He didn't know what was going on, but Mohinder said they needed to leave, so he had his sword at his hip, and a bag in his hand, ignoring the pain of the wound in his arm. He'd had worse just from sparring matches. He trudged down the stairs of the building they lived in, no idea where they were headed or how they were going to get there.

Choose a prompt, I write fic! See?

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You Are Chocolate


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You’re kidding right?

I’m Pregnant!

( Lots of info on Darvish )

He and Mohinder were taking an evening stroll. It had become sort of a habit for them; Darvish needed to keep himself active. The sedentary lifestyle common in Mohinder's world was addictive, and he didn't want to let himself go. Not that he didn't exercise on his own, but... it was nice to get out together. He'd stopped, though, because some ( Read more... )

Does anyone actually know his fandom?

Drunk, thief, and child.

... Ischia's dead.