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rahhhhhrs · 3 years

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Back in DevilTown 1

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33361024 (heres if you wanna read it on a03)

The road trip back home took forever, Alabamas long winding country roads still made you as carsick as it did when you were a kid, except this time you were the one behind the wheel. You honestly didn't wanna head back home anytime soon after graduation, but when you got an email from your old high school friends asking you to come to stay the week at the Jonhson's cabin for "old times" sake, you figured there had to be a good reason for them to get back in touch so soon.

Finally, seeing the familiar dirt road come into view brought back old memories, you and Byrce riding 4-wheelers down the trails, Kevin getting wasted and ending up getting stuck in a tree. You still snicker at the image. Car jerking unevenly as the red dirt turned into the gravel, you see the Johnsons cabin come into view, six other vehicles sit outside. Patricia's hot pink jeep still looking the same as when she got it for her sixteenth birthday. Killing your pickup's engine, you grab your old duffle bag and head to the rickety porch. You can already hear the music and yelling; beer cans and cigarettes litter the handrails and porch swing.

Banging on the oak door loud and hard to be heard, you can hear who you think is Bryce yell 'Liam get it!" before the heavy door is swung open. "Ash! You made it!" Liam Nelson, your old track teammate. Already stiffening as he pulls you into a hug with a harsh pat on the back he pulls away to get a look at you. "You haven't changed a bit, Ash! How have you been?" Taking a good look at him you see he's gotten a bit taller over the years, his skin now a nice tan instead of the pale boy you were used to. Shrugging his hands off you duck under him to get inside. "It's only been two years Liam; people don't change that much."

Hearing the door shut you make a note he didn't lock it. Rounding the hallway corner, you see Maggie and Patricia sitting on the worn leather couch. Maggie is smoking what you're pretty sure is a blunt while Patricia hops up to give you a tight hug. "Posie, you made it! I'm so glad you're here." You cringe at the old nickname as she wraps you in a perfume-filled hug; even with her sandals: she barely comes up to your chest. "Good to see you, Patty, you too Maggie." Maggie gives you a slumped half nod as you peel Patricias arms off you and flop onto the couch. "Aw Posie doesn't be like that; we haven't seen each other since graduation!" She sits down beside you; thankfully you wore a jacket in the hot ass Alabama heat. Scratching the back of your neck some you turn towards Maggie as Liam sits beside her. "Wheres the rest of the boys at?" She shifts to lean on Liam and points to the kitchen. "The three morons are back there making some god-awful thing." She takes another drag of her blunt. Liam waves the smoke away with a cough. "So Ash you're the last one here, what took you so long? We honestly thought you weren't gonna come back to this shit hole." Shifting your duffel bag to the floor you reach in and grab your own blunt, lighting it and taking a long drag. "I had some stuff to take care of before heading here, what made you think I wouldn't show?" Taking another drag you feel the itching in your skin lesson, Liam opens his mouth to respond but is cut off.

A loud clatter comes from the kitchen as Kevin steps out. "Ayy guys, the gangs all here." He throws his arms up wide before shouting back into the kitchen. "Yo Byrce, Will! Ash is here." The two said guys appear behind Kevin. "Sup Ash," Will says before rounding the couch for a hug; you feel your skin itch. "Nah man I'm good on hugs today, Laim and Patty already got me." You put your hand up to deter him, resisting the urge to scratch your arms as he backs away. "Alright, alright; I see you still as touchy as ever Ashy." Kevin's face breaks out into a shit-eating grin, you're already tensing to move before he lunges at you. Rolling out of the way you climb over the couch to put it between you and him. Kevin falls face-first into the couch as Patricia wacks him with a pillow. Will and Byrce both give a snicker. "Damn Ash is still as fast as ever." Bryce snorts snatching the offending pillow from Patricia. Taking another deep drag to soften your nerves you walk back around the couch to sling your duffle bag over your shoulder. "Mind if I put my stuff up now?" Tucking the blunt back between your lips as Kevin gives a mock gasp. "Ten minutes since you arrived and you already wanna get away from us? For shame poise." The others give a snicker before Will pipes up. "Hey, I think ten minutes is a new personal record for her." Kevin and Will both snort as you roll your eyes, Bryce gives them both a wack with the pillow before turning to you. "Yeah go ahead Ash, sane room as always." Nodding your head you make your way to the old staircase, feeling it creak as make your way upstairs you hear the group's fading voices. "I don't know why you invited her Byrce, she's always so fucking weird." They should at least bother to wait till you're outta earshot.

Reaching the second floor you make the familiar track down the hall, the fourth door on the left, tucking your blunt next to your ear you grab the doorknob. Jiggling the sticky brass nob the door pops about to reveal a plain room, shutting the door behind you and stetting your duffel bag down with a heavy thud. Reaching in you grab your small flip knife and a mini flashlight before walking over to the closet. Opening the doors as the hinges give a slight squeak, good. The closet is bare and only has a few wire hangers in it, clicking on the flashlight you reach onto the closet shelf patting around for any hidden objects, finding nothing but a dead spider you turn your focus to the bathroom, closing the closet doors as the hinges give another creak. Opening the bathroom door and flipping on the light you turn to the sink and turn on the faucet. Slowly creeping towards the shower curtain you click open your knife; the sound of it opening muffled by the water. Ripping open the curtain you're thankfully greeted only with the empty tub. Sighing to yourself you click your knife back into place before pocketing it, shutting off the faucet and light before leaving. One last place to check, walking back over to the bed you slowly crouch down to take a look, besides a few dust bunnies and the first aid kit you hid under here in 8th grade there was nothing there. Hearing familiar footsteps come down the hall you grab your duffel and set it on the bed; tucking your knife and flashlight in your pocket you begin pulling out a few clothes. You don't bother turning as you hear the doorknob ratter a bit before they're finally able to get it open. "Hey Bryce, you need something?"

"Damn Ash how do you always know it's me?" Bryce takes a step into your room as you refold an old shirt. "Lucky guess." You shrug before turning to him. Bryce is leaning on the door frame with a hand rubbing his neck. "I just wanted to say I'm glad you showed and the fact I'm sorry you had to deal with Kevin, ya know?" Snorting you pull the bunt you previously saved and take another drag before offering it to Byrce. "No worries Johnson." He gives a small laugh before taking the blunt, his fingers brush yours but all your skin does is give a light prickle. "Johnson? I thought we were on first name basics Richwood." Taking a drag he gives a light cough before offering it back you held up your hand. "Keep it, I got more in my bag anyway. Shrugging he takes another drag before stepping back out into the hallway. "You wanna head back downstairs? I'll keep Kevin and Will busy while you and the others catch up, Pat and Maggie have missed you." Grimacing slightly you nod. "Only if there are snacks." Bryce perks up at your nod and gives you a grin, zipping back up your duffle you head out with him, shutting the door behind you. "Now Ashton when have you ever known me not to have snacks?"

They haven't changed a bit since high school, even now as you sit on the couch everything is tinged with a slight hint of nostalgia. Kevin is still being the dick head he is and always pissing off others for a laugh. Will having as much personality as a paper bag, his spine is just as flimsy. Patricia still looks at you with soft pitying eyes, Maggie acting indifferently as always. At least Liam stayed nice throughout the years; Byrce has always been alright in your book. "Hey guys I'm gonna go out for a smoke, anyone wanna join?" Will asks, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. Maggies snorts turning to Bryce. "You still won't let him smoke in the house? It's not like we haven't been smoking weed in here since eighth grade." Bryce waves her off before taking another swig of beer. "Not since what he and Kevin did that Halloween, I ain't wanting the cabin to catch fire again anytime soon." Will and Kevin give each other offended before yelling, "It was one time!" at Byrce. You hear him mutter "One time too damn many." as Will leaves out the door. Patrica calls out to him before the door shuts, "Be careful out there! It's getting dark." Will calls out a "Yeah, yeah." as the door shuts.

Jumping up from the couch you follow behind Kevin to get some more snacks. You'd rather not be alone with him but your stomach's call for Cheetos and ramen became too loud to ignore. Setting the bag of Cheetos on the counter you open the pantry to grab ramen and chicken stock. "So Ash, how's life been? You practically left this place like a bat outta hell as soon as we threw our caps in the air." Your neck bristled as Kevin stood behind you grabbing the box of chicken stock you were reaching for. Turning around with ramen in hand you quickly duck under his arm; you guess you'll be eating your ramen with water then. "Not everyone wants to stay in devil town, Kevin." Opting to keep your answers short hoping he would drop it, crouching down to grab a small pot from the cabinet, no way in hell were you bending down in front of him. Hearing him set the box of chicken stock on the counter before making his way over to you, tightening your grip on the pot you rose to meet him. "Aw come on Ash don't be like that, we had so much fun together before you left." He put his hand over yours; you had to stop yourself from cracking him across the skull, settling for just snatching your hand out his with a hiss. "Don't fucking touch me." You snarl at him; not bothering to see his response you move to the sink; turning the water as hot as it would go you stick your hand and the pot under the faucet. "Whoah there Ash, chill I was just playing. Plus I thought by now you'd be over the 'touch' thing." Bryce would understand if you threw a pot of scalding water at him right? Turning to glare at him, Kevin flinches slightly under your gaze. You're about to cuss him out, but Liam pops his head into the kitchen. "Hey, have you guys seen Will? He's been gone for a while now." Shutting the water off you take your now stinging hand and leave the pot in the sink. "I'm sure he's fine-" You cut Kevin off and walk to Liam. "Do you think he just came back through the back porch instead of the front?" Liam shakes his head. "No, no one's seen him since he went out to smoke."

Following Liam back into the lounge, you see Patrica giving Bryce a worried look. "Bryce, what's going on?" Kevin goes to sit by Maggie and Liam as Byrce sits hunched over his phone. "I've been trying to call Will after he didn't come back; it keeps going straight to voicemail." Bryce runs a hand through his hair with a huff. "I checked around the house for him but no luck; do you think he tripped or something?" Maggie turns to look at Bryce. "Maybe we should head out and find him; he might have gotten lost, you know how these woods are when it gets dark." Nodding, Bryce stands up. "Me, Liam, and Ash will go look; the rest of you stay here in case he comes back." You start heading to the stairs and call out over your shoulder. "I got flashlights in my truck; let me grab some stuff from my duffel, and then we'll look; he couldn't have gone far for a smoke." Popping your knuckles in your right hand you reach the stairs. Before you touch the banister you pause.

'Now that I got a taste`

'I think that I'd suffocate'

'For every second that you aren't by my side'

'But now I'm stuck at the gate'

'Of Lucifer's estate'

'I fell in love with a girl I met in Hell~"

Bryce's phone is ringing.

#creepypasta #ticci toby #masky #hoddie

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wistfulcynic · 4 years

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The Eternal and Unseen (1 of 3)

SUMMARY: Misthaven University is an ancient place, and as all ancient places do it guards some secrets. Secrets such as Emma Swan and Killian Jones, a fae princess and her royal guardian, whose true identities are well concealed behind the guise of average college students—if not quite well enough to foil the plot their enemies have hatched against them. Now their friends will have to come together, putting their own differences aside to battle an enemy that threatens them all—fae and vampire and werewolf together… plus one very baffled human named David.

For @cssns

a/n: Thanks to @spartanguard and @optomisticgirl for the prompts that planted the seeds of this idea and to my TERRACE-mates @thisonesatellite, @ohmightydevviepuu, and @katie-dub, without whom I might never have found the right way to encourage them to grow, and of course INCOHERENT GIBBERING NOISES OF DELIGHT to @carpedzem for the absolutely stunning art about which I cannot possibly say enough good things. Please zoom all the way in and appreciate the perfection of all the little details she included. The tiny wee fronds on the plant! The shape of the light! Emma’s feather earrings! Her red cloak! Her hat! (the hat you guys, the hat!!). Everything about it is so, so gorgeous and Nat is so talented and creative and such a joy to work with ❤️❤️❤️.

On AO3 Rating: M Words: 3.9k (first chapter)

CHAPTER ONE:

David Nolan was always surprised by people’s reactions when they learned he was the Resident Assistant for H.C. Andersen Hall at Misthaven University. Sure, it was the oldest dorm on the campus, built of dark stone in a high Gothic style, with tall towers and pointed arches, way back when Misthaven and her people still believed in magic. And sure, the heavy wooden doors had a way of creaking on their iron hinges and the windows rattled in their frames when the wind was high... sometimes even when it didn’t blow at all. But this was merely rust and weather and David was a practical man, not one to be troubled by such things as can be plausibly explained away.

And yes, Andersen did have that reputation, though David was certain it could be no more than simple silly student gossip. As an upperclassmen dorm its occupancy was by request only, and over the years it had come to be known as the place where some of the more… unique students tended to convene. But that was surely no reason for people to give that startled twitch or to take a wary step back from him when he told them about his job. Or for the other candidates to look so relieved when they learned it was he and not they who’d be taking over from the last RA, a guy called Walsh who had, in the words of one, “Still not recovered from the trau—er, the experience. But hey, good luck, man.”

A thousand years ago when it was known by another name, Andersen alone had been the university, a haven for scholars of every kith and creed and a place where learning took precedence over any rivalry, however ancient. The building had both schooled and housed them, fed them in its great dining hall with food cooked in the basement kitchen, tutored them in the tower classrooms with books procured from the vast library. When lessons were completed the scholars found repose in the common room, a comfortable space with an enormous fireplace, large, overstuffed chairs, and carved wooden tables where lively debates were had each night until the fire died and they withdrew to their rooms to sleep. (Rooms which, David observed to his delight, were twice the size of those in the other dorms and always single occupancy—no roommate squabbles for him to contend with.) As the university grew and newer dorms were built, as the ancient covenants were forgotten and magic faded from the land, fewer and fewer students chose to reside in the newly christened Andersen Hall. At present there were only eight, plus David, who despite the strange reactions he encountered was thrilled to be the RA there. Eight residents, and all upperclassmen, he thought to himself. Andersen had to be the easiest gig on campus. How odd that no one else had seemed to want it.

The hall itself stood just at the edge of the modern campus, tucked against the so-called enchanted forest that marked the border of Misthaven on three sides. It was an ancient forest, whether enchanted or not—a forest of twisted trees and clinging moss and the shrouding mist that gave their country its name. Very little sunlight survived to reach its floor and thus such things as grew there fed on decay, most digging their roots deep into the soil to wrench what nutrients they could from it and barely peeking the tips of their grey-green leaves above the ground. Other valiant species reached out for whatever light could penetrate the dense canopy, stretching upward into vines that curled around the trunks and branches of the gnarled trees to unfurl their broad leaves hopefully as close as they could to the sky. And so it was of course these very leaves and vines and branches that crept up Andersen’s stone walls and scraped against its windows, and cast deep and shifting shadows that fell both outside the hall and in.

So yeah, David reflected, Andersen Hall was old. And dark. And with each successive year it sank a bit more deeply into the forest’s embrace—a perfectly benign embrace, most of the time, although perhaps not ideal when you found yourself alone in your dorm with the music in your headphones never quite as loud as the branches across your windows, or the distant howls of wolves, or the much less distant scrabblings of other creatures to which it was not always wise to put a name. So, yeah, there was that.

And the students who chose to live in Andersen were characters, that was for sure. Even David had to admit that he’d never met anyone quite like them before. But, he reminded himself, at the end of the day they were just students. Just kids like all the others, despite the sometimes unnerving focus of their attention and the surprising depth to their eyes. Just college kids discovering themselves, exploring their quirks and hobbies and interests.

Take Emma, for example. Emma Swan, as graceful as her name implied and even more beautiful, with her warm smile and wry humour and the spark of mischief in her green eyes. One of the nicest girls David had ever met, tough and smart but with a kind and generous heart and a tender vulnerability that made him wish it were still fashionable to slay dragons. He’d gladly slay one for her—or anything else that might threaten her. His urge to protect Emma at all costs—though from what dangers it was never quite clear—surprised him with its persistent and overwhelming strength.

Also surprising was Emma’s choice of dorm-room decor; the space in her room not occupied by the bed, desk, television, and mini-fridge that were standard even in Andersen rooms, she had filled entirely with plants. Plants the like of which David was certain he had never before seen, long and twisted vines that clung and crept across the stone walls, broad leaves and pointed ones and flowers in unexpected colours. He’d examined them with a frown the day she moved in, mildly unnerved by how comfortably they already seemed to inhabit the space but convinced by Emma’s soothing reassurances and the evidence of his own eyes that none of them were anything college kids might wish to dry and smoke. And while keeping what was essentially a greenhouse in a dorm room may be a bit unorthodox it wasn’t strictly against the rules—David had even made a special visit to the Chancellor to ensure Emma wouldn’t run into any difficulty later on, if another student made a complaint, for example. The Chancellor’s eyes had widened to an alarming size, but he’d confirmed that yes, students were allowed plants in their rooms, and there wasn’t technically a limit on their number, then hustled David from his office with the rather thin excuse of a dentist appointment he suddenly remembered he had.

And as for Emma’s habit of chatting to her plants as though they understood her words, or chuckling to herself as she did so, or singing as she watered them—a low and haunting tune in a language David felt he really ought to recognise—all while wearing a pointed hat made of green straw with flowers round the brim which she called her ‘special gardening hat’… well, she wasn’t bothering anyone and David really didn’t think it was his place to judge.

And actually, Emma’s plants weren’t even the most unusual things that could be found in the rooms of his residents. Victor Whale, a slender, pale young man who gave the impression of feeding off his own nervous energy, had what looked to David’s admittedly untrained eye like an entire laboratory set up in his room—tall shelves lined with specimen jars and long tables loaded with Bunsen burners under simmering beakers of… substances in which David felt it might be wisest not to invest too much careful thought. He had not spoken to the Chancellor about those burners and didn’t intend to, both because he didn’t wish to draw attention to them and because Victor with his wild hair and wilder eyes, the sardonic smirk he nearly always wore and the barbed comments he loved to make, did not rouse quite the same protective instincts in David as Emma did.

That, and he wasn’t entirely certain the Chancellor would agree to meet with him again.

Of all his residents, the one David felt he could relate to most was Graham. They shared a similar taste for plaid shirts and brown leather jackets, and a similar appreciation for the simple joys that could be had in the great outdoors. Graham had an deep, instinctual understanding of nature that David envied; several times he’d caught the younger man in conversation with the dogs he met on the walks he liked to take or the squirrels who paused to chatter at him from the branches of trees, even the deer and other creatures that crept out from the forest to scratch at his window, serious conversation that did not appear one-sided. Graham spoke to animals as Emma did to plants—in the manner of folk to their brethren—but the connection went deeper even than that. Every few weeks he went out to spend all night in the woods, generally, David couldn’t help noticing, around the time of the full moon—and when David inquired why Graham simply replied “The animals need me.”

If animals of the furry variety had need of Graham, the feathered kind flocked, quite literally, to Snow. There never seemed to be a time when she wasn't accompanied by some feathered friend or other, and her dorm window was always open so they could come and go as they pleased. She kept bowls of seeds on her shelves and handfuls of them in her pockets and had been delighted when Emma gave her a tree so the birds would have somewhere in her room to nest—a tree that within a week had overgrown its pot and sunk roots into the stone floor of Snow’s room in a way David again found himself opting not to examine. He himself passed many a pleasant afternoon with Snow in that room, listening to her talk about—and to—her birds. It amazed him now how little attention he’d paid to birds before. They were astounding, beautiful creatures, and the sound of Snow’s voice, melodic and soothing as she stroked their feathered heads, was… well, it was… it was something he sometimes felt he could listen to forever.

Snow’s best friend in the dorm was Ruby and though David liked Ruby perfectly well he had to admit he was a bit baffled by how close the two were. They didn’t seem to have a whole lot in common. All but the bravest of Snow’s birds fled when Ruby approached, and the ones that stayed eyed her warily and stuck close to Snow as she flashed them a grin and licked her chops. Er, her lips. She licked her lips and it made the birds nervous, and… and at any rate, Ruby was bold and charming but just a bit wild. She liked to party and to stay out late, often not returning to her room until the early hours of the morning. Andersen had no curfew so David said nothing, though he couldn’t help noticing that in sharp contrast to Ruby’s habits Snow was usually in bed by 10 o’clock. Not that he paid her or her sleeping habits any particular attention, certainly not, just that he happened to notice she always left her room at around 9.45 to go wash her face, always wearing such cute pajamas and trailed by a flock of bluebirds—and it wasn’t like he made a point of being out in the common room when he knew she’d be walking by, he just… well, he happened to be there sometimes. That was all.

Yet despite these differences Snow and Ruby were the best of friends, and while Emma was more solitary and a bit distant until you got to know her, she also got along well with them. Ruby got along with just about everybody, including Belle, who David sometimes forgot was even among his residents. Belle had an unnerving way of appearing very suddenly where she was least expected and of disappearing without warning from places she’d been moments before. She was a quiet, studious young woman who moved as though her feet didn’t quite touch the floor and was so pale he sometimes fancied he could see through her. She was hardly ever in her room or even the common room, preferring to spend her time in the library.

“You might say she haunts the place,” August had remarked with a wry note in his voice that David imagined was significant, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Feeling at something of a loss, he had simply nodded. “She certainly does spend a lot of time there,” he’d agreed, then frowned when August laughed.

August was a bit of an odd one, the only person in the dorm whom Ruby actively disliked, so much that she actually snarled at him whenever their paths crossed. He took only evening classes and was never anywhere to be found during the day. At least once a week he returned from his classes accompanied by a young woman—always beautiful and rarely the same one twice—and David observed that while August preferred to sleep the day away those women would stumble from his room quite early the next morning and looking awful—pale and drawn and thoroughly exhausted. Before leaving they all would go to Emma’s door, knock three times slowly then three times fast, and when it opened they all smiled the same sheepish smile and stuttered the same apologies as they slipped into her room. When they emerged from it they were as new women—pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, glowing with health and quite pleased with themselves, wreathed in satisfied smiles.

David felt uncomfortably as though he ought to do something about this, though he had no idea what. The women always seemed so thrilled when they arrived—clinging to August’s arm and chattering brightly as he smiled at them with a peculiar sort of fond disinterest—and so contented when they left, after they’d seen Emma, at least, and as no formal complaints were ever lodged David was left with nothing more to go on than a feeling of vague discomfort.

He’d attempted to broach the subject once with Emma but she had simply shrugged and said “Groupies. What can you do?” and so he’d let it go.

So those were his residents. Four women—Emma, Snow, Ruby, and Belle, and four men—Graham, Victor, August… and Killian.

Ah, yes. Killian.

David liked Killian, he truly did. It was a point of pride with him to find something to like about every one of his residents, though he had to admit that finding that thing for Killian posed something of a challenge. It wasn’t just that Killian preferred his leather black or opted for dark button-downs or obscure band t-shirts instead of plaid. It wasn’t even that he was mouthy and arrogant, smarter than most everyone he met and not afraid to let them know it. No, the challenge for David when it came to liking Killian was Emma. Or more specifically, the way Killian looked at Emma. And the way she very much looked back.

“I suppose that’s one way to ‘guard’ her,” Victor remarked one evening as they sat around the fire in the common room, Emma laughing with Graham in one corner while Killian glowered darkly at the pair of them from the other. “Very dramatic, you know. Very Charlotte Brontë. Or is it Emily, I always get them mixed up.”

“Piss off,” Killian snarled, returning his attention to his textbooks just in time to miss the glance Emma shot him from the corner of her eye.

“‘Course I suppose she doesn’t make it easy for you—” Victor began, then smirked when Killian slammed his book shut and got up. “I’m going to bed,” he declared and stalked from the room, Emma’s eyes following his every move as he went.

“Enemies to lovers slow burn, 100k,” Belle whispered to Ruby on another occasion, a rare instance when she left the library to join them for breakfast. Ruby nodded sagely and both of them sat back, observing Emma and Killian’s heated argument about the best way to make a cup of tea with all apparent enjoyment. David wasn’t entirely certain what that meant, or that he liked the way his residents seemed to find the pair’s squabbles so entertaining. He knew only that if Emma and Killian really thought anyone believed they hated each other the way they both so loudly and frequently proclaimed, they were seriously deluding themselves. Their little snarky comments and defiant challenges were some of the most obvious flirtation David had ever seen, especially when combined with those damned looks. Looks that all but screamed how much they would prefer to resolve their differences with physical action than with words, and that they had already imagined how those physical dispute resolutions might go—frequently and in great detail.

David did not approve of those looks.

Nor did he approve, as the summer heat faded into the cooler air of autumn and the green leaves of the forest’s trees took on brighter hues, of the way Emma and Killian’s snappish words began to lose the battle with that oh-so-evident longing to touch. Slowly at first and tentatively, small brushes of arms and fingers that before long began to linger… In principle he supposed there was nothing wrong with what they were doing, or with the budding feelings they continued to deny. He would be one hundred percent in support of it, in fact, were it not so damned blatant—those sparks of tension that turned the air electric, the raw hunger in Killian’s eyes as he watched her, the answering ache in hers when she watched him—David had come to think of Emma as he would a little sister and he did not appreciate being slapped in the face, so to speak, by the evidence of her active sexual interest in a man whom David was not at all convinced was good enough for her. It annoyed him so much that he almost—almost—found himself agreeing with Victor, who had taken to rolling his eyes and muttering “I wish they’d just fuck already” a bit too loudly whenever Emma and Killian got into one of their ‘disputes.’

He would have been able to officially disapprove the night he caught them doing tequila slammers in her dorm room—alcohol was discouraged in the dorms, even for students of legal drinking age—except that had turned out to be nothing but a very bizarre dream… although… had it been a dream? It must have been, though it had seemed so real at the time… but he remembered only catching sight of them through her slightly open door and reaching up to knock… the next thing he knew he was groaning as he woke in his own room, his head aching and feeling full of cotton wool, Emma sitting by his bedside with her ‘world famous hangover cure’ in one of Victor’s beakers explaining that he was the one who’d overindulged... “So unlike you, David, I’m really very shocked,” she’d said with that glint in her eye… and when David confronted Killian about the incident he’d merely scoffed and said “Tequila, mate? You were definitely dreaming. You know I only drink rum, and that in the company of ladies more… amenable than Swan.”

Of course, on the late October afternoon when David accompanied Graham on his walk and they stumbled upon Emma and Killian beneath a tree in the forest, wrapped around each other and kissing so deeply that he wondered how they could also be breathing—well, that was most definitely not a dream. It was also not in the dorm and therefore not technically within his jurisdiction, so he simply caught Graham by the arm and turned back the way they came.

The energy had shifted between Emma and Killian, he realised with a curious sort of bittersweet thrum in his chest. An unmistakable shift yet hard to define, as though they were hovering just on the cusp of something both nebulous and truly extraordinary. And despite them being right out in public—seriously, right off the footpath—the way they’d held each other was so intensely intimate that interrupting them, even to ask them to move to a more appropriate location, would have felt like the worst kind of intrusion. Plus of course there was no telling what uncomfortable circumstances David might find himself waking up in if he dared to cock-block Emma Swan.

Now where in hell had that thought come from?

A few hours later Emma and Killian returned to the dorm, flushed and mussed and with leaves in their hair, buzzing with that newly shifted energy—and holding hands, though they let go both reluctantly and immediately upon realising they were being eagerly observed.

“Well well well,” smirked Victor, elbowing David in the ribs. “Looks like August owes me twenty. I should probably thank you, Jones.”

“Bugger off, mate,” muttered Killian, entirely without his usual snarl, and then with a defiant glare and a flush high on his cheekbones, he sauntered after Emma into her room and shut the door firmly behind him.

“Well, I think I’ll go put on some very loud music,” Victor remarked, and retreated into his own room, leaving David alone in the common room feeling vaguely unsettled.

The next morning Killian and Emma arrived at breakfast together, radiating happiness and unable to stop touching, and, David would swear to it, with actual stars in their eyes. They left for their morning classes with their arms around each other, returning in the afternoon in the same manner, and when Victor and August tried to mock him about it Killian just laughed.

“We’ve worked out our differences, mates,” he said, with a waggle of his eyebrows. “I’m certain you know what I mean.”

“It’s sweet, really,” August observed one evening a week or so later, in that dry, supercilious tone of his that grated on David’s nerves. “Though possibly not the wisest move, sleeping with the woman under his protection. I’ve seen the vows they have to take, you know, and they are intense. It could literally be the death of him.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Ruby snapped, baring her teeth as Snow placed a soothing hand on her arm. “Not that you would know anything about that.”

“You’re right of course,” August agreed, his eyes flashing red in the firelight. “What would I know about love and loss, I’m only three hundr—”

“Well, I think it’s great they’ve finally gotten together,” said Snow loudly, glaring first at August then Ruby then August again. “I hope they’ll be happy.”

David hoped so too, genuinely. Even he could see how good the two of them were for each other. She smoothed his rough edges and he drew her out from her shell, and the dangerous sparks of their attraction settled down into the far gentler flame of new love. It was sweet, and he did approve, and yet—still he felt unsettled, a vague sensation of unease twisting deep in his gut. He’d call it a premonition, if he believed in such things. But he was a sensible man, a man of science and the twenty-first century, and so he firmly ignored it.

Two days later Emma Swan disappeared.

___

#cssns20 #cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #magic au #witch!emma #captain swan #college au #sort of #there's a university #and magic #and a sword #that's magic #and a creepy forest #because of course there is #there has to be #where else would the magical battles take place #the eternal and unseen #profdanglaisstuff

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dropouttvpollbrackets · 4 months

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Most Hinged Dropout Cast Member Mini-Bracket (Round 1)

Click here for more info on this mini-bracket

Click here for other round 1 polls

#hinged mini-bracket #hinged mini round 1 #mini-bracket #poll #polls #dropout #dropout tv #rekha shankar #oscar montoya #becca scott #brian david gilbert

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plasticpokedex · 4 years

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Other toys that aren’t that bad: Mega Man: Fully Charged (Jakks Pacific)

(F you, i liked it...)

Nobody asked for a Mega Man redesign and a cartoon about it.

...Maybe...

But “Fully Charged” would turn out to be Mega Man “1% battery left”, featuring the CG adventures of local robot Aki Light’s secret superhero life as “Mega Man”. Aided by his friends, Suna, Rush and Mega-mini, he saves the city against the rebellious Robot Masters and various other techno-criminals.

Perhaps if this appeared back in the early 90′s, it would be a cult classic. But video game properties have evolved so much through decades of established deep lore...and cutscenes...to the point where taking too much creative liberties any further would only detract loyal fans. And that is what happened, airing only one season and nobody buying the toys.

Mega Man is also a brand that gets thrown around A LOT. A bit too much, really. Bandai, Jazwares, Mattel, Fukno, Kotobukiya, etc have all dipped their hands into the Mega Man money bin to a perpetually endless cycle of shelves blurring in blue bomber bulk.

>time to make Mega Man

>time to make Green Mega Man

>okay okay ONE Robot Ma-OH NO CANCELLED

also:

>Time to make X, time to make Zero, okay time to make BLACK Zero OH NO CANCELLED

oh and:

>Time to make Roll this time! But let’s make TWO of the same Rolls each with different accessories so that people will definitely by both OH NO CANCELLED

It’s like the lemon dance but with toys instead of teachers, and Mega Man ain’t no lemon. Just the guys who make them, apparently. Waiting for “Proto Man” over here...😥

But despite all that, Fully Charged’s cartoon and toys weren’t THAT bad, IMO. The cartoon’s setting took place after an unseen robot war, and Dr. Light was one of its veterans. It even features a new villain (not Wily, who is portrayed as a child and friend to Mega Man), and a mysterious character is unmasked at the last episode. Plus we get these neat action figures of the Robot Masters, more than what we’ve been getting in the past decade. Ball (hinge) joints in the shoulders and legs, and knee joints as well. No elbow joints unfortunately, but I drilled in some revoltech joints in there and now they’re an improvement. The toys are a fixer-upper, some needing parts cut out, or a lot of Pledge Future Shine on the joints for tightening.

Of the many redesigns the show has gone through, I’ve grown to love the lanky Wave Man and bulky Drill Man. Air Man, Ice Man and Guts Man are pretty much, “Fuck, Man”, but they’re still just ok toys with the articulation they were given. I still say Ice Man is the worst, but we were still ROBBED of a near-proper Air Man.

While the standard 6″ robot masters came with an interchangeable Mega Buster for the Man himself (just like the Ruby-Spears ones!) Drill Man and Guts Man are “action feature” toys. Drill Man has rev-triggered drill hands and I love it sooo much, but Guts Man gets an...inflatable belly. His ability in the cartoon, instead of just super strength, is eating garbage and slamming his full stomach to emit powerful shockwaves. Oof.

In the end, I would still recommend these toys for any Mega Man fans/purists. With one-offs like 4inchNel Cutman and two-pack Block Man in cancelled lines, I feel these curb the hunger well for more Robot Master toys. As of writing, they are still readily available on Amazon at MSRP. Drill and Wave Man are first priority gets. There aren’t a lot of “drills for hands” toys out there neither.

Air Man is an acquired taste. I just like how round he is, and has those neat turbines resulting in some “Mega Mickey Mouse logo” thing going on. Guts Man is hefty and I just needs me a Guts Man, especially since he didn’t show up in stores. Ice Man...I don’t have Ice Man anymore. I just didnt like that one because he didn’t channel the Mega Man-esque design as much as the others did, and even Air Man has those BIG angry eyes. You can ignore Ice Man, as with the two toys of Mega Man himself since we already have had better toys of him anyway. Would love to use the busters with those too.

And with all that said, here are some other characters I would’ve wanted:

Fire Man:

Dr. Light, with gun, because he has one and look how fit he is.

Elec Man

and Man Man, who is a clear reference to “Bad Box Art Mega Man”. To think, we were thiiiis close...

Mega-bye...

😭

#mega man #megaman #guts man #ice man #wave man #jakkspacific

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bluenpinkcastle · 8 months

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20240203: the History of LEGO Castle day 034. 6077-2 Forestmen's River Fortress (1989, 359 pieces, 98 different parts) The Forestmen's River Fortress is the first castle set built on a 32x32 thin baseplate. All the sets so far have been built on multiple green baseplate with hinges to open up the set. The set itself is a light gray and black fortress in the middle of a blue plate with green foilage around the exterior and a black bridge connecting the fortress to a small stripe of green land. The entire back wall of the fortress opens with the use of the thin hinge plate and several brick hinges. A small brown and black raft patrols the area around the fortress, with brown 2x2x2 barrels used as the main part of the raft. The six minifigures for this set include: -Two green forest people torsos with blue arms and a blue collar, a printed black belt with a yellow buckle, and plain green legs. -Two green forest people torsos with red arms and a red collar, a printed black belt with a yellow buckle, and plain green legs. -One green forest person with a yellow v-neck, green arms, a printed black belt with a yellow bucklet and a brown pouch, and plain green legs. -One Lion Knight with a red torso and blue arms and a gold lion on a blue triangular shield with a gold outline and red legs. Unique or rare parts: -This set introduced the light gray 2x4x2 string holder, found only in this set and a 1997 Town set (6486-1 Fire Engine). -The light gray corner wall with dark gray stone print was only found in two other sets, 6062-1 Battering Ram (1987) and (6074-1 / 10039-1 Black Falcon's Fortress (1986 / 2002). -The brown forest shields are only found in five other sets (6054-1 Forestmen's Hideout, 6071-1 Forestmen's Crossing, 6024-1 Bandit Ambush, 6046-1 Hemlock Stronghold, and 6076-1 Dark Forest Fortress) and two service packs (6103-1 Castle Mini Figures and 5184-1 Castle Equipment). -The target was only found in two other sets (6054-1 Forestmen's Hideout and 1624-1 King's Archer) and one service pack (5184-1 Castle Equipment). Back of the box, top flap, and other build ideas from the instruction manual include: -A plain light gray fortress on the water. -A tree with an observation platform on top. -A round-ish tree with plenty of foilage. -A fortress with two black towers in front of a light gray fortress compound. -A tree with the forest people right next to a two story light gray castle wall with the Lion Knight guard on it. -A light gray bridge. While this set wasn't one of my originals when I was younger, my sister-in-law sent me all her and her brother's LEGO from when they were younger and this set was in there. I think this is probably the least humane of all the dungeons and jail cells we've seen in the castle builds so far, as the Lion Knight is trapped in the water at the base of the fortress. There's no way to open the jail and I guess prisoners just have to wait for someone to pull them out of the water to get them out of it :) This is a very cool, very fun build, though with older instructions, the struggle is very real to make sure you put everything in its correct place and didn't miss anything. There's not even a parts inventory with these older sets like there are with the newer sets and their instruction manuals. Parts inventory for this set can be found at BrickLink or Rebrickable and a free download of the instructions is available at ToysPeriod. You can also find some of the other sets designed by this designer, Steen Sig Andersen, on BrickSet.

#lego castles #lego #lego castle #lego history #lego castle history #history of lego castle #lego system castle #legoland system castle #lego castle system #legoland castle system #lego 6077 #lego forestmen's river fortress #lego forestmen

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

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Jar Of Dirt 12: Pizza Party [Starker Fanfiction NSFW/18+]

There's a LOT going on in this chapter, sorry for this crazy amount of warnings whoops.

Kink/Sexual Warnings: Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Voice Kink, Name-Calling, Public Teasing, Exhibitionism, Explicit Fantasies about some of the other Avengers, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, Spitroasting (with a toy), Blindfold, Sensory Deprivation. Other Warnings: Beck is back - being a creep & implying some dubious things.

All Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11 . . . Masterpost (More to come!)

---

Chapter 12: Pizza Party Peter’s late, as usual. He just can’t help it; if there’s a robbery down the street he has to do something about it. Even if he’d want to ignore it, it’s simply not his nature. He’s Spider-Man. That’s what he does. Besides, it’s not like he misses anything too important for his physics lecture. Professor Dane is super old and usually takes half an hour to even get started. Peter knows it’s a bad trait to be tardy, so he does make an effort to get there as soon as possible. He cuts a corner and ducks to evade a few other students who stare him down. When he’s almost at the door of the lecture hall, he slows down. Hoping to ease his panting before he walks in. He doesn’t want to look like a wheezing idiot. His skin’s tingling and Peter frowns. That’s highly unusual. It’s probably the leftover adrenaline making his Spidey senses kick in though, so he tries to shake the warning signs his body is trying to give him.

When he feels like he’s collected himself enough, he wraps his fingers around the doorknob and slowly opens it, flinching at the squeaky sound that comes from the hinges. His head is ducked down, trying to evade the gazes of all the students that are staring at him. They can’t help it, the door is at the front of the lecture hall and someone coming in late is the perfect distraction from Dane’s slow, monotone sentences. Something’s off though. There’s something ominous hanging in the room. “Ah! Peter Parker!” Peter stops dead in his tracks when he recognizes that voice. That is not Professor Dane. Oh, no. Peter slowly turns his head to the man in front of the whiteboard. A shiver running down Peter’s spine when he sees the wide, toothy grin and slicked-back hair. His big, bright blue eyes pierce through Peter’s. “Glad you could join us, after all.”

Beck takes a few steps towards Peter and cocks his head, his grin causing Peter’s blood to run cold. His jaw is clenched. Every molecule inside his body is screaming at him to run. But he can’t cause a scene. He shouldn’t. He’s not like that. To the class, Beck hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary. “Mr. Beck,” he says politely, not missing how that only deepens the man’s smirk, his eyes glimmering in victory. “Heard many good things about you, kid.” Kid. He called him kid. Like Tony does. Fucking hell. "I'll be taking over from professor Dane, while he's recovering from surgery. Now, please take a seat. Page 26 of your handout.”

During the lecture, Peter doesn’t miss the way the girls in his class seem to flock together, sending Beck flirtatious smiles, giggling. Peter presses his lips together. He gets it. Beck is charming as fuck. If Peter didn’t know any better he’d be sending Quentin the exact same gaze. But he does know better, and it doesn’t sit right with him. He tries to ignore Beck as much as he can. Taking notes and reading along on the handout. But he feels Beck’s gaze brushing past him each and every time, making him break into goosebumps. He knows he’s the center of the man’s attention and he hates it. He has no clue what the lecture is actually about. So when Beck asks him a question, he doesn’t know what to answer. “Uhh- I- I don’t know.” “You don’t know,” Beck mutters. “First. You’re fifteen minutes late. And now you’re not paying attention. I expect you to behave in my class. Is that understood?” “Yes,” Peter breathes out, his heart thumping in his chest. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Beck doesn’t leave it at that, cocking an eyebrow at him. Peter’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. He knows what Beck is forcing him to say. He doesn’t want to say it. He feels sick to his stomach at the thought alone. But he can’t misbehave in class. He can’t show the others what’s going on. So he looks up, forcing a smile on his lips, feeling them quiver.

“Yes, Sir.”

When class is over, Peter’s the first one outside, ignoring Beck by staring straight at the floor, not listening when the man calls him back. His heart is thumping in his chest. His thoughts all jumbled up. Beck. Beck. Beck. After ten minutes of long strides, he finally feels like he’s far enough away from the lecture hall to allow himself to breathe. He drops himself on the nearest bench and stares at the students lounging on the little grass patch in front of him. “Dude-” Peter’s shaken out of his thoughts by Ned, running to catch up with him. Peter’s unsure how long he sat on that bench, his mind racing too much to keep track of time. “What the hell happened back there, man?” Ned pants as he sits down next to Peter, spreading his limbs slightly to cool down.

Peter scoffs, bending forward to press his hands against his forehead, elbows resting on his knees. “Mandatory class,” he mumbles. “What?” “It’s a mandatory class, Ned!” “Of course, it’s mandatory, Pete- you’re literally studying physics! Attendance isn’t optional.” Ned leans down forward to get to Peter’s level. “Why are you so worked up? Don’t you like Mr. Beck?” Peter scoffs again and looks at Ned with raised eyebrows. “That man is Mr. Stark’s abusive ex. Tried to get in my pants at Tony’s birthday party.” “Holy fuck.” Ned leans back again, still panting from his workout earlier. “Wait- abusive?” “Don’t-” “Alright, alright, sorry. Personal stuff, I get it.” Ned opens his palms and nods once. Peter lets out a deep sigh and squeezes his eyes shut. “Can’t call in sick either, every class for the entire upcoming month is important…” Peter mumbles. “Got the practicals- can’t skip those.” Ned places his hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezes once. “Pete, it’s only one week. Prof Dane will be back before you know it.” Peter takes a deep breath and bites the inside of his cheek. “Yeah- yeah, it’s not a big deal- I mean, it’s a big deal, but I can deal with it yaknow-” “Peter. Stop.” Peter presses his lips on top of each other and purses them, nodding slightly. Ned gently pulls Peter back to help him sit more comfortably on the bench. They stay there, quietly staring ahead and Peter can’t be more grateful for his best friend.

“What are you gonna tell Mr. Stark?” Peter keeps staring ahead, blinking a few times, processing Ned’s words. “Nothing.” Ned shifts in his seat, pulling a face at Peter. “Nothing?” “I’ve seen how anxious Beck makes him. And he wasn’t even in the room when it happened. I- I can’t. I don’t want to make him scared for something that’s probably harmless. It’s only for a week and then we can forget about all of this. Forget about him.” “I mean, fair.” Ned sucks at his teeth. “Besides, Beck wouldn’t try anything on campus anyways; there’s cameras everywhere.” Peter nods and scratches at his head before realizing Tony’s coming over to their dorm tomorrow. He turns to Ned, eyes wide. “Please, don’t tell Mr. Stark about this. Don’t tell him about prof Dane, or any substitute. Just- just don’t mention physics class at all, okay?” Peter’s intensity has Ned shift back a little, raising his hands defensively. “Okay- okay, I gotchu, man. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” “Promise me, Ned.” Peter gives him a pleading look, causing Ned to roll his eyes and smile. “I promise.”

Peter expected a lot of things from Tony sleeping over at their dorm. He thought it’d be awkward. Thought Tony might feel out of place or not know what to say to Ned, or anything uncomfortable really. Instead, Tony’s propped up on Peter’s small bed in between the boys. Legs splayed out, the black sweatpants hugging the man’s skin loosely. He’s staring at the screen intently, his upper body moving to the right fast when he’s nearly causing the green squishy to fall off the Rainbow Road. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, making Peter laugh. “Dumb Dino… I’ve actually raced a solid ten minutes in the Formula 1 in Monaco, this is the biggest downgrade ever.” He curses when Mini Hulk actually falls into the void. “Great, now I’m way behind.” Ned perks up at the mention of the Formula 1. “Oh right! That was way back, right? With the Stark Expo? Think I saw it in this documentary once.” Fuck, these kids are young. “Yup, was fun till Vanko decided to ruin it.” “Did you know that’s actually when we first met? That Stark Expo?” Peter’s voice chimes in and Tony looks at his boyfriend, wide-eyed. No longer paying attention to the TV screen, T-Rex failed him anyways. “What?” “Yeah! You probably don’t remember me, but I was one of the kids with an Iron Man helmet? I actually still have the magazine you signed for me somewhere in a box." Tony stares at Peter. God, the boy isn’t even joking. “Wait, how old were you back then? That was ages ago.” Peter doesn’t answer, he just grins. “Oh my God, I’m old.”

“You guys want more chips? I can get more chips.” Ned says slowly, shifting forward to jump off the bed. He grabs the bowls and leaves for the kitchen. Peter blushes. He hadn’t meant for Ned to feel uncomfortable. They’ll start a new round when the boy gets back to make up for it and move past this conversation. Peter can’t help but to make one more comment, though. “Lemme rephrase. I was the kid with the Iron Man helmet who was dumb enough to stand up against one of those drone thingies.” “That was you?!” Tony huffs out a surprised breath. “Fuck, kid, that’s not dumb. Always thought that kid- you were brave, Jeez.” He smiles at Peter proudly. Fuck. Even when he was an actual child he didn’t shy away from a fight. He’d been right to take Spider-Man under his wing all those years ago. Peter’s made for it. “Wait, so you remember that?” Peter’s blushing, a smile breaking through the expression on his face. “Fuck, yes, I do.”

Ned returns with the chips and gets back on the bed again, picking up his console. “Pete, what do you say, Baby Park next?” “Hell yeah!” The other uni student replies. Tony groans. That name alone doesn’t sound very promising. He lifts the controller and looks at the symbols once more, making sure he knows where they are located, and snorts when he sees a tiny green blob in his kart on the screen. Those Millennials are another species, that’s for sure. Tony can hear Peter’s voice echo in his head. “Mr. Stark, Millennials are in their late 30s by now, I’m a Gen-Z.” “Yeah, sure, kid, go catch your Poké-mans.” It made Peter laugh, so that’s all that really mattered. He might not get all their references and jokes, but he loves spending time with Peter in his world like this.

Later that night, right before Peter wants to hop into his bed, his phone buzzes. He frowns, looking at the screen. It’s a message from Natasha. Peter grins. She’s joining the surprise pizza party for Tony next weekend as well. Awesome. Peter smiles proudly as he types a quick message back. He did it. He got all the Avengers together. Awesome. He presses the send button and frowns when he sees there’s a little notification in his MIT Mailbox as well. They never get any emails there. “Hey Ned, we got a message from the MIT Security Staff?” Peter frowns. He sits down at the edge of the mattress, his fingers moving over the screen swiftly to open it. His eyes scan the text quickly. “Oh, shit,” he mumbles. “Some alien chemical got stolen from the lab?” “What?” Tony takes Peter’s phone out of the boy’s hands. His eyes glide over the letters and not much later, he snorts. “Unidentified, yet most likely harmless. Sure.” Tony rolls his eyes and hands Peter his phone back. “That’s damage control. They need to know who did it but they don’t want people to freak out.” “Yeah-” Ned adds, reading the email on his own phone. “They’re asking for our alibis.” He scratches his head. “Would they believe me if I said I spent the day with Tony Stark?” Tony chuckles. “If you want a selfie, just ask.” Ned’s cheeks flare up and Peter laughs. “Not such a bad idea, though. We should probably take one.” Peter gestures Ned to come in closer. Tony groans, leaning in as well. “Do not post this on the Internet. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Peter steadies the phone in front of their faces, nudging Tony to stop looking so serious. The older man rolls his eyes and breaks into a wide grin as he looks at the screen. Right after he snaps the picture, Ned perks up. “Why don’t we ask Mr. B- our substitute teacher if he knows more? Isn’t he specialized in this field? He did mention knowing a lot about this kind of stuff, didn’t he?” Peter’s eyes widen and he smacks Ned’s chest. “Ouch, dude!” Peter shakes his head furiously, glaring at his best friend. Ned raises his arms defensively and Peter groans, muttering something inaudible. Tony watches the boys carefully, cocking an eyebrow. “Substitute teacher?” “Y-Yeah, it’s nothing, Mr. Stark!” Ned stutters. “I just-” “H-He just means that we have to ask our teacher about that one, uh, project, right Ned?” “Yes! Yes. The… Project!” “You girls keep on bickering, I’m going to make some phone calls to some of my old MIT buddies, see if they know what’s going on.” Tony gets up, fishing his phone out of his pockets and walking to the hallway, leaving both boys at whatever little argument they were having. College kids…

Tony always looks back at his time at MIT with fondness. He took the first chance he got at permanently moving out of his parents’ house. It allowed him a lot of freedom and a chance at at least somewhat of a normal life before he fell into the rabbithole that was Stark Industries. He hasn’t talked to his MIT friends in ages. He shared everything with them at the time. A frat house, a room… Underwear. Tony shudders at the thought but collects himself and looks up Eric’s number in his phone, quietly hoping it’s still the same as back then. Spending the day with Peter and Ned definitely grounded him. It brought him back to his own time at MIT and it was… Nice, honestly. Extraordinarily ordinary.

“Hey Eric! Yes- it’s me- I have a question, did you hear-...”

“Surprise!”

Tony stands in the opening of the elevator doors of the Tower. Baffled. Everyone is here. His eyes search for Peter right away, finding the boy in the middle of the living room. Looking quite pleased with himself. There’s a large stack of pizza boxes on the coffee table, all of his friends scattered around it. Bucky and Steve propped up on the couch together, both smiling at Tony widely. Natasha and Bruce lean against the little bar behind the couch. Thor’s walking around, two huge pints of what must be Asgardian beer.

They’re all here. .

“What-...,” he stammers, voice trailing off. He’s literally speechless and watches his boyfriend walk up to him. “Remember how you wanted to celebrate your birthday with just your close friends? Well, it took me some time to get it all organized but, here we are!” Peter smiles proudly, looking at Tony to give him a featherlight kiss on his cheek. “You organized.. A-” his hands wavering in the air, “-pizza party. For me? Fuck, baby… That’s, wow.” Tony has to shake his head slightly, trying to collect his thoughts. No one has ever organized such a thoughtful thing before. “Do you like it?” “Yes. Yes, Peter, this is perfect.” He breaks out into a wide grin. “But please, tell me you didn’t order a pizza with pineapple.” Peter grins sheepishly and Tony groans. “You hurt my Italian pride, baby.” “Hush, I’m not Italian. I’m allowed to sin. I got you the Spicy Chicken one though! Does that make up for it?” “I’ll make you make up for it.” Tony wriggles his eyebrows playfully and Peter snorts, turning to the other guests.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough guys,” Natasha laughs from a distance. “You do that when we’re gone.” Tony doesn’t miss how it makes the boy’s cheeks flush. It’s not embarrassment though. Oh. He grins, smacking Peter’s ass lightly. “I’m sure Peter wouldn’t mind.” “Tony!” Peter exclaims and laughs, but there’s something shimmering in his eyes. Tony grins. He’s had his suspicions for a while. He doesn’t say anything about it. For now. But an idea is definitely starting to form in his head. Natasha grins at the both of them. “I know you two aren’t innocent, but, you’re not that kinky.” Tony smirks, lowering himself into one of the big leather chairs near the coffee table, thinking about all the possible snarky comments he could throw back at her. He didn’t expect soft, shy, innocent Peter to go first. “Ask me again in an hour, and I’ll spill all our dirty secrets, Agent Romanoff,” Peter grins, taking one of the pints from Thor’s hand and gulping it down. Someone wants to get tipsy. Natasha simply smirks. “I will. Mr. Parker.”

A few hours later, when everyone is properly buzzed from the alcohol, Peter’s seated on the floor, chatting about one of his science projects, a half eaten slice of pizza in his hand. The cheese is slowly falling down, but every time it nearly snaps, Peter catches it in his mouth, taking another bite. Bucky is sitting on the couch right behind him, slacked, legs slightly spread so Peter can use the couch as a back rest between Bucky’s knees. Bucky doesn’t know too much about whatever it is Peter’s rambling about, but he could listen to this kid for hours. Peter’s so passionate, and after three huge pints of whatever Thor’s having, the boy’s letting his thoughts run freely. Peter’s mid sentence on something about quantum physics or something like that, when Bruce clears his throat and leans back in his chair. “Hey Nat, think Pete’s got enough alcohol in his system for your interrogation?” Peter looks up startled, cheeks flushing instantly. Uh oh. He giggles. “Kid’s a bad liar, Nat, go easy on him,” Tony grins from the other side of the coffee table, still leaning against the big armrest. “Traitor!” Peter throws at him and Tony shrugs. “You asked for it, baby.”

Peter groans, pouting as he turns to Natasha, stuffing the rest of the pizza slice into his mouth in an attempt to silence himself. But fuck, it tastes good. And he’s nearly choking, so he does start chewing and swallows it all. “Can I have another slice, Bucky, please?” He asks, but Bucky shakes his head with a grin. “First you gotta answer.” He pats Peter on the shoulder with his metal hand and a shiver runs down Peter’s spine. “Alright. What do you want to know? I can tell you lots about Tony’s adorable moans and-” Natasha raises an eyebrow, causing him to shut up. Fuck. He’s probably a little too horny for this to not get inappropriate. Also maybe a little too tipsy. But he’s not sure whether he should stop it. He wants to see where this is headed.

“No- by all means,” Tony chuckles. “Keep going.” “Oh, please!” Sam exclaims. “Are we really doing this right now?” Nat cocks her head and she leans forward in her chair. “We sure are. You can leave if you want.” “Y’all are disgusting. I’m gonna grab another beer.” Sam stands up and walks towards the kitchen. Bucky leans forward in his seat and Peter presses his lips on top of each other, trying not to let the other man’s hot breath in his neck get to him. “Go fetch me one too, would ya?” He asks Sam. “Use your own legs.” The group laughs and Bucky drops himself back again. Peter’s eye twitches when the sound of Bucky’s metal hand running through his hair scratches the inside of his ear. The fact that Tony is staring intently at him, watching his every move, seeing what Bucky is doing to him has him throbbing in his pants. “Alright, I’m gonna get some fresh air. I don’t need this right now-” Stephen Strange gets up from his seat, shaking his head. “Or ever, to be honest.” Wanda gets up as well, Vision immediately following her out of loyalty.

“Was actually planning on getting some of that myself anyway, so we might as well join you.” When everyone who wanted to stay out of this has made their way outside, all eyes turn back to Peter. His heartbeat speeds up again immediately.

“Let’s start with an easy one,” Natasha says with a wide grin. “Who tops? Who bottoms?” Tony scoffs. “Isn’t that a little too easy, Nat?” he quips, cocking an eyebrow. “I intend to be surprised tonight.” Her eyes bore straight through Peter’s and he swallows. This is an easy question. Anyone who would’ve given it the slightest bit of thought knows the answer. “I only topped him once.” A few of the Avengers nod understanding. Tony licks his lips, thinking back to the Italian spa, and decides to give the boy some credit. “For the record, he’s really good at it.” Peter goes beet red and hides his face in the pillow he’s been cradling since the start of this conversation. “I prefer subbing, though,” he says muffled. He can feel a couple heartbeats speed up. Including Bucky’s. Oh, god. “Subbing?!” Clint exclaims. “You’re telling us you two are actually kinky?” Peter raises his head, the people around him are unsure if his cheeks are red from embarrassment or the Asgardian beer he’s been drinking. Maybe both.

“We have a jar with notes in it!” he exclaims, louder than he intended. “Helps us try new things.” Natasha laughs and leans back in her seat. “A jar filled with kinks?” She bites her lip. “Filthy, I like it.” Bucky chuckles behind Peter and the boy shivers. “We call it the Jar of Dirt,” Tony chimes in, rather proud. Bruce purses his lips. “A fitting name.” Tony nods, agreeing. “That’s what we thought.” “So,” Bucky leans forward again, angling himself so he can look at Peter’s side profile. Peter swallows when his senses pick up on the man’s every little move. “What’s the last thing you pulled out of it?” He presses his lips on top of each other, eyes wide. “Oooh, a good one?” Nat takes a sip from her beer. “Go on, doll, what didya grab?” Doll. Peter’s mouth is dry. Bucky called him doll. “Lingerie,” Peter whispers quietly. “Wha- we didn’t catch that.” Bucky grins. Peter knows Bucky heard. He just wants him to say it again and it has Peter stifling a moan. Instead of repeating his answer, he moves the pillow from his lap and toys with the hem of his sweatpants, lowering them far enough for everyone to see the black lacey tulle.

Peter hears Bucky’s breath catch at the sight and he quickly drags the pillow back into his lap before they all see just how hard he is. They probably already saw, though. The outline is hard to miss in those sweats. Peter takes a quick glance at Tony. The hot, dark gaze he’s met with tells him enough. Tony loves this as much as he does, showing off his pretty boy. “Tsk, now,” comes his low, deep voice. “Behave, baby. Can’t show off your ass just like that.” “M’sorry, da-!” Peter stops himself just in time and whimpers. “Y’all being mean!” “What were you gonna call me, baby? Tell them, Pete. Tell them who you belong to.” Tony’s voice is grounding, yet so demanding and authoritative that Peter just can’t help himself. He’s never been good with secrets and Bucky’s fingers trailing slow circles on his back doesn’t help at all. “D-daddy. I’m daddy’s.” “Ohh, look at you…” Bucky’s breath is warm against Peter’s skin. He scoots forward in his seat behind Peter, until his crotch is practically right next to Peter’s head. The man quickly glances at Tony and continues when the boy’s boyfriend sends him a nod of approval. He brings his face to Peter’s ear and Peter gasps when Bucky’s metal hand runs through Peter’s hair, tugging at it slightly. The cold vibranium sends small jolts of electricity through his body. The near-quiet but fast beating of the other man’s heart is evident behind him. He feels it. Every single thud. “You sure are daddy’s pretty boy, aren’t you?”

Peter wants to sob and he nods frantically. Painfully aware of everyone watching the both of them. None of them seem bothered, too buzzed by the alcohol to care. Heck, Peter can practically hear all their fast beating hearts and his eyes roll back as his senses are dialled even further up under the attention. He’s so incredibly turned on. It doesn’t help that Tony’s right there opposite him. Staring at them, licking his lips and seeing how Bucky’s metal fingers are now slightly curled around Peter’s throat. He loves it. Loves the attention. And fuck, most of the people in this room are turned on as well. He can feel it. Feel them. Nat, Steve, Bruce- They’re all disgustingly filthy and it only adds to Peter’s arousal. “Continue, Nat,” Tony’s voice breaking through the silence. She smirks and nods, taking another sip of her beer before continuing her interrogation.

Peter gasps when Tony pins him against their bedroom door, the other man’s mouth hot and rough on his own. Claiming him with his passionate kiss. Peter just takes it. He’s so ready. He’s tipsy and he’s horny and he just wants to feel the pleasure sparking throughout his entire body. “Mr-” “Hush, baby.” Tony breathes against his lips, tickling his fragile skin and sending a jolt down his spine. “Think you talked plenty, don’t you? Making daddy so hard.” His hands trail down his boy’s sides. Peter shivers into his touch. Leaning in, following Tony’s lead. He’s so sweet. So submissive already. “Y-You don’t mind? I mean, I. I don-” “Baby, if I would’ve minded I wouldn’t have let it happen. Fuck, loved it baby. Showing everyone how perfect you are. Perfect for me.”

He grabs Peter’s ass tightly, lifting the boy up and carrying him to their bed. He hovers over him, hands creeping underneath Peter’s shirt to be met with the smooth, soft skin that’s him. He growls, already knowing what he’s going to do to Peter. He needs… supplies, though. “Baby, listen to me carefully. I’m going to grab a couple things. I want you to take off those sweatpants and show me that lace, alright?” Peter swallows. He has no clue what Tony’s up to, but it sounds all the more promising like that. He watches Tony move up and away from him, leaning sideways to gather everything he needs from their nightstand. Peter wriggles out of his sweatpants, kicking it off his feet and hearing it drop to the floor. The cold air near-stinging on his legs. Fuck, he’s probably had a little too much of that Asgardian beer. His Spidey sense is all over the place. “Lose the shirt too, Pete,” Tony orders him without even looking. Peter whines and does so, throwing it aside. “What are you gonna do, daddy?” He asks breathlessly. “You’ll see, baby…” Tony mumbles, turning around with a soft, black blindfold resting in his hands. “Or actually, you won’t.” Peter gulps. They’ve never done anything like that before and damn, he’s so ready for it. Tony is eyeing him, gauging his reaction. Peter just nods, lips parting. “Please.”

“Turn around, hands and knees, darling.” Peter scrambles up right away, arching his back on purpose to give Tony a good view of the black lace hugging his ass tightly. “Can’t believe you showed off to all of them, sweetness.” Tony whispers, slowly sliding the blindfold over Peter’s eyes. The boy whimpers when everything goes dark, feeling how Tony’s fingers brush through his hair as he makes his way to tie the ends together. He’s shuddering. A mess already. “Stay down.” “Y-yes…” Peter stays put exactly where he is. Head hanging low, relishing in the helpless feeling that comes with not being able to see anything. His already on-edge senses shooting through the roof. He hears the air moving around Tony’s body as he moves. There’s soft noises in front of his face. Tony’s… Doing something with the headboard? Peter has no clue. He just hears how the man’s fingers occasionally tap against the wood. He just waits. Silently and still. Like a good boy. Gosh, he wants to be good for Tony. He’s aching for it. Aching for the praise.

Suddenly, Tony’s fingers tangle in Peter’s hair, gently tugging his head backwards. Peter’s breath hitches and his hips buck involuntarily. The smooth panties create the slightest bit of friction on his cock and he moans. “You like him. Don’t you?” Tony whispers, barely audible. But Peter hears him loud and clear. “W-what?” “Bucky. You’d let him fuck you, wouldn’t you?” Peter doesn’t know what to say. He can feel the blush creeping all the way down to his shoulders. It is so very obvious what his answer is. They both know it. But he isn’t sure whether he should admit it. “Say it. I want to hear you say it, Peter.” The boy gasps out loud, panting, when Tony drags his head up even further. His other hand creeping down Peter’s spine, leaving a cold trail of lube that has Peter shivering. Without warning, Tony tugs the panties aside and slips one of his fingers into him. He wants to jolt forward, but the grip on his hair is so tight that he’s held back. “Say it.” “I-I would let Bucky fuck me, Tony, I don’t-” Peter doesn’t know what happens next. Tony tugs on his hair, dragging his head forward. Something - a toy - slips into Peter’s mouth and it shuts him up right away. “Then suck him, Peter.”

Tony lets go of the boy’s curls and Peter moans, nearly sobbing in pleasure as he does as asked. Wrapping his lips around the toy and sucking on it. His mind flashes back to the way the man had dragged his metal fingers through his hair, the static between them, the way he’d threatened him by gripping his throat ever so gently. Doll. Tony’s fingers fill him up, stretching him so good, his fingers teasing around his prostate, only dragging across it lightly. He feels so full and Tony’s not even actually fucking him yet. But he knows the man will. “You’re gonna make Bucky come, baby? Make him throb and spill- all over that pretty face of yours?” Peter wants it. So bad. He knows it’s just a fucking toy but he can’t help sucking harder, bobbing his head up and down more passionately. He wonders what Bucky would sound like above him. Telling him how sweet he is for letting his daddy’s friend fuck him like that. The soft, broken moans falling from his lips as he would. He feels how Tony carefully removes his fingers, only for them to dig themselves into Peter’s hips harshly. He moans, hoping they’ll leave pretty dark bruises like last time. They don’t stain his skin for long but he enjoys every single minute of seeing them on his skin. As a sweet reminder of yet another amazing high.

“I’m gonna fuck you, Pete,” Tony growls from behind him, shifting closer. “Don’t you dare stop giving Bucky your full attention. Show him what a pretty slut you are.” With that, Tony pushes himself all the way in, pushing Peter further forward, the toy slipping deeper into his mouth. His muffled cry around it has Tony grunt and fuck into him mercilessly. “You’re gonna let the others watch as well, sweetness? Show them all how you like to be used by us? Hmmm?” Tony’s voice is everywhere and he can feel the way his pleasure starts building deep inside his gut. A tingling fire spreading towards his legs, nearly making them give out. “Gonna show Natasha all the details to our little kinks, uh? Have Bruce remember your filthy moans in case I shackle you to my desk once more?” Peter wants it. He wants it all. “Gonna ride Bucky’s hard cock while I watch you, honey? Would you do that?” Peter nods, as far as the toy in his mouth allows him too. His jaw’s hanging slack as he lets Tony fuck him forward, setting the pace. His lips sliding over the toy as he does so. He can feel some drool dripping down his chin but he honest to god doesn’t care anymore.

His mind is shattered. All he sees is their faces. Hears their supposed groaning in his ears. His imagination flaring all his dirty little fantasies at him without pause. Natasha sitting on his face as he eats her out, his own cock hard but ignored. She wouldn’t make him come. Would make him wait and beg. He sees himself sucking Tony’s cock while kneeling under the sturdy desk, Bruce at the other side of it knowing exactly what’s going on. He sees Steve, standing in front of him - tall and strong and powerful - while he kneels and takes his come all over his chest.

And then, Tony’s hand wraps around his cock, jerking him off so hard, so fast, that all the images just turn into a white flickering light in his mind as he comes. Hips bucking wildly in Tony’s steady grip. “G-Good boy. Fuck. Peter.” Tony leans in, his hand tangling in Peter’s hair once more as he slams into him again and again and again. Peter just takes it. Wants to take it. Wants Tony to fill him up and make him drip like the filthy boy he is. He’s moaning softly, lips still grazing around the toy. He couldn’t let go of it even if he’d want to. “M… St…” He tries to mumble the man’s name. “Ple-zz.” “Yes, baby. I- Fuck. I-” Tony’s loud groan fills the room, ringing in Peter’s ears when the man pushes forward once more. His cock jerking inside his body, making Peter clench around it as he takes it all. “Peter…” Tony collapses on top of him. Shaking. The grip in his hair loosening. The boy’s no longer being pushed forward and he lets the toy slip out, finally, his jaw aching and tight from holding open all that time, but he loves the strain. He drops his head onto the mattress in front of him, panting. Trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck.” Is all he manages to say after a couple of seconds. Tony lets out a breathy chuckle, slowly moving both their bodies down onto their sides and hugging Peter from behind tightly. His arms are warm and secure; Peter nestles closer. “Fuck indeed, baby.” Tony’s hands move up to undo the blindfold and Peter squeezes his eyes shut to keep the too bright light out of his system for just a bit longer. The other man grabs the blankets, pulling them up over their still slightly trembling bodies. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.” “Shhh, baby. I enjoyed it just as much.” “R-Really?” “Really.” He plays with the boy’s curls for a bit. “You know I don’t like to share, but fuck, Pete, you should’ve seen the hungry look on everyone’s faces tonight. On Bucky’s face. He knew damn well you’re mine and mine alone and I’d make him know it if he were actually here right now.” Peter smiles and makes himself smaller, keeping his eyes closed. “M-yours, daddy,” he mumbles. “My sweet baby,” Tony sighs, pressing a kiss on Peter’s hair. “I love you.”

--- More: Chapter 13 Masterpost

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chanoyu-to-wa · 5 years

Text

Nampō Roku, Book 3 (18.25): the Ō-ita [大板], Part 1.

18.25) the ō-ita [大板], two sketches for the shoza.

[The writing reads: (to the right of the upper sketch) ō-ita (大板)¹; isshaku san-sun shi-hō (一尺三寸四方)², mata isshaku san-sun ni isshaku ni mo ・ isshaku issun ni mo (又一尺三寸ニ一尺ニモ・一尺一寸ニモ)³; gyaku-gatte (逆勝手)⁴; (to the right of the lower sketch) isshaku san-sun go-bu ni shite mo kurushikarazu yo, Sōkyū kakete mōshi-soro aida, [Ri]kyū [h]e tazune mōshi-kereba, migi-za tatami no me hitotsu aru-beki ga, sono kokoro-e naku ni-me ni oki-tara ba, ōi ni higa-goto naru-beshi to iu-iu [一尺三寸五分ニシテモ不苦由、宗及被申シ間、休ヘ尋申ケレハ、右座疊ノ目一ツアルヘキカ、其心得ナク二目ニ置タラハ、大ニヒカコトナルヘシト云〻)⁵; onaji (同)⁶, jun-gatte (順勝手)⁷; (to the left of the lower sketch) kan・habōki (カハン・羽帚)⁸; tadashi kan ha onaji shiki ha mazui, oku-sore ba, hana-kami shiki nari (但クハンハ同敷ハ不好、置候ヘハ、鼻紙敷也)⁹.

_________________________

◎ This, and the following, pair of installments constitute another “mini-densho” (shown, intact, below) probably also written by Jōō. Which is to say that the sketches were drawn by him, and in the specific order in which they appear in Book Three of the Nampō Roku. The kaki-ire [書入] were, of course, added by other hands, and not necessarily those intent on representing Jōō’s authentic teachings, with regard to this shiki-ita.

Both Shibayama Fugen and Tanaka Senshō deal with all four sketches (two on each page) as a unit, but the length of the footnotes and commentary preclude my following their format here. Tanaka, in particular, limits his own comments to a rather brief summary at the end of this section, leaving the kaki-ire to stand without any attempt at interpretation or explanation at all.

¹Ō-ita [大板].

According to Rikyū's account, the ō-ita was created by Jōō, as a temporary base for the small bronze kimen-buro (this furo is usually around 8-sun in diameter) when it was taken off of the small shin-daisu for the sumi-temae. At that point in time, the daisu, decorated with the rest of the kaigu (and the temmoku and chaire on the ten-ita), was displayed in the tokonoma during the shoza, while the furo was placed (in this case, on the ō-ita) on the utensil mat, where the host performed the sumi-temae. This helped to prevent damage to the daisu caused by charcoal dust and sparks. The daisu was moved to the utensil mat during the naka-dachi, and the furo (with the now-boiling kama) was lifted up onto it at this time*.

The ō-ita was originally placed on the left side of the utensil mat (irrespective of the actual orientation of the tearoom), since that was the side of the mat that the furo would occupy when restored to the daisu during the naka-dachi. (The sumi-temae was performed much as if the daisu were actually present on the utensil mat.)

Later, as Jōō's inclination toward wabi deepened, he put the daisu and the rest of the kaigu away, and left the small furo on the ō-ita for the duration of the chakai -- with the mizusashi placed directly on the mat at its side.

The size of the ō-ita was derived from that of the small daisu. The 1-shaku 3-sun square represented the space occupied by the small furo on that daisu. The original ō-ita, however, seems to have been made from the ten-ita of an old large daisu -- since this kind of daisu would have been much more common†.

In Rikyū's densho he wrote that the ō-ita should be placed 5-me (2-sun 5-bu) from the heri, and either 9-me (= 4-sun 5-bu) or 11-me (= 5-sun 5-bu) from the far end of the mat‡; and, according to his kaiki, it seems that the ō-ita was being placed on the side of the utensil mat closest to the guests’ by the 1580s**. __________ *This idea basically imitated the Shino family's practice: the Shino-dana [志野棚] (which was basically a fukuro-dana that had a pair of hinged doors enclosing the ji-fukuro: the doors had a locking mechanism that kept the guests from looking at the host’s collection of kyara incense that was stored in the ji-fukuro) and other incense implements were arranged on the utensil mat during the shoza. Afterward, during the naka-dachi, the tana was lifted into the tokonoma, and a daisu, kaigu, and furo (with charcoal and a boiling kama already arranged in it) were brought out from the katte and placed on the utensil mat.

†Though there are certain indications that the inakama setting had already been used on the continent, the small shin-daisu only appeared (in Japan) when Jōō began to use a 4.5-mat inakama as his tearoom. Consequently, there were no ten-ita from “old and damaged” daisu of this sort that could be recycled as shiki-ita.

Since the ten-ita of both sizes of daisu have rounded edges, it would be impossible to cut an ō-ita measuring 1-shaku 3-sun square (with the perfectly perpendicular edges seen on all shiki-ita) from the ten-ita of a small daisu. The other sizes mentioned -- 1-shaku 3-sun by 1-shaku or 1-shaku 1-sun -- could have been cut from the ten-ita of a small daisu, and it seems likely that there would have been a number of these available by the early Edo period (since the preference had briefly shifted back to the kyōma 4.5-mat room during Hideyoshi’s lifetime -- though when the capital was removed to Tōkyō, the inakama room returned to favor as a consequence of the lack of space in the cramped quarters of that city). These smaller versions of the ō-ita were made by machi-shū chajin years after Jōō's death.

With the advent of the inakama setting, the kyōma fell out of fashion with many of the machi-shū chajin of Sakai and (to a lesser extent) Hakata, hence the ready availability of ten-ita from old daisu that had been originally made for use in that setting.

‡In the Nambō-ate no densho [南坊宛の傳書], this entry (which is the first to be discussed in the document) reads ō-ita no koto, hidari no waki tatami no me go-me, saki kyū me ・ jū-ichi me, dai-jō to tsune-no-datami to nari [大板之事、左のわき疊の目五目、先九目・十一目、大疊と常の疊と也]. This means “concerning the ō-ita: on the left side, 5-me; and in front [of the ita], 9-me ・ 11-me -- [depending on] whether it is a large mat or an ordinary-sized mat.” These arrangements are shown below, drawn to the same scale (with the kyōma tatami shown on the left, and the inakama -- the “ordinary tatami” -- on the right): in both sketches, the katte is assumed to be on the host's left.

When Rikyū wrote the he was still operating fully within the limitations imposed by Jōō’s teachings. Thus, though Rikyū does not cite a source for this teaching, it is most likely that this represented the way that Jōō arranged the ō-ita on the utensil mat.

At this point in time, the inakama tatami was still commonly used (for the 4.5-mat room), which is why Rikyū refers to it as the “ordinary mat;” and, under the influence of Nobunaga, the orientation where the katte is located on the host's left was coming to be preferred. (This densho, which is the earliest of Rikyū's writings to survive, was apparently the second such to be addressed to Nambō Sōkei, and Rikyū appears intent on guiding Sōkei in the most socially acceptable -- and least dangerous -- way of doing things possible.)

**Since the furo cannot be located underneath the tsuri-dana (which, in his room, was a Shū-un-an dana, meaning a tsuri-dana attached to the wall on the left side of the utensil mat), the only possibility was if the ō-ita was placed on the right side of the mat, near that heri.

²Isshaku san-sun shi-hō [一尺三寸四方].

This, as mentioned above was the size of the original ō-ita that was made by Jōō. While made as a base for the small bronze kimen-buro, and derived from the size of the small shin-daisu, the actual ō-ita seems to have been cut from the ten-ita of an old large daisu.

³Mata isshaku san-sun ni isshaku ni mo ・ isshaku issun ni mo [又一尺三寸ニ一尺ニモ・一尺一寸ニモ].

These smaller ō-ita, as mentioned above, could have been cut from the ten-ita of an old small shin-daisu (which would have been available for this purpose in the early Edo period, as a result of the return to the kyōma 4.5-mat room, and the preponderance of wabi-no-chanoyu, which made all daisu superfluous*).

Ita of these sizes were made by the machi-shū, and had nothing to do with either Jōō or Rikyū. ___________ *The daisu ultimately made a return in the Edo period, under the theory that receiving guests of different social ranks demanded different forms of chanoyu service.

⁴Gyaku-gatte [逆勝手].

Gyaku-gatte [逆勝手] is usually translated (and presently understood to mean) “reversed” katte -- that is, the katte is found on the opposite of the room from that seen in the original orientation. As used in the present entry, this arrangement is shown below (note that the katte is located on the right side of the utensil mat).

However, the kanji that is read gyaku [逆] actually has a more sinister meaning -- to disobey, to rebel -- and this sense of the word likely stands in the background of the question of why what was originally the hon-gatte [本勝手] (the arrangement where the katte is located on the host's right, with the guests seated on his left -- as seen in the Dōjin-sai [同仁齋] and other classical shoin-style tearooms) suddenly became the “reverse” (or “traitorous”) setting. The idea seems to have arisen with Nobunaga, because arranging the room with the guests seated on the host's left means that the guests will be unable to see what the host is doing*. From this arose the bad feelings that persist over what was the original way to arrange the room in which chanoyu was to be performed‡.

It might strike the modern reader as rather odd that the “reversed” position is reviewed first, while the jun-gatte [順勝手]** is considered second. But this was likely because Tachibana Jitsuzan simply copied the sketches in the order that they were found in the original document -- which, in the source documents, appear to consistently present the material in its proper historical sequence -- with the terms “gyaku-gatte” and “jun-gatte” added later, to reflect the Edo period norms that were descended from Hideyoshi's edicts. __________ *Most of the early chajin (including Jōō and Rikyū, and their principal disciples -- both Japanese and Korean) were, at least nominally, affiliated with the Ikkō-shū [一向宗] -- the dangerous religious movement that held that all men, regardless of their social position or birth, were completely equal after a single repetition of the nen-butsu [念佛] (the incantation “namu Amida-butsu” [南無阿彌陀佛]). This is the source of the so called “democracy in the tearoom” of which many writers have made note.

It appears that the social revolution that brought down the Koryeo dynasty in Korea was championed by followers of this sect, hence the unease with which Nobunaga, and then Hideyoshi, viewed its adherents. It was also because of this that, while interacting with these people was increasingly necessary (since their ranks included the leaders of the machi-shū of Sakai and Hakata, whose cooperation was absolutely necessary for the success of their respective plans), neither Nobunaga, nor Hideyoshi, ever completely trusted their tea masters. (Rikyū's being invited to take a second wife -- a trusted woman out of Hideyoshi's own harem, who then acted as Hideyoshi's spy in the deepest recesses of Rikyū's home -- once he became a member of Hideyoshi's household, clearly shows how far Hideyoshi was prepared to trust this “most trusted” adviser.)

‡The original orientation, with the daisu on the right, and the chief guest on his left, was derived from the arrangement of the altar in the temples where chanoyu arose: the Buddha is seated in the middle, with the image of Yakushi nyorai [藥師如来] (the “Buddha” of Healing -- who was the patron of both the tea plant, and the practice of preparing and serving tea) seated on his left hand. The daisu was set up in front of the statue of Yakushi, and the bowl of tea was placed out on the host's left, where an assistant received it and carried it directly forward, so it could be placed at the foot of the Buddha. In no temple arrangement was this ever reversed; and it was based on this precedent that the original shoin where tea would be served were laid out.

**Jun-gatte [順勝手]: jun [順] is the literal opposite of gyaku [逆], and means to obey, to submit to, to go along with, and so forth. In other words, this orientation -- with the katte on the left, and the guests seated on the host's right, was a physical manifestation of the chajin’s submission to Nobunaga's, and then Hideyoshi's, will.

⁵Isshaku san-sun go-bu ni shite mo kurushikarazu yo, Sōkyū kakete mōshi-soro aida, [Ri]kyū [h]e tazune mōshi-kereba, migi-za tatami no me hitotsu aru-beki ga, sono kokoro-e naku ni-me ni oki-tara ba, ōi ni higa-goto naru-beshi to iu-iu [一尺三寸五分ニシテモ不苦由、宗及被申シ間、休ヘ尋申ケレハ、右座疊ノ目一ツアルヘキカ、其心得ナク二目ニ置タラハ、大ニヒカコトナルヘシト云〻].

This statement is not entirely lucid (and the several versions differ from one another in terms of both wording and punctuation, resulting in no good consensus as to what the actual text should be)*.

Translating it as the text is given in the Enkaku-ji version of Book Three of the Nampō Roku, the meaning is “on a certain occasion, Sōkyū volunteered that there would be no difficulty if the ō-ita measures 1-shaku 3-sun 5-bu [square†]. When [I‡] placed this matter before [Ri]kyū, he speculated that this would mean either that, on the right-seat of the mat, there would have to be but a single me -- something unsupported by the authority of any of the [associated] practices**; or, if 2-me, this would result in a gross violation [of the rules††], so it has been said.” ___________ *In fact, since it deviates from Rikyū’s own words regarding how the ō-ita should be oriented on the utensil mat (the original text was quoted above under footnote 1, sub-note “‡”), this kaki-ire may well be spurious -- since it offers oblique support for the machi-shū way of doing things.

†This is a guess. For all we know, Sōkyū could have been referring to another rectangular board, like the two alternative versions mentioned to the right of the upper sketch. All that we can be sure of is that this board measured 1-shaku 3-sun 5-bu from side to side.

‡Probably Nambō Sōkei is the intended speaker.

Since the original sketches were probably drawn by Jōō himself, there is little reason why Sōkei would have interpolated comments such as this -- since they were irrelevant to the classical way of doing things. Since placing the ō-ita 2-me from the heri was the machi-shū way of arranging it on the utensil mat -- based on the argument that the “seat of the furo” on the kyōma tatami extends 1-shaku 4-sun from the heri, thus the ō-ita (which measures 1-shaku 3-sun from side to side) should be placed 1-sun (= 2-me) from the heri, so that the other side does not extend beyond 1-shaku 4-sun from the heri. (In an inakama room, the ō-ita would be placed against the heri, since in that setting the seat of the furo extends only 1-shaku 3-sun from the heri.) This machi-shū argument is elaborated upon in Book Six of the Nampō Roku.

The point of all this was to reinforce the idea that Sōkei was the author of this collection of Rikyū’s teachings. In fact, the material in Book Three originated primarily with Jōō (and the fact that Rikyū apparently discarded this densho when he relocated his Sakai household to Mozuno -- this was how it came into Sōkei’s hands -- suggests that he had long since left Jōō’s teachings behind).

**The “practices” associated with the ō-ita to which reference is being made here are, according to Shibayama Fugen, that the ita is placed immediately adjacent to the heri when arranged on an inakama tatami, and 2-me from the heri when it is placed out on a kyōma tatami. The argument suggests that it may be one of these, or it may be the other, but not otherwise.

Note that this deviates from Rikyū’s own explanation regarding how the ō-ita should be oriented on a utensil mat of either size.

††If placed 2-me from the heri, the ō-ita will extend 5-bu beyond the edge of the “seat of the furo” -- which, according to this argument, is a gross violation of propriety. Rikyū, in other words, does not seem very impressed with Sōkyū’s pronouncement (which he apparently offered to his interlocutors without incitement).

That the ō-ita, when arranged as Rikyū said, extends 1-sun 5-bu beyond this supposed limit suggests that this statement had nothing to do with him. (In fact, Rikyū’s ō-ita extends beyond the middle of the mat to the same degree that the ko-ita [小板] falls short of the middle -- 3-me in both cases.)

⁶Onaji [同].

“The same.” The second sketch also depicts the ō-ita.

⁷Jun-gatte [順勝手].

In the present context, this refers to a room that is oriented so that the katte is located on the host’s left, and the guests are on his right, when he is seated on the utensil mat.

The term jun-gatte seems to have first appeared in the Edo period.

⁸Kan ・ habōki [カハン・羽帚].

The lower sketch shows the kan [鐶]* arranged together with the habōki on the ō-ita.

The idea (in both this sketch, and the one above) is that the charcoal utensils should be placed on the side of the ō-ita away from the guests’ seats. ___________ *K’wan [カワン] -- or possibly kwan [カヮン] (with the rendering changed when it was copied) -- was an archaic phonetic rendering. The kanji is rather complicated, and the clarity of the phonetic representation of the name makes it unnecessary to recall the kanji.

⁹Tadashi kan ha onaji-shiki ha mazui, oku-sore ba, hana-gami shiki nari [但クハンハ同敷ハ不好、置候ヘハ、鼻紙敷也].

“However, if one dislikes placing out the kan [directly on the ō-ita] in this way, when [one] is going to put them down, they may be placed with [a piece of] hana-gami underneath.”

The word hana-gami [鼻紙] -- nose[-wiping] paper -- refers to what we call kaishi [懷紙] today. Rikyū’s kaishi was the size of what is sold as women’s kaishi, though made from much thinner paper (more like tissue-paper); and, when used as suggested here, one piece would have probably been cut into a (doubled) square.

Originally the rule was that only bronze kan could be displayed on the ō-ita, never kan made of iron. Whether the host’s unease over placing the kan directly on the ō-ita stems from the lapse of this rule*, or whether this is simply apprehension that even bronze kan might damage the ō-ita†, is not clear from the context.

Tanaka Senshō, however, provides us with an interesting insight, arguing that the piece of paper here is analogous to that placed under the shin-nakatsugi (when it is displayed, without a shifuku, on the fukuro-dana): namely, that the paper allows the kan to contact the kane even when, by themselves, they are too small to do so. According to this way of looking at the matter, the determining factor is the size of the kan (rather than any question about what they are made of), and whether or not the host wishes the kan to contact the kane‡. ___________ *In other words, unease with placing iron kan directly on the ō-ita -- iron kan being much more likely to damage the lacquer than polished bronze.

†Though this does not really accord with Edo period sensibilities. Great concern over damaging something like a shiki-ita would be more appropriate in the early days -- when these boards were made from the ten-ita of antique daisu (and so were handled as if they were relics of a bye-gone day). In the Edo period, shiki-ita were being mass-produced (to keep up with the burgeoning demand caused by a rather sudden increase in the number of people practicing chanoyu), using previously unused wood (though generally still wood that was rather old, so it would be dried out to the point that it would not easily warp).

‡Because the ō-ita was created for the inakama setting, and because it is less than half of the width of the mat, it is divided by three yang-kane (the seven-kane system does not recognize yin-kane in any case). Naturally depending on their size, the kan would possibly sit between the left-most of the three kane and the left edge of the ita (according to the way this sketch is oriented). By placing the pair of kan (stacked one on top of the other) on top of a piece of paper (Rikyū‘s kaishi, when folded in half as is usual, measure 2-sun 9-bu by 4-sun 8-bu, and one supposes that the surplus length would be cut away, leaving a 2-sun 9-bu square), the paper will overlap the kane slightly to the right of the kan, thereby associating the kan with the kane -- if that is what the host wishes.

==============================================

◎ As mentioned above, both of these sketches show the ō-ita arranged for the shoza.

I. The first arrangement -- in a room with the gyaku-gatte [逆勝手] orientation.

The first sketch is confusing, since it shows the gyaku-gatte [逆勝手] arrangement*. In this case, the guests are seated on the left, while the katte is on the right. Below is a drawing of a gyaku-gatte yojō-han tearoom.

The utensil mat in such a room is shown in greater detail below. (Note that the left sketch shows a kyōma tatami, while that on the right is of an inakama tatami.) In either case, the ō-ita employs the same system of kane, which is derived from the original inakama setting for which this ita was created.

The next pair of sketches show the same arrangement in a jun-gatte [順勝手] setting -- a room where the katte is on the left, and the guests sit on the host’s right side.

And, finally, the same arrangement in a jun-gatte room where the ō-ita has been placed on the right side of the utensil mat. It is this kind of arrangement that was being used by Rikyū during the 1580s.

Note that, irrespective of where the ō-ita is positioned on the utensil mat, the kōgō and habōki are always found on the side of the board closest to the katte, according to this document. ___________ *Interestingly, in Rikyū’s Nambō-ate no densho [南坊宛の傳書], his sketch for the ō-ita is identical to the one shown here -- perhaps reflecting the fact that it was for this setting (where the katte is on the host’s right) that Jōō originally created the ō-ita.

——————————————–———-—————————————————

II. The second arrangement -- in a room that has a jun-gatte [順勝手] orientation.

The second sketch shows the jun-gatte [順勝手] arrangement -- where the katte is on the left, and the guests seated on the right side of the utensil mat. Below is a sketch of a jun-gatte yojō-han.

The utensil mat depicted above is shown below in greater detail. Once again, a kyōma tatami has been drawn on the left, while the right sketch shows an inakama mat.

Here the same arrangement is shown in a gyaku-gatte room (a room where the katte is on the right).

And, in a jun-gatte room, where the ō-ita has been placed on the right side of the utensil mat.

Once again, and irrespective of the orientation of the room or the location of the ō-ita on the utensil mat, the kan and habōki are always located on the side of the ō-ita closest to the katte. This is the rule that the reader was expected to deduce from these illustrations.

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edmontonarborist-blog · 5 years

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TREE REMOVAL EDMONTON: A List of 11 Things That'll Put You In a Good Mood

The Christmas tree originated in 7th century Germany. A monk called St. Boniface utilized the triangular shape of the Fir tree to highlight the Holy Trinity in his mentors. Ever since, as well as more plainly in 16th century Germany, family members started to bring Spruce, Pine, as well as Fir trees into their residences as well as embellished them with nuts, candles, fruit, as well as paper flowers.

For many years Christmas tree ideas have not only obtained excellent popularity, but also developed into many different variants with just one point alike, the original triangle shape.

Now Xmas trees can be seen anywhere during the holiday season. A lot, so that having the most costly tree has come to be a sort of competition for several of the globe's wealthiest people. Embellished trees are utilized to display simply how extremely well-off their proprietors are. So, simply how beneficial can a tree obtain?

10. Vermont pre lit synthetic trees: Worth-- > $850 USD Unique features of this lighted Xmas tree include Hinged-branch building as well as unique memory wire. The unique functions of the Vermont Fir tree make it easier to set-up than earlier slim man-made Christmas Trees. This tree is 8.5 feet of various colored vacation party with the most recent in artificial tree modern technology. I wonder what they'll think of following.

9. Pre-Lit Frasier Fir Artificial Christmas Tree: Worth-- > $1,000 USD This pre lit synthetic tree is embellished with 1350 vivid, mini lights. This synthetic Fir tree flaunts an ability for specific lights to be gotten rid of from their sockets without impacting any of the various other tree lights. At 10 feet high, it towers over the majority of various other artificial trees on sale.

8. Sofitel London St. James - Black Tree Embellished With Brandy: Value-- > $55,000 USD Just an additional run-of-the-mill, steel structure slim tree until you look a little closer. You will certainly discover 200 small sized handmade 24-carat gold containers containing Louis XIII, Grand-Champagne Cognac. Why they would honestly leave alcohol in a hotel entrance hall is anyone's hunch. The tree is 16.5 feet high so if you were mosting likely to consume alcohol the sparkling wine cognac, for safety and security reasons I would suggest beginning with the leading and functioning your method down.

7. Steve Quick Jewelers - Gold Table Top Trees: Worth-- > $500,000 USD As a fund-raising job to benefit the American Cancer cells Culture, this enhanced tree was produced by Steve Quick. The Chicago Jewelry expert casts little trees with 18K of strong gold. A couple functions were added to boost the value of a bigger tabletop tree, round ruby ornaments as well as a detachable platinum celebrity tree mattress topper. The star is removable so it can be put on as a pendant. Just when you thought a 5 pound chunk of solid gold could not look any better, they covered it with 4.52 carats of bling, which's simply the one diamond in the platinum celebrity!

6. Soo Kee Jewelery Store - Diamond Tree: Value-- > $1 Million USD Presented at a mall in Singapore called Bugis Junction, a 20 foot - 7,000 pound silver Xmas tree made everybody feel very bad as they tried to find somewhat more economical presents for their liked Edmonton arborist ones. A shiny-silvery radiance of 21,798 rubies and also more than 3,000 crystals decorated this fantastic vacation phenomenon. Would they truly observe if 1 or 2 went missing?

5. Washington D.C. - Capitol Xmas Tree: Worth-- > $1 Million + USD The practice of standing a high Fir tree on the West front of The Capitol in Washington, D.C. began in 1964. Each year the exterior tree is reduced, transported, as well as replanted. Reports guess that the price of such a procedure is more than $1 Million thus making this outdoor Christmas design one of the most costly worldwide.

4. Ginza Tanaka Jewelery Shop - Tabletop Tree: Value-- > $1.6 Million USD Ginza Tanaka Jewelery in Shinsaibashi, Osaka, Japan displayed this beautiful slim tree that was enhanced with over 240 priceless treasures. It is a 24K gold little tree tied with a range of diamonds and pearls considering a total amount of 46 extra pounds. It stands as the 4th most pricey embellished Christmas tree worldwide.

3. Takashimaya Chain Store - Preserved Rose Mini Christmas Tree: Value-- > $1.8 Million USD Precise proof that dimension does not matter. Well, when you're talking about phony Christmas trees to buy that is. The 16 inch table leading Xmas trees is made from managed flowers and enhanced with 400 diamonds. I ask yourself if the department store ever before did accumulate on the $1.8 million cost nevertheless, they did toss the teddy bear in to sweeten the deal.

2. Hong Kong Swarovski Crystal - LED Prelit Christmas Tree: Value-- >??? Standing an astonishing 90 feet high, the 40,000 Swarovski crystals are piled high into one spectacular Xmas homage as component of the yearly Hong Kong "Winterfest". While this outside LED Christmas tree is relatively impressive during the day just wait till the sun drops. Regrettably, the price of such a tree is unidentified to us right now, so the concern "where does it put on this checklist?" can be responded to with one more question "Does your Christmas tree blink it's lights to the beat and shoot fireworks out the top?" I really did not believe so.

1. The Emirates Palace Hotel - Decorated Christmas Tree: Worth-- > $11.4 Million USD The seven star resort in Dhabi presented a 40 foot Xmas Pine covered with $11 million well worth of rubies, pearls, emeralds, and the like. This tree was on loan from a gallery in Abu Dhabi

If you were considering staying at The Emirates Palace Resort you can anticipate to pay around $1 million weekly. Costly? Possibly, but your space comes with a Butler, a Maybach high-end car & driver, and also a privet jet simply in situation you need to run to the grocery store in Edmonton, Canada to grab a couple of things prior to dinner.

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karterh-blog · 6 years

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Levi 1

Levi

This is stupid.

What am I doing?

Nothing odd.

Just a tall teen, buying packaged cookies.

And that’s it.

Watching that movie was a bad idea. Why did I let Nic talk me into watching it? They were so persistent. The movie was good. It made me feel less alien. The worst part was the partial I got from the watching the kiss at the end. I had to hide it behind my letterman’s jacket when we left the theater.

Maybe it’s a good thing. No other on-screen romance has gotten that much of a rise out of me. Fuck. Even my thoughts are getting corny.

“Young man register 15 is available,” the yellow-vested Walmart employee startled me out of my inner turmoil. I looked up at her, she looked tired, unkempt, as my mother would say. She gave me an impatient nod to herd me along to the self-checkout kiosk.

I quickly scanned my purchase and selected the pay option. Fumbling with my wallet I tried to rush the machine into taking my five-dollar bill. The stubborn thing spat it back at me. Infuriatingly, I snatched it back, worked out a barely bent corner and forced the note back into the payment slot. This argument went on for a few more rounds. I felt the stares of the moms waiting in the line. Believe me ladies, I want to get out of here as much as you do. After a fifth attempt it finally accepts my payment and spits my change and receipt at me. I shove it into my jeans pocket, grab my purchase and head for the doors.

“I need to see your receipt, young man,” drawls the exasperated looking man at the greeter post.

I attempt to extract it from my pocket without showering my feet with pennies and dimes. I failed.

“It’s a new policy.”

“It’s fine,” I say and as I hand him the small slip, I see that my hands are shaking.

My hands don’t shake. I scored the winning net in or hockey game against Gillette Saturday night. They’re our biggest competition this season, not to mention our biggest rival. “What is wrong with me.”

“Thank you, have a nice night,” he utters in monotone. he so doesn’t care.

I’m in the clear. Not even close, Pearson.

I make it to the second set of doors and forget how hard it’s snowing. I hate driving around town in snow. I’m not a terrible driver for a 17-year-old. I get carried away after a big win on the ice or a movie with good chase scenes, but generally I keep it in my pants. But other people act like they haven’t lived here for decades and either slide through the intersections or drive half the speed limit.

Crap, am I really doing this?

At the beginning of Christmas break Nic begged me to go see a movie about some gay kid. It didn’t play here in Sheridan. There is no way it would play here. It might turn us impressionable youths into the gays!! Too late. Anyway, Nic convinced my mom that she would likely get a better present if I were allowed to drive up to Billings, Montana to do my holiday shopping. Nic is basically an only child. They know how to manipulate parents. They are my best friend, but I wouldn’t say that to the guys on the team. The guys already give me a hard time for hanging out with them and some of their “freaky” friends. I just feel so comfortable around them.

Unlike now. My socks are wet from slopping to my car. Chucks are not good winter shoes. I jam the key into the door handle to unlock the car. No fancy fob for this ride. Hell, it doesn’t even have cruise control. Gotta love hand-me-downs. Now that Jess is working a job and going to school (Sheridan College, fancy) he was able to buy a better vehicle. So, I get the old Honda my parents bought used ten years ago. The hinges creak as I open the door and slouch into the driver’s seat.

After shoving my backpack into the floor, I set the package of Oreos on the passenger seat. They’re the holiday ones with the red filling. Not really like the movie said, but close.

The car squeals to life with a good forceful turn of the ignition. I should get my friend Joey to change that belt. It’s getting really bad. I carefully make my way out of the packed parking lot as my phone buzzes in my hoodie pocket. I know it’s Nic, so I don’t even look.

“Hi.”

“Hey babe?” They sound unsure. Great.

“Why do you call me that? Don’t you’ll make me more nervous?”

“Lee, it’s going to be great! I’m so excited for you. I wish I could watch from your backseat.” Nic ignored my question. Typical.

“God you’re creepy.”

“Yeah. But you love me.”

“Uhhh....” I let silence hang in the chilly air.

“Levi Pearson, you go give that boy his cookies and make his year!”

“How are you cockier than me? Do you think he’ll even get the reference? This is pretty out there.”

“I know he saw the movie, Sarah Riley showed me his secret Instagram post about seeing it and then journaling at City Brew for hours afterward!”

“How do you know it was actually his post?”

“Babe, the freaks know all the best gossip.”

“Seriously? The babe thing?”

“What about it?”

“Even your friends think we’re together!”

“That’s impossible Lee. They all know I’m a demi/panromantic asexual genderqueer!”

“Nic. No one in this county knows what that means, except for you.”

“You’re totally not my type.”

“You mean you’re not my type?”

“Right. Not everyone can be born with genitalia that you are disturbingly focused on. But you are so stoic that no one knows what your type is, other than maybe cheerleader or volleyball player. I’m the only one who sees you. Well until tonight. Then Patrick will see you. Hopefully more of you than I’ve seen.”

“Hey.” I listen to Nic’s peeling cackle for two traffic lights.

“Holy shit. Aren’t you almost there?”

“Just turning off 5th street.”

“Ok. Ok. Ok. I love you! You’ve got this!” With that she hangs up.

I shift into park and look up at the brick house. The lights in the living room shine through the curtains. A big pine tree blocks the only other window facing the street. That’s probably his parents’ room though. That’s how I remember the house when Brad Warren lived there. We used to hang out in grade school, and we’ve been on the same hockey team for two years. I’d ride my bike over here when mom and dad were both at work in the summer.

God. My thoughts are all over the place. I’m mostly just trying to not picture and also hope for the opportunity to see Patrick’s smile. I think a lot about that smile. I didn’t really notice it until he got his braces off last year. It seemed like he smiled for weeks. He was unfortunately outed by some football players in a pretty brutal manner. He hasn't smiled much since then. Nic says he’s been out to his friends for years, which makes us the only two queer guys in the 11th grade, as far as I can tell.

A shadow passes by the window and I jump. Crap. I probably look like a stalker sitting out here.

I grab my backpack off the floor and chuck a couple of textbooks out, so I can fit in the treat I have for Patrick.

The characters in the movie bond over Oreos. And I figured if I showed up and offered them to him, it could be easier than walking up to him at school and saying something dreadfully embarrassing for both of us.

Pearson. You got this.

I wrench my door open and trudge to the Williams’ front door. I can tell by the blue light that the tv is on and I can faintly hear the sounds of Wheel of Fortune. That show is banned in our house. We watch Jeopardy! and no other game shows.

The chime of the doorbell makes me jump. Breathe. In. Out. Hurried little footsteps come toward me. This must be his little brother. I’ve seen him at school functions with his parents. The knob jiggles as he attempts to open the heavy door.

“No! I got it!” The small voice protests. And lights blind me for a second as he stares up at me. I’m already six-one. He must think I’m a giant, as he stands there with his mouth open and his eye wide before squinting at me. “Who are you? Are you Thor?”

“Uhhh, Levi Pearson?” Wow Pearson intimidated by a juvenile.

“Who’s at the door, Alex?” His voice is clear and sharp and makes shiver run down my spine. And then he fills the crack in the doorway standing behind the shorter version of the same person. His bristly dark blonde curls are cropped short. And his light blue eyes look into my soul.

“Levi?”

“Uhh, hey.”

“Why are you at my house?”

“Can we talk?”

“This couldn’t wait until school in the morning?”

“Please?”

“We won’t get very far if you keep answering questions with questions.”

“Boys, shut the door! You’re letting all the heat out.” Their dad has an intimidating presence. He’s big and muscular, and always has a shadow of coal and grease on his skin.

Patrick eyes me wearily.

“Well come in.”

“Thanks.”

The front door leads straight into the living room. They must have painted when they bought the house. It looks totally different. Wow. How does anyone really think I am hetero? I choose to blame my mother and her HGTV habit.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh sorry. Ummm. Did you get Speiker’s assignment from yesterday? I didn’t have a chance to see him before we left for the game.” He glares at me. This was a stretch. We have one class together. Algebra II. I’m decent at it. I mean I’m holding steady to my A-, but I can play dumb.

He looks unconvinced.

“You have friends in that class, why ask me?”

I’ve got to bullshit fast. Mini-Patrick has grown bored of me and now that the door is shut their dad is back in a recliner studying the next word puzzle.

“Well, I was on my way home, and your place is on the way–”

“Are you stalking me?”

“What!?” I try to wipe my now sweaty shaking hands on front of my hoodie. It’s wetter than my hands. This is going great!

“How do you know where I live?” He looks nervous and skeptical.

“Oh. Uhh. Brad used to live here before you.”

“Ooookaaay.”

“Anyway. Your place was on my way home and I need to keep my B in Algebra to stay on the active hockey roster.

“Boys, quit flapping your gums or get out of the living room, you’re interrupting the puzzle,” his dad said while waving us to the kitchen or some other part of the house.

“Fine. Come with me.”

Patrick lead me into the house, cautiously monitoring my every move.

“Patrick. Tell your friend shoes stay at the door.” I was so busy watching Patrick watch me that I didn’t even notice his mom perched at the kitchen counter. She scrutinized me over the top of red-framed reading glasses like a mean librarian, if librarians wore paint splotched bibs. She likes to call herself an artist, but Mom says she’s just crafty with too much free time. I don’t really know what that means but I’ve seen her name on fundraiser auction items.

Patrick clears his throat to get my attention.

“Oh god,” I jump, “sorry.” I dig my toe into the heal of my right shoe popping it off and then do the same with the left. I pick up my sneakers and trudge them back to the front door and take a big deep breath before rejoining Patrick in the kitchen. He leads me down a set of stairs into another living area. It’s basically just an older version of the one upstairs. The couch is more worn, and the recliner looks nonfunctional, but cozy.

“Wait here” he leaves me in the comfy room and my eyes wonder to a wall covered in family photos. I resist the urge to memorize every one of them. Geez. I am a stalker. To calm my fidgeting, I perch on the arm of the couch and stare at the ceiling. I slide my backpack off my shoulders and hold it by the loop at the top.

“Do you have your book with you?” I look down and he’s standing in front of me, still glaring.

“Oh, uh, I don’t really need the homework. I got it from Nic. I just–”

“Dude. What’s going on here? Why the fuck are you at my house then?” His voice is icy and cuts through my small shred of confidence.

“Pat. Calm down.”

“It’s Patrick.”

“Sorry. Patrick.”

“Is this some sort of hazing, jock bet? Infiltrate to home of the homo?”

My stomach had been trying to climb out of my chest and these words drop it to the floor. I slump forward and look at my wet pack and socks. The zipper is partially open, and I can see the bright blue package. I don’t know what to say to him. Of course, that is what this looks like.

“I just wanted to give you something.” I reach into my bag and wrestle to cookie package free. I drop it onto the seat of the battered chair and head quickly back up the stairs. I jam my soggy feet into my shoes, shoulder my bad and leave the warm house without looking at any of the Williams family.

Back in the Civic, I see that I have missed 10 calls and 20 texts. I have one voicemail from home. I opt for that first knowing that all the other communications are from Nic. Mom says dinner is ready and mine will be cold by 7. I check the phone’s screen. It’s just after 7. I’ll make something up. It’ll be fine.

Nic texts again as I close the voicemail window.

Nic: Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.

Nic: <3 <3 <3 <3

Instead of trying to type out my humiliation, I opt for a call instead. I hold the phone with my shoulder as I make a U-turn and drive the five blocks home. It doesn’t take that long for me to spew my rejection and humiliation. I park behind Dad’s old beat up truck and rest my head on my steering wheel as Nic attempts to construct further plans. They seem way more invested in my love life than I am right now. I’m half listening to Nic and half listening to my stomach growling. Tall athletes should not miss meals. But despite its protests I don’t think I can keep anything down.

“Lee!”

“Huh?”

“Are you listening to me or wallowing?”

“Definitely wallowing,” I huff. My breath is starting to fog up my windows.

“Babe, remember when you tripped on your own stick while skating toward the undefended goal in the game against Casper?”

“Wow. As if I didn’t feel shitty enough, thanks Nic.”

“Did you give up hockey after that game?”

“No, but that’s different.”

“You’re right it’s a different kind of match between boys playing with stick.”

“Cute.”

“The cutest enby you know.”

“You’re the only enbee I know.”