#probably in a packing crate with a note just reading “he's your problem now”

[ana-chronista]

Love that the JO guys have pre-emptively dealt with the likelihood of Bojan being insufferably mopey around the release of Bluza by just shipping him off on holiday with Jere.

[haru-luo]

[Translation] Gavin’s Mini House Exclusive memories Lv. 40~ <You Fill My Starry Sky>

!Spoiler warning! : The followings contain contents for stories of Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice/Love and Producer that are ALREADY released in Global server. If you do not wish to be spoiled then please refrain from going undercut.

Just a note~ : This exclusive memories is already available in Eng Server but you see, my fondness level is just 10 (ಥ_ಥ) in mlqc {I check in mini house like twice a month-} so curiosity got the best of me and went to translate this last level-40 story. I might even release Kiro’s one later, I went on a full translation marathon because I was unusually free today. Skip this if you would rather see the story for yourself or just click “keep reading” if you don’t know what “waiting” means, like me.

The translation is undercut. You have been warned about spoilers.

~~~~

If you see any “---” sign then it simply indicates change of scenes in the place.

{You fill my starry sky}

Preview : “At that moment, his embrace was the only thing I could rely on, expelling all my coldness and anxiety..."

~

The first crescent moon hung in the dark ink-like night sky and star-studding with cool breeze.

Gavin and I were sitting on the balcony with two astronomical telescopes in front of us.

Gavin : "Now turn the screw on the finder mirror to adjust the distance."

I carefully turned the screw on the finderscope for the fifth time but my vision was still blurred.

I looked up from behind the telescope to see Gavin beside me and shook my head discouragingly. 

MC : "It still doesn't work."

Gavin : "Let me."

As soon as the voice fell, Gavin had already stood behind me. He leaned down and opened his arms, embraced me and helped me set up the telescope.

He looked at the sky and the space from the telescope earnestly and the moonlight passed over his profile, leaving a string of starlight on his lower collar.

I couldn't see his expression but I felt warmth radiating from him.

After a while, he moved away from behind the telescope. But before he could speak, both of us were a little stunned.

I realized how close we were, so close that I could clearly feel his breathing and could hear the beating of his heart.

Gavin : "Ahem, it's fine now. Give it a try."

I hurriedly turned to the telescope, trying to bury my flushed face behind the lens like a small bird.

Gavin : "Can you see it now?"

MC : "Y-yeah. I can see it now..."

After a dazzling white light, a slightly turbulent lunar crate slowly emerged.

The mottled surface is like being dotted with light scattered sporadically. Occasionally like lights, occasionally like stars.

MC : "It's so beautiful..."

Gavin : "When I saw it for the first time, I was stunned too."

He looked into the distance, his eyes were clear and bright without any impurities. As if they were the stars falling from the sky.

MC : "I've only seen it in the pictures until now so, I didn't expect that seeing through a telescope with my own eyes would create such a different mood."

Gavin : "Seeing it with your own eyes is indeed different than hearing a retelling by someone else."

MC : "Can we watch the starry sky together often in the future too?"

Gavin : "Sure. But--"

He turned his head from looking at the starry sky and stretched out his hand to me.

Gavin : "It's been a long time since we walked in the starry sky. Do you want to go now?"

I hadn't reacted yet but my hand accidentally touched the palm of his outstretched hand towards me.

The next second, he hugged me and flew out of the small balcony.

The night breeze brushed my ears, bringing a bit of coolness. Gavin's embrace was warm and powerful and the temperature that belonged to him spread to my whole body expelling all the cold.

Surrounded by countless of stars and condensed into a dazzling sea of stars, it seemed to be more onerous than any gorgeous love in the world. ----- The next day.

Today, we are going to record the show. It was originally scheduled to be finished at 6pm but due to the continuous problems of the recording site, the recording was not finished until 10pm.

When I looked at my phone's lock screen, I realized that it was half past eleven already.

MC : "Oh no! Gavin must be very worried!"

I quickly tried to unlock the phone, only to find that the phone's battery was dead.

I hurriedly packed my things, intending to rush back as quickly as possible.

Gavin : "Slow down. Don't worry."

MC : "Gavin?"

Gavin stood in front of my eyes, bent down and sorted out my messy things one by one. He picked up my backpack in one hand and held my hand in the other.

He glanced at me twice, a trace of worry flashed in his eyes as if he wanted to say something but stopped again, just holding my hand tightly.

Gavin : "Let's go." ----- The street lights are dim and only my figure and Gavin's are stretched out and reflected on the street.

The night breeze was cold but his hands were warm.

MC : "Why....are you here?"

Gavin : "You were too late in coming home and the phone didn't get through."

MC : "Sorry, the shooting progress was a bit slow today. How long have you been waiting?"

Gavin : "It wasn't that long."

I raised my eyes to look at his calm face, my heart stagnated and distressed emotions overflowed.

MC : "Will you instead wait for me at home from next time?"

Gavin : "No, I'm worried about you."

Gavin : "Your face doesn't look so well and your hands are very hot."

MC : "Ah? Is it? May-Maybe it's because I stayed for too long inside, the air feels a bit stiff."

My voice getting smaller and smaller, almost inaudible.

I did feel uncomfortable when I woke up in the morning but Gavin was absent. I couldn't find the medicine box even after searching for a while so, I thought about buying it on my way to work but I still forgot anyways...

Another night breeze blew and my body was trembling with slightest coldness. Gavin frowned and took off his coat to wrap me in it. He held me in his arms and comforted me.

Gavin : "We're almost home." ----- The following night, I had a high fever just as I predicted.

Probably because of my fever, my entire mind was in chaos and my body felt too heavy to move.

In a daze, Gavin fed me the medicine and kept changing the towels that quickly became hot.

I couldn't even open my eyes, I could only feel his panicking figure walking back and forth.

Perhaps, when you're sick, one becomes particularly vulnerable so even if you're very embarrassed, you can't help but hope that your most important person can be by your side.

After Gavin changed the towel again, I searched his hand vigorously like a last straw, preventing him from leaving even a step.

He reached out and touched my face with a gentle expression.

Gavin : "I'll change the water in the basin and be back soon."

I refused to let go. I wanted to open my mouth to say something but found that my throat seemed to be blocked by a foreign body. There was pain but I couldn't make a sound so, I just grabbed him tightly.

Gavin : "Okay, I'm not leaving."

Maybe he felt my persistence, he took my hand into his palm, leaned on the bedside and hugged me into his arms.

The familiar breath came to my face but maybe it was because of the fever, I felt that he had a hint of coolness at this moment.

Gavin : "Sorry, I didn't take care of you properly."

Gavin : "I shouldn't have taken you to fly in the night sky last night. I should've prepared medicine for you today."

He stroked my head apologetically and dropped a deep kiss on the top of my hair.

Gavin : [*kiss*(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄]  "I won't do it again."

I searched for him more closely, an inexplicable emotion gushed from the bottom of my heart to the corner of my eyes and I couldn't stop it.

I desperately squeezed those words out of my vocal chords, slightly hoarse but hoped it to be conveyed clearly.

MC : "You are my medicine."

As long as you are by my side, I'm not afraid of any illnesses and injuries.

I don't know if Gavin heard it but the arms holding me tightened again.

I just leaned onto his arms and fell asleep.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Exclusive Memories-5 collected~

[mythandlaur]

whatever the cost whether it works out or not i’ll follow you, i’ll follow you with my heart

OC-tober Day 1 - Journey Prompt list by oc-growth-and-development

Fandom: Warframe Canon Characters: Spoiler Character (Cephalon Fragments) Original Characters: Istha Merreth Warnings: None

Notes: Soooo, I’m doing this! Not sure how consistent I’ll be, but I at least want to throw out some short things for it. And no, this isn’t going in any main tags and I’m not mentioning the blog because hahahaha...haha...h a haha...

-

Things had never been terribly easy for them, it’s true--but their circumstances had only weighed harder on them in recent years, as the Orokin Empire’s growing stranglehold on the system and the clan’s deserted location made it harder and harder to keep people fed on their own. All they really had going for them was their steel and their freedom, and, though she did not wish to say it, she harbored doubts that the golden bastards wouldn’t come for both of those things sooner rather than later. The Orokin couldn’t stand anyone not under their control.

But that was a problem for the future. The current problem was supplies, which mostly came from other settlements on other planets. And, while they could occasionally pay passage on ships with “mercenary” work, it was harder to get into the heart of Orokin territory in such a way.

Which was why Istha is currently sitting in a shipping container in the cargo bay of a dingy Grineer mercantile transport vessel.

The Grineer were often chosen as ferries for goods within the empire, as they were less likely to sell said goods than the Corpus--and, for the purposes of herself and her companion, they were much easier to infiltrate. Not that she’d ever personally done it before, but he apparently had some experience with it, and she was willing to trust him on this.

What she wasn’t willing to trust him on was how long they were intended to stay in the damn boxes. Istha lets out a long sigh and tries not for the first time to shift into a more comfortable position; her feet hit the wall while her head hits the inside corner and she groans in growing frustration. It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed, but she’s starting to lose her patience, and kicks one of the metal crate walls as best she can, letting out a satisfying clang. She hopes that will serve as enough of an indication to her partner that she wants out.

There’s a long silence, and then a muffled, matching clang from somewhere nearby. Istha decides to take this as an affirmative and begins to push her lid open. The Grineer weren’t always the best at handling their cargo, and so her own crate had wound up on its side (luckily for both her and the Grineer who’d set down the box, as most fragile cargo could not brace its feet and arms into the walls and wait for a safe moment to crawl to the newly-reoriented ground).

It doesn’t take long for Istha to force the crate open, and she crawls out on her hands and knees into the cargo bay proper. The cargo bay isn’t much brighter than the inside of the crate, but in the emergency lighting, she can make out the glint of a crimson blade sticking out of the top of a crate in the next row, and she grins.

Yeah, she figured he was starting to go insane, too.

He hadn’t gotten as lucky as her with his crate’s orientation, so she watches as he laboriously pries the lid open and pushes it back so it’s barely balancing on one of the crate’s walls. The sword is thrown over the edge so he doesn’t impale himself on it, before he lifts himself over the edge as well, balancing awkwardly on his stomach and trying to get his hands to reach the ground. Istha covers her mouth to try and hide her snickering, but this quickly dissolves into full-on laughter as he loses his balance and tumbles onto the ground in an awkward somersault, ending up on his back.

It takes Istha several seconds to calm down enough to speak. “I am forever grateful that you chose to train me.”

He drags himself into a sitting position, glaring at her with a sort of muffled growl that just makes her burst out laughing again, doubling over on herself. Blood and bone, she thunks to herself, I was trapped in there too long.

“If you’re finished.”

Istha snorts, but slowly manages to pull herself together and sit up properly, though she still throws a smirk in his direction. “I liked the landing. Is it a new technique?”

“You know me, the notorious blade in a box.” He huffs a sigh, but she catches a quiet chuckle following it. “You all right?”

“Pretty much.” Istha stretches her arms over her head. “How do you do this?”

“Usually, about the same way we did it this time. Except once or twice when I went on these trips I was smaller.”

Istha wraps her arms around herself as the chill of the cargo bay hits her. At least the air is somewhat less recycled, but the ambient temperature makes her question just how much steel the Grineer actually put between the cargo bay and the ravenous void of space. “How far do you think we are?”

He shrugs. “We had an early stop, that was probably the Phobos station, and we should’ve translated once already. Maybe Europa?”

Istha winces, but looks away quickly to try and hide it. It’s not a big portion of the trip, but she already feels like she’s missed so much. She’d never seen a ship void translate before. “So a while yet to Uranus, then.”

“Yes. What’s wrong.” She can feel his piercing gaze on her and hunches her shoulders. Damn it, was she that obvious? “Body language,” he adds, again as if reading her mind. “You’re defensive. Lacking confidence.”

Istha scrunches her face up in frustration and makes a conscious effort to open up her posture towards him. Confident, but not stupid. You hold your chest high, but never, ever forget that it’s a target.

“...I’ve never been off-planet before,” Istha admits. She’d learned a long time ago that it was useless to lie to him; he was much too good at reading the little twitches and quirks of others. It was part of what made him as capable a warrior as he was--he could read his opponents like a book without even thinking about it, while she was often more...single-minded. “Mama told me that we used to move around a lot more. Pack everyone up on a ship and hop to another planet.”

“You know I can’t remember the last time we did that, either.” Right, she often forgets that he’s not really that old--not much older than her. “But I know that was when there were less of us, and there was more of the system out there.”

“Golden bastards,” she grumbles, and he nods in understanding. The Orokin had gotten a reputation for destroying most everything they touched, not that anyone would say it within earshot of a Dax. “Do you really think these trips will be enough?”

“For now, they have to be.” His tone is grim and brokers no argument. “What troubles you.”

Istha sticks out her tongue in his direction. Stubborn as a mule, all the better to match with her. “You’re not going to be dissuaded, are you.”

He smiles. “No.”

“Couldn’t we go up top? Smash a few heads, look out the window?”

“Let’s see, there’s about...a hundred Grineer on this ship, and two of us.” He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow knowingly. “We shouldn’t, not with those numbers. Wouldn’t want them to feel too bad about themselves.”

Istha barks a laugh, but it’s short-lived. “Seriously. We could handle them.”

“We could. But the Grineer like their manual ships, no fancy Orokin navigational system or what-have-you. Can’t risk the pilot dying.”

“Don’t you know how to pilot?”

His eyelids lower. “Istha. I wouldn’t be caught dead flying this kind of bucket.”

“Well...” She shrugs. “I could probably figure it out.”

“Don’t. For the sake of all that is still good in this system, don’t try to figure it out.”

Istha grins, languidly leaning forward so her chin rests on her hands. “Have a little faith in me, friend~”

“Absolutely not.”

“Are you worried I’d put you to shame?”

“I’m worried that I would be caught dead in this bucket.”

Istha lets the sly act dropp, shifting so her cheek rests on one palm. “Really, though. I don’t want to go my whole life without seeing the stars from here, you know?”

He presses his lips together into a thin line, and glances off to where one of the far walls of the cargo bay should be. Her eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline.

“...We’d have to wait,” he cautions. “Can’t risk springing something like that too early.”

“But you want to.”

“I may want to put some Grineer in their place. That’s all.”

He folds his arms, ostensibly shutting her down, but Istha’s eyes crinkle in amusement as he continues to stare into the distance--she knows she’s going to get exactly what she wants, and she’s not even going to have to drag him along behind her. He knows it, too, judging by the faint turn to his lips he tries to tamp down.

If waiting is his only condition, she’s willing to go along with it, just as long as she gets out of the cargo bay. Really, she doesn’t mind the waiting now that she’s out of that crate and with him, even if they sit in silence for most of it.

She’ll pass the journey entertained by the mental images of the surprised looks on the Grineer’s faces when they realize what they’ve done, and that’s quite enough for her.

And she isn’t actually going to try and pilot the ship.

...Probably.

[fanficimagery]

Stronger. Faster. Better.

Summary: Taken from one bad situation and shoved into the next, you’re force fed vampire blood. Max casts you off to his sons when you don’t take direction well, and well? It was probably the best decision he’d ever made.

Words: 4K Warnings: Violence. Mentions of abuse. Not sure this is trigger worthy, but there is mention of someone attempting to force someone else into a relationship they don’t want.

Being forced down a cool, damp cave was not what you expected to happen after refusing to feed. Swift death? Yes. Being thrust upon someone else? Not so much.

One hand is wrapped in the hair at the base of your neck, pulling harshly so your face is angled upward in an uncomfortable position. There's no use in attempting to flee because Max is too powerful and too fast for you to get anywhere safely. But the darkness soon brightens, just a bit, and the ground levels out. You're forced to your knees and then shoved forward, and you barely manage to catch yourself before face planting. The Rock music playing suddenly cuts out and you glance up through the curtain of your hair to see four individuals walking closer.

"I am done," Max snarls. "I attempted to give her a better life and she squanders it! Turn her or kill her. I don't care anymore. She's no longer my problem."

"So what? She's ours?" One blonde answers, straight platinum blonde hair spiked on top and styled into a short mullet at the back, blue eyes glaring. You stare at him, a shiver running up and down your spine at the anger simmering there. "We don't need another Star, Max."

"You will do as I say, David. Kill her or make her feed. Either way I don't want to see her disrespectful face ever again."

Before anything else can be said, Max leaves. You push yourself up and then move around so you're sitting on your butt, and then gather your hair to get it out of your face. No one says anything for a long minute, and then from one moment to the next two other blondes crack smiles in your direction.

"Whatever you did to piss off Max, you have our utmost respect, chica. He's a total asshole." You frown, brow furrowing. "I'm Paul, by the way. Tall, tanned, and broody over there is Dwayne."

"Marko," the third blonde introduces himself, his curls styled into a short mullet as well. "And I'm sure you remember that that's David right there."

Each boy has a similar style, but have made it their own, and each have very different auras. Paul seems to be the fun one, followed by Marko. However, Marko has an underlying sense of danger that Paul doesn't seem to possess. Dwayne is a bit hard to get a read on, but you get the sense he is a decent guy, and David- David leaves you on edge. Everything about him screams danger and you can't help but feel out of your comfort zone when he stares at you.

Between one blink and the next, David appears before you and has a hand wrapped around your throat. You barely have time to gasp before he's lifting you, eyes just as glacial as earlier. "Name?" He drawls.

"Y/N," you manage to utter.

Paul whoops and Marko hides a smile behind his thumb as he chews on the nail. Dwayne manages to shift behind David, flanking him, and is as quiet as ever as you weakly struggle in David's hold.

"Well, Y/N, welcome home. Where did Max pick you up?"

"Yeah," Paul muses. "You don't look like a runaway. That's how Max usually finds his children."

You struggle to breathe, the tips of your toes barely scraping the ground. "I don't k-know." David sneers and drops you at his feet. Rubbing at your throat, you look up but keep your gaze averted from any of the boys. "All I know is that I went from one shitty situation to the next. Max thought he was saving me, and had he went about it differently, then maybe I'd have thought the same."

Dwayne frowns. "What did he do?"

"What do you think? He beat me, he starved me, he kept me in seclusion and force fed me his blood, then expected me to make a kill so I could become his child bride. Fuck that. Fuck him."

"Oohh," Paul sniggers. "This one's feisty."

David continues to watch you, gaze subtly softening. "Sleep." He gestures towards a bed nearly hidden in an alcove, surrounded by sheer curtains. "The sun will be up soon. We'll give you some time to settle in and decide to feed on your own time, but if you refuse you're out. I won't keep a halfling around longer than necessary."

"We only have one other halfling," Dwayne then says, "but Laddie is just a boy. He'll be completing the change before he's twenty."

You glance around the cave then, spotting a boy who's hidden by the sheer curtain hanging around the bed David had offered you. He flicks his hair out of his eyes, hesitantly waving.

"If we wake up and find out you've left the cave or laid a hand on Laddie, you're done. I won't tolerate abuse in the pack. Do you understand?"

Gulping, you nod. "Y-Yeah."

"Good." David looks up and glances around at the others. "Boys, let's go grab a bite to eat before the sun comes up."

As the pack leaves in a whirlwind of laughter and jingling chains, you finally push yourself up from the ground. Looking around you realize you're in a lobby of some sorts, most likely a building that collapsed long ago that the vampires have now made their own.

"It was a hotel once," you hear and look at Laddie whose opened the curtain around the bed. "David has a speech about the history of this place." He laughs softly. "Paul and Marko always make fun of him when he says it to every new person."

"If it was a hotel, does that mean I'll get my own room then?" You ask, hopeful.

"Only after you've completed the change. You can share with me until then."

"Thanks." The hotel isn't the most desirable place to stay, but already it's a hell of a lot better than before. At least here there's no Max. "You, uh, wouldn't happen to have anything to snack on, would you?"

"Yeah. Hold on." Laddie gets up and walks over to a crate, rummaging through it. He comes back with a half eaten bag of jerky and bottled water. "Here you go."

"Thank you."

Instead of eating the whole thing like you want to, you split the meager snack with the boy. After it's all gone, you kick off your shoes and curl up on one side of the bed.

"Sleeping in jeans is so uncomfortable," you mumble. Laddie giggles. "I need scissors to cut them into shorts."

"The guys have a pile of clothes you can pick through," he says. "But you can do that tomorrow. Take them off if they bother you so much."

Cracking open one eye and seeing Laddie snuggling down, you do just as he said. You're used to sleeping in a shirt and underwear, but ever since Max plucked you from the streets you'd been sleeping in pants to keep yourself covered up. Laddie, however, is just a kid and won't leer like the other guys are most likely to do. So once you're jeans-free and comfortable, you close your eyes and will yourself to sleep, hoping the guys won't give you too much grief for sleeping half naked.

Waking up the following evening, you're not surprised that the guys are nowhere to be found. Laddie is already awake and moving around, and when he sees you sitting up he beams.

"Got a box of clothes for you. The guys left it, I guess."

"Awesome." Wrapping the sheet around your waist, you stand up and stumble forward. Immediately digging through the box's contents, you bypass the skirts and sigh in relief when you find a pair of jean shorts, a tank top, and a red and black plaid long sleeve. There's even a brush and several hair ties at the very bottom. "Hey, Laddie, can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah."

"Who's Star?" Laddie freezes and you suddenly feel guilty for asking. "Nevermind. That seems like a touchy subject." Quickly rushing behind a broken wardrobe to give yourself a semblance of privacy, you quickly change outfits. After the tank top and shorts are pulled on, you wrap the sleeves of the plaid shirt around your waist and knot it. When you reappear and head over to your shoes, Laddies voice startles you.

"Star was picked to be one of us. At first she was all for it, but when it came time to feed for the first time she refused."

"Who chose her?"

"David. She was supposed to be a meal, but I got attached. It'd been so long since I had a mom and she was nice. Dwayne suggested she turn and she agreed. For me. But she couldn't finish becoming a vampire when it came down to it."

"Can I ask what happened? Or is that.."

"She threw herself off the cliffs." You whirl around, surprised to see the guys all standing there. It's Dwayne who spoke, expression stoic. "Max's blood in her veins made sure she survived the fall, but she wouldn't heal unless she fed. She refused and was put out of her misery."

"Oh. I-" You glance at Laddie, frowning. "I'm sorry." He grins faintly, shrugging as if it's no big deal now. "So, uh, what's the plan for tonight?"

"Boardwalk, as usual," David drawls. "Just stay away from the video store. It's Max's."

"Noted."

Paul and Marko whoop in delight, Laddie as well, and you hesitantly follow after them. You make the trek upwards through the cave entrance Max had dragged you down, and then inhale deeply once out in the fresh air. It's nothing but salt and fish, but it just feels so good to be out in the open.

Walking up the rickety stairs, your hands fly out to steady Laddie when he trips. He giggles and you laugh briefly as well, and then you're walking up to four motorbikes. Paul and Marko are already eager to go, bouncing in their seats. Dwayne helps Laddie get situated behind him and you turn to David who quirks an eyebrow at you.

"You're with me."

David straddles his bike and you use his shoulders to steady yourself as you climb on behind him. Then wrapping your arms around his waist, you nod when he glances over his shoulder at you. The bike roars to life beneath you and you squeeze David tighter as he zooms off into the night. The others make sure to never pass him up, but every now and then you look back to them hollering and laughing as everyone gains speed.

You smile when Laddie catches your gaze as Dwayne speeds up to be next to David, and then laugh when the boy throws his head back and howls. The boys expertly dodge trees and jump small hills, and you let yourself be giddy for once since Max had taken you.

You've only seen the boardwalk a handful of times, so it's a sight for sore eyes. The flashing lights, the harsh whistles and bells coming from the rides and games, and the rock music blaring from some beach concert off in the distance.

David leads the pack up onto the boardwalk, everyone either glaring at their audacity for driving their bikes on there or jumping out of the way. He and the guys back up their bikes before parking, and you hop off when you see Laddie do so first.

As everyone gathers around, you hook your thumbs into the front pockets of your shorts. "So what's the plan? I'm assuming you boys don't wanna babysit, so.."

"Stay on the boardwalk, but stay away from Max's video store," David says. "And take this. Keep Laddie entertained and fed. Same goes for you."

You accept the handful of crumpled bills, smiling tightly. Then shoving it all in your pocket, you hold a hand out towards the young boy. "Let's go, Lads. The guys are harshing our coolness factor anyway."

Paul laughs. "You wish you were cool, girl."

Dwayne grins as Laddie immediately latches onto your hand and you nod at the dark haired vampire before taking your leave. Out of the two of you, Laddie is the most excited and doesn't hesitate in taking the lead. You get just enough tickets to have a few go-arounds on the carousel since that seems to be the only ride Laddie really wants to get on, and then head on over to buy the greasiest burgers you can find, fries, and a large lemonade to share.

There's a rather dilapidated picnic table next to a burning barrel out on the beach, and you lead Laddie there to eat your dinner. And when you're sure the table is not going to collapse, you gesture for Laddie to join you and hand him his half of the food.

"You seem happy," Laddie mentions right before taking a bite of his food. "Happier than last night, at least."

Swallowing the bite of burger in your mouth, you grin. "I kind of am. Don't get me wrong, the guys are terrifying, but they're a lot more approachable than Max. Max- he had this overwhelming sense of presence. It also helps that the guys don't have me chained to the cave, so there's that."

"Did he do that to you? Chain you to keep you with him?"

"Nah, kid, he didn't. But he did threaten me and someone as old as Max is not someone you cross."

Laddie's nose wrinkles, but instead of asking yet another question he continues to eat his food. You decide to leave him be for now, eating your own meal for the night and enjoy the noise of crashing waves and the roaring fire in the barrel just a few feet away. Laddie seems to be a bottomless pit and you hand over your share of fries after keeping a couple for yourself.

Once all the food is gone and you make sure to throw away all your trash, you shout for Laddie, who'd wandered off towards the water, to come back. But before he can make it to your side, there's a too tight grip around your bicep and you hiss in pain as you're suddenly being yanked in the opposite direction of the boardwalk.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Laddie yells.

Just getting a glimpse of the side profile of the man dragging you down the beach has your heart hammering in fear. "Thought you could runaway, didn't you?" He grits out.

No. No, no, no.

You attempt to yank free of your ex's hold, digging your feet into the sand. It's no use. You're then dragged all the way through the nearby parking lot, screaming and shouting, but no one pays you any mind. All the while, Laddie chases after you.

You're shoved into an alley, hands and knees scraping against the dirty ground. Your ex situates himself between you and Laddie, and when you turn over to meet Laddie's gaze behind your ex, you see his wide and fearful eyes. "Go find the boys, Laddie. Run!"

Still on the ground, you slowly start inching backwards. "Do you know the amount of money I spent on resources trying to find your ungrateful ass?" Your ex (Jeff) snarls. "I've spent months looking for you!"

"You should have taken the hint and moved on," you manage to tell him. "I didn't ask for you to look for me."

"But I didn't give you permission to leave." Jeff kicks a crumpled can at you and you dodge it, scurrying backwards even more. After years with Jeff and living with his abuse, you were finally free. Braver, stronger, and faster. But seeing him after months, it's like all that has faded away and you're still that cowering woman who was too afraid to leave him. "Get up. We're going home."

The revving of bike engines resonate throughout the too calm night and something in your chest loosens. Breathe. You are not weak anymore. You warily climb to your feet, making sure to keep some distance between you and him. Breathe. You are not a victim anymore. Jutting your chin out and squaring your shoulders, you say, "No. I'm already home."

"Y/N." You jerk at the sound of your name, your name which oddly sounds like it's being carried on the wind. David. "Remember what you are, Y/N. He is no match for you."

Remember what I am? I'm a halfling. A halfling who still needs to- needs to feed. A hand clamps around your wrist and then you're being dragged again. Only this time fear isn't clouding your mind and you have enough clarity to know you can fight back. So planting your feet, you grab your ex's arm with your other hand and yank back. Surprisingly, he stumbles back and looks at you in surprise.

"What the hell is your problem?" He demands. But instead of cowering, you stand a little taller and meet his gaze head on. Jeff's own confidence briefly wavers.

Without second guessing yourself, you swing at his face. But instead of closing your hand into a fist, you tighten your fingers and claw his face. Jeff shouts and stumbles backwards after letting you go, gingerly lifting a hand to his wounds. You, however, you stare at your bloodied fingertips. Your heart beats faster, your vision tunnels, and your hearing zones in on the rhythmic thumping of Jeff's heart and the blood rushing through his veins.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

Your breathing gets heavier and then you let your gaze drag up to meet Jeff's, but something must have changed because his heart rate picks up and his eyes widen. A guttural growl vibrates through your throat and between one blink and the next your teeth are slicing through the flesh of his neck. His pathetic attempts to get you off of him is truly laughable, but an undeniable hunger takes over you.

You clamp one hand over his mouth to stifle his screams, but he yanks on your hair to get you off. Growling in displeasure, you snap his neck and continue drinking him dry. Then when you're done, you drop his body only to whirl around, growling at the sudden applause. David, Dwayne, Paul, and Marko have showed up and parked their bikes at the mouth of the alley. Over Dwayne's shoulder, Laddie peeks out.

David swings one of his legs over his bike and saunters towards you, still slowly applauding. "That was one hell of a first kill." He looks you up and down, gaze settling on your transformed face. "Vampirism suits you."

You growl one last time before straightening your back, slowly feeling your face shift back to normal. "He had it coming."

"You knew him?"

You kick at your ex's body. "Unfortunately. He was the bad situation Max plucked me from."

David tuts. "This could be a problem. Anyone know he was here?"

You shrug. "I doubt he told anyone. His parents didn't approve of us. But if his body is found here and I'm spotted walking around, his parents will be quick to point their fingers."

"Okay then." David twirls around, chains jingling. "Paul. Marko, park your bikes out of sight. Find his car and get rid of it, then get rid of the body. Fly him a state over."

"Aye, aye." Paul and Marko mock salute David, and then congratulate you before getting to work.

Following after David, you faintly smile at Laddie since his gaze has yet to leave you. "Sorry you had to see that, kid. He caught me off guard."

"Was he a bad guy?"

"The worst."

"Then good." Laddie jerks his head to the side to get his bangs out of his eyes. "I'm glad he's gone and you're officially pack."

"Yeah? Me too, Lads."

Standing on the ledge of the broken fountain, you do your best to concentrate in order to hover mid-air. The boys made flying look so easy and you were a bit jealous you hadn't been able to pick up on it. Laddie watches from the couch, eager to watch you fail. Again.

Closing your eyes, you step off the ledge and hold your breath when you don't immediately fall. But the moment your eyes fly open and you see for yourself that you're hovering mid-air, you fall. Laddie cackles and you groan as you pick yourself up.

"Laugh it up," you muse, swatting the dirt from your jeans. "Just wait until it's your turn. You'll learn it's not as easy as it looks."

The hooting and hollering coming from the cave entrance diverts your attention, and you plop down next to Laddie on the couch. He's still giggling, so you give him a fond head rub before looking towards the other boys.

"Feeding time! Come and get it, boy and girl." Marko cheers.

"Hey Laddie," Paul says, "how many falls was it tonight?"

"Twenty three," he giggles.

"Hey!" You bark. "Flying's hard. Okay? I'm still new."

Dwayne scoffs. "I had flying down my third-"

"Your third day," you groan. "Yeah, I know. Fuck off, Dwayne." Laddie laughs louder and you readily catch a container of Chinese food that Paul had chucked at you. "So are we hitting the boardwalk after this or what?"

"Eat. We'll play later," David says.

You and Laddie go on to share three boxes of food- noodles and beef teriyaki. The energy in the cave seems to amp up the later it gets, and when it's time to leave Paul and Marko throw clothing at you.

"Dress up time, chica." Paul smirks. "You're luring tonight."

"Ugh. Gross." You pick through the clothes, immediately tossing aside the skirts and dresses. "Who are we pulling tonight? Boys are easy. They fall for the innocent act way too easily," you muse. "The girls are a bit trickier, but easy enough when I introduce myself as a sibling or cousin of yours so I'm not seen as competition."

"You're the girl who's out having fun and gets separated from your girls. Dress pretty," David says.

"Leather pants it is."

Then dressed in a fishnet shirt atop your bra, an old leather jacket of David's, and a pair of black leather pants, you climb on the back of David's bike before the pack races towards the boardwalk.

You can't help but giggle at the heated glares you garner from the female population, you having heard their mutterings about you being a quick fling of the boys. Unfortunately for them, you would be sticking around for quite some time.

After the bikes are parked, you hop off and ruffle Laddie's hair before grabbing up his hand and trying to skip off. You only get a couple of steps before David stalls you.

"Do you remember the plan?"

Turning around, you roll your eyes at his expectant stare. But before you can retort with a smartass comment, the way he looks with the boardwalk lights haloing his head gives you pause. Being that attractive is really unfair.

"Y/N." Dwayne coughs.

You snap out of your thoughts, mentally groaning at the boys' all knowing smiles. "I really hate you guys sometimes."

"It's not our fault you're so transparent."

"Yes," you deadpan, "and I'm sure the mind link David has with all of us that all of you refuse to tell me how to feel it for myself has nothing to do with it."

Marko snickers. "Everyone always wants to bang the leader."

Paul explodes with laughter as your nose wrinkles in distaste. But you're not one to deny what they clearly know, so you settle for sighing and changing the subject. "Just for that I'm picking someone terrible for you. Let's go, Laddie. We've got rides to ride and people to hunt."

"I'm sure if you ask nicely, David'll let you ride his-"

"Kid ears, Paul!" You shout, cutting him off as your cheeks flame. Laddie giggles, no doubt understanding exactly what ride Paul was referring to. When Paul says no more and the guys are all smirking, you chance a look at David only to see him send you a wink. You sigh. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this."

[aquietwritingcorner]

Comfortember 2020 Day 11: PTSD Word Count: 1521 Author: Katie/Ally (aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl)   Rating: T Characters:  Riza Hawkeye, Heymans Breda Warnings:         Summary: A mission does not go well for Riza Hawkeye. Luckily, this team looks out for each other, and Breda steps in to help.     Notes:  Give me more team friendship fics, please

  PTSD

  Usually, when a mission was over Hawkeye was front and center, directing people, making sure that everyone was taken care of and that everything was in order. But this time it was different. She was nowhere to be seen, although Breda knew approximately where she was. Mustang was helping with fire control, and Havoc was dealing with the MPs. He wasn’t entirely sure where Falman and Fuery were, but he was sure that they were around here somewhere doing something productive. At the moment, though, he wasn’t as concerned about then as he was about getting to Hawkeye.

He wanted to know what had happened. He hadn’t seen her freeze up like that before, especially not to that extent. But she had, and he had needed to yank her back and out of the line of fire, yelling in her face before she had snapped out of it. She had managed for the rest of the mission, but it was obvious that something was wrong. And although Breda didn’t tend to be emotionally open, he did care about his teammates. This had him concerned.

He finally found her sitting on a crate in a nearby back alley. She looked decidedly pale and pained. She was hunched over, very deliberately breathing, and her hands, which were clasped together so tightly her knuckles were white, were shaking. She was muttering something under her breath, and it was only as he approached her that he could hear it.

“…not in Ishval, I’m in central, it’s cool, not hot, I don’t have a rifle, my hair is long. I’m not in Ishval, I’m in Central, it’s cool, not hot, I don’t have a rifle, my hair is long. I’m not in Ishval, I’m in Central, it’s cool, not ho—”

There was a sudden bang, and she gasped and flinched, her arms automatically jerking as if to pick up a weapon, although she managed to keep her hands together and not actually go for a weapon. She let out a small, shaky breath, a slight sound accompanying it.

Breda’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his brow furrowed. It was clear what was happening here. There was no way he was going to leave her alone like this.

Breda didn’t have Falman’s recall ability but had done some reading years back about soldiers and PTSD. When he had started working with the team, he figured it might be a good idea to know about some of the problems that veterans tended to have, especially since he was working with two well-known veterans in Mustang and Hawkeye. Most of it had only been marginally useful, at least up until now.

He approached her, making sure to make some noise and be in her line of sight so she wouldn’t be startled. When he was sure that she was at least somewhat aware of him, he called out to her. “Hawkeye?”

She took in a shuddering breath and raised her head to look up at him. Her usually calm and composed face wasn’t there, as if the mask she typically wore was down. Guilt, fear, and pain was reflected in her face, and she seemed to be struggling to even be there. It stabbed at Breda to see her like this, but he kept moving towards her.

“Hawkeye?” he said again, and she focused on him a bit more. He reached out towards her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Hey—Hawkeye. Riza. You with me?”

She was still breathing hard, but she nodded.

“Alright. Can you tell me that?”

“…I’m with you.” She said, although it was still a bit shaky.

“Okay,” he said, and he knelt in front of her, trying to get more on her eye-level. “Alright, then I need you to do a few things for me. Can you do that?”

He was worried that he was coming across as patronizing, but she didn’t seem to mind, focusing on him. She nodded and then, after a moment, verbally responded as well. “Yes.”

“Okay. Tell me five things you can see. And not my uniform, alright?”

She nodded. “The brick wall,” she said. “The puddles of water. A newspaper.” Her eyes cast around, trying to find things. “Milk bottles. Your hair.”

He wondered if there was any reasoning to what she picked out to tell him, but he didn’t stop to think about it. Instead, he just nodded. “Good. Tell me four things you can feel.”

“The cool air. The crate under me. My hair on my neck. Your hand on my shoulder.”

She seemed to be focusing in on things that were directly relating either to her in the here and now, or things that were different then Ishval. Good. That meant she was trying to stay present.

“Three things you can hear,” he said.

She hesitated more on this, it seeming to be harder. “…Fire. Shouts.”

Breda had to keep himself from tensing. That wasn’t good. Those things were probably still part of Ishval too. She had trailed off. “Riza?”

She focused back on him. “…your voice.”

Well. That was something that was different at least. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But he kept pressing forward anyway, trying to keep her here.

“Two things you can smell.”

“….smoke. Your aftershave.”

She was still half focused on the present. She was struggling.

“One thing you can taste?”

“…gunpowder…”

There were more sudden bangs, and she flinched again, this time her hand jerking back, and his shot out, catching her hand. All of this made sense. There had been a small cache of fireworks that had gone off. Smoke and gunpowder made sense—and provided no difference between the now and the past.

“Riza!” he said firmly. “Riza. Listen to me. Focus on me. You’re not in Ishval, alright? You’re in Central.”

She was shaking, and her breathing was unsteady, but her hand grasped his back. He moved to sit beside her on the crate. She seemed to need physical contact and, while it wasn’t his forte, he’d do what was needed. He kept a hold of her hand, but also wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Alright. Tell me what’s different about here then Ishval. Tell me what you notice. Your hair is long, right? And it’s cooler here. You don’t have a rifle.”

“…My hair is long, it’s cooler here, and I don’t have a rifle,” she repeated, and for a moment he worried that was all she was going to do. But she seemed to be using it as a jumping off point. “…you’re here. There are brick walls. Milk bottles. The newspaper. The buildings are taller. A different color. The style isn’t the same.”

For the next while Breda sat with her, providing a physical anchor, a visual and audible reminder that she wasn’t in Ishval. He prompted her at need, and sometimes talked instead of her. Once he saw someone come into the mouth of the alley, but whoever it was seemed to observe them for a moment, then left without saying a word.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but it was enough time for the fire to be controlled and for the fireworks to stop going off. She seemed to become more and more grounded in the present as those things died down, until eventually she was gently shifting away from him. He let her, although she seemed exhausted.

For a moment, they both fell silent, and he watched her. She wasn’t shaking anymore, and her hands weren’t grasping each other tightly. Her breathing was normal, but she was still slumped a bit, clearly exhausted.

“…Breda,” she said after a moment, “…Thank you.”

She looked up at him, and he was relived to find none of the earlier emotions there. Her mask was still down, but it just showed exhaustion and a gratefulness. She seemed to be present again.

“Not a problem,” he said.

They sat there silently for a moment more, and then he spoke. “Wanna head back out there?”

She sighed. “Not really,” she said, but she stood up anyway. He stood up too, and watched as she took a deep breath, and then tried to straighten up and look at least somewhat normal. It didn’t fool him, and it wouldn’t fool any of the team, but it was good to see her trying to go back to normal again. “Let’s go,” she said.

“Yes, sir,” he said, nodding, and moving to walk beside her.

As they emerged from the alley, they saw the rest of the team packing up the cars. Mustang approached, heading straight for her, but not before he flashed Breda a grateful look. The two of them moved together, and Breda walked past, letting them be. As he moved to help load up the cars, Havoc gave his back a slap, but said nothing more, and both Falman and Fuery gave him slight smiles. Breda just grunted in reply and asked what needed to be done. No one commented. They didn’t need to. This team looked after each other, and that’s all there was to it.

[lady-divine-writes]

Bagging a Demon (Rated NC17)

Summary: When Crowley returns to Aziraphale's bookshop after time away frazzled and out of sorts, Aziraphale helps him bury his fears and doubts ... by burying himself. (1178 words)

Notes: This is a sort of re-write of another one-shot from a while back. Warning for consensual burying alive, bondage, suspension, anxiety, and emotional hurt/comfort.

Read on AO3.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh …

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh …

The sound of sand pouring around Crowley’s body is like a long, soothing hush - a finger to his angel’s lips as he tries to quiet the voices in his demon’s brain.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh …

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh …

It fills Crowley’s ears, then his head, and slowly, like a well-worn eraser on a pencil too short to be sharpened any further, eliminates the comments made so many times they’ve left thick, dark lines inside his skull, stains that will never completely be removed - Hell’s snide remarks; a ledger full of jokes made at his expense; vague threats that chase after him, catch up to him no matter how fast he drives; and, most importantly, his own vile thoughts, which he’ll never be free of regardless of how many times Aziraphale whispers sweet words of praise in his ears.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh …

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh …

Crowley isn’t exactly sure where Aziraphale gets the sand from. He would assume Aziraphale miracles it in but that would be a difficult thing to explain to the higher ups - not that they have any say in what Aziraphale does with his magic anymore, but they’re always poking their noses in where they don’t belong. Crowley smiles at the conversation that might ensue if Archangels confronted Aziraphale now that the two of them are, for the most part, independent contractors.

“Aziraphale! Why in Heaven’s name did you waste a miracle transporting seventy-five pounds of sand to your demon’s flat?” Gabriel would ask, red-cheeked with anger, his eyes aflame with holy white light.

“Why? Why!?” Aziraphale would reply, squaring his shoulders and tugging down his waistcoat, his eyes not only alight with the same white flame, but consumed by it. “Fuck you, that’s why!”

That’s probably not how it would go down, but it makes Crowley feel a smidge better to imagine it that way.

Crowley suspects it’s beach sand Aziraphale fills his body bag with.

Black volcanic sand.

It smells like all things summer - sunscreen, salt water, barbecue smoke, but also clean, fresh air kissed by sunshine. When he’s in his human-form, Crowley is not too fond of sand. But his serpent side adores it. The sand retains heat, absorbing it, then redirecting it, transforming Crowley from shrunken and shivering in his own tense frame to relaxed.

Downright cozy.

It acts like a weighted blanket, the effect only mildly different. It builds. Instead of having ten, fifteen, twenty-five pounds rest on him all at once, it presses down on him gradually - one shovel full at a time until he’s engulfed in calm. It’s not like having Aziraphale’s weight on top of him, Aziraphale’s warmth surrounding him, his wings wound around him and tightening slowly. But it’s still comforting.

The darkness of the bag he’s curled inside of, the weight of the sand, it doesn’t just bury him. It buries the voices that collect in his head, buzzing like flies drunk on honey. It buries his self-doubt in a place he can project on to so that it doesn’t plant seeds inside him, grow and devour him. His successes and his failures get buried with him inside that bag, too. When he comes out, he’ll get to decide which he wants to take with him and which he wants to leave behind.

With the help of his angel, who is always there to help guide him.

Crowley had been gone for days - off to only God knows where … if She cared to look. Aziraphale never troubles him for an explanation. Yes, they’re married, but that doesn’t mean much has changed.

Crowley’s time is his own. As was Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale read and Crowley … did Crowley things.

When Crowley finally returned, Aziraphale expected a lighthearted and giddy demon to saunter into his bookshop bearing several crates of alcohol and a take away box of crepes, maybe devil’s food cake.

Wine he did have. Crepes, too. But also a back bowed by burdens.

He muttered and paced and grumbled under his breath. He would sit, then immediately get up and walk a lap around Aziraphale’s shop.

Everything was wrong, Aziraphale heard him say.

His flat was wrong.

His car was wrong.

The city was wrong.

His head was on wrong and everything inside him was wrong.

He may have gone down to Hell for a visit or a meeting or a whatever. Lord knows why he returns from time to time, but he does. But now that he’s above ground again, everything is too bright, too loud, too sharp, too open, too much.

And Crowley can’t handle it.

When Aziraphale asked his demon what he thought could help him, Crowley answered, “Soft, dark, quiet … alone.”

It broke Aziraphale’s heart to hear Crowley say he needed to be alone. He’d presumably just returned from time alone and now he wanted more of it. Though Aziraphale understands that time alone away from him and time alone with him in the same room are different concepts.

Still, Aziraphale missed his husband.

But he couldn’t deny him anything.

And Crowley needed a re-set – one he couldn’t find on his knees.

He needed to hide, disappear somewhere where the world couldn’t find him.

This bag isn’t some random item Aziraphale had lingering around his bookshop, a relic from the past that he kept alongside his snuff boxes and Bibles. He’d ordered it special - a tool to help Crowley with his anxiety. When Crowley had his first major attack and spoke about it with Aziraphale, he used words like open and big and lost and flailing to get his point across. Aziraphale concluded that Crowley needed to make his problems smaller than himself, and thus more manageable. He needed to restrict his thinking to the basics – yes and no, light and dark, good and bad, the building blocks that humans learn as children, and move on from there.

So, in essence, this bag is like a womb, a beginning which, as supernatural entities, they’d never been given. Crowley retreats to it when he needs to start over.

Sometimes Aziraphale envies him for it.

Crowley can’t wear much when he’s inside it. Just his underclothes. It forces him into the fetal position, muffles most external sounds. It’s where he comes to terms with himself, reconnects with his thoughts either demonic or celestial, before he joins the world again.

Aziraphale bid his husband good-bye with a kiss before Crowley climbed in and Aziraphale began shoveling, packing Crowley in. When he’s done, he’ll lace the bag up from end to end - no zippers or snaps here. Then he’ll tie the entire bag with hefty rope and suspend it, let its cigar shape hang and sway gently over his head.

Three hours.

Three hours in the bag and the sand in total silence. After three hours, Aziraphale will come get him, dig him out with his own two hands as if discovering his gorgeous husband all over again.

But if Crowley needs him, all he has do is say his name and Aziraphale will be there.

[momentofmemory]

fictober - day sixteen

Prompt #16: “Listen. No, really listen.”

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe - Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Netflix Marvel (Daredevil) 

Rating: T

Warnings: Sensory Overload, Explosions

Characters: Peter Parker & Matt Murdock

Words: 2279

Author’s Note: set somewhere between spider-man: homecoming and avengers: infinity war (but after DD s3). this was not meant to be as long as it is and i guess maybe i’m writing more of them now?? only time will tell…

>>I Hear, Said the Blind Man

A sword comes flying out of nowhere at his head, and Peter thinks that is this is exactly why he should never leave Queens.

The great thing about being a superhero in New York City is that the city is arguably huge, but patrolling never feels like it because of the sheer number of vigilantes in the area. Queens is his, but Harlem belongs to some guy called Luke Cage, the aptly named Brooklynite has, well, Brooklyn, and the Bronx has—

…Does the Bronx have anyone, actually?

Peter backflips mid-thought to avoid getting skewered by another very pointy sword, then launches himself at the ceiling as it’s immediately followed by a blast from the alien guns he’s been tracking all month.

Hell’s Kitchen is technically Daredevil’s place, and he knows the guy’s pretty territorial but he didn’t exactly have a way of contacting him, so.

Field trip.

“Do you even have a license for these?” Peter fires his web-shooters at the closest gun-wielding ninja, yanking the contraption away and slamming its wielder into one of the supports. “I know you guys are like, two hundred years out of date, but the DA tends to be pretty strict on enforcing unauthorized carry laws.”

Peter takes advantage of his perch in the rafters to remove the power core from the gun, then chucks the useless shell at its previous owner. A warning blares at the base of Peter’s skull, and he lurches to the side just in time to avoid a throwing star aimed for his chest.

“Okay, I get it, I get it, no one likes unsolicited legal advice.”

Peter’s hand snaps out and wraps around the wrist of the ninja trying to sneak up on him. “I’m not a fan of unsolicited murder, either!”

The ninjas are definitely way more skilled than he is, but what Peter lacks in finesse he makes up for in raw strength. He sidesteps the ninja’s sword (man, these guys are quiet), then throws him forcefully over his shoulder and into the last ninja.

They both go down and stay down.

Peter hops down to floor and dusts himself off—rafters are always disgusting—and nudges one of the fallen ninjas with his toe. There’s no sign of consciousness, so he slides around the black-clad figure to check on the box the guns were packed in. He peeks over the edge of the crate and notes only one is missing—the one he’d already disarmed. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“Score one for the Queens kid,” Peter says, webbing the last gun and snapping it to his outstretched hand. “I hope you enjoyed the show but I will not be here all night, because some of us have calculus tests to study for.”

Peter slips his phone out of its hidden pocket, and is just about to call the police when his sixth sense lights up his entire spine. He whirls around just in time to see at least twelve more ninjas slip into the warehouse.

He’s surrounded.

“Listen guys,” he says, ignoring the warnings Karen’s blaring into his feed, “if this is your idea of a surprise party I gotta say, you need to work on your presenta—”

Peter’s cut off when a ninja materializes beside him, and he barely gets the gun up in time to block his opponent’s attack. He flinches when the blade still goes more than three-fourths of the way through the metal casing.

He shoves the man using more of his super strength than he’d normally be comfortable with, and the ninja flies across the room and lands in a soundless heap. “Not to go full nineties, but I knew I should have stayed home today.”

That’s the last quip or takedown Peter manages to pull off, because while he’d done pretty well against five ninjas, he is no match for a dozen. Peter tries his best to make offensive moves when he can, but for the most part he’s caught in an endless cycle of successful and slightly less successful dodging. He’s further handicapped by the fact that he’s trying to stay in the vicinity of the weapons container, certain that the second he loses sight of it, it’ll be gone. After the fifth sword swipe he’d failed to entirely avoid, Peter thinks maybe he should give up on that part.

In that moment, two things happen.

First, a red and black billy club comes flying from the rooftop and incapacitates the ninja about to turn Peter into a shish kabob, and Peter thinks holy shit I’m going to meet Daredevil.

Second, said ninja’s sword is redirected towards the weapons crate and slices clean through one of the power cores, and Peter thinks holy shit I’m going to die.

Then Peter’s world explodes.

Or at least, Peter’s pretty sure that’s what happens, because he doesn’t have any other explanation for how he goes from fighting for his life in a warehouse to leaning against a chimney on a rooftop.

“You all right?”

Peter turns his head towards the voice, but everything feels muted, like that one time the Vulture dropped him into a lake. Or like that one time the Vulture nearly got them both blown up.

That last one’s probably more relevant.

Peter starts to yank his mask off in an attempt to breathe easier before he remembers he’s not alone. Instead, he blinks a few times, trying to get his eyes to focus. Slowly, the blurry shape in front of him materializes into the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Then everything else materializes, too.

He doesn’t feel any injuries from the explosion per se, the suit having protected him from the brunt of it, but it’s wreaked absolute havoc on his senses. Sound comes rushing in as his accelerated healing repairs the damage to his eardrums, and it’s too much, too fast, too loud.

“Karen, turn the—turn the dampeners on,” he gasps.

He sees hears feels Daredevil tense across from him, but he doesn’t have the brain capacity to figure out reason for the Devil’s reaction.

“I’m sorry, Peter. The settings for limited sensory deprivation are not available at the moment.”

The blood drains from Peter’s face, and his already high-pitched voice jumps an entire octave. “What do you mean not available?”

“Some of my systems appear to have been damaged in the explosion. The suit will require manual repair in order to bring them back online.”

“Spider-Man?” Daredevil’s voice is too loud, too close.

Peter waves a hand in front of him, trying to get him and all the noise associated with him to go away.

“Your blood pressure appears to be spiking, Peter. Do you require assistance?”

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. “No, I’m fine Karen, I just—I—shit.”

It’s childish, and dammit Peter wanted to make a cool first impression on another superhero for once, but instead he presses his hands over his ears and whines because it’s just so much and it’s everywhere and it’s—it’s—

It’s his heartbeat thumping wildly out of control in his chest—

It’s the crunch of gravel under Daredevil’s feet—

It’s the wind skipping across the roof and over the air conditioning units—

It’s the cat stalking a mouse on the street below; the man rifling through the garbage; the hurried footsteps of late night traffic; tourists with cameras, car horns honking, brakes squealing, engines backfiring, locals yelling, sirens wailing; the sound of his breathing, the leather in the Devil’s costume, the drip of a drainpipe, the drip, the drip, the DRIP—

Daredevil squats down in front of him and Peter’s head jerks up.

“Can you hear me?”

Peter bites his lip so hard it bleeds, because he’s pretty sure Daredevil is whispering but it sounds like it’s being shouted through an air horn. “That’s—that’s kind of the problem, Mr. Daredevil, sir, I’m really sorry—”

“It’s okay.” The cat hisses on the street, and Daredevil lowers his voice even further. “Can you listen?”

Peter thumps his head against the chimney, because he just said that’s all he can do right now and the cat’s just caught that mouse and—

“No,” Daredevil says, interrupting his spiral. “Really listen.”

Shit, does he have mind reading powers?

“Pick one sound and listen to that.” The Devil keeps talking, and somehow Peter hears him over the rest of the noise. “It’s okay if you still hear the others—but only listen to one.”

Peter slowly lowers his hands from his ears and tries, but there’s just so many of them.

A window slams shut two buildings over at the same time Daredevil clears his throat. “There’s a grandfather clock with a second hand that skips every third tick, in an apartment building four blocks from here.”

Four blocks what the hell—

“I uh—I can’t go quite that far,” Peter stammers, cautiously opening an eye. “But there’s a drainpipe across the street that keeps dripping.”

Daredevil tilts his head to the side, then smiles. “In front of Dahlia’s Flower Shop.”

“I guess so.” Peter closes his eyes again.

Peter hears Daredevil back away from him, just a few feet, to keep from crowding him. “Tell me about it.”

His concentration slips when a tourist stops in the middle of the sidewalk and someone starts berating them. “It’s… a drainpipe?”

“Is it metal? Concrete? Plastic?” Daredevil takes out his billy-club and rotates it between his hands. “What does the way it echoes sound like?”

Peter searches the dripping noise out and tries to focus on the water and the wind.

“…Metal,” he decides.

“Is the water fresh, or dirty?”

Peter doesn’t know how to distinguish between the two at first, but then he imagines the way dirty water sloughs through pipes as opposed to the way clean water glides, and when he realizes he can isolate the smell, too, he says, “Dirty.”

“And how high is the pipe when the water drops out?”

Peter listens to the water separating at the mouth of the pipe, waits for how long it takes for the splash as it hits the ground. “…Two feet?”

“Good.” The smile is still in the Devil’s voice. “Last question: what is the water landing on.”

Peter tilts his head in the same way Daredevil had, and strains his hearing to pick up as much detail as he can. The water coming out of the drainpipe feels hard, like the metal encasing it, but when it lands the splash is muted—like it’s sliding to a stop instead of hitting a flat surface. There’s also an almost bouncy quality to it, so it must be something that’s not rigid—something delicate, or fragile.

He remembers what Daredevil had said about the shop the pipe was connected to, and his eyes fly open with a grin.

“Flowers!”

Daredevil nods and sits back against one of the air conditioning units. Peter keeps listening to the sound, wondering what else he can figure out about it.

After a few minutes, Daredevil slides his billy-club back into its holder. “How’s your hearing?”

“Wha—?” Peter jerks his attention back to Daredevil, and suddenly realizes the world has gone back to sounding like Normal-New-York, instead of Acid-Trip-New-York. His eyes widen.

“Whoa, thanks! It normally takes forever to go back to normal when this happens. How’d you learn to do that?”

“Not in any way I’d recommend,” he says, propping his elbow up on his knee and letting his hand hang down. “Now, at the risk of sounding needlessly overbearing, what’re you doing in my city on a school night?”

“Oh, uh, well I didn’t really mean to come all the way out here, but I’ve been trying to track down this weapon’s deal for like a month and—” Peter chokes as he registers the end of Daredevil’s sentence. “Wait, school night? Why would uh, why would that matter?”

“It’s your heartbeat. Too fast to be an adult’s.”

“I was panicking!”

“And your voice?”

“…Also panicking!” He clears his throat and attempts to drop a half step. “Not that I am anymore. Because I’m a superhero. Adult. Adult superhero.”

“Hearing people’s heartbeats also means I can tell when they’re lying.”

Peter freezes, then drops his head into his hands. “Shit.”

“Are you old enough to say that?”

Peter’s indignant. “Yes!” Then he pauses. “Wait, if we’re here does that mean the ninja guys got away?”

Daredevil shrugs. “The blast took out all of the weapons. The Hand wasn’t interested in sticking around after that.”

“The Hand?”

“…Stick to Queens, kid.”

Peter flinches and draws his knees in to his chest, which probably doesn’t help his image, but. He’s really tired of being a disappointment.

Daredevil gets to his feet and for a second, Peter thinks he’s just going to leave him. Then a gloved hand appears in front of his face.

Peter looks up in surprise.

“You’ve got talent, Spider-Man,” he says, and Peter notices he doesn’t remove the man part.

“Really?” Peter’s mood lifts almost instantaneously. “I mean—yeah, yeah of course. Talent. You too.”

Daredevil shakes his head, but pulls Peter to his feet without commenting on his exuberance. “Give me a call if you hear anything else about weapons—or ninjas—in Hell’s Kitchen. Maybe we can work something out next time.”

“Whoa,” Peter breathes, his feet rooted to the ground as Daredevil walks away. Daredevil’s already reached the edge of the roof before an important thought occurs to him. “Hey, wait, I don’t have your number!”

Daredevil smirks. “You don’t need one.”

With that, the vigilante flips off the roof to the next building, and disappears behind its slope. Peter stares at nothing, and wonders if he should try to chase him down.

Then Peter hears water dripping out of a drainpipe, and thinks four blocks down.

Peter grins.

[theofitzgeraldsing]

The Road  Chapter One Augusta, Georgia MAMA D Mama D called on all the ancestral spirits from before slavery time and way back before Africa was Africa, and the world had a name.  She called back using her strongest meileke, oils, and herbs, reaching into the dark recesses of her spirit, something she didn’t often do, turning her insides out, and offering them to the ancestors in return for their intervention. Grey clouds swarmed above Mama D’s cabin as she prepared her poultice of mustard seed and High John the Conqueror root.  Dogs howled and scratched at her door, possessed and curious all at once.  Something was going on, something that compelled all of Augusta to sniff, snort, and acquiesce to the powers of the ancestors.  Swallowing up towns, and gobbling down mountains, angry fog rolled over Georgia like a plague or wildfire.  This was serious.  It rolled on like thunder and made a sound like a rushing river crashing over rocks, knocking down trees to the stump and pulling the Earth.  This was no time to be lounging around.  Mama D's old alley cat Simon was slinking about scurrying at shadows, hoping to catch a mouse, or a mole, or a spider.  Mama D was always going behind, cleaning up messes, and righting wrongs.  When a husband abused his wife it was Mama who stared down centuries of pent up anger, rage, and male domination. Mama said, "somebody was always trying to get somebody else under the heel of they shoe," and that she was the "leveler of wrong doing."  Folks knew Mama was real in her walk and real in her talk, she didn’t mix business with pleasure, and she didn’t cotton to ignorance or suffer fools.  “Just be straight with me and we’ll be alright.”  That’s what Mama always says.  Everyone near Augusta, or far from it, knew Mama was the person to see and who could help when no one else could.  Mama could heal the sick, locate lost loved ones, or mend family feuds and quarrels.  "Sometimes folks don't know what's good for 'em, and have trouble getting out of their own way, so you have to lead 'em in the right direction like a horse to water.  Just like a horse they have to realize that they are thirsty for themselves." Now Mama D wasn’t really my mama.  She is my grandma and Miss Easy, Mama D’s sister, is my great auntie.  I've been with them since I was born.  Miss Easy and Mama D say I was a blessing sent on account of He knew He was gonna take my real mama away.  Don’t ask me about my daddy.  My mama wouldn’t tell who it was and Mama D says she has no idea who my daddy is.  Now I look in the face of every man I meet on the road, or in town, for some resemblance, but it seem like they all favor me and I get confused.  So, I just stopped looking.    Mama D said that was probably best cause if my daddy wanted to know where I was he would of found me by now, and ain't no sense running behind, looking for something that ain't looking for you.  Once I thought Reverend Prichart was my father but then I saw him pick his nose and eat a bugger, right then I decided even if he was my daddy I didn’t want to know about it.  Soon after that is when I quite looking altogether cause you don’t know if you gonna meet up with a fool or a saint.  I decided to just mind my own business and let well enough alone.  It’s better that way.   Mama's current mission was a secret to me.  Sometimes I could tell, by the ingredients she used in her potions, or the posture of her body as she mixed the concoctions.  If she was making a love potion or trying to bring back a lover that had strayed, undo what was thought to be a curse, a hex, or fix money problems.  This was something different.  Everything was laid out on a large bench in Mama's place but it was laid out in an organized manner and Mama kept going over it like she was taking inventory and she'd make a note in her book.  She carefully measured the roots and the liquids from the hundreds of bottles that lined the walls and stacks of crates in the corner.  Mama went to her shelf and took down her bible, the large one with the gold letters and the foreign language on the front that Mama said was Latin and Hebrew, looked like chicken scratch to me, but it must of been what she said it was cause she took care of it like it was a new born pup or an ailing kitten.  She placed it on the bench and thumbed through the pages adjusting her glasses on her nose to be sure she was reading the right verse and on the right page.  Then Mama D did something that in all my times spying, and peeping, and sneaking around I had never seen her do before.  She took an envelope off the shelf, took out a piece of paper, unfolded it and threw it on the ground.  Next, my mouth stood wide open, I couldn't believe what I was seeing, but Mama stood over the paper, lifted her skirt, squatted, and peed right there on top of it.  The stream of urine continued, so it seemed, until a minute or two passed.  A large puddle, with the paper in the middle, sat in the corner and Mama spit on it after she adjusted her skirt and then sprinkled it with what looked like sage, but could have been anything.  It was green and leafy. After that Mama dripped candle wax, blew out the candle, and headed for the door before I knew it.  I crouched behind an old barrel as Mama headed up the crooked, well worn path to the house, briefly pausing and cocking her head like she heard a whisper in the distance or a far off howl.  She headed into the kitchen to the washbasin and called my name at the same time.  "Lady!"  My feet stood still and a wave of fever flashed across my forehead.  What should I do?  Go in the front door?  Pretend I didn't hear?  "Lady!"  The front door seemed the only option.  Mama opened the door before I could.  "What are you doing sneaking around out here?"  "I'm not sneaking Mama.  I saw a doodle bug back by the privy and I was trying to catch it before it went deep in the woods."  Mama cocked her head looking into my face.  "Girl what did I tell you about running behind doodle bugs, and salamanders, and what not playing around by that Johnny house! You gonna find out what I'm talking about soon enough.  Keep on you hear."  I was hearing Mama but I wasn't listening.  It was as if I was having an out of body experience and could see the wheels turning in Mama's head and see what she could see in her eyes.  She was looking straight through me.  She knew the truth and knew I wasn't out chasing doodle bugs behind the Johnny house but peeping into her business, not minding my own.  The ringing in my ears met up with a cacophony of horns, drums, and bells like the complete opposite of a Chinese water torture, not subtle but bold and brazen until it felt like something reached down in my throat and just pulled the words out, "I'm sorry Mama I was outside spying through the window looking at you in your shack and watching what you did with the paper and squatted and did your business on top of it, that's what I was doing Mama!"  Mama starred at me unchanged, just like she could see again all that I was thinking and not saying.  "Well I hope you learned something," Mama said.  "It's a fool that don't smell his own self and thinks his tail don't point straight down to the ground just like everybody else's."  When Mama said that instead of slapping the taste out of my mouth, I knew God answers prayer, I had learned my lesson for the moment.  My curiosity was still high and my mind would not let me turn loose the thoughts, visions, or imagining that invaded my mind like termites invade the fallen branch of a tree.  What, or who, was Mama fixing?  I was feeling guilty for sneaking around and nosing about, but I still wanted to know. Why was she still closed mouthed and secretive?   Mama was born right here in Augusta, right here in what is now her place we call her shack.  Her mother and father were escaping the mud of Mississippi and all of the memories it held.  My great grandparents, Tom and Pearl, were slaves on the Percy plantation, had been born there, lived most of their lives there, until a war declared that they could come and go as they pleased and they pleased to get up and leave from there as soon as they could.  The old master looked hurt and surprised that they didn't want to stay, "After all I've done for you?  Fed and clothed you, took care of you when you was sick."  He failed to remember the part about, "I beat you when it suited me and worked you from cain't see in the morning to cain't see at night.  Raped your friends and neighbors, was father to many of your relatives and sold them for a profit when I felt like it and just because I forgot all about that part doesn't mean that you did, and never mind that it may not have been Christian, but justified in my mind because I said it was so and I had the bible to back me up."  He had a very selective memory.   He never stopped to consider all of the things he had received in return, or the countless number of times he had been nursed on his sick bed, cleaned, and bathed, and fed, and fawned over, his children nursed at the breast of a slave, suckled, while the slave's children cried from hunger and the absence of its own mother's touch.  No mention of his fields that were planted and harvested, his home cleaned, floor boards polished, silver shined or brass brushed and rubbed so they could gleam in the candlelight to impress the guest that came from as far away as Mobile and nearer than Natchez.  No mention of his wealth that came from cotton raised on the bended and broken backs of slaves.  Fertilized with their blood, sweat, tears, and marrow of their bones.  None of that was ever considered.  Only what he had done for them, and how they were ungrateful and with their thanks and gratitude.  Most of the slaves left quicker than the bat of an eyelash, or the strike of an overseer's lash.   Mama's parents packed their belongings, a ragged quilt, one spoon, one plate, one saucer, a cup, the things they shared between them, a milking stool, an iron pan, and a bible.  Their belongings were tied in small bundles, strapped to their backs or loaded in the creaky, rickety wagon that was pulled alternatively among them.  They walked and walked and occasionally hitched a ride from strangers passing by, going the same direction, splitting off and going their own way, or when they felt a need to part.  They walked nearly all the way from Mississippi to Georgia and found this spot that a recent immigrant, Erwin Palmer, from somewhere over in Europe had decided was better than where he came from and tried to tame the land, tilling it, and farming it.  Having never been a farmer or ever lived on a farm, milked a cow, or shoed a horse, this presented a challenge for him.   Luck, opportunity, and providence met when my great grandparents arrived.  Grandpa Tom showed the man how to sow in the spring and harvest in the fall.  He showed him how to shoe a horse and milk a cow.  Granny Pearl worked right along with them knowing a thing or two about using a hoe and a shovel to till the soil.  They shucked corn and snapped peas together during the harvest, working from sun up 'til sun down, eating together, sleeping together in the one room shack that was now Mama's work shack with the raggedy quilt they brought from Mississippi hung across a rope used to divide the space and provide a teeny weeny bit of privacy.  This went on for nearly two years until the man from Europe stepped on a nail that went through his foot and into his heel bone.  By the time the doctor came in from town to look at it, it was too late and the man had to have his leg cut off near up to the knee.  Grampa Tom and Granny Pearl nursed and cared for him until he started hobbling along on a wooden leg but his spirit was broken and he spent most of his days looking at the wall reminding Granny more of a lost bird or a wounded lamb.  "You know it's a sin to rebuke what the Lord has given you.  You're still of this life, you have to live in it.  Don't look and see what you lost, look at what you still got." Granny tried to lift his spirits.  "What have I got?  A tree stump for a leg, that's what I got!"  He started to drink distilled spirits, and cussed, and mostly felt sorry for himself until Gramps and Granny sent a telegram to somebody over in someplace called Germany or Austria or Prussia or somewhere, and told them that the man was in poor shape and needed some help.  After the telegram, a telegram arrived with some money saying a ticket had been purchased on a ship to England and to get him on it quickly.   Grampa Tom could only get Mr. Palmer to the depot to catch a train up north.  He wasn't too happy about going and he let Grampa Tom and Granny Pearl know it.  "What the hell did you think I came here for?  If I wanted to go back to Scotland I could have damn well stayed there!  I don't need a black son of a bitch like you getting in my business."  They knew it was only the man's anger and feeling sorry for himself that made him talk the way he did.  His insults were ignored as they did what they knew they had to, to keep their friend alive, to keep him from harming himself.  They said their goodbyes at the train station and when he handed Grampa Tom an envelope and told him to do what he wanted with the land, Grampa Tom was confused, unable to read Grampa Tom put the envelope in the bible for safe keeping.  Grampa Tom, Erwin Palmer, and Granny Pearl never saw each other again but every now and then a card or a letter would arrive addressed to Mister Tom and Miss Pearl.  Gramps and Granny, both being illiterate, had to ask the postal clerk to read it to 'em and tell 'em what it said.  The clerk read the letter but bristled at reading and addressing them as Mister and Miss, however being a show off he wanted to read as best he could and so he did.  It was about a year after the man left that the first letter came and it said, "Dear Mister Tom and Miss Pearl, I've arrived here in Scotland at my brother's poor excuse of a farm and it is even drearier and grayer than the place I tried to escape when I met you in America.  My brother and his wife, bless their souls, have tried to make a life as best they can by raising sheep on a patch of land that seems to be nothing but jagged rocks, desolate gravel, and dirt not fit to grow potatoes.  When I left Georgia I was heavy in heart, and I'm sorry for all of the mean and unkind things I said.  I am also sorry that I stole the rabbit foot that use to hang by the door of the cabin, but I had to take with me something to remind me that I had once been a man of independence and courage with hopes and dreams of independence and freedom.  Free from things, some of which I have forgotten and abandoned.  I've never stolen a thing in my life but I hope that you will forgive me.  The train ride to New York was difficult, being on my own without the kindness of friends or the family that I considered you two to be.  I experienced the cruelty of one human being to another and I never hope to see again.  I met a man traveling to New York to meet a banker to discuss the sale of some property.  On the passage across the Atlantic we were met with rough seas and by the time we docked in Liverpool I looked and smelled like the beggar and pauper that I was.  Standing was trouble enough and the seas knocked what semblance of balance I had out of me for nearly the first day until I got my sea legs.  My brother met me at the dock and although he didn't say it, I could see in his eyes the pity he had for a man that wasn't a whole man anymore in spirit, or in body, but a troubled soul lost, tortured, and broken.  I'm telling you this, but you already know it is true.  If it hadn't been for the kindness, love, and caring of the two of you I could not be writing this letter today.  For two years I lived in my own self pity and I will say that I have been twice blessed, and a lucky human being to have a loving brother with a kind wife and a gentle soul to love me when I didn't love myself.  When I first returned if I wasn't at the local pub drinking the fine Scotch whiskey this country is known for, wishing my sorrows away, or laying in the bed looking at the wall, I was feeling sorry for myself, hating the world and everyone in it.  Scotland, for all its dreariness and confined thinking, I was able to see some beauty in it.  My brother, an adventurous soul, I guess it runs in the family, decided to try his hand at breeding horses in a way that only a Scotsman can do, insisted that I help out in the barn and in the corrals.  "Get your arse out of the bed right this instant,” snarled only the way that a brother could snarl at a brother.  I felt no brotherly love of my own and much more pity for myself.  "Kiss my ass!  I'll do what I damn please and get out of the damn bed when I damn well feel like it."  My brother lived up to his promise as I underestimated the strength of a man that labored from sun up to sun down, whatever the weather or whatever his state of mind or physical condition healthy or no.  With one swoop I could feel the plank floorboards under my back as I felt the knuckles of his hands, hard as stone and cold as ice, connect with my flesh and bones.  After his encouragement and the exchange of words that any man should be ashamed to call his own brother, negating the legitimacy of his birth and my own, his children's birth, and the chastity of his wife that has shown me nothing but kindness and patience, I felt the shame of my actions and my own self pity.  A wave of shame also crosses my face when I think of the unkind way that I spoke to you Mister Tom and treated Miss Pearl before I left.  I hope that you will find it in your hearts to forgive a man that had forgotten his manners.  I can't thank you enough for showing me the kindness and affection I didn't show you.  My only hope is that the gift of the one hundred acres can express my gratitude and allow you to forgive me in your hearts.  I'll never forget the time I spent sweating in the Georgia sun and enjoying the kindness of two loving souls.  If I never see you again know you are forever in my prayers.  Your brother in life and forever, Erwin Palmer.

[theycallmebeccawrites]

Chris & Ellie’s Road Trip: Part 1

With Tumblr holding my original writing blog @beccaheartschrisevans captive (aka flagged as explicit), I have made a secondary writing blog and may end up closing the other all together. In the meantime, I am reposting all of my stories on my new blog.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer-Evans (OFC)

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: language, graphic sex

Story Summary: Chris Evans and his wife, Ellie Spencer-Evans, drive from Los Angeles, California to their rental house near Atlanta, GA in April 2017. A good portion of the trip takes place on Route 66.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

This story can also be read on AO3 and Wattpad.

The Chris & Ellie Bonus Stories Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Chris & Ellie's Road Trip: Part 1

April 18, 2017

With Daisy and Dodger following, Chris Evans made his way up to the bedroom he shared with his wife of two months. Knowing he'd find her in their walk-in closet, he made his way over, but stopped in the doorway when he found her sitting against the drawers looking at her phone. She was supposed to be packing, but the two hanging clothes boxes and the other boxes they'd brought up earlier were all empty.

"Need some help?" he asked, leaning against the door frame. He was slightly annoyed by the fact that she'd been up here for two hours and hadn't gotten anything done, but shook that off since they'd spent the last couple days packing up everything they wanted to take with them to Georgia for the next several months.

"I don't know what to pack," she confessed, looking up at him. "And my sisters and friends have been absolutely no help. Neither has your brother."

Chris pushed himself off the doorframe and joined her on the floor. "You had no problem packing your craft and work stuff," he commented. "What's different about the clothes?"

"I'm sort of married to someone super famous," she replied, holding up her left hand and showing off the diamond engagement ring and matching wedding ring. "I can't exactly go to the grocery store in ratty clothes anymore. Not to mention it's fucking hot in the south during the summer." She sighed. "And then there are the dresses. I mean am I going to need a cocktail or more formal dress? Do I need to pack one or five just in case?"

"I happen to like you in ratty clothes," Chris said, bumping her knee with his own. "And we aren't really in a bubble in Atlanta like we are here. Sure, there are people hanging out around the set and stuff, but for the most part, they don't follow us anywhere. As for the dresses, you probably won't need anything super fancy, but maybe a dress or two? I mean, it's not like you can't go to the mall or something if you need a dress."

"You make it seem so easy," she replied, laying her head on his shoulder. "I don't know how you do this all the time."

"Well, I do cheat a little when I'm doing press stuff." He chuckled. "But the studio prefers what the stylist puts together for me." He wrapped his arm around her. "Would you like me to help you pack? Even if it's just to stop you from packing all of your Oregon Duck shirts?"

"Oh, they're are all coming," Ellie stated, elbowing him softly as she sat up. "Don't pretend that you didn't pack all of your Patriots stuff."

"I noticed all the Oregon and Seahawk stuff is packed up downstairs, too," he noted. "But I guess it wouldn't be our home without our favorites with us."

"Exactly," Ellie replied as her eyes shifted to the empty boxes. She sighed. "Guess it's time to get this part done. Help me up."

Chris shook his head, but got up. He then held out his hands and helped haul Ellie to her feet.

"Thanks," she said. Turning to look at the boxes, she frowned. "I hate moving. Let's never move."

"We'll have to move eventually," he stated as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You know my feelings about raising kids in LA…"

"I know." She patted his forearm. "But I might just sell everything and buy everything new."

"That might work for your craft stuff, but you hate shopping for clothes," he reminded her with a chuckle.

"Oh, right," she sighed. Looking at the boxes again, she added, "Maybe I should pack my stuff for our trip, too. Then I don't have to worry about that either."

"That would be a good idea," Chris agreed. "Seeing as we leave tomorrow night."

With Chris due to start filming for Marvel in Atlanta in two weeks, he and Ellie had decided to drive to Georgia in her Honda CR-V with the dogs instead of flying. Rather than driving the interstate and getting to Georgia in a couple days, they had decided to make a week of it and drive as much of Route 66 between Santa Monica, California and Oklahoma City, Oklahoma as they could. They'd spent the last couple weeks consulting websites, maps and books to determine where they'd be able to travel on the old mother road and where they'd have to drive on Interstate 40. Once they left Oklahoma City, they would use the interstate highway system to get to their rental house outside of Atlanta.

Before they could leave, however, they had to finish packing up what they wanted to have in Georgia and get those items ready to be shipped by the studio to their rental house. Since they would already be on the road when the truck came, Chris's brother, Scott, would make sure everything they packed ended up on the truck.

It took Chris and Ellie the better part of an hour to select and pack what she'd need in Georgia. There were some drawers (socks, underwear, bras, etc.) that they just dumped into boxes and she fished out a few items for her suitcase. For the rest of her clothes, they were selective in what they packed. Nearly all of her t-shirts, jeans and shorts were packed, but they didn't pack any of her formal dresses and only a couple cocktail dresses. She included a few casual dresses and skirts and Chris added a couple more with a playful gleam in his eye.

That playful gleam lead to a make out session that was interrupted by Scott yelling into their bedroom and asking if they wanted to get pizza before the Red Sox game started. They both answered yes and straightened their clothes before returning to what they'd been doing before their unscheduled break. They added a couple more things to the boxes before they sealed them closed. Then they hauled them downstairs to the garage where they'd set up a loading zone for the stuff that was going with them to Georgia.

By the time they were finished, the pizza had arrived and the Red Sox game was underway. They joined Scott in the basement to watch the game while they ate pizza and drank beer. They were all happy to see that the Red Sox had gotten past the flu and other viruses that had ravaged the clubhouse for the first couple weeks of the season.

The mood on the couch was a little bittersweet as Chris and Ellie prepared to leave while Scott stayed behind. He'd moved into the guesthouse when Ellie had moved out a couple years earlier and had stayed when she'd moved back in with Chris. Since then, other than holidays, vacations and other random times, at least two of them at been at the house at any given time and now it would just be Scott.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Chris and Ellie loaded the dogs into the back seat of the CR-V and harnessed them in to keep them safe. Their suitcases and the few other items they were taking with them on the drive were loaded into the trunk along with the dogs' crates. Ellie gave her brother-in-law a hug and a kiss on the cheek before stepping aside so Chris could say goodbye to his brother with a hug of his own. Then they got into the car and began their journey.

The first stop on their trip was the Santa Monica Pier, which was technically the official end of Route 66, but it was where their journey on Route 66 would begin. They'd purposely started their drive in the early afternoon as they planned to spend the night at the Wigwam Motel in San Bernardino.

Traffic on the way to Santa Monica was as heavy as usual, but they passed the time listening to music. They had perfected their music playlists by combining their music collections and putting it on shuffle. Just like on their drive to Oregon earlier in the year, the driver had the power of veto. Meaning that when a song the driver hated came on, they could choose for it to be skipped. Since they both had similar tastes in a wide range of music, the veto wasn't used very often and was typically reserved for a song that really grated on the other person's nerves.

When they arrived at the pier, it took them awhile to find a parking spot, but Chris finally found one a couple blocks away. Ellie snickered as Chris put on his NASA hat to go along with his sunglasses and smiled when he lowered the glasses to give her a raised eyebrow. Leaning over, she gave his lips a peck before going back to her side to grab her own hat, a Boston Red Sox one.

Getting out of the car, they put the dogs on their leashes and then walked down to the pier. They found the "End of the Trail" sign and Ellie stopped a pier employee to ask if they would take a picture of them. They posed for the photo and thanked the employee before making their way back to the car.

"Atlanta, here we come," Ellie said as Chris pulled out of the parking spot.

For the first hour or so, Dodger sat in his seat with his nose pressed to the window watching as the world flew by. Eventually, though, he settled himself down and fell asleep like his sister, Daisy. The dogs were already pros at road trips since they had traveled with Chris and Ellie to and from Oregon for the wedding.

The first part of Route 66 took them through the heart of Hollywood and the major sights until they reached Pasadena. From there, the road passed residential areas and economic districts. The drive was slow going thanks to traffic and the fact that the speed limit was much lower than the highway that had replaced Route 66.

While Chris drove, Ellie called their parents and talked to them on speaker phone. They had told their family of their travel plans, but their mothers, especially, had insisted on getting phone calls from them on a daily basis. Both moms had also insisted on having a copy of their driving itinerary that included where they planned to stay the night and all their major stops. While Chris and Ellie had understood the reasoning behind the requests, it had made them roll their eyes and laugh.

It took them over four hours to reach their stop of the night, the Wigwam Motel in San Bernardino. While Ellie went in to check them in for the night, Chris got the dogs out of the car and took them for a short walk to do their business and stretch their legs. Returning to the hotel's property, he led the dogs over to the cement teepee that their car was parked next to.

After bringing everything that needed to go into the teepee in, they put the dogs back on their leashes and then explored the area around the motel, going into the 'Route 66' shops that would allow the dogs inside. They finished their exploration by picking up dinner to go and returning to their teepee a little after eight that evening.

"I feel like I'm in the Cozy Cone," Chris said referring to the name of the hotel in the Disney movie Cars. He and Ellie sat on the couch in their teepee eating their dinner while the dogs were curled up on the large dog bed that they'd brought with them.

"Exactly," Ellie replied. There was nothing fancy about the motel, but that was part of the charm and experience.

It had been Ellie's idea to travel Route 66 and she had sold Chris on the idea after they'd watched the Disney movie Cars. She'd shown him photos of places that had inspired the locations in the movies and, by the time she had finished, he'd been on board with the trip and as into finding the best routes as she had been.

Knowing they had a full day ahead of them, they finished eating and then each took a turn in the tiny shower. Then they put the dogs in their kennels before climbing into the bed a little after ten.

Day One - California to Arizona

April 20, 2017

The first official day of their trip started at six am with a quick walk with the dogs around the motel. Back in the teepee, they fed the dogs while they got dressed for the day, as they'd walked the dogs in sweats and sweatshirts. Once they were ready, Chris loaded the CR-V while Ellie checked them out.

They had breakfast at a diner with outdoor seating and then got on the road headed for Victorville, California where the California Route 66 Museum was located. With Chris behind the wheel, they drove as far as they could on the old road until they had to turn onto the modern highway system. They had agreed early in the planning stages that they would only stay on paved roads and not go exploring the non-paved parts of Route 66.

To pass the time, they listened to music, but after awhile, Ellie found some online Cosmos quizzes and began to ask Chris questions. Most of the quizzes were pretty dumb and made them both giggle. However, they did determine that he was most like Aladdin for the 'Which Disney Prince Is Your Boyfriend Most Like?' quiz. And, according to the 'How Old Is Your Boyfriend, Really?', they found that he was more or less an adult. The last quiz they did was 'Would You Make Good Parents Together?' and they were both relieved when they got the 'Definitely' answer.

With the zig zagging that was required, it took nearly two hours for them to get to the museum. They had made arrangements with the museum to arrive two hours before opening so they could look around without the added pressure of people recognizing Chris. Two staff members volunteered to look after the dogs while the museum curator led them through the exhibits. When they left the museum, Chris slipped five $100 bills into their donation box while Ellie collected the dogs.

After a quick trip to a nearby park for the dogs to run around and eat, they stopped at a gas station to fill up the gas tank as well as filled up two 5-gallon gas cans for an emergency backup. They also topped off the ice in the cooler and then continued their drive east.

The stretch of Route 66 between Victorville and Needles was called the National Trails Highway and it wound through areas that were nothing but desert and others that were small communities. Along the way, they stopped to check out Elmer's Bottle Tree Ranch, which was a forest made of metal pipes with antique bottles on them.

Once they were back on the road, Ellie got an alert on her phone and smiled when she saw that it was a reminder for Chris's appearance on 'The Talk'. Glancing at him, she saw that he was in the zone driving and singing along to the Guns 'n Roses song that was playing. Leaning down, she grabbed her headphones out of her purse and put them in her ears before she turned her attention to her phone and opened the app for their TV provider.

The first twenty minutes of the show were pretty boring until Chris and his friend and costar Octavia Spencer were introduced. Ellie started giggling as the Super Bowl was brought up and glanced at Chris when he poked her in the leg.

"What are you watching?" he asked.

"You on The Talk," Ellie replied with a laugh after removing one earbud from her ear. "You can be such a little shit sometimes."

"That was a fun interview," he said with a smile as he looked back at the road. "And don't pretend you wouldn't be the same way if the Ducks or the Seahawks had come back from a deficit like that to win."

"Oh, I so would be," Ellie agreed. "You're just lucky I love you and your obsession with Tom Brady and the Patriots." She smirked. "Of course, I have the satisfaction of knowing that the Seahawks did beat the Patriots last season. And since our teams aren't playing in 2017, I have bragging rights until they play again."

"Brag all you want about that little win," Chris said, rolling his eyes. "It pales in comparison to the fact that the Patriots fucking won it all. The trophy is in Boston and Tom Brady's throwing hand has a ring for each finger."

"That's going to make it hard to throw the football if you ask me," Ellie stated. "But I hope I'm not alone in thinking that the best ring ceremony that will happen this year took place on our wedding day."

"Best ring ceremony of my life," Chris confirmed, glancing at her with a big smile.

Ellie made an 'mmm hmm' sound and finished watching the interview. She was smiling as she put her headphones away, a few minutes later. "Please tell me you've paid your debt to the swear jar," she said to him.

He shot her a guilty smile.

"Chris!" Ellie laughed. "You do realize it's been like a year and a half since you guys actually filmed that movie, right? You better hope she isn't going to charge you interest."

"I'll make a donation to the place we got Dodger and then I'll let McKenna know," Chris promised as an Adele song came on. A sly smile spread across his face and he turned it up when he recognized it as one of Ellie's favorites.

"I know what you're doing," she muttered. Within seconds, however, she was singing along with Adele and getting lost in the song.

The highway took them through the Mojave Desert and ultimately to the tiny town of Needles where they stopped for lunch at the Wagon Wheel Restaurant. The dogs couldn't come into the restaurant, so they took turns looking around the gift shop and placed a to go order which they ate on a bench outside the restaurant.

Once they were back on the road, Ellie merged on I-40 and they made their way across the border into Arizona. Instead of heading north with Route 66, however, they detoured south to Lake Havasu City, Arizona, the home of the famous London Bridge.

The resort they were staying in was on the other side of the bridge, so they crossed it and then stopped to take a couple photos. Then they continued to the resort where they checked in and had their luggage taken up to their room. Then they set out on foot with the dogs to explore the resort. As most of the resort's guests were in the areas that the dogs weren't allowed, they weren't stopped very often, but a few people recognized Chris and asked for a picture. He accepted, but asked them to wait to post the photos until the next day.

Around dinner time, they returned to their hotel room and Chris and Ellie took turns showering while the other entertained the dogs and fed them. Then they put the dogs in their kennels before they went down to the resort's restaurant for dinner.

They were seated in a private corner of the restaurant and sat side by side in the round booth. Their dinner conversation ranged from their drive that day, to the drive ahead of them and then about living near Atlanta. After finishing their meal, they didn't linger in the restaurant for too long as they still had to take the dogs out one more time before they could go to bed.

With another full day of driving ahead of them, which included a detour up to the Grand Canyon, they turned in early after taking the dogs out for a quick potty walk. Returning to their room, they put the dogs in their kennels and then changed into their pajamas. The bed and the hotel room itself were a lot nicer than the wigwam they'd stayed in the night before, but it was missing the charm that they'd both loved about the previous night's stay.

During the planning stages of the trip, Chris and Ellie had found that many of the famous Route 66 hotels did not allow pets to stay in their facilities. They had considered having the dogs fly to Georgia, but had quickly decided that not having the dogs with them wouldn't have felt right. As a result, they'd found hotels along their planned route that allowed the dogs, but lacked the historical charm.

Day Two - Arizona

April 21, 2017

The morning of day two started before the sun had risen for Ellie. She hauled what she could down to the car and then brought breakfast up to the room with her before she woke Chris up, knowing he would be sluggish. Then she ran the dogs out to take a quick walk around a designated potty area before taking them back up to the room for breakfast.

The sun was up by the time they got checked out and into the car with Ellie behind the wheel. Knowing her co-pilot and their four legged passengers would sleep during the first leg of their drive, she turned on some music softly and started the drive.

In the passenger seat, Chris was alert for the first twenty minutes or so, but then he put his seat back and closed his eyes. Dodger, who was sitting directly behind Chris, climbed part way onto the reclined seat and rested his head alongside Chris's. When Daisy began to whimper due to being left out of the cuddle party, Chris reached his arm over and rested it on the seat in front of her and she laid her head against his palm.

Having to backtrack nearly to the California-Arizona border, Ellie got onto the Oatman-Topock Highway and quietly sang along with her playlist as she drove. There were a few towns to drive through, but most of the road was through a rocky, desert-like terrain.

For a majority of the early morning drive, Ellie's singing along with the playlist didn't disturb Chris or the dogs, but when Shania Twain's song "That Don't Impress Me Much" came on, she forgot all about her sleeping companions. Chris woke up to his wife singing along with her whole heart and pushed Dodger off the seat before he brought the seat up to a sitting position. For his benefit, Ellie changed up the words of the song so instead of saying "Okay, so you're Brad Pitt" she said "Okay, so you're Chris Evans." Then she flashed him a grin and sang along, "That don't impress me much. So you got the looks but have you got the touch."

Chris laughed and shook his head as she performed the rest of the song. As the music faded out, he said, "I most certainly have the touch, but if you've forgotten, I'd be happy to give you a demonstration."

"I know exactly how talented your touch is," Ellie replied and groaned as the Bloodhound Gang's "The Bad Touch" came on. "Is this from your playlist? It isn't on mine."

Chris was too busy laughing to answer her.

Arriving in the small town of Oatman, Ellie pulled over as she and Chris had prearranged. Up to this point, the road had been pretty straight and an easy drive, but they were about to encounter some very windy roads. They doubled checked the dogs' harnesses and made sure it was impossible for the dogs to slip off the car seats by filling in the gaps between the seat and the floor.

With Chris behind the wheel, they left Oatman and began the twisted drive down the mountain. To keep from swaying too much, Ellie held onto the handle with her right hand and held onto the center console with her left.

By the time they reached the bottom of the mountain, Ellie glanced in the backseat and shook her head. Daisy was passed out on the backseat while Dodger was sitting straight up with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. It appeared he, like his dad, enjoyed windy roads like the one they'd just traveled.

"Did you like that, buddy?" Chris asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

Dodger gave a happy bark and they could hear his tail beating against the seatback. It wasn't long, however, before the "boring" stretch of straight road lulled the three-year-old dog to sleep like his sister.

They arrived at the Powerhouse Route 66 Museum about an hour before opening and met with the director of the facility who showed them around and answered their questions. They met some of the other staff members as they were leaving and Chris posed for a picture with several of them.

After leaving the museum, they had breakfast at a nearby diner before taking the dogs for a quick walk to stretch out their legs and let them go potty. Then they filled up the gas tank and continued their journey east.

They were an hour into their drive to the Grand Canyon when Ellie's cellphone rang. Chris lowered the volume of the music while she answered the call after seeing that it was her sister Riley.

"Hey, Riles," she greeted cheerfully.

"Hey! Is Chris with you?" Riley asked.

"Yup, I'll put you on speakerphone," Ellie replied. "It's Riley," she said to Chris as she put the phone on speaker.

"Hey Riley," Chris greeted his sister-in-law.

"So I know you guys are on the road and everything, but a girl from down the hall just poked her head in the room to ask me if you were really pregnant," Riley told them. "I told her you weren't pregnant, I mean you guys haven't said anything to the family about being pregnant."

"We aren't pregnant," Ellie confirmed. "Why did she think we were?"

"Some blog she reads said so," Riley replied. "I told her half of the shit on there is just made up, but whatever, if she chooses to fill her head with that useless information that's her choice."

"Thanks for letting us know," Ellie told her sister. She glanced at Chris and saw that his jaw was tense. "I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Ok, bye guys! Drive safely," Riley said before hanging up.

"I fucking hate gossip sites," Chris muttered, once the call was disconnected. "I fucking hate them and their fucking bullshit."

Ellie stayed quiet while he continued to rant. They'd been together (as friends and lovers) for long enough that she knew sometimes he just needed to get everything out before he could deal with a situation head on. She suspected that his openness during the Gifted promo tour about wanting to be a dad was partly behind the rumors, especially since they'd gotten married in February.

"I'm going to make a post on my Twitter," Chris announced. "It will be one that just says that I will announce on my Twitter when we are expecting and if there isn't a post about it than it's complete bullshit. And then I'll make another that says we are expecting a baby."

"I like that idea," Ellie replied, reaching over and putting her hand on his. "I'm also not opposed to never announcing we're having a baby, it's our business. Not anyone else's."

Chris visually relaxed and squeezed her hand. "How did I get so lucky?" he asked.

"Well, it all started when your mom came into this used book store I used to work at," Ellie replied with a laugh.

Chris rolled his eyes and then brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her palm. His mom would never let him forget the part where she'd handpicked his wife, but he would always be thankful for her doing so.

They soon stopped for a quick pit stop for the dogs before getting back on the road for the remaining two hours to the Grand Canyon. They drove as much of Route 66 as they could before turning off and taking the highway up to the national park.

When they reached the park, the dogs were more than ready to stretch their legs again and they attracted more attention than Chris did. Both dogs loved the attention of kids, especially Dodger, who loved to ham it up for their enjoyment. Eventually, they had to pull Dodger away from his adoring fans so they could see the national park.

Knowing they didn't have a lot of time in the park, they stuck to viewing areas and visited a few of them to get different looks at the canyon below. In the gift shop, they bought trinkets for their nieces and nephews and collected a couple postcards to send to the kids as well.

They finished their visit with a late lunch that overlooked one of the trails. Then they got back into the car for the drive to Flagstaff, where they were staying for the night. Unlike the two nights previous, their first stop wasn’t the place they were staying, but a place where they could give their two very dusty dogs a good scrubbing.

It was after eight in the evening when they finally arrived at the cabin they had rented for the night. It was south of Flagstaff, but the dogs were allowed to roam freely through the cabin and it allowed Chris and Ellie to stretch out and relax without the worry about the dogs' barks disturbing other guests.

After a dinner made from groceries they'd purchased at the store near the dog wash place, Chris and Ellie stretched out on the couch to watch a movie. Due to the day's driving and activities, however, neither of them made it through the whole thing.

When Chris woke up a little after midnight, he woke Ellie up and then led her into room they'd put their luggage in earlier. Sleepily, they stripped off all their clothes and then got into bed and quickly fell back asleep.

Day Three - Arizona to New Mexico

April 22, 2017

The dogs woke Ellie up around 5:30, on the morning of day three, and she let them out the backdoor into the fenced yard so they could do their business and then let them back into the cabin. She poured food into their bowls and then made her way back to bed with the intent of catching a couple more hours of sleep since they had planned for this to be a late start day.

After climbing back into bed, Ellie quickly fell back asleep only for Chris to wake her up less than an hour later with his hands wandering over her body. Rolling onto her back, she sleepily gazed into the wide-awake face of her husband.

"Morning," he whispered, his hand resting on her stomach underneath the shirt she'd thrown on to let the dogs out.

"Morning," she replied and then yawned.

"Still tired?" he asked and she nodded. "Let me help you wake up."

Ellie relaxed as his hands began to roam her body again, but was quickly becoming aroused from his caresses. She moaned as he kissed her neck while his fingers teased the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Her legs parted of their own accord as his digits marched to the apex of her thighs.

Chris covered her mouth with his as his fingers reached their destination between her legs. He swallowed the moan that escaped her lips with the first touches and then slipped his tongue into her mouth. All too soon, they broke apart as she panted in response to his fingers working her pussy.

Slipping down her body, Chris positioned himself between her legs and used his mouth to bring her to her climax. Sitting back, he watched smugly as his wife's chest rose and fell rapidly as she recovered from her orgasm. When he noticed her breathing returning to normal, he slipped his cock into her and began the process again.

The room was soon filled with the sounds of their bodies meeting and their cries of passion. Chris came first, shooting his seed deep inside of her, and continuing to move their bodies together until she came a minute or so later.

Their alarm clock went off just as he collapsed at her side. Ellie hit the snooze button and they laid there for a few more minutes until the alarm went off again. Taking advantage of the multiple bathrooms, they each showered quickly and got ready for the day ahead of them.

After eating a quick breakfast and cleaning up after the dogs, they loaded up the car and took the cabin's key up to the main building. They checked out and then hit the road with Meteor Crater just west of Winslow, Arizona their first stop for the day.

Unlike the two days previous where they'd listened to a mix of all their music, Ellie chose a playlist compiled of their favorite music from the 1960s and the 1970s for the day's driving soundtrack.

It took them a little over an hour to reach the Meteor Crater Visitor Center. They paid their admission and took a guided tour around the rim of the crater. Since the dogs weren't allowed in the visitor center, Ellie sat with them outside while her space nerd husband explored the different exhibits.

Knowing how much Chris loved everything space, it was no surprise to Ellie when he came out of the gift shop with three bags. He'd purchased stuff for their nieces and nephews, but one of the bags was goodies just for him. Some of the stuff he bought for "them" was Route 66 inspired, but most of what he bought was spacey stuff to decorate his office area.

Ellie couldn't help but tease him while they ate their lunch and he listed all the reasons why he needed another 'build your own solar system mobile' kit. He also told her he'd purchased a set of glow-in-the-dark stars for the ceiling of their bedroom in LA because she'd been so enamored with the ones in his old bedroom in Boston. To which she rolled her eyes and asked if he was going to study a star map to properly place them on their ceiling. That comment led to a tickle war which ended with Dodger getting involved and attempting to lick Chris to death in order to protect his mom.

Once they were back in the car, Ellie changed their playlist again to one with songs by the band The Eagles. She and Chris sang along as they drove the thirty miles or so from the crater to Winslow, Arizona; specifically, to the Standing on the Corner Park.

They parked the car around the corner from the park and then walked the dogs over to the statue of a man standing in front of the mural that was in honor of the song "Take It Easy" by the Eagles. They took turns posing with the statue and then attempted to take a selfie together, but thankfully another visitor offered to take the photo for them.

Crossing the street to the gift shop, Chris and Ellie were prepared to take turns standing outside with the dogs, but one of the workers motioned them inside with a finger pressed to her lips. She winked at them as they entered with the dogs and then she went back to the shelf she was stocking. Since the store was otherwise empty, so they took their time looking around and purchased a handful of stuff before thanking the employee and leaving.

Getting back into the car, after a potty break for the dogs and humans, they continued east towards Albuquerque with the day's original playlist back on. The over four-hour drive found them getting on and off of I-40 as Route 66 jogged off for awhile and then merged back in. They made a couple stops along the way, but mostly just to let the dogs go potty and stretch their legs.

As their day's drive came to a close, Ellie asked Chris a question that had been plaguing her mind all day. "Are you upset that we aren't pregnant yet?"

Chris glanced away from the road with his brow furrowed. "No," he told her. "Absolutely not." He reached over and squeezed her hand. "I believe it will happen when it's meant to. And until then, I'm happy with it just being the two of us." Dodger chose that moment to bark. "Us two and the dogs."

"What if it never happens?" Ellie asked him. "What if we can't get pregnant."

"There are other ways to become parents," Chris replied. Yes, he wanted to be a dad and he knew that Ellie wanted to be a mom, they'd had many conversations about the topic. However, if push came to shove and they could never have kids or adopt, it wouldn't change how he felt about her. After all, he'd vowed to love her for the rest of his life and he planned to stick with those vows. "And if it comes to it, we can just be the best aunt and uncle to our nieces and nephews that we can be."

"How did I get so lucky?" Ellie said, leaning over the console to rest her head on his shoulder.

"Well, you see, it all started when my mom secretly hired a housekeeper for me behind my back," Chris said, stealing her answer from the day before.

When they reached Albuquerque and their hotel, they checked in and had their luggage sent up to their room, but went out to explore the downtown area since they'd spent most of the day in the car. They got to go boxes from a diner and then made their way back to the hotel to wind down for the rest of the night.

Part 2

Want to find me off tumblr? I’m @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

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[hunterenough]

December 4

Notes: For @notfunnydean Advent Challenge

December 4

When Sam stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, it was already after 8. There’d been no morning wake-up, and there was no coffee made. If he was honest, he was a little bummed. He’d been enjoying their new morning routine. His eyes slid to the crates. It looks like Santa was sneaky. He grinned. There was a silver package the size of a shirt box in each crate, and a note propped against the little perpetual calendar, obscuring the Christmas block. Evidently they were to start this on their own then.

“Cas? Dean left us a note today. Want to join me?”

The angel appeared by the coffee pot and seemed disappointed that it was empty. He turned toward Sam. “A note?” He didn’t mention the coffee. Sam gestured toward the crates.

“Grab it. I’ll start the coffee.”

Cas grabbed the note and rejoined Sam at the coffee pot. They opened the note while the coffee brewed.

Hey guys,

Santa’s having a sleep-in. Open your gifts and wake me at 9 for details. If you haven’t eaten, we’ll grab breakfast at the diner in town. There’d better be coffee!

Dean

P.S: Good morning! :)

Sam retrieved the packages from the crates. There was enough coffee in the pot for two cups, but neither made a move to pour. Dean hated when somebody took coffee from the pot before it was finished because ‘it made the whole rest of the pot weaker.’ Instead, they tore the paper off the gifts.

“Christmas ornaments?” Each held an identical set of twelve multicolored glass bulbs. “This could be fun.” Sam didn’t remember ever having a real Christmas tree. They’d done a Charlie Brown style tree a few times, more often when he was younger, but never an actual tree.

Cas was staring at his ornaments, head tilted.

“I’m guessing we’re gonna get a Christmas tree. Decorating could be fun. Dean did say if we wanted to give him gifts that we should put them under the tree.”

“I have never exchanged gifts. I cannot fathom what an appropriate gift would be for someone so… “ He let the sentence trail off still staring at the ornaments and appearing to be in deep thought. “My only experience with giving is receiving gifts from Dean. This…” he made a helpless gesture toward the crates. “And once Dean gave me a cassette of songs. I do not know how to choose a present that is appropriate for him.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at the mention of the cassette. Dean gave Cas a mixed tape?!

“Well, the best gifts are always the ones from the heart. Like yesterday, in general, cinnamon rolls and coffee are cool, but pretty common. But the effort that Dean put in? The research and the special shopping trip? That’s what made the meal so awesome. It really isn’t about giving a thing so much as showing someone how you feel. Do you know what I mean?” Trying to explain gifts from the heart to a divine being was… a unique experience.

“I believe I do. It is evident that Dean put great thought and care into choosing gifts for each day of his ‘advent’ calendar. And the meal was crafted specifically with our tastes in mind. I understand what the gift should convey. It is choosing the vessel to ‘show how I feel’ that I find intimidating.”

“I couldn’t agree more man. Good thing we still have most of the month. I still haven’t found anything either.”

The men slipped into silent consideration over the problem while they poured themselves coffee. Cas poured a second mug and gathered both into one hand. “It is 8:57. I will go wake Dean. I believe that he will enjoy having his coffee delivered.”

The contemplative look on Sam’s face was quickly replaced by a wicked grin. “I’m sure he would.”

~~~~~

Cas focused on keeping the coffee in the mugs as he navigated the hallway. His mind was racing with thoughts about appropriate gifts. He wanted to show Dean that he was worth at least as much effort as Dean was putting in to making their first really family Christmas. Sam’s words were also weighing heavy on him...gifts from the heart and showing someone how you feel played in a loop.

Feelings were still a funny thing for him. Angels shouldn’t feel, but angels also shouldn’t have or want to have free will. Over the course of so many years, he’d learned a lot about feelings. The Winchesters had taught him so much about the value of family, loyalty, true righteousness, trust...Dean in particular had elicited an ocean of feelings so vast that it was frequently overwhelming. Still, Cas knew that when it came to interpreting feelings from others, he had trouble “reading” social cues and body language. Dean’s own early lessons on personal space, for example, were quite clear in speech, but the hunter would often migrate toward Cas if he hadn’t initiated a close position to start. Sam had once tried to explain that often what one said was not what one actually meant. Not lying, just an unwillingness to admit to a feeling that made them feel shame. From this, Cas had inferred that while Dean might want to be close to the angel, he was ashamed of that desire. Cas sighed. He wanted to be very  close to Dean, and he wasn’t ashamed of that, but revisiting that line of thought was getting him nowhere in his consideration of gifts. Another matter for later consideration then.

~~~~~

Despite having properly prepared for sleeping in, Dean had been lying awake in since 7. He had no desire to leave his comfortable bed, but he’d be getting a wake up call any moment. He was excited about today. First, they’d grab breakfast, then hit the Walmart (the nearest being about an hour away) for a tree and more decorations. By the time they were done shopping and back home, they could have sandwiches for lunch and get to decorating. Before his year with Lisa and Ben, he hadn’t had a real tree since before...well, before they were hunters.

The knock on the door was so quiet he almost missed it.

“Come in!”

“Hello Dean. I’ve brought coffee.”

“Cas, man, you’re the best. I’d say you were an angel or a blessing, but that would be a little on the nose don’t you think?” He grinned as he gestured his angel closer. The man was carrying two mugs, maybe he’d sit with him for a bit. “C’mon in and sit down, let’s just enjoy this for a minute.”

Did I just invite Cas to hang out in bed and have coffee with me? WTF?

Cas just smiled. He obviously remembered relaxing protocol because he immediately set the mugs on the dresser, shrugged out of his trench and suit coats, and kicked off his shoes. Reclaiming the coffee, he handed a mug to Dean before rounding to the other side of the bed and propping himself up against the headboard next to him.

“We never get to do this Dean. I truly enjoy being able to spend time with you outside of a hunt.” His angel seemed to snuggle down into the pillows a little more before taking a sip of his coffee.

Dean knew he should probably feel self-conscious about sitting in bed practically shoulder to shoulder with the other man, especially when he was only wearing pajama pants and no one was sick or dying, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. Simply put, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“So, since you brought coffee promptly at nine, and I heard Sammy stomping around earlier, I’m guessing you got my note. What do you think?”

“Sam and I speculate that based on today’s gift of ornaments, and your prior mention of a tree, that we will engage in a Christmas tree related activity. Sam is quite excited about having a real tree.”

“Just Sam?”

“Dean, every part of celebrating this holiday is new for me. I find it very…” Cas seemed to think about his words for a moment. “I am very happy that I get to experience this with you.”

Dean really wasn’t sure what to do with that. He wanted Cas to be happy. He wanted Cas to feel like a part of their family and like he belonged here.

“We also discussed gift giving. I would very much like to get you a gift. Sam as well of course. But I am unsure how I can go about this without violating the “no flapping off” rule.” He shrugged. “I am also unsure what would constitute an appropriate gift.”

“First, you don’t have to get me anything man. You’ve dragged my sorry soul out of hell for chrissake. Year after year you’ve helped me. You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count. I wouldn’t be alive without you.” Cas wants to get me a present!!

“Those things were not gifts. I have learned that those are simply what we do for family. I would say that you’ve given me as much, if not more, than I have given you in that regard Dean. You taught me to think for myself. I’ve learned to feel. I want to give you a Christmas gift so that you can share the feeling that I have when you give me a gift.”

Okay, we’re firmly in chick flick zone. I have no urge to change the subject, and my fight or flight hasn’t kicked in. We’re just going to put this down to my really comfortable mattress.

“How about this Cas. I’ll put in an exception to the sticking together rule. If you and Sammy need to go Christmas shopping, you can do that. I’d kinda appreciate it if you’d let me know before you fly away, because of some of the things I have planned, but we don’t need to be together every minute. I don’t expect you to give me a gift, but you could give me a rock and I’d be happy that you put the effort into getting me something. You capisce?”

“I capisce. Thank you Dean.”

“Now let’s get this show on the road. I’ve got a full day planned today.”

The angel seemed reluctant, but stood and moved to retrieve his outerwear. “I wish that we could do this more often Dean.”

~~~~~

Shopping for Christmas decorations was largely uneventful. Cas didn’t really have an opinion, and Sam was excited about everything. Dean settled on packing as much Christmas themed stuff into the cart as it would hold.

The tree, however, was a different matter. Sam wanted a real tree. Like the live kind.

“I know a live tree would be better Sam, but this way, we don't have to worry about burning down the bunker or something and we’ll already have the tree next year.”

Sam turned on his best puppy dog pouting face. Before Dean could cave like he usually did, Cas chimed in, “Plus, we are not killing a tree. I like this idea Dean.” Sam conceded the point. Dean might be able to be convinced on his own, but with Cas on his side, he wasn’t likely to bend.

~~~~~

Things were going exactly to plan. They’d made it back to the bunker with their holiday loot and lugged it all down the stairs. Dean hadn’t missed his opportunity to point out how much easier it was to bring the boxed tree down the stairs than it would have been with a live tree, of course, and Sam had responded only with Bitchface Number 13. Sandwiches had been eaten and more coffee brewed.

“Okay guys, let’s do this.” Dean clapped his hands together.

To be honest, this is where his plan kinda went a little hazy. None of them had any practical knowledge in tree decorating.

“Ummm, I guess we start by setting up the tree?” Sam suggested.

“Right, right. I’ll take care of that while you guys start unboxing the rest of this cr...stuff.”

The tree snapped together easily. Dean studied it. Being stuffed into the box had all of the branches kind of mushed together. He set about reorganizing the branches, aiming for the same fullness of the display tree they’d seen earlier. After he’d meticulously re-bent each twig, he stood back to assess his work. He judged it complete after a couple of tweaks and suddenly noticed the silence.

Cas and Sam had all of the tinsel, ornaments, and candy canes out of the box and ready to be added to the tree. They’d cleared the trash and settled in to… what? Watch him? Sam looked amused. Cas looked...he couldn’t really decide how Cas looked. His eyes were wide, his mouth was just slightly open, and when Dean met his glance, his tongue flicked out to wet the bow of his lower lip. He looks fucking HOT. Dean shook his head to clear it of the sudden flood of less than pure thoughts that tongue had jumpstarted.

“Right. Let’s decorate this bad boy.” Sam grabbed the tinsel, and Cas trailed after him toward the pre-lit tree. They stood on either side of the tree and passed the ropes of tinsel back and forth around the tree. After a brief discussion on the aesthetics of tinsel, they started a second round in the opposing direction. Dean helped himself to a candy cane.

I wonder if that purification blessing would work on these? He took a deep breath, whispered the spell, picked up the candy and joined the other men at the tree.

He set the boxes at the base of the tree and unwrapped a candy cane for each man. Without asking, he shoved one in first his brother’s then his angel’s mouths. Sam grunted. Cas raised an eyebrow.

That look...when the flavor registered for the angel his expression changed to one of bliss. No, THAT look. Holy fuck. Back down the rabbit hole of lust fueled images went his brain.

“I don’t remember these being this good. Must be a different brand.” Sam’s comment ripped Dean back from a particularly lewd image of licking the sweet mint flavor off Cas’s lips. He turned quickly to adjust himself under the guise of grabbing more ornaments. Get ahold of yourself man. Lusting after an angel has to be a one way ticket to hell. We’ve covered this a million times by now.

When he turned back to the tree, Cas had progressed from sucking on the cane to licking it delicately. Dean groaned. Sam laughed, a deep belly laugh, earning him a dirty look.

“Start decorating bitch.”

After that, Cas seemed to get with the program, allowing Dean to likewise regain his composure. It took less than half an hour to get all of the ornaments on the tree, then another fifteen minutes of rearranging, and the men were standing shoulder to shoulder to shoulder admiring their hard work.

“Get the lights Sam. Let’s light this thing UP!”

When the lights had flicked off, Dean plugged the tree in and silence fell over the room. Their tree really was something.

“Merry Christmas.” Dean whispered.

[danvssomethingorother]

Yondu Claus

Summary: While cleaning out the Quadrant, Peter finds an old box of his old letters to Santa.

A03 

For the 12 Days of Stamora. I wanted to do something different and didn’t focus directly on the holiday but its there and Stamora is there too but its subtle.

—

Hoarding was a nasty habit and it usually carried from ravager to ravager, it was their own little tradition. Ravagers only became what they were after a hard life of nothing, so it was no surprise hoarding became a nasty habit and it was hard, so hard to break.

Kraglin and Peter had been banned from cleaning together on this mission to make the Quadrant more livable for the seven of them. The last time they had worked together they had deemed every item they found in the cargo that had already been caving in with the garbage from ravagers that were dead and unable to use them, necessary and vital for the ship. They had even managed to get more shit in the already over packed cargo by transferring all the junk deemed garbage by the other guardians down there. They had reasoned if it was all in one place, it was out of the way but the others were less willing to accept that. They had jobs to do, they would need the cargo area one day, the shit with no use needed to go.

Both of them had been assigned chaperones while they cleaned and neither were happy to be treated like children.

Peter considered he got lucky though, sitting on the floor with Gamora over seeing him as he dug through a crate that had once belonged to Yondu opposed to his older brother who likely had a gun inches from his head while he argued with Rocket about why he should be able to keep this box.

“I know I’m not making this easy,” he finally said facing Gamora taking his attention off the box for a moment, “But its just…hard.”

Gamora sighed and squatted down on the floor next to him and nodded placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. She didn’t say anything and she didn’t need to, this was hard and they all knew it. Junking shit that belonged to dead people just didn’t feel right even if they had never personally known any of the ravagers that stashed their garbage in the third quadrant to keep anyone else from stealing their hoard.  

Looking at this garbage brought to mind his old home back on Earth and all his mother’s Earthly belongings. Her records, her tapes, that guitar she had tried to learn to play, that big basket of knitting supplies she inherited from her own mother, all long gone by now. All of it probably destroyed years ago, leaving nothing left of her on Earth. The only proof Peter would have to prove she was once here and had loved him had been destroyed by his own father, leaving nothing to remember her by. He took a large breath and Gamora helped steady him squeezing his shoulder tighter as he slid a crate close to him that had belonged to his adopted father.

He pulled a large, hole ridden sock that smelled like it was fresh off Yondu after he wore it for a month and groaned tossing it into the garbage pile. It was a little easier doing this without Kraglin at his side sliding rose colored glasses over his eyes painting a different picture of the past and convincing him they couldn’t get rid of that! It may look like garbage, but it has history.

Peter could tell you whatever history that nasty sock had and the equally as nasty underwear he pulled out after, he didn’t want to know and could just go without the smell.

Gamora smiled patting his arm and settling next to him to get a better view of the rest of the box with him.

“I know Yondu probably didn’t use half this shit after just tossing it in here neither did Tulk or Horuz or any of the other half a dozen men who hid their shit in here, but it still feels weird to have to get rid of their things. The things that proved they were here, that they were alive and lived on this ship longer then I have even been alive. Tossing the garbage should be easy but its not and I hope Rocket isn’t being too hard on Kraglin, he’s taking it way harder then I am.”  

“I think Rocket understands,” Gamora said simply touching the box silently asking permission to dig into it as well.

Peter nodded before speaking a little more of what was on his mind.

“I know. Rocket understands. Maybe even better then me….I wasn’t there for most of their deaths and caused Yondu’s.”

Gamora straightened and simply wrapped her arms around Peter’s waist and tilting her head firmly towards the box. Work through your pain, you will feel better soon and I love you that look told him firmly. Peter smiled, she understood what he needed.

“Ego killed Yondu and I will keep saying it till you believe it,” she said after a moment turning his head towards hers for a moment, “He killed your mother. You are no more at fault then I am. Being born is no more your fault then my own. We are what we are and we clean up the messes the monsters in our lives make.”

“First we clean out the garbage then we kill Thanos?” he asked smiling as her fingers gently swiped his tears back.

“Naturally, if you want to get more fame for killing another tyrant, you better get working on sorting that box.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mock saluted tossing another crusted and aged sock into the garbage pile.

In truth, Peter didn’t really know who Yondu was in life, neither had ever attempted to get a deep meaningful understanding of the other. Going through this garbage he had hoped to get to know the people who helped define him through what they left behind but so far he found most of it was meaningless garbage they were just trying to hide from the other crew members. Nothing they needed, nothing they really wanted, but god damn did they not want to part with it.

Quill wasn’t ready to tell Gamora but when he was younger he spent a lot of time here in this quadrant surrounded by this junk feeling he meant as much. Not useful, not loved, not wanted but kept around just in case. The part of his brain that was trained to feel and think that also kept it open that his friends felt that way about him too and being down here surrounded by all this junk that they were slowly but surely tossing into the trash made those unwanted thoughts break into his conscious mind.

There is only so much use you can get out of a novelty Terran who’s vocabulary mainly consisted of out dated pop culture references before you got bored and discarded it after all.  

“Who is ‘Santa’?”

Peter jerked his head towards Gamora who had begun digging in the box again while he took a small reprieve into his own self-pity. He didn’t answer her right away, furrowing his brows and taking the old note book page that was folded into a make shift envelope, yellowing around the edges from age but his scratchy hand-written word was readable still even after all this time. He choked on his own laugh taken by such surprise seeing it. He always assumed these notes would be lost to time but no, Yondu had found each and every one he realized digging further into the box and finding more pages like the one in his hand.

“Fuck,” he whispered shaking his head, “I thought these damn things were destroyed. I guess it makes sense Yondu found all my notes and hid them away before the rest of the crew could make fun of me. Damn hoarder, only he would keep this shit.”

“Who were they for? A relative of yours?” Gamora asked taking one of the notes from the crate that had been hidden under a large pile of dirty laundry.

“No,” he said beginning to turn red as he turned his head away, “Its going to sound really stupid. Probably even insane considering you barely know what Christmas is…”

“A religion?” she inquired and Peter chuckled shaking his head, turning the letter over in his hands not really wanting to open it yet.

“Kinda. I mean there is the Christ stuff but mom, she didn’t believe in god…” he sighed flicking the tiny folded letter back into box and staring off. She had a right to, but sadly she did give her devotion to a god and he destroyed her.

“It’s a Terran holiday. A gift giving holiday about peace and love and family and friends and all that good stuff. Santa was this dude who loved everyone and if you were good enough, he would give you gifts…”

Gamora sneered at that and shook her head.

“He must not have loved everyone equally if you have to be deemed worthy for him to give you gifts.”

“He wasn’t real,” Peter laughed, “I think he only existed to sell Coke products and for parents to instill fear into their kids about being nice or Santa won’t get you the toy you wanted.”

Peter fell into silence after that, just staring sadly at the dozens of letters because for him, so long ago, Santa was real. He was a kid with a dying mother, he was an orphan abducted by aliens and he needed desperately to believe in something. People around him in the hospital told him to pray, his mother sneered to his grandfather god didn’t exist and she didn’t want to see his bible again but she always softly assured him Santa was there and he was always watching and knew he was good. So Santa became a cathartic concept to vent his problems to in letters for years. Sticking those letters begging for help into mail boxes on Earth and sticking them into cargo crates on the Eclector. Maybe he always knew no one was going to help him and when he ran out of paper in his note book he stopped writing but they helped him have just enough hope to make it through that first year so he never complained. In hindsight it was obvious Yondu would find them.  

“Then why did you write to him so much?” Gamora asked picking up one of the letters and flipping it between her fingers.

“He was a magical being who people told me knew everything,” he said turning his smuggest smile Gamora’s way but she didn’t by it for a second, she saw the sadness and pulled him close to her as he talked. Head resting on his broad shoulder and hand rested in his hair.

“I was eight, stupid, scared and didn’t know what I wanted, I just knew I didn’t want to be here.”

“May I read one?” she asked kissing Peter on the cheek before pulling away from him to get a better look at the folded notes on the bottom of the crate, mixing them around to grab one at random.

Peter nodded but inside his insides were twisting up, he eyed the letter she began to unfold and wanted nothing more then to knock it from her hands.

“Dear Santa,

It’s me, Peter again, I know I keep writing to you and I’m not sure I have been good enough for you to grant me this big of a favor but can you please take me home or at least let me live in the North Pole with you? I could be an elf. I could be whatever ya wanted me to be. Please just help. Please. Last night one of the big aliens hit me and I have been in the vents for hours waiting for them all to go to bed. It hurts and I’m scared. I’m not even sure what I did wrong this time. I am trying so hard but he hates me so much. It’s like he just has fun pushing me around and I know no one cares enough about me to help. Please…I promise I will make it up however ya want. Just take me away from here.

Love, Peter Jason Quill.”

Peter remembered this letter and groaned to himself. One of the larger recruits like smacking him around when no one was looking and he was scared but didn’t want to go to Yondu fearing he would harm him for coming to him with useless problems. Again. He always shoved Peter away when he came to him afraid, so Peter hadn’t really trusted him to solve this problem and knew he couldn’t. So instead he made up a fantasy that someone could, if he was good enough and asked nice enough. He groaned and rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. He really was a brain dead child.

Peter was surprised when Gamora kept going.

“I may not be Santa but I took care of it. No need to be an elf, yer good enough where you are.”

Peter grabbed the letter from Gamora and looked at the sloppy hand writing underneath his own and stared in awe. Yondu had gotten rid of that guy, taking him out on a private mission he never came back from he remembered.

“Do you want to read the rest of them?” Gamora asked.

“No,” Peter whispered pocketing the letter, “This one is good.”

Gamora smiled at him and pulled him into a hug before declaring it was time for a break. Once Peter was half way across the room, she picked the box off the ground. Peter could read them whenever he was ready to see how much his adopted father did love him.

[landprince]

Sora had never tried to teach someone to speak before. He wasn’t even sure if it was feasible with the large language barrier between them already, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try his hardest to teach the merman how to have some semblance of a conversation with him.

As long as he tried, that’s all that mattered.

But where to actually start was the biggest issue Sora had with everything. When he was learning to talk, it took quite some time. Of course the merman wasn’t the same as an infant, but learning a whole new language took a lot of time, work, and dedication. Did he start with books? Just pointing things out and letting the merman copy him?

His head spun at all the things he might need to start teaching the merman to speak, and it was becoming dizzying to think upon as all the options started to pile up. Finally, he decided reading to the merman and looking at picture oriented books would be the best thing to probably start with. A picture was worth a thousand words, after all.

As soon as he woke up that day, Sora began digging through all his things his parents kept of his when he was a baby. He explained it was for nostalgia’s sake that he was digging through crates in the attic to keep his mother from pestering him and getting him to actually clean the place.

He had avoided it for months now; what was another day or two?

Through dust and cobwebs, he searched through sealed boxes and pulled out colorful stuffed animals, baby toys, clothes that he hadn’t seen since he was five, and a myriad of books that had helped teach him to start reading and speaking.

He began to worry about the mess he was making halfway in, and mentally made a note to actually clean up after he was done.

Simple children’s books were stuffed into the worn rucksack he always carried to the island before he wondered what else was needed. After a few moments of debate, he grabbed an empty notebook and several pencils and pens for the merman to start learning how to write. Maybe that would help?

After cleaning up the mess he had made of the attic and placing boxes back into neat piles, he deemed the place decently cleaned, at least enough his parents shouldn’t pester him about the state it was left in.

Raking a hand through spiky brown hair, Sora stomped down the steps that lead from his room to the den of his house. It was now the weekend and his mother occupied the room, sitting in the corner with the piano that had been in their family for three generations. Notes floated in the air, a beautiful sound as she pressed each key in quick succession perfectly.

“Sora,” she called out to him before he could slink out the door.

The boy froze in his steps as he reached the end of the stairs. He was hoping to get out without questions being asked. His father had already left for the day, and he was trying to calculate the time until his mother would have gone shopping, allowing Sora to slip out of the house undetected. But it seemed she either waited or wasn’t going today.

“Yes, mom?” he asked as he walked into the room. The pack he had slung over his shoulders jostled slightly as he walked, and he decided to slip his arms through the straps to make it easier to carry. Even though it was only thin, small books he carried, he had managed to shove in quite a few along with the snacks and drinks he was taking to the islands for the day.

His mother looked at him, never pausing in her flow of music as she did so. It always amazed Sora just how well she was attuned to the music and piano, finding keys without looking took a lot of skill and he was so proud of her for it.

“Make sure you’re back before dark. Do I need to fix Kairi a snack or anything before you go?”

He had been getting home a lot later because of his meetings with the merman, so he wasn’t surprised to hear his mother chide him about curfew again. He nodded, eager to accept these conditions and more than complacent in them.

“Sure, I’ll be back then,” he nodded, bouncing on his toes for a moment. He was filled with sudden excitement at the prospect of getting a snack to take to his best friend. His mother was great at cooking and he loved being able to bring gifts to people. “But I made a new friend this week. Can you make them a snack as well?”

The notes stopped as his mother rose from the sette, smiling ever patiently at him as she walked over to cup his face between her hands. Sora smiled, hands quickly covering his mother’s as she leaned down to kiss his nose.

“Of course, Sora. Do you know what they like?” She asked after lavishing his face in affectionate pecks and causing the boy to giggle and halfheartedly struggle to escape the onslaught of affection before she released him.

The boy frowned, lips pulling into a deep scowl and brows furrowing as he thought on what a merman might eat. “..... Fish?”

His mother laughed before ruffling his hair and directing him to follow her into the kitchen. “How much about your new friend do you know?” Her question was teasing, light, yet also full of parental caution. Her worry was noticeable and Sora didn’t want to worry her.

“He’s new and doesn’t speak much,” Sora was quick to assure her, trying to soothe her worry without really revealing too much. While she wouldn’t make fun of him for admitting his friend was a merman, he also didn’t know how well that would go over if she truly believed him.

“It’s hard understanding him much since he’s…. Foreign.” The words tumbled off his tongue and he already felt flushed with nervousness at how lame the excuse sounded.

“‘Foreign’ huh?” His mother raised a brow, lips quirked into a disbelieving smirk before a more serious expression took over. “So what’s he like? I’m not entirely comfortable with the thought of you hanging around strangers alone.”

He vehemently shook his head, hands flying up to wave back and forth. It was almost as if he was trying to physically push away his mother’s worries about him being baited by strangers.

“He’s not a bad guy!” he exclaimed, jumping at the defense of the merman. His arms fell to his sides and he lifted his head to look his mother in the eyes as he spoke. She was only a few inches taller than he was, his growth spurt late and keeping his stature rather small for now. He didn’t mind being small, but he knew in his mother’s eyes his size made him more child-like.

Sucking in a breath, Sora walked over to the small table and two chairs shoved in a cramped corner of the kitchen, and took a seat. His mother was quick to react and took the opposite seat, staring him down firmly as if she dared him to lie to her. He wouldn’t reveal everything, but at least tell his mother enough about the merman to ease her fears that he was talking to some creep.

“I really don’t know much about him yet,” Sora admitted. He internally winced as his mother only seemed to become more worried and he was quick to try and soothe her once again. “We met only a week and a half ago on the beach.”

“Is he new to the islands then?”

Sora nodded, fingers drumming nervously against the table as he continued speaking; it was another nervous habit he hadn’t broken yet. “I think so. He doesn’t speak much and hasn’t really been able to tell me. He’s from… somewhere I’ve probably never heard of before.”

His mother, thankfully, didn’t take the chance to tease him about his poor study skills in that moment. He mentally made a note to actually clean the attic within the week because of it.

“You keep saying ‘he’,” his mother pointed out. “Does he have a name?”

Sora’s face burned hot at the question. He’d been kissed by the merman, twice now, but the language barrier between them prevented Sora from learning his name. In a way it felt…. Wrong. Here he was, kissing a creature of myth, and not even knowing his name between kisses.

“I---” Sora trailed off, unable to look his mother in her eyes as he fessed up. “Well, if he has, then I haven’t been able to understand him.”

Sora’s nose scrunched up as he placed his arms on the table, head falling to the surface and forehead lightly smacking the wood. “I feel bad for not knowing it. But he speaks a whole different language.”

Pausing in his laments for the moment, Sora sat up straight so he could shrug out of the backpack and place it on the table. Unzipping it, he pulled out the books he had tossed in several minutes ago and showed them to his mother.

“I’m going to try and teach him.”

His mother hummed thoughtfully, expression neutral as she ran her hands over the worn covers of Sora’s childhood books.

“So you can’t speak to him or understand him at all?” She looked up to see Sora shake his head in confirmation. “So how do you two communicate then?”

“We gesture mostly.” Sora carefully put the books back into the pack and zipped it up once more. “He likes touching my hair a lot. I think he thinks it’s weird.”

His mother giggled softly. “It’s because it’s so hard to tame, my sea star.”

Sora’s head shot up at the nickname his mother hadn’t called him in ages. A new wave of embarrassment washed over him at the loving name. “I make sure to brush it!”

Reaching up, Sora tugged at once of the brown spikes, fiddling with it for a moment before releasing it and allowing his hair to become an unruly mess once again. “It’s not my fault it doesn’t listen.”

“Is that why your hair is even messier when you come home now?” She asked, eyes sparkling in mischief.

The boy shrugged. “No more than usual. But he doesn’t really help the problem.” Sora broke off to laugh softly as he thought of a memory of the merman playing with his hair from the previous night. “He’s really nice though and looks out for me. I just--- Wish I could talk to him now instead of probably months away.”

“So what’s he like?”

“Like I said: we haven’t really known each other long.” Leaning back in his chair, Sora began thinking about the past week he had spent in the merman’s company. It was nice to think about on, and made his heart flutter momentarily as he thought on if he should tell his mother that he had been kissed, too.

“He’s very strong, and looks out for me--”

His mother quickly cut him off. “Are those older boys messing with you again?”

“No, mom,” he answered with a quick shake of his head. Two older boys often put Sora under the brunt of their teasing, but it never had gotten farther than words. “They don’t give me trouble anymore.”

His mother relaxed once again, sated in the knowledge that her child wasn’t under siege from bullies.

“But he’s super into swimming.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie. “He’s a really good swimmer, and the fastest I’ve ever seen.”

“That night you came home soaked down to your bones, did you have a swim with him?” Head canted, her lips were quirked into a wry grin.

“It was an accident!” Reaching up to rub bashfully at his cheek, Sora huffed lightly and averted his gaze, sinking lower in his seat as his mother started to laugh good naturedly. “He sort of surprised me and I fell out of the boat.”

It was true. When the merman kissed him the first time, Sora had capsized the rowboat in his hurry to get away from him. Sora wound up completely drenched and dripped water everywhere when he got home that night.

“You can always do with a good soak, Sora.”

“Mom!” He shouted, face now burning at the teasing. Crossing his arms defiantly over his chest, he huffed and made a show of being upset for the sake of hearing his mother laugh.

He always loved seeing her happy, and knew she had been worried about him being out so often lately. It was nice being home, talking with her and just enjoying her presence.

Sora had been aching with the secret of knowing a mythological creature existed and being the only one to know it so far, but he was getting out all the pressure it put on him by talking with her now. Even his best friend, Kairi, didn’t know as much as his mom was being told right now.

“I’m a little worried he might just disappear one day though,” Sora said, bringing the conversation back into a serious tone. His mother abruptly stopped her laughter, and quietly focused on Sora as he spoke. “He just…. Showed up one day, disappeared a few days, then showed up again two days ago. What if he leaves again?”

“Surely you can communicate somehow if he does?” His mother was frowning, trying to help him rationalize his fears, but in doing so it made the thought of teaching the merman to speak and read a heavier burden.

What if he put in all this effort and the merman just left before he could speak with him?

“Yeah, but what if we can’t before he does? What if he just leaves and I never see or hear from him again?”

“Then at least you have your memories of someone who was once very important to you.” His mother reached across the table to grab hold of Sora’s hand. He felt her give a gentle, reassuring squeeze before smiling.

The silence around them was heavy for a moment, then his mother released him and jumped up to her feet. “But I’m supposed to be making snacks for you, Kairi, and your new friend, aren’t I?”

Sora’s eyes sparkled in delight as he was added into the mix. “I’m getting one too?” He asked. He had already stashed away two sandwiches and a few cans of juice in his backpack, but getting an actual homemade lunch would be much better.”

“Of course, my sea star,” his mother was quick to answer as she began pulling things out of the fridge. “But only if you help me and promise me that you’ll clean the attic sometime this week. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about that.”

Now that it was an actual chore and not something he wanted to do, Sora was adamantly wanting to avoid cleaning the attic.

Sora let out a pitiful noise of feigned distress.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

And The AWRD Goes To... (Part 32)

“Sweet Mother Beatrix, how is it even possible to have stored all of this without the house falling off from the sheer weight concentrated in this section alone?!” Diana cried as she sat on a crate, sweating and exhausted.

“It’s a skill myself, Nick, and the rest of the original crew picked up when we were still jetting all across Remnant on expeditions,” Freya said as she sat right beside her, holding her scroll out and tracking how many more boxes Ruby and Akko needed to take out. “As he would say: ‘It’ll fit, you just have to pack it in the right order.’”

“Mayhaps Atlas’ research into super-efficient storage containers should consult with you,” Diana muttered.

“We would, if not for how some of their new breed of researchers can be with the very notion that a problem has already been solved, before they brought their expertise and modern equipment to it,” Freya spat.

“I think we’ve got the last of them!” Ruby called out through scroll, before she read out the labels and their serial codes.

Freya double-checked her record, before she said, “Verified, that is indeed the last batch.”

“Really?” Akko asked. “Are you sure there isn’t more? Because I don’t feel that tired yet.”

“Fret not, Akko, you’ll probably be begging to be hauled back to bed once you’re done working through all your new reading assignments,” Freya replied. “Shutting off communications now, see you two back here.”

Diana groaned. “I really rather regret taking advantage of Atlas’ high-speed trams to get everywhere...”

“As someone who once thought she’d be just fine being the ‘intellectual’ of a dust prospecting team: yes, it would do you well to work on at least your cardio from here on out,” Freya said as she put her scroll back in her pocket. “If nothing else, be faster than the slowest member of your team.”

Ruby and Akko arrived soon after with a trolley loaded with Akko’s old study notes. “So, what’s next, Diana?” Akko asked as she and Ruby started loading the boxes from earlier onto it.

“What’s next is that we all get a fresh change of clothes before we head out, then all of us get a bath!” Diana replied as she and Freya got off the box. “I’m sorry, I understand the attitudes about personal hygiene are very different here in Mistral, but I just can’t while we’re all like this!” she cried, gesturing to herself.

“Bath first it is, Diana!” Akko replied. “You want to bike to Hoshiko, or just use the stream by here? I gotta warn you, though: the first is really tiny, and the second’s always cold, since it flows in from the tundras up north.”

“Stream, to save time,” Diana replied as she stepped past the doors leading to Nick’s workshop and Freya’s laboratory, and back to the living room. “It’s probably what I’m going to be stuck with come second year and when I’m deploying out in the field for real, might as well get used to it now!”

“Are you sure?” Akko asked as she and Ruby followed after her. “We need to have a wood stove right there for winter and really cold days, because otherwise we’d freeze.”

“Feel free to use it, we don’t lack for firewood up here!” Freya called out.

Diana sighed as she opened the front door. “Akko, Dr. Schnee, I lived in Atlas; I’m pretty sure all my years of winter survival classes, field trips, and venturing outdoors in general have adequately prepared me for the ravages of the cold, whatever phenomenon is sapping the heat from my body.

“Your concern is appreciated, but trust me: I’ll be fine.”

“Well, if you say so, Diana!” Akko said as she and Ruby hauled the trolley out and to the elevator, before they were off to the training grounds.

Aside from physical conditioning and combat training, it also had facilities for trade skills and much more theoretical and practical learning, such as a small shaded classroom with a well-worn blackboard and simple desks, a bare-bones workbench with the tools missing, and a counter for both chemistry and cooking, cast iron pots and pans present and stored underneath, but no glassware to be seen.

To Diana’s surprise, however, Akko kept on leading them on till they reached what looked like a massive, sprawling obstacle course, with platforms built up in the trees, tunnels and slides, sturdy climbing nets and rope ladders, even a series of zip-lines and pulleys to get people and materials around quickly and efficiently.

“Is this where you usually studied?” Diana asked as they started unloading the boxes.

“Yep!” Akko replied. “I pretty much know this place by heart from all the times Uncle Nick had me run it for agility practice; just have to combine the muscle memory with all the other stuff, and it’s just going through it enough times that I can run through it in my head, even while I’m sitting still, or especially while I’m taking a test.

“Does that make sense?”

“I suppose I’ll just have to see how it work later...” Diana muttered. “Where’s the stream again?” she asked as they reached the last of the boxes.

“Just over there, actually,” Akko pointing off into the distance. “Want to head out now?”

“Yes,” Diana said, picking up a Duffel bag with all their clothes and towels and handing it to Akko.

“You guys go on without me,” Ruby said as she scanned the labels on the crates, pulled out her scroll. “I wanted to actually crack open these boxes and see how it might all fit together, have it on the back-burner,” she said as she started scribbling with her quill.

“Alright, but don’t take too long!” Diana said. “I’d like for all of us to be present and setting this up as soon as possible.”

“I won’t, I promise!” Ruby said as she wrote.

Akko and Diana headed off to a well-worn wooden path leading downhill, the brush and the branches recently trimmed and cut back. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Akko, what was it that you said exactly to Weiss all those years back?” Diana asked as they walked at an unhurried pace.

“It was a speech I made up on the spot after I helped Weiss get out of one of her most serious depression funks,” Akko said. “I didn’t want to say it because it’s really long, Weiss’ looked tired from all the crying, and you’d need a lot of the context and history between us to really understand most of what I was saying, and why it was so important.”

“Do you mind enlightening me about some of it, then?” Diana asked. “How you two met, and became friends would be a good place to start.”

“Oh, that’s easy! A long, long time back, when Shiny Chariot was still performing, I wanted to know everything there was about her—looked up all the CCT sites, read all the interviews and the press releases, even tried to send messages to all the people that worked with her to try and learn more about her, like the head of her technician crew, Croix Meridies.

“Well, the first two didn’t have as much as I wanted to know, and a lot of the third just never replied to me, or sent me one of those canned responses— except Croix, anyway. I still have her response on my scroll, actually,” Akko said, pulling it out, opening the decades old message, before handing it to Diana.

“’You ruin the wonder of a magic trick as soon as you learn how it’s done. Ask yourself if you really want to know, Akko.’” Diana read. “Well...” she muttered as she handed it back. “That’s… cryptic, and more than a little ominous.”

“Yep!” Akko said put her scroll back into her pocket. “At first I thought it was just her saying I’d spoil the fun of her shows, but then, after all the news that popped up after she stopped performing… aaaanyway, I was a super huge fan, and I was desperate for anyone, anything that could tell me anything new about Chariot.

“And it just so happened that this was right around the time Weiss and the rest of her family sans her dad moved here to Mistral.

“I always knew that Uncle Nick and Aunt Freya lived up in that house by the mountains, but they mostly just kept to themselves, and all I knew about them was that they were retired from their old jobs except when people called in favours, that Uncle Nick was super nice to everyone even if he shouts and swears a lot, and Aunt Freya is a mean old lady you don’t want to mess with.

“Well, I mean, they still are, but you get what I’m saying, right?”

“Right.”

“Anyway, I was trying to talk with her and make friends while her family was having lunch out at Hoshiko this one time—you know, just in general, because they’re new and anyone moving in is big news—and since I opened up with how much I love Shiny Chariot, Uncle Nick mentioned how he and Aunt Freya actually worked with Chariot and Croix back when they were studying at Haven.

“It was mostly because of their finding the Shiny Rod then, but Croix’s work in aura tech and dust applications caught their attention, too.”

“But why them, specifically?” Diana asked. “I’d have understood if they were full-time staff like they are right now, but why not any of the many other scientists, archaeologists, and/or engineers in Remnant?”

“Two reasons, Uncle Nick told me.

“One: they had a LOT of hands-on experience dealing with weird, mysterious crap no one understands—dust deposits big enough for a mine usually tend to attract a lot of weirdness, generally the kind that could kill you, seriously mess you up, or both.

“Two: it was easy to just call them up whenever and they’d come over, and because Croix and Chariot got into a LOT of trouble, pretty much all the time, it was hard to get anyone you had to get an appointment with a few weeks ahead of time, let alone have around almost as much as the full-time staff.

“Oh, hey, we’re already here!” Akko said as they rounded a bend.

Diana looked around, saw they were indeed at a gently burbling stream, the path ending at a wooden platform with benches for sitting; large tubs for throwing filthy clothes in; what looked like an antique washing machine if not for the clearly modern components; the wood stove Akko mentioned earlier; and toiletries and smaller tubs like in the Haven bathhouse.

“Guess I’m just going to have to tell the rest of the story another time!” Akko said as she put her bag down by the benches, started stripping out of her clothes and tossing it into one of the big tubs. “You sure you don’t want to try and fire up the stove?”

“It’ll take too much time,” Diana said as she followed suit. “As necessary as that conversation with Weiss was, it rather broke our original schedule.”

“Suit yourself!” Akko said, tossing Diana a tub, before she tested the water with her foot. She yelped, before she laughed, and waded in, shivering slightly. “It’s colder than usual today, Diana, last chance!” she said as she leaned down and scooped up some water.

“Again, I appreciate the concern, but it’s unnecessary,” Diana said as she tested the water, too. She bit back a yelp as she pulled her foot back—it was cold, really cold.

Splash!

Akko squealed with laughter, shivering for a moment before she reached out for the pump bottle of soap, and lathered up her hands and her arms. So it was that Diana figured that if Akko could handle dumping a tub full of freezing cold water over her head, she’d be fine.

Splash!

She was wrong.

Diana felt her body lock up as the tub fell from her hands, making a splash as it hit the water, floating for a bit before silently coming to a stop to a wooden bar made just for that. The scream that came from her as soon as she regained control was much, much, much louder.

Akko flinched, instinctively looked around in case Grimm had sneaked up on them. She relaxed when all she found was Diana now shivering and hugging herself, trying not to whimper or tear up. “Too cold…?”

Diana shakily nodded her head.

“Want to fire up the stove?”

Diana carefully turned to Akko and shook her head. “I-I-I’ll...” she started, before a cool breeze came by and her teeth chattered too hard to speak.

“Want me to use an old trick me and the others used when it was WAY colder than we expected?” Akko asked.

Diana furiously nodded her head.

“Okay!” Akko said as she waded over.

Diana’s eyes widened as she began her from behind, a noise died in her throat as she felt Akko’s soapy hands on her stomach, her cheeks began to heat up as she felt Akko pressing her chest against Diana’s back.

“Hugging always works, whether it’s warming up before soaping up, or keeping warm while we wait for the water to heat up!” Akko explained cheerfully.

A few moments later, Ruby rounded the bend herself. “Hey guys, so just studying the materials and the instructions for setting it up didn’t really...”

Silence.

“Oh.”

“No! Not ‘Oh.’!” Diana would have cried if she could, but instead it just came out as a pained whimper.

“We’re just hugging because the water was too cold for Diana!” Akko called out.

Ruby slowly nodded her head. “Should I go…?” she asked as she thumbed back the way she came.

“No!” Diana managed, even if it was just a whimper.

“… Okay then!” Ruby said as she headed down to join them. “So, how’s the water?” she asked as she took off her hooded jacket, laid it out on one of the benches.

“It’s a lot colder usual!” Akko replied. “I don’t know if you can handle it, so might want to pour it slowly than just dump it all over your head than Diana did. I’m good for hugging if it’s too cold with you too, by the way!”

“Thanks, appreciate it!” Ruby said as she stripped out of the rest of her clothes, stepped a foot into the water. “Woah!” she cried as she pulled it back. “Man, you weren’t kidding!” she said as she grabbed her own tub, and waded in.

“Want to try and fire up the wood stove?” Akko asked, still hugging Diana. “Diana might not agree to it, though.”

“Nah, it’s cool—it’s not nearly as bad as some of the winter-time courier runs I’ve had!” Ruby replied, before she dumped some water over her head.

Splash!

Ruby squealed with laughter, shivering before she set the tub down besides Akko’s. “Yep, not nearly as bad—and I don’t even need to keep moving to stay warm!”

“Speaking of which… you all better now, Diana?” Akko said, casting a glance at her.

Diana nodded, her face red. “Yes… you can let go now, Akko...” she whispered.

Akko did, and the three of them went back to cleaning themselves up, though Diana was noticeably quiet as she faced away from them. However, things quickly went back to normal as they toweled themselves off, changed into fresh clothes, and headed back to the Training Grounds.

“You were saying earlier, Ruby?” Diana asked as she looked the opened boxes, some of their contents laid out.

“Studying them by myself wasn’t as productive as I thought it would be,” Ruby replied. “The instructions for setting them up had a lot of short-hand and code that I can’t really understand. Lack of proper, legible documentation: as much a problem in engineering as it is in programming,” she finished with a nod.

“Really sorry about that,” Akko said as she unpacked their test model. “We used to make it easier for other people to understand, until we realized it was really only just me, Weiss, and the rest of her family setting these up, so we all got used to reading the code without a key on hand to save time and effort.”

“None of your other friends ever helped with these reviews?” Ruby asked.

Akko visibly winced as she was pulling out rolled up tarpaulins.

“… Sorry.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” Akko said as she pulled out the rest of them. “I figured it was going to come up at some point, anyway, so I might as well tell you guys that I was always the one dragging the entire class behind. I was pretty terrible at basically everything about being a huntress, up until I became friends with Weiss, and Uncle Nick and Aunt Freya started offering to have me over for training and tutoring over the summer and on Saturdays.

“I couldn’t get good grades at grade school, sucked at all the electives meant to get a leg up for when I was old enough for combat school, and because my aura levels were super low back then, and I found my semblance SUPER late, no one really wanted to be teammates with me.

“It was even harder when Shiny Chariot disappeared, and everyone but me seemed to forget all about her...” she muttered as she pulled out a box full of random knickknacks, got a far-off look in her eyes. “… So, yeah, even if this IS how I learn best, it’s going to be a hell of an uphill climb in a snowstorm, and you forgot your warm jacket at home.”

Diana put a hand on her shoulder, and smiled. “Fret not, Akko: I know the feeling.”

Akko looked at her in surprise. “You do...? But you’re super good at, well, everything.”

“But it wasn’t always that way,” Diana countered. “My aura levels were exceptionally low when it was unlocked for me, and it took a full two years for me to finally manifest my family’s semblance. I only have such ease with academics because I spent all my free time in my family’s library studying, or training, which, ah…”

She sheepishly looked away. “… Had its own consequences... mostly to my social life as well, actually.”

Akko blinked, before she smiled. “Huh. You know, it’s kinda funny how we’re all so similar in a lot of ways; except for Weiss, I thought we couldn’t all be more different, like oil and water, wouldn’t mix kind of different.”

“’Dig deeper,’” Ruby said.

“Pardon?” Diana asked.

“’Dig deeper,’” Ruby repeated. “It’s what we said in the Bunker, when it seems like there was someone who felt like they couldn’t make friends with anyone. You just gotta open up more, till you find the thing that’ll make someone want to open up to you, too, and when that happens, you can start making a real connection.

“… Well, actually, we also said that because our storage facilities only ever went deeper and deeper down because of how the school is designed and because we can’t really expand horizontally, and sometimes something gets literally buried underneath a whole lot of other crap…

“But you know what I mean, right?”

“Right,” Diana said. “Look, much as I enjoy how much we’re all bonding, opening up, and strengthening our friendship here, we should really get to studying. Team AWRD to work…?” she said, hesitantly raising her palm in the air.

“To work!” Akko and Ruby replied, smiles on their faces as they started grabbing materials, and setting it all up.

[pixiealtaira]

First Night In A New Home…or Not

Kadam week prompt four (Wednesday’s)

authors note...this and one more are finished and two other tales took on lives of their own and will be a bit longer to be seen.  I think the ones I’m posting today are mostly error free but not guaranteeing anything.

First Night In A New Home…or Not

The thing was, it was one of those moments that the instinct was to laugh, but Adam could tell that Kurt was actually hurt.

He left Kurt reading one of the texts for History of the Theater America 1800 to 1918 to take his shower, no problems at all.  They were in the process of moving n together and had bought together a bedroom set which was to be delivered the next day.  That simply meant that the bed was only on a metal frame, and had no headboard or footboard and their clothing was in boxes or hung up.  And that, right then, their side tables were stacked milk crates…the plastic kind.  It also meant that their windows had been open a good part of the day as movers actually moved a few items up and through the window (which was a bit bizarre, but who was Adam to argue with city movers.)

Things were fine, Adam guessed, until about half way through washing his hair when he heard a HUGE crash in the bedroom, lots of cussing and then another crash.  The silence was unnerving and Adam shut the shower off and ran out, soap not all the way rinsed out of his hair, to see what was wrong.

Kurt’s foot was somehow through one of the crates, jammed in a whole on the top, which was now the side as the crate had tipped.  The clock and their cell phones were across the room, like they’d been pushed off the crate, and Kurt was face down on the floor with the fly swatter in one hand and his other covering his nose.  Adam could see two flies on the ceiling, right above the bed.

“Kurt!” Adam yelled, rushing over to him.

Kurt turned his head and glared.

“Are you alright?”

Kurt’s glare intensified.

“Can you move?”

“My foot is stuck and I cannot turn over and I think I wrenched my knee and my shoulder and my nose is bleeding, but not broken and I bumped my head good and No I cannot bloody turn over.  Adam, you are wet and dripping on my floors.”

“Yes, and still soapy.  Darling you are hurt.  Should we try to move you or call 911?”

Kurt sighed.  “Adam, I think you missed something.”

Adam looked at Kurt again.  “Oh.”

“Yes, Oh.  We had better be able to move me because I will not be seen by paramedics bare butt naked!” Kurt screamed, then immediately winced. “Ow.  Yelling hurts.  I might have bruised some ribs.”

“What should I do first?”  Adam asked.

“Put the crate my foot is caught in on the floor all the way and roll me over, carefully. Then go rinse off and put on some clothes.”

Adam got Kurt rolled over and they got his foot out of the crate before Adam went and finished his shower while Kurt called 911.  Adam was back out and dressing before Kurt even finished his call and they had managed to slide boxers onto Kurt before the paramedics arrived. They had not managed anything else.

Of course the first thing the two men asked was what happened.

“I fell.” Kurt answered.

“We need to know exactly what happened.” The larger of the two men insisted.

Kurt sighed.

“There were flies.  Two. They kept dive bombing me while I tried to study.  I got annoyed and got the fly swatter.  They landed on the ceiling.  I stood on the bed and tried to reach where they had landed with the swatter. I took a step and it wasn’t more bed, just the very edge. I kicked the crate that held the clock and our phones, they went flying. I was losing balance so I figured the crates were more sturdy than these shit pieces are…the ones I had as a kid certainly were.  I put the foot that was still wavering in midair down on the crate.  My foot went through, it tilted sideways and the rest of me went down. Face first.  I know my nose is bruised at least, I can feel it.  At least two bruised if not cracked ribs, but not fully broken, jacked up shoulder, jacked up my knee, probably goose eggs on my forehead and I bruised my chin. And of course my foot.”

The less large man, who’d been the one actually checking over Kurt, nodded along.

The other man looked around, noticing where the flyswatter was still lying on the floor and where the bottom crate was resting.  Then he looked at Kurt again.

“You also have scratched down your side and under you boxer waistband.” He finally said.

Kurt turned beet red took a deep breath and sat up straighter. “Yes, well, I am sorry but I refuse to meet any of New York’s finest in my birthday suit if I don’t absolutely have to!”

“Why were you naked if you were studying?”

“Do you sleep with your other half fully dressed?” Kurt snapped.

“But it’s not even that late!”

“You are so not married.” Kurt snarled.  “For your information, we moved in today.  We’ve moved boxes and trunks and suitcases and furniture all day long. We watched our piano hoisted on cables through our front window!  And oddly enough just because someone takes a day off from classes to move, most professors don’t just say…’poor dears, your classes and homework  are waived until you are all settled in’.  Nope.  They say ‘have it in tomorrow or you get a zero, have fun!’  A few even cackled.”

“Kurt darling…” Adam said soothingly, as if trying to calm a scared animal.

The paramedic working directly on Kurt was trying not to laugh.

However Kurt was beyond soothing. “So, I took a hot shower and went to sit in my bed while my lover took his shower.  I have no blasted time to waste so while I was waiting, in hopes of luring my love into hot steamy gay sex as soon as he was done, I read my blasted book and got dive bombed by the fucking flies!  Which I then tried to murder in cold blood but instead ended up putting my foot through our makeshift side table and nearly killing myself! Are you happy now?”

The large man looked at Kurt like he’d grown two heads and the paramedic working on Kurt lost it as Kurt screamed.

“I’ll just go call down and have Del bring up the stretcher.” The larger man said very softly, backing away slowly.

“Adam, my head hurts.” Kurt said.

“I am sure it does, Kurt.” Adam replied. “I am sure once they have you at the ER and we get you looked over very carefully, they’ll get you something for that.”

“Ok.” Kurt replied. “Adam, I think you’re going to have to call Madame Tibideaux and tell her I’m not making it in tomorrow.  Tell her I’ll bring a note from my doctor.”

“I’ll do that right now,” Adam said. “And I’m going to go put on shoes so I can hopefully go with you to the ER.  I’ll also call Isabelle.”

Then Kurt sniffed.

“Adam, do you think he’s gonna be mad at me?” Kurt asked.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you if you want him to.” Adam said.

“Ok. Adam, my head hurts.”

“I think Kurt here has a concussion.  I’m John, by the way.  Don’t worry Kurt, it is good for Manny to be yelled at every once in a while.  He doesn’t always think before he says things. Nice guy, good at the job…no people skills.” The paramedic who had been working on Kurt said. Kurt just looked at John with a dazed gaze. John turned to talk to Adam. “I don’t think his nose is broken. We’ll run a full set of x-rays to be certain about it though. That looked to be a nasty fall. Why don’t you put together a bag of clothes for him, so when we are all done he’ll have something to wear to come home in.  Loose, like sweats.”

“I don’t think he owns any.” Adam said.  “I’ll have to pack him some of mine. Oh God, if he ends up in casts we are going to have to go shopping.”

“What can I say,” Kurt mumbled.  “I’m fabulous.”

Adam was ready with packed bags and all sorts of documentation and Kurt’s cell phone with his dad on speed dial number two (and Adam was ecstatic he was in the number one spot) so that when they got the stretcher up and Kurt loaded he could travel with him in the ambulance, where Kurt just kept complaining his head hurt and Cassie July was going to kill him.

Adam was allowed to sit with him while Kurt was checked out and in the section he’d been in while Kurt was whisked away for x-rays, except when he was on Kurt’s cell with Kurt’s dad so he could fill out all Kurt’s paper work. Luckily Kurt was seen quickly all throughout the night, waiting mostly for the next person who needed to care for him to come in and do their bit.

It was about 9am, a whole 14 hours pretty much, when they were released. Kurt was on crutches, with his foot and his knee in braces.  He hadn’t broken ribs or his nose or cracked his skull, luckily.   His shoulder had only been bruised and the nurse assured Adam that his concussion wouldn’t take more than a day or two until that was fine as well.

His foot and knee?  Well those would take a good six weeks to fully heal.  Kurt wasn’t happy. He was going to have to redo his dance courses and maybe two or three other ones as well. He was talking to his bosses of both his jobs when he got home and would hopefully still have them at the end. And he was still feeling guilty for screaming at the big guy.

Adam tucked Kurt into his side as they caught the taxi to take them home and then helped him into the elevator and into their apartment when they got to the building.  He settled Kurt onto the sofa and called the delivery service who was supposed to be bringing in their bedroom set, to ask if he could pay extra for them to completely put it together, feeling very fortunate that they hadn’t missed them while at the hospital.

“Adam.” Kurt called from where he was starting to doze off on the couch.

“One moment, love” Adam called, jotting down on a pad of paper the new amount that he’d need to give the delivery men for set up as well as delivery.

“Adam!” Kurt yelled.

Adam hung up and raced to the Kurt’s side.

“What’s wrong?” Adam said.  He worried Kurt’s concussion was worse or he’d hurt his leg more.

“The flies are still here, Adam.  And they are dive bombing me.” Kurt said.

“I’ll fix it.” Adam reassured Kurt, heading into the bedroom to fetch the fly swatter.  He had a feeling he knew what he was spending most of his day doing.

[wildlyhardphilosopher-blog]

How to Get Your UNFOCUSED Dog to LISTEN to You RIGHT NOW! ("Leave it"/"Look at Me" Combo), | puppy training classes prices

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Svizzera j SuperZoo 2018 – Searching For The Latest And Greatest Pet Products Starmark Pro-Training Dog Collar, Large Exercise & Play Housetraining ground rule No. 1: Never leave your un-housetrained dog unattended. Not even for a minute. If you aren’t actively engaged with your dog, having her in the same room with you doesn’t count. It’s very important not to give her opportunities to fail at housetraining. If you can’t engage with your dog, which of course isn’t possible every minute of every day, she should be in her crate. Yes, I said crate! Families should reward good behavior and redirect or ignore unwanted behavior. By setting clear boundaries, such as not allowing… read full article Kitten Food Puppy Preschool About Purina open Grain-Free (6) Consistency is key when learning how to potty train a puppy. You can easily set up a routine by feeding, watering, and letting your pup out of his crate at the same times every day. This will also help your new pup develop bladder control. Based on the principles of social learning, model-rival training uses a model, or a rival for attention, to demonstrate the desired behaviour.[65] The method was used by Irene Pepperberg to train Alex the African Grey Parrot to label a large number of objects. McKinley and Young undertook a pilot study on the applicability of a modified version of the model-rival method to the training of domestic dogs, noting that the dog’s origins as a member of large and complex social groups promote observational learning. The model-rival training involved an interaction between the trainer, the dog, and a person acting as a model-rival, that is, a model for desired behaviour and a rival for the trainer’s attention. In view of the dog, a dialogue concerning a particular toy commenced between the trainer and the model-rival. The trainer praised or scolded the model-rival depending on whether the model-rival had named the toy correctly. It was found that the performance times for completion of the task were similar for dogs trained with either operant conditioning or the model rival method. In addition, the total training time required for task completion was comparable for both methods.[66] The benefits from learning from a trainer of trainers are numerous. Rather than focusing on one training method and hoping for the best, Professor Donaldson has worked with numerous approaches, so she is well aware of the frustrations and concerns that come with the trendy training methods—especially since many of them are based on old “pack status” assumptions that have been debunked. Instead, Professor Donaldson has honed a data-driven technique that has been validated by current behavior science. By taking a holistic approach and grounding her methodology in current research around how dogs think and react, you get a unique and accessible approach that works for both you and your dog. Save an extra $5.00 at checkout Humane Investigations Corte Madera Designer Step 2: Decide a Schedule For Exercise, Training And Play I recommend using newspapers with a very young puppy, confined to a single room with an easy to clean floor. Keep your training sessions short, consistent and always have fun. The key to shaping your puppy’s behavior is to start out with very easy commands, continue to build on these successes and apply heaps of repetition. Base your puppy training sessions around trust and mutual respect rather than old school methods based on punishment, avoidance and harsh corrections. In this environment you will find that your puppy loves his training sessions and his confidence will grow with each and every session. Before you ever try to get your pup to step foot in their new crate, or even step near it, place the crate in a room where your dog spends a lot of his or her time. Remove or open the crate door, so your dog feels secure about exploring the ins and outs of their soon-to-be home. If he naturally shy’s away, that’s okay. Don’t force your dog to become familiar, rather try sitting beside the crate, and speaking to your pup in a friendly tone, placing treats around, and then eventually inside the crate until he finally steps in. Placing a familiar blanket or toy inside the crate is also a great way to entice them to enter. Pups should not be allowed to growl over food, especially if there are children in the household. Get our entertainment, dining and things to do newsletter right in your inbox weekly. Local Animal Control Agencies Find a Hospital Dogs for the Visually Impaired Youth Impact Programs Learn more at nomnomnow.com Private Adoption Brooklyn, NY z Obviously, your puppy will feel the need to bark, chew, and eliminate throughout the course of the day, and so she must be left somewhere she can satisfy her needs without causing any damage or annoyance. Your puppy will most probably eliminate as far as possible from her sleeping quarters-in her doggy toilet. By removing all chewable items from the puppy playpen-with the exception of hollow chewtoys stuffed with kibble-you will make chewing chewtoys your puppy’s favorite habit, a good habit! Long-term confinement allows your puppy to teach herself to use an appropriate dog toilet, to want to chew appropriate chewtoys, and to settle down quietly. 38 min read Question of the Day Kids Clubs If you are using the crate for more than two hours at a time, make sure puppy has fresh water, preferably in a dispenser you can attach to the crate. Made Easy Alexa ^ Jump up to: a b c Miller, Pat (July 2004). “Young Dogs Can Learn From Older Well-Behaved Dogs”. The Whole Dog Journal. Retrieved 1 December 2012. There are many techniques available for managing biting because not all dogs or people respond to the same method. If you or other members of your family are in physical danger or fearful of the puppy, seek the help of an experienced Certified Dog Trainer or Certified Applied Animal Behaviorist (a veterinary specialist) immediately.[12]The longer the behavior continues unchecked, the greater the chance of escalation and injury. When you are home but can’t attend to your puppy, follow the same procedures described above. However, the more time you spend with your puppy, the quicker he will be house trained. Your objective is to take your puppy to his toilet area every time he needs to eliminate. This should be about once every 30-45 minutes; just upon waking; just after eating or drinking; and just after a play session. Provide house training taxi service to avoid unnecessary “mistakes”. sign in You Must Clean Deep And Thoroughly To Prevent Repeat ‘Mistakes’ Wellness Exact matches only And if crate training, do not leave them in the crate too long else they may be forced to soil in there. Prevent this at all costs. Kitten Food ; Starting your puppy off right! You and your dog will receive at-home, personalized, one-on-one training from one of our highly skilled trainers. Irish Setter Pet Insurance Rolf Kopfle/Getty Images Phone: 262-542-8851 “The Dog Trainer Foundations course is THE best starting point to learn the basics of positive reinforcement training.” Visit Us Do you want a dog or a cat? Ask a Question Tweet When the heat arrives, cats can not only feel hot and bothered – they are at more risk of potentially fatal… Twin Lakes, Boulder, CO Accomplishments July 11, 2018 Critters on canvas: Denver-area artists create long-lasting memories of cherished pets Call Us 508736-3202 Expert Blogs Pet Insurance 101 Pet Telethon When 10 weeks old they may need to toilet every 30 minutes, so they only get 5 to 10 minutes free time. When 12 weeks old, they may need to toilet every hour so they can get 35 to 40 minutes free time. What is the price of the course? Biting people A crate, portable exercise pen, or small room equipped with a baby gate, so you can create an appropriate confinement area for your dog. This will prevent unwanted accidents from occurring. Preventing unwanted accidents ensures our dogs don’t rehearse pottying in inappropriate places and keeps the non-potty places from becoming infused with those potty scents that can trigger a dog into making a mistake. Brought to you by 3. Puppy Crate Training Browse All Services MasterPeace Dog Training Center is a full-service dog training center. Our classes include Puppy Kindergarten, Pet Obedience, Continuing Education, Competition Obedience, Rally Obedience, Pet Agility, Puppy Agility, Competition Agility, Nose Work, and other specialty classes. We are often adding new classes and events – be sure to check out the side bar entitled Upcoming Events! We teach using positive methods of training including clicker training and are committed to teaching you to train your dog in a way that is not only effective, but fun for you and your dog. Successful House Training Requires Supervision I look forward to trump apologists, supposed fiscal conservatives who hate welfare and government spending, twisting into knots trying to explain away this handout. Headline might as well read: Trump screws up markets, pays farmers with your money.Corker is a coward but he’s right, we’re just offering welfare to farmers to solve a problem they [Trump admin] themselves created Busy® Brewer-Patriot Sets Up Shop In Lakewood GET FREE WEEKLY TIPS Staffed 24/7 BOARDING Puppia After you bring home a new puppy, it can feel like you’ve lost all freedom. A crate or ex-pen is the ticket to getting some of that freedom back. Confining your puppy in a safe, happy place when you cannot watch her is a built-in solution to many behavior challenges. It prevents problems (chewed up shoes or furniture, house soiling) before they happen. Laying a solid training foundation will make life with your dog easier and more fun. If you’re not sure where to start, sign up for an in-person obedience class; there’s no better way to train your dog than to practice with an expert IRL. You can also follow any of the helpful links above, and check out our blog archives for additional tips and tricks.

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D-1 Devon

Devon was pleased with the partner choices. She was with her favorite ship: Sope. Although she was a bit confused about why BryAnna wouldn’t choose Suga to be on her own team. Wouldn’t it be better use of the game to put everyone with their Bias?

Jin seemed to agree with the teams. Apparently it was good strategy. Devon watched, amused. BryAnna was obviously getting frustrated with Jin.

Devon thought this was a pretty good start to the game. Just sit back, relax, and explore the map. Maybe even discover some other cool stuff you could do in game. She listened halfheartedly to the strategy talk, but made a mental note of what part of the map they were in charge of. South East. Their part of the map swung back the way they came a bit and then looped north, to take care of the whole Mid Eastern part of the map before landing them right at the checkpoint room. 2 hours was plenty of time to do that. Well…. 1 hour and 40 minutes.

Devon tried to think back about who in BTS was good at games. That should reflect how they act during the missions right? She knew that Jin was pretty good. Jungkook plays. Suga maybe?  

They left the group right when they exited the room, going back towards where the girls had started.

“Sooooo which one of your friends dragged you into the game?” Suga asked, once they were out of earshot of the other groups.

“Huh?” Devon looked at him.

“Yoongi-hyung…….” Jhope’s voice was full of embarrassment. What a way to introduce yourself to your partner.

“Yeah..well No...it’s true, BryAnna wanted to play. I don’t play games. So sorry in advance if you do all the work.” Devon thought it might be best to just put it out there. This game did a really good job portraying these characters, though. Their movements and speaking habits were on point.

Devon tried to ignore the nervousness. It was almost like talking to real people. She reminded herself that these boys were a part of a program and to talk naturally to them.

“Tasks like these are always the most annoying. Couldn’t we have gotten it out of the way during the tutorial?” J-hope teased, when it was obvious that no one was going to say anything to each other.

“I don’t mind. It’s kind of nice to just walk around and check things out.” Devon replied. She stole a glance at him. Man he really did just radiate good vibes. Even though he was clearly upset about something when they were trapped in the sound room, all of that tension seemed to have disappeared. She smiled a little.

They walked for a while, filling in the map with no problems at all. Devon was content just listening to the boys banter back and forth. It was obvious that they were close, and she was grateful that Hoseok was there to include her in the conversation every once in a while. In fact he had to make an effort to include Suga in the conversation too. The poor kid had to ask direct questions to get his hyung to say anything to him at all.

“Man, sorry Suga is in such a bad mood. He’s a little cranky from being stuck in here.” J-hope apologised. Devon just shrugged. She’d get upset if she was stuck in that tiny room with a bunch of rowdy boys for who knows how long too.

Ping.

A message popped up from BryAnna.

BryAnna created the chat.

Devon joined the chat.

BryAnna: Yo ur NPCs acting funny?

The question seemed a little weird. Devon responded quickly.

Devon: Idk what the difference is, sooo.

BryAnna: Did they mention being real people?

Devon started to type a reply. Of course they acted real, because the program was that top notch, but they never exactly said that they were real people. Before she could hit send, she was distracted by J-hope.

“Hey, what’s that?” he asked, pointing ahead. There was a crate in the middle of the hall. Devon minimized the chat, forgetting that she was in the middle of a conversation. It looked exactly like the ones from before.

Devon walked up to it and tapped it with her foot. “Should we open it?”

“Of course we should open it!” Hoseok sounded pretty excited that we finally found something. He reached down and tapped the top. The lid popped open. Immediately, he scrambled back and let out a shrill scream. Devon fell back onto her butt, shocked. Like a jack in the box, a giant clown head swung back and forth on spring. It’s smiling face had sharp teeth and it let out a terrifying cackle. Not only that, but it kept growing. When it first came out, it was the size of a toy. But in a matter of seconds it was almost large enough to block the path.

Devon couldn’t even see Suga any more on the other side. But she could hear his scared cursing. The clown head thing swung back and forth and then slammed down, narrowly missing Devon’s leg. She scooted back and got to her feet.

Parts of the wall slid back to reveal massive speakers. The speakers started to play music. Boss Battle Music. “What the hell?” she helped J-hope up. He was trying to put on brave face, but it was obvious he probably wasn’t going to be much help at all.  A health bar appeared on top of the monster. It was starting to spawn arms.

“We gotta kill it!” Suga called from the other side of the monster. It seemed that it didn’t want anything to do with him. It swung back and forth and used it’s momentum to fall forward. It used it’s growing arms to pull itself forward towards Devon and Hoseok.

“Do you have any weapons?” Devon asked Jhope without looking at him. She equipped her scythe, and hoped that it would work out.

“No. Just the stealth plug in.”

“Okay just stay behind me.” she stepped in front of him. Man she wished that the music would shut off. How to gamers concentrate with that noise in the background? All it did was make her feel uneasy and nervous.

Here’s to in - game combat muscle memory. When the thing got within range, she sidestepped and swung. The scythe’s blade made solid contact and slid right through it’s arm. It flopped off, making the whole thing unbalanced. It fell face first and Devon took the opportunity. She singled to J-hope to go over to the otherside by Suga now that there was room. Even though the hit was solid, she noticed that the HP bar barely went down.

While she was distracted by the health, the monster’s limb regenerated and swung at her. She put up her scythe to block the attack’s damage, but she still lost her footing. It easily tossed her to the side and she landed on her back. The wind was knocked out of her lungs, but she forced herself to get up as quickly as she could. That hit brought down her health by 30%. Her defense was shit.

Suddenly Suga was standing next to her. “What are you doing?” she asked, breathless from the hit. The monster swung at them again, but this time they saw it coming and moved out of the way. The monster was slow, if you payed attention.

“I have a defense plugin. If I get hit, I’ll take half damage.” Suga explained, keeping close by Devon’s side. That makes sense, but it felt totally wrong to hide behind someone who can’t even defend themselves.

While dodging the attacks and trying to get a hit in, Devon looked for a point of weakness. She thanked her concentration thing for that. It took a lot of focus to look at each part of the monster as it was moving around like a possessed doll. Finally, she saw it. The back of it’s head. But no way was she going to be able to climb up there to reach that spot. The monster’s health was down just below 50%. If she could get a good hit in there, it’ll be done for.

Devon screenshotted her vision. The image showed the monster, along with the green area of weakness on its back. She attached it to a message to Jhope along with the text :Just get here!: Seriously it was so worth clicking around the menus earlier.

She sent it, but during that moment of distraction, the monster took aim for another hit. Suga jumped in front of it and he was slammed into the nearby wall. His body slumped down to the ground. Devon felt a moment of panic but it subsided when he moved to get up, holding his head.

Devon swung around, looking for J-hope. She could see him hanging on to the clown’s red hair for dear life. Devon locked her vision onto her teammate and threw her scythe at him, praying he wouldn’t duck. Everything moved in slow motion while the weapon was airborne. A notification popped up, letting her know that her scythe was now equipped.

Just like in a cool action cutscene, J-hope slow motion caught the weapon perfectly and then everything moved so fast as if to catch up with real time. He swung it down, hitting the exact spot and then dragging it through its body as he jumped down. The monster disappeared once it’s HP reached zero.

Jhope was so excited, it was cute. “Did you see that? That was so cool! I can’t believe i did that!!” he was so happy. Devon didn’t say anything, but transferred a healing pack to Suga. She restored the HP she lost and then accepted her Scythe back from Jhope.

“Yeah that was pretty awesome...but our time limit..” Suga said.

Devon took a look. Wow. Okay. They spent a lot of time on this stupid monster. They were down to only 50 minutes. At least most of their part of the map was done. There was just a little bit more to go.

“What’s this?” Devon looked down and pointed at the shiny object. It looked like one of her bouncy balls, but it was shining a blue color. She picked it up.

“It’s an item drop.” Suga responded.

“It says it’s a fire mod. I have to equip it to a weapon.” Devon read the info about the item drop.

Suga nodded. “Feel free to equip it. Your the only one with something to put it on right now.” Devon hesitated for a moment. Mostly because she’s not sure how to do it. She looked at her scythe in one hand and the mod in the other. Then she slowly put them together, feeling a bit dumb. All she could think of was that stupid Pineapple Pen song as she did it. It worked though.

Equip Mod?

Yes

No

After she altered the weapon, Devon didn’t bother putting it back into her inventory. It would just make her feel better it was in her hand just in case there were any more surprise attacks.

Not gonna lie though, as much as it hurt to get knocked around, it felt pretty epic to defeat a monster.

“We should hurry up a bit. Taehyung just messaged me. Their team followed an unmarked path and now they’re cut off from their part of the map. I agreed that we’d cover for them since it’s on our way to the check point anyway.”  Suga was blinking at something on his monitor.

Devon’s team moved quickly after that. Even cautiously splitting up a few times to cover more ground. The time limit made things a little more exciting, almost like a race. Still buzzing on the adrenaline from the earlier fight, Devon was really enjoying this kind of game. It was like completing a maze.

As they were finishing up the last section of Liz’s team’s map, Devon got a message notification.

BryAnna: Everyone. Logout now.

That’s weird. Why would she need everyone to log out? It’s not like there was anything going on. She replied:

Devon: ????

Liz: busy right now

Brianna: it won’t let me.

“Hold on guys, I need to log out for a sec.” Devon commented. Suga and Jhope stopped and looked at her before looking at each other. They frowned. “Logout.” Devon said, and the logout screen popped up.

LOGOUT?

YES

NO

“Yes”

LOGOUT FAILED. TRY AGAIN?

Devon glanced at their time. 10 minutes left. “It won’t let you log out….” Jhope whispered, sounding a little sorry that he didn’t say anything sooner.

“What?”

“We’ve tried a hundred times. It won’t let us out of the game. We have to win in order to leave.” Suga’s voice was matter - of- fact.

Was this part of the game’s plot? She didn’t seem to recall this part in the game description. It DID say that they had to survive a hostage situation. But Devon assumed that there would be a person keeping them hostage. Not a computer program.

“Okay…..” Devon decided to play along until they made it to the checkpoint. She was sure that BryAnna would know more about it. Maybe they couldn’t log out until they complete the mission or something.

They made up a plan to get into the room. The guard was moving in the same path every time it passed the door. It didn’t give them a lot of time.

“How do you feel about doing a gamble. There’s a 50% chance that J-hope won’t be noticed by the guard if he doesn’t move while in his line of vision. Let’s have Hoseok sneak past, crack the code, and then we can follow when the guard’s back is turned.” Suga laid out a solid plan. Hoseok didn’t even look nervous about it.

When the guard passed, Jhope hurried across the hall and crouched down in front of the door. He woke up the keypad and started to do the thing that Liz does. Devon thought that maybe she should try unlocking a door sometime just to see what it looks like. When the guard turned around and started to come back, Jhope froze. Devon didn’t think she ever saw him sit so still for so long. The guard paused, but continued without even a nod in Jhope’s direction. The idol finished unlocking the door. It swung open to reveal a dark room. Jhope went inside and Devon followed Suga across the hall and into whatever came next.

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