#i could probably go on about other foodstuffs all day

[kagoutiss]

What kind of food would your ganondorf like? Like is he a sweet tooth? A pickles girl? I’m cooking in TOTK and also full of ganondorf brain rot

a pickles girl….. 😭😭😭💕 hmmm maybe this is a bit boring or too specific, but i do have a hc that he really likes apples/apple-related things? and i also think he’s a wine mom as i’ve said before (he would also probably really like cider too…applewine……). i think sometimes if sheik has to ask him for something/put him in a good mood for whatever reason, she will literally bring him like a bag of apples and/or some wine, and that basically always makes him friendlier, and he always accepts food & drink because his triforce makes it so that he’s almost always hungry & thirsty (because it gives him this frighteningly fast metabolism because his wounds can heal in minutes/seconds and he has unnatural amounts of strength so he has this bottomless appetite, anyway). so sheik will follow that up by asking for information or some kind of favor while he’s just crunching thru whole apples in 2-3 bites and usually he’s like ‘yeah sure that’s fine. fine by me’

and i like the idea that apples are one of his fav foods in general because 1) they’re a really common fruit in hyrule (that he also saw as kind of a luxury in his youth), and 2) before he came to power and was running himself ragged serving the king of hyrule + trying to bring things home to gerudo valley + trying to get the spiritual stones + hardly eating, he would usually be able to snack on wild apples here & there when he was really really hungry (often sharing them with his horse ❤️). even if the apples on the lower branches of the trees were picked clean, he’s the biggest person ever, so he could still always reach the best apples on the higher branches :-) and I do think the thought of apples probably would have made him feel a little sick for a while after subsisting off of them for so long, but i think he’d start craving them again really badly after getting the triforce of power and his appetite goes thru the roof

aside from that, i also think he could put together a LEGENDARY charcuterie board??? like i think ganondorf could make a charcuterie board so pretentious and expensive and gorgeous and varied-yet-cohesive that it would knock anybody’s fucking socks off

[never-say-neverwhore]

for the ask game. eulalie. go

yessma'am!

How I feel about this character

Overall, I really like Eulalie's character, and her vibes! I love how she's almost doll-like, and manages to be graceful while also a bit clumsy when it comes to socializing (mood). However, it does sort of bug me how most of the time she's written as only an addition to Berenice (and vise versa), and specifically the less useful of the two. The only time she's really been able to be of help to the group OUTSIDE of the group (/ teaming up with someone (Berenice)) was the end of the first season, where she puts in her two cents about the theory of the afterlife and her support of Lenore, which serves as a tipping point to get the others on board. (10/10 scene btw I fuckin loved it)

I wish she got more time to shine, and really show her strengths more than just a helper / secondary to other characters. Other than that, I do have one more thing that sort of bugs me, which is, funnily enough even though I quite like her design... Her design. Her design is nice, don't get me wrong-- I love the vibes, she's one of my favorite characters to draw. However, considering she's supposed to be Japanese, and comparing her to other characters, it really feels like she sort of just got the anime treatment...? She has these big wide eyes, purple hair (although it's apparently just a stylistic choice, but something that affects her specifically and no one else), and her eyes and eyelashes are more stylized than most the rest of the cast. While that's not bad as itself, I just wish she was given more actual Asian features, or made so that it's a bit clearer that she's Japanese rather than just her Spectre and her last meal (which, to be fair, while it's a Japanese meal, it's a little funny to assume ethnicity based just on foodstuff imo)

Even with all of this, though, I love love LOVE Eulalie, she's probably one of my top 3-4 Nevermore characters, and I'm excited to see how she grows next season!

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Oo fun stuff. Let's see...

Pluto

I find their interactions fun, but honestly what I ship them for is more of what they could be rather than what they are. I like how Pluto's an absolute mess lol, then Eulalie just being the embodiment of :)? I think they could be fun, they deserve to bond more like how they sort of did at the end of the season. Pluto loves etymology, Eulalie loves the afterlife and mythology, there's a large overlap between etymology and mythology, so they should have an autism off about that I think. And smooch a bit maybe.

Berenice

I honestly haven't thought much on them, but I find them really cute! I love how they play off each other, and how just casually affectionate they are with each other. Rather than them being completely whipped for the other (sort of like how Pluto is an absolute mess crushing on Eula), I see them as very down to earth and casual about their relationship, not too flustered over it most the time. They can just casually cuddle and talk about their day, and that's good for them! Honestly talking about them for the first time and yeah. I should draw them, they're cute :]

Annabel Lee

Random curveball, ha! Again with my sentiment with Pluto but blown to the extreme, I like them for what they could be rather than what they are. Seeing as they have a total of 1 tiny interaction lol. Honestly I got drawn into this by some friends on discord, and like... hear me out.

Annabel constantly is on guard, and people only sees what she wants them to see. Everything she does is an act, and she finds being seen in truth by other people terrifying. Eulalie, on the other hand, doesn't hide who she is at all. She's completely honest, almost to a fault, and earnest too. She says what she thinks, and genuinely thinks what she says. She's not afraid of how people think of her or judge her, and as such, she's much less afraid of people than Annabel is. I feel like Annabel, as she's around Eulalie more, could come to really respect and even admire that about her. At first, she's certain, something's going to happen to "make her see reason". However, even when Eulalie's harassed a bit, she bounces back, and she doesn't take it to heart. That really makes Annabel see... wow. She's stronger than her in that way. Yet maybe instead of viewing her as a threat, she finds herself wanting to get closer to her, and see just how she does it.

Eulalie, on the other hand, is simply a curious critter, as one might say. She sees Annabel and goes oo! She seems neat! She has no qualms about talking to her (and apparently messing with her hair lol), and overall is just genuinely curious of What is Up with this lady. She finds Annabel strange, to be honest, in her demeanor. She seems so reserved, yet perfectly put together at the same time. It's almost uncanny, really. She finds it sort of fascinating. As they get closer and closer, maybe Annabel starts to lower her guard a little, and Eulalie goes !! Wow... that's the real her. She's spectacular. I want to see more!

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Another hear me out...

Will!

After the manor arc Eulalie is sort of just like... Will, hon (/p), Blink twice.

No but in all seriousness, again, Eulalie is very close to her friends and wants to protect them. She feels obligated to help them, but not from fear or guilt, but because they're her friends and she wants them safe. Will, meanwhile, likewise feels obligated, and yes, does care about Montresor, but it's more out of fear (both of him, yes, but also abandonment in general). So while Lenore can yell at him till the cows come home about Montresor not actually caring about him, I think Eulalie can help make him realize that friendships should support both sides, not just one, and overall like... man help this man. Free my mans. I find his and Montresor's interactions fascinating don't get me wrong, and he's guilty too Will is not innocent but please. separate these two a little . Except Eula I feel would actually be able to explain it not in a "montresor is using you and is a terrible person" sort of way (even if she thinks that), but in a "this friendship is hurting you more than it's helping" sort of way. Idk

My unpopular opinion about this character

,,,she actually has one of if not my least favorite spectre designs,,, (I love her powers though they're so pretty though) im sorry girl 😭

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I fucking WISH we had gotten a flashback or scene of after Will kinda got um. impaled numerous times by Eulalie lol. Like- since he was in spectre form, he didn't die from that, but since Eulalie's powers iirc allow her revert malevolent spectres, and he's neutral, I dunno if she would've been even able to let him die??? So like... best she can do is remove the lances lol, I'm just curious on how that went down,,, cuz she clearly felt bad, Berenice did too, and then there's Will being self deprecating and also impaled so like. Fun times. I wish we had seen more of what happened there.

[orange-cheetah]

[N1A1] Chapter 1: Mash Burnedead and the Forest of Forewarning

(from Mash Burnedead and the Book of Adventures) Choose what Mash does next! Poll under Read More.

[masterlist]

▷Aー1

“Where is this?”

It was a dark forest blowing with a damp breeze.

The presence of living things could be felt everywhere among the trees and flowers growing thickly in search of sunlight. However, only darkness could be seen when one turns to look.

“Just, where on earth……”

Mash Burnedead runs with his jet-black robes fluttering and his mushroom-shaped black hair flowing. He is a first-year student at Easton Magic Academy, a school near this forest.

Night falls early in forests.

Surely this place, too, will soon be swallowed up by the darkness.

Of course, there is a reason why this young man is running alone in the forest at this hour.

A few hours ago―

*

Easton Magic Academy is located at the top of a steep mountain with strangely-shaped rocks that reach for the sky.

After finishing class, Mash Burnedead returns to Adler House, one of the three student dormitories under Easton that symbolizes "courage and conviction."

The reason why he returned a little later than the other students is probably because he was off shopping somewhere. As proof of that, look, he has a paper bag in his hand―

"......?"

As Mash reaches out to open the door, he notices something.

The paper bag that should’ve been in his hand until just a second ago is gone.

"Huh?"

Mash flaps his long robe, taking it off a little and turning it inside out to search through it, but he can't find it anywhere.

"Why?"

It contained freshly-baked cream puffs that he had gone all the way into town after school to buy. He ate most of them on the way back to the dormitory, but he did save three as tomorrow morning's snack―

Mash, who is looking at his empty hands in wonder, hears a small noise.

"......!"

Turning around in a second, Mash sees it.

A small black creature crawled into the bushes beside him.

Wait, that creature is holding the paper bag containing the three cream puffs!

Clenching his fists, Mash was about to follow it when he heard his name called from behind.

"Mash-kun, what's wrong?"

"Ah, Finn-kun."

Turning his head in a matter of seconds again, he found his roommate, Finn Ames, who lives with him in Room 302 of house Adler. Finn, wearing the same Adler dormitory robe as Mash, asks in confusion.

“Your neck seems to be spinning; are you okay?”

"I'm not okay."

“Ehh!? Can I have a look?”

As he told a worried Finn that “it's not my neck,'' Mash sat down on his knees in disappointment.

"They took away…… cream puffs……"

"Eh, who did!?"

"A small creature, about this size, and black……"

Mash holds up both hands as though holding a cat and repeats “about this size.” Finn crouches too, saying “about this size?” and moved his hands like he’s holding a cat in the same way.

“No, maybe it’s more like this.”

“Eh? Isn’t it the same?”

“No, it feels a little bigger.”

Finn, who has gone along with Mash's particularity, corrected himself with an “about this size, right.'' Looking as though he’s reminded of something, he says:

"Ah, then it might be the work of a troll. There are rumors that trolls have been appearing around here lately, you know."

“Troll?”

"Yeah, it's rumored that even though it's small, it's a big eater. The other day, the cafeteria’s foodstuff went missing as well. Maybe Mash-kun's cream puffs too..."

Before Finn could finish speaking, Mash, who had been slumped until a moment ago, flew out.

"I'll go get them back."

*

Furthermore, there was something unfamiliar here.

It's a square mound of earth. Although it is only a few dozen centimeters high, it measures 6 or 7 meters square and looks like a small stage. But, it's only dirt.

Looking closely, one could see that a perfect circle has been drawn on the mound with straw or something.

Two short lines are in the center of that circle.

Just as he was wondering if this was a bit too simple for a magic circle, a small black shadow appeared without a sound in the center of the circle.

"!"

It's the troll.

The troll he had been looking for was beckoning Mash from the top of the mound.

●　It was convenient for the troll to come out, so approach it as invited　》》　To Ａ―７

●　This is a trap. Let's observe the situation without going up on the mound　》》　To Ａ―２４

[Notes: The circle seems to be a sumo wrestling ring.

My initial plan was to have the poll up for two days, but apparently polls on tumblr can only be set to either one day or one week. I'm going with one day for now; we'll see how it goes!]

[nczaversnick]

OC Questionnaires

Okay so @the-letterbox-archives tagged me in not one, not two but 5 of these. So I’m going to do all of them in one post for their favorite character in Project Gemini, Adrian Harlowe. (He’s my favorite too)

What is your favorite thing to do to avoid responsibility?

“Leave.”

If you could choose anyone in the world to be your sibling who would it be?

“Probably Quinn. They are the closest thing I have to family within the military.”

Authors Note: In the previous draft, they actually were siblings

What is the most sublime thing you have ever eaten and why?

“First of all what the fuck kind of word is sublime anyway? Secondly, I ate…science blocks of..not really food for like the first 20 years of my life. Anything that isn’t that, is worth its weight in gold.”

Authors Note: He means genetically engineered processed foodstuffs.

What was the worst day of your life?

“None of your business.”

Authors Note: In my defense the answer to this is an insanely massive spoiler.

What’s your worst nightmare?

“…………..I dream about it. The day I became Gemini. I don’t want to be him anymore”

If a monster asked you your worst nightmare what would you tell it and why?

“Unless that thing provokes me I’m leaving it there hell alone. And even if it does, it’s gonna have bigger problems than asking me about my nightmares.”

Would you give away secret information if tortured? Be honest.

“No.”

Authors Note: This is true. He is specifically trained to resist torture. Even then his sense of loyalty outweighs everything

Who could you trust most with a secret?

“My sister Aurelia. Even Cas knows there are things I told her and not him.”

You have been caught somewhere you should be! Quick, what is your excuse?

“As Gemini I outrank nearly every officer in the city. For rebel activity it’s really a ‘hit first ask questions later’ kind of interaction.”

How good is your sleep schedule?

“If you’re gonna antagonize someone about sleep go bother Iris. She’s the worst of all of us.”

Do you have any siblings? If so, is your relationship good?

“Yes. Aurelia is the reason I started fighting against the military instead of for it. She is the only person who understands me.”

What’s the toughest time you had to endure growing up?

“Uh…all of it? It’s not like being experimented on comes with summer vacation time or something.”

What’s your relationship with your family like?

“Well, we’ve talked about my sister already. My mom is dead. My dad….I met him. Once. Aurelia was coming with me, to help fight for deviant rights like my mom did. We told him he could come with but he said no. I haven’t heard from him since.”

Do you have any hobbies? If so, what ones?

“Not really. Between training and keeping up my cover as Gemini, there isn’t time for anything else.”

Authors Note: After Book 1, he picks up gardening. In later years, he does try to learn to play the guitar. He learns to appreciate music more at least

Do you dream often? What do you dream about?

“…..Yes. Often. More nightmares really. Of the experiments. Of Gemini. Of fire and ice raging until there’s nothing left of me anymore.”

Have you ever been in love?

“Well I don’t have a husband for shits and giggles.”

What is your least favorite thing in the world?

“Oh I mean other than Lucia, the military in general and capitalism, I’d have to say when you’re in a body of water and something touches your leg? That shits the fuckin worst.”

What is your pet peeve?

“When people use big or fancy words to say simple things. Like sublime? What’s wrong with just saying good? Or great?”

Would you consider yourself different?

“Given that I’m not only classified as a Deviant but also as a Zodiac, yeah I’d say I’m pretty fucking different.”

How far would you go to save a loved one?

“As far as I have to.”

Would you team up with your worst enemy if it was your only option?

“It would never happen. She thinks she owns me. But under the right circumstances, I could do it. But she wouldn’t.”

What is the worst insult you can give?

“That I can give? If I stop pushing you to be better than you were yesterday, then you’re a lost cause.”

What is the nicest thing someone could say to you?

“If they’ve got my back that is all I need.”

Are you a jealous person?

“Hell if I know. My husband and his sister sure are though.”

Have you ever committed a crime?

“That’s kind of the point.”

Are you neat or messy?

“Neat. Ish.”

How do you feel about crying? Let it out or hold it in?

“…it’s not about one or the other, it’s about knowing that there’s a time and place for feelings or for focus.”

Who do you live for? Why?

“My family. They are everything.”

Who has betrayed you most?

“Lucia, easily. She lied to me about who I was and where I came from.”

What style of accessories do you wear? Is it willingly?

“I have masks for Gemini and for rebel activities. Also several guns or knives for combat. Other than that….i have my ring. That at least was completely my choice.”

Tagging: @honeybewrites @wyked-ao3 @kittrrrr @zackprincebooks @theverumproject @the-golden-comet @fractured-shield @poppycat-writes @illarian-rambling @finickyfelix @kuebiko-writing @yourpenpaldee @willtheweaver @moltenwrites @davycoquette +open tag

[simomo-the-smol]

Simomo Simo

B A S I C S

Name: Simomo Simo!

Nicknames: None.

Age: Mid-late twenties, I thiiiink?

Nameday: 21st Sun of the 4th Astral Moon.

Race: Plainsfolk Lalafell.

Gender: Agender really, has never had a thought about gender, it's something other impose on her, she is v much an any pronouns binch. She doesn't care what others register her as.

Orientation: Grey Ace, pan but rarely interested. Believed none of that was for her before she fell for Raha.

Profession: Adventurer, omni crafting artisan.

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C  T S

Hair: Black with mid green highlights, fringe and ponytail.

Eyes: Green

Skin: A reasonably pale popoto, with white freckles.

Tattoos/scars: None visible

F A M I L Y

Parents: Her parents are farmers in Middle La Noscea, her father regularly making trips by foot into Limsa to trade. Humble family, employing former pirates looking to go "straight". As such, Simo has had a propensity for swearing since she was pretty young!

Siblings: None, Simo is an only child.

Grandparents: ???

In-laws and Other: In a relationship with G'raha Tia, not intrinsically mono, but has never thought about it one way or another. Views the Scions as family, and has a constant (platonic) companion in Rivi Feathersage @feathersage

Pets: Simomo's chocobo is called Greffie- named after Grehfar, the Yellowjacket Lift Attendant stationed in Bulwark Hall, Limsa Lominsa. Grehfar showed a little too much willingness to listen to little Simo's stories when she started venturing into the city on her own, and as such became Simomo's first proudly-declared friend of her own in the city.

Greffie is a pumpkin orange Belah'dian Jennet chocobo who has accompanied Simo into many battles and over varied terrain. His favourite food is curiel roots. Despite his diminutive size, he can hold his own in battle and in play with other 'bos.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Simo first learned arcanima when they began adventuring, inspired by the stories of their forebears, subsequently specialising into summoning. A chance encounter with a dance troupe who had arrived in Limsa. While at first discouraged by the troupe's flowy attire, Simo realised one could dance in all manner of garb, and has been throwing chakrams at ne'er-do-well faces ever since!

Hobbies: Foraging, as this is something done since Simo's childhood to supplement farmed produce, and in turn, crafting with said gathered materials. At the end of the day, there will always be a certain lure to the market board for a Lalafell, after all!

Simomo also spends a somewhat questionable amount of time in the Gold Saucer, especially enjoying tests of agility like the Cliffhanger and Leap of Faith GATEs.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Her giving heart, Simo will seldom turn from someone in need, lending a hand with even quite minor gripes even after battling to save the very star. She's generous with her time and complimentary to (almost) all.

Most Negative Trait: Zenos may have had a point... she does enjoy the fight. Not that she's ever admitted her answer to any of her loved ones.

Some may also argue the fact that she will put ketchup on pretty much any savoury foodstuff.

L I K E S

Colors: Hunter green.

Smells: Vanilla, cinnamon, sweet spices in general.

Textures: soft fabrics that move with her.

Drinks: She's partial to a cup of tea!

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Nope.

Drinks: Doesn't drink alcohol regularly, but can hold a surprising amount of drink due to the upbringing around pirates and in and around Limsa Lominsa!

Drugs: No.

Mount Issuance: Greffie, issued from the Grand Company of Limsa Lominsa, The Maelstrom.

Been Arrested: Simo has, thus far, always managed to talk herself out of sticky situations. Gods know how, given how goofy she typically is when trying to do said talking!

Tagged by: @feathersage

Not tagging anyone bc I think everyone's probably been tagged as I am late to the game, but if you see this and want to do it, I'd love to see yours, so pls tag me!

[hush-writes-preg]

I just had a little scenario in my head: imagine you're working as a cashier or sth at a store, you see hundreds of faces every day, but there's this one pretty guy in your age who always smiles at you politely as he pays for his stuff. He becomes one of the regular customers and comes by like once every week.

After a while of working there, you notice sth about him has kinda... changed. He used to be super thin and flat, most of his body still is, except for his tummy. It used to be flat too, but today you notice a slight, barely visible curve beneath his slim-fitted shirt. You shrug in your head, maybe he just gained some weight from eating or sth. But when he comes back next week, and the weeks after, you realize that with every visit, his belly seems to have slightly grown more. Does he look embarrassed and tries to hide it? Is he completely oblivious to this change? Or does he seem proud and confident, arching his back a little extra to underline his new curve?

I've been working at the same grocery store since high school, so suffice it to say I've gotten to know the clientele over the years.  Some were a lot more memorable than others.  There was the Hypochondriac who pushed her cart of rubbing alcohol through the store every week with chapped, badly cracked hands; the Church Lady who loved to tell me about all the reasons I'd go to hell as I tried to process a hundred of her dumb coupons; the sweet Technophobe who always showed up in my line because he needed a gentle hand figuring out those newfangled credit card machines every time he shopped… yeah, it wasn't a boring job by a long shot. 

Of course, there were a lot more of the mundane sorts of customers, too.  Customers whose faces I grew accustomed to and whose looks and habits grew nearly as familiar as my own. 

I remember one guy in particular.  He was around my age and pretty average in terms of looks, but he never caused problems and always seemed to wear a smile.  He usually showed up on Thursday nights to do his weekly shopping, though I'd see him stop by to grab a couple of things on other days, too.  I figured he had a bit of a sweet tooth, because he rarely checked out without at least something chocolate-flavored in his order, but you probably wouldn't have guessed that at a glance since he was such a skinny dude. 

Well, at least he used to be.

It was probably around a year after I started noticing him that I noticed something else-- he'd started putting on a little weight around the middle.  I barely even clocked it at first, 'cause who cares, right?  People gain weight and lose weight all of the time.  But what struck me as odd was the fact that his seemed centered around his belly, and once it started growing, it just kept going. 

At first, it was nothing more than a little bulge that changed the contours of his belly under his shirt, but a few weeks later it poked out far enough to leave a visible little gap under the hem.  If he shifted the right way to grab something out of his cart, I could totally see tight, bare skin and tummy fuzz.  The guy seemed completely oblivious to the changes, though, at least for a while.

I'd started to wonder if he realized just how tight his shirts had gotten when he finally seemed to get the memo. 

He arrived for his next visit in a baggy hoodie, and any time his bulging middle bumped into anything, his face reddened and his eyes darted away.  There was a lot more chocolate on the belt during that trip, and mixed in among the assorted foodstuffs was a box of pregnancy tests. 

Well, that explained a lot. 

I felt his gaze snap to me the moment my hand made contact with it, and I know he was watching me for any sort of reaction as I slid the box over the scanner. 

He jumped when it beeped and the price came up on the display, and I had to bite back a chuckle.  "This is a good brand," I mentioned conversationally, hoping to put him at ease.  "My cousin researched these things obsessively last year when he got pregnant.  He said they were one of the most accurate ones on the market."

"Oh yeah?" he mumbled, not quite meeting my eyes, but I caught the way he pressed a hand against his growing bump. 

"Yep."  Beep.  Beep.  "Oh by the way, that candy bar you picked up is buy one get one free this week.  In case you wanna grab another one."

He didn't say anything, but the smile he shot me was filled with relief and gratitude as his fingers curled around a second piece of candy and tossed it to the belt.  I wasn't about to judge him if he'd gotten himself knocked up.  And if those tests came back the way I figured they might, the dude was gonna need the extra sugar boost.

[blueberrybladelemonade]

Cae's Pizza: Caffinated Chaos

Summary: Peppino asks Cae to run the pizzeria for the day with Gustavo. What could possibly go wrong?

The answer: A lot.

Contents: Energy drink consumption, Crimes against pizza, Human to sergal transformation, highly efficient but chaotic cooking, bringing in business, everything is fine just don't go in the kitchen.

Part of the CaePino (Cae x Peppino) series.

"Candy Apple, Blueberry, or Guava?" Cae mumbled to herself, violet eyes scanning over the bright and obnoxious cans. She bit her lower lip in contemplation. Today was an important day and she needed to bring her A game.

Peppino had mentioned needing to go to the next town over but he couldn't leave Gustavo by himself to man the pizzeria. Cae had volunteered to help, offering to just close her teashop for the day. She brushed off her boyfriend's concern, it was just one day. Besides, it wasn't as if she had never helped out at the restaurant. Cae knew enough about how to make pizza.

"Ah whatever, I'll take all three with me! But now..." she cracked open the lid and took a few sips. Nodding happily at her choice she guzzled the remaining liquid. Mmm. Blueberry.

* * *

Gustavo looked over to the doors with growing concern. Cae was supposed to be here by now. Did she oversleep? Or did she forget to set her alarm again?

He sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket. Might as well call before it gets late.

Just then, the door burst open with a surprising degree of force and a particularly peppy Caedrhnmar bounced up to the counter. "Good morning Gustavo!” she greeted him excitedly. "Ready to have a great and successful day"?

"Uh...yeah. You can start with kneading the dough-" Cae had already appeared beside him before opening the fridge. Gustavo blinked. He wasn't used to her being this energetic. Or animated.

An hour had passed and it didn't take Gustavo long to understand Cae was like this due to the effects of an energy drink. Oh well he'll just have to watch her in case anything gets out of hand.

"Noisette!" Cae shouted, "Good morning"!

"Good morning Cae!" Noisette replied as she dragged her boyfriend up to the counter to sit.

"The hell is wrong with her?" Noise gestures to Cae, watching her rush around. While chaotic, she was also working with almost cartoonish efficiency. Tossing the dough with one hand while also cutting peppers with the other. In the next moment Cae plopped the thin dough back on the counter, now spreading sauce on top of it. She only managed to spill one ladle of sauce on the floor.

"She had an energy drink." Gustavo replied stiffly. Wiping off bits of cheese that landed on his face. A blur of red stops in front of Noisette as Cae happily rambles about something.

"So what happens if you give her another one?" Noise asked casually. In the corner of his eye he notices Noisette whispering and nodding excitedly back at Cae. In the next moment Noisette runs out the door.

"No. She doesn't need another energy drink!"

"But I can get even more stuff done! My bag is in that booth!" Cae calls over her shoulder. Now cutting sausage with rapid precision.

"She already had one! We don't need her causing more chaos and messes"!

Gustavo already seen what the back room looked like. Bits of cheese, sauce, and everything else that went in a pizza was strewn about. To say the least, it was going to take hours to clean.

"Here, catch"!

"Noise NO!" Gustavo shouts after him, trying to catch the can that whirs over his head.

With a swift motion Cae snatched the drink. Her eyes lit up as the top hissed open. In a few large gulps it had been emptied.

"Why would you do that!" Gustavo, the usually patient man, was starting to reach his limit. He looked on in horror as Cae nearly sprinted to grab a bowl, pans, and more foodstuffs. Her hair had started to become more wild.

As long as she stayed away from the customers Gustavo could probably manage. He watched as the door opened and a couple walked in. "Hello! Welcome to Peppino's Pizza! Please have a seat anywhere"!

* * *

Admittedly, it could've been worse. There had been a steady flow of customers all day -which was uncharacteristic- but with Cae working so quickly they had been able to effectively handle it.

The Noise hung around for another hour until his phone rang and he excused himself.

"Come ON! We have to go, go, GO!" Cae shouts, grabbing Gustavo by the arm and dragging him back into the kitchen. "I feel GREAT but I also think I'm getting heart palpitations!" she cackled maniacally. The tufts that sprouted out on either side of her head had grown longer.

"Cae maybe you should lay down-" he was cut short as she spun around, her face mere inches from his. Her pupils were pinpricks. "No!" she retorts, her one eye twitching, "Pizza time never ends"!

With that she let go of his arm, rushing over to the oven. "Since Calzones are just folded over pizzas..." she pulls out a large pan with equally large masses of dough, "I made these! In three assorted flavors! You can order a whole one or half"!

"And what is that?" Gustavo nods to the contents in the other oven.

"Pizza toast! You gotta try it when it's done! I promise they'll be a hit! Though...don't tell Peppino what I made it with. It'll be our secret italian war crime, capiche?" she clicks her tongue and gives him a shaky thumbs up. Gustavo replied with a resigned nod, he gave up hours ago trying to reign her in.

"Hey. Where do you want us to hook these up?" a familiar voice calls from door. The Noise was back and...were those speakers and a microphone?

Before Gustavo could even ask what was happening Cae shouted over him, making his ears ring. "Up by the front booths! I'll be out to help in a sec, but can you start clearing up a space and move the tables so we can have a stage"?

Stage?

"Sure. Noisette should be back soon by the way. She's been across town at least twice before she stopped at your cafe".

Gustavo watched the Noise turn back around and leave. What the hell was happening?

Crack!

The loud sound caused him to jolt. A sense of dread fell over Gustavo as he slowly turned around. He was met with pale lavender eyes and a creature much taller than himself. The tail behind the fluffy disaster wagged and twitched along the floor, getting covered in flour. Cae flashed him a nervous smile, holding up two halves of the broken spatula.

"Whoops".

Ah shit.

* * *

Multiple cars and a cacophony of noise echoed out from the pizzeria. Was that music too Peppino was hearing? What ever was happening inside, it didn't sound like a disaster. Although as he opened the door he gasped.

Peppino couldn't recall the last time there was this many people in his restaurant at once. If ever. What had Cae been-

"NEXT ROUND IS ON ME!" a wine colored blur of fluff shouted. Applause broke out as Noisette began passing out cups. Wait...Noisette? What was she doin- "Remember! Today and today only the Sapphire Dragon hosts our speciality here at Peppino's Pizza"!

Cae grinned, waving over at Peppino as she noticed him standing dumbfounded. "Speaking of! There's legend! The owner! And also my boyfriend! Everyone give another round of applause for the man who let all of this happen!" She jumped up on a chair, her tail nearly knocking out the person behind her. The crowd responded with an explosion of more applause and whooping.

Peppino felt his face start to burn. "I'm don't-a understand what's going on here".

As the clapping ceased and people returned to their own chatter, Cae hopped off the chair and made a beeline towards him. "Nae Salang! Welcome back!" she smiled warmly down at him.

The next moment Cae had closed the gap between them and lifted up her paws to squish her boyfriends face. "Aw! Your cheeks are so squishy,” she gasped excitedly, continuing to deform Peppino’s face as if she were still kneading dough. He rolled his eyes, swatting her hands away as Cae whined. Instead she opted to rest her arm on top of his head.

"Who gave her-a the energy drink?"

"Oh! You gotta try the stuff we made for today!" Cae grabbed Peppino by the wrist and dragged him over to the counter. The counter was lined with assorted types pizza, what he thinks are Calzones, smaller bite sized looking pizza, and...

"What is that?" he points at what looks like toast with pizza toppings.

"Pizza toast!" Cae chirps, "The sauce is made with ketchup, pepper, garlic..."

Che cazzo! Peppino grimaced. This was a pizza crime. Ketchup? As in straight from the bottle?

"Oh don't be like that!" she pouted, before shoving a piece into his mouth before he could protest further.

Huh. It was good.

"As crazy as today was, we managed to bring in almost triple the sales we usually make in a day." Gustavo piped up, continuing to wipe off a nearby table.

"I helped!" Noisette chimed in, "Cae told me to 'get out there and yell at people to come to Peppino's Pizza today for a special event! I didn't yell at everyone though, when I did, people ran away..."

The conversation was cut short as music blared to life. Another person had entered the makeshift stage. Mio dio was that the Noise? With a microphone? Noisette squealed and dashed towards the stage after him.

"I dedicate this song to my girl. Love ya toots." Noisette gave him a kiss on the cheek before grabbing the second mic.

Cae chuckled in amusement and shook her head. The song playing was Bad Romance. Those surrounding the stage had started clapping in time with the music, punctuated with whoops and whistles throughout.

Cae pulled Peppino close to her, resting his back into her chest fluff. "Not too shabby for running the place, huh?" Peppino relaxed into her embrace, nodding in agreement. He tilted his head up, meeting Cae halfway as she lowered her own. "Grazie amore mio." he mutters, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

A yawn escaped Cae's lips. The caffeine had finally left her system and the day had finally caught up to her.

* * *

After enjoying another thirty minutes of off-key singing, everything had wrapped up. Now that the doors had closed, the tedious part of cleaning began.

Back to her human self, Cae had started to stand up from her booth before feeling a hand gently push her back down.

"Don't worry about it-a. You worked hard today mio cara. Just rest". Peppino smiled at her, which she returned.

Slowly she sunk back into the booth, settling into a comfortable position again. Watching Peppino walk off towards the kitchen.

Realization slammed into Cae like a ton of bricks. Her eyes widened, sinking deep into the booth, bracing herself as Peppino made his way through the door.

...

"YEOOOOOOOOOOW!"

An earsplitting scream reverberated through the restaurant. Cae winced.

"PORCA PUTTANA"!

Notes:

Pizza toast is actually very popular (and tastes fantastic) in Japan! I just feel that Peppino has never heard of, or tried it, and would consider this a wtf moment. If you look up "Just one cookbook pizza toast" this is the recipe I love using 💜

Sapphire Dragon is the name of Cae's teashop, her drink speciality involves Butterfly Peaflowers, which when brewed turn the liquid bright blue.

Cae is, in essence, also my self insert, Nae Salang (내 사랑) is korean for "my love".

[tofueggnoodles]

Special Edition Drama (Volume 2 of the Reload Blast Anime BR/DVD) – Playing House

https://www.nicovideo.jp/watch/sm33661338

Summary:  Tenpou teaches the other three how to play house. Tenpou’s “performance” during the last 3 minutes is pure gem. I couldn’t stop chuckling even as I translated his lines. Special appearance by Kanzeon Bosatsu and Jiroushin.

--------

Tenpou: Hmm, which one should I try today? (flips through the pages) Mix yogurt with fermented squid paste to produce the taste of caviar – ah, let’s go with this one.

Kenren: Coming up with a weird combination of foodstuffs again.... Didn’t you attempt to produce the taste of sausage by pouring soy sauce on pudding the other day?

Tenpou: That was difficult, wasn’t it? No matter how many time I adjusted the proportions of the soy sauce and the pudding, I was not able to distill the soy sauce I’d poured onto the pudding.

Kenren: Make what you like, as long as you don’t upset your stomach. How slovenly it would seem for a Field Marshal to be locked up all day long in the toilet!

Tenpou: No worries! I’ve prepared some stomach medicine.

Kenren: You’d go that far for your cooking experiments? Why not just buy some caviar like normal people? You’re a Field Marshal after all. Your salary should be quite all right, shouldn’t it?

Tenpou: Unfortunately, I’m flat broke because I spend my salary on books. Besides, since I went to great pains to procure this peculiar collection of recipes titled “The Next Adventurer Is You”, there’s a variety of food combinations I’d like to try.

Kenren: Hah, so that’s how it is.

Tenpou: Yes, that’s how it is. All right, here goes. I’m adding lots of fermented squid paste to the yogurt....

Kenren: Hmm, it does not look very appetizing.

Tenpou: Well, you won’t know whether it’s delicious or not unless you try eating it. (eats up the unholy mix)

Kenren: How is it?

Tenpou: It’s... not great. Or rather, if I speak further, it’ll come out–

Kenren: I told you so. Here, wash it down with some water.

Tenpou: Thank you. Ah, I probably used too much yogurt. I’ll try again with less yogurt.

Kenren: Are you still at it?! Quit it already. I mean, why don’t we just have some drinks as usual?

Tenpou: What are you saying? Our drinking party has already begun.

Kenren: It already has? Where are the drinking snacks?

Tenpou: This here is the snack – the fermented squid paste.

Kenren: That’s the paste you’ve just mixed with the yogurt!

Tenpou: Don’t hold back.

Kenren: I’m not holding back!

(Someone knocks on the door.)

Tenpou: Yes?

Konzen: It’s me. I’m coming in.

Tenpou: It’s rare for you to visit at this time of the day, Konzen. What’s the matter?

Konzen: I’m here to return a book I borrowed. Are you two having an evening drink?

Tenpou: Yes, we are. Isn’t it obvious just by looking?

Kenren: It’s because he couldn’t tell just by looking that he had to ask.... Anyway, you’ve come at the right time. Why not have a drink together once in a while, Konzen? Have a seat!

Tenpou: How about some fermented squid paste as well?

Konzen: Is this even edible?

Kenren: Give it a pass. You’ll just upset your stomach otherwise.

Konzen: I know just by looking at it. I don’t need you to tell me that. (sits down)

Tenpou (pours Konzen a drink): There you go – a full glass to begin with.

Konzen (gulps his drink): Actually, aside from returning the book, I came here for some advice.

Kenren: About what? That’s quite rare coming from you.

Konzen: I didn’t think you’d be here too.

Kenren: Two heads are better than one, you know.

Konzen: It’s about Goku.

Tenpou: What about him?

Konzen: Aside from Nataku, there are no kids his age in Heaven. That’s why he’s always playing by himself – how should I put it –

Kenren: Ah, so Daddy is worried that Goku’s feeling lonely.

Konzen: Who’re you calling Daddy?

Tenpou: If that’s the case, why don’t you play with him yourself, Konzen?

Konzen: I tried keeping him company once. The next day, my muscles hurt so much that I could not move.

Kenren: Ah. Well, it’s certainly tough for Konzen to keep up with such an energetic, care-free companion.

Tenpou: Still, a kid’s education is outside of our area of expertise. At times like this, we’ll have to rely on books. Ah, it should be around here–

Kenren: Oi, don’t pull out the books with that much force! They’ll fall down on you again!

Tenpou: I’ll be fine. I’ll just move these out of the way– ah!

(Sound of books falling down.)

Tenpou: Just pretend you didn’t see that.

Konzen: Is it always like that with him?

Kenren: Yeah. It got so extreme that at one point, as soon as I opened the door, books just slid out like an avalanche.

Tenpou: Let me see... I’ve got it. This is the book I was looking for.

Konzen: Hmm? ‘Club Memory’?

Kenren: What sort of book is that?

Tenpou: It’s a popular magazine in the mortal realm filled with useful information about child rearing.

Kenren: Why do you have such a thing in your possession?

Tenpou: Chance favors the prepared mind. [Lit.: Those who are prepared avoid grief.] (flips through the pages and reads out the contents) Children’s games can be categorized into two types: outdoor games and indoor ones. Goku usually prefers outside activities such as climbing trees or playing tag. So how about letting him play indoor games for a change?

Konzen: Indoor games?

Tenpou: Paper folding, cat’s cradle, puzzles– ah, what about something like this? It’s called ‘playing house.’

Kenren: ‘Playing house’? What’s that?

Tenpou: It’s a game that is good for cultivating sensibility in children. It instills vocabulary and teaches them how to use daily items.

Kenren: Eh, it sounds perfect for Goku.

Tenpou: Besides, Goku has hardly played with anyone indoors. I think he will enjoy this.

Kenren: Well, it certainly doesn’t sound like a game for which one would need to use physical strength. How about giving it a try for once?

Konzen: But I don’t know how to play this game.

Tenpou: Don’t worry about that. Since I happen to be off duty tomorrow, I’ll be there to teach you.

Kenren: I don’t have anything planned in particular tomorrow either, so I’ll come along.

Konzen: Fine with me.

Kenren: By the way, what else is in that magazine? It looks very bulky....

Tenpou: Hmm. ‘A Complete Walkthrough for Struggling Mothers,’ ‘How to Compose a Perfect Email Response,’ ‘Methods for Taking Pictures that Will Net a Large Amount of Likes on Your Blog,’ ‘A Compilation of Games in the Park’ – and so forth.

Konzen: You’ve lost me entirely.

Tenpou: No matter in which era, child-rearing is a tough job for mothers, isn’t it?

Kenren: From whose standpoint are you speaking?

--------

Goku: Hey Konzen, why can’t I go outside to play today?

Konzen: Never mind that. Just shut up and sit down.

Goku: That’s boring! I want to play!

Konzen: You’re noisy! I told you to be quiet and wait, didn’t I?

Goku: Eh?!

(The door opens.)

Kenren: Oh, you’re as lively as ever today. I’m coming in.

Tenpou: Pardon the intrusion.

Goku: Ken nii-chan! Ten-chan!

Konzen: You guys are late!

Kenren: Sorry. It took Tenpou a while to wake up.

Tenpou: My bad for staying up all night yesterday....

Kenren: Didn’t we end our drinking party earlier than usual last night? Ah, could it be that you stayed up reading again?

(Tenpou laughs sheepishly.)

Goku: What’s the matter, you two?

Kenren: We just thought we’d come play with you, Goku.

Goku: Really! What should we play? Baseball? Hide-and-seek?

Tenpou: Baseball and hide-and-seek are fun too, but shall we try a different game today?

Kenren: Together with Konzen too, okay?

Goku: Eh? Konzen too? Really?

Konzen: Yes.

Goku: Yay! So, what are we gonna play?

Tenpou: Let’s play house.

Goku: ‘Play house’? What’s that?

Konzen: All right! Seems like he’s never played it before.

Kenren: Seems so.

Goku: Hey, what’s ‘play house’?

Tenpou: It’s a pretend play, Goku. The players take on the roles of the father, the mother or the children.

Goku: Hmm... I see.

Kenren: Oh, you already understand how it’s played, Goku?

Goku: Not really, but it sounds interesting.

Kenren (chuckles): So you don’t really understand. Well, let’s try it for once, shall we?

Tenpou: Indeed. First, let’s decide on our roles. It’s based on my arbitrary judgment and bias, but Goku should–

Goku: I want to be the Meat Bun Man!

Tenpou: –play the role of the mother.

Goku: I’m the mother?

Tenpou: As for the role of the father, I’ll let Konzen do the honors.

Konzen: Hah? Why me?

Tenpou: Don’t you want to make Goku happy?

(Konzen mumbles unintelligibly.)

Kenren: What about me?

Tenpou: You’ll play the son.

Goku: Ken nii-chan is my son? Then, that means I’m more important than him? Yay!

Kenren (in a low voice): Seriously?

Tenpou: I’ll be the narrator and monitor the progress, okay?

Kenren: Monitor the progress? Aren’t we just going to play as we like based on our assigned roles?

Tenpou: The three of you are beginners at playing house. If you play as you like, you’re unlikely to reach the proper conclusion. ** For this reason, I’ve prepared this.

Konzen: What’s that?

Tenpou: It’s the script. It contains the character descriptions and the storyline I’ve created for today’s game.

Kenren: That’s the reason you stayed up all night....

Tenpou: This time, let’s play by following along this script!

Goku: All right!

Tenpou: Ah, as for you, you don’t have to follow along the script, Goku.

Goku: Eh? Is that okay?

Tenpou: Yes. Since the purpose of playing house is for children to learn various things via practice, please play as you like.

Goku: I don’t really get it, but okay!

Kenren: I guess it’s more fun that way.

Konzen: Indeed.

--------

Tenpou: Once, there was a pretty ordinary family of consisting of a father, a mother and a son. The son’s name was Kenren. However, their happiness did not last long. The father and the mother got divorced. The father got the custody of Kenren. Afterward, the father remarried. The new wife was more than twenty years younger than him. Kenren and his stepmother were not related by blood–

Kenren and Konzen: Hold on for a second!

Tenpou: Yes?

Konzen: Which part of such a scenario is conducive for cultivating sensibility?

Kenren: Doesn’t it sound like some trendy daytime soap? Wouldn’t it be better to just stick to a simpler scenario?

Tenpou: What are you two saying? The fun of playing house depends on how well-crafted the scenario is. By the way, the father works at a brokerage firm. This year is his twentieth year of continuous employment there. A straight-laced veteran.

Kenren: ‘Straight-laced’ does describe Konzen in real life.

Konzen: Oi!

Goku: Hey, what’s the matter? Hurry up and continue!

Tenpou: All right, all right. You two, Goku is getting bored, so I’ll carry on.

(Kenren and Konzen gasp in frustration.)

Tenpou (clears his throat): The stepmother is young but hardworking. She performs the housework all by herself. At the moment, she is doing the laundry.

Goku: Er, laundry? All I have to do is soak the clothes in water and hang them out to dry, right? Eh... there are no clothes here, so would it be fine if I soak these documents instead?

Konzen: How could that be fine, stupid monkey! (hits Goku)

Goku: That hurts! This is DVD!

Tenpou: Close, but not quite right. The correct term is DV – domestic violence, Goku.

Kenren: Where did he pick up such a word?

Goku: Ten-chan taught me a lot of words the other day.

Konzen: You teach him nothing but nonsense.

Tenpou: Uh, according to the script, while Goku is doing the laundry, the son comes home. This is supposed to result in an uneasy tension between the son and the stepmother who are not related by blood.

Kenren: Uneasy tension? What do you intend to make us do here?

Tenpou: I want to show the typical behavior of a child in his rebellious phase. Whatever Goku says to Kenren falls on deaf ears.

Kenren: Why such an unpleasant atmosphere? Why not just have the son and the stepmother get along with each other?

Tenpou: If the stepson and the second wife were to get along, the flow of the story I came up with would end up ruined. (sighs) It can’t be helped. Well then, let’s skip the afternoon scene and go straight to the basic element of playing house: the scene in which the family sit down together for dinner.

Konzen: You should’ve done that from the start!

Tenpou: It appears to be a usual family dinner until the father, Konzen, announces his decision to quit his job.

Kenren and Konzen: Oi!

Goku: Eh? Konzen is quitting his job?

Konzen: Don’t narrate the story as if I’m actually quitting my job! Tenpou!

Tenpou: Since this is our first time playing house, I think it would be better if an incident is to occur.

Kenren: Is playing house really like this?

Goku: So, if Konzen quits, what is going to happen?

Tenpou: There, Konzen. At any rate, please continue playing. Your lines are written in the script.

Konzen: Really! (flips through the pages) “Today, I submitted my letter of resignation at my workplace.”

Kenren: “Hah?”

Goku: Letter of resignation?

Konzen: “I have something else I wish to do. That is why I quit my job. No matter what your objection is at this point in time, my decision will remain unchanged.”

Kenren: “Well, I’ve yet to voice out any complaint, but what is this thing that you wish to do?”

Konzen: “Ra–”

Goku: Ra–?

Konzen: “Ramen restaurant. I’ll open a ramen restaurant.”

(The door opens.)

Kanzeon: That’s the first time I hear of you wanting to open a ramen restaurant.

Konzen: Eeek!

Goku: Ah!

Tenpou: Kanzeon Bosatsu!

Kenren: Another unbelievable turn of the situation....

Kanzeon: What are you four doing gathering around here in silence?

Tenpou: We’re playing house for the sake of cultivating Goku’s sensibility. Konzen is the father, Goku is the mother, Kenren is the son and I’m the narrator. By the way, in the scenario we’re playing, the mother and the son is not related by blood.  

Kenren: We’re not making much progress, though, thanks to the script being full of absurdities.

Kanzeon: Sounds interesting. I’ll join.

Konzen: Hah? What are you saying, shitty hag?

Goku: You’ll play with us? Yay!

Kenren: But... is there any role left?

Tenpou: We could have hir play the former wife.

Kanzeon: Hmm, Konzen’s ex? All right, I’ll take it.

Konzen: I have a bad feeling about this.

Tenpou: Well then, let’s pick up where we left off.

Kenren (clears his throat): “What were you thinking, quitting your job all of a sudden?”

Goku: If we run a ramen restaurant, I can eat as much ramen as I want! I agree with Konzen’s decision!

Kenren: “I object! We’re talking about a guy who doesn’t even cook. No way he would be able to successfully run a ramen restaurant!”

Goku: Oh, it’s true that the ramen Konzen makes is not very delicious....

Konzen: “We can just serve cup instant ramen.”

Goku: Aha, that’s right!

Kenren: “What sort of ramen restaurant would that be?”

Kanzeon: “You guys haven’t changed at all.”

Kenren: “Mo– mother!” (to himself) I had a hard time with this line.... **

Konzen: “You, how dare you show up here!”

Goku: “Welcome!”

Kanzeon: “Once again, you’ve picked a type that is totally different from me.”

Konzen: “After all this time, what is your reason for coming here?”

Kanzeon: “I’ve come here to take Kenren with me.”

Kenren: “Hah?”

Goku: “Never! Ken nii-chan is a precious member of this family. Don’t just take him away as you please!”

Kanzeon: “It’s better for a child to be with his biological mother. Isn’t it, Kenren?”

Kenren: “Actually, I’m fine with the way things are now.”

Goku: “No, no! Ken nii-chan is my child!”

Konzen (sighs and mutters to himself): What’s this farce?

Tenpou: “Wait a minute!”

Kenren: Hah? T–tenpou?

Kanzeon: Who the hell are you?

Tenpou: “How heartless of you, section manager Konzen! You told me I was the only one, but you’re actually married. And not for the first time either!”

Goku: Eh? Eh? What’s going on here? Is Ten-chan also Konzen’s wife?

Kenren: The ex-wife, the current wife and the mistress.... You’ve really come up with a hackneyed scenario straight out of a daytime soap.

Konzen: Er, Tenpou, don’t you think we’ve had enough–

Tenpou: “You deceived me! You’re the worst! I mean, what’s so great about this middle-aged woman here? What a bad taste she has in fashion, too!”

(The door opens.)

Jiroushin: Pardon my intrusion. Is Kanzeon Bosatsu here–

Kanzeon: “What are you going to say next? Don’t think of bragging of your conquest, husband-stealer!”

Tenpou: “You’re the one to talk! Don’t you feel embarrassed wearing such a revealing dress at your age?”

Kanzeon: “Heh. Aren’t you just jealous of my figure?”

Tenpou: “What did you just say? I’m not jealous! My complexion is smoother than yours!”

Kenren: What impressive ad-libs.... (to Konzen) Hey, what are you gonna do, “husband”?

Konzen: Who are you calling “husband”? How would I know?

Jiroushin: Er–

Kanzeon: Ah, Jiroushin. What’s the matter?

Jiroushin: What are you doing?

Kanzeon: Playing house.

Jiroushin: Playing house? What is that? Well, never mind. Kanzeon Bosatsu, you need to return to your office.

Kanzeon: Come on, why not let me stay here for just a bit more–

Jiroushin: I can’t do that! Documents that have passed the deadlines are piling up. If you neglect them any further, we’ll receive complaints from the various departments–

Kanzeon: Tch. It can’t be helped, then. Well, I’ve had my fun killing time, so I’ll go back now. See you guys later.

Goku: Bye-bye!

(The door creaks as Kanzeon and Jiroushin leave.)

Kenren: Uh–

(Konzen sighs.)

Tenpou: That was exciting, wasn’t it?

Kenren: Well, it was exciting indeed, but it wasn’t educational at all, was it?

Konzen: Not at all.

Kenren: Sorry that things turned out like this, Goku. Let’s go play baseball outside, shall we?

Goku: I don’t really understand what has happened, but it’s been a long time since I last got to play with Konzen. Also, I got to play with the two of you too, so it was a lot of fun for me!

Tenpou: Goku....

Kenren: That’s what he said, “Daddy”.

Konzen: Tch.

Goku: Moreover, playing house was fun too.

Tenpou: Was it? Then, let’s redo the scenario for next time.  We’ll go with “The Field Marshall Saw It All: The Hidden Secret Behind the General’s Grand Life”–

Kenren and Konzen: Forget it!

--------

(Round brackets): actions and sound effects.  [Square brackets]: translator’s notes. Double asterisks **: Stuff I am not sure with. Suggestions for improvements and corrections are more than welcome.

[blueiscoool]

Roman Cremation Burial Site Uncovered in English Garden

When Broadstairs heating and plumbing engineer Dave Pratt dug up his front garden last June to install a new water main the last thing he expected to find was evidence of a Roman grave.

Dave, 50, says he was “digging away” with pal Dave Fox when he uncovered a red, terracotta pot.

He said: “I thought it was strange. I looked down and there was a hole in the ground and there was a flagon.

“I excavated out the flagon and next to that there was a broken pot and inside that there were bits of bones.”

The find was taken away by a team of  archaeology students and experts under the guidance of Paul Bennett who is an occasional lecturer at the University of Kent and a visiting Professor at Canterbury Christ Church University, Centre for Kent History and Heritage.

Now Dave and wife Katie have received a report from the team which reveals the find was a Roman cremation burial dated 1st – 2nd Century A.D.  of most likely a woman aged between 20 and 35.

There were  three ceramic vessels associated with the cremation – a small, imported beaker of the Roman period, a Romano-British flagon and a large Romano-British jar, which contained the cremated bone.

The report says: “The vessels, and subsequently the cremated remains, can be dated to late 1st to 2nd century AD. It is likely that all three pots originally had everyday domestic functions and were later chosen for burial with the deceased.

“The flagon is almost complete and its features – the fabric, colour, vessel shape and size – suggest it was made in one of the kilns of Roman Canterbury, Durovernum Cantiacorum.  These kilns produced a range of jars, dishes and flagons – everyday wares that would have been common in East Kent kitchens of the period.  This small flagon may have held wine or perhaps oil.  In this burial context, it is possible that it may have held some kind of sustenance for the deceased on their journey to the After Life.”

The imported beaker had features which the team say shows it was made in the Rhineland and is a type relatively uncommon among East Kent finds.

The team say the  large cremation jar was probably once used for storing food in the kitchen (perhaps grains, pulses and the like) and it was later re-used as a cremation vessel. The features indicate that it is a product of a successful Romano-British potting industry in the Upchurch area of North Kent.

Dad-of-two Dave said: “It’s amazing that it is knocking on to 2,000 years old and was in my front garden! I was really excited and still am excited although it opens up questions about what it was doing there and who it was. I’m not aware of any other Roman finds in Broadstairs.”

Paul Bennett says although Roman cremation burials are not unusual they would normally be expected to form part of a cemetery.

He added: “As there are no reports of other burials in the area and certainly none associated with the modern estate, this may have been a single burial or at most a small group, perhaps associated with a nearby Roman period dwelling or farmstead.

“It is the most common form of burial in the first and second centuries AD, but it is nevertheless a complex ritual involving the building of a funeral pyre, the burning of the individual, the collection of burnt bones, placing them in a locally made coarse ware jar, and the formal burial of the cremation urn, in this case with an accompanying coarse ware flagon (also locally made) and a smaller decorated pot, possibly an import.

“The flagon no doubt contained wine or an alcoholic liquor; the smaller vessel filled with a foodstuff or a sweet-smelling unguent. The ritual may well have been carried out by local priests or undertakers, commissioned by the family to perform the ceremony, perhaps over a number of days, but no doubt with the mourning family closely involved with the various stages of the ritual.”

Dave has now had the finds returned to him and says he may explore whether they could go on display somewhere so others can share in his historical find.

By Kathy Bailes.

[nanaminokanojo]

BLOOM | Sukuna X You | Part 2/3

CHARACTERS: Sukuna X You | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Maki | Fushiguro Toji | Baby Megumi | Megumi's Mom (OC) CHAPTER COUNT: 2/3 WORD COUNT: 8600+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | (eventual) smut | ooc sukuna | female reader | modern au CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity/strong language | alcohol use | age gap | some mentions of death | mild sexual content SPOILERS: N/A

collection masterlist

one two three | Bloom Masterlist

You got up really early despite staying up late and only getting five hours of sleep max, but once you woke up, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to bed so you prepared for the day, waiting for Sukuna’s call. You went to the patio which faced the backyard, carried a small blanket and brought your battered copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s prose collection with you.

A few hour later, you heard stirring in the house and it wasn’t long before Satoru found you. He sat on the lounge chair opposite yours and just stared at you through sleepy eyes. He looked all disheveled, eyes bloodshot and yawning several times. He really couldn’t handle his alcohol and when he wakes up after drinking more than he could take, he always ends up befuddled and unable to make sense of his surroundings, not to mention irritable.

When he just sat there without saying anything and staring at you, you snapped your book close. “What is it?”

He snapped out of a seeming trance. “Oh. You have a guest.”

“Huh?”

“Ieiri said it’s Howard.” He yawned again, stretching his arms.

“Sukuna?”

“Yes, him.”

You scrambled off the lounge chair, nearly knocking it to the side with your weight as you half crawled, half-ran towards the door, suddenly remembering your agreement the previous night. You were mentally slapping yourself as you made your way into the hallway, planning to go up to your room to have a change of clothes. You weren’t sure what he wanted to do because he did not exactly specify that bit.

However, your plans did not come into fruition when you passed by the lattice wood and glass partition between the kitchen and the hallway and saw him.

“Y/N!” Ieiri pretty much yelled your name out, calling your attention and making you jump, startled. “Howard’s here.”

Sukuna glanced at her momentarily, probably catching the name she referred to him with.

The protest died in your throat when you saw Sukuna standing by the counter, looking so out of place in such a domestic setting although he was dressed casually in a black tee with a wide collar that exposed his collarbones for the world to see and faded jeans, similar to the one he wore that time he came to your school.

You grimaced at the realization that you were just standing there like an oaf, checking him out. It was evident in the way his smile morphed into a shy one as he bit his lower lip while Ieiri and Suguru grinned evilly at you. Feigning ignorance to their reactions, you entered the kitchen, brows knit together, shooting Ieiri an inquisitorial look after nodding at Sukuna’s direction. It was a dumb way of greeting people, but that was about what you could manage with the way your brain was being fried at the mere sight of him.

“I didn’t know we received guests in the kitchen now,” you commented, noticing the number of grocery bags on the counter. “You did the shopping?”

“I did,” Sukuna answered you. “I told you I was going to do something for you.”

“'You' being the technical term,” you said with a smirk when you realized what he was planning. “So you’re gonna cook for me?”

“Yes.”

You eyed your two friends who were eyeing Sukuna in anticipation. “Just me?”

“Stingy,” Ieiri commented, pouting.

Woman, you thought, eyeing her sternly in case she had plans to say something embarrassing. You spoke before she could say more, approaching Sukuna who was suddenly just looking at you, your eyes in particular. Out of a sudden, he reached out and touched the spot just under your left eye, making you step back at the sudden contact. He was touchy, you knew that, but you weren’t expecting him to be so candid in front of your friends on such a setting.

“Your eyes are swollen. Is something the matter?”

You smiled at him then, shaking your head. “I didn’t sleep enough last night.” You busied yourself by checking the things he bought. “So…” You looked at his pretty hands then at him. “The Spring God can cook?”

He gave you a funny look at the nickname you gave him. “Watch the Kitchen God work!” He chuckled then turned his attention to Ieiri. “I was just asking Ieiri if I could borrow the kitchen.”

“It’s more Suguru’s kitchen than hers,” you sniped at her who was now sitting on the counter, chin on the heel of her palm as she looked at the pair of you as if she was watching a really cheesy romance drama.

“Then it’s settled. I have to cook for them, too.” He ruffled your hair then. “Mind helping me?”

“I’ll leave you kids then,” she said sounding like a mom, leaving the kitchen and blocking Satoru’s progress when he was about to enter, leading him out into the living room much to the latter’s annoyance.

You shook your head, snickering. You really couldn’t wrap yourself around the fact that Sukuna could cook. “Should I get you an apron, chef?” you asked, meaning to taunt him, but then he took out a rolled-out piece of black cloth from a black case he brought along with the groceries and said, “I brought my own.”

Knowing that you can’t say anything else to annoy him about cooking, you started sorting out the things he brought, taking them out of the bags and fixing them in an organized way on the counter while he proceeded to take the foodstuff to the sink. All the while, you were watching him as he cleaned everything, his dexterous hands moving with precision and unmistakable expertise.

After fixing everything and putting away the bags, you stood beside him on the sink. “You do this a lot?”

“Pretty much.”

It was fascinating to watch him work so you didn’t say anything else until he took the case again and produced a professional-looking set of knives with customized handles. “Okay, now I’m scared.” You arched a brow at him. “Why the hell do you have a knife set?”

“I love to cook,” he answered, laughing slightly without taking his eyes from what he was doing.

“I figured, but I thought, you know just cooking at home, following online recipes and stuff like that.”

At that, he laughed. “Those recipes don’t work half the time.”

“Oh, okay,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes at his sentiment but then you saw how he was cutting the ingredients on the chopping board like a pro. “I’ll be damned.”

“What?”

“Now I mind assisting you. I refuse.” You felt a bit miffed about his mad skills in the kitchen, and you knew it would be foolish to even question how his dish, or dishes rather, was going to turn out. It got you thinking about every other thing he can possibly do, and you found yourself falling deeper. “I’m shit in the kitchen. You can have Suguru to help you.”

“But I already asked him for help yesterday to plan all this.”

“Did you now?” Your eyes flicked over to the counter that divided the kitchen and the living room and glared at your friend, remembering your conversation with him. He threw you a rueful smile.

Sukuna pouted. “You can’t take it back. Surely, you can chop onions.”

“I guess.” You took out a knife from the rack and grabbed an onion. “How do you like it?”

“Minced.”

“Okay.” You started chopping the thing rather slowly, trying to be precise, but since you were taking too long, your eyes started watering before you could even get it halfway done. “Ah, shit!” you grumbled, putting the knife down rather harshly.

Sukuna laughed, turning you around so you were facing him. “Are you okay?” he asked in between laughter, wiping your tears away with some paper towels. “You were too slow.”

You screwed your eyes shut, still feeling the sting behind your eyelids. “Well, I don’t cook.” When you opened your eyes, you almost stopped breathing when you saw those dark orbs of his directly in front of you.

“Oh no, sweetheart, you’re crying,” he cooed.

“Onion…” You took the paper towel from him and started wiping your eyes yourself, turning away from him when you saw the teasing beam on his face. “Shut up.”

“You’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m cooking for you, and I’m annoying? Let’s see how that opinion changes once you taste this masterpiece.”

You did not say anything about the matter anymore and instead watched him work, handing him this and that and doing as he tells you. Sukuna was kinda scary to work with since he obviously had a fixed process about how things should be done, but at the same time, you found yourself mesmerized by his fluidity as he moved around as if he had been in the kitchen his whole life.

“What are you making anyway?” you asked as you were putting away the things he didn’t need anymore.

He looked over his shoulder as he stirred whatever he was making. “That’s a secret.”

You shrugged, looking into the pot. “Just tell me already.”

He placed his free arm around your waist, pulling you to his side, seemingly oblivious to the three pairs of eyes which looked towards the direction of the kitchen every so often, spying on the two of you. “Patience, sweetheart. You’re gonna spoil the surprise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you whined.

He planted a quick kiss on your forehead. “You’ll see.”

By the time Sukuna was done, your dining room looked more like a five-star restaurant than that of one owned by four university students. Well, the table did. You weren’t really familiar with the dishes he prepared since he won’t tell you what they were. You only recognized the lobster thermidor, but all the others were a mystery.

Your friends were thrilled when they saw the table and you were just stunned. You pretty much just watched Sukuna, but he didn’t let you see what he was doing in the dining room, making you promise to sit down in the pantry while he prepared. He went overboard, but you loved it, too.

“I feel like I’m going to pay with all the contents of my bank account after this meal,” Suguru said as he sat down at the edge of the table, making Sukuna laugh.

You sat to his left while the chef sat beside you, explaining the dishes to you and the three other people with you with such technical terms, half of which you didn’t really understand. Suguru did though. Sukuna plated the first dish and offered it to them.

“I hope you would find them to your liking,” he said.

“Y/N’s grandpa would be super impressed if he was here to see this,” Ieiri asked.

You snorted. “Oh my god, Ieri, what are you being such a pain for?” You turned to Sukuna then who looked at you questioningly, but you pretended not to notice. “And you, chill and eat. They can get their own food.” He grinned at you but instead of serving food for himself, he started putting food on your plate. You watched him pointedly. “I can do that myself. Eat!”

“In a bit.” He finished by placing sauce on the lobster then smiled your way before getting food for himself.

“This is phenomenal cooking, man,” Satoru commented delightedly at the first bite, seemingly forgetting about his headache, and Suguru made a sound of approval, eating with gusto. “Will you cook for us every day?”

“Suguru!” you protested.

Sukuna laughed at that. “Maybe not every day.”

You shot him an annoyed look but ate as well. They were right. His cooking was beyond good. “On second thoughts, I don’t mind you cooking for us every day, too. This is totally great!”

“Told you.”

The meal was rather pleasant with your pals engaging Sukuna, obviously taken by him. The deal was sealed where he was concerned. You knew it had nothing to do with the food. They just liked him. He mostly conversed with them while you just pitched in once in a while, too busy eating. Besides, you wanted them to get to know him, too, and you were more than glad that Sukuna was making the effort to be acquainted to them.

After lunch, Suguru and Satoru volunteered to do the dishes, in a very good mood after the magical meal while Ieiri tidied up, leaving you and Sukuna alone. You decided to tour him around the house although there was nothing much to see, leading him into the upstairs hallways. Your house was quite big for only the four of you, but not stately or anything. It was just a normal house with too few inhabitants and too many rooms.

You walked towards the west hall. “Those are all guest rooms and those at the end of the hallway are Satoru and Suguru’s rooms.”

“Where’s yours?” he asked.

You cocked your head towards the east hallway, beckoning him to follow you as you led the way to said room, pointing out the other rooms you passed by, just three of them until you reached the last door. You pushed the door open and gestured for him to enter.

“Huge space,” he commented as he looked appraisingly around, his feet leading him to the large, framed posters of your favorite book-based films and games. “You are a nerd.”

You just watched him, leaning against one of your bookshelves as he ran a finger over your "Harry Potter" movie poster. “Guilty.”

Sukuna then went look at your book collection. “It’s not bad.”

“I’m a literature major. I think it makes sense.”

“Books and more books. How many of these have you actually read?” he asked, taking your volume of "Twelfth Night."

“All of them.”

He eyed you, evidently impressed. “Shakespeare?”

“Yeah. That’s basic in my field.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N.” He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Beautiful, cultured and smart. I like it.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Shut up.”

“It’s true.” He returned the book on its place. “So, apart from literature, what else are you interested in?” He glanced at the glass case at the opposite end of the room where your scale-model figures and rows upon rows of console games were. “Well, apart from action figures and video games.”

“Hmm.” You pretended to be brooding over it. “Well, recently, I’ve just been interested in one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“You.”

He chuckled, pulling you towards him, the warmth of his hands burning through the fabric of your shirt, making you all giddy. “Alright, sweetheart. Your brutal frankness is really scaring me.”

“Door’s wide open. You can run.”

“You won’t chase after me?” he asked.

“You’re gonna wanna see me after anyway, so no.”

“Hey, that’s mean!” But then, he seemed to have thought of something. “Why does Ieiri call me ‘Howard’?”

You retreated from him and slumped down one of the beanbags while he sat on your swivel chair, turning it a hundred and eighty degrees repeatedly. “You caught that, huh?” You couldn’t suppress the laughter that bubbled from your throat at his question. “I didn’t know your name the night we met but Satoru told them about you and I kinda just used the name to refer to you. You know, from the book I was reading at Maki’s.”

“The architect.”

“That one.”

“I see. I don’t mind then since you told me you’re in love with the character.” He winked at you. “But yeah, I was wondering if you enjoyed the meal at all. You haven’t said anything.”

“That speaks volumes of how much I enjoyed it.”

“I’m not really good at this whole impressing anybody thing, but I wanted to make the effort for you and your friends.” Sukuna sighed in relief. “I’ve only ever had one girlfriend after all, and I didn’t really do much in the relationship. And I never really went out with other women after that either save for some casual dates.” He smiled sheepishly at you, but he was confused at your reaction.

You just stared at him quizzically and in disbelief. There was no way you will ever believe that he only dated steadily once and didn’t go out that much to paint the town red. It was inconceivable for the obvious fact that he was so beautiful it was inhuman along with that great personality he has. Women will be lining up for him for sure.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

You shook your head, looking dubiously at him. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope.” He shook his head as if to punctuate his statement.

“Everywhere we go, girls look at you and you expect me to believe that crap?” Hell, you wanted to pounce on him more often than not.

His expressions turned smug. “You care enough to notice, I see.”

It was unbelievable but you had to take his word for it. “You don’t sleep around either?”

“No. It just isn’t my thing.”

You just stared at him, your lower lip jutting out, not in disbelief anymore but in wonder. He’s a sensitive soul, you’ve figured that out, but you didn’t know it ran deeper than what you’ve seen so far.

“Don’t look so sad there.”

“I’m not. I really just don’t see it happening.”

“Should I be flattered?” he asked, but before you could answer, he said, “How about you?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly thinking hard about what you’re going to say to him. You didn’t really have a good track record where dating seriously was concerned. It was just not your cup of tea. “I’ve never had an exclusive relationship...” you began, eyeing him cautiously, “…ever.”

“Never?” He seemed to be having difficulty processing that.

You shook your head, your gaze guarded as you tried to gauge his reaction to your revelation. Somehow, you did not expect him to ask about the matter, and when he did, you didn’t really have a clue as to how you would address it. You realized just how different you were from him on that department. He seemed to value the emotions that come with engaging in physical intimacy while you just didn’t care enough for anyone to notice it.

“Now you’re shitting me.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” You frowned. “I think I mentioned this to you in passing the second time we met. I don’t date, at least not steadily.”

Sukuna obviously couldn’t wrap his head around the thought. “So you haven’t had a steady commitment with anyone?”

Again with the negative response. “Uh-uh.”

“Is it a matter of choice or is it a matter incapability, this I-don’t-date thing?”

“Both?” You shrugged, trying to think of a way to explain it to him. “I don’t for the reason that I don’t want to make a steady commitment. I just don’t see myself being invested with such intensity in anyone in a romantic way.”

“And why can’t you?”

“I get sick of people I’m involved with. In that manner, at least.” You chuckled humorlessly. “So…yeah.”

“But you’ve dated, right?”

You nodded. “Openly, yes, but I don’t stay long enough to really get into the whole relationship thing.” Talking about it was excruciating. It wasn’t something you discussed even with your friends. Suguru thought of it as you playing the field, but really, you had issues with the prospect of staying in an established bond with one person for a long period of time. You didn’t really know what to do with the information although you understood the mechanics.

He frowned then, looking deeply troubled. “So, you don’t date?”

“I did not date.” You made sure to emphasize on the past tense, knowing well what he would be assuming. “'Did not' being the operative term.”

“And now?” he asked, standing up when you did, too.

You stepped towards him. “What do you want it to be? It doesn’t just depend on me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said patiently, coming to meet you halfway and cupping your face as he tilted his head down to look at you squarely in the eyes. “But I do want you for the long run.”

“For now, it’s just that you’re slowly changing my views about it,” you returned. “But I like you, Sukuna. And I care about you. A hell lot. Does that answer your question?”

He nodded.

You reached up, touching his face, running your finger over his jawline. “Can we work with that?”

He pressed his lips onto your forehead, wrapping his arms around you. “Count on it.”

***

"How do I look?" you asked as you walked into the living room in the black, long-sleeved, backless, lace mini cocktail dress that Ieiri chose for you, your pencil heels of the same color clacking on the tiled flooring. You found your three friends lined up on the couch like expectant parents who were sending off their daughter to her first dance, making you laugh.

"Stunning!" Satoru complimented without hesitation, jumping up the couch to make his way to you. "Our daughter's grown up, Suguru."

"Last time I checked, I'm the only one who was raising her," the other male replied.

"You did a good job."

"I did a good job," Ieiri chimed in.

You shook your head, checking the contents of your clutch. It was hopeless trying to get a proper answer from them, but you needed their output since you were new to the whole dressing-up for dinner thing because you never really allowed anyone to wine-and-dine you; never wasted time and resources on anybody you knew you weren’t exactly interested in for the long run. Still, you were more than happy to say yes to Sukuna when he said he'll be taking you to dinner after your exams.

He's been hanging around you almost every day since he cooked lunch at your place, making good on his words to you where the status of your relationship was involved. He would either come see you in the morning before he went to work or meet you at night for a quick drink at Maki's pub. At times, he'd be dropping by at your school during his breaks. And on the previous weekend, he came over, satisfying himself by sitting quietly on the couch with you leaning against his chest while you studied, even going through lengths of helping you out. At some point, you gave up cause he was distracting you, telling you about his plans while playing with your hair.

"You're gonna cook for me," you assumed.

"No. I'm taking you to that fancy restaurant in town."

You agreed without protests even when he refused after you suggested to split the bill knowing how expensive the place could be. You didn’t want him to think you were mooching off him just because he was older and you’re a broke university student. He seemed excited about the whole thing, so you didn't argue further.

Just then, you heard the sound of a car stopping in front of the house, and you made your way to the door despite Ieiri's tirade about you supposedly making the man walk to your door and ringing the bell, probably make him wait, too. Knowing Sukuna, he'll do just that but you didn't want them to pull their antics while that cliché scene by the doorstep unfolded. But she beat you to it, running a lot faster than you to open the door when you were halfway through the short hallway. Just as you were afraid of, Satoru and Suguru were also standing at the other end of the hallway.

"Guys!" you growled.

"We just wanna see you off," Suguru whined just as Ieiri said, "Hi, Howard."

"Hi," Sukuna returned the greeting, even waving at the boys behind you, looking debonair in a smart-casual charcoal grey ensemble over black, collarless button-downs.

Your annoyance died down at the sight of him and you felt yourself melting when your eyes finally met and he beamed brightly as he took in your appearance, looking like he was seeing color for the first time.

"Ready?" he asked and you nodded, stepping around Ieiri. "We're going" you told your friends, shooting them all warning looks before breaking into a nervous smile anyway as Sukuna led you away.

He opened the door to the passenger side of his... "Where's your Jeep?" you asked him, noticing the matte black sports car for the first time.

"At home," he told you. "I thought I'd switch it up for the occasion."

You shook your head as you climbed in, not really expecting him to go to that extent. You appreciated it but you weren't really high maintenance nor did you want the finer things. "So you just happened to have a Porsche 911 lying around?" you asked him when he finally made it to the driver's seat.

He nodded innocently. "I got it on a whim last year, but I decided it's too flashy so I had it stored at an exclusive garage and only took it out whenever I felt like it. I think this is a good time to take it for a spin."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." He reached out to caress your cheek. "You're a vision, by the way."

You felt heat suffuse your cheeks at his gentle touch, but you held his hand in place as you faced him. "I could say the same for you."

"I always wear suits though," he said.

"Well, you're much too impatient with your blazers and you get rid of them when we meet," you began, "And you don't wear those for me."

He flashed you a cheeky grin. "Oh, so you want your men to dress for you?"

"Man, Sukuna. Singular."

It was his turn to blush. "I'm the only one, huh?"

You tilted your head to the side, smirking. "You wanna add someone else into the mix? I didn’t know you were into that."

He was flustered. "No?"

"If you have an exact replica, I wouldn't mind."

Sukuna burst out laughing. "You're crazy."

"It's your fault for hijacking my brain all the time."

Dinner had been great with the both of you pretty much making fun of the numerous silverware before you and making up stories of the haughty guests who came into the same fancy restaurant, some of whom were looking towards your direction.

"That one's a trophy wife," you told him, furtively glancing at the couple that entered. "She's all iced up but look at how her husband is interacting with the waitress."

"You can tell just by that?" he asked.

"I'm guessing they're regulars here and the waitress is one of those he is having an extramarital affair with just judging by the way she looked at him and how she's being all cozy with him." You chuckled. "Ah, now Mrs. X is unhappy. Pretty and bejeweled but very unhappy."

"What about that man there?" He mimicked the way you looked at the couple earlier, this time referring to that one by the glass walls at the corner.

"Oh that one? He's that demanding type who only wants to sit on his usual spot. He's hypochondriac. He's been wiping all the silverware."

Sukuna was obviously amused. "You observe people like this all the time?"

"I aspire to be a novelist if not a literature professor. I watch people to come up with stories, so it doesn't always mean what I'm saying about them is true. I just make it up as I go." You laughed. "But Suguru is a better writer than I am."

"Is he now?"

You nodded, eyes scanning the area. "That old lady is a rich widow who is keeping tradition alive."

He followed your line of vision. "Because she's wearing traditional garb?"

You shook your head. "Because she is alone with that sorrowful look on her face, and she has an extra serving of a meal across her which had been untouched since she ordered in. She's on a date with her dead husband. The empty seat is for him. It's their anniversary." You cocked your head towards the empty chair. "She placed that blazer on the backrest which is obviously not hers, and she just opened a wrapped-up present and made a show of presenting it to whoever should be seated there. Looked like men’s watch to me."

That same old woman stood by your table later in the evening to say, "You are a lovely couple. Cherish each other." And she also paid for a bottle of expensive wine which Sukuna asked to be wrapped for the two of you to take home.

"Looks like you're right about that one," he said as he drove you back to his place.

You nodded, smiling to yourself. "She was right, too," you murmured.

He blinked then looked at you. "Did you say something?"

"Nope."

If you were impressed with the Porsche, his place was even more amazing. The whole place was in scales of black, white and gray but nothing was monotonous about the space. He toured you around the house and it looked uninhabited if it weren't for the signs of life around. But what caught your eye was the shelf full of music, all in vinyl with his gramophone plugged in to a modern sound system. He liked old stuff, his collection ranging from 1903s music to more modern ones here and there.

His living room was strategically placed by the glass walls, providing a view of the cityscape where you found yourself standing, in awe of the sights before you. Just then, the familiar bars of Ben E. King's "Stand by Me" started playing in the background.

You were about to whirl around, but you felt him behind you, wrapping his arm around you as he made you face him. He extended a hand towards you then. You took it without hesitation although you didn't know what he was up to, surprised when he placed your arms on his shoulder while he held onto your waist.

"Dance with me," he said in a low tone as he pulled you closer.

You giggled at that, letting him slowly sway you to the beat while you just looked up at him, drowning in his eyes, his warmth and everything that was him. "I love this song."

He arched a brow at you. "You know Ben E. King?"

"I grew up listening to old music," you told him, nodding as you smiled fondly. "The perks of being a grandpa's girl. You get exposed to great music."

"The movie is my favorite, too."

Your eyes widened. "Really?"

He threw his head back in mock annoyance. "Let me guess. It's your favorite, too?"

"Yes!" you squealed excitedly.

Sukuna clucked his tongue. "You make it hard for me to resist you when you have great music and movie tastes, too."

You looked away, swearing you were beet red now. You playfully smacked him on the chest. "Don't say things like that with a straight face."

His laughter reverberated on his chest when you leaned your forehead against it, hiding your face from him. "Now, you're getting all shy around me?" he teased.

"Shut up," you mumbled, pouting at him but having a hard time as you fought the smile that played at the corners of your mouth.

"Seriously though, Y/N, you don't run out of surprises for me." He leaned his forehead against yours. "Every time, you put something new on the list of things I like about you."

"You have a list?"

He nodded. "It's getting hard to keep up with how long it has become."

"Where does it begin?" you asked out of curiosity.

He raised a hand, his finger tracing the point between your eyebrows. "Your brows furrow just around here when you're concentrating. Just like that time I met you at Maki's."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "It's impressive how you're caught in a world of your own even in such a busy, crowded place."

"I’m just good at ignoring people. But stopped reading the moment you sat beside me." You snickered. "You make it hard to focus, it's an insult to the author when her characters are all beyond just interesting."

"How was I even distracting you? You weren’t even looking at me."

"That's what you thought." You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It's your hair at first, but then you also smelled too good to be true. That did it for me. And before I knew it, every word on the page I was reading became Cyrillic or something."

You didn't even realize that you've both come to a standstill, chuckling as you met his gaze again, only to feel his hand sliding behind your head, his fingers tangling with your hair as he dipped down and seized your lips, tilting his head slightly. It was a gentle kiss, his skilled lips light on yours, introducing his rhythm and flavor of mint mixed with the faint flavor of the wine you've both been drinking as you moved in sync with him.

It drove you crazy how his scent and taste filled every crevice of your being, desensitizing you while also pushing your senses on overdrive at the same time. The feel of his large hands as they secured you to him while his mouth did all the magic made your blood grow hot, the rush you felt inside consuming you. You visibly wobbled when he let go of you, making him look at you in amusement.

"Stay the night?" he asked, breaking into a grin. "I have a copy of our favorite movie. We can finish the wine that kind old lady gave us, and I'll make you pizza."

"You had me at our favorite movie," you said, still a bit dazed and drunk from the taste of him. "I'll stay."

**

Sukuna stood at the foot of his bed as he neatly placed everything you might need on it, running out of his unit to get stuff for you at the nearby convenience store. He glanced over at the door of the adjoining shower, smiling when he heard you humming. Well, he couldn't stop smiling all night seeing how beautiful you were in that black dress. He marveled at how you managed to be even more gorgeous when you were already driving him insane even when you wore sweats to school.

He found beauty in every little thing you did, feeling himself being overwhelmed with amazement even when you were just sitting there reading to how you spoke eloquently about things you were passionate about, the way you told the stories you made up despite how they leaned towards sad things. He found it attractive how you lacked complications and always gave him your honest opinions, how you tell him what was going on inside your mind without bars held.

He loved how kind and loving you are to your friends. It wasn't outward affection but he did notice the small things you did. How one word – "breathe" – would calm Satoru down, how one reassuring squeeze of the hand would pacify Ieiri and how a single look would convey your thoughts to Suguru. He would be jealous of it given any other circumstances, but you did so much more for him by just smiling and cheering him up when you sensed how tired he was from work which was often.

You were sensitive like that, appeared stronger and more resilient than you looked, but he and your friends couldn't help it but dote on you. It was kinda funny how they all referred to you as their daughter at first but when he found out they were doing that because they're the only family you had, he understood why. He understood why you tended to look at things the way you did. It only strengthened his urge to take care of you and protect you at all costs.

“Don’t give me that look,” you’ve told him then when he found out your grandfather, your only guardian and family, passed away three years ago, and you’ve only been living on the small fortune he bequeathed to you upon his death. Your parents were long dead, too, and you were basically alone in life.

He found it amazing that you could talk about the matter without being uncomfortable when he couldn’t even imagine how his life would be if he lost his mother at his age. He understood your independent nature, how you would give him funny looks whenever he volunteered to do something for you and why you were always so insistent on splitting the bill when you went out.

Still, when you said you didn't date steadily, it got him worried. Apart from the possibility that you might not stay with him for as long as he imagined – which made him afraid to breathe at times – he thought you might have issues from being alone too much; that maybe, the reason why you didn’t want to commit was because you didn’t want to open up only to be left alone again when things don’t work out. The way you spoke about the old woman at the restaurant and the way sadness crossed your features as you told him the story you’ve just made up sort of solidified his notions.

That’s exactly the reason why he was happy you weren’t pushing him away or refusing to stay with him. When you said you’ll stay the night, although he found joy in all the times you’ve been around him, he still felt unbelievably happy. Perhaps you were giving him a chance, giving whatever it is that’s between you the opportunity to blossom and just going with wherever and whatever it brings you. He liked that thought.

You came out of his room just as he was taking out the pizza he made, dressed in that oversized, white shirt he brought out for you, the collar askew on your shoulders. You walked into the kitchen running a towel on your hair, leaning on the counter. He almost dropped the pizza when he saw that you’ve forgone the sweats he’d given you, your legs bare from halfway down your thighs.

“I gave you pants, you know.”

You laughed at his words. “They’re too big for me. I returned them in your closet.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Go wait in the living room. I’ll be finished here in a bit.”

You did as you were told, much to his relief but still went to the extent of getting you a blanket in case you wanted to cover up, not that he minded looking at your legs. Nevertheless, he preferred not to with all the thoughts running amok in his head. He wanted to take things slow with you even if you were proving to be his kryptonite. You thanked him for it, happily munching on the pizza he made as the movie started.

“I can’t believe that woman gave us this expensive wine,” you said as you took a sip from your glass.

“I can’t believe we’re having pizza with it,” he said as he sat at the other end of the couch. The two of you laughed at that, but then he stopped when you did, noticing how you were looking at him with a confused look on your face. “What is it?”

“Why are sitting so far away from me?” you demanded, but instead of him moving towards you, you crawled on the sofa closer to him.

Sukuna reveled in how naturally you took his arm and placed it on your shoulder, leaning against him before adjusting your position and covering the two of you with the blanket. He was glad your guard was down where he was concerned, the fact that you smelled like his shampoo and were wearing his clothes making him all warm and fuzzy inside. He pulled you closer to him, eyes trained on his massive flat screen.

“Sukuna…” you said a few moments later.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You’re too stiff.” You looked up at him, snickering. “I won’t steal your virtue if that’s what you’re scared of.”

He just laughed but it was taking everything he had in him not to do anything when you were tempting him in the most sinful ways, but he forgot all about that when your head lolled against his chest and found you sound asleep. You looked so serene that instead of taking you to bed, he sat there, cradling your form until the movie finished, his fingers playing with your hair.

Sukuna looked down at you, feeling like his chest was about to explode as he breathed in, realizing the depth of how much he felt for you, and although you couldn’t hear it, he said, “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

***

The crisp morning air blew past the open balcony doors, into the bedroom, rustling the white sheets on his bed that momentarily served as the sanctuary of a tangle of limbs and blankets, cradled by the softness of the mattress and feather-filled pillows. Even breaths rose and fell in sync, filling the wide room. Languid fingers twined with the silkiness of long locks of hair and smooth, bare skin. The bed creaks and Sukuna’s eyes open to the brightness of daylight.

He took in his surroundings, and the first thing he noticed was the pressure on his leg, his left arm just by his shoulder and his chest along with the warmth that was coming from his side. His eyes wandered down to his body to the sheets barely reaching his waist, until finally he found the source of it all.

On his left side was none other than you, pressed to his side with no quantifiable distance separating your bodies but the measly fabric of the shirt you wore. Your hair fell on the pillows and his shoulder which was cushioning your head, your leg crooked across his thighs while your hand lay on his chest in a stagnant caress that suddenly made his whole body burn from the inside. Peering down, he noticed how your brows knit together in an unconscious frown while your thick lashes cast shadows below your closed eyes. Your long, lean legs were exposed to him up to your milky thighs as his shirt which you were wearing rode up, and he could only pray that you won’t move that limb any further or else…

Cursing at himself, he diverted his gaze and realized how his left hand had been running up and down your back. The feel of your warmth against the pads of his fingers sent him to the edge while your scent intoxicated him until he felt sweat beading on his forehead. He knew he was being shallow, but he couldn’t help it either. He was still human. Still, a smile made its way across his mouth. He was only able to think of the moment and how he wished to wake up to it every single morning of his existence. He decided to stay still and hold onto it while it lasted.

“Why are you so pretty?” he whispered, then pulled you closer while he closed his eyes, meaning to go back to sleep, but it wasn’t long before he felt you stir against him, your leg moving upwards. In the process, said limb swept higher, touching that particular spot between his legs. The weight of your leg didn’t help with the carnal thoughts that were already running amok in his mind.

You suddenly moved, groaning as you shifted, the drawn-out sound doing things to him.

Sukuna’s eyes remained shut, fearing what might come next after you discover the compromising position you were in, but it didn’t come. Instead, you just very slightly distanced yourself from him, remaining within reach, but he was startled when he suddenly felt cold fingers brush across the skin just below his lower lip.

“If I were an artists, I would have painted you,” you said quietly while your fingers travelled lower. “Just look at that jaw line.”

Sukuna felt himself shiver when your other hand began working its way from his collarbones, going all the way down to where his chiseled stomach was. The titillating sensation filled his brain and before he knew it, his eyes were half open while his hand had already grabbed you by the wrist. His other arm worked to topple you over, back to the comfort of the pillows, while he rolled on top of you, staying still while completely rendering you motionless by pinning your arm down.

The reverberation of your chest against his whilst you chuckled albeit his weight sent him to the edge, almost falling off, but he held still and stopped himself from doing anything.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” you whispered, tapping his back slightly.

He wondered whether you liked being there with him, too, or what. “L/N Y/N…What’s with the formality?” What, indeed? The two of you were in a very intimate position and yet he addressed you that way, sounding agonized even to himself. “Don’t do that.”

You scoffed good-naturedly. “Am I giving you strange feelings?” you questioned, ridiculing him early in the morning. “I knew you were pretending to be asleep. Men just can’t say no to a woman’s touch, huh?”

He supported his weight with his arm and drew himself up, the rest of his weight pushing down lower against you. He smirked then. “So you were also awake.”

“Yeah.”

“And you let me hold you anyway?” he murmured, his face almost closing in on yours.

You ignored the tone in which he spoke and its implications. “I was just too lazy to move. Besides, I thought you were a pillow. You’re so warm.”

“That sounds fishy, Y/N.”

“And what’s fishy about that?”

He broke into that crooked grin, feeling his evil streak resurfacing. “Hmm. The fact that you’re liking this as much as I am.”

You removed your hand from his grip and lightly slid it down his inked rib, going lower as you traced the patterns of his tattoo, your eyes remaining on him, a sultry smile swathed across your lips.

A moan nearly escaped his parted mouth, but he wasn’t able to hold back the sudden closing of his eyes and slight parting of his mouth as your hand reached halfway down. “S-stop…”

Your hand stopped where his pelvis was, but your fingers continued to draw circles on his skin. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

Sukuna panted and nodded at you feeling his hot blood rushing southward.

“Yeah?” You laughed softly, your eyes widening a bit in amusement while your leg kicked faintly underneath him, feeling something stiffen against your thigh. “Something else tells me you don’t,” you purred into his ear.

Sukuna bit his lower lip, peeking at you through half-lidded eyes. He knew you felt that and he was getting embarrassed with every second he stayed there. He knew your effect on him and you were more than just aware of it. You were even going to the extent of toying with him, making him feel like a goddamn teenager with raging hormones.

“You’re baiting me,” he played along, brushing your hair off of your neck and twirling the strands with his finger.

You smirked. “Am I?” you said slowly, hand sliding on the garter of his sweats. You withdrew your hand and rolled the two of you over despite his weight, turning tables on him. You touched the tip of his nose, taking in the disappointed look on his face all to your amusement before getting off.

“You’re funny, Sukuna.”

Your leg wasn’t even halfway off of him from where you were sitting astride his torso when Sukuna decided he was going to take his chances with making you succumb to him somehow and he finalized that by stopping you. Grabbing your waist, he rolled you over once more and without second thoughts, dipped his mouth against your, just pecking you on the mouth at first to see what you would do.

Too stunned to react, you were only able to stare at him, but Sukuna didn’t just stop there. He pressed his mouth against your sensuous lips in numerous fleeting touches until he felt you respond to it in the same gentle manner. Those small gestures, along with the closing of your eyes, ignited the fire that had been coursing through him until he thought he would explode if he didn’t comfort himself with the feel of you against him.

Unable to hold back anymore, he crashed your lips together in an urgent, scorching and passionate kiss, nibbling on your lower lip. You responded in kind, possessively holding onto his taut shoulders as he lifted you both in a sitting position so you were kneeling astride his lap. Sukuna pushed his fingers into your hair, holding you against him while his mouth moved downwards to your neck, seductively biting on your collarbone, marking his trail of fire up the columns of your throat before returning to your mouth.

Opposite to his aim to escalate the heat and passion, you placed both of your hands on either side of his head, cupping his cheeks with gentle hands and pulled away slightly, still with your foreheads against each other, hands intact on his shoulders and your waist, both panting for air.

You flashed him an apologetic smile, swallowing hard as you pulled back and sat down on the bed, looking down at your hands which you were wringing. Silence fell over the room and when you came to your senses again, you met his gaze.

His eyes rounded at the realization of what he just did. “I’m sorry, I don’t what came over me.”

“It’s fine. Don’t apologize.” You shook your head. “Sukuna, I…I shouldn’t have…”

He smiled at you then and pulled you close, giving you a soft peck on the forehead, eventually taking you into his arms, soothing your back as he embraced you. “That’s not it, sweetheart. I can’t keep my hands to myself even when you’re not doing anything.”

“I’m sorry…”

He looked at you at arm’s length. “Don’t be.” You diverted your gaze, but Sukuna lifted your head with a finger, making you look at him, holding you in his gaze “I’m willing to take it slow if that’s what makes you comfortable.”

“Look, I just want to be sure about how I feel. I don’t want to be doing this half-baked because I don’t want to hurt you –”

He placed a finger against your lips, still raw from his kisses. He didn’t want to hear what you had to say just yet but he smiled slowly at you. “I’m willing to give you time, and for now, I just want us to stay like this. Is that okay?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

You found yourselves lying in bed until the sun was high in the sky and it was just too warm to stay there. Endless talks led to teasing which eventually led to laughter. He was glad that you were back to your carefree self again, even happier that you were considering his feelings.

“Should we get something to eat?” you suggested to him.

“Are you hungry?” Sukuna asked.

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

Sukuna chuckled. “Starving.” He stood up first and pulled you with him, leading you out of the room with a happy grin on his face. “Let’s make breakfast together?”

“Sure…” You beamed at him. “I’d like that.”

-end of part 2-

Additional notes are available in the masterlist, particularly on the reasons why I wrote some things the way I did.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210623]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES FULLY CREDITED TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 67]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Got many things to do today, though I do have a meeting in a bit over an hours, so there will be a break.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

 “Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

 Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

 “How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

 “Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

 Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

 It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

 Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

 He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

 “I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

 “You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

  Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

 “He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

 “I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

 Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

 The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

 “No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

 “How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

 “Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

  Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

 “Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

 “Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

 “Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

 “A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

 “No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

 Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

 Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

 Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

 “Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

  Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

 Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

 “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

 “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

 “Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

 Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

 Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

 This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

 The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

 Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

 “Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

 Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

 “Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

 He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

 “It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

 It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

 Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

 He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

 Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

 “I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

 He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

 “Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

 They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

 “That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

 Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

 He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

 There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

 The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

 After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

 He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

 He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

 He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

 The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

 He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

 Slowly Thomas raised one hand and waved to the boy. He slunk back into the shadows at the acknowledgment. If Thomas peered hard enough, he could see a shadow stretch up towards the third-floor balcony in the darkness and disappear over the railing.

Interesting boy.

Thomas found himself smiling despite the oddity. They still had not found out much about Virgil. He would speak to Jeffers about many things apparently, but often could not be redirected to invasive topics and he was still a bit skittish around Helen. He hadn’t willingly existed in a room with Thomas. Thomas hoped that changed at some point. There was something about him that made Thomas like him.

  Chapter 37

Virgil had not spent a lot of time out of Logan’s room. What little time he had spent outside of it was either with Patton and/or Logan or tucked away in secret corridors he found in the walls where no one would stumble upon him. Yet, here he was willingly in a, well, not public by any means place, but one that was still more exposed than he was used to being in. Somehow, he was managing to not care at all.

It was helped by the fact that both Logan and Patton had been in the room at the start, but they had gone off to go… somewhere. Food sounded like it might have been the reason.

 He liked food, and usually he would have been all for going to get some, but between them promising to bring him back some and the fact that he was never going to move ever again, he’d decided to stay.

Princess Marisol seemed to be the only other rational being in the whole castle because she had also not moved since discovering the contents of this room. She was currently laying on his chest purring happily.

The fireplace was a wonderful invention. Now, Virgil had, of course, warmed up by a fire before when it was cold, but this was much different. There was a grate that blocked off the fire a bit keeping it from burning the person in front of it and there was a plush rug right by it, perfect for laying down on. Someone had known what they were doing when designing this room.

 He didn’t even care that the king had access to this sitting room as well as Logan.

…

Okay, so he did care a little bit, but he was ignoring that. He was probably busy this time of day anyway, right?

…

He really didn’t want to run into him after being caught watching the castle workers set up the bigger fireplaces. Kings probably didn’t like people sneaking around watching things from the shadows even when they didn’t know that the person sneaking around was literally sent to kill them.

Princess Marisol must have had a sixth sense for his anxieties (or he’d just started breathing faster and disturbed her) because she stirred a bit.

[whatudottu]

Been thinking randomly about breathing headcanons specifically for Ra’ad and Bivalvan, because unlike Andreas and Galapagus who are based on land animals (ignoring the sea turtle look of galapagus’ arms) and P’andor just being a fucky mess of radiation in a probably plasma state, thinking about how our ‘fish-out-of-water’s can walk and talk without losing ‘breath’.

So… yeah-! I’m gonna talk about that.

I’m going to start with Bivalvan first - mainly because I was inspired to jot this down thanks to him, Water Hazard and Orishan biology as a whole - and I’m going to tie how he breaths with his power; water production. On that note, I’m changing the context a little by now calling it water STORAGE, where Orishan can intake water and hold it in their bodies so they have a built in tank for land living. I suppose the concept there is reverse lungs, though taking inspiration from clams themselves, these water pockets are lined with gills that further filter the water for oxygen sipping. As an added bonus, another carry over from clams, is hairlike cilia that allows for water to flow over gills and compensate for the significant lack of ocean currents helping breathing.

I can see this evolution being initially a passive ability, a uh… utility skill that got folks out of the ocean and onto land, or perhaps off the ocean floor and into drier, predator free sea caves with pockets of air. It IS simply an increased and more importantly improved system (at least for their evolutionary path) of their already existent water lungs, it’s just been further adapted to more effectively store water. Then when push came to shove and other folk took to land, early ancestors of the modern Orishan and a few of their evolutionary cousins (whether close, distant or convergent) may have turned that ability to a natural defence system; outside of just armour of course. The cilia could help - especially if they’ve strengthened from use - in redistribution, though of course muscles would be the primary method of uh… water shooting.

Whether or not this affects the voice at all only really depends where you put the pockets and how the vocal chords get affected by the water, but hearing how Water Hazard seems to talk as if underwater and Bivalvan doesn’t -or at least to a lesser degree - kinda influenced me to take the water storage route, especially since clam gills serve duo purpose as filter feeders thanks once more to the cilia. Being the Omnitrix, Ben gets provided the necessary amount of water to not die as an Orishan, but for Bivalvan who do NOT have a life support AI built into his arm, he needs to hydrate himself.

I’m thinking because, since this is like one of the most important functions of a land dweller - regardless if full-time or not - years of evolution probably means those pockets can house a days worth of land walking. Yes, if not refreshed, ‘air’ quality will reduce - either by use (shooting a motherfucker with a jet or two of water) or just because you’re breathing your own breath - but one won’t die. Drinking (whether with face or with hands, depending on whether it’s a one-way stream or a two-way) water or just soaking in it - that being far more effective - will ensure for consistent quality of breathing water.

Sleeping in water is a MUST, so Bivalvan may have to skip out on polycule snuggles, but he won’t be alone in that regard with Ra’ad around. And, because Orishan gills are heavily based on clam gills, sleeping in a well prepared body of water doesn’t just deal with breathing. Thanks to the cilia, as stated multiple times throughout my headcanoning, is that they serve a dual purpose of creating flow for water to crest along gills AND snag onto foodstuffs (zoo plankton and organic material) within the water itself and filter feed. So essentially- Bivalvan eats when he sleeps, and since they’re already in need of like… setting up a ‘bed’ to sleep in that has special requirements, ‘bed bugs’ are actually kinda wanted??? If an Orishan eats through the day, it’s almost an equivalent to midnight snack even if they’re naturally awake during the day; there’s a lot to eat and little burn to sleep, so the energy is built up and stored for the waking hours.

Now, for Ra’ad, I looked towards squids and - for shits and giggles - amphibians for reference (besides- in ‘escape from aggregor’ it was RA’AD who was complaining about breathing, so i might as well work with that). Squids in real life have gills imbedded within the mantle, their head, but the most interesting thing about amphibians is that there are multiple ways they can breath; through the skin, through their lungs and in some types through gills, as well as a variety of combinations such as one or the other, both lungs and gills, or depending on well… WHAT they’re breathing.

Before I get to my amphibian inspired breathing idea, I will focus on squid gills for the time being. Since squid gills are internal and - unlike clam gills - lack cilia, they have to pump water through their mantle themselves to create the flow most water breathers get from simply moving. This, translating to Amperi biology, would mean that they a more active in breathing than just storing water in reverse lungs since they themselves intake ‘air’ and expel anything unneeded. Gills though, do require water to work because otherwise they dry and stick together, which overall kinda works against the whole ‘large surface area low mass’ benefit needed to filter oxygen out from water, so Amperi need a little alternative for air breathing.

Here’s where the amphibian elements come in. While Amperi are by far more aquatic than amphibious, they still have made adaptations to breath on land. And that adaptation is skin breathing. An element common amongst skin breathing amphibians, notably frogs, is doing so through the moisture on their skin, and frogs themselves do this by being covered in mucous. Many ocean dwellers have adapted to use mucous in their own ways, so even if Amperi still have a significant preference for aquatic life, it’s not an ability at risk of completely devolving. In certain free-floating species, mucous-meshes are used to graze for food, and seeing as though I headcanon that Amperi younglings are rather small - at least in comparison to fully grown adult sizes - it takes away the early stress of ‘getting good’ at hunting for food and just gather plankton, zoo or otherwise, to allow for an easy access meal.

Mucous has also been used in many spaces as a protection from bacteria and such-like, so even when adulthood comes around and oops know you’ve got enough brain to know how to find food, that mucous coating can turn into a natural barrier to opportunistic little microbes - land or sea - as well as a ticket to skin breathing. Sipping air through wet mucous skin helps provide an Amperi’s gills the moistness they need, especially if they’re still running under the need for gills rather than evolving a set of lungs, they are after all more inclined to the water than to land regardless of their adaptations. Of course, Ra’ad would still need a lot of water and other nutrients to keep that mucous coating from drying up, but when you’re an aquatic lifeform that’s just inherent in the job description; hydrate or diedrate in the most literal sense.

Back on the topic of sleeping, Ra’ad also needs to nap in water, even if he’s a little more lenient so long as his skin is damp. Maybe a minor snooze is okay on land, but if he’s spent the entire day up and out and strictly no water time outside of sipping it, yeah go the fuck to the sea bed my dude. I like to imagine that he and Bivalvan get to share a ‘bed’ because they both need the water- but you might remember my headcanon on Orishan needing some zooplankton and organic material to snack on while they sleep, and how a more active breather like Amperi would deal with that. Well, that’s simple, it’s the mucous again. Young Amperi may have used mucous to help them eat zoo/plankton, adults use muscous to help stop the tiny little buggers from getting into their much larger adult gills. Besides, Ra’ad doesn’t have to worry too much ANYWAY because where he breathes is already hidden under his layered mantle, it’s just an extra layer of defence for the determined zoo/plankton.

This is a breathing headcanon thing so I’m not focusing on like- what the dudes need to sleep in and how there’s like different standards of sanitation. Just fucken uh… making them morning showerers and move on- all I’m after here is how they do and technically don’t sip air and stay hydrated while doing so.

And that’s all I have on breathing headcanons. A lot of this was bullshitting with like… constant googling on how clam and squid gills work to like… figure out the logic that I was gonna piece together. Actually looking into amphibians did help with Amperi even if like- they’re not- in any way, shape or form-

Uh…….. thanks for reading :)

[angelanimedesaray]

Wings in the Dark Chapter 6:  Stories From the Dark

AN:  I feel like this chapter should have been posted around Halloween, but there was NO WAY I was waiting that long XD  Also its a bit short, I think, to me, it goes a little quick, partially because I didn’t want to have to write Levi wandering around this little town this whole time having all this meaningless chit-chat meant to fish information, I decided summarizing was best with detail where it counted XD

Characters:  Levi, Fem!Vampire!Reader (Mentioned), Erwin, Various OCs and BG Characters

Pairing:  (Eventual)  Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings:  Descriptions of Violence, Descriptions of Murder Aftermath, Description of Fatal Injuries, Description of Buried Alive, Descriptions of Injuries, Language

Word Count:  5188

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*Levi's POV*

While taking such a sudden few days off might have caused a couple bumps in the way things were developing around HQ, but he knew Erwin would be able to handle it and smooth things over, so he stayed focused on the task at hand.

Stripped of any signia, symbol, or uniform resembling clothes that could suggest that he was part of the military, Levi was dressed in plainclothes, having taken a carriage out to L/N’s supposed hometown early in the morning.  He still arrived with plenty of time in the day to investigate the town and see what he could find on-site, taking in the small, easily overlooked town that was more of a loose collection of homes bordered by farms, with a central farmer’s market to keep some local trade and business going.  Any serious buying and selling probably consisted in a day’s trip to one of the larger towns within Wall Rose, but it seemed they had basic foodstuffs here.  He managed to find a blacksmith tucked away in a corner between a small grouping of houses, as well as an old, empty building that had a weathered carpentry sign in front of it.  So there had been more trade smiths around here, before the town gradually lost those businesses.

Talking casually with the blacksmith informed Levi that a ways past the farms, there was a home that was the reason for most of their outside visitors--people who could afford to would put their elderly loved ones in the care center, and there was a separate building for the mentally ill to live comfortably and get the care they needed as well.  Visitors to the town usually consisted of relatives visiting their loved ones in the homes, or they were descendants that had moved away but came back for the occasional hometown or family visit.

Which meant Levi, having no ties himself and not knowing about the homes, stuck out a bit despite his best efforts.  The communities of small towns were tightly knit and they knew their own, so it couldn’t be helped, and he would have to deal with the fact everyone was going to be curious why he was here.

While talking with the blacksmith, he also heard that the carpentry shop had been the family trade for the Frazier family--the family who lost the daughter sharing L/N’s first name.  With the murder of their only child, there was no one to take on the family business, and the building had fallen into disrepair after the parents had gone to the home outside town.

That had caught Levi’s interest.  They’d been in the home for years judging from the sign alone, and the impression he’d received was that only the well off could supply their own stay at the home, or their family members paid for it.  If there were no children to pay for them, and they’d only been a small carpentry business in a no-name town, how could they afford to be in the home?  He doubted it was by the grace of the community, though it was a possibility considering the tragedy that had happened here.

Moving on from the blacksmith so he didn’t ask too many questions in one place, Levi made a mental note to make his way up to the homes to investigate the still-living parents of the original Y/N.  Making his way to the farmer’s market, Levi perused for any small town hidden treasures and struck up conversations, looking for a town gossip to get talking about the town’s history so that he could eventually hear the more personal tale of the double homicide than the technical report Erwin had scrounged up for him.

While trying to get the man selling the baked goods to be a little more forthcoming, Levi overheard a small group of children, three or four gathered around each other as one of the older children attempted to scare the smallest of the group with a surprisingly gristly tale.

“...clawed at the wood of the coffin, screaming for someone to hear her, too afraid to realize her screams took up what little air she had.  Her fingernails broke and blood coated the coffin, her elbow busted open as she pounded and shrieked for help, but no one could hear her so far beneath the dirt.  Some say she did manage to break the wood, but halfway through the dirt falling on her she couldn’t breathe, and body’s still frozen in her silent scream, so close to freedom, no one above ground aware of the terror she felt before she truly died.  Now, so she doesn’t feel so alone, Screaming Sally’s ghost crawls out of her grave and drags children like you from their beds and drags them into her coffin below ground.”

The poor youngest was visibly trembling, tears of fright in their eyes before one of the other kids shouted and grabbed them, making the youngest shriek and cry as they laughed and continued to pick on them.

“Tch.”  Levi turned to them, a glare in his eyes that he pinned on the older kids who should have known better.  “Oi!  Cut it out.”

Spooked by the scary voice, and even more so by the scary man they saw glaring at them, the older kids bolted, with the youngest running away once they were free of the older kids, most likely to run home and find comfort from a parent.

Levi turned his attention back to the stall in front of him, a woman beside him buying a basket of rolls as he scowled over the childishly cruel display he’d just seen.

“That’s one messed up horror story for kids to be telling each other,” he muttered, paying for a loaf of bread and waiting for the man to finish wrapping it for him.  The woman beside him turned with a small shrug.

“All the children around here know about that stupid story about Screaming Sally.  It’s been around for decades, and at this point, it’s almost a rite of passage to hear it eventually.”

Levi looked at her, sensing he might have someone who would be willing to share if he asked the right questions.  “How did it start?”

The woman sighed, shaking her head.  “Some poor caretaker for the graveyard by the woods about forty years back snapped after that double homicide and started trying to tell people one of the girls crawled out of her grave.  Everyone knows it’s impossible, not to mention the grave was undisturbed when folks checked in the morning after seeing how sincere he was.  They had to put him in the home because he kept insisting he saw it, and eventually the story turned into the Screaming Sally legend the kids are always sharing to scare each other.”

Levi’s head tilted slightly to the side, eyes widening momentarily in surprise as the unsuspected connection jumped out at him.

For the briefest moment, he was looking back up at Kenny years ago as Kenny shared some outlandish story to try and scare him.  When Levi had called out it’s legitimacy and accused him of spewing a nonsense legend that wasn’t even possible, he’d suddenly appeared a little serious, a small frown appearing beneath the brim of that signature hat of his as he gave Levi the reply that now rang in his ears.

“There’s always a little truth to every legend.”

Pretending his surprise was over something else the woman had said, Levi took the chance to try and pry the local story from her.

“Double homicide?  Out here?” Levi asked, suggesting that kind of thing never happened in places like this.

In his opinion, they were more likely to happen out here, since it was so damn isolated.

As Levi took his wrapped loaf, the two started to walk together, just a little further down the path as she indulged his curiosity.

“I know--it’s the darkest stain on this town’s history.  Still unsolved, too--one of those locked room murders I think they call them.  Y/N Frazier and Victoria Schultz.  The Fraziers’ daughter had been out late the night before and came to her parent’s home to rest instead of going back to her own home.  She was sick the entire next day, and her best friend Victoria came to visit her.  Sometime between the moment Victoria and Y/N were in the room together to the time the Fraziers checked in on them a few hours later, some psychopath managed to find their way into the room, tore Victoria apart beyond recognition, and disappeared with the Frazier girl.  Without the Fraziers hearing anything amiss!  The police thought it might have been the Frazier girl, because it was the only possible explanation considering the bedroom door was locked and any attacker would have had to come in through the window, and neither girl made a sound, so perhaps Victoria knew her attacker--but Y/N’s body showed up on the edge of the woods a few days later, poor girl.  They never found out who did it, or what exactly happened.  It still haunts the people in the town who are old enough to remember it.”

As the woman spun the more personal version of the tale, Levi’s mind filled in the gristly details that had been in the report he’d read.  How there had been hardly any blood left in the mutilated girl left behind lying on the bed, but far less in the room than there should have been, how L/N’s namesake had been found lying just within the forest’s edge, neck bruised and broken, as well as several bones, covered in bruises and lacerations.  It was a closed-casket funeral for both.  They had no leads, no one with a motive, no mysterious footprint or shadowy figure seen leaving the crime scene.  They’d just been murdered out of nowhere, and nothing like it had happened anywhere near the town ever since.  It was a sudden, violent anomaly in their history, and one that was going to leave a mark that would never disappear.

Levi said goodbye to the woman with the bread roll basket, standing in the middle of the road with his gaze turned towards the homes he’d been told about, a thoughtful frown on his face.

It seemed he had two reasons to visit this place:  the Fraziers and the caretaker.

Once there, as curious as he was, Levi decided against visiting the Fraziers and asking about the events of forty years ago.  From what he’d been able to dig up, it was likely something that still haunted them to this day, and he wasn’t here to terrorize the elderly.

He did, however, pry into who was paying for their stay at the home.  Once at the front desk, he suggested that he wanted to pay for their stay, asking after the amount it would take and how often, before insisting whatever payments they were making themselves stop so they wouldn’t have to pay out of their own pockets.  At that point, he’d been politely turned down, the secretary informing him that the Fraziers already had an angel donor who was paying regularly for their stay at the home.

“Can I get a name so I can talk to them about splitting the payments?” Levi asked, leaning forward slightly in anticipation.

“I’m sorry, but...angel donors are what we call anonymous donors who don’t have any ties to the family but still pay for their care.  We don’t know who makes the payments, only that they’re made regularly and on time, so Mr. and Ms. Frazier can spend the rest of their days here.  I have no name to give you, not that I could, considering that would be sensitive information,” the secretary said politely, though there was a bit of a chill in her voice brought about by Levi’s questioning.  He ignored it, busy mulling over this new detail.

He had no evidence to support it, no reason to suspect it, but what if the angel donor was L/N?  He knew she was looking for ways to cut costs with how she spent her money, it was one of the reasons she had the tea garden at HQ--it would save her money in the future by cutting costs she spent on things like tea.  And her lack of personal belongings could also be from a lack of money to buy nice things for herself.  What if the money she saved from her salary was going towards the Fraziers’ well-being?

Again, he had no evidence.  It was just a thought, a far-fetched theory, but it was something to take note of and consider, just in case it wasn’t far off the mark.

Getting the hint from the secretary and knowing he was at a dead end as to who was taking care of the Fraziers, at least for what he would find here in town, Levi moved on to the next objective.

“All right, well, I also came to talk to someone in the psychiatric home.  He used to be a cemetery caretaker about forty years ago.”

Recognition immediately sparked in her eyes, as well as a bit of apprehension.  “We’ll need you to sign in, as well as put down a reason for visiting.”

“Fine,” Levi replied, taking the paper she slid over and writing Jacob, no last name--not that he’d have one to give even if he was using his actual name--and then wrote down social visit before handing it over.  Her eyebrows rose slightly and her gaze flickered up to him from the paper, and Levi gazed back at her calmly, waiting patiently for her to at least direct him the proper way.

“Room seventeen.  Follow me,” she said, leading them out the door--since they’d been in the home for the elderly--and a little ways away to the other building that acted as the psychiatric home.  Once inside she led Levi up two flights of stairs and down a fairly long hall to let Levi into the room marked seventeen in white paint.  “Mr. Briarton, you have a visitor,” she said after opening the door, allowing Levi to step into the room and take in a man in his late fifties, early sixties, suspicious pale green eyes narrowed at Levi as he stepped inside.

“I don’t knows you,” the man rasped.

“Jacob,” Levi said bluntly, stepping deeper into the room and staying conscious of the fact the secretary was temporarily lingering to make sure everything was going to be all right.  “I came to hear your story.”

“Hah?  Here to mock an old man?”  Briarton sneered.

“No.  Just to listen,” Levi responded simply.  Briarton sized Levi up for a moment, then looked at the secretary still standing in the doorway and gave a small wave.

“We’re fine, Janice, you can leave now.  I’s knows the rest of you’s is tired of hearin’ my tale.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Briarton.”

“Eh,” he grumbled, and Janice sighed and shut the door, leaving the two of them behind.  “Why exactly are you’s interested in hearin’ my story?  Everyone else says I’m’s crazy.  Locked me up for it, too!”

“I’ve heard the town legends.  Someone I knew used to say there’s always a bit of truth to the legends.  So I’m here looking for the truth,” Levi answered, leaning up against the wall with arms folded over his chest.

“Hmm…” Briarton hummed, contemplating Levi’s reason before he sighed.  “I’s guessin’ you’s already heard ‘bout the murders, if you’s here.”

At Levi’s nod, Briarton skipped over the events that came before, and went right to talking about the burial.  “Closed caskets they’s were.  Victoria had a pine box, Mr. Frazier insisteds on makin’ Y/N’s hisself, out of willow.  We’s buried them midday, six feets down in the grounds, six feets dried earth on those boxes.  I’s told they’s were both dead for sures, no comin’ back--specially poor Victoria.  Schultz’s weren’t allowed to sees hers it was so bad.  Course we’s all thoughts abouts it, we’s all hoped back then the killer’d get caught.  People kept comin’ by till it gots too dark and I’s closed the cemetery for the’s night.  My’s job was to make sure no ones messed with the graves, and I’s was patrollin’ like usual, and for the’s longest time, I didn’t hear nut-thin.  But sometime in the wee hours of the mornin’, as I’s was comin’ up on the girls’s graves, I saw somethin’ movin on the ground on tops of one.  I’s went to yells at them, to tell ‘em kids to scram, cause that’s what I’s thoughts they were.  But when I’s got close enough to see a bit better, I’s realized they’s was comin’ up from the ground--outta the ground.  I’s was frozen in place, watchin’ them’s drag themselves out of the dirt, clawin’ across the ground likes a wounded animal.  I’s was tryin’ to scream, but I’s couldn’t makes a sound.”

Briarton stopped, his wide eyes turned towards Levi.  “Do you’s know how heavy the dirts is on a coffin?  How hard it is to break open a coffin?  Impossible’s what it is!  My’s brother once locked me’s in one to scares me, and my’s mother lost it whens she found out.  I’s was kickin’ and screamin’ for what’s felt like hours tryin’ to break out, but all I’s got from it was bloody hands and elbows.  Ands that was without the dirts on tops of it.  But I’s swears this girl busted out and crawled outta hers grave.�� Even if she’s managed to breaks the coffin, she’d’da been crushed bys the dirts.  But she’s still crawled outta hers grave.  She’s stood up, covered in fresh bloods and dirts, and she’s shoved dirt backs into the hole she’s crawled outta like a drunkard, gaspin’ and wheezin’ and wailin’ like a banshee, an’ then she’s disappears into the night.  An’ I’s ran for help, jus’ to get calleds crazy and locked up in here.”

Levi listened to Briarton’s tale in silence, studying the man’s face closely as he spoke to see if the man truly believed every word he was saying.  The terror in the man’s eyes was real, though, as he spoke of the impossibility of the haunting image, and there was no trace of insincerity in his face as he spoke.  He truly believed in the tale he was telling.  Considering the impossibility of it all, Levi also doubted, but he wasn’t going to call him out on in--enough people already believed this man crazy, Levi wasn’t going to add himself to the mix.

He only had one question.

“Who was the woman who crawled out of her grave?” Levi asked steadily, though the crawl of his skin as he said it told him he already knew the answer.  He just wanted to hear Briarton say it.

“Y/N Frazier.”

The day had cooled--in fact, it was starting to feel chillier, the sun frequently hidden by clouds that seemed to be gathering across the sky, hinting at fouler weather on the horizon.  After taking his leave of Briarton at the home, Levi went looking for the now infamous cemetery--infamous in his mind, at least--and had made his way to the grave of one Y/N Frazier, where he now stood in silent contemplation, staring intently at the headstone that had engraved upon its surface the girl’s name, a birthday and date of death that showed she had barely been in her twenties, and a brief, “Beloved Daughter.”

He wasn’t really seeing the grave anymore, though.  His mind was a flurry of thoughts, theories, memories, information...none of the connections he’d made here made any kind of sense to him, but there were far too many to be ignored.  There was something here, something that seemed to be staring him in the face, but he couldn’t see what it was, so he couldn’t use it.  Not yet, anyway.

Maybe Briarton really was crazy, maybe he hadn’t seen Y/N Frazier crawl out of that grave that night and he’d simply snapped like everyone suggested he had.  But there was nothing to have caused him to snap, no trigger.  Not to mention, the sheer coincidence was far too strong to be a coincidence.

So, he entertained the possibility that the bizarre and impossible happened, that Y/N Frazier somehow survived, a mistake had been made somewhere and she was buried alive, and managed to crawl out of this very grave.  Ignoring the impossibility of that scenario still didn’t give him many answers.  If Y/N Frazier was still alive, she would have been sixty, seventy years old by now.  L/N back at the Scout Headquarters was in her early twenties, and very clearly /not dead/.  So, L/N definitely wasn’t this Y/N Frazier.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be related somehow.  If the original girl did survive, it would be possible for L/N to be Frazier’s daughter, maybe even grand-daughter, though that was starting to push the theory beyond what he was willing to suspend believing as impossible.

One thing the Screaming Sally horror story had made him remember, and that Briarton’s recounting had brought to the front of his mind to offer him another connection, was the conversation the other day between the rest of his Squad and L/N.

He remembered the tremble in her hand, the stillness in her posture, the flash of soul-deep fear, trauma, and pain in her eyes as L/N had softly stated that her biggest fear was being buried alive.

He had something big here, but he wasn’t sure where it fit in this messed up puzzle he was trying to solve, and was missing some key piece that connected it to something else.  He needed more than ever to see what she was doing in the Underground when she snuck out at night--whatever it was, he was convinced at this point it was the missing piece he needed to make sense of all of this.

But first, he needed to do something that would give him a definitive answer amongst all these legends and tall tales.

It was a new low for him, he knew that.  The entire ordeal felt wrong and filthy on an entirely new level, but it was something he had to do.  No one else had thought to look, to disturb the grave of one of the murdered girls to see if there was any validity to Briarton’s claims, to the stories of Screaming Sally.  Everyone brushed it off as nonsense and went about their day, probably because it was so certain, and it was easier to believe the horror stories were nonsense.

Levi didn’t have that luxury.  He didn’t have the certainty, and the easier route was not the one he was going to take.  He needed answers.  So, he’d returned briefly to Headquarters in order to enlist Erwin’s help to give him the opportunity late that very same night to dig up the grave and settle once and for all whether Y/N Frazier had died.  It would help clear up some of the questions and theories when he found her body in the coffin, and it might put them back at square one in figuring out why this place and this name had been chosen by Y/N, but it would help bring them back to a world that made some sense, and it would help weed out a few questions that these legends and stories had brought up.

He didn’t want to think of the implications if the grave was empty.  He doubted it would be, but if it was...then this entire mess went far deeper than he could ever imagine.

Perhaps that was why Erwin agreed to help him, why he’d paid off the caretaker to make sure the grave was empty but leave the section Levi was going to be in undisturbed until Levi left.  Erwin clearly hadn’t approved of disturbing a gravesite, especially the gravesite of a murder victim, but Levi had strongly believed it was necessary despite his own misgivings, so Erwin had relented.

Now, Levi was in a hole that passed his head, digging the last few inches to the willow coffin Y/N Frazier had been buried in, filthy and tired but determined to get to the bottom.  Just a little further, and he would have his answer.  He would see the bones in an undisturbed grave, fill in the grave once more, go home, wash up, hate himself for a while for doing this to confirm what he already knew, and then go back to trying to figure out why L/N seemed so deeply connected to this place.

He hadn’t found any bodies frozen on its way to the surface, so he could already rule out the legitimacy of the children’s scary story about Screaming Sally, at least.

The shovel Levi was using scraped against something solid, and Levi paused.  Here it was.  He’d found it.

Kneeling down, Levi started brushing away at dirt so he could find the coffin lid, fingers brushing against wood, hand brushing a little harder to smooth away dirt--

He had to pull his hand back as he unexpectedly came into contact with splintered wood sticking up into the dirt, piercing his hand and drawing blood as he jerked in surprise, breath catching.

No…

A few more careful brushes with his hand, and he was staring at a coffin lid that had been busted open, shards of wood buried in dirt, but the hole clearly enough for a person to crawl out of.  He froze where he was as he stared at the sight before him, the odd, irrational fear that a hand was going to burst out of the hole and grasp his wrist strangely flashing through his mind before he pushed it aside.  He wasn’t breathing anymore, an admittedly trembling hand reaching out to pull back the lid, just to double check and confirm what he was seeing.

The grave was, in fact, empty.  The coffin was busted open with gouges that had old red stains upon them, as if it had been punched and clawed through from the inside.

His blood running cold and his breaths shallow, Levi had to fight not to think of the haunting image Briarton had described, the fear in L/N’s eyes, and the mental image of a woman trapped in this grave screaming and crying for help, having to tear apart her own body and defy all odds to crawl her way to the surface, tried not to imagine the terror of being buried alive like this.

Kenny had been right.  There was always a bit of truth to the legend.  He never imagined it would be this much truth, though.

When Levi returned to HQ, the first thing he did was clean himself up and get changed.  Then, he made himself some of the tea L/N had gifted him, choosing one of the blends meant to calm in the hopes that it would help settle his nerves after what he’d seen.

Outside, he might still appear stoic, but inside, he was shaken.

Once he was clean, he had his tea, and he felt he had a better grip on himself internally and he was ready for the conversation, he went to Erwin’s office and very solemnly relayed his findings to the man, who looked no less disturbed by this unexpected turn of events than Levi had been.  They’d expected some kind of secret while digging into the truth about L/N, they hadn’t been expecting a full blown conspiracy on this level.

Once Erwin was up to speed on Levi’s findings, they started to hash out some theories and details, both of them well aware that they were still missing something crucial as they attempted to make a broader picture with the pieces they were currently in possession of.

The running theory they were working with was that Y/N Frazier was L/N’s mother.  It was the most logical connection they could come up with, even though it dumped a whole new slew of questions into this mess.

Why did Frazier run after she crawled out of her grave?  Why not return to her home and family, alive and well?  Why leave the town behind and everyone in it believing she’d died so terribly?  Why never come back to tell who had attacked her and her friend Victoria?  What happened that night forty years ago?  How had she managed to crawl her way out of a grave?  Why had she instead disappeared somewhere inside the walls never to be discovered or heard from again, hiding her true identity remarkably well?  Or more importantly, how had she been alive?  How did she survive those injuries?  Had a mistake been made and she’d been assumed dead?  Was the report faked?

How was the Underground supposed to come into play in all of this, and what part did L/N have in it as well?  If Frazier was indeed L/N’s mother, was Frazier still alive and living in the Underground?  Was that why L/N went down there every now and then?  Why not bring her mother to the surface with her?  Why, when she came to the surface, did L/N take Frazier’s first name and not use her last name?  Why not use her real name?  How did the events of forty years ago play into now, and how had it had an affect on L/N?

As always, whenever they uncovered something about L/N, it always came with a thousand more questions.  They could theorize all they wanted, but it wouldn’t bring them closer to finding the answers that they craved at this point.

And still, despite the shock and the...unease he had felt to find the empty grave and realize the reality of what happened in that town--or at least part of it--Levi still felt like there was another reality altering twist in this dark tale that was unraveling in front of them that would be far worse.  He still felt like they were far off the mark, that the still failed to understand the reality of what they were stepping into.  More than ever, Levi felt there was something dark behind this, and he began to feel the first hints of malice surrounding these secrets.

Whatever L/N was hiding, at this point, Levi knew it had to be dangerous.

Erwin’s concerned eyes probed Levi’s expression as Levi gazed at the empty teacup in front of him, well aware that despite his feeble attempt to calm his nerves and thoughts, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

“Levi--” Erwin started to say in a grave tone of voice, but Levi cut him off.  He knew what Erwin was about to say, and he already knew what he had to do next.

“I know.  All I’m waiting for now is for her to make the next move.  This time, she won’t shake me.”

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier@whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea​

Wings in the Dark Tags:  @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #15

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Richard-sensei’s Cooking Classroom

On a bright morning in Kandy, a provincial town from Sri Lanka, a man was standing still in his kitchen. Leaning against the wall was a Japanese book titled “Breakfast for People Who Live Alone”. There were three items on the menu. Just an omelet with ketchup on top, boiled sausages and fruit salad yogurt.

Regardless, the kitchen where the man was standing was an explosion of colors, as if it were the atelier of some Dadaist painter. Perhaps he was wrong in trying to make an omelet, the blond man thought, tilting his head despondently. Loved by the god of beauty, his blond hair swayed smoothly, and on the wall behind him, the exploded omelet was scattered in all directions, giving off an artistic atmosphere. It was obvious that in order to cook an omelet on a frying pan, it was necessary to shake up said pan, but the specific method of how hard one should shake it had not even once made an appearance in his life, much like fairies and unicorns from fictional stories. As a result of him jerking the pan with moderate adjustment, the omelet had flown off, hitting the wall and dripping down under the influence of gravity.

The beautiful man cast his eyes at the opposite side of the kitchen with a melancholic look as well. His golden eyelashes reflected a rainbow-colored prism and shone like an emerald-green sea under the morning sun. In a corner, where a microwave and water heater sat on top of the kitchen table, something orange had burst all over the place from within the microwave. Just why did food blow up so often, the man wondered, silently ashamed of his ignorance for trying to reduce just two rules of thumb to common sense. When he put three vacuum-packed blood sausages in the microwave and warmed them up, the sausages lost their original shape with a faint explosive sound. Obeying the instructions that said, “Bain-marie or microwave”, the man had chosen the microwave, which seemed less difficult, but probably due to some process being neglected or the heating time being incorrect, the sausages had undergone a magical transformation, looking like some sort of eerie monster.

Moving his feet so as not to make a sound, the man headed to the dining room, lightly placing a hand on the large table and elegantly gazing at the tabletop. Fragments of yellow and green were floating on a sea of white.

“Fruits yogurt,” the man whispered, as if it were a magic spell, heaving a spring breeze-like sigh.

It was just chopped fruits floating on yogurt. Taking into account the possibility that he could not cut the fruits too meticulously, the man was out of luck to have a slicer with him, and by the moment he realized that this one was apparently not supposed to be used for fruits but rather for slicing things such as cabbages and carrots into thin pieces, the fruits that he had failed to chop had gone flying over the table, surrounding the bowl of yogurt and instantaneously creating a Genesis-like scene on the tabletop. It was chaos.

On 360 degrees, no matter where he looked, it was a foodstuff hell. After looking around one more time at the artistic misery he had created and sighing coarsely, he started anew and began doing a quick cleaning.

   “Morning, Richard. You slept well, I see.”

“Good morning, Seigi. So you wake up early even in Sri Lanka. Short sleepers have shorter lives. Didn’t you go to bed yesterday when it was already past midnight?”

“That’s fine for today. I have a guest here, after all. I’ll catch up with my sleep tomorrow.”

“I have not done so much to be called a ‘guest’.”

“There, there; let’s leave that for after we eat.”

His face looking like he was checking on something, the man whose appearance was impeccable even first-thing in the morning, as usual, glanced at the kitchen and dining room of my Sri Lankan house, and then let out a tiny sigh, stopping by a place close to the garden.

“Hey, could it be you woke up early this morning? Like, around 5AM...”

“Why?”

“I wonder if it was my imagination.”

In this three-story house, the first floor was a shared space for the dining room and bathroom, while the second and third floors had bedrooms. The room that I used as my main one was on the second floor, and the room on the third floor was used when Richard came over to be my overseer, but only the first floor had a bathroom. Whenever someone was going down to the first floor, one could tell by the sound of them stepping on the stairs. That was no big deal when I was alone, but this was the kind of house that would disturb other people’s sleep if I didn’t walk quietly whenever I needed to use the toilet in the middle of the night.

At around five o’clock, probably because I was drowsy, I had the feeling that someone had gone downstairs. I went back to sleep thinking that maybe Richard, who was looking after me despite having a jetlag, felt like having a late-night snack or something, but it was apparently a wrong guess.

Said man, dressed in a soft-looking shirt and the beige pants that he usually wore when he was relaxed, was standing still with eyes wide-open. It seemed he had noticed what was on the table. I was happy with the reaction.

“I’ve got breakfast for us. Hope it suits your taste.”

“Why? You said yesterday that your breakfast was just cereal and fruits.”

“I indeed said this yesterday, but I wanted to show it’s really not like that every single day. I also didn’t want you to worry for no reason.”

Plain omelets, sausages and fruit salad. For some reason, this house had many pottery dishes from European brands instead of Sri Lankan ones, but they were working out well for today. The paintings of green and pink pedicels over a white background were apparently from a German brand. It was actually my first time making a breakfast like this, which looked like it could show up in a commercial for some newly built apartment building and wasn’t as filling as its appearance suggested, but it had been surprisingly fun.

“I saw the recipe book in the kitchen. It’s a present for me, right? Thank you. I was happy to read a book in Japanese after so long, so I decided to make the part that showed up when I opened it into our menu. Now, now, please have a seat and eat up.”

For about solid ten seconds, Richard stared at the one-plate breakfast, his gaze looking like he was seeing a stone that he had never set his eyes on before, but then, after giving a start as if just remembering that I existed, he sat down with his same-old graceful demeanor.

“Well then, shall we?”

And so, Richard ate breakfast next to me. At times like these, this man would become extremely well-mannered, taking notice of and praising the details, such as the fineness of the omelet’s texture and the beauty of the fruit cuts in the yogurt, as if he were evaluating a five-million-yen jewelry or something. Even while being in Sri Lanka, I sometimes thought that if there were teachers like him in middle or high school around Japan, it would save many children.

“Thanks; that makes me happy. I’m benefiting from it too. Getting so many compliments for just boiling sausages.”

I didn’t know very well how to describe Richard’s face when I said that. His expression seemed like it could be the theme of a masterpiece painting, as if the exceptionally beautiful man had suddenly been reminded of an indescribable pain in the depths of his chest, but was struggling not to expose it in his facial expression. When I asked what was up, the reply was a gentle smile. His usual face was already back.

“I believe I have already said this several times, but you are extremely smart. You decipher the texts, assemble the methods in your head and put them to practice. There are more hardships in this process than you can imagine. Nevertheless, you specialize at it. This is clearly a talent of yours. Be sure to cherish it.”

“I will. But, well, I think doing my best because someone else’s gonna eat it also counts.”

For security reasons, I wasn’t allowed to invite guests to this house. I was sometimes called over to the house of a local friend I had made, and then I’d cook a simple dish there, but guests that make several meticulous dishes on the spot were probably not very welcome. So whenever there were days like these, when “guests” officially recognized by the house’s owner, Saul-san, occasionally came over, it was a great opportunity for me have a change of pace.

While thanking Richard for washing the dishes, I cleaned up the dining room and before moving on to stone study, which was my daily routine in the morning (at any rate, I had to examine stones thoroughly, guess their prices and drill the right and wrong ones into my head; pretty simple), I asked him about lunch. Richard-sensei was very busy. No time for leisure.

“You’ll be off again in the evening flight, right? What we gonna do about lunch? If you’re leaving at three o’clock, then you’ll still be in Kandy at noon, right? Can we go to a restaurant I like?”

“What a good thing it is that you found a ‘restaurant you like’ in this country. Allow me to accompany you.”

While smiling, Richard was about to let out a yawn, yet he hastily bit it down. He was like a prideful cat. As I thought, he seemed a little sleepy. When I suggested him to go to bed again, he said that he didn’t mind it, since he was going to sleep in the night flight either way. And yet he was calling me a short sleeper.

I glanced at the dining room and the kitchen. They were neatly organized. From their tidy and orderly state, I could tell with just a look that I obviously hadn’t cleaned them to this point last night. There wasn’t a single speck of dust on the floor. Despite the difference between the inside and outside of the house being so vague. There was no evidence left, but it was clear that something had happened here. Not a murder, but a more peaceful and heartwarming incident. The suspect showed no signs of confessing. So I wouldn’t say anything either. No particular comments on the multiple rags and some food remains at the bottom of the organic waste bag. I only had one thing that I wanted to say no matter what, so I hoped he’d just let me say it.

After finishing the meal, I waited for the beautiful man to stand up, and then I went behind Richard, clutching his shoulders. I was going to say it before he turned around, asking what I was doing. It was best if I didn’t see his face. There was no telling what I could say when I was staring at him in fascination.

“I myself don’t know very well what I’m talking about, so I want you to forget it in two seconds, but I was reeeally happy for this morning. Really happy. To a shocking extent.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I said I didn’t know either, right? I don’t get it, but anyway, I was happy. That’s all! Aight, study time.”

Without looking at Richard’s face until the very end, I started knocking a thousand gemstones in my workspace on the first floor. I had to look over them while it was morning. This was my current job. Richard didn’t say anything else, but his back looked calm under his shirt, so I was a bit relieved as well. Thinking back on it now, I had taken the wrong path at that time. I should have told him “not to overdo it” more clearly.

Two weeks later, Richard came back, but this time, I heard a small explosion at 6AM. Three times in a row. What did it take for things to turn out this way? The current time was already 7AM. Between getting up right now or not, which one would be less of a hassle later on? I didn’t even want to think about what had been made of the dining room. There was no one other than the two of us in this house and this wasn’t a matter that I had to go as far as asking the landlord, Saul-san, for advice on, so I knew I was the one who had to deal with it anyway. I wanted someone to decide in my stead. What should I do?

[thewildwaffle]

Hero & Villain (part 2)

A quick break from humans are weird, but here is a continuation of This Potstickers story. Thanks @nomadicsmurf for requesting this!

***

The suit makes the super. That’s true for both villains and heroes. Any old jokester off the street can do or stop crime, but if you really want to wreak havoc or save the day, it’s all about how you present yourself. Robbing a bank? You need a good suit. Catching a falling train before it crushes an animal shelter? You need a good suit. Finally making it to the grocery store? Well, you don’t need a good suit, but it certainly helps keep everyone at a distance and commands a certain level of recognition and fearful respect. If you’re a villain that is. The villain inspected two packages of chicken. They were from the deli and their weight and price were printed clearly on large white stickers. Not caring to make sure anyone was looking, because let’s be honest, everyone was trying to not look their way so as to avoid eye contact, the stickers were switched and the formerly more expensive package was placed in the cart. “What are you doing here?” a surprisingly familiar voice accused. The villain turned around to see the easily recognizable suit of the hero that had broken into the lair earlier. The villain shook the handle on the cart, making the contents slide around in the bottom for emphasis. “What does it look like I’m doing here?” The pair stared at each other, sizing each other up. Other customers kept peeking over to see what was going to happen while also trying to inconspicuously scatter to what they must have thought would be a safe distance if fighting broke out. Finally, with a sigh, the hero sighed and rubbed their temples. “Whatever. I guess you’re right. Again. Just… just don’t do anything… evil or whatever.” “Oh yes, because groceries are very evil,” the villain’s eyes rolled. “Aren’t you going to stop me from buying these potatoes to power my new evil plasma gun?” At that moment, the villain noticed the hero’s cart. The sarcastic smile melted into an annoyed frown. “Hey! What did I tell you when you left earlier?”

“What?” “Look at this junk!” The villain left their cart and started rifling through the hero’s. “Mr. Chuggles Cheese Puffs? Really? Fried chicken, white bread- you’ve already managed to squish this, by the way, giant bag of licorice, store brand bologna, baker’s dozen donuts, and is this… frozen cheese pizzas?” The three boxes were lifted out of the cart and presented pointedly as if to emphasize the disappointment. “You do know that the other toppings are free, right?” The hero grabbed the boxes and put them back into the cart. The villain sighed. “I did tell you to get real food, didn’t I? What, did your super hearing conveniently stop working?” “I’m just hungry, okay.” “Okay, I could just slap your stupid face. I knew you heroes were incompetent but dang.” The hero shot the villain a glare, which was parried by a soft shoulder shrug. “The first rule of grocery shopping, don’t go while hungry.” The hero’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Dang, they hadn’t eaten since breaking into the villain's lair earlier and being fed those two potstickers. After they left, they’d been called away to help fight off a mob of angry mermen in a neighboring coastal city. “The second rule, always shop with a list based on the upcoming week’s recipes,” the villain continued and looked disdainfully into the hero’s cart. “What are you planning on cooking? May I recommend something with, oh I don’t know, vegetables?” It was then that they noticed the exhausted and lost look on the hero’s face. With a deep sigh, the villain pulled the hero’s cart over. “Here, come with me. I’ll help. Oh don’t look at me like that, I told you I’m a fine upstanding member of society now, remember? Plus, what's the fun of being a villain when your nemesis destroys themselves with a poor diet. That's my job, thank you very much. Except I would certainly be more creative about it.” It only took slightly more convincing before the odd pair were circling the store for miscellaneous ingredients as the villain helped to plan meals for the week. It also helped that the villain vaporized the hero’s already gathered foodstuffs. “I

know you’re busy, that’s probably why you’re like this anyway, you heroes are always thinking you’re such hot stuff for saving the day or what malarky, but you never stop to take care of yourselves. So we need foods you can make when you have downtime and then store for when you don’t. I’ve got a recipe for ‘Uncle Death Shadow's Super Dope Good Chicken.’ You can put it in the crockpot and have it cooking all day and it's ready when you get home. Easy peasy.” The store wasn’t crazy busy, which tends to happen later in the day and when people walk in and spy the suits. If it was just the hero, they’d probably swarm them and try to get an autograph or selfie with them or whatever, but pair that with the villain? People tend to make themselves scarce. That being the case, the wait for the checkout line was basically non-existent. “Good evening [villain name], how are you doing?” the girl behind the cash register chimed as they approached. “Just fine Stephanie, how about yourself?” the villain smiled at her while loading items on the belt. “You know each other?” The hero placed a divider between the two orders. “Uh, yeah, that happens when you actually go grocery shopping more than once a blue moon, go figure,” the villain scoffed. Stephanie chuckled softly and began to dutifully scan and/or weigh each item. The hero stood by the card reader to pay while the villain loaded the filled bags back into the cart. When prompted, the card was swiped. A series of two short beeps was the response. “Oh, sorry,” Stephanie frowned. “It says it was declined. Go ahead and try it again.” The card was swiped again. And again. Only beeps and a message on the screen saying ‘insufficient funds.’ “Uh,” Stephanie was clearly not comfortable but asked, “Do... do you want to try another payment method?” The hero patted themselves like they were checking their pockets, even though the suit didn’t have any. Or at least, it didn’t look like it did. Who knows with suit technology these days though. Pockets or not, the hero came up empty. “I… I don’t. This should work though, I, uh, I don’t know why it’s not. The money should be in my account.” “Well, well, well. Leave it to the Hero Association to mess up payday,” the villain all but sauntered over. “But then again, the old saying doesn't say that heroism pays. You know what does though?” The villain pulled out a Platinum Hoarders Cash Rewards card. “The saying is that crime doesn't pay. I don’t want your ill-gotten money.” “You wound me. Besides, I don’t think it’s really a matter of wanting, it looks more like a matter of nee-” A series of loud crashes and breaking glass interrupted. “HALT FOUL VILLAIN! YOUR DAYS OF TERRORISING THESE PEOPLE IS OVER!” All three of them looked to the front door where a menacing figure dressed in the gaudiest yellow, black, and red suit had flown in and knocked over at least two display stands and toppled a tower of honeydew. “Is that… Captain Inferno?” Stephanie had to stand on her tiptoes to see over the display behind her register. Her voice trembled slightly. Not much was known about the new and upcoming hero, but what was known wasn't always… stable. “How did he get out?” the villain grumbled. “That trap was stuck tight when I last checked it.” The hero turned to look, horrified, “you had someone else trapped in your lair?” “h, yeah, right after you left he broke in and got stuck. He was being a real jerk though, so I figured I’d deal with him later and left him there while I left to run errands and go shopping.” As the villain turned back to look at where Captain Inferno was storming forward, a fireball blasted past in a narrow miss. Screams erupted as the fire crashed into and spread along the shelf in the customer service department. The villain ducked into a defensive stance and glanced from the blazing shelf to the fiery hero himself. “Are you insane?!” From the way the fire hero nearly stalked forward, he might very well be. The villain really hoped he hadn’t gotten into any of the tox-N test vials that’d been stored in the lair. In retrospect, those

probably should have been moved to at least another room before leaving the hero - trapped or not- alone with them. “Am I insane?! You of all people have the audacity to ask me that? I know what you’ve been up to in that vile lair of yours and I’m going to make sure your latest project never sees the light of day, one way or another.” “Captain Inferno!” the hero's voice commanded both Inferno and the villain's attention. “What are you doing? You can’t just come in here and start blasting! I know you’re new, but this is completely unaccepta-” The sentence wasn’t able to be finished as Inferno shoved the hero back and into the end cap of the aisle with another loud crash. ‘Well, there you have it,’ the villain grimaced, ‘definitely got into the tox-N. He’s completely off his rocker. If he was ever on it, to begin with.’ Stephanie screamed and ducked behind the counter. Captain Inferno ignored them and the surrounding chaos he’d created and stepped toward the villain, heedless of the infuriated scowl he was being given. “How dare you-” another fireball was just barely side-stepped in time “-you are no hero. You disgrace the title by using it. And coming from me, that means something.” “Coming from you, it means absolutely nothing,” Captain Inferno nearly snarled. “But I’m going to make sure nothing else ever comes from you again.” The hero was back on their feet behind the villain but wasn’t quick enough to dodge the fiery blast from Inferno that had missed their intended mark once again. The villain had to rip their gaze away from the sight of the hero dropping to the ground and rolling in an attempt to extinguish the fire. The villain whipped back around. The temperature throughout the entire store felt like it dropped several degrees. How dare he hurt their hero. That was their job! Pure hatred leaked from the villain’s eyes as they landed back on the menacing opponent. “You've made a lot of mistakes today. Breaking into my lair, breaking out, following me here, being altogether a buffoon. But that? That was your last mistake.” Carefully, the villain shifted stance, arm tensing as it prepared to draw a weapon. “I’m going to disembark your intestines from... the rest of your body!” Captain Inferno frowned in confusion, then his sneer was right back. “Did…” he snickered. He actually snickered, “did you mean disembowel?” “YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!” The villain dropped suddenly to the ground to avoid Inferno’s fire punch attack and pulled out a compact multi-canon. Before the deranged hero could regain balance, the villain fired up directly into his chest, sending him flying high and crashing back through the drywall and plaster. Green smoke trickled down from the Captain Flame-sized hole. All eyes were dancing between said hole and the still-standing villain. Slowly, half-stunned, [hero] rose from the ground, the only traces of fire that remained was a broken trickle of smoke flickering up from their smoldering cape. The villain turned and looked up into the hero’s face as a gloved hand was placed on still battle-tense shoulders. The rage there slowly ebbed a bit when they saw the hero was well enough to stand on their own. The villain shrugged off the hero’s hand. “Eh. Must have had it on the wrong settings. Still, it looks like it worked.” The villain pulled their card back out without saying anything else and slid it through the card reader. A single ‘ding’ sounded. Payment accepted. “Oh, wait. Dang. I should have just had Stephanie ring up my stuff too and paid for it all at once. Oops.” Stephanie slowly rose up from behind the counter. The hero just stood, gaping at the villain. The villain took a few seconds to notice. “What? Oh, are you thinking what I’m thinking? Because I agree, I probably should just take my stuff anyway, right? As payment for my troubles. Yeah. You know what? I’m gonna do that. I think I’ve earned it.” Before anyone else could process and react to that, the villain pulled their cart forward and started walking toward the exit. “Wait, wait! Hold on!” The hero finally shook off the stupor and rushed

to stop the villain. “What was that?” “Uh, grocery shopping. Of sorts, I guess, as the case may be.” They stared at each other for a moment. “Oh, you mean all that with… yeah yeah, duh. I believe that was what they call ‘self-defense.’ Why you ask? Weren't you paying attention?” “You can’t just leave, we need to wait for the police. This is going to need to be reported.” The villain stopped and made a face like they were considering it. “Mmmmm. Nah. Gross. If you want to stick around, be my guest. You can tell them how I stopped that maniac from coming at poor Stephanie over there. Just remember, if you call me a hero, I will deny such titles. After all, I was just doing what any fine upstanding citizen in my position would do. I’m humble now!” “Upstandin- you yelled that you were going to disembowel him.” “I never said that. Captain Fire Pants over there, and now also you, I guess, said ‘disembowel’.” The hero made a face that made the villain roll their eyes. “Here, watch this.” They leaned over to call out, “Stephanie?” The cashier waved shakily at them. “Do the cameras in here have microphones?” “Uh, no?” The villain straightened up to look smugly at the hero. “Well, there you go. All anyone is gonna see on the camera is me saving the day. All anyone here can testify that they heard Captain Inferno say something about disemboweling people. Gosh, I’m sure glad I was here to save the day.” Now it was the hero’s turn to roll their eyes. “You didn’t save the day. If anything, you created the circumstances to make this mess! We need to wait for the authorities so we can make a report. You’re not going anywhere. Also, you didn’t pay for your stuff.” “Oh, and are you going to hold me here? Forcibly detain me?” The villain made a mock shocked gesture with their hand on their heart. “I still have my multi-canon, mind you.” “Is that a threat?” “Uh, yeah. Again, pay attention.” “What happened to you being a fine upstanding citizen? You said it’s been, what? Four days? You’re already ready to drop that act?” The villain pushed past and once again headed for the exit. “Oh sue me. It's not like it’s hard to pay off another jury.” The hero stood there, fighting between going after and making them stay, or going back to make sure no one else was hurt. That and the fires still needed to be put out. Their delay was all the villain needed to getaway. “If you have any questions about those recipes or need any tips about meal prepping, let me know!” the villain yelled out from the hover speeder rising from the parking lot. A quick check in the rear-view mirror showed the hero going back in to help in the store. Another easy getaway. The villain settled back and sighed contentedly. "Well, I guess the bright side is that I don't need to deal with angry fire britches when I get back.” The smile faltered a bit. “Although, the fact that he got into my stuff means I’m gonna have a huge cleanup to deal with. He better not have trashed the entire place or I'll make sure I've got the right settings on my cannon next time." At the hover speeder's pace, the lair came into view in no time. Getting around town was so easy when the only traffic you have to worry about are high-rise buildings and flight-capable superheroes. After parking and gathering the grocery loot, the villain stopped to consider the bag of potatoes they'd ‘not bought.’ "You know," they muttered quietly, "I just meant it as a joke earlier, but maybe I could use these to power an evil plasma gun. After I make some hash browns first, of course."

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 4

A/N  Here’s the next chapter installment of Ginger Snap.  I now have this story mentally plotted to its conclusion.  It will have a total of 6 chapters, with perhaps a wee epilogue.  In keeping with the theme, the title of this chapter is “Where There’s Smoke”.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

I glanced around the sitting room, trying to see it through a stranger’s eyes.  Well, not a stranger.  Through Jamie’s eyes.

We had sold most of our furniture before leaving Boston, not considering it worth the expense of shipping across the Atlantic.  Frank hired an interior decorating firm to furnish the third floor Southside flat before we arrived.  The overall impression was stylish, if a bit soulless.  Having grown up a virtual nomad, there were no mementos or heirlooms to speak for my personal journey.  For the first time, I regretted their absence.

The buzzer rang, and I shook away my wistfulness.  Jamie’s tousled curls and reckless grin greeted me as I opened the door.  Today he wore a fitted navy jumper, faded grey jeans with frays about the ankles and the ubiquitous work boots.  A messenger bag was slung across his broad chest.  

“I hope I wasn’t supposed to supply the ingredients for today’s lesson, because my cupboards are bare,” I remarked after inviting him in.

“Jus’ as well.  I wouldna squander yer food.  I have all we need right here.”  Reaching into his bag, he removed a clear container filled with chunks of pink meat swimming in a broth of blood.  I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

“What sort of dish will I be making with those?”

Those summer eyes shone in merry provocation.

“No’ a dish, Arsonist.  An experiment.”  

Two saucepans were set on the stove.  Jamie had me place a few pieces of meat into the water of one pot before it warmed.  To the other I added a pinch of salt and a clove of garlic, but waited until it came to a boil before adding the chicken.  After five minutes, I used tongs to move the now-pale flesh to waiting salad plates.  Neither looked particularly appetizing, but the first pot yielded a glutinous blob.

“I suppose this is the control group,” I remarked, looking at Jamie where he leaned against my countertop, ankles crossed like a cover model.  “I’m already quite familiar with what culinary failure looks like, thank you.”

“No’ failure.  Variability,” my teacher argued.  “See here?  If ye want meat tae dissolve til it doesna hold its texture, low heat is key.  An’ if ye want tae infuse it with flavour, always combine heat an’ seasoning at the same time.”

I took a small nibble of chicken from the second pot, and sure enough it tasted mildly of garlic.  It was otherwise quite bland, though.  When I commented on this, Jamie nodded in excitement.

“Aye, verra good.  Nature seeks equilibrium, as ye well know.  Sae now ye have poultry tha’ tastes o’ water and water tha’ tastes o’ chicken.  If ye were makin’ a stew or chicken stock, t’would be a good thing.  Fer anything else, tis shite.”

I laughed, getting into the spirit of his well-executed game.

“Have ye any music?” he asked while we cleared away the results of round one.  “I always cook better with a bit o’ background noise.”

There was a high-end stereo system in the living room, but I doubted Jamie would be interested in Frank’s collection of Brahms, Mahler and Celtic harp.  Seeing my hesitation, Jamie dug out a portable speaker from his bag.

“Do ye mind?”  I shook my head and soon my kitchen hummed with guitar chords and plangent vocals.

The lesson lasted far longer than the scheduled hour.  Jamie had me bake, fry, roast and braise different samples, each time explaining why a particular technique might be used and insisting I taste the result.  It was so much fun, I shed my habitual reticence while cooking.

“An’ now fer the pièce de résistance,” Jamie announced in dramatic tones.  From his seemingly bottomless messenger bag he removed what appeared to be a miniature flame thrower.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, forgetting myself.

“I wanted ye tae ken there’s a place fer fire in the kitchen, Arsonist.  Tis only a question of picking yer moment.”

With a flick of his lighter, he set the butane alight and handed me the small kitchen torch.  Using extreme caution, I seared the outside of the two remaining morsels until they were a rich caramel colour.  Jamie then wrapped them in foil, placing them in the oven to finish cooking.  When they were cool enough to sample, the outside was pleasingly crunchy and sweet, while the inside swam in moist chicken-y flavour.  We both declared them the winner.

“Tis a funny thing about fire,” Jamie remarked as he packed up his bag to leave by the more conventional front door route.  “It can remain hidden beneath the surface, burying its secrets deep inside.  Doesna mean it doesn’t burn, though.”

I thought about what he’d said long after he was gone, leaving me alone with his signature scent of rising bread and salt air.

That weekend, I blamed the poor weather when I declined Frank’s offer to shop for an engagement ring.

***

The next week, instead of asking to be buzzed inside, Jamie requested that I join him downstairs.

Grabbing a Mackintosh, my purse and slipping into comfortable walking shoes, I joined Jamie outside my door.  He was particularly animated, despite the foul weather.

“We should ha’ started wi’ this lesson, but t’wasn’t the right day fer it,” he explained as we walked towards the farmers’ market that took place twice a week in the shadow of Castle Hill.

I considered protesting that I already knew how to shop for food, but Jamie’s enthusiasm was contagious.

We stopped at every stall, sampling the foodstuff on display, which was surprisingly varied despite it being November.  Jamie knew most of the merchants by name and our progress was regularly halted by conversations on topics as varied as his family’s health, the latest rugby results and Scottish politics.  I envied his wide circle of acquaintance and apparent ease interacting with them.  There was no pretense, no stiffness, just a man who inhabited every square centimetre of his life to the fullest.

Jamie insisted that I taste various produce before adding it to the cloth bag he’d provided.  Honey-crisp apples.  Peppery radishes.  Herb-infused venison sausage.  

“Close yer eyes,” he instructed when I was practically dizzy with all the flavours.  Still, I complied immediately.  A rubbery moisture tickled my lips.  “Open,” he said simply.  I opened.  “Tell me what ye taste, Arsonist.”

I chewed the morsel of cheese thoughtfully, letting the taste and texture coat my mouth before finally swallowing.

“Creamy.  Thick.  Salty.  Sorrel.”

I opened my eyes only to fall into the inky vortex of Jamie’s pupils, which had expanded to almost eclipse his irises.  His hand still hovered near my mouth, muscles frozen in abstraction.  The cheesemonger let out an awkward little cough.  Jamie blinked, and the moment vanished.

“Sorrel?” he asked a bit gruffly.

“Yer lass has a fine palate, Fraser.  My sheep graze in fields full o’ it.”

I allowed myself a smug little smile.  Neither of us corrected the merchant’s presumptive pronoun.

Later that evening, I sat cross-legged before the fire with a picnic for one.  Frank had called from his office earlier to say he was working on notes for an upcoming symposium.  Before me lay the results of the afternoon’s market adventure.  Closing my eyes as I ate,  every mouthful set my senses ablaze.

We never found time to visit the jeweler that weekend either.

***

The next week, I fell ill with a miserable head cold.   Frank was in Oxford for his symposium, so I called Ginger Snap myself and explained to Jenny in a hoarse voice that Jamie should avoid coming to my flat at all costs.

I was curled up in a mentholated daze when there was a series of knocks.  It took several minutes to free myself from my blanket cocoon and shuffle to the front door.  Glancing in the entryway mirror, my hair called to mind an electrified poodle and my nose was twelve shades of raw, but I opened the door anyway.  No-one was there.  Leaning out to peer down the hallway, I practically tripped over a brown paper bag resting at my feet.

Inside was a metal thermos, still quite warm to the touch.  As I unscrewed the cap, my stuffed nose was assailed by fragrant steam.  Homemade cock-a-leekie soup.  I felt a glow fill my chest that had nothing to do with my fever.  Pouring a helping into a mug, I shuffled back to my couch-nest.  I felt better already.

***

The following week, Jamie was distracted.  I’d thanked him profusely for the soup, and asked if he could show me how to make it for myself.  As the chicken thighs and stock began to warm, however, I caught him glancing regularly at his phone, fingers drumming against his thigh.

“Are you expecting an important text?” I finally asked.

“Hmm?  Och, Arsonist, I’m verra sorry.  Tis only that we got a last-minute request tae cater a big corporate Christmas party, an’ Jenny is beside herself wi’ worrying.”  He tucked him phone into the pocket of his cargo pants.

“When’s the party?”

“T’morrow,” he confessed.

“What!  Jamie, what are you doing here?  You should have called me to reschedule.”

“T’wouldna be fair, what wi’ us missing last week on account of yer sniffles.  An’ wi’ Christmas ‘round the corner, I didna ken when I’d... er, when we’d have time for another lesson.”

I turned off the burner with a decisive twist.  Jamie opened his mouth to lodge a protest, but I beat him to the punch.

“Jamie, the soup will keep.  Growing your business is more important. I wish there was something more I could do to help, but under the circumstances...”

“Come wi’ me?” he blurted out.

I was nodding before the words finished leaving his mouth.  Notwithstanding the fact that he had just literally been teaching me how to boil water, I didn’t want to lose his company so soon.   We likely wouldn’t see one another again until after the New Year.

It was a thirty minute walk to Leith.  Jamie could probably have covered the distance in half that with his long strides, were it not for me trotting along beside him.  We stopped at several shops along the way to pick up provisions, arriving at Ginger Snap with our arms laden with the freshest food Edinburgh had to offer.

I had expected Jenny and Jamie to be working alone, but the fire station was abuzz with activity.  I was hastily introduced to Angus, a distant Fraser cousin; Mary, a childhood friend of Jenny’s; and Murtagh, Jamie and Jenny’s godfather.  They worked together like a well-oiled machine, and I stood awkwardly to one side, wondering what the hell I was doing there.  I was preparing to make my excuses when Jamie called me over to a spare station.  He gestured to the commercial-sized sink, which was full of vegetables of every dimension and colour.

“Claire, I need ye tae rinse and then cut these inta nice even pieces.  Can ye do tha’ fer me?”

"Consider it done, chef,” I said with a jaunty salute.

There was a feeling of camaraderie as we each went about our assigned tasks.  I chopped.  Mary baked.  Angus filleted.  Jamie cooked, and Jenny plated the various canapés, salads and sauces and stored them in the enormous refrigerators that lined the back wall.    Murtagh’s role seemed mostly to keep the troops in line with an assortment of verbal barbs. 

Music played in the background.  Volleys of witty banter flowed between us, but never at the expense of the work or anyone’s feelings.  Angus nicked himself with his filleting knife, and Jenny sent him to my station for treatment, saying I was the team’s resident doctor.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at home.

Time passed quickly and before I knew it, it was dark outside.  The bulk of the work was done and the pace slackened, the pressure of the looming deadline relieved.  One by one we cleared our stations, meeting at the small seating area to share a well-earned drink.

Jenny sunk into the couch beside me and let out a loud sigh.

“Ouf, I canna believe we got it all done.  Claire, ye were a godsend.  Normally I do most o’ the prep work, but it leaves me no time tae arrange the dishes.”

I demurred, uncomfortable with the praise.

“Nay, Arsonist, ye were amazing,” Jamie began to object, but he was interrupted by my phone buzzing.  Glancing down, I felt my face fall.   I’d completely forgotten about Frank.  Now he was texting, asking me where I was.  I quickly fired off a reply, then stuffed the phone into my pocket.

“Everything alright?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, yes.  It’s only my fiancé, asking when I might be home,” I answered, still distracted by my uncharacteristic lapse.  As I glanced up, I ran straight into Jamie’s iceberg gaze.

“I didna realize ye were engaged,” he looked pointedly at my bare ring finger.  “Congratulations.”  

He said the word as though every syllable pained him.  I quelled the urge to explain, to say it wasn’t a real engagement because I’d never agreed, that I’d only been looking for a sense of security, but somehow found myself in a cage.

Instead I hastily finished my drink, called myself an Uber and quietly wished everyone a good night, all while avoiding the many questions written across Jamie’s expressive face.