#more like folded my atm card

[urthredd-pantheon]

Dunno if this helps on the prompts but I too love me some Buggy especially the pathetic kind so I thought I’d share

I really like the idea of a Buggy who is either pushy (not quite a bully but more like the anything for attention type) or who is presenting as dominant but then folds like a flea market card table when reader has had enough. With the first type it would likely be by her acting really cold towards him and avoiding him and in the second type it would make more sense for her to feel hurt or scared and that makes him panic. Like can you imagine Buggy trying to deal with accidentally making his love interest cry?? and not in the sexy way?????

Also love the idea of him getting tearful (and then maybe further embarrassed because of that reaction) when his partner treats him very tenderly during sex. Like the type of affectionate sex where it’s really slow and exploratory like sweetly kissing and massaging along the whole body, hands on cheeks and hand holding, gently bumping noses, eye contact, etc and one minute he’s fine if not a bit nervous cuz it’s so new and then just all of a sudden motherfucker is overwhelmed and sniffling and he can’t even understand why atm cuz it’s just simple touching but he’s never been touched like someone is super in love with him until that moment. Could either be the first time with this person or they have a history of quickies or rough stuff and this is a turn in the habit.

Feel free to use or ignore as you please! I love your work a lot both Bugs and otherwise <3 May the obsession continue to fuel you brave soldier

FOLDS LIKE A FLEA MARKET CARD TABLE PFFT. He would oh my god, that’s so cute

Also I-

Buggy all tearful and overwhelmed cause he’s being treated with the tender love and care he deserves? I’m gnawing on the leg of my chair over the thought

Thank you so much!! I don’t want to fail our man, that means so much to me!

[mermaidsirennikita]

What are your favorite Lisa Kleypas books? Besides Devil in Winter and Dreaming of you of curse haha

Oh, good question!

I read both Then Came You and Again the Magic this year, and I really loved both of them. AtM is a beloved dark horse in her backlist, from what I've seen (I feel like a lot of her newer, i.e. largely Ravenels readers don't pick it up, which is probably for the best as McKenna is kind of metal compared to her more recent heroes). It's so fucking good. I love high angst, and I also think she did a great job with the secondary romance. ALTHOUGH... I'd be lying if I said I didn't think the book might be a teeeeeny bit better if the secondary romance was a companion novella versus being folded into Aline and McKenna's story.

Then Came You seems controversial because the hero calls the heroine a bitch or a slut or both, and I'll be completely honest... If I'm IN IT with a book that shit does not super bother me. If you have not sold me to the point where I can see the hero or heroine or both cross a line and still love the book, I probably wasn't that into the book anyway. The party scene where she shows up in a faux transparent dress like Eve with the snake and he's like "FUCK. MY. LIFE." is one of my favorite things. The scene where he beats her at cards and then hauls her upstairs to fuck her while baby Derek Craven is all "SORRY LUV THEM'S THE BREAKS"? Derek Craven: The Early Years in general where he's trying so hard to work on his accent and also angstily standing behind curtains?

(Also: Kleypas at her best just fucks so hard. After I finished this book I read the first chapter of DoY to see how well they flow one after the other, and omg the consistency of Derek being older and actually having gotten his accent down pretty good, but not being able to carry it when Sara first meets him because he just got his face slashed and also just watched a tiny hot chick shoot a man dead in front of him??? After all that work trying to impress people when he finally meets the love of his life he's basically coming back from a near death experience so he can't maintain the facade??? MY. BABY. BOY. MY. PRECIOUS. INFANT. BABY. HOT MAN. HE WAS BORN IN A DRAINPIPE!!!!)

But also, with Then Came You... the bear scene. I find the bear scene to be the kind of thing I just love in romance... typified.

Seduce Me at Sunrise is a fucking banger and I love it so much. I will always have an issue with how Kleypas portrayed Cam and Kev's Roma heritage (though I will say, I think it's not quite as bothersome to me with Kev because Cam, much as I enjoy him, is very "that is my defining character trait" whereas Kev is like... a guy, and it feels more like he's a human and not a walking stereotype) but this book dude. It's Wuthering Heights if they were both fundamentally decent people with good families (I mean, she has a solid home life) and it's GREAT. I love the controversial thing Kev does that everyone hates so much lol. It's one of the most human things I've ever read a romance hero do and I was like "YES. LET HER DOWN BECAUSE YOU ARE A FLAWED SELF LOATHING PERSON AND THAT'S WHAT Y'ALL DO." It's great writing.

I also really loved Married by Morning. Definitely not as much as Seduce, but a lot. I personally feel incredibly strongly that Leo Hathaway is what all these West Ravenel stans THINK West is, except Leo actually fucks hard, tells her to tell him to touch her pussy (fundamental) and has a legit personality. West has plenty of personality as a shithead! Once he "reforms" which happens before his fucking book lmao (what is the point) he has the personality of a cabbage. Leo is introduced as a total wastrel who like. Legit tells Kev (I think it was Kev) don't be like me or you'll just wake up every morning covered by your own tears and cum. Which is. One of the most ludicrously pathetic things I've ever read. And also was when I went "I need him". But after he shapes up, he's still funny??? He's snarky? A rapscallion? A slut, perhaps? And Catherine just has zero time for it. No patience for shenanigans. As she should not. I love that she's basically his employee. I love that after they kiss he's like "huh" and then just decides to doggedly pursue her. It has serious shit going on, but it is more of a romcom than a lot of Kleypas books I read.

Oh, It Happened One Autumn, of course. Controversial but brave and also true: even if you think you love Devil in Winter, I promise you don't love DiW as much as you think you do if you haven't read Autumn. I think they are basically companion novels, lol. Do they work alone? Obviously. But DiW was a solid 4 outta 5 for me (not a 4.25, not a 4.5/, not a 4.75, a solid 4) and then I read Autumn and reread it and it became a 5. And I'm so glad I did, because Autumn is also so great. Autumn is hilarious, and it's one of my favorite book for Wallflower interactions, aside from Evie who I think is stuck in like a basement the entire time, only to pop up at the last minute to proposition St. Vincent. (Also: a little wild that the other girls would basically be like "Godspeed, hope that bitch is good" when she was gone for long stretches with like ominous letters.) But the perfume scene??? Annabelle being like "I shall test this aphrodisiac perfume" only to show up with like dark circles underneath her eyes from getting railed within an inch of her life by Simon the entire night all "it was a mistake"? One of the funniest things Kleypas has ever written. Westcliff's entire existence in this novel? One of the funniest things she's ever written. The scene where he fingerbangs Lillian in the butterfly garden and is all "well damn Lillian if I got that far with you imagine what would happen if a man like St. Vincent, who actually gets bitches, did it???" High comedy.

Of her new era, Marrying Winterborne is the only one I'd consider a favorite favorite. It's really simple, but super well-written. Like, I honestly don't think the PLOOOOT is the strongest thing (I found Helen's internal conflict to be something that should've been revealed earlier in the story, for sure) but the character beats and love story are really good. It has a lot of great small moments--Helen getting frisky because of headache powder, the general department store stuff (Rhys Winterborne: the most powerful owner of a Kohl's you've ever met, the man is swimming in Kohl's Cash, SWIMMING), obviously "five fucking minutes". It's super good.

[callmewhenyougetthis-a]

@gldnhour // the diner

"Ah. Perfect."

And it was, indeed. A buttercream blossom was one of the first things Emily learned how to do when she began to bake (and really bake, not just follow by-the-box directions) and she'd been proud of it ever since, jumping at any chance she could to pipe it on any dessert that Bambi let her. She'd just finished a batch of lemon and lavender cupcakes, something new for the upcoming spring menu, and tonight was her chance to show it off to the rest of the crew—see if it was good enough to sell at the restaurant someday. Taking extreme care, the blonde transferred each one onto a white cupcake stand, crafting a sort of dessert bouquet while the restaurant buzzed, sizzled, and dinged around her.

"Behind," came Beckett's voice from the direction he'd called out. Big red oven mitts covered his hands and a big smile was sprawled across his face as he headed toward the oven, Emily moving herself—and her delicately crafted cupcake stand—out of the man's way.

The smell of cornbread as Beckett opened the oven knocked the aroma of her lemon and lavender cupcakes out of the park. She smiled warmly, watching as he pulled a square pan out. "That taste as good as it smells?" she asked.

He glanced over at her, sending a wink. "Even better." He set the pan of cornbread on the counter beside the stove and opened up the big pot, the only one left. The thing about Beckett was that he was a bit of a turtle when it came to cooking; everything he made was low and slow. Well, at least, everything he cared about making. He opened the lid to check on his mom's recipe of chicken and sausage gumbo, which simmered to completion in the pot. The smell of paprika, garlic, andouille sausage, bay leaves... It filled the room and overpowered the cupcakes and everything else everyone was cooking in the best way. It was the main star of the night, after all. Bambi had entrusted him with this, and he needed to exceed expectations.

Beckett took the lid off the pot and turned off the heat. Like clockwork, Emily swerved behind him, pulling out enough bowls to feed everyone who'd be at the table. As she did that, Beckett cut up the cornbread into messy squares.

"Thanks, darlin'," he muttered to the blonde, who was like a sister to him at this point. In exchange for her quick work, he offered her a piece of cornbread. She took a bite.

"Holy crap."

"S'that good or what?" he asked, nervous.

"Beck, that's fantastic. Bambi's gonna freak."

Then, a pause before Emily added: "And so is Mickey."

A moment later, Lizzie emerged from the front of the house, somehow toting around a few liters of soda. She was clearly struggling, and Beckett came to her rescue, retrieving the drinks and setting them off to the side. "So fucking sorry," she spoke hurriedly, obviously flustered. "My fucking card wouldn't work at the fucking liquor store and I had to go to the goddamn ATM and—" Her words were stopped only by the feeling of Emily's hands on her shoulders.

"You're good. We're ready. Go get 'im."

Lizzie took a deep breath. Tonight was important. No, it was more than important, and everyone in the restaurant felt that, the gravity of that. She nodded, then turned to head to the back of the restaurant, making the same route she always did when it was the end of shift and she needed to toss the garbage.

She found him by the dumpster. In comparison to the sensory overload that was the diner, this side of the streets brought her ears respite. Even if there were rats and running gutters. Arms folded over her chest, feeling the breeze blow through her sweater, she approached him. There he was.

"Hey, Mickey," she said. "Family's up."

[eusarca]

"M-Merry Christmas, Kyrie!" Perona blurted out as she held out a delicately wrapped box. This was how you celebrated the holiday, right!? She had been preparing for this!

Inside the box, on top there was a 200 Dust gift card for Curry Station. But once they moved that, underneath a jacket was folded up. A jean jacket that was Kyrie's size with a Jolly Roger embroidered on the back behind text that read THE MAGNIFICENT PHANTASMAL PIRATES.

"What do you think? I made one for me too. See?" The pirate gave a little twirl to show off the back of her own jacket. "Now we can start our crew together... officially!" She offered a smile and a hand. "Oh, do you want any help putting it on!?"

"Woah... retro."

Kyrie held up the jacket by its shoulders with both hands, marveling at the embroidery. Tensing, they realized that word could have very different readings to different people and hurried to explain it.

"...Ah! That's not bad at all! It makes me feel a bit like I'd be at home wearing it when I was growing up... So even though it's something very new, it makes me kind of nostalgic too. If you wouldn't mind helping..."

Both a little embarrassed and excited, they then twirled around in the new jacket to show off Perona's work on its target model. "I think it looks great. Thank you. We could even take on Curry Station as our first matching jackets display beyond my living room, also thanks to you."

In return, there were two boxes moved over from a corner table and offered to Perona.

"This one wasn't packaged or wrapped by me, so I kind of just hope it's something good... the weird island ATMs started letting us buy a "Seasonal Gift Box" only for other people that should have an item from your home world in it. Probably nothing you can fight with, but I hope it's a nice treat nonetheless."

The more they said on that, the more it sounded like a trap from the Stars. God, they hoped not.

"This rectangular one was my work, almost completely. It won't give your favorite colors a run for their money, but I wanted to give you something more unique anyway." Inside that box were five little bottles of nail polish in five rich colors. Rather than trying to outdo Perona's current assortment of polishes, Kyrie set out to bolster them with a few pretty shades that would be harder to find on shelves. They were DIY, after all.

"I also tried making my own tea blends, and I'd love for you to try what I have left for myself... but I guess I also wanted to see you wearing something I made," they finished, getting more bashful by the world. It wasn't so weird if they both seemed to feel the same way, right?

( Thank you, @horoffic! )

[isthilll]

RULES: answer all questions, add one question of your own and tag as many people as there are questions

@jxstnn thanks for tagging me i love questions💙

coke or pepsi: no preference

disney or dreamworks: fuck these companies but how to train your dragon is one of my all time favourite movies

coffee or tea: tea forever

books or movies: movies. I wish I read more but I need to work on my attention span for that

windows or mac: who cares both bad

dc or marvel: again fuck these companies but I love spiderman and wolverine

x-box or playstation: I have an xbox

dragon age or mass effect: dragon age

night owl or early riser: night owl despite the fact that I looooove mornings, I always miss them

cards or chess: C A R D S ! ! ! love cards I fuckin suck at chess. uses too much working memory

chocolate or vanilla: vanilla probably

vans or converse: I only wear boots

lavellan, trevelyan, cadash, or adaar: sigh. adaar to fulfill my futile dream of being tall

fluff or angst: neither tbh

beach or forest: beach in cloudy/rainy weather, forest in sunny weather

dogs or cats: depends on the individual. I love an animal who will nap with me all day but some dogs are too energetic and some cats are too independent

clear skies or rain: rain :)

cooking or eating out: COOKING. restaurants are unpleasant places

spicy food or mild food: spicy

halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: halloween

would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: I'm already forever a little too cold so I’m used to that

if you could have a superpower, what would it be: SHAPESHIFTING

animation or live action: depends on the context but I like way more live action media than animated

paragon or renegade: idk I’ve played like 4 hours tops of mass effect

baths or showers: showers

team cap or team ironman: lol both bad but I’ll hate ironman eternally for personal reasons

fantasy or sci-fi: fantasy probably

do you have three or four favourite quotes, if so what are they: “you can do whatever you want forever”

youtube or netflix: youtube I guess. I don’t really use streaming services

harry potter or percy jackson: I like percy more anyway but I’m also trans so it’s a double win for percy

when do you feel accomplished: idk if I ever really do. I live a very low-effort life working retail and staying in my normal parents’ houses and I don’t do anything that’s all that impressive. I suppose I do feel accomplished when people like me

star wars or star trek: I think I’m about equal on both. they’re alright

paperback books or hardcover books: I don’t read books often enough to have a preference

to live in a world without literature or without music? depends on how you define literature. if we’d just be lacking some forms of published writing, I’d rather music still be around

who was the last person to make you laugh? my friend :)

city or countryside? countryside, but only because I don’t get to see it often. if I was there all the time I think I’d miss the city too

favorite chips? chicken and tomato flavour

pants or dresses? BIG PANTS 4EVER

libraries or museums? libraries are more important admittedly but I visit museums more frequently

character driven stories or plot driven stories? character driven 100%

bookmarks or folding pages? bookmarks that are just spare scraps of paper

dream job? idk jobs just seem like they suck perpetually, especially as someone with very little drive or interests or energy. I have fantasies of working on a small farm but I’m too physically weak for that atm

(added question) What gives you comfort? being around animals, going for walks, napping with friends

[kuzann]

The next chapter for The Beyonders is creeping toward my typical 10k chapter length(it’s almost 5k words long atm and there’s a lot more I need to get through before it’s done) and I’m just itching to share bits so here’s a segment with Ingo and his chandelure.

It’s still unpolished but I hope you guys enjoy it. 💜

A shriek split the air, metallic and song-like and so familiar that it immediately brought tears to Ingo’s eyes.

“Willow?” Ingo turned and looked down the length of sidewalk behind him. Sure enough a chandelure hovered there, its flames burning bright and its attention fixed solely on him.

Willow let out a joyful shriek and barreled toward Ingo like a runaway freight train, moving so fast that he had to change course at the last second to avoid hitting him. He drifted past, bleeding off speed with a wide turn, then spun thrice as he slowed to a stop and flew to Ingo at a more measured pace.

Ingo held his hands out to embrace his treasured Pokemon, and Willow settled into his palms. “How did you find me?” It was then that he noticed the folded card that had been secured to one of Willow’s arms by a bit of string. “What’s this?”

Willow lifted out of his palms and offered the arm to him. The card itself was worn, its faces warped by damp air and the corners frayed; whatever Willow had been doing with it had been going on for a while.

Ingo opened it and found a message written in pen using careful, deliberate handwriting:

Hello, please don’t be alarmed. I am NOT a wild chandelure! I am searching for my trainer who is missing, and I mean NO harm to anyone. If I am bothering you, or if you have any information on the whereabouts of Subway Boss Ingo, please contact Elesa of the Nimbasa City Gym.

“Elesa.” An uneasy lump settled in the pit of Ingo’s stomach as the realization hit: with both Ingo and Emmet gone the care of their Pokemon would have to fall on someone else, and evidently that someone had been Elesa. She had to be worried sick, on top of the extra work from caring for two other teams of Pokemon...

Willow gave two metallic chirps and rocked in the direction of a nearby condo building.

The appropriate memory drifted to the surface as Ingo looked at it: that was where Elesa lived. Had Arceus dropped him off nearby on purpose?

Ingo took a step toward the building, then froze. He wanted to see Elesa again, but he had no idea how the reunion would go. Would she be angry with him for putting her through that? Considering the hardship she must have gone through, she probably would...

Willow drifted behind Ingo and gave him a push toward the building.

“I know.” Ingo took another step forward. Then another. On the third stride he could keep himself going.

Once satisfied that Ingo needed no more encouragement, Willow rose to head height and kept pace with him. He spun about from time to time from sheer joy, stringing chirps of different pitches together to create a song all his own. Ingo couldn’t help but feel a little better, having Willow at his side like this.

They turned a corner past a row of decorative hedges, and Ingo spotted the doorkeeper idling by the building’s front entrance. He stopped short.

Willow gave a questioning chirp as he turned to look back at him.

“Look at me, Willow. She’s not going to let me in,” Ingo said. The doorkeeper was muscular but looked friendly enough, but he doubted his appearance would inspire any trust and it certainly wouldn’t get him inside.

To that Willow twisted to and fro, mimicking a headshake, then turned and floated over to the doorkeeper.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Family Time

good morning/afternoon/evening/night. hope you’re all doing well and staying safe!!!! i have a rowaelin fic that i wanted to post before rowaelin month started since im focusing on those prompts atm

i cant wait to see what everyone has in store for rowaelin month, im very much looking forward to it!

enjoy! :)

1835 words

The day that Aelin had been looking forward to was finally here.

She and Rowan were going to spend a week in their spot in the forest. A week was longer than usual, but it was much needed. Not only had she and Rowan been working extremely hard to the point where they weren't going to bed until the middle of the night, his family was arriving to Orynth to visit for a few weeks in a week and a half.

And not just a few members of his family, almost the entire Whitethorn family was coming, with the exception of a few—namely Sellene, who would be gifting them with personal letters and presents, and those that were too old or just didn't feel like making such a long journey.

Aelin was looking forward to it, to meeting those she hadn't, to hearing others perspectives on Rowan's childhood. Her mate, however...not so much. Rowan was looking forward to catching up with the cousins that he liked, but not so much for the meddlesome ones. He warned her that whatever secrets that people were hiding wouldn't be secrets anymore, that the nosy ones liked to make a game to see who could learn the most secrets.

Aelin admitted that could be a problem, but in his letter, Enda claimed that everyone would be on their best behaviour.

Rowan wasn't entirely convinced. And not just because of that, he was worried that the conversation of when Aelin and Rowan were going to have children was going to be brought up as Rowan had written that they were forbidden from doing so.

Months ago, only several weeks after the war, after a meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen, Aelin and Rowan came to the decision to wait for a while to have children after Lord Gunnar had brought up the topic of heirs. Aelin could still remember the silence, at her speechlessness of how suddenly it was mentioned. How Rowan had turned to Lord Gunnar and demanded not just to him, but to everyone around them, that it was a private matter between the Queen and himself, and that it was not up for public discussion.

It wasn't a very long conversation—they both wanted to have a family, but Aelin wasn't ready. She was having nightmares from her time with Maeve and Cairn, and throwing pregnancy in the mix just screamed disastrous.

Rowan took her hands in his large warm ones and promised that he would wait for as long as she wanted. Whether it was one year, five years, or one hundred, he would wait until she was ready and willing.

Aelin had never loved him more.

Since then, Rowan was taking a contraceptive tonic. It hadn't taken very long for it to spread around the castle, but neither Aelin or Rowan would let others opinions change their minds.

And it wasn't like they were completely without family. They had their friends and Fleetfoot, with the canine joining them on their week long getaway.

Aelin and Rowan helped the servants set up the Royal tent and the square wooden table where they would be eating and playing chess and card games. There were a few books that Aelin was very much looking forward to reading, too.

Aelin was excited for this week away, to forgo her corsets, dresses, pants and breast-bands. She was determined to stay in Rowan's shirts and her slippers the entire time.

So the moment that everything was set up, the trays of sweet and savoury foods on the table, and the servants and guards were gone, Aelin stripped down to nothing, swaying her hips the way that Rowan liked when she spotted him drinking her in and slipped on one of his shirts and put on her well loved slippers.

Grabbing the picnic blanket from one of the chests, Aelin turned to see Fleetfoot sniffing hungrily at the trays of food, moving closer with each second that passed. Just as she was about to inhale the food, Rowan took the pup out of her misery and feed her a handful of sliced fermented sausage.

Aelin smiled at the sight. Rowan might grumble about the mess Fleetfoot made and how she kept slobbering on his pillow but Aelin knew he loved her—even when she ate his socks.

Aelin set up the blanket and pillows against a thick oak tree, ready for her week of relaxation.

X X X X X X

Aelin's stomach was near to bursting. She hadn't intended to eat that much food, since there was a leg of lamb and chopped root vegetables roasting in the cauldron above the fire, but everything was just too good to have just the once. She ate and ate until there was nothing but crumbs left.

She didn't regret it, however.

She was close to sleeping as Rowan ran a free hand through her scalp as he used the other to read. Her head was on his lap, the sun was warm, and from the happy yips that were coming from the woods, Fleetfoot was having a fun time running around.

Aelin glanced at her husband, his face relaxed as he read his book. And she had no idea why, but she found herself saying: “What would you look like with a beard?”

Rowan blinked, the only surprise he'd show at the question. “Like an old man,” he answered after a moment.

“You are an old man.”

He flicked her ear, and then went back to running his fingers through her scalp. “I grew a beard, once, when I was young. I looked like my father.”

“So you looked very handsome, then.” Rowan had taken up sketching in the quiet moments. He had drawn his parents and they were a very attractive couple. Rowan inherited his fathers hair, eyes, nose and sharp jawline, but got his mother's lips, cheekbones and eyebrows.

They had died long ago, but Aelin would have liked to have met them. Rowan said that they would have liked her, eventually, as he believed that they wouldn't have known what to do with her at first.

Aelin gave Rowan a big smile as the question formed in her mind. And since Rowan knew her so well, he said, “No.”

“You don't even know what I was going to say!” She protested, but it was a lie.

“I am not growing a beard.”

“Please, for me? Just a little one?”

“No.”

“How about some stubble?”

He sighed, exasperated, knowing that there was no point in arguing. “Fine. I'll grow some stubble and that's it.”

“Mm-hmm. Whatever you say, buzzard.”

He sighed again, but there was a small smile on his lips. He returned to his book, and telling her what it was about when Aelin asked. It made her heart swell that her warrior found time to read, as he admitted to her months ago that he never really had the opportunity when he was sworn to Maeve.

Not wanting to ruin today with thoughts of her, Aelin grabbed her own book by her pillow and read, luxuriating in Rowan's warmth and love and in the company of a good book.

X X X X X X

Aelin was losing, but she made sure that the irritation that was coursing through her didn't show on her face. Playing chess with an experience strategist was an absurd idea, but she was determined not to quit.

Rowan had been wanting for her to make her move. Had been waiting for fifteen minutes. Fleetfoot was by her feet, but she was just waiting for the roast lamb to be done.

Five minutes later, Aelin finally made her move. Her eyes flicked up towards Rowan, but his face was stone. He made his move in a blink of an eye. “Checkmate.”

Fire coated her throat as Aelin screeched in frustration, which just made Rowan laugh. Fleetfoot howled and ran off.

Aelin grumbled under her breath as she put away the chess board (for now, they would definitely be playing again once Aelin had more food in her stomach) while Rowan put their dinner on the plates, smiling all the while. Behind him, his mate vowed that she would beat him one day at chess. His smile widened.

Rowan knew that if he said he could beat her even with a blind-fold on, she would go on about how big his head was.

Fleetfoot came back, getting in the way of his feet as he put his and Aelin's dinner down. He gave Fleetfoot the plate reserved for her, using his powers to cool it down, not missing Aelin's soft smile as he did so.

They ate dinner in companionable silence, with Rowan's thoughts on his cousins. He was sure that he wasn't going to get a single thing done while they were visiting. Or if he did, he knew that some of his cousins would want to intrude.

Thinking about it more, he knew that they were going to intrude. Enda had written in-between the lines that there were some cousins that didn't really believe that Rowan was King-Consort and would only believe it once they saw him in action.

That they would actually believe once they saw him in his crown.

And even then, he was sure that there'd be at least one or two that still wouldn't believe it.

Rowan would let them think whatever they wanted about him, it wouldn't matter to him.

Maybe he should have just invited Enda and his mate—but Aelin was looking forward to meeting his family, so he would just deal with it.

It would only be a couple of weeks, possibly three. At best, four, since it was a long journey. He could last.

Rowan could do it, he would just have to block them out if they became too much. He had done that in the past.

“If you keep furrowing your brows like that, they'll replace your eyes,” Aelin said, slathering a fresh slice of bread with butter and running it through the left over gravy on her plate.

Rowan grunted but tried to relax his forehead. It took him a minute longer than it should have.

Later on, they went for a late night swim. Which was slowly turning into something more, up until Fleetfoot jumped into the water with them, saturating them further.

It was the best first day that Aelin could have asked for, and was very much looking forward to the rest of the week.

X X X X X X

Aelin woke up to one of her favourite sights. Rowan shirtless, sleeping on his stomach, his tattooed arm curled around Fleetfoot who slept between them all night. The hounds golden head half on Rowan's pillow, her paws stretching towards Aelin, her furry face soft in sleep.

Smiling, Aelin shuffled closer, and wrapped her own arms around the pup, her fingers just touching Rowan.

Joyful, Aelin fell back asleep, a smile still on her face.

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.2)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 4,175 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior

Author’s Note: For this chapter specifically, there’s mention of the possibility of being kidnapped/assaulted. Just a TW.

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

A little more than a year and a half ago…

You giggled, running your finger down the nose of some guy who had grabbed you on your way back to your booth. Tony had taken you to a strip club, dressing you almost as bare as the girls there. You had gotten up to go grab a shot and had been on your way back to the table when a man had turned around in his seat, mistaking you for a dancer. He was not bad looking and he held out three twenties to you, just to touch you and hold you close. You did not see the harm in that.

Until you were yanked to the side and you stumbled in your high heels.

“Hey!” you called out as the guy shouted in protest when you were torn from his grasp.

You looked up seeing Happy as he pulled you along.

He tossed you into the booth and you glared at him, “That hurt!”

“You passing out free shit tonight?” Tony growled in your ear, catching your attention. Happy moved away from the booth again, keeping an eye out around the club.

You turned to Tony and stuck out your bottom lip. “He gave me money.”

“Who are you here with?” Tony asked, his tone tight.

Giving him an innocent look, you played with the collar on his shirt. “You, daddy.”

“That’s goddamn right. The next time that happens you better fucking remember that!”

You held up the money to him and said, “Do you want it?”

“Oh, princess… you shouldn’t go teasing me like that… waving another man’s money in my face when I already paid for your attention. I don’t respond well to that. It only makes me jealous.”

“Then I guess we can just give it back to some of the bitches here,” you said rolling your eyes, slamming the bills on the table. You huffed indignantly and adjusted your skirt, facing away from him now.

Tony had your arm in a tight grip when he yanked you back to him, causing you to yelp. He pointed in your face, his other hand coming down to grip you under the chin.

“You listen and you listen good,” Tony growled, his hand tight around your throat. Your noses were practically touching. “I don’t care how many people are in here. You keep acting like a brat, I’m gonna bend you right over my knee and leave your ass stinging. You understand me?” Your lips parted, staring into his eyes. His fingers flexed and you choked. “Understand me, kitten?”

You nodded quickly and his fingers relented.

His fingers caressed your cheeks and he said, “Princess, I know you’re used to a lot of attention. But when I have you with me, you’re with me and me only. You don’t have to want for anything with me. Isn’t that right?”

You said, “Right.” Shimmying closer to him again, trying to look as apologetic as possible to further calm him down. “I’m sorry, daddy. Old habits die hard. I can’t help it.”

Tony ground his teeth, contemplating what you said. You gave a flirtish smile as his eyes searched your face. He suddenly grabbed at the bills from the table. You watched him wrap one of the bills around his forefinger before he forced your legs apart. You began to protest but he told you to shut your mouth. His finger slipped past your underwear and was at your wet folds. You clenched against the paper and he laughed darkly, “With how wet you are, kitten, you won’t be uncomfortable long.”

“Don’t!” you said putting your hand on his shoulder attached to the hand inside you, trying to push him away, thinking of him ruining the bill and wasting the money.

His free hand wound up in your hair, yanking it back. “You’re worried about a twenty?” He nipped at your ear as his finger delved deeper in your pussy. “This is pennies to me. Honestly, even less. When I have you – and I’m going to from now on – you won’t even turn your head for this. And not only just because you don’t find value in the bill, but because it’s not me asking for your attention. You got that?” You whimpered, trying to buck away from his finger. “You got that? You’re going to make sure you help it?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, giving him pleading eyes.

He chuckled, removing his hand and when it came back, it was empty of the bill. His fingers fluttered across your folds. As wary as his temper made you, he was right about one thing: you were wet. His dominance set you alight every time and he seemed to want to play now.

“P---please,” you stammered, pressing back on him now, wanting more contact.

“Begging for me already? You’re pathetic,” he hissed the word against your ear, and you bit your lip, nodding. He chuckled at your response, loving the degradation you thrived on. His fingers moved deeper, flicking against your clit. “Needy, wanton…”

“I want to forget everything but your name, sir.”

That sent Tony over the edge. Just like you planned. You had become a weakness of his by submitting to him as you had. His fingers were gone, and he ordered you to follow him because he was taking you to a private room.

<><><>

Xavier stood by as you pulled the money out of the ATM, blocking you from view. You were pulling out a grand and he did not want anyone passing by on the sidewalk to see. You put it safely in your purse and took your card back from the machine. There. If Tony was going to cut off your fun early, you would at least have a backup. In the boutique down the street though, you used your card to buy yourself some sandals and pair of jeans and shirt.

The two of you spent the better part of the late morning and early afternoon walking around the shops nearby the hotel and treating yourselves to small things. Xavier was hesitant to let you buy him something, but you insisted. It felt good being able to buy him something that made him happy. The smile on your friend’s face made it worth it to see him checking himself out in the mirror.

It was getting late in the afternoon, so you told him you were craving pizza. You guys chose on a place nearby that sold by the slice, it was just going to be a little bit of a walk. Xavier told you it would make him feel better after he ate three slices anyway because he had three in mind he wanted to have.

You handed over your card to pay for the slice of pizza and pop you had bought, only to have the cashier tell you it was declined.

You did not think Tony was actually going to do it and you asked them to try again. It was declined for a second time and you snatched it back, apologizing to them for it not working and handing over the twenty you thankfully had in your wallet rather than a hundred for such a small order.

Xavier had rushed back to grab a booth so he was not there to witness the exchange. When you sat at the table though, he immediately knew something was wrong. “What’s wrong?” he asked with his mouth full.

“He did it. He cut my fucking card off!” you snapped, tossing your purse and bags to the side on the inside of the seat to the wall. Xavier’s eyes widened and he slowed his chewing. You let out a frustrated noise, digging your phone out of your bag. He had not texted or anything. Such a power move on his point, making you have to call him. And beg like he said he was going to make you.

You made eye contact with Xavier across the table and sneered, “I don’t want to have to call him.”

“Want me to do it?” Xavier tried to joke. You glared at him and he shrugged, trying to not laugh. “Sorry. Bad timing.”

Throwing your phone down, you picked up your pizza. “I’m at least going to enjoy this and not go into it completely hangry.”

“Probably a wise decision.”

After your food had settled, you took a deep exhale, picking up your phone.

He sounded so goddamn smug when he answered. “Yes?”

“Wh—I don’t know what you want me to say!” you blurted.

“’Sorry’ would be a good place to start,” Tony suggested. You gritted your teeth, anger swelling at the mention of it. Before you could answer, he pressed on. “But we can wait for that later. Your flight is at 7:30pm. You better hurry and get to the airport. Your name is on the ticket and they’ll have it ready for you.”

“How do you expect me to get to the airport if my card is frozen?” you demanded.

“Same way you got to the hotel. Ask that dick you were riding—”

“What? I wasn’t riding any—” People were walking by, trying not to stare at you having a heated conversation on your phone at the table.

“Don’t lie to me!” Tony barked. “Plus, I saw you pulled out a grand this morning. I’m assuming you haven’t found a way to spend it all in this short amount of time.”

“You were the one who started all this—”

“No! You threw a fit because I told you that you couldn’t go to the Maldives!”

“Exactly! You don’t let me do anything without you—”

“Oh, you little—” Tony started to say and then inhaled sharply. “I’m getting sick of this backtalk. Y/N, that card is a privilege and you’ve gone far beyond fucking losing that privilege. So, get your ass to the airport and get on that goddamn plane. This game is over. And you’re flying coach.”

You let out a disgusted scoff and clenched your free hand. “No, you can’t—”

“I already did,” Tony snapped, and his voice dropped, dangerous. “And don’t you fucking tell me what I can’t and can’t do. You got that?”

Huffing, you grated, “Yes.”

“Good. I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, Y/N but it’s going to fucking stop right now,” Tony spat. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

He hung up the phone and your shoulders slumped, defeated. You stared down at your phone, on the edge of tears. What you said was true, or at least what you tried to say again. You never got to do things on your own. He always had to be there, and you had just wanted to go on a trip with one of your girlfriends.

“That went… terribly,” Xavier commented finally, breaking the silence.

“I don’t want to be in coach,” you sniffled.

“You really are spoiled.”

“Shut up, Xavier!” You let out a groan and threw your arms out. “I guess I gotta go to the airport. What even time is it? Also, thanks by the way for talking to him earlier! He for sure thinks I had sex with you!”

“Ew,” Xavier said, making a face, only serving to make you even more upset. “Oh, sweetpea. You are attractive. Just not to me.”

You muttered darkly, “Try telling him that.”

<><><>

As soon as you got to the airport, you marched up to the airline counter. When you were called forward, you gave your information and then asked, “Can I change the time of my flight? Earlier if possible. That’s actually preferable.”

Tony could possibly just wait around for the next flights coming in from Seattle to see if you were on them if it was later.

The attendant scrolled through, “Hmm. It looks like there’s a flight leaving in 25 minutes. And there’s an available seat because of a late cancellation.”

“I’ll take it. What terminal?”

“D gate, same one. But it’s a $75 fee to change it.”

“That’s fine,” you waved him off, pulling out your wallet.

You took a pic of the airport, ready to send it to Tony. At least he would think you were following his stupid directions. Tearfully, you said goodbye to Xavier, forcing a hundred into his hand. He protested and you told him it was for the gas like you promised and for him to get himself dinner or whatever since he was yet again being robbed of time with you. You hated leaving him behind and waved at him right before disappearing down the hall to board the plane. You just wanted to stay for a little bit and were being denied that.

Before you turned your phone off, you texted with yours and Tony’s friend Liam telling him you needed a ride. Thankfully he responded quickly, and you briefly mentioned you would need to stay the night. Liam knew immediately what was going on – he had seen it before and was hesitant but agreed to.

This was just digging yourself a deeper hole but goddamnit, you were going to get a second night away even if it killed you.

<><><>

Tony paced outside the terminal exit as people began filing out. It was going to take longer than normal because of the fact he had purposely put her in coach. Starting her punishment right from the beginning.

The trail of people trickled down until there was no one. She still had not emerged. Happy was watching Tony carefully, sensing the anger beginning to ebb and flow again. The tell tale signs of the vein on his temple with his clenched jaw, his fingers rubbing together as he paced.

Tony approached the flight crew coming out, “Excuse me. Is the plane empty?”

“Yeah,” the stewardness nodded.

“You’re sure? My wife was supposed to be on this flight.”

“Yes, sir,” she told him.

Tony exhaled sharply before turning on his heel and storming back toward where Happy was waiting.

“I’m gonna belt that little bitch,” he growled.

<><><>

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” Liam muttered taking a left, onto his road shaking his head.

“Yes, you’ve said that plenty of times,” you told him, fixing your lipstick in the mirror now that he was on a smoother road. “It’s just for the night. I’ll leave super early… like 6am.”

“Aren’t you already in trouble? That’s how you got into this mess in the first place.”

“It’s not a mess.”

“It’s always a mess when you two are ‘fighting’. Do you think I’ve forgotten the last time you decided to hole away for the night with you friend? Cassandra? Wasn’t that her name? Anyway, with her after you ran off on him?” Liam asked, shooting you a scathing look.

There was no doubt in your mind he had not forgotten that scene. Tony had shown up at Cassandra’s later that night high as hell after some lines and practically dragged you out of the small get together by your hair. And no one had really done anything because they were afraid to. You had lost your car for a week as punishment.

“He’s got a temper,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah, I fucking know. I’m his friend too, Y/N. I’ve seen it firsthand. Aren’t you afraid he’s going to divorce you?”

“Doubtful.”

“You’re right,” Liam muttered, shaking his head. “Not with how obsessed he is with you. Maybe he’d rather lock you inside for the rest of your life.”

“That’s more of a possibility. But I would just bat my eyes at him, and he will eventually relent. Plus, I’m a little over a month along,” you admitted, patting your stomach.

Liam looked gob smacked as he pulled into his house, turning the car off. You practically hopped out of the car, ready to just lie down.

“Excuse you. You don’t get to just drop that bit of information and then act like we aren’t going to talk about it!” Liam called after you, following quickly. “Have you thought about this?”

He was unrelenting in his questioning as he led you inside. This conversation was going to take a while.

<><><>

Your phone was ringing, catching both yours and Liam’s attention. He rose his brows expectantly, standing up and walking off to give you some space. He stopped in the kitchen where he could still see and hear you but he was not too close. You sighed, answering it. “Yes, daddy?”

“Where the fuck are you?” Tony practically shouted.

“Lying down on a couch.”

“Y/N, I am not in the goddamn mood for this. I specifically asked you to get on the plane and come home. Why can’t you fucking listen and do what you’re told?”

“I’m in LA,” you said, examining your nails. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Tony’s laugh was wry and short. “You’re just asking for trouble.”

“No, I’m looking to be left alone and you won’t let me even have a couple fucking days to myself!” you retorted. “If you loved me, you would do that.” Liam sucked his teeth at that one and you shot him a look. “I’m home. Back in LA—”

“Where. Are. You?” Every word was enunciated, his tone cutting like a knife.

“On the couch at a friend’s,” you repeated. “I’ll be back home in the morning.”

Tony hung up the phone and you pulled your phone away, staring at it. That was new.

<><><>

“I’m sick of this shit,” Tony snarled, tossing his phone on the seat next to him. Happy eyed him through the rearview mirror warily. He pulled his computer out, to access find my phone on his plan. He had given her all the chances to just come back on her own, but it seemed he was going to have to do it himself, as per usual. His little brat was pushing boundaries she should not be pushing, and she was going to learn that. Once and for all. And so was whoever was helping her.

It was going to have to get physical. It would not be the first time. Just for different reasons this time.

<><><>

Less than a year and a half ago…

“O-oh,” you stammered as a man stepped in your path, blocking you from moving forward.

“Didn’t you hear me calling out to you, darling?” he asked, peering down his nose at you.

Of course you had heard his cat calling but you were doing your best to ignore him. You had simply just been taking a walk around the boardwalk and grabbed a candied apple on your way back to the patio where Tony was enjoying drinks with some of his business partners. Their talk had become boring, and you asked if he would mind if you took a walk. At first he had insisted you take his other guard besides Happy with you but you waved it off, saying you were not going far.

You shrugged, “Could’ve been talking to anyone. There’s a lot of beautiful women here.”

“There is, but I was talking to you,” the man said, and you felt movement behind you. You snuck a look over your shoulder, seeing another man had appeared there looking as sinister as the other. People were walking by like nothing was happening out of the ordinary, going about their late evening business. The man in front of you stepped closer, “What’s your name?”

“Cindy,” you lied with ease.

“You don’t look like a Cindy,” he chuckled.

“Well, that’s my name.”

“You’ve got a nice dress on there, Cindy.”

<><><>

Across the way, Tony happened to look over and he sat up slightly seeing that a man was standing in front of Y/N, another standing behind her. Even from here, he could tell by her body language she was uncomfortable. The men were pretty close and looked like they were up to no good.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said cutting his friend off, holding out his hand. “Hap.” He gestured over to where Y/N was standing. Happy followed his gesture and saw what bug was up Tony’s ass all of a sudden. Tony was already out of the chair before Happy or his other guards could react. “I’ll be right back. Excuse me.”

<><><>

“It’s not a dress. It’s a jumpsuit.”

The guy laughed again and said, “My apologies. I’m not a fashion guru. Regardless, it looks really nice on you. The floral pattern is a nice touch.”

“Is that all?” you asked, keeping your voice even. You were thinking of if you had to slam your candy apple stick into his eye to get away if this got bad.

The guy behind you let out a low whistle and the man in front of you cocked his head to the side. “Not even a thank you? That’s rude.”

“I didn’t need you to tell me, I already knew.”

The man looked amused, “Stuck up, aren’t you?” He stepped closer this time and you took a step back before hesitating, remembering the other guy was right there. Leaning in closer, he told you, “You know, I have a solution for stuck up women.”

“Leaving them alone and finding someone more agreeable?” you asked, your voice warbling only slightly.

His hand came up and he traced along your hip up to your waist. You slapped his hand away and he took the opportunity to grasp your wrist, forcing it down by your side.

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “Let go of me!”

That caught a couple people’s attention, but you hardly had time to take notice of them with how quickly the man was to closing the space between you. His nose was inches from yours as he warned you, “If I were you, I would keep quiet.”

“My fiancé—” you started to say just as you heard his voice.

“Something wrong?”

Tony was standing there, Happy with the other few guards not far behind. You felt a wave of relief wash over you at the sight of them, but Tony only had eyes for the man holding you. He looked calm and collected to the outside eye, but you could see the twitch in his jaw at the man’s hand on your wrist, holding you so close. You tried to yank your hand away, but the guy held tighter.

Tony’s smile did not reach his eyes. “I would suggest letting my fiancé go.”

“What are you going to do about it, old man?”

What an idiot, you thought to yourself seeing Tony’s cruel smile only grow.

Behind you, you heard the other man stammer before saying, “Um… Ian… I would…do as the man asks.” Tony’s eyes shifted to the other guy, his brow furrowed in confusion at the guy’s inability to speak. You heard the guy take a couple steps forward. “I’m sorry. We didn’t know. That she was with you! Mr. Stark, can I say…I’m such a fan.”

He must have noticed the faint glow peeking from the top unbuttoned part of Tony’s shirt and put two and two together.

In the two men’s hesitation in their realization, you successfully yanked your wrist away and looked down at the marks where his fingers had dug in. The other guards had come closer causing the man behind you to take some steps back, raising his hands up in surrender.

Tony noticed and said, “Hmm, no. You’re not going anywhere.”

“I swear. We didn’t know—”

“I don’t care,” Tony cut him off.

The guy shot his friend in front of you a look before turning and taking off. It only took the other guy a few seconds to follow suit, breezing past you and shoving you out of the way in the process. You fell down on the ground, your apple bouncing away from your grasp.

“Shit,” you heard Tony snap, and his hands were on you, pulling you to your feet. You hissed feeling pain on your hands where you had caught yourself from your face hitting the cement. They were scraped up, small droplets of blood on your palms. “Fuck. I’m sorry, doll.” You looked to where the guys had run off, seeing the guards were tailing them. “They won’t be walking when they get their hands on them. Trust me. Especially not after that last fuck up.” His men were doing the dirty work of making sure to beat the two guys into a bloody pulp. Tony never dirtied his own hands like that. It was not smart. He brushed at your hands and you winced. “Are you okay?”

“My apple,” you complained, spotting it.

“Are you alright?” Tony repeated with more force.

You gave a half-hearted shrug. “I guess. I’m glad you were here because that wasn’t going great.”

“I could see that,” Tony responded darkly. “Let’s go get you cleaned up. And, Y/N, the next time I suggest taking one of the guys with you, you listen, yeah?”

You nodded subserviently, letting him lead you back to the safety of the patio.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21, @kvzctam

[ccohanlon]

in transit: excerpts from a notebook

Kansai Airport: Blind, free-floating within the warm gel of some exotic amnion, a sudden, gritty reflux obstructs a breath and I surface, choking. I claw the bedside table for an open bottle of mineral water. My lungs rasp as I try to suck in air.

I sit up on the edge of the bed and get my bearings by looking out through a sealed, double-glazed window. I never draw the curtains in hotel rooms; the view outside is often the only clue I have of where I am and, more and more these days, I wake in panic, not knowing. It is still well before dawn but darkness has given way to a grey luminescence that distorts the mile-long island of orange lights that is Kansai International Airport. Renzo Piano’s angular steel and glass terminal resembles a huge alien shipwreck in the middle of the bay. Small trains shuttle to and from it like parasitic robots, and the surrounding water  is black and unnaturally still, as if quelled by an oily spillage.

I arrived last night on a Northwest flight from Detroit, too late to catch the last train to Shin-Osaka and the bullet-train connection to Hiroshima. I tell myself I am on a business trip to give it a bit more specificity of purpose, but really it has more to do with compulsive nomadism than with commerce. I wrangle data, distilling from it information to barter with major corporations. What I do has no real job description, no locus, no regular hours and, I have to admit, no discernible outcomes other than it pays well. I could do it from anywhere.

The girl beside me doesn’t stir. Naked, lying on her stomach on top of the covers, her arms by her sides and her legs straight, her round face obscured by a tangle of long black hair, she could be a corpse awaiting autopsy. Her pale skin is as cool and smooth as antique jade. The slight epicanthic folds of her eyelids twitch but the eyes remain closed.

She is 23 years old, less than half my age, and in between flights we live together in hotel rooms and serviced apartments and the first-class lounges of major airports. Sometimes she returns to visit her mother and sister in the small house they share in Asakusa, in Tokyo, but maybe because she is so young, or she is sick of the lack of space or the burden of obligations at home, she prefers the fugitive life with me. She acts as my translator, not just of the language but of the oblique protocols that are intrinsic to every interaction with the Japanese. There is so much that I miss, or just don’t get. And not just  in Japan.

There is a slight surge in the pale blue-grey glow of my laptop’s screen as the open mail program downloads a dozen new messages. I check the list of senders. Only one of them is personal and it’s from a half-forgotten girlfriend, a film director from New Zealand: “There is something about you that has always intrigued me and also made me wary,” she writes. “I always wondered why someone who is so intelligent and sensitive to things could equally be so ruthless and without compassion. It was always a mystery to me and didn’t make sense, then I suddenly understood that you didn’t have the whole gamut of human emotion that one is usually endowed with, that you are cauterised in certain ways, that your chemistry means you bond differently.”

I decide to read the rest later. I use the hotel’s over-priced broadband to check my next flight, three days away, from Hiroshima to Tokyo, and reconfirm a flight from Tokyo to Los Angeles that will, in turn, connect with a flight to Dallas. My son’s 10th birthday is a week away and I have promised to be there to celebrate it with him, although I know already it will be another promise that I cannot keep. I sometimes have to remind myself that I have a family and that this hyper-mediated existence, in which my life is like flotsam drifting on the surface currents of interconnecting networks — multi-band cell phones, the internet, ATMs, credit cards, mail drops, courier pick-ups and deliveries, teleconferences, airport lounges and airline hubs, client LANs and extranets, regional offices, rent-a-car pick-ups, hotel chains, cable TV and pay-per-view movies that hardly change from country to country — is supposed to be a means to an end rather than an end in itself.

It is probably brought on by jet lag, but the cold tentacles of depression are constricting my brain, making it wearisome to process any thought more complex than getting out of bed. I keep telling myself that whatever it is I’m feeling is temporary, not to be trusted, just part of the rapid-cycling of the particular type of bipolar disorder I suffer. Within days, sometime hours, the fluctuating sine-wave of my labile mood will incline upwards again; right now, it is low enough to encourage me to be contemplative and not yet oppressive enough to cause me to be confused and withdrawn. I take 25 milligrams of a drug called Lamictil to counter it, on top of 2500mg of Epilim and a milligram of clonazepam a day. I feel like the medications coagulate as a sludgy residue in my system, decelerating my thinking but leaving me unassailed by the aggressive sieges or leaden shutdowns of unmanaged madness.

Even when my moods are stable, a part of my psyche still misfires with odd fixations or phobias or undefined irritations. But now I’m aware of them, I exert some control. I can act ‘normally’ rather than surrender to impulse. It’s as if connectors in my brain have found clean contact points and the jagged, itchy fuzziness of my thought processes have cleared.

The drugs have sharpened my perception of reality. But there’s a down side. Over the past weeks, I’ve begun to recognise that some of what I used to recall very clearly as personal experience is illusory, that my psyche has concocted delusional memories from random input, manic reconstructions of ideations and dreams (including other people’s) and roles I acted or compelled others to act out for me.

Which confronts me with the concept that I am not what I think I am: what I have and haven’t done, when, with whom, and where, all have to be re-examined in forensic detail to determine the true narrative.

Which is to say, reality is alien to me. Accommodating it is like trying to adapt to the atmosphere of a different planet.  Part of the reason I started a diary was to have a daily record, some way of keeping track.

Shin-Osaka: The 23-year-old perches barefoot on the edge of the “green car” seat on the Hiroshima-bound Shinkanzen, her toes curling like tiny, well-manicured, pink talons on the front of the seat cushion. She is gnawing at a rice ball.

All Japanese girls perch. Like fine-boned birds, they squat and balance on their toes while they smoke, drink takeaway coffee or suck up bowls of udon, or chat with their girlfriends who are perched alongside them like sparrows on a telephone wire. Some, alone, stare Zen-like into space or peer for hours at the small screens of their mobile phones, distractedly thumbing the keyboards. With the precise ease of professional acrobats, they teeter on the edge of street kerbs, steps, even metal railings.

There is a persistent frisson of tension between the 23-year-old and me, a cultural and generational dissonance that erupts occasionally in impatient, resentful spats that are only quelled by my silence. It doesn’t help that it’s hot, humid and it hasn’t stopped raining for days.

Japanese women are intricately neurotic, with all kinds of unpredictable fixations and prejudices sieved through the weird subordinate personas they adopt — innocent schoolgirl, servile drone, chirruping hostess, white-pantied sex fantasy — to relate with most men. I keep asking myself what I’m looking for in this young girl. Maybe it’s a form of emotional vampirism, needing young flesh and a relatively unjaded and pliable mind to stay my own self-negation.

Hiroshima: A typhoon is out in the Pacific, several hundred kilometres south of here. Ponderous, gunmetal grey clouds have piled against the steep mountains inland and the air is so dank it is hard to breathe. Cargo ships are sheltering in the lee of steep islands that litter the inland channels of the Seto Inland Sea, and oystermen are securing the timber rafts on which they farm before boarding their boats and navigating the maze of narrow passages back to the relative safety of small mainland harbours. There are still cranes pecking in the shallows of the muddy delta that intersects the city.

It’s so dark that it’s hard to imagine it is just after sunrise. We’re sitting by a window on the sixth floor of an automotive manufacturer’s headquarters, staring out across the rusted rooftops of the engine plant towards a dense cluster of suburban housing clinging to the side of a nearby hillside like a fetid blight. Below me, an empty parking lot, slick black and partly flooded, will begin filling with company cars during the next hour and then the whole building will stutter into a droning half-life of pointless busyness. We’re waiting for a herd of senior managers to turn up for a teleconference with their opposite numbers in the company’s United States subsidiary: a large monitor displays a blurry, out-of-focus image of the clock on the wall above our heads.

The earth tremor hits before they arrive. It is no more than 3.0 on the Richter scale, the television news reports later. Weak but prolonged, it begins as a low, resonating rumble and, within seconds, there is a curious, rubbery flexibility to the walls and floor. Then the furniture becomes animated. I wait for it to intensify but it gradually subsides and solidity is regained. I am a little disappointed that it wasn’t stronger.

Tokyo: The thing that surprises me most about Tokyo is the water. It’s everywhere. You come upon it in unexpected places: on freeways, where the high supporting pylons are driven into black canals that flow between the shadows of high office towers, or at the edges of new suburbs of glass and steel that float like refugees on low, flat rafts of reclaimed land. There are inexplicable, bracken inlets and backwaters enclosed by concrete dykes. And then, in the distance, there is the occasional glint of sunlight that, beneath the umber smog, reveals the infinite horizon of the sea.

The wet season has begun early, although it feels colder and less humid than a year ago. From my hotel window, the city is a ghostly silhouette beneath a pall of monsoonal rain, the grey clouds so low, they’re like shabby awnings strung between the rooftops of the nearby high-rise apartments. Everything is monochromatic, flat, except for the bobbing flow of umbrellas along the sidewalk. The city’s incessant throb is muted.

When I arrived last night, the upper floors of most of the buildings were just an eerie glow within ragged scarves of low grey cloud. The city felt like a futuristic battlefield imagined by sci-fi writer Harlan Ellison and rendered by an otaku game engineer. The 23-year-old and I checked into a suite at The Westin in Ebisu, a longed-for-relief from the shoebox dimensions of Hiroshima’s ‘business hotels’ and closet-sized bathrooms cobbled together with plastic laminate and injection mouldings.

This city is too conducive to the manic mis-wiring of my psyche. It’s too easy to be swept up in its unrelenting momentum, the raw energy of 30 million intense, tightly wrapped souls teeming through its arteries, the hyper-electric jolt of its too bright neon and plasma, office lights always burning, the visceral rumble of its streets — deeper, louder even than New York — and the heightened sensitivity to data swarming like tsetse flies in the ether around you, stirred up by millions of tiny CDMA phones. But there are times when I’m oppressed by the stifled emotions, the compressed sense of space and the contrary social protocols that combine to amplify the ever-present neurotic jitter that infects every minute of life here.

I will never really understand the Japanese, not even with the 23-year-old’s help. They are not unlike the English in some ways: both are confined to small islands and share an insular disregard for the rest of the world that is usually interpreted as xenophobia. They cling to worn-out traditions and protocols and avoid exhibitionism, while at the same time, they forebear eccentricity. They are both suppressed, uptight peoples, undemonstrative, even cold, but with a capacity for sympathy and unselfish kindness. They both have bad teeth.

Los Angeles LAX: The sub-dermal irritation I get from Americans these days flares like an allergy every time I’m in close proximity to large numbers of them: the obese mid-Western women with their bad perms and too colourful clothes, the cookie-cutter Gen-Yers with their skater T-shirts and baggy cargo pants and their dumb faux-ebonic chatter, the too tightly wrapped mid-level business executives and sales reps in Brooks Brothers knock-offs and badly fitting shirts. Between them flow the self-righteous, insular, God-fearing, thoughtless, uninformed, media-referenced monologues that pass for conversation these days: no-one listening to the other, everyone expressing themselves (because they’ve been taught that they should, no matter how dull-witted or ill-informed they might be).

West Hollywood: I’m like a spinning top at that moment before it loses speed and balance and topples on its side. Dizziness has overwhelmed rationality. I am on the net, teleconferencing over Yahoo! Messenger with my psychiatrist, 2500 kilometres away in Tulsa, Oklahoma. When I was in Tokyo, she wrote an email that instructed me to “focus on the things you can enjoy and try to capture a sense of wonderment about this strange land where you don’t always understand the spoken word but you certainly can understand things of beauty”. Now she is telling me to increase my dosages and seek help as soon as possible in Los Angeles.

I am holed up in The Standard Hotel with the 23-year-old who, like an unruly kid, has strewn her clothes among half-spilled files, notebooks, electronic organiser, mobile-phone charger, a tangled nest of computer cables and a laptop tipped on the floor. Her underwear is drying on hangers above the terrace door. Many Japanese girls suspect laundry staff of a fetishistic interest in their bras and knickers, perhaps with reason, and they insist on washing their own.

The nights are long when you don’t sleep. I have lost interest in the 23-year-old’s pseudo-innocence and elastic skin. I channel-surf the TV, clicking the remote several hundred times before my attention is arrested. I develop fleeting fascinations for golf, get-rich-quick real estate schemes, born-gain Christian sermons, rap music (especially if the video features big-assed mocha-skinned women in bikinis) and kitchen gadgets. I immerse myself in re-runs of ’60s and ’70s comedy episodes I know so well I can recite the dialogue. I watch the scrolling headlines on CNN at the top of every hour. Finally, it’s dawn and I’m released from the obligation to rest.

I wonder how long the 23-year-old will be around. Few people – and even fewer memories of them – ‘stick’ in my life. As soon as my relationship with someone or something is over, I erase it from my mind, a kind of emotional reset. I’ve erased so much from my mind that I’m confounded by how often and unexpectedly I come across blank spots, like the black, felt-tipped strokes of the censor on classified documents.

I read somewhere that the science fiction writer Philip K. Dick once argued that if two people dream the same dream, it isn’t a dream anymore — it signifies the existence of an alternative reality … The insane always occupy multiple realities: their internal narratives are always different to their actual or external experiences. For me, that can be complicated by the fact that, when I was unmedicated, which was for most of my 49 years, the character I adopted for one experience was very different to another that I adopted for a different experience somewhere else. The process was so compulsive that I would, for extended periods, devise a complex network of different characters and different lives in different parts of the world, with different relationships, then live intermittently in and between them, while blending them all into a fluid mutability that had the parallel narratives and multi-tiered options of a computer game. And the game engine was an invisible ‘real’ me, solitary, sentient and more than a little crazy.

These days, medication gives me the possibility of sustained reason, of a reliable perception of the present. But the same cannot be said of what I remember, so I am disenfranchised from my past, condemned to roam in search of a future. First published in Griffith Review, Australia, 2004.

[datleggy]

A Whopper Fic

Eddie invites Bosko out on a rare night off, for drinks. "Apology drinks," he reassures her, "For being such a crappy friend, before."

They start the night off drinking beers and playing pool in a seedy little bar downtown and inevitably when Lena orders a shot of tequila and downs it like it's water, Eddie says, "Jesus, how can you still drink that stuff?" He hasn't done tequila shots since his early twenties, which is just fine with him.  

She calls him a baby for drinking lite beer, "C'mon Diaz, neither of us have work tomorrow, your kid's at your aunt's place for the night, live a little, a couple of shots won't kill you, you know."

Which is how they end up getting trashed, just absolutely irrevocably shit faced at nearly three AM on a Monday, of all days, in a twenty four hour Burger King by the bar that closed and consequently kicked them out not ten minutes ago.

"Machines are down right now, sorry," the cashier says, when Eddie tries to order a meal, "Cash only."

Eddie drunkenly stumbles to the side, raising a 'wait' finger as he empties the contents of his pockets onto a small table. "Shit." he mutters. He doesn't have any cash on him, only his debit card, and if he weren't so drunk, he'd have noticed that there's a functioning ATM right outside. Instead, he gathers up the measly coins on the table and counts. "I have twenty eight cents. Is that enough?"

Lena snorts, "Enough for what?"

Eddie whines, "I just really want a whopper."

The other firefighter grins, wide. "Hey, I'll getcha a whopper," she says, leaning against the table for balance, god, she's drunk. "But only if you fake break up with your boyfriend." she dares him, surprised when Eddie doesn't even hesitate.

The screen is a blur, so it's a good thing he's got Buck on speed dial or he's not sure he would've been able to make the call. It rings only once before Buck answers it, sounding not entirely awake, but definitely alarmed. "Eddie? What's wrong? Are you ok?"

"Buuuuck!" Eddie's so happy to hear his voice. He loves Buck's voice. "Hey." Lena is giggling next to him, like a middle-schooler, nudging at him.

Buck sighs on the other end, though when he speaks it's with a begrudging fondness, "Eddie, are you drunk? It's like three in the morning."

"Nooooo." Eddie laughs. "No, no, m'not drunk, I just, I needed to tell you something."

"Uh huh. What is it?" comes the deadpan reply.

"I forgot. Wait," Eddie turns to Bosko and not so quietly whispers at her, "What was I supposed to do again?" he waits for her response, which Buck can just barely make out through the phone, and then says, "Oh ok, ok, Buck, Buck, you there?"

"Yeah bud, I'm here," Buck yawns. He's got work in a few hours, he should really hang up and get back to sleep already, but he doesn't think he's ever heard Eddie this intoxicated before, and he kind of wants to see how this plays out.

"We gotta break up." Eddie blurts out. "I'm sorry, I'm still really in love with you though, I swear. But Bosko has my whopper."

Buck stares at his phone for half a second, "Uh, ok, well, we're---we're not dating?" Why is he even trying to reason with a drunk person? "Anyway, is Bosko at least more sober than you? How are you two getting home?"

Eddie sounds like he's chewing on something when he says, "No, hahaha, she is---she just tripped on her way to the bathroom and face planted. I wish I caught it on video but every time I look at my screen it's just like, super blurry Buck."

Buck sighs. "Where are you guys? I'll come pick you up."

"Burger King!" Eddie sounds like a kid who raised his hand in class and shouted the answer to a question correctly before being picked on by the teacher.

"Which one?"

"It's got, it's got like, the, that creepy life size inflatable thing outside?"

Buck chuckles. "Oh, that one. Gotcha. Alright. I'll be there in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, please stay put, ok? Both of you."

"Ok. Love you, bye."

Buck doesn't have time to come up with a retort to that before Eddie hangs up. And he certainly doesn't have time to lay in bed and question any of that conversation, either.

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

Traffic is none existent, fortunately, and Buck's Jeep is parked outside of the Burger King in under the allotted time. Eddie and Lena are sitting on the curb when he arrives. "It's Buck! Buck! See, I told you he was coming." Eddie exclaims, with a told you so attitude.

Buck makes them both sit in the back and buckles them into their seats. "But I called shotgun!" Bosko complains, folding her arms over her chest.

"No, I did!" Eddie whines.

"Well I don't want either of you barfing in my front seat, so suck it up." Buck starts his car after getting Lena's address and putting the coordinates into his GPS.

"So, so---" Lena hiccups. "Is this the first time you've had to pick your boyfriend up from," she pauses to laugh, "From a Burger King, at three AM?"

Buck raises both eyebrows. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Wait, what?" Lena quints. "Wait, you guys aren't dating? Seriously?"

Eddie leans forward, his hot breath on the back of Buck's neck. "Wait yeah, why not?" he asks, almost pitifully.

Thankfully they're rolling up to a red light, because it gives Buck the opportunity to turn around and gently shove Eddie back into his seat and make sure his seat belt is still secured. "Well, for one, now I know you'd break up with me for a whopper." He turns back around when the light turns green and drives. "And I'm the one who should be asking the questions here, what are you doing out this late? And where's Christopher, doesn't he have school in a few hours. It's Monday."

Eddie pouts. "Chris is with my Tia Peppa. And hey, it was a fake breakup! I was hungry."

Bosko starts cackling. "Ok, are you guys sure you're not together, though? Because, Buckley, you're like, all this guy talked about when I was at your station. And, and remember that time---we were at the grocery store? Diaz was all 'hey you deadbeat baby daddy, our kid misses you!'? If you two aren't dating what was that all about?"

Eddie groans, turning a bright red and tries to hide his face behind his hands.

Buck can only thank the lord that they've finally reached their first destination of the night. "Alright, c'mon," he helps Lena out, steadying her when she sways. Buck points a finger at Eddie, "Stay. I'll be right back. And don't touch anything."

Buck makes sure Lena gets inside safe and sound, and even grabs a bottle of water out of her fridge and makes her drink at least a third before leaving her to her own devices.

Eddie's asleep in the backseat by the time Buck returns, and remains that way the rest of the ride back to Buck's loft. He'd take Eddie to his place, but it's nearing four now and Buck just wants to go back to sleep in his own bed for a couple of more hours before his shift in the morning. Eddie can take his couch for tonight, he decides.

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

It's impossible to get Eddie to wake up once they're in his driveway, at least, not fully. Buck has to practically carry Eddie inside, what with his feet dragging behind him. "God, Eddie." Buck huffs out, "You're lucky I lift weights, you're not exactly light."

Getting Eddie into the loft and then across his kitchen and living room and finally laying him down on his sofa takes forever, because Eddie insists that they need to stop by the kitchen for some strawberry milk. "I know you have some of that Nesquick powder stuff!" he groggily complains, even as Buck unceremoniously tosses him onto the couch.

Buck makes Eddie sit up just enough so that he can help him gulp down a bottle of Gatorade. "Trust me, you'll want electrolytes tomorrow morning way more than you want strawberry milk right now, bud." he assures him, getting up to fetch him some covers. 

Eddie curls up on his side, snuggling into the blanket Buck wraps around him, and sighs contentedly. "Buck you're the best."

"If I'm late tomorrow I'm telling Bobby it was all your fault." Buck is finding it very hard not to think of Eddie right now as endearing, hair all tousled back like that, big brown eyes staring up at him. He bends down so that he's not hovering over him anymore and adjusts one of the throw pillows so that it's actually under Eddie's head and not just to the side of it.

"Buck, I mean it." Eddie blinks at him. "You're the best. I love you so much. We should---" he stops to admire Buck for a moment, "You're so pretty, Buck, we should, we should be boyfriends."

Buck rolls his eyes, though he can't help the dopey smile on his face. "Ask me again when you're sober."

"Ok. And then we can be boyfriends?"

Buck shrugs, still smiling. "Only if you promise not to trade me for another whopper. Now go to sleep."

[thesevillereport]

In Focus: Coinbase IPO

It's been a long tough road for Coinbase. Started in 2012, three years after Bitcoin, skeptics wondered then why fake money needed an exchange? The skeptics that doubted Bitcoin and Coinbase have been walloped by Bitcoin's rise from pennies to $58,000; and they're about to eat even more crow when Coinbase goes public.

After years of rumors Coinbase is finally set to go public, and I am extremely bullish on the company.

Coinbase has filed to complete a direct listing, similar to what Spotify (SPOT), Slack (WORK), and Palantir (PLTR) did. In a direct listing no new shares are created, instead entities that are already invested in Coinbase get to sell their shares to the public.

COIN will be the ticker symbol for Coinbase, and $100 billion could be the company's public valuation, which is a higher valuation than the New York Stock Exchange's parent company (ICE).

Growth

There are very few companies growing like Coinbase. In 2013 Coinbase had only 13,000 customers, and now Coinbase boasts 43 million verified users and 2.8 million monthly transactions.

Coinbase reported 2020 revenue of $1.27 billion, an increase of 139% from 2019. Currently the large majority of the Coinbase's revenue comes from cryptocurrency transactions. As of 2020 96% of revenue was from crypto transactions.

Late to the Party

If you've read this weekly long enough, you'll know that I was late to the cryptocurrency party. I was too busy listening to experts tell me it's worthless and fools gold, silly me.

Below are two of the headlines that I should've paid more attention to at the time. Hindsight is 20/20, but these are screaming buy signals. If anything else not named Bitcoin was doing $1 million a month in business, we'd all run to invest in it. But at the time, in 2013, people still thought it was all a joke.

Not Just Nerd Stuff

All those years ago when Bitcoin debuted, it was considered nerd stuff, geeks playing with computers and making money that no one will ever want. We've come to see how wrong first impressions can be.

Coinbase is doing a lot more behind the scenes than just allowing "geeks playing with computers" to buy, sell, and store cryptocurrencies. It's believed that Coinbase helped facilitate the $1.5 billion Bitcoin purchase made by Tesla earlier in the year. And Tesla isn't the only mega corporation Coinbase has done business with. The company's S1 revealed it has 7,000 institutional customers.

Customers big and small are finding ways to use Coinbase, and it's reflected in the company's trading volume growth. Trading volume on the Coinbase platform has increased from $17 billion in 2018 to $38 billion in 2020.

Don't Be Them, Be Better

There is a population of people waiting with their arms folded for the day when Bitcoin goes to $0.00, so they can say, "See, I told you so." Don't be one of those people, be better. As I've written before, we're more than a decade into Bitcoin and cryptocurrencies, it's safe to say they are going to be around for a while. Don't fight it, profit from it.

Coinbase will be another way to profit from the popularity of cryptocurrencies.

Times Are Changing, Crypto is the Future

I often discuss how much the world has changed with my daughter. It's a fun way for me to reminisce and to teach her to acknowledge change when she sees it and to try to get ahead of it. One of the stories she laughs at the most is when TV stations used to sign off. Fox, NBC, ABC, used to sign off in the early AM hours and they would resume broadcasting around 6AM. Those that didn't sign off just aired infomercials during the early AM hours. My daughter can't fathom this because all she has known is TV content 24/7.

Financially, I like to tell her about the first ATMs and ATM cards, the ones without the Visa and Mastercard logos. With those first cards all you could do is check your balance and get cash at the ATM. If you wanted to make a purchase, you went to the ATM, withdrew the cash, then went to the store to make your purchase. It seems so primitive compared to what we have now, but then, when banks didn't open on the weekend, and very few were opened past 5PM on weekdays, the ATM and the ATM card was a game changer. My daughter and people her age know nothing about that old ATM life that required you to  walk around with a bundle cash.

What we consider to be money, what we consider to be a store of value, what we consider to be a financial institution, all of those things are changing right before our eyes. A five year old in 2021 doesn't know life without cryptocurrencies, like my daughter doesn't know what an ATM card without a Visa or Mastercard logo looks like. Whatever it is about cryptocurrencies that makes older people uncomfortable, that will be gone in 15 years. Kids who are in elementary school today will utilize cryptocurrencies much more in 2031 than we do today, and when this happens, you'll wonder why you didn't invest in Coinbase all of those years ago. 

[fauzhee10069]

Caato’s Stand and its mechanism so far (Jojolion)

Caato’s Stand, which until now has not been named yet, often becomes the object of hype in its ability and discussion in its name. I’m also interested to discuss both, but maybe I will focus more on its ability.

As her character is heavily a reference of French playing cards, Caato uses her playing cards as medium for her Stand ability.

Caato can store objects between her cards, making them appear or disappear like a magic trick. The first object we saw when she demonstrated her Stand for the first time was a cellphone. The phone is smaller in width and length, making the cards able to fully conceal it.

The second time we saw her Stand, she tricked Joshu to tidy up her cards, indirectly hurting him by the impact of the chair she stored into her cards when he took the cards that were stacked. With this second demonstration, we can sort the mechanism of her Stand:

She can store objects between her cards, making them appear or disappear like a magic trick

Anyone can release the objects that were stored inside her cards

She can store the objects with size much larger than her cards

Another interesting thing here is that the chair came out of two separate cards, it makes me wonder of the possibility that she could separate parts of an object and release them separately. There are also two things that I see as another mechanism of her Stand, though it’s still hypothetically speaking as the scenes were just mainly implication:

How she hid the chair between her cards? Did she slam the chair between her cards? If so, why no one noticed her while doing it (taking out two decks of her cards and putting the chair between them)? Two people might not had noticed that moment: Daiya (due to poor eyesight) and Joshu (being too distracted), why did none of the rest of the family notice that? Which led to two assumptions:

Caato does not need to take out (use) the cards to hide objects, she simply needs to will it

She does need to take out the cards, it’s just the family being too oblivious to notice that

Or some of them might actually noticed that but kept silent because Joshu definitely deserved that (LOL), the scene was focused on him afterall. Anyway, I’m more into the later, this reunion scene with her is not to be taken too seriously (in gauging the actual power as it is not a serious Stand battle).

In addition, a crucial thing that is easily overlooked in Caato’s words: “there certainly are a lot of chairs in this house, so you wouldn’t notice if I hid one between my cards, would you?”

Considering the hype from her supporters who frequently compare her Stand with D4C because their "dimensional-based" ability and "caught-in-between" mechanism?

「D4C」 has access to different parallel worlds/dimensions, it can also pull other people or items to other dimensions.

But in the case of Caato’s Stand and her words: she took out a chair from her cards, a chair that belongs to Higashikata's house, which is in the same world as her and the family. In other words, Caato’s Stand does not cross between dimensions in its mechanism, therefore the hype that her Stand has the same ability and power as the 「D4C」 has not been proven!

Notice how the warden took Caato’s cards, the decks were slightly open but nothing came out from them, but a few panels afterwards we see Caato took out her cellphone from the cards. Why didn’t the warden accidentally brought out the phone? It’s either:

Only Stand users (like Joshu) who can release the objects stored there besides the user (Caato)

Caato can control the timing of the stored objects to be released (and anyone who can release it)

I’ll pick the later too. However, there is also the possibility of luck as the decks, that were slightly open, were not storing her phone atm.

Now, regarding the hype she gets, many readers compare her Stand with Valentine’s D4C for being dimension-theme, though currently Caato’s Stand is still paled in comparison with D4C. Let’s see how D4C is capable of:

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap (D4C)

SBR chapter 75: D4C – part 8

Take a note that the info explicitly said that D4C can send both living being and inanimate objects into another dimension, therefore it’s not limited to person.

Valentine sent away a man into another dimension, the caught in between two objects part is what makes the readers comparing this with Caato’s Stand. This comparison also conceived the idea of Caato being the part 8 main villain. The time-based theme that incidentally became the pattern of main villains’ Stands in Ireneverse (part 1-6) causing the readers to think that the reboot/SBR verse (part 7 onwards) will have the main villains with dimension-based Stands (in which this is still unconfirmed and purely assumption).

But if you consider the ability-based as the pattern, you should consider the form-based as the pattern as well. What kind of Stand the main villains always have so far? It’s always the humanoid-type. I don’t think Caato’s Stand is a humanoid-type, it looks more like a tool or bound-type.

After that, we saw that Valentine can also send intangible/non-physical objects such as Stand attack (Johnny’s Tusk) to another dimension, besides physical objects. Actually, he was unable to do that in Johnny’s case as Johnny’s Tusk Act 3 can also move through dimensions, but he did try it, meaning that under normal circumstances (non-dimensional Stand attacks), he can do that.

What makes D4C different from Caato’s Stand?

D4C ability can only be done by Valentine alone

Valentine does not need a certain medium to use D4C, he can use D4C with any objects that are available to be slammed together (since his Stand manifests in humanoid form)

Unlike D4C, Caato’s words in chapter 58 implied that her Stand does not cross between dimensions in its mechanism

While people like to compare Caato’s Stand with D4C, I’d like to compare her Stand with Terunosuke's Enigma which I found more similar to.

Enigma

Enigma, in the form of folded paper, can store any objects inside it just like Caato’s Stand, however Terunosuke has to fold them inside the paper which kinda reminds me of Paper Moon King visually.

DIU chapter 142: Enigma Boy – part 4

He can also store the object that much bigger than the paper itself, when the biggest object Caato had stored so far is a chair, Terunosuke had stored a taxi car (including the driver, btw).

Just like Caato’s Stand, anyone can release the objects that were folded inside the paper. Not only that, it can also store intangible object such fire and electric currents there.

And a living object such animal (scorpion).

Enigma can also trap a living person in paper, however, Terunosuke must discover the habits the target displays when afraid.

DIU chapter 141: Enigma Boy – part 3

He can also transform himself into a paper, by bringing a gun, he can surprise the target who opens the fold and harm them.

Damaging the piece of paper results in an equivalent damage on said object or person inside it.

What makes Caato’s Stand similar to Enigma?

Storing the objects inside medium (playing cards & paper)

Both can store the objects with size much larger than the medium

Anyone besides the users is able to release the objects from the medium

Even so, I'm a little confused, about the difference between the two. Does Terunosuke keeps some papers as medium or transform the object/target into a paper (which is then folded)?

I think it’s more the later, he did transform Tomoko into a paper rather than engulfed and folded her inside a paper, whereas in Caato’s case, she likely brings her playing cards as tool for her Stand ability.

We have seen very little of Caato’s Stand, thus, it raises quite a number of questions regarding its full capability:

Can she store living object?

My guess is she can. It’ll be cool if we see her trapping someone with dangerous animals such as killer bees, snakes or scorpions, though I’m not sure if she can store a human being.

JJL chapter 107: Kaato Higashikata's "Attack"

UPDATE! Eventually, the new chapter of 107 has shown that Caato is capable to conceal her grandson Tsurugi. Then it can be concluded that she can hide living object between her playing cards (though I think) as long as her playing cards perfectly stack.

Can she store intangible objects as well?

I think it is possible, I can imagine her working together with Jobin in a Stand fight (if he survives in the next chapter). It’ll be cool fight as well.

Is it only limited to her special designed playing cards?

Caato’s playing cards do have unique design, the back of her cards have the Higashikata fruit seller mark. I’m not really sure but I guess this can be limited to her special cards alone. Why would she keep these decks and use her Stand through them? Perhaps if the playing cards aren’t that unique, she can use her Stand ability through any playing cards, but let’s see it more in the future.

The exclusiveness of Caato’s playing cards as medium for her Stand kinda reminds me of Hot Pants’ Cream Starter.

Which can be used by anyone besides Hot Pants and still functions even though its user is already dead.

Does it have its own (humanoid-like) form?

I think it's possible, even every ability (non-power) based Stand such as Fun Fun Fun, Vitamin C, California King Bed, Walking Heart, Blue Hawaii etc have it. I hope it has a cool design. However, Tsurugi’s Stand Paper Moon King also hasn't shown its humanoid form yet, even though we have seen a lot of its abilities. 

However, Caato’s Stand seems to depend on her special designed playing cards which made it more like a tool/bound-type Stand and I haven’t seen any bound Stand that has its humanoid form. 

Perhaps, we will be really able to determine the type of Caato’s Stand if we have a chance to see its abilities further in a serious Stand battle.

UPDATE! The new chapter of 107 has shown that her Stand has its own (humanoid-like) form:

JJL chapter 107: Kaato Higashikata's "Attack"

At this point, it was most likely that all of the Higashikata family’s Stands have their humanoid form, bar Tsurugi… but I think that 「Paper Moon King」 will also have its humanoid form which it just hasn't revealed yet.

Next related post: The True Mechanism of Caato’s Stand, 「Space Trucking」

At the same time, the name of Caato’s Stand was finally revealed as 「Space Trucking」, it follows the ‘KING’ tradition just like every member of Higashikata family (including Mitsuba who joined the family through marriage).

Hence the speculation below that there will be the word "queen" in its name or that she is an exception due to her disowned status has become pointless LOL:

The Name of  Caato’s Stand

And last, about the name of Caato’s Stand, many readers (and JoJotubers) have talked about it. Some proposed names that appeal to me are:

Queen(s) of The Stone Age

Styx’s Queen of Spades

Queen’s The March of The Black Queen

David Bowie’s Queen Bitch

But why “Queen” instead of “King” (which becomes a trend in Stand naming among Higashikata family)? Perhaps because she is considered to be an outsider to the family as she disgraces the family’s reputation (for getting into prison) and divorced with the head of the family.

I am most interested in Queen of Spades just because I really like the album artwork “Pieces of Eight”. I think I’m gonna draw Caato in that album artwork style if this becomes her Stand’s name. A Caatofag also said that the lyrics are really complimentary to the lyrics Norisuke IV’s Stand, Metallica’s King Nothing, as if they are singing to each other.

Read also:

JoJolion Cardspiracy: Caato & Damokan group

Is Caato a Rock-Woman?

How does the hype of Caato turn really bad?

Edited:

Changed the spelling of 「Kaato」 into 「Caato」because it’s Caato, not Kaato.

[writer-k-pop]

Partner (Prt. 3)

늦는게 안하는 것보다 낫지, 파트너. Better late than never, partner. 

Description: (y/n) works as a special consultant for the federal government. Specifically the special operations unit that handles some of the worst crimes the country sees. Working multiple cases with Hongjoong’s team, this case seems like any other case but it’s not only personal connection to that case that rocks (y/n)’s demeanor. Her old partner from the exact case shows up in life again. Can she catch the suspect she’s been chasing for 2 and a half years? Warnings: Guns, stabbing, serial killing, swearing Genre: Crime, Mystery, Angst  Word Count: 2k

Ateez Masterlist | Masterlists

The door swings open and Wooyoung comes stomping into the room, "I have brought the caffeinated bean juice. Wake up and taste the bitter life liquid that will bring this S.O.B. down!"

San and Mingi jerk awake, poor Yunho falls out of his chair, and Jongho simply rolls onto his other side and throws his hands over his ears.

I take the coffee cup Wooyoung hands me and breathe in the smell. As I take a cautious sip, Hongjoong walks out of the conference room, shoving his phone into his pocket.

"What did the wife say?" Seonghwa asks, adding three packets of sugar to his coffee.

"To be safe, to be alert, and to come back home." Hongjoong states, "But that phone call ended 15 minutes ago. The phone call I just had was from our medical examiner."

"What'd he say?" Mingi asks, yawning. Yunho drags Jongho up and sits him at the table.

"It's small, might not be helpful to us but something he didn't notice until he read through (y/n)'s file." Hongjoong explains, "He starts at the thighs and works his way up. The depths of the wounds suggest that he loses strength as he works his way up."

"Sick psycho." San mutters.

"It just adds to his profile." I state, "He wants to be the strong finisher type but his body physically won't let him."

"And targeting women could be the source of the anger he has for his weak finisher trait." Mingi finishes for me.

"So maybe he's not as fit as we think." Jongho says, finally waking up some more, "Bursts of energy could explain it but what would cause sudden bursts of energy so extreme that he could abduct a woman and stab her fourteen times?"

"You know," Yunho starts, pulling his book smart knowledge out into the open, "There's rare disease that is known to cause super human bouts of strength that occur during flares of emotion. Some are linked to anger, grief, even joy." His book smarts still constantly amaze me. “It’s rare, so I’ll compile a list of known cases.”

San's computer dings and he quickly jumps for it.

"I think I got something." San says after he clicks around. "I ran a program to try and find similarities between any of the security footage where each of the victims were seen. The program just spit out a similarity."

"Show us." Hongjoong instructs him.

San sends his screen up to the big one and continues talking. "Before (y/n)’s case was added, our victims frequented similar places as each so we couldn’t narrow down a possible connection. But now, each of the victims stopped at this ATM machine right before they were taken from their, uh, last known places." Seven different videos play simultaneously, the same viewing window, on the same street.

"I remember that ATM." I remember, "I was on my way towards a lead outside of the cities and had to stop for some cash because I was completely empty and I owed the forensic tech for a bet I lost."

“You lost a bet?” Jongho wonders incredulously and I shrug in response.

"But why that ATM?" Seonghwa asks, "What that particular ATM? It's outside of town, it’s hardly ever used."

"Well, it looks like 13 years ago, there was a murder right next to that specific ATM." San says, typing away at his desk.

"You're kidding." Mingi says.

San shakes his head, "A brother and sister were walking down the street when the brother's girlfriend showed up and attacked and killed the sister. Claiming she thought the sister was a secret girlfriend he never told her about. Spewed out some things about how he'd always been secretive and lying, and how he wasn't even confident enough to man up to his choices."

"What happened to the girlfriend?" Hongjoong asks.

"Was tried and, oh god," San nearly bangs his head onto his desk, "Found not guilty. Then disappeared two weeks after and has never been heard from again."

“Guys, look.” Yeosang stares at the screens, “The sister was a blonde.”

“Gives reason for the blonde hairs he leaves.” I mention, rubbing the base of my neck.

"Name?" Wooyoung slinks over to his computer.

"Of the brother or the girlfriend?" San looks over at Wooyoung.

"Give me the brother." Mingi calls as he moves to his desk.

"Guess I'll take the girlfriend." Wooyoung shrugs.

"The girlfriend walking gives us the source of his anger." Seonghwa nods, "But why wait so long to start releasing the anger."

"Hey... hey..." Wooyoung's voice shrinks, "The girlfriend is our first victim."

"That explains that." Seonghwa snaps his fingers.

"Spent thirteen years trying to track her down and then finds he loves the feeling and keeps going." Jongho nods along. "There's the motive."

"Hey," San mutters, "Scanning through that specific ATM footage, nobody used that ATM except for our victims."

"He must be protecting that ATM because of his sister. And whenever someone uses the sacred ATM, he loses it." Yeosang deduces.

"How does he know when someone uses it?" I wonder.

"Mingi, anything on the brother?" Hongjoong asks while Mingi's forehead crease deepens.

"Seo Jino." Mingi reads off the online files, "Graduated from the top university with a degree in computer science with an emphasis in computer hacking."

"Explains the ATM footage." Yunho comments, "He can hack and he did hack the footage to watch who uses it and when."

"After the trial, this guy disappeared too. Emptied out his bank accounts and cancelled all his cards and moved out of his home." Mingi continues.

"He had to have reappeared somewhere, at sometime." I suggest.

"He did." Mingi answers, "Right after the first victim's trail went cold."

Seonghwa scrolls through his records, “Looks like this guy keeps to a pattern. Goes to the same places on the same days.”

"His closely held patterns might be what hangs him." Jongho nods his head to the side.

"Mingi, does he have a home address?" Hongjoong asks.

"Here in the city. Apartment on 43rd." Mingi informs us.

"Go." A deeper male voice says from the landing. We turn and there stands the director of the agency, Kim. "Seonghwa and (y/n) will stay here and command center with me."

I open my mouth to protest but Director Kim raises a hand, silencing me, "The rest of the team goes, but you and Seonghwa stay here."

"Can't compete with that." Seonghwa raises his hands in defeat.

"Let's go, grab your gear." Hongjoong says, reaching into his drawer for his gun.

Mingi walks over to me and I stand to meet him. He grabs my shoulders firmly and looks me straight in the eyes.

"I swear to you, we'll grab him." Mingi promises.

I smile at my old partner, "Don't promise me that just yet. He may not even be there."

"He has a pattern. A pattern he sticks to so religiously that it's his only fault." Mingi nods in confidence.

I give his hands a squeeze, "Go, your team is waiting for you."

Mingi nods and quickly walks towards where the other members are waiting for him.

Once the sure ring of the elevator echoes down the hallway, Director Kim makes his way over to the table while I retake my seat and Seonghwa rolls back over to his desk to set up communications.

"I apologize for having to leave you out of this one." Director Kim leans back into his chair.

"I understand, sir." I fold my hands on the table. "Can't risk him trying to finish what he couldn't before."

Director Kim nods, "Let's talk."

"About what sir?" I ask.

"Do you like your position?" Director Kim asks, out of the blue.

"I, I mean, it's a lot of traveling." I answer him honestly.

"Would you like a home office?" He keeps asking.

"Would I- I mean, yes I would like to have a home office." I nod, "It'd be nice to not travel so much."

"And what about this office, and this team?" Director Kim looks around the room. "It fits this team quite well, don't you think? You," He looks directly at me, "are a good fit for this team."

"Sir, what are you suggesting?" I ask, leaning forward.

"What I am suggesting is that you accept your next orders to be permanently assigned to this team." Director Kim smiles, pulling out a folded piece of paper from his inner jacket. "Will be affective as soon as this case is over if you accept it." He slides the piece of paper in front of me, "Think about it."

"They're at the apartment." Seonghwa announces, unable to hide the smile that grows on his features.

"Put it up." Director Kim instructs, "I want this son of a bitch." He mutters with distaste, placing the headphone in his ear.

The video feed from Yunho's chest camera streams loud and clear into the office space.

"Seo Jino!" Hongjoong's voice rings with static, "Federal agents, open up!"

After a few seconds of silence, Mingi quickly kicks open the door.

Shuffling into the apartment with guns drawn, they clear the rooms before making their way to the living room in the back.

"Seo Jino. Drop the weapon." Hongjoong shouts. "Drop it!"

Through the screen, the pixelated picture of Jino's face appears. The smug look on his face nearly flips my stomach. His right hand is locked around a hand fun and a drink in the other.

"Drop the weapon." Hongjoong repeats himself. "Drop it or we shoot."

When Jino still doesn't let the weapon go, Mingi speaks up.

"If we shoot, and you die, you won't be able to see your five minutes of fame." Mingi attempts to convince him to drop the gun. "You die, and no one will say your name."

Jino smirks and chuckles, "No. They will say my name. They already have. And I will be constantly here." He slowly rises from his chair, "In the scars of the torn families, in the case files that will be studied for years to come..."

Sitting in the office, I watch as his eyes seem to catch the video camera and it seems as though he knows I'm watching.

"And they'll live in the scars of the one who chased me till the end." He finishes, points his gun at the camera, and fires a single shot before he is gunned down with the team's bullets.

Yunho’s camera shows only the ceiling and in a couple seconds, San’s face appears.

“Yunho! You okay?” San asks, his eyes scanning Yunho’s body.

“What’s going on?” Director Kim asks, looking intently at the screen. 

“I’m okay.” Yunho grunts, sitting up. “The vest caught it.” He groans, “Oh, that’s going to leave a bruise tomorrow.”

San helps Yunho to his feet and they make their way over towards the body.

"Is he?" Yunho asks.

Hongjoong's kneeling next to the body and he checks for a pulse.

"No pulse." Hongjoong says with a flat voice. "Call the crime scene unit."

"Got it." Jongho nods and leaves the frame.

Hongjoong pulls out his phone and Director Kim's phone rings.

"We got him, sir." Hongjoong stares into the camera. "It's done."

Director Kim nods. "When the crime scene unit arrives, come home. You guys did well."

"Yes, sir." Hongjoong nods and Director Kim tells Seonghwa to cut the video feed.

The screens blink back to their abstracted background and I finally release the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Director Kim taps the reassignment orders in front of me before standing and buttoning his suit jacket, "We got him, (y/n). Think about it."

I nod in thanks and Seonghwa follows as Director Kim walks out of the office.

Once he's out of the office, Seonghwa envelopes me in a bear hug.

"Is there a reason getting this guy seems sweeter than the others?" He wonders as I wrap my arms around him, welcoming the comfort he always provided.

"It's a more personal case." I reason.

Seonghwa pulls back and holds me at arms length, "Are you going to accept that?" He asks, nodding towards the paper still on the table.

I look down towards it and pick it up, holding it gingerly in my hands as if it could disappear at any moment. "I guess I'll have to think about it." I respond, fold the paper, and tuck it into my back pocket.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The night air sits cooly around me. A breeze passes by and the sounds of the traffic below echos up between the buildings.

I have been thinking about the reassignment order for two days and I want to take the assignment but am teetering on the fence.

The roof access door creaks open and slams shut a few seconds later.

A peek over my shoulder confirms my suspicions of who appeared on the roof.

"The door gave me away, didn't it?" Mingi chuckles, leaning against the rail.

"Indeed it did." I laugh.

"Damn door, hated it since I first got here. Too loud." Mingi explains, "It would ruin my train of thought whenever someone tried to find me."

"Don't they know it's better to call you?" I ask.

"They know now." He states. "They don't learn as quick as I do."

I laugh with my entire chest, "Nobody can learn as quick as you, Mingi. It's what makes you good."

I pull out the folded reassignment order from my pocket and hand it over to him.

"What's this?" Mingi asks.

"Reassignment orders." I explain while he opens the paper and scans over it. "If I accept, I'll be apart of this team. For good."

"Why haven't you signed it?" Mingi wonders turning towards me.

"Waiting for the right person to encourage me." I nudge his shoulder.

Mingi smiles widely and pulls out a pen, "Better late than never, partner."

I take the pen with a smile, "Better late than never, partner."

Mingi puts an arm around my shoulders and brings me closer to him.

“We have more to talk about, don’t we?” He asks.

I sigh, “Oh Mingi, we have much much more to talk about.”

Mingi presses a kiss to the top of my head, "Well then, let's get going, partner."

[woos-sweaterpaws]

i want to get to know you so do 1-50 (except 29) 🌻

This is really really sweet of you anon thank u!!

__________________________________________

1. how many pillows do you sleep with?

I have 6 in my bed rn

and over 20 plushies

its never enough

2. do you believe in soulmates?

yes i do

3. would you ever kiss a stranger?

yes but not if its like total-never-spoke-to-them stranger

4. describe your dream house

i would prefer not a house but a nice penthouse-loft-apartment in a big city with a nice view and big windows

interior would be minimalistic style with light wood and a big double sized bed for me (since i dont think i will have a partner lol)

i would love an apartment with multiple floors or like a half-floor for the bedroom

5. do you usually use cash or card?

card

6. do you enjoy driving in general?

i hate it with a burning passion

7. do you like your name? if not, what would you change your name to?

i dont HATE my name

there are better/prettier ones but i think mine fits me

i would still like a more international name (since mine is kinda weird in the english speaking world) but  i dont have smth specific in mind

8. what’s your favorite cuisine?

italian ~

9. how often do you get massages?

i dont o.o i got some a few years ago because my back is fucked but otherwise never

10. do you play video games? if so, what games?

generally chill games like animal crossing, stardew valley and such, the big nintendo titles like mario kart and zelda, binding of isaac

11. do you prefer to color with colored pencils, crayons, or markers?

colored pencils!

12. what other fandoms are you in?

oh boy

okay so apart from all of kpop and thai dramas im in

skam

aftg

hp

trc

the mentioned video games if you wanna count that as fandoms

im probably forgetting a ton rn

13. do you have a signature in your style/everyday outfits?

if its comfy i like it

usually involves hoodies or boys shirts

i prefer if i dont have to worry about showing skin somewhere i dont want to

14. do you have any pets? if not, do you want some in the future?

no i dont have any atm but i had bunnies, birds and a guniea pig before. and yes i want cats when i move out

15. do you give objects you own a name? (car, house, plants, etc)

i named my cactus but it died (plants hate me) i also name all my plushies and random animals on the street

16. do you like the weather where you live?

its okay yea. summers are not too hot but i wish the winters were cold enough for snow :(

17. if you could wear one color for the rest of your life, what would it be?

black! its generally my comfort color in clothes

18. do you like making small talk?

WHO tf likes smalltalk? no!

19. what’s your favorite social media platform?

tumblr 100%

20. have you ever been to hawaii?

no :(

21. name a fashion trend that you absolutely hate

no offence but crop tops

i dont hate them they look good on you guys

but i hate that i cant find hoodies and shirts in womans sections anymore that arent cropped (ive been searching the past 6 months and everytime i like smth its cropped - i especially hated that when looking for oversized hoodies)

i dont wear them myself because cold so it sucks not finding cute clothes

i also fundamentally disagree with mustard-yellow

22. name a fashion trend that you absolutely love

oversized hoodies with ripped jeans and boots was my winter favourite

23. what was the last text you sent?

“okay” in out family groupchat lol

24. when making plans, do you like to organize or go with the flow when the time comes?

i like it to be organized but not be the one who actually organizes it if that makes sense?

25. what do you want to name your future kids?

i dont want kids but i wanna name my cats mochi and (c)leo (depending on gender)

26. do you have a type?

with looks i generally prefer darker hair with pretty eyes but if im comfortable with u it doesnt matter

if u like cuddling, are patient and gentle and love to make jokes that arent funny i probably like u lots

27. when was the last time you kissed someone?

like...kissed kissed? in grade 7 so...2012? my first and last kiss lol

28. how often do you cook?

as often as necessary, as little as possible (i cant really cook except for pasta and stuff so im mostly living of instant meals and “cut up a lot of things and put it in a pan until its browned” kinda stuff)

30. do you always remember your dreams?

no i dont

i had a dream diary once but that was a disaster

31. do you believe in ghosts?

yea kinda

i believe in invisible spirits/souls living with us yea

32. would you ever want to move outside of your country?

sometimes? im too scared to actually do it but there are many nice cities i would love to live in

33. describe your first love

well idk about love...it was always more of an obsession kinda thing and it was never a two-way-thing so i never had a real first love...

34. more peanut butter or more jelly?

i hate peanuts so no pb and only jelly (or nutella if you love me)

35. do your irls know about your tumblr account?

they know i have a tumblr but only my best friend actually follows me (and a high school friend i lost contact to)

my other friends dont have tumblr so they dont care

36. do you prefer hot or cold beverages?

cold!

37. when was the last time you finished a book?

i reread the aftg series last december for the 4th time

38. what would you want your wedding colors to be?

green-white? like a soft bright pastel green? maybe add pastel pink too

39. how long do you let your nails grow?

if i can see them clearly from the inside of my hand i cut them

40. if you could stay at a certain age, what age would you pick?

probably 19 or 7 theres no in between

41. who do you think has it easiest: older siblings or younger siblings?

older siblings because they learn responsibility earlier

i dont have siblings tho so idk

42. how often do you post on social media?

on tumblr daily, on insta never, on twitter occasionally if fun stuff happens

43. do you enjoy big groups?

nope

44. do you like it when you’re awaken by the sounds of birds chirping?

its better than my alarm but waaay too early so nope

45. which hand is your favorite?

left?

46. how many people do you follow?

1152 (yes i might have a problem)

47. how many followers do you have?

359 on my main and 27 on my fandom side account

48. how many drafts do you have?

53 but i use it to save posts i find interesting or that contain links i might need later

49. do you hang or fold your sweaters?

hang because im lazy and it saves space on the clothes dryer rack

50. even numbers or odd?

odd!

[thehelleniclunarwitch]

Oh To Be A Barton (Chapter Four)

Tagged: @justgrits

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

Life hadn’t been easy these past several months for the Barton siblings. Clint hadn’t waited around long enough to get a pair of hearing aids. When he was strong enough to get up out of bed, Clint took his sister and they disappeared from Marcy and Buck. It had been their third night sleeping in the park when Clint had found a leftover newspaper with a giant headline breaking the news that their Traveling Wonders had closed down.

Jacques embezzlement had come through and Mr. Carson had decided that it was time for the circus to be done. The crew had left to find other work. Clint had seen his and Emily’s pictures in the papers Buck and Marcy were frantically looking for the children. The newspaper had found itself in the trash bin and away from Emily’s prying eyes. His sister had still been upset that they had to leave their home they had only known. One day she would realize that leaving was for the best for them.

For a while, Clint had resorted to pickpocketing people as his sister distracted the innocent victims with her cute face and charms. They would always gang up on tourists they were the easiest to steal from. They could easily get a few hundred bucks a day and Clint quickly saved up the money. The pair never went hungry. Emily had wanted to start putting some money away for a pair of hearing aids but Clint had refused. He was content with just signing. He swore he didn’t miss hearing. Emily always dropped it, but he knew his sister was determined to get him his hearing back.

Most nights the pair slept in abandoned cars or run down old shops. On bad stormy nights, Clint would rent them a motel room so they could wake up dry. That way they could shower and watch some TV. Those nights Emily was the happiest she always said she felt like they were playing house. With Emily tucked away safely in a motel room, Clint would always take their backpack of clothes and go down to the laundromat to do their laundry. By morning, they would each have a full stomach and clean clothes. Emily would always insist on stocking up on the small shampoo and soaps before they would leave.

Life went on like this for months up until eight months into living on the streets when Clint had gotten caught stealing from one of the tourists. The man had ended up getting annoyed with Emily and flicked her away. Clint exploded and attacked the man. The man easily tossed Clint off and sprouted on and on about how he knew that it was a ploy. Clint read his lips as Emily frantically tried signing his threats to her brother. Clint had forced Emily to run as he held the man off long enough for his sister to escape.

Clint had found himself pressed up against the wall and the man’s fist coming towards his face when another man stopped his attacker. Of course, Clint couldn’t hear anything that was being said, but his attacker let him go. Clint sunk down to the ground and looked up at his savior. The man stood tall, he had black curly hair, a pair of silver glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes were calm and peaceful. He was talking to Clint, but Clint shook his head and pointed to his ears.

Surprisingly, the man nodded and then started to sign to Clint.

Are you hurt? The man asked.

Clint shook his head.

Do I need to call the police? He asked.

No police. Clint signed back.

The man sighed. I’m Bruce. He introduced.

Clint Clint signed slowly.

For you and your sister’s sake I suggest you find another way to make a living. Bruce told him.

Clint nodded.

Clint watched as Bruce dug around in his back pocket. He pulled out his wallet and opened it. Bruce pulled out a few bills and held them out to Clint. Clint eyed Bruce and the money.

Get your sister a hot meal. Bruce suggested.

Carefully, Clint took the money from Bruce.

Listen, it’s obvious that you have things under control. Bruce started.

Clint gave him a curt nod.

But if you ever need anything I’m staying at Stark Towers. I’ll be there for a few weeks if you need any kind of help. Bruce said.

Clint pocketed the money and then sighed his thanks. Turning his back, Clint started to make his way down the alley to find where Emily had hid away at. Feeling eyes still on him, Clint turned to see Bruce still standing there at the end of the alley. He gave the boy a small smile and a wave. Clint returned the wave before disappearing to find his sister. Clint never went to Stark Towers for help and he never saw the Bruce guy ever again.

A hand in his face had Clint blinking away the memory. He looked up to see Emily standing over him. She had two ice cream cones in her hands. One was melting down the side of her hand. Clint smiled up at his sister as he took the ice cream from her. That incident with Bruce was five months ago, but it still felt like it had happened just yesterday.

Are you okay? Emily asked.

Yeah, just thinking. Clint replied.

Oh. What about?  Emily wanted to know.

Summer is almost over. My job will be gone. Clint answered.

We’ll figure something out, Clint. Emily told him.

Clint just shook his head.

Being an archery counselor has been the best thing for us, Emily. Clint reminded her.

I know that, but we will figure something out. We always do. Emily said.

Clint sighed. Emily dropped the subject. The siblings finished up their ice cream and then walked back to where they were staying. The small shop had gone out of business just a few weeks ago. The water and electricity still worked there so the siblings were staying there until everything got shut off. Clint had been on the lookout for somewhere new for them to move to, but he hadn’t found anything as amazing as the old shop.

Emily sat down and started working on her homework. She had wanted to attend a regular school, but that wouldn’t ever happen with them living on the streets. Clint had taken them to the public library and had googled what a nine year old should be learning. The old librarian was more than happy to help Clint find the right textbooks for Emily. And Emily, well she was smart herself that when she was handed the books. She read the book from cover to cover and then by chapter by chapter. Clint could easily find tests online to go along with the chapters she was reading to test her on. Of course, Emily passed with flying colors in every subject, she struggled in Math, but she worked and worked until she at least understood the basics of it.

Clint, I’m going for a walk.

Do you want me to come with you?

No. I’ll keep it quick.

Alright. Be careful.

Will do.

Clint waved to his sister as she pulled on her jacket.

Emily stepped outside into the crisp fall air. The wind tousled her long brown hair as she skipped along the sidewalk. Emily took a short detour down an alleyway, pulled her hood up and over pulling it in nice and tight, and over to an atm machine. Emily looked around her and when she saw that the coast was clear she pulled out a card from her pocket and slid it into the machine. She pulled another little gadget out of her pocket and clipped it to the edge of the card. The gadget beeped and then the machine entered in the four digit pin number.

When Emily got in she quickly withdrew the daily limit of 300 dollars. Emily folded the wad of cash and slipped it into her pocket. She removed her small gadget and placed it in the other pocket. Leaving the card behind, Emily quickly walked away from the atm machine making her way back to where she and her brother were living.

Emily stopped short when she saw a tall, lanky, redheaded teen standing in front of her. Emily didn’t look away from the teen. She cocked an eyebrow as a smirk filled her face.

“Can I help you with something?” Emily asked.

“How many more times do you think you’ll be able to get away with that?” She asked.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Emily denied.

The teen smirked.

“You should be more careful. That’s the fourth time this month I’ve watched you do that.” She said.

“Why are you watching me, creep?” Emily asked.

The girl laughed. “Let’s just say you and your brother are my next case.”

“Brother?” Emily said in fake confusion. “I don’t have a brother.”

The teen reached into her back pocket and pulled out a cell phone. She swiped it open and then flicked through a few things before revealing the phone to Emily. Emily peered at the phone and could see several pictures of her and her brother. Emily kept her cool and looked up at the teen.

“What do you want?” Emily asked cautiously.

“It’s simple. I want you and your brother.” She said.

“For what?” Emily asked.

“Well that’s something I need to discuss with the both of you.” She said.

“So why don’t you stay here and I’ll skip off and fetch my brother for you.” Emily suggested.

The girl smiled.

“Nice try, but I already know where you live. So why don’t you lead the way and I’ll follow you.” She replied.

Emily huffed.

“You’re really not going to leave us be, are you?” Emily asked.

“Sorry, kiddo, not going to happen.” She said.

“Fine.” Emily groaned with a roll of her eyes.

Emily tucked her hands in her pocket and started walking away. The mystery girl stayed right behind her as Emily walked back to her place. Once they arrived at the shop the pair entered the building. Clint had his back turned towards them. Emily picked up a pair of rolled up socks and tossed them at her brother. Clint turned around with a smile, but when he saw that his sister wasn’t alone his smile quickly faltered.

Don’t worry.

Emily, who is that?

My name is Natasha.

What are you doing here?

I came here on the behalf of Shields.

What the hell is Shields?

Emily quickly left Natasha’s side and went to stand with her brother. She left the talking to the two teens.

First, I have a special gift for you from my supervisor.

What kind of gift?

Natasha pulled out a small box from the inside of her jacket and held it out towards Clint. When he didn’t move to accept the gift Emily went and took the box from her. She opened it slowly and her mouth fell open. She turned back towards her brother and held out the box. Clint peered into the box and then looked up back at Natasha.

Take them, now!

You’re so bossy.

Emily gave him a look and Clint sighed. He reached forward and pulled the two small hearing aids out of the box. He gave his sister one last annoyed look before slipping in the hearing aids. Clint knelt down in front of Emily so she could turn the hearing aids on for him. Emily held her breath as Clint looked back up at her.

“Can you hear me?” Emily asked him softly.

Clint nodded. Tears filled Emily’s eyes as Clint pulled her in for a hug. Emily clung to her brother tightly as Clint kissed her cheek and admitted to her that he should have gotten the stupid hearing aids before they had run off. Finally, Clint stood and turned back towards Natasha.

“Now what do you want?” Clint asked.

“Shields is very interested in a skilled archer like yourself.” Natasha explained.

“What is this Shields place you keep talking about?” Clint asked.

“Why don’t you come with me and find out.” Natasha replied.

Clint looked down at Emily. “I have responsibilities you know.”

“Shields isn’t just interested in you.” Natasha said.

“They’re interested in me?” Emily asked.

Natasha nodded. “Listen, we’re not forcing you to stay. My bosses just want you guys to come in and hear what they have to say. If you don’t like it then you are both free to go.”

Clint looked back down at Emily. Em just nodded her head towards Clint. It wouldn’t hurt them to at least go and find out what was going on.

“Alright, we’ll go with you.” Clint said.

“Good to hear.” Natasha grinned.

The siblings watched her bring her bracelet up to her mouth and then she whispered something. Emily left Clint to watch Natasha as she grabbed her backpack and Clint’s. The siblings slid on their backpacks and then followed Natasha outside.

“Our ride should be here any minute.” Natasha said.

Natasha wasn’t kidding. Five minutes later, a black SUV pulled up in front of the shop. The driver got out and opened the back door for the kids. All three of them climbed into the back of the vehicle. The driver said nothing as he pulled away and started to drive into the main part of the city. They emerged onto the highway and started to drive towards Washington DC.

“Where exactly are we going?” Clint asked.

“Shields base is in downtown DC.” Natasha answered.

Emily sat in between Clint and Natasha. It was weird hearing her brother talk. It had been quite a long time since Clint willingly talked. Without his hearing aids and unable to hear how loud he was talking, Clint stuck to being quiet and just signing, but now that he had the hearing aids and was talking once again was a weird feeling. In the end, Emily was happy though. She wouldn’t have to keep stealing money to save up for Clint’s hearing aids. However, Emily was worried that whatever these Shields people wanted and Clint turned them down would they take the hearing aids away from him?

The SUV pulled up in front of a building. The driver quickly got out and opened the door for the kids. Clint and Emily followed Natasha inside and over to the elevators. Natasha pushed the button for the correct floor. Emily held onto Clint’s hand. Elevators always had made her feel claustrophobic and anxious. The ride up stayed quiet. When they reached the eleventh floor the elevator binged. The three stepped off and the siblings followed Natasha through the floor and back to an office.

Inside, the siblings were faced with two people. The first man was standing next to the desk. He was average height, wore a suit, and a blinding smile. The second man sat behind the desk. He was dressed in a leather jacket, he had a patch over his right eye, and Emily noticed how the light reflected off his bald head. It took everything she had to not break down and start laughing uncontrollably.

“Thank you Natasha that is all for now.” The bald headed guy said.

Natasha nodded, smiled at the siblings, and then quickly left the pair in the office. Clint and Emily stood side by side, Emily was still clinging to Clint’s hand. The man in the suit smiled at the pair before pulling out the chairs in front of the desk.

“Why don’t you two take a seat?” The man suggested.

“We’re good with standing.” Clint replied.

Both men gave a slight smirk before nodding their heads. Both of them moved so they were leaning against the desk and staring at the pair. Clint finally released Emily’s hand so he could follow suit in the intimidation game and crossed his arms over his chest. Emily instantly followed suit and the siblings stood staring back at the two men.

“I bet you two are wondering what you’re doing here?” The suited man asked.

The siblings said nothing.

“I’m Director Nick Fury and I run Shields.” Nick introduced himself.

“And I’m Agent Phil Coulson. I work for Shields as one of their top agents.” Phil said.

“We train only the best to become the world’s best agents.” Nick explained.

“So what does that have to do with us?” Clint asked.

“We’ve been tracking your two movements for awhile now. Shields’ radar has gone off and is definitely interested in having the two of you join them.” Phil explained.

“What exactly does all of that mean?” Clint asked them.

“Shields would like for you to come here and begin training with our specialized trainers. They would really like to see what you two are made of.” Nick said.

“You really need to start explaining more about what exactly this means.” Clint said.

“Both of you will be tested physically and mentally. There will be a lot of obstacles you’ll both be going through. Not only will you be trained to become one of our agents, but you’ll finish your schooling as well with some of the best teachers.” Phil told them.

“Clint, you may have quite the impressive archery skills and we want to improve those skills. Emily, even at a young age you know the inside and out of a computer. Your hacking skills are amazing that even our best people had a hard time following your trials as you hacked your way through whatever you were doing.” Nick explained.

“What exactly are you looking to get out of us in the end?” Clint asked.

“Shields likes investing in young agents. You’re easier to put undercover. Adults are more reluctant to let their walls down to kids. You’ll be able to gain their trust and get their secrets faster than any of our adult agents.” Phil told him.

“My sister has never had any of the training that I’ve had the past few years. She knows how to take care of herself, but nothing like it takes to be a spy. Plus, she’s literally just a kid.” Clint replied.

“We want your sister to be an agent and we’re not going to be stupid about this either. Your sister will get the proper training to be able to protect herself in any type of situation, but we won’t be training your sister for field work. All great teams need a brain behind the plans. We want to enhance your sister’s technology skills. Hone in on what she strives at. If you accept our help, Emily will become yours and your partner’s ‘it’ person. Emily will be in charge of your communication, your gadgets, weapons, locations, GPS’s, and any other behind the scenes help you’ll need.” Nick explained to him.

“If we accept this what is it going to look like for the two of us?” Clint asked.

“What do you mean?” Phil asked.

“I’ve been taking care of my sister since she was just a baby. I don’t want this training to take away from that. I don’t want to become so busy and caught up in this training that Emily takes a backseat. I am making it completely clear right now that Emily will come first no matter what. I will not put my own flesh and blood on the back burner. If we can’t be training together then I want to know where she is at all times. Emily must be able to have access to me at all times. Even if that means you have to pull me from the field. No matter how silly you think her request is she is granted it no matter what.” Clint said.

“Clint, we totally understand that your sister means everything to you. We aren’t trying to trick you into staying by saying that Emily will be trained as well. We are serious about that. Daily you’ll be given your sister’s itinerary and her where abouts. The same will go for Emily. You both will even receive pagers so if either of you need each other you’re just one call away. Shields is interested in the both of you. They won’t do anything to make you leave.” Nick replied.

“Can I have a few minutes to talk this over with my sister?” Clint asked.

“Of course. Director Fury and I will step on out and give you two a few minutes to talk.” Phil said.

Once alone the siblings turned to look at one another. Emily sat down with a sigh as Clint rubbed at his aching head. This was a lot of information to have to sift through. Finally, Clint dropped down next to Emily and rubbed at her back.

“What are we going to do, Clint?” Emily asked.

“They seem pretty serious about all of this Em.” Clint answered.

“So do we do this then?” Emily asked him.

“I don’t know. I mean I’d love to jump at this opportunity. This gets a roof over your head and hot food in your stomach, but can we trust them?” Clint explained.

“I’d like to think we can, Clint. Why would lie about all of this, you know?” Emily told him.

“But a life that is going to be dangerous isn’t really a smart thing to do.” Clint replied.

“So why don’t we stick through it long enough for all of the training we get. We can get well rested and become even stronger and smarter. Once we’re happy with our outcomes then we can bounce.” Emily suggested.

“They seemed to be the type of people to come after us.” Clint pointed out.

“We’ve been on the run for the past several months, Clint. We can do it all over again.” Emily said.

“Yeah, but look at how easily that Natasha girl was able to figure us out.” Clint said.

Emily fell quiet and bit her lip. “So then what do we do?”

“I think we should stay.” Clint told her.

“Okay.” Emily agreed and Clint gave her a curt nod in agreement.

The siblings stood. Emily went back to where she was standing before as Clint went to let the men know that they were ready to talk with them. Phil and Nick both came back to stand near the desk. They stared at the siblings. Emily looked up at Clint as he looked down at her. She gave him a small nod and he nodded back before turning back towards Phil and Nick.

“We accept.” Clint said.

Nick nodded. Phil broke out into a smile as he walked over to the siblings. He shook Clint’s hand and then surprising Emily, pulled her in for a hug. Emily stiffened in his arms as he pulled away.

“You’re going to be really happy here.” Phil said.

“We sure hope so.” Clint mumbled and Emily let out a sigh.

[eirian-houpe]

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 15

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Gaston (Once Upon a Time)

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Grumpy | Leroy, Maurice | Moe French, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Merida (Once Upon a Time), Jiminy Cricket | Archie Hopper, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Le Fou

Additional Tags: Bookshop On the Corner, slightly AU, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Eventual Smut

Summary: Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community.

Read on AO3

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2]  [Chapter 3]  [Chapter 4]  [Chapter 5]  [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]  [Chapter 8]  [Chapter 9]  [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14]

Chapter 15 - Revelations

What Belle had hoped was as an improvement in the local weather turned out to have been the worst kind of lie that a meteorological phenomenon could have told her. As she stood shivering in the ‘wind tunnel’ that was the space between the side of the only bank in Storybrooke, and the adjacent building, waiting for the ATM to spit out its death knell piece of paper into her waiting hands, she found herself growing more and more annoyed that she hadn’t listened to the overheard warnings of the people she saw every morning in Granny’s.

Shifting from foot to foot, she wrapped her arms across her chest, tucking her hands beneath her armpits for warmth before they froze like icicles. The machine in front her whirred and clicked, before the sibilant swish of the emerging slip of paper momentarily drowned out the sound of the wind.

Belle quickly snatched it up and peered at the numbers printed starkly onto the off-white chit, and sighed heavily.

“Great!” she muttered, and thrust it, and her hands, into her pockets, and quickly turned and made her way toward the library, where at least she could get warm, if not calm at the discovery that the deposit she was expecting from the Town of Storybrooke had not, in fact, made it into her bank account.

Once the door closed behind her, she let out a string of expletives as she stripped off her jacket and set her purse behind the circulation desk. She leaned against its solid support as she tried to figure out what she could do - beyond storming into the town hall and demanding a check from the mayor there and then - to stay on her feet until the payment of her salary became a more reliable event and find somewhere to live. It was a conundrum, and a problem that Belle was certain would give her many a sleepless night.

For the rest of the day, however, she threw herself and all her energies into continuing with the cataloging and preparation of all the books in the library so that she would stand a chance of meeting her own self-imposed deadline for the grand re-opening of the Storybrooke Library. Exhausted, and covered in book-dust, she could barely keep her feet for long enough to take a soothing shower before she she fell into bed after getting back to Granny’s.

Her exhaustion, however, was not enough to keep her asleep for the whole of the night, and it was with bleary, unfocused eyes that she peered at the bedside alarm clock at 2:12am. For several long minutes, which felt more like hours, she tossed and turned, and then lay on her back trying the deep breathing exercises that some hippy friend of Ruby’s back in Boston had once taught her the last time she was suffering from ‘anxiety insomnia.’ Nothing worked. Finally she threw off the covers, pulled on a pair of thick, soft woolen socks and her heaviest winter overcoat over the top of her pajamas, and crept as quietly as she could down the stairs before pulling on her shoes and stepping out into the night. Perhaps a brisk walk would help to settle her mind and would allow her to find sleep again.

After the third such night in a row of almost the exact same physiological timetable, Belle found that her walk brought her back, not to Granny’s Bed and Breakfast, but to the front doors of the library itself. After another such night she stopped fighting it, let herself into the library, and continued working from where she had left off in the complete reclassification of every book in the building. Sometimes she would work through the night, returning stiff and yawning to breakfast at Granny’s, and sometimes simply wrapping herself in one of the blankets with which she’d insulated some of her more precious books for the journey north, and falling asleep right there in the stacks, the unshelved books serving as her pillow, and then returning just as stiff, but without yawning quite so much to breakfast the following day. If Granny thought anything of it, she didn’t utter a word to Belle.

It was, perhaps, after another week or two, and after - once again - failing to receive her salary on time from the Town of Storybrooke, that everything changed. The previous night she had made the deliberate and conscious decision to return to the library after dinner, and to stay there overnight.  She was realistic enough to understand that with the unreliable nature of the Mayor’s office of finance, she was going to have to drastically reduce her outgoings, and that meant one thing. No longer keeping the room at Granny’s.  So that night was to be an experiment of how she would get on if she had to make a ‘home’ in the corner of the stacks for a while… at least until she had saved enough to be certain of securing an apartment of her own and several months rent in hand. She was absolutely certain that the persistent lateness and often incorrect payments to her account were entirely intentional on the part of the mayor who clearly didn’t want the town to have a library, or at the very least a library with Belle as the head librarian.

She slept surprisingly well, and was happily folding up her blankets when an unfamiliar and yet known sound of shuffling footsteps accompanied by the tap of a cane announce the fact that she was no longer alone; a fact confirmed a moment later when the warmth of a soft brogue washed over her in concern.

“Miss French,” he said, “Is everything all right?”

She turned, blushing as she saw the direction of his gaze, and awkwardly set the now folded blanket down on the short pile, and picked up the pillow she had used, hugging it to her chest in an attempt to hide the fact that she was wearing her pajamas and feeling thoroughly under-dressed under the scrutiny of the impeccably groomed town councilman, Mister Gold.

“Yes,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes, “Yes, of course. I just… I was working rather late last night. Got somewhat carried away, so I… well, I just decided that sleeping here was far less trouble than…”

She trailed off as his face remained unchanged, impassive. Certain that he had caught her in the lie of omission, she was embarrassed by both that, and by the reality of her financial position to boot. She blushed and almost apologetically explained, “Besides that, I’m… still looking for somewhere more permanent than Granny’s, and being here might help to… offset the cost of that, particularly as it’s taking a while to work out the glitches in payroll and get my salary to me on time.

He frowned then, as though he were utterly confused and said, “I don’t know if you’re aware that there’s a caretaker’s apartment for the library. If you’re interested I could certainly go and fetch with the keys.  It would only take a moment.”

Belle tried not to let hope widen her eyes as much as she felt they had, but a caretaker’s apartment sounded perfect. It sounded relatively small, and hopefully would be within her budget.

She was certain that he would see right through her.  He seemed to have that knack. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” she said softly.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” he told her. “My shop is just a few doors down the street, as I said, it won’t take but a moment.”

She offered him a somewhat awkward smile, and said, “Then… if you’re sure. Thank you. Yes.”

He nodded, which looked for all the world to her more like a miniature bow than a nod of affirmation, and then turned and began his measured steps toward the end of the row and just before he disappeared out of sight he half turned and added, “Oh, by the way, Miss French, nice pajamas.”

She made a small squeak of mortification, and blushed scarlet, thankful that he turned away and wasn’t able to see its brightness on her cheeks, which only increased at the soft chuckle that followed his footsteps toward the door.  She berated herself for being so foolish as to have left the door unlocked, and - once she heard it swing closed again - made a sudden scramble for the discarded clothes from yesterday and quickly began to pull them on, to at least be a little more decent when he returned with the keys.

As he had promised, it didn’t take him long, but by that time she had safely secreted all of the evidence of her nocturnal activities behind the circulation desk and was shuffling the index cards she had taken from the drawers that lined the wall the day before. It was an old fashioned way of cataloging the contents of the library, but she liked old fashioned. It was quaint, and fitted perfectly with the personality of the town and its library, but she still had to remove the cards for the books that had been too out of date to keep or damaged beyond repair. She looked up as Mister Gold shadow fell across the desk.

“Shall we?” he said, and gesturing toward the far, rear door of the library.

It was a door that Belle hadn’t really taken much notice of, assuming, from its placement that it was simply the fire exit, as the illuminated sign above it announced. So, she hadn’t ever bothered to open it.

He did so, gallantly holding the door for her to step through into a plain corridor with a staircase at one end and another door at the opposite end. At the top of the stairs was a small landing which held a single door, barely visible from their vantage point. She glanced toward the doorway then.

“The external access to the apartment,” he told her, then gestured towards the stairs. “The caretaker’s apartment is one bedroom, with an en suite bathroom - full bath and separate shower stall, and low flush toilet, all of which are newly installed. The living area has a full bay window to follow the shape of the library below, and is separated by an archway from the kitchen dining area, all quite spacious.”

As they climbed the stairs together he gave her the details of the apartment, and it gave her no little amusement that the councilman sounded more like a Realtor as he did so, and suddenly things started falling into place. Leroy had mentioned to her, after she had told him that Gold had been with the mayor those few weeks ago when she arrived with the paperwork, that the man was probably, ‘bending Regina’s ear.’ About one or another of the properties he owned.  Belle suspected that RG Holdings, with whom she held the lease for the library, was a shell company for Mister Gold, Mister R. Gold.

As they crested the top of the stairs and stepped onto the landing, Belle turned her head and saw another set of stairs that disappeared up into a darkened space above.

“Those lead to the attic space and from there up into rear of the clock on the clock tower. You have no need to worry about being disturbed, I wouldn’t think. The clock hasn’t run for years, and so far as I know the mayor has no intention of having it repaired any time soon,” he said as if he could guess what was on her mind.

“I see,” she said and offered him a smile. “And… could the attic be used as storage space for the library?”

“If you so wish,” he answered, and stepped past her toward the apartment doorway, “so long as you don’t obstruct the stairs.”

“Of course,” she agreed as he pushed the key into the lock and opened up the door for her.

It was as though he had opened the doorway onto a magical land. What she had expected to be a dreary or at best an ordinary apartment beyond turned out to be a richly decorated, luxurious living space. The carpet underfoot had a thick, comfortable pile that cushioned every footstep. It’s color, that of a summer sky, which somehow perfectly complimented the rich mahogany inlaid shelves that framed either side of the bay window. The walls otherwise were a neutral shade, which served only to emphasize the perfect combination of the gold colored drapes and the richness of furnishings which seemed somehow to have been made for the apartment.

A low coffee table stood between a long, plush couch and twin over sized arm chairs upholstered in a soft gray and white fabric, angled as though for conversation. The bay window was fitted with a cushioned daybed, allowing for perfect lighting by which to read. Opposite the bay, an archway, in birch wood to match the gold of the drapes, led into the kitchen and dining area, the floor tiled to complement the living area.

The appliances in the kitchen looked newly installed; everything a person could need in a kitchen including hooded cooking range, a built in oven and microwave, and a large refrigerator as well as dishwasher and ample cabinet space for storing food as well as crockery and glasses.

It was more than she could have hoped for, but she couldn’t help the way her heart grew heavy and descended to her boots, because something like this, as beautiful as this, was bound to be outside of her price range.

Half dazed, she allowed Gold to show her the equally tasteful and immaculate bedroom, with built in closets, queen bed, and soft furnishings in burgundy and gold. The door to the en suite stood open and through it she could see the ornate claw foot tub, standing on faux-stone style tiles.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, sensing that Mister Gold had joined her after giving her some private moments to check out the apartment on her own. For just a moment she allowed herself to imagine living there, only snapping out of the daydream when Gold spoke.

“It was recently refurbished,” he confessed, “and redecorated.”

“I… almost daren’t ask,” she began hesitantly, and watched him frown as if in confusion, before he prompted her to go on.

“Ask?” he said.

“How… much would the rent…” She trailed off as his expression of confusion deepened, and she found herself blushing when he seemed to be searching for words, no doubt to try and let her down gently.

“I think you misunderstand me,” he said after a moment or two of awkward silence. “The apartment is included in the lease for the library. As the leaseholder, you already have the right to the use the living space. I’m guessing that you weren’t made aware of that?”

“No,” she breathed. “No, I wasn’t, not at all.”

“Forgive me,” he said softly, “An oversight on my part. I assumed that the mayor would have informed you of the full details of the property and library assets.”

“No, I… she said nothing,” Belle said, her eyes darkening with anger as she remembered Regina’s threat about the need to find a place to live or lose the librarian position, more convinced now that the mayor was trying to drive her away.

“All the more reason I should have checked in with you sooner,” Gold said apologetically, and held out the keys in her direction. “I’ll make arrangements to have the utilities connected today.”

Belle reached out to take the keys and his fingertips brushed against her hand as she took them from him. She felt her breath catch at the touch, but managed, somewhat breathlessly to utter a soft, “Thank you.”

He nodded acknowledgment and after offering assistance to help her move her things from Granny’s, which she politely refused, he said, “I’ll leave you to it then; go and contact the utility companies. In the meantime, if you need anything further, you may contact me at my shop.”

“Thank you, again,” she said. “If there’s anything else, I’ll be sure to come and find you.”

He gave the same kind of nod as before, that was almost a small, old fashioned bow, and said a quiet, “Good day, Miss French,” before he turned and began to walk back toward the door.

Belle stood, cradling the keys in her hands, watching him walk away, hardly able to believe that things were suddenly falling into place. Acting on a sudden thought that came into her head, she called out after him before he reached the door.

“Mister Gold.”

He stopped and turned back to her.  “Miss French?”

“Do you read?”

He frowned softly, tilting his head slightly as though he were trying to understand her question and after a while he said, “I keep up with trade publications; a subscription to an antiques magazine, that kind of thing, but… fiction?”

She nodded. “Yes, you know, for fun?”

“Never really saw the point,” he said, going on to elaborate, “I could never understand why anyone would go to all the trouble of making up new people in the world when there are already so many whom I really despise.”