#Technically you could spin it as a safe scenario instead

[chibi-honey-cake]

20. Exotic [Voretober 2020]

Unknown Pred x Multiple Prey Vore (descriptions of prey mostly)

Contains: Implied Vore, Soft Vore, Implied Digestion/Regeneration Vore (It’s only mentioned once), G/t Vore, Willing Prey, Mythical Prey, Multiple Prey, Foodplay, Reader is being told descriptions of prey

Word Count: 1K

Wait, you've never been to Fantasy Foods before? Oh, you really have to go! It's a great place to try those little prey that are so hard to find! It's exotic meals with not-so-steep pricing so-

What? Oh, don't worry. All of their meals are willing and charmed to return to the restaurant, so it's just as humane as other restaurants.

...The menu? I mean, sure, but it'd probably be better if you go there. I'll try my best to convince you though. Where do I start...?

Hm, how about mers? Mers are interesting. Their taste reminds me of sushi, which makes sense, I guess. They're pretty squirmy though, so you have to be prepared for that. They are a little bit on the slimy side, which puts some people off. But if you can get past that sensation, mers are a good choice and they come in a bunch of seafood flavors.

On the other hand, if you want the sensation of a wriggly treat but not the slime, you should try out the nagas instead. They're longer than mers so you have to be careful with slurping up their tails. But they don't have that sliminess to them if that's not something you can handle. Nagas have more of a nutty taste though, like hazelnut or something of that nature.

Speaking of slime though, slime-minis are kind of interesting. They're sweet and easy to swallow, being so flexible the way they are. Usually they come in different fruit flavors, so most people order them as dessert, really. But that hasn't stopped me and a lot of other people from just ordering a bunch of slimes as a meal.

Taurs are excellent meal choices, but I think they're a little too big for a new diner like you, I think. They're sort of hard to swallow without some experience with something slightly smaller first. But since they're larger than most prey, you only need to order a few of them. Taurs come in a lot of variety though, so you really should ask the server about what flavors are available. I found that once you get a taste for them, you end up ordering them a lot.

They have harpies on the menu too and those are supposed to be kind of hard to find. But they're also small, so you have to order more. They also come in a lot of flavors, so it's best to ask about them too. Also, you have to be aware that you will bring up at least a few feathers at some point with a burp or a hiccup. There's actually a warning about it, just in case.

If you want a harpy type of treat but without the feathers, fairies are a good choice. The magic they have has sort of a sweet taste with a hint of a spicy kick. They're really good for a cool day, they have a warming effect too. Their wings aren't too troublesome and honestly, there's a reason that people call them a good cold cure. Their magic makes you feel better, almost guaranteed. I mean, it seems to work for me.

It's almost like a subset of fairies, but there's also some tasty angels and devils on the menu. Angels are usually sweet and devils are spicy as you'd expect, sure. But a lot of them vary in size and aftertaste. And there are also swapped flavors on each of those. Ordering angels or demons are sort of a gamble- I guess that's why they're so popular? And for some reason, they never really lose their feathers, so they're also safer to eat.

Nymphs are also a good idea, since they come in different elemental flavors. The water nymph are almost too similar to mini-slimes but with more magic to their taste than fruit, I guess. Fire nymphs are pretty spicy, you have to be careful with those. Earth nymphs are more of a vegetable taste, if you're fond of that. But wind nymphs are- fluffy? I'm not sure how to describe it. Like, a solid custard flavor? I like those.

And if you're looking for something kind of strange, there are also little spirits that you can order. They're so light, it's actually a bit like cotton candy- if cotton candy was sort of cool and tasted like mint chocolate. I'm- not really sure why they taste like that, but I'm not complaining.

Dragons, though. They're the largest thing on the menu! I think there's actually a challenge meal associated with them too, but I really don't think that you'll be going after that just yet. Just one is enough and they're pretty hard to get down, I heard. But it's one of the things this place is famous for, so I guess they're good? I've heard they have a smoky flavor to them, but I'm not sure if that was true or a well-placed lie. Maybe one day we can find out?

And you don't have to order them plain, there's plenty of great food on the menu! Different pastas and soups and salads and other things- you should really try out the veggie lasagna, by the way- and after they serve it, you can pick some prey to go on top. It's actually a really popular way for people to try it out because if they don't like the idea, then they still get food after they pick the prey out.

I'll recommend that if you're not sure, maybe order a dessert with a slime-mini on top. It's the best choice if you're a first-timer. There's no big deal if you have to decline, there's some people that just can't seem to do it. Not sure why though, everything is so tasty and inexpensive.

I think that's it? Oh gosh, all that talk of food and explaining things has me starving... How about we just go to Fantasy Foods and have lunch? You can try something out, it'll be my treat.

[fijiangecko]

Maintaining a New Life

Chapter 2: Evasion Tactics

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Read it on AO3 here

Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader

Rating: Teen and Up for Violence and Language

A/N: Hey guys! I know this chapter wasn't as long but we're getting to some good stuff here in the upcoming chapters. My life has been hectic as fuck (mostly just shit from job) but I'm really happy to be writing to take my mind off of everything. Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading!

~~~~~~~~

Tooru and Hajime tense, the sound of a pen dropping the only thing that fills the room. You continue to stare at the paperwork, waiting for them to say something.

“What do you mean?” Hajime is the first to speak. His voice is quiet and unsure, but he wouldn’t let the silence drown them.

“I mean, they’re getting closer to the Agency, to us.” Straightening out a stack of papers, you slide them into a file folder, cleaning up your desk area. “The case from today involved a company that Washijo bought several years ago.” Tooru clenches his fists as you continue. “They were working on one of his experiments.” 

“Did the others find out?” Tooru interjects, you glance at him but look away to file some more paperwork.

“The others only know what the police know. None of the reports from those experiments mentioned the Port Mafia or Washijo’s name as per usual.” You slip the last few bits of paper into a pile before stretching out your arms above your head, shoulders and back popping loud enough for the two others to hear. “I just thought it was concerning that more and more mafia connections are making appearances in our line of work.”

“It makes sense, though. We are a detective agency and they make up almost 60% of Yokohama’s crimes.” Iwaizumi explains, folding his arms over his chest and biting his lip in contemplation.

“I understand that and I knew when I joined the agency that seeing them was unavoidable. I just wanted to tell you both that it’s been happening more, and that they’re making moves.” You stand up from your chair, grabbing your belongings and placing it back under the desk.

They all go quiet, either thinking of what to say next or simply wanting the conversation to be over. Tooru speaks, letting his thoughts out. “So do we just… ignore it?”

You begin to put on your coat which you had forgotten earlier, buttoning it as you speak. “What else can we do? You two are more safe in this scenario than I am. If I get recognized by any of them, it’s game over.” You don't bother looking at them, knowing that Iwaizumi’s fists would be clenched and that Tooru’s lips were going to be pursued. Both of them are doing what you predicted, but Iwaizumi releases his tension first, instead tapping his foot on the ground in contemplation.

“I would suggest we just keep laying low.” He looks between his two friends, gauging your reactions before he speaks further. Tooru nods in agreement while looking at you who takes a second to make eye contact. You give him one small nod before he continues. “You probably shouldn’t take any more jobs that could relate to them in any way. Oikawa and I will cover for you in the meantime.”

This time you look between them both. Oikawa pleads with his eyes, knowing that you can be quite stubborn and Hajime looks at you with acknowledgment, as if he already knows you agree.

Another tiny nod makes the boys sigh in relief, each taking a moment to regain their composure before grabbing their personal belongings. They whisper something between themselves while you walk over to the front door, taking out your keys.

“Maybe you should just use your vacation days for a week or two and hop it all dies down by the time you get back…” Tooru jokes, bumping his elbow into your side before stepping out of the door.

You scoff lightly, rolling your eyes. “I don’t think Takeda and Ukai would like that very much.” Iwaizumi walks out, and you turn to lock up.

The three of you step out onto the street, pulling your coats tighter to your bodies after making initial contact with the cold air. You set the pace when they walk towards the subway, but talk quietly. “I don’t mind laying off the cases for a bit, I mean, they’re not going to like that I’m ‘slacking’, but I agree that this is our best bet.”

Following behind you, they silently bump fists, walking the rest of the way home with light chatter.

~

“Morning everyone.” You walk in, two cups of coffee tight in your grasp.

“Morning Y/N!” The interns reply, all turning in their chairs to greet you. Hinata and Lev, once again, start to say their greetings louder and louder. You laugh it off and greet them both personally before walking over to your desk.

Kuroo sits at his, head down in his arms with a slight groan.

You take immediate notice and poke his shoulder. “Rough night?”

“You have no idea.” He mumbles in his arms before slowly leaning back up. “Bokuto drinks like a monster and I tried to keep up to boost his morale.” You smile and laugh lightly at the notion, but set one of the coffee cups down on his desk before leaning on it. Although his head is pounding, his heart joins the fray once he sees your smile.

“Well, serves you right for drinking on a weeknight.” You smirk before taking a sip from your own cup.

He thanks you by picking up the cup and ‘cheering’ it into the air before taking a sip as well. It was still quite warm, but it was just how he likes it. You move off of his desk and into your chair to get started on some morning paperwork, his eyes watching you as you do so.

For the most part, the morning goes by without a hitch, and after about an hour or so of quietly working, Takeda makes his way out of his office and in front of the agency's main room. “Morning everyone, nice to see you’re looking… decent enough.” He makes eye contact with Kuroo, and you fight down a smile. “I got a few calls this morning, mostly regarding smaller cases but I did get one from the police academy. This case will only be an opportunity for a few members of the agency, but please come talk to Ukai or myself if you’re interested. The others will be emailed to you here very shortly.” Bokuto slaps Kuroo’s shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows when the other man turns to look at him.

They talk amongst themselves for a moment before Akaashi walks over and joins their conversation. You continue your paperwork, not paying any attention to the group of boys all staring at you. 

“So what do ya say Y/N? Looking to get another big payday?” Bokuto speaks up, loud enough for everyone to hear. You look up, and find a majority of the agency staring at the group. Iwaizumi and Oikawa flash a concerned look in your direction, but quickly go back to minding their business.

You don't let your guard down for a second, responding quickly. “I actually told Iwa and Oikawa that I would help them on a couple of cases over the next week.” You give the boys a sad smile before gesturing to the aforementioned guys. Oikawa perks up and waves at the three while Iwaizumi tends to his work.

Kuroo looks back at you, frown adorning his lips. “Oh… okay. No worries.” He flashes a smile right before Bokuto slaps him hard on the shoulder blade.

“Just remember that you owe us a night out!” He lets out a loud laugh, while the rest of the agency just sighs.

“Of course, Bo, how could I forget.” With one last smile, you grab some papers and make your way over to Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s desks.

Tooru breaks into laughter when you reach his desk, leaning your hip on the side. Your eyebrows furrow before he breathes out. “Jesus Y/N, could you break the man's heart any more?”

“You gotta let him down easy.” Hajime pipes up, smirking from his side of the desks while still doing paperwork.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?!” You look between the two, confused as all hell. They share a moment between themselves before rolling their eyes and face you.

“Forget it.” Iwaizumi says, passing you a paper over the computers. “We’re gonna take a few of the small ones to fill the next couple of days. Hopefully Sawamura or Akaashi’s groups take the big ones so we don’t have too.” On the piece of paper is a case list with markings. Some are crossed out and others have little stars next to them.

“And that means that Y/N finally gets to spend more time with us!” Oikawa sings, leaning back in his chair. The three of them all miss how Kuroo looks at you from across the room, hearing how they get to spend more time with you. Something in his heart pains, but he immediately writes it off as stupid and looks for Akaashi.

~

Over the next few days yourself, Iwaizumi and Oikawa took on a bunch of smaller cases, filling their quota while trying to maintain some form of privacy around other agency members. Iwa talked with Sawamura and his little group to ‘give’ them some bigger jobs, by framing it as Oikawa’s complaining about the heavy workload. Which Tooru complained about.

“Are you guys sure you don’t wanna take on the bank case?” Daichi walks up to your group of three, who are hunched over Iwa’s desk looking over info. Oikawa stands up straight, you to the left of him also stretching out your back. Sugawara and Asahi stand behind Daichi, each with a couple of files under their arms.

“We’re sure! Wanted to chill out for a couple of days, take on some divorce cases and slack off a bit. Let you guys catch up to us.” Oikawa waves his hands and smiles, leaning back on Iwa’s desk when said man spins around in his chair.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that Oikawa. Our case stack has been pilling p-r-e-t-t-y high, if not higher than yours.” Sugawara takes the paper from under his arm and waves it in Oikawa’s face, singing his words in a mocking tone. A slight snarl appears on Tooru’s face while Sugawara continues to tease.

“Well, not if we add Y/N’s files!” Oikawa snaps, leaning forward from his position as if to rub his nose in the air.

“But those files belong to our stack.” The sound of a door shutting turns everyone’s attention down the hall to a tall figure. “Since Y/N’s technically a part of our group.” Kuroo steps out of the infirmary, an even wider smirk displayed across his lips as he saunters over to the group, buttoning his blazer. “Therefore we have the highest completed case pile in the agency.”

You had been watching everything go down while leaning a hip on the side of Iwaizumi’s desk, occasionally glancing at one another to roll your eyes. Kuroo’s proposition made her eyebrow quirk, but you decide to chime in. “And the detective with the highest number of cases completed is who?”

Everyone turns to you with a sigh. Even those who didn’t say anything all mutter a response. “...you…”

“That’s what I thought.” You hoist yourself off from the desk and pluck a paper from one of the many stacks, waving it in all of their faces. “Let’s not go around comparing case stacks when you all aren’t even close.”

“Getting a little cocky, aren’t you Y/N?” Oikawa hums while making his way back to his desk.

“I think it’s well earned since I am a founding member.” You flash a sickeningly sweet smile, but your eyes hold something else. Kuroo watches the interaction and tries to decipher what seems to be the double-meaning behind such a wicked smile, but Oikawa seems to get the memo as he rolls his eyes jokingly. 

“Alright, can everyone get away from my desk? So I can do my job?” Hajime interjects, everyone groaning slightly and dismissing themselves.

Kuroo walks over to his desk, making small talk with Bokuto as Akaashi diligently types up his report. Sawamura, Sugawara and Asahi walk over to their desks while talking about that bank case and how to proceed. You briefly chat with Oikawa, lowering your voice to conceal certain aspects of their conversation, but after a few moments you make your way back to your actual desk and sift through some supplies.

“So, are you still hangin’ out with the pretty boy and his bodyguard?” Kuroo keeps his eyes on his computer screen, jaw tight and his usual teasing tone nowhere to be found.

“Aww, you think Oikawa’s pretty?” You smirk, noting his serious demeanor but choosing to ignore it. Even after your sny comment, he doesn’t bother to look up at you, and just continues his work. With tight lips you search through your desk drawers.

“Welcome back Y/N! Are you ready to catch some bad guys and hang out with us again?” Bokuto’s boisterous personality fills the room when he plants a firm slap on your shoulder. His smile is bright and his eyes gleam with hope as you had walked back over to your quadrant of desks.

Standing up straight, you smile at him sadly and place a hand on top of his. “I’m sorry Bo, I made a deal with Iwaizumi the other day to help with a couple B and E cases.” His face falters, as well as Kuroo’s who had bothered to watch the interaction. “Maybe in a couple days!”

As you move your hand off of his, Bokuto steps forward and traps you by your desk. “Okay but! We have some files here with a muder case!” He leans around you and grasps at a file on Akaashi’s desk, who pounds away at his keyboard. Opening the file, Bokuto waves it in front of your face. “Guy got shot in the chest three times and jaw smashed in, it’s definitely the Port Mafia’s M.O. Might be fun!” He finishes in a sing-song voice, peeking his eyes over the top of the file.

Your eyes hold a very different reaction than his. They widen and your heart picks up its pace. “We haven’t gotten any mafia cases in months…” Kuroo catches your reaction, as well as a different duo from across the room. Iwaizumi and Oikawa watch with bated breath to see what will happen.

“Yeah, that’s what makes this one fun!” Bokuto places the file into your hands, not really aware of your reaction and cheerfully smiles as he points to the crime scene photos.

You let him talk for another few minutes as he explains the surface level details, but he waits expectantly for an answer when he’s done, big eyes staring right into yours. “Like I said Bo, I’m still working with Oikawa and Iwa on some minor ones.” The smile drops immediately, his hair following quickly after. Kuroo clenches his jaw as he listens to Oikawa and Iwa sighs in what sounds to be relief after your statement. You force a small smile. “But you guys be careful,” you say before walking off to the other detectives.

~

A few days passed since that interaction, leaving Kuroo’s group a little confused on when you meant to come back. They were persistent (one person more so than the other) in their pursuit to get the gang back together, but you dodged them everytime. Kuroo saw less of you every day, and the rest of the agency noted his agitated expression almost every morning when he saw you sitting in Oikawa’s chair while having a chat with the two men.

Today was the beginning of a new week, which means it’s time for an update from the agency presidents.

“Morning everyone. Ukai and myself just wanted to thank everyone for all of their hard work over the past week. Our case numbers went up quite a bit and productivity has been fantastic.” Takeda speaks with a sweet tone as he stands in front of everyone. The agency is attentive to his words and nods at the statement. “That being said, after discussing with several team members, we decided to mix it up a bit since we have a very hefty case and will be assigning a team to it based on their abilities.” The room fills with whispers, as this was not a normal occurrence in the office. Detectives were given free range over who they wanted to work with and the cases they picked as long as it remained civil between all members. Oikawa throws you a sly glance, but you remain stoic at Takeda’s words. “The police specifically asked for help on this one so we went over each member's strengths and weaknesses.” The room dies down as everyone waits to hear the names. The police weren’t usually so giving in these kinds of situations, usually opting to handle things by themselves as to not use gifted people around the public. 

Ukai waits for the room to go silent before he speaks. “Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Oikawa-” The three glance between each other, confusion etched into their brows. “-and Y/N are the four best suited for this, if they would meet us in the conference room later today.” You place a hand over your mouth at his words, rubbing your lips before wiping your chin. Kuroo tries to remain calm at the mention of your name, but his heart skips a beat at the prospect of working with you on a major case again. “Other than that, everyone should continue as normal.” Ukai and Takeda bow before walking back into their office.

Bokuto is the first to pipe up, loudly congratulating Kuroo on his ‘promotion’. All of the interns share their congrats as well to the rest of you, wishing you luck with the cops. Sawamura’s team makes their way over to your small group and gives you some pointers on how not to piss off the police chief before walking off.

As if one cue, the four of you stand up and make your way down the halls of the agency to the conference room for the debriefing session. Kuroo and Oikawa take the lead while you and Iwa walk further behind them, whispering.

“This can’t be good if the police are involved.” You lean closer to him as you speak.

“It might just be a drug bust.” Hajime offers in a reassuring tone, mostly to offer himself some sort of comfort. When the three of you were announced, your bet was that everyone had the same reaction and thoughts. This is a Port Mafia case that can’t be finished through normal legal action.

Oikawa chats with Kuroo as they enter the room, taking seats on the further end of the table. You sit yourself between them and Iwa sits to the right of Tooru. Only a few silent moments pass before both Takeda and Ukai enter the room, files stacked in their arms.

“Alright you four, this is a big one.” They set the files down in front of each of you, turning to their own and reading through the material.

Ukai starts. “The police specifically asked for two of you in this case based on previous encounters and the other two were chosen based on abilities and teamwork with the other members. We won’t say who is who, but the cops are willing to offer any of their resources to get this case solved as soon as possible.” Kuroo nudges your foot under the table, and in your peripheral you can see the makings of a grin on his face. In his head, he fully believes you were the two requested.

“Not to be a pain, but why wouldn’t they ask for Bokuto? He’s usually able to solve cases in less than a day.” Iwaizumi speaks with his arms crossed, leaning back into the chair.

“There are several reasons for Bokuto, or any of the other members for that fact, to not work in this case. It requires a level of… maturity to be solved and once again, we are working alongside the police force and we can’t have any internal conflicts.” Takeda speaks from across the table, a reassuring smile on his lips. “Plus, we believe this group will work exceptionally well together.”

“Now,” Ukai clears his throat. “This case has been going on for about a month already. The police academy has let several of their own detectives try their hands at it and no one has been able to get a lead on anything.” He tosses a few photos on to the tabletop, each depicting different crime scenes. You pick up one of them and take a closer look. This particular photo depicts what seems to be an abandoned warehouse that was broken into. Tire tracks were left on the concrete next to several dried patches of blood. A single stray bullet was left with a yellow marker next to it. The other pictures have very similar scenarios. “Random murders have been occurring across the city and the extended suburbs. Problem is, the bodies are rapidly decomposing before they can be found-”

“Meaning they can’t really be used for evidence,” you interrupt, still flicking through the various pictures and passing them off to the rest of the guys.

“Exactly.” Takeda pulls out a file and passes it to you specifically. “The autopsies are all different. Every one of the victims died from what seems to be different causes, but they’ve predicted that the accelerated decomposition was done through placing bodies in warm areas and then moving them to these locations.”

“I wouldn’t say so based on the blood stains at the crime scenes.” Kuroo leans over the armrest on his chair to peek at the autopsy report you hold in your hand.

“And that’s when you all come in. The police have practically no leads, no predictions and nowhere else to look.” Ukai stares at the group. Oikawa and Iwaizumi continue to look at the photos and use their files to mark locations. You and Kuroo continue looking over the medical papers and police reports. “I usually don’t say this-” Everyone turns their attention to the man with the orange coat. “-but the police only asked us for help because there is nothing they can do legally.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his. With a small nod, you all understand the silent notion. “Right. Is there anything else we should know before heading over to the police headquarters?” You let Kuroo take the information out of your hands as you talk.

“Not from us. Once you get there they might have one or two pieces of evidence to show you, but we’ve filled you in on everything we have.” Takeda passes the last few pieces of paper further down the table. “From how persistent they were in asking for our help, I don’t think you should have any problems with cooperation, but don’t hesitate to call us if you need help.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem!” Oikawa salutes sarcastically, rubbing the charm on thick as the presidents leave the room.

You walk over to Iwaizumi and nudge Oikawa on the shoulder two times before looking at Kuroo, who is still engrossed in the paperwork. He quickly gets the memo and prances over to the man before striking up a conversation as a way of distraction. You place a photo in front of Hajime and gently tap at an area of the picture. He inspects it closer and once he realizes it, his eyes go wide and he turns to you.

You point at one of the other piles that has almost the exact same thing. Then to another, and another until you point out all of the same scenario to him. 

“Do you really think it’s him?” He mouths to you, trying to keep an eye on the other two in the room, making sure they’re thoroughly distracted. You nod and gather the pictures and whatever else you need to put in your own file.

“When do you all want to head over?” You speak loud and clear to get Kuroo and Oikawa’s attention.

“We should probably head over now and get whatever info we can before hitting up all the crime scenes.” Kuroo stands and stretches his back, soft pops filling the dead space between his words.

“Sounds like a plan. The next subway over there is gonna be in about 20 minutes.” Iwaizumi says with a nod and the rest of you make your way back into the main office to grab your things.

[singledarkshade]

New Old Friend

Part Six

(Part One,  Part Two, Part Three , Part Four and Part Five can be found here)

“So, let me get this straight,” Jack said as he sat at his desk, they’d moved back to the Sheriff’s station after dinner to talk in private, “If you don’t touch this shard, you stay in this universe.”

Rip nodded.

“However,” Henry noted, “From the readings I took back in NASA, the shard remaining here for too long would not be good. The energy from the shard doesn’t match the energy for this universe, and we’ve seen before that this is not something that will end well.”

“How long is too long?” Jack demanded concerned.

“Well, I was in one place for about a week with no ill-effects that I noticed,” Rip noted.

“That’s good to know,” Jack mused, “So, we need to infiltrate Section 5 so Rip can touch the shard to send him on his way. Is that right?”

Rip and Henry nodded in unison.

Jack shook his head, “Is there a plan for how we do this?”

“That is easy, Sheriff,” Gideon spoke up from inside the cell she’d been wandering around studying, “I can access the systems within Global Dynamics. I can therefore get access to the restricted section easily.”

Rip smiled at her, before turning back to Jack.

“I’m meant to be the law in Eureka,” he reminded them, “I’m not supposed to break into places. Or allow it to happen.”

“Technically the shard belongs to Rip,” Henry noted, “So it isn’t so much a break in, more a retrieval.”

“That is quite a technicality,” Jack laughed, before he sighed, “The problem is that’s not a technicality the law will agree with if we’re caught.”

“We don’t expect you to take the risk, Jack,” Henry told him.

“And I don’t want you to either, Henry,” Rip interrupted, “With Gideon and if you let me borrow your car then I can access Global Dynamics myself. I already have a few possible ways in from our original visit.”

Jack glanced at Henry, “Is he kidding?”

“Captain Hunter is a master of getting in and out of places he shouldn’t be,” Gideon spoke up.

Jack groaned, “Fine. I have no knowledge of this.”

“No knowledge of what?”

The voice coming from the door made them all spin to where Jo stood looking at them suspiciously.

Rip watched the woman in the same uniform Jack wore, marking her as another part of the law enforcement in Eureka.

“Not important, Jo,” Jack told her.

“Why are you here anyway? I thought you finished a few hours ago?” she demanded as she headed to the second desk, spotting Gideon in the cell she asked, “Have you done the paperwork or were you waiting for me?”

“I am not under arrest, Deputy Lupo,” Gideon stated as she walked through the bars and out the cell making the other woman jump.

“Gideon,” Rip chided softly, “The door was open.”

Jo rolled her eyes, “Should I ask?”

“Jo Lupo,” Jack grinned, “This is Dr Rip Hunter and his AI companion, Gideon.”

“Okay,” Jo nodded understanding, she’d clearly been a part of this town for some time, “Nice to meet you, Dr Hunter, Gideon.”

Gideon smiled, “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Deputy. Your record is very impressive.”

“Gideon,” Rip sighed, “Please stop looking into things you’re not supposed to. We’re guests here.”

Rolling her eyes, Gideon replied, “If I don’t look then I would not get to know about the interesting people who live here.”

Before Rip could retort the phone began to ring.

“I’ll get it,” Jo said, “Considering I’m the one who’s working.”

Gideon moved to Rip’s side and murmured softly, “People tracing you is no longer the problem, Captain.”

“It’s Alison,” Jo turned to them, “Looking for Henry.”

Surprise covered Henry’s face, “Me?” Taking the phone, he listened for a second before nodding, “We’re on our way, Alison.” Hanging up the phone, he sighed, “They tried to test the shard’s power. It’s not going well.”

Jack bounced up and grabbed his keys, “I’ll drive.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” Jo called as they left, adding before they were out of door, “Or if I need to evacuate the town.”

                                 *********************************************

 “I thought you said you were just testing,” Alison yelled over the blaring alarms as she ran into the lab.

“I was,” Nathan replied, “It activated itself somehow.” He grimaced as he continued to try to shut down the energy source they’d found, “The energy is looping and feeding itself. I can’t stop it.”

Alison grimaced, “I’ve called Henry.”

“I don’t know if he’ll be able to help,” Nathan told her, staring as a small point of light began to form at the other side of the lab.

“What is that, Nathan?” Alison demanded fearfully.

“That,” came the clipped voice of Dr Hunter, “Is a time portal beginning to form.”

Alison and Nathan turned to see him enter with Henry and Jack along with Hunter’s AI Gideon.

“It’s a what?” Nathan demanded incredulously.

“A time portal,” Rip stated again, before adding, “Unfortunately as it’s not been controlled there is no way to tell where in time it will open to.”

Nathan frowned, “You’re talking about time travel.”

Rip nodded, “Precisely.”

“That’s impossible,” Nathan scoffed, “Time travel is science fiction. And what would an Artificial Intelligence specialist know about the physics of time travel?”

“A great deal more than you do,” Rip replied absently.

Nathan glared at the other man, “I doubt that. My specialist fields are astrophysics and quantum mechanics which I am one of the world’s leading authorities on.”

Rip turned to him and noted, “Yet this is still out of the realms of your knowledge.”

“The energy levels are growing,” Henry called from the controls stopping Nathan from retorting, “Would it stop if you touched it?”

“Gideon?” Rip asked.

Alison frowned confused as the AI shook her head, “Unfortunately that would not work, Captain. The portal has already begun to form, removing the shard would not stop this. We need to drain the energy.”

Rip sighed as he looked around thoughtfully.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Jack demanded suddenly, “Since that’s what usually happens.”

Shrugging Rip replied, “The portal opens to before or after the earth exists and the entire world gets sucked into the vacuum of space.”

“You just know the way our luck runs there’s no point asking what the best scenario is,” Jack noted to Henry who nodded.

“Gideon,” Rip called as he checked the readings, “The electrical systems Dr Fargo upgraded. Would they be able to accept the charge?”

She tilted her head for a moment before replying, “It would but they would need to be modified properly in order to dissipate the energy safely.”

Rip nodded, “Henry?”

“We’re on our way,” Henry nodded,

Jack pulled out his keys, “I’m driving.”

“Nathan, come with us,” Henry ordered as he started out grabbing Jack’s arm, “Gideon, send me the details of how to do this to my PDA.”

“Yes, Dr Deacon,” Gideon replied as the two men ran out.

 Rip swore under his breath as the small portal continued to grow.

“What can I do to help?” Alison asked.

“Keep an eye on the power output,” Rip told her, motioning her to the back console.

She nodded and turned her attention to the readouts.

“Gideon,” Rip turned frowning at the annoyed expression on her face, “What’s wrong?”

“The energy being released is beginning interfere with our connection, Captain,” Gideon told him, “I am losing the signal to you.”

Rip sighed, knowing to keep their connection she was diverting energy from other systems on the Waverider to their link, “Go. I’ll be fine.”

Her hand came up to touch the air by his cheek, “Take care, Rip. I will be back as soon as I can.”

As she disappeared, Rip took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Rip,” Henry’s voice came suddenly, “We’re here.”

“It’s a good thing Jack is the law considering how fast he must have been going,” Rip noted, before asking, “Do you have the information you need?”

“We’re already working on it,” Henry told him, “We should be ready to start the transfer in three minutes.”

“Dr Hunter,” Alison called, “The energy is increasing exponentially.”

“Bollocks,” Rip snapped, before calling, “Henry, we’re running out of time. The portal is going to be viable in the next fifty seconds if we don’t start the energy transfer.”

“We’re almost there,” Henry replied.

Frowning Rip caught Alison’s arm, “You need to leave this room now.”

“What?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Rip told her, “I need to be here to activate the transfer but there’s no reason for you to be in here as well.”

Concern flitted across her face before she nodded, “I’ll be listening in.”

“Lock the door,” Rip said, “It’ll give a little bit more protection for evacuating the building if this doesn’t work.”

She nodded again before leaving him alone. Rip knew he could touch the shard and leave here but Henry was his friend and Jack was becoming one as well. He wasn’t going to leave them to deal with this.

“Henry?” he called, “Tell me you’re ready.”

“Rip,” Jack replied instead, “We’re ready. Start the transfer.”

Hitting the button, Rip watched the energy levels and hoped this worked. He trusted that Henry knew what he was doing, considering the interface he’d created.

“Is it working?” Henry called.

Rip continued to watch the levels and finally, to his relief, it began to go down, “It’s working.”

Turning he watched the portal slowly get smaller before it disappeared into nothing. Checking the information Rip sighed in relief to see that it had closed completely. Opening the lab door, he found Alison standing there.

“It’s gone,” he told her.

Alison nodded, “That’s wonderful news. Now you can explain how you knew exactly what to do.”

                                 *********************************************

 Henry was relieved to find Rip sitting in Alison’s office with no security surrounding him.

“We disconnected all the equipment and locked the lab down,” Henry reported to Alison as they filed in, “Is everything okay here?”

Alison nodded with a blithe smile, “Dr Hunter and I were just discussing that.”

He winced slightly but seeing Rip was looking relaxed knew that it wasn’t too bad.

“What about the energy source?” Nathan demanded.

Alison glanced at Rip before she replied, “I have locked the lab down for the moment and Dr Hunter has confirmed that it is safe now but best to keep it secure.”

Nathan frowned but nodded in agreement, “I have some other projects that need to be checked on.”

With that said he left, and Henry sighed in relief.

“So,” Alison spoke up once Nathan was gone, “Time travel and alternate dimensions. You have some interesting friends, Henry.”

Not sure what to say, Henry shrugged.

“Rip,” she smiled at him, “I will give you access to the lab at noon tomorrow. That should give you time to make your goodbyes.”

Rip shook her hand, “Thank you, Dr Blake.” He glanced at the picture on her desk and added, “After today I suggest you go home yourself and be with your son,” sadness covered his face for a moment as he breathed, “It’s the best thing in the world to spend time with your child and should never miss any chance you have.”

Henry caught Jack’s eye, but the moment passed quickly, and Rip turned to him once more.

“I don’t know about anyone else,” he said, “But after that I need a drink.”

Henry said, “Sounds like an idea. Café Diem doubles as a good evening spot.”

Nodding Rip told them, “Well let’s go before Gideon returns and yells at me.”

[pope-mayward]

Mayward Week Day 3 - “How much of that did you hear?” + angst

JJ grows up with his father at more than an arm's length away and without his mother at all. It's been like this all his life, so he is used to it by now, but nonetheless it has been known to sting his heart on occasion. His father has never been one to meddle in JJ's problems- no matter how big or small- and the only time he interfered with JJ's activities was when an opportunity to punish him arose. Which is why it's so ironic when his father suddenly corners him about who he's dating. 

A long time ago- what truly feels like ages ago- when he was still sorting through the files in his brain, JJ would, from time to time, bring a girl home with him, and maybe once or twice they would even have sex. Luke never said a word about it, except for the sly little smirk that he would toss JJ's way the morning after when JJ would stumble out of his room with a rat's nest atop his head and irritated red marks running down his back as if to say Good job, son, I'm proud of you because he just couldn't bring himself to actually say it aloud.

But when JJ comes home after spending the weekend at Pope's house, shirt on backwards and an unshakeable smile on his face, his father does not give him a proud look. Instead, it's a scary, degrading expression, as if he can smell the sex without JJ even having to utter a word. However, he could squirm his way out of this one because technically speaking he and Pope didn't... In fact, they never have.

"I thought you went to your friend's house," Luke says when JJ is looking in the fridge for something to eat. "The one whose daddy works at the seafood place."

"Pope's," JJ reminds him, not entirely picking up on Luke's passive aggressive tone. He shuts the refrigerator door when he finds nothing that suits his taste; slimy iceberg lettuce and mustard doesn't make for a very good snack. "I was."

There's a moment where Luke wonders if he should just drop it. Since when has he cared about his son's mischievous happenings? It's not like he should start giving a shit now. He balls his fist and rolls his knuckles while he watches from the kitchen doorway as JJ bops his head to a song only he can hear.  

"What's that on your neck then?" he blurts out anyway, gesturing to the wine-colored marks near JJ's collarbone that had not been there when he left. Immediately, JJ's heart sinks and he tries not to let it show. Just keeps his composure, tucks his chin, and tries to shimmy past his father to get to his bedroom- far, far away from this conversation- because he's suddenly not very hungry.

"I got hit by a kid at school the other day," JJ answers in a steady, lying voice. It's not the first time he's had to make up a scenario to divert the attention away from his neck. He awkwardly reaches a hand up to rub at the marks there.

"You think I'm stupid, boy?"

"No, sir," JJ immediately responds, purely out of instinct, because if he were being more honest, his answer would be yes, a thousand times yes, and a million other terrible names too. He lowers his hand and stands up straight as a pin, preparing for the worst.

Luke makes a face like maybe he knows that JJ thinks he's stupid. Whatever. It doesn't matter.

"Then quit lyin' to me," he says lowly, "I know what you and that kid've been doing."

A surge of fear fills JJ up to the very brim. He tries to keep it tied down in the pit of his stomach where it belongs. I'm not afraid of you anymore. "I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Oh, cut the bullshit, JJ," it's the first time he has said JJ's name in weeks and he spits it out like it burned his tongue, "Last week, on the back porch."

JJ furrows his eyebrows in confusion and tries to remember what it is exactly that his father is referring to. It takes him a moment but he does remember: a black sky spotted with shiny stars, a warm hand against his own, a soft kiss goodnight when he was sure his father wasn't around, a longing gaze minutes after the boy of his affections had gone.

"Wha-" JJ says suddenly, feeling both flustered and cornered. Suddenly he knows exactly what it's like to be a deer caught in the headlights. "How much of that did you hear?"  He sounds exasperated but he can't help it, nor can he be bothered by denying this anymore. 

"I heard enough."

"You can't just spy on me," JJ says, trying to spin the story so that they are no longer talking about him. "That's so fucked up. Don't I deserve at least some privacy around here?"

"Don't you tell me what you deserve, boy, after what you've done," Luke spits, voice accusatory in a way JJ has heard only him speak. 

"What I've done," JJ mutters, scoffing and shaking his head. He looks away from his father, down at the floor where the mud on the bottoms of his shoes has imprinted footprints on the kitchen tile. He isn't sure that he has it in him to hold his head up and look at his father again.

Luke doesn't say another word, but he doesn't move from his authoritative stance- arms crossed over his chest and chin tilted up, legs apart like he's ready to jump into action. He doesn't need to say anything else for JJ to know exactly what he is thinking.

"Look, I've gotta go," JJ says suddenly in a quiet voice. He takes a step forward, head bowed, and waits for his father to move out of the way and grant him permission to leave.

"You're not going to Heyward's, are you?" he asks pointedly, as if that's the only thing JJ does anymore.

"No, I'm not-" JJ sighs, annoyed, and pushes past his father. On the way out the door, he says, "I'm not going to Pope's."

He goes straight to Pope's house.

His bike rumbles beneath his feet, and he twists the handlebars to let everyone know just how upset he is.

When he gets there, Pope is already outside, a garbage bag in each hand as he walks over to the trash bin at the end of the driveway. He has changed his shirts since JJ last saw him half an hour ago; now, a faded grey button-down hangs off his shoulders. One of JJ's baseball caps is sitting backwards on Pope's head.

"Hey," Pope greets him with a smile as he drops the garbage bags inside and lets the lid slap closed. "Long time no see." He laughs at his stupid joke and waits for JJ to laugh too, or at least crack a smile, but he doesn't.

"Hey," JJ replies, putting down the kickstand on his bike and standing up. His voice sounds a little off-putting, a little downbeat, and it's strange because he never misses an opportunity to rile Pope up with compliments and boasts.

Pope hides his frown, and instead bumps his shoulder easily against JJ's as he walks closer. "What're you doing here?" he asks, trying to read JJ's face for any clues that might let him know what's going on, "Not that I don't love to have you around, because I do. But you were, like, just here."

JJ glances at Pope through the shaggy strands of hair that fall in front of his face. The sky is a palette of afternoon pinks and purples and oranges, and he suddenly realizes that it's sunset. If there's one thing that he likes about the Outer Banks other than his friends, it's how beautiful the sky is there. But no matter how pretty the sky is, it will never compete with the way Pope looks at any given time.

"JJ?" Pope says, giving him an odd look. 

"Yeah, sorry," JJ tells him, shakes his head. His cheeks burn after realizing he must have been staring. "I was at my dad's," JJ continues, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts and kicking his feet around like he wants Pope to ask what his problem is.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," JJ says, and then, "Um, so, he kind of... knows. About us."

Pope's smile drops, and his heart takes a dive into his stomach. This is the stuff his nightmares are made of: JJ's dad finding out about the little relationship they have struck up and taking his inevitable anger out on JJ in more violent ways than Pope cares to think about. He wonders if it's already too late, and Luke has already laid his fists on JJ.

"Oh," Pope says quietly after a moment. He can't deny that he's thought of this before. What's the next step after JJ's dad finds out? He was just hoping that the day wouldn't come until they were old enough to move out.

He reaches out for JJ, lets his fingers run over his arm and up to his shoulder because he knows that during tricky situations like this, JJ can be kind of flighty. But now, he shakes his head like he can't believe Pope would ever think he wouldn't want his arms around him and pulls Pope in.

JJ hides his nose in Pope's shoulder and suddenly things don't seem so bad. "You're okay?" Pope asks him in a soft voice, "He didn't... y'know..."

"No, no," he assures Pope, voice muffled by the fabric of Pope's shirt. "He actually wasn't as pissed as I thought he'd be."

Pope doesn't say anything, just hugs JJ a little bit tighter and wishes that they were already older. Maybe then they wouldn't have to deal with all this bullshit.

When they finally find it in each other to let go, JJ's eyes are kind of red and Pope notices that the shoulder of his shirt is a little damp. His heart hurts. They don't move; they just stand close to one another as the streetlights start to come on.

"JJ.”

"Yeah?"

Pope sighs. "I think that, um- Well since, y'know, your dad... He... He's kind of a violent guy," he says, in a hushed voice because he really doesn't want to do this, "So maybe we should-"

"Take a break? Chill out for a while?" JJ interrupts, bright eyes staring right at him. When Pope reluctantly nods, JJ's stomach suddenly feels like lead. "I knew you were gonna say that. Always thinking ahead, aren't you?"

Pope laughs sarcastically like he doesn't believe what JJ's saying, even though he most definitely is always thinking ahead. He does it for his own good though, and for his friends' goods too so that they all may be safe and happy. And perhaps that's why JJ isn't so upset about it, because he knows that Pope is doing this out of the goodness of his heart, doing it to protect him-- even though it's typically the other way around. 

"That's okay," JJ continues, rubbing at his eye. "Damn. Allergies, you know?" He laughs dryly, and he isn't quite sure why he's crying.

Pope hugs him again because he looks like he needs it.

"We're still friends," Pope tells him, "You can still flirt with me, I promise."

"Like I wouldn't have done that anyway," JJ replies, and he isn't joking at all. "After high school, though?"

"Yeah. After high school."

[rothane]

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Gang violence, violence against women and violence in general. Nothing super graphic and it’s honestly mostly just fade to black and implied, but just to be safe. References to arson and housefires in part one.

NOTES: Technically the first half should have been posted a week ago but I did not get that far lmao so now it’s just all in one. I didn’t proof read so good luck ig.

TLDR; The man Georgia shot last week approached Ro for help in the hospital parking lot and she turned him down; a week later the Rogues beat her ass.

FEBRUARY 5, 2021 / MIDNIGHT

With fires breaking out all over town, the medical center had been all hands on deck. Rowan was sure she broke every traffic bylaw in the book on her way there, hastily dropping all four children off with her parent’s and barely managing to give them a rundown on what was happening. Her heart felt like it was in her throat when she left, unsure what kind of fresh hell she was going to be walking into when she got there and trying to plan for the absolute worst case scenarios. House fires are always tricky. She has a hard time putting herself in her patients shoes, finding herself walking a balanced line of emotional and professional while she keeps it together for all of their sake, even if she knows she’ll cry when she gets back in her car at the end of the night. It’s getting exhausting --- every day seems like it just brings a new battle for them, and honesty she isn’t sure how much longer the town is going to be able to stay standing.

Her shift at the hospital goes by exactly as she thinks it will. She holds herself together amongst all of the tragedy, delivering care to her patience with professionalism and empathy for their situations. It’s difficult to leave them at the end of the night, knowing that they’ve just had their entire lives ripped out from under them. Harper doesn’t have a home to go back to tomorrow when she’s released, the last memory she had of her fiance having literally gone up in flames right in front of her. Her niece will be staying at the hospital for at least a week, if not longer. Her little body has taken far more damage than it should have, leaving her lungs compromised and her breathing in need of assistance. Rowan knows, sadly, that this is only the start of a long journey of recovery for the little girl not to mention her brothers and her mother, who are all sure to have some sort of PTSD from the ordeal. Part of her doesn’t want to leave at all, knowing that her best friend and her sister could both use the support of her there but honestly, she’s running on fumes and she just can’t stay there any longer. So she makes her rounds and says her goodbyes, promising to be back in the morning and takes her leave.

When she finally makes it down to the parking lot, she’s so tired she isn’t paying attention to her surroundings. It’s something that she can practically hear her husband scolding her about, but in the moment all she can think about is going home, taking a shower and sinking into bed for the next six hours. She’s pulled from those longing thoughts, however, at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. She nearly drops her keys, letting out a yelp as she spins around to see who it is. She doesn’t recognize either of them. A man and a woman in cuts she can only assume say Rogues on the back of them, the man clearly in need of medical attention as what looks to be a bullet wound on one of his arms seeps blood onto the concrete around them.

“He needs help.”

Rowan barely hears the words over the sound of her heart beating in her chest and she’s already mentally calculating how long it will take her to turn around and get into her car. She’s pretty sure she can outrun them, given the state the man is in but she has no idea if they’re armed or not -- though she has a feeling it’s leaning more toward the former.

“He needs to go inside. The doctor on call will take care of him.”

The response that comes is what she had been expecting, but she backs up enough that her back is against the SUV when the woman begins speaking again. “We’re not here to have a paper trail followin’ us. We know you work for the club off the books. You’re gonna do the same for us.”

Before Rowan has a chance to properly respond, the man makes a noise of pain. His partner is distracted, giving Rowan a window of opportunity to make her move and within a split second, she’s slamming the door behind her as she gets into her car. A second later, the door handle is being violently yanked on, and she glances out the window to see the man slumped against a car a few rows away and the woman banging on the glass.

“If you leave now you’re gonna regret it.”

But it falls on deaf ears, shaking hands moving to put the car into drive, tires screeching as she flies out of the parking lot and watches her figure get smaller in the rearview. For a moment, she wonders if the whole thing had been some kind of exhaustion induced hallucination, sure that something like that couldn’t have actually just happened. But the blood streaked handprint on her window is a difficult reminder that, unfortunately, it had been very, very real. A string of curses leave her lips before taking a deep breath, fighting off the urge to vomit and while she wants to head straight home, Rowan knows better. While she had only seen two people, who really knows just how many members of the Rogues had been there and she picks up her phone to call Ryder while taking random turns on the off chance that someone is tailing her.  Ten minutes later she finally gets home, Ryder having met her in the driveway and his presence is more than enough to keep her from completely losing her shit.

FEBRUARY 14, 2021 / 7 PM.

Rowan is late --- something she doesn’t do very well with. A follow up appointment with a patient from a few weeks ago having gone over time and left her scrambling to change out of her scrubs and into her dress in her office bathroom. When she finally comes out, still struggling to get her shoes on, she can tell the prospect who has been stuck with babysitting duty is anxious. It’s clear in the way he checks his watch for the third time since he sat down in the patient’s vacated seat, and the way he can’t stop bouncing his leg.

“You got a hot date waitin’ on you, Todd?” She teases him gently, and his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

His voice is higher than usual when he answers back, sheepish and uncharacteristically shy at being called out. “My girlfriend. She made dinner tonight, and she’s not a real patient lady.”

“Sounds familiar,” she snorts in response, finishing the buckle on her shoe and slipping her jacket up and over her shoulders. Todd is still just a prospect and obviously has a ways to go before he actually finds himself patched in and able to give his girlfriend the Old Lady title but if she’s as impatient and stubborn as he has lead her to believe over the weeks, Rowan has a feeling she’ll be able to hold her own more than well enough.  “I’ll make you a deal, once we get down to the parking lot we can part ways. I’m just goin’ over to the restaurant anyways, there’s no need to follow me.” It’s clear that he’s about to protest, surely going over the laundry list of threats her husband has made over the last month and Rowan is quick to interrupt. “It’ll be our secret. If you make it home on time maybe you can still get lucky tonight.”

And that has him embarrassed enough that the poor kid doesn’t bother arguing anymore. Instead, they take the elevator down to the main floor where Rowan signs out and they take their leave. His motorcycle is parked next to her car, and they exchange goodbyes and Rowan gets in one more teasing jab about him having a goodnight before the two of them take separate exits. The drive to the restaurant is less than twenty minutes, and Rowan figures if she speeds, she can make it in twelve. But judging by the flashing lights behind her, she has a feeling that hadn’t been her greatest idea. She curses under her breath, pulling over to the side of the road as what she assumes is a police cruiser pulls up behind her. She fumbles to get her license and registration out after rolling the window down and she’s already spewing an excuse when someone approaches the door.

“I know I was speedin’. Sorry, office I---”

But it dies on her lips when the person leans forward and she sees the same woman from a week earlier. “Hey sweetheart. Remember me?”

The words have her blood running cold, but before she can think of an escape plan the familiar feeling of fingers tangling in her hair pulls her back to the moment, her face coming down with a harsh blow to meet the steering wheel. “You should’ve just helped us when you had the chance.” Rowan’s already disoriented, though she begins to fully panic when her door is flung open and she is pulled from the vehicle. After that, everything seems to be muted and dark, she’s barely aware of what is going on around her and she passes out after only a few moments. Two hours later, she wakes up back at the hospital --- this time finding herself in a paper gown and a hospital bed, a heart monitor beeping steadily beside her.

[originofjaehyun]

Prelude: After Story | Part 3 | Make Your Day

Prelude: After Story Masterlist

Word count: 4,330

Warnings: Suggestive

Part 3 | Make Your Day

“Just by your existence, you already shine radiantly like this.”

Prev

Read Interlude: No More Drama

Tag list: @justineasian​ @elauniesdream

A/N: I started Interlude: No More Drama series back in March, and I never knew that the series would go this far. Prelude: After Story is a mini-sequel that I actually didn’t plan –since I started to write Interlude during the Neozone era and I didn’t know how they would bring the repackage album, but truthfully I’m very proud of where it is. I think it is quite interesting to see things from Yuta’s POV! 

I hope you’re not bored at this, but I wish I could convey my gratitude better. I already wrote my thank you during the end of Interlude, but I’d like to say thanks again. Really, receiving warm messages especially during the current world situation does brighten up my day. So I hope that my writings could help to entertain you, to make your day (no puns intended hahaha).

This marks the end of Interlude: No More Drama and Prelude: After Story series! I personally think this is a milestone for me as a writer (especially this is one of my first published work). In the future, I would probably go cringe when I re-read this when I’m able to write a better story, but nevertheless this is the first stepping stone and it doesn’t change the fact that I will always feel proud of this. I really like how the story unfolds and how the character develops, and I think this is the perfect closure to end the series.

Thank you for loving them, and enjoying the ride with the characters!

Much love,

Dee

The same reaction, always, whenever Yuta received a guest.

You took a moment to admire his house. It’s late, but after stepping inside, you are greeted with the large window –displaying the amazing view of the cityscape.

He took off his suit, throwing it to the armchair. “Please be comfortable. Sorry for the sudden invitation, I realized I might be slightly pushy now that I've started to sober up. I can’t believe I let a woman drive me home.”

You giggled softly. “Please, gender shouldn’t prevent you from driving safely. Anyway, you have a very nice place.”

He scoffed. “It’s humble, but I like this place. The view is very charming from here. Well, sit down, I’ll grab our glasses and some ice.”

Of course, his apartment is anything but humble. You quickly scanned the room as you make your way to where he pointed his couch is. There are weird ornaments as a part of the house decorations here and there, like a vase with Japanese ceramic technique with a single dark crimson rose and few decorations of octopuses —you never knew how those could blend in together. Nevertheless, it has its own charm and the place screams his personality.

“Here,” He passes you a glass that is filled with caramel-colored liquid. The sound of the ice touching the glass snaps you from your daydream. “It’s Hibiki 12. I hope you don’t mind whiskey?”

You accepted the glass with both of your hands. “I’m good with anything. Out of curiosity though, do you always have a Japanese liquor on hand?”

A wide grin appears on his face, showcasing the perfectly aligned teeth. “To be precise, I always have Hibiki around because they are easier to drink. I managed to snatch a bottle of champagne and bourbon, though. Do you prefer those instead?”

“Would never refuse an invitation for a bottle of good quality champagne.”

“Seems like you’re a heavy drinker, Miss. I must say I think I’m pretty good at handling my alcohol, but I want to make sure there’s no accident tonight.”

You slightly flinched at his last sentence but managed to control your expression.

“Ah, I think just normal? I could manage if we could keep the pace slow –though I’m pretty sure that’s not what you wanted tonight.”

Yuta smirked, taking a seat on the floor across you. You followed him, taking a seat near him since it would be rude for you to remain seated on the couch while the house owner is being casual and sitting on the floor.

“Actually, not really.” He said while twirling his class, taking another sip. “I was thinking of taking it slow tonight.”

You shifted your stare to see him. “Is that so.”

While you thought it was quite careless for him to invite a stranger –technically you are up until the car ride where you briefly introduce each other– to his house, you’re not the one to talk since you also waltzed into his apartment without any second thoughts.

Both of you don’t mind the silence, as he continues to spin his middle finger around the rim of his glass. Either the alcohol starts to kick in, or he is consumed by his own thoughts. His cheeks start to flushed like cherry blossoms, and his mind is in a daze.

“I–” Yuta finally breaks the silence. “Was thinking a lot about my own feelings. On the contrary to my look, I think I’m actually the type of person who feels a lot. Most of the time I decide things based on my feelings.”

You didn’t respond, so there’s a momentary pause before he bridges his story together. You didn’t respond because you didn’t pay him any attention, but you just feel like right now what he needs is to let out his feelings, bare to the table.

“When I received my invitation, I feel like the ground below my feet shattered. But at the same time, it would be rude of me to reject it when she was so excited about her wedding. I was thinking how could this person be so dense to invite me that are still wallowing in sorrow?”

You took another sip of your whiskey, keeping your mouth shut while listening to his story.

“As I entered the venue today, each and every of my step seems harder. Like, I was regretting saying yes to her invitation.”

He then looked down at his almost empty glass. “Then I saw her face. And it feels like... all the answers that I’ve been looking for was there. That today was the day where I truly feel thankful that I made that decision. I’m glad she looked happy,”

He took another sip, finishing whatever left on his glass. “I’m glad that I could end this and make it into a proper memory.”

There it is.

The man in front of you smiled when he reached the end of his sentence. But you can see how that smile was wrapped in sadness.

You know by the way he talks, he is a man full of passion. His directness that is sometimes always too spontaneous. But it’s not the blazing-type of passion. Maybe because of his past, there’s always a trail of woe that surrounds him. That keeps him from burning his surroundings.

Like a blue flame.

“I’m sorry, it must be weird to suddenly listen to my sad story,” He said as he rises up. “Let me refill your glass. Should we take other liquor? I was thinking of switching it up to wine. I didn’t lie when I said there’s no more regret, but in order for me to truly accept it, I guess I kinda need to feel my feelings? I need something to dull the pain.”

“I thought you only stole bourbon and champagne?”

“You can’t call it a Nakamoto residence without a vast amount of alcohol gallery, you know?”

Finally, a hint of delight starts to replace the somber mood. “Again, I’m a guest so I’ll take anything. For your reference, though, I’m more of a red wine person.”

He curls his lips upwards, chiseling his well-structured cheekbones, “Got it. Also, please be more comfortable. I’m the one who suddenly invites you, after all.”

As he walks toward his wine fridge, you reactively rise up, about to offer your help. You’ve been sitting on your feet for quite a while, and your legs are definitely not ready for the sudden movement. You almost slip to the ground, but as if it was a shoujo manga, Yuta manages to catch you.

“Careful!” He said as he holds your upper arm, preventing you from falling.

It feels like the universe planned this all along, as cliche as it might sound.

You get to see his face, up close. The way his eyes pull you in, glistening from the alcohol that he had consumed.

It would be a lie if you told him that you’re not attracted. How could you not? The man in front of you is obviously good looking, but his demeanor, the way his voice travels through the air.

It was all just too alluring.

You avoided of the what-could-have-happened-next scenario by breaking the eye contact, looking away. It is a different case for Yuta. Because the sight of your neck, now burning in the vibrant pink flush is like an open invitation for him.

And he is not Yuta if he is not a decisive person.

He leans in, giving you a soft kiss on the lips. A kiss you didn’t see coming, but most definitely sending electrifying feels to your spine. A kiss that is mixed with the bitterness from alcohol. Yet Hibiki is sweet, so you long for more, kissing him back in the process.

The kiss that was started gently, suddenly rises up as both of you wanting for more. He dives in, checking if you felt the same way. You reciprocated, biting his lower lips. Asking him to pace up the speed.

You thought he would gladly eat you. To your disappointment, however, he separates his lips from yours.

“Are you fine with this?”

His whispers are gentle, yet able to give you goosebumps. He knows, that even under influence he should earn your consent before moving on to the next step. That surprises you because you thought the alcohol would turn him into a beast. But Yuta remains as a gentleman.

So you shyly give him a nod of approval, much to gain his wonderful smile. He leans forward to kiss you, but this time in a much more aggressive manner.

As he trails his lips to your neck, soft moans escape from your lips.

“Wait,” You stopped him half-way, which he only responded with a confused face. “Can we, uhm, perhaps move somewhere else? I… never done this… so I don’t know if I’m doing this right,”

Seeing how nervous you are, and the way you panicked over this, Yuta couldn’t help to chuckle softly. 

“Of course, that is rude of me,” He kissed your temple, followed by gentle strokes on your head. 

“Come.”

He stands up, offering his hand in which you immediately accept. He guides you to his room. His room didn’t shy away from being loud, some might even perceive it as odd since he opts to choose eccentric pieces to decorate his sanctuary. But everything seems to mesh well together with his plain beige wallpaper. There are a few unfinished canvases at the corner, most notably a painting of roses.

You were busy admiring his room to realize that he was waiting for you at the corner of his bed. Arms wide open ready to embrace you.

You giggled at the scene, but then you remember that you fall into his arms means it won’t stop at just there.

“Can I... use your bathroom first?”

You can feel the heat collecting on your cheek. You were embarrassed to ask such a question, but Yuta understands where you are coming from in a heartbeat, and you are glad for that.

“Please,” He said, gesturing to you to find his bathroom. “But once you’re done, we’re not stopping, yeah? I think I’ve been good for being patient, don’t you think?”

You smiled at his remarks. “I’ll be quick.”

You practically skipped your way to the bathroom. You checked yourself, at least making sure you smell pleasant. Then before leaving the bathroom door, you took your time in front of the sink. Contemplating with yourself in the mirror.

You are about to fuck Yuta.

The words repeated inside your head but soon vanished at the sight of a foreign object. Not that you are used to his apartment, but everything in his apartment was coated with his character, except this dainty jewelry.

It was a delicate, simple rose gold earrings. You noticed that Yuta rocks multiple piercings on both of his ears. But none are this delicate. It seems these were too plain for his liking.

Who am I to judge?

You said to yourself. You literally just know this man tonight and you’d be damned to judge his taste. Who knows, maybe he has those days where he wants to lay low. Whenever he’s going to meet his clients, perhaps? But you feel like keeping such delicate pieces in the bathroom has a potential of him losing it, so you call him out.

“Yuta?”

He hummed as a form of reply.

“You shouldn’t keep your earrings near the sink, you know. You might wash them away by accident.”

Suddenly you can hear his footsteps, rushing. You didn’t lock the door and you are glad that you didn’t because he would probably break the door open. He rushed to grab the pair of earrings, and the color on his face fades away. The smile that once appeared on his face was no longer there.

This gains your confusion. What does a rose gold earring mean to him that he had to act this way?

A rose gold earring.

A painting of roses.

A single rose that was fresh, as if it was treated with the utmost care.

Then you remember that the sight of a rose is definitely not a stranger for you, especially the last three days.

You decorated the hall with roses.

The couple carefully selected the specific color of the roses, making the last few weeks like a nightmare looking out for the vendors.

Of course, you even arranged her bouquet with roses.

“Ah, I just like roses,” She said to you when you asked why she picked roses as one of the main flowers. “As cliché as it might sound, I think roses are one of the most stunning flowers out there. They’re beautiful but surrounded by their thorns so you got to treat them gently unless you want them to prick you. Also, I think it’s because of the roses that we’re back together.”

“Did we?” Her fiancé finally looked at her after busy playing with the ring on her fingers.

“Don’t you dare to forget you add water to my shower gel.”

You could remember the laughter vividly in your head, but the last thing that you would want right now is to laugh. 

“I get it.” You tried to act though, but there’s a crack in your voice. “I get that you just told me you were trying to forget about her a few minutes ago.”

You can feel like your vision is about to start to blur, but you took a deep breath to prevent a single tear to drop.

“I’d like to blame it on the alcohol, but I guess I’m at fault too.”

Was it the way he always smiled so brilliantly? His weird and odd taste that makes you furrow your brows the moment you step into his place? The way he comes to your shop every week to buy fresh flowers and look at them so lovingly?

Perhaps, because he could enter your heart so easily. Who knows, you might have already fallen for him the moment he requested for roses the first time you met him.

You get that you only get along well, and what are the chances that these things happen so smoothly? You’re not a princess out of a Disney movie.

He evidently holds the pair of earrings so dearly, and even though you’re not the type of person who puts your feelings on your sleeve, it is inevitable that you felt the sharp pain on your chest.

“I never do this, Yuta. And I don’t plan on doing these things, if that someone doesn’t think about me at this very moment.”

Your words startled him, and before he could speak up, you gave him your last words. “Please, don’t ever take this so lightly, especially to me.”

You walked past him, grabbing your belongings in the living room before walking outside. You are glad Yuta didn’t chase you, because it would hurt your pride if he knows that you cried a river when you walk your way to your car.

--

It’s nearly a week since you closed your flower shop. This is your business and to be frank you are still upset about what happened after the wedding party. The newlyweds paid a hefty amount of money so you can survive a bit without operating. Though, this small shop that is also connected to your home upstairs will need to open soon in order for you to be able to pay your bills. Furthermore, your love for flowers is far too great for you to leave them without any attention. 

You closed your shop, telling your customers (especially your regulars) and putting a sign in front of the shop that you will be back after a week of break. You also told Mark that he wouldn’t need to come. He accepted it without pressing for further questions, but it’s so like Mark to make sure you’re alright.

“I’m fine, really. You don’t need to pay for my shift this week either.”

“Are you sure? I was thinking I could give you half of it.”

“No, I wouldn’t feel good taking money without putting any effort into it. But most importantly, you sure you’re fine, Noona?”

You sighed in relief, glad that Mark is well-raised and how he always cares about the people around him. “I’m fine, Mark. I think the wedding frenzy got the best of me, so I was thinking of having a short break so I could have a fresh start.”

“Well, it was overwhelming, not gonna lie,” Mark said as he recalled how he helped you prepare for his brother’s and new sis wedding. “I guess if you say so. Please if there’s anything I could do to help, let me know Noona.”

You replied with a simple yes, throwing your phone to the bed after you ended the call.

The past week, all you’ve been doing is to wake up early in the morning, tend the flowers, eat your breakfast, and go straight to nap. It’s a bad habit, yes, but that is how you cope with sadness.

Sad? Am I entitled to feel so?

You only know Yuta briefly, he is a regular. The fact that you know that he’s a Japanese before he told you so is probably trivial to him.

“We’re out of camellias, I’m terribly sorry sir.”

“Do you know when the next batch will come?”

“Unfortunately camellias are not in season, so it will take a while for us to restock it.”

He sighed, then he looked at his wristwatch. It seems like he doesn’t have that much time to browse the catalog.

“Is there a reason why you’re looking for camellias?”

“Ah, not really. It reminds me of home. I just came back from there last week. I thought of getting roses, but I changed my mind.”

“Home?”

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t from here. I’m a Japanese, you see.”

“Oh! I didn’t notice.”

He shyly scratched the back of his head, still not used to people complimenting his bilingual ability. You find his reaction charming, unconsciously giggling at it.

“Then, sir, I assume you’re in a hurry. May I give you a suggestion?”

“How do you know I was in a hurry?”

“Well it was easy since you immediately asked for camellia and looked at your watch the moment I told you we don’t have one.”

He lets out a smile. A smile so warm that sunflowers might face toward his direction immediately. “Indeed, I have to meet someone this evening. So your help will actually good for my favor. I was thinking of buying flowers for my dining table, do you have any suggestions?”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “I think buttercups would be perfect.”

—

Yuta has been thinking a lot about what happened last Saturday.

Especially how he should talk to her.

It’s easy to spot her store, Yuta and Doyoung practically passed by it every single morning on their way to the office. The sun hits the flower store perfectly. Not too harsh, just a bask of the golden ray. Usually, he would see how the beautifully bloomed flowers were displayed on the store windows. But it’s already day six and the store shows no sign of operations.

He reads the announcement board in front of the store; “Paradise will be closed for an inventory check. We will be back to serve you next week!”

He feels dejected. Yuta couldn’t just ask Mark for her number, that would have raised so many questions. Yes, Yuta kissed her, but was their relationship that close for him to ask for her number? The fact that both of them are not sober is also a part of Yuta’s concern.

So instead, Yuta planned to visit the florist (especially since he’s been skipping buying flowers for a week —his vase longed to be filled with any arrangement) as an excuse to meet her. But now he even lost that very reason.

He was about to step away before a tune leaked out from the front door.

Someone is here.

Without hesitation, Yuta knocked on the front door. The one inside, however, did not expect any visitor. Yuta can hear how the person inside scrambles their way to open the door.

“Yes?”

She lets out a professional smile, and it fades almost instantly as soon as she sees Yuta standing in front of her door.

“Hi.”

“Yuta!” She closes her mouth, surprised that she shrieked. “Uhm, I… didn’t expect you to come. But our store is currently close, so if you’re looking for flowers, unfortunately we—“

“I want to talk to you.”

Again, it’s so very Yuta to cut to the chase.

“I want to clarify a few things.”

She finally looked at him. She tried to remain calm, keeping the expressionless upfront. But Yuta could see how her pupils were quivering. She was trying to be brave.

“I’d like to apologize for three things. One, the way I reacted at that time. It was only mere minutes after I said that I’m truly happy for her. As a human being, don’t you think it’s understandable that I reacted that way?”

She nods but remained silent.

“I’m typically an extrovert, but I’m very territorial with my personal space, and I let her go beyond the lines that I created. In a way, she is precious to me.”

This time, she didn’t respond.

“And she would probably always be. But that doesn’t mean I could only have one precious person in my life.”

She furrowed her brows, and Yuta smirked as he continued.

“After that night, I think a lot about my feelings. How I truly felt.” He scratches the back of his head that is not itchy, but because it takes a lot for Yuta to bare his feelings like this while being sober.

“And the answer remains the same. I genuinely feel happy for her. So I thought, it would only be right to properly keep everything away, little by little instead of throwing it away out of anger. Forcing myself to move on from her. Because I, too believe –as narcissistic as this might sound, that I was a part of a chapter in her life that she holds dear too. It might be slow progress, but I will get there, eventually.”

“Secondly, I apologize for not apologizing for kissing you that night. There is no regret, the attraction is mutual anyway.”

She tilted her head, before realizing what Yuta actually meant. “Wait, you knew?”

He chuckles. “Going back to Osaka was the turning point. Probably everything that I need. It forces me to start fresh, exactly like what I did when I first set foot in this country. It let me accept that I’m actually the type of person who feels a lot. Like how I admit that I’m hopelessly romantic.”

The cold atmosphere starts to melt away, with the addition of the sun seeps in between the leaves on the nearby tree.

“So afterward I’ve been looking into subjects that I never knew I would be interested in, for example, flower languages. Might be the very first reason why I came to receive buttercups from this place.”

“So what you said…”

“Well, I guess I can say my third and last apology. I’m sorry that I am a hopeless romantic kind of guy. I’m very direct, people often told me that I intimidate them sometimes just by doing nothing. But it is just my outer shell. I might not be as strong as the way people view me. Now that you know, it might put you off, huh.”

She finally laughs, “Yuta, I am a florist. This is my field.”

As if her laugh is contagious, Yuta too, unconsciously smiling back.

“I guess, it’s been quite a journey. At least for me. Maybe I’m the one who holds onto the feelings, thinking that I should hold into it for as long as I could possibly can. But life doesn’t work that way, you know? And probably the time you gave me daffodils is one of the signs, too. I just brushed them off because of my stubbornness.”

“Maybe, just maybe, I want to start seeing life as it is. To enjoy the present. To enjoy life as moments. To experience the wonderful charm of its magic. One of the magical moments started here, and I love to cherish them while the magic is still here. In fact, it’s been a long time since things are going smoothly for me. So if I can be ever so selfish, would you let me?”

She was stunned by his remarks. Eyes blinking rapidly, completely unprepared for his sudden proposal.

Yuta had expected it. It’s barely a week, and to receive this kind of confession —although not necessarily a boyfriend-girlfriend confession— from a man who just told you his grief can be confusing.

The confused face started to fade, and she left without replying to a single word. 

Yuta thought she rejected him, asking him to leave the shop.

Well, you deserve this, Nakamoto.

As he was about to walk away, she came back with anthuriums on her hand. Taking a moment to catch for her breath as she was rushing to grab these flowers.

“This is?”

“You don’t want an answer?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I mean, yes I told you I’ve been learning about flower languages but it’s mostly from Google, and I can’t possibly remember the meaning of every single flower?”

“I can.”

“You are a florist, my dear.”

She laughed lightly, a tone that was like jiggles of bells to Yuta’s ears.

“Can you move closer? I want to whisper these words to you.”

Yuta motioned to her immediately, obediently following her request. As her lips almost touch his ear, Yuta can feel his blood rushing to his ears.

She said, gently to his ears. “I hope you’ll be happy today.”

[woodrokiro]

Hollowed (fic) Part Five

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: They call her a miracle, but he looks at her as if she’s normal. It scares her. Fantasy/Futuristic/Zombie kinda?AU. Read Parts One, Two, Three, and Four. 

It turns out to be a Hollowed… Because of course it is. 

Luckily it’s only one, and small from what the messenger describes. Still, from the way the messenger’s eyes widen while describing it, Ichigo assumes it really has been a while since these people saw one, and must’ve given the soldiers quite a drill.

But he could care less if the soldiers panicked. What he wants to know is if it’s dead.

“Y-yes sir! I saw if for myself, its eyes had clouded over, and its mouth--”

“I don’t need to hear about it.” And he really didn’t, as he could already imagine it: its yellowed fangs bared into a nasty snarl, the eight legs curled pathetically into its jet black body, its eyes peering from behind a horrific mask, milky with death.

He’s seen enough of them. 

“Were there any casualties?”

“No, not that I’m aware of--”

“Aware of? What does that mean?”

“Well, all soldiers are accounted for…”

“But not civilians here?”

“If you’re worried about your friends,” Rukia calls from behind him, and the messenger straightens as if he’s forgotten she’s there-- “there’s not much to worry about. Very rarely are civilians even let outside the compound. When soldiers go out, they are often flanked and covered by the remaining at the walls. It’s all planned far out in advance. We would know about it.”

That clears a bit of Ichigo’s anxiety, but not enough. 

In truth, he’s worried about his sisters. The last time they all encountered those monsters, they were even more horrifying than all the previous times before. Their village was destroyed, people left dead in the streets, their father fighting with all he had left…

Not that he’s not worried for his friends’ mental well being, but his sisters are just twelve years old: too young for any of this bullshit. 

And yeah, it’s always been a part of their lives… But he’s their big brother. He’s supposed to be their protector, or at the very least comforting them. 

Which is why being cooped up here in the name of a job is driving him insane. 

When the bell first started clanging, a soldier ran through to tell him he was to remain here with Lady Rukia at all costs until somebody gave him further instruction. When Ichigo tried to ask when might he be given further instruction--let alone what happened--the soldier sneered. 

“This is your job now,” he spat. “And an important one at that. You are never to leave Lady Rukia during your shift. As for what’s going on, you’ll be told when the information needs to be relayed to you. I recommend you stop asking questions.”

Fucking hell, he’s tired of hearing that. The guy is lucky he ran out so quickly, as Ichigo could’ve throttled him. Instead, all he could do is pace around his partitioned space like a tiger in a cage, ignoring the girl on the other side of the room who probably wouldn’t speak to him anyway.

And now, apparently, she feels inclined to butt in, all uppity and knowledgeable. He spins to face her. 

“Yes, I’m worried about my friends,” he grits out his teeth. “But I’m also worried about my sisters. I’m all they have, and the last time one of those things were within such a vicinity to us it was a real fucking nightmare. Now,” he turns back to the messenger. “If you have the time, I’d really appreciate if you could go to the kitchens and relay a message to Karin and Yuzu Kuro--”

“Go to them.”

Ichigo turns incredulously back toward her, and is starting to think this twisting back and forth is getting really old. “Huh?”

“I was clear enough, fool. Go find your sisters. Take the rest of the day off.”

He nearly sputters. Is there something he’s missing here? “B-but you heard that other guy--”

“That ‘other guy’ is technically correct, in any other situation you won’t be able to leave me.” She’s got her arms crossed, with a superior look in her eye that Ichigo kind of hates but also he’s feeling hopeful about what she’s saying so he’ll just ignore it for now. “But today is your first day. I believe you’ve received basic training enough--”

“Well, I mean I didn’t really do anything--”

“Don’t be so modest, sir. You’ve done plenty.” She looks at him with raised eyebrows pointedly. 

He shuts his mouth. 

“Some soldiers will probably be here shortly to relieve you in any case. They always take me when this sort of occurrence happens...” she drifts softly, before her eyes suddenly shine (yes, shine) toward the messenger. “Sir there! Would you be willing to chaperone me in Sir Kurosaki’s absence, until then? I would be most appreciative of it.”

The messenger shifts, but Ichigo can see a blush rise on his cheeks. “Oh, w-well I’d be most honored, milady. But I’m afraid I’m not of military calibre to watch you. You see, I might as well be a grunt--”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. So long as you’re a soldier, you can protect me. And don’t worry, if any of the higher ranks or even Lord Yamamoto raise questions about it, I’ll be happy to take the blame.” She smiles sweetly before turning back to Ichigo. “Thank you for your services, sir. You are dismissed.”

He blinks. “So, does that cover for me too or…?”

“What, you believe I would cover for one party in a situation and not the other? Yes, Mr. Kurosaki, you as well. Now, goodbye.” She waves him off dismissively. 

While that kind of pisses him off--and it’s bizarre how fast she changed gears--he’s grateful.

---

He finds the girls perfectly safe and sound when he rushes into the kitchens. In fact, they hadn’t even heard the news of the Hollowed… Which Ichigo finds quite eery how news like that isn’t relayed to the service as quickly as the bell clangs for the military--but at the very least, he’s glad to find they’re safe and not scared. 

He tries to express some sort of a game plan to them: that if he’s not able to go to them in times of danger, find Chad, or even Uryu--well, not Uryu, as he might be on the front lines--

“Relax, Ichigo.” Karin cuts him off with a gentle smirk. “We know how to take care of ourselves for this sort of thing… Or at the very least: how to not get killed. Worst case scenario, I’ve got kitchen knives here I can use.”

“Plus, they’ve got me.” Inoue steps forward from the spot she’s been quietly listening and kneading dough. She claps her floury hands together. “I know that I-I don’t look like much, Ichigo, but you can count on me to protect the girls! All this kneading is giving me some real arm strength! Not to mention when I put in my secret ingredients, that makes it even tougher!!” 

She strikes a pose with her biceps flexed, and while Ichigo’s not quite sure if that’ll be enough to tear apart the creatures responsible for the near extinction of humanity, he still smiles and thanks her. He has to remember that the three in front of him are smart and very much capable of taking care of themselves.

He doesn’t really have a choice, otherwise. 

---

Later that night when everyone else but the boys are asleep, he asks Uryu whether he saw the Hollowed. 

“I did. In fact, one of my arrows got stuck in its putrid ribs.” He pushes his glasses up.

“I saw it as well,” Chad offers. “My boss and I were restocking the weapons on the wall while they burned the body.”

“Chad, you too? So I was the only one to miss out on the action, huh?”

“Not much action, Kurosaki. Truth be told, the military is true to its word. Pretty organized on the killing, once they got past the initial shock. I imagine they’d have a harder time with a horde of them, though.” Uryu opens his mouth to say something, but hesitates.

“What?” Ichigo eyes the look passed between Uryu and Chad. “What was wrong with it?”

“It… Had some… One of its legs was a human arm.” Uryu grinds his teeth. “Recently turned. I think… It might’ve been someone from our village.”

Ichigo prays it wasn’t anybody he knew well, let alone his dad. Trapped in a horrid body like that, slithering miserably up the mountain for fresh blood--it’d be a nightmare he can barely stomach. 

But it wouldn’t matter in any case, he guesses.

A loss is a loss is a loss. 

---

The next morning, he’s informed that he has to report to Yamamoto before his shift. It must be because of what happened yesterday, he realizes. The old man is pissed.

He drags himself into the office, where Yamamoto is (seemingly) calm, reading a book.

The old man smiles. “Ah, Kurosaki! Do sit. Why, you look quite uncomfortable. Are your concerns with the Hollowed yesterday? I hope your sisters were all right.”

Well, shit. 

“Yeah, they were… Thanks.” Ichigo eyes the man across him, waiting for an explosion. “So… Rukia told you…?”

“Lady Rukia told me she dismissed you, yes. Oh dear, you thought I might be upset about that? Well, I suppose on any other occasion I might be quite angry.” 

Ichigo shifts uncomfortably. “So… Why not this time?”

“Well, I suppose I never did properly explain Lady Rukia’s position in this place. Certainly, she is technically ranked above you--ranked above many generals, in fact--and so I cannot blame you for following her orders. How did you like her, by the way?”

“Well… I mean she’s… Quiet. But okay, I guess--”

“She can be quite quiet, you’re right. But I hope you’ll find she’s also very kind. Gentle. Clever, too.” Yamamoto raps his knuckles against his desk. “But she’s also rather frail. The soldiers that took her after you left go to her quarters quite often to escort her to the medical facilities. She runs through quite a number of tests and medicines there for her condition. She’s very smart and capable, yes; but also can suffer some… Sufferings in judgement. Sometimes she doesn’t know what’s the best for her, so a select few including myself make certain decisions for her. Does that make sense?”

Ichigo doesn’t think the girl he saw yesterday looked sick at all, let alone capable of being anything but a smartass brat--but he nods. 

“So next time it happens that my lady gives an order that you’re not quite sure about, request my presence immediately and I’ll sort it out. I trust your judgement. In fact, I’ll be requesting meetings every few days to ask you about updates on her condition and such.”

“... So you’re asking me to spy on her?”

“Not at all! Just that she gets quite tired sometimes… You’ll see. I just want to know how she’s doing after her treatments, so we can get her the help she deserves.” Suddenly, the old man’s focal point shifts to somewhere past Ichigo. “Ah! Well, speak of some sort of devil. Ichigo, this is Lady Rukia’s older brother, Byakuya. He’s a captain within our military.” 

Ichigo turns around to see a man with long black hair standing in the doorway, eyeing him coolly. He clumsily gets up, walking over while reaching out his hand. The guy looks like a complete douchebag, but an older brother deserves to know his sister’s taken care of. “Ichigo Kurosaki, it’s--”

“I know who you are, thank you.” Byakuya drifts past Ichigo’s outstretched hand, toward the seat where Ichigo was previously sitting. 

All right. So he really is an asshole.

“Give Rukia my regards. Lord Yamamoto, I have some reports with you I’d like to discuss.”

“Of course. Kurosaki, you may go now.” And just like that (again!) it seems the Yamamoto forgets his existence. 

Ichigo is just about to shut the door when the old man’s voice calls out. 

“Oh, and Kurosaki?” 

He holds the door, waiting. 

“I understand some--including Lady Rukia--warned you against being in her quarters with her, past the screen. This is one of the occasions I’d like you to ignore her order.”

Ichigo looks back inside at Yamamoto. “Um… I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that. Not if she isn’t.”

“Of course, completely understandable. But if she ever relays a sense of danger in being there… Worry not. There is none.”

Ichigo shuts the door.

He’s not about to go into some girl’s room without her wanting him there.

[kbstories]

Intrinsic

in·trin·sic (adj.) Belonging naturally; essential.

Just because Trafalgar Law didn't make plans beyond Dressrosa doesn't mean Bepo didn't.

(Or: Law comes home.)

Tags: Reunions, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nakamaship, Trafalgar D. Water Law Gets A Hug, References to (Past) Suicidal Thoughts, Bepo and Law are soft and I love them

Set in Zou. Content warning for references to suicidal ideation (in the context of Law’s plan).

***

Months Bepo waited.

Months he roamed Whale Forest, him and his crewmates, their leader in name only as the days bled into weeks and the horizon remained unchanged. Up until the Beast came a-knocking, there hadn’t been anywhere to lead them to. The Heart Pirates weren’t budging a single inch, hell or high water or freaking Mammoth shifters be damned.

Finally, finally, the forest murmurs with the presence of someone new, glistening leaves and sun-lit meadows welcoming the silhouette of a man Bepo would recognize anywhere, anytime, be it a year from now or another decade.

Then Trafalgar Law smiles and it all disappears in a haze of happily shed tears as the crew rejoices around them.

Things slide back into place just like that, between the excited cheers of the Heart Pirates and the slump of Law’s shoulders as he relaxes into Bepo’s fuzzy-tight embrace.

“Welcome back, Captain”, Bepo tells him, intense with the wave of love and devotion and relief crashing within him, and designates this the best day ever when Law’s smile stays where it is, eyes warm with affection.

“It’s good to be back.”

(Months they spent waiting and yet the world won’t stop spinning for their sake. “We can’t linger”, Law says hours later, arms crossed and expression guarded across one Strawhat Luffy. Strawhat nods, solemnly; he turns around and declares:

“Everyone! Reunion party now but make it snappy! Traffy wants to get going!”

Bepo decides he likes their new ally then and there.)

A party is a party, and with a crew as boisterous as the Strawhat Pirates, the chances of it remaining somewhat contained go towards zero pretty much instantly. A few hours in, Bepo is vaguely gobsmacked that the crew is as crazy as their captain. Then again, they have to be, to follow a force of nature in the shape of a man.

Suddenly, the resigned sigh Law breathes over his mug of beer – technically Pirate Hunter Zoro’s mug of beer, which he had thrown in Law’s direction regardless of his protests – makes so much more sense to Bepo.

It makes him laugh all the harder. His poor captain’s nerves must’ve taken quite a beating in this alliance: He hasn’t even started slicing limbs off people yet. And that after Bepo saw Chopper cling to Law’s head in an effort to hide during an impromptu game of tag with their long-nosed sniper and Penguin, of all people. In fact, Law didn’t even blink. He merely waited for Chopper to leave before fixing his hat, huddling closer to his drink and going back to ignoring them all with icy resolve.

There is a very real possibility the perpetual chaos that are the Strawhat Pirates broke Trafalgar Law somewhere along the way. Bepo has yet to determine if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Two bowls in hand, he settles beside the fallen tree Law perches on, a nice distance away from the bulk of the banquet in full swing. Bepo nudges Law’s elbow with his own and offers him his share of lasagna. “At least Penguin’s having fun?”, he adds with a hopeful smile. Law glances at the bright grin on Penguin’s face – he holds the tiny reindeer over his head like a trophy and yells, “Gotcha!”, only to be tackled to the ground by God Usopp a second later –, then at Bepo’s pleading eyes. He huffs, an undeniable trace of humor hidden in there somewhere.

“It’s something”, Law grumbles into the first forkful of food.

He eats and Bepo does too, humming in appreciation of the explosion of meat and melted cheese on his tongue; even Law seems pleased, picky eater that he is, and Bepo’s spirits practically soar to the stars above them.

A mere day ago, this exact scenario was little more than a pipe dream. Sure, the arrival of the Strawhats had been a much-needed sign that their waiting was coming to an end (and it was pretty fantastic news for Zou, in the grand scale of things). Rarely in his life had Bepo been happier to meet four complete strangers.

That joy had somewhat faded when Sanji answered Bepo’s call for his captain with a sympathetic twist to his mouth and a shake of his head. Don’t worry, he’d said right after, and faith had burned in that unshakeable gaze. Luffy’s with him. Nobody dies on my captain’s watch.

Bepo had thought of a lonely island far away and the anguished cries of a brother mourning another and winced. It seemed downright cruel to bring that up, and so he didn’t. Instead, he’d taken that trust and used it to summon another bout of patience.

It turns out Strawhat's cook was right all along. Bepo swallows another mouthful of lasagna, his fork pausing on its way back to the bowl. Sanji had looked so proud of his crew in that moment. Would he really leave them behind like that?

“What’s up? You’re awfully quiet.”

Law’s voice is low, the concern in it meant for Bepo and Bepo only. He waits for Bepo to come back to himself with a blink and a soft apology before raising an eyebrow. No more words are needed: Law sets aside his mug and the empty bowl, and slips to the ground, folding his legs against his chest somewhat-gracefully. Like the tides follow the moon, Bepo shifts with him and lets his captain lean back against him.

A quiet sigh signalizes that yup, Law is comfortable. Then:

“Bepo. Talk to me.”

Always so impatient. Bepo smiles and relaxes, too.

“Just thinking, I guess… The Strawhats are our allies now, right? Do you think they’ll be alright, going against Big Mom?”

Law looks up at him with mild surprise, tilting his head back to see Bepo beyond the brim of his hat. Bepo doesn’t bother hiding his unease from him; he’d be able to tell, anyways. A decade of friendship will do that to people.

“You’ve barely known them for a day. You’re seriously worrying about Blackleg already?”

Busted. For a moment, Bepo contemplates the merits of feeling embarrassed about it. “It’s been over a week with Sanji”, he negotiates, pulling his snout into a pout when Law just smirks. “Besides. Whatever trouble they start, we’ll catch it too. It makes sense to worry.”

Law huffs one of his rare laughs, a little rough around the edges but so familiar. Perhaps Bepo can forgive his captain for being a jerk.

“Don’t get me wrong: I don’t blame you. We were in Dressrosa all of, what, three days? Strawhat stepped off that island a national hero, him and Longnose. Don’t ask me how the fuck they do it. It’s exhausting.”

Of course, Bepo read all about their exploits in the paper. What kind of first mate would he be if he hadn’t? What happened, it sounded a whole lot like a nightmare and a miracle and a revolution wrapped in one. It sounded like a lot – and Bepo has carefully laid plans to bug Law into opening up about it once they’re safely wrapped in metal and a few hundred fathoms deep.

Trafalgar Law doesn’t do heart-to-hearts, ironically enough. Thus, Bepo’s plan might’ve taken… unreasonable proportions to ensure he does, this time.

Yet Law mentions Dressrosa so casually. He’s not tense in Bepo’s embrace (yet). A mere stone’s throw away, the Strawhats and the Heart Pirates and the minks dance around the bonfires, all smiles and drunken laughter, and Bepo takes a leap of faith.

“So. Dressrosa.”

Law stills.

“…Yeah.”

With gentle pressure, Law pillows his head against Bepo’s chest. Bepo wishes he could see his face; he compromises with a gentle squeeze to Law’s arm, the uninjured one. I’m sorry.

Law sighs. It sounds fond and really, really tired, too. “I’m not gonna lie, Bepo. It was pretty fucking horrible. I knew it was gonna be a shitshow but… Fuck.”

Somehow, that one word tells Bepo more than any newspaper could. Carefully, he wraps his arms around Law's shoulders, loose enough not to crowd him but there nonetheless. “But you made it”, Bepo says quietly. His voice goes soft with emotion, as close to unsteady as Bepo will let it. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters to me, Captain.”

And it’s that that makes Law stiffen, his breathing more measured, tense. An inked hand rises to meet Bepo’s, hesitant. Bepo intertwines their fingers, soothing.

“You knew.”

Bepo huffs at the numb surprise in his voice, hard enough to ruffle the collar of Law’s shirt.

“I’ve been your friend for about as long as that plan of yours exists, Law. ‘Course I knew. It was your decision to make and I’ll always follow your lead, no matter what. Just… I’m glad it didn’t end that way. Your life is so much more than that asshole ever deserved.”

A long bout of silence follows Bepo’s words. Maybe it’s weird for Law, to be the one out of his depth between them – yet Bepo had nothing if not time on his hands to think, and to wonder, and to hope with all he had that Law would be alive long enough for Bepo to tell him he matters.

Here, where Law continues to draw breath in his arms, it’s hard to imagine a world where he didn’t come back. Where the Heart Pirates waited and waited, safely out of the picture while their captain was slaughtered by the man he hates most.

It’s the very stuff Bepo’s nightmares are made of. There’s no point in putting that burden on Law's shoulders, though. That’s all his, and if that’s the price to pay for Law to be alive and free, Bepo will proudly wear those scars to the end of his days.

Suddenly, Law’s fingers squeeze his, and Bepo tilts his head down to watch his tattoos move. D E A T H, a bold challenge to fate that has served them well, despite it all.

“I’m sorry for– Yeah. I didn’t know there was another way. I just… I needed him gone. So Cora can rest, y’know?”

Bepo nods, his chin nudging Law’s hat so he can feel it. “Of course. No need to apologize, Captain.”

Unexpectedly, it makes Law chuckle of all things. “No apologizing, huh?”, he says, teasing, and– Fine, Bepo walked straight into that one. He grumbles and knocks his knee into Law’s without heat.

Then, Law lets go of Bepo’s hand to burrow deeper into his arms, shifting and turning into his favorite position for a nap. Finally, Bepo catches a glimpse of Law’s face – a little pale, a lot tired but comfortable, at peace – before he smooshes it into Bepo’s fur.

And yeah, okay, Bepo can take a hint. Seems like Law decided to enforce his golden rule of no mushy talk in public, after all.

“Oof. Gentle, Captain.”

“Mhm, sorry.” Law’s voice comes out muffled. “I haven’t slept in fucking forever. Strawhat wakes up with the sun like some kid. Seriously, who just does that?”

“Lunatics”, Bepo answers immediately, mostly to feel Law laugh again. “Figures that’s the kind of friend you would make, all by yourself out there.”

“Ugh, terrible”, Law agrees, a little slurred with oncoming sleep but still coherent enough that Bepo can and will tease him later for sounding so fond. For now, he lets him doze off, warm to his core at the sight of Law falling asleep almost immediately.

Bepo makes himself comfortable and settles in for a long wait. Usually he’d fall asleep right along with Law – there’s something so calming about feeling someone’s heart beat so close to one’s own – but for now, he’s happy to listen to Law’s quiet snoring and watch his crewmates make a fool of themselves to match their new allies.

(Much, much later, Bepo startles awake to wide eyes staring at him just inches from his face. Law is still asleep and thus Bepo doesn’t move – instead he blinks and stares back, watching Monkey D. Luffy’s face move into a pensive pout like he’s thinking hard enough to hurt.

When it’s clear there will be no explanation beyond a long hmmm, Bepo clears his throat and whispers: “Do you… need anything?”

Strawhat tilts his head. Bepo expects him to yell as he always does but his voice matches Bepo's, barely a murmur.

“Kinda? I wanted to ask Tra– uh, Law if he wants to go now. He seemed in a hurry earlier and I kinda forgot. Well, everyone’s drunk but we’ll manage, y’know? He’s sleeping though. Hm.”

There’re at least two things in that statement that Law would tear Strawhat apart for, and one of them is the sudden use his actual name. Bepo wonders if Strawhat still thinks he’s confused by ‘Traffy’, even though he already explained the nickname to him.

Reluctantly, Bepo offers: “I can wake him up?”

Strawhat shakes his head, his signature smile quick to appear on his lips. “Nah, it’s fine. Law needs his sleep. He’s always so angry in the mornings. It’s funny.”

And as sudden as he came, Strawhat's gone, jogging back to the bonfires and instead opting to jump on his sleeping swordsman half-way there. Bepo witnesses the ensuing scuffle with amusement.

Yeah, Bepo definitely likes Luffy.)

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Strawberry Cream and BBQ - 23

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

Overview: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected.

Word Count: 9,626

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Future smut, Angst, Best friends to Lovers

Warning: Angst, implied smut, and then a shit ton more angst, an itty bitty moment of fluff, and angst again!

Master List

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 (Final) - Move in Day: A SC&BBQ Drabble

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

It had been radio silence since you and Hoseok last heard from Sue. Despite not wanting to assume anything, you were hoping that it was taking longer on her end because the professor was trying to convince her to stay for the remaining two months. If that was the case, you decided that Professor needed a pay raise.

The pamphlet and the paperwork that Hoseok had brought home with him was sitting on top of your laptop, which was on your desk in the bedroom, waiting to be signed. Your mind was in a constant tug of war between being rational, and acting on impulse. You wanted to sign the paperwork for The Mate Act. Hell, you wanted to write your name in a flourish on the dotted line wherever it was required, but like the rational side kept reminding you, that if it was left unsigned until Sue agreed, it would show that you wanted – and waited – for her to physically be here to give her opinion.

Which is why, at six in the morning, you were sitting on the counter in the kitchen with a mug of coffee. It wasn’t the desired place you wanted to be, but for a few moments, you just wanted to get away. You didn’t want to see the paperwork begging for you to sign as it sat on your desk and you didn’t want to think of the worst-case scenario playing out in your mind either.

Sighing, your thumb traced the rim of the mug. Did every hybrid-human relationship have to go through this? Was it always this difficult and nerve wracking? “God, why is this so complicated?” You muttered, raising the mug to your lips, the bitter coffee easily going down and waking you up a little more. “Katie and Namjoon didn’t have it this hard.”

Even though you were a little jealous over Katie and Namjoon’s relationship, guilt washed over you faster than your coffee was waking you up. They hadn’t had it easy; you knew that. The amount of trust and trials that Katie and Namjoon jumped through to get where they are today were enough to send your mind spinning once again. It wasn’t a fair comparison.

You were just…tired. Life seemed to be pushing you thinner than you usually pushed yourself. It was like it was trying to see if you were going to break and throw in the towel, or keep on fighting like Hoseok.

Hoseok.

Automatically you looked towards your bedroom, spotting the empty side of your bed from this angle. A single arm was stretched out, the body it belonged to still passed out. It was too early for him to want to wake up.

“I’m going to fight for us Strawberry,”

His words snuck into your thoughts, but you welcomed them like cold water dousing a flame. It was funny – at least as a thought – that not only was Hoseok able to make you feel like you were personally getting kissed by the sun, but he was able to relax you like a running stream when need be. He eased the racing thoughts that never seemed to settle down, and he encouraged you when it felt like you weren’t able to continue on.

He was the only one you wanted to spend your life with, and you hoped that when Sue came home, she would see that too.

With that in mind, you carefully set the mug on the counter and with quiet steps, headed back to the bedroom. He didn’t wake up as you entered the room, nor when you lifted his arm to get back under the blankets. It was once you were settled down that his hand slipped under your shirt – his shirt technically – and squeezed your side. Like you expected, it was like your mind was finally slowing down.

“What’s wrong Strawberry?” He murmured, not opening his eyes.

You shook your head in thought, reaching up to brush the bangs out of his face. “Can’t sleep.”

He pouted as he cracked his eyes open. First, he looked at you, then the clock you kept on the nightstand on your side. “Baby, it’s six in the morning, on a Saturday.”

“I know, I know.”

Groaning, he shifted so his elbow was on the pillow, propping his chin up on his palm as he looked down at you. There wasn’t anything you could say – that you wanted to say at least – and it showed. Unknown to you, but the light in your eyes wasn’t bright like it tended to be. Instead, a sadness appeared to permanently dull them. He knew what caused that to happen, and he wished that he could kiss you to make it disappear. Sadly, life didn’t seem to work like that.

“Well,” he finally spoke, clearing his throat. “It’s too early to go to Jin’s for coffee, and it’s not warm enough to go for a walk this early,” As he thought, he drummed his fingers against your skin, his long fingers stopping their actions to affectionately rub your side before tapping once again.

While he thought, you scooted closer, your body curling to the shape of his body as you slid your leg against his calf. When he first came over to spend the nights, he always used to wear pajama pants and an old t-shirt that he owned. According to him, he never wanted to make things awkward. The very first time that he spent the night, it had been during the summer so you were only wearing a bralette and booty shorts. It was that outfit that you had worn when you left your room to go make your morning coffee, only to be surprised when you saw Hoseok in the kitchen beating you to the punch. That was the only time you had heard him stutter in front of you.

Things have obviously changed since then. With the blankets covering both your bodies, it hid the fact that he was only wearing a pair of boxers while you wore only a pair of panties and his oversized shirt.

When you shifted, his hand followed the movements of your body, gliding down your side and hip until it curved over your ass. His voice halted immediately, glancing at your face and then the new placement of his hand. “Strawberry,” he teased, sliding his fingers to your thigh to squeeze and rub. “Why didn’t you just say you were horny?”

Even though he hadn’t stuttered or blushed red since that one time, you were not able to say that about yourself. Your cheeks were already warm to the touch. “What? I’m not, I swear I’m not horny.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, increasing the pace of his fingers while bringing them further to the inside of your thigh. Your smooth legs were already quivering at his touch, and as much as you’ll deny it, he heard you softly gasp.

“You know,” he lowered his voice, raising an eyebrow as he smirked. “They say that the best way to fall asleep, is after having an orgasm.”

You pressed your lips together as you stared up at him, noticing how his brown eyes had darkened to almost black with lust and mischief. You hadn’t been lying, but as his fingers worked their way up and his movements were slowed down, becoming more sensual, your thoughts drifted to memories of how he had treated you during his heat, always putting your pleasure first when he could.

It was enough to make your thighs twitch and try to squeeze them together, but his hand was caught in the middle. Closing his eyes, Hoseok inhaled deeply, groaning when the smell of your arousal hit him at full force. “Oh Strawberry.”

Leaning down, he captured your lips, passionately kissing you until all that you were able to think about was Hoseok. Even with only one arm, he managed to roll you onto your back without breaking the kiss, which grew needier with each passing second. It wasn’t until he suddenly pulled back that you realized that you needed air too.

He chuckled at that, but without wasting time, he lifted the shirt until it was just under your breasts, kissing and nibbling over your stomach all the way down to your panties, leaving love bites in his wake. “Don’t worry baby,” Hoseok promised you, grinning as he sat between your legs, the blankets falling to his hips. The boxers he wore did nothing to hide the tent he already had. “I’m absolutely, starving.”

Six hours later, Sue was waiting in the elevator as she rode up to your floor. It had taken a lot of convincing, and a combination of real and fake tears on her part to convince the professor in charge of the study abroad program in Hong Kong to allow her go home early. They technically couldn’t stop her from leaving, it was a matter of all the paperwork that had to be filled out, and an explanation for her wanting to leave. During this process, her professors and classmates encouraged her stay, that this was an opportunity of a lifetime that she was walking out on, but she was done.

Thankfully, by saying that her hybrid was extremely sick and she was required to be there, she was able to leave Hong Kong on the fourth of April. The friends that she had made had given her hugs at the airport and wished her a safe flight back home, along with asking her to send them updates of Hoseok as soon as she was able to.

She had smiled and nodded, working the tears to make it even more real. It was only when she was in her seat on the flight that the tears vanished, and she went back to chewing on the inside of her cheek.

If only they knew the real reason for why she left.

Breaking up with Colin had been nothing compared to what Beth sent her a few weeks earlier. In fact, Sue was once looking at the picture and rereading the texts as she waited.

I didn’t know that Hoseok was mated to your friend that’s watching him.

In the same thread, Beth had sent two pictures. The first one was obviously of you, skillfully taken while you had been talking to Beth’s mother, a sweet smile on your face and blind to the idea that your picture was being taken. The second one was when you appeared to be leaving the laundry room, but this time, the right side of your body was facing Beth, allowing her to capture the picture of the freshly made bite mark on the right side of your neck.

Neither did I.

It was all that Sue had sent back after staring at the two pictures in disbelief. Beth had added on that you admitted that Hoseok was the one who inflicted the mark to her mother, even saying, Hoseok was the sweetest man you could ever meet.

The elevator finally dinged, surprising Sue as it tugged her out of her thoughts. Thankfully, she was the only one inside so there was no one to notice her mishap. When the doors shut behind her, she hesitated. She could count all the times that she walked down this hallway to your apartment on one hand. It wasn’t that she disliked coming over to your place, but that you insisted she had more room at her place for the two of you – three when she adopted Hoseok – to hang out at. Which was true, Sue lived in a fairly large house while you lived in a small apartment. It only made sense.

But now she wondered; what if she had insisted that they hung out here more often? Would she have caught you and Hoseok sending each other love sick looks behind her back? She always thought the amount of times that Hoseok went to visit you was simply because the two of you were friends, best friends even. Now she could only imagine what was really happening behind that door.

The very same door, that she had a key too.

She was digging through her purse as she marched her way to your apartment, searching for the key that would unlock the door. When you first moved in, the area around the apartment building hadn’t been the greatest, it still wasn’t in Sue’s opinion, so you had given her and Hoseok a copy of the key in the case of an emergency. Never once had she used hers, until now.

His key must be worn out by now, Sue thought, locating the silver key and pushing it in. In one attempt, she was in the quiet apartment. With a glance around the room, she carefully shut the door. It was noon and usually, you were up by nine to be at work for ten at the bookstore on the weekend. On your days off where you didn’t have school or work – a rarity the last she knew – you liked to sleep in and bum around the house. But with Hoseok staying here, he would have been up by now. He wasn’t one to waste the day away.

Despite only being here a few times, she remembered the layout of the apartment. The first door on the left was the guest bedroom, then the second was the bathroom while your bedroom was the door on the right.

It’s not that Sue didn’t want to be there for you, if she was being honest, Hoseok was always eager to jump at the chance of hanging out with you. He did invite her to go with him multiple times, but after a while, he just stopped asking. He said that having both of you there would be comforting to you, Sue however didn’t see the point. It was only a breakup, why did you need two people when one was fine? She had her other ways of being there, she always made sure to call and see how you were doing and offer any dating advice.

Walking further into the apartment, Sue peaked into the guest bedroom, a part of her hoping to find Hoseok there or at least his belongings that he had packed with him. When she stuck her head in though, there was nothing. The blankets were perfectly folded without a wrinkle and the furniture appeared to be recently cleaned.

The reality of Beth’s text felt like it was dragging her shoulders down to the ground.

She always knew that one day, Hoseok would find his mate. But she never expected for it to be so soon, or with you. There was the obvious factor, you were not a hybrid, and because it felt like she was getting stabbed in the back.

After the death of her parents three years ago, she had gotten Hoseok to not only fill up the empty space in the house – keeping it from being deathly quiet – but because she needed a companion. She needed someone that wouldn’t leave her. Someone who needed her. Of course, you were her best friend, you weren’t ever leaving her, but at the end of the day you went home to your cramped apartment, and she was once again alone in the house that was silent, surrounding her with never ending screaming.

When Beth sent the text and the pictures, it felt like you were trying to take Hoseok away from her. And with Colin gone, she was heading back to the life she tried to avoid.

The door to your bedroom was half open. Taking in a deep breath, Sue gently placed her hand on the wood and carefully pushed it completely open, her fingers sliding down to the cold doorknob. At first, all she could see was you. You were sleeping on the left side of the bed, her right. The blankets were tugged all the way up to your chin. Over the blanket however, was a tan arm that crossed over your chest that did not belong to you.

Following the arm that went underneath your head, Sue’s grip tightened around the doorknob as she finally saw Hoseok. He was pressed up against you, his chin resting on top of your head as he peacefully slept, unaware that someone else was in the room. On his side, the blanket was lower on him, only reaching the middle of his naked torso.

With narrowed eyes she walked further into the room, noticing the clothes that were strewn on the bedroom floor. If it weren’t for Hoseok having sensitive hearing, she would have gladly slammed the doors to wake you up. For some reason, she wasn’t ready for the two of you to know she was here. It felt like something was missing from this almost picture-perfect moment.

Besides the clothing on the floor, a combination of yours and Hoseok’s she learned after spotting his boxers over your panties, your room was spotless. Organized with every item put in its place. A sudden itch on her shoulder caused to her arm to suddenly jerk, resulting in the sleeve of her denim jacket to knock a paper off your desk with a soft thump. Her heart raced at the sound, not realizing she was so close to your desk.

Crouching down she gathered up the papers, one being a packet itself and the other, a green pamphlet. It was probably a research paper that you were editing or had received back, but she flipped over the pamphlet, curious as to what it was. The line between being a friend and someone who overstepped their boundaries, were broken the second she entered your apartment while you slept, so looking at this was nothing.

Still crouched, Sue’s mouth dropped open as she read the information underneath the bold heading, zeroing in on The Mate Act. Her eyes were burning as she shakily stood, and turned over the packet that she had thought was simply a paper from one of your classes. Instead, at the top of the first page, it stated that it was The Mate Act and with careful scanning, she made the connection that it was the paperwork mentioned in the pamphlet. The one that according to the information, would release her of her ownership on Hoseok, and allow him to live with you.

Her mind raced, jaw clenching as the papers crinkled in her grip. There was no doubting Beth anymore, she had told Sue the truth. The only thing missing was…

“Sue?”

Sue froze at the sound of the soft, but confused, voice. The soft voice that had comforted her for years, who had hurried to the hospital right after she called to tell that there had been a terrible accident involving her parents. The same voice that belonged to someone she once called her best friend.

Turning around, Sue glared at you, not caring that your eyes were watering up as you repeatedly open and closed your mouth. Obviously searching for some sort of explanation. But what was there to explain, when she could see what you have done?

“Sue please.”

The tears were falling down your face as you hurried to sit up in the bed while holding the blankets to keep your body covered. The sudden movements immediately woke Hoseok up. Your distress sent him into worry, thinking that you were hurt. His arms were already wrapping you in a hug when he stopped, Sue’s scent finally hitting him.

Hoseok closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Sue’s anger pulsating around her. When he finally looked back up, he met Sue’s gaze with regretful, but determined eyes. This wasn’t how he wanted to tell her – this wasn’t even a possibility that he had considered – but he wasn’t backing down.

“When…when did you even get back in the states? How did you get in my apartment?” You asked, trying to make sense of everything that was happening. Sue was back. She was standing in your bedroom and saw you in bed with Hoseok.

Sue simply switched the paperwork into one hand, holding up her keys for you to see. “You gave me a key.” Her voice was wiped free of emotion as she spoke to you. Then she turned to Hoseok, her eyes narrowing at the way he was holding you, already more in tune with your emotions. “Does she have the mark?”

Licking his lips, Hoseok glanced at your neck and then you, watching as every emotion flashed in your eyes. He felt every one as you did, not because you were his mate, because he was just as conflicted as you. Did he answer honestly? Or try and salvage any remaining bits of friendship with Sue?

He was tired of hiding it. “Yes,” he softly answered, looking at his owner once more. “She has my mate mark.” Without caring about the consequences, he reached up and gently moved your hair behind your shoulder, revealing the healed mate mark on your neck.

The bedroom was deathly silent.

With you in his arms and Sue standing by the door, it felt like a crack erupted on the floor dividing the owner and the mates from each other. Her eyes were locked on the mark, a twinge of envy coming to life in her heart as anger coursed through her veins. In Sue’s eyes, the mark, while highly respected and sealed the bond between two mates, was the last act of betrayal that you could commit.

Meeting Sue’s gaze, Hoseok rewrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. It only took that one look to know that this wasn’t going to end well.

“Pack your belongings,” Sue spat out, turning her gaze on you. On the very person she trusted way back in January. “We’re leaving.”

It took a few moments, but once the words connected with their meanings, you were shaking your head as you cried. “Please Sue, if you let us explain-”

“Explain?” Her rage had originally been focused on Hoseok, but now you were her new target. “How the hell were you going to explain this?! That the minute I left you’ve been fucking my hybrid? Or how the two of you have been going behind my back for god knows how long and were just waiting for me to leave, so that you could finish the deed? Please, enlighten me with your excuse.”

You held the blankets tighter against your chest, heart breaking as Sue accused you and Hoseok’s growls filled the room. His arms disappeared around you and as soon as he did that, it felt cold. Like the sun had gone out. She was your best friend and she was treating you like you’ve committed murder.

Reaching for his boxers, Hoseok quickly tugged them on and stood, making his way between the bed and Sue while blocking you from her view. “Knock it off Sue!” He growled, instincts demanding that he’d protect his mate at all costs. “You know that we don’t chose our mates, so stop blaming Strawberry for all this. If you’re gonna blame anyone, blame me. I’m the hybrid here, not her.”

“Exactly, you’re a hybrid!”

The room was deadly silent as Hoseok stepped backwards, the back of his legs hitting the bed as his tail and ears lowered. Never in the last three years did Sue make him feel like he was less of a person because he was a hybrid. Not once did she throw it in his face and use her power of ownership against him.

Despite the situation, while still holding the blankets up to keep yourself covered, you scooted to the edge of the bed and slipped your hand into Hoseok’s. You knew how much it hurt him to hear Sue say that. All you could think about was comforting him.

“Please Sue,” you tried again, this time meeting her gaze. She had to understand. “Please, we didn’t know. We only found out a month or two ago. We’ve been waiting until you came back to…”

But your explanation fell on deaf ears, the movement to comfort Hoseok caught her attention, and how his fingers tightened around yours. The gesture, while the intent was innocent, fueled the coals of Sue’s rage and she saw red. With a glance at the nightstand on the side that Hoseok had been sleeping on, she spotted his familiar wallet. He had the habit of putting his wallet along with his keys and phone on the nightstand before going to bed each night at home. It only made sense that he continued the habit here.

Nobody stopped her as she hurried over, grabbing his wallet as her hand trembled to pull out a thick cream paper from inside. In seconds she was standing in front of him again, holding it up unfolded in front of him. It wasn’t just a random paper, but the official document that Hoseok carried in his wallet stating that Sue adopted him. “Did you forget? I’m your owner Hoseok, you have to do what I say.” Overcome with anger, she forcibly shoved the document and wallet in his free hand, making him stumble in shock.

Your eyes widened as her words hit you, the grip you had on Hoseok slacking for a brief moment before clutching his hand, panic filling all your senses. “Sue, you can’t do this. Please, listen to us.”

Sue was having none of that however. “How could you?!” She cried, turning on you again. The root of her problem. The paperwork for the Mate Act and the pamphlet were still in her hands, crumpled as she threw them on the floor, hitting the ground with a loud whack as they narrowly missed your feet. “You were my friend and I trusted you! You could have any guy, hell, any hybrid, and you picked Hoseok! He’s my hybrid, not yours.”

Her chest was heaving as she stared at the two people she once called her friends, now standing before her like strangers. When she left to go to Hong Kong, Hoseok had hugged her so tightly in an attempt to get her to stay. Now, he couldn’t seem to get away fast enough. A flip switched in her mind and she angrily wiped away the few tears that had fallen. If that was the case, then fine. “You have until tonight to get your shit packed up and I’ll be back to get you. Then we’re going home.”

Not seeing any more of a reason to stay, Sue hurried out of the apartment, slamming the front door in her wake. In that moment, as the echo of the door replayed in your mind, was when everyone’s worst fears came to life.

The back of your eyes burned as you stared at the paperwork on the ground, the bold letters of the Mate Act mocking you from the floor with bent and crumpled pages. On a scale, Sue was right. She had trusted you to take care of Hoseok while she was gone, but Sue forgot one important thing. He was perfectly fine with taking care of himself. He was a grown man capable of making his own decisions, had his own job, and he was allowed to love whomever he wanted.

It’s not my fault, you thought to yourself, hand slipping out of Hoseok’s as you gripped the blankets with both hands. I know it’s not my fault. But your bottom lip trembled anyway, because despite knowing that, it felt like it was anyway. That it was your fault that your best friend was hurting so much.

Hoseok blinked when he no longer felt your hand in his, raising his head to turn and look at you. When he finally saw you, the instinct to protect you once more hit him with full force, along with guilt. You were still holding the blankets up to remain covered. You had been completely vulnerable, the blissful remains of this morning shattered, as you sat there taking everything that Sue had screamed about.

Looking around, he located the shirt you had slept in and knelt in front of you. The tears were streaming down your cheeks as he gently slipped the shirt on over your head, carefully slipping your arms in one by one through the arm holes, doing the same for your panties until you were finally covered. “Shh baby,” He murmured, crawling on the bed behind you and pulling you into his lap. The second that he touched you, you were leaning into him. “I’m so sorry Strawberry, I’m so sorry.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his arms hug you tightly as he kissed the top of your head. He held you so that you were cradled in his lap, tangling his fingers in your hair to keep your face against him. That way you didn’t see his eyes watering up as his face became splotchy. He didn’t want you to see that.

Sadness permeated the room as he tried, and failed, to keep his tears back where they belonged, as he attempted to say something. He should promise you that everything was going to be okay and that Sue was going to change her attitude on this, but he didn’t. All he wanted to do was hold you close and kiss you wherever he could. He wanted to smell your sweet strawberry cream scent until it overpowered him, and then even more.

Because he couldn’t guarantee anything anymore.

When Sue arrived at home, she sat in her car. The radio was playing a mindless pop song that she had once loved to listen to, but it meant nothing to her right then and there. Right now, it was a stupid song that didn’t make her want to dance along to anymore.

Her luggage was still sitting in the trunk and the back seat, her purse and a duffle bag in the passenger seat next to her. It didn’t seem like she had packed so much when she left. In fact, she only recalled carrying her purse and the duffle bag when they went to the airport. As she shifted in the front seat to lean her head against the window, she suddenly remembered that it hadn’t been just her who went to the airport that day. It had been Colin, Hoseok, and you, who had gone with her and helped carry all her luggage.

Sighing, she wet her lips with a glance at the backseat. There was so much to carry in. “Jesus,” she muttered, pulling her keys out of the ignition while opening her door at the same time. Sitting and whining about it wasn’t going to get it done. If she didn’t do it now, then she’d have to do it later, and she had a feeling that Hoseok wasn’t going to willingly help her move it either.

It took not one, not two, but four trips of dragging a suitcase in each hand and dropping them off in the front hallway to bring everything all in. Once it was done, she left it there without a second look, instead, heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water. After all that shouting her throat was sore.

She only took a few steps before suddenly stopping. With a look down, she lifted her foot to inspect her shoes. A pair of jade heels that she loved, were clacking on the tile floor. They were stilettoes so she expected that, but what she hadn’t expected, was for them to be so loud. Sue placed her fingertips against the base of her throat, swallowing as she continued into the kitchen, her heels once again echoing in the quiet house.

With that silence, it forced her to think.

Studying abroad had opened her eyes to a whole new language, new food, and to new friends. It felt like she was living a whole new life and having so much fun that, her texts had slowed down between her friends, and with Colin.

God, Colin.

There hadn’t been a single thing that ticked her off that Colin hadn’t been loyal. He had always been attentive, loving, and so kind to her. He played the perfect boyfriend card to the most beautiful melody, and she had been the fool to keep playing it on repeat for over three years.

Her trip had been perfect, until she received that text from Katie with the picture. Sue didn’t know who the other woman that Colin was kissing was, but it had soured her mood for a week afterwards. In that time, she cried and screamed at Colin over the phone, sometimes doing both at the same time. The friends she made comforted her with movies and some well needed girl nights of face masks and ice cream. There was so much junk food.

Heart broken in a foreign country however, didn’t last long.

With the mindset that she would never see anyone again, she stayed out late, and when her friends invited her to parties or outings to clubs, she accepted. Short outfits that revealed skin, and men that smiled sweetly and danced with her just right, helped ease the hurt of being cheated on. Sometimes she drank, but more often than not she was sober when everything happened, meaning that as she stood in her kitchen, she remembered it all.

She remembered every deed, and ever man that she kissed and had sex with from that week after the break up to last night. After a couple hours of sleep, she had gotten dressed and packed her belongings while he slept naked under the sheets, unaware that she was planning on getting on a plane to never return.

It was easy to forget about the life she had while over in Hong Kong. For once, it was like a new start where no one knew who she was. Which is why she had kept any contact with you and Hoseok short, because it reminded her that eventually, it was all going to end. The fun wasn’t going to happen anymore and there wasn’t going to be a new face to meet. Coming back home meant the possibility of running into Colin, of the sympathetic faces her friends would greet her with.

Walking away from the sink, she took a sip of the water, softly sighing as it cooled her throat. It had been annoying when you or Hoseok didn’t respond to her texts right away, especially when she first found out about Colin’s cheating, but now that she knew the truth, it made sense.  Just like Colin, you had been too busy shoving your tongue down someone’s throat to care. In this case, you did it to someone she cared about, making it worst. At least Colin had to decency to pick a stranger.

“And she has his mate mark,” Sue bitterly muttered, making her way to the living room where the rug silenced her heels. “Which means, they’re basically, fucking, married.”

She shook her head as she settled on the couch, leaning forward to slip her heels off. Her feet instantly felt better as she slid them against the soft carpet before curling up on the couch. The TV remote was on the coffee table, but she took the moment to relax in her own home first. There were six hours until she had to go and get Hoseok, and as she turned the TV on to fill the silence, her eyes began to close after a few minutes, shortly falling asleep without any qualms of what she did.

Hoseok sighed as he walked back into the bedroom. His toiletries bag was packed and ready to be put into his duffle bag, but he placed it on the bed instead, prolonging having to pack until he absolutely had to.

It was only then that he realized that he had nothing else to gather up on the bed. The only bag that was all set to go was his dance bag, and he always had that ready. All of his clothes and little trinkets that he had brought were already laid out, waiting to be folded and packed away.

“Hoseok,” you softly whispered, knocking against the door frame. You watched as his back tensed up, but he didn’t turn around.

“Yeah baby?”

“I just got off the phone with the attorney,” you answered, holding the landline in both hands. “They suggest giving it a few days to see if she calms down and changes her mind. But if she doesn’t, they’re willing to take our case and help us.”

He didn’t speak, instead he nodded as he walked around the bed to where he had his clothes laid out and started folding them. You watched him as he robotically moved around, purposely taking time to smooth out the wrinkles and make sure that the fabric folded evenly. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet, he usually at least cracked a smile or teased you for staring, but there was nothing from him. Ever since this afternoon, he had been without a smile all day.

You stepped into the room and shifted his toiletry bag so there was room to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know, the woman said this happens more often than you’d think,” you offered, hoping it would somehow engage him. The afternoon had been filled with tears and then silence that it was driving you insane. All you wanted was to hear his voice. You didn’t care what the conversation was about, it could be about the Dance Studio or how the bee population was very slowly starting to come back, you just wanted to hear him. “She said that in our case, the owner eventually gives up ownership to the mate.”

Hoseok pressed his lips together, glancing at you for a second when you sat down. It was obvious what you were trying to do, and while he appreciated the effort, it wasn’t helping. Spending the last couple hours with you on your laptop, searching for lawyers that lived in the area and were reliable wasn’t what he wanted to do today.

The nice weather had been holding out for the last couple days and he had wanted to surprise you with a trip to the beach. It was too cold to actually go swimming, although he wouldn’t have been surprised if you somehow stumbled into the water or pushed him in. In his mind, he had planned on gathering shells with you, writing your names in the sand surrounded by a heart, and having lunch and dinner at restaurants.

To end the night, he was going to make a small campfire to roast ‘smores, and then bring hold your hand as you did the classic walk on the shoreline with a breeze blowing by. By then it would be too late to go home, so he was planning on renting a motel for the night and when you actually returned home, the smell of the ocean would be clinging to your clothes and hair despite the multiple showers. It’d be like a mini vacation.

Sue’s sudden return killed that idea.

Why the hell she had to enter your apartment was mind blowing to him. In what universe did sneaking around in your home – in your fucking bedroom specifically – make sense? Then for her to scream at you while you only had the blankets to cover you after such an intimate morning. You had to suffer through that will being so physically vulnerable. He wouldn’t blame you if whenever you thought about this day, you’d be hurt and embarrassed.

To be truthful, he was broken into thirds about the whole situation. A part of him wanted to scream and throw something at the wall, another part wanted to let his hybrid instincts take control and protect you like his blood sang for him to do, and finally, the remaining third wanted to hold you. To kiss you, cuddle, and make love with you until Sue was pounding on the front door demanding that he had to leave. Hell, he wanted to scent you even though you had the mate mark now. His scent was already forever intertwined with yours and still, he wanted to make sure that every hybrid would know that your heart and soul was meant for him.

He was so conflicted, that he was doing the opposite of what he wanted, and was pushing you away in fear that he’d break down and start crying again.

You stared at the shirt Hoseok was folding, watching as he moved the left sleeve across the body of the shirt and then again with the right. Once that was done, he folded the shirt in thirds before finally folding the top of it to the bottom so the top was right side up. With a small smile, it reminded you of how Hot Topic would always fold their shirts. Before he could move onto the next one, you placed your hand over his, effectively stopping him. Even with his emotions and thoughts feeling scattered, your touch managed to slow everything down to a more comfortable pace.

“We’re going to figure this out,” you promised, watching as he turned his palm up to lace his fingers with yours. “No matter how long it takes. And if we have to get the lawyer involve then we will, if not, then obviously that’s a lot better. This…this won’t be forever Hoseok.”

Hoseok finally lifted his head, weakly smiling when you made eye contact with him. This was certainly a completely different reaction from earlier. He could see the struggle in your eyes though, between the urge to do nothing but cry, or to straighten your shoulders and do something, even if it was searching for lawyers and making the phone calls that he found himself unable to make. You had cried for a while in his arms, but the tears eventually dried up. As much as you wanted to stay there, you couldn’t just do nothing. And he admired you so much for that.

“But then I’ll be your hybrid Strawberry,” Hoseok gently reminded you. Coming to stand in-between your legs, he let go of your hand to cup the side of your face, his heart softening as you leaned into his palm.

His words settled heavily on your shoulders, understanding what that would mean. More specifically, what the two of you wouldn’t be able to do if that was the case. “I’ll always have your mate mark. We’re already married Hoseok, we don’t need a document and bands for the human world to say that we are. All that matters is that we’ll be together.”

At the mention of the mate mark, his gaze slid down the side of your neck, fondly gazing at it. His free hand came up to stroke the mark, smiling as your body shivered at his touch. Even now that it was healed and looked like a painful scar, the memory was anything but that. He remembered seeing women and men wearing the marks not only growing up, but even as little as a six months ago. As a hybrid, it was how you were able to identify who was mated and who was not, along with the obvious intertwined scents.

Hybrids didn’t usually bother with marriage and weddings, it wasn’t necessary with the mate mark, but when the mate was human, it was becoming more common for hybrids and humans to participate in both ceremonial unions.

And for the last three years, he knew how much you longed to one day have a white wedding, to go dress shopping, and say I do with a gold band around your ring finger. He didn’t want you to give that up for him.

Falling to his knees in front of you, your legs immediately going around his back and locking him in place, he simply hugged you. “I swear, I’m going to make this up to you,” Hoseok murmured, tilting his head to kissed your marked neck. “Anything you want, I’ll get it for you or take you there. You just say the word baby.”

His promise made you giggle, your arms sliding across his shoulders as you kissed the top of his head. There was no doubt that Hoseok would promise to wrangle a star from the night sky if he was able to do so.

“All I want is you,” you softly reminded him, kissing his cheek when he looked up. “And maybe a house of our own one day.”

“With a yard and white picket fence,” Hoseok cheekily added, nibbling your jaw when you rolled your eyes. “Enough bedrooms for a litter of our own pups one day.”

“And how many bedrooms is that?”

“Four, not including our room. We can double them up in the rooms, or do two rooms and have four to a room.”

While math wasn’t your greatest subject, you were quick to add up the numbers in your head. “You want eight kids?” You blurted out, leaning back so his lips weren’t distracting you. “At once?!”

However, Hoseok’s laughter filled the bedroom as he brought you back to him. “Easy there, Strawberry.” He ran his hands up and down your sides, sweetly kiss you to relax you, even though your body was already doing that at his touch. “German Shepherds are known to have litters of eight pups, but as a hybrid it doesn’t happen all at once. With that being said, one pregnancy can result in twins or triplets, and depending on how many times a couple decides they want more kids, they can easily have around eight or more children.”

It felt like an overload of information that you weren’t expecting, and while you wanted kids one day, you never expected to have so many as eight.

“But Strawberry, if you only want two children, then we don’t have to have more than two kids. As long as you’re the mother, I’ll be happy to have even one child. Okay?”

After being best friends for three years, you were starting to think that making Hoseok watch all your favorite romance movies had made him a professional at making your insides feel like mush.

With all this talking about kids, your mind wandered to what it would be like to raise a, not-so-little family with Hoseok. Instead of waking up to alarm clocks on the weekends, it’d be a little group of kids crawling on the bed to wake their parents up, the room easily filling with children’s giggles. A combination of yours and Hoseok’s genes, along with soft ears and tails to give plenty of scratches to.  Butterflies fluttered around your lower stomach as you took a deep breath, your eyes watering slightly before you regained control of them again.

“Ask me again when we finally move into that house,” You answered instead, your smile matching his grin as you leaned your forehead against his. “You know, the one with the yard and a picket white fence, with four bedrooms.”

His eyes lightened up as he released a loving growl, the whacking of his tail against the floor barely containing his excitement.

For a few more moments, you remained in this bubble with Hoseok, daydreaming about a future that was for right now, uncertain.

When the doorbell rang, you were cuddled up with Hoseok on the couch catching up on Stranger Things. His bags were completely packed and set on the bed as you tried to enjoy the time you had left with him.

Hoseok’s arm tensed around your shoulders as you buried your face in his chest, bringing your free arm around his waist to keep him there. Despite saying that everything was going to be okay and that you’ll get through this, you still didn’t want him to go. He belonged here and with you. He deserved to have the choice.

The bell sounded again, along with the banging of Sue knocking on the door.

With a sigh, you regretfully removed yourself from Hoseok’s arms, unable to get the sound of his whine out of your mind. It was with a heavy heart that you opened the front door, revealing Sue.

She raised an eyebrow at you, glancing at Hoseok over your shoulder before looking back at you. Your face was no longer flushed, but your hair was thrown up into a messy bun and the sweatpants and tank top you wore were an obvious reflection of your mood.

“What took you so long?” Sue sneered, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Just stop it Sue,” Hoseok softly spoke, intervening before anything else was said. Joining you at the door, he placed his hand against your lower back. He already his bags with him, his dance bag sitting on the floor for a moment as his duffle bag was settled on his shoulder and he held onto his suitcase. “Please.”

It was brief, less than a second, but Sue’s face had softened at his request before quickly shifting back to its previous annoyed state. To keep your mind off of what was happening, you compared her reaction to that of smelling sour milk and rotten trash.

“Fine,” Sue relented. “I’ll take your suitcase. When I come back up, you better be ready to leave.”

Hoseok nodded, watching as Sue dragged the suitcase on its wheels behind her, waiting until she was down near the elevator before focusing back on you. Licking his lips, he sighed. What was there for him to say that he hadn’t said already?

Instead, you beat him to the punch. “We can still text,” you softly reassured, stepping closer to hug him. “And you can visit me at work. I’m not saying goodbye though, because that would mean this is permanent and this…this is not permanent.” Your voice began to crack near the end, your vision blurring as you focused on the shirt he wore.

How you wished to go back in time, back to when it was six in the morning and done something different. What if you had suggested going away? To take a spontaneous mini vacation for the weekend? You would have had so much more time with Hoseok, and had so much more fun.

Reaching out, Hoseok ran his thumb against your bottom lip, remaining quiet as he simply hugged you. To feel you in his arms and hear your heart beating as your scent enveloped his senses was all he wanted.

“Why are you crying if this isn’t goodbye?” He halfheartedly teased, squeezing you just a little to make it count.

You sniffled out a chuckle, nuzzling your face against his chest. “Because I’m an emotional wreck.” His chest rumbled with laughter as you felt him kiss the top of your head, his hands rubbing your back.

“Yeah but you’re my emotional wreck.”

“Damn straight I am.”

He leaned down to kiss your forehead once again, his lips lingering as his ears flickered in the direction of the hallway upon hearing a soft ding that he knew you didn’t hear. That didn’t last long when Sue’s heels clacked against the floor, making your body tense under his embrace. He leaned back only to tilt your chin up, rightfully kissing you on the lips.

The second his lips touched yours, a warm fire lit up inside you, making your heart feel lighter and alive. It was something that only Hoseok was able to do.

“I love you,” he softly murmured, nibbling your bottom lip before kissing you again.

Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, possibly wrinkling the fabric but you didn’t care. Inside, your heart was screaming at you to keep Hoseok here and to not leave with Sue. But your mind knew that you had to let him go, that it was the only way. If by doing this, maybe Sue would listen to what you had to say, and maybe, just maybe, let you and Hoseok be together again.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, breaking the kiss as the echo of Sue’s heels became louder.

An involuntary whine escaped Hoseok when you stepped out of his arms, but you merely shook your head when he tried to bring you back. Sue was already within eyesight and you didn’t want to push your luck with any more affection in front of her.

He understood why you did that, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“Ready to go?” Sue asked, pretending as if she hadn’t seen you kissing Hoseok the entire time. She was only in the hallway; it wasn’t like she was in another room or outside the building.

Hoseok hesitantly nodded, his face blank as he grabbed his dance bag from the floor, knuckles white while the inside of him cried and fought against every instinct in his body. He wasn’t supposed to leave his mate! He found you, you accepted and bore his mark. The two of you were meant to be together, not apart. What if something happened while he was gone? How was he supposed to protect you if he wasn’t here?

This was wrong, and as he glanced over his shoulder to look at you one last time, it took everything in him to not drop his belongings and run back to you into your apartment, locking the door and keeping Sue out when he saw your red eyes and splotchy cheeks. Already, he was failing you.

When the elevator door softly dinged and Sue and Hoseok disappeared inside, you quietly went back into your apartment, sliding against the front door until you were sitting on the floor. Your legs stretched out in front of you, the silence of the now empty home suddenly coming to life.

Before Hoseok came to live with you, this silence had been a part of day to day life. At some point over the years, you grew used to the lack of excitement and simply adjusted to it. Now it was such a stark contrast to the life that you had experienced with Hoseok. He gave this place a reason to call home. With his love, laughter, smiles, voice, even his presence alone managed to brighten up this place.

Now it was nothing.

Curling in on yourself, you cried in the empty apartment. There was no one to hold you or wipe away the tears anymore. It was just you.

The drive back home had been silent with the exception of the radio, but Hoseok didn’t make an effort to start up a conversation and neither did Sue. The tension was so thick that not even a steak knife would be able to cut through it.

He declined her help with bringing his belongings up, settling both bags on his shoulders as he pulled the suitcase against the floor, ignoring her looks. It wasn’t until he reached the stairs that he stopped. Taking a deep breath, he glanced over his shoulder, the woman that he had once known gone from Sue’s gaze. This was someone knew.

“What you did was wrong,” Hoseok evenly spoke, keeping his face clear of any emotion except for his anger and hurt. He wanted her to see what she’s done, and how much it affected him. “You know it too Sue. I don’t know what happened while you were in Hong Kong, but it wasn’t right to take it out on Strawberry and I. We wanted to be there for you when you told us that Colin had cheated, and we’re so sorry you had to go through that, but you lashed out on us and that was just as bad.”

Hoseok wanted to say more, actually, he wanted to scream and shout and tell her that he’d never forgive her for what she did, but he kept his mouth shut. Hurting Sue, despite everything, was the last thing he wanted because deep down, he remembered the way she sat in that chair at the Homeless Shelter. Vulnerable and all alone as she waited, the urge to protect her overcoming him. He still considered her one his friends.

“By the way,” he added, turning around to start going up the stairs to his room. “You didn’t just hurt me. You hurt Strawberry too, in more ways than one, and I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to forgive you.”

He didn’t look at Sue after that. Instead, he carried on to his room, shutting the door behind with a sigh. While he loved his room, he noticed that it no longer felt like home anymore. Despite being filled with all his belongings, it was empty. Tomorrow was Sunday, so he pulled his clothes off and crawled under his blankets, not feeling guilty about sleeping the day away. Out of habit, he stretched his arm out to pull you closer, but his heart constricted when his hand fell on top of the blankets.

That was why it didn’t feel like home anymore.

You weren’t there.

His bottom lip trembled and he squeezed his eyes tight, turning to bury his face into his pillow as it became wet with his muffled tears.

Downstairs, Sue was still standing in the open room near the bottom of the suitcase. Right where Hoseok had left her. His words bounced around in her mind, stirring up feelings of guilt. For a moment she thought about going up and apologizing – she even made it up the stairs – but as soon as she made the landing, she went straight to her bedroom instead. Despite her attempts to sleep, she was unable to forget what he said. She had hurt both of her friends.

[cupidmarwani-archive]

(3/13)

Once Ethan leaves, things kind of speed along. Sarah’s entire schedule becomes consumed by wedding planning. Cake tasting until she’s sick to her stomach, choosing floral arrangements from the flowers approved by Jenia for the wedding, approving decorations for the cathedral, getting her dress fitted and adjusted and embroidered. She doesn’t have time for anything else, and it feels strange to have no one to talk to except Natalie. Ethan’s the only other friend she has, really, and with him gone, the palace is lonelier than ever.

But at least she sneaks some of the tasting cakes to Natalie to share, as well as take up some time with anything other than this horrible wedding. If she’s busy, Sarah wonders how her staff must be feeling; evidently, they didn’t know this was coming either. Suddenly having to create a wedding must be stressful. Tiers of cake, a dress, decorations befitting a royal wedding. That’s not even beginning to cover the specific requirements that the guests will demand. 

Somehow, she’s found herself caught again in the weight of responsibility. Sure, this opulence is affordable to her, but the rest of her people, including those in her staff, often struggle to make ends meet in any capacity. They’d never be able to get a dress like this at the drop of a hat, perfectly form-fitted to their bodies to make them look as stunning as possible. Show off their body to someone who will soon control them. 

“What do you think he'll be like?"

"I don't know."

Natalie sets aside her cake to help Sarah into the dress and sew pearls onto the bodice. There's no one else she would trust with a needle so close to her skin; Natalie has never pricked her, nor ruined a design.

She pauses to change the thread color of her needle and shrugs. "I heard that the Bekker family can be a bit stuck up. But your husband will just be a figurehead, you won't have to spend much time with him."

In theory, sure. Sarah looks at herself in the mirror, admiring the cut of the dress and the freedom the slacks beneath the skirt give her. She feels freer than in her coronation dress, even if this is symbolic of a trap she may never be able to free herself from. At least she’ll still have Natalie and Ethan, and before she knows it, she’ll be queen and no one will be able to force these decisions on her ever again. She’ll be able to choose for herself, finally, and make better decisions for their people. 

And as they’re putting finishing touches on the dress today, Sarah knows that her betrothed is going to be here tonight and they’ll share a meal in the dining hall, something far too rich that she won’t even enjoy. Her husband will. And then he’ll have to keep getting fancy and terrible meals that she won’t be able to eat until she eventually wastes away and there’s another selfish airhead in charge of the people. 

She still can’t believe she’s getting married in two days. 

Just as Natalie finishes one of the last pearls added in, she gives Sarah a smile and helps her out of the dress and pants. “You should get into your dinner gown.”

“Help me with it?”

“Of course.”

Natalie takes the stunning maroon dress off its hanger and helps Sarah step into it before lacing up the back. She wishes, not for the first time, that she had clothes that were actually practical, not just for everyday wear, but for getting dressed and undressed without help. The dinner gown has been waiting for a formal dinner for months, and it’s a little painful that Sarah didn’t see this coming. Why else would her father commission a new dress like this for her without explaining himself? It’s beautiful, but it’s another beautiful trap.

“You’re going to get through this.”

“Am I?”

“You are.”

She takes down Sarah’s loose ponytail and quickly pulls it back into a braid. Nothing too fancy, but more presentable and out of her way. Good enough for dinner, and if her father has anything to say about it, she’ll scream until he finally keels over and dies. It’s taken him long enough already.

Sarah winds up the second to last person to arrive to the dinner, announced by her title and surrounded by faces familiar and less so as they bow and curtsy to her. One after the other as she walks by before standing in front of her chair at the head of the table. Staring down to the empty seat at the very foot of the table. Six seats on each side of the table will separate them when her betrothed arrives. They’ll have to look at each other. She’s got no way out of this, and she has a brief thought about just standing up and leaving. 

But then.

“Introducing Lady Ava Bekker.”

Lady.

Her head is spinning. The herald steps to the side kindly, letting in Lady Bekker and showing off the way she seems to glow. A pale blue, mermaid fit dress glitters like her waves of golden hair, her glossy lips alluring when she smiles along with her slow, deep curtsy. She’s beautiful. And Sarah wonders how bad it would actually be to marry someone like her. It’s a face she wouldn’t mind waking up to on an early morning.

But that doesn’t negate the political motive behind this or the fact that Lady Bekker was chosen for her, and can’t be someone good for her in the long run. No matter how stunning her smile is and the way she so delicately picks up her glass of wine and brings it to her lips.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” Lady Bekker says, and her voice is like honey with a warm, forgiving drawl. “My name is Ava.”

Sarah hums in response instead of really responding, and the smile drops off her face. The frown is beautiful too, but in a more painful way that makes Sarah look down at whatever decadent, painfully rich pasta dish was dumped in front of her by a server. She has no appetite, certainly not for this traditional dish or the second course from Jenia, but there will be no escaping this meal, even as her father glares at her over a sip of his water for being rude. 

“Your guard tells me you draw?”

“Sometimes.” Was Ethan just talking about her the entire time? Did Ava ask? “I don’t have much time for it.”

There’s a weak smile on Ava’s face again. “Perhaps you would be willing to show me some of your work after supper?”

“No.”

An advisor gives her a dirty look. Good for him. They can force her to get married to someone she’s just met, but they can’t force her to be happy about it. Even if her betrothed is a beautiful lady of the Jenian court who has an absolutely addictive voice. Sarah looks to Ethan at her right for help, but he’s looking at a guest of Ava’s. Nice, but relatively inexpensive clothing not unlike what the palace workers here would have for special occasions. Dark hair and blue eyes, an easy grin that turns rather sharp at the edges when he meets Ethan’s eyes. She’d put money on them sleeping together by the morning after the wedding. 

“Then maybe you could show me your city tomorrow? It seemed beautiful, and I would love the chance to speak to you before the wedding-”

“No.”

Ethan kicks her under the table. She kicks him back harder with the point of her heels. She cannot wait to take these things off tonight and just lay down and forget what’s happening. Maybe someone will bring her a drink tonight to help in the process. Anything to try and distance herself from this, especially when Ava raises a hand up and flicks it. 

“Leave us.”

Her entourage all obey, but Sarah’s look to her. She gets to make this decision, even if Ava’s entourage technically should have awaited her response as well. “Ethan, stay.” And so the rest leave, and Ethan’s hand goes toward his hip defensively. Just in case. Always ready to protect her in the worst-case scenario.

“You seem tense, Your Highness.”

“I was ambushed with a wedding a week before it’s supposed to happen.”

Ava tilts her head to the side and stands up, slowly walking the length of the table. “Ambushed? They didn’t tell you?”

“Did they tell you?”

“As soon as it was decided, months ago.”

If she covers her face with her hands, maybe it’ll all go away. But she knows it won’t, especially because Ethan clears his throat to remind her she’s not alone, somewhere safe to break down. She has a guest.

“Look, Your Highness, I’m sorry that this happened to you, but-” Up close, Ava is even prettier, and her hand is warm, laying it over Sarah’s. “Shouldn’t we make the most of this? I mean, if we’re going to be married, we should at least get to know each other a little, and your kingdom is stunning-”

Sarah stands up swiftly and smooths down her dress. “We’re getting married for politics. Don’t make it more than it is.”

As she leaves, Ethan trailing behind her, she knows she’ll be getting the lecture of a lifetime tomorrow, but it doesn’t matter because she’s not going to be swayed into this arrangement by a pretty face and a dream to kiss someone so beautiful.

@bipeteypie​ @one-chicago-hell​ @bookreader525​ @sarahreeese​ @sextonsharpwinhalstead​ @isthiswhatshameis​ @jorgerules​

[vdalph]

Hard Disk Data Recovery Services and Professionals

Hard Disk Data recovery is a process of salvaging data this is lost because of a logical or physical damage of any storage media such as hard disks, memory sticks, flash drives, USB drives, and external zip drives.

Scenarios of data loss

Common scenarios of data loss involve hard disk failure, unintentional deletion of information, human error, software failure, and virus attacks. Exactly, the lost files / data are not erased immediately after deletion, instead, references to those documents in the directory structure are detached, and the memory space occupied by them is made accessible for overwriting.

Measures to be taken to keep away from data loss

Hard disk data recovery is feasible even if the disk is formatted, re-partitioned or re-formatted. When the hard disk or any kind of disk is formatted all windows attributes are set to default values and information is still available on the hard drive. So, recovery is possible even after formatting the hard drive. If a record is deleted by the use of shift + Del key, it bypasses the recycle bin. Unfortunately, in this case recovery is past Windows. But it is no longer past the competencies of any third party recovery utilities.

So keep away from using the computer or laptop to save you overwriting of information, because probabilities of recovery will decrease considerably.

Data loss because of logical harm

If the data lost is due to logical damage then, in common of the cases, the original data can be recovered by using specialized information recovery software program, where, the cease user receives an intuitive interface which publications him in every single step of recovery.

Data loss because of physical harm

If the loss of information is because of physical damage then we are able to pass for data recovery services. If the damage to the disk is because of terrible sectors the disk may be cloned or imaged and recuperation can be carried further. Once the disk image is taken and stored in a safe location, the file system may be recovery and reconstructed can be done, from the reconstructed file system.

Recovery of data

Windows does not provide any in-built recovery software to get better deleted / lost data. Fortunately, there are many recovery utilities provided by third-parties, and one of them is the recovery software.

A hard disk failure is one of the most common laptop or computer hardware problems. Generally speaking, a hard disk failure that causes potential data loss could be a result of firmware corruption, electronic failure, logical corruption or mechanical failure. If it is an electronic failure, the hard disk will be dead and will not be recognised by the computer or laptop and will not spin up. The hard drive will make ticking, clicking or knocking sound in case of a mechanical failure. The noise indicates that the read/write head mechanism is incorrectly touching the surface of the drive. Laptop slowdowns can often be due to viruses and spyware attacks.

VDALPH is a leading computer service centre in Hyderabad, offering quick and expert technical support for your home or business book computer repair services, Laptop Repair Services at home and data recovery services. We are experts in the repairing, servicing and maintenance of all Apple Mac notebook computers including PowerBook G4, iMac, MacBook Pro, MacBook Air and MacBook models.

[suzanneshannon]

Request with Intent: Caching Strategies in the Age of PWAs

Once upon a time, we relied on browsers to handle caching for us; as developers in those days, we had very little control. But then came Progressive Web Apps (PWAs), Service Workers, and the Cache API—and suddenly we have expansive power over what gets put in the cache and how it gets put there. We can now cache everything we want to… and therein lies a potential problem.

Media files—especially images—make up the bulk of average page weight these days, and it’s getting worse. In order to improve performance, it’s tempting to cache as much of this content as possible, but should we? In most cases, no. Even with all this newfangled technology at our fingertips, great performance still hinges on a simple rule: request only what you need and make each request as small as possible.

To provide the best possible experience for our users without abusing their network connection or their hard drive, it’s time to put a spin on some classic best practices, experiment with media caching strategies, and play around with a few Cache API tricks that Service Workers have hidden up their sleeves.

Best intentions

All those lessons we learned optimizing web pages for dial-up became super-useful again when mobile took off, and they continue to be applicable in the work we do for a global audience today. Unreliable or high latency network connections are still the norm in many parts of the world, reminding us that it’s never safe to assume a technical baseline lifts evenly or in sync with its corresponding cutting edge. And that’s the thing about performance best practices: history has borne out that approaches that are good for performance now will continue being good for performance in the future.

Before the advent of Service Workers, we could provide some instructions to browsers with respect to how long they should cache a particular resource, but that was about it. Documents and assets downloaded to a user’s machine would be dropped into a directory on their hard drive. When the browser assembled a request for a particular document or asset, it would peek in the cache first to see if it already had what it needed to possibly avoid hitting the network.

We have considerably more control over network requests and the cache these days, but that doesn’t excuse us from being thoughtful about the resources on our web pages.

Request only what you need

As I mentioned, the web today is lousy with media. Images and videos have become a dominant means of communication. They may convert well when it comes to sales and marketing, but they are hardly performant when it comes to download and rendering speed. With this in mind, each and every image (and video, etc.) should have to fight for its place on the page. 

A few years back, a recipe of mine was included in a newspaper story on cooking with spirits (alcohol, not ghosts). I don’t subscribe to the print version of that paper, so when the article came out I went to the site to take a look at how it turned out. During a recent redesign, the site had decided to load all articles into a nearly full-screen modal viewbox layered on top of their homepage. This meant requesting the article required requests for all of the assets associated with the article page plus all the contents and assets for the homepage. Oh, and the homepage had video ads—plural. And, yes, they auto-played.

I popped open DevTools and discovered the page had blown past 15 MB in page weight. Tim Kadlec had recently launched What Does My Site Cost?, so I decided to check out the damage. Turns out that the actual cost to view that page for the average US-based user was more than the cost of the print version of that day’s newspaper. That’s just messed up.

Sure, I could blame the folks who built the site for doing their readers such a disservice, but the reality is that none of us go to work with the goal of worsening our users’ experiences. This could happen to any of us. We could spend days scrutinizing the performance of a page only to have some committee decide to set that carefully crafted page atop a Times Square of auto-playing video ads. Imagine how much worse things would be if we were stacking two abysmally-performing pages on top of each other!

Media can be great for drawing attention when competition is high (e.g., on the homepage of a newspaper), but when you want readers to focus on a single task (e.g., reading the actual article), its value can drop from important to “nice to have.” Yes, studies have shown that images excel at drawing eyeballs, but once a visitor is on the article page, no one cares; we’re just making it take longer to download and more expensive to access. The situation only gets worse as we shove more media into the page. 

We must do everything in our power to reduce the weight of our pages, so avoid requests for things that don’t add value. For starters, if you’re writing an article about a data breach, resist the urge to include that ridiculous stock photo of some random dude in a hoodie typing on a computer in a very dark room.

Request the smallest file you can

Now that we’ve taken stock of what we do need to include, we must ask ourselves a critical question: How can we deliver it in the fastest way possible? This can be as simple as choosing the most appropriate image format for the content presented (and optimizing the heck out of it) or as complex as recreating assets entirely (for example, if switching from raster to vector imagery would be more efficient).

Offer alternate formats

When it comes to image formats, we don’t have to choose between performance and reach anymore. We can provide multiple options and let the browser decide which one to use, based on what it can handle.

You can accomplish this by offering multiple sources within a picture or video element. Start by creating multiple formats of the media asset. For example, with WebP and JPG, it’s likely that the WebP will have a smaller file size than the JPG (but check to make sure). With those alternate sources, you can drop them into a picture like this:

<picture> <source srcset="my.webp" type="image/webp"> <img src="my.jpg" alt="Descriptive text about the picture."> </picture>

Browsers that recognize the picture element will check the source element before making a decision about which image to request. If the browser supports the MIME type “image/webp,” it will kick off a request for the WebP format image. If not (or if the browser doesn’t recognize picture), it will request the JPG. 

The nice thing about this approach is that you’re serving the smallest image possible to the user without having to resort to any sort of JavaScript hackery.

You can take the same approach with video files:

<video controls> <source src="my.webm" type="video/webm"> <source src="my.mp4" type="video/mp4"> <p>Your browser doesn’t support native video playback, but you can <a href="my.mp4" download>download</a> this video instead.</p> </video>

Browsers that support WebM will request the first source, whereas browsers that don’t—but do understand MP4 videos—will request the second one. Browsers that don’t support the video element will fall back to the paragraph about downloading the file.

The order of your source elements matters. Browsers will choose the first usable source, so if you specify an optimized alternative format after a more widely compatible one, the alternative format may never get picked up.  

Depending on your situation, you might consider bypassing this markup-based approach and handle things on the server instead. For example, if a JPG is being requested and the browser supports WebP (which is indicated in the Accept header), there’s nothing stopping you from replying with a WebP version of the resource. In fact, some CDN services—Cloudinary, for instance—come with this sort of functionality right out of the box.

Offer different sizes

Formats aside, you may want to deliver alternate image sizes optimized for the current size of the browser’s viewport. After all, there’s no point loading an image that’s 3–4 times larger than the screen rendering it; that’s just wasting bandwidth. This is where responsive images come in.

Here’s an example:

<img src="medium.jpg" srcset="small.jpg 256w, medium.jpg 512w, large.jpg 1024w" sizes="(min-width: 30em) 30em, 100vw" alt="Descriptive text about the picture.">

There’s a lot going on in this super-charged img element, so I’ll break it down:

This img offers three size options for a given JPG: 256 px wide (small.jpg), 512 px wide (medium.jpg), and 1024 px wide (large.jpg). These are provided in the srcset attribute with corresponding width descriptors.

The src defines a default image source, which acts as a fallback for browsers that don’t support srcset. Your choice for the default image will likely depend on the context and general usage patterns. Often I’d recommend the smallest image be the default, but if the majority of your traffic is on older desktop browsers, you might want to go with the medium-sized image.

The sizes attribute is a presentational hint that informs the browser how the image will be rendered in different scenarios (its extrinsic size) once CSS has been applied. This particular example says that the image will be the full width of the viewport (100vw) until the viewport reaches 30 em in width (min-width: 30em), at which point the image will be 30 em wide. You can make the sizes value as complicated or as simple as you want; omitting it causes browsers to use the default value of 100vw.

You can even combine this approach with alternate formats and crops within a single picture. 🤯

All of this is to say that you have a number of tools at your disposal for delivering fast-loading media, so use them!

Defer requests (when possible)

Years ago, Internet Explorer 11 introduced a new attribute that enabled developers to de-prioritize specific img elements to speed up page rendering: lazyload. That attribute never went anywhere, standards-wise, but it was a solid attempt to defer image loading until images are in view (or close to it) without having to involve JavaScript.

There have been countless JavaScript-based implementations of lazy loading images since then, but recently Google also took a stab at a more declarative approach, using a different attribute: loading.

The loading attribute supports three values (“auto,” “lazy,” and “eager”) to define how a resource should be brought in. For our purposes, the “lazy” value is the most interesting because it defers loading the resource until it reaches a calculated distance from the viewport.

Adding that into the mix…

<img src="medium.jpg" srcset="small.jpg 256w, medium.jpg 512w, large.jpg 1024w" sizes="(min-width: 30em) 30em, 100vw" loading="lazy" alt="Descriptive text about the picture.">

This attribute offers a bit of a performance boost in Chromium-based browsers. Hopefully it will become a standard and get picked up by other browsers in the future, but in the meantime there’s no harm in including it because browsers that don’t understand the attribute will simply ignore it.

This approach complements a media prioritization strategy really well, but before I get to that, I want to take a closer look at Service Workers.

Manipulate requests in a Service Worker

Service Workers are a special type of Web Worker with the ability to intercept, modify, and respond to all network requests via the Fetch API. They also have access to the Cache API, as well as other asynchronous client-side data stores like IndexedDB for resource storage.

When a Service Worker is installed, you can hook into that event and prime the cache with resources you want to use later. Many folks use this opportunity to squirrel away copies of global assets, including styles, scripts, logos, and the like, but you can also use it to cache images for use when network requests fail.

Keep a fallback image in your back pocket

Assuming you want to use a fallback in more than one networking recipe, you can set up a named function that will respond with that resource:

function respondWithFallbackImage() { return caches.match( "/i/fallbacks/offline.svg" ); }

Then, within a fetch event handler, you can use that function to provide that fallback image when requests for images fail at the network:

self.addEventListener( "fetch", event => { const request = event.request; if ( request.headers.get("Accept").includes("image") ) { event.respondWith( return fetch( request, { mode: 'no-cors' } ) .then( response => { return response; }) .catch( respondWithFallbackImage ); ); } });

When the network is available, users get the expected behavior:

Social media avatars are rendered as expected when the network is available.

But when the network is interrupted, images will be swapped automatically for a fallback, and the user experience is still acceptable:

A generic fallback avatar is rendered when the network is unavailable.

On the surface, this approach may not seem all that helpful in terms of performance since you’ve essentially added an additional image download into the mix. With this system in place, however, some pretty amazing opportunities open up to you.

Respect a user’s choice to save data

Some users reduce their data consumption by entering a “lite” mode or turning on a “data saver” feature. When this happens, browsers will often send a Save-Data header with their network requests. 

Within your Service Worker, you can look for this header and adjust your responses accordingly. First, you look for the header:

let save_data = false; if ( 'connection' in navigator ) { save_data = navigator.connection.saveData; }

Then, within your fetch handler for images, you might choose to preemptively respond with the fallback image instead of going to the network at all:

self.addEventListener( "fetch", event => { const request = event.request; if ( request.headers.get("Accept").includes("image") ) { event.respondWith( if ( save_data ) { return respondWithFallbackImage(); } // code you saw previously ); } });

You could even take this a step further and tune respondWithFallbackImage() to provide alternate images based on what the original request was for. To do that you’d define several fallbacks globally in the Service Worker:

const fallback_avatar = "/i/fallbacks/avatar.svg", fallback_image = "/i/fallbacks/image.svg";

Both of those files should then be cached during the Service Worker install event:

return cache.addAll( [ fallback_avatar, fallback_image ]);

Finally, within respondWithFallbackImage() you could serve up the appropriate image based on the URL being fetched. In my site, the avatars are pulled from Webmention.io, so I test for that.

function respondWithFallbackImage( url ) { const image = avatars.test( /webmention\.io/ ) ? fallback_avatar                                                 : fallback_image;   return caches.match( image ); }

With that change, I’ll need to update the fetch handler to pass in request.url as an argument to respondWithFallbackImage(). Once that’s done, when the network gets interrupted I end up seeing something like this:

A webmention that contains both an avatar and an embedded image will render with two different fallbacks when the Save-Data header is present.

Next, we need to establish some general guidelines for handling media assets—based on the situation, of course.

The caching strategy: prioritize certain media

In my experience, media—especially images—on the web tend to fall into three categories of necessity. At one end of the spectrum are elements that don’t add meaningful value. At the other end of the spectrum are critical assets that do add value, such as charts and graphs that are essential to understanding the surrounding content. Somewhere in the middle are what I would call “nice-to-have” media. They do add value to the core experience of a page but are not critical to understanding the content.

If you consider your media with this division in mind, you can establish some general guidelines for handling each, based on the situation. In other words, a caching strategy.

Media loading strategy, broken down by how critical an asset is to understanding an interface Media category Fast connection Save-Data Slow connection No network Critical Load media Replace with placeholder Nice-to-have Load media Replace with placeholder Non-critical Remove from content entirely

When it comes to disambiguating the critical from the nice-to-have, it’s helpful to have those resources organized into separate directories (or similar). That way we can add some logic into the Service Worker that can help it decide which is which. For example, on my own personal site, critical images are either self-hosted or come from the website for my book. Knowing that, I can write regular expressions that match those domains:

const high_priority = [ /aaron\-gustafson\.com/, /adaptivewebdesign\.info/ ];

With that high_priority variable defined, I can create a function that will let me know if a given image request (for example) is a high priority request or not:

function isHighPriority( url ) { // how many high priority links are we dealing with? let i = high_priority.length; // loop through each while ( i-- ) { // does the request URL match this regular expression? if ( high_priority[i].test( url ) ) { // yes, it’s a high priority request return true; } } // no matches, not high priority return false; }

Adding support for prioritizing media requests only requires adding a new conditional into the fetch event handler, like we did with Save-Data. Your specific recipe for network and cache handling will likely differ, but here was how I chose to mix in this logic within image requests:

// Check the cache first // Return the cached image if we have one // If the image is not in the cache, continue // Is this image high priority? if ( isHighPriority( url ) ) { // Fetch the image // If the fetch succeeds, save a copy in the cache // If not, respond with an "offline" placeholder // Not high priority } else { // Should I save data? if ( save_data ) { // Respond with a "saving data" placeholder // Not saving data } else { // Fetch the image // If the fetch succeeds, save a copy in the cache // If not, respond with an "offline" placeholder } }

We can apply this prioritized approach to many kinds of assets. We could even use it to control which pages are served cache-first vs. network-first.

Keep the cache tidy

The  ability to control which resources are cached to disk is a huge opportunity, but it also carries with it an equally huge responsibility not to abuse it.

Every caching strategy is likely to differ, at least a little bit. If we’re publishing a book online, for instance, it might make sense to cache all of the chapters, images, etc. for offline viewing. There’s a fixed amount of content and—assuming there aren’t a ton of heavy images and videos—users will benefit from not having to download each chapter separately.

On a news site, however, caching every article and photo will quickly fill up our users’ hard drives. If a site offers an indeterminate number of pages and assets, it’s critical to have a caching strategy that puts hard limits on how many resources we’re caching to disk. 

One way to do this is to create several different blocks associated with caching different forms of content. The more ephemeral content caches can have strict limits around how many items can be stored. Sure, we’ll still be bound to the storage limits of the device, but do we really want our website to take up 2 GB of someone’s hard drive?

Here’s an example, again from my own site:

const sw_caches = { static: { name: `${version}static` }, images: { name: `${version}images`, limit: 75 }, pages: { name: `${version}pages`, limit: 5 }, other: { name: `${version}other`, limit: 50 } }

Here I’ve defined several caches, each with a name used for addressing it in the Cache API and a version prefix. The version is defined elsewhere in the Service Worker, and allows me to purge all caches at once if necessary.

With the exception of the static cache, which is used for static assets, every cache has a limit to the number of items that may be stored. I only cache the most recent 5 pages someone has visited, for instance. Images are limited to the most recent 75, and so on. This is an approach that Jeremy Keith outlines in his fantastic book Going Offline (which you should really read if you haven’t already—here’s a sample).

With these cache definitions in place, I can clean up my caches periodically and prune the oldest items. Here’s Jeremy’s recommended code for this approach:

function trimCache(cacheName, maxItems) { // Open the cache caches.open(cacheName) .then( cache => { // Get the keys and count them cache.keys() .then(keys => { // Do we have more than we should? if (keys.length > maxItems) { // Delete the oldest item and run trim again cache.delete(keys[0]) .then( () => { trimCache(cacheName, maxItems) }); } }); }); }

We can trigger this code to run whenever a new page loads. By running it in the Service Worker, it runs in a separate thread and won’t drag down the site’s responsiveness. We trigger it by posting a message (using postMessage()) to the Service Worker from the main JavaScript thread:

// First check to see if you have an active service worker if ( navigator.serviceWorker.controller ) { // Then add an event listener window.addEventListener( "load", function(){ // Tell the service worker to clean up navigator.serviceWorker.controller.postMessage( "clean up" ); }); }

The final step in wiring it all up is setting up the Service Worker to receive the message:

addEventListener("message", messageEvent => { if (messageEvent.data == "clean up") { // loop though the caches for ( let key in sw_caches ) { // if the cache has a limit if ( sw_caches[key].limit !== undefined ) { // trim it to that limit trimCache( sw_caches[key].name, sw_caches[key].limit ); } } } });

Here, the Service Worker listens for inbound messages and responds to the “clean up” request by running trimCache() on each of the cache buckets with a defined limit.

This approach is by no means elegant, but it works. It would be far better to make decisions about purging cached responses based on how frequently each item is accessed and/or how much room it takes up on disk. (Removing cached items based purely on when they were cached isn’t nearly as useful.) Sadly, we don’t have that level of detail when it comes to inspecting the caches…yet. I’m actually working to address this limitation in the Cache API right now.

Your users always come first

The technologies underlying Progressive Web Apps are continuing to mature, but even if you aren’t interested in turning your site into a PWA, there’s so much you can do today to improve your users’ experiences when it comes to media. And, as with every other form of inclusive design, it starts with centering on your users who are most at risk of having an awful experience.

Draw distinctions between critical, nice-to-have, and superfluous media. Remove the cruft, then optimize the bejeezus out of each remaining asset. Serve your media in multiple formats and sizes, prioritizing the smallest versions first to make the most of high latency and slow connections. If your users say they want to save data, respect that and have a fallback plan in place. Cache wisely and with the utmost respect for your users’ disk space. And, finally, audit your caching strategies regularly—especially when it comes to large media files.Follow these guidelines, and every one of your users—from folks rocking a JioPhone on a rural mobile network in India to people on a high-end gaming laptop wired to a 10 Gbps fiber line in Silicon Valley—will thank you.

Request with Intent: Caching Strategies in the Age of PWAs published first on https://deskbysnafu.tumblr.com/

[valeriianz]

Au: Oliver is connors bodyguard and Connor has a gigantic crush on him but Oliver is always so professional and proper he's afraid to make a move

Sorry for the wait! I love this prompt!

Itshould be illegal to look that good in a suit.

Connorkeeps stealing glances at Oliver while he glides around the floor,performing in a group dance and constantly switching out the ladiesin his embrace. None of them can hold a candle to Oliver, who standssilently in a corner, stance wide, hands behind his back, eyesdarting everywhere; constantly vigilant.

Connornearly steps on his partner’s toe when Oliver’s eyes find his, beforeshyly looking away.

“… are you listening to me?”

Connor looks down at the woman in hisarms, it’s Michaela, one of Connor’s closest friends and businesspartner. He hadn’t realized he had been dancing with her, honestly.Oliver in a tux was very distracting.

“Sorry,” Connor mumbled, but hiseyes strayed from Michaela’s, looking around the room.

She sighed. “You know we’re safehere. The peace treaty went much better than any of us expected.”

“Yeah it was…” Connor started,then swallowed, looking back to Michaela. “To be honest I wasnervous. Thought for sure they’d mow us down before we even set footon their land.”

Michaela rolled her eyes in humor.“You worry too much.”

“Or not enough,” Connor smiledwryly, spinning Michaela around and out before pulling her back in.

“Isn’t that what you have Oliverfor?” Her tone turned teasing near the end, grinning at Connor.

Technically, yes. Ever since Connor’sfather died, leaving the business to his only son, Connor had becomea liability and thus required some form of protection. His first bodyguard, William, hadn’t proved much use… in fact it was thanks inpart to him, that Oliver became Connor’s new bodyguard.

The day he met Oliver was quite unlikeanything Connor had experienced in his young life.

Connor had been sitting in the backseat of his Mercedes, waiting outside a building for a meeting to endand someone to meet him, when suddenly the driver’s side door opened,and William had been socked in the face, yanked from his seat behindthe wheel, and replaced by another man, who immediately turned thecar on and sped down the road.

Connor had ducked down as soon as herealized the door had been opened, and waited until the man had spedaway before reaching for his gun, pulling the safety off, andlurching himself up to wrap one arm around the invader’s neck whileshoving the tip of his gun against his head.

“Who the hell are you?” Connor hadspat, his finger tight on the trigger.

The man started, catching Connor’seyes in the rear view mirror, and… laughed.

“Christ, I didn’t know anyone elsewas in here.” He kept his hands on the wheel, peddle still to thefloor as he effortlessly swerved through lanes of traffic.

Connor only let a second pass ofconfused silence.

“Who sent you?”

This time the man turned his head,Connor’s gun dragging along his skin and nearly hitting his eye. “Noone ‘sent me’,” he looked back to the road. “I’m… kind of in asituation. You’re involved now.”

“What?”

Turned out Oliver was a field agentworking for a spy organization in Napal. His mission had beencompromised and, long story short, he had been on the run.

After he’d found safety andsomeone else in the company to finish his mission, Oliver quit towork for Connor. Why he took Connor’s offer to be his new personalbodyguard over being a spy,Connor still couldn’t figure out… though he had one idea that heliked to delude himself into believing.

Connor was infatuated withOliver. He never thought twice about him at first, but Oliver wasalways so attentive, always so present and efficient, it was nearimpossible to ignore him. Especially the way Oliver would sayConnor’s name, low and cool. The way his stare would linger afraction of a second longer than it needed to, how he’d ask if therewas anything else he could do before retiring each night and leavingConnor to bed or anything else personal.

It was all of this and inOliver’s never wavering dedication and service to Connor and theWalsh business name that cemented Connor’s aching attraction to hisnew bodyguard… not to mention how adorablethe older man was.

Yet… despite all this evidencethat Oliver may reciprocate Connor’s untold affections, the manremained utterly professional and poised.

Maybe it was from experience asa spy (which was fucking hot, in Connor’s opinion), but Oliver wasdifficult to read. It didn’t help that this was the first in a long,long time that Connor genuinely liked another human being, a man, andnot just for the sex potential.

So at the end of the day, Connor nevergot up the courage to act on anything. It was like Oliver turned himinside out, unable to summon that old Walsh charm and flirt his wayto success. The sensation of “butterflies in your stomach” wassomething Connor always hated hearing, it was so stupid, sochildish… so accurate; he’d never understood the meaning until hefelt himself falling for Oliver.

“Hey.” Connor approached Oliver,hands stuffed in his expensive slacks. The night was ending, peoplewere exiting the hall and shaking hands for the last time.

Oliver nodded, pushing away from thewall. “Shall I get the car?”

“Um, actually, do you want a drink?Still plenty of champagne to go around.”

Oliver’s head quirked slightly, asmall grin gracing his lips. “I shouldn’t drink while working.”

Connor rolled his head, smirking.“Yeah but we’re on friendly territory now, no need to readyyourself for a fight.”

Oliver’s eyes softened, that insecure,shy look that Connor always gawked at reemerging. “Thanks, Connor,but I’m good.”

Connor brought his lips in, looking tothe floor and nodding.

The ride home was silent. Connorstared out the window, hand propping up his chin while he mentally browsedthrough scenarios of what would happen if he were to tellOliver how gorgeous he was when he smiled, or if he took his hand andpulled Oliver in for a kiss, what kind of reaction Oliver would have.He thought about Oliver responding exuberantly, as they pulled up inConnor’s driveway. While he stepped out of the vehicle, walking up tohis front door, Connor daydreamed about Oliver pushing him againstthe wall of his lavish bedroom and ravishing him without a care,moaning and chanting Connor’s name in delirious bliss.

As Connor slowly stripped through thefoyer and into the kitchen, letting his jacket and tie fall to thefloor behind him, he fantasized Oliver shoving him onto the bed,tearing off his button down shirt and latching his mouth ontoConnor’s neck, palming him through his pants at the same time,causing Connor to arch off the bed and grip Oliver’s strong arms.

He made himself a drink at the bar,turning and leaning against it as Oliver finally appeared through thedoorway, smiling in humor as he caught Connor.

“Haven’t you had enough?”

Connor grinned back playfully, tippinghis glass back and downing the rest of his drink in one go.

“Drink with me, Oliver.” Connorknew Oliver would do it if he made it a command rather than arequest.

Oliver sighed, but it sounded forced,like he was pretending this was the opposite of what he wanted.

“Well, twist my arm…” he teased,taking his own jacket off and draping it over a chair while Connorprepared him an Old Fashioned.

He took the drink, eyes flicking up toConnor’s as their fingers brushed. Connor slouched against the bar,facing Oliver, casually sipping at his own drink, which he hadreplenished.

“I was thinking about the first timewe met.”

Oliver looked lost for a second beforesniggering, setting his glass down. “Oh yeah, I remember. You had aterrible guard.”

Connor chuckled too, nodding. “Itwas fate. What would you have done in that situation?”

Oliver looked curious, latching ontoConnor’s first statement, but let it slide.

“I wouldn’t have let it become asituation. I’d notice if someone was coming to the car. Also, myfucking door would be locked.”

Connor nearly inhaled his drink,laughing with ease and watching Oliver’s smile grow to show teeth.

A silence fell between them. Connordrummed his fingers against the glass while Oliver played with therim of his.

“When was the last time you went ona date, Ollie?”

At the nic name, Oliver’s head snappedup, bewildered.

“Uh, w-why the sudden interest?”

Connor shrugged, trying to play it offas no big deal, while his heart began to hammer in his chest. “Justcurious… I know it must be boring, being around me nearly 24/7.”

Oliver shook his head, giving a shortlaugh. “Exactly. I don’t have time to date.”

“Don’t you want to?”

Oliver sighed, rubbing a hand behindhis neck. “Nah, I think I forgot how to anyway, it’s been solong…”

“You should take a vacation,”Connor heard himself say. “Go get laid, or something.”

Oliver scoffed. “I don’t want to‘get laid’.” He straightened up, finishing his drink.

Connor waited for Oliver to go on, orexplain, but he said nothing, shimmying off the stool.

“Thanks for the drink-”

“Wait.” Connor reached forward,grabbing Oliver’s arm.

They both stared at each otherexpectantly, waiting for the other to say something. Seconds passedand Connor’s hand was still attached to Oliver’s forearm, preventinghim from leaving. Oliver looked down at Connor’s hold and back up, aninterested yet nervous expression crossing his features.

“Something you want?”

Connor licked his lips and swallowed.The alcohol in his veins encouraging him to ease his grip, lettinghis fingers slide down Oliver’s arm to take his hand instead,trapping his fingers in-between Oliver’s.

Their eyes never left each other asConnor’s hand moved, or when Oliver gasped softly, curling hisfingers to hold Connor’s in his palm.

“What do you want, Ollie?”Connor spoke quietly, carefully, his nerves singing.

Oliver shook his head slowly. “I’mnot…” But Connor was leaning in and so was he, finishing hisanswer in a whisper, “… sure.”

Their lips met softly, a gentle caressthat was the exact opposite of any daydream Connor had about thismoment, yet it still got his heart racing like a teenager in love.

Connor had just enough time to parthis lips and taste Oliver’s breath before Oliver pulled back. Connoropened his eyes, biting back a whine of displeasure at the separationbut then feeling himself get hard at the way Oliver’s eyes flutteredopen, soft and darker than ever.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Oliver looked down attheir hands, still entwined. “I just… haven’t done that in a longtime.”

Connor watched him silently for amoment. “Because of work?”

Oliver shrugged, appearing the mostvulnerable Connor had ever seen him. “Mostly…”

“I like you,” Connor saidseriously, ducking to catch Oliver’s eyes. “And that’s weird… forme. I really like you and… don’t want to regret this tomorrow.”

Oliver gave a small smile. “Youwont… but let’s see if you want to do it again, when you’re sober.”

Connor rolled his eyes, hearing Oliverchuckle softly.

“I’m not drunk enough to not knowwhat I want.”

“We’ll see,” Oliver said, halfhumorously, half in self deprecation.

“Wanna kiss me one more time, justin case?” Connor narrowed his brows, smirking with a rush ofconfidence he hadn’t felt in a while.

Oliver laughed again and Connor pulledhim forward to taste it.

[carry-on-kissing-snowbaz]

Stuck In Paradise (FEDA Day 7)

I unfortunately couldn’t post for a few days because of technical difficulties. This one is a bit longer than most of my oneshots, 1772 word count. Simon and Baz get stuck together for Spring Break, hope you enjoy! @snowbaz-feda

Simon

Spring holidays were never Simon’s favorite but they’d never been that bad either. Agatha would have him over for the week and they would usually have a fancy brunch with pastel table settings on Easter Day. Overall it was too short and a tad boring.

But now that Agatha had broken up with Simon he was stuck spending the week in Watford. Baz had left two days ago, which he’d thought would make him happy. Now Simon was wishing he had someone to yell at, it would be better than staring at a wall all day until he fell asleep. 

He was about to start throwing spitballs on Baz’s bed when he heard the sound of footsteps coming from the stairwell to their room. Simon sat up, excited for the commotion, and waited to greet his visitor.

Baz walked in, looking pissed off as he carried all his luggage into the room. Simon frowned. Even though Baz was better than nothing, he still had been hoping for someone like Penny. 

“Why are you back so early?” He asked.

Baz threw his bags down.

“Why do you think that’s any of your business?”

Simon sighed.

“So we’re right back to normal?”

Baz glanced at him, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, did you expect us to take a break from our being sworn enemies to go on a holiday retreat? Maybe we could go camping in the Wavering Wood or swimming with the merwolves.” 

Simon rolled his eyes.

“Ha-ha, you’re so clever. I just meant, maybe we could take it a little easier since we’re the only two on campus.”

Baz shook his head and turned back to putting his things away.

“The Mage is here too isn’t he? Why don’t you spend the afternoon with him?”

Simon groaned and fell back on his bed.

“No, he’s not actually. Not even Ebb is here. She left yesterday to visit her family. I’ve been so bored,” He said.

“I don’t think that’s really my problem Snow,” Baz replied.

Simon rolled onto his stomach to watch Baz pack the rest of his things. He wasn’t in uniform. Instead he was wearing jeans and a V-neck t-shirt. Simon couldn’t stop staring at his jeans. It was too weird, Baz in such casual clothing. In fact, what was weirder was that he looked good in them, like it was natural. But, Simon reasoned, everything was natural for Baz, the tosser. 

“C’mon, it’s not like you have anything better to do,” Simon said.

Baz turned to stare at him in disbelief.

“Are you seriously suggesting we spend time together?”

Simon shrugged.

“Sure, just for the week anyways. There’s nobody else to hang out with.”

Simon stood and walked over to their bedroom door and opened it. Slouching against the wall, he glanced back over at Baz. Carelessly, he gestured to the open doorway.

“Besides, “ Simon said, playfully, “It might be illuminating.” 

Baz glared at him for a moment, his shoulders rigid. Finally he sighed and grabbed a jacket. With an angry grunt he pushed his way out of the room. Simon followed behind him excitedly.

“Fine,” Baz muttered, “But we’re playing football. If I have to spend time with you I might as well kick your ass on the field.”

Baz

Things were getting dangerous. It was day two of spending time with Snow and already Baz was imagining ridiculous scenarios. When they played football he imagined tackling Snow to the ground and making it on the Pitch. When they snuck into the kitchen he thought about licking the butter off the corner of Snow’s mouth (which was truly disturbing but nevertheless enticing).  It was worse now, while they sat and ate lunch on the Great Lawn together, like a picnic date out of some movie.

“This is weird,” Baz mumbled.

“What? Us getting along?” Snow asked.

Baz thought back on all his useless fantasies.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Baz said.

Snow snorted and lay back on the grass behind them

“You’re so set on being enemies that you can’t even let yourself enjoy a nice afternoon.”

Baz lay back too, wishing he could relax into Snow but settling for laying inches away from him.

“You make it sound so easy, forgetting about everything. We’re enemies for a reason Snow.”

“Are we really though?” Snow asked, “Enemies, I mean.”

Baz laughed.

“Um, yes? I’ve tried to kill you at least once before.”

Snow turned and Baz felt his heart run rampant.

“No you didn’t. You tried to destroy me, not exactly the same thing.”

Baz turned and wished he could close the distance between them, mere inches of grass separated their lips.

“Isn’t it though? I guess it might be worse,” Baz said.

“Maybe,” Snow agreed softly.

“And it doesn’t matter?” Baz asked, with a tiny glimmer of hope in his chest.

Snow studied his face for a moment and then turned away.

“Of course it matters. But it doesn’t mean that we have to hate each other or that we can’t…move forward.”

“Hm,” Baz said.

So then, it mattered. But not in a way that meant Baz would always be the villain. He could try, if he wanted to. He could give Snow’s suggestion a chance.

Simon

Baz was following close behind Simon, howling with laughter. Simon ignored him and stormed back towards their room. His shoes squelched uncomfortably as he walked and he felt a shiver crawl up his back from the wind.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Baz gasped out.

“I am not talking to you,” Simon snapped.

“You actually ran, I mean ran, into the moat. And all because I told you there was a wasp on your shoulder.”

Simon growled.

“I don’t like them and you shouldn’t have messed with me like that.”

“Snow, you do realize there are real, live merwolves in the moat right? And you ran to them, willingly, to escape a wasp of all things.”

Simon stomped up the stairs to their room and ignored the sound of Baz’s laughter. In truth, it was pretty funny. But Simon was embarrassed and didn’t want it to show.

When they got in the room Simon began to take off his wet clothes. As he kicked off his pants, he noticed Baz was eyeing him with an expression that screamed what do you think you’re doing, you git?? It took him a moment to figure out why Baz was so uncomfortable. Then he remembered that they usually didn’t change in front of each other, out of some kind of fear of being vulnerable to one another. Simon was surprised to realize he no longer felt that fear.

“I think, given certain events from today, it’s safe for us to change in front of one another. After all, you already know my true weakness,” Simon said, attempting to cut through the tension.

“I’ll keep wasps in mind,” Baz muttered, avoiding Simon’s gaze.

Simon picked up his wet clothes and threw them in the bathtub then he grabbed his clean clothes. He was about to ask Baz if it was okay to take a shower when he realized that he still wouldn’t look at him. 

“What’s wrong?” Simon asked.

Baz shook his head.

“Nothing. I just…”

Simon waited. “I think I’ll get us food, while you clean up.”

Baz stood and left the room.

Simon walked back into the bathroom slowly, his thoughts in a jumble. Sometimes Baz got awkward like that, especially when Simon stood just a little too close to him. He used to think it was because Baz hated him. Now though, he wasn’t so sure.

Baz

Baz waited impatiently for Snow to come out of the shower. Images from earlier kept playing through his head and spinning out of control. He just wanted to go back to the easy dynamic of the earlier part of the day and forget Snow’s almost naked body. As if he could forget. Baz groaned internally at the thought of spending the rest of break pretending he was satisfied with just being friends.

Snow walked out of the bathroom wearing pants but no shirt. When he saw Baz he smiled widely. Baz wondered if it was possible for his heart to physically jump from his chest.

“You’re the best,” Snow said.

Baz watched as Snow stuffed his face with food. 

“Hardly,” Baz murmured.

Snow sucked on his thumbs after he scarfed down the rest of his meal. Baz had allowed Snow to watch him eat but under the condition that Snow didn’t ask why Baz covered his mouth. It seemed like he might ask though, with the way he was looking at his mouth.

“Baz, how do you feel about me?”

Baz looked away.

“You’re surprisingly tolerable.”

Snow pushed forward a bit, putting his hands on either side of Baz’s thighs. He looked up in surprise and found that once again Snow’s eyes were focused on his mouth. Was this happening? Probably not. But Merlin, did he want it to be happening. 

“Just tolerable?”

“Well,” Baz conceded, “Maybe more than tolerable…”

Snow smiled briefly and then he was pressing his lips against Baz’s. He felt himself sigh against Simon, surrendered to the feel of the kiss. He wasn’t really sure what to do with his mouth, or where to put his tongue, but he felt happier than he’d ever remembered feeling before. Snow opened his mouth and waited, waited to see if Baz would allow him to deepen the kiss. He opened his mouth carefully, not sure if he was even doing it right. But then Snow was kissing him deep and Baz let his brain shut off and just kissed him back. 

Dizzily, Baz broke the kiss and stared at Snow. There was warmth in his eyes and blood in his cheeks.

“You want this…with me?” Baz asked.

“Yes,” Snow said.

“But after everything else are you sure that you can-“

Snow leaned forward and kissed Baz’s cheek. The gesture was somehow more intimate than the kissing had been, more personal than anything Snow could have said.

“Kiss me,” Snow whispered.

And so he did. 

After an hour or so of kissing they eventually tired out and rested in each other’s arms. 

“Does this mean we’re going out?” Baz asked.

“Yes,” Snow said.

“Bet we make for the best spring holidays gossip?” Baz asked.

“Oh,” Simon replied, “We’ll make for the best gossip for the entire year.”

He smiled. 

Baz knew that even though holidays were ending in a day or so that he could face the rest of term. In fact, he was pretty sure he could face anything.

[superfreakinlonely]

Well it looks like air coolers might be a regular and reoccurring theme for us from now on, if we find cool stuff obviously. But then again it didn’t really work out that well for the Corsair A500 that we checked out recently. The subject for today’s review actually comes from your suggestions, and it is none other than the Scythe Fuma 2 air cooler. I actually have to make sure that I don’t cut myself because this thing is ridiculously sharp, and I’m actually always very careful when holding this cooler because otherwise I’m pretty sure I’m going to end up with a lot of cuts.

You might be ask what makes the Fuma 2 special? Well it’s focus is on silence and compatibility, but it’s also supposed to have some wicked performance due to its pretty unique fan setup. The best part is that it costs $60 USD, which is a lot less than a lot of the other coolers that we have tested. I’m pretty excited about this one because it would be useful to have an alternative to some of the most popular heatsinks out there in the market. I guess the only way to find out is to put the Fuma 2 up against our super hot running test system and see what it performs like.

I would usually skip over what’s inside the box, but Scythe actually includes a full list of goodies. There is a nicely braided fan splitter cable, a magnetic screwdriver, and a tube of thermal compound with enough for at least three applications. There are also three fan brackets, and I’m going to explain why this is so important.

Out of the box Scythe includes one thin 15mm fan and one standard 25mm fan. The slimmer one is there to make sure that there are no issues with memory compatibility, but if your system has enough clearance you can use the extra bracket to replace it with a higher performance one. Or you could just keep the stock fans and add a third fan to really maximize performance. However, there’s more to this fan set up then what you might think. Even though they both move air in the same direction the front fan spins in a counterclockwise direction while the middle one runs clockwise. According to Scythe this actually increases static pressure and allows the two 1200 RPM fans to perform more like they are going at much higher speeds. I can’t wait to put that claim to the test.

Moving onto the heatsink itself, and it’s a pretty straight forward dual-tower design with aluminium fin arrays that are capped with a plain black metal. There is also six heat pipes, which happens to be two more than Corsair uses on their $100 A500 cooler. Yes, I’m still ranting about that thing. The other nice thing to see here is the flat base that’s machine to pretty high standards. There is also no cheaply designed heat pipe direct touch base here, which is awesome.

I have to give compliments to Scythe, I’m loving the stealthy aesthetic of this cooler once the fans are installed. Don’t worry we will ruin it with Noctua fans a bit later. Speaking of Noctua, the Fuma 2’s size is pretty much the same as the NH-U12A, though it is a bit wider, but that also makes it a lot more compact than the NH-D12. As for the installation process, well I think it’s one of the best around. I actually prefer it over anything from Noctua or be quiet! or nearly anyone else.

I won’t go through every installation here since that would take forever, but let’s just say that the only difference between platforms is that there is a backplate that’s provided for Intel LGA775, LGA1150 series, and LGA1366 sockets. Whereas on AMD systems you will need to reuse your motherboard’s backplate. Aside from that Scythe provides a system of standoffs and crossbar mounting plates that’s compatible with every platform. Basically, after these standouts are installed, you just screw down the mounting bar and up to this point, it’s very similar to Noctua’s design. However, when it comes to installing the cooler there’s one major difference that makes this thing so much easier. Instead of there being threaded rods on the crossbars, there’s a hole with angled guides and this helps the heatsink’s pre-installed screws slide right into position without any hassle. This is a brilliant and easy system and I love it since you can easily get the best possible mount. I also have to give a ton of credit to Scythe for focusing on compatibility. It’s pretty obvious that they did some serious homework to make sure that the Fuma 2 worked in almost every condition. However, I do have to mention that this cooler is meant to be only mounted in a left and right direction and not up and down.

On a platform like Intel’s LGA2066 with quad-channel memory the elevated heatsink allows it to clear even super tall memory. Meanwhile, the slim fan means every memory slot can be populated, but you need to be aware that the tolerances are super tight. I noticed that the lower fins do make contact with the nearby memory module. Another to note is the ASRock X299 CLX that I used here has a ridiculously tall VRM heatsink and even that wasn’t a problem. The only slight issue is if you want to mount a third fan on a system that has tall memory module or VRM heatsinks since it will need to be pushed upwards. Moving on to AM4 and there’s no problem here either since Scythe swept the Fuma 2′ heat pipes forward to make sure that the main fins are far away from the memory slots. However, don’t expect to install a full-size second fan if your memory slots are fully populated cause there’s just not enough space.

Okay, so now onto performance, but before I get into that I do want to quickly go over a few things. First up, it is very important to note that the two fans on the Fuma 2 are set to operate at a maximum of 1200 RPMs, which is a lot slower than anything else we have tested before. The second thing is that you can and should read our testing methodology to see how exactly we conduct our CPU cooler testing. Starting things off with stock speed testing on the Core i9-10980XE, and it looks like the Fuma 2 is able to keep up with some of the best coolers available. Now it’s important to take note that this CPU is running around 165W TDP, which happens to be the worst case scenario for many current Intel and AMD CPUs. This proves that Scythe’s $60 heatsink can effectively cool literally any processor currently available. However, the amazing thing is that it competes with the Noctua NH-D15 and it beats the NH-U12A in terms of acoustics.

Even with the fans operating at 1000 RPMs, it’s really competitive with heatsinks that cost quite a bit more. You should pay special attention to the Noctua NH-U14S since it costs only a few bucks more than the Fuma 2. At 1000 RPMs Scythe’s counter-rotating fan design seems to be making a pretty big difference, since this happens to be one of the quietest CPU coolers that we have come across. At full fan speed, the Fuma 2 hits about 58°C, which is one of the lowest temperatures, but its fan speeds are a good 300 RPMs lower than the NH-D15 and the NH-U14S. This obviously means that it just kills everything else in noise testing by a long shot. I can’t highlight this enough, when it comes to performance versus noise, the Fuma 2 is literally in a world of its own.

Now it’s time for overclock testing and the Core i9-10980XE clocked to 4.5GHz gets lava hot. On the positive side, Scythe was able to design this cooler well enough that it didn’t cause CPU throttling due to high temperatures, but 97°C is still pretty high. Also, the decibel results proved that it was running at full fan speed at the test end, but honestly it’s just so damn quiet. At a constant 1000 RPMs, it still technically passes and that’s really impressive. Finally at 100% fan speed, the Fuma 2 actually manages to beat the NH-U14S and it runs pretty close to the NH-U12A. Now remember it’s pulling these numbers at much lower noise levels and it only costs $60.

I think it’s safe to say that Scythe has designed a really good air cooler for $60, but I’m not willing to leave this review here without some more testing with different fan configurations. Let’s start things off with two Noctua NF-A12x25 fans, and the results are really amazing. It proves that Scythe closely designed their heatsink and fans in parallel. At stock settings and a constant 1,000 RPM, the Fuma 2’s regular setup actually wins. At full speed the dual Noctua setup pulls ahead, but remember two of those Noctua fans will be much louder than Scythe’s stock fans ad they cost just as much as a brand new Fuma 2. I really don’t think spending all that money on upgraded fans really benefits this cooler.

  It’s time to wrap this up, and it should be clear by now that the Scythe Fuma 2 impressed the heck out of me. It’s the lowest price cooler in our charts and it competed really well against the alternatives that cost $40 more. If you’re running a more basic system than us, say for instance you’re running an Core i9-9900K or AMD Ryzen 3950X, this should be your go-to cooler. You are actually better off spending the extra $40 on perhaps a better or bigger memory kit or a better GPU.

Naturally, this cooler couldn’t hit extreme cooling levels with the overclocked fire-breathing Core i9-10980XE, but that was expected since Scythe designed it for silence before performance. Did they accomplish that? Yeah, they certainly did. Therefore, I’m going to do something that I haven’t done in a really long time and actually give the Scythe Fuma 2 the Hardware Canucks Damn Good value award. So were you impressed with the Scythe Fuma 2? Also, what do you think of the name Scythe? I’m actually really in love with that name, because there’s something so stealthy about that also. I’m really glad that I didn’t cut my fingers on this cooler, because that’s what a real scythe would do. Thank you so much for reading.

The post A CPU Cooler You NEED To Know About! Scythe Fuma 2 Review appeared first on Hardware Canucks.

from Hardware Canucks https://ift.tt/2UbJteB

[alexislevenson-blog]

Chapter One

Lauren had never failed anything before. Technically, she hadn’t failed this time either, but the technicality wasn’t much of a comfort. After two years in a biology PhD program at the University of California Berkeley, her advisor strongly recommended that she “pursue avenues other than academia.” Despite the fact that their meeting had taken place more than two weeks before, Lauren could picture every detail of the day. She had known that the meeting wouldn’t go well. Her anxiety had been out of control for months, and she hadn’t produced any meaningful results for longer. Lauren expected to be yelled at, to be warned, to be given one last chance, but she never expected a calm, nearly apathetic, recommendation to drop out of the PhD program. Her advisor never used the word “failed”, but Lauren recognized the code words. The Biology Department of the University of California Berkeley didn’t think Lauren had what it took to make a meaningful contribution to the field. After twenty years of schooling, her only career dream was officially dead.

Lauren had spent the last two weeks in a daze, mostly filled with gin and tonics, binge watching trashy television, long runs, and eating cheetos. Her only friends in Berkeley were fellow grad students, and they had been avoiding her since the word had leaked out. “Maybe they’re worried my failure is contagious,” she laughed to herself. Starla, an ancient golden retriever, was so startled by the outburst that she nearly fell off her perch on the couch. “Poor Starla,” Lauren said as she rubbed the soft, greying ears, “You’re not used to hearing anything but my incoherent sobs, are you? Maybe someone will ignore my quarantine and come visit.”

A couple of days after her final meeting with her advisor, Lauren had officially unenrolled from school. Savita and Nolan, two of her closest friends from the lab, took her out for drinks afterward. It was a nice gesture, but Lauren could tell that they wanted to talk about their projects. The whole evening had been awkward, and Lauren had gotten exceedingly drunk. Her memories of the night were fuzzy, but she had a vague memory of Savita holding back her hair while she puked. Lauren was also pretty sure that she spent at least an hour crying on Nolan’s shoulder before trying to sloppily kiss him.

Lauren was sure that all of her friends were talking about how she’d failed out of grad school and was now a drunk mess. The next few times Savita or Nolan texted, she didn’t answer, and the invitations had gradually tapered off. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t really mind the lack of visitors and human interaction. Starla made great company, and Lauren was able to spend her new-found free time exactly how she wanted. “At least I don’t have a roommate,” she thought. Though most of the time it embarassed her that her parents paid the rent on her studio, she was so glad she didn’t have to deal with someone else’s dirty dishes during her life crisis.

Over the last few months, Lauren had withdrawn more and more from her fellow grad students and lab mates. She knew her experiments weren’t going well, her classes were going from overwhelming to impossible, and she absolutely hated teaching. Her parents had tried to put a bright spin on things. “Look at it this way,” her dad had said, “at least you found out now, instead of after four more years of pointless research!” This had made her burst into tears, and her mom had taken the phone away from her dad, mumbling gentle platitudes. Now she ignored her parents calls, just sending “I’m alive” texts every few days, to keep them from calling the police.

Lauren glanced at her phone and saw a text from her mom.

<You alive? Don’t drink too much. I love you.>

She rolled her eyes, but replied.

<Yes. No. Love you too. Going for a run.>

Her phone immediately buzzed.

<Be safe. Oakland is dangerous. Text when you’re back.>

She rolled her eyes even harder. It didn’t matter how long she lived in Oakland, or how gentrified it became, her parents were convinced that their daughter had moved to the unsafest place in America. She remembered when she moved down to start school at Cal, both of her parents were more nervous than she was. Her dad had told her how proud he was, how he didn’t even mind that she was moving so far away, because she had gotten into such a good school. “Damn it,” Lauren choked. That memory brought back the tears. “No more thinking, I’m going running.”

Lauren had never been a fast runner, but she was built like one. She was tall with long, lean arms and legs. She wasn’t skinny, but had the look that made people think “athlete.” She pulled her long, light brown hair back into a tight ponytail and threw on a hat. Her normally pale skin had darkened from all the running she’d been doing lately, but she was trying to be better about protecting her face. “At least it is something,” she told herself.

Running had been her main outlet as her career aspirations spiraled down the drain. As she ran more and more, her pace had increased, and her body had remained wiry despite the pizza and gin diet she had been on.  Running cleared her mind, and she could go forever. She was happiest running on the trails, but today she settled on the path around Lake Merritt so she could get out there as soon as possible. In the middle of a Tuesday, the path around the lake was fairly clear. “There’s one benefit of having nothing going on in my life,” Lauren thought, “ I can run whenever I want, and I don’t have to dodge as many yuppies with SUV sized strollers.”

After stretching for a few minutes, Lauren put in her headphones and took off down the well-trodden path. She knew every twist and turn of the route, every bump and pothole. Though she much preferred exploring the Bay Area’s miles of trails, there was something wonderful about the familiarity of Lake Merritt. She could turn her brain on auto-pilot and not think about anything.

When she wasn’t running, Lauren’s anxiety caused her to obsess over what if scenarios and panic about the future. “What if I never found a job again? Would I have to become a waitress? I’ve never had a food service job, no one will ever hire me to become a waitress. I heard that trades are the fastest growing fields. Could I become a welder? What kind of training do welders need? Would I have to take out student loans for welding school?” These kinds of obsessive thoughts had taken over her life since the end of grad school. Running and gin were the only things that helped calm the incessant questions.

It took her less than a mile to get into her groove today. The rhythmic pounding of her feet, the routine beat of the music in her ears, even the ache in her lungs drove out all thoughts of her failure, and “running has to be healthier than gin,” she told herself as she started her second three and a half mile loop around the lake.

She was only halfway through her second lap when her phone rang, startling Lauren out of her mindless reverie. “Shit!” she yelled, then looked around guiltily, worried about nearby children. Who would be calling her, she wondered as she dug her phone out of her hip belt.

The screen flashed “Hannah” and a picture of a neon dot in front of a blurry mountain. “Why would she be calling me?” Lauren wondered. Hannah had been Lauren’s best friend in the world for six years. They met in the dorms freshman year of college, and were inseparable until Lauren had moved to California for grad school and Hannah had moved to to Oregon to “chase the call of the wild” as she called it. Lauren couldn’t remember the last time Hannah had called, as they had mostly communicated by text for the last year.

Right as Lauren’s academic career had started spiraling out of control, Hannah had started dating a new guy. “No surprise, she threw herself into that relationship,” Lauren remembered. Hannah had always done that, focusing on the guy of the moment instead of her friends. Between school being totally overwhelming and Hannah’s new love, their weekly phone calls and daily text marathons had devolved into sporadic texts and occasional emails.

“Did I even tell her about my absolute failure at life?” Lauren thought. Maybe she’d heard through the grapevine, and that’s why she was calling. But, no, Lauren had texted her right away. Even though they hadn’t had a real conversation in weeks, Hannah was the first person she wanted when times got tough.

<I failed grad school. I’m quitting. Guess I’ll become a cage dancer.>

<Bummer! I’m sorry. Give me a call if you want to talk.>

Lauren hadn’t called, and Hannah hadn’t either. Why was she calling now? Lauren knew Hannah, and this far after the crisis, she knew it had to be something unrelated. “Maybe it’s something to do with her boyfriend. What was his name? Tyler?” She let the call go to voicemail, and continued on her run. The call had shaken her nerves, though. She couldn’t get back into the groove and ended the run after seven miles, instead of the planned ten.

As she walked back to her apartment, she listened to the voicemail. “Hey Lauren, this is Hannah. Sorry it’s been forever since we’ve talked. Tanner and I have both been super busy, but anyway...I think I’m doing the John Muir Trail next month, and I was hoping I could come visit you on my way out. Anyway, give me a call back, and I hope you’re feeling better about your life! Bye!”

“Tanner, that’s his name,” Lauren thought. She wasn’t exactly excited to have a visitor, but Hannah would be different. No matter how long they went without seeing each other, being with Hannah was easy. She resolved to call her best friend back as soon as she got to her apartment. As she surveyed the mess that greeted her at the door, she thought, “At least I have a month to clean the place up!”

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

Hannah had just hung up the phone with her mom when Tanner walked in the door. “Hey, babe,” he said as he bent down and kissed the top of her head. “How was your day?”

“Eh, pretty good until just now. My mom called, and I decided I should probably answer it.” Hannah and her mom had a close, but often antagonistic relationship. “So that was as fun as it normally is.”

“What was Diane’s problem this time?” Tanner laughed. He got along with Hannah’s mom better than most people, but understood the nature of the mother-daughter relationship.

“You know, the usual, ‘Why aren’t you married? You should get a better job. You’ll get eaten by a bear hiking the John Muir Trail. It looks like you gained weight on in your pictures. You know the drill.” Hannah put on a nasally voice when she impersonated her mother. It sounded nothing like Diane’s voice, but it always made Tanner smile.

“I highly doubt she said any of those exact sentences,” he said, digging through the fridge. “Did you get any beer?”

“No Tanner. I went to work, and then I went to the gym, and then I talked to my mom, so no, I did not get you any beer. I’m not your housewife”

“God, Hannah. You don’t have to be a bitch about it. I wasn’t expecting you to, I was just asking. You’re just in a pissy mood, because your mom is right about the hike.”

“You seriously think I’m going to get eaten by a bear?” Hannah exploded. “You always side with her about stupid shit like this.”

“No, I don’t think you’re actually going to get eaten by a bear, and I don’t think your mom actually said that. I just don’t think it’s safe to go traipsing through the woods for a month with your flakiest friend.”

“She is not flaky...” Hannah began.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Hannah?” he interrupted. “She named herself Sage and goes to Burning Man every year. Has she ever had a job that lasted more than three months? She’s a white girl with dreads, but her name is actually Claire and she’s from Connecticut. You don’t get more flaky than that, babe.”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me right now, Tanner. I’m sick of your shit. You’re always trying to control what I do. You’re just pissed that my hike is during your stupid family reunion, and you’re mad that I didn’t invite you.”

“Well, no shit I’d like my girlfriend to come to my family reunion. And you know I don’t want to go on your awful hike! I can’t believe you’re passing on a free trip to Hawaii to play ‘Into the Wild’ with someone who smells like BO and patchouli on a good day.”

“Leave Sage out of this,” Hannah was yelling now, “You’re pissed at me because I’m not doing what you want, and playing the perfect little girlfriend so you can impress your family. I’ve wanted to do this hike for a long time, you know that! This might be my only chance.”

Tanner shouted back, “You’re so selfish, Hannah. It’s always the Hannah Show around here. Benefits of being an only child I guess.” At this, Hannah went white and stopped yelling. Tanner realized he made a mistake, “Babe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that. That was a low blow.” Hannah stayed silent, but turned on her heel and walked out the door. Tanner knew better than to try and follow her.

Hannah walked nearly a mile through their neighborhood and into downtown Bend before she cooled down enough to think straight. She was still mad at Tanner, but no longer irate. He was at least somewhat right. She was pissed about the call with her mom, and she had taken that out on him. “But he called me selfish!” she thought. “And a typical only child. That’s just unnecessarily mean.” She wondered if those insults hurt so much because they had a grain of truth. She quickly pushed down that terrible thought, and shoved open the door of her favorite local gear shop.

“Hey, Hannah,” called Gavin, her favorite gear salesman, whose beard, slight beer belly and flannel gave him a look straight out of a “Stereotypes of Oregon” calendar. “Finally getting serious about hiking the JMT?”

“I’ve had the permits for months, Gavin. You don’t get more serious than that!” she retorted.

“You know I’m teasing you, girl. At this point, you have more own more gear than we have inventory at the store.” Hannah rolled her eyes at that. “How is Sage’s planning coming along? Does she have all the equipment she needs for the moon rituals she’s going to do along the way?”

Hannah rolled her eyes even harder. Somehow, Gavin’s ribbing about her hippie trail partner didn’t get under her skin the way it did when Tanner said it. Maybe it was because Tanner was the exact opposite of the typical Bend resident, and just didn’t seem to get the outdoorsy, laidback vibe of their mountain town.

The first time she met Tanner, she’d been attracted to his complete opposite of mountain man style. He was clean cut, clean shaven, and he’d even been wearing those ridiculous pink shorts that he insisted were “Nantucket Red”. He was only a few inches taller than Hannah’s 5’5”. muscular and a little stocky, like a college lacrosse player who had let himself go slightly in the intervening years. He was still strong and athletic and could keep up with Hannah on just about any adventure he came along on. He just usually wasn’t that interested.

When she was in a better mood, she found Tanner’s lack of interest in adventure, nature and sports that didn’t involve a ball endearing. Lately it had just been pissing her off. They’d gotten in another fight last week, because he hadn’t wanted to go backpacking that weekend. Not that she minded doing stuff on her own or with her friends; she actually relished the independence and freedom to do her own thing. At least she did most of the time. Sometimes she just wanted to share the things she loved with the person she loved. “I go to Portland with him to go to his concerts,” she thought angrily. “Why can’t he come hiking with me?”

Hannah realized she was getting worked up again; she was angrily rifling through down coats, and had nearly thrown one off the end of the rack. She didn’t care what Tanner or her mom said. She was going to hike the John Muir Trail.

Suddenly, Hannah had a realization. She and Sage were planning on flying into San Francisco. “That’s where Lauren lives! Maybe I could visit her, we haven’t seen each other in forever. When was the last time we talked?” she thought guiltily. She had spent so much time lately obsessing about the logistics and physical preparations of her long distance hike. She had meant to call Lauren when she heard the bad news, but she had forgotten. Each day that passed made it harder and harder to pick up the phone.

Her fight with Tanner had made her feel like she needed to do something tangible, something to feel like she was really going. She took a deep breath, picked up her phone, and dialed, “Hi Lauren, this is Hannah…”