#hopefully that woman only did that for internet claps

[fluent-in-lesbianism]

Sorry, what's so bad about the mom who pays her child a dollar a day if he picks up his toys and makes his bed etc, then has him pay 'bills' that add up to about $8. It seems like a great way to teach responsibility, and $22 a month ($30-8) is way more pocket money than I ever had at 7 years old, when I was making beds and picking up toys

You don’t give little kids adult cares and responsibilities. Bills, rent, paying for utilities or food, budgeting, etc are things for adults or teenagers about to become more independent. The best way to start teaching little kids responsibility is by giving them chores to do, and then rewarding them with money that they can spend on toys. Teach them about prices and how saving money can lead to bigger toys. Or go a step further and start teaching them how they can donate their money to charities if they want. Don’t force them to start worrying about being able to afford food or wifi. Let them have a fucking childhood smh

Not to mention everything on that list is things parents shouldn’t be charging their own damn kids anyway??? Like rent? You mean for the shelter you’re legally supposed to provide them anyway? You gonna evict them if they miss a month? 😂

Like, we gotta stop adultifying these babies from the womb for clout on Tiktok. Just let your kid have money and stop giving them a fucking financial complex by age 8 smh

[snelbz]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 8}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A @snelbz X @theladyofdeath collaboration.

Word Count: 2752

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

***Announcement! *** After the completion of I’ll be Seeing You and Tempting the Fates, all of Tara and I’s joint fanfiction will be posted on a separate blog that we run together > @snacmc. Be sure to follow the new blog as we will start posting on there soon!

Athena

– Goddess of wisdom, reason, intelligent activity, literature, handicrafts and science, defense and strategic warfare

Rowan felt ridiculous.

He had spent the last hour cleaning his apartment and was currently pulling all of the food out that was meant to be prepared for dinner.

Steak, carrots, green beans, potatoes, a wide range of spices.

Thanks to the internet, Rowan knew what to do with them all.

It’s not like it was that big of a deal - Lorcan and Elide were joining him and Aelin for dinner.

And although he had hosted Lorcan and Elide a million times for dinner, Rowan had never cooked, nor had he introduced them to someone he was crazy about.

And he was crazy about Aelin.

She didn’t have classes on Fridays, something he wished he had been smart enough to plan when he was in college, so she’d done his grocery shopping while he was teaching all day. When he got home, he was expecting her to still be there. But his apartment was empty.

I have to get ready, she’d explained when he called her. I wasn’t expecting Lorcan the other night, but I have to impress Elide.

“You could have gotten ready here. You shower here all the time.”

We have sex in the shower, I don’t use it for functional purposes. Not yet anyway.

So here he was, laptop open to a recipe for pan-seared steak, making sure he had everything he needed.

Aelin had promised she’d be here before Lorcan and Elide, and he had been hoping to impress her with his skills in the kitchen, too, even if they were rough.

Now he was hoping not to set the smoke alarms off as he turned the stove on and put way more butter than he was used to using in the cast iron pan.

As it began to melt, he was already considering his meal a success.

Just as he was dropping the steaks into the pan, the front door opened and Aelin was letting herself in.

“Follow the sound of the sizzling,” he called, and Aelin came into view a second later.

She whistled, brows raised. “I like a man in the kitchen.”

Rowan laughed as he met her halfway, giving her a kiss. “Hopefully you still like it after you eat what I make.” Another kiss. “You look beautiful.”

She scoffed. “I’m wearing leggings and a top.”

“And you look beautiful in them,” he replied, turning back to the stove. “Just like you do in everything.”

“You’re a shameless flirt,” she said, beginning to chop the vegetables. But he saw the blush creep across her cheeks and ears.

Although they were cooking a homemade meal, he’d made sure she knew this wasn’t going to be anything fancy.

Elide would never let me live it down.

Rowan had always got along well with Elide, although he had absolutely no idea how she ended up with Lorcan. Rowan loved his oldest and closest friend, but he was a natural asshole.

Elide was the opposite.

“I have to confess,” Aelin began, nibbling on her bottom lip. “I’m a little nervous.”

Rowan’s brows rose. “Why?”

“Well, these are the people we’re going to be spending a lot of time with, I assume, since they’re two out of four people that know about us.” She gestures between the two of them. Their unorthodox relationship. “If she’s as sweet as you say she is, I’m worried my sarcastic ass will offend the woman.”

Rowan couldn’t help the laughter that shook his body. “Do I need to remind you that she’s been with Lorcan for the last five years?”

Aelin whistled. “Five years and still no ring? That gives me good material to ruffle Lorcan with.”

He froze and glanced over a shoulder at her. “Maybe don’t bring that up.”

Aelin was instantly grateful she had mentioned it now, and not in front of Lorcan directly. “Why?”

“Lorcan is…” Rowan trailed off as he flipped one of the steaks over. “He’s complicated. He’s not great with commitment. Elide is the only girl he’s been in a real relationship with as long as I’ve known him.”

“And how long is that?” Aelin asked, transferring the chopped veggies into a baking dish.

“We’ve been best friends since elementary school.”

Aelin’s eyes widened. “Oh. Wow. Okay, I won’t bring up anything to do with weddings or babies or any other lifelong commitments.”

“Good idea,” Rowan chuckled. “It may not seem like it, but as of now, Lorcan likes you. Imagine how cranky of an ass he would be if you got on his bad side.”

“Almost as bad as it is for someone who gets on mine,” Aelin grinned, and that mischief sent a thrilling chill down Rowan’s spine.

He opened his mouth to respond, to say something along the lines of lets do it right here, right now, before they get here, but a single knock sounded on the door.

Aelin whistled. “Even Lorcan’s knock is grumpy.”

“It’s also early,” Rowan mumbled, setting the tongs he’d been using down beside the stove and heading for the door. On any other occasion, Lorcan would have let himself in, like usual, but he knew how important this night was. Or at least was to Rowan.

He opened the door and found Lorcan grimacing, while the petite girl with dark hair was bouncing from foot to foot.

“Is she here?” Elide asked, grin growing. “Or do I have time to grill you about this alone before she shows up?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to grill us both,” Aelin said, appearing from the kitchen, a smile on her face.

As Rowan shut the door behind them, Elide’s mouth popped open into a little O and her eyes narrowed.

Aelin’s grin grew. “Hello, Elide.”

“Aelin,” she breathed. “Aelin Aelin? As in…Aelin?”

“I’m guessing it was the same Elide,” Lorcan mumbled, carrying a covered dish into the apartment. “Elide made dessert.”

With that, he was going into the kitchen to place it on the table.

The two women ran towards each other and embraced. Rowan kept his mouth shut as he watched the scene unfold.

Elide stepped back. “You don’t seem as surprised as me. Why don’t you seem as surprised as me?”

“Lorcan told me where you were from and how you moved around last time I was graced with his presence.” Aelin shrugged, that grin remaining. “I had a hunch, but wasn’t sure. Besides, if it did end up being you, I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

Elide turned and glared at her boyfriend. “A little heads up would have been appreciated.”

He was already halfway to the fridge, heading for a beer he knew Rowan would have restocked for them. “What she said. I didn’t want to get the story wrong or your hopes up.”

Rolling her eyes, Elide looked back to Aelin. “Men.”

Ending up back in the kitchen, Aelin finished up the veggies and was putting them in the oven when Elide asked, “So Aelin, how exactly did you two meet?”

Aelin glanced at Rowan and then back towards Elide. She was sipping her wine as she leaned against the counter, looking like the picture of innocence. Lorcan was shaking his head where he stood next to her.

Clearing her throat softly, she took the safe route. “In class.”

Elide’s eyes lit up. “So he really is your professor.”

“I thought that had been established,” Rowan mumbled, covering the steaks with foil to rest before they ate.

“I wasn’t sure if you two were just trying to mess with me again,” she said, eyeing Lorcan and Rowan. Turning to Aelin, she said, “I’m so glad I won’t be the only girl anymore. You have no idea how awful it is being the third wheel with these two.”

“You’re the third wheel with these two?” Aelin asked, brow raised.

Elide barked a laugh. “Absolutely. The more time you spend around these lovebirds, you’ll see what I’m talking about. Their bromance is out of control.”

“Bromance, huh?” Aelin grinned as Rowan rolled his eyes.

“It’s cute, really,” Elide said, then slowly shook her head as she met Aelin’s eyes. “Wow. I just can’t believe it’s you. It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Aelin said, and Lorcan cleared his throat from where he stood on the other side of the room.

“Are we done with sappy pleasantries?” He asked. “I came to eat.”

Elide pointed to the oven, where the vegetables were still roasting. “Five more minutes in the oven, but you and Rowan can set the table if you don’t feel like hearing us talk.”

She gave him a brilliant smile, which he scowled at, but Rowan indeed clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and led him from the room.

“Are you still close with Aedion? How is he?”

Elide asked, perching on one of the bar stools as Aelin refilled their wine glasses and stirred the pot of mashed potatoes on the stove.

“Yeah, he practically lives with me,” Aelin replied rolling her eyes affectionately. “He’s dating my best friend, and graduates in the spring, like me.”

“What’s he studying?” Elide asked, then added. “I thought he was older than us.”

“He is, by two years. He took a year off to find himself,” Aelin snorted, holding up air quotes. “Then he changed his major twice, which gave him a few unexpected setbacks. But he’ll have a degree in sports medicine and will be going back at some point to get his specialization in physical therapy.”

“I remember him being big into sports,” Elide nodded. “Good for him.”

“And you?” Aelin asked, leaning her elbows on the counter. “College not the path for you?”

“Oh no,” Elide said, chuckling. “I went for a few months before deciding it wasn’t for me. I started serving and making good tips, so I didn’t pursue anything else until recently. About a year ago I started getting really into pottery. I started my own little business a couple months ago, that I do for just a little extra cash and for the hell of it.”

“Really?” Aelin asked, brow raised. “That's incredible. What do you make?”

Elide opened her mouth to speak, but it was Lorcan that said. “Vases, mostly. She’s incredibly talented.”

Aelin hadn’t even heard them come back in, but as if on cue, the timer behind her went off. She turned to pull the vegetables out of the oven, but glanced back over her shoulder and Elide, who was smiling softly at Lorcan. “You’ll have to show me,” she said, setting the baking dish on a trivet. “I’d love to buy one.”

Elide’s smile was almost as radiant as she was.

*

“Okay. No more ordering in when we come over,” Elide said, setting her fork and knife down on her nearly empty plate. “You’re cooking from now on, Rowan.”

Everything had been delicious, even if the potatoes had been instant. Rowan was pretty damn proud of himself. “Aelin helped,” he said, his hand finding her knee under the table.

“Then you better keep her, because that was delicious and take out isn’t going to cut it anymore.” Elide sipped from her wine and winked at Aelin from across the table.

“Even I can’t protest that,” Lorcan said, throwing his arm around the back of Elides chair.

“And I didn’t help that much,” Aelin said, holding her hands up. “Rowan started cooking this afternoon. I just put veggies in the oven.”

“Well, either way, it means Lor and I are on clean up duty. You two go relax,” Elide said, and rose, beginning to pick up plates.

Lorcan groaned but followed his girlfriend’s lead, nonetheless.

Aelin laughed quietly as she took Rowan’s hand and pulled him into the living room.

“I like the hold she has over him,” Aelin said, once they were alone. “It’s inspiring.”

Rowan hummed as he put an arm around her and pulled her against his side. “That’s a great way to describe Elide. Inspiring.”

Aelin thought of the murky memories she had of the young girl. She’d moved to Perranth right around the time Aelin’s own parents had died. Sadly, that move had been prompted by the same reason. Elide’s parents had also passed and her uncle had received full guardianship of her, and he lived in Perranth. Rather than uproot his life, he decided to uproot Elide’s. She had been too young for a cell phone, so there had been no way to stay in touch at the time, but Aelin was glad to see her back in Orynth. She was sure Aedion would be happy to hear about it, too.

“I think she likes you,” Rowan murmured, his lips by her ear.

Her laughter was soft as she rested her head against his shoulder. “I’d hope so. She’s known me since we were children.”

Rowan scoffed. “That means nothing. I’ve known

Lorcan since we were children and half the time

I hate him.”

Aelin’s head fell back as she laughed a little louder. “Well, that’s understandable. But me? I’m a peach.”

“Yeah, you are,” he whispered, and kissed her, softly. She held onto him a little bit tighter, and she couldn’t help but think how perfectly the night had gone.

If only the people who currently knew about their relationship would be the only people that knew about their relationship, Aelin wouldn't mind it. At least, not for a while.

“Elide was right, though,” Aelin muttered. “Your food is delicious. I’m continuously impressed by you.”

He shook his head and laughed quietly. “Thank the Internet. I can just follow directions well.”

The two fell into silence as they listened to Lorcan and Elide’s banter from the kitchen, and Aelin couldn’t help but laugh. It was clear they had been together for a while, with how comfortable they were, and Aelin was happy for them, if not a little bit jealous. She knew it was something that couldn’t be rushed, but feeling like that with someone, like that someone was home, was something she hadn’t experienced in a while.

“He’a different around her,” Aelin quietly mused as Lorcan’s deep rumble of laughter reached them from the other room.

Rowan nodded slowly. “Their story isn’t mine to tell, but… He helped her out of a dark place, but she also saved him, in her own way.”

She understood that. Hopefully, she and Elide would become close enough that she’d feel like she could open up to her.

It’d be nice to have another girlfriend, like Lysandra.

“You should come over one night this week,” Aelin said, looking up into his face. “So you can get to know Aedion and Lysandra.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I think Lysandra and I got a good start on that in class.”

Aelin grinned as she framed his face with her hands. “She’s a little extra, but so am I, so you shouldn’t mind that too much.”

Rowan scrunched his nose but sighed. “I guess that would be fine…considering they already know about us.”

“Kind of hard to hide from my best friend and roommate,” Aelin muttered. “And obnoxious cousin.”

“We could always go up north for a weekend, too,” Rowan suggested. “With Lor, Elide, and Lysandra and your cousin. I have a cabin there.”

“Of course you do.” Aelin rolled her eyes. “Spoiled, rotten rich kid.”

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes, but before she could ask about it, or even begin to apologize, Elide was sweeping into the room. “Dinner is all cleaned up and I still have room for dessert. Anyone else?”

“Depends on what it is,” Rowan smirked, his arm still around Aelin. That hurt was gone and Aelin wondered if she’d imagined it. “Not your attempt at a crockpot apple pie again, is it?”

“That was one time and had too little liquid. My crockpot was too large,” she huffed, but crossed her arms. “It’s a triple chocolate cake, actually.”

Aelin’s interest was immediately piqued. “Oh, there’s always room for chocolate cake.”

Elide grinned and took her hand, pulling her off the couch and into the kitchen. Lorcan took a seat on the other side of the couch and sighed.

“The two of them together is terrifying.”

Rowan smiled. He was sure they could get into some trouble, but it was nothing he and Lorcan wouldn’t be able to handle.

He was happy, he realized, trying to shove back the dark memories he’d accidentally dredged up. He was happier than he’d been in years, and Aelin was the reason.

He just prayed nothing happened to end that happiness.

[phantomrose96]

Flash in the Eyes Part 2

(Part 1)

More fixed!Flynn lore? More fixed!Flynn lore

..................

Danny lay awake. He kept his eyes glued to the bedroom ceiling, studded with glow-in-the-dark stars from corner to corner. They doused him in the tiniest shimmer of ethereal light – the second source of light in the room – after his phone, which he gripped loosely in the hand dangling off the bed. The phone cast its own faint shimmer outward, a ray into the bleak night.

And he himself made for the third source of light, he supposed. That pulse of iridescent green from his eyes, which he felt like the beginnings of a headache building inside his head, had been spurred to the front by the trickle of anxiety that kept his nerves alight now at 3:30 am.

The plastic stars above. His phone glowing outward. (His radioactive eyes, pinned to Aunt Alicia.)

Danny was not allowed to forget the incident. He was not allowed to move on. Even home, it followed him.

His phone, with that dim light, was open to a single message that had been plaguing him all day. A single Facebook message, from a profile wishing to connect, with no profile picture, no history, no other friends, made day-of. “danny. this is your aunt alicia. never would of thought id be using of one these computers. wierd things. any way. wanted to apoligize about scarring you. I have a mean face maddie knows. i dont have a computer. this is in the libary in town. but hoping you culd call me on the phone. wanted to ask you somthing more. thanks. xxx-xxx-xxxx…”

Danny left the message on read. He figured it didn’t much matter that his read-receipts were on. Alicia made it clear she had no access to a computer, or likely internet for that matter. This was a message cast into the void, framed as an apology, but fishing for information that made Danny’s skin crawl to think about. Alicia could talk to his mom any time. But she had chosen not to. She’d chosen to contact Danny directly, through a means of great hassle for a woman so sworn-off technology, living so far away from proper civilization. And she’d chosen to do so after seeing that flash in his eyes.

This wasn’t like fighting ghosts. Those were pure physical scuffles which ended in him casting the creature off into the portal to (hopefully) never be heard from again. This instead was an anxiety pricking along every nerve of his skin, deep-seeded and deep-sewn from the woman who terrified him all these many years, whose connection to his ghost-hunting parents sent his brain into spirals of dread for all the what-ifs he conjured.

“You seem deep in contemplation. Perhaps I should come back later?”

Danny sat bolt-upright, spinning fast enough to see new stars spawning in his vision. He blinked them away, and sucked in a sharp inhale of breath as he snapped his head to the side.

Half-translucent, idly floating, Vlad Plasmius appraised him from the other side of he bedroom, studying Danny the way a teacher might study a struggling student.

Danny’s transformation and leap from bed came as one. His covers blew back, phone clattering to the floor forgotten.

“Plas—”

“Yes yes, ‘it is I, Plasmius’. I believe we’ve done our battle cry introductions enough times for the audience to get the point.”

“What are you doing here?!”

“Just dropping in on old friends.” Plasmius, still floating, performed a motion as if to sit. He swung one leg over the other, and reduced the miasma of pressure that his aura sent off. He was relaxed, and conversational, and this made Danny’s neck hair prickle all the more.

“All the way from Wisconsin! Yeah just, dropping in at 3 in the morning! Yeah, well, sorry but I don’t buy it, Plasmius. And I’m sending you back to Wisconsin now that you—”

“Seems we’ve both been traveling quite a bit out of state. Tell me was it a fun little vacation? A ghost hunting trip?”

“It—” Danny’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know we were gone?”

“Oh easy, I have ghost sentinels pinned on your house at all hours. They feed me this information.”

“Noted. Thanks for the tip. I’ll be sure to blast them out of existence next time I’m out.”

“I’d love to see you try. They’re masters of stealth.” Vlad flashed a grin. “I have to say I am quite disappointed to see you all back so soon – must have been a short trip. Where did you go?”

“Not telling you. Now why are you here?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

Danny bit down the urge to sucker-punch Vlad on spot. “We were visiting our aunt. Nothing special. Not everything is some big…I dunno… ghost conspiracy, Vlad. Now why are you here?”

“I was simply hoping to catch the house unguarded. You know, explore the lab, see the new contraptions that Maddie designed and Jack botched, perhaps sprinkle some cyanide in the oaf’s cornflakes box.”

“Like I’d let you--!”

“Aunt, did you say, Daniel? Alicia, perchance?”

Danny gave no response. He felt only the twist in his gut, which wrought a smile to Vlad’s face.

Vlad clapped his hands together and continued. “That is a name that brings back memories! She and Maddie were remarkably close. I heard about her constantly – given of course that I am a fantastic listener who never forgets a name or a face, unlike some fools who can’t even remember birthdays – but yes as Maddie’s best listener and best supporter, I feel like I know Alicia personally. Tell me, how is her husband Dale doing? How’s little Flynn? Not so little anymore, I imagine.”

“Don’t… talk about my aunt. That’s weird.” Danny floated backwards, coalescing a lick of flame in his palm. “Also, goes to show how much you know these days. Alicia and Dale have been divorced for like ten years now. And there’s no Flynn. You sure you’re that great a listener?”

Vlad quirked an eyebrow. “Ah, shame how divorce never seems to happen to the right people. Has Alicia tried telling Maddie it’s not too late to follow suit?” Danny unleashed his pulse of energy. Vlad blocked it with a single dismissive wave of his gloved hand. “And Daniel I am referring to your cousin Flynn, about whom I am absolutely not mistaken. Maddie and I were sophomores in college when he was born. Maddie flooded me with pictures of the boy, chubby little thing with red hair like Maddie’s. They moved her to tears, some of them. It was formative for me. The moment I realized that was the future I wished for myself, that I could bring Maddie that same joy with a family of our own. Shame how children don’t seem to happen to the right people either.”

Danny gave no response. He only lingered in the air, drifting slightly, the wafting residue of his attack trailing along his palm.

“You don’t seem so convinced,” Vlad commented.

“I’m not. Aunt Alicia doesn’t have kids. I don’t have any cousins. Unless you count whatever Danielle is.”

“A clone. You have to know the cousin thing was made up.”

“Alicia doesn’t have kids. Bottom line.”

“Did she sign him away in the divorce? That’s cold. I wonder if I could convince Jack to do the same with you.”

“Aunt Alicia divorced without kids, dumbass!” Danny swept a hand out. “She talks about her divorce all the time like it’s the best thing that happened to her, and she’s said how easy it was with just her and Dale and no one else. I don’t know how many other ways I can tell you I don’t have cousins, and I definitely don’t have a cousin named Flynn. You’re making yourself look like an idiot.”

“The opinion of a 14-year-old means very little to me.” Vlad dipped forward, closing the gap between him and Danny by a few feet. The air howled cold behind him. “However I am utterly intrigued to know what became of Flynn then. Clearly something worth keeping from you. Drowned in a pool? Carried off by a bear? Perhaps his parents made a ghost portal a decade prior to yours and he zapped it on from the inside.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I am hilarious, young man.” Vlad uncrossed his legs, still floating, but as though standing once more. “You should respond to your aunt’s message.” Vlad nodded his head to the phone on the floor. “She seems eager to speak to you. Maybe she can tell you what happened to dear little Flynn. And if you don’t, well perhaps I will stop by tomorrow morning for some tea, and ask Maddie myself what became of him. You’re welcome to be in the room when I do.”

“Hey!”

A flash of light momentarily blinded Danny, followed by a pulse of energy, and when Danny opened his eyes again he had to blink through stars.

Nothing remained in the night.

Only the ceiling studded stars above, and the glow of the phone below, and the consumptive chilling green flashing from his own eyes.  

[scapegrace74-blog]

Mister April

A/N I had an angst-ridden update to the Metric Universe all queued up, and then I thought, nah.  The sun is shining, people are getting vaccinated.  Angst can wait.  So this little ficlet fits into the Metric Universe after The Second First Christmas, but before Calculation Theme.

The entire Metric Universe, now chronologically ordered, can be found here.

March 16, 2019, Spittalfields, London, England

“Wait.  You mean you’re actually Mister April?!”  Several bottles into the six-pack of Tennant’s lager that he had brought home after work, Claire’s exclamation was too incredulous for Jamie’s liking.

“Aye.  Every year since I signed on, save one.  At first t’was flattering, but now, weel...” He peeled the label from the bottle held between his knees, cursing the trajectory of their late night conversation.  The idea had been to take advantage of the fact they were both off tomorrow to spend some time with his girlfriend, listen to a little music, get a bit sloshed, then hopefully fall into bed together.

“Can I see?” Claire interrupted his momentary sulk.  “I mean, I’ve been dating a veritable calendar boy for almost two years, and I’m only just now figuring it out.  Seems a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

“Seems to me ye’ve seen me wearing far less, Sassenach.  But fine, look yer fill.”

Grabbing his laptop, Jamie entered his name and London Fire Brigade Charity Calendar into a search engine.  A stream of results filled the screen.  Claire’s eyes goggled and she grabbed the computer, opening the first image.  A much younger Jamie appeared, rugby shorts hanging from the graceful arcs of his hipbones.  He reminded her of a Thoroughbred race horse, not an ounce of flesh to spare, kinetic energy in masculine form.  She checked the date: 2012, before they had ever met.

Further clicks brought her to subsequent years.  Each showed a beautiful man in the prime of youth, fit, cocky, a devil-may-care gleam in his cornflower eyes.  She knew it was her Jamie, but she barely recognized him.

He was missing from the 2015 calendar.  Claire did the math and realized that he would have been in the hospital when that year’s pictures were taken.  Instead of primping and smoldering for the camera, he had lain in an ICU bed for weeks, before undergoing painful rehabilitation and numerous skin grafts.  The brash young man of the earlier images had disappeared, erased by an industrial explosion in an instant.  In his place, the Jamie she knew had emerged. More cautious.  More prone to sadness, but with a limitless capacity to spread joy.  Would she had fallen for him, had they met before his transformation?  She honestly couldn’t say.

By 2016, the pictures had changed.  Jamie posed in a shirt, sometimes unbuttoned to the waist, but always with his shoulders covered.  The gleam in his eyes had dimmed, and instead of an infectious grin, his smile was forced.  She was certain no-one buying the calendar would notice.  He was still a beautiful man, with his burnished curls and Nordic bone structure.  But she could see what those photos cost him.  She knew.

“Dougal wanted me tae show my scars.  Figured t’would be good publicity, I reckon. Heroic firefighter burnt like a human candle comes back tae fight fire ano’er day. I told him I wasna some charity case he could trot out when it suited him.”

She fetched his hand from his lap, giving it an understanding squeeze.  Jamie had once confessed that he felt comfortable bearing his scars to her alone because she had already seen him at his worst, and that left no room for pity.  He was a proud, stubborn fool, and she loved him.

“You know what this means, don’t you?  There’s only one way to make this right.”

Not waiting for his response, she rose, sought her balance for a moment, and went to grab her phone.  Connecting it to their TV audio, she scrolled her music library, looking for a suitable choice.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, pressing play.  A synthetic tambourine and clap bass filled the room.  He recognized the opening lines of OutKast’s Way You Move.

“What are ye on about, Sassenach?”

“You’ve been sharing your glorious body with the Greater London area and god know who else on the Internet for years, Jamie.  As a philanthropist, I applaud you, but as your girlfriend, I’m a tad perturbed.  I am hereby re-asserting my rights to exclusive content.  Now stop lollygagging and get your fine ass off the couch.”

“Sassenach...” he laughed, starting to grab hold of her meaning and feeling a shot of adrenaline course through his veins.  Even before his accident, he had never...

“Don’t make me put it on repeat, Fraser.  Oh, look, here comes the chorus!”

Claire sat back on the sofa, her legs tidily crossed on their coffee table.  The room was dark, except for the undying city lights outside.  No-one was there to see except the one person he trusted to look without staring, to laugh without mocking, to understand without judging.  He’d never known Claire to ask for something she didn’t truly want, and he wanted to give her everything she desired.  Even if it came at the expense of his dignity.

“Ye ken I canna dance fer shite, right?” he said as he stood, taking an extra long pull on his lager.  He was going to need all the liquid courage it could offer.

“I’m well aware.  But as the woman who shares your bed, I can testify that there’s nothing the matter with your sense of rhythm.  If it helps, don’t think of it as dancing.  Think of it as upright simulated sex.”

His face was already hot from the alcohol and embarrassment, but with Claire’s words he felt the heat spread downwards across his chest and towards his groin.  Almost without willing it, his hips began to twitch in time to the beat.

“Now we’re talking!” Claire exclaimed with a grin, leaning back like the only patron at a very private strip club.

He was still dressed for work.  The navy shirt he wore beneath his jacket had no buttons, so he began by easing it from under his belt, baring his navel briefly before sliding it back down.  Claire sulked dramatically, making him laugh.  

With the song’s next horn flourish, he reached behind his neck and lifted the shirt clean off in a single tug, shaking out his hair afterwards.  When he next glanced at the couch, his girlfriend’s smug smile was gone, replaced by a blatant leer that sent shivers down his spine.  She wasn’t even pretending to look at his face anymore, spending her time somewhere between his shoulders and his waist.  He wasn’t really sweating, but he made a point of wiping his pecs before letting the shirt fall to the ground.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, already a tad breathless.

“Immensely.  Don’t stop now.”

Fortunately, his boots and socks had already been removed, so with the next verse he made a show of unbuttoning and unzipping his blue trousers.  Claire’s eyes followed the movement of his fingers like she was memorizing them for the exam.  He could feel his cock grow heavy.

With a shake of his ass for good measure, the pants hit the floor.  Only a tight pair of boxer-briefs stood in the way of utter nudity.  They were doing a poor job hiding his belated enthusiasm for Claire’s request.  The fact that her eyes were now glued to the bulge of his erection only encouraged his excitement.

As the repeated chorus faded away, he carefully slipped the waistband over his now-rigid cock.  The material slid down his legs and he stepped free.  If someone had mentioned his scars in that instant, he would have no idea what they were talking about.

In the ensuing quiet, Claire sat up and very deliberately began to disrobe.  Once naked, she came at him like a heat-seeking missile, one hand reaching around his back to pull him tight and the other dragging him into a kiss.  They collapsed to the floor, rolling around on the area rug in a fight for dominance.  He let her win, because feeling her rise and fall over his length like a cresting wave was the best runner-up prize he could imagine.  

The sex was torrid, and frantic, and not at all polite.  The kind that left bruises and invoked daydreams for days.  Afterwards, they lay in a sweaty heap, trying to catch their breath.

“See?  I knew you had it in you,” Claire muttered into his clavicle.  “A bit more practice and you’ll be as good as the pros.”

“I didna realize I was auditioning fer a second job.”  He brushed Claire’s curls away from where they were tickling his nose.

“Oh, I have no intention of sharing your talents, lad.   Never fear.  But I wouldn’t object to a repeat performance.   Besides, I was so distracted by the show, I completely forgot to film you!”

Jamie groaned, pulling her tighter against him as sleep called him away to dreams.

[doingthingsthewriteway]

shakedown pt. iii

Summary: A suspicious package arrives 

warnings: stalking 

A/N: cross posted from my ao3. taglist available! 

Taglist: @jhay-fangirls​

Nearly two weeks passed before Bucky was able to introduce himself. Things got chaotic, they always did when Loki and his brother Thor were involved. Bucky spent days strategizing and negotiating before a pleasant peace treaty and paycheck were in his favor. His priorities might not have included you, but he certainly found himself thinking of you.

In the beginning, he devote considerably time to pondering the simple, innocent things about you. Did you prefer coffee or tea? (Coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon, iced preferably) What books did you like to read? (A sucker for a gothic novel, something old with rich language. Beautiful modern writers including Toni Morrison were not uncommon on your bookshelf) How did you smell? (The shift to the more personal. A juicy apple scent from some college girls store).

Then, especially on nights when he retreated to his empty brownstone and had just a bit too much bourbon, he let his thoughts wander. Were you a virgin? Seemed innocent enough but maybe you had that sexy librarian thing going on behind the scenes. How did you taste? How did you feel? His hands wound jerk the belt off his slacks, yank the zipper down, and trail his hands down to pull on his dick. Fuck he was lonely and you were there.

After the fourth night of desperate moans and tugs by his own hands, he decided that it was time to visit his apartments. He made the arrangements in advance, taking great care to order the exact teacup and fork over the cost of rush delivery so it would arrive just in time. Scott was all too eager to have Buck swing by, still in awe and in gratitude for his position.

"Hiya boss!" Scott wore a Hawaiian shirt and jeans as he fumbled around the leasing office in a effort to meet Bucky at the threshold.

Bucky flashed a genuine smile, clapping Scott on the shoulder. "How's Cassie? Hitting the books?"

The beam of pride that radiated off Scott was enough to spark that underlying instinct that echoed through Barnes (an heir? A princess that followed after him? A momma's boy that clung to his mother's leg in the kitchen? A family to protect?)

Bucky retreated to the desk to balance the books, Scott filled his boss in on Cassie's collegiate achievements. "Couldn't have done it without you boss!" There was the ego boost he wanted. A dismissive hand wave followed.

"She's a bright young woman, happy to help." Yeah, he was a regular ol Robin Hood. Brooklyn's answer to everything. He glanced over the bridge of his nose to the stack of packages waiting to be collected. "Lotta mail."

"Called the tenants this morning about it. Most stop in after work."

Bucky made a sound of approval, returning to the papers before him. The jingle of the bell by the door drew his attention, blue eyes scanning the lobby wildly for the object of his affection. Bingo.

"Howdy Scott!" Howdy? That was awfully endearing. No one he knew in Brooklyn was charming enough to say howdy. You weren't from around here. Family issues? He certainly wouldn't mind you calling him Big Daddy.

"Said you had a package for me?" The element of surprise was evident. There was excitement in your voice. Maybe you thought someone sent a care package, that those doors shut on you weren't sealed forever. Oh to see the look on your face.

Scott eagerly handed you over the package. An inconspicuous little brown box that Bucky had used painstaking detail to forge. Not to mention the hours he spent searching for the right teacup. Blue light had strained his eyes late into the evening as he scoured the Internet. But he found it in a little antique store just off 3rd.

"Can't remembering ordering anything." You mumbled lifted the box for good measure, mindful of the fragile sticker on the packaging.

"Hopefully something pleasant then." If there was a growl in his tone, you hadn't heard it. Big y/e/c eyes focused in on him with the innocence of a deer. Bambi meeting the grin of the big bad wolf.

"Where are my manners? Y/N this is my boss, so I guess that makes him your other landlord huh? This is my boss, Mr. James Barnes."

Bucky stood from behind his desk, navy suit on full display. He took your outstretched hand and just the small touch was enough to nearly make him unravel like a goddamn teenager. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Barnes."

"It's only Mr. Barnes when someone owes me something. Call me Bucky, sweetheart."

Bucky, how cute. Certainly didn't match his persona of the almighty landlord but sure. You'd bite. "Pleasure to meet you, Bucky."

"Got time to chat?" Scott wasn't as stupid as Bucky had thought. He deserved a pay raise.

"Not today. I'll bring some cookies by to make up for it."

Was he disappointed? Yeah a little, but he made much more progress than he had anticipated. Besides, there was only so much he could do before you caught on, and he decidedly wanted to gain your trust before you got too spooked.

You seemed to skip away, carrying the small box with the eagerness of a child. Greeting your neighbor-a fumbling college student (Peter?) a little younger than you- with a flashy grin, you tucked inside your apartment. Keys placed in the dish by the door, heels kicked off with a freeing groan, purse hung on the coat rack.

Grabbing the scissors from your desk, you sliced open the tape. Sorting through the dainty pink tissue paper, you felt a thump in your chest. Your heart pounded against the ribcage that ensnared it. No.

Cocooned in the protective layers of paper was your teacup. Well, a replacement anyway. The shattered remains you had managed to salvage from that night were immediately tossed away as a means of cleansing yourself. But now, here was one in tact. Any other occasion, the white porcelain with gold trim and tiny blue forget me nots would have brought a smile to your face. Now, you struggled to silence a scream.

This meant they knew. Whoever or whatever was happening in the alley below knew you had been out on the balcony that evening. They were cashing in now, pulling you into whatever was happening and it terrified you.

Perhaps what was more immediately terrifying was you were alone and yet you felt that you hadn't been in a long time.

[wistfulcynic]

Drink the Wild Air (4/?)

IN WHICH We learn more about Lieutenant William Jones, and the ship he is now a part of, and MYSTERY IS FORESHADOWED.

SUMMARY: Once upon a time a princess fell in love with a pirate. This is their story.

A Captain Duckling high-seas adventure tale in which princesses are kidnapped (OR ARE THEY), sea battles are fought, SWASH is BUCKLED and CASTLES are STORMED.

(also EVIL is VANQUISHED and FAMILIES are REUNITED)

For @thisonesatellite​ (who is somehow more delightful in person than over the internet,) @ohmightydevviepuu​ who is the best cheerleader, and @katie-dub​ who is always the loveliest. 

@darkcolinodonorgasm​​​ @kmomof4​​​​ @teamhook​ @stahlop​​ @mariakov81​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @shireness-says​ @snidgetsafan​ @xarandomdreamx @winterbaby89​​ @jennjenn615​ @facesiousbutton82​​

(please do say if you would like a tag or if you would like not a tag)

(Also on AO3) (Tumblr: Part One | Part Two | Part Three)

PART THE THIRD: LIEUTENANT WILLIAM JONES:

Lieutenant William Jones concluded, after some consideration, that he was not especially surprised to learn that life on a pirate ship was not so very different from life on a ship in service of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. A ship was a ship, after all; the same tasks needed to be performed to keep her afloat, the same command structure had to be enforced, and even the mission goals were not terribly dissimilar. The line between plunder and conquest was a very fine one, comprising delicate questions of politics in which Lt Jones took no interest. All he wanted was to sail and to see the world, and the company he kept whilst doing so mattered little. 

There were some aspects of his new pirate’s life that did surprise him. The ship they sailed was an exceptionally fine one, with impossible speed and manoeuvrability which he soon deduced could only be the result of enchantment. Once going she could maintain her momentum even without wind, and after a few weeks’ careful observation of how her captain handled her, the lieutenant began to wonder if the crew was in fact necessary at all. 

Captain Jones kept his ship in pristine order and condition, and commanded the crew with military-grade discipline. So far as he had ever considered the question, Lt Jones imagined pirates to be an unruly lot, unwashed and obstreperous and prepared at any moment to mutiny. Instead they —or at least those on the crew of the Jolly Roger— were meticulous and tidy and their respect for their captain showed in every action they took. 

There was quite a lot of carousing, however. 

And yet the only thing that truly astonished the young lieutenant was the princess. Quite apart from the extraordinary fact of a princess sailing with pirates at all, it was obvious from his earliest days among the crew that they loved her nearly as much as their captain did, and there was never any muttering about the bad luck of having a woman on board or any challenge to her authority or her place on the ship. She knew each member of the crew by name, and greeted them with a warm smile and and jest that was as effective at keeping discipline as the captain’s more traditional approach. And while Lt Jones believed that the princess’s warmth and interest were genuine, he also saw the strategy behind her actions. She needed this ship and its crew for something, some purpose far outside the usual purview of a pirate ship, and the best way to ensure the crew’s cooperation in unusual or trying circumstances would be to win their loyalty. 

~

His first few weeks aboard the ship were spent in the infirmary, definitely a surprising experience for the young lieutenant. Infirmaries on naval vessels were grim places where the stench of blood and rotting flesh was infused into the very walls and men were as like to die of disease as of any injury sustained in battle. The infirmary aboard the Jolly Roger was, by contrast, utterly pristine, with cots covered in clean linen and instruments crafted of gleaming metal and air that carried a sharp, astringent odour, not wholly pleasant but compared to the putrefaction the lieutenant was accustomed to, vastly to be preferred. It was run with an iron fist and an air of benign insanity by a man who introduced himself as “Whale” and did not amputate Lt Jones’s leg. 

Lt Jones, who had already resigned himself to the loss of his limb, found he was almost disappointed. He’d been rather enjoying the notion of himself as a proper peg-legged pirate. But Whale informed him, with a grin that exposed rather more teeth than seemed appropriate for a human head, that there was no need to waste a perfectly useful and very well-formed body part, and proceeded to hand Lt Jones a rag soaked in liquid and wafting fumes with the same pungent aroma that permeated the air and instructed him to hold it to his face. This he did, hesitantly at first and then with greater enthusiasm as the edges of his vision blurred pleasantly and his body went numb, and he he began to fancy he was floating. 

He watched with detached curiosity as Whale deftly reset the crushed bone in his leg, secured it within a splint constructed of thin and flexible slats of wood then wrapped the whole affair up with strips of fine linen dipped in a substance that looked like wet clay, watery and pale grey, mottled with specks of green. After twenty-four hours this clay had dried to form a remarkably solid and resilient cast, and Whale’s pallid face wore a pleased expression as he rapped his knuckles up and down the length of it. 

“Hmm, yes,” he said, nodding in approval and flashing a grin that raised goose pimples on Lt Jones’s arms. “That will do nicely.” 

 From the infirmary’s supply closet he produced a selection of wooden crutches, which he proceeded to measure against the lieutenant’s back until he found the one best suited to his height. This he instructed Lt Jones to use to take daily exercise on the decks, along with a regimen of lifting, bending and stretching designed to keep his muscles strong and limber and his joints flexible. Lt Jones followed these instructions to the letter and after a week or so Whale permitted him to spend several hours a day performing menial tasks alongside the crew, provided they did not result in getting his cast wet. The remainder of each day he spent in the infirmary, resting and drinking cups of bitter tea at regular intervals under Whale’s glittering and watchful eyes.

After several weeks of this routine Whale pronounced that the time had come to remove the cast. He began by making a fissure down the length of it with a hammer and a tiny chisel, then gripped it tightly on either side and wrenched the whole thing apart into two equal pieces like the shell of a walnut, revealing a perfectly healed and unscarred leg within. 

Lt Jones stared at it. “But— how?” he stammered. 

“Healing herbs in the clay,” said Whale. “Among other things.” He gave the empty teacup in Lt Jones’s hand a significant glance and grinned his jovial, manic grin, and Lt Jones reflected that perhaps the prospect of leaving the infirmary, hopefully for good, was not at all a bad thing. 

Once Whale had swabbed the clinging bits of clay from his leg with a clean linen cloth dipped in another mysterious solution, Lt Jones stood from his cot and gingerly put weight on his newly healed limb. Finding it as hale and whole and sturdy as ever, he began to walk around the room, at first cautiously then with more confidence, even capping his tour by dancing a little jig. 

“Excellent,” said Whale, his pale eyes glinting. “I’ll have to remember that formulation. Most, most excellent.” 

At that moment there was a knock on the door and the quartermaster’s mate appeared, holding a stack of fresh and neatly folded clothes for Lt Jones plus his own shoes, cleaned and shined. Gratefully abandoning the split trousers and single slipper he had worn for the duration of his convalescence, Lt Jones dressed quickly and followed the quartermaster’s mate, a man called Teynte, to the crew’s quarters where he found waiting for him his own bunk, sea chest, and leather flask. 

“Bunk t’ sleep, chest t’ keep, and flask t’ drink, said Teynte cheerfully.

Lt Jones sniffed the flask dubiously. “Drink what?” he asked. 

“Grog, o’ course,” said Teynte. “The cap’n’s right generous wi’ it.” 

“Grog? You mean rum.” 

“Aye, rum ’tis, along wi’ lemons and a touch o’ sugar. Ye’d best drink it, Navy lad, it keeps ye healthy, so it do. There be times, weeks on end as can be, when we sees no food but fish and ship’s biscuit, ye’ll be grateful fer a spot o’ grog then t’ stave off th’ scurvy.” 

“Hmmm,” said Lt Jones. “I see your point.” Scurvy was rampant in the Queen’s Navy and he had witnessed with his own eyes the suffering it caused. Raising the flask first in toast to Teynte’s good health and then to his lips he took a cautious sip. The liquid was sharp and burned down his throat, but it was not altogether unpleasant. He sipped again, more generously. “I believe I could get used to this,” he said with a grin. 

“Haha! We’ll make a pirate o’ ye yet, laddie!” cried Teynte with a clap to his back that nearly sent him reeling. “Reckon the princess be right about ye.” 

~

Lieutenant Jones had of course noticed—it hadn’t taken him long—that he was the object of particular scrutiny from both the princess and the captain. More than once he had felt their eyes upon him as he did his daily exercise on the deck, and each had—separately and, he suspected, without the other’s knowledge— stopped in to see him in the infirmary, with overly casual airs and subtle but pointed questions concerning the progress of his recovery. 

A month or so after he had fully taken up his duties aboard the ship he began to get an inkling of the purpose behind their interest. The day was a bright and sunny one, freshened by a cool, salty breeze that bore a hint of spice, and Princess Emma and Captain Jones were up on deck for one of their regular sparring sessions. The crew, though they mostly succeeded in appearing to keep their attention on their tasks, watched closely, Lt Jones among them. A very active and hotly contested betting pool on the outcomes of these sessions flourished below decks; although they nearly always ended in a draw, as Smee informed Lt Jones, the crew held out hope that some day one of the two of them would actually manage to defeat the other. And on that halcyon day one of the crew would make a killing off it. 

A pirate’s life indeed. 

Lt Jones could not help thinking that today was likely not that day. In swordplay as indeed in most things the combatants were remarkably well matched, with the captain’s greater height and strength balanced perfectly by the princess’s speed and precision. What amused him more than any speculation over who—if anyone—might win was the way they sparred with words as well as with blades, taunts and innuendoes flying fast and thick as they feinted, thrust, and parried. When the match ended—in a draw, of course—both participants were panting and dripping sweat, and eyeing each other in a way that made Lt Jones long for some shore leave. 

However on that morning rather than ushering the princess to their cabin and bolting the door behind them, Captain Jones approached his lieutenant of the same name, and offered the younger Jones his blade. 

“Care to have a go, lad?” he asked, with a quirked eyebrow and a small grin.

“Against the princess?” stammered Lt Jones. 

“Aye.” The captain’s grin widened. “Think you can handle her?” 

“Er… no, if I’m honest.” 

Captain Jones laughed. “That is the correct answer, my boy. Try anyway. Show us what you’ve got.” 

Lt Jones stared at the man, searching his face for any sign of trickery. When he detected none he cautiously accepted the proffered sword and gave it an experimental swing. Though far from an expert in sword design he could tell instantly that the balance of the blade and the hilt was perfect, the result of expert craftsmanship. He swung it again, trying to get a feel for it. Princess Emma stood watching him with an amused expression and casual posture, though it did not escape his notice that she stood on the balls of her feet with her shoulders back, prepared at any moment to spring into action. 

“Ready to go, Lieutenant?” she asked. 

He bowed. “When you are, Your Highness.” 

She attacked first, leaping smoothly into the exact move he had expected her to make, with such a speed and skill that he was only barely able to parry it. Their blades met with a clang of metal and he felt the vibrations all the way up his arm. Her slender appearance was deceptive, he realised; she was far stronger than he’d thought, with a skill that could only come from many years of training under the tutelage of a master. He was in way, way over his head. 

On the strength of that realisation, he altered his strategy. This was not a fight he could win, not through skill at any rate, but he might be able to bring it to a draw. She was tired from her earlier sparring with the captain, but he was fresh, and if he could just avert a killing blow he might be able to outlast her. 

He concentrated on deflecting her attacks, holding her off but never moving in himself, never giving her the opportunity to dart in around him as he swung his sword arm as he had seen her do to the captain. He danced around the deck, forcing her to chase him as she advanced, defending, defending, defending until finally she held up her sword. 

“All right,” she said. “I’m calling it. It’s a draw.” 

Her next words were quiet, drowned out by the cheers of the crew. They were for his ears alone. “A draw in this case means you won,” she said. “Well played.”

“Well played indeed,” said Captain Jones, clapping him on the back. “You’re quite a clever lad, aren’t you?” 

“I like to think so, sir.” 

“And one with a sound instinct for survival.” 

“Yes.” 

“Excellent.” Captain Jones squeezed his shoulder. “Excellent.” A look passed between him and the princess, one Lt Jones could not decipher. “Well, now you’ve had your fun, Lieutenant, I’m afraid it’s back to work for you!” 

“Aye, sir!” 

The captain turned away and put his arm around the princess’s shoulders. Hers slipped around his waist and they headed off to their cabin together. 

~

Three weeks later, Lt Jones received a message summoning him to the captain’s quarters. He presented himself to Mr Smee, who was standing guard outside the door and gave it a sharp knock on his behalf, and was bade enter by a curt ‘Yes’ from within. Smee opened the door to reveal the captain sitting at his desk with maps and documents strewn out around him, and the princess standing at his side with her hand on his shoulder. 

“Ah, young Jones,” said the captain. “Right on time. Come in and shut the door behind you.” 

[hovercraft79]

And Lay Your Finger Anywhere Down

Chapters: 1 (may eventually become part of a series)

Word Count: 2,509

Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: some alcohol consumption

Summary: The confinement is over and Hecate is free to see world beyond Cackle’s Academy. With Pippa by her side, she’s ready for her first adventure.  

Notes: Oh, the difference being away all summer makes! My Library AU will in no way be done on time, but I decided to put the week I spent at Tales of the Cocktail to good use. Hopefully, Pippa and Hecate will enjoy their trip to The Big Easy as much as we did.

Once again, I owe Sparky my thanks for editing and helping me remember the details of our trip.  I promise I will use those women from Pat O’Brien’s piano bar in a fic at some point. Any errors are from me fussing with it after Sparky was through.

The title of this story comes from the Indigo Girls song ‘Get Out the Map.’

Prompt: “have you ever done this before?”

“Do I look alright, Pip?” Hecate met Pippa’s eyes in the mirror as she nervously smoothed the floral sundress over her hips.

“You look absolutely stunning, darling. I knew that poppy pattern would suit.” She crossed the hotel room, stilling Hecate’s hands by taking them in her own.

Seeing their joined hands warmed Pippa’s heart and set her magic fizzing through her veins. She couldn’t believe that they were here - it had only been two weeks since they’d finally, truly reconciled. Sure, things had thawed after the Spelling Bee, but they’d definitely still been at odds when the Council had asked her to oversee Cackle’s. And Hecate had been even more reserved since the Founding Stone incident. But when Pippa had heard about the latest disaster at Cackle’s, where once again Hecate had been at the center of the danger, Pippa couldn’t stand it any longer. She’d transferred straight to Hecate’s rooms, dumping herself - and the contents of her stomach - unceremoniously onto the rug at Hecate’s feet. They’d talked for hours that day, Pippa holding Hecate through tears as she recounted everything that had happened with Indigo Moon and her subsequent confinement. She’d gone back every day since then. Sometimes they’d talked about the past, other times they’d talked about nothing really at all. And once, for a few blushing, heady moments, they’d talked about the future. Their future. 

It hadn’t all been talk, though. Pippa had accompanied Hecate on her first forays out into the world. They’d walked beyond the limits of the academy; they’d gone for tea in the local village. They’d even visited Indigo at the Hubble’s, enduring an awkward evening of pizza and Pictionary.

They’d also spent an afternoon looking through a scrapbook, of sorts, that Hecate had compiled over the years - page after page of places that Hecate had dreamed of visiting. The book held dozens of locations from all over the world, each page filled with carefully cut and glued pictures, meticulously researched descriptions, and a list of things Hecate wanted to do there. Finally, Pippa couldn’t take it anymore. Let’s go, she’d said, open it up to a random page and let’s go.

And in the biggest shock of a week of big shocks, Hecate had agreed.

So here she was, sitting in a hotel room in Louisiana, with Hecate. And they were friends again. Really friends. Maybe on their way to being more than friends. She hoped so. It didn’t matter that there were two beds in this hotel room. She was here. Hecate was here. The rest would come. Or it wouldn’t. She still had more than she’d ever thought she’d have again with Hecate. She had Hiccup back - a Hiccup who was suddenly worried about how she looked in a sundress.

Hecate rolled her eyes, pointedly ignoring the faint blush creeping across her cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.” She flounced the skirt. “Will I pass as Ordinary?” The fear of being discovered out in the Ordinary world never completely quit squirming in the pit of her stomach - no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise.

Smiling gently, Pippa turned Hecate away from the mirror. “No one who sees you would ever think of you as ordinary, Hiccup. Extraordinary, perhaps, but never ordinary.” She waved her fingers and Hecate’s pocket watch sparkled and shrank down to the size of a small necklace. “But no worries. No one will ever suspect that you’re anything other than a beautiful, intelligent, non-magical woman.” Pippa waited for Hecate to process what she’d said, squeezing her hands again once Hecate nodded. “Dinner first then?”

“Dinner first.”

Pippa magicked their purses into their hands and followed Hecate out of their hotel room and down to the street. It was hard to believe that they’d woken up that morning in their own beds in their own schools. Now, thanks to a bit of magic, here they were, walking shoulder to shoulder down Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Pippa certainly hadn’t expected New Orleans when they’d cast the randomizing spell. She wouldn’t expect Hecate to even have it in her scrapbook. Then again, Hecate had been nothing like Pippa expected since her confinement had been lifted. She’d thought Hecate would be…hesitant…overwhelmed… She’d expected to ease Hecate into her first tentative forays away from Cackle’s.

She did not expect to be dragged along behind Hecate as she rushed out to explore the world she’d only seen through books, television and the internet. It may have been unexpected, but Pippa loved every minute of it.

“Careful, Pipsqueak!” Hecate pulled Pippa out of the street just as a brass band fired up an exuberant rendition of ‘Down by the Riverside’, kicking off what looked like an impromptu parade. “Look! It’s a wedding parade! I was hoping to see one of these while we were here!” She pointed Pippa towards the bride and groom, still in their formal wear, holding hands and twirling fancy parasols as they danced down the street. Hecate bounced and clapped; her infectious enthusiasm soon had Pippa clapping as well.

The band, gleaming brass and crisp white uniforms, marched past, giving way to vibrant flashes of green and gold. Two young men, clad head to toe in elaborate feathered costumes, danced along behind the band. Pippa had never seen so many feathers! The man in gold blew Pippa a kiss when he caught her staring.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they, Pip?” Hecate looked down as a young boy in a tiny tuxedo tugged at her skirt, holding out a stamped handkerchief.

Pippa took in Hecate, smiling and relaxed in her summery dress, the late neon bar lights reflecting a rainbow in her hair. “Very beautiful.” Hecate glanced back at her, a shy smile on her lips.

“Flatterer.” Hecate waved her new handkerchief in Pippa’s face. “Come on, Pipsqueak, let’s take a stroll.” She grabbed Hecate’s hand and pulled her into the street with the rest of the wedding celebrants. “Isn’t this fun?” She waved up to onlookers cheering from the balconies above them. One young man tossed a strand of shiny green beads down to her.

Pippa twirled along behind her, enjoying the way Hecate’s hips swayed to the music. “We don’t even know these people!”

“Doesn’t matter!” Hecate waved her handkerchief at the people still on the sidewalk. “We can still be happy for them, can’t we?” She lifted Pippa’s hand and spun her around. “True love is worth celebrating!”

And waiting for, Pippa thought.

  “Have you ever done this before, sugar?” Beverly, their waitress,

Two sets of wide eyes stared down at the tray of raw oysters. “N-noooo…” Hecate poked at one of the gray blobs glistening in a bed of ice. “Do you just…eat it with a fork?”

“Well, you could…”

Hecate’s head bobbed up and down. “But that wouldn’t be the proper way to do it, would it?” Beverly shook her head ‘no.’ “Very well then, if you don’t mind explaining, we’d rather do it properly, right Pip?”

Pippa’s eyes jerked up from the tray. She really wasn’t sure about this anymore… “What - what are you supposed to do?”

“Well, if you aren’t sure, sugar, you can put the oyster on a cracker, add a little lemon and cocktail sauce, some Tabasco if you want it spicy and then pop that whole thing right in there.”

“And if you are sure?” Hecate asked, struggling to keep a smirk off her face. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Pippa quite so discombobulated.

“Keep it in the shell, add the extras and slurp it up.” Beverly pantomimed tipping an oyster into her mouth. She did enjoy serving oysters to first timers. She noted the dark-haired one had gone a little paler. “Just let me know if I can do anything else for you. Do you need another cocktail, miss?” She gestured at Pippa’s almost empty glass. “You had the French 75, right, sugar?”

“Yes, please,” Pippa thumped the table, “keep ‘em coming, I think.”

“Sure thing. I’ll let you two get down to it.” Beverly turned to go, then paused and turned back. “Don’t forget what they say about oysters, girls.” With that she sashayed to the bar to put in the order for Pippa’s drink.

Pippa still eyed the tray skeptically. “What do they say about oysters?”

Hecate opened a package of crackers, placing one on the small plate in front of Pippa. “I suppose she could be referring to their high zinc content and reputation as brain food.” She squeezed a lemon over two oysters and added a healthy scoop of cocktail sauce. “Or she may be referencing the myth that you should only eat oysters in months that end in the letter ‘R.’” She sprinkled both with a drop of hot sauce. “But my guess is that she’s talking about the lowly oyster’s reputation as an aphrodisiac.” She winked at Pippa and slid one of the doctored oysters onto the cracker on Pippa’s plate. “On three?”

Pippa sat up straighter upon hearing the part about the aphrodisiac. Not that she needed any help in that department – Hecate couldn’t be more attractive as far as she was concerned. “Well, you hardly need to ply me with oysters, Hiccup. Whenever you’re ready, I promise you that I am.”

“I know. And… thank you for being patient, Pip. I know we’ve waited our whole lives to be together, but…” Here her smile faltered. Putting her jumble of feelings into coherent sentences always seemed to be too much.

“Hecate,” Pippa covered Hecate’s hand with her own. “We are together. In New Orleans. About to eat oysters.” She gave Hecate’s hand a squeeze. “It’s more than I ever hoped for, darling. Now, before I lose my nerve. ONETWOTHREE!” Pippa scooped up the cracker and stuffed the whole thing in her mouth before she could change her mind. “Mmpf… not tha’ badth.”

Hecate scrambled to keep up, tossing her oyster back with enough force to send a bit of juice dribbling down her chin. She chewed…and chewed… her frown deepening. “Ugh…” Forcing herself to swallow, she grabbed the first thing that came to hand – her cocktail, a Sazerac that chased the oyster down with fiery rye whiskey. “That was… Merlin’s knickers, that was unpleasant.”

“Try it with the cracker,” Pip grinned, putting together the next oyster. “Maybe you’ll like it better that way.”

“Maybe after another drink. Or two.” She took a sip of her water before accepting her cracker from Pippa. It was going to be a long meal.

  By the time the third young man sloshed neon-colored alcohol out of what appeared to be a goldfish bowl on her dress, Bourbon Street had lost its charms for Pippa. She discretely cast another cleaning spell and steered them away from a pair of young women who were shouting at each other. Hecate was still looking everywhere at once, like a child visiting a candy store for the first time. Pippa gritted her teeth and grinned bigger, marveling at everything that Hecate pointed out.

The breeze shifted, cooler air blowing across Pippa’s skin. She looked up, but it was too dark to see if there were any clouds or not. She looked down in time to see a young man carrying a string bass disappear into a courtyard. “Look, Hiccup!” She pulled Hecate along behind her, “it looks like there may be a band setting up.”

They passed under a gate that read “Musical Legends Park” and it was like stepping into another world. Lush plants surrounded a small courtyard filled with wrought iron bistro tables and life-sized statues of famous musicians. A tiered fountain splashed merrily in the middle of it all. Pippa nudged Hecate into place next to a statue of “Fats” Domino and pulled out her cell phone to take a picture. “Shall we grab a table, Hiccup? They should be starting soon?” She pointed to the tiny stage where a band was indeed setting up. “There’s a table,” she said, lacing her fingers with Hecate’s and pulling her to the empty table nestled in the back. “Café Beignet… what do you say, darling? We haven’t had beignets yet. Shall I go order for us?”

“Oh, I think so. And… a coffee? An iced coffee.” Hecate pulled the two chairs at the table around to the same side so they could see the stage. A red and blue neon sign glowed ‘Steamboat Willie’ behind the band. She watched Pippa swish her way through the tables to the counter. Her stomach fluttered along with the hem of Pippa’s dress.

Pippa was back in no time, coffees and order number in hand. She settled in next to Hecate just as the band started up a jazzy rendition of ‘I Get A Kick Out of You.’  

Halfway through the song, Hecate leaned over and whispered into Pippa’s ear. “I do, you know, get a kick out of you.” Pippa turned, smiling back at her. “I’m so glad you’re here with me, Pipsqueak.” She leaned imperceptibly closer, glancing down as Pippa licked her lips. “I love—”

“Half a dozen beignets?” The scent of sugar flooded over them as the waitress placed a cardboard basket of pastries on the table.

Pippa groaned as she leaned back in her chair, the mood broken. “Thank you!” She mustered up as much enthusiasm as she could, but it wasn’t much.

“Our timing is as good as it ever was,” Hecate said, chuckling. “Why is there so much sugar?”

Pulling the basket closer, Pippa breathed in the aroma of warm sugar. “The real question is why doesn’t everything get this much sugar?” Waggling her eyebrows at Hecate, Pippa took a huge bite of beignet, promptly covering half of her chest in powdered sugar. “Oooh, Hiccup… iss wonnerful!” She spewed even more powdered sugar when she tried to speak.

Hecate nibbled at a corner of hers, keeping her dress immaculate. “It’s lovely.” She quirked an eyebrow in Pippa’s direction. “As are you. Even if you’re coated in sugar.”

“Especially if I’m coated in sugar?”  She bit into her pastry again – slow and sexy. Or would have been if she hadn’t ended up with powdered sugar on the end of her nose.

“Let’s find out.” Before she could lose her nerve, Hecate leaned forward and pressed her lips to Pippa’s, kissing her softly at first, then harder, letting the taste of coffee, sugar and Pippa burn itself into her memory. She broke this kiss when she realized her hands were sliding up Pippa’s thighs. “Yes,” she panted, “especially.”

Pippa roared with laughter, coming back for another quick kiss before laughing again. “Good to know.” She dragged a finger through the powdered sugar and booped Hecate on the nose. “You’re pretty sweet too, darling.” She jerked her chin towards the beignets. “Still think they have too much sugar on top?”

Reaching up, Hecate gently brushed the sugar from Pippa’s face, never breaking eye contact. “I think, Pipsqueak, that I’m ready to have a bit more sweetness in my life.”

[fontainebleau22]

Box of Frogs (Part 2)

From @tramstrams‘ not-at-all-serious prompt, ‘an AU with magic, but something has gone terribly awry and people are being turned into frogs. Only Sam Chisholm can stop this madness’. Read Part 1 here.

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

 Ale regarded FrogJosh mournfully. ‘I’m sorry, güero.’ 

He’d done his best to make a suitable habitat, as Billy suggested: he’d taken advice from an enthusiastic assistant at the pet store, and now his boyfriend was perched on a moss-covered rock in his new tank, next to a shallow pan of water and a heap of dried crickets. A nest of fresh green twigs offered a hiding-place, but he seemed to prefer to sit in the open, eyes fixed on Ale. 

It worried him: he’d followed all the advice in the guide he’d bought and Josh seemed happy enough, but how could he tell? Was he racked with internal anguish? FrogJosh reached up a hind foot and scratched his snout reflectively.

Behind him Red sighed exaggeratedly. ‘Take him or leave him here, just decide.’ 

‘I can’t take him.’ Ale gestured vaguely towards Good Care for Your Frogs where it was propped against the coffeepot. ‘He’d get too hot in the car and I can’t take the tank into the shop.’ 

‘Might end up on the menu?’ Red grinned, and Ale fought the urge to clap his hands over Josh’s ears. Did he have ears? 

‘How can you be so heartless? I thought you’d show some fellow-feeling.’ 

Red tugged reflexively at the feather hanging from his earlobe. ‘Hawks aren’t edible. Look, just leave him. He seems happy enough in there.’ 

FrogJosh stared some more, then swelled out his throat sac suddenly. Was it possible for a frog to look impatient? ‘You’re right.’ Ale stood up. ‘There’s only one way to fix this.’

‘So what’s the plan?’ 

‘We track this woman down, confront her, and Billy tells her to change him back.’ 

Red considered, serious as ever. ‘What if she’s immune to Billy?’ 

Ale scoffed. ‘When did that ever happen? Billy’s – persuasive. He once made Josh drive him to Tucson and back so he could buy Goody a turquoise tie-pin.’ 

Red grimaced: they’d all been bent to Billy’s will at one time or another. ‘How d’you think Goody stands it, being married to a man who can tell him to do anything he wants?’ 

‘You’re kidding me,’ says Ale. ‘Billy doesn’t even have to use the voice on him: Goody’s always done everything he says.’

Red settled himself at the table. ‘Be easier just to get Sam onto it.’ 

‘He’s in Albuquerque, Goody, said. That thing he goes to every year.’ Ale picked up his keys and headed for the door. ‘Billy’s the best bet right now. Just keep your phone on. And don’t poke at him.’

**

Billy was waiting outside his and Goody’s apartment, sharp and handsome in his suit for work, his carefully tied-up hair lending him an appealing hint of exoticism; as he got into the car Ale sparkled at him a little, just to prove that even in jeans and flannel shirt he was still the most attractive. 

‘How’s your boyfriend?’ asked Billy pointedly. ‘Happy in his tank?’ Ale damped it down again: Billy was, after all, integral to his plan.

‘Where are we going – following the trail of frogs?’ 

Ale grinned. ‘That’s exactly what we’re doing, amigo. I went over to see Léna, my niece. She’s … good with the internet.’ Billy nodded: abilities of that kind were best left undiscussed except among friends. ‘A complaint was filed two days ago to the local police department of a man being turned into a frog. They didn’t take it very seriously. A woman called Thelma McCann reported it, so we’ll start with her: she can at least tell us if it was the same woman involved.’

Eventually Ale pulled to a stop beside a row of small houses. ‘Think this is it.’ 

Whatever the McCanns’ abilities were, they didn’t seem to run to home maintenance: the paint on the house was peeling and the front grass overgrown. At first sight the yard appeared to be full of garbage, but once they were out of the car it was clear that a yard sale was going on: a battered leather recliner with a dent in the seat stood next to a stack of video games and a console, and ranged on a table were novelty beer glasses, a collection of expensive-looking model cars and an assortment of books.

A plump middle-aged woman, presumably Thelma McCann, was sitting beside the stall in a deckchair. ‘Come to buy?’ she asked hopefully. 

‘Mrs McCann?’ Ale put on his most winning smile. ‘Could we ask you a few questions?’ 

‘You from the police?’ Her expression became more guarded. 

‘No, ma’am,’ said Billy solemnly, ‘we’re herpetologists.’ 

He held out his hand and she took it, mesmerised. ‘You’re here about Thomas? Well, you’d best come through.’ 

She led them through the house, which had a sparse, newly spring-cleaned look about it, and out to the back yard. ‘He’s over there,’ she said, pointing, ‘under that flowerpot.’ 

Ale crouched down to lift the terracotta crock carefully and reveal a large amphibian with brown-black knobbly skin, panting slightly in the heat. It goggled up at him. 

‘Isn’t he a bit big for a frog?’ asked Billy. ‘You know, a bit … warty?’ 

Ale looked warily at Thelma; probably best not to use the t-word. ‘What happened?’ 

‘We got a new neighbour, bought a house just up the street. Cullen, she’s called, and she’s real crabby – always looked like she just swallowed a cactus. Got into a row with Thomas, though to be fair maybe she wasn’t to blame for that: he likes to pick a fight. One minute they were yelling at each other, and then – zap! She waved her hand, and there he was.’ She seemed oddly calm, telling the story.

‘Just like Josh,’ said Ale, then, in response to her raised eyebrows, ‘my boyfriend, he got on the wrong side of a woman like her in the café yesterday.’ He looked optimistically down at Thomas. ‘I was hoping it would wear off in a couple of days.’ 

‘You think?’ Thelma looked disappointed; a fly buzzed past and Thomas flicked out his tongue to snatch it from the air. ‘More use to me as a frog than he’s ever been as a husband.’ 

‘Can you tell us where she lives?’ asked Billy. 

‘Number 113.’ Thelma frowned. ‘Not sure she’s so keen on visitors.’ 

Billy’s smile was complacent. ‘I can be persuasive.’ 

She cast an appreciative eye over him. ‘I’ll bet you can, honey.’ 

‘Good luck with –‘ Ale nods at Thomas, who’s happily rooting about under his flowerpot.

A few houses further up the street in the direction she indicated, they found a van parked at the kerb: emblazoned on its side was H. Worchester and Co.: Let Us Take The Load Off. Its back was open as two men in overalls unloaded furniture: one of them laid his hand on a sofa which rose a few inches into the air, then guided it down the ramp and across the pavement with a few gentle touches, as though it were made of thistledown. 

A red-haired woman, the same woman Ale had seen in the shop, was standing to one side supervising the delivery and clutching a pile of soft cushions. He hadn’t really had a chance to look at her last time they met, and all he’d remembered was how brusque and unfriendly she’d been: her face now was still set in the same hard lines, though she was undoubtedly younger than him.

Billy approached her confidently. ‘Excuse me, Ms Cullen,’ he asked, ‘could we speak to you for a moment?’ 

She looked him up and down, coldly hostile. ‘I don’t need converting or encyclopaedias, thank you.’ 

Ale came up beside him. ‘Please,’ he said placatingly, nerves tight in his stomach, ‘we just want to ask you-‘ 

‘And don’t even think about telling me that there’s good news,’ she snapped: at this distance she seemed to be positively vibrating with banked-up fury. ‘How do you know my name?’ 

Next to him Billy cleared his throat. ‘You turned my friend’s partner into a frog.’ 

She straightened, narrowing her eyes. ‘If I did, he deserved it.’ 

Ale struggled to put aside his anger on Josh’s behalf: surely she just needed winning over. ‘Will it wear off? Can you turn him back?’ 

Ms Cullen looked at him straight on. ‘Why would I want to do that?’ 

One of her hands clenched, and Ale took a step back, a restraining hand on Billy’s shoulder as warning crackled through him, but Billy had already started, in that voice, ‘We want you to-‘

 - Zap!

Ale fell to his knees with a groan of horror, scrabbling in the grass; Ms Cullen turned on her heel and strode into her house. No. No. It was as much as he could do to wrestle out his phone one-handed and gasp out his request to Red; then there was nothing else but to sit and wait, racked with guilt.

It seemed an eternity until Red’s truck came screeching to a halt beside him and Goody spilled out of the passenger door, looking round frantically. ‘What happened? Where’s Billy?’ 

Mutely, Ale held out his cupped hands and the colour drained from Goody’s face at the sight of the tiny blue frog nestling there. 

‘Billy!’ he gasped, reaching out a trembling finger. ‘Sweetheart! No!’

[juicehoee]

All Along the Watchtower {Chapter 6: Catnip} (Juice Ortiz)

One/Two/Three/Four/Five/Six

Chapter Six: Catnip

“Isn’t she a beauty?”

Juice’s newly bought Jeep sat proudly in his driveway, shiny and modern in all of it’s camouflage glory. He almost second guessed the camo pattern, but ultimately decided that the whole thing just reflected his personality too much to turn down.

It was a sunny afternoon built for cruising around the neighborhood on their bikes, but Juice was much more interested in taking his new Jeep for a joyride with the doors off. He decided he needed something to go back and forth from Nevada with that would be a bit easier on his back and could carry a bit more stuff with him. It was hard to pack all his shit in a little mesh backpack that barely had room for a toothbrush and he was sure Uncle Lenny was wary about his precious niece being on the back of his bike all the time (even though Uncle Lenny had his own hog in the backyard in pristine condition).

Juice and Opie stood around the back of the Jeep, Juice admiring the exterior while Opie stared part in shock and part in disbelief of the younger man’s purchase. Jax was around the front, checking out the engine. In truth, Opie thought it looked like something out of that Kardashian show (not that he had ever watched it, or would admit that he’d seen it) and those girls just had bad taste, in his public opinion.

“Well,” Opie’s eyebrows furrowed, not quite sure of what to say to Juice. “Sure. If that’s your kind thing, then it’s perfect.”

“You really mean that?” Juice asked, touched in his heart by Opie’s words.

“Yup. Meant every word of it.” Opie pat Juice on the back. “You did good, Juicy.”

Jax came around to meet them at the trunk of the Jeep. “Kinda looks like something you’d see Kylie Jenner driving around Calabasas.”

Juice took a step back with wide brown eyes. “You know about Kylie Jenner?”

“Yeah,” Jax shot back, defensive. “Anyone with an internet connection has heard of Kylie Jenner. She’s everywhere, you can’t really miss her. Right, Ope?”

Opie shook his head side to side and put his hands up, trying to stay out of it. “Nah, brother. Don’t know who that is.”

Opie gave Juice a knowing glance while Jax was looking the other way and Juice shot him a thumbs up behind his back. Jax was none the wiser. It was so easy to get him riled up over random shit, so Juice and Opie made a game out of it to see who could get him to lose his shit the fastest.

“You really good with all that camo, Juicy?” Jax asked, inspecting the car with a judgmental scrutiny that he could have only learned from his mother. “You’re sure you’ll be able to find it in the parking lot?”

“Jeez, you’re funny.” Juice clapped Jax on the shoulder. “Stop with the humor, funny man. There’s a stitch in my side.”

“I’m just saying, man.” Jax said. “You didn’t want black or blue or something like that?”

Jax’s nose was two centimeters away from the Jeep’s bumper and Juice entertained the thought of kicking the back of his knees in to get him to trip, but refrained from it. He didn’t answer the question (he didn’t think he needed to, it was his truck for God’s sake and he really liked it).

“I like the camo.” Juice said, shrugging. “It’s not like I can show up with a receipt and get store credit for the thing anyway.”

“Can you get me a water or something from inside?” Opie turned to Juice. “My throat’s a little scratchy.”

As Juice jogged up the driveway and into his front door, Opie grabbed Jax by the collar and shoved him forward. Opie slugged him in the kidney real quick, glancing at the door to see if Juice had come back yet. He hadn’t.

“What the hell was that for?” Jax yelled. “Kidney hits fuckin’ hurt.”

“Stop being a dickhead about the damn Jeep, Jax.” Opie grumbled. “The kid’s excited about it and my truck’s a piece of crap but I’d knock around anyone who gave me shit for it. Give Juice a break, he’s pussy-whipped and he just bought a camo Jeep. Let him live a little without makin’ him feel bad about it.”

“Fine, fine.” Jax agreed. “I’ll let up on him a little bit.”

Inside, Juice was grabbing them all a few waters when Dolly and Shiloh came rubbing against his legs. They were being suspiciously nice which, in Juice’s experience, usually meant they wanted something. The food bowl was full. So was the water dish. There had to be something else.

“You sneaky bastards want catnip, don’t you?” Juice said, scratching them both behind the ears. “Well, alright. You know I spoil you.”

They just stared at him, but the meows started going when he opened the cabinet he kept the catnip in. Sometimes, they were smarter than he gave them credit for. They were a lot like him in that way, he figured. Underestimated.

Dolly and Shiloh were practically jumping to reach his hands as he sprinkled it on the floor for them to roll around in for a good fifteen minutes. It must be nice to have such a simple life where fifteen minutes of catnip could keep them happy for the next week. That, and the fact these spoiled cats get to sleep in his comfortable king size bed gave them a pretty content life. He envied it.

“Jesus, Juicy! Get back out here!” Jax yelled through the front window. “You can jack off later after we leave!”

With a dramatic sense of gusto, Juice fled out the front door, grabbing the three water bottles from the counter on the way out. He tried not to look too flustered. Hopefully, his face didn’t look too red to his friends when he emerged from the house.

“What were you doing in there?” Opie asked, catching the water bottle Juice tossed to him.

“Shut up.” Juice mumbled. “I was feeding my cats.”

“You have cats?” Opie raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” Jax smiled, a malicious grin taking over his face. “You didn’t know that? He’s got two of ‘em. What are their names again?”

“Dolly and Shiloh.” Juice answered. “I’m not ashamed of my cats. Actually pretty proud of them. They’re self sufficient.”

“Dolly?” Opie asked. “As in Dolly Parton?”

“Yeah,” Juice shrunk into his boots. “Not so proud of that though. I had a weird country phase the week I got them.”

“You sure it wasn’t about the fake tits?” Jax smirked.

Juice considered this for a second. “Yeah, it might have been a little bit about the fake tits.”

Hanging around with Jax and Opie like buddies was a rare occurrence for Juice. Only a couple months ago, he had been a prospect and everyone looked down on him (quite literally since he spent most of his time cleaning out the toilets). Even now, most of the guys treated him like a prospect, and technically, he was still a new guy. Jax and Opie got down off their high horses once in a while to treat him like a brother, like an equal, and those times were like beer that Juice could guzzle down a gallon of on a hot summer Sunday. He liked having buddies. He liked having brothers.

“You wanna go for a joyride in this thing?” Juice asked, dangling the shiny new keys to his shiny new Jeep. “Might as well break it in to go grocery shopping. Super exciting stuff.”

“Take it to Nevada. Impress that pretty little thing you’ve been daydreaming about.” Opie laughed. “She better be worth all the shit you’re putting into this.”

“She is.” Juice said. “She really fucking is.”

“She better be,” Jax chimed in. “You’re worth it, Juicy. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. And if they do, punch ‘em in the nuts.”

“And if it’s a woman who tries to bring you down, just send ‘em to Gemma.” Opie hugged Juice for a moment. “She’ll take care of that issue real quick, believe me.”

“Thanks, guys.” Juice fought the emotional tears welling behind his eyes. He meant it.

Damn, it was fucking good to have brothers.

{***}

“Hey, stranger. Need a ride?”

Juice pulled up beside Lana on the sidewalk as she was walking down the street. He knew he’d have to talk to her sooner or later and it would take the pressure off of his shoulders. The idea of cutting this whole thing off was like a fat rock pressing down on his chest and it was starting to put a damper on him. Better do it now when Clay and Tig were out of sight. Tig gave him a good beating that had left him with a solid bruise under his left eye and a cut on his lip that hurt like a bitch every time he tried to eat anything hot. Buffalo chicken was out of the question until at least next week, and Juice knew he needed this pain to fuel the conversation with Lana that was about to ensue. He hoped they could still be friends.

“Juice?” Lana furrowed her brows. “Is this- did you just buy this?”

“Yeah.” he twiddled his thumbs against the steering wheel. “Get in, I need to talk to you without Tig beating my face in.”

“Are you trying to lure me into your car, Mr. Ortiz?” Lana asked. “I’ve watched To Catch a Predator. Can’t trust anyone. Chris Hansen taught me that.”

“I’m serious, Svetlana.” He was surprised he used her full name. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

It killed him to put on such a cold front, but Gemma was the wisest person he knew when it came to women, what they wanted, what they needed. He felt so lost and naive when it came to relationships and Gemma seemed so happy with Clay. He just wanted a girl who would ride on the back of his bike in thirty years and not get tired of him. He wanted what Clay and Gemma had. Might as well follow her advice seeing as he was swirling down a dark path with Lana and he needed to stop it before things got worse for him.

“Okay.” She looked hurt as she climbed into the car. “I like the camo.”

“I don’t want to lead you on anymore.” Juice said, trying his best to be blunt but gentlemanly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you and I shouldn’t have taken you home that night. You’re nineteen, you need a nice college boy who will take you to parties and make sure you get home okay. You don’t need me.”

“But I like you, Juice.” Lana said. “I mean, if you don’t want to be with me, I understand that, but if you’re gonna pull some angsty Hollywood movie bullshit about how you’re not good for me, then I’ll tuck and roll out of this Jeep right now.”

Lana’s voice had an aggression in it (she must have learned it from Gemma, it sounded very Gemma-like) but she wouldn’t look at him. Instead, her eyes were glued in her lap and her dainty fingers played with the fringe of the ripped denim shorts she wore. There was an instablility in her hands that made him shake and he prayed his hands wouldn’t shake that bad or he’d have to pull over the car (and he really needed to get to the damn grocery store before it closed, he was running out of chocolate-covered raisins).

“I’m seeing someone.” Juice said. “A girl in Nevada. I really like her and she’s been really good for me. If things keep going well, I might ask her to move in with me.”

“In Charming?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” Juice said. “Considering that I currently live in Charming.”

“You really gotta be a smartass with me right now?” Lana snapped. “Were you seeing her before you kissed me?”

Juice froze. He didn’t think about it like that. His brain stopped working and he ran through a red light, much to the chagrin of the beeping drivers around him.

“Yeah.” he said. “Nothing official, but I was going to Nevada to see her a bunch.”

Her hands clenched into fists, leaving little red crescents in the soft flesh of her palms. She didn’t care. How could he have been so fucking selfish? It was humiliating to be played by him in front of the whole club. In front of Clay. In front of Tig. In front of Jax. They all knew about it and they would al know that she was rejected. She was just some little kid trying to put on her big girl pants and be part of the club when they all wished she would move away to paint shit and go to class.

“What the fuck, Juice?” her voice was low, but strong, on the verge of her breaking point. “How could you lead me on like that? How could you do that to me?”

“Did you really think there was ever a chance for us, Lana? I mean, it didn’t seem ridiculous for us to be together?” Juice rose his voice. “You really think we would have survived with Clay and Tig trying to beat the shit out of me for even looking at you?”

“Don’t fucking yell at me, Juan.”

“Why the hell shouldn’t I?” Juice yelled louder. “Thanks to you, I’ve got two black eyes and a split lip and Clay’s gonna bury me somewhere in the woods before I even get anywhere with the Sons! This club means everything to me and I put that in jeopardy because I knew you needed a friend.”

“So you were just my friend for five minutes because you pitied me? You kissed me and took me home with you because you pitied me?” Lana threw her hands up, incredulous. She was no longer quiet. “That’s fucked up, Juice.”

“That’s not-”

“You think I’m just some pathetic little kid who can’t handle her own. Who’s stupid and helpless and needs someone to hold her fucking hand while she cries.” Lana fumed. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Yeah? You don’t need my pity?” Juice said, looking over at her. “Then stop fucking going around feeling sorry for yourself like a damn puppy with her tail between her legs and then you won’t look so damn pathetic-”

Juice’s words were cut off by Lana reaching for the steering wheel and jerking it to the right, forcing the car to swerve to the side of the road. His stomach lurched and sank like a rock as they went flying. He couldn’t breath. His lungs were dead. (If there’s a fucking scratch on my new car, she’s fucking dead.)

Juice’s arm jutted out to his right and slammed Lana’s back against the passenger seat to prevent her from flying through the windshield. Gunshots rang out on all sides, bullets embedding themselves into the interior. He can see the silver rip the leather all around him in slow motion. His heart doesn’t speed up as he goes delves into his instinct, grabbing Lana by the neck and shoving her down.

“Don’t get up!” he screamed and floored the gas, speeding away from whoever was shooting at them.

In the chaos, Juice didn’t pick up much of whatever was going on outside; he was too focused on making sure neither him nor Lana bit the dust in his brand fucking new Jeep (he couldn’t return it with bullets lodged in the sides. Damn.) However, he did see that shiny motorcycles surrounded him on all sides, and that’s where the bullets must have been coming from. Some guy was on the ground, sprawled out and covered in blood, next to his bike closest to the side of the road. The bike was smashed and so was the guy’s skull; brain matter covered the ground in a death sentence Juice would have nightmares about for weeks. These must be the Roman Skulls MC Clay was worried about.

They must be new. A daylight drive-by reeked of amateurs trying to nudge their way into outlaw territory.

Shots still fired as he burned rubber to get the hell out of there. His tires marked the ground and the car groaned under the pressure of the accelerator. What a big hunk of metal.

The shots slowed the farther he got, but a bullet caught him in the arm at the last second, right above his elbow. Juice screamed in agony, but focused on the road before him and put the pedal to the floor, hightailing it to the SAMCRO clubhouse. Blood poured out of his arm and Lana tried to get up to fix the wound.

“Stay down!” he barked. “Don’t get out of the car until Clay or someone comes and gets you!”

Juice tore his neck around to see if they followed. They didn’t. Maybe these guys weren’t complete numbskulls. If they had any sense, they’d be hightailing back to wherever the hell they came from.

{***}

Chibs and Bobby were in the office talking to Gemma when an obnoxious camouflage Jeep shredded the concrete in the parking lot. Chibs immediately stormed out of there, ready to put the idiot in his place when he saw Juice in the front seat of the car. Next, he noticed the bullet holes in the side of the car.

Juice grabbed a sweatshirt from the backseat and used it to quell the bleeding of his arm until Chibs could stitch him up in their makeshift hospital. It stung, but it looked like a through-and-through: two clean bullet holes with no slug lodged inside him. Count him lucky, but it still hurt like a bitch.

“Don’t get out until someone gets you. I don’t think they followed us, but you’re not getting a bullet in your head on my watch.” Juice ordered.

Juice climbed out of the car, holding his arm tight. Chibs rushed over, holding the half-assed tourniquet and leading him inside to where he could assess the damage. It didn’t look like Juice was gonna bleed out, but he was getting woozy from blood loss. There was just so much fucking blood.

He never did well with blood. When he was ten years old, he tripped and fell off of his skateboard, smashing his face into the side of a telephone pole. Seeing the blood on his hands, Juice had passed out and his sister found him a few minutes later. Things had gotten better, but Juice still hadn’t shaken the queasy feeling he always felt at the sight of blood. He was a Son now; he’d have to toughen up.

“Lana’s in the passenger seat. Not hit. Someone go get her.” Juice struggled out between labored breaths. “She’s fine.”

“BOBBY!” Chibs yelled. “GET LANA IN THE FRONT SEAT!”

Juice leaned against Chibs heavily, feeling his head grow lighter than a balloon. At any moment, he could float away through the clouds, away from Charming, and away from the Sons. He pictured flying all the way to Nevada down in Priscilla’s backyard so he could catch a last glimpse of her before he came crashing down, probably getting caught in a tree or something dumb like that.

“Juicy boy, are ya-”

[notitlesapply]

So I was without internet for the weekend and, prior to the start of the weekend, saved and re-read APoF. It was glorious and I want to/plan on going back and giving each chapter at least a small review later. But for now, I want to let you know to take all the time you need on the next chapter. The longer it takes, the more excited I get because I know you must have shenanigans planned.

Aww shucks thanks! /blushes

I hope my shenanigans will satisfy. It’s a bit long, but I’ll put a sample of the chapter below this cut and you can tell me if I succeeded…

…Or I can put the whole flipping chapter down here. I’ll post this on AO3 this weekend (hopefully).

A Pound of Flesh (Chapter 17 - Class)

Theday of the meeting came sooner than anyone really liked. As they haddiscussed earlier, Anteiku split their group into two parts: a smallgroup that would meet with Aogiri’s leaders, and a security grouplead by Banjou. Some small part of Hide’s mind was laughinghelplessly about how ridiculous they all looked. A group of maskedindividuals milling around an abandoned schoolyard—it was a scenestraight out of a badly written movie.

EvenHide was wearing a mask. Kaneki had to (reluctantly) admit it washard to tell that Hide wasn’t a ghoul. The blond was dressed in adark hooded jacket to cover his hair, heavy motorcycle gloves, and apair of charcoal jeans. A heavy gas mask etched with the number “33”completed the outfit. The whole ensemble was borrowed to hide hishuman scent, and when he stood together with Banjou and the rest ofthe Gas Masks, the human completely blended in.

TheAnteiku group arrived at the appointed location, and were immediatelywelcomed by Nico. Nico, dressed in a silk shirt, glitzy gold jewelry,and a grinning Clown mask, was accompanied by another Clown: asmirking young woman in a Clown half-mask. The woman blew kisses atKaneki, which the half-ghoul ignored. Touka muttered somethinginaudible under her breath when she saw the woman; the female Clownwas someone she recognized. Hide made a mental note to ask her aboutit later.

“Nico,”Kaneki nodded to the event organizer in greeting, “Are we late?”

“Earlyactually,” Nico corrected, as he cast a critical eye over thegroup. “Aogiri isn’t here yet. And you brought more people than Iexpected.”

“TheGas Masks were willing to play security for us,” Kaneki replied,exchanging small nods of acknowledgment with Banjou, “since Aogiriwill no doubt bring the White Suits.”

“Howlovely,” Nico murmured, “Bothersome though. We won’t be able tofit everyone in the meeting room. Pick a core group of five to comein. The rest will have to wander the corridors.” The unspoken “andstay out of trouble” hung heavy in the air, rotting like a lie.

Kanekibit his lip, the action hidden by his mask. They had expected to beable to take six people into the meeting. Before he could decide whowould stay out with Banjou, Hide clapped his shoulder, startling himout of his thoughts.

“TakeTouka, Yomo, Nishio, and rich boy with you,” Hide murmured quietlyin Kaneki’s ear, “I’ll be good out here with Banjou.”

Kanekifrowned, but didn’t bother with even a token form of protest. It wasa reasonable solution. And Hide was already dressed as a member ofthe Gas Masks. Kaneki nodded in agreement.

“Guesswe just have to wait for Aogiri,” Touka muttered, crossing her armsas if irritated. Only the slight clench of her fingers over the beigeof her coat betrayed her unease.

“Wecan get you set up in the meantime,” Nico shrugged before gesturingto the other Clown, “Roma will help you get situated. Keep yourguard dogs outside.”

Kanekipatted Banjou once on the shoulder, before the core Anteiku groupsplit off, and followed Roma past a doorway.

Themeeting was to take place in a small classroom. Most of the old deskswere shoved to the sides of the room in haphazard heaps, the woodrotten and the metal bent. Nico was able to scrounge up a small tableto sit in the middle of the room for the meeting. It was too small toseat everyone; only five chairs were pulled around it. Two seats forAnteiku, two for Aogiri, and one for Nico, the moderator. After aquickly murmured conversation, Touka, and Kaneki took the seats,while Yomo, Tsukiyama, and Nishiki took spots standing behind them.

Timeto wait.

Andwait.

…Andwait. Touka was furious. Shehad long abandoned her chair, stomping around the room infrustration. Low hisses and half-formed curses followed her wake.Fucking Aogiri. Who do they think they were, making them wait?Assholes. Did they know how much money :re was loosing by beingclosed for the day?!

Theothers ignored her growling. Both Tsukiyama and Yomo had brought outtheir phones to start typing out drafts to their blogs; Yomo’s draftwas noticeably shorter than Tsukiyama’s, the silver-haired ghoultaking more time to hunt down the proper keys on his device.Meanwhile, Kaneki was rereading Dear Kafka,and Nishiki had a notebook in hand, the pages filled with equationsand messy notations written in both his and Kimi’s handwriting.

“Whatthe fuck is taking them solong?!” Touka shouted, the voice changer in her mask cracklingslightly.

Roma’shands came up in a mock placating gesture, “Maa maa, Rabbit-chan.I’m sure—”

“I’msure that they’re fucking dicks!” Touka exploded, ignoring theClown’s smirking grin as she slammed her hands against the table,“We’ve been waiting for over three hours! They’re the ones that setthe time! They should be able to keep to the shitty schedule!”

Kanekisighed, “Rabbit…”

Justthen, the door swung open. The Aogiri delegation had arrived.

–

Aogiriand Anteiku were not the only ones invested in the outcome of theirpeace treaty. The Clowns were quite interestedin what was going on, though each had different views on the event.One in particular, had less than healthy interest in the events goingon in the abandoned school house.

Soutagiggled playfully to himself as he sat on the rooftop of a nearbybuilding. From this distance away, the figures below were small, buthe saw enough to recognize the ghouls entering the building now.

Aogiri.

“Huh,looks like something interesting is going on,” Souta hummed as hewatched the ghouls mill around down below, “Onee-chan wasn’tkidding when he said that there was a special occasion! Maaaaaaan, Ihope everything goes smoothly for them. It would be a shame ifsomeone crashed their party.”

Soutasnickered to himself as he pulled out his cellphone and flipped itover in his hands. He tipped his mask away and pushed back his hair,instantly sliding into another skin. It was as easy as putting on anew shirt. He quickly punched in a number, and brought the device tohis ear.

“Rank1 Furuta!” the voice on theother side of the phone scolded when it picked up, “You’relate! Where are you?”

Furuta Nimura, Rank 1 ghoulinvestigator of the CCG, quickly adapted a fearful face, fake sobbinginto the phone, “Kijima-san, thank goodness! You need to send help!You won’t believe what I just heard…”

–

Theadvantage of being stationed outside of the meeting room meant thatHide got a good look at the Aogiri delegation before Hide and Toukadid. As they had predicted, the White Suits made up the bulk of thegroup, though there were far less of them than expected. There were afew others, namely Aogiri executives and even some random low levelmembers, such as Torso. Nico met with the group, and as he had withAnteiku, only allowed five people in.

Hidesilently assessed each member of Aogiri’s main delegation, careful toplay the part of a faceless grunt. As expected, both Ayato and Mizawere part of the lineup. Noro trailed in their wake, a dark silentshadow. Eto skipped next to him. Hide would have felt gleefully proudof guessing correctly at Eto’s presence, but…

Hide thought that Naki would takethe fifth spot. He was wrong. Eto’s bandaged fingers beckoned over adark clad figure. Hide almost choked when he saw the pale face underthe dark hood. The blond had to bite his tongue before a name daredslip past his lips.

Takizawa Seidou.

His hair was stark white andovergrown—unkempt. He looked sick, his skin sagging and cracked,and his lips were blackened. There were dark circles around hisbloodshot eyes, and he blinked once to briefly reveal a singlestartling kakugan. But despite all the physical changes, it wasobviously Rank 2 Takizawa Seidou, one of the many investigators tohave fallen during the Anteiku Raid.

Apparently,the rumors of Kanou’s continued experiments were true.

BesideHide, Banjou also stiffened at the sight of Takizawa, though Hidesuspected it was because Banjou was surprised to see a half-ghoulwith Aogiri. But for Hide…he had known Takizawa. They had sharedmeals together. And, besides that Hide knew how much Akira hadmourned Takizawa’s death. Everyone knew.

Howwould Akira react if she saw Takizawa now?

“Let’s get started,” Nicoannounced, as he led the group inside the meeting room, leavingBanjou, Hide, and the Gas Masks alone with Naki and the rest ofAogiri’s forces.

–

Backin Ward 1, the Anti-Anteiku strike force were gathered for theirweekly meeting. However, the room was strangely sparse for the daywith only Special Class Marude and part of the Mado squad inattendance.

“Whereis everyone?” Mutsuki asked, looking around the conference roomcuriously.

“Papais with Mama and Maman today,” Saiko offered, not even looking upfrom her handheld as she replied.

“Nagachikais working out a deal with his landlord,” Akira elaborated, “Suzuyasquad and Hirako squad are on assignment.”

“They’reassigned to Anteiku, same as us,” Urie murmured, his eyes narrowingsuspiciously, “What (special) assignment are they on? (It’sprobably more interesting than this shit.)”

“WashuuMatsuri needed extra bodies for his raid,” Marude grumbled, clearlyirritated, “Little brat. I was lucky to be left with anyone, so youguys better work extra hard today!”

Mutsukiand Akira straightened, taking Marude’s words seriously, though Saikoand Shirazu  both slumped in their chairs, uneasy. Urie merely turnedhis head, muttering to himself again.

Workextra hard? With what? They had no leads. Today was going to bepointless—time would be wasted running in circles instead of doingsomething meaningful like working towards an important promotion.Going on a raid sounded much more productive.

“Mado,”Marude said, turning towards the squad leader, “Give me the rundown on what we have with Anteiku.”

“There’snot much, I’m afraid,” Akira sighed, the corners of her eyestightening with frustration, “We’re not even sure what is theirterritory. While they’ve traditionally been active in the 20thWard, Shirazu and Urie encountered them outside of there.”

“Theonly lead we have on them is the research that Kamii University groupwas working on,” Urie grumbled, “It’s been (useless) frustratingso far.”

“Speakingof that research, Dr. Chigyou is very interested in it,” Marudesaid, “Any luck on getting your hands on it?”

Akirabarely held in her huff of frustration, “The only known hard copyof the notes were stolen from Nishino Kimi’s apartment. We assumethat Anteiku has them.

“Ofthe research group, only three survived Aogiri’s attack,” Akiracontinued, rattling off furtherinfo, “Nishino Kimi and Kita Heiji, graduate students attached tothe project, were injured. The professor leading the research,Terada-sensei, was captured by Aogiri. However,I believe he has already been killed.”

Marudelooked up sharply at her assessment, “Explain.”

“Becauseaccording to our resources, it was Nishino, not Terada, who was thebrain behind the RC-cell research,” Akira replied, “Terada isuseless to Aogiri.”

“Nishinois the real prize,” Marude summarized, nodding thoughtfully, “Shesurvived the attack. Why don’t we have her under CCG protection?”

“Shehas a (pain in the ass) benefactor,” Urie answered, the corners ofhis lips tight, “(He’s a suspicious bastard.)”

“TsukiyamaShuu,” Akira sighed, tapping her notes against the table. “Hislawyers are working quite hard to keep Nishino’s research underwraps. They claim they’re protecting patents. I think his companywants to trademark Nishino’s work. And ever since she left thehospital, Tsukiyama’s people have been quite zealous in keeping usaway from Nishino.”

“Heh,”Marude snorted, “Dr. Chigyou has made it no secret that he wants tostudy Kamii University’s RC-cell research. He is—”

Suddenly the door burst open witha loud bang. Everyone’s heads turned towards the noise, their eyeslanding on a pale junior investigator panting against the doorjamb.

“What’s the meaning of this?!”Marude roared, furious with the interruption, “ This is a—”

“I’m sorry, sir, but this isimportant!” the newcomer gasped out as he held out a slip of paperin a shaking hand, “We just got a report in. Anteiku and Aogiri—weknow where they are!”

–

“You’relate,” Touka sneered as the Aogiri delegation settled in. She tookher seat next to Kaneki, pointedly not looking at Ayato as herbrother walked in. Beneath the table, Kaneki cracked the joints ofhis fingers, his kakugan unconsciously flaring to life. Touka satstraight and proud, like a regal statue. No weakness. They couldn’tafford to show weakness here.

“So sorry,” Eto laughed, notsounding sorry at all as she and Miza took the chairs across fromAnteiku. Noro, Ayato, and an unfamiliar white-haired ghoul tookstanding positions behind them.

Nico clapped his hands together,his Clown mask looking far to cheery for the tension clogging theroom.

“How about some introductions,yes?” the Clown suggested in a bright tone, “On Anteiku’s side,we have our dear Eyepatch, Rabbit-chan, Serpent, Raven-kun, anddarling Gourmet. From Aogiri, sweet Eto-chan, Three Blades, Noro-san,Rabbit-chan—oh my. That’s going to be confusing.”

“Deal with it,” the Kirishimasiblings snorted in stereo. Ayato startled badly, his head whippingaround to glare at his sister; she ignored him, but the faint soundof her molars grinding together belied her frustration.

Nico cleared his throat awkwardlybefore moving on to point at the stranger with Aogiri, “And last,we have—oh dear, I haven’t gotten your name.”

The strange white-haired ghoulflashed a grimacing smile, the skin of his darkened lips crackingslightly.

“Owl,” he rasped out.

Kaneki’s eyes darted to Owl insurprise. Owl? As in One-Eyed Owl? He had given the name in the wronglanguage, but…

“Liar,” came a soft murmurfrom Yomo.

“No. Just not what you expect,”Eto countered, smiling up at Yomo’s masked face, “Isn’t that right,Yomo Renji?”

Touka hissed softly under herbreath. The tension in the room seemed to increase three-fold, sothick it was like breathing in smog.

“You’re breaking protocol,Aogiri. Aliases only.” Kaneki growled, trying to mask how on edgeeveryone on Anteiku’s side of the table was. They had guessed awhileago that Aogiri knew all of their names, but to hear it come fromEto’s mouth so casually…

Aogiri was trying to throw themoff. Kaneki grit his teeth together. He refused to allow them thatpower. He locked eyes with Eto firmly, a silent battle of wills. Hewasn’t that scared little human that Aogiri had tossed oh socarelessly to Jason. He wasn’t.

They stared at each other for afew moments longer, before Eto dipped her head to him with a widesmile. It didn’t quite feel like a victory. More like watching anamused parent applauding a child’s small achievement.

“My apologies,” Eto offered,putting in a touch of effort to sound sincere. Kaneki accepted it,and attempted to relax his shoulders. He may or may not have failed.

“Are we to assume that Naki andthe White Suits are waiting outside the door?” Kaneki drawled,tapping his fingers against the table. Eto chuckled in response.

“Oh yes, just as you haveplaced the Gas Masks out there as well,” the bandaged Aogiri membercountered, “I’ll admit, I’m surprised. I didn’t know they wereallied with you.”

“They were hired,” Kanekilied, “I’m not stupid. You have advantages in number.”

Eto smiled again, “Such littletrust in us. We followed the rules for how many men we were allowedto bring.”

“Not that Aogiri had muchchoice,” Nico chimed in, surprising everyone else, “Your peoplewere contracted to provide security for Big Madam’s Auction. Most ofyour forces must be there.”

Kaneki stared at the Clown insurprise. It was rare to receive information for free, and judging bythe pinched look on Miza’s face, Nico’s words were accurate. Kanekididn’t know why Aogiri was willing to split their forces to thisdegree, but it was to Anteiku’s advantage. Anteiku didn’t have toworry about Aogiri calling in reinforcements any time soon.

After a moment of awkwardsilence, Nico cleared his throat to draw everyone’s attention.

“Let’s get down to business,shall we?”

–

Meanwhile, right outside of themeeting room, the introductions between the White Suits and the GasMasks were going far more smoothly. It was pretty easy to identifypeople, when half of the crowd was wearing masks that were plasteredwith the number they went by.

For the most part, everyoneoutside of the meeting was rather…bored. There wasn’t a fight to behad, so Naki and his White Suits were restless. But it was obviousthey weren’t going to start anything unless something happened.Banjou was a cautious sort, and wasn’t prone to making trouble.

Really the only thing interestingthat had happened was when Hide’s phone went off during theintroductions, but luckily, no one had complained. Even so, Hideturned a bright red under his mask when the Backstreet Boys startedcrooning through his phone’s speakers. The jaunty tune was hardly anappropriate soundtrack to a meeting filled with ghouls.

“Sorry,” Hide mumbled, actingout the part of the apologetic underling. He was supposed to gounnoticed, damn it.

Speaking of unnoticedunderlings…Aogiri had brought other grunts than just the WhiteSuits. There were a few unremarkable fellows in the standard Aogiricloak and mask, but there was also a reedy individual that was alltoo familiar to Hide.

Torso.

Hide glanced over at Torsosubtly. The gangling ghoul was quiet, unobtrusive—just anotherAogiri grunt. Part of Hide was glad that Nishiki was inside themeeting room, and thus wasn’t around when Aogiri came in. If Nishikiknew that Torso was here, things wouldn’t be so quiet. Idly, Hidebegan planning on how to keep Nishiki away from Torso—not becausehe liked the Aogiri bastard, but rather because Hide wanted thisceasefire to work. Nishiki caving in Torso’s face would hardly keepthe peace, even if it would make everyone feel better.

Hide tried not to think of Kimi,currently wheelchair-bound, or of the bruises that had gracedMutsuki’s face. Revenge would be satisfying, but useless. Or so hekept telling himself.

Suddenly, Hide’s phone went offagain, cheery English lyrics filling the hallway. It instantlysnapped him out of his morose thoughts.

“Ah sorry, sorry,” Hideyelped, swiping his phone off again. There were a few snickers, butotherwise, he was ignored.

–

Akira growled as her phone callwith her vice captain went to voicemail. Again.

“Hide’s still not picking up?”Shirazu asked needlessly.

Akira huffed in annoyance, “Hepromised to answer my calls.”

She looked up at her squad.Shirazu was helping Saiko adjust the straps on her CCG standardarmor. Everyone else was already dressed in raid gear, quinquesnearby and ready. This was going to be their first raid. For a secondthere was pressure in Akira’s chest. It was pride and fear, all mixedtogether into a poisonous cocktail.

Her squad mates (her children)were growing up.

“Transport is ready,” Mutsukiannounced meekly. Akira tipped her head in acknowledgment.

“Understood,” Akira sighed,“Mutsuki, make sure we bring Nagachika’s gear. With luck he canstill meet us there.”

–

The meeting between Aogiri andAnteiku was going…fine, Kaneki supposed. After the less than warmintroductions, Nico had swiftly taken over. The Clown was going overthe laundry list of demands from each side. Aogiri wanted the rest ofthe research on RC-cells that Anteiku had taken from Kimi’sapartment. Anteiku wanted Aogiri to back off from their territory.When Nico said it, it sounded so simple.

“Where’s the research?” Mizaasked bluntly as soon as Nico finished listing off both sides’ terms.Kaneki gestured silently to Nishiki, who withdrew a battered folderfrom within his coat. Nishiki tossed the thing onto the table with ahint of disgust. A few of the papers, bloodstained and grimy, slidout and scattered across the surface.

Unperturbed, Eto gathered thepapers and started flipping through them. After a few minutes, shetapped the papers against the table, passed them to Miza, and lookedup at the Anteiku delegation. Despite the bandages covering her face,her frown was clearly visible.

“Where is the rest of it?”she demanded.

“That is all the notes werecovered from Nishino’s apartment,” Kaneki grunted back. It wasn’ta lie. Every scrap of paper Anteiku recovered from Kimi’s place wasthere. It wasn’t their fault if the pages were smudged and dirty fromthe fight that had taken place.

(It was their fault if the paperswere further wrecked after, but Aogiri didn’t need to knowthat.)

To be fair, there was a good dealof information there—Anteiku couldn’t afford to make it completelyuseless, or else Aogiri would never agree to the ceasefire. But itwould take Aogiri and Kanou time to decipher it all.

“I’m not an expert, but itlooks like there’s something in here that the doctor coulduse,” Miza rationalized as she too peered through the documents, “Ican make out a few formulas…”

Eto hummed, tapping her fingersagainst her chin, “True. The good doctor is a genius after all.But…this isn’t all the research you have, Anteiku.”

Touka snarled, her hands curlingup into tight fists, “Do you think we’re lying? What do wehave to gain—”

Eto laughed sharply, cuttingTouka off, “Oh no, no, White Rabbit. I believe that these areall the notes from Nishino’s apartment. I don’t believethis is all the RC-cell research you have.”

Smirking, her gaze slid upwardsto lock into Nishiki, a silent challenge in her eyes.

Eto’s voice was like poisonedhoney as she continued, “Nishino would have shared some of herthoughts and ideas with her fiance, who was known to be a giftedpharma—”

“Shut the fuck up!”Nishiki snarled, his temper snapping. Tsukiyama, ever the calm one,grabbed Nishiki’s wrist, and quickly whispered placating words intoNishiki’s ear. Nishiki hissed like the serpent he was named for, furyradiating from him, but he took a step back and shut up. Eto smiled,and ignored his rage as if it didn’t exist. Instead, she turned allof her attention to Kaneki.

“We have a counter proposal,”Eto began smoothly, holding a hand up. Wordlessly, Noro reached intohis coat and placed a thick folder into Eto’s waiting hand.

“You give us the rest of theKamii University research and we’ll give you this,” Eto offered,her wicked smile still visible behind the bandages, “And before youask—it’s Kanou’s research on ghoulification. Don’t you wantit…Ka-ne-ki~?”

The reaction was instantaneous.

Kaneki was out of his chair, hisone visible eye wide, his whole body taut like a thread about tosnap. Once upon a time, Kaneki had hunted Kanou down for answers onlyto receive nothing. Perhaps having access to Kanou’s notes would giveKaneki something that he lacked for years:

Some closure.

“How do we know it’s not fake?”Touka cut in, her voice laced with skepticism. Some of the tensionleft Kaneki’s shoulders as her words grounded him. He nodded to her.Ever practical Touka coming to the rescue.

Eto’s smile shifted, turning botha little softer and a little more smug, “We could ask you the samething, Anteiku. But that’s how these ceasefires work—trust.”

–

Naki was bored. So far,his orders had been to wait. Most of the White Suits were busy at theAuction, further irritating Naki. He didn’t like breaking up hisgang, especially since he was assigned a few tagalongs, like Torso.Too bad Torso was a quiet guy, not interesting at all.

“Uuuuggh…”Naki groaned, as he slumpedagainst the wall, “This is lame! Where’s the fight?”

All around him, his White Suitsgrumbled in agreement. The gas mask bastards that Anteiku broughtshuffled nervously. Naki gave a quick glance to the Gas Masks’leader—some tall beefy fucker that looked like a good fight. Notthat Naki was allowed. Naki sighed and thumped his head into the wallin frustration. When he had heard that Aogiri was going to face offagainst Anteiku he thought there was going to be more action. Insteadthey were just…talking.

The only interesting thing thathappened so far was how often what’s-his-face(Thirty-one…Thirty-two…No, Thirty-three, that was it) hadhis phone go off in his pocket. The song it played was weird, thewords complete gibberish to Naki.

Speaking of weird music, as if oncue—

“I want it that way~!”

“Ohdamn it!” Thirty-three cursed. He reached into his pocket tofish the device out, intending to turn it off.

“Just answer it,” Naki barkedat the Gas Mask.

“Ah, ex-excuse me?”Thirty-three squeaked, clearly surprised by Naki addressing him.

“Look, someone wants to talk toyou really badly,” Naki grumbled, “If they’re a friend, youshouldn’t ignore it.”

Thirty-three hesitated as hisphone continued to ring in his hand. He gave the screen a quickglance, clearly torn.

“If you go to the next hallover, none of us will be able to hear you,” the Gas Mask’s beefyfucker of a leader offered, “Provided of course, no one hasHinami’s sensing talents…”

Naki snorted, “None of my guyswill eavesdrop on your convolation. That’s not cool.”

Thirty-three tilted his head incuriosity, “You mean, ‘conversation’?”

As soon as the words left hismouth, he slapped a hand over his gas mask, clearly embarrassed. Nakismirked. Yeah, he’d be embarrassed too if he didn’t know what aconvolation was.

“Just get outta here,” Nakisnickered. Thirty-three gave a quick bow, and quickly scuttled out.

Naki shook his head as he glancedover at the Gas Mask’s leader, “Man, beefy fucker, you got yourselfsome weird ones.”

The other ghoul laughed, a hintof nervousness in his voice, “You have no idea.”

–

Akira was honestly surprised whenafter the tenth failed time she tried to reach him, Hide called herback.

“Nagachika Hideyoshi!” Akirasnapped as soon as the line connected, “You are in so muchtrouble!”

“Look, I’m sorry,”Hide mumbled into his phone, obviously trying to keep his voice low,“The, um, landlord—we’re in really intense negotiations rightnow. Can this be short?”

If it had been any other time,Akira would have felt a touch of sympathy for her vice captain.Today, however, Akira didn’t have time to deal with his problems.

“Don’t you dare skip out onme,” Akira’s voice hissed into the receiver furiously, “Yourlease agreement is not nearly as important as this.”

There was a brief pause beforeHide sighed in resignation, “Okay, what’s going on?”

“We’ve called in effectiveimmediately,” Akira explained quickly, stress coloring her voice,“If you had picked up your phone earlier when I first called, youwould have been able to meet us at headquarters, but I guess you’regoing to have to meet us at the raid site.”

“Wait, what? What raid?”Hide yelped, his voice a few octaves higher than usual.

“Pay attention, Nagachika!”Akira barked, needing her vice-captain to focus, “We received a tipa few hours ago—it’s an opportunity we can’t afford to miss. Fivesquads have already been dispatched.”

“An…an opportunity?”Hide croaked out, though there was a note in his voice that suggestedhe already knew what Akira was going to say.

Akira confirmed his thoughts,“Top members of both Anteiku and Aogiri are meeting right now.  ETAfor the first assault group is under 10 minutes. Wave two will followabout 15 minutes after. I’ll send you the coordinates. Now get yourass down here!”

“Wha…Wait,Akira!” Hide squeaked, clearlyoverwhelmed.

Akira didn’t have time for this,“I’ll text you the address. We have your gear. Just get down here, that’s an order!”

Akira frowned angrily as she hungup her phone. Currently, she was in a CCG van getting transported tothe raid site with the rest of her squad, minus Hide. Her youngersubordinates all looked at her worriedly.

“Soooo, Hide’s not coming?”Shirazu checked.

“He is,” Akira corrected,even as she continued to frown, “But, if he’s working out a leaseagreement with his landlord at his apartment complex…”

“He’s nowhere near where we’regoing,” Mutsuki finished, his eyes wide with understanding, “Hewon’t be able to make it in time.”

“He might be there for the mopup,” Akira theorized, “But not for the real fight.”

“(More credit for the rest ofus),” Urie muttered quietly.

“Eh, maybe Hide will still makeit,” Shirazu said hopefully, “If he breaks a few traffic laws,he’ll make it in plenty of time.”

Saiko shuddered, clearly nervousas she wrapped her arms around herself, “But…it’s okay if he’slate, right? Maybe it’s for the best that Papa can’t make it. He’swith Mama and Maman. He’s safer with them.”

“(You’re just upset that he’snot here to coddle you),” Urie snorted under his breath.

Saiko didn’t appear to have heardhim, but nevertheless, she curled up tighter.

–

Hide hung up his phone. Heflicked on his voice changer. He took a deep breath.

“Shit,” he cursed.

–

Inside the meeting room, Anteikuwas whispering among themselves, a quiet, but passionate, debateraging between them.

“We should say no,” Nishikigrowled, clearly displeased with Aogiri’s demands, “We just wantthe ceasefire. No need to grab extra bullshit.”

“We should say yes,”Tsukiyama countered, “Kanou’s research—”

“I don’t fucking care!”Nishiki hissed, “It’s not worth it!”

“I agree,” Yomo murmured,nodding in Nishiki’s direction, “We would gain little. Keep theoriginal deal.”

“They want Kimi’s research badenough that they’re willing to share Kanou’s,” Touka reasoned,“That means something. As long as we have something theywant, they’ll keep bothering us. They’re more likely to lose interestif we’re not interesting!”

“What do you think,Kaneki-kun?” Tsukiyama asked curiously, “This offer affects youmore than any of us.”

Quickly, Kaneki glanced over tothe Aogiri delegation. They were silent, making no indication thatthey were listening into Anteiku’s debate, but there was somethingfamiliar with how Miza’s head was tilted, just slightly. Itreminded him of how Hinami looked when she listened to quietconversations a block away.

Kaneki hummed thoughtfully, andlooked back at his friends, “I think—”

Suddenly, the door slammed openwith a sharp bang. Kaneki looked up, a brief flash ofirritation sparking to life, then quickly fading when he saw Hidepanting at the door. The others, both Aogiri and Anteiku, turnedtheir heads to the disguised human, curiosity buzzing around theroom.

“What’s wrong?” Touka asked,her tone both sharp and worried.

There was no way to beat aroundthe bush. Despite the distortion from his voice changer, Hide’s voicewas grim as he relayed the bad news.

“The CCG found us. We’ve gotless than 10 minutes before the first wave.”

Shocked chatter instantly brokeout. Almost everyone had jumped out of seats and were prowling aboutthe room. Only Eto remained seated, her hands steepled in front ofher, deep in thought.

“How did they—”

“What are we going to do?”

“Fuck! Fucking Doves!”

“We’ve got about 10 minutes!”Hide yelled, trying to make himself heard over the din, “If we gonow, we can leave before the CCG arrives!”

“Do we even know how many ofthem are coming here?” Miza asked.

Kaneki shook his head, “Itdoesn’t matter. We shouldn’t risk it when we have the chance toescape without any causalities.”

“You want to run from theDoves, Eyepatch?” Ayato mocked, “How cowardly.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Toukasnapped, “In case you didn’t notice, there’s a limited number ofus, and an unknown number of them.”

Ayato snarled, enraged, “Wedon’t run—”

“Enough,” Eto ordered, calmdespite the shouting. Then she turned her bandaged face towardsAnteiku, tilting her head thoughtfully.

“It is odd, is it not?” Etomurmured, tapping her fingers against her lips, “How did the Dovesknow where to find us? It is quite convenient for them to be able tofight us while we are few in number and in cramped quarters. Did youtell them our location, Anteiku?”

“What?” Kaneki croaked,surprised. Such an accusation was—

“That’s moronic as shit!”Touka shouted, her temper flaring, “Why would we talk to the CCG?That puts us in danger too!”

“Does it?” Eto countered, hervoice that sweet poisoned honey again, “You’ve been observed beingrather friendly with some Doves, White Rabbit.”

Touka stiffened, and tried not toglance over at Ayato. During her last fight with her brother, she haddefended Akira. Touka hissed, frustrated that she couldn’t come upwith a good counter argument. Touka knew it looked suspicious. Hideglanced at her worriedly, his mind whirling.

Finally, his eyes landed onTakizawa and an idea formed.

“What about you, Aogiri?”Hide accused, jabbing a finger at Takizawa, “You’ve got a formerDove in your ranks. A dead one.”

Takizawa blinked owlishly at Hidebefore slowly, a mad grin formed on his lips.

“How’d you know that, huh~?”Takizawa purred, a dangerous lilt to his voice.

In a flash, Takizawa hopped overthe table, grabbed the front of Hide’s jacket, and pulled the blondclose. Takizawa grinned, the skin of his darkened lips cracking, ashis free hand skimming the edges of Hide’s disguise.

“You seem to know a lot~”Takizawa singsonged, his fingers drumming against the “33” onHide’s gas mask, “I wonder…who are you under alllll this~?”

‘Shit,’Hide’s panicked mind shrieked internally, as he tried not to squirm,'I messed up.’

“Let go of him!” Toukashouted, her fists clenching.

“Make me!” Takizawa laughed,hefting Hide up. Touka snarled, her whole frame tense like a wound upspring. Hide turned fearful eyes towards her. Things were quicklyspiraling out of control, and the whole situation was like a powderkeg waiting for a spark.

“Touka…Touka don’t!” Hidehissed, trying to calm her down. He shouldn’t have bothered. Thematch was already lit.

SHHHLK!Whump!

“AAAAAAaahhhHHhh…hahahaaa!”Takizawa screeched before the sound trailed off into derangedlaughter. He stepped back, holding the bloody stump of his arm. Hidestumbled back, shocked at his sudden freedom. Takizawa’s bloodyamputated arm lay right in front of the blond’s feet. Before Hide wasable to process anything, the human was quickly shoved back behindKaneki. The half-ghoul’s kagune were out and smeared with blood.

Hide wanted to curse. He had beenso focused on Touka’s reaction, he failed to pay attention to Kaneki.The half-ghoul crouched low, his body twisting into predatoryvengeful movement. His kagune were already whipping around foranother attack.

It was like an explosion—violentand chaotic.

(Boom.)

–

Outside of the school house, thefirst of the CCG’s vans were skidding into the courtyard in thefront. CCG agents, dressed in dark raid gear, hopped out of the vansbrandishing quinques, determination written all over their features.In one van, Marude Itsuki had set up a makeshift headquarters, andwas already rapidly calling out orders.

“Atou, I want you and yoursquad on point,” Marude barked into his microphone, “Kijima, yoursquad is supporting Atou. Ooshiba, Mado, I want your squads to circlearound the back. All other personnel, on standby.”

“Yes, sir!” came the promptreplies over the com system.

Marude frowned as he did somequick calculations. He knew this whole mission was a risk. He hadscrapped together five squads—an impressive feat, considering howmany CCG agents were busy with Washuu Matsuri’s scheduled raid. Butnormal missions against Aogiri usually called for at least two timesthe amount of investigators he had on hand. On one hand, the numberof investigators was disheartening. On the other…the initialreports had stated that both Aogiri and Anteiku were gathered in muchsmaller number than usual.

Leaders from two ghoul groups inone spot with only a smattering of security? The CCG had the chanceto slice the head off the dragon. They couldn’t let this opportunityto pass by unanswered.

The two point squads made shortwork in breaching the building doors, and started to make their wayinside.

Battle start.

And then, without warning, thesharp crash of breaking glass echoed above the investigators’heads.

Ghouls tumbled out of a brokenwindow from a higher floor. Snarling, Marude toggled on his mic.

“Ineed people out in the courtyard ASAP!”

–

Naki saw Thirty-three rushupstairs into the main meeting room. It didn’t take long for theyelling to start. Naki felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips.Finally, some action!

Just as he was about to ready hismen, the Gas Mask’s leader grabbed his elbow in a gentle grip thatwas totally at odds with his giant frame.

“Please,” the beefy fuckerbegged, “We don’t have to fight.”

Naki sighed. Really, he was justabout to—

Crash!The sound of glass shatteringechoed from the floor above, right where the meeting between Aogiriand Anteiku was taking place. Naki looked up, when—

Boom!Across the hall the doors werekicked open, revealing a knot of humans wielding quinques.

“Doves!”the cry went out.

Naki’s face broke out into avicious grin. Looks like things wouldn’t be so boring now. He shareda glance the the Gas Masks, a quick bolt of understanding flashingbetween them. Dove’s first.

“Get 'em!” Naki roared,pointing at the humans.

–

It happened so fast. There wasnothing and then—

Chaos.

Hide could barely understand whatwas happening. One moment he was struggling in Takizawa’s grip, thenext he was being pushed away as blood arched through the air.

Kaneki and Takizawa weregrappling with each other, kagune flashing. The former Dove’s armreattached itself with nearly impossible speed. Takizawa’s maddenedgiggles just barely drowned out Kaneki’s snarls. Takizawa’s mouthopened, almost impossibly wide, before clamping down hard on Kaneki’sleft shoulder.

“AAAAAaaaaaaahhhh!” Kanekishouted as flesh tore away from his body. His hand automaticallyreached over to clutch the wound, even as skin and sinew startedknitting itself together.

For a second, Takizawa just stoodthere, chewing, before a blissful smile stretched over his face.

“Tasttttty,” hemoaned, his tongue lolling out to swipe at the remaining blood aroundhis lips, “Fuck, you’re the best jam jam jam~!”

Kaneki launched himself back atTakizawa, elbowing the other half-ghoul in the face to stun him.Takizawa’s nose crunched under Kaneki’s assault, smearingblood all across the former Dove’s pale face. Kaneki felt a smallflash of satisfaction as Takizawa’s head reeled back. It was a shortlived victory. Takizawa renewed his attack with vigor, his eyescrazed with hunger and violence.

“Touka, Touka—you need to geteveryone to retreat!” Kaneki shouted as he ducked a wild swing fromTakizawa.

“Ahhh—hahahaha!” the formerDove laughed and screamed, his body arching. Across the room, Etosmiled as she murmured quietly to herself. The combatants didn’tnotice.

Takizawa’s kagune flared upbehind him, jagged ukaku spikes thrumming in a familiar way.  Kanekirecognized it immediately—Takizawa was going to fill the room withprojectiles. In such a small space, the attack would hit everybody.

Quick as a viper, Kaneki rushedat Takizawa, and bodily threw both of them out the window. The noiseof shattering glass was almost downed out by Takizawa’s cackledlaughs as both half-ghouls fell two stories to the ground.

“Kaneki!” Touka and Hidecried out together.

“Oh this looks interesting,”Eto muttered to herself, even as she tilted her head towards theremaining Anteiku members, “What will you do?”

“Get him out of here,” Yomomurmured, glancing at Touka and jerking his chin in Hide’s direction,“We’ll cover you.”

Touka nodded curtly, grabbing theback of Hide’s jacket and dashing out of the room with the human intow. It was easy enough—Anteiku had chosen to sit on the side ofthe table closest to the door. Touka ran swiftly, despite draggingHide along. Hide’s yelp of protest was promptly ignored.

Rather predictably, Ayato wasalready rising to chase after his sister. Nishiki acted first. With avicious swipe of his kagune, the bikaku user sent Ayato crashing intothe far wall.

“What’s the matter, bunny boy?”Nishiki taunted as Ayato shook off the hit, “Leaving so soon?”

“Fucking snake,” Ayato spatbefore launching himself at Nishiki. The two exchanged a flurry ofblows, attacking each other mercilessly.

Tsukiyama glanced over at Yomo,and then at Eto, Miza, and Noro.

“Two versus three?” Tsukiyamasighed dramatically as he formed his kagune over his arm with anelaborate bow, “How unfortunate. We do not have enough dancepartners to go around.”

Eto giggled, obviously amused byTsukiyama’s dramatics, before nodding at Noro, “Go play with thenice gentlemen, Noro. Miza, assist Naki with the incoming Dovesoutside.”

Eto turned away, clearlydismissing Anteiku. Miza whipped out her famed three blades to carvean exit into the far wall, and both she and Eto were prepared toleave unhindered. Yomo snarled under his breath and launched himselfat Eto, determined to stop her retreat.

Without missing a beat, Noropractically materialized between Yomo and Eto, batting thesilver-haired ghoul away with his kagune. Yomo crashed against thefar wall, but quickly leaped to his feet. His ukaku crackled to life,flaring out behind him in uneven patterns.

“It seems that we will have togo through Monsieur Noro before going after the mesdemoiselles,”Tsukiyama commented as he settled into a ready stance next to Yomo,“You and me versus him…nostalgic, no? It is almost a repeat oflast time. A pity Monsieur Uta is not here with us.”

Yomo grunted in response, butdidn’t answer further. His mind was already analyzing their chances.Last time, they weren’t able to defeat Noro, even with Uta’s help. Infact, every blow, no matter how serious, had been quickly healed upby the monster before them. Noro would not be an easy fight. Butbeyond that, Yomo’s eyes were quickly darting about the room,searching.

Where had the Clowns gone?

Notes:

*Strolls in months latejust like Aogiri.*'Sup. Have an extra long chapter for taking so long.

I have been waiting since foreverto have a good opportunity for someone to call Ayato “bunny boy.”I’ve had that line written down for ages. Thank you, Nishiki.Also I got to get in some defenestration. Good times.

Yes, the other CCG raid alludedto during this chapter is the infamous Auction raid from canon.Obviously, quite a few things are going to be different over there,though some events will remain the same. Also, yes, Hide is wearingTouka’s mask from the Cochlea raid in canon. Ikinda wanted him to wear the Scarecrow mask, but Ishida-sensei isbeing coy on how canon that is.

Huh, I wonder if playingBackstreet Boys while reading this chapter makes it any different.Probably turns it goofy, haha. No, I didn’t listen to “I Want ItThat Way” while writing this. Honest.

[mercuryze]

Hard Work

pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda/Reader

word count: 1356

warnings: a few swear words

summary: Shouldn’t an interview be about a person’s career, and not their love life? (Y/N) doesn’t mind. Much.

a/n: i wrote this in 20 minutes and its unedited. be kind thanks

“Lin and I never found love. It wasn’t something that came out of the blue and sprung itself upon us.” (Y/N) gently chuckled, her hands perfectly folded in her lap. It was the only way she could refrain from picking at a loose thread that hung from her skirt. No one noticed it except her, and she didn’t want to bring attention to it. “We worked hard to get to where we are now. I’m pretty sure he hated me when we first met. I was the perfectionist in college and he...wasn’t…” The audience laughed, and she wasn’t sure if it was about her minor quip or her bright pink face.

She hadn’t expected the talk show host to ask her about her husband. This interview had been scheduled directly after she was due to come back after her honeymoon. The newlyweds had decided to take a break from media completely after their recent wedding, so when it was discovered that they had returned to their home in New York, every talk show wanted to interview the pair. Consumers seemed to eat up romance stories more than anything.

This really should have been anticipated. It’s not as if anyone would want to genuinely hear about the new Off-Broadway role (Y/N) had just secured, or Lin’s recent success with Mary Poppins. They wanted the couple to gush about each other, and in an attempt to please her PR team, (Y/N) gave in. She would give the people what they want.

“We both majored in Theater Studies and met through a mutual friend, but I always took things a bit more seriously than him. We always worked together on school projects, but I was a bit bossy,” She paused after another round of laughs sounded from the audience. “And always took control of everything. I was the self-proclaimed genius and Lin-Manuel was more modest about his intelligence. It was a bit surprising to me when he asked me out a few years after we had graduated. Even I know that I was annoying.

We never had a steady or traditional relationship while we were dating, y’know?” (Y/N) smiled at the host as they nodded, far too captivated by the story being told. Lin-Manuel and (Y/N) Miranda were one of the internet’s favorite couples. It seemed like everyone adored them...it was a strange feeling to have complete strangers invested in your relationship. “We never went on a lot of dates, and we were stuck in that awkward, scared-to-kiss phase for two months, maybe. He was a bit of a pansy,” She was trying to be as comedic as she could be. Hopefully the jokes would distract from her shaky voice. “But so was I.”

Was Lin listening to her story backstage? He would probably tease her about it when the interview was over. She prayed that her husband had developed a weak bladder and had to rush to the bathroom at this time.

“Even if we weren’t the most affectionate couple, we were one of the most supportive. Oh, god, I don’t mean to compete with other couples!” (Y/N)’s hand subconsciously moved to tug at the loose thread on her skirt. “But he was always there for me, and vice versa. I saw him as Usnavi 5 days in a row when he was on In the Heights. He would always have a coffee and a kiss ready for me when I first started out as Elphaba Thropp back in 2007. It’s nice to know that he still loved me, even when I was green. Every time there was even a minor issue, we never left each other’s sides. Especially during his Hamilton writing crisis. I swear, the amount of times I forced him into bed and away from writing about George Washington is far too high.” She shifted in her seat and grinned at the audience.

(Y/N) could never give up the life she had. The live audience that watched her was so reactive and vibrant and made the young woman feel so energized. They were so much better than the audiences that refused to laugh along with her and clap for her when she spoke about her own accomplishments. The people around her often rubbed off on her.

“I think we really started settling into the fact that we were in love after our four year anniversary. Yeah, that’s crazy, right?” Another chuckle slipped through her lips. This was so strange to recall now that there was a ring on her finger. “I think until then...I just thought of him as my best friend. A best friend who I would occasionally kiss and sleep in the same bed with. We hit a really rocky patch after five years together. He was starting out as Alexander Hamilton over at the Richard Rodgers Theater, and I was working with Othello at the time...we didn’t have a lot of time to spend together, and when we were together, we would argue. A lot.”

She quickly waved that topic away, not wanting to delve too deep in that memory. It was in the past, and that’s where it should stay.

(Y/N) cleared her throat and took a sip from the mug of water that was offered to her. “Fast forward a year or so, blah blah blah, we worked it out. Communicating with and making your feelings clear to someone you care about is really important, so we did just that. I think that’s when we started saying ‘I love you’ more often. You know how people talk about the more times you say I love you, the less meaning it holds? That’s bullshit.” This earned some more laughs, and the host making a comment about how that will be inevitably bleeped out.

“Every time he says how much he loves me, it’s kinda reassuring. Like he’s mine, and I’m never going to lose him. Seven years, and he proposed. Eight, and now we’re married. I saw a magazine article that said how Lin and I were a match made in heaven. As if we were an easy route. The two of us have been through so much, it’s been so difficult, but we work through everything that the universe throws at us. We didn’t fall in love. We dug ourselves into love.”

The host drew in a deep breath and sat back in their seat. (Y/N) was sure that her face was positively red- she sometimes wondered if it would be better if she kept her romantic life separate from her career. Wouldn’t that help her climb the ladder to reach more success? She didn’t mind talking about Lin-Manuel, God, she could talk about him all day, but she’d prefer speaking about her new role over her love life.

The loose strand had been pulled off of her skirt with a small snapping sound. Nobody heard. She had nothing to worry about.

“That was beautiful. Ah, you make me want to call my wife up and tell her how much I appreciate her.” The host related to (Y/N) and happily reached over to pat her hand. It was a bit...patronizing. “Everyone loves you and your husband, and we can’t wait until you release those wedding pictures. I’m sure they’ll be seen more times than Hamilton has been. You won’t have to pay two hundred dollars to see them.” They quipped, and earned a laugh from (Y/N) herself. “You mentioned working on Othello, and now you’re onto something new! Tell us a bit about that.”

(Y/N) could see Lin peeking out at her from the side of the stage, trying not to show himself to audience. On his face was that stupidly adorable smile that she would never get sick of seeing. He gave her a quick thumbs up. If she squinted hard enough, she could see him mouthing the words “I love you”, once, and then two more times.

She had nothing to worry about.

“I’m so excited to have this role, I almost dropped my phone when I got the call…”