#has giant holes cut out of the wall for the pipes to run through

[cerbreus]

Starting to feel like I have been beset by a white woman etsy curse based on how this year has been for me.

[harrygroves]

a simple favor -- chapter four

to chapter three

Billy’s been doing a damn fine job of avoiding all thoughts concerning Steve Harrington. It’s been a blissful, quiet week.

And now that week is up and hell is about to begin.

They’re in Billy’s Camaro, Steve insisted they take his car, and he’s been driving for almost three hours. Steve is fussing with the radio and fidgeting as they get closer and closer to his parents' summer home.

“Dude, you really need to chill out. You want some Xanax?” Billy offers.

“What? No, I don't want any -- why do you have Xanax?” Steve wrinkles his nose, arms crossed.

“I think you of all people would agree that life requires a little anesthesia every now and then.” Billy gives him a knowing look.

Steve looks like he wants to say something snotty so Billy turns up the radio as a way to deter him. Instead, Steve moodily stares out the window.

Billy lets him for a little while before reaching over and taking Steve’s hand, threading their fingers together. When Steve tenses up, Billy gives it a squeeze.

“It’s gonna be okay babe.” Billy says soothingly but his snarky grin gives him away.

“God, I hate you so much.” Steve grumbles, but he doesn’t try to pull his hand away.

*

The summer house is actually a mansion. There’s a sprawling lawn in front of it, with trimmed hedges and a goddamn fountain. Billy wants to make so many jokes about silver spoons but he holds back because Steve looks like he’s having a panic attack.

“Hey, hey!” Billy says once they’re parked, reaching over and shaking Steve’s shoulder.

Steve looks back at him, like he forgot Billy was there. He’s pale and wide-eyed.

“Oh fuck.” Steve whispers. “Oh my god, oh my god, this is such a stupid idea. What the fuck am I doing, they’re going to see right through this -- ”

Look, Billy doesn’t want to kiss Steve.

Well, actually, that’s bullshit. He does want to kiss Steve but he doesn’t want to want to kiss Steve. It’s very distracting and he’s just in this for the money. The ten grand.

He’s been telling himself this for a week, like a daily affirmation.

However, Steve is freaking out, which is usually good for a laugh or two but Billy needs him to get his shit together so he takes Steve’s face in his hands and kisses him.

Steve is still trying to talk but the words get lost between them while Billy hums against his mouth, trying to be soothing and soft in hopes that it brings Steve out of his head. It works for a few seconds before Steve reaches up and puts one of his hands over Billy’s, which would almost be tender if Steve wasn’t trying to pull them off his face.

Billy lets him go and leans back. Steve is flushed and looks sad.

“Don't just...do that.” He mumbles.

Billy shrugs. “Kind of have to.” He grunts back, getting annoyed that Steve refuses to wrap his head around the thing he planned.

“Yeah, well…” Steve trails off. “Let’s go.”

They get out of the car and Billy grabs his bag from the backseat.

A girl their age with reddish-brown hair is running to them from the front door.

“Steve!” She yells and launches herself at him, wrapping him in a hug.

She babbles and laughs and smiles like Steve’s a goddamn prince.

“Should I be jealous?” Billy calls out to the pair.

Steve and Red Head look over at him.

“Oh, sorry, lost my head for a second. This is my sister, Robin.”

Sister, right. Steve had an older sister. Billy forgot about her, if he was being honest.

“Is this him?” Robin mumbles, but Billy can hear her just fine.

“Yes, uh. This is my...boyfriend, Billy Hargrove.” Steve says, smiling at Billy.

It’s too wide and his eyes are too bright. It’s the most human Billy has seen Steve look in weeks. It’s freaking him out.

Robin marches towards him and stretches out a hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Billy. Steve has told me absolutely nothing about you.” She says it with a bright smiles and zero hostility.

Billy shakes her hand and tries to give her a pleasant smile in return. “Yeah, Steve just wants me all to himself, ya know how he is.”

He doesn’t, he’s totally winging it but Robin laughs and Steve clears his throat.

“You guys must be tired and hungry, I’ll let you get settled. Mom and Dad will be on your asses enough at dinner, so why don't you guys go hide out for a while. I’ll keep them occupied once they’re back from the court.”

“Thanks Robin.” Steve says and gives her another hug. “See you later.”

Robin leaves them and Billy leans towards Steve.

“The court?” He asks.

“Tennis.” Steve replies.

*

Steve leads Billy through the house, past floor-to-ceiling windows and paintings that have to be original prints. A few people pass them, all wearing uniforms. Steve says hello to everyone pleasantly and Billy gives them tight smiles. They have fucking housekeepers. Servants. It’s so...rich. There’s a grand piano at the base of a giant staircase and Steve leads him up to the second floor, down halls littered with vases of flowers and tapestries.

“This is insane.” Billy hisses.

Steve shrugs. “It’s home.” He says it hollowly, like it is very much not a home.

They end up in a bedroom the size of Billy’s apartment. It’s got bookshelves built into the walls, armchairs in front of a fireplace, a walk-in closet where Billy drops his bag of clothes, it’s own bathroom and a giant LED television mounted on the wall.

There’s silver-framed pictures on the fireplace and nightstands beside the bed. Family photos, solo shots of Steve as a kid, in bowties with a bowl cut. Billy examines them all.

“Robin’s nice.” Billy says casually.

Steve’s sitting on his bed, which is huge, by the way and absently scrolling through his facebook feed.

“She’s great.” He agrees flatly.

Billy wonders if she is great.

“Facebook.” Steve mumbles.

“What?” Billy asks, looking at Steve.

“We...fuck, we don't have anything on facebook, about us.” Steve says, almost in horror.

Billy shrugs, walks over to join him. “So what? Not everything needs to be online. We can just say we’re one of those couples who don't showboat our love on the internet.”

Steve winces at Billy’s words and nervously chews on his lip. Billy grabs Steve’s phone.

“Hey!” Steve shouts at him, reaching for it.

“Knock it off, c’mon, Steve -- stop it.” Billy says, smacking his hand away. “This is going to work. But only if you calm down. Right now the only thing in our way is you. You’re getting too caught up in the details. Just chill out, hold my fucking hand, and give me a gross pet name and we’ll get through this.”

He says all this, direct eye-contact, no blinking. Steve is quiet for a second before taking a deep, belly-full breath and closing his eyes, making an O with his mouth and exhaling slowly. Once he opens his eyes, Billy gives him a nod. Steve nods back.

*

Meeting the parents at dinner is a stifling affair. Steve’s mom isn’t going out of her way in the slightest to hide how much she does not like Billy. She turns up her nose at his clothes, eyes his hair like Steve’s isn’t an unkempt mess and politely insults him wherever she can fit in a jab.

“Oh, beer. How perfectly simple. A simple man is good.”

“I like that car, Billy. Very rustic.”

“There’s something to be said about plain fabric. Some can be too cumbersome to care for, it’s nice for some things to be easy.”

Billy grins, toothy and fire-eyed, sneaking glances at Steve who is very interested in his salad.

Steve’s dad isn’t much better. He keeps going back and forth between glaring at Billy and scrunching his face together, like he’s scrutinizing.

“And where did you say you’re going to go to school?”

“How exactly did you meet my son?”

“What do your parents do for a living?”

Robin keeps trying to steer the conversation away from them but the parents aren’t having that.

“How long have you two been dating?” Mrs. Harrington asks during the fish course.

“Six months.” Steve says.

“Two years.” Billy says, at the exact same time.

There’s an awkward pause and Billy can practically hear Steve’s heart rate triple. Billy laughs and takes Steve’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“He was courting me for a lot longer than we’ve actually been together. All those fond memories, right, bunny?” Billy looks at Steve fondly.

Robin starts choking on something and has to thump at her chest to clear it up. “Bunny?” She croaks out.

Steve is bright red and staring at Billy with glassy eyes, probably seething but that just makes it more fun.

“Yes.” Steve blurts out, voice a bit high. “We, uh, I...really wanted...to be his boyfriend.”

Billy barrels onward. “He did that thing, with the boombox, stood outside my place till I let him in. It was so sweet.”

Robin is silent-laughing, and her eyes are starting to water. “I’m dying.” She says. “No seriously, I am fucking losing it over here.”

“They don't need all the details, sweetie.” Steve says in a syrupy voice.

“But the letter, I have to tell them about the letter.”

“No, no, I don't think so. That letter was just for you.” Steve says nervously.

“I would like to frame the letter.” Robin pipes in, struggling to drink water as her shoulders quake from laughter.

“So anyways,” Billy continues. “I finally just said, hey, let’s toss the guy a bone here,”

Robin is howling at this point.

“And he did, and we’ve been in love ever since.” Steve supplies quickly. “Now where is that next course, I am starving.”

He makes dagger-eyes at Billy who just takes his hand again and kisses Steve’s knuckles.

Once dessert and coffee have been consumed Steve gets to his feet.

“Well, we’re exhausted. Right, Billy?” He chirps.

“Sweetie, c’mon, how often am I going to get this kinda face-time with your parents? Shouldn’t we stay?”

He is hamming it up and Mrs. Harrington purses her mouth like the very thought is making her nauseous.

“Now, now. We’ll see them tomorrow morning.” Steve smiles back. “Let’s go to bed.”

Mr. Harrington coughs heartily into his napkin.

They bolt and hole-up in Steve’s room.

After changing into pajamas -- Steve changes in the closet -- they sit on the bed watching television and Billy waits for the inevitable.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Steve finally snaps during their second episode of Golden Girls.

“I never gave you any indication otherwise.” Billy shrugs.

“That was so embarrassing, making it seem like I pined for you.”

“Well we had to say something, Harrington, and you were doing that Bambi-in-the-headlights thing, so I just rolled with it.”

“You rolled with it alright, I can’t believe you said all that shit.”

Billy snaps. “Fine, Steve, then you come up with stuff. Stop acting like a kid who doesn't want to get in trouble otherwise we’re going to get caught. Be a fucking man.”

That shuts Steve up for a long time. When Golden Girls ends and The Nanny starts up, Steve gets up from the bed and goes into the closet.

He’s only gone for a few moments before emerging with beer, little bottles of alcohol, and a bag of individually-wrapped chocolates.

“What the -- ”

“There’s a mini-fridge in there.” Steve mumbles.

He gives Billy a beer, deposits the bottles in between them and starts unwrapping a chocolate.

Finally, Steve says, “I’m really sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Billy replies, cracking open a beer.

“I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re really not.”

“...I’ll try harder.”

“Good.” Billy replies, eyes never leaving the television.

There’s this weird tension between them and it lasts for a little bit until Billy is so uncomfortable he has to say something.

“Dinner was...something.”

“Told you.” Steve grunts.

“Man, I don't know which one hated me more.”

“Mom, for sure. She loathes people who don't own at least three boats.”

“Damn, and I just have the one.” Billy deadpans.

Steve grins, actually grins, before he catches himself and pops another chocolate.

“This is like a fucking hotel.” Billy says, grabbing for a bottle.

“I learned very quickly growing up that the less time I have to spend outside this room, the better.” Steve says.

“I want to make so many ‘princess locked in an ivy tower’ jokes right now.” Billy says seriously.

“Shut up.” Steve snaps. “And it’s ivory, dumbass.”

Billy chuckles and drains one of the mini-bottles. “So, we’re essentially trapped in here, is that what you’re saying?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, we can go do whatever you want. There’s a couple libraries, an indoor pool, I actually convinced them to make a bowling alley in the basement.”

“You have a fucking bowling alley?” Billy asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, it was a birthday gift when I was, like, twelve.”

“Jesus christ, Steve.”

“Yeah, but we run the risk of dealing with them,” Steve’s parents, “So, ya know, wage your bets.”

Billy whistles. “Wow, you really don't like them.”

“No, I really do not.” Steve mumbles, eating another chocolate.

“So I gotta ask. Why me?” Billy opens another mini-bottle of vodka.

Steve looks away from the television, eyes Billy, then resumes watching. “You already asked that.” He points out.

“Yeah, but like, you could’ve found someone on Craigslist, like a lot of lonely losers do.”

“Wow, when you put it like that?” Steve rolls his eyes. “Like I said, it was a matter of convenience.”

Billy puts a hand over his heart and pretends to swoon. “I love it when men say that to me.”

Steve throws a handful of chocolate wrappers at him.

Billy grins. “Okay, so really though, what are we going to do tomorrow?”

Steve contemplates this for a moment.

“Ever been horse-back riding?”

part five

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Genji Heavy Industries (Part 3) Rolling Twenties

I don’t think anyone likes Mingfei Lu who just plays the game and doesn’t understand his background. So it makes sense that the MC would get irritated by him too.

The rumbling sound of the subway came from directly above, and ahead was the giant water turbine with a diameter of more than three meters. The sewer had become as wide as an underground river by this point, and the still water became turbulent. Rolling white waves bounced between the paddles with a thunderous sound. The water turbine was pumping a huge amount of water into the Iron Dome Shrine. 

"How do we get past?" Lu Mingfei looked up at the sharp paddles, each almost two meters long and cast in fine steel, which could easily cut off floating objects such as aquatic plants. 

"The water turbine doesn't always turn, and when it stops we'll get through between the holes in the grate." Chu Zihang said. 

"But when will it stop?" 

"It's already starting to slow down." 

The turbine was really slowing down, and it took a few minutes before it slowly stopped, water clattering down from the paddles. 

"Go now!" Caesar bellowed. 

You all climbed up the iron ladder on the side of the turbine and ran through the stainless steel grate. You hold on tight to Caesar and press your head down to make yourself as small as possible. You squeeze your eyes shut, trusting in his speed to get you through.

You slide down the smooth walls of the ducts and look up at the emptiness overhead. You couldn’t help but feel that the Iron Dome Temple was really a miracle in the history of engineering. This is probably the most advanced sewer system in the world, fully automated, with layers of cleaning nets intercepting the dirt in the water, giant mechanical arms shoveling up the sediment and dirt that has settled to the bottom of the pipe and sending it to the drainage tank high above, and intelligent robots sliding along the grooves in the pipe wall to maintain the machinery inside the pipe. Although there are iron ladders and walkways for maintenance on the walls of the pipes, the Iron Dome Shrine will not require manual maintenance for twenty years according to the design standards of the Maruyama Construction Institute. 

The familiar sound of electric welding echoed through the pipes. 

"Did you hear that? Over there is the underground dock of the Iwarui Institute. The sound of welding indicates that someone is repairing the equipment.” Caesar lowered his voice, "There are at least twenty people over there, twenty heavily armed men, so no one can speak loudly from now on. Our voices will echo and amplified in the pipes and can travel a long way."

You notice the gold tint of Caesar’s pupils. Without a word he had already sent out his Spirit Word, Scythe Itachi, and was listening far down into the channel. 

"I'm really a little afraid I can't control myself," whispered Lu Mingfei, "I want to talk when I'm nervous, like I'll be suffocated if I don't." 

"Use this," Caesar fished out four lollipops from his trench coat pocket, giving one to Lu Mingfei and one to Chu Zihang, "Put it in your mouth so you don't subconsciously shout out, but also to replenish your blood sugar." 

He hands one to you and you take it. Being quiet was never an  issue with you. The nurses at Black Swan Bay gave vicious glares to children who so much as whimpered in pain. So if Caesar asked you to be quiet, your strict training in obedience in this regard subconsciously came into play and you wouldn’t speak again unless given express permission to do so.

"Boss, can I exchange the mint flavored one with you?" 

"You're too late," Caesar threw the green lollipop into his mouth, "and start shutting up now, someone is coming this way!" 

A dozen seconds later, there were footsteps from high above. It was a black-clad guard, whose bony hands could be seen through his transparent raincoat pressing down on his sidearm. He was obviously not a policeman. No policeman would use a Colt "King Cobra". This large caliber revolver is expensive and deadly. It's the kind of gun that mobsters like. They see people as prey, and they're all about killing them in one shot. The four of you hid in the shadows against the wall of the tube and looked up through the iron grille as the beating feet of the guards in their leather shoes stepped over your heads and faded away. 

"Those twenty heavily armed guards are all of this mob killer level, right?" Lu Mingfei mumbled.

You catch his gaze with your wide eyed stare. What about ‘Shut up’ did he not understand? Channeled through you is the fury of the nurses of Black Swan Bay. You pierced Mingfei Lu with a silent threat so certain that the young man visibly paled. You raise a shaking finger to your lips and silently mouth the word, “Quiet!”

 Chu Zihang glanced at Caesar, who shook his head, meaning that this level of security was difficult to break through by force.  

"What about fire suppression? You have enough bullets now. How many targets can you take care of at once?" Chu Zihang asked. Since you were still riding Caesar, you could be privy to their whispered conversation even over the sound of the water.

"Three to five targets would not be a problem. At most you can solve six, even if you add your two Uzis, the three of us would be five guns against twenty guns. And we still do not know how many are hybrids here." Caesar said, "It's not as simple as dealing with gangsters." 

"Uh did you count me?" Lu Mingfei said. 

Caesar gave him a brief dismissive glance. "You don't count. You said so yourself, you’re a civilian." 

You’re so annoyed with him you can’t even laugh.

All three men were silent. Just approaching the door of Genji Heavy Industry, the way forward was completely blocked. In Black Swan Bay you faced similar odds. Renata raised her machine gun to the sky and blasted away nearly a dozen people. But in the end, she was killed and only managed to save one person. Twenty is too many.

"Maybe we should go back to the store. We ordered so much champagne. We can drink champagne while ordering some late night snacks to eat, and think about whether there is another way to get in here." Lu Mingfei cautiously proposed. 

“MC,” Caesar’s whisper was extremely quiet. “Your nails.”

You were so annoyed with Mingfei that you didn’t notice that you were digging your nails into Caesar’s collarbone.  You relax your hands. “We should have left him.” You breathe out into his ear.

“It’s okay.” You don’t even hear the whisper, you only see his mouth move.

 Chu Zihang pointed to the front of the pipe. 

The stream suddenly parted in the middle, and something cigar-shaped floated up on the water about six or seven meters in length and no more than two meters in diameter. It left a white wake as it sailed towards the Iwarui Institute's shipyard. 

"A miniature submarine of the Hydra!" Lu Mingfei remembered that Chisei had admitted that the Hydra family used the pipes to transport contraband. The cargo ship placed the contraband on the unmanned mini-submarine before entering the port, and the submarine arrived below the Genji Heavy Industries along the sewer. 

"Come closer and be careful not to make a sound." Caesar tiptoed ahead. 

Beeps shook the section of pipe, guards blew their whistles and called out to run to the dock from all sides. The submarine slid into the dock and a crane lifted it up in the air. The mechanical arm raised the huge thick metal tank from the hold, which was about two meters long and looked like an elongated barrel of crude oil. Chu Zihang and Caesar looked at each other and both shook their heads. Even with their experience, they couldn't see what cargo was there. This golden passage was obviously not for smuggling oil. 

The heavy airtight door on the wall of the tube suddenly opened and out stepped a man in a white lab coat who hurried past the guards to the metal tank and disinfected it with an alcohol spray. Apparently, this cargo was important and dangerous and he couldn't let the guards touch it first. In his haste, he forgot to close the airtight door that was the only way through Genji Heavy Industries. 

"Chance!" Caesar whispered. 

"The guards are concentrated over at the dock, and their attention is on the metal tanks. “We'll take the yellow spiral ladder over there and go up to the airtight door. Be quick, but don't run, any echoes will be clear in this enclosed space!" Chu Zihang said in a low voice. 

Before Lu Mingfei could raise an objection, Chu Zihang walked out seven or eight meters. He rarely stopped to discuss with people once he made a decision, so the Executive Department all agreed that Chu Zihang is a lone wolf. Caesar silently followed. This muscle-bound man actually can be as light as a cat when walking even with you on his back. Lu Mingfei had no choice but to tiptoe behind. The maintenance tunnel is overhead. They can only step on the iron frame supporting the grated path. It would take at least a few dozen seconds to get from the starting position to the mouth of the passage. If within these few dozen seconds any one of those guards turned back to look, there would be a gun battle.

You think of Z, silent, protecting you. 

Caesar and Chu Zihang's speed is extremely fast. In the twinkling of an eye, you go from the yellow ladder to the maintenance channel, and then a few meters into the airtight door. Lu Mingfei jumped a step in his rush. The crisp sound of metal hitting metal echoed in the pipe, like someone ringing a small bell. 

Chu Zihang's reminder was right. When Lu Mingfei started to run, a nut was shaken off and smashed on the wall of the pipe below. The guards pulled out their guns at the same time, all of them with laser sights on them, red beams scanning in all directions. Someone turned on a powerful flashlight. 

Your nails dig into Caesar again. Your heart drops.

He’s dead.

In Black Swan Bay, such errors were intolerable in training. In group training, you moved as a unit and you were careful to follow the instructions by the leaders. Any insubordination would be met with severe retraining if you were lucky. People who kept making mistakes tended to just disappear. So even though no one had fired a shot, it was as if Lu Mingfei’s mistake had marked him as dead in your mind.

Caesar and Chu Zihang quickly flashed into the airtight door. 

The guards did not find anything on the maintenance channel, and turned to scan their flashlights further down. The beam gradually approaches Lu Mingfei's hiding place and Caesar lets you off his back. You back away, knowing he was about to try and rescue him. But with all that firepower you’re not sure how he was going to survive the attempt.

"There it is!" One guard yelled. 

Several beams of light pointed to the water at the same time, where a long, slender black shadow was swimming! Originally, the shadow’s target was Lu Mingfei walking by the water's edge, but the bright flashlight startled it, and it immediately turned around and swam into the darkness. 

Gunshots burst out, and the guards fired one after another. Whoever supplied Genji heavy industry with guards must originally have been the vicious thugs in the underworld. They have no scruples nor are they stingy with bullets. Their goal is to smash resistance with overwhelming deadly force. 

Caesar’s arm came down from above and pulled Lu Mingfei up to the entrance. As soon as he’s inside, you round on him, teeth bared, and spit "You fucking idiot!” in Russian. In a moment, you raise your hand to slap him in the face, but Caesar’s arm cuts you off. 

“Hey!” He hisses sharply. “Calm down.”

Cheeks red and eyes blazing, you turn back around and move next to Chu Zihang, who glances briefly at you.

"You must have undergone very strict training." He murmured

You nod. 

"He hasn't. You can stay close to me. Let Caesar handle Mingfei."

The water in the pipe turned blood red and a four or five meter long white shark slowly floated up, riddled with bullet holes. You and Chu Zihang exchange glances. This is too incredible. This is the main channel of the Iron Dome Temple. The water in the pipe is five or six meters deep, and connected to the sea. The shark would have no problem moving in it, but this fierce large predator should be in open waters. What attracts it to swim into the spider web of sewers? 

"You were in a leadership position before… weren't you?" Chu Zihang whispers.

You were one of the oldest in the orphanage so it was leadership by default. You bounce your head back and forth and shrug.

"Makes sense. It's why you clash with Caesar so much. And why you get along. You probably had the most powerful Speech Spirit."

You shake your head and hold up three fingers. You mouth the word, 'Third'.

Chu Zihang doesn't respond immediately. "Renata?"

You smile and hold up two fingers but then you hold a finger to your lips and slice a hand across your throat.  The conversation was enough to calm you down the rest of the way.

"Let's go. While they’re not looking." Chu Zihang said. 

Caesar patted Lu Mingfei's shoulder to keep him from looking back. The white shark just now actually took Lu Mingfei as prey, but it's better not to tell Lu Mingfei about this. If he knew he was once seen as a fresh seal pup, he would probably be too scared to walk. 

"Holy shit, good fucking luck, good fucking luck, good luck, good luck." When he got on the elevator Lu Mingfei was still patting his chest in celebration as well as trying to calm his extreme panic. He was shaking so much, his teeth chattered. 

"No doubt. If you keep your good luck, we can rely on your luck to live." Caesar continued patting him on the shoulder and exchanged quiet glances with Chu Zihang. It was clear to everyone but Lu Mingfei that such luck could not be relied on to ever come again.

[neerasrealm]

you write poly stuff?? 😏 could I be so bold as to request a three way makeout session with slenjack? bonus points if slender is really worked up and tense or tongue gets involved 😉

YOU'RE HORNY YOU'RE HORNY YOU'RE H O R N Y

deadass this fic reads like the opening to a smut ggghdhs tw for some graphic kissing and a lotta sex jokes

LJ’s room smells of candy, and feels comfy and warm. Maybe it’s the dim lighting and the glowing stickers slapped on his walls and ceiling, or maybe it’s because he’s hugging you close against his soft, plush body and kneading his equally soft lips against yours. His lips taste sweet and sugary, and his boney black hand runs up your back as he kneads against you. Your lips break and his hands grab your hips. Your foreheads touch and he giggles softly.

‘’I luv ya…’’ he murmurs before pecking your lips again. You laugh quietly.

‘’I know you do.’’ you cup his face in your hands and look into his eyes. They’re a very, very pale blue. Almost white. The only speck of colour left on him. They seem to shimmer as he hears you speak. You move in to kiss him again and-

‘’Knock knock knock.’’

LJ turns his head away from you and over to the door. You huff quietly in frustration. Rude, you’re trying to kiss a clown in here. Who the hell thinks they have the right to disturb you?

‘’Hello dear,’’ Slender says as he pokes his head into the room. Nevermind, disturbance forgiven. Slender can interrupt clown kissing sessions whenever he wants. He just has that power. His head moves slightly. ‘’Oh, hello to you too, love.’’ he says, presumably to you. It’s kind of hard to tell with his lack of eyes. He steps into the room. ‘’Mind if I join you two?’’

‘’Nah, we weren’ doin’ anyfin’ impor’an’ anyway.’’

‘’Rude.’’ you murmur back. You were about to pull out your best lines just for him! Jack needs to learn to appreciate a good pickup line when he gets one.

Slender laughs softly as he scoots himself onto the bed next to the two of you. Jack rolls his eyes and grabs him, tugging him over to the two of you. This man has so much dignity that he refuses to crawl on a bed like a normal person. Terrible. Jack’s arms stretch and hug the both of you tight. Really tight- you’re sandwiched between both of them. Not that you’re complaining. You got a face full of clown tiddy. Delightful. Slender’s arms wrap around the both of you and he hums, pleased. You’re squeezed even tighter between the two giant cryptids you call your lovers.

‘’Mmm- guys-’’ you murmur, squirming below them. They pull apart and look down at you. Ah, the joys of being the human in the relationship.

‘’Sorry luv.’’ Jack says with a laugh. Slender reaches down and combs a hand through your hair.

"Sorry dear," Slender murmurs. "I keep forgetting how small you are." He adds with a chuckle.

"I'm not small, I'm human sized." You reply defensively. "We can't all be eight foot tall Eldritch abominations."

Slender laughs more and pats your head. "Of course. I'm sorry."

His hand withdraws and you shift around, sitting against Jack's chest, facing Slender's. "Alright, continue what you two were doing."

Before Slender gets a chance to protest Jack grabs him and yanks him forward, sandwiching you again between the two of them. He knows exactly what your game is LJ leans up, kissing Slender softly. Slender wraps his arms around the both of you, squeezing you in between them. You reach up and unbutton his blazer, then slip your hands under it, caressing his hips and hugging him against you. You lean up and nuzzle your face against his chest, his tie swinging in front of your nose. You smile wide and inhale deeply. He smells like petrichor and the pages of old, worn books. And wine. If Slender wasn’t an eldritch being that (presumably) can’t get intoxicated that’d be concerning. But instead it’s just another aspect of him you love. You open your eyes and look up at the two of them. Despite Slender’s lack of mouth, the two of them move against each other almost in sync. Jack tilts his head a bit, deepening the kiss and pressing against him more. It's- less of a kiss and more Slender getting his face eaten by a clown. You still love the sight though. Seeing them being so passionate with one another is one of your favorite things. You love them, and they love you as well as each other, and you couldn’t be more thankful.

‘’Mmh...Slen,’’ Jack pulls away from the kiss ‘’Ya feel tense. Ya okay?’’

‘’Hm?’’ Slender’s hand slides down your back as he looks at Jack. ‘’No, I’m okay. A little tired I suppose but-’’

‘’A li’le?’’ Jack gives him a suspicious look. ‘’When’s th’ last time ye blew off any steam? Er tried ta relax?’’

‘’Well...I took Slendra to the park the other day.’’

‘’Tha’ wuz five days ago.’’

‘’Well- how about when the three of us watched a movie together?’’

‘’That was last week.’’ you pipe up. Jack gives Slender a dissatisfied look. You move away from Slender and give him the sternest look you can. He looks away from you both nervously.

‘’Maybe I’ve been working a tad hard- but it’s nothing, honestly.’’ he murmurs. Jack glares at him.

"Ya ‘ave ta be careful wiv yerself, Slen…" he murmurs. Slender sighs.

‘’I’m sorry, love…’’ he murmurs. Jack pecks a kiss onto his face again.

"It's fine." He murmurs. ‘’We’ll jus’ ‘ave ta make ya relax.’’ he adds with a grin. Slender blushes. You pat his chest because well- it's the only thing you can do. He moves a bit, giving you more wiggle room. You lean up and drape your arms over Slender's shoulders, resting them directly on top of Jack's. You close the gap between the two of you and kiss his mouth- er- where his mouth should be. He leans against you, tilting his head as if he had lips for you to work with. You hear Jack chuckle gently behind you. His head rests on your shoulder, grinning lazily as he watches the two of you. His arms move a bit, and you assume he’s rubbing circles into Slender’s back. You pull away from Slender for a moment and catch LJ’s eye. A smirk curls up your face and you lean into Slender again. You kiss him gently, making him melt into you, and then slowly...you slip out your tongue and lick where his mouth would be.

You’re abruptly shoved away while Slender makes a series of loud clicking noises that you definitely weren't expecting from him. He coughs, clearing his throat and looks away from you both. His face is flushed a dark grey. It’s silent for a few moments before you hear raspy laughing next to you. LJ chuckles, softly at first, and then louder until it’s full blown wheezing and cackling. You fight a smile, then let out a soft laugh, and then chuckles, until eventually you’re howling with laughter over- well, nothing really that funny. Jack hugs you tight, cackling into your shoulder while you wipe at tears.

‘’It’s not that funny.’’ Slender mutters. The two of you wheeze together.

‘’I’ kinda is.’’ Jack wheezes out. ‘’Ye go’ so flustered ye star’ed speakin’ fae-’’ He adds before breaking into chuckles again. You grin. So that’s what that was.

‘’Damn I’m better than I thought.’’ you murmur. Jack wheezes beside you, burying his face in your shoulder.

‘’Aw fock I love ye.’’ he wheezes out. You grin wider. Slender makes a ‘hmph’ noise and frowns.

‘’Neither of you can ever behave yourselves, can you?’’ he grumbles.

‘’You like it when we misbehave.’’ you reply with a wink. He flushes a darker colour and glares at you before looking away again. He folds his arms and makes another couple of quiet clicking noises. You glance at Jack for a translation. He shrugs at you and sits up, looking at Slender.

‘’So...do I ge’ ta lick ya too or-’’

‘’Yes but I’m going to hate every second of it.’’ Jack snickers and leans in to him. His grey tongue flicks out and licks where Slender’s mouth should be. Slender’s face scrunches up in disgust and Jack pulls away. ‘’Disgusting, thank you.’’

Jack laughs and leans in again, kissing Slender. You wind your arms around Slender and kiss along his jawline. He lets out a quiet, pleased sigh at the joint attention. Jack’s hand combs through your hair. You lean down a bit, pecking kisses down Slender’s neck. Carefully, you reach up and loosen his tie. Slender inhales sharply. You know him too well at this point; he gets especially flustered about his tie being touched, for some unknown reason. You loosen it just enough to undo the top button of his shirt and lean in, peppering kisses on the newly exposed skin. You hear a couple more clicking noises, followed by Jack making a gravelly hum.

And then you hear it.

The sound of ripping flesh, right above you. Your eyes widen in horror at the unexpected noise. Slowly, you cast your eyes up and stare in shock.

Sitting above you, you see Jack panting, his eyes closed and Slender...you shiver involuntarily as you stare up at him. His face is ripped open, exposing a jagged hole that forms a mouth. His true mouth. Hanging out of it is a long, black tongue. You stare in shocked horror. His mouth- his true mouth, is something you’ve only seen twice before. Once when you walked into his office without knocking, and the other when he actually sat you down and tried to calmly show you it. You don’t want to admit it, but the image of Slender’s mouth, especially his tongue, has haunted you ever since. So actually seeing it up close and personal...is certainly an experience. Your stomach lurches and you swallow as you stare at Slender, who slowly looks down at you. His tongue quickly retracts back into his mouth.

‘’Sorry dear.’’ he murmurs. His voice is deeper with his true mouth exposed, and his voice seems to swarm around you, seeping directly into your skull. It’s accompanied by a slight ringing noise, like a second voice mimicking him. His mouth closes, the skin of his face melding back together like nothing happened. ‘’I didn’t mean to scare you-’’

‘’No no it’s okay!’’ you cut in quickly. Slender recoils slightly. You gulp. ‘’I know Jack is used to it- right?’’ you look over your shoulder at your other boyfriend. He nods. ‘’So I can get used to it too- and it doesn’t really scare me much! I just- wasn’t ready-’’

Slender fiddles with his hands. ‘’I don’t want to scare you off- I-I know it’s a lot and you’re a human and you’re so fragile and-’’

‘’Slen.’’ he’s interrupted by Jack, who reaches up and caresses his face. ‘’It’s alrigh’...ye’re no’ g’nna. y/n’s g’nna luv ya no ma’er wha’.’’ his voice is soft and loving. Just by listening to him you can hear over a century’s worth of trust of love. Slender relaxes. He looks over at you, not saying a word.

‘’I’m not scared.’’ you say gently. Very slowly, you lean in to Slender, gripping his shoulders gently. His hands brush against your hips as you close the gap between the two of you. You kiss him again, lips gently brushing against smooth face. Jack’s arms wrap around the both of you, his hands running up Slender’s back and rubbing circles into it. You pause for a moment and gently run your tongue against where his mouth was previously. You hear the quiet noise of flesh ripping again, then feel a meek, black tongue brush against your lips. You tilt your head and open your mouth for him. Slender’s tongue slides into your mouth and quickly begins to explore. It runs along your teeth, the inside of your cheeks, the top of your mouth- everywhere. You don’t fight against him, you want him comfortable, and melt against the kiss. Slender’s hand reaches up and cups your face, tilting you up against him. You groan into the kiss. Any and all anxieties you had previously have melted away. Now the only thing you’re focused on is the feeling of his tongue in your mouth.

Much to your disappointment, he moves away, leaving you gasping for air. While you’re catching your breath Jack leans in and kisses Slender. It’s only fair he gets his turn, you suppose. You lean against Jack again. Your breathing is shaky, and you feel adrenaline rushing through you. Before you're able to fully compose yourself however, Jack's hand cups your face and pushes it over towards his. Your lips meet unexpectedly and you shiver. His tongue drags along your lips and you open your mouth for him.

Jack's tongue is much thicker than Slender's, and much rougher. Slender's tongue was gentle, curious, but Jack? Jack is well acquainted with your mouth by now. You push your own tongue against his, fighting against him. He grabs the underside of your face, forcibly holding you in place as your tongues wrestle. He's far too forceful and you know you don't have much of a chance against him. You moan against him and he pulls away, a string of saliva hanging between you two. Gross.

Jack's face scrunches up in disgust. "...didja 'ave fish fer lunch?"

"Yes?"

"Bleh." He shakes his head at you disapprovingly and reaches into his sleeve, pulling out some strawberry flavored candies. "Ere, eat these will ye?"

You glare at him. "Rude." You mutter as you take the candies. You eat them only because they taste nice and definitely not because you want more clown kisses. He snickers.

"This is what I lived with for over a century." Slender says with the most deadpan expression a faceless man can give. You laugh. Jack leans in again and gives you a quick kiss, his tongue running around your mouth only for a couple moments.

"Alrigh' we're good."

"At least take me to dinner first." You mutter. Jack wheezes again and, surprisingly, Slender chuckles. You watch him shrug off his suit jacket and neatly fold it up beside him. Jack leans into you.

"Th' jackets comin' off, ya fink we're ge'in' i' tonigh'?" He whispers before receiving a light slap from one of Slender's tendrils. He lets out a small yelp of surprise and rubs at his cheek where he was slapped. "Wha' wuz tha' fer?!"

"For not getting your mind out of the gutter." Slender replies, removing his tie. You chuckle. Slender's tendrils reach over and grab you both. You're set down gently in Slender's lap, his hands gently holding you by the shoulder and back, while Jack is plopped down behind Slender.

"Wha're we doin' now?" Jack's head rests on top of Slender's shoulder while his striped arms curl around his body, hands running down his white shirt curiously.

"I'm going to relax with my two partners, and we're going to stop making sexual remarks about one another."

"No promises." Jack chuckles back.

A tendril curls up and pushes your chin, tilting your head up. Your mouths meet again, and you hear the ripping once more. It's less scary now that you know what it's leading to.

His tongue carefully slips into your mouth, running along your teeth and your own tongue. You push gently against him, taking in the feeling of him. His tongue is thin and smooth, and slides curiously around your mouth. He tastes of wine and something sweet. You can't identify what it is but the flavor is almost intoxicating.

His tongue curls and wraps around yours, constricting it almost like a snake. You shudder and melt into him, your hands gripping his shirt tightly. His tongue unwinds and instead slowly slides to the back of your mouth. His tongue slides down your throat and you shudder violently, your body convulsing from the overwhelment of the situation.

Involuntarily, you moan against him and his tongue withdraws from your throat. He pulls away from you, breathing gently. "Are you okay dear?" You breath deeply for a few moments, trying to remember what planet you're on before giving a slight nod. "Was that too much?"

"It-" you glance aside. "It...was a lot…but I think I'm okay." You smile up at Slender and Jack, who's peeking over his shoulder at you. He smirks a bit.

"Ye don't 'alf know 'ow ta trea' some'ne, do ya china pla'e?"

Slender turns to him. "Oh shush. You'll get your turn." He murmurs before turning back to you. He leans in again and peppers gentle kisses along your face and down your neck. You feel his tongue against your throat, making you shiver again and let out a small sigh of pleasure. He moves up again and gently holds your face in his hands. His forehead presses against yours and he feels deliciously warm against you. The smell of petrichor envelops you again, this time accomplished by the smell of flowers, probably from Jack.

"I love you." He breathes. His voice seems to fill your skull, making your thoughts hazy and dumb. You relax into him, letting his warmth envelop you.

"I love you too…" you murmur to him. "Both of you."

Slender's hand gently runs down your back and you hear him clicking again. And although you don't speak fae, something tells you they're sweet, affectionate nothings.

[itsuki-minamy]

“R:B” CHAPTER 1 (Complete)

TRANSLATION & RAWS: NARU-KUN

The murderous wilderness was spreading.

The rugged terrain that both feet step on connects to the horizon beyond. There is nothing to block and the dry air caresses the skin. The blue night that stretched above his head was so deep that it reminded him of the jet black of the universe.

Desolate, vast space.

A casual, cold and lonely world.

However, something is refreshing. There are no shackles or ways of fastening. Everything is refreshing. It is formed by the power itself and only the will determines the future. Strict, tough, lazy, free.

So he ran as his heart commanded.

It didn't make sense, but there was no city, so he hurried.

The feeling of the hard earth is transmitted to the feet. It is the dry and dusty wind that makes the hair flutter. The exhaled breath is hot. Heat invades and overflows the body. It is painful. However, his face was broken. There was a type in which the mind and the body were elevated.

The meat moves, the bones are removed and the blood flow runs. The cells of the body are full of something fresh.

He moved his limbs with all his might and kicked the ground with all his might. He kept running all the way, forever. Still, the world is wide. Overwhelmingly broad. It was so high that he could see it, and it was deep to the bottom.

It is a reason.

When he realized it, his heart broke free. The tiny body and the vast world became one through the soul.

Will come here one day. He always thought so.

When he can he will come here. He has always expected it.

He simply cannot admit that there is no such place.

++++++++++

The intangible irritation was eroding Suoh Mikoto.

It's hot and humid, midnight in the middle of summer. Countless voices echoed out of nowhere in the alley where Suoh was.

Angry. Hoarsely. They scream. And the shot that goes through them.

However, the most striking sound is probably that of flames, which burns violently at night. When Suoh's team, “Homura”, sharpens their fangs, it is always the sound that flows on the battlefield. The dissonance of destruction echoed down the alley, transmitting the warmth of fighting spirit and madness.

Suoh takes out the cigarette as he walks, lights it, inhales it slowly into his lungs, and exhales.

The dissonance grew stronger toward the back of the alley.

What illuminates the area is the unreliable streetlight. However, at the destination, a creepy light reflects off the wall of the building and flickers. Fire and flame. If you look closely, you can see the traces of destruction on the nearby walls and on the ground.

The burning smell of fireproofs pierces the nose and gives heat, which is different from the sun during the day, the upper arm clings to the sword. Signs of intense violence. However, Suoh's expression doesn't budge. There is an obligatory atmosphere somewhere and he walks in silence.

Something was found in the darkness of the alley.

Is a person. The fallen man moved as he approached the corporal. Suoh's line of sight moves in a hurry.

Apparently he was weak. The well-tanned skin and deeply carved features are not Japanese. The clothes he was wearing were torn, and conspicuous burn marks were visible.

The man staggered, but when he noticed Suoh at his side, he shook his face.

"Hey."

He yelled briefly and pointed to the gun he was holding.

Suoh looks at whoever is pointing it with an uninteresting look. Smoke and exhale.

"...Get lost."

Low, thick and dry voice. Still, it is a mysterious bright voice.

On the other hand, when the man repositioned his gun with both hands, he repeated the shallow breathing.

A strong man, perhaps routine, who has come into contact with violence. But now, the man's eyes lacked calm judgment. All that remains, is a simple fear of irrational and mysterious things.

Suoh's lips, who had added a cigarette again, closed and distorted.

Just a few moves, "Ka".

Immediately afterward, the man fired while screaming.

A sharp shot explodes and the flame flickers. But almost at the same time, a light that far exceeded the fire swirled between the two.

It is not a flame, it is a high density mass of "power" in the form of a flame. The fired bullet was swallowed by the flame that suddenly appeared and disappeared with the flame. A momentary event. However, the living flame is etched in the mind of the viewer as a burn mark.

The man screamed loudly and threw his gun at him to escape. A monster, screaming in the alley. Suoh looked at the back of the fleeing man with his severed face. Then he inhales a lot and exhale.

Purple smoke spills into a windless alley and melts into the humid night air. Unknowingly, his eyes chased the smoke, and Suoh lifted his chin and looked up.

This area is an old commercial district. The multi-tenant buildings lined up have concrete walls that narrow the summer night sky. It appears to be at the bottom of the hole or even inside it.

From the alley where sound and heat are muddy as starch, only the fine purple smoke that is gracefully exhaled escapes into the clear sky. Suoh felt the irritation focus on the rest of his body.

Suoh waved the cigarette roughly, hit the soles with a step, and started walking again.

At the end of the alley.

Finally, the alley was cut and he went out into an open space. It is a warehouse built along the old street and a parking lot for large vehicles prepared in front. Immediately, the sound and heat that doubled in the alley rushed like a tsunami.

Many men fight two-handed.

One is a group of people of different ages and races who continue to shoot in the warehouse. The screams are also mixed with syllabary in English and Chinese. According to information from Kusanagi Izumo, an advisor to "Homura", it appears that they are from the Southeast Asian criminal mafia organization, who began to enter and leave the Shizume-cho area earlier this year. He hears the main business is buying and selling drugs and firearms, but the guns they have now are probably part of the product.

On the other hand, it is the young people who have settled in the street who are attacking the stopped truck instead. It is a group of not a few minors. They don't have any kind of firearms, and at most they have things like knives and iron pipes in their empty fists. It is not a force that can compete with the armed mafia. However, they were removing one after another the gangsters who had spread through the alleys, and finally pushed them into the warehouse.

It is their "power" that fills the overwhelming difference in strength between them.

It was a flame-shaped "power" that they were manipulating as members. It is nothing else, the "power" that Suoh gave them.

Possessor of the ability to induce peculiar phenomena.

Among them, including Suoh, there are only seven people in the world, Ex-A individuals, popularly called "King's Power", and some were also simply called "King". The street gang, "Homura", is the "clan" with whom he shared his power.

The red clan "Homura" led by the third king, the Red King, Suoh Mikoto.

They are such a talented group of people that they are hunting down the armed mafia.

"Mikoto-san!"

One of the members was quick to notice that Suoh appeared in the parking lot. Rikio Kamamoto, a veteran of the team.

"Sorry! We wanted to finish it by the time you got there, Mikoto-san, but they even took out machine guns."

Under the word, he roared a series of different shots. It is not a gun. As Kamamoto reported, it is probably an assault machine gun. He sees the members of "Homura" running towards the shadow of the truck.

"Damn it! Don't be afraid! I'll make a wall with flames and push it!"

"Damn. Roll back, not forward!"

The screams of the members can be heard from the shot.

Despite being exposed to intense firefights, the members of "Homura" did not appear to be weakened.

On the contrary, the sense of exhilaration to exercise "power" as they wish makes them feel joyous and even joyful.

Everyone was full of energy and their eyes were shining.

Fierce fighting spirit and madness. The heat that had been transmitted to the alley was now filling the area.

Suoh frowned slightly.

The blood is burning. The enthusiasm emanating from the entire body seems to be provoking Suoh. The "power" in Suoh wants to be released like his friends.

At that moment, a flash of light ran through the warehouse window, making a sharp, sparkling noise on the asphalt. Suoh's feet. A series of landings snaked like a seam, the surface of the street was crushed and debris bounced. Kamamoto hurriedly stepped on, "Oh?"

"Damn it! Mikoto-san, please be careful!"

With Kamamoto yelling in a hurry, Suoh looked around the warehouse. The distance is about 200 meters. It's a good range. Suoh waved the cigarette. The back of his body tenses. The impulse of "power" approaches the throat.

Suoh's "power" is flame.

He fundamentally hates slavery and wants freedom.

"Mikoto-san!"

When Kamamoto urged him on, the bullets flew again. A bullet that jumps overhead lands on the asphalt behind. Kamamoto jumped in front of Suoh, yelling "Watch out!" Trying to protect the "King" with his own shield.

But,

"Kamamoto. Go away."

Suoh said that carelessly, made a noise and stepped forward. Kamamoto looked back to say something, but when he saw Suoh, he swallowed the words. Then, as if pushed by Suoh's magnetic field, he naturally stepped aside.

Take two or three steps forward. He spits out the cigarette and stomps on it. Immediately afterwards, the bullets grab the side again. A smile came to him. The blood was playing.

All good.

A bright red aura escaped from Suoh Mikoto's entire body.

The aura that colors Suoh turns into a burning pillar of fire, expelling the darkness around him. Heat waves struck the surroundings suspiciously, and the humid night air instantly burned away. But what is most striking, is his powerful presence. And it was a feeling of intimidation like a fire giant, that you can't think of the same person.

The men who were fighting enthusiastically caught their breath and looked back.

Then after a second, they screamed louder than before. However, some are terrifying and others scream with joy.

The perimeter aura spreads explosively and occupies the entire area.

Probability deviation field of the king, is the "area" of the king called "Sanctuary". Furthermore, the released "force" shoots up into the sky, is concentrated at a certain point, and is compressed to form a "shape".

A huge "sword" that appears high in the sky with the release of the "enormous power of royal authority". The sword-shaped energy body, which is a crystal of "power" and symbolizes real power, was called the "Sword of Damocles" following the history of ancient Greece due to the "possibility" of the phenomenon.

The members of “Homura” took a breath.

And,

"No Blood! No Bone! No Ash!"

They raise their voices like crazy and thrust their fist skyward.

The King's "Sword of Damocles" is the source and symbol of the "power" of the clan members and the flag of "Homura." They are proud of him and his friends. The screams of fiercely violent, yet transparently pure youths screamed to the point of conquering the summer night.

But…

Is not sufficient.

Still not enough. That "power" is a feeling and a passion. The red waves that sprout from the limbs have yet to come out. More and more. He wants to release that "power" that boils like magma. Everywhere, forever, to the limit. No, he wants to go beyond the limits and run until he breaks.

It is an unreasonable desire to be released.

He's hungry, the flames jump.

Sparks fly.

Suoh's flame gained even more power. It gained even more momentum. The voltage of "Homura" increases proportionally. The hot air has now turned into a soggy heat vortex, making all tangible things deeply compressed and squishy. Kamamoto, who was on the other side, stumbled unbearably and stuck to the bottom. The moment Suoh's entire body was integrated with the flame, a small crack ran in the "Sword of Damocles" high above. It's okay. It's even better if he tear everything down, screw everything up, and that's it.

But…

"...King."

There was a light voice that did not suit the occasion.

Suoh suddenly tightens the loose rope. The "power" that was about to be unleashed went crazy at once.

Suoh suppresses it with all his might, but the trapped "power" immediately increases the internal pressure on Suoh.

The Sword of Damocles is flawed, and the blade cracks as if to complain.

"Please forgive me. It's hot and dry."

The unreliable voice, however, was uncontrollable in reflective passion that crept through the turbulence of "power" and reached inside Suoh. A lead line of sight that melted when heated entered the lead vocal. The murderous impulse of violence seems to have a mass of its own. However, when the young man smiled, he showed his shoulders to Suoh's eyes.

Tatara Totsuka, executive of "Homura".

He is a kind and neutral young man who seems to have nothing to do with violence. However, Totsuka smiles in front of the "King" on the verge of an outburst without hesitation.

Suoh stood up with all skeletal muscles contracted for a while.

Then he relaxed his whole body a bit.

He carefully lower the internal pressure that was the limit.

Look around.

The space around the area is already filled with exploding "power". The clan member, who receives the king, can exercise more "power" than usual in the "Sanctuary". If it had been a fifty percent battle situation up until now, it would have been impossible for the enemy to win.

He does not need more.

"......"

The pillar of fire that swallowed Suoh slowly melted into the night air. Enemies and allies. While looking at everyone in the place, Suoh took out the cigarette, lit it, slowly inhaled it into his lungs, and exhaled.

"...Burn them."

Short command.

The voice that answered was brave and fierce, and seemed to clearly indicate the whereabouts of victory or defeat. Kamamoto leaps to his feet and runs to the front line. Not just him. The members of "Homura" jump out of the shadow of the truck and run to the warehouse.

However, Suoh didn't even look at them. Various urges that are still hard, he presses his lips and desperately gets over it.

"King?"

Totsuka asks to think about it. Suoh barely replied, "Oh.", While looking away from Totsuka.

"I have watered it."

It seems like he couldn't help but say it after knowing everything. Suoh's harsh expression was revealed in the apology that appears to be Totsuka. At the same time, the mind regains balance.

"Leave the rest to them."

"Okay. Still, there is no room for me."

The clansmen who witnessed the majesty of the "King" attacked the warehouse immediately. The battle will end soon. Suoh slowly releases smoke.

"Sorry."

"Ah?"

"No, you see. At the moment, I had a strange feeling."

"What are you saying?"

Suoh's strength gradually unraveled as Totsuka laughed. Suoh was somewhat conscious and smiled bitterly.

He is still irritated. The anger lasted a little longer, it was supposed to settle deep down on Suoh while the total amount was reduced a bit. As usual. Suoh has been screaming and screaming for years with intangible irritation eroding him. Even with the fire of the "King", there are things that cannot be burned.

"Damn…"

Why did he become king? The self-question that has been repeated many times since that day three years ago, returns to his heart.

But that was the moment.

There was no sign. It's not like I feel anything.

However, Suoh suddenly raised his head and looked in the direction of the night sky as he was guided by his intuition.

It is the eastern sky.

"What?"

And Totsuka lags slightly behind and turns his neck in the same direction as Suoh.

Suoh's red "Sword of Damocles" floats high above them.

And, maybe it's his imagination. Beyond the night sky they gazed at, he felt blue light flickering.

Like a shooting star or something.

"What?"

"......"

Suoh silently does not respond to Totsuka's words. However, he kept staring up at the sky.

The fight continues.

However, Suoh couldn't look away for some reason.

++++++++++

"Blue King?"

"Yes. The position has been vacant for a long time, but it seems that it has finally been filled."

Totsuka listens from the counter, Kusanagi nodded while cleaning a glass tumbler.

"HOMRA" is a retro-style bar in a corner of Shizume-cho. In addition to the seasoned counter, there are vintage couch and tables in the large wooden shop. The rows of colored bottles lined up on the rear bar are truly authentic.

However, contrary to cocktail making, "HOMRA" is the real territory of the red clan recognized by "Accord 120," and even the home of Suoh Mikoto, where the executives of the "Homura" street gang gather. The owner and master is Kusanagi Izumo. He is still twenty-four years old, but he took over the shop originally run by his uncle.

"Ah... but the information is still fast."

"I don't care about that, it's about me."

"Well, because 'King' is 'King'."

"Can you use it a little more carefully? For now, keep a low profile."

"There is. It's like a Hagi snake."

It's not a bad wind, but Totsuka sticks out his tongue. Kusanagi shrugged his shoulders.

Kusanagi is a high rank. He dyes his hair and often wears light-colored sunglasses. He seems like a smart gamer, but he's actually quite a difficult person. He was the oldest of the main members of "Homura", and probably because of that, he had a bad feeling of familiarity.

On the other hand, Totsuka is a young man of innocent childishness. The neat face is also feminine, and the piercing in the left ear looks good. Although he is an executive in a street gang, the impression that he is violent is probably of a distant kind.

Suoh, Kusanagi and Totsuka became their first clansmen (Clansman) when Suoh, who had been associated with them before Suoh was chosen "King", woke up as "King". Three years ago. When Suoh was nineteen.

"The former 'Blue King' died when the crater was created, right?"

"It's the so-called Kagutsu incident. The previous 'Red King' lost control and changed the terrain of Japan. The previous 'Blue King' must have died at that time."

"Well then that was over a decade ago."

Totsuka leaned freely over the counter and looked away.

Even though it happened over a decade ago, they both recall the confusion of the Kagutsu incident. After all, a huge crater suddenly appeared in the southern part of Kanto, causing hundreds of thousands of victims. There are various opinions about the truth of the case, but only the "King" and his vassals know the truth.

"Hey, that new 'King'..."

Without telling anyone, Totsuka muttered. Kusanagi did not reply and continued to polish the glass in silence. Then after a while, he takes out a cigarette to take a break.

1:00 PM. Even the members of "Homura", who are usually immersed in the place, rarely appear during this time. In "HOMRA", which is noisy until midnight, he can spend more quietly and slowly during the day like now.

The summer sun shines vertically from the skylight and does not enter the store much. The windows were filled with brilliant white light, vividly separating the scorching exterior from the coolness inside.

"Eh? Hey, Kusanagi-san. Now that the new "Blue King" has appeared, will "Scepter 4" be revived?"

"I don't know, but it is likely."

Kusanagi replied casually, pursing his lips and spitting smoke. However, his appearance was mysterious and it can be seen that he foresaw the troubles of the near future.

"Scepter 4".

Its official name is "Family Registration Division of the Tokyo Legal Affairs Office, Fourth Branch". As the name implies, it is an office of a government agency, and its business is "special foreign family record management, etc.".

However, the real situation is "a security organization for people with powers."

Possessors of the ability to induce peculiar phenomena. The so-called skill holders were extremely troublesome and dangerous in modern society. Although it has strong power, it is difficult to distinguish it, and even if it is legally repressed, there is almost no way to impose some kind of regulation in reality. It is like a human being with a firearm that can be used anytime, anywhere, without control, without any qualification or legal responsibility.

However, many of the talented people acquire their unique abilities by receiving "power" from the "King" or under the direction of the "King". As a result, most of them belong to a clan with the "King" at the top, and as a result, they are under some control. Of course, the nature of the clan changes according to the intentions of each "King", but there is the "Agreement 120" between the kings, to curb social unrest and conflicts between clans, and the unorthodox behavior of the members is also suppressed of the clan.

However, it is not that there are no examples of clan members using "power" to commit criminal acts.

Furthermore, there are a number of talented people who spontaneously gain "power" regardless of the "King". The ones called "Strains". Since they do not belong to the clan, they do not care about the "common sense of the world of talented people", such as the implicit understanding of "power", much less the "Agreement 120", or often they do not know it in the first place.

And it is "Scepter 4" that manages and supervises those Strains and represses crimes committed by talented people.

However, this is the story when the "Blue King" was alive. This is because "Scepter 4" has the appearance of "a blue clan led by the Blue King", in addition to its face as a security organization for people with powers. After all, in the face of a criminal with "power", the most effective way to control and capture is to have someone with the same "power" take charge. And the "Blue King" who controls the "power" of the "Red King" that is rooted in "destruction" reveals his "power" based on "order". The "Blue King" and his clan were best suited as security officers for the talented.

However, the previous "Blue King" died in Kagutsu's case 11 years ago.

After that, "Scepter 4" continued to carry out its duties in the absence of the "King", but last year, it suspended its activities following a certain incident. The job was transferred to another clan, resulting in a mid-way teardown. By the way, "Homura" is not little involved in a certain incident.

"Well, there were several things about us and "Scepter 4", but objectively speaking, that was a necessary organization. In fact, after "Scepter 4" disbanded, the problems related to the Strains increased."

"But thanks to that, we are making money."

"That's right. Recently, I feel like there are various adverse effects."

"Really?"

"You feel it?"

When Kusanagi asked and looked back, it seems that Totsuka somehow understands what Kusanagi is saying, with a bitter face that seems difficult to answer.

He hasn't put up a poster in a big way, but "Homura" has been doing something of a problem solver specializing in collecting Strains for some time.

This is the beginning of Suoh's work if the cause is corrected. For a time after graduating from high school, Suoh was imitating a gorilla in the underworld of Shizume-cho. In particular, after waking up as "King", various organizations have used him as a goalkeeper who can deal with problems related to the Strains. And such a demand has not changed even now, with the rise of "Homura" and becoming a major force in the underworld. On the contrary, it tended to increase even more than before. Today, Suoh himself is less likely to come out, but if requested, the "Homura" team will take the place.

Originally, there are many Strains in Shizume-cho. Every corner of the main street is maintained and a huge view of the street is installed, but if you enter from the back of the block, you can see the type of business that the law touches, mainly in the old town. Not only gangsters, but also foreign mafias have taken root.

For that reason, countless people of various positions come and go, and it was a land where it was easy to find a place for strangers like Strain. Naturally, there are many problems related to Strains.

"Of course, after all, it is a group of bad people. It is natural that it is rude..."

Since "Homura" was established as a street gang, there is a strong awareness that "Shizume-cho is their own rope". If a Strain goes crazy in Shizume-cho, they will take the initiative to go on a business trip and do their best to calm the noise. There was an "achievement" for better or for worse, and there was no resistance to responding to such "requests."

The resolution of problems related to Strains is a non-negligible source of income for "Homura".

However,

"Recently, in a bad way, I am recovering."

Then Kusanagi complained at the top.

It is no exaggeration to say that "Homura" dominates Shizume-cho, when it comes to talented people.

In the context of the absolute existence of the "Red King" Suoh Mikoto, rule by power is widespread. And his dominance extends to gangsters and the mafia through jobs like problem solving.

The situation in Shizume-cho was not necessarily bad for many varieties.

Strains that do not have a clan community are often used by the underworld.

In that sense, the criminal organizations rarely use the Strains in Shizume-cho city, where "Homura's" eyes are shining.

Strains who have struggled elsewhere can live in peace to some extent as long as they follow the minimal rules and conventions in Shizume-cho. In fact, hearing about "Homura's" reputation, the number of Strains migrating from other areas was increasing.

On the other hand, "Homura" in Shizume-cho city is inevitably becoming a kind of "authority". And it is that in "Homura" the number of people who realize this in a bad way and increase their attitude is increasing.

"Well, there are some parts that are not screaming to a certain extent, right? We are who we are, we are doing the best we can since the disbandment of “Scepter 4”. However, I don't know if he will become a Tengu. But if I don't understand because he has a bad head and boss, is he of poor quality?"

Such a trend was more pronounced for the newcomers, especially those who were away from Suoh, rather than the old ones who had contributed to "Homura" for a long time. The main members of "Homura" who hang out in "HOMRA" are the same as before. However, on the contrary, those who have less contact with Suoh and the main members, are swept away by the bloated image of "Homura", and they proclaim themselves members of "Homura". There was a strong tendency to show it off.

What's worse, the people around them believe they admit that attitude; rather, it is a tendency to respond positively.

"A recent story, the problem with the previous mob, I heard rumors like the trigger was in "Homura"."

"Eh? If that's true, it's really bad."

"I don't have any confirmation at the moment. When I thought about looking for him, the 'Blue King' came out and I wasn't sure what to do... Well, I don't want to eat villains anymore. Whether it's the minimum amount of morality or not, the reason is that he is an intelligent person."

After muttering to himself, Kusanagi tilted his mouth and lamented, "It's a bit bittersweet lately." "That's a complaint too." Totsuka pointed out cheerfully, and finally spoke a few words.

"But... it's true. Many of the faces that appear in "HOMRA" have strong habits, but they are basically good. Sometimes I forget if "Homura" is the original group."

"There is no 'good boy' in the collapse of the chicken coop, when you say something like someone else's business. Isn't it your responsibility to educate the newcomers?"

"Oh, again, Saruhiko."

"Well, when it comes to this big family, it's hard to keep an eye on the bottom."

That said, Kusanagi sighed with a bitter smile.

When a royal authority gives "power" to a specific person and welcomes him to the clan as a new member of the clan, there is a transit ritual called "Installation". The specific method differs according to the "King", and in Suoh's case, it was "flame". Only those who collect and accept the flame created by Suoh can awaken that "power" and become members of the clan. If it fails, they'll get a huge burn, and if they don't, it's a life-threatening rough installation.

For that reason, not many people want to join the Red Clan, but unlike other kings, Suoh does not deny them the opportunity. Anyone can take up the challenge as long as they are prepared to put their life in danger.

As a result, in proportion to "Homura's" rapid increase in power, the number of daredevils who yearned for the Red Clan increased, and many people appeared who passed through the facility.

Among the members of "Homura" who are basically gory, Totsuka is exceptionally kind and caring. For that reason, it is his role to take care of newcomers, but these days it is difficult to say that he is doing well in flattery.

"After all, I'm weak in 'power'. The guys who came for that kind of thing would see me down."

"When I say something that is not right. I mean, there is a newcomer that you can lose, right? Rather, it is the reason why the slightly demeaning attitude seems sweet. Sometimes it is very easy."

"Even if you say so, it is general."

Totsuka laughed at Kusanagi, who was in his line of sight.

In fact, despite being the oldest member of the clan like Kusanagi, Totsuka's "powers" are extremely weak, he is excellent in precision and dexterity to wield that "power", but he is generally not suitable for combat. He is a nonexistent type.

Still, the true value of Totsuka Tatara lies in the fact that he has earned friendship and trust without hesitation among tough people, but as he himself put it, he was drawn to "power" and "authority". He was often disrespected by those who participated in "Homura". Even if Totsuka is strangely friendly and affectionate, on the other hand, those who aren't interested have a dry side and easily distance themselves.

"Anyway, Kusanagi-san, do you mean if “Scepter 4” is revived, will the people below be tighter than now?"

"I don't think it's okay if I do it, but... I don't think it works."

"Will we crash somewhere?"

"I don't know yet. It depends on what kind of person the new 'Blue King' is. For the moment, the correct answer is to wait and see."

"It's hard to keep up."

"I don't mean it like other people's affairs."

Kusanagi, who was smoking, involuntarily smiled at Totsuka who was still somewhat grumpy.

"By the way, what about the 'Blue King'?"

"Like I said, 'do the right thing'. I hope you take a little more care of yourself so I don't have to worry about it."

"That's it... Kusanagi-san, you're begging for something that doesn't exist."

"What do you say, do you dare say it to my face?"

"Because our "King" is not interested in the struggle for power with other kings. Oh, so why not appear before the Blue Clan at a social gathering to avoid useless conflicts? Are all members of "Homura" required to participate? This season, there is the Obon dance contest."

“Well, it may unexpectedly be the 'Homura' golden rule. If you have a habit of being associated with Bon Dance, you can stretch your spine. Of many ways."

"I will definitely hold my stomach and laugh."

"It is a spectacle to see how are the people who came with strange expectations to "Homura". By the way, let's serve sake. A direct drink from the third king. They will not be afraid to refuse, I will have many stocks of "HOMRA"."

The area where the two oldest executives handle this seriously is probably Suoh's "King" boundary. However, if Suoh was a perfect king, be it Kusanagi or Totsuka, they shouldn't have thought that he would go to the trouble.

But...

When the rulers of Shizume-cho told a ridiculous story, small, light footsteps echoed within the bar. From the stairs leading to the bar, it was a girl who came down.

"Oh, Anna. You were awake."

She is still young, at most an elementary school girl. Before Totsuka who was smiling, her face was thin, but with a serious gesture, she made a small click.

Like a handmade doll, she is a delicate and well-dressed girl in a ruffled dress. The skin is extremely white and the long hair is also white. Still, the round eyes had a deep red color. Red and black based gothic and lolita clothing looks better than ever.

Kushina Anna. She is a member of "Homura", who, although she looks like this, is a member of the Red Clan.

She is also one of the important members, unlike the newcomers from the fund.

"Anna. What about Mikoto?"

"He is still sleeping."

"Oh. Good condition."

"I feel tired. So..."

"I understand. It was not our intention to wake you up."

Kusanagi gently said to Anna, who said a few words and moved her shoulders. Anna smiled at Kusanagi's light mouth, trying to respond to Kusanagi's concern.

Anna is a member of the Red Clan, but was previously a Strain. She is also a very special person with excellent sensitivity.

However, being a good talent does not necessarily mean that she is lucky for a girl like Anna. Fortunately, she grew up blessed with the adults around her, but for a time she was still closed to her surroundings. She is still not good at speaking and does not have many words.

As Anna reached over and sat down on the counter, Totsuka looked at Kusanagi with a hint of gaze. Kusanagi immediately understood and laughed, "Of course, I know."

"Well, Anna was the first to notice the 'Blue King', right? So I hurriedly looked for him."

"What? That was Anna, it was a credit."

Looking at Anna while Totsuka was impressed, the girl turned slightly. She seems to be shy.

In fact, it was Anna who became the key person in "a certain incident" that led to the dissolution of "Scepter 4". She has a slight connection to "Scepter 4" and the "Blue King." And it's never a funny memory.

However, the incident was the one that caused Anna to join the Red Clan, and she has since moved with Suoh. Thanks to that, Suoh, Kusanagi, Totsuka, and other members love her, and her personality, which tended to crash, is improving.

While the incident itself is not a funny memory, it is an important milestone in her life and, above all, a past event that is now over. Even though a new "Blue King" had been born, she no longer seemed upset.

Even though she is a girl, Anna is growing every day because she is a child.

"Yes, Anna. Are you interested in King's Obon dance?"

"Idiot. Don't even tell Anna there is such thing."

"No, I think Anna looks good in a yukata, right?"

“So even if you don't bother planning an Obon dance, if you take her to some summer festival, that's fine. Anna, would you like to go out on a cool afternoon?"

Kusanagi proposes to go out to Anna while giving Totsuka a hint that he was wrong.

However, the girl's reaction was more serious than the tension of the two adults.

"Mikoto... he was screaming at dawn."

She said it painfully.

Kusanagi and Totsuka involuntarily clutched their mouths and exchanged piercing glances.

Anna has few words, but she pays more attention to the words she says and puts her heart into them. It resonates in the heart of the listener.

"No, I don't think I have a nightmare every day."

"Even in the last conflict with the mob, there seemed to be a lot of outrage."

"Oh, I told you."

"We can understand King's suffering, but we cannot realize it."

Suffering from having too much power. In reality, few people can experience such a thing. Suoh's suffering is the "King's" suffering. There can be no true understanding unless you are in the same position.

"Oh, wow."

Kusanagi laughs. Totsuka and Anna turned to Kusanagi.

"They look like each other."

Just as the hardships of his vassals are known only to his vassals, so is the loneliness of the "King".

So the only way to treat yourself is to respect and be considerate of the other.

“If he's a new king or clan, what happens? Well, at least I don't have to worry about monthly sales, and that's enough."

Kusanagi said that, and started setting up the bar again. Totsuka and Anna looked at each other and smiled out of nowhere.

[dvp95]

not trying to hide it

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: explicit tags: flatmate au, strangers to lovers, smut, fluff word count: 5.6k summary: Phil's parents want him to get a flatmate. Bryony wants to get her newly-evicted mate off her couch. It’s not quite luck or fate, but Phil is thankful anyway. 

a birthday present for the lovely and hilarious @karcathy !!!!! they deserve only good things and you should all go wish them a happy birthday!

read on ao3 or here!

Phil doesn’t want to get a flatmate. He likes having his own space, because he can mess it up as much as he likes and doesn’t need to worry about someone making noise while he’s trying to sleep. He only pays part of his own rent, though - half during a good month - so he doesn’t have much of a choice when his parents tell him to find someone who can cover at least a third of it. London isn’t cheap, and Phil makes a fluctuating amount of money, and he supposes his parents are well within their rights to insist he gets his life together at some point.

He’s pretty sure that they helped him pick out a two bedroom so that he would do that eventually. Maybe they’d had some kind of pipe dream about nurseries? In either case, Phil’s just had his miscellaneous junk piled in the spare for over a year. There’s a futon in it whenever Martyn or PJ come over and don’t feel like taking the Tube home, but it’s currently piled high with unopened packages and stuffed animals.

Clearing the room is probably the biggest task. Phil’s got a lot of clutter, and getting rid of it is weirdly difficult sometimes. Most of it just ends up in his room or in the common area, making the rest of the flat look even more topsy than it already did. Opening all the PR is fun, until suddenly he’s got dozens of empty parcels to dispose of and various merch items from his online friends scattered all over the rug. At least most of it is clothing and accessories - he’s got enough storage in his room to handle more clothes. It’s the trinkets that he’s got problems finding space for.

Phil’s parents didn’t give him a deadline, which was probably a mistake. He’s all too happy to just exist with a barren spare room until they get on his case again, but that’s before Bryony gets ahold of him. Somehow, she scares him a lot more than his own mum does.

“Phil,” she says, blunt and businesslike as if she’s calling from work. Maybe she is - it’s quarter to four, which he supposes is a normal time for adults to be at work. Phil is in his pants and eating cereal. He didn’t even want to answer the phone, really, too invested in the complicated storyline playing out on Riverdale, but he knows she’d just keep calling until he did. “Have you cleared out that room yet?”

“Yes, mum,” says Phil. “I hated every second of it.”

“Good,” Bryony says. Which part she’s replying to is unclear. “My mate just got kicked out of his place and I want him off my couch. Will you bump him up the nonexistent list of potentials you’ve got?”

Phil pauses the Riverdale episode. It’s hard to focus on that and Bryony’s drama. “Well, that depends on why he got kicked out. Like, is he a dick? Did he not pay rent? Did he leave dishes in the sink for three weeks? Did he kick a hole in the wall trying to do drunk karate?”

“You need to stop comparing people to your uni housemates. No, nothing like that.”

“Then what happened?”

There’s a pause, and then Bryony makes a disapproving sort of noise. “It’s not exactly my fucking story to tell, is it? I’ll just say he ran into a bigot landlord and leave it at that, yeah?”

Something like guilt for pushing the issue settles into Phil’s stomach, but he scolds himself. He couldn’t have known that, and he didn’t want to blindly do a favour for someone troubled and stupid and in need of help. Bryony has a habit of collecting those people. When Phil feels like being honest with himself, he can recognise that he’s in that category as well. He doesn’t really feel like it today.

“Fine,” Phil says, like it’s a bigger hardship than it is. “Send him over, uh, Thursday?”

“I’ll send him over tonight,” says Bryony. Phil makes a loud noise of protest that she bowls right over. “You said the room is empty. Dan is eight feet tall and he snores like a lawnmower. I want him off my couch.”

--

Bryony’s mate isn’t eight feet tall, obviously, although Phil thinks it would be pretty cool if he were. The flat has high ceilings that Phil has to jump to touch, and he’s been amusing himself by picturing a giant of a man reaching up and just tapping on them. He does have to duck around the hanging light in the kitchen, but so does Phil.

“I’m convinced that’s going to be the thing that kills me,” Phil says conversationally.

Dan hasn’t said much, mostly just mumbling awkward pleasantries, but he laughs at that. When he laughs, Phil sees a glint of silver in his mouth that has his brain short-circuiting a little bit.

“Maybe,” Dan says as he looks dubiously into Phil’s cupboards. “Only if the sugar intake doesn’t get you first, mate. Why the fuck do you need four bags of marshmallows?”

“They’re different sizes!”

“Do you do a lot of baking or something?”

The question makes Phil flash back to the last time he tried to make muffins. The stain from that adventure turned meltdown still hasn’t come out of his favourite jeans. Whatever expression twists onto his face makes Dan laugh again, louder, and Phil decides that being a little stupid is worth hearing that unabashed sound. He gives Dan a sheepish grin and sticks his hands in his pockets. “No. I just like marshmallows.”

“You know they’ve got gelatin in them, right?” Dan asks like he’s trying to be serious, but the twitching of his lips gives him away.

“I like jello, too.”

“That’s not what -” Dan starts, and then honks. “How d’you know Bryony again?”

That’s a bit of a long, mortifying story, but Phil tells it anyway. He makes tea as he relives spilling a blue cocktail on her very expensive shoes and then following her around like a puppy while he tried to make it up to her. Normally he’d feel like he was talking too much, but Dan leans against the breakfast bar with attentive brown eyes and laughs in all the right places, so Phil doesn’t feel that hint of self-consciousness.

He hands Dan’s tea over in a Kirby mug and pours his own into an ugly commemorative one from a dinky Florida gift shop. For a moment, there’s quiet. Dan doesn’t seem uncomfortable as much as he seems contemplative, running his tongue absently over his teeth to catch on the silver ball in his tongue.

Then Dan says, “I don’t have any mugs. Or furniture. Or anything, really.”

“Nothing?” Phil asks, wondering if he ought to be aghast or just empathetic. He wonders if that has something to do with Dan being kicked out, or if he’s one of those minimalist people. “Not even, like, clothes?”

“I’ve got clothes, Jesus,” says Dan. Despite his grumbling, he looks more embarrassed than anything.

“Well,” Phil says, then comes up short. He hasn’t had to live with other people in so long, he forgets how this part works. “You can use whatever I’ve got. I don’t expect you to go out and buy your own plates or something, that would be silly. And we’d probably put off dishes even longer if I did.”

Dan smiles, but there’s a wariness that Phil doesn’t quite understand. “Okay. Thanks.” He takes a long sip of his tea, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, and Phil reminds himself - not for the first time, not even for the first time today - that it’s pointless to think about how pretty a guy is when nothing is going to come of it. “So you’re, like, really okay with me living here? You don’t need to let Bryony bully you.”

“Not quite sure what the alternative is,” Phil jokes, “but I don’t mind. I need a flatmate.”

“I can be a good flatmate,” Dan says, with a weirdly determined air about him. Phil has no reason not to believe him, aside from his own bad experiences with young men sharing space with him, but at least Dan isn’t a uni lad.

Phil finds himself shrugging. “Okay,” he says, because this is all going much easier than he expected. He supposes Bryony was doing him a favour as much as he was doing her one, because the relief of not having to do a bunch of interviews with potentially creepy strangers is settling into him now. “Rent’s due on the first, the water pressure sucks on weekends, and I’m gay.”

Dan blinks. Some of that wariness melts into something that Phil can’t read before he looks down at his tea.

“Me too,” Dan tells the drink. “More or less.”

It takes actual effort for Phil to bite back the joke. Maybe if the admission weren’t pulling at Dan’s shoulders in such an obvious way, he’d ask if Dan meant he also sucked on weekends. Instead, he just smiles. “That’s good. If Bry sent me a homophobe, I’d have to return her Christmas present.”

--

Dan leaves just long enough to get his bags, and then Phil has a flatmate. He promises to get a key cut in the morning, but Dan just shrugs and says he doesn’t leave the house much anyway, so there’s not much of a rush. That’s when Phil figures out that they both work from home, and anxiety swirls in his gut at the idea of that quickly becoming an issue. It’s so much easier to get on each other’s nerves when they’re both around practically all day every day, but that’s a bridge he’ll have to burn when he comes to it, or whatever.

For a couple of days, Dan is like a wounded animal that only comes out of hiding when he hears the fridge door open. Phil knows there isn’t really anything left in the room aside from his futon and a desk that he and Martyn tried to put together tispy, but he supposes that Dan’s got a laptop and big padded headphones to entertain himself with.

After a little while of getting used to the place, though, Dan starts doing his work in the common area of the flat. He’ll sit at the breakfast bar to sort through potential articles with the air of someone very bored on Tinder or make a nest on the corner of the sofa to watch Phil play Zelda. He’s good about staying quiet whenever Phil is streaming, but sometimes he’ll laugh or tease Phil for a dumb move, and people start wondering who the voice out of frame is.

They play games together, too, when neither of them have work to do - or, more accurately, are avoiding their tasks for a little while with pizza and Mario Kart - and Dan wins more often than not. That should probably be embarrassing to Phil, since he plays video games for a living, but he’s never been the type to try and excel at every single game he plays. It’s more about the entertainment, both for himself and for his audience. He imagines Dan feels similarly torn between sheepish and intrigued when Phil looks at the HTML on Dan’s laptop and points to an issue that Dan’s been trying to find for an hour.

Dan is a nerd with a contagious laugh who writes up a chart of ridiculous Riverdale theories on their fridge whiteboard, and it’s getting more and more difficult for Phil not to notice him.

His hair looks soft, his eyes are as expressive as the rest of him, he’s all lanky limbs and hairless chest when he hangs out half-naked - which is unfortunately often - but his mouth is probably the worst offender. He’s always chewing on a pen or toying with his tongue ring, like he’s got to be doing something with it when he’s not talking, and that’s not a train of thought that Phil should be going down except during the privacy of his showertime.

At this point, he’s not sure if he should thank Bryony or strangle her for delivering him a gorgeous ‘more or less’ gay man with all the same hobbies and interests as him, because there are too many ways for this to end badly and only, like, one way he wants it to end.

--

Phil is streaming Apex Legends in a surprisingly competent team when his phone rings. It doesn’t ring very often, and it’s probably Bryony asking why he’s been holed up for over a month, so he ignores it. It’s only when it starts ringing again, immediately after it stops, that he frowns.

“Hey, Dan,” he calls. Last time he checked, Dan was rearranging the spice shelf into something that makes a bit more sense than its current state. He thinks it’s a little silly, and he’ll probably still reach for the hot chocolate in the wrong place, but he likes that Dan has been making himself more at home lately. He’s noticed a few of his knick-knacks shifting around the room as well. “Can you check who’s calling?”

There’s a clattering noise that slightly worries Phil, and then Dan says, “It’s your mum.”

Phil freezes. He’s in the middle of something, sure, but he’s been waiting for this call. He doesn’t want to tell the couple thousand people watching him play about his dad’s health, so for a long moment he doesn’t know what to do.

Then, Dan is leaning over the back of the sofa. He takes the controller from Phil’s hands and replaces it with his still-buzzing phone.

“Go talk to her,” he murmurs. “I’ll keep playing for you.”

Gratitude washes over Phil, and he practically runs to his room to take the call. He doesn’t have time to worry about what his Twitch audience will think of Dan’s sudden appearance after so much time as a disembodied voice, because he’s got to spend all his brain power concentrating on the things his mum is telling him. At least he knows he’s not letting his team down - if anything, getting Dan as defense is an upgrade.

The conversation with his mum is long, but it’s all good news. Phil lets his mum talk his ear off, because the relief in her voice is so palpable and contagious that he doesn’t have the heart to say he’s in the middle of a video game. She only says goodbye when he gently reminds her to call Martyn as well, and then Phil is alone in his room with nothing but the pounding of his own heart in his ears for company. They’ve had good news (and bad news and no news) from the doctors before, but every time it’s like a shot of adrenaline right to Phil’s system. His dad is okay, his mum is happy, and his rampant anxiety can take a short break.

Dan isn’t playing anymore when Phil comes back, probably because the round ended, but he’s rambling about his own Apex opinions to the chat. He’s passionate like he is about basically everything, his hands and mouth moving faster than his brain, and Phil feels more warmth settle into his skin.

“Gunning for my job?” Phil jokes, plopping back down on the sofa. His thigh is pressed to Dan’s, but neither of them shift away.

“Maybe,” Dan teases. He hands the controller back all the same.

There’s a question in Dan’s big brown eyes: Everything okay? He doesn’t need to know details to pick up on how important that call was, and Phil thinks that this would have been the point of no return if he hadn’t hit that a couple weeks ago. He beams at Dan and nods, and the crinkly-eyed grin he gets in response makes Phil feel like he’s floating on air.

Later, when the night is winding down, Phil’s body is thrumming. Normally he’d be curled up with a book on one side of the sofa while Dan and his laptop took up the other, and that would be enough interaction before they headed to bed, but Phil still feels wired.

“You wanna go out?” he asks for the first time since Dan moved in. He’s always been more of a homebody than most of his friends, but having a friend like Dan - because that’s what they are now, isn’t it? - who also enjoys sitting in relative quiet doing their respective activities has made him even more of a shut-in than usual. Dan is clearly surprised by the question, and Phil doesn’t blame him. “I just - y’know, I got good news earlier, and I’m happy, and I want to get a drink or something.”

“And you want it with me?” Dan asks, his dimple deepening in the tell-tale beginnings of a grin.

“Yeah,” says Phil. Maybe he ought to have some kind of explanation that doesn’t make him sound like an idiot with a crush, but he can’t be bothered to think of one right now. Besides, Dan is smiling with the silver ball between his teeth, so he probably doesn’t mind how Phil sounds.

“Alright,” Dan agrees easily enough, shutting his laptop. “I’ll get dressed.”

--

Neither of them dress up; Phil leaves his top buttons open and Dan’s jeans are distractingly tight, but that’s as much of a concession as they’ll make. Phil likes bars more than he likes pubs or clubs, and he thinks splashing ten quid on a neon pink cocktail is absolutely worth it tonight. Dan doesn’t offer his opinion one way or the other until they’re sat at a booth, and then he says, “Thank fuck you’re not a clubber.”

“You don’t like clubbing?” Phil asks, distracted by Dan’s mission of blindly finding his straw with his tongue. The longer he knows Dan, the more he’s tempted to look up whether or not oral fixation is a real thing. “I mean, I don’t really love it, but it’s fun sometimes.”

“I’d have to already be wasted to dance in public,” says Dan.

“Oh, I can’t dance,” Phil says, matter-of-factly, and Dan snorts into his drink. “But I do it anyway.”

The bar isn’t overly busy or loud, but Phil still has to strain his ears to hear when Dan mutters, “Maybe it’d be more fun with you.”

It’s a little too easy for Phil’s overactive imagination to picture. Dan, pressed close to him and laughing with his head thrown back every time Phil says or does something stupid. He hopes that the flush he feels high on his cheeks isn’t obvious in the low light, but he’s not optimistic. Dan’s smile is more of a smirk.

Maybe getting drunk with the object of his stupid affections is… not smart. But Phil’s drink is good, and Dan is striking up an easy conversation about the music that’s playing, so Phil pushes logic aside for the moment to just enjoy himself.

--

Phil wakes up with a dry mouth and a slight headache, which is honestly better than he expected after three cocktails and a greasy kebab on the way home. Either Dan drank less than he did or he’s better at holding his alcohol, because Phil remembers getting guided away from lamp posts by his big, steady hands a couple of times.

He remembers making a bit of a fool of himself in general, but if anything Dan got more and more smiley the more that Phil rambled about Star Wars. Phil had reached across the table and poked at one of Dan’s dimples, and Dan had laughed loudly before taking Phil’s hand and holding it to the tabletop for a couple of seconds. Phil hadn’t wanted him to let go, and he wonders now if the hesitation stemmed from Dan’s own reluctance to stop touching him or if that’s just wishful thinking.

Phil gets himself together enough to take some ibuprofen and a long shower. By the time he gets out, wrapped in various towels, Dan is awake and making breakfast. It smells like bacon, but Phil is wary. It might be that fake stuff Dan insists on buying.

“That smells good,” Phil says, suspicious. He drifts over to the breakfast bar to try and get a peek at the pan.

“It’s real bacon,” says Dan. He turns specifically to roll his eyes where Phil can see it.

“Oh, cool. I thought you weren’t eating meat.”

“I’m not,” Dan says. “This is for you. I’m not hungry.”

“God, you’re incredible,” says Phil. He thinks that maybe he should tone it down a bit, because Bryony will kill him if he messes up this very good thing they’ve got going, but he’s not humble enough to not notice the way Dan dimples and turns pink at the earnest compliment. “Seriously,” he adds, talking to Dan’s back as he plates up some toast and bacon. “I am so lucky you needed a place to stay.”

“Luck’s not real, first of all,” Dan says as he hands over Phil’s breakfast. “Secondly, you’re only saying that because I cooked for you.”

Phil isn’t just saying that for the food, but it certainly takes over his attention. He pulls the towel around his shoulders tighter and leans against the breakfast bar to eat. Dan steals the crusts off his toast, rambling the whole time about the work emails he’d woken up to. Every time Dan talks about the ins and outs of journalism and website upkeep, Phil feels grateful all over again for getting a job so far out of his official field that the sectors barely touch. He doesn’t think he could handle working with so many people who can’t figure out how to change the alignment of text in simple HTML or which words they should capitalize in a headline.

“Thank you,” Phil says when he’s done, coming into the kitchen proper to rinse his plate. It’s the least he can do, considering his inability to actually wash the dishes before Dan gets fed up with the mess.

“At the risk of sounding gross and sappy,” Dan hums, “it’s really me who should be thanking you.”

“Maybe we should just both thank Bryony,” Phil suggests, turning to look at Dan again. Dan’s eyes snap up from - somewhere? Phil’s bare legs, maybe? - to stare determinedly at Phil’s face as if he can pretend that they never wandered. “You being too big and loud for her couch is the whole reason you’re here.”

Dan honks a laugh and reaches out like he’s going to shove at Phil. He doesn’t make contact, possibly remembering that Phil is somewhat naked, and just lets his hand fall back to his side awkwardly.

“As if your futon is any fucking better, mate,” he says, seemingly insistent on not drawing attention to the weird things he’s doing. Phil isn’t exactly stupid, is the thing. He thinks about Dan hesitating before letting go of his hand last night, the way he always grins when he catches Phil staring at his piercing, how it feels less like an unrequited crush between them and more like they’re just hovering at the edge of something, and Phil decides to throw caution to the goddamn wind.

“Y’know,” he says, messing with his damp hair for something to do with his hands. “I don’t think you’d be too big and loud for my bed, if you wanted to try that out.”

Dan laughs like he’s not quite sure if it’s a joke or not, and Phil shrugs to hide exactly how much his heart is pounding.

“Where were you planning to sleep, then?” Dan asks. His dark eyes are careful, searching, and Phil’s anxiety doesn’t like that at all. He doesn’t need Dan seeing things that he’s not purposefully putting on display.

“With you,” says Phil. “If you’d want me.”

There’s a long moment of quiet where Phil starts to worry that maybe he’s made a huge mistake. Then, Dan grins slowly and comes closer, pinning Phil to the counter without actually touching him, and Phil grins back at him in sheer relief. “I dunno why, but I never figured you as the type to be so blunt about this sort of thing.”

“What, you thought I was capable of subtlety?” Phil teases, putting a hand to his own chest as if he’s touched by the sentiment. “That’s so nice of you.”

Dan laughs, louder and more genuine, and then his big hands are cupping Phil’s jaw as he leans in to press their smiling mouths together. It’s been a hot minute since Phil kissed anyone while he was sober, so for a moment he doesn’t remember what he’s supposed to do with his hands. When he feels cool metal drag against the underside of his tongue, though, his brain shuts down enough that his hands find Dan’s hips without endlessly second-guessing himself.

It takes a while for them to reluctantly separate, because Phil is busy figuring out how to snog Dan without metal clacking against his teeth too much and Dan is busy figuring out all of the weak points in Phil’s neck with his thumbs.

“You taste like bacon,” Dan says in a strangely scolding tone of voice for someone who had cooked it for Phil.

“Sorry,” Phil says nonsensically, sliding his hands up Dan’s shirt to trace shapes over his lower back. The movements pause when Dan shivers. “Bad? Or good?”

“Your hands are just cold, you spork,” says Dan. He kisses Phil again, quick but firm, and then takes a step back. Phil doesn’t even realise he’s frowning until Dan giggles at him. “C’mon. Bed sounds fucking great right about now.”

--

Phil doesn’t remember the last time he kissed someone for so long that his lips started to tingle, but he’s certainly not complaining. He stopped feeling self conscious about being naked almost immediately after Dan told him it was frankly illegal to put damp towels on a bed, because the hungry way Dan looked at him and grabbed at him after he hung them up quieted the anxiety right away. Dan’s shirt has been discarded somewhere in Phil’s absolute tip of a room, but the soft material of his joggers keeps making Phil bite back noises when it comes in contact with his cock.

“You’re so hot,” Dan tells him in one of the times their mouths aren’t locked, one large hand wrapped around Phil’s thigh and the other supporting his weight on top of Phil.

“No, you,” Phil insists, not caring how dumb he sounds. He’s been mapping Dan’s back with his hands, but he slides them down the back of Dan’s sweats to win the argument before it starts. Sure enough, Dan’s words get cut off by a loud whine of a noise that gets pressed into Phil’s collarbone. Phil feels up Dan’s ass a little before using his grip to roll their hips together. “Fuck. What d’you want?”

“That depends,” Dan hums against Phil’s skin, nipping at his chest.

“On what?”

“On if this is a one time thing.”

There’s a jolt of guilt in Phil’s stomach, and he winds fingers into Dan’s curls to force Dan to look at him. “Hey, no, it’s not like that. I like you, you idiot.”

Dan smiles, and there’s no small amount of relief in it. Phil feels like he should have been more clear, but at least he’s got Dan in his bed and smiling about it now. “Oh good. I like you, too, and it would have been really awkward if you just wanted a fuck.”

“I do also want a fuck,” Phil says, teasing. “If I’m being honest.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Dan says sarcastically, rocking his hips down again and grinning when a noise is surprised out of Phil. “Well, okay, since I don’t need to bucket list this, I wanna go down on you.”

“I’d love to hear that bucket list sometime,” says Phil. He lets go of Dan’s ass and uses his hold on Dan’s hair to push him down, a little more impatiently than he intended. He’s got an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Dan just grunts an approving sort of noise and presses his mouth to Phil’s inner thigh. “But - ah - not right now.”

Dan’s got a mouth made for sucking cock, so it doesn’t take Phil by surprise when he sinks down easily, squeezing Phil’s thigh and running his tongue over the head of Phil’s dick whenever he comes back up, but it sure does make his legs start to shake.

“Fuck,” Phil breathes, doing his best to keep his hips still. That’s a lot more difficult when Dan looks up at him with those big dark eyes and takes him as deep as he can. “You look so good like that, you know that? Bet you do.” Dan hums around his cock and the vibrations from his throat make Phil shiver. “Yeah, fuck, of course you do. Such a pretty mouth, huh?”

With a quiet, wet noise, Dan pulls up to catch his breath. He grins. “I also didn’t figure you for a talker.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this,” says Phil. He runs his fingers through Dan’s curls, tugging a little bit to watch Dan’s eyelashes flutter. “How’s it feel to be wrong about me?”

“In this case? Very good.” Dan presses his mouth to Phil’s stomach and bites down, just a little. It doesn’t hurt at all, but it still makes Phil’s hips jerk up. “I dunno, Phil, you’re usually a pretty fucking awkward person, which is, like, a big mood, and you don’t seem like much of a flirt.”

“I’ve been flirting with you for, like, a month and a half,” Phil laughs.

Dan grins wider. “Oh, oops.”

“I don’t have to talk if you don’t like it,” says Phil, even though he can fully tell that Dan does like it. Maybe he just wants to hear that Dan likes it.

The way Dan rolls his eyes makes it obvious that Dan can tell that he’s fishing, but he dimples anyway. “You don’t have to stop talking,” he says dryly, wrapping a big hand around Phil’s cock. “You know I like it.”

Dan takes Phil back in his mouth and closes his eyes like he loves it, which is a visual that Phil will absolutely be coming back to when he’s alone in the shower. Phil tells him as much, gives him a running commentary on every passing thought he has, because it’s hard to control his mouth as it is and the more he talks, the more worked up Dan gets. He sees Dan grinding into the mattress and pulls at him, not bothering to be gentle with it.

“Get rid of these,” Phil says, pushing at Dan’s joggers with a foot. He doesn’t actually think he’ll be able to help like that, but it gets his point across. “And then c’mere, I want to get you off.”

Dan laughs. “Alright, bossy.”

He sits up to get his sweats off and Phil sits up to watch. They grin at each other a bit as soon as Dan is naked, and Phil makes grabby hands.

“Bossy,” Dan repeats before knee-walking into Phil’s lap and kissing him hard. Dan wraps a hand around both of their cocks, but he doesn’t try to stroke. Without fully pulling away from the kiss, Dan murmurs, “Lube, now, I want to come.”

“Now who’s bossy?” Phil huffs a laugh, blindly reaching for his nightstand. He knocks over a couple of things in his search, but eventually he finds the bottle he’s looking for. He pours some over their cocks and gasps when Dan’s hand slides up and back down so easily. Phil would be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about this, hadn’t wondered if Dan’s wide reach could envelop both of them, but he doesn’t bother telling Dan any of that. Instead, he drops the lube back onto his nightstand and settles a hand on Dan’s ass as he kisses Dan deeper.

Phil’s mouth finds Dan’s neck, and he can’t help laughing at the loud keen of a noise that seems surprised out of Dan’s mouth.

Even though Dan didn’t have his dick sucked, he’s as desperate and horny as Phil feels, and having a tongue and teeth on his pulse point seems to escalate it even more. His breathing is ragged, his hips are jerking up into his own hand, and he comes so hard between them that Phil feels some of it hit his face.

“Fuck,” Dan whines, letting go of himself to stroke Phil’s cock in tight, quick movements. Phil’s breath hitches, and he digs his fingers into the soft skin of Dan’s ass for something to hold onto. Dan kisses Phil’s forehead, then his nose, and then kisses his cheek. His tongue comes out to press against Phil’s skin, the cool metal ball still a small shock somehow, and it takes Phil’s brain an addled moment before he realises that Dan is licking his own come off Phil’s cheek. That’s so unbelievably hot to Phil that he couldn’t stop himself from coming if he even wanted to. He groans and fucks into Dan’s fist, tugging him into an open-mouthed kiss. He can’t taste Dan’s come on his tongue or anything, but the idea of it is enough to make him shudder through an intense orgasm.

Their kisses turn softer than Phil thought possible as they come down from it, and he nuzzles at Dan’s jaw. “I just had a shower,” he says, gently scolding. “Now I’m all gross again.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” says Dan, grinning. “I’ll clean you up, you big baby.”

Phil is fairly sure that their shower isn’t big enough for that, but he’s always up for trying.

--

After a heated debate on the benefits of flowers versus gift baskets, they end up taking Bryony out for pizza and beer. As thanks.

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 24 - The Desert

Varian doubled checked the coordinates on the computer.

He was in his lab fiddling with the portal. His run in with Sirque the other day had given him a few new ideas that he was eager to try out. He had built a turbine inside the portal to mimic the centripetal force he had used to steady the villain's smaller portal magnets, in the hopes of being able to better navigate the larger portal same has he had done with those.  

Confident he had put in the correct algorithm into the system, he walked over the dashboard, took a deep breath, and flipped the switch.

He watched with trepidation as the portal turned on. He still remembered the flooding he had cause last time he had tried this. However, he was now better prepared for an emergency.

The new laboratory that Professor Granville had granted him had a separate office space with a plexiglass window that looked out onto the room that held the gateway he'd built. It ran from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall. There were holes at the bottom to run wires and pipes through in order to connect the controls to the device along with a glass door that allowed easy access between the two rooms.

The portal crackled with energy and Varian heard the hum of the giant turbine he had installed. Soon the glowing gateway opened up and he could see the flat sandy plains of a desert.

Corona had no deserts, but that didn't necessarily mean that it wasn't his world. Varian glanced back at the view screen and committed to memory the readout. He then cautiously opened the door that connected the two sides of the lab and walked up to the portal trying to decide what to do.

He tentatively stuck his hand through to test the gateway. It was like sticking his hand inside a hot oven. He quickly drew it back and peered out at the endless expanse of sky and sand as shimmering heat waves rose off the surface.

He worked his jaw in thought. It clearly wasn't his home country but if it was his world then he could still get back home using other means, and if nothing else it would be progress. Yet he could just shut everything down and try again and see if he got any closer.

He peered back over his shoulder towards the controls as he tried to decide what to do.

Well it wouldn't hurt just to check, would it? Take a quick look around, determine which world he was in, and then come back. He wouldn't have to go far, surely.

He steeled his courage and stepped through the portal's window and out into the hot sun.

The heat was suffocating. He walked forward a bit but saw nothing ahead. He turned around and was met the sight of the portal hanging in the air, like a window into another world. He could see his lab clearly suspended in the sky a few inches above the ground, yet just a few steps to the right and there was suddenly nothing on the other side. It was just a thin blue glowing circle.

But what really caught his eye was the road that wound past off in the distance. To his dismay it was paved in concrete and a green metal road sign that said "Welcome to Death Valley" stood near it.

He wasn't home at all. He was still in this new modern world.

He started to make his way back towards the portal. However once he was a few steps away he heard a sparking noise as the turbine short circuited and then the whole thing shut down and the portal disappeared into thin air, leaving him stranded in the desert.

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

Wasabi went about tidying up his little corner of the lab. He straightened up his tool box as he hummed a cheery tune. He was just about to burst into full song when his phone rang.  

"Hello." He sang. "Oh hi, Varian. Whacha up to buddy?"

The grin from his face fell away as he listened to the other end of the line.

"You're WHERE !?

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

Varian tried to lick his dry lips as he stood in the heat. It didn’t help.

He had called Wasabi to pick him up and his friend told him to stay put until he arrived. His GPS told him that the nearest sign of civilization was over a twenty mile walk away and Wasabi warned not to make such a trek without being properly prepared.

"You could get a heat stroke. Just try to stay cool as best you can. I'm on my way now. Also call if you start to feel sick."

Varian felt uncomfortable more than anything. The heat was blistering and the dry air scratched at his throat. Worse, there was nothing to distract from his discomfort. He played on his phone for a bit, but he didn't want to run the battery down in case Wasabi tried to call.

He stood under the sign next to the road and watched a tumbleweed roll past. He barely felt the wind nor the small shadow that the sign cast. He held his shirt higher above his head, trying to use it as a makeshift shade from the sun.

He could barely focus on the equations he ran through his head to past the time as the hours slowly slipped by. He had eventually given up trying to write them in the sand and now just stared out into space.

Finally, after an agonisingly long time, he saw Wasabi's familiar green car coming towards him. It was the first vehicle he'd seen all day.

Wasabi pulled to a stop in front of him and rolled down his window.

"You owe me gas money." He angrily said.

Varian knew he was just hiding his worry with irritation so he didn't respond.

"You got any water." He croaked instead.

Wasabi rolled his eyes and motioned for him to get in the car.

Varian ran around to the other side and hopped in. He gave a sigh of relief as the cold air from the air conditioner hit him in the face. He then spotted the case of bottled water at his feet. He tore it open and pulled one out as Wasabi turned the car around and started the long drive back.

He nearly chugged the entire thing in one gulp. He'd never felt anything so wonderful as the cold water soothed his parched throat and he thought he could never get enough of it.

"Don't make yourself sick now." Wasabi warned. "Take it slow. I also bought some aloe vera in case you're sunburnt."

Varian ignored him and and opened another bottle. After downing about half of this one, he sloshed some water on his hands and patted the back of his neck. He then proceeded to repeat the process, splashing the water over his face and arms. He then poured the last of it on top of his head and let it drip through his hair.

Wasabi raised an eyebrow in annoyance as Varian made a mess on his leather seats. At least it was only water, well, that and sand from his dusty clothes, but it was still infuriating how Varian avoided acknowledging his latest disaster.

Varian opened a third water bottle and kicked his feet up on the dashboard. He sipped this one more slowly as he readjusted the vents to blow cool air directly on his face.

"Do you mind?" Came Wasabi's irritated voice.

Varian slowly pulled his feet off the dashboard, but instead of sitting upright he slouched further down and placed one knee against the glove compartment instead. His feet and legs ache from standing in one spot for so long.

Wasabi huffed. "I hope you also plan on cleaning the sand out of my car."

Once again Varian didn't respond. He tried to change the subject instead.

"I think I may need to build a return switch on the portal."

"You think?" Wasabi echoed before launching into a rant. "And what did you think before stepping through that portal? Hun? Oh the desert, how pretty, let me go pick a cactus to give my friend Wasabi so that I can ruin his day even further. I hope you know, I had to backpedal out attending that meeting for that group project I'm in, just to rescue your butt. That's twenty-five percent of my grade. Also Sam was annoyed with me when I had to make up an excuse. I could tell."

"That's that guy that you like, right? The one you got a crush on."

Wasabi was caught off guard as the conversation rounded back to him and his secret infatuation with his classmate.

"Don't...don't try to change the subject." He flustered.

Varian only laughed. "You should ask him out. Offer to take him to lunch or something as a way of making for skipping out on the assignment." He encouraged.

"I...I can't do that."

"Why not? You like him don't you? And if you like him, he's probably a cool dude. You might wanna make your move before someone else snatches him up." He warned.

"By who?" Wasabi asked, exasperated. How did they get on this subject again?

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Hey, maybe I'll ask him out? Sweep him off his feet." Varian teased.

Wasabi let out a sarcastic laugh. "Ok, first off, at twenty-one, he's too old for you, and secondly, I doubt that you're his type. He's responsible, dependable, values reliability; He even keeps a mini planner book in his shirt pocket all the time. Which is so cool...”

Wasabi paused in mid-gush when noticed Varian’s smirk. Wasabi returned it with his own annoyed pout before continuing.

“Not everyone is into this impulsive ‘bad boy’ thing you got going on."

Varian placed a hand over his heart and gave mock show of being offended. "Oooo, you wound me."

"I'm serious. You need to straighten up your act man. You can't keep doing things like this without thinking."

Varian took another swig of water, trying to hide how deep those words really cut.

"Okay, well, if we're playing the honesty game here," he retorted," then you need to stop being afraid and go after the stuff you want. Sam's not just going to come to you with a 'hey, let's be more than friends' unless you let him know that you like him."

Wasabi sighed. "But what if he doesn't like me back? We still got till mid-terms to finish our project. If I confess to him now and he turns me down, than things are just going to be weird between us. I don't want to spend two whole weeks or more just feeling awkward around him while we try to get things done.”

Varian looked thoughtful at that “Well, I mean, you’re never going to find out how he does feel unless you ask him. But if he can’t see how great a guy you are then that’s his loss.”

Wasabi couldn’t hide the appective smile that crept onto his face, though he certainly tried to. He wasn’t ready yet to forgive Varian for this latest mishap.

“Well, maybe I’ll ask him out to coffee or something once the projects done. If we manage to make back through rush hour traffic in one piece that is.”

Varian looked at him despairingly. “How long are you going to stay mad at me?”

Wasabi pursed his lips in thought. “Hmmm...at least till Fresno.”

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

They made it back home late at night, near early morning. It took twice as long to get back to the dorms as it did for Wasabi to get to the desert in the first place.

When he had heard Varian was trapped in Death Valley, he had rushed to the rescue, speeding as fast as he dared, pulling dodgy maneuvers in traffic that would have made even Gogo think twice. However, once Varian was safe, Wasabi went back to the cautious driving that he was more comfortable with.

They took their time and eventually Wasabi did relent his anger and he and Varian had fun on the drive back, singing show tunes, chatting, and over all enjoying each other's company. Varian even got a chance to practice driving, as Aunt Cass had taken him to get his learner's permit last week.

Speaking of whom, Varian had texted her and told her he'd be spending the night with Wasabi.

They trudged back up the stairs of the dormitories to Wasabi's apartment. Varian would have collapsed on the couch right then and there had Wasabi let him. But he was still covered in sand, so a quick shower had to be have first. Once out and changed into some more ill fitting clothes that Wasabi lent him, he finally went to sleep nearly passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

She’s My Collar pt. 1

Yes I did start a new fic while still currently working on a fic. I have no self control. I do not apologize.

Warnings: There are no warnings for this chapter currenly, but the story is going to have a lot of warnings

“Look, look, look!” The blonde to my left is suddenly shaking my shoulder pulling me out of my daydream about David Bowie.

“What?” I ask with more irritation than I intended, but she isn’t phased and points in the direction she’s looking.

“They’re back!” She giggles and I follow her finger to see the two boys grabbing dog collars off the shelf and present them to each other.

“Are those the ones you said were trying them on last week?” And as if they could hear me, the taller of the two with fluffy brown curls puts one around his neck.

“I’m gonna go talk to them. They look fun.” There’s a devilish glint in her eye and she’s practically skipping over there.

Whatever. I busy myself with my nail beds and check the clock on the wall. Only 3 hours until I was off work and could take off this stupid polo. The sound of a voice clearing gets my attention and I’m face to chest with the brown fluff ball that was just trying on dog collars.

“Are you ready to check out?” I ask lifting my eyes to his face splitting smile.

“What’s your name?” He instead replies.

“Uh what?”

“You’re not wearing a name tag.” He laughs cooly. “What’s your name?”

“River. Are you checking out or?” I trail off as I notice him digging in his back pocket for something. Pulling out a folded poster he places it in front of me.

“You should come see us play tonight.” He is bouncing on the spot as if being still for a few moments would be detrimental to his well being. “Your friend Alyssa said you guys didn’t have any other plans.”

I cut my eyes to where Alyssa is twirling her long blonde hair between her fingers chatting up the other giant whose black hair is preventing me from seeing the top half of his face.

“I don’t know.” I sigh.

“We kick major ass dude. Well we will. It’s our first show.” He’s twirling a drum stick between his fingers absentmindedly and I’m in awe at his ability to multitask since he seems to be an overgrown toddler.

“Uh. You know what.” I glance at Alyssa again and see Fluff Ball #2 headed this way. “Fuck it. We’ll be there.”

“Hey dude she said we could have these collars for free.” Black hair smirks tapping Fluff Ball #1 on the shoulder. “Let’s get back to the apartment.”

“Fucking sweet.” The bouncy one bellows and is turning to walk out the door as well.

“Wait!” I hollar after him “What are your names?”

“I’m Tommy and this is Nikki. See you later!” He yells back at me as he slips out of the door. What a weird duo.

Alyssa is illuminated on the sidewalk by the lights to the club where a small line is starting to form. She spots me and waves me down with a blinding smile cracking her face. She seems to know the bouncer and we’re in the bar quickly only receiving a few groans from the people that (rightfully) should’ve been let in before us. The inside of the bar is dark and we struggle to make it to a stool on the side closest to the stage.

“Jeez think this place ever heard of lights?” Alyssa grumbles at my side after we order our drinks. 

“How else would they get women to go home with men from bars? They block their ability to see.” I giggle and we face around to the stage just as lights are kicking on.

I see Nikki make his way on stage first followed by the rest of the band. Tommy looks just as giddy as he had in the store and twirls his stick around his fingers again. The small blonde singer approaches the mic and the cockyness rolls off him in waves. Lastly an older looking man with platform boots that matched those of the men around him, entered the stage with a guitar strapped to him.

“We’re Motley Crue!” The blonde yells into the mic and Tommy beats his sticks against his cymbals. That is, until one falls down.

I can sense the embarrassment coming from the men on stage as Tommy works to get his stuff back together. There are a few scattered out “boo”’s and I’m finding myself insulted on behalf of these men that I don’t really know.

“Alright boys, let’s rock this hole!” The singer yells and the boys start to play their first song, but it’s clear that the crowd is not feeling it. 

“Who’s the chick singer?” Some sasquatch at the front of the stage snorts.

“Fuck you!” The singer retorts quickly and the man spits on his expensive looking pants.

The blonde is still for a moment before he’s jumping into the crowd to hit the man. There is suddenly a ton of movement around the stage as I see Nikki lifting his bass to thrash it against someone’s head and Tommy leap into the crowd.

“What kind of show is this?” Alyssa is exclaiming eyes the size of saucers.

A man tries to rush the stage, but the older guitarist kicks him in the face and begins to strum a few chords on his guitar. That earns a chuckle from me and Alyssa whips her head to look at me as if I had jumped into the fight myself and I just shrug. Almost as quickly as the fight started it was over as bouncers and other patrons pulled apart the men. The shit disturbers are thrown out and a nervous quiet settles in the bar as the band members look around all wearing similar “what the fuck did we just do” faces. 

“Fuck yeah! Motley Crue!” A man is screaming in the back of the crowd and it’s as if everyone had forgotten the past ten minutes and the boys take their positions again.

I’m making my way to the bathroom before the walk back to my apartment when I run face first into somebody’s chest.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry I wasn’t-” I’m cut off by the realization that it’s Tommy that I’ve run into again.

“Hey dude! You came!” He’s yelling and scooping me up into a hug as if we were lifelong friends.

“Where’s your friend?” Nikki speaks from behind him and I’m leaning around Tommy to try to catch a glimpse of his friend whose hair is teased to heaven.

“She already went home.” I chuckle at the small frown that graced his features. “She isn’t much for this scene.”

“Oh and you are?” A smirk replaces his frown and I’m suddenly very self conscious.

“So what did you think of the show River?” Tommy is asking excitedly directing my attention back to him.

“You guys were great. I especially liked the part where you started a brawl before your first song” Tommy snorts through his nose and is back to twirling his drum sticks.

“So we’re going to hit up this diner right around the corner if you want to go?”

“I’m actually going to go home. I open the store tomorrow and it’s late” I grimace. I do feel a little bummed that I have to be responsible.

“Aww come on Riv!” Tommy pouted giving me the biggest puppy eyes I had ever seen.

“Who’s the chick?” The blonde singer calls out strutting over to where we’ve congregated in the hallway.

“The chick has a name, and it is River.” I roll my eyes.

“She’s going to the diner with us Vince.” Nikki smirks and I cut my eyes to him angrily.

“I can’t.” I repeat.

“You could be missing out! I met Nikki at this diner man. It’s a good luck diner.” Tommy juts his lip out further in his pout and I’m agreeing to go reluctantly. 

The diner with the boys was an experience to say the least. I quickly learned that to be with the boys meant you had to get comfortable with attention because if they could do anything it was draw a crowd. Not only did the boys have big hair and heels, they also had personality to match. Nikki somehow charmed the older waitress to bring him shooters of Jack, Tommy and Vince had a battle with their straws in the booth, and Mick...well Mick actually didn’t say much.

“Alright boys I need to head home” I yawned.

“Oh I’ll walk you home!” Tommy piped up taking a drag of his cigarette.

“If you really want to you can, but I live right off the strip so I’m not even far.” I shrugged.

“Oh you live off the strip too?” Tommy asked leading the way back towards the rows of bars that littered the way. “For how long?”

“The last six months. Also my apartment is coming up.”

Tommy stuttered in his steps and spun to face me.

“Up here on the left?”

“Yes, how did you know that?” I quirked an eyebrow.

“That’s where we live.”

And that’s when my life really got interesting.

[katerinawinters]

Witcher: No Turning Back Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 Walking along side of Roach, Ciri swiped away a couple of low hang branches that threatened to catch in her hair. Up ahead, Geralt was leading Roach by the reins over the uneven terrain of the forest. Earlier that morning he told her they were just outside the edges of Olena's Grove in Temeria. Since the night they were attacked by what he called Fleders, vampiric beasts, they had travelled for four more days until finally they dismounted here. Steep craggily cliffs covered with soft layers of leaves, belied the gentle seeming forest's true dangers.

 "It is nothing more than a quarry covered in trees, one misstep can cost you a horse at the very least," he had grumbled to her as he carefully led Roach down a crumbling ravine.

 Ciri could not help but smile at that. It amused her how much this gruff man of few words loved his horse. Each day since that night of the attack--since he administered to her wounds, she thought with a flush--she had taken over the job of brushing and feeding the venerable Roach. The task was actually rather enjoyable. His dark coat was soft and easy to brush and his tendency to nuzzle her affectionately made the small chore pleasant.

 "Ah," Geralt said, stopping up ahead. "There it is."

Excited to know what he was referring to she ran forward to catch up, stopping at his side. Standing just at the edge of the forest they both looked at the gleaming body of water surrounded by tall reeds.

 "Is it a lake?" she asked, marveling at the serene beauty of the surprising find.

 "No, it’s a river," pointing to their left, he nodded to the mountains that curved around the water on the other side like a great wall. "The water flows from those mountains and comes down here and continues south," his arm panned to their left following the water to show her where it narrowed once more in the distance.

 "And, this is where you wanted to go?" she asked carefully, pointing to the ground where they stood.

 Geralt caught her eye and grinned. "Not here exactly. Over there," he pointed to across the river towards the mountain side that formed a steep wall on the other side.

 Following his pointing finger, she squinted as she tried to discern to what he was pointing at through the tall reeds. Eventually her eyes settled on a dark shape against the mountain wall.

 "Come," he commanded, taking up Roach's reins again and walking towards the water.

 Pushing their way through the reeds, Ciri was surprised to see a sturdy looking bridge crossing the flowing water. Wide enough for a cart the bridge held them firmly as all three crossed to the other side. Closer now Ciri stopped at the sight of the cottage. Built purposly into the mountainside the cottage only had three sides, using the natural wall of the mountain as its fourth. Only one story high, the stone and thatch roof cottage were definitely worse for wear. Walking closer in Geralt's footsteps they both silently took stock of the house's condition. Surprisingly the thick paned windows still looked in tact behind their shuttered doors. Stones along the corner wall had come loose and crumbled into a pile making a hole that gave them both a peek into the shadowy inside of the place. Looking up, they could see portions of the thatching completely missing from the roof whether blown away in a previous storm or collapsed inward into the house.

 Warily she looked over to Geralt, who didn't bother meeting her gaze. Making his usual grumbling noise of disapproval he stepped up to the front door and shoved. It did not move. Ciri was going to question that maybe someone still lived here despite all the signs that said otherwise but before she could even open her mouth Geralt grabbed both edges of the doorframe and kicked in the door.

 Giving her the signal to wait, he stepped inside. Minutes dragged by as she shifted impatiently on her feet. Surely the place wasn't that big. Smoke began to billow from the open door and out the various holes in the house.

 Alarmed, Ciri stepped hesitantly forward. "Geralt!"

 Walking calmly out the door with his nose and mouth buried in the crook of his arm he backed away from the house and stood by her and waited. Covering her own face with her sleeve she gave him a confused look. Silently, he pointed.

 As if on cue a handful of vermin started vacating the premises through whatever hole or door they could find. Hopping away from a few scurrying rats charging from the doorway, she and Geralt watched as a large yellow snake slithered out of the fallen corner wall.

 As the last few birds flew away and the smoke died down, she turned to Geralt with a knowing grin. "What would your teachers say at Kaer Mohren if they knew you were using your witcher magic for vermin extraction?"

 "Why Geralt, I see that your ingenuity and prowess has not waned in these passing years," his tone was so deep and deadpan it took Ciri a full minute before her brain registered his jest.

 Laughter flowed through her spreading a smile so wide on her face it almost felt foreign. She could not remember the last time she laughed or even had much of a reason to smile. Turning away from her with an unreadable look, Geralt walked back inside the house, this time allowing her to follow.

 Inside they each approached one of the square windows and unlatched the hook locks. Opening the paned windows, they reached out and opened the outer shutters letting in the much-needed light and air. Shafts of sunlight cut through the dusty room revealing its contents. Standing in the main living area they looked around to see a large steel wood stove against the largest wall, with various baskets and old furs tacked against the stone wall. Above them was a loft space still holding a few items covered in dusty cloth. On the adjoining mountain wall there were places that the mountain was cut into making a built-in larder and pantry section next to a narrow wooden table used to prepare food, and on the final wall were three doors.

 "Two of the doors lead to small bedrooms, both of which are affected by the hole in the wall. And the third door leads down a hall cut alongside of the mountain to a small privy."

 Turning to survey her surroundings again she looked up to meet his silent waiting expression. "This...this is actually a very nice place."

 Folding his muscular arms across his chest, Geralt leaned against the doorframe and gave her a matter-of-fact look. "There is no need for false flattery princess."

 Ciri flinched at the use of her title. It was a remark of derision she ought to have been used to by now. The only people who said the title with any respect and meant it were all dead now. Nobility meant nothing good in the real world, all it did was cast a giant target on her back and ostracize her.

 "I mean it, honest," she implored. "If you mean for us to stay here I honesty have no complaints, I rather like it. It…it seems so peaceful," she could hear the wistful note in her own voice and winced.

 Again, the same unreadable looked passed over the witcher's face before he turned and walked outside.

 "There is a small stable outside, I will see to Roach for the night. You look around and take stock for what we can use," he ordered.

 Nodding, Ciri turned and got to work.

 Not surprisingly there was no food in the larder but there were plenty of tools. A few of them a bit rusted and dirty but all seemingly usable. Next to the wood stove, which she didn't notice before was a small domed oven which sat on a block of bricks. Kneeling down, she took note of the metal rack inside before leaning back to see a wooden paddle resting near the structure. Ciri smiled, having spent enough time in the palace kitchens to recognize the small baker's oven for what it was. Two bedrooms with furniture and beds, a loft filled with pots, pans, and other hidden away little items: it all seemed so carefully abandoned she wondered what could have happened to the prior occupants. Walking outside she shivered at the strong breeze that whipped by. Just a few minutes inside the little mountain cottage and she was already appreciative with how warm it was. Circling the other side of the house opposite of the stable, she stopped at the sight of a familiar shape hidden behind a bush. Carefully she approached. Covered by a few old sack cloths she pulled away the material to reveal the prize.

 Stumbling backward she nearly tripped over herself as she scrambled to the other side of the house where Geralt stood examining some old horse equipment. Sensing her presence, he turned and gave her a pointed raise of his brow at her obvious excitement.

 "You must come and see it for yourself," she exclaimed, waving him to follow quickly.

 Following her around the house she pointed at her find with a huge grin. Slowly, like the coming dawn, a satisfied smile spread across the terse man's lips at the sight of the tub. "Let's see if it holds water first."

 Hauling the large wooden tub on its side, together they rolled it to the river.

 "Even if it can hold water," she rasped as they rolled the heavy item. "We will need a pail. The cottage does not have pumped water or pipes and we would die of old age if we have to use your tiny pot."

 Geralt gave her a wicked look, before pushing the giant tub on its base. "Mmm and here I was thinking how much enjoyment I was going to get watching you run a thousand times to and back from the river to fill up my bath for the night."

 "Ha, in your dreams witcher!"

 "Wait here," turning he ran back to the stable and came out with a large bucket.

 Ciri wanted to cry but she forced herself to hold back her tears until they tested the blasted thing. Filling the bucket with water they poured the water in and waited. With narrowed eyes and clipped commands Geralt lifted the heavy tub to one side and had her go to the other and check for leaks. There were none, the water held.

 "Please Geralt, please tell me we can bathe tonight," she asked carefully, not sure if the man had other plans for the night.

 He gave her a sidelong look that questioned her sanity. "At this point you would have to physically fight me not to take one."

 Laughing she helped him roll it back to the house. "Good," she huffed as they pushed it over the door's threshold. "Because we reek."

 ~

 Filling the tub with what seemed like endless buckets of water, Geralt went outside and collected an arm full of smooth river stones while she brought down the large stock pot hidden in the loft. Placing the rocks in the wood stove that thankfully still worked, he began heating the rocks as she boiled a large pot of water. Working in tandem they were able to clear the living area, sweeping and bringing in the feather filled mattresses from both rooms and moving aside the chairs, they made a makeshift camp in the center of the room. While Geralt knelt and turned the stones in the fire Ciri used a tarp she had found in the loft for a makeshift curtain. After beating the material outside of all the settled dust, the best, she could she strung it up over the rafters so that it hung partially in front of the tub. It would not conceal everything she thought, but a little privacy was better than none in their makeshift living space.

 With Geralt's help the steaming pot of water was lowered to the floor and placed in the far corner of the room near a small wooden stool. Gathering their miniscule amount of bathing supplies she hesitantly turned to Geralt.

 Before she could even pose the question, he turned and grabbed the large blacksmith tongs he found in the stable and pulled a few of the rocks from the fire. Steam rose off the rocks as they met the cool air just before he dropped them into the filled tub. Sizzling and popping from the cool water's touch he added the stones one by one until the water began to heat.

 "Wash quickly if you want to enjoy the water while its hot," he instructed tersely.

 Without waiting for her to respond he turned and sat in a nearby chair with his back towards her.

 Quicker than ever before Ciri pulled off her tunic and sat on the stool. Dipping her towel carefully into the hot water she began wiping away the days of filth and grime. Absently she could hear the sound of metal being pulled from its sheath and knew without looking Geralt was cleaning his sword. Each night the man inspected his array of weapons with meticulous care, even if there had been no incident between the time he last checked. A few times she had wanted to question the act but stopped herself each time, settling on silence as she simply watched. Carefully and as silently as possible she removed her pants and undergarments to wash her lower half. Finishing quickly, she used one of the sheets she had found as a towel and walked behind the curtain and stepped gingerly into the hot water.

 Ciri could not stop the moan of satisfaction that escaped her lips. For a brief but tense moment she listened as the sound of Geralt's polishing strokes paused before quickly resuming. Due to the position of the rocks at the bottom of the tub she was forced to sit with her back towards the wall and her feet towards Geralt's back. She watched as he leaned into his task, attentively caring for the weapon. Dipping her hair into the water, she scooped just a tiny amount of soap from the jar Geralt provided. With little where else to train her gaze she let it settle on his broad back as she soaped and washed her long hair.

 "Do you like being a witcher?" she asked, dipping her head back into the water, raising her breasts in the air.

 "Mmmm," he intoned deeply.

 Seeing that he did not necessarily give any sign for her to cease talking she continued. "Even as the world rebukes you on one hand but calls upon you in their time of need with the other?"

 Straightening in his chair she watched as he tilted his head to the ceiling rafter as if in thought, causing his white hair to fall behind his shoulders.

 "I manage," he began. "Because I have to, because I've no other way out. I've overcome the vanity and pride of being different, I've understood that they are a pitiful defense against being different. I have lived my entire life by the sword, I am comfortable knowing it will be how I die."

 There was something so startlingly different about this man, she realized, something Ciri could not put her finger on. Was it his strength, his inhuman exotic capabilities? She could not determine it. Not once did her chest fill with a tight longing to be simply near a man like it did now. Knights, warriors, princes, sons of the highest nobility, none of them affected her like this witcher did. She just wished she knew what the feeling meant.

 Standing from the water she bent and grabbed her makeshift towel by the tub and stepped out. She could have stayed in there all night but she knew Geralt was looking forward to the bath as much as she was. Kneeling down by the grate on the wood stove she picked up the tongs before calling over her shoulder. "Would you like for me to add your stones to the water?"

 "Yes," the deep sound of his voice directly behind her nearly made her drop the hot stone between the metal tong's grip.

 She had not heard him move from the chair. Carefully holding the wrapped sheet around her naked body, she plucked each stone from the orange blaze and dropped them into the water. Glancing up and over her shoulder she realized she had no need to be self-conscious. Already turned and facing the corner, Geralt was already undoing the snaps to his armor.

 Leaving him to his privacy, Ciri hurried to her designated mattress on the floor. Dressing as he did the exact opposite, Ciri sat with her back to him facing the opposite wall with the three doorways. Earlier she had braved the private privy and was thankful to realize it wasn't as nightmarish as she imagined. Pulling out a thick warm dress Goldencheeks had given her, she pulled it over her head before discreetly pulling on her second set of undergarments.

 The deep rumbling groan from behind her nearly made her laugh out loud. The sound of water sloshing and more satisfied groaning filled the air as she made herself comfortable underneath the blankets.

 "What do you think happened to the people that once lived here? It seems like such a nice home," she reasoned aloud.

 Settling into the water Geralt made a contemplative noise. "The last time I passed through this area a woman and her two children were leaving for her sister's house up north after her husband had been killed. I believe it has been abandoned ever since, hidden by the reeds and hidden far back in this forest which is inconveniently too far to the nearest village."

 "I wonder if they will ever come back?"

 "Maybe, maybe not," he answered, water splashed as he moved about behind her. "It’s not safe to travel long distances especially as a woman and doubly so with children."

 God did she know it, she thought. Just thinking of the near misses to her life just trying to find Geralt made her want to bury herself in her covers for days.

 "And what of us?" she dared herself to ask.

 "What about us?"

 What was their life to be from here on out? Did he really mean it when he said he would train her? Were they going to live here for long or move on soon? Ciri had so many questions she wanted to ask but stopped herself from asking, she was still unsure about the brusque man and had no wish to try his patience. "I mean will you still be a witcher and hunt monsters?"

 Geralt's laugh was loud and dry. "I will never not be a witcher Ciri," he said with almost a rueful tone. "And if you really mean to ask, what will your future with me now hold? Then the answer is simple my dear girl--you will be trained as a witcher because I know nothing else."

 Ciri could not deny the bubble of excitement and fear that surged within her. Staring at the dusty rafters overhead she could see a peek of the night sky through one of the holes in the thatching. It was amazing what a little bit of safety and assurety to one's future could do to brighten one's mood even while sleeping in a forgotten house deep in the woods. Closing her eyes, she listened as the water sloshed and Geralt stepped out of the bath. Quiet as a cat he moved around the room presumably dressing until she could feel his presence right next to her. When they had travelled on the open road each night he had slept upright leaned against a rock or tree allowing her to curl up next to his side. Now with the shutters tightly fastened and the door barred shut she could feel himself relax and lay straight on the small mattress next to her. Warmth radiated from his person as well as from the woodstove. He had told her earlier at her worried expression when he lit it, that the cover of the mountains would block most from discerning the smoke and since the moon was well hidden behind the clouds that night, predators and human alike would only have their nose to follow through the rocky forest in order to find them. For the first time in a long time, she was truly safe.

 Sleep had no trouble finding her that night.

[ducktracy]

120. the phantom ship (1936)

release date: february 1st, 1936

series: looney tunes

director: jack king

starring: tommy bond (beans), bernice hansen (ham and ex), billy bletcher (skeleton)

the first cartoon to include the trademark zooming WB shield! ham and ex make their first appearance since i haven’t got a hat. they’d accompany beans in a few cartoons, usually as trouble making nuisances to the chagrin of beans. beans travels to iceland to investigate a haunted ship, but stowaways ham and ex cause trouble for all.

open to ham and ex, crouched over a newspaper that’s sprawled out on the floor. they exchange awed looks, the headline reading “BEANS TO HUNT FOR HAUNTED TREASURE SHIP IN NORTH”, complete with a photo of a smiling beans in pilot’s garb. ham and ex leap to their feet, giggling excitedly and dashing out the door.

they stumble across beans, who’s oiling up his anthropomorphic plane (a scene parallel to bosko lubing up HIS plane in dumb patrol (1931)). beans runs into the shed to fetch something, leaving the perfect opportunity for ham and ex to jump into the smiling plane as stowaways. the disney-esque plane lets them in, lowering itself and opening the hatch. beans returns just in time, unaware that he has two guests going along in his journey. he squirts more oil into the plane’s mouth, gives the propeller a good spin, and hops right in to take off.

on the plane’s dashboard is a ticker that marks beans’ various destinations. amusingly out of place animation was beans does the hopak while flying over russia, icicles forming on his nose and thermometer bursting after flying over iceland… he whips out a pair of binoculars and spots a broken, worn down ship in the frosty climate. beans gives an excited “hooray!” and spirals safety into a landing, icicles substituting the role of smoke. 

he skids to a stop right in front of the ship. a bat is perched on the wall of the ship, its wings labelled “THE PHANTOM”. beans observes in excitement as the bat flies away. suddenly, ham and ex burst out of the hatch, exclaiming “surprise! surprise!” surely enough, beans is startled after his wits, the famous jack king “hat take” as his hat flies up in shock. he scratches his head and merely shrugs it off.

ham and ex eagerly take beans by the hands, pulling him along. conveniently, a staircase plops down right where the trio was standing. beans cautiously approaches the staircase and motions for the eager pups to follow. just as they begin to ascend, the stairs slide down beneath them, like going up the down escalator. a spare board attached to the ship takes a life of its own as a giant hand and smacks them all to the top of the ship.

the sails on the ship are worn and ragged. one of the torn sails morphes into (another) giant hand, this time tugging at beans’ tail and attempting to snatch him up. it succeeds, and it carelessly tosses beans to another anthropomorphic sail, who then slams him to the ground. the world’s cruelest game of monkey in the middle. beans bounces off a pile of rope, prompting an anthropomorphic anchor to deck him good. beans flies into the belly of the ship, landing on the ground and shadow boxing in self defense, muttering “i’ll get that so and so, he can’t do that to me!” in the midst of his groveling, a lantern swings and knocks beans over once more.

elsewhere, ham and ex are calling “uncle beans! uncle beans!” at the top of the ship with no luck. a pirate skeleton (or skeleton pirate? :thinking emoji:) pops out of a hanging safety boat and grunts “pipe down!” ham and ex, terrified, take cover under a tarp, trembling (complete with an out of place, frankly annoying ringing bell sound effect). a life preserver falls on top of them. lovely, stretchy animation (that reminds me of a very watered down version of this from a gruesome twosome) as ham and ex attempt to run away from each other, yet inevitably bouncing back and collapsing.

instead, they opt to commute by one carrying the other on his shoulders. predictably, they form the appearance of a ghost. i wonder where this is going. they bump into an open door occupied by a skeleton. the skeleton freaks out, clinging to a flagpole for safety. the flagpole breaks, and, with no other option for escape, the skeleton jumps overboard. more animation strikingly parallel to a gruesome twosome as ham and ex topple off each other, running into a pole. both “sides” of their tarp covered lump stretch out on opposite ends, and they’re propelled backwards, conveniently tying around the pirate skeleton from before and unwinding. they’re tossed against the door of the anthropomorphic ship (jack king’s disney influence strong as ever), the door used as a tongue as the ship swallows the pup into its cavernous belly.

like an out of control snowball, the twins barrel down the stairs… and right into beans. the tarp unfolds with ham and ex on the outside and beans beneath the tarp. unaware that their precious uncle beans is smothered beneath the tarp, ham and ex grab two pieces of wood and bash the moving lump’s head in. finally beans yells “OUCH!” (he sounds a lot like jackie morrow’s interpretation of buddy instead of tommy bond. i wonder if they switched for this cartoon? some of the voice credits are so unreliable, but i’m sure my judgement isn’t the best either. i’ll still keep the credit as bond for simplicity/continuity’s sake, but it certainly does sound suspiciously like morrow.), and ham and ex spot an injured beans beneath the tarp.

they both scoop him up, holding him by the hands. beans registers the pain (figurative and literal) and weasels his way out of their grip, exclaiming “bah!” in frustration. he opens a door, hoping for an exit, and finds something much more desirable: a treasure chest overflowing with gold. he creeps over cautiously, then rifling through the goods like he can’t believe it. ham and ex also imitate his cautious saunter, playing with their own coins. a nice little segment of brief personality as they bet each other on flipping coins. 

suddenly, beans spots two people sitting in front of a woodstove, frozen. not creepy at all. beans pulls out a chair beneath one of the frozen victims, and then the other, and feeds both into the stove. he strikes a match to get a roaring fire going, and returns to his treasure while they thaw. beans loads sacks of gold into his plane, tossing them right out the window. 

finally, both of the frozen wonders thaw out and regain consciousness. a particularly burly pirate (that you know is voiced by billy bletcher, even without hearing him. literally another peg leg pete character, complete with said peg leg) discovers beans tossing heaps of gold into his plane and threatens him. beans, ham, and ex are all terrified, ham and ex seeking refuge in a barrel while beans runs away from the pissed off pirate.

eventually, the pirate’s peg leg gets caught in an exposed hole in the board. ham and ex observe the stuck pirate, but quickly duck as the pirate’s assistant spots the curious pups. jack king uses a lot of closeups in his work, and they’re particularly rife in this cartoon. i applaud him for doing something different and slightly ambitious, but they break up the flow of the cartoon rather than enhance it. now, the assistant chases after ham and ex, running straight into a pole and becoming disoriented.

back to the pirate, who’s exerting all of his effort to loosen his peg from the board. he tears the board out from the floor, still stuck. he pulls so hard that he’s propelled into the air, thrown to the deck of the ship where beans is pacing around. bans hides in a cannon, but the pirate pulls him out regardless. he punches beans into a tube… and beans pops out from a parallel tube, ramming right into the pirate. 

ham and ex are shimmying along on a rope close to the crow’s nest (i guess the chase is now just… on top of the ship now? with no prior indication? suspension of disbelief, i know), the pirate’s assistant preparing cutting the rope. ham and ex swing right into the parked plane below, starting the engine. meanwhile, beans is still engaged in his own fight, narrowly dodging an exploding barrel of tnt. he’s rocketed into the air, and ham and ex swoop into the rescue, catching beans in the back seat. beans snaps out of his fugue, coming to terms with ham and ex’s bravery. he gives them kisses of gratitude before saluting the ground before him, and iris out as the plane flies away into the horizon.

not my favorite jack king entry, but not the worst. it was relatively gagless and didn’t feel as exhilarating as it should have with all the action unfolding. it WAS nice to see ham and ex make their first (of a handful) appearance since i haven’t got a hat, though. it just came off as relatively incoherent. it’s basically what you’d imagine it to be as. anthropomorphic objects everywhere. hijinks ensue. it just didn’t have anything to write home about, beans felt drier than usual and ham and ex, a slight improvement, still felt pretty bare, too. i’d say skip it, nothing great but nothing terrible either. but, of course,

link!

[courtorderedcake]

Roses : A CS retelling of ‘Tam Lin’

Hi, everyone! Thanks to @kmomof4​ and the extremely talented @eastwesthomeisbest​ for their patience on this. As usual, thanks to @ultraluckycatnd​ who I would be lost without, the woman is a monster editing machine, and super beta. I live for my updates from her. Without further ado, here is my laaaaaaaaaaaate contribution to @cssns​. You get TWO chapters for the price of one! WHOA!

Read on Ao3 right here, darlings! Chapter 1/4 Chapter  2/4

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The rain pours for several more days, and Killian lurks indoors anywhere she is not, a ghost in the corners of her eyes. The cable company's arrival makes him bolder, showing the workers the drilled holes in the wood from previous owners, and identifying the ancient telephone cable. 

Laughing, a bewhiskered man clapped him on the back in good nature as he held up the cord. “Haven't used these since 1910! This used a switchboard to even operate, probably used for transmission in the First War. This is a damn antique!” 

Killian laughed with the men doing the installation, but as Emma looked closer, it seemed to be only for show. He followed them asking questions, watching the cables thread through walls, helping where he could. It was not a one day job, which luckily Emma had predicted. 

The next day was even busier, with deliveries arriving, a team looking at the major pipes, electrical repairs and more cable installation making the quiet halls echo with voices. Emma directed what felt like a never ending stream of people carrying various items to rooms, instructed men on how she wanted furniture arranged, and helped identify the structural issues she had noticed, or take note of the ones the contractors had. Carterhaugh stood strong and not many issues were found, although the plumbing and wiring were a mess that would need to be addressed and modernized. 

Around lunch time, Emma took a pop tart out of its sleeve and noticed she hadn't seen Killian all day. Walking to the back solarium and sunroom that looked over the gardens, she watched as he worked. His back muscles rippled under an undershirt, plaid flannel wrapped around his waist. His arms were deeply defined, and she didn't notice how lost in thought she was until he gave a sarcastic little wave. Blushing she gave a half wave back, stuck half the pop tart in her mouth, and quickly went back to ordering people about like some evil queen. 

At the end of the day and after a hefty set of invoices, Emma collapsed in the plush chairs that sat next to the great room's fireplace. Closing her eyes and rubbing her temples, she groaned. 

“Miss Swan? Are you alright?”

Killian’s voice. She nodded with a sigh, opening her eyes. “I… Your phone came today.” Nodding her head at the package that sat on a small table, she closed her eyes again. 

"Oh. Okay." He looked down at the box with a frown. 

"Don't worry, it literally walks you through the set up process. Just turn it on with the button, and follow the instructions." Emma stretched with a groan, letting her joints pop. 

"You got a lot done today, it looks like."

"I did. The teams I chose are phenomenal, but it will be nice to be alone again here soon. I have never had a home, so I would like to enjoy this while I can." 

"No home? You're an orphan, then?" he asked, and she nodded. "Did you live in a foundling home or ministry?"

"No. No. It must be different in America, I don't know what a foundling home is, actually. I lived in an orphanage, then foster homes. My adoptive mother legally got custody of me at 15. I consider her and my brother my only family."

"Ah. A foundling home is for found children, usually abandoned by their parents or orphaned by war, famine or plague."

"Oh, crap, I didn't mean to be insensitive. Those must be rare nowadays, I don't think that there's been any of that sort of thing over here for at least 60 years."

Killian muttered under his breath, laughing bitterly. "Yeah." picking up his phone he gave her a nod, then returned to work. 

After a few more hours, Emma sat aside invoices neatly arranged into piles after double checking everything scanned into the cloud by her phone, and began a small fire in the grate of the ancient fireplace. She went to the kitchen for a glass of wine and some chocolate, surprised to find Killian sitting enraptured by the light of his phone screen. 

"Emma, this device is… It's bloody magic. I have never seen such a small encyclopedia of knowledge. So many flowers and plants have been discovered, animals and places. The pictures are so close up I feel like I'm there -" 

"Calm down, Buster, have you seriously never had internet? You might of well have been Amish."

"What's Amish?" 

"Alright, forget Amish. What's your favorite thing you have learned so far."

"The sky, I've mapped the stars in detail during my time in the Navy, and written about clouds, but there are so many more names, the conditions that create them are all documented, and the stars, we've been in space -" 

"How did you miss Neil Armstrong? One giant step? Do I need to rent 'The Right Stuff'?" 

"When you live here, and you have no one, it's easy not to know anything but this. Thank you Emma. I… I can't say how much this means to me."

"I'm glad you like it. I guess." Emma said shyly back, surprised by the genuine delight in his voice. Shrinking back without her glass of wine, she doused the fire and went to bed instead, her stomach full of butterflies sorely in need of some Raid. 

In the morning, the butterflies became a full force flock when Killian called her name from the conservatory. She waited, stopped and watched his easy jog over to her over the parquet as wingbeats tickled her insides. The rose he held out to her did nothing to help her distress either.

"Would you let me take you for lunch, out on the meadow? It's a perfect day to watch the clouds come in, and you look like you could use a break. I'd like to repay you for the phone. It's been truly… I have not words in which I can express my gratitude fully."

At her hesitation, he backtracked. "If you don't want to, please, it's alright. I'll just go -" 

"No, no. You're right, it's a beautiful day for it. Yes. Yes, let's have lunch. I'll set up some quilts and you can meet me there."

"Cheese sandwiches alright?" 

"As long as there's cocoa."

These lunches become a weekly part of their routine. On the nicest days they find one another wandering the grounds, and in the rain the eat in the kitchen or in the solarium watching rain pour down the glass. There are many nice days, mild breezes carrying the sound of their lively conversations, the weather becoming temperate and fair. He brings tea, cookies, cakes and sandwiches, while Emma brings pop tarts, cocoa or coffee. 

It turns out that his sense of humor is actually amusing, her face and sides hurting from the way he somehow gets her. It's in the late summer, when he places a daisy crown on her head while talking about the constant storm on Jupiter (he's obsessed with learning everything about space and technology lately), and she realizes after that she didn't flinch. It's easy to forget that he hasn't been a fixture in her life forever when he greets her in the morning in the kitchen, or when he gives her a lazy grin with a wave with soil covered hands. 

It's hard to be in the quiet when Killian has recited poetry, or shows her how to tell if a tree is 'wick', and how to take cuttings to grow more of certain bushes that have started to thin. She reciprocated to her own surprise, and tells him about life in the city, about the movies she loves, and about the best apps for his phone. He's great at candy crush, has a following on GreenThumb, and when she lets him on her Spotify he shocks her with a Playlist of roaring twenties, classical, and old swing band songs mixed with the classic rock he has heard her screeching out lyrics into a broom handle. Emma watched him weave magic with plants, feeling aimless and antsy when she went back to work in the house alone. 

Occasionally he joined her, and in those moments it's almost as if he saw the house in its full glory. He knows everything there is to know, except the local legend of the estate. 

"So did the family really just up and disappear? Were they really cursed by Leprechauns?" 

"Fae folk." The grimace he made was tight when he gritted out the words. It was warm, the cliff side by the sea enticing with its cool spray. Both of them had worked long enough to have a break as they stretched across slightly damp stone. Killian licked his lips, looking almost pained. "They probably left before the next war hit. That's my guess. Although, tales of the Fae due run rampant out here. ‘The Fae court will ride their wild stallions across the plain, under the cover of thunder and lightning’. They ran their undying horses too loudly to go without notice otherwise." 

Killian’s face fell, and he looked out pensively towards the estate, his features tensing as a sudden chill nipped at them. "Or teaching wee ones to be kind to strangers without asking for something in return… Fae folk have dominion over anyone who violate their hospitality unless given sincerely. Even then, they're bitter, wicked, twisted creatures with not an ounce of warmth in them. That falls back to 'Never find friend in Fae, or show them favor'." 

"You sound like you believe they're real." Emma said quietly, 

"Do you, Swan?" The question comes out strange, not quite teasing. 

After a moment and a steadying breath, Emma let the truth eke out. "Maybe."

Killian didn't laugh, didn't say anything, really. Emma found that the best reply, her heart beginning to slow again when she confirmed that he's truly not mocking her by glancing up at his darkening eyes. 

"Just who are you, Swan?" This question is worse, worst - it lodged deep as her walls snapped back up around her. 

"Wouldn't you like to know." If he noticed the iciness in her glare, he didn't say. 

Instead he called after her as Emma made her way back inside, a sudden cold rain pouring down. "Perhaps I would." 

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Emma lets the days go by leisurely as Killian and her spend more time with each other. They eventually start sharing books, movies, excerpts from history (He loves the Today I learned section of reddit, learning things in leagues) and music. Her selections of rock and classic punk pop seem to genuinely bewitch him - on several occasions she's gone out to the garden to find him smeared with dirt, shirtless, gloves in his back jeans pocket shaking along with his - assets - while 'Welcome to the Jungle' blared from the sound system. 

The beginning of want pooled in a well Emma thought had long gone dry, her blush a strawberry stain across her face and chest. Not that Killian knew, or if he did, hid it under his normal self-deprecating cheekiness by teasing her as much as normal. Emma had thoughts at night after a glass of wine that left her feeling like a breathless high schooler who found a note in their locker, except she wasn't a high school student. She hadn't been in far too long for this sort of crush. 

Even in the mornings when she tried to beat him outside, he's there. Sometimes just sitting and talking to the plants or pruning, and it's like he's a fixture in her garden. A fixture that notices her arrival or sneaks behind her with a branch to tickle her ear, smiles at her, beams at her really, in a way that makes her heart sing. It's as if he's gently tending to her too, like he knows how hard it has been to lay down roots anywhere since Neal burned away everything she had hoped for a home. 

Killian just grows on her, and she feels like the sun has warmed her enough to tentatively take a chance, to bloom. 

And she likes it. It scares her more than anything. She likes that he wants to cultivate a friendship, that he is just happy to be near her for whatever reason, and that she can find comfort in his stability. He has set roots, deep into the earth that for so long she has resisted against letting her feet touch. 

Maybe Emma Swan was finally tired of flying, and could try falling, just this once, knowing that a safe harbor might lend itself to her landing. 

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Emma read the faded ink on dark and crumbling paper, careful to slide it into a protective plastic sleeve. The attic had proven to be a massive undertaking, just like every other aspect of Carterhaugh. She originally planned to do just documents by herself, but Killian had found her and demanded to help, proving to be just as stubborn as her. He also demanded that they wait on the furniture and strange chests in the dusty gloom, warning her that he was not risking her falling through the floor or down a ladder. 

"I quite fancy you, when you aren't yelling at me." He smirked, and butterflies erupted in her chest. If only. 

The Lord of Carterhaugh had found the Fae portal, and made his way through the shadows to the seat of a great golden throne. He'd changed, heard the whisper of a devil or some dark voice that crawled into his veins, his name the first to go. Rumplestiltskin. 

And Rumplestiltskin knew things, things he shouldn't have, and couldn't have. Things to sweeten a deal already suspiciously too good to be true. His wife, the lady of the house, did not love him. He tried many times to use his new found shadows to gain her heart, but they had limits. He tried stranger and more powerful beings in the woods until they fled as far as they could. Nothing worked until he threatened to take their child into the dark without her. She begged him to compromise, and they would split time with their child between their worlds. 

For a time, it was good. Rumplestiltskin twisted into something strange, The lady stayed near the same, and no one could tell which way their son might go. 

She joined them when her son finally decided to rule beside his Father. It was short-lived, an argument breaking out between the three as they chose whether they would abandon their old home of Carterhaugh to a great war that had begun. The Lady and her son returned, not a day older than when they left, blessing the land so no Fae could cross - as long as a rightful owner held the key. 

No one noticed their return, thinking of only the war that held the world in turmoil or that they were distant relatives. When the war ended, no one remembered they had been there far too long. 

Especially a soldier trying to return home on foot, lost, hurt, and sick. 

The paper was ornate, script flowery and bordered with roses like the ones in her gardens. Emma slid it into a sleeve like the rest. When Killian emerged from the attic with cobwebs in his dark hair, Emma carefully pulled the dust and spider webs away as he huffed in annoyance. Carrying boxes of dust covered books, photo albums, old documents, journals where the ink has bled into the pages making them unintelligible, ledgers and sketches. 

Emma was quick to pull out as much as she could, not noticing Killian’s change in posture or how he frowned as he placed albums aside to ‘sort through later’.

Opening a dark leather bound album, she flipped through the pages, as Killian froze behind her, flinching with every turn of the page. 

"Look at all the staff here. This place used to run 30 people deep, can you imagine? I'd go crazy trying to organize all that. I guess your family has been doing this for years though."

"My family?" Killian looked confused for a moment before shaking it off. "Oh, yes. We've uh, one of us has always been here." he smiled weakly, and Emma felt an odd twinge in her gut. 

"This guy even looks a little like you!" Emma laughed, and Killian frowned deeply, looking over the photo. 

"Yeah. He could practically be me." He said in a dry tone, chuckling darkly. Emma felt that sour stone turn in her stomach, and this time she knew there was something behind the offput smile he gave her, more firmly planted than genuine; it took the air completely out of the room. In a sharp and impossibly fast movement, he slammed the book shut with a look of pure frustration, as Emma made a startled noise. 

"Killian, what -" 

"I'm going to put some of these to the other room. They're later in the period and it will be easier to start at the beginning." Putting the book away, he carried off several to stack in a corner. 

"Alright." She gave him a wary glance, but opened up another old book. Several families in Victorian era clothing played croquet on a small lawn, the surrounding forest held back by large stone walls. "Oh, look at those!" Emma exclaimed, fingers pressed to the page. A gargoyle of a vaguely human creature stood at the corners of each side. Killian sat again, leaning over to look, his presence so close. His shoulder fell slightly against hers. She moved slightly away, just enough to feel the warmth of his body but to where he had no weight against her. 

"Fae folk," Killian whispered quietly, finger pointing. 

"Well. You weren't kidding when you said people here thought less of them than you!" Emma laughed merrily, moving to another album, not noticing Killian’s fingers tracing the large iron spikes that topped the heavy stones. "I guess most people think they're hideous creatures, but I think -" 

"There's many, many things in this world. Fae folk happen to be one that, at least here, are known to be dangerous. It's why in lore, you never make deals or supper with strangers on the road, or you count the teeth and fingers of someone who offers you hospitality. Nothing in life comes without a price, and these woods are proof of it. They should have never taken that wall down."

"I agree, it's aesthetically pleasing for sure -" 

"Promise me something, love?" 

"Uh." Emma looked at him, his jaw clenched as he stared at the photo. "Maybe, it depends -" 

"Put that wall back up, please. I'll help whoever lays it brick by bloody brick, but put that wall back up." 

"Um. Okay, I will."

"Promise me." His eyes were icy blue as they snapped to stare at her, cold and without any of their normal glimmer of snark. Emma nodded, and he looked back at the photo, tracing the lines of the rock again. 

"I promise."

"Thank you, Emma." He sighed, relaxing slightly. Pushing herself against her hatred of touch Emma reached for him. She laid her hand in his, tracing her thumb over his knuckles, and the ghost of a smile returned. 

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If there was any advantage of having Killian on the premises of Carterhaugh, it was the cooking. Emma was beyond convinced that the man is the next Gordon Ramsey, showing him videos of the chef's famous temper that made his ears go pink. 

"He shouldn't talk to women like that." Killian mumbled, after a particularly bad roasting involving an 'idiot sandwich'. 

Emma frowned. "It's something they know going in. They're being respected for their talent, not their gender, or being a woman. They take it just like these men, sometimes - well no, usually, actually - better."

"Women do reserve respect, and to be treated better than this. I don't like this garbage can television you like, Swan."

"Trash TV."

"Semantics."

"Fine, and I guess you would order your kitchen around respectfully?" Emma asked amused. Killian gave a firm nod, washing berries in the sink as Emma sat on the counter top. "Oh captain, my captain! What do you know about bossing around a crew?" 

"I was a Captain, Swan. In the Navy. Ranked up after my brother. I'd never speak to my crew like this, and I never did." There was a flat sadness in his tone, and the water ran for a long minute into the sieve that lay in the sink with neither of them moving.

"I didn't - I -" 

"I'm thinking pie for this. Have you ever made one?" Killian asked, normalcy returned shakily as he turned off the tap. He flicked water at her with his fingers and she yelped, laughing. 

"No. We didn't make pie a whole lot in our foster home." Emma shuddered. "We didn't eat a lot in general, in quite a few of them, really. I guess Neal did get us a pie once when we went out to dinner if you could call it that. He liked artsy food. It was this crazy mushroom tart thing, with all these circular layers. I just wanted - "

"A poptart?" Killian smirked at her, already rolling out dough with small gestures of his wrist on the other side of the sink opposite her. Emma shook off a momentary feeling of hypnotic awe, his movement quick, well practiced and precise mastery, like he had done this forever. 

"Actually, I remember wanting of all things, a bologna sandwich."

Killian made a retching noise. "Awful stuff, that. Came out in '57 and they're still using the same cans if it. That and gelatin becoming en vogue is beyond perplexing, and then there were aspics which are a devil's concoction if I've ever seen one. I know bad food Swan, I'm British and was in the navy. Trust me when I say you're better off."

"You like mackerel and pickled herring." Emma giggled. 

He looked affronted, giving a faux dramatic gasp. "Well yes, but not gelled, I'm not a savage. I barely put more than 3 tablespoons of vinegar on my food. I'm a purist by my country's standards."

Wrinkling her nose she made a gagging noise, "Gross. Thanks for ruining that for me." He smirked at her unapologetically. 

"Hey, before I forget," Emma held up a finger and hopped down off the counter top. Heading to the pantry area, she flicked on the light and pulled down a basket of several apples, bringing them to the counter. Killian continued working methodically, without looking up. "Think we have enough to make a pie out of these?" 

She reached down to pull one out, the red skin reflecting her hand like a lacquered surface, but Killian grabbed her wrist roughly. There was a sudden edge to him that made his demeanor feel strange, darker even. 

"Where did you get these?" He asked with a hiss. Her eyes widened, and she pulled away briskly. 

"The bottom of the hill, where the forest path begins. I hadn't noticed before since we don't walk down that way a lot, but there's an apple tree there -" 

"Do not - Never pick those. These apples," he gruffly made a noise between an exasperated sigh and a growl. "These are poisonous. It's leeched into the soil there. Something to do with that New Claire energy. Poison nastiness. Hives of biting, crawling, flying, pests that rot everything they touch. Chemicals."

"Nuclear? Insects? What -" 

"Look, just - Never these. Never eat anything from down that hill. Unless it's grown up here, do not eat it."

With flour covered hands he grabbed the basket and stormed out side, throwing the whole thing down the hill, and heading to the back garden. Emma stood open mouthed for a minute, looking around confused. When Killian stormed down the hill from the back garden as a shadowy silhouette in the late afternoon sun with an axe, she slipped on shoes to run after him. By the time she was out the door she could here the swings of the axe in wood. The tree fell as she reached the crest, sliding slightly down the slope. 

As soon as the tree hit the ground, the leaves changed to a duller color, and as she came to the even patch of ground, an apple rolled to touch her boot. It was decaying, the lacquered red surface giving way to black beetles and crawling centipedes that fled there safety. Killian panted slightly, before throwing the axe over his shoulder and stalking back toward Carterhaugh. 

"What - It wasn't like that when I -" 

"Soil is bad, like I said. Just - just don't come down here. It's not safe. There's things left over from the wars, and old wells, mine shafts - there's a reason why all this land is untouched. No one wants it."

"You mean like, fairy circles, those types of old wells?" Emma called after him as he froze, kicking a blackened apple down the hill but away from her path. 

Killian tensed, rigid and darkly shadowed by the setting sun. For a moment Emma thought he might yell at her, his stature wound so tight to the point of snapping, and face furious. He took a breath, and let it melt off him, composing himself as Emma watched in confusion. 

Mumbling a curse under his breath he walked towards her and in a quiet tone drawled out an emotionless phrase, "Yes. Like those." 

They walked back to the kitchen, but Emma felt herself come loose from the strangeness of the black beetles, so much like little black teeth or shiny black tacks, centipedes crawling, circling each other - 

Neal loves circles, it's always circles in his art and designs. When Emma first meets him, he is tagging circles on a building, spraying thick lines of black and white that he covers in red to make a ring of what looks like mushrooms. Tucked away, she was fascinated by his fluid movements with the can until he chuckled lowly, turning to stare directly at her with eyes that are brown but somehow glow with tawny humor. 

"Well well well." His voice is a whisper, but Emma can hear it all around her, echoing through the concrete, crumbling brick, and metal of the alleyway. "A lost boy has found a lost girl."

It doesn't make sense that he is so wise and young at the same time, but he calls her an old soul, which Emma delights in, especially on his arm in the backroom of a party or club. She is mature for her age, he tells her, nuzzling his nose in her hair. When he waves her past people, he always knows people and they seem to want to please him, his voice is like caramel. 

"She's with me. Ems is cool." 

It's astounding to her. He has nothing but everything, taking what is and isn't offered with no consequences. 

"It's magic, Ems. People will give whatever I ask, because they know better than to ever say no." Holding her tightly, he rubs her arms and her stiffness melts away on whispered words of how happy he is with her. How glad he is to have someone who understands, the only person who gets him, the only person that makes him want to live. 

When he asks, Emma does not say no. He is as important to her as she is to him. It does not matter that they've been together a few months, she echoes, they feel as though they have been together for years. It doesn't matter that she does not know what he does to make so much money, to buy her the nicest things even though she does not ask, he holds her hand as they grocery shop. 

It does not matter that he asks again and again, more aggressively each time, and when she says no she learns better than to ever deny him again. 

They are in love, Neal her first and only love in a long line of loss, the only person who has her full trust after years of betrayal. They are in love, and he holds her heart. It was only once, then twice, then more - but he's doing it for her own good, just correcting her behavior. He always tells her after how sorry he is, and how much he loves her. That he never wants her to hurt again, no more excuses about clumsiness or stealing makeup to cover evidence that fades from purple to yellow. No more late night visits to his doctor, the one across town who won't ask questions about her broken wrist or swollen jaw. 

He cares about her enough to make her better. To make her listen and love him the way he needs to be loved; the consequences be damned, because those moments of rage are so fleetingly brief, that it does not matter. 

 It does matter a little when his time is spent on more trips alone, on business deals that she cannot accompany him to. It does matter when she finds dark plum lipstick on his collar, and it does matter when he storms out when she questions his fidelity. 

It does matter when he returns, a silver circle lying in a plush casing, the proposal tainted by his ultimatum :

"Marry me, Ems. Marry me, or lose everything." He asks, and Emma does not say no, there's no way out of this, he's encircled her - 

FWOOOM. 

Her thoughts are broken by the sound of - something. It's a noise Emma has never heard, followed by Killian’s yelp of panic. He's thrown himself back on the floor away from the old oven when she skids to a stop on her socks to fall into him, his face soot covered and hair slightly charred on the edges. 

"Are you alright?" Emma chokes out, but he hits her with a look of absolute frustration that goes so well with the black covering his face and the ember still slightly orange on his eyebrow she brushes away even as it burns her, and it takes seconds for her to dissolve into peals of laughter that make him look even more put out. "Oh, Killian -" 

"Don't even start, Swan."

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Killian became a close confidante, the only person Emma had known that she could spend time with just in their presence, enjoying every moment. His presence soothed unlike so many that grated on her, and their routines twisted together until they were inseparable for vast portions of the day. 

As it became nicer, they walked the property together and he showed her every plant, bird, animal and bug his work helped cultivate, as if he was completely responsible for the life that flooded where the forest did not touch. Emma could believe he was without trying, especially when fireflies danced around them and lit ginger glints in his hair or cast green and grey specks in his irises. 

They sat by the now working fountains listening to mourning doves, or out on the gazebo that looked down the hill towards the wood, and he listened or hummed quietly while they read. There was a sense of calm that came with him that made her feel enveloped in safety. She could just be, and just being meant she could be vulnerable. 

"My husband - it's complicated. I just, he was the love of my life and he let me down. No. He did more than that, he - I - I fell so far into myself I thought I would never escape and I can't let someone do that to me again. He was an awful person who was awfully good at pretending he wasn't."

"You don't have to say more, love."

"What about you? A good looking guy like you probably has -" 

"You think I'm good looking Swan?" 

Emma blushed, fiddling with the flower crown in her hands. "Shut up. You know what I mean."

"I do?" He asked, more amused. "I suppose a dashing rapscallion like m'self -" 

Emma groaned, and they both laughed. She smiled at the crown, twisting away a stray petal here and there. Killian broke the silence in a thoughtful voice. 

"The love of my life let me down too, so we're quite the pair, you and I."

Emma caught his quick glance in her direction, and the way his face changed from a smile, to carefully polished facade. Walls to never show the world any vulnerability, unsaid things piled up so high on the ramparts, and armor to protect from being hurt again. 

"Milah. She was beautiful, smart, so zealous about life and the beauty of everything. She loved flowers, and I was good with them. She said that I was magic with them." Killian sounded wistful, and began to scrub at the back of his neck, talking rapidly, as if he was nervous. 

 "She was married but so unhappy, her husband had left her to care for their home while he… while he cared for his business elsewhere. It put their son in a difficult position due to it. He was expected to be two places at once, being educated in both worlds. It left Milah alone a lot of the time, and I welcomed her company. We fell in love against better judgment, she was a woman that wanted for nothing and took what she liked - I was something she liked. I don't know if I ever had a choice, really. At first it was wonderful, and everything was perfect. I feared her husband finding out, as he was very powerful in the, er, business world. Surprisingly, I discovered he didn't care. He called me her pet. I hated that, but I wanted her to be happy." He paused, shuddering, and looked over his shoulder. A harsh wind blew from up the forest, and although it had been a warm day, it smelled cloyingly of wet earth. 

"She convinced me to run away with her, to join her husband and son in their business. Life had gotten harder and there were other forces at work outside of us, our country involved in a war. She was afraid. I followed her, because I was so in love, I'd follow her anywhere. It was subtle, her mannerisms changed and became more sharp, and we - well, our love changed drastically. She began to enjoy hurting me, and I at first thought that I enjoyed it, just trying to please, but she became worse as if she was trying to break me, bringing others in to torture me. Mind games and intrigues amongst…" His cheeks pinked. "Other things." 

"You don't have to tell me this. If you don't want to, if you're not - you don't owe me -" Emma looked away, and he laughed ruefully. She looked back and he was shaking his head with his jaw set. 

"I know I don't owe - you're the first person I've talked to about any of this." He sighed, and she picked at her fingernails. "If you don't want to -" 

"No. It's okay. I…" Emma bit her lip. "Go on."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "Her husband and a long line of others degraded me, tormented me, pulled me apart without care and made me wish I had never been born. Where in the beginning Milah at least provided a soothing touch after, she began to leave me alone to watch me suffer, or ignore my pleas to stop. I have never felt so helpless."

"Killian, I -" 

"So I know the feeling of shame, I understand not wanting to be touched, I have boundaries from my escape and extricating from Milah's grip. Leaving her was like…" he laughed again, sad and without any humor. "Banishment. I was left absolutely alone, her son had been my close friend, and I had others that I was close with in their business."

Standing, he brushed off his pant legs and looked out at the sky. Emma stood slowly, chewing her lip to the point of pain before making her decision. 

Carefully, Emma tucked her hand into his, his fingers intertwining with her own as they walked in silence. They made occasional light conversation, laughing together, and an easy feeling of belonging came over her so strongly. His thumb traced her own, while his smile traced a path through every barrier and straight to her heart. 

Returning to the house Killian made a chicken and rice dish that was phenomenal as usual, and over wine Emma teased him about his absolute refusal to consider adding a chicken coop to the property. 

"They're nasty birds, Swan."

"They eat pests, and they would have so much room. I think it would be nice." 

"Just because you and they are kin, doesn't mean I want to care for them, Swan."

"Are you… Ch- Ch- Chicken?" Emma smiled at him with uninhibited glee. 

"You are absolutely ridiculous."

"You love me for it." Emma stabbed a bite and grinned as she chewed, oblivious to the look of longing that came over him. 

"That I do."

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

When Emma opened the door for vulnerability in her life, the breeze that came through pushed every idea of a wall out of the relationship she and Killian had built, their likes and dislikes melding and the strangeness of their lives being alike turning into long stories over spiked cocoa in half finished rooms. 

Killian was an orphan, the same caged look in his eye when asked about family. His brother was gone, but both their siblings had fought constantly for a better life for the younger. 

Where Emma didn't know her parents, Killian remembered his mother and his drunken father, and they commiserated on which was worse. In the end, it came down to loss and abandonment laying a heavy hand on both of their existences in a way that made Emma see Killian in a different light all together. There was a softness that met the same jagged edge of wildness, the raw and crooked pieces that came together in a clash just like hers. There were scars, mental and physical, that she recognized easily now, and that changed the way they interacted. 

Emma had always felt like she was walking the thinnest invisible line, unsure what was above or below or ahead, but in Killian’s presence she felt someone's hand in her own. Emma hoped he felt the same balance, and the same surety she did. 

Fear was there too, and it came in the night when she examined the synchronicity that she wanted to cling to like a preserver. 

If Neal hadn't ruined her, if she wasn't just slightly more broken and absolutely undesirable, Killian would be everything Neal wasn't. 

Her wedding is beautiful, but strange in its own right, a ceremony that is a blur of unfamiliar faces, drinking, food, and meeting who Neal demands her to meet. It feels strange, as if there is something wrong with everything, a piece that is missing among the wreckage, but she cannot grasp it. 

Neal is forceful when he introduces a few guests, but Emma is the sun, shining on this day and not noticing the sideways looks people shared. The women are striking, Emma unsure of how they know Neal, and unable to ask for fear of her tangled tongue. 

There's so much spinning and dancing, his voice low and sweet, warming her and tracing her nerves with fuzziness. Her friends are there too, and they are happy, so happy as they drink and dance and feast. David is there only briefly, the only one ever disgusted by Neal, but her old roommate from college, Ruby, makes it. They share a silly dance that makes Ruby's bracelets jingle while Neal talks to his friends, so many friends she has never seen. There's so much money in this place, so much she did not plan or choose, ostentatious in your face gaudy things that Neal has chosen for her. Neal will choose for her, because he knows best, and she is in his ring, twirling in a gown that glitters with crystals. 

Neal dances with Ruby, and she is charmed immediately. There are other people he dances with that Emma invited, the cake shop owner down the street Tiana, a woman from an sculpting course, Ariel, and their upstairs neighbor, Tamara. Each seem to join her new husband and come away with a blushing grin, the wine strong. 

They go to bed and it's not as much as making love, but it isn't as little as just fucking or consummation - there's a frenzied edge that makes her toes curl but scares her. When she wakes up, her body is bruised and bite marks line her skin, dark blossoms that feel tender. He's gone, left a note for her on their honeymoon that something has come up back home. The tears come easily, but the call to the concierge is rough. Neal had left her money to do whatever it is someone does alone on their honeymoon in the Caribbean, and she laughs as the clerk judges her while handing her the bag. 

The first two days of Plan B she can't drink, and it takes everything to follow through with that, watching Back to the Future 1 - 4 in the pool while gorging on onion rings. The third day is spent drunk and crying over a grilled cheese, then more onion rings. 

Getting home, she finds Neal in their living room, and he surveys her calmly like one might do an over tired child. It hurts her, the coldness in his eyes. He sighs tracing a circle around the rim of a whisky tumbler. 

"You've gained weight."

Emma laughs angrily and unbelieving, but it's cut short as the circles on his glass continue faster and faster around, until she fades into a smile, gently saying, 

"Sorry, Neal, I'll do better."

He smiles, putting down the glass to his side. 

"Good girl. Now come here, I missed you."

Emma walks over and straddles him - surprised how wrong it feels but how right it feels to please him. She does want to make him happy, doesn't she? To repay his good will and good fortune? Or is she an ungrateful girl that can still be left if she displeases, abandonment or adoration the choice is hers - which is it, which is it, which is it - and their kisses turn into something more as he turns out the light in their bedroom. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

Malcolm of Malcolm's restoration services was the first person Emma had found anywhere remotely close that was able to properly authenticate the rare safe she found hidden in one of the walls. In the old Master's study, Emma had found a loose panel, and had assumed it to be another thing to fix. Finding the safe, and then Googling the safe to see if could be broken into easily led Emma to discover that not only could it not - it might spray some sort of gas all over.

She called the man and he answered first ring, and she booked him to drive the hour to Carterhaugh. He was entirely unpleasant on the phone, but Emma thought that might be due to the surprise drive to the middle of nowhere. 

He was wholly, entirely, and awfully beyond unpleasant in person. 

Malcolm had shown up reeking of alcohol, his boots caked in mud that he'd tracked over the newly restored entryway, and had only been eager to get the safe out of the wall - and into his truck. 

"Ya'dunno what's innit, so I'll charge ye a bit t'take it off yer hands. Be needing special tools anyway, which I only have at m'shop. Most safes are empty, but you'll know yet home is safe from t'gas at least." 

"I'm sorry Mr. Malcolm, but no. I wish you didn't have to come all the way out here but I'll pay you -" 

"Fine, fine, I'll open it here, I'll just…" He pulled a hammer out of his pocket, and Emma stopped him again. 

"I would just really prefer if you don't? I read about these and I really don't want to risk it, when you say you need specific tools from your shop. If it's most likely empty I'll leave it for another day, and drive out there with you."

Malcolm smiled, greasily, lowering the hammer to his side. He nodded and turned to have Emma follow him towards the entry hall. 

"Sounds good miss. It must be tough out here all alone by yourself."

Emma answered before she could think better of it. "Oh no, I'm used to being on my own really, and -" 

The crack of the hammer missed her by such a small margin, she felt the breeze hit her forehead. It stuck in the wall as she threw herself back instinctively and stupidly, scrambling as Malcolm pulled the hammer free and swung again. 

"Killian! Killian, fuck! Help!" She screamed down the hall towards the solarium, narrowly avoiding getting hit again as Malcolm swung wildly. 

"You bitch, I thought you were alone up here!" The lunatic hissed, and Emma heard the sound of running steps as Killian yelled after her. 

"Emma, if you've fallen again, I swear -" Killian took a look at Malcolm with his hammer raised above her, and became instantly enraged, running full speed at Malcolm with a roar of anger. The older man threw the hammer at him hitting Killian in the chest, scrambling to throw an entry table and chaise in Killian’s path as they ran for the door. 

Emma heard the squealing of tires and shouts, unable to move from her sprawled defensive position on the floor. Killian came back in like a blur, and before Emma could find the air to ask him to call the police or if he was alright, he had wrapped his arms around her holding her head as she burst into tears. 

"You're alright. Emma, I've got you. You're alright, love. What - Who was that? Did he hurt you? I would have been faster, I thought - I'm such an idiot I thought, and you could have been - Emma, please tell me you're alright because if he hurt you, I swear I will hunt the bastard down and stuff him." Emma wrapped her arms around him, tightly gripping him and crying inconsolably. Her shoulders shook, and he only whispered soothingly, only pulling away to lock the doors. 

Emma called the police, recounting what happened to Killian and the department as they asked questions, Killian pacing by the time they thanked her for her statement. 

"We'll keep an eye out for him Miss Swan, and if he should turn up again, give us a ring."

"What do you mean give us a ring, she could have bloody well died! Send someone after him -" 

"Miss Swan, who is this?" The officer asked. 

"Oh, he's - he's my roommate and helps with restoration. Jones."

The officer made a loud sigh. "Seainns? There's another of you?" 

"No, Jones. Only the one." Killian gritted out. 

"Alright Mr. Jones, well, we can't just arrest someone, as although they did damage, we don't know where they may be, and we are a small town with limited resources. We'll have someone in a car sit at the bottom of the drive until morning." 

"Thanks." Emma mumbled. The sound of a click was followed by Killian’s shouts. 

"Bloody useless! We'd have caught him on foot, and dragged him through town by his arms -" 

"Hey, Killian?" Emma whispered, and he stopped pacing to look at her. "Will you stay with me tonight? Please?" 

His eyes widened, and he moved toward her, although she shrunk back. "Oh, Emma -" 

"I just don't want to be alone tonight." She mumbled, voice cracking. Unable to look at him, she felt him gather her hands, squeezing gently. When she yanked away he froze, then moved slightly away from her. Emma regretted it instantly. 

"Of course, love. Your room?" 

Emma nodded. She let him lead her up the stairs, stopping by his room to grab a few things, before he sat on the edge of her bed. He laid his pillow on the floor, but she grabbed his arm as he set about laying blankets there as well. 

"No. If you don't want to I understand, but… Please, I want you close, I don't want to wake up and think I'm alone."

"Are you sure, Swan?" He asked, and she nodded. 

Crawling into bed with her as she snuggled into him and let herself cry, he held her tightly. 

"I promise Emma, I won't let anyone hurt you. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you today -" 

"You were." Emma whispered. "You are."

"I won't let harm befall you, in any way I can prevent. I promise."

He held her close, alert for any sounds as she fell asleep. 

For the first time in years, she woke with no recollect of nightmares, fully rested, warm and safe. Tracing the scar on his cheek as he slept, the morning light hit his eyelashes and hair revealing auburn glints. They fluttered, and his eyes crinkled at their edges, blue and glints of gold. 

"You stayed."

"I told you I wouldn't leave, love. You're safe."

Emma felt words pour out of her, his quiet listening while resting his hands gently in platonic embrace cathartic as she told him everything. Abandonment after abandonment, unending and unrelenting betrayals of trust that she explained as he comforted in the ways he could. 

"I know you think that you have to be strong, and I know you think that you can't trust or lean on others. I will do everything that I can to prove myself to you, to prove that you deserve more."

"Why?" Emma asked, more plea than question. 

Killian hesitated. Finally he swallowed hard. "It's what friends do."

Emma laughed softly, letting out a hum of contentment when she fell asleep again. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

Mary Margaret and David visit once Emma has restored a suite she found suitable for them, her standards on the first place she would invite her adoptive brother ridiculously high. He had been absolutely hell bent on seeing the place, but had finally had enough when Emma had mentioned Killian more times than what was most likely normal for a staff member of the manor. 

"I have tickets booked for Christmas. We're coming." He announced on their Skype call. Emma blanched, choking on her wine. 

"Christmas?" she squeaked. "But that would mean presents and food, and we -" 

Mary Margaret spoke calmly from just off camera. "We will get groceries in London for the week we're there, and ship the gifts straight to your house wrapped. Hell, I'll even buy Christmas crackers. All you need to do is open the doors, put up some semblance of a tree, and have somewhere we can sleep." 

"But -" 

"Emma. Mary lived with me and my ogre frat brothers on campus for two years. As long as there are no crusted socks on door handles, your place will be as immaculate as the Vatican. We're coming."

Emma tried to argue but couldn't get past either of them, finally conceding when Mary Margaret pointed out that Emma kept saying we when it came to her arguments. 

"Did you meet someone? Is there a we now? Tell the gardener to bring a date, I follow him on that GreenThumb app - I want to meet him!" 

In her Skype account's chat box, Emma saw her face go red. "No," she snapped, unsure why the thought irritated her. The interrogation probably, that sneaky, bird whispering, cookie pusher of a sister and law. "No, no one for me, but I'm sure Killian will be around. He told me he purchased an ugly sweater for himself."

Emma took a swig of wine while her brother made an irritated noise. 

"He's telling you what he's wearing? Emma, is he gay?" Emma flooded her lungs in cabernet, coughing and spraying her laptop screen. "If he is, we know a nice man and can set them up - That Jefferson fellow, the artist at our old complex."

David laughed, both of them not paying attention to Emma hacking and scrubbing at her laptop with her robe. "Oh yeah! The artist that kept getting high and painting rabbits. He had that exhibit he invited us to, what was it called - with all the penises that were 'mushrooms'?" 

"'Wünder.' it was called I think." Mary Margaret smacked him on the shoulder from off screen. "I remember because you said it should not have been called that in allusion to Wonderland when it attracted that blonde doctor, and more than a few bears."

"That's right!" David snapped his fingers, smirking at Emma from through the screen. 

Now half choking and laughing, Emma gave a hoarse, "Fuck you both." 

David smiled sweetly, and replied, "See you at Christmas, sis."

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

Mistake number one is completely Killian’s fault. 

They have to get a tree, and not just any tree, a fifteen foot goddamn tree that goes in a specific place in the den, where it will lord over them like the undeserving peasants they are. Or, that's what Emma feels about the whole thing. Killian has precariously climbed up one of the big ladders with a long measuring tape to painstakingly make sure the dimensions of the tree are that of some sort of branch trunk ratio, muttering about 'gardener stuff' she wouldn't understand. 

"We literally could just get a fake tree. I have one, I brought it, it's 5 feet and prelit -" 

"Your brother is coming here, and you have never done Christmas in a real home. I want your first Christmas here to be…" Killian made a gesture and finally scratched behind his ear, and blushed. "I want you to feel at home."

"Oh." Emma blinked. "Okay…? But the thing is, Killian, I don't need a giant ass needle machine to make this place feel at home, my Christmas activities are usually Chinese food and whatever booze is on discount at the local drug store."

"Why are there stores for just drugs in America? You bloody people -" 

"Do not change the subject, using my patriotism is not going to work on me this time."

"Fine. Fine! I'll get the tree up and all you need to get are the decorations."

"Fine. I ordered them with all the gifts, they'll arrive in three days. Please get the tree by then, and no shame if it's not that big, seriously. David and Two Ems will be here the day before."

Climbing down the ladder, he shut the measuring tape with a nod. "Then that's the day it will be here. That way we can all decorate it. I'll pull out my gifts when you lot put yours out." 

Emma widened her eyes. "Oh, you didn't have to - I didn't know if you wanted to do that with us -" 

Killian looked slightly defeated, and then embarrassed. "Oh. If I'm imposing… If no one got me -" 

"I mean I did, but -" 

His smile relit, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "That's all that matters. I'll get the tree, Swan."

David and Mary Margaret arrived, and the first hour was spent with Two Ems giggling and clapping her hands at the literal fairy tale property she's on, as David's jaw stays open. 

"So, once I knew that you were coming up, I designed your suite. It's called the songbird suite, and I modeled it after both of you." Emma smiled shyly. Mary Margaret tackled her with a hug, and Emma laughed delightedly. 

David approached the room and it's stained glass door and carved wood door, it's facade made to look like a tree dripping leaves that went from green to yellow and then red and brown. Turning the French handle that was made to look like a copper branch, they stepped inside. The room was wall to wall a mural of a verdant forest, the plaster inlay textured to give the illusion of dimension. A hearth of rustic wood burned merrily near the bathroom archway where a river stone bath and shower peeked out. Through the bathroom and past a rock cut double vanity lay a door out into a small garden courtyard, while past the tub a closet sprawled out with a booth for make up. 

"Why is it the songbird room?" Mary Margaret asked. 

Emma simply pointed up. 

On the ceiling Killian has painted all the song birds that lived in their gardens, each one in detail and vivid coloring. He had draped plants in old bird cages they had found in the attic, growing the long vines to hang from the ceiling with flickering tea lights. 

David walked to Emma, and smiled happily. "Can I hug you, Emma?" He asked quietly. She gave a simple nod, and he delicately embraced her, whispering in her ear so that Mary Margaret couldn't hear.

"You totally got me laid tonight, so thanks for that."

Emma burst out laughing, pushing him away while yelling how gross that was, and he started laughing too. Mary Margaret looked confused but hugged Emma again as she tried to breathe. 

"I'm glad you like it Two Ems."

"It's perfect Em singular."

Just after that moment, Killian called from the hall. 

"Can I draw your attention to the Den, Family Swan." Mary Margaret quirked an eyebrow, but Emma shrugged pushing past to the hallway and into the den. Killian stood next to a massive tree, its branches held by thick red twine. He held a pair of scissors in his hands. Emma simply held her mouth open in shock along with Mary Margaret, the enormity of the massive pine overwhelming. She didn't notice David's pointed glare at Killian. "Madame Swan, M'lady Mary Margaret, and… Er. Dave."

David cracked his knuckles as his hand balled into a fist, with a grunt. Emma was too busy trying to figure out the scale of the tree to acknowledge him. 

"I give you, our Christmas tree." Killian gave a bow, and with a quick flourish, cut the twine. The tree sprung open, boughs decorated in soft lights, glitter, some manner of tinsel, and long strings of ribbons, popcorn and cranberries. "All that's left is the star, and ornaments."

"Killian, wow, I -" Emma covered her mouth, trying not to let tears prick her eyes. She walked half dazed, not taking her eyes off the tree as she came to his side. "It's more than I -" 

"So you like it?" He asked quietly. 

"I love it, you've - I don't even know -" 

He looked concerned, and gently swiped at her eyes. "Love don't cry, it's alright," Hugging her, she laughed. 

"It's just so pretty, I never imagined having anything like this. Never in my life, I just… Thank you. Thank you so much, thank you."

Killian laughed, giving her a spin as she let out a joyful shriek. 

Emma didn't notice David's tension, or the excited tug Mary Margaret gave on his sleeve that went unnoticed as he glared.

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

The second mistake comes in the form of Dinner the next day. David had excused himself after decorating the tree, citing exhaustion. Mary Margaret had gone with him and they retired early. Their gifts had been delivered the next day, beautifully propped against the decorated tree, while a team of couriers helped unload the ridiculous amount of food Mary Margaret had ordered. 

"So, I am making the pies and cookies, the casserole, and the mashed potatoes. I figure that you," Mary Margaret pointed a bright red spatula at Killian who grinned in delight, "Can do the bird, vegetables, and that rice dish Emma raves about over Skype -" 

"I do not rave about it over Skype -" Emma moaned, covering her face. Her stomach gurgled loudly, Mary Margaret and Killian laughing while David glowered. 

"And David will do the ham, the lamb, and the holy roast." Mary Margaret laughed, Killian joining in. Emma gave David a bright smile that he did not return, not noticing, animatedly talking to Killian while he cut vegetables, popping cherry tomatoes in her mouth as he pretended to be annoyed. David grunted, pulling out the large roast pans. 

Mary Margaret elbowed David, jerking her head at Emma, and David cleared his throat. 

"Emma, would you like to help Mary Margaret?" David asked in a strained voice. "I'm sure she will let you add more cinnamon than normal people like in their shortbread."

Rolling her eyes, Emma stuck out her tongue at David, throwing a cranberry at him. "You're lucky I never miss the chance to merge from Em singular into," In unison robot voices, Mary Margaret and her intoned, "Triple M, Femme from Hell." 

The broke into giggles before beginning to work. Opening a bottle of champagne and dumping it into a pitcher with cranberry juice, cinnamon sticks and orange slices, Emma poured herself and Mary Margaret a mug. 

"My contribution, dear Sister in law." Emma smiled. Mary Margaret clinker her mug against Emma's, glancing over to where the men were working. They were back to back in silence, each stabbing at different ingredients. Mary Margaret gave a quiet sigh. Emma looked between the men and Mary Margaret with a confused look. "What?" 

"My husband - your brother - is being a butthead." Mary Margaret whispered. Emma laughed, before realizing that she was serious. 

"Wait, what? Who even says butthead anymore, are you eight? What are you even -" 

"He's jealous. He's jealous that," She pointed at Killian with a measuring cup as she filled it with flour. "He couldn't do this for you. I mean, I know that he has to know this is because of Nil who he absolutely despised, but now there's another person who you've let in your life that is here because of Neal, and who is showing him up, that you've let in -" 

"Fuck, I didn't even, I didn't think -" Emma hissed, and threw back her drink. Hissing in a quiet whisper, she gripped the counter. "Shit shit shit shit. But - but Killian is different, he's not like Neal at all and is just a friend. He's - there's nothing.".

Mary Margaret raised an eyebrow, smirking, before her face fell. 

"Wait. Emma, you're serious? You and him aren't -" Emma shook her head, and Mary Margaret's eyes went wide. "But, but, he's - Oh, Emma." 

Emma looked at her stupidly, blinking as Mary Margaret grabbed her hand and patted, looking over at Killian. He had moved around to the oven, jockeying for space and showing David how to work the various modes as her brother's hands balled further into fists. 

When he caught their gazes, Killian gave a wave her way, smiling at her. 

Emma turned back, and Mary Margaret was gulping down her own glass of the champagne mixture, putting up a finger to stop Emma from speaking as she poured another and downed it just as quickly. 

"Wha?" Emma managed, but Mary Margaret just shook her head, muttering. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

The dinner was fantastic, even if Mary Margaret got exceedingly drunk and laughed entirely too hard at the dirty jokes in her Christmas cracker, but David loosened up as the night went on and they all wore their silly hats, food being passed and eaten. They were all well drunk as the lamb and roast's smell wafted from the kitchen for the next day, and cookies were happily munched on by the fire. 

They played a silly almost game of spades at a low coffee table in the den, trading white elephant gifts of ridiculous pajamas and blanket sets Mary Margaret had picked out, Emma receiving a mustache print blanket and flaming hot cheetos mixed with mistletoe pajamas. Mary Margaret fared much better, a Scooby-Doo onesie with Santa hat, rainbow blanket with poop emojis, and matching poop Emoji pillow. David received a silky mumu in a pepto pink with glittery loafers and a blanket with the repeated words 'Diva' and 'Princess' in cursive on it, but Killian fared worst of all. 

"You've bested me, Mary Margaret. I shan't forgive you for this." He raised a fist in fake anger, plinking in his ears as he pulled out the offending garment. They all cackled, Mary Margaret actually falling over in peals of laughter as he glared at her in good humor and sang out mockingly, "Revenge, revenge, revenge will be mine."

A silky black robe with lace trim and black velour booty shorts were held in his hands, the red and white candy cane lettering across the back reading, 'Naughty List'. The blanket print was a black and red velour with Santa wearing devil horns. 

David could not stop laughing as they all took a photo together, Killian bright red in embarrassment and drink, the both of them staying late up into the night talking. They all changed or got comfortable, Triple M falling asleep cuddled together in a drunk doze. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

Christmas morning marked the third and final mistake, a group of hung over almost thirty somethings waking up to a cold hearth and backs that protested not sleeping on a mattress. Killian was up first as usual, fetching wood and dropping it with a yawn in the grate, stoking the embers. Mary Margaret and David woke up later as Emma dozed in and out, listening to their conversation. 

"If you give him any trouble -" 

"- How can she not know, I mean -" 

"I mean it David, I will give you a new year's resolution of a dry spell if you -" 

"That is emotional manipulation, Snow, and I'm only worried for my sister -" 

"Don't 'Snow' me, this is the happiest I've seen her in so long, and you could be happy with her, last night you told me he was a good guy -" 

"Last night I was drunk! Come on, Snow I -" 

"David, if you don't act charming I'll… After we open gifts, go help him in the garden. Please." 

Her brother gave a dramatic sigh, grunting out an okay. Falling back asleep until she smelled coffee, Emma led them in devouring ham with toast. They sat around the tree opening gifts, as they felt life returning in the form of caffeine. 

They all received socks, some books, and various other gifts tailored to them. Mary Margaret got several kits for her class, a voucher for archery lessons, and several bird feeders that would be delivered to their home. David got free dog training courses for their puppy, wireless headphones, and a new pair of boots he had been eyeing. Emma was surprised to receive a wallpaper book based on period design, several dresses, a wine club subscription, and a beautiful shadowbox frame full of photos of hee adoptive mother. David had squeezed her hand at that, both of them sharing a look. 

Emma was beyond grateful that Killian was given gifts by Mary Margaret, who'd given him a National Geographic subscription, Play store card, and to his delight, purchased an actual star for him. 

"It's registered, you just go online and name it. They will give you the coordinates, which you can track on the phone app, or a telescope." Mary Margaret explained. 

"Which brings me to my gifts to you." Emma smiled. She handed him a small envelope, and he opened it cautiously. 

Inside was a voucher for a flower of the month and seed of the month club respectively, but what caught his eye was a scrawled message inside. 

'In the Solarium.' 

"Swan, I thought about what to get you, and -" 

"Aren't you going to look in the Solarium?" 

"Well, yes, but -" 

"No, you've got to go look! I want to see your face. You probably won't shut up for weeks about it." Emma grinned, standing. 

Killian sighed, and they all moved towards the bright sunshine of the glass enclosure. He rounded the bend, and Emma thought his gasp of excitement was worth its weight in gold. The telescope there was gold, designed like an old sextant but completely up to date with the newest technology. Emma watched him trace a finger before looking back at her and trying to find words. 

"I know, I know. Your gift won't compare." She groused, and he looked overcome. 

"Emma, this is too much -" 

"No. It's not." She stated firmly. He shook his head, laughing in disbelief. 

Pulling out a velvet box, he opened it and the sun caught green gems. "I guess I don't have to feel bad about this then. I had them restored after that awful man attacked you. They were in the safe, they're emeralds, a set of combs, earbobs, and necklace set in silver."

He handed the box to her, and Emma could not find words, even} rest assured I'd never let harm befall her." Clapping a hand against David's back, he gave a grim look of resolve. "Never."

David sputtered briefly, before breaking into a grin, and clapping Killian on the back as well, Mary Margaret smiling as she watched Emma swipe away tears from her eyes. Emma closed the box, coming back to the moment, no one noticing her quick sleight of hand as she threw the box under a shelf. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

Mary Margaret and David left with Killian feeling like an old friend, their bags heavy and concerned heavily with how they would ever get through customs with the amount of food they had. 

Killian had given them a historic tour of the property, fascinating Mary Margaret, who even forgave his refusal to take her through the woods. 

"They're just lovely, and so weird too. They should not have leaves, and yes there are some fir and pine in there, but it's just so dense. It doesn't make sense, the branches practically knit together."

Killian just smiled blandly, and shrugged. "That land is strange."

David and Killian were acting as if they were best friends, and Emma was delighted, even beyond her distress over Killian’s gift. When she was sure they were all occupied, Emma had dug earth out of one of the many pots in the solarium garden. Pouring the jewels into the hole, she paused, feeling a pang of regret. Bracing herself, she covered the hole in dirt, knowing that she could not survive with the memory of Neal so close. 

Returning to them, they played more games, and Emma showed them plans for the next rooms, they watched a few movies, and overall enjoyed each other's company. 

Seeing them off, Emma hugged her brother tightly without him having to ask if it was alrght, his surprise turning into a tight embrace of joy. 

Killian and her waved goodbye from the hall, watching the taxi pull away from Carterhaugh, Emma leaning into him when they were out of sight. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

After the house quieted from the holidays, Emma began having night terrors regularly. As this continued into the beginning of Spring, Killian found her several times drooling onto a pile of receipts or restoration samples, wallpaper swatches wet and blurred on the edges. Emma had guiltily proposed that she sleep in the garden while he worked, but he had been horrified by that suggestion. 

To combat this and his lack of movie knowledge, Emma came up with what she considered an ingenious solution - using leftover furniture, pillows, and an assortment of old linens, she set up fort pillow-haugh with absolute precision. Falling asleep to Indiana Jones ('Are you sure there's no relation between you two?' she had asked to receive a cheeky grin back) while sated on popcorn and feeling comforted by Killian’s nearby presence was the easiest way to rest. So what if her back protested or in the middle of a thunderstorm she tucked into him so tightly she was afraid he might have bruised - they're friends.  

They're friends alone in the middle of nowhere, and he holds her like he can't imagine anyone who wouldn't worship the ground she walked on. 

They're friends and he spoons against the back of her softly, without any degree of disrespect or disregard, everything up to her. 

They're friends as she is deeply asleep, but without dreams hears his voice like a bell over still water, feeling his nose bury into the hair at the nape of her neck and his lips on her shoulder. 

"I love you, Emma. One day, I'll tell you how much with no trickery, and I will win your heart."

Even if it's only pretty words in dreams as he held her, Emma smiled and relaxed further into his touch. It's a dream she wants nothing more than to keep having as her second anniversary of living in Carterhaugh rolls around. 

-·=»‡«=·- 🌹🥀🌹🥀🌹 -·=»‡«=·-

The fight is really her fault, but Emma gives stubborn a run for its money on her best days. 

The upstairs bath in the all blue guest room had been leaking and making the hall reek of mildew. Fearing that she might have to replace tile that was quite literally irreplaceable, Emma went about getting a plumber, securing an appointment with one but not for two weeks. 

So she had taken a wrench to the exposed faucets, carefully moving tiles from the mosaic floor of some red haired mermaid, following YouTube videos on how to turn the water off in the old pipes with a shut off valve. When her wrench slipped on the rusty piping and she cut herself, her chorus of curse words echoed down the halls, but she hadn't expected Killian’s breathless arrival or worried eyes. 

"Emma, what did you - Are you alright?" He stared at the red dripping from her hand and her disheveled state. 

Emma nodded, trying to push past, but he held fast. "I just - it's just a cut. I'm alright." The worry in his gaze made her feel under spotlight. It had been almost a year of work, but no one in that time span had ever cared about her, except Mary Margaret. Not that she counted; the woman loved everyone. 

Killian only shook his head. Pulling a black handkerchief from his pocket, he wrapped it delicately around the cut, bending low to make sure the knot he made was tight. "I thought you said you were calling a plumber?" he asked quietly, the worry now lacing his voice. 

"I did, I just need to turn off this valve and it's stuck -" Emma gestured, and Killian picked up the wrench, bending to look. Before she could protest, he turned the wrench - in the wrong direction. There was a hiss, then a pop, and suddenly there was water shooting at both of them, ice cold, coming from different directions as she wiped at her face and Killian stared up at her in shocked surprise. She stumbled and he caught her, stumbling as well and trying to gain purchase back on the valve, while Emma screamed at him to shut it off, just shut it off - 

They slipped together, and his body was on top of hers, chest heavy and dripping but blocking the jets of water as he turned the valve to stop the torrent at last. When he looked down at her prone and underneath him, he was soaking wet, hair plastered to his forehead and neck, beads getting stuck in his raised eyebrows. 

Emma began to laugh uncontrollably, the urge bubbling up without warning as Killian’s eyes widened and his pupils grew larger. He began to laugh too, his weight on her slight as he tried to hold himself above her while his chest was so close she could feel his heart thundering. His stare leveled at her lips, but when she pushed upwards, he pushed off of her to stand pink all the way across his ears and cheeks. Scratching his ear he mumbled an excuse to leave, but she was soaked and cold, the want heavy from the way everything clung to him like leather. 

Pulling on the fabric of his shirt in two rough fistfuls, she kissed him. He reacted in a muffled grunt that slowly turned into a groan matching her own keen, his tongue and hers together moving in languid synchronization. It was only when they parted breathless, and he broke the moment with the roughest voice she had heard from him, that thought returned. 

"That was…"

Emma practically threw herself away from him, her body aching for more of whatever that was - 

"A one time thing." She heard herself say, too busy trying to flee, to get away from the man she had just desired and obviously desired her, that lived with her, that was her friend, that was her employee - and Oh God Emma what a royal mother of all screw ups. 

Hiding away from him as she could hear her phone buzz, hear his footsteps, his quiet pleading from the other side of her door as she hid on the balcony. She could see him pacing in his room, calling out to her where she hid. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this or in any way. 

He was relentless, and hurt, which she guessed was to be expected. When his knocking and pleading stopped it was a relief and an absolutely terrifying moment in its own right - the halls of Carterhaugh were silent but for the sound of her door opening. An empty bottle of wine laid a slight ways down the hall, the bottle's neck pointing towards Killian’s room. 

He was gone. He had gone and she was alone again like she has been all her life - was before this. The royal fucking mother of screw ups and the granddaddy of absolute stupidity, pushing away the first good thing that has happened to her by kissing him. By letting him chip away at the ice around her soul, only to freeze him out because she - she, not him - kissed him. 

She was a lunatic. She's an idiot lunatic. She's an idiot lunatic that just wants to go back to that moment and… 

And kiss him again, and again, and feel his heart thump and hear that groan into her mouth, feel the way his hand found her hip and tongue slipped past her lips - 

Fuck. 

[chompylycan]

That time that guy I’ve never met sent me a kidnapping story

It's been three days, you think, since the men in balaclavas grabbed you off the street during your evening run and put you in this box. They used enough chloroform to put you out for a few minutes but you had already started to emerge into a groggy haze by the time you felt them cutting your clothes off your body with the box cutters. "No significant damage or marking, Reg." "Good, let's keep it that way, the order was very specific on the bonus structure for condition on delivery." You try to look around you but everything is a bleary haze. Formless blobs of color and motion fill your head as it lolls from side to side in your anesthetized state. You can feel your skin puckering into gooseflesh against the cold steel surface that you're lying on. As you try to lift your arms they feel like giant wet sandbags and they seem to sound the same when you give up and the thud back on the table. "Open your mouth and drink this, sweetie." You feel a tube tickle at the corner of your lips as you try to shake your head no. "Be a good girl and drink the juice for Daddy otherwise you'll make a mess of yourself later. This is for your own good." The latex tube brushes your lips again and you can smell something barely sweet and fizzy at the other end. When you open your mouth thinking you will complain and refuse the tube slips right into your mouth and you feel a strong calloused hand pinch your nostrils closed. "You can breath again when you drink it all down." You feel a flood of adrenaline surge through the cloud of your confusion and you think you are going to sit up and run. You are not. The hands holding your every limb make that clear and in a panic you start slurping the liquid down as quickly as you can suction it through the surgical tube. It is disgusting, bitter masked with a cloying sweetener and carbonated like a soda that's gone slightly flat. As the straw sounds the gurgling of having reached the bottom of the bottle you feel the hand release its grip on your face and pull away the straw. You gasp and sputter. You try to lift your head but it feels like it's been weighed down with bricks tied to your hair. You can't tell if that is what is really happening or if it's a result of the chloroform. It doesn't matter, the result is the same. You are a rag doll. "Right then, that'll take a bit of time to do it's work so why don't you just close your eyes and have a wee rest." Yes, you think. Your eyes are so heavy and the lids move slowly down like a butterfly drying its wings just after emerging from its chrysalis. Dark. When the amyl nitrite slaps your senses back into consciousness you can feel your legs are in stirrups as though you are about to be examined by your gynecologist. You do not think that is what is about to occur. "Just a little more discomfort and then you're going to get a nice long treatment at the spa, doll." You feel a gloved finger ring your anus with petroleum jelly and then dart inside and do the same with your rectal sphincter. "Here comes our little hose, I want you to hold all of this inside until I tell you, you can let go." As the valve opens and the warm liquid fills you it seems you are being inflated like a balloon. Two solid feeling men help you sit up and transition from the table into a wheelchair. One of them pushes you into a chilly room covered in tile and helps to lift you onto the loo. Your tummy rumbles. Oh no, you think, the juice must have been a purgative. "You can let go now." And, so you do. The feeling is like having a thousand demons and evil spirits race out of your body all at once. It is cleansing and exhausting at the same time. When it comes to an end you feel spent and empty. Wrung out like a wet towel. "That's a good lass. Alright, all the bother is done with now. Let's go have a nice bath, shall we?" This time the men walk you across the room to the bidet where you rinse yourself and then to the edge of a piping hot tub scented with lavender and orange oil. They help you step in and ease you down into the water. The sound of a boatswains whistle cuts the air and a trio of female attendants enter the room as the men exit. You are scrubbed and combed, massaged and lotioned. Your legs, your sex, your ass are all depilated. Your fingers and toes are stripped of polish and your nails and cuticles are attended to with expert care. Even if the drug cocktail you've been force fed weren't still working, you feel so relaxed you don't even want to attempt to speak. The women are silent but strong. They guide you out of the tub and dry you from head to foot with the most plush towels you have ever touched. Your hair is combed and braided while you are seated in a chaise-lounge and a mud mask is applied to your face. You drift again into another half drugged slumber only to startle at the sound of the boatswain's whistle again this time a different tune and from the lips of a different piper, the most dominant of the bath attendants. You blink your eyes clear after the facial treatment has been peeled away and it seems now your vision has cleared a bit. In the distance, past the doorway to this harem bath you can make out the dark corners of what seems to be an industrial warehouse lit with work lights of various descriptions. There are several vehicles, including one van that must have been the chariot you arrived in. Some tables are strewn with what appear to be electronic surveillance stations and there is a very large cane corso dozing underneath one of them. "Can you stand on your own?" You're a bit wobbly but you manage it. You are still naked and weak. You know making a run for it is out of the question since you don't know it you can even walk. Someone slips some hard slippers over your feet and you are walked out into the warehouse. In the middle of the floor is a large wooden crate that is open on one end. The work lights are mostly pointed at you so it's impossible to make out the faces of the men, you think they're all men, moving about in the warehouse beyond the lights. "You're going in the box now, luv." It was a Scottish accent, "Don't struggle, you'll only end up hurting yourself. There's plenty of water and a travel latrine you can empty through that valve there. It's going to be some days so best if you try to sleep as much as possible." At this you feel your adrenaline surge again and you begin to struggle in earnest this time but there are extremely strong men on either side of you holding you by your upper arms and you won't be able to free yourself. You insist on continuing to squirm. "Bring a rag, she's going to bruise herself up." You feel a hand close across your mouth and nose holding a soft chamois doused in more of the now increasingly familiar chloroform and your body goes limp again as your mind goes dark. When you rouse you are in darkness. You can hear the sound of an impact drill driving screws into what previously had been the open end of the crate. The crate which you are now inside. You've been placed on what feels like a large and luxuriant dog bed. There are a row of liter bottles lining one wall which you assume must be water. On another wall a bottle latrine hangs from a peg and there is a screw top valve nearby which must have been what the Scot was talking about earlier. As you feel the crate lift off the ground you can hear the muffled noises of a pallet mover's motion warning klaxon. You begin to cry. Quietly, at first, but when you feel the crate touch down on the bed of a vehicle and you hear the sounds of the pallet mover receding into the dark corners of the warehouse you begin to sob. The journey starts with an overland ride. You think to yourself that you should count in order to estimate how long the trip is taking so you can tell a rescuer where you might be but instead you just end up putting yourself to sleep. At some point it feels like you're being loaded into another vehicle. All too soon, as it begins to taxi and then lift off, you realize you are being moved in a plane. Darkness, sleep, startle, wake, drink, piss, empty the latrine, shiver, scream, cry, sleep. It's been three days, you think, since the men in balaclavas grabbed you off the street during your evening run and put you in this box. And now it has come to rest. Motionless and silent for at least two hours. You begin to scream. "Get me out of here! Can you hear me!? Get me out of here..." it dissolves into a crying jag. "Is there someone in there?" You hear tapping on the outside of the box. You start screaming again and pounding from the inside. "Hold on. I hear you, it's ok we're going to get you out." It's an American accent this time; but, still a man. You begin to hyperventilate and try to smash yourself into a corner as far away from the opening end of the crate as possible. You hear the electric drill pulling the screws and then the creak of the wood as a crowbar prises the wood apart and a harsh industrial light floods your pitch black tomb. You are shivering, cowering, crying. You start to piss yourself and can't stop when you try. "It's ok. You're ok. You can come out, you're safe." The voice is calm and warm, masculine but tender. You press yourself even harder into your corner hoping it will open up and swallow you into another dimension. It does not. Your only choice is out through the same hole you went in through.

[jessadamsdraws]

A 2D Bendy story that I am excited to share.

Chapter one: Loose memories

 Dear Henry,

It seems like a lifetime since we worked on cartoons together. 30 years really slips away. Doesn’t it. If you’re back in town. Come visit the old workshop. There’s something I need to show you. Your best pal

-Joey Drew.

Henry couldn’t help but laugh at what he was reading. ‘Best pal’? Ha! What a joke. Last he saw from that bastard was a letter opener to the back and a dream that they had once shared die. The worst part was he couldn’t even get the actual time they had spent together at the studio right. He signed and crumpled the small letter into a ball a cucked it at the bin.

“Who was that from?”

Henry looked up and his eyes met a small girl. She was doing her homework on the small kitchen table while he was working on some paperwork as well as, reading the mail. That girl was his best friends’ daughter that he met during the war. Henry could remember the day they met very vividly.

He wasn’t really a solider more like a bodyguard if anything. I would stand guard and make sure that the enemy wouldn’t hurt any of the doctors or the already wounded soldiers. He would also be one of the front-runners to help any soldiers that got injured as well. So, he was on duty guarding the tent, listening to the bombs and gun shot’s in the distance, even though they were far away it didn’t make him feel any better if they were closer. Suddenly he heard the voice calling that there was an injured man and he ran to help and saw him laying there. He picked him up and cared him to the tent. After that, they started to talk, and the rest was history.

After the war, he married his sweetheart and had a girl. Henry then became the godfather of that girl. But, unfortunately, he soon had to use his title. For him and his wife got into a fight and it ended in blood. His friend laid to rest and his wife put away for the rest of her life leaving her in his care at too small of a young age.

“Huh, it’s nothing. Just an old … “co-worker” from my old job, Jenna.” Henry said waving it off and picking up another letter cutting it open.

“From when you were an animator!?”

Henry couldn’t help but smile. Jenna was so fascinated with the time he was an animator that sometimes he thinks that she’s truly his kid. In fact, she found one of his old sketchbooks in the attic filled with the characters from the cartoon ‘Bendy the dancing demon and friends’. She started to draw them by looking at the sketch and tried to copy them, much to Henry dislike. He didn’t disprove of her wanting to learn how to draw, hell. He himself works part-time as a sketch artist for the police from time to time. It was just the characters that she always drew. They just held a bad taste in his mouth that he just couldn’t swallow.

“Yes, now focus on your homework.” Henry said trying to change the subject of ‘that’ place.

“Come on, I’m almost done but, what did it say?” Jenna said as she climbed higher on the chair, using her knees to make her a little taller but, not by much.

Henry knew her too well to know that she wasn’t going to drop the conversation.

“He wanted me to go back to the studio. Said he wants to show me something.”

“Well, are you going to go?”

“No, it's all the way on the other side of the city at least a ten-hour drive. Besides I have to look after you, you munchkin.” He said ruffling her hair causing her to shrink back into the chair. She made a squeaking noise of disapproval but was laughing at the same time which Henry couldn’t help finding adorable.

“You can call Tami or Aunty June. They could look after me.”

“No, June lives five hours in the opposite direction and Tami is too busy with her new store.”

Jenna smiled looking at Henry.

“But, you are considering to though.”

Henry saw what she did. He let out a sigh and rubbed his full face.

“Maybe… Tami can look after you. Only if you promise me that you help her out in the store on the weekends. Deal?”

“Deal!”

“Good… Now finish your homework and wash up and bed.”

“Yes, Henry.”

Henry opened his eye and saw he was back the studio. He looked up and saw the giant hole that he fell through.

“… Jenna, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll be back by next week.” Henry said getting up.

Why did he have to come here? What did he really think would happen?

Yeah, a huge monster coming out of a machine that activates by objects all he found, wasn’t really what he had in mind for today.

“I have to find a way out of here.”

Henry got up and looked around the room that he was in. It was small and just as run down like what he saw from when he entered the studio moments ago. There was a small work table with an ax and a toolbox. It also had a bunch of papers that were blank. He recognized the table almost instantly.

“Woah, this is Wally’s work desk. Man, it's still standing?” Henry said to himself in amazement.  Him and Wally really didn’t know each other that well. In fact, he would rarely see him in the studio half the time. He would only he see him in the break room or if he would see him walking down the hall to fix one of the plumbing values. He would always complain about how Joey always asked him to fix this and that or how Joey would yell at him for trying to clean his office. That one day he would be ‘outta here’ and guessing from the tape recording he found earlier he was still here even after he left. Because he sure as hell wasn’t here when that machine was added to the studio.

He grabbed the ax and hacked the wood board that was nailed to the door and opened it. Inside he was met with a flooded room of nothing but thick ink. Henry begrudgingly walked down the steps and into the cold liquid. Being about five foot, the ink covered about three-fourths of his body. He saw a pressure value on the other side of the room. Having no other choose seeing he was already in the inky muck anyway. He turned the wheel on the pipe and just as he hoped all the ink drained out of the room.

Now being able to walk around more effectively he talks a look around the room. There wasn’t much of worth in terms of resources however, there was something that caught his attention that made his whole body go numb. On the far wall was an inky message just like the other one he saw earlier. But, this one. This one just didn’t sit right with him.

‘The creator lied to us’

“Oh Joey, what were you doing?” Henry said to himself. He couldn’t move or pull his eyes away from the message. What final snapped him out of it was a sudden noise coming from the door behind him. It almost sounded like tapping.

Was someone tap dancing down here?

He opened the door and found a bunch of boards in his way through the board he could make out a light source coming from another room off to the side. He started to hack his way through the many boards. Finally making his way to the room.

Inside was a bunch of coffins and a symbol on the floor.

“Henry?! Is that really you?”

Henry spun around, looking in all directions around him. Funny enough the voice sounded almost like Bendy. Why was Joey talking in his Bendy voice?

“Joey? Is that you?” Henry called out looking for Joey.

“No silly, it's me ya favorite buddy…”

Henry finally saw it but, he wasn’t sure if he believed it yet. There on the wall stood a five-inch ink drawing of Bendy. But, that wasn’t the crazy part no, the crazy part was the drawing was moving and talking to him.

“Bendy?” Henry asked to confirm that he wasn’t going crazy.

“That’s me.” He said back to him.

Henry couldn’t believe this. His own cartoon talking to him and moving around like he was fully animated right in front of him. He stepped back in disbelief, stepping right on top of the symbol in the middle of the room. Suddenly Henry felt a shot of pain. Images flashed in his head repeatedly, till his body couldn’t take it anymore. He passed out onto the ground.

I really want to write more so please support me and ask if you want more

[sparklyjojos]

[Disco Wednesdayyy part 15/?] ---Disco, in which the God of Detectives returns to the Heavenly Throne to reveal the Stairway to Heaven, and I have some intense deja vu [tw: brief eye horror like usual]---

After his dramatic entrance, Daibakusho (as the narration keeps calling him) wraps himself in a helpfully provided blanket like in a toga, looks around, and sighs heavily.

“Still the Apocalypse of John, huh...” he says. “Mitamura really liked it. Well, he was a mystery writer, but even so... that obsession with the Apocalypse led to quite a lot of deaths. (...) But it’s alright now. God has returned to the Heavenly Throne. The Seven Disasters are over. I, who have achieved dominion over the Tree of Life, will solve this case.”

Fukushima says, “Oh! I get it! The Pine House has 24 rooms, like the Cross House! The rooms are the elders around the Heavenly Throne!” Seering Disco’s confusion, he explains that it’s a thing from Tsukumojuku, and that of course the Angel Bunnies have all read it, since they were featured as characters in it. [Oh god, the books are analyzing themselves now?! That’s my job, guys!]

The Seven Disasters would probably mean the seven reasonings that ended badly for the detectives (in order: Daibakusho, Judy, Keraku, Hakkyoku and co., Kiyuu, Sakurazuki and Hongou. Nils was 8th, but I guess he doesn’t count as ‘a disaster’ as he didn’t get attacked so far? Or something.)

Daibakusho walks up the stairs swaying as if he was to fall down any moment, so Disco follows him and asks, “Hey, Daibakusho, you alright there?” to which the answer is “My name is Tsukumo Juku. The God of Detectives.” [I may have screamed a little here.]

Daibakusho (?) then says that he found blood on the ground outside the Pine House, and that he suspects it could be the real crime scene. Once they’re in the hallway on the second floor, Daibakusho (?) starts inspecting the carpet, and finally peels away a fragment to reveal... some sort of weird transparent boards covering the floor? What are these?

“It’s the Stairway to Heaven,” Daibakusho (?) says.

The boards have little wheels which allow for the floor of the hallway to move:

This isn’t the only function of these boards; if you pull them out and put them together using the rods from the railing, you can make stairs, which would be transparent and pretty much invisible to the unaware observer. The stairs were probably something Mitamura used to change the lighbulbs in the chandelier. 

Daibakusho (?) stumbles on his feet again, and Dr. Taniguchi pleads for him to rest (”Tsutomu, please sit down for a moment--”), but the answer is dismissive. (“My name is Tsukumo Juku. I don’t have time to sit down, and I already had enough of it in the morgue. I’m going to solve the case.”) Disco’s like, okay, what the actual fuck is going on here?, which I think mirrors the reader’s sentiment pretty well.

---

Daibakusho (?) starts his reasoning by saying, “Praise our God, all you his servants, you who fear him, both great and small! I am the King of Kings. Lord of Lords. The great detective of the great detectives. The S-rank detective, Tsukumo Juku. Everyone, please follow me.” He turns around with a majestic flap of the blanket, and the usually rowdy Angel Bunnies follow him without question.

Mercury C is still as immature as ever, though, and tries to provoke him (”Hey, Daibakusho!” “My name is Tsukumo Juku!” “Then why were you the only one to turn around when I said it?” “...”). He even announces that hey, Daibakusho, this here Disco Wednesdayyy is going to solve the case instead of you! To which Disco’s reaction is an understandable “heyheyheyhey don’t get me into this mess!”.

Daibakusho (?) just gives Disco and Mercury C a scornful look. “Get back, you who utter proud words and blasphemies, and your subordinates.”

Mercury C’s like, wohoho! It seems Mr. Curry over there thinks he’s God, his opponents are the Beasts of the Apocalypse, and the Angel Bunnies are actual angels! [...I have intense deja vu right now.]

“...maybe you two being here is a part of mitate prepared by Mitamura,” Daibakusho (?) says. “Well then, let’s throw Satan into the lake of fire. For the sake of the Last Judgment, I will remove the tainted ground...” He staggers again, but ignores Disco’s concern and instead starts drawing something...

[the point on the left is the bloodstain outside the Pine House]

“This is the evidence of God, the Word of God,” Daibakusho (?) says. “This letter ‘S’ symbolizes Tsukumo Juku the God of Detectives, the ‘S’-rank detective of JDC. It seems the culprit accidentally called me here. ...or rather, the culprit closed the ‘S’ shape back into an ‘O’, and Mitamura ‘wrote’ it again to ask for rescue. (...) The killer murdered Mitamura outside the Pine House, pulled his body along that ‘S’ shape all the way to the hallway in front of room 7, and returned the stairs to their former condition.”

Daibakusho (?) thinks that maybe Mitamura wanted to die to attain new life, and that maybe it was because of his brothers. Because you see, he had brothers--

“We already know about them,” one of the Angel Bunnies chimes in. “Kiyuu told us.”

“...I see,” Daibakusho (?) says after a moment. “It seems people are still trying to get closer to God. That person has since died, I take it?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the wrath of God that falls on those who try to approach him.”

[Oh. Oh no. I have a strong suspicion as to who this guy is now. Hello, Fourth Story’s fake Juku/Angel/Beast/whatever the hell you are, long time no see.]

Anyway... according to Daibakusho (?), Mitamura wanted to escape from the world, from his loneliness, and came up with a plan. He asked his childhood friend Sakai Tsutomu to search for his identical brothers he could use to replace his body. It’s debatable whether Sakai was alright with it, especially since Mitamura attacked him six years ago. Because you see, six years ago-- (Here the Angel Bunnies are like “yeah we know this too”, which makes the guy look at them with weird hatred before he changes the topic). So on the night of the murder, Mitamura first spread his own blood (that he had kept in the freezer for this single purpose) in the hallway. Then he faked death. The Angel Bunnies found him and his message asking them to put those giant letters all around Nishi Akatsuki (that was what the ‘enclosed instructions’ mentioned in the suicide note said, it seems).Once the Angel Bunnies left, Mitamura went outside and met with Daibakusho Curry, who shot him using a crossbow. (Since this reasoning is coming from Daibakusho’s own mouth, everyone’s a little weirded out by the third person narration.)

So, Daibakusho the Orion shot Mitamura the Scorpion, created the S-shaped stairs, pulled the body inside, and hid the stairs. Then he pretended to solve the case, and ended up dying from injuries.

...and there’s one more interesting thing here. Apparently, Mitamura has told Daibakusho that he has once seen his own copy in the Pine House; a doppelganger. It’s said that seeing one is an omen of death. Maybe Mitamura thought he was destined to die anyway? Or was the entire doppelganger tale something he made up as some kind of a test for his friend?

But that’s irrelevant. The seven disasters are over, and now, thanks to the appearance of Tsukumo Juku the God of Detectives, this case is finally nearing its end--

“Ex... excuse me?” Dezuumi Style says sheepishly, “I... think your reasoning may be wrong?” He states that if the body was pulled along the ‘S’, the bloody stains would then be smeared in the other direction than in reality, and besides, if the body was pulled over the carpet put on top of the stairs, then the shape of the blood should look way more unnatural when you spread the carpet on even ground again. So it probably didn’t happen that way. “Uh... sorry,” he adds.

“...Don’t apologize,” Daibakusho (?) answers after a moment of silence. “It is the fate of God to die and be resurrected.”

Mercury C pipes in, proposing that hey, since ‘Tsukumo Juku’ is written with kanji for 9 and 10 --  九十九十九 -- then they can pretend it’s only fair he gets the 9th AND 10th attempt at explaining the reasoning.

“That’s right. The perfection of the name ‘Tsukumo Juku’ will be realized,” Daibakusho (?) says laughing, and without hesitation stabs himself in the eye.

While everyone is horrified, he still continues speaking. “As the Apocalypse of John says, when the thousand years of God’s rule are ended, Satan will be released from his prison for some time… however, the moment he turns his attack against Heaven, he will be struck down into the lake of fire and suffer eternal punishment. Prepare yourself then, Satan. The Beast, the False Prophet, prepare yourself for the second death. My name is Tsukumo Juku. And behold! I am coming soon!...“

He stumbles and sways, and Disco has to help him sit down on the couch in the main room. Mercury C is still laughing, saying that they don’t need to worry; maybe the guy has three lives, seeing as he has three belly buttons. [A bit like how Tsukumojuku in the Seventh Story could have his head cut off twice and still run around perfectly fine, I take it.]

[The narration does an interesting thing here -- as soon as the reasoning restarts, it stops calling the man ‘Daibakusho’ and instead uses 九十九十九. I’ll stick to calling him the God of Detectives because calling this dude Tsukumo Juku rubs me the wrong way. This ain’t Juku. This is not my beautiful boy.]

Too weak to hold a pencil, the God of Detectives draws with his own blood another picture. If drawn normally, it’d look something like this:

As his second attempt at reasoning claims, the Stairway to Heaven was bent in the other direction than he first assumed. The stairs went into room 8, through the big rectangular hole in the wall to room 9, then through the window. The cedar trees outside were sturdy enough they could serve as support, and halfway through the stairs would rest on top of the small northwest building.

This new shape of the Stairway would explain the shape and smear direction of Mitamura’s blood. Since getting the corpse through that hole in the wall would probably leave bloody marks inside, the culprit would have to hide them -- by stealing Mitamura’s body from the morgue and putting it inside the wall, so that fresh blood masked the old stains.

This solution seems correct to everyone, and Disco feels like the case is finally done, he and Kozue can finally go home...

But then Dezuumi says nervously, “Err, sorry again, but... I fell out the window earlier, and I was bleeding a lot while I was walking around, so, uh... that bloodstain outside... I think it may be mine?”

“...”

The God of Detectives slumps forward, as if deathly tired. After a good minute the others realize he’s not breathing and rush him to Dr. Taniguchi, who’s able to keep him alive but unconscious, just like he did earlier with Sakurazuki and Hongou.

“Inside the Pine House, the truth really is a mirage,” Mikami Nils says. “Always so close, and yet unreachable...”

[shalegas34]

Smelteon: Origins

“Lydia, get away from the wallaby grass!” a throaty voice sliced through the heat haze.

That was my dad, Sproggo. His voice wasn’t usually throaty; he must have been dehydrated.

“You can’t keep me cooped up inside all day, darl,” my mum yelled back.

“You’re going to start a bushfire.” Dad’s voice was getting fainter as he wormed deeper into the old tin shed. He always seemed to know exactly where mum was, even if he was nowhere near her; he claims it’s because he’s an Espeon and he has special powers, but we think it’s just an abnormally perspicacious sense of smell.

Mum sniffed and held up her tail so it wouldn’t singe the wallaby grass, and continued sorting through the scrap metal stacked in front of her. She loved to bemoan the fact she never asked to become a Flareon, but being caught in a bushfire during evolution kind of precluded any other outcome.

I turned back round to continue my lethargic survey of the steelworks in the distance. School holidays sucked.

My name is Nicky and I am an Eevee. For those of you who don’t know, an Eevee looks like a fox, it’s small and brown and boring, and this part of the bush is completely swamped with them. There’s actually nothing else at my crappy regional school; it’s a miracle the teachers manage to tell any of us apart.

Growing up, most Eevees evolve into one of a number of variants; Flareon and Espeon, my parents, are only a couple of examples. Knowing my luck, I’ll probably catch the once-in-five-year flash floods and become a Vaporeon, then I’ll be instantly vaporised when the sun comes back out.

“Nicky, run time,” mum drawled, lighting a durry with her tail.

“Stop smoking, it’ll give you cancer,” dad yelled, his voice muffled by the walls of whatever contraption he had his head up this time. See, it was definitely the smell.

“Well, not all of us can amuse ourselves playing with toys all day long,” mum replied, taking a deep drag. Dad went back to sulking. She wasn’t wrong.

Mum harnessed me up, then I did her, and we began pulling our barrow-loads of scrap metal towards the steelworks. This is what we did for keeps around here, everyone knew that, including Sproggo – though he liked to fantasise about making his millions from his next great invention.

“So you’ll be done with school soon,” mum started, her breathing steady despite the tonnage of steel laced to her back and her chronic abuse of her lungs. “What are you gonna do next, chook? Take over the family business?”

I just managed to restrain myself from asking, ‘Which one?’ There was a dry thunderstorm forecast for later; we didn’t need to burn down the whole state.

“I want to go to the city,” I wheezed, doing my best to keep up.

Mum’s mouth puckered up in distaste, and she paused to incinerate a cluster of blowflies which had ventured too close to her face.

“You’ll get run over. There’s too many cars in the city,” she sniffed, as if my aunt hadn’t just been flattened by a road train minutes from our house. “Besides, they don’t want people like us out there. No use knowing how to sort scrap or tap a blast furnace in an office, kid.”

I wondered if she was right, if I would be stuck in this Satan’s armpit for the rest of my life.

“I could learn computers.”

“It ain’t the same, chook. Shit happens; you’ve just got to learn to suck it up.”

I furrowed my brow. I couldn’t think of anything particularly shit that had happened recently, because nothing at all ever happened here. Maybe she was referring to my being born.

We pulled up to the eastern entrance of the steelworks. Mum waved to Dazza, the burly Dodrio who manned the boom gates. Nobody ever got past those gates unnoticed.

“G’day Daz,” mum said.

“Hey Lydia,” one of his heads said, and the boom gates flew open.

After weighing and dumping our steel, mum went to collect $21 from the office, puffing on another stinky cigarette. I could picture her counting notes, durry hanging from the corner of her mouth, but unfortunately we could never haul enough scrap to fetch multiple notes.  

“Wanna watch that round the wallaby grass,” one of the blokes called, nodding at mum’s cigarette but looking at her bum. I rolled my eyes, and tried to picture tolerating these vapid inanities for the next fifty years. If I stayed here, I would end up pushing scrap at the steelworks for life.

Mum handed me my share of five bucks and turned me loose for the rest of the day. I decided to crash at my mate Shanny’s place; his uncle was in the habit of brewing bathtub gin and selling it illegally, including to minors.

Shanny lived at the very edge of town, and I’d picked up about six other bored kids from my class by the time I waltzed up to his door.

“Nicky.” Shanny sighed when he saw me. “This is getting out of control. My uncle’s trying to get a proper job, you know, before someone rats him out to the cops.”

In the end, though, he couldn’t turn seven of us away, so we all spent the afternoon getting day drunk in his living room. I wouldn’t have liked to know what we looked like through the window, eight sweaty Eevees draped over the furniture slurring along to Jimmy Barnes in the wrong key.

After the sun had set, someone had the stupid idea to sneak into the steelworks, and because we were drunk, we all agreed enthusiastically. Eevees are brown, we reasoned, so we would blend in with the ground. No fault was found with the plan. We crept up to the eastern fence, waited for Dazza to piss off on a toilet break, then ducked underneath the boom gates.

Liv immediately began to giggle hysterically. Shanny tried in vain to shut her up, and she wasn’t having a bar of it. “Someone go and cut our names into the top of the blast furnace,” she said.

“That’s a sick idea,” her brother Johnno said, as Shanny desperately herded us into the shadow of a workshop. “Not gonna be me though. It’s like five thousand degrees up there.”

It was actually just over a thousand; didn’t anyone pay attention in chemistry?

“Nicky’s mum is a Flareon,” some asshole pointed out.

“So what?” I snapped.

“Nick-y! Nick-y!” It was too late. The inebriated Eevee tide had already raised me off my feet.

“Put me down,” I roared. I was starting to regret all that bathtub gin. The blast furnace was at least thirty metres tall. I was punted onto the stairs leading up the side of the giant cauldron. They only went up the control room; I would have to climb the rest of the way via the maintenance ladder.

“Do it,” Johnno said, fishing a pocket knife out of his fanny pack. I gripped the handle between my teeth and began the garish ascent, wobbling ridiculously on my feet. There was no backing down from a challenge, especially when the drink made me incapable of thinking through a single consequence.

I very almost made it. I’d lodged myself on the chute which chucked iron ore and limestone pellets into the furnace, because the heat was bearable there. I’d etched three names into the rusty metal – mine, Shanny’s, and Liv’s – and was about to start on the next (definitely not Johnno’s), when a shrill warbling from below unnerved me and made me drop the knife. It fell down the chute. Instinctively, I dived after my lost possession, and out of the corner of my eye I watched my mates on the ground scatter, busted by Dazza, as I fell into the blast furnace.

---

“Wh- what is that?”

“I don’t know. I have never seen anything like that before in my life.”

“Is it alive?”

“I don’t know.”

I knew I was dead; nobody could possibly survive falling into a blast furnace. There was a reason they called the coke in there the Dead Man. (I’m actually not sure if that’s the real reason, but it seemed fitting at the time).

I tried to prise open my eyes to take a glimpse at hell, but all I could see was a sort of white haze.

“Nicky?” mum’s voice was shrill. Why was my mum here?

“Mum?” I rasped.

“It’s Nicky!” she shrieked. “Nicky, you bloody idiot. You scared the shit out of me and your father. What happened to you? What’s all that crap on your back? Does it hurt?”

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. Was I still drunk? I could imagine worse things than spending the whole of eternity pissed. At least the squinting helped me bring my vision into focus, and eventually I could make out mum, Dazza, and a gaggle of strangers hovering over me. I wiggled my limbs experimentally. They felt heavy, but otherwise normal.

“I feel fine,” I said.

Two Machoke reached down to grip my legs.

“Oi,” I protested weakly. “Hands off.”

They helped me off my back, and it looked bizarrely like they struggled to do so. Machoke could lift tons of steel, so it was preposterous to suggest a pair of them would have trouble flipping a scrawny Eevee over. Perhaps I had been welded to the side of the furnace.

I averted my eyes to look at my feet and screamed. My fur was short and sandy-coloured, instead of shaggy and brown. A band of shiny metal wound its way round each of my legs. Was this a joke?

“Good one, Shanny,” I yelled at nobody. “Really took the piss there, didn’t you.”

Dazza’s three heads stared at me, concerned. I looked past him and realised the blast furnace had been completely emptied. The tap hole was open, but no molten iron was gushing out as it usually would.

“So, I’m not dead?” I checked, just to make sure.

“I don’t think so, mate,” Dazza said. “I mean, you’re talking and everything.”

“You look like… Just look,” mum said, lighting a cigarette and sucking on it violently while tossing me her pocket mirror.

I sussed out my new appearance. I had acquired a helmet and a shield along my back, of the same metal which adorned my legs. I shook out my ears and they flapped satisfactorily, so my muscles still worked.

“Do you reckon,” Sproggo piped up from the back of the crowd (oh! I hadn’t noticed him there), “this is a new type of evolution?”

“Great, our Nicky is a freak,” mum snapped stressfully. Her eyes darted back towards me. “Sorry, chook, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Not necessarily,” Sproggo said thoughtfully. He looked like he was enjoying himself. “I mean, nobody’s tried diving into a blast furnace while evolving before, have they? It could be a perfectly natural thing.”

“Nicky is covered with metal,” mum just about shrieked, and Sproggo shrank back into the masses.

“Hey,” I said sheepishly. “At least I won’t die if I get hit by a car now.”

That line might not have been the best call, but three cigarettes later mum had calmed down enough to poke at all my new body parts, checking to see if any of them were sharp.

“The tail packs a punch,” she announced. “But the rest is platy.”

I swished my tail around for good measure as everyone continued to stare at me.

“Cool,” I heard Johnno’s voice mumbling from somewhere behind the front row. So my mates had stuck around too.  

Thereafter, life quickly returned to our trite outback routine, even more suppressive than the heat. Nobody dared try the stunt again in case they got the timing wrong, but the town’s interest had been piqued. I’ve got no doubt more like me will come along eventually.

For now, I have the upper hand in any fight I get into at school, so I’m peachy.

[incorrectdeceptionquotes]

Can you mix 3 ,38,117 for kay and Cameron? Great writing!

Okay, who ordered thetriple scoop of fluff and angst. They include #117 – “Game’s over you son of abitch! Tell me where (s)he is!”, #38 – “You fainted… straight into my arms.You know if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”,and #3 – “Please, don’t leave.” Anyone? Anyone?

“Game’s over you son of a bitch! Tell me where she is!”Cameron yelled when he got to the front desk. For the past few days, he and Kayhad been investigating the mysterious murder of a night janitor in a high-endenergy drink company. Everything had been going seemingly fine until Kay wentmissing two nights ago. She had told Cam that she was going to go speak to thepresident of the company again to ask about some new evidence that they haduncovered. Cameron had offered to go with her but she said that it wasn’t goingto take long, Cam wished he hadn’t listened to her, he would know if she wassafe if he hadn’t.

The president of the company, Mr. Enerday played dumb, “Mr.Black, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about my partner, Agent Kay Daniels. She cameto speak with you two nights ago and she never came back.” Cameron was in nomood.

Mike rushed up next to Cameron, “Agent Mike Alverez. We’rehere because my colleague Agent Daniels came to ask you questions a few nightsago and she hasn’t been heard from since.”

Mr. Enerday shook his head, “I’m afraid I haven’t seen AgentDaniels, if I do, I will let you know. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Just a moment Mr. Enerday. If you have nothing to hide, youwon’t mind if we look around. You have to understand that Daniels is one of ourbest agents.”

Enerdaay stiffened for a moment then relaxed, “Of course.Take a look around.”

Cameron quickly walked down the hallway, he had a feelingthat he could figure out where Kay was. Mike called after him, “Cameron, waitup!”

Cameron slowed down for Mike to catch up, “Sorry Mike, I’mjust-”

“I know but it’ll be easier to find her if we sticktogether.”

Cam smiled at his friend, “Yeah, I know.” His eyes suddenlycaught a door that he hadn’t seen the first time he and Kay had looked around,“Hey Mike, you got my back?”

Mike raised an eyebrow at the out of place door, “Ofcourse.” He had his gun at the ready for whatever was in there. They wentthrough the door and were shocked by what they saw. The company building hadthis bright aesthetic to it but in here was dark, dreary and kind of rustylooking. “What is this place?”

“I have no idea but if Kay’s somewhere in this building,she’s here.”

Suddenly they heard frantic running, “Stay alert.” Mikewarned.

They hid behind a giant wall of pipes when someone camerunning through, as if she didn’t know where she was going. However Camrecognized her, it was Kay but something wasn’t right. He ran after her callingher name, “Kay!”

He couldn’t hear what she said and he almost lost until shetripped… over nothing. Kay wasn’t clumsy, something was wrong. He got closer,tried to take her by the arm but she swatted him away, “Get away from me! I’mnot some guinea pig!”

Cameron noticed that she wasn’t wearing the clothes she hadworn two nights ago, she was now wearing an off white cotton dress and a dullblue cardigan. He had to grip her shoulders, “Kay! It’s me, Cameron!” When hefinally got a look at her face, he was shocked. She still looked like Kay butthere were scratches on her face, bruises on her skin, including her neck and ablack eye was beginning to form. Her injuries were similar to what she

Kay blinked for a few moments as if she was trying to focusher vision but was failing. Kay carefully her hand and placed it on where shefelt his hand was, “C-Cameron?” It was him, she could sense it.

Cameron smiled, “Yeah, it’s me, and Mike’s here with me”

“Mike?” Kay was silent for a moment as Cameron helped her toher feet, “We need to get out of here! Now!” She pleaded gripping his upperarms.

She tried to walk but she couldn’t keep herself steady,“Kay!” Cameron exclaimed as he wrapped one arm around her waist and took herarm and put it around his shoulders, “Kay, what did they do to you?”

“I-I don’t know, every time I started asking questions, theywould just inject me with a needle and… then I don’t know what happened. Iwould just remember the injections. But every time I would wake up, I kepthaving trouble keeping my head clear and my eyes won’t focus.”

“Kay!” Mike called out, “Thank God we found you. Cameron wasstarting to go kinda nuts.”

“He-” Just then, Kay lost her consciousness.

Cameron to wrap his other arm under her legs and pick herup, “Mike, we need to get her to a hospital. Now!” Cameron said.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know but she said they’ve been injecting her withstuff” He explained.

Mike’s nose flared, “That son of a bitch.” Mike had his gunheld up in front of him and motioned for Cam to follow him. When they got backout to the lobby, Mike pointed his gun to Enerday, “Put your hands in the airwhere I can see them Enerday!”

“What the hell is this!? You have nothing to tie me to thatmurder!”

“No, but I can arrest you for kidnapping an FBI agent andusing her as some… guinea pig.”

Mike knew that if Cameron wasn’t holding onto Kay, he wouldhave attacked Enerday but Cam did look furious, “You better hope to God thatshe’ll be okay or you’ll have to deal with a hell of a lot more than simplecriminal charges.”

After Mike had brought in Enerday, he drove Kay to thehospital with Cam watching over her. Kay had been taken into the ER, stillunconscious, leaving Mike and Cam in the waiting room with Cam being a worriedmess. Mike placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Hey, she’ll be okay.”

“You saw those injuries on her, right Mike?” Mike could onlynod as Cameron continued, “What I don’t think you saw was the look in her eyes.I mean she was having trouble focusing her eyes but… God, she looked terrified,I have never seen her like that before.”

“I can only imagine. Kay’s strong though, she’ll be able topull through.”

“What the hell did they… inject in her?”

Almost as if on cue, a nurse walked out of the ER, “KayDaniels?” Mike and Cam both stood up and walked over to the older lady, “She’llbe fine. She had been given an unhealthy amount of non-FDA approved drugs butwe managed to flush most of it out of her system. Unfortunately, because of thedrugs, we could not give her any pain medication. All she needs now is plentyof rest and we’ll need to keep her here for a few days for observation justuntil all the toxins have been eradicated from her system.”

Mike nodded in understanding, “Thank you Nurse… Rose”Reading her name tag.

“Can we see her?” Cameron asked.

Nurse Rose nodded, “She’s being taken to a private room now,I can show you the way.”

Mike patted Cam on the back, “I actually have to report backto Deakins now and make sure our new friend goes behind bars. You go on, tellher I’m glad she’s okay.”

Cameron nodded as he followed the nurse to where Kay was. “Sowhat is your relationship with the Ms. Daniels?” The nurse asked with a kindtone

“Oh, uh… I’m just a friend.”

“Just a friend?”

“Yes?”

“Then she’s lucky to have friend like you, I happened tonoticed you when you three came in, you wouldn’t stop until you made sure shewould be alright.”

“I care about her, I wanted to make sure she would be okay.”

The nurse stopped in front of a door and opened it, “Thanksto you, she will be. I’ll be back in a little while to check up on her.”

Cameron walked into the room and saw Kay lying on the bedwith her eyes closed. Her skin was no longer a sickly pale and her cuts andbruises had been cleaned up. we walked over sat on the chair next to the bedand took her hand. “Kay? I know you probably can’t hear but… I’m glad you’reokay.” He took her hand in both of his brought it close to his lips, “I’m sosorry that you had to go through… whatever it is you went through. I know youmust be in a lot of pain but it’ll be over soon, I promise.” He then kissed thepalm of her hand.

“Hmm?” Kay began to stir. After a minute, she cracked openher eyes and saw Cameron seating next to her, not having noticed that she hadwoken up, “C-Cam?”

Cameron couldn’t help but smile, “Kay?”

“W-where am I” She tried to sit up but her headache got inthe way, “Ugh, and why do I have such a nasty headache.”

“Do you not remember? You’re in the hospital.”

“The hospital?”

“Yeah, you went to talk to Enerday and then you wentmissing… for two days.”

“Honestly the last thing I remember is walking into theEnerday building.” Kay suddenly looked down at her arms and saw that there weremany needle holes, “What happened to me?”

“You were drugged… a lot. So much that hospital is reluctantto give you pain medication.”

“That explains the pain. How did you guys find me?”

“We found this hidden section of the building that didn’tseem to match up with the rest of the building’s theme… then we found you asyou were trying to run away, you said something about how you weren’t someguinea pig and then.. you fainted… straight into my arms.” Cameron smirkedtrying to brighten her mood, “You know if you wanted my attention you didn’thave to go to such extremes.”

Kay smiled but felt pain as she did so, “I must be a totalknockout right now.” She muttered sarcastically.

Cameron shrugged, “Makes no difference to me. You’re stillthe same strong beautiful woman you’ve always been.” She blushed at the kindwords. Cameron smiled that she seemed like she would be fine and back to herold self in no time, “I’ll go see if Nurse Rose has anything at all she cangive to help with the pain”

He stood up and was about to leave when Kay gripped hishand, “Please, don’t leave.”

“Kay?”

“I… I’d just feel more at peace if you were here with me.”Kay pressed her lips tightly, “Just until I can fall asleep?”

Cameron smiled at her as he sat back down. The two continuedto talk and Cam even preformed a few card tricks for her until Kay fell asleep.Cam would have left but he stayed a little just to be sure that she would beokay. When Kay had been woken up by a nightmare involving her kidnappers,Cameron calmed her back down and hugged her until she stopped shaking. He thenproceeded to lie down next to her claiming that if it happened again, she couldjust grab onto him like a teddy bear or body pillow. Kay soon fell asleep againwith her head against Cam’s shoulder and her arms wrapped around one of hisarms while his other soon pulled her close as he fell asleep as well. Kay didn’thave any more nightmares that night.

When Nurse Rose came back into the room to see how they weredoing, she saw the two in their sleeping embrace. She quietly closed the doorand let them sleep. She could bend the rules just this once.

I swear that thesestories won’t all take place in ahospital!