread=2216179093#cmt2216179093
Still, Karen thought, if you didn't know what Nine was it painted a sweet picture: a pretty girl curled up in front of the stove, fussing over her new pets. Hell, maybe it did anyway. She turned to Orion, and quietly murmured, "Do I want to know?"
"It's nothing," he replied, offering her the biscuit tin. While she was finding herself a chocolate hobnob, he added, "Some twat decided that the animal shelter was too far away, and he'd drop off some unwanted kittens in my canal instead."
That sounded ominous. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the guy on the news earlier, would it? Fell down three open manholes within a twenty-four hour span, house flooded in a freak accident, and somebody broke in and stole his cat?"
"Mama wanted to be with her babies," Nine said, looking up from her tiny charges and scritching said mama behind one ear. "I found her and asked her if she wanted me to bring her here, and she did, so I did." She made it sound like it was a logical progression of events, and that any questions like 'how did you track her down?', and 'did you cause the flood?' were extraneous details that no reasonable person could possibly be interested in.
Except a flood wasn't Nine's style... Karen turned and gave the god of the local canal system a meaningful look.
"Hey," he said, with an unrepentant smirk, "I just express when I'm displeased by an offering; I don't micromanage the follow up."
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/378261.html?thread=2216179093#cmt2216179093
100 Words of Gambling - Perdita
Jul. 7th, 2019 07:04 pm"What did you estimate your chances at?" the stranger asked while rummaging through her pockets.
"Approximately eight hundred and seventy five trillion to one," Elef said. "With luck on our side..."
She made a disapproving noise. "With all due respect, fuck her ladyship, you're not going to pull off odds like that without sending the probability matrix into total freefall - no, what you need is a whole lot of uppers, and a chaos goddess who fancies going full-on Heart of Gold." She surfaced from her rummaging with a clear bag full of white powder, and flourished it theatrically. "Oh, and a very pretty lady who's willing to volunteer the small of her back for a bit. I'll buy her a drink afterwards."
"...Volunteer the small of her back for what?"
"Mate, I'm not gonna snort this lot off the back of a loo, am I? That's conduct unbe-fucking-coming of a Presence of my stature."
Elef blinked at her, hoping that somehow the words would suddenly click together and make sense, but he was still bewildered when she leaned forwards, and said, "Now, you've got to ask yourself one question: do you want to roll the dice on Lady Luck showing up and pulling off some astronomical odds, or-" She grinned savagely. "-would you rather lay them down on yours truly, the patron goddess of It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, and two pounds of pure, uncut Peruvian cocaine?"
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/376942.html?thread=2207791982#cmt2207791982
"Approximately eight hundred and seventy five trillion to one," Elef said. "With luck on our side..."
She made a disapproving noise. "With all due respect, fuck her ladyship, you're not going to pull off odds like that without sending the probability matrix into total freefall - no, what you need is a whole lot of uppers, and a chaos goddess who fancies going full-on Heart of Gold." She surfaced from her rummaging with a clear bag full of white powder, and flourished it theatrically. "Oh, and a very pretty lady who's willing to volunteer the small of her back for a bit. I'll buy her a drink afterwards."
"...Volunteer the small of her back for what?"
"Mate, I'm not gonna snort this lot off the back of a loo, am I? That's conduct unbe-fucking-coming of a Presence of my stature."
Elef blinked at her, hoping that somehow the words would suddenly click together and make sense, but he was still bewildered when she leaned forwards, and said, "Now, you've got to ask yourself one question: do you want to roll the dice on Lady Luck showing up and pulling off some astronomical odds, or-" She grinned savagely. "-would you rather lay them down on yours truly, the patron goddess of It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, and two pounds of pure, uncut Peruvian cocaine?"
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/376942.html?thread=2207791982#cmt2207791982
100 words of Hairbrushing - Orion & Nine
Jun. 22nd, 2019 02:45 pm"Do I want to know why you look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards?" Orion asked as he worked a couple of handfuls of conditioner into Nine's damp, silver curls. He'd managed to perch himself on the tiny ledge at the back of the three-quarter bath aboard his narrowboatboat, half-manifested so that he could use his tentacles for balance. They filled the tiny bathroom, a gleaming mass of purple and pewter lights that shifted in and out of physical reality in a way his human form didn't.
His younger sister didn't look up from her position between his legs in the tub, too busy contemplating her own fingers. "Went forwards, not backwards. There was a pillywiggin; I wanted to watch it dance."
He sighed and set to work with the detangling brush, picking out twigs and leaves as he went. She'd probably scared the poor fairy out of its mind.
"You could leave it," Nine suggested. "I didn't used to bother before... Eight didn't care what my hair looked like."
Orion let out another long-suffering sigh, and then told himself to stop it before she took offense. "Eight didn't want to live among humans, I do, so if you want to stay with me-"
"I can't walk around looking like I was raised by a patch of brambles," Nine interrupted, having heard it all before. "I had on clothes." She didn't add, What more do you want?, but that didn't make the sentiment any less audible. "Could just make it look tidy."
Except he knew she wouldn't just recalibrate her aspect for him - she enjoyed being fussed over too much, only used the complaints to pretend that she didn't, to make out that he was imposing on her rather than the other way around. Orion bit his tongue and went back to brushing her hair, wondering again whether he'd have still agreed to let her stay if he'd known that teaching her how to feign humanity would be this much trouble.
Probably, he thought as she tilted her head back and reached up to boop his nose with a conditioner-coated finger. They might be two quarters of two very different wholes, but at least together they added up to a half
*
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/374581.html?thread=2192627509
His younger sister didn't look up from her position between his legs in the tub, too busy contemplating her own fingers. "Went forwards, not backwards. There was a pillywiggin; I wanted to watch it dance."
He sighed and set to work with the detangling brush, picking out twigs and leaves as he went. She'd probably scared the poor fairy out of its mind.
"You could leave it," Nine suggested. "I didn't used to bother before... Eight didn't care what my hair looked like."
Orion let out another long-suffering sigh, and then told himself to stop it before she took offense. "Eight didn't want to live among humans, I do, so if you want to stay with me-"
"I can't walk around looking like I was raised by a patch of brambles," Nine interrupted, having heard it all before. "I had on clothes." She didn't add, What more do you want?, but that didn't make the sentiment any less audible. "Could just make it look tidy."
Except he knew she wouldn't just recalibrate her aspect for him - she enjoyed being fussed over too much, only used the complaints to pretend that she didn't, to make out that he was imposing on her rather than the other way around. Orion bit his tongue and went back to brushing her hair, wondering again whether he'd have still agreed to let her stay if he'd known that teaching her how to feign humanity would be this much trouble.
Probably, he thought as she tilted her head back and reached up to boop his nose with a conditioner-coated finger. They might be two quarters of two very different wholes, but at least together they added up to a half
*
https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/374581.html?thread=2192627509
