#it took 10+ hours for this to show up in a site-wide search

[stiwfssr]

[reidingmelodies]

Dinos and Tigers and Donuts, Oh My!

Summary: Spencer wanted one thing this year: for your kids to plan his perfect Father’s Day Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Includes: dad!Spencer, heavy mentions of Father’s Day, mentions and consumption of food Category: Fluff Word Count: 2.6k A/N: This isn’t my favorite, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for awhile all the same! Happy Sunday ♥️

 When Spencer was called away on cases your house seemed to lose a bit of its charm.  Mornings felt more tiring than ever before, the afternoon slumps dragged on for what seemed like years, and dinners, even with babbling five and seven-year-olds at your side, were a little too quiet.

This time around though, things were different.  You woke up to your five-year-old daughter sitting by your feet, her mind preoccupied by one of the search and find books Spencer had bought her the week prior.

The space next to you was empty, a piece of paper lying where your husband previously was, and you knew exactly what it was going to say before you even picked it up.

Good morning, love,

I got called on a case this morning, but it’s local and the team thinks we can wrap it up by tonight.  The kids both ate breakfast- and PSA that they were a little too excited I was going to be gone for the day.  I don’t know what they’re planning, but good luck.  I love you, and I’ll see you soon.

-Spencer

Unlike Spencer, you knew exactly what the kids were excited for, and it had everything to do with Father’s Day being tomorrow- you just hoped he would be home in time to celebrate like he predicted.

You folded the letter and placed it in your nightstand along with the others you’ve found gracing his pillow in years past when your bedroom door opened just the slightest amount.

In walked your seven-year-old son, comically exaggerating his tip toe motions as he stage whispered to his sister.  

“Is Mommy still sleeping?” He shifted his gaze in your direction, all effort to keep quiet out the window when he saw your eyes meet his.

“Mom! Guess what?” you opened your mouth to respond, but your daughter beat you to the punch.

“Daddy left for a work trip this morning!  So, we can make our plan today while he isn’t here!”

There was no denying that your kids loved their daddy, that was for sure.

“That’s so great!” you matched their enthusiasm with ease, getting ready for the day while they kept brainstorming in the background.  

Just last week, you had asked Spencer what he wanted to do for Father’s Day over dinner, and the children were as attentive as ever, eyes wide and lips pursed as they waited to hear the plans for the big day.

But, to their amusement, Spencer’s only plan was that they plan the entire day.  His reasoning was that they were the reason he was a dad so they should be the ones to decide what to do, but really you knew the truth was that he overheard their whispers about having the perfect plan for his day.

A plan you were finally going to be let in on, so it seemed.

The three of you made your way down to the kitchen where you settled down with your breakfast, eyebrows raised in enjoyment at your children.  They were sat across from you with a stash of markers and fresh index cards, and they had a few stacks of previously filled out index cards resting along the center of the table.

Ah- so that’s where they’re going with this.

It had become a bit of a family tradition to have a family scavenger hunt whenever you had a full weekend together.  You and Spencer were all too familiar with the concept of cherishing the time you have with your loved ones, and there were many a weekend where Spencer was called away, or you were busy with a million other plans ranging from extended family gatherings to birthday parties or weddings.

It was all the more reason to make the moments where it was just the four of you count even more- and thus, family scavenger hunts were born.

When they were toddlers, the scavenger hunts centered around finding certain shapes or colors, be it in the house or at the park.  Once every item was checked off you would have a family outing of their choice: the go to choice used to be another trip to the park (the one with the ‘fancier’ slides this time), but with the upgrade to slightly harder scavenger hunts centered on science and math they’ve upped their prize to ice cream.

What could you say? They were Spencer’s kids through and through.

“Wow!” you exclaimed, relishing in the beaming smiles on their faces, “do you guys want to make a scavenger hunt for daddy?”

Two enthusiastic faces nodded eagerly in your direction as your son grabbed one of the red markers.

“Yes! And we can have dino pancakes in the morning and get donuts after our scavenger hunt at the zoo- all of daddy’s favorite things!”

Dino pancakes were a Sunday morning staple in your home- you would use a cookie cutter to cut out a dinosaur shaped pancake, and the kids would eat those while you and Spencer would eat the ones with the dinosaur outline in them (and a few regular ones for good measure).  But donuts instead of ice cream?  That was new.

“That’s a great idea, I’m so proud of you guys for working together to plan this,” you praised, “but why donuts?”

Your daughter peered up from the index card she was drawing flowers on to answer your question, “because they’re daddy’s favorite and it’s daddy’s day!”

“And for our scavenger hunt we want all the animals to spell out ‘best dad ever’,” your son tacked on at the end, already beginning the task of writing numbers and circling them on the front of the card.

That was another newfound tradition for your family.  Now that the kids were learning to read, the two of you would try to have the first letter of each answer spell out a certain word or phrase.  Sometimes, it would be something like ‘I love you’ or ‘hello’, other times it would be the name of a special someone that would be joining you for ice cream afterwards (so far ‘Aunt Penny’ and ‘Uncle D’ were their favorite ones to come across).

You grinned once more, moving to grab your laptop and pulling the Smithsonian’s National Zoo site up to look at their list of animals.

“Alright, my loves- let’s do this”.

***

Three hours, eleven index cards, one snack break, and two very patient children later, your scavenger hunt was finished, index cards clipped and ready to go for the following morning.

Each index card had blank slots, the number of which corresponded to the name of the animal, on the front of the card with three fun facts written on the back.  In retrospect, Spencer wouldn’t even need the slots (or more than one fun fact, to be fair), but you knew he’d make a show of trying to think of each and every animal tomorrow afternoon.

Yet another reason you loved him.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, all of your energy going into spending time with your kids. But once they went to bed, that energy was refocused into prepping for tomorrow to take your mind off the fact that it was nearing 10 PM and your husband wasn’t there.

You couldn’t bear to think of your kids disappointment if he didn’t make it home that night.

Outfits out and pancakes ready to be made, you made your way to the couch when the clock struck 11:30 PM, ready to settle in for a movie while you awaited his return but there was no need- as you walked into the room your husband made his way through the front door.  He looked as exhausted as ever, but the glimmer in his eyes proclaimed what you knew to be true.

He was happy to be home.

***

7 AM the next morning found you face to face with two wide eyed children gently shaking you awake, joy radiating from them as they saw that their father was fast asleep next to you.

With much persuasion in the form of puppy dog eyes, you made your way out of bed and into the kitchen to start the first task of the day: dino pancakes.  

Your little helpers set the table and brought Spencer’s gifts from the coat closet and into the dining room in the meantime, and as you placed the last pancake on a plate two arms wrapped around you and pulled you back tightly.

“Good morning, darling,” his raspy morning voice brought a soft smile to your face, and you leaned your head back to kiss his lips in greeting.

“Happy Father’s Day, Spence,” you laid another kiss against his lips, pulling back as the patter of little feet made their way into the kitchen.

“Daddy!  Happy Father’s Day!”

“Daddy!  Come see your gifts and eat pancakes!”

Two little voices fought for the spotlight, and Spencer kneeled to the ground to wrap the both of them in a hug.  You laughed at the scene, watching as they squeezed him just as hard before grabbing onto his arm and leading him to the dining room table.

“C’mon, Dad,” your son pulled his chair out and pushed his gifts closer to his seat, “let’s eat and open gifts!”

“Gifts?  You guys know I don’t want anything,” his brows furrowed as he looked at you, but you shrugged your eyes and took a bite of your pancakes in response.

“You always say that,” you rightly claimed, “and we always buy you gifts anyway- it’s practically tradition”.

You had a point, there.

Breakfast passed by in a blur of conversation, dad jokes, and present unwrapping.  And just like that, Spencer was the owner of new books to pass his time on the jet, a 5k puzzle you were sure he’d solve in an hour flat, and a homemade Father’s Day shirt with your children’s handprints decorating a globe, the words ’Best Dad in the WORLD!!!’ gracing the blank space.

His eyes sparkled when he saw the shirt, and you swore you’ve never been happier to call that man your husband and the father of your children.

Granted, that thought passed your mind no less than fifteen times a day, but still.

Within the hour, the four of you were out the door and on the way to the zoo, Spencer’s Father’s Day shirt proudly on display.

You drove with a grin, the radio turned off in favor of listening to your children explain today’s scavenger hunt to Spencer.  They were practically giving a word for word verbatim of what the two of you usually told them pre-scavenger hunt, all the more proof that your kids were sponges.

An equally exciting yet terrifying thought.

You were at the zoo within half an hour, your hand intertwined with your son’s while your daughter latched onto her father, everyone eager to start the scavenger hunt.

“Alright, guys,” Spencer began, “what’s our first clue?”

“Mommy can read it!” your daughter piped up and you nodded, grabbing the small pile from her hands before reading the first card of the day.

“Okay, so!  This animal has six letters in its name, and your three fun facts are: whiskers help this animal detect objects around them which helps them navigate the dark, they’re the largest rodents in North America, and when they’re in danger they slap their tail on the surface of the water” you finished your explanation and watched as Spencer’s eyes lit up in recognition, but just as you predicted he dragged the process out instead of guessing right away.

“Hm, it sounds like we should go to the rodent exhibit first!” He proclaimed, and your kids nodded, walking in a row like little ducklings to the exhibit.

The four of you took your time looking at each of the animals, until you came face to face with the animal in question.  “Aha! I think the animal we’re looking for is a beaver,” his answer was met with cheers from both of your children, and you wrote the answer in the blank slots before continuing with the hunt.

At the end of the hour you added an electric eel, sloth bear, tiger, dama gazelle, alpaca, and degu to the list.  Eight animals down, four to go.

Which was fantastic, considering that your kids were starting to get antsy for donuts.

“Okay, guys!  Are we ready for our next animal?” You were walking hand in hand with Spencer, your kids skipping directly in front of you and eagerly shouting in affirmation at your question.

The four of you stepped to the side, and you grabbed hold of the fourth to last index card before reciting the hints.

“Alright so!  This animal is two words, seven letters in the first word and seven in the second.  They have whiskers that look like mustaches, they’re native to the southwest Amazon Basin, and they have claws on each of their toes but the big one”.

“Hmm.. I don’t know guys, what do you think?” Spencer turned to your children, smiling wide when your son giggled in response.

“We can’t tell you, Dad! It’s a secret”.

Spencer laughed, sighing in defeat as your daughter gestured for him to come closer.  He did as asked, leaning down until she able to reach his ear, “I think we should go to the monkey exhibit!”

Her not so quiet whisper brought a smile to both yours and Spencer’s faces, and a grimace to your son’s but to the monkeys you went, where you came face to face with an Emperor Tamarin.

From there you crossed a Von der Decken’s Hornbill and an Eld’s Deer off your list until you had one animal left.

“Alright, my love- last one! This animal is two words, three letters in the first one and five in the second.  They mainly eat bamboo, their fur acts like a camouflage when they climb in trees, and they live in temperate forests in the Himalayas,” you finished your spiel with a quick eyebrow raise towards your children, both of which were not so discreetly pointing at the red panda exhibit just a few feet away.

“Is it a red panda?” Spencer asked, giving both your kids high fives when they jumped up and down in excitement.

“Yay Daddy, you got it! And guess what all of the first letters spell? Best dad ever!” your daughter jumped into his arms and Spencer chuckled, spinning her around and laying a gentle kiss on her head.

“Is that so?” he asked, “you three are too nice to me”.

Truthfully, you didn’t think it was possible to be too nice to Spencer.

“How about our last surprise for Daddy now, my loves?” your question was met with enthusiasm from your little family, and you were back in your car and on your way to Spencer’s favorite bakery in ten minutes flat.

As you pulled up to the bakery, two eager children and one extremely happy father made plans as to what donuts they were going to eat.

It was decided that Spencer would get a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles, your son would get a glazed donut, and your daughter would get jelly.

And you? You had every intention to get your favorite too, but above all you were just happy that another amazing Father’s Day was in the books for Spencer.

The seventh of many.

***

thank you for reading!! if you’d like to join my taglist you can do so here 💕

Permanent Taglist: @calm-and-doctor @reidyoulikeabook @shadyladyperfection @homoose @rigatonireid @singularityjc @rem-ariiana @reblogsoffanfics @sapphic-prentiss @wheelsup @drspencerreidd @reidemandweep @goldentournesol @ssavanessa22 @alltooreid @miahelen @takeyourleap-of-faith @kuolonsyoja @spencerreid-187 @wifenumberfour

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[mggssocks]

Followed

Not My Gif!

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Content Warnings: None just fluff :)

Summary: Spencer makes an Instagram and stumbles across reader’s page.

Word Count: 1,899 words

A/N: This is Season 10 Spencer with Season 13 looks. Also, instead of it being Kate on the team, i put Emily instead because who doesn’t love the season 3-7 team? Also I might make a part 2 depending on how much this blows up. Honestly i’d be happy if i got one like. Anyways.. hope you enjoy!!!

masterlist // part 2 // part 3

It was 8:00 in the morning. Spencer walked in the doors of the bullpen to the bau. He sat his satchel down and began to settle in for a long day of work. It was pretty early so the team wasn’t in yet. Except for Aaron Hotchner who had gotten in an hour prior to Spencer and been in his office ever since. Apparently others had the same ‘get to work early’ mindset as Spencer. Spencer opened a case file but his attention was quickly whipped away due to the sound of the door opening. He sees Penelope Garcia with all her attention focused on her phone. Spencer quirked his eyebrows when she bumped into a fellow coworker and her attention remained on her phone while quickly mumbling a quick “sorry”. As she passed his desk, Spencer decided it would be the great time to speak. 

“Hey, Garcia.” Her feet came to a stop and her head snapped up at him. 

“Boy wonder! I’m so glad you’re here. I really need someone to talk to because if I don’t I’m going to explode!” She sits in the chair across from his desk. 

“Is everything alright?” He leaned back in his chair. 

“No… no everything is not alright. If anything.. everything is all wrong. Very very wrong. I-“ she takes in a deep breath “I was stalking Kevin’s page because the other day I seen him at the mall with another girl. And while I was 56 weeks down in his page, I accidentally liked a picture.” She explained, in a huff. 

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Spencer was even more confused now than before she started. 

“I liked a picture that he posted 56 weeks ago!” Her eyes were wide.

“How is that a bad thing?” His lips pouted as he’d never understand social media. 

“Ugh! Reid, you really need to get with the program and get you an Instagram. That means his picture was old and now he knows that I was looking at his page. You understand now?” She asked. 

“Oh. Yeah I understand. It’s bad that he knows you were looking at his page.” He asked as Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan had walked in. 

“Yes. And now I must go into the bat cave and wait for him to call or text me and ask what me lurking on his page was about.” She whined as she stomped her way to her office. 

“What was that about?” Prentiss asked, setting her bags down on her desk. 

“Uhh- rough morning” Spencer shrugged, still not really understanding the whole social media thing. 

“Hey do you guys have an Instagram?” He asked the three. 

“Yeah but I’m barely on it.” Prentiss answered.

“Same here” says Morgan as he takes a seat at his desk. 

“Yeah but I only get on to post the boys and myself sometimes” answers JJ. 

“What about Hotch and Rossi?” He asked.

“Yup! Rossi likes to post about his expensive wine and cigars. Hotch posts Jack every once in a while and a throwback Thursday.” JJ says. 

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed for what seems to be the 100th time that day. 

“He doesn’t know what that is” Prentiss looks over to JJ.

“It’s something you post like an old picture of yourself every Thursday.” Morgan explains.

“Do you guys do that?” Spencer asked.

“I did last Thursday.” JJ pulls out her phone and opened the app. “This was right after Emily, Penelope, and I caught a guy who was trying to pick up Prentiss by pretending to be an FBI agent a few years ago.” She chuckled showing him a picture. 

Spencer takes her phone in his hand and examines the post. 142 likes. 57 comments. He clicks on her name which takes it to her page. 302 followers. As he scrolls, he sees a picture the team took a while ago and sees a little person profile thing the corner and clicks on it causing other names tagged to each individual team member. Except him. After he examined all of their profiles, he gives JJ back her phone and gets to work like the rest of them. He felt a little left out but he knew it was because of his own decisions and not his team. He liked that they didn’t press him about having a social media because they new he was more old school than anything. And it was ironic because he wastage youngest member of the team with the more old school habits. 

When Spencer got home he decided he wanted the social media app. The idea of being able to share with his friends and only his friends excited him. Being able to post about his favorite things for his friends to see without talking their ears off.

He opened his phone and went to the app store, typing “instagram” into the search bar. He followed the sites instructions as he made his account. Using a snapshot he took of his bookshelf as his profile picture. He sees the option to add the people in his contact list which was only his team, mom, and his mother’s caretaker. But everyone’s profile popped up and he quickly followed each and every one of them. Except for his mom and her caretaker of course. 

Soon enough, he got a follow back from Garcia, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ in that order. Morgan and Prentiss weren’t lying when they said they weren’t on often.

After two weeks, Spencer hasn’t posted anything yet, not knowing what should go on his profile. Morgan and Prentiss ended up following him back and the app ended up adjusting to his interests. Nothing but accounts about interesting facts, books, and doctor who. 

It was Friday night and the team had just got back from a case in Chicago. Spencer opened the door to his apartment and set his satchel down on the couch, exhausted. His mind wonders to get something to eat being that he wonders to get something to eat being that he hasn’t ate since before they caught the unsub. Which was about 5 hours and 7 minutes ago but he still needed to get something into his system. Spencer opened his fridge and sees 3 day old Chinese takeout. He shrugs and pops it into the microwave while looking for a book of his to reread while he eats. After he finishes dinner, he gets on his phone and subconsciously pulls up the app. He clicks onto his explore page to discover something else he likes. While scrolling, he sees a picture of someone reading and clicks on it.

765 likes

Yourfriend’sig whenever people ask me what to give you for your birthday or Christmas, I always tell them to get you a book or something green and it works every single time. Happy Birthday to my best buddy, @yourinstagram !

View all 84 comments

Spencer smiles and clicks the heart button and bookmarks it to look at later.  He liked the picture. Both the picture and caption reminded him a lot of his own love for books and the color green (hence his apartment). 

Once he got out of the shower, he brushed his teeth. He found himself subconsciously scrolling through his instagram bookmarks to find her post. He doesn’t know what it was but something about the picture brought comfort to him. As he brushed his teeth, he clicked on the post once again.This time, he actually clicked on your account. It was a private account with 186 followers. The bio read:

Y/N... bookworm.

Her profile picture consisted of a black cat surrounded by either a bunch of well taken care of plants or artificial ones. His finger hovered over the blue “follow” button. As he bent down to spit his toothpaste out, his thumb accidentally clicked the follow button. But he didn't realize so until he looked down again to see the “follow” button replaced with “requested”. His heart basically drops out of his ass. He quickly clicks the button again, taking back his follow. 

It was now one in the morning, Spencer laid in bed awake staring at his ceiling. Once again, he clicks onto the app. He scrolled down his timeline and saw a picture Penelope posted of one of her new desk animals with the caption “Got her at a thrift shop! Isn’t she cute??”. He saw that Hotch and JJ liked 45 other people. JJ also commented with two red hearts. Spencer likes the post and keeps scrolling. His thoughts wander to the post about the girl again. He’s never thought about a social media post this much since he’s created an account. He wonders what sparked his interest so much about this one. As he makes his way to the post, clicking on her account. Debating if he should follow her. She’s a total stranger. Do the others follow strangers? There’s no way JJ knows 302 people in real life. He mentally shrugs and presses the follow button. Requested. Again.

He swipes out of her account back onto the post now seeing that she commented on it.

yourinstagram thank you, bubs! ily to the moon n back <3333

It was commented thirty six seconds ago. Meaning she’s currently active. Again, Spencer’s heart sinks and he immediately regrets his decision. Going back and unfollowing her. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s a mess. Over a stranger. But he feels like an idiot. Reacting the way that he did just because he saw that she was online. So he goes and follows her.... again.

After clearing out all of his apps, he turns off his phone and lays down trying to get some sleep before work in a few hours. His thoughts wander to her. What she was like. if she was nice or mean. If she was socially awkward or very outgoing. Before his thoughts could get too far into what she was like, he receives a notification from instagram. He opens his phone and clicks on the notification. His heart began to pound when he saw it.

yourinstagram would like to send you a message! 

He clicks on it.

yourinstagram You’ve followed and unfollowed me about 5 times in the past 3 hours. Is there something I can help you with?

Spencer completely forgot that other people got notifications and now he felt like some kind of creep.

spencerreid I’m sorry. I came across your friend’s Instagram post wishing you a happy birthday and i guess i got curious and wanted to follow you if that makes any sense. 

He felt so dumb. 

yourinstagram and following me once wasn’t enough for some reason???

spencerreid Sorry about that. I’m new to this whole social media thing and don’t follow any strangers. You are the first person I’m following that I don’t know in real life. Again, my apologies for the disturbance. I’ll unfollow you’re account If you’re uncomfortable with me. 

yourinstagram i just hope that you’re not one of my raging exes, someone trying to catfish me, or a psychopath lol.

Spencer smiled.

spencerreid Nope. Just me.

She leaves him one read. Spencer’s smile fades when he doesn’t see any three loading dots. She wasn’t texting him back. As he’s about to exit the app, he sees two notifications. 

yourinstagram has accepted your follow request!

yourinstagram has requested to follow you.

********

I hoped you like this!!! If this blows up,i will do another chapter!

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 51

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

The TV buzzed quietly in the living room, repeating the same string of information all the news stations had been reporting since yesterday. It was amusing to see how many different words could be used to state the same thing without anyone noticing, especially if the only clip actually capturing the event that'd been on everyone's tongues for the past 24 hours lasted for less than 10 seconds and had been recorded on painfully cheap equipment.

Still, a suspicious and still unexplained cloud of what appeared to be dust, rising at the edge of the observable surface of the Moon, kept people plastered to the screens.

Peter kept an eye on the report just in case any actual news dropped,  but so far, despite his ever growing curiosity, the world's experts were just as clueless as they had been yesterday, especially since investigating the site in person was not really an option.

A shiver ran down the boy's arms, urging him to keep moving. Even though the windows were wide open, the sour stench still hung in the air of his apartment. Fanning the air with an incredibly colorful and tacky fan aunt May had bought last summer, Peter had hoped to make the apartment a breathable place again before she was back.

"Don't look so smug," Peter gave Barbara the side eye. "It's your fault."

From the heights of the chandelier, the undead owl blinked slowly with all the smugness only an untouchable criminal was capable of mustering. In fact, the gagging odor only seemed to worsen.

Peter coughed, shuffling in even closer to the open window. They say that experience is the toughest, but also the best teacher, and Peter had no reason to disagree.

"...no wonder they didn't let you eat inside."

Peter checked the news again. He was dying to drown Loki and you under all the questions about what precisely had happened on the Moon. The boy had no doubts that your little visit there was directly connected to the incident, but he had no way of learning the truth just yet. The only two people knowing the facts were currently incapacitated and trying their best not to die on Peter's bed. Or at the very least not to let go of all the alcohol consumed.

Despite his best efforts, Peter was unable to wake them up. When he had offered to hide them from Thor for reasons they weren't the most open about, Peter had no idea it would be for such an extended period of time. Peter had only suggested his house because he knew aunt May was supposed to work till afternoon, but these few hours of peace and quiet were coming to a rather swift end with each moment Peter was incapable of waking and then moving out the two drunkards clinging onto his bed for dear life.

Peter had no idea how to explain them to aunt May. Or the undead owl poisoning the air from the heights of the chandelier.

With the door to his room firmly shut, Peter hoped his secret stash of people that definitely shouldn't be there would stay secret. He had a big chance of succeeding after all. If only he managed to fan out the stink in time and—

The keys rattled in the lock with the familiar jingle of all the little gadgets aunt May loved to keep attached despite their utter uselessness. 

Peter looked at Barbara. Barbara looked at Peter. The boy could've sworn the owl recognized the thoughts rushing through his head at that moment, and decided to be even meaner than usual. Before Peter managed to put together a story explaining how an undead and rather unhygienic owl came into his possession, the owl took a swift exit through the open window and disappeared, leaving only the stench behind.

"Oh, come on…"

Increasing the speed of his fanning, Peter hoped it would be enough. The sounds coming from the door shattered his hope.

Aunt May coughed as she walked in, dropping the grocery bags on the table. "Peter, sweetheart, please tell me no one died in here while I was gone."

She took the fan from his hands and leaned out of the window, taking large gulps of the fresh air.

Outside, there was no sign of a stinky undead owl anywhere in sight. Not even one filthy feather to prove how close to guessing the truth aunt May was. Peter was unsure whether it was for better or for worse, but it surely left him with all the questions remaining to be answered.

"No, of course not!" he laughed the fakest laugh of his life. "It's not like any animals could get in and just...decompose, right?"

"Well, it would certainly be hard given what floor we live on, but you know New York, the rats can just get anywhere."

Peter watched in growing terror as his aunt looked around, set firmly on finding the source of the smell. The living room was a closed space, with only so many pieces of furniture to look under before the idea of marching into the boy's room popped into her head.

There was little to no doubt his own head would be torn from his neck if she beheld the sight of it.

"That's not rats, really! It's just… well, Ned made me swear not to tell a thing, but you know his stomach and I had told him the burrito we had after school didn't look very well, but he was insistent, so…"

Peter shrugged, trying his best not to show how fast his heart was drumming in his chest. He made a mental note to apologize to Ned later, or at least buy him a burrito next time they met. Not mentioning the reason for it would probably be the wisest, though.

Aunt May sighed with what could only be read as parental concern. As Peter's closest friend, Ned was a frequent guest to the apartment and many meals have gone by with May admiring his appetite. She knew well the capabilities of Ned's stomach and the inhuman amount of food it could make disappear. 

"Poor thing, I really hope he recovers soon. Is he still there?" May whispered, nodding towards the bathroom.

"No, he just...left."

May raised her eyebrows. "In that state?"

"I mean, he said he was fine now and could make it home."

"You should call him," she gave up on her search and started unpacking the groceries she got on her way home. "I really hope he made it in one piece."

"That's a great idea, I'll do it right away."

Before May managed to say another thing, the boy was already gone, the door to his room firmly shut. She smiled to herself. Ned was a good boy and she was glad Peter still had a friend in him for so many years. If only his choices in food weren't a health hazard...

Peter locked the door behind him, pushing his back to it. He took a deep, if rather shaky breath.

"I'm glad you're finally awake, but what are you guys doing?"

You turned your head away from the open window, banging it into Loki's. He winced, but continued to assess the 10-story drop to the ground outside the building. 

"We're sneaking out," you slurred. "The suits are coming."

"What su-"

Even through his closed door, Peter heard the doorbell ring. He froze. "Who's that?"

"I don't remember, but they want something from us."

Peter looked at the door. Then back to you. Loki was already missing.

The fire escape was an old and wiry thing, stubbornly fighting against the rust and corrosion throughout the years. It stood mostly unbroken, which was greatly appreciated by the two people currently about to use it. But the passage of time left its mark that could be well heard by all the residents of the building. The high-pitched, irritating sound of old metal creaking under every step was a steep price to pay for a way out.

Peter took a deep breath in his now-empty room. It did little to steady him. Behind the door, he could hear a conversation between aunt May and a voice he almost recognized. Maybe if he snuck out after them…

"Peter, come here for a moment!" May called him with a smile to her voice.

It couldn't be that bad if she was smiling, right?

Reluctantly, Peter returned to the living room, bracing himself to meet whoever the suits were. 

"Hello, Peter," Agent Coulson nodded politely in his direction. 

SHIELD was in his house and Peter had little to no doubt the agent wasn't there to try his aunt's home baked cookies. 

"I'm sorry for the rush, Peter, but have you perhaps seen…," the agent looked at Peter's aunt, "your new coworkers? I can't contact them lately. We were working on a new project."

Peter watched his aunt link his apparent 'internship' at Stark Industries and Coulson's words. Even though she was growing giddy and engaged the agent in some small talk about the job, Peter knew the agent was still waiting for the answer.

There was only one way of getting out of this mess.

Playing dumb had always been his savior.

Peter was the image of innocence as he asked, "Who?"

But Coulson's features hardened almost imperceptibly. In one short moment, Peter knew he messed up.

Well, maybe playing dumb didn't work on certain people.

[anxiousstark]

S2 10 | Fury

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 2848

Warnings: Mentions of guns, degrading names, injuries, blood, murder, swearing (always).

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

"So this kid's the real killer?" Noah Stilisnki asked, his eyes moving from Scott and Stiles to me. We were in Stiles's bedroom, showing him a picture of Matt. We needed to end this, but Noah didn't seem convinced by what we were trying to explain.

"Yeah." Stiles rolled his eyes.

"No."

"Yes!"

"No."

"Dad, come on." He got up from his chair, standing in front of the man who had raised him. "Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So all he had to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common."

"Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter Kara wasn't in Harris's class."

"All right, okay, you're right, sorry. Then I guess they dropped the charges against him?"

"No, you know what? They're not dropping the charges. But that doesn't prove anything." Stiles groaned, throwing his hands up.

"Scott, do you believe this?"

"It's really hard to explain how we know this, but you just gotta trust us. We know it's Matt." His calming voice reassured the Sheriff, but still, he seemed to have doubts. He glanced at me, and I nodded my head.

"Yeah, he took Harris's car, okay? Look, he knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders, and that if enough of the victims were in Harris's class, that they'd arrest him."

"All right, fine. I'll allow the remote possibility, but give me a motive." We looked at each other, sighing in relief. "I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?"

"Isn't it obvious?" We still didn't know why Matt was doing this, so no. "Our swim team sucks! They haven't won in, like, six years." He shouted before his voice lowered. "Okay, we don't have a motive yet. I mean, come on, does Harris?" Before Noah could answer back his son, I hit Stiles's arm. "Ouch, what was that for?" He rubbed the placed where I had hit him while glancing at me.

"I'm in the swim team, asshole." I pouted, but then I quickly connected another dot. "That's why he attacked me." Both boys looked at me confused, still trying to understand. "That could be another reason, guys. I'm in the swim team." However, there were other people in the swim team, so why didn't he attack them?

"Attacked you?" Mr. Stilisnki directed at me. He seemed mad. "Okay, what do you want me to do?"

We smiled, sighing in content. "We need to look at the evidence," Scott's voice sounded confident.

"Yeah, that would be in the station, where I no longer work."

"Trust me. They'll let you in."

Sheriff Stilisnki was perplexed due to his son's words. "Trust you?" His fingers pointed at him.

"T-trust Scott?" Sheriff still wasn't convinced. "Trust...Y/N?"

"Y/N I trust." I grinned, feeling better than the other two boys, which made both of them push me a little. Tsk, is that jealousy I smell?

"It's 2:00 in the morning." The Deputy behind the counter gave us a judging look. Sheriff Stilisnki took the three of us to the station in hopes of finding more information, which seemed complicated as he no longer worked there.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't extremely important."

"We look at the hospital stuff first, okay?" The hazel-eyed boy whispered to Scott and me. "Because all the murders were committed by Jackson, except for one, you remember?" We nodded. The pregnant girl, Jessica.

"Yeah. Since Matt had to kill her himself, somebody from the hospital could've seen him."

The Deputy made a gesture with her head. "Thank you. Boys. Y/N." We entered the office, watching the recording from the cameras of the hospital. "I don't know, guys. I mean, look at this. There was a six-car pileup that night, the hospital was jammed."

"All right, just keep going. Look, he had to have passed one of the cameras on that floor to get to Jessica, okay? He's gotta be on the footage somewhere."

"Oh, hold on, stop! Did you see that? Scroll back." I hurriedly pointed to the camera.

"That's him! That's Matt!"

"All I see is the back of someone's head." Mr. Stilisnki glanced at us over his shoulder.

"Matt's head, yeah. I sit behind him in history. He's got a very distinct cranium, it's weird." A disgusting expression decorated his face. But it couldn't surpass Noah's face, realizing how weird his son was. "All right, fine, then look at his jacket, huh? How many people do you know who wear black leather jackets?"

"Millions, literally."

"Okay, can we scroll forward? There's gotta be a shot of him coming at one of the cameras."

"Right there! Stop, stop! See, there he is again."

"You mean there's the back of his head again."

"Okay, but look. He's talking to someone."

"He's talking to my mom." He took his phone out, calling Melissa who was working. After sending her a picture of Matt, she affirmed recognizing him. She had stopped him because he was tracking mud in the hall.

Noah rapidly grabbed some files. "We've got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site."

"And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders. The trailer, the hospital, and the rave." Stiles added.

"Actually, four. A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt at the garage where the mechanic was killed."

"When?"

"A couple hours before you got there."

"All right, dad, if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern, what's four?"

"Four's enough for a warrant." We sighed in relief. "Scott, call your mom back, see how quick she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Y/N, go to the front desk. Tell them to let Scott's mom in when she gets here."

"On it!" I quickly hurried. When I arrived at the front desk, there was nobody. "Hello?" I glance down. The Deputy was lying on the floor, wide eyes, blood covering all of her chest. Then, I noticed that her gun was missing. I heard a click, turning around. Matt was there, the gun pointing to the space between my eyes.

He turned my body around, now pointing the gun to the back of my head. "Walk." We both started walking towards Noah's office.

Stiles was the first one to notice me, his eyes shaking. He was going to take a step forward when his father stopped him. "Matt?" Noah showed him his empty unarmed hands. "It's Matt, right? Matt, whatever's going on, I guarantee you there's a solution that doesn't involve a gun."

"You know, it's funny you say that because I don't think you're aware of just how right you are." The barrel of the gun was pressed tighter against my head as he talked.

"I know you don't wanna hurt people."

"Actually, I wanna hurt a lot of people. You three weren't on my list," The gun he was holding hit the back of my scalp, making me hiss. "She was, Y/N McCall. If it wasn't for her, everything would have gone perfectly. But she HAD to be there, at the video store, fucking everything up." He sighed, pushing me forward. Stiles grabbed me, checking my face quickly, touching the back of my head to make sure that I didn't have any wound. "But I could be persuaded. And one way is to try dialling somebody on your cell phone like McCall is doing. T-that could definitely get someone hurt. Everyone. Now!"

Matt made Stiles handcuff his father, then he took us with him. On the corridor, three officers were on the ground, lifeless. "What, are you gonna kill everyone in here?" Scott asked.

"No, that's what Jackson's for. I just think about killing them, and he does it." He smirked.

Now, we were destroying all the files that conducted to him being a murderer. "Deleted. And we're done. All right, so, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it because they killed you first, whatever that means, I think we're good here, right? So I'll just get my dad, and we'll go, you know? You continue on the whole vengeance thing. Enjoy the Kanima."

We saw a light, followed by the sound of a car. "Sounds like your mom's here, McCall."

"Matt, don't do this. When she comes to the door, I'll just tell her to leave. I'll tell her we didn't find anything. Please, Matt."

"If you don't move now. I'm gonna kill Stiles first, and then your mom. And then," He smirked. "I'm going to kill her. Because thanks to Y/N the Kanima isn't as strong as it could be. That night, if Jackson would have been the only one getting scratched, all of this wouldn't have happened. You guys would probably be dead." His rage was directed towards me. "But this bitch had to go inside the video store, and fuck everything up."

"And I will fuck everything up again if you touch anyo-" Stiles gripped my arm, begging me to calm down.

To our surprise, it wasn't Melissa. It was Derek. But he was paralyzed as soon as he came inside, falling to the floor, and letting us see Jackson behind him. "This is the one controlling him? This kid?" I tried not to chuckle.

"Well, Derek, not everyone's lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf. Oh, yeah, that's right. I've learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas. It's like a fucking Halloween party every full moon. Except for you, Stiles. What do you turn into?"

"Abominable snowman," I whispered his name, trying to let him know that it wasn't the time to be sarcastic. "But, uh, it's more of, like, a wintertime thing, you know, seasonal."

Matt didn't like Stiles's comment. Jackson scratched his neck, paralyzing him. His body fell on top of Derek. "You bitch."

"Get him off of me."

"Oh, I don't know, Derek. I think you two make a pretty good pair. It must kinda suck, though, to have all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you're not used to feeling this helpless."

"Still got some teeth. Why don't you get down here a little closer, huh? We'll see how helpless I am."

Again, we heard a car. This time, it was Melissa. Scott went out with Matt, the next thing we knew, we heard a gunshot. I stayed on the floor, next to Stiles and Derek. Jackson's eyes fixed on me, smirking. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to end all of this.

A couple of minutes later, Matt came back to the room. My eyes focused on Scott, seeing the blood on his shirt. I walked up to him, examining his face for any type of signal that would let me know that he was healing. He just side-hugged me, keeping me away from his injury. "Is Melissa okay?" I whispered.

He nodded, glaring at Matt. "The evidence is gone. Why don't you just go?"

"Y-you think the evidence mattered that much, huh? No, no, I-I want the book." We both were confused. Matt groaned, getting madder. "The bestiary. Not just a few pages, I want the entire thing."

"I don't have it. It's Gerard's. What do you want it for, anyway?"

"I need answers." He used the back of his mouth to clean the visible sweat around his mouth.

"Answers to what?"

"To this." He lifted his shirt. His right side was the same colour as the Kanima, scales all over it, and it seemed to palpitate. It looked like that thing had its own life. "I'm tired of this," He grabbed Scott's shirt roughly. "Come with me. Jackson, keep an eye on those two," His glare went to me. "And her."

I sat down again, next to both boys while Jackson kept guard of the room so nobody would go inside or outside.

"Hey. You know what's happening to Matt?" Stiles whispered.

"I know the book's not gonna help him. You can't just break the rules, not like this."

"What do you mean?" I asked, keeping my eyes on Jackson.

"Universe balances things out. Always does." He panted. "He is using Jackson to kill people, and killing people himself." I stared at Derek, waiting for him to continue. "Balance."

"Wait," Stiles intervened. "So he becomes the Kanima? Derek nodded. We needed to stop him. We needed to tell him. I glance around the room, seeing my backpack on the floor. "Oh no," I heard Stilinski muttering. "What are you thinking of, McCall?" He tried to move his head to glance at me. "Don't do anything stupid, please. You are the one who told me that when I confronted Peter Hale."

"Did you listen to me, Stiles?" I asked in a hushed voice, crawling to my bag, rummaging through it until I grabbed the object that I was searching for. Pepper spray.

He groaned. "No, I didn't." I slowly got up from the ground, without making any sound. "You aren't going to listen, right?"

"Hey, Jackson," His head snapped to me, eyes shining. "Beautiful eyes." I rapidly used pepper spray. Jackson groaned, kneeling on the ground, and aggressively rubbing his eyes. I threw the spray back to the boys. "He will come to get me. I need to help Scott. Use the spray if you need it!" And even though Derek Hale told me not to do anything absurd, I continued running.

However, the power in the entire station turned off. "Fuck," I muttered. The sound of guns being shot scared the shit out of me, but I had to find Scott. I crawled on the floor, hands covering my head as the windows were being broken by the bullets. Then, when the shots seemed to stop, I got up and ran.

"Shit," My heart almost came out of my chest when I saw Allison. I felt fear because something bad could happen to her, then I felt relieved because we were worried about her as we hadn't seen her at the end of the party. And again, I felt terrified when I saw her face. A numb expression decorating her features while she had a hard grip on her crossbow. "What are you doing here?"

"Where's Derek? She avoided my question, answering with her own. "Where's Derek?!" Her eyes were teary.

"An answer for an answer," I replied. "What the heck are you doing here? You need to get the hell out of here." I looked around, deciding to whisper. "Allison, this is dangerous."

"I'm going to kill Derek Hale because he killed my mom." She spat. "And I will kill anyone who gets on my way."

"Bitch," I mumbled. "Derek Hale saved our asses a million times. Yeah, he probably isn't the best at communication, but when I say our asses, I also mean yours." I scowled. "Your mom," I smirked. "A huge bitch she is. Well, she was." Allison threw a punch at me, but I surprisingly dodged it, something you would only expect in films or books. "She deserves all that she got. She went to the hospital to get information from Mellisa." She glanced at the ground while I continued. "She deserved all that she got. Do you know why? Because she tried to kill Scott." She was in denial, but she knew because her family was deranged. "She tried to kill your boyfriend, Allison. She tried to kill my brother." I firmly stated.

"Shut up!" Next thing I knew, there was an arrow piercing my stomach. The arrow was exactly in the middle. I stared at it, and the blood coming out, although no words were coming out of my mouth as I stared at her. "Oh my, I-I didn't mean to-" I fell to the ground, thankfully on my back so the arrow wouldn't get more stuck in my abdomen. Allison was also interrupted when the Kanima appeared, paralyzing her. Then, it was Matt's turn to make an appearance.

"You should've given me a chance. Because remember how I said I'm not the kind of guy who would say something like: 'well if I can't have her, no one can.' It's not totally true because, Allison, if I can't have you, no one can!" He screamed. "Thank you for finding this slut," He kneeled next to me, brushing my hair. "Pepper spray, uh?"

"If I could," I gasped for air. "I would fucking k-kill you right now."

"Yeah," He laughed hysterically. "But I think you are dying first. Should we show momma McCall, Scott, and Stiles how stunningly beautiful you look as the blood leaves your body?" This dude was sick, utterly sick. "Yeah, let's show them." The hand that was caressing my hair clutched it forcefully, dragging me by my hair through all the rooms in the station. I lost consciousness.

.

.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker - @brithedemonspawn - @weirdowithnobeardo - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @azayamari - @poguestyle17​ - @bibliophilewednesday​ -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

[cinebration]

Cordial (Napoleon Solo x Reader) [Part 15]

Solo takes you on an excursion.

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 | Epilogue

Tagged: @ly--canthrope, @maan24, @eefjedegraaf, @omgkatinka, @tiffanypooh, @ramenyul, @crispysublimecupcake, @cavillhavoc, @martinafigoli, @illbegoinhome​

Warnings: none

Gif Source: chrs-evanss

Solo knocked on your bedroom door shortly before nine. The morning sun slanted into the building through the window behind him, backlighting him in fuzzy, weak tones at that hour. He wore a turtleneck, slacks, and a light jacket for the excursion.

The door opened.

Solo smiled as charmingly as he could.

Your lip curled up into a sneer. “It’s early.”

“Early bird gets the worm and all that,” he answered, though he noted bags still ringed your eyes.

The nightmares, he guessed, his gut twisting.

He kept the smile in place, however, and stepped into the room, slightly crowding you to do so. You grunted in dismay.

Sweeping his gaze around the room, Solo saw the tangled sheets. You still wore your nightclothes, your hair tousled and matted on several sides. Evidently it was still too early, jet lag and your fitful sleep rendering you poorly rested.

Setting these observations aside, Solo went to the closet and found what he was looking for: your suitcase. Placing it at the foot of the bed, he unzipped it and flipped it open, searching with deft hands through the articles stored therein.

“What are you doing?”

“Finding you appropriate outerwear,” he stated. He removed some of the clothes as he shifted toward the bottom of the suitcase.

“Hey,” you snapped, “I have a system.”

“I’ll put it back how I found it.” He pulled out a thin sweater and matching slacks. “Put these on.”

“No.”

Sighing through his nose, he said, “We’re going to the country. I can take you in your pajamas if you’d like.” He glanced at his watch. “If we’re going to make it back in time for the flight, we need to leave now.”

He extended the clothes to you. You frowned, a muscle in your temple twitching as you clenched your teeth, before snatching the outfit out of his hand and stomping over to the bathroom.

Pleased, Solo replaced everything back in the suitcase as he had found it—as promised. As he shut it, something slid in the front pocket. Frowning, he glanced over his shoulder at the closed bathroom door before unzipping the compartment.

Inside he found a sketchbook. Flipping it open, he discovered pencil and ink sketches of Kuryakin and Gaby. Even one of Waverly. The last sketch was of the three of them, Team U.N.C.L.E.: Kuryakin, Gaby, and himself. Gaby lounged in a chair with her arms crossed, peering over sunglasses, while Kuryakin stood behind her, somehow soft despite his imposing figure. Solo stood slightly apart, one hand in his pocket. He leaned against a railing, a coy smile dancing on his lips. He swore he could see mischief in his own sketched eyes.

Several pages had been torn out of the book. Solo’s fingers brushed the torn edges where they had been ripped free of the binding.

The faucet in the bathroom squeaked on. Solo slipped the sketchbook back into the suitcase pocket, zipped everything shut, and replaced the suitcase in the closet.

Leaning against the bureau, he mulled over the missing pages, wondering what you were trying to hide.

~~

The drive into the country took almost two hours. Solo gave up trying to draw you into conversation when your monosyllabic answers turned into sounds rather than words. Instead, he hoped the lush countryside would buoy your spirits—or at least smooth your prickly exterior.

He pulled into a secluded spot demarcated by a dirt road. A wood of widely spaced trees rose up around the car at the end of the road.

Climbing out of the car, Solo retrieved something from the trunk as you stepped out into the fresh air and late morning sun. Solo watched you inhale deeply, the tension in your shoulders lessening as you tipped your head up to the sun filtering through the trees. It flowed about your face in a medieval halo, made all the brighter by the scarf.

Solo eased the trunk shut. You glanced at him sharply, the spell broken.

“What are we doing here? Is this where you bury the bodies?”

“Why would I take you to a burial site?”

“Why do you do anything? For your own pleasure.”

Gritting his teeth, Solo schooled his piqued pride and started walking down a faint path through the wood. Reluctantly, you trailed after him.

At the end of the short path stood a small wooden table warped by exposure. Beyond it were cutouts shaped into the silhouettes of men riddled with holes.

Solo set the small case he carried on the table and flipped open the latches.

“Shooting,” you said, incredulity lining your voice.

“Yes. I thought you should learn how.” Solo lifted the pistol out of the case. “To protect yourself.”

Silence.

Solo glanced over his shoulder at you. You stared at the pistol as he placed it on the table. Something flickered across your weary features.

“This is ridiculous,” you said. Your voice shook slightly.

“After what happened, you should know how to defend yourself.”

“That won’t help me. It wouldn’t have helped me then!”

“It might in the future.”

“I don’t intend to be in a position like that again.”

Solo sighed through his nose again, closed his eyes while he struggled to remain calm. “You can’t account for everything.”

“I know what this is. This is because you feel guilty, and you’re hoping it’ll make you feel better if you teach me this.” Your voice rose a notch. “But you should feel guilty.”

Your words cut through him. Jaw clenching, Solo stared at you, his irritation exploding into exasperation, compounded by the truth of your words.

“I’m trying to help you,” he managed to say in level tones.

“You’re trying to help yourself.”

“That doesn’t mean you should deny yourself this information. It could make a difference.”

You stared him down. Solo stood his ground, trying to convey an imploring expression. It fell flat, too infrequently used to seem sincere. A conflicted look passed over your own face as your attention slid back to the gun.

You stalked over to him abruptly. “Show me.”

Breathing a sigh of relief inwardly, Solo walked you through the steps: load magazine, chamber round, unclick the safety. Proper stance and grip. He tried to reach around you to position you.

You shoved him off. “Just show me.”

“It’s easier if I—”

“I’m not one of your conquests. Your charms don’t work on me, because I know they’re just a shell.”

The dam within him broke. “It isn’t me living in a shell. It’s you.”

You laughed harshly. “Hardly.”

“Do you know what your problem is? You demand control because you are terrified. You’re in over your head.”

You jerked back as though he had hit you. The words hung suspended in the air, scathing.

Solo realized he was breathing heavily, his body taut with emotion. He couldn’t relax. Even in this position, he was still beholden to your response, as though you still had the reins.

For a moment, he saw the fear in your eyes, the hurt laid open to his stare. He felt the tension flee his body, taking with it the anger. Guilt and shame swept into place in its wake.

The iron curtain slammed back over your face. Somehow, the blank look—you shutting down—was worse than the terror he had glimpsed.

“Take me back.”

The words hurt more than Solo thought they could. He packed up the gun and drove you back to headquarters in silence.

[fandomrewrites]

Season 2; Episode 10: Fury

Hello all! Once again there is unfortunately no Isaac in this chapter, but he is mentioned. This chapter is very important for (y/n) so I hope you enjoy! As always constructive criticism is appreciated. 

Season 2; Episode 10: Fury

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend, Isaac Lahey x Reader

Warnings: Mention of death, near death, violence

Word Count: 3,240

Season 2 Masterlist

Stiles, Scott, and I are sitting with Sheriff Stilinski - or I guess it's just Mr. Stilinski until he gets his badge back. We have a yearbook open, explaining to him that Matt is the killer he's looking for.

"Matthew Daehler?" Mr. Stilinski asks.

"Yes." Stiles confirms.

"This kid's the real killer?"

"Yes."

"No." Mr. Stilinski says, not believing his son.

"Yes."

"No."

"Dad, everyone knows the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder. All he had to do was go through their transcripts and find out which class they all attended."

"Except for the rave promoter, Kara. She wasn't in Harris's class."

"Oh yeah, that's right. So I guess they're dropping the charges against him?"

The two Stilinski's glare at each other before Mr. Stilinski replies, "No, they're not dropping the charges. Which doesn't prove anything. Scott, (Y/N), do you believe this?"

"It's not easy to explain how we know, but if you can just trust us. We know it's Matt." Scott says.

"Plus if you can't get him for murder, I think I have something else you can get him for." I hesitantly speak up.

All three heads turn to me with confusion. "I saw his camera." I pause taking a breath. "He has a lot of pictures of me. Pictures I don't know how he even took. I'm pretty sure he's stalking me."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Scott asks, eyes wide.

I shrug, "I thought I could handle it. But either way, can we go back to the murder thing? Since that's what we really want to get him arrested for. I mean murder is worse then stalking."

Mr. Stilinski looks like he wants to ask me more about the stalking but before he can Stiles speaks up, "Right, the murders. Matt took Harris's car. He knew if the cops found tire tracks at one of the murders and that if enough of the victims were in Harris's class, he'd be arrested."

"Fine. I'll allow the remote possibility. But give me a motive. Why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead? And (Y/N), I want to talk to you about the stalking after."

I nod then Stiles speaks trying to give his dad a motive, "Isn't it obvious? Our swim team sucks! They haven't won in years." We all turn to Stiles with questioning looks, "Okay, we don't exactly have a motive yet. But then again, does Harris?"

The two boys and I watch Mr. Stilinski struggle over the question. Finally, he sighs, "What do you want me to do?"

"We need to look at the rest of the evidence."

"That's all back at the station. Where I no longer work."

"Trust me, they'll let you in."

"Trust you?" 

"Trust... (Y/N)? I mean she actually has some sort of proof that Matt is a whack job."

Mr. Stilinski nods and points at me, "(Y/N) I trust."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 When we get to the station it's two in the morning. Mr. Stilinski walks up to the front desk to speak with the officer as Stiles, Scott and I stay behind.

"We look at the hospital stuff first, okay?" Stiles whispers to us.

"Why?" Scott asks.

"Because all of the murders were committed by Jackson except for one, remember?"

"The pregnant girl. Jessica." 

"Since Matt had to kill her himself, someone at the hospital could have seen him."

"Kids." Mr. Stilinski's voice breaks us from the whispered conversation. He waves us over as the officer buzzes us in.

Once in the office Mr. Stilinski brings up the security footage from the hospital. As he's clicking through it Stiles, Scott, and I stand behind him looking over his shoulder. 

"I don't know, guys. Look at this. There was a six car pile-up that night. The hospital was jammed." Mr. Stilinski speaks, uncertain that we will find anything. 

"Just keep going. He'd have to pass one of the cameras on that floor to get to Jessica. He's got to be on the footage somewhere--" Stiles encourages his dad. 

Scott cuts him off though, "Hold on, stop. Did you see that? Scroll back."

Mr. Stilinski does as Scott says. He pauses on the image of a young man walking down the corridor.

"That's Matt." I say.

"All I see is the back of someone's head." Mr. Stilinski says.

Stiles agrees with me, "Matt's head. I sit behind him in History. He has a very distinct cranium."

I furrow my eyebrows as Mr. Stilinski asks his son, "Are you crazy?"

"Fine, then look at his jacket. How many people wear black leather jackets?"

"Millions. Literally."

"Can you scroll forward?" Scott asks, stopping an argument, "There has to be a shot of him coming at one of the cameras, right?"

So Mr. Stilinski presses a button to watch more of the video. "Stop! There he is again." I exclaim, pointing him out on the screen.

"You mean there's the back of his head again." Mr. Stilinski sighs.

"But look. He's talking to someone." Stiles says. We all lean slightly closer to try and get a better view.

"He's talking to our mom." Scott says.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Scott takes out his phone to call our mom at the hospital. He's asking her about Matt, but she doesn't seem to recall if she spoke to him. We decide to send her a picture of him to see if it jogs her memory.

"Did you get it?" Scott asks. There's a pause before Scott asks another question, "You recognize him? Did you see him?"

Scott pulls the phone slightly away from his ear, bringing his attention to me, Stiles and Mr. Stilinski. "He was tracking mud through the hospital."

Mr. Stilinski replies, "We have shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site."

Stiles then excitedly says, "If they match that puts Matt at the scene of three murders. The trailer, the hospital and the rave."

Mr. Stilinski then looked up from the computer, "Actually, four. A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt at the garage where the mechanic was killed."

"When?"

"A few hours before you two got there." Mr. Stilinski says looking between his son and me.

"Dad, if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, three's a pattern, what's four?"

"Enough to get a warrant. Scott, ask your mom how fast she can get here."

"Now?" My brother asks, eyebrows raised.

"Right now. An official ID will get me a search warrant. Stiles, tell the front desk to let their mom in when she gets here."

Scott brings the phone to his ear again as Stiles moves to the door.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Mr. Stilinski and I are still behind his desk as we watch the door. Stiles walks in, behind him Matt has a gun pressed to the boys back. "She's on her way here. Sheriff? (Y/N)?" Scott says, not noticing his best friend and Matt.

He finally turns to face the door, seeing what caught our attention. 

Breaking the silence, Mr. Stilinski speaks calmly, "Matt, whatever's going on, I guarantee there's a solution that doesn't involve a gun."

"Funny you say that. Because I don't think you're aware of just how right you are." Matt answers.

"I know you don't want to hurt people."

"Actually, I want to hurt a lot of people. You four weren't on my list, especially you, (Y/N), but I could be persuaded. One way is to try calling someone with your phone in your pocket like McCall's doing. That could definitely get someone hurt."

Matt stares at Scott, waiting for him to set his phone down on the desk. "Everyone." He encourages the rest of us to do the same.

We all remove our phones, placing them on the desk beside Scott's.

Matt takes the four of us into the cell block, making Stiles handcuff his dad to the wall outside of the holding cells. "Tighter." Matt snaps.

Stiles glares but his dad speaks up, trying to diffuse the situation, "Do what he says."

Reluctantly, Stiles listens and tightens the cuffs around him. Matt then motions for us to follow him once more. We make our way to the front of the station, Scott and Stiles in front and the gun trained on them. Matt has a tight grip on my right arm.

Heavy breathing stops us from continuing. We glance down the adjacent hallway locking eyes with a paralyzed deputy being dragged into a room by a clawed hand. "Are you going to kill everyone in here?" Scott asks.

"No. That's what Jackson's for. All I have to do is think about killing them. He does the rest." Matt casually answers.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Back at the office Matt forces Scott and Stiles to shred all of the evidence we have against him. Finally Scott raises the empty folders to show him that there are no more papers left. 

At the same time Stiles starts speaking, "And we're done. So, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it because they killed you first - whatever that means - I think we're pretty much good here. Right? I'll get my dad and we'll go. You continue with the vengeance thing. Enjoy the Kanima."

The sound of an engine can be heard from outside. Matt holds still, listening to the sound, "Sounds like your mom's here." He says looking over at me and Scott.

"Please don't do anything to her, Matt." I beg.

"Matt, don't do this. When she comes to the door, I'll just tell her to leave, okay? I'll say we didn't find anything. Please." Scott says right after.

Matt shakes his head, waving us over to the door. Scott hesitates, making Matt say, "If you don't move right now, I'm going to kill Stiles first. Then your mom." 

We step outside the office and make our way through the building to the front desk. "Open it." 

"Matt, please." Scott tries once more.

Matt responds by pressing the gun to the back of Stiles' head, "Open the door."

Scott turns the door knob, slowly opening the door. But instead of seeing our mom like we expected, Derek Hale is standing there. "Oh, thank God." Scott sighs.

But before we can get too thankful Derek sinks to his knees, paralyzed. Jackson is right behind him.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Jackson drags a paralyzed Derek into the Sheriff's office. Scott, Stiles and I following closely behind with Matt still keeping the gun on us. "This is the one in control? This kid?" Derek asks, laying on his back looking up at us.

"Well, Derek, not everyone's lucky enough to be a big bad werewolf." Matt then turns to the rest of us, "Yeah, that's right. I've learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, Kanimas. It's like a fricken' Halloween party every full moon. Except for Stiles. What the hell do you turn into?"

"Abominable snowman. But it's mostly a winter time thing. Seasonal." I snap my head in Stiles direction, glaring. Usually I find his sarcastic remarks funny but now is really not the time.

Matt, clearly not amused, nods at Jackson. Not having a chance to protest, Jackson cuts Stiles neck. Stiles staggers, limbs going stiff and falls on top of Derek, "Bitch." Stiles mutters out.

"Get him off me." Derek speaks through clenched teeth.

Matt kneels beside Derek's head as Derek once again spits out, "Get him off me."

"I don't know, Derek. I think you two make a pretty good pair. It must kind of suck, though, to have all that power taken away with one little cut to the back of your neck? I bet you're not used to feeling this helpless." Matt smugly says to the Alpha.

"I've still got teeth. Why don't you come a little closer and we find out how helpless I am."

Before Matt can respond, headlights fill the room. "Is that her?" He asks looking towards Scott. 

Scott looks outside, his look of despair confirms that it is in fact our mom. "Do what I say and I won't hurt her. I won't even let Jackson near her."

"Don't trust him." Stiles says.

With a look of rage that I have never seen, Matt brutally kicks Stiles off of Derek. He then places his foot on Stiles' throat. "This work better for you?" He questions.

"Stop! Matt just stop!" I scream out, tears threatening to spill. 

He stops applying pressure but doesn't move his foot. He looks at me with a look I couldn't quite place. "You know, (Y/N). We could make one hell of a power couple but I noticed you have something going on with Isaac."

This statement causes Scott to look at me with raised eyebrows. I lick my lips, not taking my eyes off of Matt. "I told you before that I wasn't the guy who would say something like if I can't have her, no one can? Well, it wasn't totally true. Because, (Y/N), if I can't have you, no one can." 

Before giving Scott the chance to react he raises the gun and shoots. A gasp leaves my mouth as I stumble back in shock. My hands raise to my abdomen, blood gushing through my fingertips. The minute the gun fires I can hear Mr. Stilinski yelling from the other room.

"(Y/N)!" Scott screams, trying to rush to me. Matt stops him, gun raising to level with Stiles head.

"She's not dead yet and if you don't do what I say, I'll kill your mom and Stiles too."

"Go, I'll be fine." I say through clenched teeth. Matt and Scott move out of the room. Jackson stays guarding me, Derek, and Stiles. 

With my adrenaline pumping, I slowly move to the desk chair to sit down. One hand clutches the gunshot wound while the other uses the wall and desk as support, blood smearing wherever my hand was placed. Once I'm sat down I take off my jacket, applying pressure to the wound.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 I gasp out in pain as I apply pressure to the wound, "(Y/N)! Are you okay? Please talk to me." Stiles speaks from the floor, voice trembling slightly.

"I'm fine, it's not like I'm bleeding out or anything."

"Do you have anything to try and stop the bleeding?" 

I pause taking a breath, "I'm one step ahead of you. I'm using my jacket."

"Good. Whatever you do, don't close your eyes or fall asleep."

"Damn, really? I thought now would be a great time for a nap."

"I'm going to ignore those sarcastic remarks solely because it means that you're alright."

"Yeah well, I hate to burst your optimistic bubble but I don't know how long I'm going to last without medical attention."

Rather than answering Stiles asks Derek, "You know what's happening to Matt?" Referring to the scales that are appearing on Matt's side, which he showed us a few minutes beforehand.

"I know the book isn't going to help him. You can't just break the rules. Not like this." Derek answers.

"What do you mean?"

"The universe balances things out. It always does."

"Because he's using Jackson to kill people who don't deserve it?"

"And killing people himself."

I keep trying to focus on the conversation but I can tell my breathing is becoming shakier, "So if Matt breaks the rules of the Kanima, he becomes the Kanima?" Stiles asks the Alpha.

"Balance." Derek confirms.

"You think he'd believe us if we told him?"

"Not likely. You still alright (Y/N)?" 

"Peachy." I shakily reply.

"(Y/N/N)? Your breathing is getting heavier. You have to stay awake. Keep talking." Stiles says, panic evident in his voice.

I reply, though my voice is now breathy and quieter, "I'm fine. I'll be fine. I-I don't know... I don't know how long I'll be okay though. If the paralysis wears off, your first goal has to be to help Scott and my mom."

There's silence, "Please, you both have to promise me. You'll help Scott and my mom as soon as you can." Tears start to fall down my face at the thought of Scott and my mom being hurt because the two people who could possibly help are too focused on me.

"(Y/N) we can't make that promise." Stiles chokes out.

"You have to. Remember your dad is out there too."

"If we don't help you first, you'll die." Derek bluntly states. 

"Then so be it." I gasp, "The only way I'll survive is if I make it to a hospital. By the time you guys will be able to move it will be too late for me anyway. So don't waste your time."

"I can give you the bite. You'll heal and be fine."

"No. I don't want to be a werewolf. Just-just leave me and help the others." I pause for a minute, coughing, “Please.”

At this point my eyes keep flickering shut. My breathing is raspy and I can't focus on the things around me, though I know Derek and Stiles are talking. Suddenly all around me goes dark.

At first, I think I finally slipped into unconsciousness, but when I blink I realize that the power at the station has gone out. 

I can hear multiple gunshots but it sounds muffled. Slowly I let my eyes shut, the hands that were once pressing tightly to the gunshot wound, now lay gently across my stomach. 

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Third Person P.O.V

At the same time the gunfire stops, Derek and Stiles can feel the paralysis finally start to wear off. They both shakily get to their feet, with the Alpha helping the human. They make their way to (Y/N), ignoring her earlier protests.

Derek uses his hearing to see if she is still alive, "She was right. She's not going to make it to a hospital."

"Then bite her." Stiles glares.

"She said no, or do you not remember that?"

"I don't care what she said, we're running out of time. Bite her. Scott and Melissa can't lose her." Stiles eyes glisten with tears as he looks down at the unconscious girl.

Derek looks at Stiles then glances at the teenager in front of him. Reluctantly Derek twists his head, now in his werewolf form he reaches down grabbing a hold of the girls arm. He bites down, leaving a bleeding bite mark.

"Get her out of here. Take her to Deaton. I'll cover you." Derek says as he reaches down picking the girl up and passing her to Stiles.

Stiles nods, his shirt now coated in Scarlett's warm blood. 

Making it out of the station and quickly placing the unconscious girl in the passenger seat. He drives as fast as he can to the vet clinic in search of Deaton.

"What happened to her?" Deaton asks once he sees (Y/N) in the boy's arms.

"She got shot. Derek had to bite her for her to survive."

Deaton nods, removing (Y/N)’s jean jacket and slightly moving her black crop top to clean and stitch the wound. "This will help the healing process go faster. She's going to need a lot of rest."

Stiles nods, "Scott doesn't know that Derek bit her. And Mrs. McCall doesn't even know that she was shot."

"She'll be alright. It looks like the wound may already be healing."

[marvels-writings]

Hi sorry if u did something similar to this, if u did ignore this ask. The request is for carol x f!reader where carol is under an anesthetic and keeps flirting hardcore with the reader who’s her crush and new doctor in the avengers medical team. After it wears off she’s back to being shy and distant, and the reader feels confident enough to do the flirting. Happy endings are always welcome

A/N: I’m so sorry I didn’t write this for like over a month but here you go! 

“Carol?” You asked, confusion written all over your face as you walked into the med bay, Carol was sitting on one of the beds, suit on and her shoulders slouched, short hair messed up with strands falling in her eyes, she looked like a mess. 

“Y/n, I,” Carol hesitated but sat up, inhaling through her teeth because of the pain, giving you a forced smile. “I might have accidentally hurt myself.” “How bad?” You asked instantly, setting down your clipboard and moving to her, she turned around the best she could and reached back to unzip her suit, hesitating instantly when it hurt.

“Let me.” You suggested, Carol put her hands in her lap, shoulders still tense as you gently unzipped her suit.

There was a huge cut from the middle of her left shoulder blade to the top of her right shoulder blade, the wound was dirty and half scabbed over, some of it was still open, you gasped at the site. 

“How, what happened?” You asked, making a mental list of things you would need, fingertip gently running on the side of the wound, testing the depth, apologizing quickly when you heard Carol groan quietly in pain.

“Wasn’t paying attention,” Carol mumbled, you got up and got some anesthetic in an injection, hands a little shaky as you put on gloves. 

“Some guy got the jump and used a knife, didn’t dodge it fast enough.” Carol explained, giving you another forced smile while trying her best not to stare at you. 

You explained the use of the anesthetic and rolled the sleeve down from her shoulder, injecting the anesthetic into her arm, wincing when you saw Carol flinch in pain a little.

“The anesthetic might take a few minutes to take effect.” You said, getting some water and extra cloth to clean it from blood before disinfecting it. 

“I think it already took effect.” Carol said, grinning at you, you were surprised, maybe it was just her superpowers?

“Or maybe not?” You joked, getting it and moving behind her to clean the wound further. “Uh, can I unzip this a bit more?” You asked tentatively. 

“Someone wants to get me out of my clothes.” Carol smirked, you blushed but ignored the comment the best you could, unzipping her suit a little further, trying not to make contact with her skin.

“Am I allowed to talk?” Carol asked, you continued cleaning the wound as gently as you could, avoiding touching her skin directly.

“You don’t need to ask me permission to talk  Carol.” You answered, rolling your eyes a little.

“Yes ma’am.” Carol joked, you giggled slightly, cloth running gently over the wound.

“You should laugh more.” Carol stated, slurring a few words together, you raised an eyebrow as the wound was clean, going to get the cleaning alcohol and another clean cloth.

“I do laugh.” You defended, getting the cloth, not missing the way Carol was looking at you with complete admiration.

“Yeah, but it’s so beautiful I want to hear it more.” Carol grinned, you blushed and clenched your jaw slightly, trying to avoid the grin crawling on your face but failing miserably.

“Someone’s flirty today,” You murmured, going back behind her and frowning when you saw a piece of the blade lodged into her back, it was small so you’d need tweezers. 

“Honestly I didn’t think the anesthetic would affect you that much.” You thought aloud, getting the forceps to take the piece of metal out.

“That’s why I was feeling a little off today,” Carol thought aloud and grinned, looking at you as you disinfected the forceps. “But when you came along, you definitely turned me on.”

You stuttered on explaining what you were about to do next, eyes wide and your face a tomato. Carol smirked further. You tried your best to keep a straight face while moving to her back, telling her not to move while you focused on her back, neatly taking the piece of metal and dropping it into the dish, grinning when you got it right.

“What was that?” Carol asked, turning to look at you, you rolled your eyes and guided her head back.

“A piece of metal in your back.” You answered. “This might sting a little if the anesthetic wore off.”

You started disinfecting the wound carefully, gauging Carol’s reaction intently, but she showed no sign of pain. 

“Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?” Carol flirted, you blushed but continued cleaning the wound, the pickup lines starting to become a normal for drugged Carol.

“Anesthetic definitely didn’t wear off.” You muttered, breath tickling her neck slightly as you leaned in to make sure the entire wound was disinfected.

The next 10 minutes went by with Carol throwing pickup lines every once in a while, you were able to ignore most of them, thinking the anesthetic just made her go crazier than normal. It finally started to wear off when you had almost finished putting on the bandages. You’d given her enough anesthetic to last half an hour, it wore off in 15 minutes thanks to her powers.

“No more pickup lines?” You smirked, noticing Carol’s face light up a little, her head nodding from side to side. 

“Funny, I kind of liked drugged Carol.” You joked, putting on the last bandage with another smirk. “All done.” You patted her good shoulder, zipping up her suit gently, then she turned around and faced you.

“It’s not completely worn off,” She gave you a dopey smirk. “Do you maybe like normal Carol too?” “I love normal Carol,” You joked, laughing and offering your hands to help her up. “But right now, drugged Carol needs some rest.”

“Okay.” Carol muttered, giving you her hands and letting you help her up, you started walking with her towards her room, going at the pace she was.

“Do I have to sleep?” Carol whined, looking up at you with pleading hazel eyes, blonde hair falling in her face. You wiped the hair out of her face, noting how soft it was before answering.

“If you want me to take you on a date, yes.” You joked, half meaning it, Carol grinned at you.

“I’ll sleep as long as you need me to.” Carol smiled opening the door and heading inside, you smiled softly at her before turning to leave, she grabbed your wrist.

“What do you need?” You asked, turning to face her.

“You,” the blonde answered, looking at you with puppy eyes before explaining. “Can you stay with me?”

“I can’t deny my favorite patient.” You smiled, letting Carol pull you into her room.

You helped her change her shirt into a comfy sweatshirt, which you noticed was yours, she kept calling it her favorite sweatshirt while she changed into her pajamas while you sat on her bed, facing the other way, giving her some privacy. 

Carol flopped down on her back, head in your lap and grinning up at you, when she noticed the injury in her back still hurting and moved to lie on her stomach, hugging your thighs.

“Thank you y/n.” Carol murmured, your heart melted slightly at her sleepy voice and you started playing with her hair a little.

“Anytime Carol,” You answered, continuing to run your hand through her short hair. “You do owe me a date though.” “I’d be happy to.” Carol whispered, eyes drooping closed and she fell asleep, you couldn’t help  but laugh at how adorable she was under the anesthetic, you considered it again for the fun of it, but decided against it eventually, you had been crushing on normal Carol for the longest time, not drugged Carol.

You were just happy you got to take her out on a date, even if she didn’t officially ask you out yet, it still counted. 

A/N: ngl i wasn’t sure how to end this, and i literally had to search up flirty lines for this ;)

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart  , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

[followyoursecretsmutblog]

reunited.

Summary: A few years ago, Walter Marshall had a friend named Skylar Holland while in SWAT. She was someone that he could trust and always go to. But he started pulling away, pushing her away, and ultimately moving from SWAT to become a Detective. Now, after transferring to become a Detective, Skylar and Marshall have to work together again. 

Warnings: Vague talk of attempted murder/murder, kidnapping of underage girls, my bad smut writing.

A/N: Sorry if it sucks, but I dig it. 

“Marshall, you and Holland will be working on a case together.”

That sentence is still bouncing around in my head. How could the captain possibly believe that we could work together? He saw what it was like when I started, we can hardly stand to be in the same room together.

Not anymore.

“This is some fucking shite.” I mumble, rubbing my face with my hands.

I jump when a harsh slap hits my desk. “Yup. But I guess we are stuck with it.” I look up, seeing Marshall stand there, arms crossed, glaring at me.

“Please, Marshall, come on in and make yourself at home in my office.” I say sarcastically, pulling the file toward me.

No sound comes from the man. He just stands there, watching me.

“You look like shit.” I say, not looking up, reading.

A loud, deep exhale was all that could be heard from him.

We used to be able to talk shit to each other. To joke around with and have a laugh. What happened to the Marshall I used to know? What happened to my friend?

“So, there is one survivor. Is she awake enough to talk?” I ask, looking up at him.

“I called the hospital before seeing you, they think she should be awake by the time we get there.” He replies, looking around my office. Boxes and boxes galore. “You’ve been here a week and you still haven’t unpacked?”

I stand, grabbing my coat. “Careful Marshall, I might just start to think you care.” I say, walking past him and out to the hall.

~~

“Hi, I’m Detective Holland, and this is Detective Marshall. We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions?” I ask, standing next to a hospital bed where a teenage girl is curled up in a ball. Her eyes wide and scared.

The girl just cowers away some more, her scars visible from the abuse she suffered.

“If you like, you can call me Skylar.” I say softly, talking a tiny step forward. Her green eye shine under the florescent lighting, flickering between me and the possibly scary looking man behind me. “Do you want me to ask him to leave?” I ask, pointing a thumb at Marshall.

She didn’t say anything, she just keeps watching us.

“I’ll go.” I look back at the sound of his voice, he nods to me in understanding. 

I turn back around, watching as the girl slowly unrolls herself more as Marshall walks away.

“He’s scary looking.” She says softly, pulling at her gown.

“He isn’t too bad. I know he has a good heart.” I say smiling at her. “He is the definition of a scary man but a teddy bear on the inside. But don’t tell him I said that.” I tease, watching a smile grow on her face.

“As much as I love seeing you smile, I need to ask you a few questions.” She nods, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. “I am sorry to have to ask.”

She sits there, shaking and crying the whole way through her story. The horrific details of what this mystery man did to her and her friends. How only one could leave, only one to be saved. She shared the horrific scenes of her two best friends who tried to kill each other and her. Showing the scars on her body from scratches and hits from various sharp objects.

One of her friends died from the cold, the basement or something of the like was freezing, and considering that she was brought in with shorts and a tank top explained it. 

“What about your other friend?” I ask, placing my hand over hers.

She looks at me, eyes red and filled with so much pain.

“Only one could leave.” Is all she says at first. “It took two days for him to make us turn against each other. We had been friends for 10 years.”

I take a deep breath, keeping my emotions from my face.

“I understand. You had no choice. It was either kill or be killed.” She nods vigorously, her tears pouring down her face again. “Do you know where you came from? Any land marks or streets?”

“No. He pulled me out in the middle of the night, my eyes were covered.” She says, 

“You did amazing. I’m going to let you sleep now.” I tell her, giving her hand a small squeeze. She nods, pulling away, rolling to her other side.

I walk out of the room to see Marshall leaning against the wall.

“Did you hear all that?” I ask, pausing for a moment to collect myself. These girls were only 16, and they were given that kind of choice. It’s horrifying. 

“Yeah. She didn’t know where she came from?”

“No. But forensics is looking at the dirt and soot that were covering her when she got here.”

“Good.” He pushes off the wall, and stalks down the hall.

~~

“So, you are telling me that there is nothing extraordinary about the samples?” I ask, hitting my head against the wall of the lab.

“I’m sorry, Holland, but there is nothing here. Just your normal run-of-the-mill soil.” The tech says, shrugging, looking as upset as me.

“Thank you anyway.” I walk out, pulling my phone out to send Marshall the bad news when he beats me to it.

“Holland.” I answer.

“Three more girls where just taken. I’m heading to the abduction site now, I’m sending you the address to meet me there.”

“Heading that way.”

She was just released this morning. How can he already have another set of girls?

~~

Marshall waits for me outside the house, watching.

“He took them individually. Only one person, only one set of foot prints in the snow.” He says, nodding toward the taped off section.

“Really? I thought he would have taken them all at the same time.” I roll my eyes, muttering to myself, but knowing he can hear me.

He just has to treat me like a subordinate. I used to be his second in command!

“Have you checked the perimeter?” 

“Not yet. Was waiting for you.” He mumbles, biting the inside of his cheek, looking everywhere but at me.

I look at him, eyebrow cocked.

“Don’t look into it too much. I don’t need you telling the captain I don’t play nice.” He says, taking off down the walkway.

Just breathe, Skylar. Murder is illegal.

I follow after him, watching the people watch us. There are so many people. Too many people. How could no one see anything happen?

“They must have been taken before daybreak.” I muse.

“What makes you say that?” 

“Look at all these people. There is no way someone could haul off three girls with all these people around. Besides, there is a school just up the road, only an idiot would try something with so many eyes in the neighborhood.”

He grunts in response, looking up and down the street, seeing all the people walking about. “Forensics is taking shoe and tire molds.”

“We need to find something more solid. Those girls don’t have long. The first set were only held for two days.” I say, looking at the ground, trying to find something out of place.

“They are younger.” Marshall says. I look up and watch him as he takes a deep breath. “They’re 14.”

Faye.

“Marshall...”

“It’s fine.” He grits, continuing his search. I nod and look back down.

A few moments later, I call out.

“Marshall.” I call, looking at a pile of used cigarettes.

“I said it’s fine.” He snaps.

“Oh, lay off, dick. I found something.” I say crouching down next to the fresh-looking pile.

“Hey.” Marshall calls, whistling at a CSI.

I stand up and walk a little farther, seeing a little hole in the brush. 

“Well, you look a little out of place.” I say to myself, looking at the rest of the bush, seeing the rest of the line perfectly intact. 

“Where are you going?”

“Down a rabbit hole.” I mutter, crouching in front of the hole, pulling my flashlight out of my jacket.

I hear the crunch of snow behind me, feel the warmth of Marshall against my back.

“What is in there?” He bends, shinning his light in it as well.

Butts litter the ground, perfect shoe prints in the center.

“He was stalking them. He had to have watched them for days, even weeks.”

“How do you know?” Marshall asks, standing back up.

“I don’t know anyone who could smoke this much in just a few hours. Besides, you can also see some of the pile is waterlogged. The last time it rained was 3 days ago.”

“Could have been melted snow.” He counters, crossing his arms, challenging me.

I nod, standing up. “True, but it snowed last night and there is no evidence of it falling in that bush. The top of the pile isn’t wet.” I counter, not taking his shit.

I get I’m new to this detective stuff, but this isn’t my first crime scene. And him questioning everything I say is starting to piss me off.

“Take some from the top, if she is right, it will have the freshest DNA.” Marshall says to the CSI, walking away. “You should come see the inside of the house. This is where things got interesting.” He calls over to me.

I give the poor CSI guy a smile and follow the trail to the house. The smell of mercury the first thing I catch. The sight of blood covering the floor right inside the side door is the next.

“One of the girls?” I ask, walking around the puddle.

“No, grandmother. She was watching the girls during the night. He went after her with a cleaver from the kitchen.”

“He butchered her?” My eyebrows shot up at the idea.

“I guess she got in the way. From the last abduction, this is the only difference inside the house. No other room was tampered with, nothing was out of place.”

“He wasn’t expecting her.” I look down at the puddle again, in the corner, I see a design. Like the bottom of a shoe. “Look. He did it in front of one of them.”

“We need to talk to the survivor again.”

~~

“I’m sorry Detectives, but the family does not want any more interviews with their daughter. If you wish to speak with her, you will need a court order.” 

“Fuck.” Marshall spits, glaring daggers at the stuck-up lawyer.

“Fucking lawyers.” I mutter as we walk away from the girl’s hospital room.

“There went our only lead.”

“We still have time for the lab analysis.” I say, trying to keep him calm. And myself.

“We have less than a day to find them. Hell, one might already be dead!” He shouts, his body visibly shaking.

I don’t say anything. There isn’t anything to say. He could be right.

Once we get back to the office, we go our separate ways, him to his office and me to the lab for some answers.

“Please give me good news.” I say, looking at the tech with hopeful eyes.

“Well, I have good news and bad news.” He asks, spinning around in his chair.

“Bad.”

“Well, the tire tracks and shoe prints were too common to specify.” I groan.

“The good news?”

“We got a hit off the cigarette butts.” My eyes widen, taking the papers from him.

“Thank you.” I shout, running toward the elevator.

But I don’t stop there. Once the doors open to the Detectives floor, I book it for Marshall’s office, a big smile on my face.

I stop at his door, taking a deep breath. I knock once and open the door, seeing him sitting at his desk, files scattered about.

“Marshall.” He looks up, “We got a match.” I hold the papers up.

~~

Upon raiding the man’s home, we find multiple screens filled with images of little girls on them, sitting in a basement, or attacking each other. The sick bastard was recording them as they fought to live.

“Where are the girls?” Marshall growls, slamming him against a wall.

“I’ll never tell.” The man chokes.

“There is no point in hiding where they are. You won’t be able to watch them where you are going.” I say, a scowl set on my face.

“They are were all bad girls go.” Marshall and I look at each other for a beat, and turn back to him. “They were very naughty girls. Naughty, naughty, naughty girls.” The man laughs, wiggling this way and that, repeatedly saying, ‘Naughty, naughty, naughty girls.‘

Handing him to a police officer, we continue to search the house. Pictures of little girls hanging on the walls. Dirty, sick, their clothes torn.

These poor children.

“How could he fly under the radar for so long? There has to be more then 50 girls here.” Marshall asks himself. Wonder deep in his voice.

I stop at a photo of a little girl, around the age of 13. She looks an awful lot like Faye. 

I can only imagine what this is like for him. Seeing these girls around his daughters age being taken.

“They just didn’t have the right people on the case.” I say, hoping he would catch my compliment.

He says nothing. “We will find them.” I say, and close my mouth the rest of the search.

~~

We spend the next few hours looking at each picture and video we can get our hands on. Trying to find some clue as to where he could be keeping them.

“This is no use. It looks like they are in a basement. It’s damp, dark, and there are bars covering the windows.” I moan, rubbing my eyes.

Marshall pops his neck and closes his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know. There isn’t anything here to give any clues.” We are back at the office, sitting at his desk. Coffee cups littering every empty surface.

We both just sit and breathe for a moment, trying to clear our thoughts so we can attack it again.

“What happened to us?” I ask, my mouth working before my brain can catch up.

“Now is not the time, Holland.” He mutters, picking up a handful of pictures.

“No, now is the perfect time. All you will say is that we can talk about it after the case. But I know there will be no “after the case” because the will be another one and you will just ignore me and not talk to me. This has been needed to be talked about for years. Talk to me, damnit! Where did we go wrong?” I shout, looking at him, willing him to meet my gaze.

“You were my best friend.” Is all he says.

“And you were mine. Why did you destroy that?”

Marshall sighs, dropping the picture to look at me. “At this point, Angie and I were already having problems. She made a comment about us I didn’t like. But I never thought about it again. You were my friend, and nothing was going to change that. Well, a few months later, we had to raid the jail, remember?” He cocks his eyebrow at me, making sure I understood. 

I nod for him to go on. “While we were there, and that riot broke out, all I could think about was getting you out safely.”

“We were perfectly fine. We train for that kind of situation. We were prepared.” I say, the confusion in my voice not lost on him or me.

“No, not the team. Just you.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I only wanted to protect you.”

“Marshall... why?”

“I don’t know. I saw all those inmates beating the corrections officers, and something in me snapped. Not that I didn’t or don’t think you can handle yourself in that kind of situation. That is why you were my second in command, and why I told the captain to make you the team lead once I left. You are a damn good cop.”

All this new information is swirling around in my head, making me dizzy. Is he implying what I think he is implying? Is that why Angie was so against our friendship? 

Wait.

Prison.

“They are were all bad girls go.”

“Our guy used to be a corrections officer, right?” I ask, shuffling papers around, trying to find his file.

“Yeah. But Holl-” Marshall starts.

“Isn’t there an abandoned juvenile corrections building?”

“Yes.” He sits up, “It shut down a few years ago due to budget cuts.”

“I think we found them.”

~~

There is nothing greater than a win. Saving those three girls was a massive weight off both our shoulders. They were cold, hungry, and tired, but they were alive. Now they are headed to the hospital for a checkup, and to be reunited with their families.

“I can’t believe you came to that conclusion from something totally different.”  Marshall says, shaking his head as he drives me home.

“Like you said, I’m a damn good cop.” I smile as he chuckles at me.

“Oh, so you were listening to me when I was talking.”

“Of course, I was. It was just one of those rare times when you say something useful.” I tease.

He stops outside my house, putting the car in park.

“Come have a drink. I think we could both use it after these last few days.” I say, climbing out of his truck. Slamming the door before he can say no.

He walks silently behind me, watching me. I open the door, walking in, nodding for him to do the same.

“You still drink whisky, right?” I call out from the kitchen as he looks around.

“Yeah.” His voice carries in, his eyes on the walls. There are pictures up from places I’ve traveled, people I’ve seen, friends, and family.

And then I hear him stop. Staring at one picture. I hear him choke on his breath.

I don’t need to look up to see what made him stop.

I have a picture of Faye and I from a few weeks ago next to a picture of me holding her when she was just a few weeks old.

“When things went to shit, I planned on staying away. Figured that is how you would want it. But she found me. And I couldn’t break her heart. So, I told her we could hangout, but only in secret.” I say, walking up behind him, handing him his glass.

“I never knew. I thought she just-I don’t know.” 

“Marshall, you should have known it wasn’t going to work. I’m her God Mother for fucks sake.” I take a drink, looking at the picture of her smiling face. “She looks so much like you now, it’s kinda scary.”

He says nothing, still just staring at the picture.

I watch him, wonder, confusion, sadness, and regret cross his eyes.

“Marsha-”

“Why do you call me that?” He asks, turning to me.

“It’s your name...?”

“Well, yes. But you have never once called me by my first name, only my last.”

“I always thought it was a sign of respect.” I say, setting my glass down. “Besides, you haven’t done anything worthy of me calling you by your first name.” He raises an eyebrow. “And that isn’t fair, you don’t call me by my first name.” I point out.

“Do you even know my first name?” Marshall asks, taking a step toward me, his blue eyes darkening.

“What? Yes, of course I do.” I roll my eyes, taking a step back, hitting the wall.

“Are you sure about that?” Another step forward.

“Positive.” I whisper, my body pinned to the wall, his body blocking me in. I can feel every inch of him against me. “Marsh-”

His kiss is searing, taking my breath away. His lips soft, yet hard. Like he was trying to not scare me, but wanted me to know he can.

He pulls away so quickly, I thought I imagined it.

“What is my name?”

“Marshall.” I say in a breath, a smirk crossing his face, knowing I am teasing him. His hands lands on my waist. “Marshall.” I say again. This time he slides his hand toward my back, my panties dampening at the contact.

“Try again.” He growls in my ear, sucking on the skin behind it, setting his glass next to mine.

“Marshall.” I whisper out. More sucking as his hand slides closer to my ass.

“Marshall.” I pant, my fingers twisting in his sweater. My panties become drenched.

“Marshall.” He had enough with my games, his hand flat on my ass, grabbing a handful and pressing me close to him. Where my stomach can feel every inch of his hard cock. “Fuck.” I moan.

“Say what I want to hear, and maybe I will.” He says, using his other hand to grab the rest of my ass and lift me up. My legs wrap around his hips automatically.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” I ask coyly, wiggling my bottom in his hands.

He closes his eyes for a moment, holding back a groan. After a few moments, his eyes open back up, nothing but lust filling them. “If you don’t, I am going to be the only one that comes tonight.”

“I’ll say it only if it’s good.” I say, grazing my lips across his jaw.

He chuckles, “Oh baby, it’ll be better than good. You will beg for more.” He tugs my hair back, my neck on full display. He grazes his teeth against my sensitive skin. “You will feel me every time you sit down.” He bites me, causing me to shake. “You will feel me dripping down your thighs for days.” He rolls his hips this time, a strangled moan falls from my lips. 

“My bedroom is upstairs to the left.” I say in a hushed breath.

“That’s nice,” Is all he says, capturing my lips in another kiss. His tongue takes no time in pushing my lips apart, tasting every inch of my mouth. He moves his hands, one threading in my hair, the other sliding under my shirt. Every place his fingers touch, my skin burns.

My hands wrap around his neck, tangling in his hair. 

Oh, how I have always wanted to pull on his curls.

I tug softly, getting a rough moan from him as he bites my lip, slamming his body against mine. Pictures shaking on the wall from the force.

“Do that again.” He says, his hand sliding farther up my body, the tips of his fingers grazing my bra. I arch my back, trying to push them farther into his waiting hand. As his hand cups my breast, I tangle my fingers deeper in his hair, pulling harder. His fingers twitch, like he wants to squeeze, but instead he slides his hand away, grabbing my ass again. He takes a step back from the wall, my legs tightening around him. 

“What? Where are we going? Marshall?” A hard slap meets my ass, making me jump.

A moment later, a cold hard surface meets my bottom. I look back, seeing my kitchen table. I draw my eyebrows together, sliding my hands from his hair to place them on the table.

I look back at him as he pulls my legs from around his waist.

Oh. I guess we are done.

"You could have just set me on the floor. You didn’t need to bring me all the way over here.” I mutter, trying to hide my disappointment.

I get no response. Only him pulling my shoes and socks off and setting them on the floor. I watch him as he moves, running a hand through his hair to push it back and bringing it back to my body, sliding his hands from my ankles to my hips, squeezing along the way.

His fingers make their way to my button, popping it, his fingers dancing along my zipper. “Do you want me to stop, Skylar?”

My breath catches at the sound of my name. ”Please don’t.”

His eyes meet mine, his blue eyes blazing as he pulls my zipper down. “Up.” He says, tapping my hips.

I place my hands on the table again, lifting my hips off slightly. His fingers dig into my skin as he tugs my wet panties and jeans down my legs, his nails biting me in the most delicious way.

He takes a step back, no longer between my legs. Dropping my clothes on the floor, he takes a step to the side, his hands grabbing a chair, setting it in front of me. 

“What are you doing?” I ask as he sits himself in the chair, pulling my legs over his shoulders, the cold air, against my dripping sex. He pulls me closer to the edge of the table, my desire for him on full display.

“Eating.”

Before I get a chance to question him, I let out a squeak and clench my legs around his head as his tongue dives between my lips, one of his fingers pushing into my wet core. I drop down to my elbows, my back arching. 

He moves his mouth to my clit, alternating between sucking and licking the sensitive nub while he adds another finger. Stretching me in an amazing way.

“Fuck-Walter!” I  moan, watching as he pulls his mouth away, my juices making his beard glisten in the low lighting. His eyes harden as he licks his lips, looking as primal as I have ever seen him.

He watches me watch him, his fingers still moving in me, his fingers grazing that delicious spot in me.

“Walt-Walter. Please.” I beg, my nails clawing into the table. “Fuck.” My head falls back, my legs shaking as my orgasm gets closer.

The white heat licks my body, but dies just as soon as he withdraws his fingers.

My head snaps back up, eyes wide as I see the smirk on his face as he stands.

“You aren’t coming. Not without me being inside you, feeling your walls around me.” He tugs at his belt, popping the button of his jeans and pulling his zipper down. “Tell me Sky, when was the last time you were properly fucked?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “When was the last time a man got you off?”

“I-I don’t-” I stutter, watching as his pants and boxers drop to the ground, my eyes widen even more at the sight of him.

Holy. Shit.

My walls tighten just looking at him, his thick cock red and dripping pre-come. He wraps a hand around himself, giving a few tugs as his eyes take in my state of need. My hair a mess from his fingers, my shirt riding up my body from moving on the table, my core dripping with the need for his cock, fingers, or tongue. 

At this point, I’m not picky. I just want some part of him in me.

He licks his lips, eyes meeting mine again. He takes a step forward and pauses.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. My insecurity of my body flaring.

Am I not good enough? Is he changing his mind? Is he just teasing me?

The man of few words he is, doesn’t say anything. I watch his hand around his cock give a squeeze and release it. I don’t watch what he does after that, his cock absolutely mesmerizing me. I hear him chuckle, then I hear something land on the floor, but his glistening head is everything.

“Skylar?” I make a noise, but don’t look up. “Sky.” He calls again, this time not a question, using his authoritative voice. 

My eyes snap up to his face, ready to listen to his every command. There is a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his face. As if he whistled for a dog, and I am the one that answered it. “Old habits die hard I see.”

I roll my eyes at him, my impatience getting the best of me. “Are you going to fuck me “like a man” or are you just going to stare at me?” 

“I quite like you all riled up. Waiting on me.” He muses, using a finger to open my core up to him, while another slips right in.

A noise gets caught in my throat at the feeling of the intrusion. “Spot playing around.” I say in between gasps of air. I look at him, in all his naked glory.

Wait. When did he take his shirt off?

He looks at me, his hand back around his shaft, as if he is just waiting for something. I scramble to sit up right, sitting on the table and pull my top off in a hurried frenzy. As I drop it to the ground, I hear a noise escapes him. I follow his gaze, locked on my chest, where my breasts are encased in a lace bra with a pretty bow in the middle.

What? I girl can’t look good for herself?

I watch his eyes as I move my hands to my back, playing with the clasps. With each one undone, they bounce ever so slightly. And with each bounce, his eyes get wider. But the time the straps are falling down my arms, I can’t see his chest moving, but his hand is working double time.

I toss it to the floor, our collection of clothes getting bigger and bigger.

He takes a step toward me, his hips right in between my legs. His cock poking at my entrance. I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, his heat radiating. I place my hands on his stomach, my fingers twitching at the feel of him. 

“Take me, Walter.” I whisper, placing a kiss on his chest. “I’m yours.”

He tips his head down, his curls shielding his face ever so slightly, capturing mine in a soft kiss. I slide my hands up to his chest, digging my nails into his skin, loving the taste of his mouth and the feel of his body.

I feel his hips move forward, his cock pushing into my core, replacing his fingers. He places one hand on my hip, holding me in place as the other tangles in my hair, keeping my head still.

After a few seconds of pushing in, he would pull nearly all the way out.

“You’re so wet.” He groans against my lips as he pushes in again, nipping at my lip. 

My breath catches when I feel the hilt of him meet me. He untangles his hand form my hair, slowly sliding it down my body, tweaking my nipple along the way.

I lean back on to my elbows again, giving him better access to my body, loving the way he touches it. 

His hands wrap around my waist and hips as he pulls out.

The fucking starts slow, hard, short thrusts, like we are trying to figure out the other.

And of course, my mouth has to open. “If I wanted to be fucked by a school boy, I would have. Fuck me, damnit, I’m not going to break.” His fingers grip harder, most likely leaving bruises in the morning, as he picks up speed. His hips snapping against mine, my walls clench around him as I lay on the table, my breasts bouncing with ever thrust he gives me.

I can’t breathe, I can only feel. I feel him everywhere, physically, mentally, emotionally. He is all consuming. 

I try to tell him I’m close, but the words won’t come out. Just moans and me begging for him to go faster and harder.

I grab my breasts, pulling at my nipples as my orgasm approaches. “Fuck. Walter, yes.” 

He pulls out, my body seizing at the loss of him.

He doesn’t keep me waiting long. Before I am able to yell at him, he pulls me off the table, once my feet touch the ground he turns me around, slamming my chest to the table. Taking no time at all in slipping back inside me, fucking me with the same vigor.

“Fuck, so deep.” I moan, as he slams into me. He has one hand on my back, keeping me in place, his nails biting my skin, while the other grips my hip. 

“Fuck, Sky. You feel so good.” He grunts. With each thrust, my clit makes contact with the tables edge, giving the most pleasurable feeling.

“So close. Walter.” His hands goes to my hair, tugging it back, effectively pulling my body up. When I am where he wants me, he wraps the hand around my throat, holding me. His eyes a blaze of blue, his lips swollen and just begging for mine. “Walter...”

He slams his mouth to mine, taking everything I have.

My hand start playing with my clit, encouraging my orgasm to the surface. “Walter, I’m-”

“Come for me.” His voice comes out rough.

Needing no farther approvals, my orgasm sends a shockwave through me. All I see is white, all I feel is heat

In the middle of my bliss, I feel something tighten around my throat, and a voice saying my name.

Walter.

 I come back, feeling as he comes inside me, filling me.

“Fuck.” He pants, leaning his forehead against mine. Our bodies shaking from the aftershocks.

“You were right. It was so good.” I give him a lazy, sedated smile, causing him to laugh.

He removes his hands from my body, leaving me cold. I clench my sex around his softening cock as he pulls out, not wanting him to leave just yet.

Don’t leave me.

He tugs my arm toward him softly, making me face him. Holding my chin between his thumb and forefinger, watching me with his beautiful eyes. “God, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“I never knew I wanted that. But, now I don’t think I can stop.” I admit. Making a sound of approval, he leans down and kisses me softly.

God, I love the feel of his lips.

Once we pull away, I step out of his hold. Grabbing his hand, I pull him with me up the stairs and toward my room. 

Making my way through the dark, I say, “Sleep here tonight,”

“I don’t sleep to good.” He says, watching me get situated on the bed, scratching the back of his neck.

“You will.” I reply, pulling him in. “Or we will just go round after round until you get tired.”

“I don’t think I could ever tire of you.” He grins, hovering over me, his cock hardening against my stomach.

“Good. Because I’m ready for round 2, Marshall.” I whisper, sealing our lips.

[oregoncoastcamping]

The 10 Best Places To Camp On Oregons Coast

“In the cute little fishing town of Garibaldi, on the Oregon Coast, we discovered this gem of an RV park. Waterfront, full hookup sites with a fantastic view led us to build a fire in hearth pit supplied and sit outdoors in December! Fall and winter give the Oregon coast a definite aura. Mist swirls across the seaside and massive waves pound the shoreline. If you love that wild, dramatic vibe, just load up on heat, waterproof layers. Oregon state parks have a 9 month booking window so it’s hard to get spots except you book way prematurely. However you possibly can snag cancellations which is how we were able to keep at so Oregon Coast camping.

If you’re in search of the proper place to take the children, or simply want a nice enjoyable getaway, there may be never a bad time to discover a place to pitch a tent in the Pacific Northwest. Set in the heart of the Oregon Coast Range, this trail is an area favorite for its distant accessibility and breathtaking beauty. Hikers, mountain bikers, and swimming hole lovers will all find the Opal Creek Trail accessible and gratifying. From the Oregon’s central desert to a few of the best beaches the Pacific Northwest has to supply, you possibly can unplug and unwind nearly anyplace you want within the state. Around the bend, town of Astoria sits on the banks of the mouth of the Columbia River where it spills into the Pacific Ocean. Kayak excursions and seaside horseback rides are popular activities in the space. Additional options such as an indoor pool and business heart go an extended way to making your keep as snug as potential.

<h2>Discover Each Seaside Spot</h2>

The Seaside Aquarium is one other great attraction to go to, together with the Lewis and Clark historical sites, the air museum, and lots of shopping outlets nearby. Just down the road in Bandon, you can go to local retailers, galleries and eating. Face Rock also lies nearby, in addition to miles of ocean beach on Beach Loop Drive. The Coquille River Lighthouse is one other close by interesting historic attraction. The park is just down the highway from many fantastic eating places, stores, galleries, and beautiful scenic walks alongside the seashore.

Fort Stevens State Park Campground has practically 500 campsites and a big selection of yurts and cabins for rent. Expect throngs of tourists due to the campground’s proximity to Portland, but with so many campsites and expansive grounds there’s loads of room to share. You’ll be greeted and welcomed like an old pal by the Wright household, who nonetheless run the every day operations of this seasonal campground. Rest straightforward underneath the tall pines, and clean your self up in the bathhouse after a long day at the seashore. They’re easy to spot, however seashores will be closed throughout snowy plover nesting season to guard the delicate birds.

“If you might be in search of an excellent, quiet campground on the coast that is the place. I will return many instances to this beautiful area.” — The Dyrt camper Karen S. There are good bathrooms with showers on website, a sand volleyball court docket, a store, little wild bunnies working round, and nice fire pits at every site.” — The Dyrt camper Ryan E.

It's extremely beneficial to explore the site's navy historical past unfold all through the park during any keep. The customer middle is a great place to begin a self-guided historical past tour, the place archival images and displays paint a picture of the fort's military previous.

The top 10 campgrounds we chosen all show daily, weekly and month-to-month rates for you. Located within the north-east of the state is Grande Hot Springs RV Resort, primarily based within the scenic Grande Rhonde Valley area. It’s additionally simply 8 miles south of downtown La Grande, which is home to numerous fun points of interest similar to Hilgard Junction State Park, the Wallowa Lake Scenic bike path, and Hot Lake Springs. North of Tillamook is a county campground near the beach known as Barview Jetty. There are some Forest Service campgrounds however they do not have showers.

<h3>What Individuals Are Saying About Wallowa Lake State Park</h3>

This campground is mostly a properly-saved secret with Umpqua River Lighthouse, which has an adjacent museum and is managed by the Douglas County Parks Department, close by. Located two miles north of Bandon-by-the-sea, this state park has lots to see and do with close by Coquille River Lighthouse and Bandon Marsh National Wildlife Refuge. The park has 13 yurts and no tent sites, sadly, but does sport a horse camp with eight primitive websites. The nearby town of Bandon, the "Cranberry Capitol of the World," has retailers, galleries, and restaurants obtainable. Fluffy, sandy seashores of Florence Various clear water lakes are found right here, sitting in the midst of the enormous, typically towering dunes.

We took our canine to Cape Lookout and he beloved the quick 5 minute stroll to the seaside. We puzzled down the seashore and up the seashore for over two hours one morning and it was heaven. I checked out the locations across the Gold Coast however I think it might be a bit too far south for us as we need to restrict our driving once we hit Oregon.

<h2>Things To See + Do Close To Beverly Seashore State Park</h2>

Sunset Bay State Park has a number of the BEST sunset views in all the Oregon coastline. If you need to camp out in completely breathtaking surroundings, Sunset Bay is for you. The tall rock cliffs, white beaches and Pacific Ocean views are digicam worthy at every angle. If that describes you then look no additional than Seaside KOA. This campground sits where the good Columbia River meets the Pacific Ocean. You can embark on climbing adventures by day and benefit from the hot tub by night.

There's also disc golf, a playground area, and horseshoe pits. Kayak tours are supplied from July by way of Labor Day at close by Beaver Creek. There's even at lighthouse, Yaquina Bay Lighthouse, obtainable for viewing. Many folks contemplate this their favourite Oregon State Park, and with camping, swimming, hiking, biking, wildlife viewing, a shipwreck, and a military fort unfold over 4,300 acres, it isn't troublesome to see why. Visitors can keep in one of many six tent sites, 15 yurts, or 11 deluxe cabins and absorb a few of the best sunsets in the world. Hidden cove at Washburne There’s a simple path to the beach, containing miles of sand and a few surprises.

<h3>Safety At Hipcamp</h3>

From the principle seashore entry, head south and for the following mile or so you may find beautiful little cove-like locations, the primary of which is just 1 / 4 mile down the seashore. Some of these are only possibly 30 ft wide and 20 ft deep - which makes them excellent for letting the rays in however keeping the wind out.

Staying at an RV Park for a protracted time frame will vary on the campground & RV Park you choose. The distant thermal resort offers a wide range of accommodation types, including several RV spots for motorhome owners to take pleasure in all that the power has to offer. If soaking in a therapeutic, thermal scorching spring pond or private tub seems like your concept of relaxation, then this is certainly the place for you! The campsites are dog-pleasant too, so even your four-legged family members received’t should miss out. The Umatilla Marina RV Park is perched next to the gorgeous Columbia River in the northern finish of the state.

<h3>Awesome Places To Camp On The Oregon Coast</h3>

Only one SP tenting space is on the ocean (Beachside - between Yachats and Waldport), however select your website carefully as it's also proper on busy Hwy one hundred and one. For those with bigger RVs who're nonetheless looking for that in-the-woods feeling, the popular Harrington Loop Road south of Sisters doesn’t disappoint. If your thought of camping means sharing your site with extra ravens than different RVs, there’s no higher place to seek Oregon Coast camping out solace and seclusion than in Mount Hood National Forest. Expect towering Douglas-fir bushes to forged shade and conceal you away within the forest. Think trickling creeks and mushrooms springing up from each crevice, squirrels dancing acrobatic as eagles perch majestically in their eternal pursuit of representing liberty and justice for all. While it is hardly the one forested mountain you'll be able to discover, this combination of river, height and sheer vastness makes it one of the well-liked.

Other amenities embrace two clubhouses, two playgrounds, health heart, mini golf, basketball and tennis courts, clean bogs, and a laundry room. The solely draw back is it’s situated on the south side of the park, so you’ll must drive if camping on the north side. When we arrived, we received an actions calendar, however the only exercise we attempted to attend was a bonfire at the group fireplace pit space. Apparently, it was a member-led exercise, and that member didn’t show up, so no bonfire. There is Wi-Fi out there throughout the park for a charge, but it's free in the clubhouses and laundry room. We had 2-3 bars of 4G LTE of Verizon and AT&T throughout most of the park. The Oregon coast is a wonderful place to name home for a couple of days, weeks, or months when taking a highway journey in an RV.

The summer time months are undoubtedly the most effective time for Oregon coast camping. The weather is typically nice at the moment of the 12 months, but it's also the most crowded time to go to. I’ve heard it’s great to visit in the spring and fall when the parks are not so crowded.

[aurilis]

Known you before, chap 10 Poisoned cards  part 5

Capers continue while Julia is wondering about Chase and Carmen’s relation.

“Sooo. Explain to me what happened when I got poisoned.” made Carmen.

“ Zack just told it all.” replied Chase, his arm leaning on his lifted knee.

The young woman put her chin on his forearm.

“ You won that card game I take it. That’s your first victory against VILE, congrats. And thank you for saving my life.”

“ You saved mine, and even if you didn’t that was obvious.” he said.

She smiled to him. Carmen asked what has become of the VILE people. Arrested of course, which should allow Interpol to send some policemen after them.

“ Now if you don’t mind, I could use some rest too.” he said.

“ Of course. See you later then.”

He kissed her on the forehead before leaving.  Chase reappeared during evening. Everyone has gathered in the restaurant for dinner.

“ We’ll be leaving for Greece tomorrow.” informed Carmen while he sat near her.

“ Alright. How are you feeling ?”

“ I’ve completely recovered.”

“ Perfect.”

They spent a peaceful evening. Some hours later, they were reflecting on the Acropolis. Carmen was wondering why VILE would need intelligent fabric.

“ You said that this Dr Belly liked mind control. Think she could use this kind of fabric to create let’s say, something like an army of slaves ?” asked Chase.

“ It’s Bellum. But … could be.” corrected Carmen.

Anyway, they would be likely to operate in Italy. Meanwhile, Julia Argent was attending a meeting with Chief and Zari. Before them on a screen, a photo of Carmen, Chase and Shadowsan.

“ I don’t get it. What he is doing with her ? I can hardly believe that they teamed up.” said Julia.

“ And yet they’re together. In all likelihood, he resigned from ACME to join her. Why is the question. Why all of a sudden, in particular. Did you notice something when you were working with him, agent Argent ?”asked Chief.

Julia searched in her memories.

“ Apart that she was quite getting on his nerves …”

Silence.

“ Wait. There was that time in Mumbai, when we were on the train. Sandiego talked to me a little. When I realized who she was I tried to find the inspector. He was handcuffed to a seat, by her visibly. And … he had a red mark on his cheek. Like the mark left by a kiss.” narrated Julia.

Chief lifted her eyebrows.

“ You’re not possibly implying that Carmen Sandiego kissed him, agent Argent ?”

“ I can’t see any other explanation for that mark. And if she did, it means they already knew each other before and shared a bond.”

Tamara took this hypothesis in consideration. Devineaux never showed anything implying that he already met Carmen before Poitiers. But as curious as it seems, there weren’t another plausible explanation as to why he left with her.

“ I can’t believe this either. He probably had a lot of information about her, and hid it from us. I bet he didn’t even truly desire to arrest her.” made Chief, pacing.

“ He really seemed determined to do so, though. The other question is, supposing we’re right about a common past, what happened ? Did they somehow separated and reunited recently ?” continued Julia.

“ Maybe. Our crime intel indicate that Carmen Sandiego’s next target will be in Milan. I’ll send you there, and if you former partner is there, try to interrogate him.” concluded Chief.

“ Very well.”

Carmen’s crew was already on site and inside the place where a defile was supposed to happen. Chase went to find La Femme Rouge.

“ There you are Chase. Wooow, you’re serving looks.” she said.

Devineaux was staring at her, eyes wide opened. She was … sublime.

“ Chase ?” called Carmen.

She put her hands on her hips. Now wasn’t the time to day dream.

“ Hellooo ? Anybody home ?” she resumed, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“ Hein ? Yes, yes. I’m here.” he said.

“ Then let’s go, shall we.”

He followed her. The models were taking hats conceived by Bellum.

“ Hold it right there.” heard the thief.

“ Hi there, Zari.” intervened Chase, lifting her arm holding her gas gun.

“ You …”

He turned her hand to her face while lowering her hand. Then, pushing on her finger he zapped her. The man held her when she fell.

“ There. All clear.” said Devineaux..

“ Good job. You’re really improving.” complimented Sandiego.

“ Thanks.” he replied, without looking at her.

They then hastened to the stage, where the show was beginning.

“ Hands in the air, both of you.”

Julia was here. Carmen snatched her gun, before looking at her.

“ Since you’re here, you’ll help us.” she decided.

“ What ?” replied Chase and Julia.

“ We need to get on stage, and a woman will do better. Chase, wait for us backstage.”

“ Got it.”

They reunited a few minutes later, but the models were after them.

“ Chase, you should go with Jules.” advised Carmen.

“ I can handle them. They’re not as gifted as you.” he replied.

“ Do not be so sure. Here we are.” made Carmen.

The models attacked them. The duo had to snatch their hat to free them. Chase took a hit in the belly.

“ Ouch.”

“ Chase !”

“ Focus ! I’m fine !” he exclaimed.

The fight resumed. Chase hit a model with his shoulder, sending her on the ground. She lost her hat in the process, that the man crashed. This done, he hurried to help Carmen. In the end, the final help came from Shadowsan.

[snicketstrange]

Sugar Bowls theory

This is part 9 of the Strange Interpretation of Jean Lúcio from Brazil

To understand this text, it is necessary to read some my previous texts.

 Strange interpretation of Jean Lúcio about ASOUE — Lemony Snicket's Narration from a Culturally...

There are two sugar bowls that are being sought after by Lemony Snicket and his supporters.

In the letter in chapter 10 of TSS, Lemony wrote:

“I have at last learned the whereabouts of the evidence that will exonerate me, a phrase which here means "prove to the authorities that it is Count Olaf, and not me, who has started so many fires." Your suggestion, so many years ago at that picnic, that a tea set would be a handy place to hide anything important and small in the event of a dark day, has turned out to be correct.”

I believe there are already many theories evidencing that the contents of the sugar bowl is some kind of audio record. And I can say that I fully agree that the sugar bowl that Lemony was looking for many years after the main events certainly contained some kind of media that supports information, and that an audio record is most likely.

Besides, when Mr. Helquist was at Beatrice's house while the fire was being fought, he noticed that there was an incomplete set of tea among the wreckage.

Chapter 11 TUA - “I tried to site for a moment and draw some of the objects that lay in rubble - a glass bottle, portions of a grand piano, a few charred pieces of green wood, he remains of a tea set.”

Probably what was missing was exactly a sugar bowl. This was not the sugar bowl that belonged to Esmé. Beatrice stole from Esmé only the sugar bowl, not the whole tea set. Mr. Helquist probably saw the whole set of tea, except a sugar bowl.

When Lemony wrote the letter, he believed the record would show that it was Count Olaf who set off the fires. But of course, the record will show the truth, whatever it is. Whether it was Count Olaf or someone else, Lemony only found out when that record was available. In another text I will write what I believe that Lemony discovered when he listened to the recording. But now I must answer another question: What was in the sugar bowl that belonged to Esmé?

The Sugar Bowl that belonged to Esmé did not contain a recording. All the evidence indicates that the contents of this sugar bowl granted the person who carried the sugar bowl some kind of power. A power that could be used for evil.

Kit explained it in TPP chapter 2:

“The sugar bowl is on its way to the hotel even as we speak, and I'd hate to think what would happen if our enemies got ahold of it. I can't imagine anything worse, except perhaps if our enemies somehow got ahold of the Medusoid Mycelium."

 Secondly, the content of the sugar bowl is somewhat shameful for the "noble" side of VFD. It is something regarded as a secret. It is something as shameful as the fact that it was the "noble" side of VFD that grew the MM fungus.

But why is this shameful? Because it is a proof of the hypocrisy of the "noble" side of VFD. In the case of MM fungus, it is a great hypocrisy that an organization that preaches peace at the same time develops a biological weapon of mass destruction.

Windershins explained in TGG, chapter 4:

“that sonar detector is like our cave wall, showing us the shape of things much more powerful and terrifying." "… "I don't want you to understand, … That's why I haven't told you why the sugar bowl is so very crucial. There are secrets in this world too terrible for young people to know, even as those secrets get closer and closer.”

In fact, just knowing the contents of the sugar bowl can be dangerous for a young member of the noble party of VFD. Winddershins explained:

TGG chapter 6: "It's not the sugar bowl, it's what's inside it." Aye! I've already said too much!There are secrets in this world too terrible for young people to know! Just think – if you knew about the sugar bowl and you somehow fell into Count Olaf's clutches, there's no telling what he'd do! Aye!"

Probably, if a young man or woman discovered the sugar bowl and then fell into Count Olaf's clutches, this young man or woman could come to support Olaf because he would be convinced that the "noble" side of VFD is not at all noble. Older people would already understand how the world works, and so they could understand that sometimes noble people need to get their hands dirty for a greater good.

Now that we know there were two sugar bowls, we need to think, how did they both get to the hotel? One of the sugar bowls you should know has arrived by means of crows. This sugar bowl probably fell into the pond in front of the hotel when one of the crows was struck by a harpoon. This sugar bowl stayed in the secret library for many, many years until Lemony came to the hotel between the time he was writing TGG and TPP. But how did the Esmé sugar bowl come to the hotel? Where did this sugar bowl come from and where did it go?

The TSS book shows that the sugar bowl was in the VFD HQ. But two volunteers threw the sugar bowl out the window, and left a message about the object inside the refrigerator.

Who was the recipient of the message? JS. What is the content of the message?

"JS, there will be a gathering on Thursday. There is a message for you on the final quatrain of the eleventh stanza of" The Garden of Proserpine, "by Algernon Charles Swinburne." A piece of paper that contained the part of the poem lay nearby: "That no life lives forever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea." On the same paper was written Sugar bowl.

Lemony explained what the last part of the poem meant:

"Eventually, however, it became clear that" the weariest river "refers to the Stricken Stream, which indeed seemed to carry away from the ashes from the destruction of VFD headquarters, and that" winds somewhere safe to sea "refers to the last safe place where all the volunteers, including Quigley Quagmire, could gather. "

Thus, the secret message indicated to JS that the sugar bowl had been launched in the Stricken Stream. And of course, anyone who knows the water cycle, would deduce that the sugar bowl would end up somewhere in the sea.

You must remember, that while Klaus was at Queequeg, he was able to calculate accurately that the sugar bowl went into the GG. That's where things get interesting. After Klaus passed the information to Windershins, Klaus, Violet, Sunny and Fiona slept. Several hours passed. (TGG chapter 5). Finally the submarine arrived at Gorgonian Grotto, but could not advance much inside the GG. Winddershinhs explained:

"the cave got narrower and narrower as we maneuvered further and further inside ... The entrance was the wide end of the cone,

but now it's too narrow for the submarine to travel. If we want to we will have to use something smaller ...

Periscope? "Sunny asked." No, "Captain Widdershins replied." A child. "

This means that a person of tall stature would not be able to walk in the narrowest part of GG. Winddershins was of tall stature, and so he could not go get the sugar bowl. He had to send the teens and sunny to get the sugar bowl. However, this group of young people searched for a long time and did not find the sugar bowl there in GG. Why not? There was one more person in GG that day. Notice what is written in TGG chapter 6:

"They had gazed upward and seen the sharp angles of various vertical flame diversions and other secret passageways Once again, she was led to the marine research center and rhetorical advice service, or even spotted the person who was using one of the passageways now, and probably for the last time, as she made her difficult and dark way toward the Queequeg. instead, all the children could see through their small circular windows was darkness. "

Thus, a person passed in the dark by the young group. They were going to GG. But this woman went down the secret tunnels that linked AA to GG. She certainly found the sugar bowl, and headed toward the Queequeg. She passed the Baudelaires and Fiona in the darkness and made her way to the Queequeg. This woman convinced Winddershins and Phill to leave Queequeg.

It was probably Windershins himself who sent the telegram to this woman, informing her that the sugar bowl was in GG. He must have kept this telegram while the children were asleep. The mysterious woman went down the secret tunnel, using this tunnel for the last time according to Lemony, and went to the submarine.

Lemony wrote the following in Chapter 13 of TGG:

“In the final analysis...Captain Widdershins was wrong about a great many things... He was wrong to abandon the Queequeg, no matter what He heard from the woman who came to fetch him.”

When the children returned from GG to Queequeg, the submarine had not been captured by Carmelita submarine. However, Phil and Widdershins had already disappeared.

Chapter 8 of TGG describes:

The Baudelaire orphans knew that something was wrong the moment they arrived at the submarine, knocked on the metal hatch, and heard no answer from the captain inside... After knocking for several minutes, the worried children had to open the hatch by themselves, a difficult task in the dark, and enter the passageway, quickly closing the hatch behind them... The Baudelaires looked around the room, but it seemed as empty and lonely as the grotto. Without the enormous presence of Captain Widdershins – "enormous presence" is a phrase which here means "large physical size, combined with a vibrant personality and loud voice" – the Main Hall seemed utterly deserted. Fiona took a step toward the door to the kitchen, but then stopped and looked at the wooden table. "Their helmets are gone," she said. "Both Phil and my stepfather were keeping their diving helmets on the table, in case of an emergency." She ran her hand along the table, as if she could make the helmets reappear. "They're gone," she said. "They've left the Queequeg."

The children began to wonder why Widdershins and Phil left the Queequeg. But what they should ask themselves is this: "Where were Winddershins and Phil gone?" Dear reader, let us reason together. We know that the Queequeg was at the bottom of the ocean. We know there were three people in the Queequeg: Winddershins, Phil, and a mysterious, short-stature woman. Winddershins did not go up to AA through secret tunnels because according to Lemony, the last time the tunnels were used was when the mysterious woman went down one of the tunnels and went to the GG and from there to the Queequeg. Besides, Windershins was too tall. They did not go to the Carmelita because this submarine had not yet captured the Quequeeg yet. They wore their wetsuits to leave the Queequeg. Did they decide to swim from the bottom of the ocean to the shore? That would not be possible. Even the Queequeg, which was a motorized submarine, took about a day or two for the Queequeg to reach the coast. And when the Queequeg got there, Kit said she was going to meet Winddershins who had already reached the coast.

My theory is this:

The contents of the sugar bowl that belonged to Esmé was a small musical instrument (probably a whistle) capable of controlling the Great Unknown. The short woman picked up the sugar bowl at GG, swam to the submarine, and persuaded Phil and Winddershins to leave the Queequeg in the mouth of the Great Unknown. (I believe the Great Unknown is a very large and very fast marine beast).

 You must remember that the Sinister Duet use whistles to control their eagles. This is evidence that many ferocious VFD-related animals can be controlled by sounds. You should also remember that the Sinister Duet uses the eagles as a means of transportation. Similarly, by means of a whistle, the Great Unknown can be controlled to transport people. Of course, it can also be invoked to kill people, and even destroy submarines. It is a kind of weapon. This fits perfectly with the fact that whoever owns the sugar bowl will have great power. And the ability to control well-trained fierce animals is one of the issues raised because of the VFD Great Schism. As the Sinister Duet said in TSS chapter 13:

"Look at these creatures!" cried the woman with hair but no beard. "When the schism occurred, you may have won the carrier crows, volunteers, and you may have won the trained reptiles... You may have the carrier crows, but we have the two most powerful mammals in the world to do our bidding – the lions and eagles!"

The more you think about this theory, the more it makes sense. For example, in TPP chapter 10, there is the scene of the mysterious taxi driver. Notice what Lemony wrote:

"I do know who the man was, and I do know where he went afterward, and I do know the name of the woman who was hiding in the trunk, and the type of musical instrument that was laid carefully in the back seat, and the ingredients of the sandwich tucked into the glove compartment, and even the small item that sat on the passenger seat, still damp from its hiding place."

The woman hiding in the trunk, must be the same mysterious Queequeg woman. The small item should be the sugar bowl that belonged to Esmé. This sugar bowl was taken to the hotel by this mysterious woman. And the musical instrument that was carefully placed on the back bench was the contents of the sugar bowl: a whistle, able to control The Great Unknown. (You can search, whistles are musical instruments).

There are more interesting evidences.

Winddershins made it appear that there was a connection between the sugar bowl and the Great Unknown in TGG, when GU first appeared on the radar. Recalling the words of him that I have already quoted in this text (TGG chap. 4):

"What was that third shape?" Violet asked. The captain shook his head again. "Something very bad," he said. "Even worse than Olaf, probably. I told you Baudelaires that there is evil you can not even imagine."

"We do not have to imagine it," Klaus said. "We saw it on the screen."

"That screen is nothing," the captain said. "It's just a piece of

equipment, aye? There was a philosopher who said that all of life is just shadows. He said that people were just sitting in the basement, watching shadows on the cave wall. Aye - shadows of something much bigger and grander than themselves. Well, that sonar detector is like our cave wall, showing us the shape of things much more powerful and terrifying. "

"I do not understand," Fiona said.

"I do not want you to understand," the captain said, putting his arm around her "That's why I have not told you why the sugar bowl is so crucial. There are secrets in this world too terrible for young people to know, even those secrets get closer and closer.

After that, at the end of TGG, after the Carmelita capture Queequeg, look what happened:

Chapter 13:

“The screen looked like a piece of graph paper, lit up in green light, and at the center were both a glowing letter Q, representing the Queequeg, and a glowing eye, representing the terrible octopus submarine that had devoured them. But at the top of the screen was another shape - one they had almost forgotten about. It was a long curved tube, with a small circle at the end of it, slithering slowly down the screen like a snake, or an enormous question mark, or some terrible evil the children could not even imagine.

"What's that cakesniffing shape?" asked Carmelita Spats. "It looks like a big comma."

"Shh!" Count Olaf hissed, putting his filthy hand over Carmelita's mouth. "Silence, everyone!"

"We have to get out of here," Esmé murmured. "This octopus is no match for that thing."

"You're right," Olaf muttered. "Esmé, go whip our rowers so they'll go faster! Hooky, store those uniforms! Triangle Eyes, take the orphans to the brig!"

"What about me?" Carmelita asked. "I'm the cutest, so I should get to something."

"I guess you'd better come with me," the count said wearily. "But no tap-dancing! We do not want to show up on their sonar!"

"Ta ta, cakesniffers!" Carmelita said, waving her pink wand at the three siblings.

"You're so stylish, darling," Esmé said. "It's like I always say: You can not be too rich or too in!"

The two wicked females jumped through the broken porthole and out of the Queequeg, followed by the hook-handed man, who gave the Baudelaires an awkward wave.”

 According to my theory, the GU was around this point because Beatrice, Bill and Windershins had invoked T GU using the musical instrument (probably a whistle).

Olaf refers to the sonar that would be used by "them." This sonar should be a bio sonar, used by some animals for echolocation. Olaf uses the plural "their," because Olaf knows there is more than one animal that has the same shape. Although only one of them, I think, is trained by Lemony and his associates (Or Hangfire many years before).

It is interesting that Olaf and Esmé know that The GU has the ability to listen to low amplitude sounds. Some marine animals like dolphins and whales have bio sonar. Such animals need a good ear. In addition, the name given to the animal was probably Bombinating Beast. This means that the animal makes a sound while hunting. This sound can be used for echolocation

 You must remember the scene where Kit comes to the beach. She told what happened:

TE chapter 13:

"We made a desperate attempt to repair the Queequeg and reach the Quagmires as their aerial battle continued, and arrived just in time to see the balloons of the self-sustaining hot air mobile home pop under the cruel beaks of the escaping eagles. They tumbled down to the surface of the sea, and crashed into the Queequeg. In moments we were all castaways, treading water in the midst of all the items that survived the wreck."... "What happened next?" "I don't know," Kit admitted. "From the depths of the sea a mysterious figute approached–almost like a question mark, rising out of the water." "We saw that on a radar screen," Violet remembered. "Captain Widdershins refused to tell us what it was."My brother used to call it 'The Great Unknown,... I was terrified, Baudelaires. Quickly I fashioned a Vaporetto of Favorite Detritus, as I'd been trained to do." ... I gathered all the books in reach that I enjoyed, tossing the boring ones into the sea, but everyone else wanted to take their chances with the great unknown. I begged the others to climb aboard as the question mark approached, but only Ink managed to reach me. The others ... " Her voice trailed off, and for a moment Kit did nothing but wheeze. "In an instant they were gone–either swallowed up or rescued by that mysterious thing." "You don't know what happened to them?" Klaus asked. Kit shook her head. "All I heard," she said, "was one of the Quagmires calling Violet's name." Sunny looked into the face of the distraught woman. "Quigley," the youngest Baudelaire could not help asking "or Duncan?" "I don't know," Kit said again.

Kit saw the Great Unknown, and she knew exactly what the Great Unknown was. Why did Kit wonder whether the others had been killed or not by the GU? Her doubt was whether the sugar bowl was in the hands of noble people or cruel people. Or if the GU was acting on his own, without any control. If the sugar bowl was not in the hands of noble people, death was certain. Why did Winddershins, who had shown fear in TGG of GU, now preferred to go to the GU despite Kit's insistence on him and the others fleeing? Winddershins knew that the ferocious beast was being controlled through the contents of the sugar bowl. He knew that the mysterious woman was inside the beast's mouth, and that the beast was there to save them.

Why did one of the Quaqmires shout out the name "Violet" when he was about to enter the GU? For when the beast opened its mouth, he saw a woman in the beast's mouth. A woman of short stature. A woman whose physical appearance was similar to Violet. So he found it very strange, and said "Violet?" But it was not Violet. She was just a woman very much like her ...

Beatrice

[gwenbrightly]

The Gingerbread Caper

Cross-posted from ffnet.

The quiet atmosphere of the monastery was broken by the sound of screaming originating from Kai’s bedroom, waking anyone who still happened to be asleep. Nya groaned in annoyance and covered her face with a pillow. Wu was letting them slack off from Sunrise Exercises and she really didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to take advantage of that.

“GET IT OFF ME!!!” Her brother screamed again, forming coherent words this time. That was it. Obviously, the master of water wasn’t going to be sleeping in today. She threw her pillow aside and climbed out of bed, eyeing her clock resentfully. It was far too early for this. Not that 10 am was particularly early (but still!). She trudged from her room still wrapped in one of her blankets.

“What the heck, Kai?” Nya demanded when she reached Kai’s bedroom just down the hall. The master of fire sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He tossed something at her in disgust. She caught it with minimal effort. A gingerbread man. Or, at least, what was left of one. The poor cookie didn’t have any head.

“This better not have been you, sis.” he stated. Nya rolled her eyes, tempted to return to the comfort of her bed rather than deal with her over dramatic brother.

“Like I’d ever stoop so low. Seriously, you didn’t need to scream like that. It’s just a cookie.”

Kai gaped at her indignantly.

“Would you wanna wake up with some creepy soulless human wannabe in your bed?”

“Now there’s a quote I should send to your lovely girlfriend right away.” Nya laughed. He glared at her for a moment before suddenly shooting up from his bed.

“Skylor!”

“What?” she asked, confused, “I swear I wasn’t actually planning on sending this to her.”

“No, she’s supposed to be coming over today to decorate cookies with us!” he reminded her. Nya face-palmed.

“I can’t believe I forgot about that…”

“Actually, this is perfect. She’ll be totally unbiased about this whole gingerbread man fiasco.” Kai mused, already deep in thought. His sister frowned at him. It was obvious he had something up his sleeve.

“What are you planning?”

“Don’t look so worried, Nya. This is just like one of Ninja Noir’s mysteries! I just gotta follow the trail of evidence and eventually, I’ll be able to eliminate the impossible and find the truth!” Kai told her, quoting his favorite detective series.

“Kai, no.” she said, attempting to prevent the situation from getting totally out of hand. He ignored her, instead opting to head over to his closet to grab something. When he turned to face Nya again, he was wearing a fedora.

“Since when do you own a fedora?” the master of water questioned. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Shhhh,” he cut her off with a wave of his hand, “Just go with it.”

Nya sighed, but followed him to go wait for Skylor to appear.

_________________________________________________________________

“Do I even wanna know what I just walked into?” Skylor wondered when she caught site of the scene playing out in the living room. Her boyfriend stared suspiciously at Lloyd and Jay, who were playing what appeared to be a rather intense game of Fist to Face (Ninja Edition!). It took him a second to register her presence. Nya waved her over, smiling apologetically.

“Someone,” Kai began to explain, holding up the cookie, which he’d gotten back from his sister, “thought it would be funny to put this in my bed and I wanna know who.”

Skylor resigned herself to another of Kai’s chaotic schemes. She already knew he had a problem with gingerbread people (and Christmas elves, and those little expanding bath toys they sold at the dollar store for that matter), though he wouldn’t tell her what it was about the holiday treats that bothered him so much.

“Eh okay. How can I help?”

“Are you sure you wanna do that?” Nya asked at the same time as Kai said, “You can be, like, the insanely hot mystery woman who helps the dashing detective (me) solve the mystery.”

“Real smooth, dork. But sure, why not.” the redhead decided, punching the master of fire’s shoulder lightly to distract from how rosy her cheeks were all of a sudden. He grinned in delight.

“Cool! Oh, and I guess Nya can help too.” Kai added as an afterthought. Nya raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re obviously not a suspect, sis! The gingerbread man couldn’t have been in my bed long or it would have crumbled, and you value sleep way too much to have gotten up early enough to orchestrate this.” he stated confidently. She didn’t look like she was taking this as a compliment.

“So, detective Smith, where do we start our investigation?” Skylor prompted. She had no desire to see the siblings get into a debate over their sleeping habits.

“Oh. Uh… We have to interview our suspects!” announced Kai, dragging Skylor and Nya over to the two video game playing ninja.

“Oh, hey guys. You wanna join our next round?” Jay offered, not taking his eyes off of the screen. He rapidly pressed several buttons on his controller at once.

“Yeah, it’ll be way more fun with more players!” agreed Lloyd. He gave a smirk of triumph as his avatar landed a final hit on his opponent. The master of lightning groaned, disappointed.

“Actually, I think Kai had something he wanted to ask you.” Skylor informed them. Jay and Lloyd set aside their controllers, curious. The sight of Kai in a fedora was unexpected; Lloyd was usually the only one who found them fashionable enough to wear.

“Oh, okay. What’s up?” the green ninja asked, wondering what on earth could be so pressing that Kai had gotten Nya and Skylor involved.

“I was wondering if you knew anything about this?” answered Kai he shoved the cookie under his brother’s nose. Taking note of the gingerbread man, Jay demanded, “Hey – how’d you convince Zane to let you have one of his cookies?”

He’d tried to snag one earlier that morning, only to be thwarted by the master of ice, who insisted they must save the gingerbread cookies for Skylor’s arrival. This was rather unfortunate, as they smelled utterly delicious.

“No, I- you’re telling me that you, the two biggest pranksters around, have no idea how this got in my bed?” Kai stated, skeptical. The two ninja shook their heads. It appeared he was going to have to use a different interrogation method to get answers. He judged his sister. She glared at him. He nodded pointedly at Lloyd and Jay. Not wanting to give in so easily, Nya stared at Kai silently for several minutes before finally relenting.

“If that’s true, then you won’t mind telling us what you’ve been doing all morning.” she said in her best police officer voice (and secretly wishing she had a fake mustache on her).

“Oh, that’s easy. We’ve been having a Fist to Face (Ninja Edition!) tournament for the past couple of hours. Just look at the scoreboard,” Jay told them with a shrug, “I mean, it is kinda embarrassing to see how many times Lloyd’s hooped me already today, but if it gets you to stop looking at me like that…”

Lloyd nodded, the picture of innocence. They took a closer look at the screen. Sure enough, the scores for the past thirty or so rounds, along with the times they were completed scrolled across the pause screen.

“Huh. Well, I guess you’re off the hook. For now, at least.” Kai decided, wondering who he should use his detective skills on next if the most obvious suspects had been ruled out.

“Maybe Zane knows who it was. He’s been in the kitchen all morning.” suggested Lloyd as he set up another round of the video game. Skylor grabbed Kai’s elbow and drug him towards the door, saying, “Good idea. I need to give him the extra sprinkles I brought anyway.”

Nya mouthed I’ll be back later to her boyfriend before following them. Instead of heading directly to the kitchen, Kai insisted on examining every nook and cranny of the hallway. He held a magnifying glass he’d somehow ended up with, though no one could say for sure where it had come from, and was doing his best to mutter what he thought sounded like very professional and insightful comments.

“Ahah! A trail of crumbs. Collect that for evidence, Sky.”

The redhead pretended like she hadn’t heard him, sharing a grossed out look with Nya.

“Oh, hey! Weren’t you missing an earring, Nya?”

Kai held out something sparkly and blue.

“Uh…thanks.” Nya accepted it, a look of utter surprise on her face. She’d been searching for this earring for weeks. Could it be possible that Kai was actually… good at this detective stuff?

“The detective and his sidekicks arrived at the kitchen at approximately 11:05 am., wondering what clues they would uncover inside…” Kai loudly announced, interrupting Nya’s thoughts.

“Hello!” Zane greeted them. Bowls of frosting in an impressively wide range of colors lined the counters along with several different kinds of sprinkles. Pixal was currently adding a few drops of vibrant red food dye to one of the few bowls that remained uncolored.

“Yes, welcome! Did you bring the sprinkles?” she asked. Skylor pulled a jar from her purse.

“Yep, here you go.”

“Thank goodness,” exclaimed Zane, taking them from her, “Dyeing sugar crystals by hand just isn’t effective.”

“Tell me about it. We tried it at the restaurant one time when we were in a pinch and… it didn’t work well.” the redhead recalled. Having grown bored with the conversation the others were having about epic fails with sprinkles, Kai examined the trays of cookies stacked next to the oven. Just as he’d predicted, one row of cookies was missing a gingerbread man.

“Hey, Zane, Pixal? You guys have been in here all morning, right?” he asked, casually. The two nindroids glanced at each other. Zane was the first to reply.

“Well, I stepped out for a few moments to bring Master Wu some oolong tea – he claims to be feeling a bit under the weather today – but, other than that, yes. Why?”

“I’m trying to figure out where this cookie came from. You didn’t happen to, say, give one of these to someone, did you?” Kai showed them the gingerbread man, curious to see their reaction. He was a little disappointed when neither of them did anything incriminating.

“I suppose it’s possible that Cole took it when I wasn’t looking. He came in here while Zane was gone to grab some extra tape.” Pixal said thoughtfully. Ahah! Kai’s eyes lit up.

“So he’s wrapping presents, huh,” he mused, “I wonder if he’s gotten to mine yet…”

“Kai! I thought you were being a detective, not some nosy kid!” his sister hissed disapprovingly. He huffed indignantly.

“I’m just curious, Nya. And besides, all the best detectives can multi-task.” Kai defended.

“Suuure.”

“Anyway, thank you for the info. We may be back later.” the master of fire stated in a more professional tone, heading out into the hall once more. Zane and Pixal waved as the others left, not sure how else to respond.

En route to Cole’s bedroom, Kai immediately reverted back to carefully examining every small space, carpet snag, and leafy garland in sight. Nothing escaped the lens of his magnifying glass. Not even his sister’s tennis shoes, which kept blocking his view. If he could just find something, anything, that would prove once and for all who was guilty of this delectable crime… Wait. Kai caught a whiff of something cinnamony wafting off of a wreath hung across the hall from the master of earth’s door. He sniffed the gingerbread man. It was the same smell. Reaching into the wreath, he plucked something small and round from inside. Victory! Skylor stared at him in confusion for a few minutes before realizing what he was holding.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Kai held the two pieces of the gingerbread man together.

“Yep. Looks like we might just have an official suspect.”

“You’re so weird…” Nya muttered under her breath. She was pretty sure nothing would possess her to behave like this.

“Hey, it worked pretty well, didn’t it?” Kai pointed out, slinging an arm around her shoulders. She sidestepped quickly, shrugging it off as she went.

“Well…” she started reluctantly, “I guess we’d better get in there and get some answers.” She swung the door open. They could hear the pleasant tune of the Nutcracker soundtrack playing on Cole’s phone as they entered. The ninja in question sat at his desk, surrounded by wrapping paper. He turned around and blocked their view of whatever else was on the desk before quickly asking, “Do… you need something, or are you just here to enjoy the total masterpiece that is the Nutcracker?”

“Uh, yeah. Though, it is definitely a classic.” Nya told him appreciatively. They would have to pull out the recording of Cole’s 6th grade performance of the ballet that Lou had given them one day soon.

“Let’s cut to the chase. We know why you were really in the kitchen, Cole.” Kai cut in impatiently. Cole’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Aw, man! You’re not gonna tell Zane, are you?” he stammered.

“…What?” the master of fire attempted to ask.

“This is a one-time thing, I swear! His frosting is just too delicious to resist.” Cole continued sheepishly, oblivious to Kai’s question. Kai, Skylor, and Nya froze. This wasn’t at all what they had been expecting him to say.

“Zane’s…. Frosting?” Skylor repeated, wanting to make sure they had heard him right.

“Well yeah. I’ve been snacking in it all morning,” the master of earth admitted, showing them a mostly empty bowl, “It’s so good! Wait - what did you think I was talking about?”

No one replied at first; they were still processing the unexpected turn of events.

“We… may have thought you put a headless gingerbread man in Kai’s bed to mess with him.” Nya ultimately explained. Cole couldn’t help himself. He burst into laughter at this admission.

“Wow, I guess that explains the looks on your faces right about now. But as totally brilliant of an idea as that prank is, I had nothing to do with it. Sorry.”

“Eh, it’s okay. We probably shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions when Pixal told us you’d been in the kitchen. Or when I found the gingerbread man’s head in that wreath. In hindsight it was a pretty weird hiding place.” Kai said apologetically.

“Yeah.” his sister agreed.

“Almost…. Like someone wanted us to find it…” he continued.

“You think whoever did this tried to frame Cole?” Skylor questioned, finishing his thought. It was all coming together now.

“I guess I do…. Oolong tea not licorice…. Hang on a sec, I think I solved this thing!”

Nya gave him a look, as if questioning his sanity. His ramblings made little sense to her.

“No offense, Kai, but you lost me at tea.” she told him with a frown.

“Me too, honestly.” Cole nodded, equally lost, especially since he had missed a majority of the investigative process. Kai rolled his eyes in exasperation and said, “Just make sure everyone meets me in the living room in five minutes, and I’ll explain then, okay?”

“Even Master Wu?” Cole clarified, not wanting to disturb the old man without a good reason.

“Especially Master Wu.” Kai confirmed before dashing out of the room and leaving everyone else to wonder whether or not the master of fire was going to crash and burn.

He paced back and forth across the living room, earning the occasional odd look from Lloyd and Jay, who had moved on to arguing over the existence of a plot hole in the latest Starfarers movie.

“I’m telling you, Jay. They left that part vague so that it can be expanded on in the sequel!” Lloyd insisted. Jay didn’t look like he agreed with this statement, still stuck on his accusations of lazy writing. He was rescued from having to formulate a convincing comeback by the arrival of the rest of the residents of the monastery. Nya and Skylor had returned to the kitchen for the pair of nindroids, leaving Cole to retrieve Master Wu. The room was suddenly filled with noisy conversations as everyone claimed a seat.

“Okay. Let’s get down to business.” Kai practically shouted over the din. One by one, the others stopped talking and looked at him.

“Alright, let’s get this hare-brained scheme of yours over with so we can have lunch, then.” Cole encouraged, speaking for everyone. While they were curious to see if Kai had actually figured out who had pranked him, they had also gotten more than a little tired of being on the receiving end of his investigative tactics.

“Right. As you all know, I woke up this morning to find a decapitated gingerbread man in my bed,” the master of fire began dramatically, making sure everyone could see the cookie, “at first, it seemed like our resident pranksters, Lloyd and Jay, were the obvious suspects. However, they both had a strong alibi… It couldn’t have been them – they were right here in this room playing video games when the crime was committed.” he crossed over to Zane and Pixal, “next, my lovely assistants and I headed to the source of the cookie – the kitchen, in the hopes that someone there would know what had happened. Our ever-watchful ice ninja hadn’t seen anything suspicious. He stepped out for what, 15 minutes tops?”

“That is correct,” Zane nodded.

“He was getting Master Wu some tea because he was sick,” Kai explained, “more on that later. Pixal told us that Cole had come looking for tape while Zane was gone. We figured maybe he could give us some answers, so we headed for his room, and you know what we found in the wreath across the hall from his door?”

“That’s right,” Nya jumped in, though she still wasn’t sure how relevant it was, “The missing head!”

“Exactly. So obviously that must mean that Cole’s the culprit, right?” Jay and Lloyd looked at each other. Were they supposed to agree?

“Wrong! If he’d taken the cookie, he would’ve eaten the head right away, not hidden it. The only thing Cole was guilty of was stealing a bowl of frosting for a mid-morning snack. And that’s when it hit me. What kind of tea does Master Wu always drink when he’s sick?”

“Licorice?” Lloyd offered. Kai smiled triumphantly.

“Bingo. But when he asked Zane to bring him some tea, he asked for Oolong tea, which he never drinks when he’s sick because it tastes nasty with honey in it. Master Wu, you’re not really sick, are you?”

The elderly spinjitzu master smiled weakly at him, but did not deny the accusation.

“Here’s what happened: Master Wu asked Zane to bring him some tea because he knew it would distract him long enough for the real gingerbread prankster to put their plan into action. Knowing she only had a short amount of time, Pixal grabbed a cookie and snuck into my bedroom to plant it on me. She also hid the gingerbread man’s head in that wreath in case someone came looking for it later. She only barely made it back to the kitchen before Cole arrived.”

Skylor snapped her fingers, excitedly jumping in.

“I get it! When we showed up in the kitchen to ask Zane about the cookies, she told us about Cole because she knew we’d find the head and think it was him.”

“Exactly! And it would’ve worked, too, if the tea hadn’t made me suspicious. The only thing I haven’t figured out is why….” Kai paused, staring at them, “Why did you do this, guys?”

Wu stood and walked over to him.

“To put it simply, we wanted to help you overcome your phobia of gingerbread people. It gets in the way of you spending time with your family and friends every year. I know it wasn’t a very kind thing to do, but I honestly felt it would be worth it in the end to see you enjoy the holidays a bit more.” he admitted, placing a hand on Kai’s shoulder.

“And I do believe it worked!” Pixal added, “although you were certainly annoyed, you didn’t seem frightened at any point this morning.”

Kai made a funny face as he thought about everything that had happened. However misguided Pixal and Wu’s plan had been… he didn’t feel the disgust and terror he was used to when he looked at the gingerbread man in his hand anymore.

“You know, I think you’re right… don’t get me wrong, I’m still kinda irritated that you thought this was a good idea. But… thanks.” he told them. Out of all the holiday adventures Kai had had, he was pretty sure this was the strangest. Later that day, after they had finally eaten lunch (much to Cole’s relief), he had to smile when Zane didn’t hesitate to hand him a gingerbread man to decorate. He set to work carefully frosting it so they it resembled a detective with a trench coat and fedora, proudly displaying it with the rest when he was finished. It was nice to see that gingerbread people weren’t so bad after all. Ninja Noir would be proud.

Hopefully this ridiculous story made someone smile today :) it was literally so fun to come up with hehe

[yuzusorbet]

Sendai Holiday 2019, Part 5: An Unexpected Journey

A fan told me about the special edition Yuzuru Hanyu subway card that came with 3 postcards and I quickly went to the Sendai subway station office to buy it.  The beautiful subway card was a one-day pass, unlimited rides.  Many fans used it to to get to International Centre Station where Yuzu’s Olympic Monuments are, and also to Izumi Chuo Station which is near Ice Rink Sendai, but I had already gone to these places before I knew about this special pass.  Well, I could always just keep it without using it but, somehow, I felt I had to make good use of this pass that has Yuzu’s SEIMEI silhouette on it.     

There is a 3.11 Memorial Community Centre located in Arai Station 荒井 at the end of the Tozai subway line 東西線.  The name popped up when I was searching online about Sendai travel.  I have never heard of this place before but since I could use my Yuzu subway pass and learn more about 3.11, I thought it was perfect.  Arai Station is just 6 stops away from Sendai Station.  (3.11 refers to the Great East Japan earthquake and tsunami, also known as the Tohoku earthquake, of 11 March 2011.)  

I arrived at Arai Station and there was a big sign pointing to the 3.11 centre.  It was within the station itself, at one end.

‘This post-earthquake restoration memorial facility opened in February 2016.   As a gateway to the eastern coastal area, which suffered tremendous damage from the tsunami, this memorial community center conveys the history of the region, the memory of the disaster, and wisdom and lessons derived from it to the world and to future generations.’ (credit)

On the first floor, there is a big 3D map that shows the extent of the coastal area ravaged by the tsunami.

On the 2nd floor, there are photos of the affected areas, in a timeline from the Showa period til present day, showing the devastation of March 2011 and restoration efforts.

The captions are all in Japanese but there are booklets that give the translation in English, Chinese, Korean and Thai.  You can hold the booklet and read the translated caption for each picture as you move along the wall.

There was one photo that struck me in particular.  People on the rooftop of Arahama Elementary School, with the black waters of the tsunami below.  They were students, staff and nearby residents who had fled there.  All were rescued by helicopter later.   Many thoughts ran through my mind.  How terrifying it must have been to watch the sea swallow up all that you live on.  And what about their family members who were not with them...... how many families could be reunited?  The young elementary school students, did they recover from the trauma?  How are they doing now.....

One of the staff told me that this school has been preserved as a museum and memorial of the disaster.  It has been open to public since April 2017.  He suggested that I take the short bus ride to the school and go into the building to have a look.  Oh my...... I was not prepared for that at all.  Do I really want to see the actual traces of devastation and tragedy??  It is too sad.....  After a bit of hesitation, I went outside the station and boarded the bus that goes to the school near the coast.  It was a regular bus that has a few stops along way and the ride cost 240 yen.   Part of the route was rather scenic with rice paddy fields. 

The last stop was at the school.  The building looked like a normal school from afar.   A banner along the 3rd floor says ありがとう 荒浜小学校  (Thank you, Arahama Elementary School).  It was put up by students in 2016. 

  There is some information in English on the board at the front.

The white sign at the 2nd floor shows the height of the tsunami that day.  The first level was totally submerged. (pic below)

On the 1st and 2nd floors, we can see the damage, and pictures show the aftermath, before the debris was cleared.  All sorts of things were pushed into the classrooms by the force of the tsunami.  A teacher’s car which was parked outside was found crushed with the debris in one of the rooms.

On the 4th floor is a room with a timeline of events on that day, from the earthquake to the tsunami and after.

The clock that was in the 1st floor gymnasium stopped at the time that the tsunami struck. 

There was also a video in the room, with the principal and other staff of the school commenting on that day, with English subtitles.....

“I grabbed the key for the rooftop and told everyone in all of the rooms to leave everything and go up to the rooftop right away.”

“It turned into a mountain, something like black mountain, it was sea water, it came and..... crash, it kept coming forward.”

“There was nothing left of the Arahama area.  It was a view of the bottom of the sea and all we could do was watch from the rooftop as the town was swept away.”

I cried as I watched the video.  My heart that was getting heavier and heavier could not hold it back anymore.

From the 4th floor, I went up to the rooftop.  So this was where the survivors were standing.  I could see the sea on one side....

and all around, rebuilding is going on.  New roads are being made, with bulldozers and excavators here and there.   It was too painful to think that this was actually a town filled with people and homes.

I remember the wind was very strong on the rooftop and the sky was overcast, so it was very cold even though it was in the warm month of May.  After taking some photos, I made my way back down.

The 3rd floor is closed but there is a very touching piece of writing by a teacher of the school, with English translation included.  Please read it from my photo below (4th pic).

The teacher’s reflections were full of sadness but also very uplifting.  “Kindness and gratitude in these hard times.”  So touching.  I hope to remember these words.

In front of the building is a ‘Closing of School’ monument, with the words of the school song on the transparent blue panel.  The school has been here a long time.  It was established in 1873 (Meiji year 6) and built on the current site in 1912 (Taisho year 1).

As I was leaving, groups of students came in large buses.  Each group had a guide talking to them outside first, then taking them around.  The school continues its purpose of educating and building up the nation. 

Goodbye and thank you, Arahama Elementary School.  I said a silent prayer as I left on the bus.  The serenity of the rice fields comforted my heart.    

For more info and photos of the school, here is a news article: The school that saved 320 people

Note: I spent about an hour here but one hour is not enough to finish looking at everything in the school.  Two hours would be good.  There are guide booklets in a few languages near the entrance of the school.  Check also the bus schedule.  It only runs once an hour. 

Much thanks to the staff at 3.11 Memorial Community Centre for their help.

Back home, I searched and read up more....

In addition to physical reconstruction, emotional and social support remain an important focus for rebuilding. “Up in Tohoku, a common term widely used to describe the emotional difficulty in what recovery really means after the disaster is kokoro no byōki (illness of the heart).  From continuing financial worries, divorces, depression, disconnected families to elderly survivors losing connection or meaning, there are ongoing situations of survivors falling through the cracks. [....]  Volunteers provide an invaluable message of encouragement, crucial to the long-term emotional recovery of survivors. [...]  Their return and interest in the community reinforces the message that others believe the rebuilding is worthwhile — and that they are worthwhile.”  (credit: Japan Times, link below)

I immediately thought of Yuzu.  Besides donating all his Olympic prize money for rebuilding, he goes back again and again to visit communities in the affected areas and to do ice shows for them.  His visits tell the survivors that they are worthwhile, that they are not forgotten.  How many lives has he saved in this way!  God bless all volunteers for their kindness and generosity.       

Thanks to Yuzu’s subway pass..... It led me on an unexpected journey to learn more about something very close to his heart and I am inspired again to do more.  Below are some useful sites that I found: 

https://www.japantimes.co.jp/community/2019/03/10/issues/new-approach-volunteering-tohoku/#.XUVS5lCLmCR

https://www.japansociety.org/page/earthquake 

https://www.tohoku.ac.jp/en/news/campus_community/news20181128scrum.html

Even though I only took 2 rides with the subway pass (going to Arai Station and back), I think I have made very good use of it. 

(All photos are taken by me;  please do not use or re-post my photos without asking me first.  Thanks.)

[kanene-yaaay]

Double-Cosplay Challenge

 Author’s note: Hello-ho-ho-ho!! My gosh, is it already 25th? I can’t believe in this, neither that the world is so small,  @scribbly-gigs, after all I’m your Squealing Santa too!! I really hope you enjoy this gift, because your prompt was absolutely adorable! I fell in love for its and aaaaa!  Best. Idea. Ever.

Okay, I got a little carried away! Enjoy the gift!

But, before the fanfic, I would like to give a specially thank to @ticklygiggles for hosting this wonderful event! It was an absolutely lovely experience, thanky you veryy much!! >w<)s2</i>

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! Jeremy and Michael belongs to the musical Be More Chill.

* The song in the benning is Hide and Seek, a cover by Lizz Robinett

* This is a SFW Tickle-Fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!!  ^w^)b

* Oneshot. Something around 4.500 words.(I REALLY got carried away xDD) -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Portugese’s Version (Brazilian’s one) coming soon!  Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Have a wonderful and incredible, festive or not, day! Take care with you gonna prank anyone (And only do if they’re okay with it) , they can get revenge. ~

                             [~*~]

Ding Dong I know you can hear me

Open up the door

I only wanna play a little.

 - What the fu… – Opened his eyes, the song suddenly swallowing him from his dream. He blinked a few times, his hands going toward his cellphone, vision finally focusing in the middle of the dimly lit darkness by sunlight, which managed to passes through the small slits in the curtains successfully. The device was not turned on.

 Ding Dong you can’t keep me waiting

It’s already too late

For you go and try to run away. ~

 He turned to the closet, where, on the floor, a small device vibrated, its screen glooming and being entirely responsible for proliferation of the calm background melody, which for some unknown reason made a feeling of cold, gelid fear spread through every inch of his body, growing more and more stronger as the light brown-haired reeling approached. His mind still foggy by tiredness.

 Whose phone was that?

  I see you through the window

Our eyes are locked together

I can sense your horror

Though I’d like to see it closer.~~

  He bent down to turn it off.

 Wait…

 He recognized this phone cover! It was from-

 - DING DONG! – The door slammed open, almost as fast as the fall from the one who just had woken up, the light suddenly invading every particle from his room along with the excitedly extremely loud scream – HURRY UP AND RUUUUUN! LET’S PLAY A LITTLE GAME AND HAVE FUN!!

 - MICHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!

 It was crystal clear that Michael wanted to utter some words, something so easy to say by the way that small portions of sentences sought to slip through his lips. However, he was being completely hindered by his own (blood from his blood!!) uncontrollable laughter, needing a firm grip on the doorjamb to not collapse with the other’s fright. Jeremy placed his hand in his chest, feeling the heart skip some beats at a great speed and trying to control at least a small piece of his ragged breathing.

 - I should have recorded this! My holy Pacman, why didn’t I record this??? – Wiped few tears that accumulated at the corner of his eyes. The onslaught of laughter threatening to come back again as he faced the poor, poor teenager with his pajamas, hair and appearance full of mess. The one who has the sad fate of being the target of his prank and now demonstrated his gratitude by showing a very specific finger to him.

 - I will end with your existence, just give me a second. I-I need to recover my soul, I think it ran out the window. – Got up, finally succeeding in breath normally, his gaze was sharp, or the most close as possible with the sleep that still covered his features, but he couldn’t deny the smile, part vengeful and part because he have to give it to him: it was a good prank; that he struggled to doesn’t let its took over his face. – Why? Just… Why??

 - Because today is the International Double-Cosplay Chaaaaaaaallenge day!! – Michael was literally bouncing excitedly, gesturing as if he presented the answer to a huge and attentive audience and not a young man slowly coming down the stairs, still yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes while leading the trail to the kitchen.  

 Oh, the Double-Cosplay Challenge.

 It could even be seen as a tradition, a very ancient one, held of years without end. Not one of the seculars, though, that ones initiated in some trunk of time, which, if asked, No one would really know to explain from where it emerged. In fact, Jeremy almost remembered perfectly (‘perfectly, sure, it’s a hyperbole. Jeremy imagined his memory as a miniature of fish Dory. So, remembering more than six or five actions of a day that had gone years ago was a progress!) the way it all started.

 Like most things in his friendship with Michael, of course it had began with teasing that led to a semi-fight where both sides argued, yet without really having any warm in their words. For this time, the focus of the discussion was the ease and speed that Jeremy could paint every square of himself with blush as the slightest instigation…

 (...)

 - Could you stop??? – Heere jerked away by impulse, his cheeks already beginning to flush in pink for the squeal he uttered due the light blow that Michael dumped on his ear. – We’re in the middle of the game!!!

 - Do you mean that if we weren’t playing it wouldn’t be a problem, then? – Malefic smile. Jeremy felt the blush spread even more.

 - Wha- Sure it would be!!!!

 - Hmmm… I bet that would be okay if it was Christiiiiine doing that. – He mimicked a singing tone as he spoke her name, losing control over his car for a minute and being hit by a tortoise shell. – Damn, Bowser!! You were my favorite character, dude!!

 - Yeah, yeah. Keep talking while I take the lead!- The light brown-haired smirked, his tongue sticking out as he dodged a few drivers and climbed some positions in the ranking.

 - Ha! You couldn’t win this match even if you wanted to. – Jumped and hit one of the floating boxes with the question mark. Got the cannonball. – Just as you can’t stop to being a mess flushed even by the wind!

 - Is that so? And what about the Pinkberry employee? - Michael’s car was out of control for a piece of moment and Jeremy allowed himself to take his eyes off the screen for a few seconds just to catch the other’s face now painted with a light blush and a wobbly smile. – See? We’re rotten apples from the same basket, compadre.

 - Lucky shot.

 - Ability. – He corrected, contradicting his words, his automobile went straight towards the water. The Player Two wrinkled his nose.

 - The thing is, unlike you, I can control my blush. I would win from 10 to 1 if this were a competition.

 - I bet. – It was the magic word. Michael paused the game immediately, both turning to stare each other, the glare full of dangerous burning in their eyes, a grin finding space in their faces.

 - How much?

 A brief silence spreaded across the room, barely finding space with all the adrenaline and electricity following Jeremy’s thoughtful glaze as he searched in his mind for an award up to the challenge.

 - The one who be the most blushy, for most period of time or a greater amount of times, that is, who made the best tomato cosplay earn the right to try to survive for…

 (...)

 - …a week wearing a cosplay that the winner, and by this I mean I, - Michael gesticulated pompously, not even paying attention to the friend and opponent, who calmly hummed as setted the breakfast. – choose. At school, on the street, in home… With a break of five daily hours to wash and dry, as well as permission to get it off to sleep, BUT, that’s all. – Evil laugh. – I hope you are prepared, Heere. Because this year I choose the best cos-

 His eyes finally went to find the breakfast table, setted with a blue and red tablecloth where the phrase ‘Best Player nº1’ was practically completely hidden by the delicacies deposited on it: Pacman-shaped Pancakes, some being stuffed with hazelnut cream; Some cups with iced coffee, a small bowl of fruit salad, the common eggs and bacons; waffles with cream and blueberry spreading their sweet scent along the Special Christmas Donuts, available only for one hour after the local bakery opens. That cost great hours of Jeremy’s sleep, which immediately worth it just in watching the utterly surprised and clumsy expression from the one who wears glasses.

 - …tume… – His mouth hang wide open and he blinked several times, as if it was all a mirage about to disappear at any second. Michael simply couldn’t believe all his favorites dishes were really gathered in a only table in a only one meal.

 - To my faworite pewson. – The one in pajamas guides him to the chair; happily enjoying the blush consumes his friend’s cheeks.

 Fun Fact: Michael is hardly embarrassed by usual teasing and/or flirting. The thing that can truly make him mirror the color of his hoodie was actions and true, sincere compliments. It was as if the boy really didn’t expected anyone to thought about him long enough to prepare a gift or perceive and admire his actions… That always reminded Jeremy why he liked this day so much.

 - You play dirty, Heere. - The Mell finally managed to find words between his surprise, unable to look away and face the other with the dangerous smirk that was his mark.

 - I need to get to your level. – His voice bathed itself in a (fake) sweet tune, the teasing being enough to successfully capture the attention from the one in hoodie, leading their eyes to meet. Jeremy blinked innocently.

 - I just forgive you because of the donuts! They are like, an impossible legend, which I just heard being told and retold in all my years of life, waiting for the right moment when I finally could have it in my arms. – The light brown-haired rolled his eyes, smiling with the exaggerated description. – But don’t even think about getting used to my forgiveness! You won’t be so lucky ne-

 His sentence and merciful act have been interrupted by a high pitch squeak from Jeremy, who jerked away instinctively from Michael’s finger that poked him, protecting his tummy defensively, a wobbly, unstable smile in his face.

 Immediately thousands of memories and empirical data invaded the Mell’s mind, and, the more and more his brain reminded him, the more and more a predatory expression got strength and color in his face.

 - Oh, never mind. – Jeremy gulped, all his instincts beating like a bright red ‘r u n’ signal shining in the middle of a desert road on a stormy dawn. He felt himself starting to increase the distance between both. – It seems like you are out of lucky right now.

 And the race begin, this time out of the videogames’ screen.

 (…)

 - Oh Heeeere!~ - His tune could be described as ‘singing’ if it was not the panting voice due the attempts to still in maximum speed in pursuit of the Player Two. – Why do you keep running away from my love? This hurts. Sadface.

 - I bet it didn’t hurt more than my fall for you! – Jeremy’s only relief was that Michael would rather to lock himself on the basement to play than exercise in his free time. His only sadness was that he also would rather lock himself on the basement with Michael to play videogames in their free time, which mean that neither of them had the slightest, and necessary, disposition to any sports.

 However Michael at least was lucky, which uneven unfairly his chances. In the first opportunity he got, the one on the pajamas placed the coffe table between them.

 - Naaah. – The prankster started to encircle the table, analyzing the friend and opponent do the same action, but in the opposite direction. – Easy peachy compared to the time you stole my heart.

 - It was just to return the favor, since you stole mine first… - His gaze drifted to the stairs right behind the one who wears glasses. If he could dodge him and make to his room, he could lock himself there and spend the next hours on the safety and comfort of his computer and bed. His glare returned to Michael… All there was needed was a distraction. – No, wait, in truth, it was always yours.

 - Not in the same way that I am yours. – Wink.

 - But do you know what is just yours and you could give to me? – The dirty joke came and went away before it could be mentioned by the dark brown-haired, who failed in not burst out laughing. – Your hand!!

 Jeremy took vantage of the small moment of carelessness to rush out.

 Good Point?

 He managed to dodge Michael!! Yeaah!! Phase one completed with praise!

 Bad Point? (Suuuure that always it has to exists a bad one! It was too boring for your standards, wasn’t it, Universe?)

 He couldn’t even research the stairs before being knocked down on the carpet. He turned himself over, fighting for a few minutes stuffed with laugh and pieces of phrases (‘Michael, don-‘; ‘Could you stop, Heere!?’; ‘Just if you let me go!’; ‘Ouch! Damn, my glasses!’; ‘Gyah! Sorr- Hey! No! Nonono!’), at least until Michael finally find a gap in his barrier, wasting no time in attacking his bare foot, pulling a squeal from the one on pajamas, which worked like a race start, being immediately followed by dozens of giggles as his fingers danced in a lively rhythm: poking, scratching and wriggling in each centimeter of available skin.

 - MihihihihihihihihihihihichaACK- Michael never played any instruments for much in his life, but he assumed that this is how the musicians should feel. Wriggling: Squeal; Poking that exactly spot in the middle of his sole: Shriek; Each scratch could give him a different melodious sound depending on the spot he was attacking. - NOHOHOHOHOHOHOhohohohohOHOHO!!

 - What did you said, Heere? Mind repeat? I can’t understand any word in the middle of your adorable giggles. – Jeremy rocked his arms from side to side without really managing to coordinate them to do something useful. The sensation took over his mind and all his nerves. However, he was still able to hear and understand another words beyond his own giggles, which automatically made a heat spread quickly through all his face. - Awwwn!! You already are blushiiiing. ~

 - Shuhuhuhuhuhut UHUHUhuhp!! NononO! Nohohohoht thehehehere! – And then more uncontrollable laughter began to float from his lips as Michael’s nails found their way to the ticklish skin right under his toes.

 - ‘There’, where? Did you mean… here? – One of his hands held his toes in order to unfold them while the other tickled without a single drop of mercy. Jeremy felt himself jump in a sit position, trying to focus his tearing eyes enough to stop the assault. It took just a few pokes in his tummy to make he lay down again.

 - NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahahaHAHA! – His eyes were closed and his nose wrinkled. His whole body shook with the loud, shrill laughs that spilled from his mouth without any barrier; only being interrupted by some squeak or yelp as the Player One decided to get bored with his toes and quickly changed the tickle attack to his knees. Started to switch from one to another in random patterns, squeezing his kneecaps or giving an especial attention to the extremely, unfairly ticklish skin under them.

 That leading the laugh to grow even louder and the sensations more and more unbearable. Michael happily watched when Jeremy swung his legs up, seeking to curl in a protection ball, “obliging” him to retaliate with a series of kneads on his thighs, causing  the light brown-haired to frantically kick, trying to free himself from the tickles, leading Michael to go back to his knees and restart the loop all over again.

 - S-Sthohohohohohohop!! – He let out a frustration groan in the fifth time it happened. The Mell couldn’t help but evil crackle at that, also being helped by the fact that Jeremy’s laugh was extremely contagious.

 - I don’t know what are you talking about, Heere! All I can ever hear is the victory sound of me winning the Double-Cosplay challenge this year!!

 - YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU WIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHISH-nono! No, pleaSE! nHOHOHT THeherHEHEHEs!

 - Is this your final answer, then? – Michael stared at him, the mischievous grin still very present, even though Jeremy didn’t saw it. The sunshine flooded the victim’s face, only further highlighting the freckles already favored by the blush, which literally cover his entire face, now. Jeremy shook his head side to side, as if denying the fate that was about to catch him, or as if answered the question from the other, Michael just shrugged and decided to ignore the act. – So, that’s it! Be prepared to the Ultimate Tickle Attack!!

 He stopped.

 And the Player Two used the opportunity of a break to take some sips of air, finally being able to shrunk in a defensive ball. The crackling laughter still bouncing gladly from his mouth that couldn’t at all undo the big bright smile going ear to ear in his features. It really seemed to illuminate the place.

 His hand trembled a little as he wiped tears that managed to slide across his burning cheeks. The laughing now became giggling and finally starting to fade.

 And then he realized.

 Not even a whisper from Michael.

 He opened his eyes, a little confused, and suddenly shivers ran thundering down his spine, spreading through each of his ticklish spots, making them tingle more, perhaps in the same amount of times that the Mell approached his fingers teasingly until they were a few inches above his calves.

 Damn! Cursed be these years of friendship and all the tickle fights in their childhood that give him the knowledge about this particular spot.

 - Mihihihichael! – His giggles came back strident, his smile threatened to widen further. Jeremy bitted softly the tip of his tongue, trying to do at least a threatening expression, yet too much excitedly for it. The one in hoodie quickly lowered his hand, stopping before he could research the place, leading the other to jump and release a pinched scream would never admitted being his in the future. Butterflies danced in his stomach. – NohohoHOT eVEn thIHIHIhihnk abohohohut th-

 - Not touchin you, dude! – The prankster laughed starting to wiggle his fingers, and, even though they didn’t have touched him yet, Jeremy could already feel it. Feel the uncontrolled laughter in his chest, the nerves tingling eagerly, the eyes closing reflexively and… - If I knew it was so easy to make you blush just with that I already would won this tournament years ago!! – His face was going to melt, he was absolutely sure of that. It was going to melt and he would be obligated to wear the stupid mask of whatever cosplay Michael chose for him for the rest of his life!! – And I’m not even doing anything, literally!

 - Shuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuht uhuhuhuhuhuhuhp, youhohohor sadihihihistic!! – The heat just spread stronger, arriving to the tip of his ears. He attempted to shrink more in defense; however, the Player One held his leg, his other hand resting on his chest, as if he were truly offended.

 - Jeremy! – He faked another attack, almost losing control of his dramatic pose and laughing when the Heere snorted. – Now, that was not the manners I gave you! I’m not even doing anything and a puddle of adorable giggles offends me! Humpf… – He wander lightly his index finger through all the extension of his calf, each inch releasing a new squeal tone.

 - Sohohorry!! Sohohohohohohohohohohrrehehehey! – He pushed his leg, trying to free himself from the deadly grip. Michael didn’t even bother into pretending to ponder about his apologies, and then the light brown-haired knew he was screwed up in the exact moment he find that glint the other’s eye.

 - Nah. I would rather return the favor. – And, as he said, started to ruthlessly knead his calves.

 Jeremy never had fought that much in his life. All of his muscles squirmed; reacting to the warning signals they received from his nerves, which probably were all very confused when they heard his laughter. Powerful, loud and fully stuffed with screams, laughter. His mind went in a total collapse and he could only focus on the tickling, finding his synapses unable to form a single coherent word, neither a sentence.

 Michael stopped. Half because he had pity to see the tears began to wash the friend’s cheeks and the other half because he was afraid that some neighbor would call the police with the screams from the shorter; and also because he couldn’t control his own laughter anymore. Grateful to be seated, he leaned against the outsider arm of the couch, his voice mingling with the remained giggles from the other. Both flying in the air.

 For a moment, the duo stayed just like this: Laughing.

 - Yohohohohou ahahahahare the worhohohohost! – Wiped his tears, finally managing to remove the sensations rubbing the spot that, probably, was the most ticklish and unlikely to have. Thanked to the pure, fresh air entering his lungs, which seemed to give him strength to sit and stare the shape who still laughing.

 An awesome idea crossed by his brain and camped there. A little cliché, that is true, but he felt deserving this privilege.

 His hands met the armpits of the Player One, without moving, who instinctively downed his arms, an uncharacteristic squeak now running from his lips. Jeremy enjoyed the sense of power he had when the opponent, in the videogames and for this day, faced him with wide eyes, struggling with a smile in his face.

 - Je-jeremy… Come on, pal, dude, friend... – The one on pajamas just smiled in response, turning softly his head, like a puppy staring you doubtfully about your despair as hold your only short in their mouth, paws flexed and about to run through the beach, to anywhere as long is far from you (Long and funny story, ask Mr Heere to show you the video later.) and wasted no time before start the attack.

 Michael held his breath. His lips suppressed in a arc as they were pressed strongly, refusing to let out a single giggle from the thousands that already stirred in his throat.

 - What the matter? – Jeremy chuckled, noticing the not-so-subtly effort from the newer victim to control himself, just getting even clear when his legs began to squirm. The light brown-haired positioned himself on his right, already knowing what was coming, his face approached further. – Wouldn’t you happen to be… too ticklish for that, right?

 He started to slowly scribble in the other’s armpits, the glint in his eyes glowing as watched him jumping with the touch and hugging his sides, fighting more with the waterfall of giggles trying to pour from his lips and this struggle seeming about to make him explode, due how much his cheeks puffed and blushed. The Mell shook his head.

 - Phew, what a relief. – The Player Two faked a relieved sigh, as if heavy chains were removed from his back. His face got closer, Michael stared at him, fear and expectation shining mingled up in his expression, red beginning to grew stronger in his face. S c o r e. – So you won’t mind if I get a itty bitty revenge, right?

 And started to blow right on that spot behind his ear, something that the friend did almost daily and now tasted what he so gladly distributed. Michael squealed, the barriers finally giving in and being quickly subdued by the snorts and giggles as fingers skillfully poked and wriggled in his armpits, taking more speed and strength, just as Michael’s fight to escape from his fate.

 - JEHEHEHEHEHEheheheheHEHEHEHEHEREMYY!!! NOHOHOHOHOHO!!

 - Michael! We are in a serious competition here! I would like to see a little more compromising from your side!! – His head moved away as he stopped in order to teasing the other’s neck. Changing his tactics to verbal teasing and, even though he didn’t threatened back to his neck anymore, the ‘victim’ still kept his shoulders up, as if by precaution.

 - FUHUHUHUHUHUACK!!  – The light brown-haired was able to release his hands from the friend’s gasp, giving him some free seconds before immediately tickle his sides. – PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHhahahahahahahAHAHAHA! – His tune got a fewer octaves higher, flinching a little as Jeremy alternated between kneading his left, squeeze his right and then attack both at the same time.

 Fun fact: Michael did not squirmed, he trashed his body side to side in a mad dance ruled by the melody of his own deep, frenetic and uncontrollable belly laughter that fled without any permission from his mouth. Therefore, tickle his legs or even sit on them to try pinning him down was practically impossible. His upper body, on the other hands, due his fear of tossing away his glasses, were easier to deal.

 - Wait… Oh no, Michael! I discovered! – His eyes even attempted to meet with the other’s, but these were tightly closed, tears starting to welling up in the corner. The Heere forced himself to slow the attack, noticing the crackling laugh and shrieks that started to took over Michael’s loud, and completely contagious, laughter. He drank a little of air, still letting squeals and giggles escape from his lips for the soft tracing in his tummy, one of the Mell’s hand holding his wrist, but didn’t doing nothing to really stop the tickle. – You are not able to command your laughter!

 - Nohohohoho shi- A lightly squeezing in his hips was enough to make a yelp interrupt the rest of his sarcastic sentence.

 - This is extremely serious! But do not fear, as your best friend, I will help you! I am almost sure that I find a Resert Buttom!!

 The one who wears glasses felt his smile grow wider, more for the nonsense from the other than anything else. He tried to ignore the rising heat spreading now across his neck.

 A finger poked his navel and the jump Mell did nearly broke the ceiling, together with a squeal that Jeremy definitely would remind him later. The Player Two used all his willpower to not fall on the floor laughing with the other’s reaction, especially when this one actually began to really try to remove his hands from anywhere closer of his most ticklish spot, miserably failing when Jeremy suddenly started to give quick tickles in any and every where to distract him.

 -Heere, dohohohohon’t you dahahahahahare! – His hands were in a total uncontrolled frenzy, just as his euphoric giggles.

 - I-I’m just- Their laugh were now mixed as danced through the room, especially when in an act of pure despair Michael attacked his ribs, making him really start laughing for real. Oh no!! He wouldn’t win this one!! – I’m juhuhuhuhuhst trying tohohoho hehehehehehelp, yohohohour ungreatuful!!! Boop!

 And then his finger finally was able to tickle his belly button, wriggling, poking an causing a real scream to leave the other’s lips, as a small signal before the loud, mad and extremely frenetic laughter exploded from his mouth. He jostled and babbled non-ended words that even he had no idea with what they were supposed to mean.

 He was getting crazy. Michael was absolutely sure. His head was thrown back with the strength of the laughter and for a moment everything, even the tickles that spread through every little inch in his body as unbearable and hilarious shivers, disappeared.

 A piece of rationality, the last one, made him attack and scribble his fingers in some unprotected skin from his opponent. It didn’t mattered where it was, and yes that seconds later Jeremy’s laughter started to go along his owns, showing that retaliation was working.

 Both rolled out on the floor, laughing, snorting, yelping, squealing, squeaking, giggling and equally trying to make the friend released the same sounds as himself. Their members shuffled, seeking to tickle any and all minimally reachable tickle spots, both unwilling to give up and both waiting to the other give in first.

 Maybe it was the so-called ‘friendly telepathy’, the same one which allowed them to chat just with glares and always know what and when the other needed something. However, the duo slowly begun decreasing their attack almost simultaneously. The squeezes and kneads becoming pokes before turning into scratching and scribbles until they finally broke apart, staring the opponent for a few hesitant seconds (not that they really could properly see each other through all their tears happily spilling down their cheeks ) before laying on the floor. The remaint laughter being the only thing filling the silence, along with the panting breaths.

 For a while they just stayed like that: laughing.

 The sun’s rays started to heat the room, showing it wasn’t that early anymore and probably the donuts were already cold by this moment. Cars were passing outside and some dog somewhere barked desperately, the sound not echoing louder than their hearts, which stilled seeking to calm down themselves after the strange and high dose of adrenaline.

 Jeremy was the first to speak, raising his arm and waving as it like a white flag.

 - Draw?

 - Keep dreaming. – Michael’s voice was slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat while the one on pajamas rolled his eyes, none of them really succeeding in removes the bright smile in their faces. – Truce for breakfast?

 They sat, not taking too long to get up as hear the angry protests from their stomachs, they shook their hands, sealing the quick agreement. Their eyes met and, for a piece of moment both ignored how much redder they were, their minds now just focusing on the eagerly awaited meal.

 - Truce for breakfast.

[ashenious]

Out of My Hands - Chapter 2 of 2 (The Witcher)

For This Chapter: Rating: General Warnings: None Additional: (Jaskier) Whump Word Count: 2347

AO3 Link: Part 1/Part 2

Part 1/Part 2

          Geralt was thankful that the small town he and Jaskier had passed during the day did in fact have a healer in it, something he feared would be missing from the town as it was so small. But the healer was present, and surprisingly less upset about being disturbed after sundown than Geralt thought she would be. She was upset for only a moment at the knock of her door, but at the sight of a Witcher carrying a sheepish looking bard who was bleeding, her anger left as quickly as she ushered them inside.

          The stab wound Jaskier had gained on his torso was a shallow one, and one that only needed 10 stiches to sew up. Even after the first stitch had gone in, Jaskier still made consistent noises of discomfort despite knowing what was coming, and could only Geralt roll his eyes at the wide-eyed bard who continued to stare at his wound being fixed even after being told to look away.

          Once his stomach was patched back together, the healer began to stitch up Jaskier hand, something that the bard refused to look at as the healer worked. The healer worked on both sides of his hand, stitching the punctures closed slowly and with care. Once she was finished, she tightly wrapped Jaskier’s hand in a bandage.

          “Keep this still for at least a week,” the healer said at Jaskier, who was watching her hide his stitches below the wrappings. As the bandage was wrapped firmly into place, Geralt pulled out his bag and slowly dug through it, trying to find his small bag of payments in order to pay the healer. But as she noticed the man searching, she held her hand up and stopped him.

          “Instead of coins, I have a deal,” she said. Raising his eyebrow, Geralt slowly withdrew his hand from his bag. “I’ve got many piles of wood I need stacked as some kids went and knock them all down. And I’ve got a small, spare room in the back here since my boy left. Stack up all my firewood again, and you’re free to stay here. Then I can rewrap these in the morning before you’re off again.”

          Pondering over the request for a second, Geralt looked down at Jaskier who was looking up at him already. Jaskier raised his eyebrow and shrugged a bit at the Witcher, which was exactly what Geralt expected him to do.

          “Where’s the firewood?” Geralt asked as he tossed his bag next to Jaskier.

          Stacking the firewood didn’t take Geralt very long, each piece weighing nothing to him as he carried dozens of pieces and stacked them back into an organized pile for the healer. He was done within half an hour, and the healer very pleased with his work as she began to unravel a circle of rope to the ground.

          “I’ll tie this all down,” She said as she smiled lightly at Geralt. “The room is through the main room; your bard has already made himself at home in there.” Geralt only hummed a light response to her before he turned back to the house and went inside. Seeing only 2 doors inside, one of which was open and lacking a bard inside, Geralt made his way toward the other one.

          Geralt could hear Jaskier singing inside, but stopping just before the doorway, he could hear that Jaskier's singing was…off. Geralt wasn’t able to place it, and he continued to listen to his bard's voice coming from inside the room. Jaskier would sing a few words, pause, and then the muffled voice of the man could be heard before the strum of lute rang out, something Geralt thought was odd.

          The words were familiar to Geralt, ones of a song that the man had been working on for quite a while, but they didn’t hold the passion and vibrance that Geralt was used to. Jaskier's voice would normally hit people's ears with a unforgetting force, the tune and sweet sound of it captivating their attentions as it passed by and caused them to turn their heads toward it in wanting. The notes would float above them, each one bouncing along as all the words tied together in a melody composed and told by someone with passion at his core.

          Even when he would sing more saddening songs, the melody would float to people at their level, their ears catching on and attaching to the words that would pluck at their heart strings. That was always the experience that Jaskier’s music would bring people, and as the bard sang to more and more people throughout the continent, the more people were able to experience it. The tell of his songs spread across far and wide, and people would often ask him to sing and play to them in random places outside of his preferred taverns and paid events as they too wished to hear and feel the words that had enchanted so many before.

          But the words never sounded hollow, never sounded as low hanging as the ones Geralt could hear on the other side of the door. Even the few plucks on the strings of Jaskier’s lute sounded wrong, sounded flimsy to Geralt. Waiting til just after the bard had stopped singing, but before he was able to produce any sound from his lute, Geralt opened the door, causing the bard to jump and almost throw his lute at the sudden noise.

          “Geralt!” Jaskier called at as he turned to face the Witcher. “Heavens, is knocking too much to ask for? I thought my heart was going to escape me for sure!”

          “Would be a tragedy,” Geralt said as he stepped fully into the room. Looking over Jaskier, who was dramatically holding his uninjured hand over his heart, Geralt noticed that the bard had the palm of his injured hand holding up the neck of his lute that was placed on his lap with his fingers weakly wrapped around it. “Aren’t you supposed to be immobile?”

          “Oh, yes! But…” Looking down at his lute, Jaskier’s uninjured hand twitched around the neck, as if attempting to place his fingers onto the strings. Geralt simply watched as he walked more into the room, his swords slowly sliding off of his back and onto the floor as Jaskier continued to twitch his fingers on his lute. “I just…wanted to practice a bit while you were out. Know how much you hate me practicing while you’re around!” Jaskier grinned as he looked at Geralt. The grin he had on his face was unlike his normal one however, and Geralt saw right through it as he neared the bard.

          “How’s practice going?” Geralt asked, slowly sitting down at the only chair that was sat before the only table in the room.

          “Going great!” Jaskier lied. “Never better!”

          “Hm.” Looking down at the lute again, Geralt let his eyes wander over the strings for a few seconds, wondering exactly how a piece of wood and some string could make such wonderful noises. “Let me hear.”

          “W-What?” Jaskier asked, completely befuddled at the sudden request. “Y-You want to hear me practicing? You never want to hear me practice! Didn’t the last time I started my practice around you, you said something like, ‘I’ll take that lute and use it to mark your grave site when I kill you!’”

          “That was then, this is now.” Geralt stated simply.

          “What’s the difference between then and now?”

          “I’m asking now.”

          “Geralt!”

          “Jaskier.” Motioning to the lute that was still sitting on Jaskier’s lap, Geralt kept on strong, “Let me hear.”

          Jaskier hesitated, his uninjured hand resting on top of the strings for a moment before he looked down at his injured hand. He didn’t move for a moment, just looked over the strings of his instrument as the silence around the room continued on. Finally reaching down, Jaskier pulled his lute up and sat it in position against himself, the palm of his hand holding up the neck of gently.

          His fingers twitched as he held the lute up, and Jaskier tried his hardest to close his hand around to the strings in order to play. Quickly lifting his other hand off of the lute’s front, Jaskier used it to close his fingers around the neck, his fingers still twitching a bit a they were held down. Jaskier’s face was pulled tight, his brow furrowed as he stared down at his clenched hands. His better hand slowly released his injured hand, but as all his injured hand’s fingers unwrapped themselves, the bard quickly squeezed his hand shut them around them again.

          “Jaskier?”

          “Give me…one second.” Jaskier replied as he repeated his actions, his hand not holding in place no matter how many times he tried. “I just have to…This is a warmup you see.” Continuing his motions still, Geralt watched as Jaskier’s face continued to show his frustration, his eyebrows knit tight and his lips’ corners pulled down slightly. The bard’s hand never stayed in place on his instrument, and each attempt at keeping his fingers in place only lead to more frustration out of the man. Geralt finally had enough after he heard the quietest noise of struggle from the back of Jaskier’s throat.

          Reaching his hands out gently, Geralt took Jaskier’s lute into one of his hands, and into his other he lightly grabbed the injured and wrapped hand. Surprised at the sudden touch, Jaskier looked up to Geralt quickly, his eyes wide but his face furrowed in confusion at what the man was doing. Geralt simply shook his head and pulled the lute away from the frustrated man, placing it on the table next to him before turning his head back to look at Jaskier. The bard continued to look at Geralt for a second, confusion still heavy in his face until he turned his eyes away to look at his lute. Geralt watched Jaskier’s eyes turn to his lute, saw the slight change of emotion in his face as he stared at it, and the Witcher let his own hand close lightly around the injured hand he held as he continued to look at Jaskier.

          “You’re supposed to be immobile, to allow this to heal,” Geralt finally said after a few moments. “It won’t be able to heal if you’re straining it.” Leading Jaskier’s hand down from its place, Geralt moved himself a bit closer to his bard as he set his hand down on Jaskier’s knee, his fingers curved around the bard’s hand and his thumb pressing lightly into the injured hand’s palm. Jaskier’s fingers were still twitching slightly, and Geralt waited until Jaskier looked back to him before he continued, “you’ll be able to practice again once your wound closes completely.”

          “…But, what if I can’t?” Barely hearing his voice, Geralt watched as Jaskier looked down at his hand as he tried to curl his fingers in, unsuccessful as they only twitched again. “What if I can’t…ever play again?”

          Jaskier didn’t look back up at Geralt, and the Witcher kept his eyes on the changes in his bard’s face as his emotions showed through: from angry to sad to disheartened in just a matter of seconds. Geralt let his thumb run over the wrappings on Jaskier’s bandage absentmindedly while he continued to watch the disheartened face before him, no words coming out from either of the men as the seconds passed by them. After an unknown number of minutes had passed by, Jaskier finally looked toward Geralt, his eyes meeting the Witcher’s as they posed the same question to him in an unspoken manner.

          “…If you can’t ever play again…” Geralt began, his eyes still locked into Jaskier’s as he worked to form words. “Then…you won’t have a lute to accompany the songs you sing to the people who throw their tavern food at you.”

          “Well…Yeah, I won’t,” Jaskier replied, his voice hinted with a bit of confusion at Geralt’s statement.

          “So, nothing will change. You’ll still sing your annoying songs, and you’ll still get food thrown at you,” Geralt continued, his hand gently closing Jaskier’s hand into a fist as he spoke. “Your lute isn’t what makes your performances, your voice, the tales you tell, and what you put into your songs is what people want to hear.” Jaskier’s face changed as Geralt spoke, and the man watched as the state of sadness drained from his face and was replaced with an unreadable expression.

          “…You’re right.” Jaskier finally said after a few moments, a small smile accompanying his words. Geralt couldn’t help but smile a bit as well but tried his hardest to keep it from showing through. Jaskier saw the slight movement of the witcher’s mouth however, and he only grinned wider at the sight. “I am still able to sing! And people will still be able to hear about all the tales I have to tell. Maybe you could learn to play the lute in my place as well!”

          “No,” Geralt said firmly, his face going stern quickly.

          “What? You don’t want to learn to play so you can elevate my singing at the taverns?”

          “I’d rather take on a werewolf while blindfolded and barehanded,” Geralt said flatly, his hand slowly trying to pull away from Jaskier’s grip.

          “Oh, that’d be an epic tale to tell! That would be a tale not unlike your fight with werewolf back in Kagen! Oh, I could write a series of songs for you! I can already imagine it now!” Jaskier grinned, his hand holding firmly on Geralt’s as the man tried to escape. “Let’s see… The White Wolf—”

          “Don’t sing,” Geralt growled, his hand still attempting to escape his bard’s grasp.

          “What, why not? You love my singing!”

          “I do not.”

          “Yes, you do! You asked me not but 5 minutes ago to hear my song!”

          “I do not, now release my hand.”

          “We should set off to find a werewolf for you to defeat! I must see through with this new found inspiration of mine for this new series of tales!”

          “Jaskier.”