Scraps of words

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It has everything minus the Oc Kiss Weeks after 2025

How to be Human

Ten years ago, Life and Death were drawn to events less than one street away from each other. Death: A little boy, Michael, hit by a car while running after a ball he had been playing with. Life: An unplanned homebirth.

The baby came out stillborn, and Michael was left in a coma.

10 years later, they find themselves in the same room as Michael, and by circumstance or situation, get sucked into his subconscious mind, which is alive and well and, apparently, dealing with being in a coma for 10 years rather well. But two immortal beings stuck in an eight-year-old's mind is never a good thing, and how long can it possibly last without severe consequences to not only Michael, but Life and Death?

Can You Keep A Secret?

Getting the family together once every year shouldn’t be too hard, right? But when Jordan has her head stuck in a different murder case every week, her husband Darren is away for work almost as often, brother-in-law Richard’s away even more, and sister-in-law Amerie changes her phone number like the weather, it’s harder than Jordan’s mother-in-law thinks. It also doesn’t help that all of them would literally rather be anywhere else.

This year, though, none of them had a good enough excuse to say no. Not when their mother is getting increasingly desperate, and has managed to somehow get the rest of the family to agree to two weeks in the snowies. They all manage to forget their reasons for staying away for one night.

The next morning, Richard is dead, Jordan's in-laws are a mess, and she has been tasked with figuring out which of the bastards killed him. At least, until they can get to town and let the actual cops know.

I Wrote This At Work

When Calli gets called on to stop two immortals from tearing the world apart in the middle of the pouring rain - a more than common occurrence in her world - she could not possibly think it would lead her to have the year she is about to have.

A twelve part story starting in January, ending in December, told through different perspectives of people who either know Calli or are in her orbit at one point or another.

OC Kiss Week(s)

When Calli gets called on to stop two immortals from tearing the world apart in the middle of the pouring rain - a more than common occurrence in her world - she could not possibly think it would lead her to have the year she is about to have.

A twelve part story starting in January, ending in December, told through different perspectives of people who either know Calli or are in her orbit at one point or another.

2025:

Day 1 - Desperate - How to be Human

Day 2 - First - Can You Keep A Secret?

Day 3 - Stolen - Heroes and Villains

Day 4 - Reunion - How to be Human

Day 5 - Worship - How to be Human

Day 6 - Forbidden - Can You Keep A Secret?

Day 7 - Caught - Can You Keep A Secret?

2026:

Day 1 - Impulse - Heroes and Villains

Day 2 - Playful - Can You Keep A Secret?

Day 3 - Heartbreak - How to be Inhuman (the surprise How to be Human sequel)

Day 4 - Wedding - Heroes and Villains

Day 5 - Heated - Heroes and Villains

Day 6 - Hand - The End of the World

They had only known each other for a couple of months, but all it had taken for Victoria to rush over to her place was a phone call where Sophia sounded like death warmed up. She had been lying in bed all morning, unable and unwilling to get up. The bottle of water beside her bed was long since empty and she needed to pee but didn’t know if getting up would make her throw up.

So, Sophia had stayed in bed and called Victoria to let her know that she wouldn’t be in on Monday – or probably at all that week. This had been an hour after she had called their immediate boss.

And from the moment Victoria had said she was leaving her place, Sophia had been trying to work herself up to getting out of bed. She had to, if Victoria was to get inside without worrying her neighbours. And her neighbours were worried by an unfamiliar person just walking past the building.

Eyes closed, Sophia reasoned with herself that if she did throw up on the way to the door, then at least Victoria wasn’t too far away and she wouldn’t have to clean it up herself. Which was exactly how she found herself easing out of bed, too scared to roll, and putting her feet on the floor to a pounding heartbeat she felt all through her body.

She was as upright as she had been in bed, but it felt worse without the headboard helping her stay that way. Gripping the edge of the bed as tight as she could, Sophia closed her eyes. The roiling in her stomach started to settle, and she did not want to move again. But she was still half a hallway away from her front door and the buzzer to let Victoria in.

Swallowing hard, Sophia pushed herself to her feet and held onto the bedside table for dear life lest she fall down and have to do this all over again but worse.

Blinking slowly, wishing she had the stomach to brush her teeth to feel at least a little bit more human, Sophia stared at the floor. Specifically, at the stain her orange juice from two nights ago had made when she had spilt it. Looking at it now, Sophia wanted to cry. All of that orange juice, gone and never to be enjoyed.

But she couldn’t cry because then she wouldn’t be able to breathe.

Now that she had been standing for at least a minute, it wasn’t so bad, and as Sophia shuffled to the door of her bedroom, she hoped she wasn’t getting her period too. She was standing half-in-half-out of the hallway when she realised she should probably grab a bucket while she was moving.

She had just dismissed the thought – not wanting to push herself – when she realised that would have required her bending down. Sophia shuffled up to the conveniently seat-height bench by her front door, within reach of the buzzer panel, and sat on it. She may not have a bucket, but at least she hadn’t thrown up.

A few minutes later, her eyes half closed, Sophia felt for her phone only to realise she had left it beside her bed. Fair enough, she had been far too preoccupied with keeping what little she had managed to get down, down, but if Victoria called her to check on her liveliness, she wanted to be able to pick up.

There were many reasons she didn’t want Victoria to think she was ignoring her phone calls.

It was hard to tell if it turned into an issue or not when Sophia eventually fell asleep beside her door, waiting for Victoria, but that didn’t say much given exactly how sick she was and how much sleep she’d had. She jerked awake, already feeling a bit better, to the sound of her buzzer going. From the way Victoria was laying on it, odds were she had been hitting it for a while.

Moving a bit too fast for her state, she hit the button to let her up and rested her head back against the wall, breathing hard. Sleeping was good as long as you didn’t wake up.

It took Victoria approximately thirty seconds to bound up the few flights of stairs and rocket through the door. Sophia could barely watch as she ran to her bedroom only to pause at the threshold and turn back around to see her sitting by the still open door.

Right. She had a key.

Without a word, Victoria dropped her bags – why did she have multiple bags? – and rushed over to her, moving too fast for Sophia to risk paying attention and keeping her stomach. She did, however, see her mouth moving as she knelt and brushed hair disgusting with the sweat of the sick away from her face. And while she couldn’t hear a word that was said over the faint rushing in her ears, she did however feel the blush that stained her cheeks when Victoria leaned up and pressed a kiss to her forehead moments before helping her to feet to get into bed.

It was debatable whether it was entirely visible or not thanks to the flush of sickness, but Sophia still felt the butterflies in her stomach she had been swallowing down for three months. And would be swallowing down until the project was over.

Natalia still didn’t know what she had done to deserve Caroline. The woman who had come up to her at a Halloween party had, only a couple of months later, invited her to live her and was currently lying across her lap. And she was utterly fucking gorgeous, but that was a given.

Their apartment in the city was quiet for a change, and Caroline had a book open on her chest as she dozed in a rare day she could afford to take off. Natalia would have been content to never move again, watching Caroline’s chest rise and fall, her face in peaceful sleep, but her stomach was grumbling, and the time was fast approaching for dinner to be made, if not eaten.

Looking down at her, running a hand through her hair, Natalia thought that if she could just lift her up and ease out from under her, she might be able to get away with not waking her up. Maybe. Possibly. It was worth a try.

One hand under her head and one under her back, Natalia lifted Caroline the barest millimetre off her lap and slid to the arm of the chair. Gently easing her thighs out of the way of her head, she laid Caroline’s head back down on the couch as she squeezed through the small gap remaining between it and the arm of the couch.

Once she was standing, Caroline made a noise in her sleep and nuzzled further into the couch. Walking to the kitchen, she hoped the couch retained enough of her heat and scent to keep Caroline asleep for as long as possible. She had just finished an article that had her spending her weeks running around trying to get people with notoriously shut lips to talk, and then days editing it until it could be put in the paper.

Natalia had barely seen her apart from the times when she woke up and Caroline had fallen asleep at her desk.

As quietly as she could, she started pulling out pots and ingredients to start dinner. She had never been much of a cook but as long as she followed a recipe, the meal turned out edible. So, recipe on the recipe stand, she turned on the oven to preheat and made the kitchen her domain.

It was quiet in the apartment, her knife slicing through various vegetables and the sauce bubbling away on the stove the only sounds. She knew she had definitely waited too long to start because the smell was making her stomach growl. Yet another noise to add to the silent apartment.

Barely half an hour later, she was putting a dish with everything she had lovingly prepared into the oven for twenty minutes, and had just turned on the fan when she turned around and jumped with her heart in her throat.

Caroline was awake and had, apparently, followed the sounds and smells from the living room to the kitchen and had decided to stand in the doorway like one half of the Shining twins. (A reference she only barely understood, since she had only watched the movie once, from behind her fingers.)

Her fear only lasted for a second, and Natalia was quickly walking up to her, hands out to hold her. With Caroline folded into her arms, she held the back of her head, patting down her hair where it was sticking up with the general ferocity of post-nap hair. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Caroline grunted and snuggled further into Natalia until she bearing her whole weight.

Natalia laughed quietly. “Do you want to still be asleep?”

This grunt came with a shake of her head.

“Nightmare?”

A nod of the head.

Natalia was usually the one waking up with nightmares, so this was beyond normal. However, that didn’t mean she wasn’t prepared. Caroline had had her fair share of bad days at work, and she figured these were sort of the same thing. Also, it would help her wake up.

Only disentangling from her enough to be able to walk without tripping over two sets of feet, Natalia went into the living room and turned on the speaker connected to her phone and hit play on her classical playlist.

Hand in hers, Natalia spun around to face Caroline just in time to catch the tail end of an eyeroll. They had don this enough that Natalia knew she didn’t actually mean it anymore. So, with a cheeky smile, Natalia brought Caroline’s hand up to her lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it and asked, “May I have this dance, milady?”

A small, cheeky smile of her own curving her lips, Caroline curtsied and said, “You may.”

The couch was admittedly comfortable, but it was too fucking hot to be sitting on anything other than the bathroom tiles. As such, Sara was lying on them, wearing the least amount of clothing she felt comfortable in and regretting the decision to not invest in an air conditioner when they had first moved back into her childhood home.

Most days, it was easy not to think about everything that happened in these walls, but every now and then ghosts of memories crept into her consciousness and she found herself flinching at every accidental slam of a door. As for today, though, Sara was just lying on the floor and praying for relief. Not that she wasn’t grateful for her little hand fan, but it didn’t do nearly as much as it needed to.

From her self-induced heat coma, she could hear Casey puttering around in the kitchen and had been able to feel the extra heat enter the air of the house when she had, for some reason, turned on the oven. Sara couldn’t even think about eating, though she had been able to manage it for breakfast and lunch. Eating created energy, and energy created heat.

What had she been thinking? Crossing the desert and moving to the other side of the country, which was decidedly more desert than the east coast.

Definitely more desert than Kinsley had ever dreamed of being, with it’s beautiful mountains and beaches. At least there you didn’t mind as much when you found sand in places sand should never be.

The oven beeped and Sara opened her eyes.

For a split second she was sure she could see the air undulating in the heat.

A couple of minutes passed – long enough for Sara to close her eyes again – before Casey crawled onto the tiles beside her and started kissing her shoulder. Normally, no matter how hot it was, Sara was amenable to Casey putting her lips wherever she damn well pleased – especially when they were both barely dressed – but today the touch of her lips felt like the touch of a thousand burning suns.

“Not today, it’s too fucking hot,” Sara groaned, doing her best to move her mouth as little as possible.

Against her skin, Casey said, mischief in her voice, “I can make you hotter.”

Whining – and well aware that she was whining – Sara shifted away from Casey. “I don’t wanna be hotter.”

“Fine.” And then any trace heat of Casey lying next to her was gone. Sara opened her eyes to find the love of her life standing over her. “I take it you don’t want the cookies that have just come out of the oven then, either.”

Now that was taking it a little too far. “Woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

Casey put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. “Fine, one kiss one cookie.”

Now Sara raised an eyebrow as she dragged her eyes over Casey’s body. They hadn’t had to fight in a while and Casey had only thrived away from it all, putting on weight and gaining a glow that had barely managed to shine through in Kinsley. Sara could spend hours wrapped up in her thick thighs, feeling her stomach rising and falling with each increasingly laboured breath, her hands scrunched in Sara's short hair.

Sara languidly pushed herself onto her feet and looked into her eyes, small smirk rising on her lips. “Fine.”

Dave had almost been late. He was the best man, he couldn’t fucking be late, and yet there he was, rushing up to Mark’s house in suit and tie, apologies spilling from his lips.

There were a thousand excuses he could have made for not being at Mark’s house two hours ago, but really it was just that he had been up late, drinking far more than he should have. For about three years there, he had thought he would be the first of them to get married. For about three years there, he had only been waiting for the financial situation to calm down enough to know that Sara would say ‘yes’.

And for about one year, he had actually thought it would happen. Maybe not the whole shebang, but a little ceremony followed by a party, a honeymoon to somewhere neither of them had been before. It really would have depended on what they could afford, but still. For a year, he had earnestly thought that he would have married Sara Harrison without a doubt in his heart. Walking into Mark’s home, apologising profusely, he still didn’t quite know how to feel about it.

Then again, that might have just been the alcohol left over from last night.

Mark waved off his apologies and fiddled with the cuffs of his suit. The photographers and videographers had long since left, so Mark’s nerves were showing. It had all been paid for, but anything could still happen and Dave just so happened to know Mark and Bea had fought yesterday about the floral arrangements.

They had made up over the phone since, but as someone who has had his fair share of over-the-phone apologies, you never really know what you are walking into the next time you see each other. Dave imagined it would be even worse with weddings.

Walking to the car taking them to the church, he liked to think he and Sara wouldn’t have bothered with a floral arrangement. Or a church.

The drive there was short, and they were standing in the antechamber, guests still filing into their seats in the main part of the church, with fifteen minutes until the ceremony was supposed to start. And Mark’s hands were shaking and he looked like he was about to throw up.

Casting a glance around the room, Dave pushed him up to a wall so he could have something at his back and breathe.

“She’s not gonna come,” Mark whispered, over and over and over again.

Dave didn’t know where he was getting the breath from. As Mark started pulling at his tie, Dave slapped the back of his head and pointed a finger in his face. “She’ll be here.” He checked his watch. “And she’ll be here in ten minutes so, get your ass up there, smile at your family, and wait for her to walk down that aisle to you.”

“But – ”

“It was the day before your wedding. You’re both stressed, of course you were going to have a fight over something stupid like floral arrangements.”

“It – ”

“Oh, you’ve never fought about something stupid before?” Dave waited with eyebrows up in his hairline. And when Mark had nothing to say, his breath clearly coming back into something resembling normality, Dave brought him forward and pressed lips to his forehead. “She’ll be here, dude. She’ll be stupid not to be.”

Mark wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and squeezed.

If it was up to Dave, he would keep them there for as long as it took for Mark to breathe normally and believe that Bea would show up to the wedding they had put so much time and money into. Alas, Ben – one of the groomsmen – said to the room, “Seven minutes boys, let’s get moving!”

Almost unnoticeably, Mark nodded. Dave kissed his forehead again and backed up, letting the man of the hour gather himself before walking into the church properly and up to the altar where, in hopefully seven minutes, he would get married to Bea.

Just after Mark left the antechamber, Dave looked to Ben, who nodded.

No no no no no no. No.

They had finally gotten over themselves, what did they mean they weren’t going to be able to touch again? Or see each other again? Or be in the presence of one another without drastically altering the fabric of the universe – at least for the first few thousand years?

It already hurt to hold hands, so they walked separately back to the apartment they had been living in for – they didn’t even know how long they had been there. They had been given one night to finalise their worldly affairs, and Death-To-Be didn’t think that was nearly enough time. Just as they hadn’t been given any time to say goodbye to their family after finding out what the fuck was going on.

Sometimes, Death-To-Be thought that their bosses should go down to earth for a generation every now and then to gain some perspective. And that was from someone who – if they remembered correctly – hadn’t even been alive for all that long in the grand scheme of things in the first place.

So, when Death-To-Be and Life-To-Be found themselves back in their apartment, Michael nowhere to be found, neither of them could think of anything to do. They wouldn’t need clothes, wouldn’t need food, wouldn’t need anything. Except, maybe, each other.

Death stared at Life across the entryway and wondered when they had ended up so far away from each other. They could have sworn they had been right beside each other when they had left the Judgement Area. Now they were up against opposite walls.

Life-To-Be found their voice first. “Is it bad that I just want you to hold me?”

“No.” That was exactly what Death-To-Be wanted, too.

“Do you think we even can?”

“I think we can try.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Death-To-Be knew what they meant. It didn’t change anything. Maybe if their bosses didn’t want Life and Death to consistently risk blowing up the world, then maybe they should choose less compatible people. Or maybe people with an insurmountable language barrier. “I know.”

As it had been since they had known each other – twenty seconds, twenty years, a couple of months, a couple of millennia – Death-To-Be took the first step.

The closer they got, nothing happened. They weren’t yet Life and Death and so could get away with standing a hair’s breadth away from each other. Staring into Life-To-Be’s eyes, they were the one thing Death-To-Be hoped they wouldn’t forget.

They were hazel. Which meant they were brown, green, gold, and blue all at the same time. Categorically, the most beautiful and mesmerising eye colour to have. Was it any surprise she couldn’t keep from falling into them?

Reaching out one hand Death-To-Be ran their fingers through Life’s hair, the thick dark brown locks easily curling around their fingers as they dove into its depths.

Their fingers tingled unpleasantly, but Death-To-Be did not pull away. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged them at this point. And when Life-To-Be took a bracing breath and reached a hand around to lay it on their back, Death-To-Be closed their eyes.

Their pulse was rushing, fast enough they felt dizzy and they dug their hand further into their hair, hand and back alight with a pain so intense it bordered on pleasure. Opening their eyes, they stared into Life-To-Be’s and took a crucial step forward. Their body lit up, like a thousand needles were poking into their skin at the same time, and they almost cried out.

But Death-To-Be set their jaw and controlled their breath. If they started screaming, they wouldn’t stop – both from the pain and the disbelief that touching the one person she loved more than anything else in the world caused this much pain – so they stared into Life-To-Be’s eyes and together, they didn’t cry out.

Pressed up against each other in the middle of the entry to their apartment, they knew this could not last forever. So, blinking the tears from their eyes, they moved their hand to caress the back of Life-To-Be’s head and brought their foreheads together.

They hadn’t thought it could have gotten any worse, but closing their eyes, the tears Death-To-Be had been holding back ran down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. Life-To-Be took a step back so they wouldn’t fall on them – who knew what damage that would do – but kept their foreheads together.

Death-To-Be used her free hand to wipe her tears away and sniffed, hard.

One last time. She just wanted to kiss Life-To-Be one last time.

So when Life-To-Be pressed themself back against her, Death-To-Be wasted no time in bringing them closer and closer until lips touched and they were all she could feel, all she could taste.

Jordan had never seen herself here, sitting at a bridal table, in a room with people who were not her family, in a house that was not hers, beside a man who loved her more than any of them, in the most expensive white dress she would ever wear. The reception of her wedding – her wedding – was well underway, and the Russell’s had long since taken over the dance floor. The last of the friends she had invited had left half an hour ago, and by then, she couldn’t blame them.

If Jordan could have left, she would have. But alas, the Russell’s had kindly agreed to let them have the holiday house – not a mansion – for their honeymoon, and it was well past eleven at night and none of them showed any signs of leaving.

That was perfectly alright, though. She had Darren by her side. Sure, he looked as exhausted as she was, and both of them had danced about as much as they possibly could in their respective shoes, but they were together. And as far as she knew, none of the Russell's had made their way up the staircase to either the second storey or the third – because the house that was definitely not a mansion had three storeys, and a set of stairs that could only be described as a staircase.

Richard hadn’t even done anything questionable. It was slightly concerning and made Jordan wonder if that was actually Richard or if he had found a body double – which wouldn’t surprise her – but she wasn’t going to say a word. You don’t punish the behaviour you want to see, or whatever.

As the clock neared midnight, Jordan looked at Darren, who was half asleep in his chair and sighed. She would be too if she was even a little bit comfortable.

Nudging him until he woke up, Jordan did the math. The playlist they had put on when the band had left was close to finishing, and she could see a couple of people – Amerie, Richard, Riley – starting to slow down.

Jordan stood and guided Darren to his feet, telling him that they were going to start saying their goodbyes and then fuck off to the biggest spare bedroom upstairs. They had almost been given Darren’s childhood bedroom, but not even he had been happy with that. Thank god.

By the skin of her teeth, she dragged him through the remains of his family and bid them goodbye and goodnight and thank you. Made all the more easier by all of them being on their best behaviour – probably had something to do with George and Amber being long gone. Richard didn’t even allude to her secret and Amerie barely said a word to her.

So, going up the stairs, as Darren started nuzzling her neck, Jordan found herself waking up and in rather a good mood.

Enough of a good mood that when they reached their room for the next two weeks, she let Darren kiss her silly as she pulled the bobby pins out of her hair. She felt his lips on her neck, her chest, her fingers in the rare moments they were still, all over her face, her lips obviously. If she could have felt it, she was sure he would have been kissing the hair she was slowly letting loose too.

Hair free, she guided Darren’s chin up to her face and kissed him back, unable to help her smile.

They were married.

Laughing against his lips, Jordan wound her arms around him and pulled him closer. Ten minutes ago, all she had wanted was to go to sleep, but they were finally alone, and they were married. Jordan smiled as he kissed her again, doubting she would ever get used to it.