#just a long thin line with a kind of heart-shaped spade on the end

[gingerbreadmonsters]

the urge to give gavin a tail vs the unwillingness to have to describe it in any sort of detail

[britishassistant]

Consider for the Supervillain AU: Yuu is currently playing Hostage for one of the Dorms when they hear a crashing sound from another room. Thinking it’s one of the RSA boys, they decide not to engage Prefect Time.

Turns out, it’s one of the other NRC villain teams pulling a raid on their current captors. When said raiders spot Yuu as a hostage, they take them along and end up protecting them.

After getting out the Villains base, the Raiding Team and Yuu take a quick breath at a designated rendezvous point.

Playing the role of Innocent Hostage, Yuu thanks the Raiding Villain team for Saving them.

“‘Save you’?” They say. “More like...’under new management’”

Yuu can’t even finish a word before they felt themselves getting regagged again (maybe in a different style to reflect the dorm that just ‘saved’ them). Yuu knows that they’re going to get a major headache from all this nonsense

Bonus points for the villains being petty and sending a picture to the Villain Dorm that just got raided of not only the stuff they stole but one adorable Hostage as well they found along the way

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

Something’s... off today.

Yuu’s sitting in their cell in the lair, shuffling and reshuffling a deck of playing cards to try and pass the time.

They were trying to subtly gather information about Royal Flush’s latest heist from Ace and Deuce while playing Go Fish, but then both minions’ phones went off. The pair of them grabbed their weapons and left, promising that whatever was going on would take no more than five minutes.

That was ten minutes ago.

Maybe it’s that “Champion” hero again, trying to reclaim that topaz Royal Flush stole two nights ago. He causes enough collateral damage that his presence would certainly warrant a call for all hands on deck, especially if Niko Niko Neko has decided to lend him some help. Poor Ace of Diamonds still has a fractured collarbone from the heroes’ last “collaboration”, though at least Seven of Spades finally has the cast off her foot.

The cell block is soundproofed, so even if the reporter strains their ears, they can hear nothing of what could be going on in the rest of the base. The sound of cards flipping between their fingers is doing little to settle their nerves.

Yuu’s arm brushes against the brim of their fedora.

No. No need to be hasty. It’ll look too suspicious if The Prefect appears from the cells and it turns out to just be the RSA heroes saving the day after all. Plus the haphazard stitches from where Ace’s throwing cards cut into their ribs still haven’t healed enough that they won’t get pulled if Yuu starts running around willy-nilly, and then how will they explain the blood? There’s no need to jump to conclusions. There probably isn’t anything seriously wr—

A loud crash echoes from the entrance to the cell block.

Yuu stands, shoving the deck of cards into a pocket of their blazer. They rush to the bars of their cell, trying to peer through and see what the source of the noise is.

Thick plaster is rolling in from the entrance, obscuring their vision. They think they can glimpse the sight of the door, a twisted mess of wood and metal lodged in the opposing wall.

What in the name of the Great Seven could’ve—?!

The reporter’s blood runs cold at the sound of a low, rumbling growl.

It almost sounds like a dog warning an unwelcome intruder, if that dog were much, much bigger than even a Great Dane had any business being.

Not a dog then. Yuu exhales, and calls out in their most level voice. “Hello? Is someone there?”

If it’s a monster, it can probably already smell them if it’s growling like that, and the bars should provide some measure of defense if it attacks so Yuu can figure out how to subdue it enough to run. If it’s not a monster...

The growl grows louder, but also...less, somehow? As if it had changed outputs or something, like going from listening in stereo to through headphones.

A figure becomes visible through the dust and gloom. One that’s as tall and built as Yuuken is. Oh dear.

An angry looking man with white hair in a rough-and-tumble outfit looms in front of the cell, arms crossed and one pointed ear on the top of his head flickering. A beastman, probably some kind of canine if the growl was any indication.

The reporter fights the urge to swallow nervously. “Excuse me, but you aren’t one of Royal Flush’s minions, are you? Who are you? Are-were you being held captive too?”

The beastman doesn’t answer their questions. Instead, he barks, “You’re that reporter, right? The one who gets captured a lot.”

Yuu’s mouth flattens into a line, but they nod. Oh Seven, they hope that’s not what they’re becoming famous for. “Well, I am a hostage here, and I am a reporter for TWST local news. Yuu Radcliffe, and you are?”

The beastman grimaces, looking even angrier at the admission. “Get back.”

They obligingly let go of the bars and back up a few steps, shuffling away a few more when another growl ripples out the man’s chest. They tilt their head as he seizes the bars they were just holding. Wait, what does he think he’s—

There’s a hideous shriek of metal as the beastman’s muscles ripple and the bars bend apart like they’re no more than wet clay. The reporter can see indents of his grip left from where he pushed at the steel.

Yuu feels a little lightheaded, staring blankly as the beastman steps into the cell. They do startle when he pulls what looks like a small black sack out of his pocket, holding it out to their head. “Hey, what-?!”

“You wanna get out of here?” The beastman says brusquely. “You wear this.”

There’s a sinking feeling in Yuu’s gut, but the way he’s brandishing the sack makes them think he’s not about to take “no” for an answer. They doubt they could outrun him at this range, given that he’s blocking the new exit out of the cell. The reporter reluctantly takes the bag and pulls it on over their head, wincing as their field of vision goes dark.

They can’t help the yelp they make as they’re suddenly scooped up by a pair of unseen arms and held a little too tightly for comfort. Yuu contemplates trying to squirm out of his grip, and then remembers what his hands did to the steel bars. Instead they just try to make themselves as small as possible as the beastman starts to run.

It’s disconcerting, hearing so much noise after being stuck in the soundproofed cellblock for so long. Screams, yells, cries, and howls, the sounds of a battle they can’t see raging around them. Yuu thinks they hear their name being called out once, but it’s drowned out as the beastman picks up speed and the scent of roses and strawberries is replaced by the fresher, more noxious air of the city outside.

Their ride takes so many twists and turns that Yuu can barely keep track of where they are relative to Royal Flush’s lair, let alone where they’re headed. They honestly feel a little motion sick by the time the beastman slows down, and releases one arm to push open what sounds like a creaky metal door.

It feels like a wall of heat and noise hits the reporter in the face. There’s lots of loud complaining and ribbing from what sounds like a large and rowdy group of people, and the grip of the man carrying them gets tighter, tucking them closer to his chest.

One voice rises above the rest. “Oi, Jack-kun, what took you so long? We were beginning to think you’d run off with our little guest there.”

“Jack-kun’s” hold tightens again at the sound of that voice, to the point where Yuu is beginning to get worried that they’re going to end up like the bars on their cell back in the lair. His voice is clipped as he bites out, “Had to lose a tail, senpai. Got sidetracked.”

The world tilts oddly and it takes the reporter a moment to get their feet under them and not stumble as they are finally, finally set down. One of “Jack’s” arms remains clamped on their shoulder, steadying them and preventing them from moving too far away from him.

“Well, you’re both in one piece!” The new voice comes closer. “Now let’s see the reporter who went and got Royal all bent out of shape, huh?”

They wince when the bag is pulled off their head suddenly, blinking in the sudden light. The face of another beastman swims in front of their eyes before their gaze finally focuses, greyish eyes and dyed blond hair with much more rounded ears perched atop it. The glimmering orange jewel the size of a canatloupe he’s clutching in one hand isn’t exactly helping any with how it keeps refracting light into the reporter’s eyes.

The same orange jewel that Royal Flush stole from the pier two nights ago.

The sinking feeling in the pit of their stomach only grows.

“Well, I don’t see the appeal.” The beastman declares. “Maybe that midget just has weird taste.”

“Ouch.” Yuu forces a thin smile onto their face. Play along, keep calm, keep the levity up. “You’ll hurt my feelings at this rate.”

“Hey, truth hurts.” The beastman shrugs, spreading his hands wide. “Woulda thought a nosy journo like you would know that by heart, with all the dirt you dig up.”

“You would think so.” Yuu chuckles weakly. “Well, thank you all so much for rescuing me from Royal Flush’s lair, in any case.”

The ears on Jack’s head flatten slightly, and he glares at a spot on the floor by Yuu’s feet.

Well. That’s disappointing. Unsurprising, given that everyone here is also in an outlandish form of uniform without being clowns, but disappointing all the same.

“Shi hi hi hi hi. Oh, I wouldn’t call it ‘rescued’.” The beastman chuckles, grinning unsettlingly wide. “More like...under new management.”

Yuu stares at the minion.

“Wow. Wow.” The reporter tells him flatly. “I hope your boss pays you well to say stuff like that.”

The beastman shrugs again, grin not diminishing in the slightest. “Four figures, with holiday bonuses and healthcare. It’s a pretty good gig.”

Yuu tilts their head in acknowledgement. It’s better than their current working conditions, they’ll give him that.

“Ah, before I forget. No point in a good raid without a celebration photo, right?” The blond man pulls out a smart phone and waggles it in one hand. “That’s what that selfie junkie of Royal Flush’s likes to do, right? Jack-kun, you get in too.”

It’s sad that this barely makes it into the top five most surreal selfies that Yuu has ever taken. Even when the senior minion orders Jack-kun to curl a hand around their throat, gripping tight enough to make their breath go short, while the blond man holds the jewel up by their face in a place of prominence. “Make sure to look nice and menaced now, kay~? Shi hi hi hi hi.”

The camera flash goes off, once, twice. Then the phone comes down, and the hand comes off the reporter’s throat. They try to suck in a series of deep breaths as discreetly as they can.

“Great expression there, really selling the unwilling captive shtick.” The beastman pats their cheek condescendingly, thumb moving over the screen of the phone until there’s the ping of a Magicam upload. “Ok, let’s get your hands and legs tied and hood back on. Oh, and I’d watch your mouth when I meet the boss man, if I were you. You’ve got an audience with the King, after all.”

“Do you get a raise every time you spout off a line like that?” Yuu grumbles as the deeply frowning Jack is handed a length of rope and begins looping it around their wrists.

“Not yet!” The beastman calls back jovially as he strides away, admiring the topaz in his hand and barking orders to all the other henchpeople milling around.

“...Sorry.” Jack mutters by their feet as he finishes the tight knot binding their ankles together.

“It’s okay.” Yuu murmurs back, as he picks up the bag to place it back on their head. “You're just doing your job, right?”

And they’ll just be doing theirs, the reporter thinks to themselves as the darkness descends again and they’re hoisted up over the minion’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

Maybe they’ll finally get to learn why the topaz is so important to both Royal Flush and their current captor that it was worth staging a raid on another supervillain’s lair to get it. At the very least they’ll have the opportunity to interview this “King” to uncover his side of the story...

That is, if he doesn’t somehow work out whose biological child they are first.

[mayhemofmusesarchive]

JESTER DEMONS 🟊 🟊 🟊

DISCLAIMER; I’m going to info dump here about my thoughts of Jester Demons. Now, these are just my thoughts and no one has to like them or accept them (if you do, awesome but if not that’s okay)! I hope you give them a read though and let me know your thoughts! If you apply them to anything, sweet! Just let me know okay since these are my ideas...? Either way, enjoy! Also, I used THEY as a gender neutral term as Jester Demons can be a variety of genders and sexes, it’s just up to you.

Jester Demons are another Hellborn species of demon that share some resemblances to Imps, but only a few. Depending on which ring of Hell they come from, that’ll factor in some of their traits, characteristics and personalities but at their core they’re fun-loving demons who thrive off attention in some shape or form. For example:

W R A T H 🟊 🟊 🟊

Jester Demons from Wrath are notoriously short fused and tend to have the most ‘muscle’ mass or toned forms. They rather settle matters in a physical way versus verbal communication. Wrath Jesters typically are the thrill seekers and their pranks or jokes are rather dark to the point they sometimes verge on painful as that’s what they love the most. They typically don’t care if someone gets hurt in the process of their joke-making and even seem to enjoy it even if they get caught up in their own messes. Again, they can get rather hot-headed and prone to more violent outbursts versus other Jester Demons. They’re the most destructive of them all.

Their apparel and designs tend to be harsh and sharp as they’ll opt for reds, oranges, yellows; colors that represents fire or even a warning. Their “hats” are relatively shorter compared to the others as they don’t want it to get tangled or in their way. They will also not wear bells, but some other sort of decoration like skulls, chains and or even spikes. Their tails are also short and sometimes will not have a design at the end of it or if they do, it’ll be rather simple compared to a spade or star. They are also the only ones that’ll have spines along their tails.

S L O T  H 🟊 🟊 🟊

Jesters from Sloth are known for suffering from either Narcolepsy or Insomnia and because of such, they’ll usually sport rather dark circles around their eyes. They’re the more calm ones of their species, but even they can get up to no good. They’re just slow at it versus others. Typically these Jesters tend to be more on the lanky side in their physiques and can be commonly seen hunched over or others say, bad postures. They seem rather laid back or aloof to most things and others. However, they’re also rather smart and crafty in their own ways as long as they don’t exert too much energy. They typically don’t smile all that often but when they do, their smiles are the most warm and tender smiles you’ll ever see.

As for colors, they are usually more pastel “soft”, almost dream-like. Their “hats” are usually the longest of their kind and sometimes don’t have more than one sleeve (the hats usually take after night caps and such), but not always. They’ll wear bells on their hats, but the chimes to them are soft, melodic or sweet. Their tails usually end in stars, moons or things one would think of in terms of sleeping / dreaming. The same can be said for their cheek markings. They also are usually seen with a rather dull or sleepy expression but will make an effort to smile if need be.

E N V Y 🟊 🟊 🟊

Jesters of Envy are known for being backstabbers with a silver tongue. Their eyes are a tad bit more slanted compared to the others; one could even say snake-like. They’re prone to jealous fits and have no shame in hiding this aspect of themselves. Of course they’ll go out of their way to make sure you’re always thinking of them or they’re your favorite out of everyone you meet and they’ll do so in any manner they can to achieve that. If they hear otherwise, they’re prone to getting immediate payback as they’ll feel wronged even if that’s not the case. They’re more resilient to chemicals and poisons as that is their usual go-to methods to wrecking havoc and pranks.

As for their colors, they’re usually opt for greens, silvers, browns or anything dark and rich. Their tails are medium length and tend to be more slender, usually ending in spades, diamonds or even clubs like those of a deck of cards. Their smiles are ones not to be trusted, but it’s rather hard to tell the difference between their usual smiles or ones they don when they’re up to no good. Their cheeks markings are usually circles or even sometimes rather ornate and decorative. Their “hats” are the most lavish as well, sporting lace, embroidery and things of that manner.

P R I D E 🟊 🟊 🟊

Jesters of Pride are the most loud and boisterous, if only to boast how better they are than others in everything and anything in between. Their pranks and jokes will always put them in a good light or even bad, as long as they get the attention and reaction they crave, they don’t care how it goes about. They’re the second tallest (Greed being the first) and their physiques are either typically slender or toned depending on how they wish to take care of themselves and show off.

Their colors are rather bold and loud just like they are and they don’t shy away from any value or pigment. As long as it looks good on them, they’ll wear it. They too can be rather decorative in their “hats”, but compared to those of Envy, they’ll go over the top and beyond for the things they’ll wear on themselves and their “hats”. They’re prone to ruffles, bows, ribbons and like-wise. They have the most charming smile and devastating sneer. Cheek markings are perhaps just as loud and overly dramatic as the rest of them. They’ll even wear makeup for added measure. Their tails are the second longest to Sloth’s, but they’ll wear additional decorations upon them. The ends of their tail end in a plethora of things ranging from circles, spades, diamonds and much, much more. They’ll usually hold their tails in a curl versus letting it drag behind them like Sloth’s do.

G R E E D 🟊 🟊 🟊

Jesters of Greed are the tallest and they relish in their imposing heights. They’re the more stern of them all and can come off as rigid, but even they are prone to causing mischief and partake in jokes as long as there’s monetary gain for them. They’re more crafty in how they go about things, always having never-ending ideas on how to make something sell or get away with the things they do.

Their colors usually ranges in the greens or yellows, resembling money or treasure of course and they’ll pair that off with something dark or light depending. Their “hats” usually only have two sleeves or even three and theirs ends with bells or charms signifying worth, money or like wise. Like Pride and Envy, their clothes will be rather decorative and lavish, but unlike Pride, not over the top. They prefer to look distinguished and almost business-like, but still holding on to their Jester-like ensembles. Their tails are medium length and usually end in spades or just points.

G L U T T O N Y 🟊 🟊 🟊

Gluttony Jesters come in two shapes or forms usually; pudgy or excessively thin. They have insatiable appetites where eating just isn’t enough, so they’re constantly thinking or wanting food. Most of their pranks or jokes are food targeted (but not always), if they successfully manage to do them without eating their own props or getting distracted. Despite this, their strength almost rivals that to Wrath as long as they can think long enough without thinking of food or especially if they just finished eating a big meal. Food is of course their main concern and ambitions. If they find those of kindred spirits, they’ll be glad to share their food but if not, they may fight you for it. Oddly enough, they’re very good cooks.

Their colors of course tends to lean more towards warm colors and comes in patterns sometimes, most often than not actually. Their “hats” are of medium length, but their bells are usually big, comically even. If not bells, they like to wear puffs or something that resembles ‘soft’. Their tails can either be short and stubby or of medium length. It varies. Cheek marks usually are circles, squares, lines or other things. They can be as decorative as Envy, Pride or even Greed Jesters, but usually on the simpler side.

L U  S T 🟊 🟊 🟊

Lust Jesters come in an array of different body types, whatever is pleasing to the eye really. They are the most to people please or carter to other’s desires, especially if it stems on the sexual side. Their libidos know no limits and out of all the Jesters, they have the most stamina and energy. Their jokes and or pranks are usually of the sexual nature of course and tend to focus on one individual versus the masses, but they can be versatile. They’re the most easily accessible to affections and greatly thrive off it as well as attention of any kind. They also sport the most longest tongue along their kind, rivaling Gluttony.

Their colors can be in any shade or value, whatever is pleasing to their audience’s eyes and grabs their attention. Of course, they wear more revealing outfits compared to the others but still retain their Jester aesthetic. They’re “hats” can be either short or long and equally decorative like the others. They either wear bells, ribbons or things that make noise. Their tell-sign that differs from others is their cheek marks will usually if not always be in the shape of hearts or things in a similar manner, but they are most of the time in hearts. The ends of their tails is shaped the same way or spades. They can either be tall (not as tall as Greed) or small. They are the lightest of the Jesters.

[seriouslyhooked]

The Best Bad Idea

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories. 

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here. 

A/N: Hey all! Here is a little something I made instead of being a responsible writer and finishing my other projects. I’ll be back to my other WIPs soon (God willing), but in the meantime here’s my 1000th attempt at writing a Captain Swan meet cute. I needed to get some words on the page, and this is the result. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, Thump. Steady, sure, and even. A solid pulsing sound with no inconsistencies and no delays or false starts.

In this particular patient, that fourth set of beats was the most important. Prior to his recent operation, Earl MacDonald’s heart had been weak and skipping needed pulses, then constricting far too harshly on every fourth measure. That type of arrhythmia had potentially disastrous consequences, but those worrying beats were seemingly behind them. The rhythm Emma heard through the stethoscope was a regularly circulating drumline, the tell-tale song of a heart that was working, and working well. Her surgical intervention had been successful.

She gently released the breath she was holding, a sign of the stress that she carried while waiting for patients to recuperate. Emma never let the patients see her sweat, but she had been worried on multiple levels in this case. Earl was going on 80, and not a logical contender for intensive cardiac mediation, but Emma’s gut had told her he could handle it, and she was rarely ever wrong. Earl forged through the surgery like a much younger man, and his outputs post-operation had all been extremely encouraging. It was shaping up to be another win, another life saved thanks to the power of medicine, and that filled Emma with real joy. She always did her absolute best to create good outcomes, and this time there was so much more on the line than one life. This was a man who was loved and cherished by the people closest to him, and who would be sorely missed if something were to happen.

“Anything you want me to note for the chart, Doctor Swan?” 

Emma bit back a witty retort at the pointed use of the word ‘Doctor.’ She was one of the few surgeons in this hospital who didn’t care what people called her, as long as they called on her early enough to actually save the patient’s life. But with Belle, a person Emma considered a dear and true friend, there was an added lilt of sass when using her title. Her friend was one of the nurse practitioners that Emma had been working with for years, since the day she landed here as a medical intern, but despite their differences in degrees, Belle was easily the most well-read and brilliant resource when it came to medical literature in this hospital.

“Just that Mr. MacDonald is healing nicely.”

“Did you hear that Lorraine?” Earl asked, with a Cheshire cat smile on his face, and the glint of true pride in his eyes. “Doctor Emma says I’m healing nicely.”

“Hard not to hear, seeing as I’m right beside you,” Loraine quipped, but she squeezed his hand affectionately, and offered a warm smile to her husband all the same.

“You know, usually being dubbed ‘nice’ is the kiss of death for a man.”

“Earl!” Loraine chastised, clearly not liking his word choice. Earl smiled wider, looking almost boyish in his delight.

“Well, so to speak. But I was going to say that I think we can make an exception this time. I’ve never been so happy to be referred to as ‘nice’ in my life.”

“Technically Doctor Swan was referring to your vital signs, Earl,” Belle taunted from across the room, holding back a smile Emma knew she was bound to let loose soon enough.

“Aw come on, you both know I am your favorite patient. I mean I’m not exactly pressed for competition. Have you seen the people on this floor? Good grief.”

“Ignore him, ladies. He’s all talk. He hasn’t left this room since we got here,” Loraine said, rolling her eyes, as if these antics were a constant occurrence. Based on her small window of experience with Earl, Emma would believe it. “Every meal, every visit, every moment has been within these four walls. Even his PT has been in here.”

“His PT has been here?” Emma asked, surprised that Mary Margaret, their head Occupational Therapist, had allowed for that. She was normally a by-the-book professional, and Emma never knew her friend to provide rehab consults outside of her studio.

“Yup. I told Miss Mary Margaret that I had a wife to keep an eye on and she relented.”

“No, actually what you said was, ‘Excuse me, Ms. Blanchard? You probably heard I just had heart surgery. Well, the thing is, my heart is sitting in this room. I’d like to be with her. Doesn’t seem right to be separated so soon, given what we’ve been through.’ Then you pointed at me, and used your puppy dog eyes on her. Next thing I knew, she had lugged enough equipment to fill the room here. No questions, just action.”

“I bet she ate that right up,” Belle said with a wink. “Mary Margaret loves nothing more than love itself.”

Belle and Mrs. MacDonald discussed Mary Margaret’s love of love, and Earl’s improved mobility, for a few more minutes while Emma continued checking his stats, but ultimately Earl’s patience was wearing thin. He really only had one thing on his mind, and he was now determined to ask about it. Emma was honestly shocked that he managed to wait this long. She knew it was only a matter of time and she was ready for the showdown.

“So, what do you think, Doc? Am I making it home in time for the party?”

“The one for your grandson on Sunday?” she asked, noting the three-day window between now and then. She had heard about this party non-stop, since the moment Earl woke up from the procedure. It was a central fixation for the old man, a celebration that would host his entire family, and a goal he had been carrying for over a week. Earl nodded and Emma hesitated for a few seconds, before smiling and giving the good news away. “Yes, I am confident that Jayden’s ‘Pop Pops’ will be in attendance when he turns four. But you know the rules…”

“I know, I know: no good food, no strenuous exercise, no having fun.”

“Earl.” Just the utterance of the old man’s name from his wife was enough to have him looking like a kid with his hand caught in the candy jar. Emma and Belle both chuckled at that child-like expression. It was hard not to; the old married couple was just too sweet.

“I’m sorry. I know this is serious, but what is life if you can’t have a little fun?”

“Fun comes in all shapes and sizes, Mr. MacDonald, and despite what you may think about your prescribed lifestyle changes, you’re forgetting two things. First, most of these less-alluring prescriptions will be temporary, and second, you’re a man who clearly loves a challenge.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you know that, Doc?” 

“Well for one thing, you somehow landed a lady as remarkable as Loraine. There’s no way she came easy with these corny jokes of yours. You must have worked harder than you ever worked in your life to persuade her to give you a chance.”

The laughter from the older couple was boisterous and heartwarming, and Emma knew she was right on the money. At this point, she had the ability to sniff out true affection, and these two had it in spades. Many couples she saw facing emergency room disasters together didn’t have the same good luck.

“You got that right, Doc. You know the first time we met was at the -,”

Earl’s story was unceremoniously interrupted by the crackling of the PA system specific to this room. It buzzed for a few moments before a message was delivered in a saccharine sweet voice that sounded nothing like the announcer’s normal tone.

“Paging Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station. Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station, code 741.”

Emma waited for the feed to cut off and began to tell Earl to please go on with the story, but the call came out again.

“Paging Doctor Swan to the Nurse’s station. Doctor Swan, code 741.”

“You know she’s just going to keep doing that until she gets her way,” Belle murmured. Emma nodded. It was no use. What Ruby Lucas wanted, Ruby Lucas got. That just seemed to be the way of the world.

“Belle, would you mind telling Ruby I’m with a patient at the moment? I will be there when I can. She can always proceed without me.”

Belle snorted out a laugh, knowing that last part would never happen, but gave a swift affirmation that she would relay the message before waving goodbye to the MacDonald’s and promising to see them soon. As her friend headed out, Emma sighed, knowing there was no way Ruby was going to give things up that easily. She had a matter of moments before some new tactic would be deployed.

“I’m sorry about that. You were saying?”

“Eh it’s kind of a long story, and you’ve got places to be, Doc. Just know, true love won out in the end with me and my Loraine. It always does.”

Emma couldn’t deny that their love appeared true even after their fifty plus years together. She personally had never experienced a love like that, but she was wondering more and more if maybe it was out there, somewhere in the later chapters of her story. For years she thought herself above that kind of need. She found validation in herself and in her work. She dedicated herself to helping others, and that had always been enough. But the loneliness that became a constant when she was growing up in foster care still lingered, and she wondered if someone might ever come along who could inspire her to take a chance and risk her heart.

“You know, I actually worked as a nurse before my kids were born,” Loraine commented easily. Emma nodded and smiled as she checked the last of Mr. MacDonald’s IV drips. Emma was aware of the older woman’s solid medical understanding. Loraine had continued to demonstrate it the entire time her husband was admitted in this ward. “I’m trying to remember if I ever ran into a code 741.”

“Oh, uh, I think – well, erm, I mean you probably didn’t,” Emma said, hoping she didn’t turn beet red at the passing comment from the older woman. She was already stuttering, which was completely out of character and eighty shades of embarrassing. Loraine’s words feigned ignorance, but her eyes told a different story. Still Emma tried to play it off. “It’s really not a big deal. Just a non-emergent protocol.”

Another alert sounded, but this time it came through the ceiling unit reserved for announcements to the wider reaches of the hospital. “Attention to all surgical ward personnel. We are paging Doctor Swan to the nurse’s station. Doctor Swan, you are needed at the nurse’s station immediately for a code 741.” The talking stopped, but the air crackled signaling that the line was still live. “Immediately.”

“Sounds pretty urgent to me,” Loraine replied. The curiosity in her gaze told Emma that the older woman was onto them, but it was Earl’s comment that cut too close for comfort.

“When I was in the war, all of our numeric codes corresponded to letters. So 7 was H, 4 was D, 1 was A. H – D – A. HDA, now what could that be….?” Uh oh. Now Emma really had to get out of here before she accidentally admitted Ruby’s code’s meaning – Hot Doctor Alert. That would be the cherry on top of a full-blown mortification sundae.

“All righty, well like I told Belle, all your scans look good. Doctor Whale is on shift this evening during the next series of rounds, so I’ll make sure your file is ready for him.”

“Of course, dear, and good luck with your doctor, er – I mean – code.”

Emma stammered out something like an ‘okay thanks,’ while leaving. She tried to get her bearings once she was out of sight of the room, but she had nowhere to go. Everyone on this floor had just heard her page, and there were bound to be at least a few who understood the meaning. She was so embarrassed, and more than a little ticked at Ruby. She was supposed to be her best friend, but she was always pulling these crazy stunts. They were mostly harmless, but for Emma, who hated being the subject of hospital gossip, it was anxiety inducing to say the least.

“Please tell me that you did not just broadcast that to the entire hospital,” Emma said, arriving at the nurse’s station with a sense of urgency, and watching some of the other nurses scurry off to avoid the confrontation. Ruby, however, was unfazed. Actually, the nurse manager just rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag and phone from her cubby, as if Emma was the one who was annoying and not the other way around.

“And here I was thinking we were the best of friends. Soul sisters, kindred spirits, friends for life. But no, ye of little faith, you actually believe I would broadcast the hot doc alert to all of Mist Haven? What kind of friend would do that?”

“But if you didn’t… then how did you…?” Emma’s questions trailed off, but her arms flailed towards the ceiling and the look on her face spoke for itself – how had Ruby used the hospital wide PA system without actually broadcasting to the entire hospital?

“You know Tink up in nuero?” Emma nodded, well acquainted with the nurse manager who had Ruby’s job on the fifth floor but with a specialization of the brain and nervous system. She was a tiny woman, but she ruled that ward with more than capable hands. “She and I bribed the IT guys to make the nurse managers an override. Now we can circumvent the PA software whenever we want. Bring some of you more stubborn Doctors to heal when it comes to answering our pages.”

“That’s… well, actually that’s genius,” Emma admitted.

“I like to think so,” Ruby teased, offering a genuine smile. The two friends laughed at all of this, and Emma felt so much better knowing that their secret was still relatively secure. The last thing she wanted was everyone knowing how she was spending her lunch breaks these days.  

“Gus, you’re holding down the fort while I’m gone, right?” Ruby asked, her smile turning slightly wicked with the purposeful jest aimed at the new nursing aid sitting behind the desk.

“Me?” The new hire replied, suddenly white as a sheet. Emma had never seen the man so stricken, and as a new nurse he had plenty of high-stress moments to look alarmed during. “I – uh – well – I -,”

“It’s called comedic relief, Gus. Commonly referred to as joking. Do me a favor, learn about it by the end of shift, kay?” Ruby pivoted to the person she actually trusted to man the fort. “Thirty minutes work for you, Belle?”

“I’ve got it handled.”

“Excellent. We’ll return with a full report,” Ruby said, grabbing Emma’s arm and moving them down the hallway before Emma could even say goodbye. “Newbies – can’t live with them, can’t pawn off scut work without them.”

“You are terrible. And yet… the look on his face just now…? Priceless,” Emma acquiesced. “But seriously, Ruby, can we PLEASE find another way to page me for this? My patients are not stupid, and the code isn’t exactly original. It’s kind of…” Ruby’s grin was so big that it stopped Emma in her tracks. She was currently trying to hold her friend to account, but Ruby looked like she’d won the lottery. “What?”

“You are so totally into him! I mean listen to you right now.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Emma said, feeling her cheeks flush against her will. 

“Exactly,” Ruby said. “You’re telling me to be more discreet when I send the bat signal, but you still want me to send it. Do you realize how unlike you that is?”

“Despite what you may think, Ruby. I’m a doctor, I’m not dead. I can appreciate a hot guy now and again.”

“Doubtful. Remember last month when all those pro hockey players were here after Ocheski collapsed on the ice? You had a room full of crazy sexy men. Like virile, hot, muscled men who get paid big money to beat each other up on the ice. Most women would die for that chance, and to make it even better, most of them were hitting on you. And what did you do? Nothing. You didn’t even blink.”

“They were not hitting on me,” Emma affirmed, but the words were hollow. They had been trying to flirt with her. A few had even attempted to get her number.

“They were hitting on you,” Ruby said adamantly.  

“He was a patient, and the rest of them were essentially his family. You know I’d never cross that line. Doesn’t count.”

“Fine, then what about Dr. King? When he came for that conjoined twins case last year, you had no interest. Zero. Zilch.”

“King was an asshole, you know that,” Emma said, belatedly catching her use of profanity and checking that no patients were around. Luckily the coast was clear.

“So? You didn’t have to marry the guy. Hot is hot, honey. That’s just how things are.” 

Emma barked out a laugh at even the thought of marrying someone like that. Arthur King was just about the worst person she could fathom to spend a life with. He was narcissistic and carrying around one of the biggest god-complexes she’d ever seen, and she was a surgeon, so she was an expert on god-complexes. 

“Your face really says it all, Emma. I mean honestly, poker would be a terrible game for you to take up. Your contempt for King is obvious, but, meanwhile, as soon as I mention Doctor Jones… aha! See, totally shifted.”

Emma didn’t know what to say to that. She could try and protest, but her friend knew her too well for that. The best thing to do was say nothing, and she was saved by their arrival at their destination. The coffee cart in the center of the action, near the entrance of Mist Haven. Here was where the wards crossed paths. Her surgical wing met up with the specialties departments, the ER, the community clinic, and more. It was also swarmed with both hospital workers and visitors. Typically, this was the last place she wanted to be, but recently it had become a highlight of her day.

“Emma? Ruby? What’s brought you out here?” a voice asked. It was Mary Margaret, and given her street clothes and jacket, Emma would guess she was just starting her shift.

“Haven’t you heard? There’s fresh meat from the ER. Two showings a day, but we favor the afternoon delight.”

“Oh right,” Mary Margaret said, nodding, like Ruby’s words were totally normal, and for Ruby they were. “I heard about the new ER Chief. Doctor Nolan? I meant to get down there and bring him something to welcome him, but I’ve been so swamped this week. My caseload is crazy at the moment. I hope he won’t think too badly of me for being a bit late.”

“Mary Margaret, literally no one in a hospital brings people cupcakes as a welcome gift, especially not new guys in other departments.” Ruby was not wrong. Hospitals were hardly the most happy-go-lucky of places. At least not usually. “Believe me, the man will be grateful whenever they come. If he even eats them. He’s fit – like fit, fit. Keto diet and a personal trainer fit. The kind of fit that makes you -,”

“Careful, Ruby,” Emma teased. “What if Graham heard you saying that?”

“God, I wish. You know how worked up he gets, and how he works out his frustrations.” Ruby’s tone was dripping in suggestion. “It’s one of the many reasons I live to drive him crazy.”

Emma and Mary Margaret laughed at Ruby’s apt assessment of her relationship with her boyfriend. Ruby had been dating the fireman for almost a year now, since he came in on one of the ambulance bays with a victim he’d rescued from a fire, but Ruby was hardly the predictable type, and Graham seemed to love that about her. They were still going strong despite her willful, wild child nature, and Emma suspected they may be built to last.

“Doctor Nolan must really be something to get you out here, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, moving forward in the line, inching ever closer to the mediocre coffee the cart promised.  

“Ha! Hardly. Emma’s not here for Nolan. She’s here for Jones.”

“Jones?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Girl, where have you been? Doctor Killian Jones, trauma surgeon extraordinaire. Chief Mills brought him here for a ‘collaboration’ with the ER, but she’s totally trying to recruit him for head of his own department. Turns out he and David Nolan are old friends. Same medical school maybe? I don’t know, no one’s gotten me those details yet. Anyway, Regina hardly leaves him alone. She only misses this little window because she’s hooking up with Doctor Locksley in the supply room on the 2nd floor.”

“She’s WHAT?!” Emma and Mary Margaret yelled at the same time and Ruby looked aghast for the first time today. Some other hospital staff in the area glanced over, but no one paid much mind beyond a head nod. Everyone was absorbed in their own need for caffeine, and no one was the wiser of the bombshell Ruby had just dropped.

“Oh shoot, I wasn’t supposed to say that. I promised Ella, damn it!”

“Ella, her assistant? I thought she quit,” Mary Margaret stage whispered.

“Oh she did. Made it a whole two months, which, you know, makes sense given the fact that Regina is a nightmare. But the last week she was here, she learned a crucial secret regarding her Majesty. She spilled last week at The White Rabbit, but I promised her I wouldn’t tell until she’s settled at her new job at GMH. So you did not hear this from me, and I did not hear this from her, capische?”

“I can’t believe the Evil Queen is dating someone,” Mary Margaret said, deeply disturbed by the idea. She shuddered at the thought, and this was someone who loved love. But love and Regina Mills didn’t really feel like concepts that belonged in the same sentence. Scratch that, they didn’t really even belong in the same book. “She’s just so…”

“Evil?” Emma responded. The nickname worked for a reason, after all. The hospital Chief was downright tyrannical.

“Exactly.”

“Well dating is a stretch. She’s screwing someone. But then again, who knows. Ella said she actually saw her smiling in those final days. And not that evil one she’s famous for. Like a real, genuine, I have a heart, smile.”

“No way,” Emma said at the same time Mary Margaret murmured, “Well would you look at that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m on the case. The temp is a totally easy mark – Sydney something. I’m buying him lunch tomorrow. I’ll have the whole story before you know it.”

“Won’t Graham be proud,” Emma chuckled, but her joke fell on deaf ears as something caught Ruby’s attention across the way. Her friend’s countenance changed immediately, putting Emma on alert.

“Ooh, they’re coming! Act normal.”

Normally, Emma would have laughed at that command, but she was too busy feeling the spike of adrenaline at the impending arrival of one Doctor Killian Jones. He really was a world-renowned trauma surgeon, who was working on a number of cutting-edge techniques that saved lives and gave critical care patients better chances to recover. She had actually heard of him a few years ago when reading about a new procedure to treat arrhythmia in patients with traumatic injury. He engineered it in the field, while serving in the British naval forces, and his paper had been circulating in cardiac wings around the country, but she never saw the man before last week when he arrived in Boston.  Suffice it to say she could not have imagined that this marvel of modern medicine would also be so roguishly handsome.

Spotting him today across the great hall, Emma was struck again by just how attractive this man was. She couldn’t even comprehend it really. All she knew was that she had yet to find a fault in him. Every day she’d stolen secret glances, and every time he proved better than her memory. It was crazy, and very reminiscent of schoolgirl crushes and teenage day dreams, but she couldn’t help the way she felt. It was intoxicating, and despite her best efforts, she was powerless to turn Ruby’s invites to the show down when she could witness this each and every day.

The first thing that she’d noticed about him was his general presence. His posture was strong and straight and assured. He looked ready for anything, but somehow laid back, like he was totally in control. People naturally parted when he walked by, as if he silently willed the flow of the hospital traffic. Ruby called it swagger. Emma called it… well something not quite safe for work. Couple that general aura of authority with the classically gorgeous features of his face, and Emma was lost. On that first day (and okay, maybe on the others as well), she actually felt her knees get weak. She always thought that was a bogus cliché, but nope, it was real, and she was the proof of it. From there she was hooked, and over time she’d chronicled more and more things to like about him.

Yesterday it had been his hair. As she watched him across the atrium, she noticed that the shade shone bright in the sun, but that it was nearer to midnight than any color brown. It was slightly longer than most of the other male doctors wore theirs, but not so long that it looked unkempt or unprofessional, at least not yet. She knew for a fact that the military never would allow for such a style, and it felt like a bit of rebellion, or maybe a lack of care for what others thought. Both sent a delicious thrill through Emma, even though she had no real confirmation one way or another. Maybe he was just lazy, but that wasn’t how she imagined him…

And oh boy did she imagine him. At first she hadn’t meant to. She just had these flashbacks to seeing him that she carried through the day. These visceral visions always started the same: he would walk by, looking downright delicious and impossible to resist, then he would turn his eyes her way here in the middle of the hospital hustle and bustle. She’d feel caught in his stare, sense the hunger even from the distance, and her heart would quicken to a maddening crescendo as he walked her way. The rest of the world would fade from view, and it would feel like they were the only two people alive. Her gaze would stay transfixed on his almost cocky composure and the hard line of his bearded jaw. The attraction in his blue eyes would light a fire in her, and then, without so much as a word like ‘hello’ or ‘nice to meet you,’ he’d pull her into his embrace and kiss her senseless. She could practically taste him on her tongue, and yet she’d never even heard him speak. People who had, who were later interrogated by Ruby, mentioned that he had an accent. British or Irish, or something along those lines. That tidbit had played oh so sweetly in Emma’s mind this week. God, she’d love to hear him say her name -,

“Emma,” a voice beside her said, but it didn’t pull her out of the fog. “Oh my God, Emma, he’s looking right at you.”

“He’s what?” Emma said, blinking back to reality before finding that Doctor Jones was looking this way. She’d been so busy fantasizing, she stopped paying attention to what was right in front of her.

In the middle of the room, the man who had intrigued her for over a week was standing totally still, disregarding the swarm of people on all sides. His entire attention had shifted from the task ahead of him, and he was looking at her, staring with a blend of intrigue and something Emma couldn’t describe. Doctor Nolan had stopped as well, but he was clearly confused as to the delay. He seemed to ask his friend what was wrong, and Emma watched spell bound, as the lips she’d envisioned kissing her moved in some kind of unheard reply. She couldn’t make out his words, but she shivered at the passion and determination etched across his being. David then looked their way, and Emma knew that Doctor Jones – Killian - had asked about them. No, forget that, he had asked about her. He was looking right at her, and that spark of heat and desire she’d always imagined was nowhere near as tantalizing as the real thing. He was looking at her with the same hunger she’d reserved for her wildest imaginings. Holy crap, what was she going to do?

“Ruby?” she asked, her voice squeaked out in alarm. She tore her gaze from the approaching object of her desire and looked to her best friend with overt confusion and mild panic.

“Took him long enough to spot you. It’s been almost a week. I thought I was going to have to hire a marching band or one of those giant arrow guys they have at outlet malls.”

Emma didn’t understand, and then it dawned on her – her friend had planned this. Emma looked at Mary Margaret, but she was still staring in the distance. Only when Emma followed her gaze did she realize that Mary Margaret wasn’t looking at Killian. She was looking at David.

“Hey, ladies, you looking to order, or what? I ain’t got all day!”

The three of them jumped at the barista’s interruption and Mary Margaret surged ahead to the line. She rattled off an order, giving way too much money to the attendant while grabbing her cup with shaky hands. Then she looked at David and back to Emma with an expression that said Mary Margaret may just bolt. Ok, what the actual hell was going on?

Before she could begin to answer that internal question, Doctor Jones and Doctor Nolan were within ear shot. Emma wracked her brain for something to say when they finally got here, but was spared when David broke the ice.

“Doctor Swan,” he said with a head nod and a polite smile. They knew each other peripherally at this point. Emma had consulted on numerous ER cases since Doctor Nolan started his new position. But she wouldn’t call them friends. They were very much acquaintances. “I heard Earl MacDonald is recovering nicely. He most definitely has you to thank for that.”

“And you too,” she said, offering credit where it was due. “A quick diagnosis makes all the difference. I’ve noticed the ER is filled with them since you started.”

“That’s kind of you. I don’t believe you’ve met my friend, Doctor Jones.”

“Killian,” Doctor Jones said immediately, before offering a heart stopping smile of his own. Emma had yet to see the man smile, and her heart skipped a beat, the rhythm of her pulse skittering in an almost blissful way. “A pleasure to meet you, Swan.”

He offered his hand to her, and Emma took it, shaking in greeting even though it was uncommon for doctors or nursing staff to do so. Chief Mills stressed that germ management was a top priority at Mist Haven, and she’d come as close to banning the practice as was legal in the state of Massachusetts. Usually Emma didn’t mind, but germs were the farthest thing from her radar when their fingers touched. Instead, Emma was filled with the zapping sense of promise and a thrill of warmth that made her head swim.

“Emma,” she whispered. A beat passed between them, and Emma lost herself for too long. Only the clearing of a throat beside them brought her back to the moment. She let go of his hand, but tracked the slight disappointment on his face when she did. It filled her with a rush of something long forgotten. A sense of peace and elation she hadn’t tasted in years. “Um these are my friends, Ruby Lucas and Mary Margaret Blanchard. Ruby’s the head nurse in the cardiac unit. And Mary Margaret runs OT for the surgical division.”

Emma tore her gaze from Killian, watching her friends make their greetings. Ruby handled her own completely, and Mary Margaret seemed to have gathered her courage, but now it was David who looked shocked and spell bound. Everyone appeared to be thrown off kilter, and it was only Ruby in control of herself. To say her friend was positively delighted with these new developments would be an understatement. That glee rang out clear as day in her invite to both the attending doctors.

“So… Doctor Nolan, Doctor Jones, any way we could convince you to join us? The coffee’s just all right, but the company’s not half bad.”

Both men agreed immediately, and Emma fought her hardest not to blush. It was hard though, and her pulse was racing in the face of this development. Killian came to stand by her, the space between them so small but still too much to bear. She tried to get her bearings as the cranky barista handed her a latte. She struggled to think of something – anything – to say, but she was tongue tied. Instead, she looked at Killian, finding an openness in his expression that said he felt the same exact way. That gave her comfort and removed some of the tension from the moment.

“The hospital’s been buzzing since you got here,” Emma offered, waiting with him while he ordered a no nonsense coffee of his own. “A lot of people are hoping you’ll stay on past the month.”

“And you, love? Have you such hopes?” his words were earnest but laced with an almost cocky easiness that sent Emma’s mind humming in delight. Still, she played it cool. At least she hoped she did.

“Jury’s still out,” she replied, smiling when he looked a little crestfallen. “Well can you blame me? I hardly even know you. Still haven’t seen what you’re capable of.”

“Only a matter of time, Swan. You can trust in that.”

His words may seem benign, but they were loaded with hidden meaning, and Emma knew he meant each one. She swallowed harshly, thinking of the things he might be capable of. Damn, was it hot in here? Or was it just the devil on her shoulder spinning another one of those dirty dreams of hers?

When they’d all gotten a coffee, the five of them moved off to the patio just outside, reserved for hospital staff. The grounds were manicured beautifully, maintaining an oasis that seemed totally disconnected from the hectic nature of the hospital. This was one of Emma’s favorite places here, and she was surprised to hear that neither David nor Killian had been here yet. They all spent a few minutes making non-threatening small talk, with mostly Ruby moving the conversations along. But despite the fluttering feeling she was grappling with, Emma couldn’t say she hated this building anticipation. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so much. She was seated next to Killian, fully aware that all of his attention was devoted to her, and she reveled in it. At one point, while the others were talking about something with the OT department, Killian whispered to her and her alone.

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…” His eyes looked from hers down to her lips, and Emma wet them absentmindedly. She heard a low growl, and realized it was coming from him. She shifted in her seat, turned on in a way she had never been before. Instinctively she moved closer, sensing the sinfully sweet current between them, like lightning just before it cracked across the summer sky.

“We could…” she continued, hoping he would elaborate and put into words what she herself was wishing for.

“That we could -,”

“Paging all staff to the ER. All staff to the ER for an incoming trauma, category 4.”

This time the PA was most definitely broadcasting a hospital wide announcement, and the irony wasn’t lost on Emma. Ruby looked positively forlorn at the interruption, but it was somewhat poetic after how they’d gotten here.

“Category four,” David repeated, standing immediately, prompting all of them to do the same. “We haven’t had a four since I started. We’re gonna need all hands on deck. Killian?”

“Aye, mate. I’m with you.” He looked back to Emma, and only had time for the swiftest goodbye. “Until next time, love.”

Emma and her friends watched them go, running towards the ER. Belatedly, they realized that if a trauma of that magnitude was coming into the hospital, there were bound to be surgical cases flooding their ward soon enough. They hustled back to their wing, focused once more on their jobs and the lives on the line that they were sworn to help heal and make better. But Emma still carried that moment with her for the rest of the day, and when the shift was over and done, and she’d done all she could to help the people in her care, she was left wondering what exactly Doctor Jones was hoping to ask, and when, oh when, he may try to do so again.

Post-Note: So there we have it. This was originally going to be a oneshot for my CS mixtape series, but alas, the muse wants what she wants, and this time that’s a three part mini-story for all of us to share. Hope that you guys have enjoyed so far and I would love to hear what you think! As always, thanks so much for reading, and I hope you are all staying well in this crazy time! xE

[kaitoujokerscans]

Reminiscence Diamond Memory CH4

<4> Gambler Returns

"Okay, this time we'll be taking 'The Plentiful Fruits' painting from there!" Joker hollered as he faced a giant art museum set against the night sky of Spain. It was an atypical piece of architecture with a roof shaped like a snail shell. The facility was reputed to have the latest security measures. In the daytime, its outline spreading into the sky would be quite the view; under the stars tonight, it was a dark and imposing silhouette. The Road Joker was parked on a small slope overlooking the museum, and inside it Joker grinned as he checked for treasure.

"Right, Joker-san!" Hachi responded cheerfully besides him, but something was pulling at his mind. Ever since then, Joker hadn't tried to go to Prism Island, and instead sent an advance notice to a different museum. The painting had absolutely nothing to do with "Beyond Twilight". Yes, Joker had mentioned once before that he wanted the painting "The Plentiful Fruits". But at the same time, he had also said it wasn't worth going out of the way for. Hachi had thought he wouldn't be going after that picture again, but...

Whether because he had a change of heart or had forgotten about something, Joker was bizarrely full of motivation. "All right, let's waste no time in getting this treasure!" In high spirits, Joker made a show of driving the Road Joker to the very front of the museum. Yet there were no police officers at the entrance, and the area was silent.

Understandably perplexed, Joker tilted his head. "That's weird. I could swear I sent out an advance notice..."

"They don't seem to be on alert." The museum's doors were wide open. The security system was also disengaged. As it was, they could walk into it like it was any old building. Even if the notice hadn't arrived, it was altogether too disquieting.

The pair passed through courtyard as one ordinarily would and entered the building. There was nobody in the spacious lobby, not a single officer in sight. "Joker-san, this seems off..." Hachi said as he looked back and forth around the room.

"Yeah..." Joker nodded, then switched to a lighter tone. "Well, whatever!"

"Really?! Are you sure?" Hachi waved his hands. "It could be a trap!" he exclaimed.

"Ha ha ha. I mean, it's more convenient if nobody's around. Let's get the treasure already and head back. Then I can continue playing games!" Joker replied carelessly, sauntering forward.

Joker really is acting different than usual, Hachi mused as he walked behind. It's like he's forcing himself to act cheerful. Then they heard a low grating sound come from the second floor. "Eek!" Hachi exclaimed and clung to Joker.

"Hey."

"W-What's that sound...?" The uniform sound scuffled as if it were the sound of something being mixed together. In the quiet museum, the mechanical sound rang unusually clear. It was almost as if Joker and Hachi were meant to hear it.

"Are we being baited...? There's gotta be either treasure or a trap there. All right, let's take the bait!" Joker rushed assertively up the stairs towards the source of the sound.

Really, it feels like Joker isn't as cautious as he usually is... Hachi worried as they finally made their way to a room marked "Curator's Office". Beyond the slightly ajar door lay a spacious study. There was a large table inside, at which a man sat looking towards a window. The grating sound was coming from the man.

"...Well, you've finally come, Joker?" The man spoke without turning around, as if he had simply sensed their presences.

"Heh heh, as promised, I've come to take 'The Plentiful Fruits'. Are you this museum's curator?"

"Yes, though only since just recently," the man said, then span around.

"You're-!"

It was a familiar face -- in a manner of speaking, as the left half of his face was covered in a white mask. A large eye was shaded in on the mask, enhancing the eeriness of the expression. His blond hair spread to either side, and a blue eye shone coldly from under a gap in the bangs on his face's right half. He wore a collared vest over a white dress shirt and held playing cards in his hands. His long and thin fingers were shuffling the cards consistently. This was the sound they had heard.

"You're... Gambler Falcon!"

"It's been quite a while, Phantom Thief Joker." The corner of Falcon's mouth was raised slightly, his overall expression unchanged.

Gambler Falcon was a man who had dedicated his entire life to gambling and had once fought as Joker's opponent on a ship owned by Kaneari. The two of them gambled treasure and their own lives in a game of roulette. Falcon was on the verge of defeating Joker by cheating, but Joker pulled off a trick that outclassed his and successfully prevented him from winning. "I've been wanting to have just one more match with you all this time."

"Heh heh heh, you mean you wanna lose again?" Joker strode into the middle of the room and stood in front of Falcon.

"You haven't changed a bit. All right. In this match we'll have, if I lose, I'll give you the picture over there." Falcon pointed at the wall, where a single painting hung. It was "The Plentiful Fruits", a piece of art depicting numerous fruits in a basket. "I heard that you were targeting this, so I bought the entire museum from its owner. Therefore, this picture is mine now."

"Ha ha ha, I'm flattered that you wanted to fight against me that badly."

"I'll do whatever it takes to accomplish my goals..." The calm yet heavy words rang through the room. The sheer amount of conviction it would take to buy an entire museum just to fight Joker sent a chill down Hachi's spine.

"So what do I have to bet?" Joker asked with a contrastingly carefree tone.

Falcon flashed a small smile. "Ho ho, you won in our previous match. All you have to gamble is that sentiment of having won."

"What?"

"This time, I am the challenger. Thus, you only need bet your sentiments of having won against me. If you lose, I'll take that sentiment."

"I don't really get it, but what it means is that I don't need to put anything on the line?"

"Indeed, nothing material at least. It's not a bad offer -- if you win, you can walk out with painting in hand..." Falcon said. Then he placed three coasters and glasses of water on the table.

Hachi stood behind Joker at a short distance. Something's off, thought Hachi. There's no way Falcon, who cherishes gamblng so much, would make a wager that's unfair to him.

Joker had probably realized the same thing. "Heh heh, that's pretty nice of you. So what are we doing this with?" Joker asked indifferently.

"You're good with cards too, aren't you?" Falcon noisily shuffled the cards together. His technique was flawless.

"Yeah, anything's good. Blackjack, poker, you name it." Joker threw out the names of different card games. Hachi was familiar with all of them. Blackjack is played by adding cards to an initial hand of two to make the total value approach 21. Poker is played by forming different five-card hands and comparing the strength of each against the other.

"I see, you appear to be familiar with the usual fare. Then would Texas Hold 'em rules be fine by you?"

"Texas Hold 'em?" Joker tilted his head.

"Indeed. Regular poker has the players compare hand strength with five cards they hold, but Texas Hold 'em rules have the players pick from two initial cards and five openly dealt cards to create their own five-card hand." Falcon spread out five cards on the table and took two cards in hand. "As you can see, a pair of 7s are on the table. By combining them with the 7 in my hand, I'll have a three-of-a-kind." Falcon showed his hand.

"I get it. With two cards in your initial hand, the opponent will know at least three of the cards you end up having... So that means you can assume and predict what cards your opponent will use on the table." Joker was quick to grasp the game's concept.

"Ho ho ho, excellent! I'm glad you understand it already."

"Sounds like fun. All right, let's go a round!" Joker leaned forward, his eyes shimmering.

Then Falcon turned his gaze to Hachi, who was still standing to the side. "You deal the cards, please. This is to maintain fairness to both sides."

"Okay... but is that fair?"

"Ha ha ha, it's all right. You can't use any techniques that'd give me an advantage anyway, right, Hachi?"

"Well... that is true." Hachi approached the table, still uneasy. However, he was a little relieved now. Joker making fun of him was proof he had some sense. He might be going back to his usual self.

"Let's begin. To start, please deal both of us two cards."

Hachi did as he was told, giving them two cards each.

"Now we decide whether to fold or not. I'll check."

"Same here," Joker declared calmly after glimpsing at his two cards.

"Now three cards are dealt onto the table. These are community cards that either of us can use."

Hachi set three cards on the table: the 4 of Hearts, Queen of Diamonds, and 9 of Spades.

"Now we decide again whether we'll continue. I'll check again."

"I'm good too."

"This is the last. Please add two more cards."

Hachi dealt two cards on the table: the 7 of Hearts and Ace of Spades.

"Now then, it's the last choice. What will you do?"

"I'll... play."

"Understood."

The two of them opened their hands at the same time. Falcon had a pair of 4s, while Joker had two pair, Ace over 9.

"You win." Falcon threw up his hands. "The original game has the players bet chips several times over, but let's leave it at one showdown this time. In other words, when both of us feel like calling, that's the end of it."

"So until then, we'll try it out however many times it takes. Okay then."

Hachi gathered up the cards and shuffled them. As his fingers were dexterous in the first place, he could handle the cards well. Even so, he didn't think he would be able to set up a trick to make Joker win. When he glanced over, Joker nodded slightly at him, suggesting he was fine. He must have had a plan. Hachi began to deal the cards again.

Several repetitive games passed, in which neither player felt strongly enough about their initial hands or dealt cards to move to showdown. Onto the tenth match, once they were some little time into it, Joker and Falcon's eyes narrowed simultaneously.

"Let's begin the showdown." Falcon set his two initial cards down on the table.

"Yeah, let's." Joker also set down his two cards.

Hachi looked at the three cards on the table: the King of Hearts, Ace of Hearts, and... the King of Spades. There were two kings on the field. If either Falcon or Joker had a king in their hand, they would have three of a kind. If so, they would have a high chance of winning.

"...How about it, Joker? Will you end the game?"

"No, give me another card."

Hachi dealt one more card: the Jack of Spades. Neither Joker nor Falcon's expressions wavered.

"One more."

"Ho ho, very well. I have no intention of folding either."

Hachi dealt the last card: the 10 of Hearts.

"Well, Joker, what will you do?"

"I'm ready for showdown."

"I won't fold either. That means this is the end."

"Yeah." Joker peered at the cards in his hand. "..." He held two Jacks, Heart and Diamond. Since the Jack of Spades was already dealt, Joker's hand could form a full house of three jacks and two kings. Much stronger than three of a kind, it would be almost unbeatable. Almost. Of course, there was still a chance he could lose. For example, if Falcon's hand contained two kings. In that case, Falcon would have four Kings, forming an even stronger hand than Joker's full house. However, four of a kind is an extraordinarily difficult hand to get. The chances that Falcon would pull such a hand were slim. Even so, Joker was perfectly prepared for that happening. He already had made his next move in anticipation. A phantom thief is always two or three steps ahead of their opponent... Joker thought.

"I've got a full house." Joker showed his hand.

For a moment, Falcon seemed to flash with hesitation, but slowly flipped over his cards. "I'm sorry to say... I have four kings."

"Wha..." Joker was fixed on Falcon's two kings. He had made a hand that beat Joker's after all.

"It appears I've won."

"..."

Falcon smirked. Then Joker noticed something -- the water in the glass near Hachi was moving, but Hachi hadn't drunk any of it... Moving aside the glass and turning over the coaster, he found playing cards lying underneath. "These are...!"

"Oh my, some cards must have been strewn about while this boy was dealing. It happens often with beginners." Falcon chucked.

Of course there was no way that had happened. Falcon had probably slipped the cards under the coasters while Hachi was gathering up cards. Then depending on his own needs, he would take out the cards and add them to his hand. If that were the case, he could easily have gotten two kings. Falcon had cheated after all.

"That's unfair, Mr. Falcon!"

"Oh, what is? Do you have any proof that I cheated?"

"Ghh..." True, Joker and Hachi had no way of proving that Falcon had cheated. Now that the game was already over, the results were all that mattered.

"Ho ho ho, then as promised, I'll take your sentiments of winning. You'll also have to give up on the painting."

Once Falcon spoke, Joker steadily stood up. "No, not yet..."

"Hm?"

"I'm a phantom thief. Of course I'll read two or three steps ahead of my opponent. I figured that you'd cheat with cards!" Joker proclaimed, then took out the Queen of Hearts from his pocket. "Straight Flash!" The next moment, the Ace, Jack, and 10 of Hearts on field, as well as the King of Hearts right in front of Falcon's eyes, shone brilliantly. Joker had secretly disguised his cards with Image Gum and switched them out. Though it was in an abnormal fashion, Joker successfully performed his trademark Straight Flash.

"Blast!" Falcon instinctively covered his eyes.

"Now!" Joker and Hachi ran to "The Plentiful Fruits". They planned to take the painting and get out while Falcon was recoiling. Then came a clicking sound: Falcon had snapped his fingers with his eyes still closed. Right after, something astonishing happened -- the snap had triggered flames to suddenly blaze out from behind "The Plentiful Fruits".

"What!?" Joker and Hachi stopped in their tracks. "The Plentiful Fruits" was engulfed by fire before their very eyes. The painting must have been set up to catch on fire at Falcon's signal. "Aaaah..." The two stood dazed, unable to lift a finger.

Joker turned around and erupted. "You scum, what are you trying to pull by burning the treasure!"

"Ho ho ho..." His eyes finally back to normal, Falcon glowered at Joker, eye gleaming under his mask. "I won our match. Thus, the treasure is still mine. Aren't I free to do what I please with my own things?"

"But still, setting fire to the treasure is horrible!" Hachi snapped at Falcon.

Yet Falcon was completely unfazed and began to serenely explain himself. "It seems you two have yet to understand my thinking. A picture like that has no worth to me. What is important to me is to enjoy the gamble and make you suffer defeat."

"Are you serious..."

"You don't understand what a gamble is about yet. In the last match, you must have thought the following. First, your hand was a powerful full house, making victory nearly guaranteed. But there was a chance my hand could have been even more powerful. Yet still you judged that even if you lost, you had prepared several steps ahead anyway, making you safe. This feeling of 'safety' can be deadly when gambling."

"..." He had completely seen through Joker.

"The secret of gambling is to guard neither your money nor your life. Therefore, you must abandon the comfort of 'safety' and drive yourself to the edge. You predict before taking action. In other terms, you plan out your future safety. That very way of thinking causes you to lose the battle before it has even begun!"

"Ghh..."

"I've used your thieving technique against you."

"..." Joker silently gnashed his teeth. "The Plentiful Fruits" blazed at his back as if reflecting his inner state.

"Ho ho ho, it was worth taking the trouble to buy the entire art museum. After all, you seem to have given up on 'Beyond Twilight'."

"Why do you know about 'Beyond Twilight'..."

"Ho ho ho, why indeed." Laughing boldly, Falcon took out Spade's Ice Shot and Queen's sword from a drawer.

"Those are...!?"

"Your two friends are currently being detained by my associates. But please rest assured that they aren't being treated roughly." Falcon flippantly spun the gun onto the table.

"You..."

"I am the one who took 'Beyond Twilight' from Nabakov. Yet no matter how long I waited, you made no move toward Prism Island. That's why I took the initiative."

"So that means Mr. Falcon is the owner of the Underground Casino!?"

Falcon smirked icily. "Well, I'll leave now. There's no reason for me to stay any longer. You can take any of the museum's other items home with you if you like." Falcon passed by Joker and Hachi, making for the door.

Joker clenched his fist and shouted. "Wait, Falcon! One more match!"

"..." Falcon stopped and spread both his hands to the side without turning around. "I have no interest in anything but a high-risk match. My intentions have already been accomplished. If you would like to fight me again, please have a high-stakes wager ready. I'll be waiting for you any time at Prism Island's Underground Casino..." After speaking, Falcon left the room. His repetitive footsteps scuffled further and further away.

"Joker-san..." Hachi anxiously looked up at Joker. The burnt "Plentiful Fruits" clattered to the floor, its gold frame the only part left of it. The fire quietly smoldered away.

[hairyanddesign]

Women’s Hair Styles

Hair styles are always a popular topic for discussion, but you seldom hear people discussing the relative merits of various pubic hair designs - at least not in public. Some older people might even find the idea of a discussion of pubic hairstyles absurd, surprised as they might be to learn that people even bother to shave "down there".

Well, the truth of the matter is that the go-go sixties and let-it-grow seventies are a thing of the past. The time for luxurious patches of jungle-like pubic hair has long since faded into history, and the world has at last entered what will one day surely be looked back upon as a golden age for pubic hair design. As a primer on these designs, here is a list of the sexiest pubic hairstyles commonly worn (but less commonly seen) today.

1. The Triangle is exactly what its name implies - a pubic hair design in the shape of a triangle. Of course, as one of the sexiest pubic hairstyles out there today, it leaves room for a lot of creativity. What kind of triangle are you? Is the right triangle a good reflection of your personality - can you find that 90 degree angle in your life? Or are you more of an isosceles kind of person - with two angles that match and two sides to your personality of equal length and importance? Maybe you're an equilateral triangle, with its three 60 degree angles reflecting your perfect balance of body, mind, and spirit! Could it be that you're more in line with the scalene triangle - with all of your angles and sides out of proportion to one another to demonstrate your wilder side? It's your personality and your look, so choose which triangle styles are the sexiest pubic hairstyles for you!

2. The Card Shark is another of the sexiest pubic hairstyles, and yet another that allows some creativity of design. With this look, you shave your pubic hair into designs that reflect the suits of a deck of cards - hearts, diamonds, spades, and clubs. Though hearts are currently the most popular, any combination of the suits can give your pubic region a customized look that is sure to catch a lot of eyes - assuming that you walk around naked all day.

3. The Arrow is just that - a thin line of pubic hair with an arrowhead at one end. Perhaps inspired by such legendary marksmen as William Tell and Robin Hood, the arrow is one of the sharper styles out there. As one of the sexiest pubic hairstyles available, it offers little in the way of customization, though you can opt for the arrowhead to point either upward or downward. It isn't really understood why the downward pointing arrow is the more popular of the two, though it may have something to do with people losing their sense of direction while drinking. "Um... it's down there, silly!"

4. For the less adventurous, the close shave is still one of the most popular and sexiest hair styles around - though it doesn't really open up many avenues for discussion, much less poor attempts at humor.

5. Finally, many women find that the absolutely sexiest pubic hairstyles are the ones that involve shaving off every stitch of hair. Probably the greatest advantage of this style rests in the fact that it takes absolutely no artistic creativity whatsoever to accomplish!

[zombizombi]

hummingbird heartbeat - pt 21

( missed the beginning? catch up on AO3! )

When Jack texted, he didn’t mention the kiss.

Bitty went back to Georgia for the summer. He wasn’t sure how to talk to Kent about Jack’s farewell; after all, Jack hadn’t really said anything. Bitty was pretty sure he knew what it meant, but how could he possibly tell Kent that he just had a feeling that Jack was maybe sort of in love with both of them? He didn’t really have anything to base it on other than a kiss in the hospital that Kent likely didn’t even remember.

Kent had already tried to back off in favor of Jack once before. They needed to talk about Jack -- actually, seriously talk about him -- but every time Bitty thought about bringing him up, he couldn’t seem to find the right words. The most Kent had ever mentioned Jack was in the beginning of their relationship, before Bitty knew who he was. Bitty hadn’t forgotten those conversations or Kent’s last birthday. There was a lot to that backstory that he was sure he didn’t know.

At home, it took Bitty a little while to work up the right way to talk to his mother about Kent visiting. Eventually he started the conversation with Jack and let that lead into Jack’s new NHL career and the people he knew and oh, by the way mother, Kent Parson, you know of him? He’s so nice!

Suzanne listened to Bitty talk about how he’d gotten to know Kent -- half truths, really, but only in the beginning -- and after about a week, she asked if Kent wouldn’t like to come visit that summer. It sounded like they were good friends, after all, and hearing that Kent hadn’t had a homemade apple pie on the fourth of July shocked Suzanne just as much as it had shocked Bitty. Something just had to be done about that.

Kent laughed when Bitty told him. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll buy a plane ticket tonight. How long d’you want me to stay?”

“Forever,” Bitty said, without thinking. He sucked in a sharp breath as he realized what he’d said.

There was a small pause before Kent said anything. “Uh -- that might be difficult to arrange,” he said, “’cause I have this cat…”

Bitty laughed, rubbing his face with one hand. “How about a week?”

“Whatever you want, sunshine,” Kent said. “I can do a week.”

A whole week! Bitty would have to think about what they could do. Madison wasn’t that exciting, and besides the fireworks on the fourth, he couldn’t think of many things that’d be going on. It was a good thing he had a bit of time -- after all, Kent needed to bulk up for the season, and he couldn’t just feed him pie. He’d have to think of acceptable foods. “That’ll be great. You’ll send me the information for your flight, right, once you have it? ’Cause I’ll have to come and get you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kent said. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll email you the itinerary.” He laughed. “You’re so cute.”

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Okay, sweetheart. How’s Vegas?”

“Boring, mostly,” Kent said. “I mean, aside from the Troy brigade.” He liked Mrs. Troy and her three children -- they were still spending time at Kent’s house, checking on him and making sure he was doing all right. Kent sent Bitty silly snaps of the kids and their outings. “But, you know. I can’t really do anything? They won’t even let me work out. I’m gonna have to work my ass off later to make up for this. And I already binge-watched like, every single episode of Golden Girls.” He paused. “But, um. Jack’s been calling me.”

“Oh?” Bitty sat up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Kent sighed. “It’s weird, right? I -- for a long time I would’ve given anything for him to call me. Nightmares and all. Fucking stupid. And now, it was just -- you know he signed with Providence?”

“Yeah,” Bitty said, “I knew that.”

“Alexei plays for Providence,” Kent said.

Bitty knew Kent was friends with Mashkov. He’d been so supportive on Twitter when Kent came out, it hadn’t been much of a surprise to Bitty that they’d struck up a friendship. Kent didn’t really tend to have real friendships with people very often, so Bitty had encouraged him to try just a little. It was good for Kent -- Bitty had plenty of friends, but Kent often seemed so… isolated. “Yeah,” Bitty said. “I know. Maybe he and Jack will get along. What else did you guys talk about?”

“He just kind of asked how I was doing. Checking up on me, I guess, which is weird because I didn’t think he gave a fuck. We talked about the playoffs a little bit. He asked about my cat. It’s --” Kent let out a long sigh. “I don’t know, babe. Why is he calling me? I don’t know what the fuck he wants from me.”

“Maybe he just wants to be a part of your life again,” Bitty suggested.

Kent laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “right.”

“I’m serious,” Bitty said.

“I know you are,” Kent said, “and I love that about you.”

“Flatterer.”

“Is it working?”

Bitty laughed.

Kent was still recording new videos. He was actually doing them faster than normal, which Bitty chalked up to all the extra free time. He’d done several Britney songs already. The latest was one of the only songs on the channel not in English. Bitty pressed play, tilting his head.

“Привет. Боюсь, что я очень плохо говорю по-русски,” Kent said, speaking very slowly. “I, uh. I don’t know how to say the rest of this in Russian, so, uh -- sorry. Прости, пожалуйста. I only know, like, three phrases? And one of them is really rude.” He laughed and gripped his guitar. “So, anyway, I, um. I practiced this a lot and I’m sure my pronunciation isn’t perfect, but it’s my first try singing a foreign-language song.” A pause. “French doesn’t count.”

It was a Russian folk song. The title translated to Beyond the Quiet River, and Kent had posted a translation of the lyrics into the “about” section on the video. He’d recorded it at night in his living room, the windows large and dark behind him. Only the body of the guitar and Kent’s arm were really visible; he’d sat far off to the side, letting the camera mostly focus on Kit.

The song was beautiful. Bitty knew from listening to Kent practice that he must’ve worked on his version of the song for quite a while -- it was very practiced, very smooth. Several commenters praised Kent’s attempt at Russian and mrpotatohead7 left an excited comment half in Russian and half in English, obviously elated by the choice. In comment replies, Kent promised to attempt more languages soon, but pointed out that it took a lot of practice time and he didn’t always have that kind of motivation. Bitty left a comment full of hearts and a request for more songs in French.

Playoffs were still on. The Aces had advanced to the finals through what seemed like sheer force of will. Kent was, in the end, only able to attend games in Las Vegas -- the severity of his concussion kept him from traveling to away games. He went to every single game in Vegas and called Bitty after all of them, reporting on his team’s progress. His frustrated commentary when the Aces lost and his observations about what could have been better in games they won were both accurate. Bitty had never discussed hockey at length with Kent. He was so… passionate.

It was cute.

The Aces faced the Montreal Canadiens for the Stanley Cup finals. Despite the fact that the Canadiens’ goalie was injured and they were relying on a backup, the finals went to seven games. The Aces had lost at least two other players to injury during the Cup run, and they’d scraped by with one-goal wins in many of their games. They’d had to shuffle some of their lines without Kent, but they came out and played fierce, but clean, hockey for every game. The last one took place in Las Vegas.

They won by a single goal made in the last minute of regulation time. The stands erupted with cheers and Troy pulled Kent out on the ice in his street clothes, dragging him over to hold the cup. Kent’s smile was wide and bright and Bitty thought he’d remember the image of him standing in the middle of a rainbow ace of spades, holding the Stanley Cup, forever.

“So I was thinking about the awards,” Kent said, a week later. They were video chatting quietly after Bitty’s parents had gone to bed, both of them curled up in their rooms. “It’s coming up soon, and I was talking with Alexei -- he was sincere about going with me, when he tweeted it?”

“Oh, yeah!” said Bitty. He remembered the tweet. “That’s great.”

“So I thought I’d take him up on it,” Kent said. He toyed with Señor Bun’s ear. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Bitty said. “Unless you want to go alone, I don’t see why you shouldn’t go with him. You don’t need my permission.” It was nice of Mashkov to offer. He’d been so great to Kent on Twitter and other social media -- it warmed Bitty’s heart to see another player being so vocal about his support.

Kent laughed. “You’re my boyfriend,” he said. “I think it’s polite to ask you how you feel about it before I publicly attend an event with another guy.”

“Sorry,” Bitty said. “Did you want me to be jealous?”

Kent laughed again. “No. God, it’s like I made you in a computer. Okay! Fine.”

Bitty watched the NHL awards with the rest of the guys -- including Jack -- on a group Skype call. It was tradition! They had all placed bets on who would win what a week prior.

Kent was wearing a gorgeous burgundy suit, which he'd paired with a tie pin shaped like the ace of spades and a pocket square striped like a referee's jersey. He arrived with Alexei Mashkov, both of them strolling casually up the red carpet. Mashkov’s navy suit wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Kent’s, and it was clear that both of them knew it. Kent’s smile was his perfect, practiced media smile, but Bitty noticed that he looked a little thin. So many of their video chats took place at night while snuggled under blankets that he hadn’t realized before.

He’d have to do something about that.

They stopped for pictures on the red carpet like all the other players. Kent had something tucked under his arm, but he consistently turned so that it was just out of camera shot. An interviewer commented on Kent’s suit first, stopping both of the men before they could get inside. “You two are looking very sharp tonight,” she said.

“Is good, right?” Mashkov smiled. “Maybe should be more careful, though, not put all the good looks in one place.”

Kent laughed. “First time I’ve brought someone to the awards I actually liked,” he said.

“I think I’m bringing you,” Mashkov said, “not the other way around.” The look he gave Kent didn’t escape Bitty’s notice.

“Fair point,” said Kent. He grinned.

The interviewer laughed. “And whose is this rabbit?” she asked.

It was Señor Bun under Kent’s arm. “Oh,” he said, giving her a winning smile, “he belongs to my biggest fan.”

The camera clearly showed Mashkov’s hand on Kent’s lower back as they stepped inside. Both of them showed up in further footage, signing autographs or talking with other players. They were almost always together, and Bitty was sure it would be all over the internet within minutes. Kent and Alexei were ushered up to the front row, a position likely decided by their stellar skills on the ice as much as by the reporters clamoring for shots of Kent's recovery. Kent sat down first.

As expected, the camera panned to the front row often. Kent and Mashkov were sitting close together, Mashkov’s posture relaxed. He was looking at Kent like he’d rather eat him than dinner, almost always turned toward him, arm slung over the back of Kent’s chair when the camera showed them. Every now and again one of them would lean into the other, murmuring something. Sometimes Kent laughed.

It took a while for the players to settle down. Kent and Alexei were caught in audience shots from time to time, applauding for other players and grinning. They seemed comfortable together. The Calder and the Art Ross had been determined prior to the Cup finals, and so -- while they were still a big deal -- they didn’t have quite the same air of anticipation around them as the other, more disputed awards. Trophy after trophy went out, each player making a small acceptance speech. Most of them thanked family, significant others, their teams, and their coaches.

Bitty had just gotten back from a quick run to the kitchen for a soda when the announcer stepped up to award the Lady Byng. “And this year the Lady Byng Award for sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct goes to -- Kent Parson.”

Mashkov hugged Kent, laughing at the look on his face. He leaned forward, murmuring something in Kent’s ear, and then Kent laughed, too. He shook hands with several other players and hugged Troy before making his way up to the podium to accept the award, Bun under his arm.

“I, um.” Kent looked at the trophy. “God. I -- thank you. I just, um. I had this whole acceptance speech planned, but I can’t remember any of it.” He smiled, eyes shimmering. “You know, hockey hasn’t always been the most accepting place. And this year has been… tough. I’ve been lucky to receive the support I’ve had.” His hand hovered near Señor Bun. “From lots of places.” Kent smiled. “Thank you for making our sport better.”

He returned to his seat, pausing to shake hands on the way with a few other players. Bitty was disappointed when the camera cut away from Kent, but the groupchat was alight with speculation on the winners of the next awards. He lost track of time when he had to defuse a squabble between Dex and Nursey.

“They gave Parson the Lady Byng?” Dex said.

“Well, yeah,” said Nursey. “He displayed sportsmanlike conduct -- he hardly said a word about that attempted murder on the ice. That’s what it’s for.”

“I’m just saying,” Dex said, “that the award should be given based on good play, not politics. You know?”

“It’s not politics, dude,” Nursey said. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

“It is politics,” Dex countered. “The NHL doesn’t want to look bad by ignoring the incident, that’s what --”

“Dude, are you saying Kent Parson’s, like, blackmailing the NHL into giving him an award? It’s not even that hard to make the League look bad --”

“That’s not what I --”

“Boys,” Bitty said, “please. Nobody’s blackmailing anyone. They voted. Let it go.” The announcer had gone through several awards during the argument. When he turned his full attention back to the video, they were on the King Clancy.

“The King Clancy Memorial Trophy is presented annually to a player for leadership qualities both on and off the ice while making a significant humanitarian contribution to his community. Let’s take a look at this year’s winner,” the announcer smiled. “Kent Parson.”

A video detailing Kent’s captaincy of the Las Vegas Aces as well as his work with the C.O.P.S. organization began to roll. Bitty knew that Kent spent time and money helping other police survivors -- families who’d lost a loved one in the line of duty -- but they didn’t talk much about it. Kent volunteered with an outdoors program in the summer as well as attending support group meetings and donating money to the organization.

“I didn’t know Parson’s dad was a cop,” said Dex. “That’s cool.”

“He died a long time ago,” Jack said. “Shot on duty.”

“He doesn’t talk about it very much,” said Bitty.

On stage, Kent took the trophy, looking down at it for a moment. He set Señor Bun on the podium next to the cup in full view of the camera. “I’ve already thanked you all,” Kent said. His voice was steady. “And I’m so grateful. I think it’s obvious by now that what we do off the ice matters just as much as the game we play on it. And I think that a lot of us understand that being in the public eye carries some amount of responsibility with it, so. I’d just like to say that tonight, this is for every gay player before me, every player who wasn’t able to be open about his life, his love, his experience. I know you were here. We are here. And for those of you who, I know, must still be in the closet, I just want to say that that’s okay, too.” He was looking directly at a camera. “When you’re ready -- if you’re ever ready -- I’ll still be here.” Kent smiled. “Thank you.”

Bitty scrubbed tears off his face.

“Aw, Bits,” said Holster.

“Classy as fuck,” Shitty said. “Goddamnit. He does not give a shit. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Jack didn’t say anything.

“There’s your backup plan, Bitty! Just, you know. Graduate college first,” Ransom said.

“Shut up,” Bitty grumbled, wiping at his face.

They didn’t show Kent on camera again. The rest of the awards went by in a blur, and all Bitty could think about was how long it might take Kent to get home and how soon he would call. Kent put Bun on the podium. Everyone saw it. And for him to basically say I’ll wait for you, it just -- if he thought about it too long, Bitty’s throat tightened right up again. When he said goodnight to the rest of the team, his face still felt vaguely damp.

The phone rang once Bitty was already in bed, lights out.

“Baby!” Bitty’s face hurt from smiling. “You were perfect! Lord, you were just -- that suit and your speech, you were just… just amazing! Lord. I wish I could’ve been there!”

“Eric!” Kent’s voice came down the line, a bit frantic. “Thank god. Listen --  please don’t be mad, okay, it wasn’t my idea -- I didn’t know it was a -- I thought it was just a friend thing, or just a supportive thing, and then --”

“Sweetie,” Bitty said, stomach sinking, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He kissed me!” Kent said. “Fuck. I didn’t know. I swear to god. I’m sorry. But it’s not cheating if I didn’t kiss him back, right? Or -- or if I only accidentally kissed him back for like, a half a second? Because I would never --”

“Who?”

“Alexei fucking Mashkov!”

[bunniebard]

So awhile back there was a post going around tumblr something along the lines of, “You think of something you want to read, and have it all worked out how it should be when you realize... it was YOU who needed to write it all along.” I got bit by that bug yesterday. I sat down, and in one sitting had this whole thing written.

...I.... I’ve never written anything before? So this is a very strange feeling, and I have no idea if it is any good. But! I did a thing! Which you can read!

(I probably blame @fantasiawandering for her New Year’s story which got me thinking in an Undertale kind of way.)

You have nothing to tell Mom. Really, you don't. Sure, drinking your milk this morning felt a little strange and you chewed your toast a little extra so it would go past the tickle in your throat easier, but it was nothing to fuss about. Nothing to worry her about. It might very well amount to nothing by tomorrow.

You don't need to tell Mom. It would worry her, and you don't want to worry her about something like this again. You work your way through the day uncomfortable, but not unbearable. You take a little less at dinner and nobody notices.

You are not going to tell Mom. You heard the story bit by bit from the monsters in New Home. You know well what happened to the last human to fall prey to something like this, and you know what it did to Mom. You keep your face straight despite the pressure in your head. You screw up once when you inhale too hard trying to clear your nose and send yourself into a coughing fit. It lasts far longer than it should and Mom frets, but after the glass of water she brings you is mostly consumed you convince her that it was just something down the wrong pipe and both of you go your merry ways.

You absolutely won't tell Mom. The monsters told you the story. You can fill in the blanks. You can imagine how she must have sat at that previous child's beside, the fear and sadness she must have felt. You won't repeat that. You try out your voice today. It sounds like a baby dragon roar, if baby dragons were human-sized. It also hurts, but Undyne would probably think it was pretty cool and find some fun use for it. You spend most of the day in a pout at this missed opportunity, and grab the largest book from Mom's bookshelf to use as an excuse to curl up on the couch for the entire afternoon. Mom is excited that you want to learn more about snails. She settles down next to you to read the book aloud, which is pretty nice.

You refuse to tell Mom. It's getting harder. You know it would be harder for her. She pleaded with the last one to believe, to fight to get well, and that thankfully is one thing you've got in spades: determination. You let your body fight. One minute you are boiling in your skin, the next you are chilled to your core. The cold is infinitely worse. You can't hold in the shivering no matter how hard you try, and the rattling hurts your bones. Your whole body is sore by the mid-afternoon when the snow starts. This too becomes your ally. You grab a blanket to wear like a oversized robe and sit by the window, watching the snow fall. Monsters gather outside and dance wildly; it is the first time any of them have ever seen snow fall from the sky.

You can't tell Mom. She has never truly forgotten or healed from the first, and you can still do both of those. You drag yourself out of bed to the kitchen, fetch the oatmeal canister and hold it aloft until noticed. Mom likes the idea of something hot for breakfast on a cold day. You like the idea of something easy to swallow. She cheerfully uses her fire magic to whip up a large pot. Even with your nose as stuffed as it is, you breathe in the steam and can tell how creamy and delicious it must taste. It's a shame your taste buds don't corroborate. The newly arrived skeleton brothers explains why she made so much. Sans puts ketchup on his.

You physically won't be able to tell Mom soon. You can feel your throat closing in on itself. It's an odd combination of easier and worse. You wonder, sometimes, if raising you reminds her of previous times, previous family. It makes you wonder what you would have done in this scenario with your previous family. You don't want or know how to address this thought, so you head out to go sledding after breakfast. Mom thinks you look cold (you are), and somehow finds two coats for you to wear. They neither fit you well, nor together well. The smaller won't zip, and the larger barely zips over the smaller. This works to your advantage ten minutes later when you've finally reached the sledding hill and are once again boiling. You zip the outer coat open to cool off. Sans makes a pun about "really feeling the heat" ("...and it's coming from you kid, button up!"), but you swat his bony fingers away. He shrugs, and you take your first sled ride, all three of you together on the toboggan. It is exhilarating fun, though ends poorly with a chunk of ice or some compacted snow that sends your sled and selves tumbling. It hurts, it hurts, but Papyrus's indignant squawking gives you reason to smile and pick yourself back up. He scrambles back to the sled which is sticking straight up from the ground with a comatose Sans draped atop it. When he has it righted and Sans seated properly, though still rather limply, the taller brother races away with toboggan rope in hand, intent on conquering the hill. You follow, grateful for his Battle Body's large boots. They leave long indentations in the snow so you can follow in them and not work so hard. The gait is too wide, though, and you're puffing by the time you reach the top. Luckily, the second trip down is smooth sailing.

You start to wonder if you should have told Mom. She probably makes really good soup. The answer is ultimately no. You heard the story from the monsters, but you got the real story from The Monster. The first child knew. It was intentional, after all. You can fill in the blanks. You know that child faded as slowly, painfully as they could. It wouldn't have worked otherwise. You can't do that to her again, even it's involuntary. Still, you feel guilty. How is fading quietly any better? You struggle to right yourself when the sled is pulled from under you. Papyrus's second set of footprints makes a dizzying puzzle to follow. The snow is white, the sky is grey. It is hard to distinguish the line where one becomes the other. You put one foot down. Then the other. Repeat. Everything hurts. Your legs don't want to be legs. You stop yourself before they can. Ahead, through the haze, is Sans's ever-present blue hoodie. You call out to him. He flinches at the wretchedly wrong sound. He turns, a question forming through the air, and you swear for a split second you catch a wisp of blue about him when his eyes widen in shock. Then you see white. Then you see black.

You don't want to tell Mom. What was it like to lose a child? You don't want to fathom it, though you understand full well why two had been lost in the same night. Grief was a powerful force, not one to be reasoned with or calmed in its highest throes. There was no barrier to break anymore and no revenge to seek here. What would Mom do? Nothing but be heartbroken. Maybe her heart would actually break. There was movement now, and wind. You are curled in on yourself, the way you usually do when you sleep now that you have a warm, safe bed to return to each night. But the angle is wrong, and there's pressure in three points: two thin, hard supports under you knees and behind your shoulders, as well as a hard line of pressure that's steadily bumping against your temple. It's an uncomfortable though not entirely unfamiliar cradle. A jostle sends the rim of your eye socket that forms your eyebrow to slip down and settle into a empty space between two hard lines. Bones. Ribs? Your eyes choose this moment to recognize a triangle shape that's so close it's fuzzy: Papyrus. The bumpy motion is him running for all he's worth. You let him take you, feeling yourself quite boneless. The colors and temperature change so fast it's like a slap. The word oatmeal churns in your head, but a quick veto from your aching abdominal muscles kills any hope of retching. You hear Sans yell out, panicked, "TORI! The kid is doing too hot!!" It is followed by a faint pause and puzzled response of, "I believe the popular expression is 'not doing too hot', is it not?" And then Mom sees you. You feel your face, flushed with what you both know isn't just the cold outside. She reaches out to touch you, and you crack.

You tell Mom. In great heaving sobs, garbled up equally by your scarred throat and the snot which is now pouring down your face, you tell her. She plucks you out of Papyrus's arms and sets you down. Your knees don't even attempt to take the weight, so you're lowered to plop on your bottom. In a flash she has your boots off and tugs off your two coats far faster than they were tugged on. You are grasped under the armpits again and lifted high, then hugged firmly to her bosom, snot and all. You cling. She moves for a bit, then bends. You are now sitting on her lap, and the world slowly starts rocking. She rubs your back up and down as you continue to babble. You wanted to tell her. You wanted her to worry. You thought you wanted to be strong for her, but what you really needed was her to be strong for you. You wanted to be weak, wanted to be taken care by the family you'd found and loved more than anything you'd ever known both over and under ground... Like a stream, all your woes (and nose) spill forward endlessly. It slows to a trickle. And then it stops. You peek up, sniffles and gunk, apprehensive of the face you'll find. You are greeted with nothing but a loving smile before a handkerchief obscures your face.

You confide in Mom a lot more now.