#opening it settles just a little too quickly into a steady by the numbers example of the genre. Lenzi also cribs one of my all time

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Charlie’s 5✩ Inspiration: Daytime Spiritualities [昼日疑魂] Date Translation (Prologue)

“An eligible fiancée should always be prepared to make some sacrifices in the name of love.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Charlie’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *5✩ Inspirations have 5 Endings!! *CG Image used with permission from 蓝咕咕 ☆ *Charlie’s tag will be #For Night, For Paradox

Even the unluckiest soul in the world will one day meet a stroke of good luck at some odd point in time.

For example, I'd gone out to purchase some batteries last week, only to somehow win a chance to try out a new model of Home Projector. All I had to do was to give them feedback about it afterwards, and the projector was mine.

What a rare stroke of good luck! Shouldn’t I share some with the exceptional “Mr. Perfect” as well?

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Setting my mind to it, I dialled the number I knew by heart.

Charlie: How rare it is for you to be the one calling me.

MC: Cut the crap. I'm here because I need something from you.

MC: Are you free this Saturday, Charlie?

Charlie: I… probably don't have any shifts on that day.

Charlie: Ah, I know now. You're asking me out for a date? Please tell me it's not for a Saturday candle-lit dinner.

MC: Dream on. Dinner's a stretch and candles are a no-go.

Charlie: How dull.

Charlie: But, yes. You do have a point there. My presence overshadows any candlelight before me, so long as I am around.

MC: I'm starting to regret ever calling you.

MC: I'm not going to tell you what we're going to be doing so just wait till Saturday and you'll know.

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Saturday arrived much faster than I thought. I went out grocery shopping early on Saturday morning to give Charlie, "his highness", a grand welcome.

I passed the hospital on my way home when something extravagantly gold suddenly caught my attention.

A gold leaf-painted car. One with extremely showy butterfly doors. There, it stood; sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the calm serenity of the hospital.

This grandiose display of extravagance was something all too familiar to me…

Who else would do this, but Charlie?

MC: But… Why's he at the hospital today?

MC: Didn't he say that he didn't have any scheduled shifts?

Unable to restrain my curiosity, I decided to head into the hospital and have a look for myself.

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Hurried footsteps sounded inside the IPD (In-Patient Department) as people came and went. Medicinal bottles clinked, and soft murmuring came from the Doctors and Patients down in the Wards. The IPD’s corridor was already abuzz with life this early in the morning.

Yet, the door to Charlie’s office was shut tight with nary a sound.

MC: How quiet. Is he not in his office?

I gently pushed the door open, only to be stunned speechless by the scene that greeted me inside his office…

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Charlie was lifelessly sprawled on the floor. His eyes were closed, and it was deathly silent.

The fridge by his side was wide open. The enzyme drinks and the fruit and vegetable juices within were exposed to the open as the fridge expelled cool air. White sheets of document paper were scattered all over the floor.

MC: Charlie?

Said person sprawled on the ground didn't move a finger, much less make a sound.

"An Employee's Sudden Death In the Early Morning", "Inside the Medical Industry: Why Work Crazy Overtime Hours". Possible headlines started running through my head, causing my mental alarm bells to start ringing.

MC: Hey? Hey! Are you okay!?

I flung my shopping bag to the side, quickly reaching out to place my finger under his nose to check if he was breathing.

MC: Phew… At least he's still breathing.

Just as I was about to turn tail and ask for help, I felt my fingers get caught in a soft and warm hold.

Charlie: Wait.

MC: !?

MC: Are you okay?

The person on the ground reached out to pinch my trembling fingers, shaking them twice in what was supposedly affirmation.

The heart that had leapt to my throat upon finding him settled back down, but doubt still remained.

MC: How… How do you feel now?

Charlie raised his head in a daze, looking like a right mess with tired black circles under his eyes.

Charlie: %#*$&...

MC: ???

MC: Wait, were you just asleep earlier!?

Charlie was just like a lion who’d awoken from slumber. He leisurely rubbed his eyes sleepily, the action itself seemingly giving you the answer to your question.

MC: ……

I started to replay everything I’d seen earlier in my mind… Steady breathing, warmness, and even the ever so faint snoring that came out from his parted lips...

Looks like I'm truly the one who’d jumped to conclusions here.

Recalling how I’d totally been frightened out of my own wits upon finding him earlier, I suddenly felt my cheeks grow hot.

MC: But, why are you sleeping on the floor? Are you that tired that you just crashed on the spot?

Charlie: As if. I purposely chose to sleep on the floor.

Charlie paused for a second, gathering up all his documents that were scattered all over the floor before rightening himself and walking over to bask under the morning light that filtered in. However, the expression he wore was still a little out of place.

Charlie: Once you’ve tried out all of the high-end beds in the world, you’ll soon come to realize that the bed is actually a pretty inferior piece of furniture to be sleeping on.

Charlie: It is only by staying in tune with nature and reverting to primal nature that you can get the highest quality of sleep.

Charlie: And the ground is the one thing closest to nature.

MC: ...We're on the second floor here.

Charlie: I have my own manner of thinking.

MC: ……

Although it did sound ridiculous, Charlie was someone who could even the most absurd things miraculously come true. I think I've pretty much been… rendered speechless.

As I was rendered speechless, the initiator of this entire farce had settled back in front of his desk as if everything was as per usual.

Charlie: I'll have to congratulate you first, (Y/n).

Charlie: For taking the initiative to find my workplace; and advancing us a step further in our progress towards making it onto the "Guangqi City's Model Married Couple List".

MC: Sorry, but we don't seem to be married yet. So, there's no way we'll be up on that list.

Charlie: Keep at it and we'll soon qualify for it.

MC: You've got some thick skin…

Did I really need to worry about this man earlier? He has such thick and impenetrably hard skin that I don't know whether I should be pitying him or the floor his face smashes into.

MC: Still, what are you doing here on a Saturday?

MC: Didn't you say that you didn't have any scheduled shifts today?

I leaned over and stared at him with narrowed eyes.

His eyes were a little dodgy. And when paired with the dark eye circles under his eyes, it was a rare sight on this "pricelessly perfect face" of his.

Charlie: I came to the hospital today to… Ahem. To wait for my assistant to deliver the blood test report.

Charlie: Last week's report; dragged till today. I'm not one to say this, but the young doctors all have serious procrastination issues.

Charlie: If all doctors are like that, then who dares be their patient?

Charlie had his brow furrowed into a particularly deep crease at that. He turned his gaze outside the window with eyes as dark as the old senior director of the hospital, who had a head full of grey and ever so grave.

And when I moved closer to peer at the stack of documents on the table and the crooked and askew words… His face morphed into a look warmer than that of welcoming neighbours.

However, the problem here was that… Wasn't that "Ward Round Medical Records" written on top of those documents?

MC: This doesn't look like a blood test report.

Charlie: You can actually tell?

MC: If I squint at it… Your scrawl is most certainly…. Erm… Unique.

His face slightly changed at that. He swiped the document from my hand and shoved it under the table.

Charlie: Enough of that. There is no way that this can ever be my handwriting.

Charlie: My calligraphy was already level 8 out of 10 in middle school.

Charlie: This is clearly someone else's handwriting!

He purposefully angled his body so that his back was facing the documents and propped his hands on the table.

Charlie: And, back to you. Why are you in such a rush to see me?

Charlie: Come on then; let's hear it. Just where are you asking me out to?

My eyes moved to look away, the fluttery airiness in my voice no longer carrying its lilt.

MC: My house.

Charlie: ...That quickly?

There was an odd hint of hesitance in his tone, something different from his usual overwhelming confidence.

However, this minuscule hesitance of his was gone as soon as it came. Soon, the corners of his mouth lifted up as high as they could go.

Charlie: Tsk, tsk, tsk. Never thought you'd be more proactive at this than I.

Charlie: There's no need to refuse; no need to feel shy. I know.

Charlie: But still, just us alone… together? Don’t you think that’s a little too rushed? Shouldn’t you do this more romantically, at least?

MC: ...Are you still half-asleep?

Charlie raised his eyebrows before shooting me an overly enthusiastic wink.

Charlie: What do you think?

MC: If you're awake, then stop spouting nonsense.

MC: Long story short, I won a trial run of a new Home Projector model last week…

Charlie: So, you’re inviting me to your house to watch a movie with you?

I never thought that Charlie would understand what I was getting at so quickly. I hurriedly nodded.

MC: Yup!

Charlie suddenly perked up. He crossed his fingers in thought.

Charlie: I suppose that makes sense. First, a movie; and then slowly, step-by-step.

MC: ……

He “knowingly” quirks his brows at you, his lips curled into a satisfied smile.

All traces of sleepiness on his face had been wiped clean from his features. Charlie stands up from his desk, seemingly having been suddenly imbued with a burst of energy.

With a faint smile on his face, he stretches his slender fingers out to hook it around the handle of the leopard-print mug on the table.

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I was caught off guard as an oddly familiar sense of deja vu overcame my senses…

It was as if a lively, yet oddly out-of-place saxophone piece had started playing in the background of his deserted office.

And there he stood, slowly coming into the view of the lens, panning forth in slow-motion. Golden sunlight filtered in from the windows, kissing the contours of his face and highlighting his profile.

Charlie: ……

He hooks his fingers onto his tie, tugging gently at it. His collar loosens, revealing his collarbones that peek out from beneath his shirt.

The knot of his tie rested next to the third button of his dress shirt. It was undone, yet not quite.

He pushed back the stray strands of hair that had fallen out of place by his sideburns.

Charlie: Does something seem off?

MC: What do you mean?

I lifted my head to peer into his cup. I could only see his reflection reflected in the waters.

MC: Not really…?

Charlie: As it should be.

MC: ?

Charlie: It appears that I am still as glamorous as always.

MC: ……

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If Narcissus, the God of Narcissism who turned into a Narcissus, were to be reborn; then his reincarnation will be none other than Charlie.

In just a mere 2 seconds, Charlie was back to his usual pompous self.

Charlie: I'm going to get changed. Please give me a moment.

With that, Charlie briskly turns around and heads into the dressing room. He muttered lowly to himself as he went, the sound trailing after him as he disappeared into a corner of the room…

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Charlie: Charlie, I don't want to be the one to say this; but what’s the matter with you today?

Charlie: Passing out in the office! Your perfect image was almost ruined!

Charlie: Thankfully, I reacted fast enough.

Smiling, Charlie shakes his head helplessly at his own mirror image.

Charlie: Still, my posture is still so very charming, even if I did pass out cold on the floor.

Charlie: Oh, perfection; your name is Charlie.

Meanwhile, I was blissfully unaware of these small theatrics going on inside the dressing room as I waited for him outside….

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Since Charlie was out, I decided to take the chance to survey his office.

The multitude of silk award banners and certificates of merit displayed on the cabinet stupefied me. I couldn’t believe the fact that all these awards belonged to Dr. Zha, who was currently piecing himself back together in the dressing room.

Suddenly, my attention was drawn to the work calendar that hung at the door. It had Charlie’s familiar handwriting scrawled on it.

MC: Is this…

The door to the dressing room opens with a thud as Charlie appears by the window, now casually dressed.

I ended up blurting out the question that was festering in my heart.

MC: Charlie, were you… working overtime overnight yesterday?

MC: Just so that you could make time for me on Saturday?

I looked at Charlie, attempting to gauge the answer from his eyes. That was when I realized that his eyes were bloodshot.

Charlie freezes for a moment. Something clicked inside his brain as he realized that he’d unwittingly overlooked a small detail. His high spirits immediately dampened.

Charlie: Do you have to say it out loud for the entire world to hear? How unromantic.

His honesty confirmed the disbelief I’d felt upon the revelation. It finally made sense now.

Charlie: No need to feel overly moved by this. An eligible fiancée should always be prepared to make some sacrifices in the name of love.

Charlie: Of course, I have to be willing to make said sacrifice as well.

He faced me with utter confidence. The sincere look in his eyes made me think that maybe this was only right.

Looking at the childish chicken scratch on the calendar, I can’t help but suspect that this might just be how he is when he was actually being serious for a change.

Charlie: Stop standing around. Let's go.

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Charlie led me out of the hospital. The engine of the flashy golden sports car roared as it brought us to my place.

I took my keys out and moved to open the door.

Suddenly, I recalled that it had been a long time since I last cleaned my room. I feel like I should say something about it first…

MC: I’ll warn you beforehand. My room is a little messy, so I’m sorry if it offends you, your highness.

MC: Express your distaste, and today’s session will end here.

Charlie: That's all?

MC: ...That's all.

Charlie: And here I thought that you were going to say something like, “Close your eyes, I’m going to blindfold you.”

Charlie: Or, maybe ask me for the right password before granting me entry.

Charlie: What’s wrong with a messy room?

He laughs, leaning down to place his hand upon mine, which was gripping tightly onto the doorknob. He gave it a small push. My hand moved along with the doorknob under the pressure he exerted, and the door creaked open.

Charlie: I can always help you move into our new apartment if you want a bigger room to place your things in.

Charlie went around me and walked straight in.

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The lights weren’t on yet, but I could hear his voice in the dim room.

Charlie: Where's the mess?

Charlie: It’s pretty good; enough to house another person.

The embarrassment that had yet to completely set in was soon washed away by his teasing words. Relieved, I left the bag of snacks by the door and ran into the room.

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Charlie was seated on the loveseat, his hands casually resting against the back of it.

MC: Your arms are stretched so far out. Made yourself at home, I see.

I patted the hand that he’d stretched out to lean against the sofa with a smile.

MC: I think distance makes the heart fonder between us.

Unfazed, he withdrew his hand without a word.

Charlie: And this is how you treat the evaluator you specially invited?

MC: Yeah.

Charlie: Can't you be a little more professional?

MC: Of course I can. But, I’ll also have to ask this evaluator here to kindly up his professionalism as well.

MC: Don’t get any funny ideas from your own fantasies during the movie.

Charlie knowingly retracted his “I own the world” sitting posture and moved further out.

Charlie: I can obviously do that.

Charlie: But, what if the person picking out the movie has their own selfish motives and chooses to watch some romance flick?

MC: No need to worry about that. We’re watching this today.

I sat down and turned the projector on. A shockingly red movie poster flickered onto the screen. Charlie's smile immediately froze in place.

Charlie: What… What is this?

MC: "Massacre of the Spirit". This is what we're going to be watching today.

Charlie: Massacre of… the Spirit? A horror film?

Charlie: Seriously, (Y/n)?

MC: Absolutely. My hard disk died not too long ago, so this horror movie is the only thing left in my cloud storage.

Charlie didn't reply, only mutedly leaning back against the loveseat.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he looked a little… nervous.

MC: Charlie? Are you scared of watching it?

Charlie: ...How absurd.

Charlie: The word "scared" doesn't exist in my dictionary.

Charlie: Don't go clinging to me in fright when the time comes.

With that, he casually pulls the blanket over our laps as if it was the most natural thing to do.

I peered up at him, but he cut me off before I even had the chance to thank him.

Charlie: No need to thank me.

Charlie: I can most definitely lend you this warm chest of mine if you get so frightened that you get the chills.

MC: Heh, there's no need for that.

MC: But, thank you for the blanket.

However, just as I was about to hit the play button, Charlie held my hand down.

Charlie: Wait, wait!

He reached over my lap and quickly smoothed over all the wrinkles on the blanket. He was very swift, almost as if he was handling white mice.

Charlie: Okay. You can start now.

Why's this man acting so strange today?

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I lowered the blackout curtains and the room darkened.

The screen before us flickered twice as screams and the sound of something tearing reverberated through the room.

The movie showed an autopsy room that was lit up as bright as the day with a withered human chained to the operating table. And hidden within the darkness, was a deathly sharp bayonet that was fatally poised.

It was then that Charlie brought something up. His low voice cut through the movie's colourful sound effects and entered my ears.

Charlie: Are you not afraid to see scenes like this?

Charlie looked at me, awaiting my reply…

How should I reply to him…?

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✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 + 3 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 4 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 5 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★ 

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Paradox⊹ —————★❖

[cilldaracailin]

These Are The Days Of Our Lives

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys,

Happy Tuesday!

Here is the next part of this story for everyone and I am giving you some you tube links for some of the songs Robyn loves at the concert, if anyone is interested. 

Ludovico Einaudi

Le Onde

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vg-0DFNTBm0

I Giorni      

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uffjii1hXzU

Nuvole Bianche

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyY4IZ3JDFE

Just wanted to add some music to this add because for me, for some chapters in the story, music helps me write and for this one, these songs helped a lot.

Hope you all enjoy!

Suze xxx

7

“But they say if you dream a thing more than once, it's sure to come true.”

Taron turned his head to follow her as she left the box and then sank into his chair. Every instinct inside him told him to follow her, to not let go her go alone but their evening was so very different to the last one they had together and with his privacy a bit more in secret at the Royal Albert Hall compared to his own movie premier, he knew Robyn would be fine, mingling in the with crowd. He pulled his phone from his pocket, wanting to give his mam a quick text and as he was typing up a quick few words, his phone vibrated in his hands as a message came through. His face turned to a smile when he saw a text from Robyn, a picture in their WhatsApp conversation.

“No line, here is the cubicle door. All locked.”

His worries lifted as did his lips and he was still typing in his reply when another picture came through.

“All done, just topping up the lippy.”

The photo of her reflection in the mirror, pouting his way made him chuckle and he finished his reply, sending it onto her. He finally sent the quick text to him mam, a second to Richard and then got to his feet, making his way to the table where the waiter greeted him with a smile.

“Two glasses of champagne please.”

“Of course sir.”

With pristine, well-rehearsed and steady movements, the waiter popped a bottle of champagne and poured two crystal clear glasses with the bubbly alcohol and handed them to Taron.

“Thank you.” He said as he took them and made his way back to his seats and just as he sat down, he felt that calming hand on his shoulder and Robyn slipped in past him.

“See? Safe and sound.”

“For you.” Taron handed her the glass. “And thanks for the bathroom commentary.”

“You are welcome. Thought you would like it.”

“Might have to borrow that shade of lipstick from you.” He took a sip from his glass.

“Anytime you want.” She replied after taking a little drink from her own glass. As Robyn took another sip her eyes looked up the ceiling and slowly she brought her glass back down to her lap, while her gaze continued to stare above her. Round white discs decorated the ceiling, hanging down in no particular neat order but making a statement all the same, a light red hue glowing behind them.

“They are sound discs. Helps the even distribution of sound throughout the whole theatre so no matter where you are sitting you have the most perfect audio. Any type of event. A concert, movie or theatrical performance, every seat has the same experience of sound.” Taron explained.

“Pretty cool.”

“Yep.” Taron drained the last of his drink. “I am going to get some water. Would you like anything?”

“Water would be great.” Robyn drank down her champagne in one go and handed him the glass after he had gotten to his feet.

While Taron went to get them something else to drink, Robyn took her phone from her bag and wasn’t surprised to see a text from Claire. Opening the message, she rolled her eyes and quickly replied with a vague answer, knowing her friend was going to hate the reply. Taron came back to his seat as Claire replied with a swear word and angry emoji and Robyn chuckled to herself as she felt Taron settle beside her.

“Claire?” He asked, so glad to see her face in genuine smile, handing over a cold bottle of water to her. Taron was happy to stop after one alcoholic drink knowing he had to go back to a demanding script on Monday and a lingering hangover from drinking too much bubbly would not help his already overwhelming pressure on set.

“Yup. Giving her as little information as possible.” Robyn took her water from him and placed it on the floor beside her bag.

“You are terrible.” Taron opened his bottle of water and took a long drink. “How are her and Nick getting on?” He asked as he screwed the lid back on the top.

“Like a house on fire. Claire has been asking for your number to thank you for talking to him, helping Nick to make the first move.”

“I do believe it was your little dare that helped him make the first move.”

Robyn chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“They wouldn’t have kissed if you hadn’t of kissed me.” He said, his voice a little quiet. “Get your forfeit from her yet?”

Hearing his quick change of subject from their kiss, Robyn followed his lead. “Nope not yet. I am still trying to come up with a good one. I fully intend to make it a good one.”

“Can I be around when you do?”

“I am sure that can definitely be arranged.” Robyn agreed. “Maybe you can help me think of something.” She could see his right arm resting on the arm rest between them and lay her left arm around his, linking their fingers, his hand warm and comforting in hers. “Thank you for not getting mad at me for breaking my promise of asking you for help.” She whispered very quietly to him, her voice cracking a little. “I am trying to be better.”

Feeling his heart ache, a shiver run through him, Taron squeezed her hand. “You have nothing to thank me for. It’s what I told you I would do for you and as I have said before, I don’t want you to change.” He leaned his head closer to her so their temples touched. “Just lean on me a bit more.” He moved to kiss her temple and after a second kiss gave her hand another squeeze. “Now no more sadness, I know you are beyond excited for this concert and I want you to enjoy every bit of it.”

“You will enjoy it too?” Robyn asked him. “Not going to fall asleep on me?” She felt so much lighter after Taron was so gentle with her, his words kind.

“I do enjoy all genres of music Robyn and I am looking forward to the concert as much as you are.” He smiled as she turned her head to look at him. “Though I am looking forward to watching you watching him but I have a feeling I am going to be ignored for the next two hours.”

Robyn fully grinned. “And I will apologise now for zoning out on you or trying to get over the balcony, maybe playing out the melodies on the arm rest.” She took her hand from his and tapped her fingers lightly across the back of hand as an example. “I owe you one long cuddle and deep head massage after all of this.”

Taron shook his head. “Not at all. This your birthday present.” His head turned a little as he heard voices behind him, more guests of their shared box making their way to their seats. “But maybe we can share a cuddle later?”

Robyn nodded. “Deal.” She slipped her hand back into his.

“You want my jacket?” He asked her over the hum of the few people moving to sit behind them. “As usual you are a little cold.”

“I have my shawl, thank you.”

He watched as Robyn swung her shawl over her shoulders, pulling it around herself. “Are you always cold?” He asked. “I am genuinely interested.”

“My hands are normally cold but lately I just seem to have an all over chill at times.”

“You are not getting sick are you?”

Robyn shook her head. “Nope.”

“Sitting with your aircon on full blast?”

“Nope. Hands normally cold, rest of me not so much. I was roasting last night.”

“You wore the pyjamas meant for winter. It was a given that you were going to roast.”

“True. You don’t have to be worried Taron. I am in perfect health; I have always had cold hands. A little tired but who isn’t.” She tapped his nose. “Turn that frown upside down.”

Taron couldn’t help but smile at the return of her playful mood. “I call for a lie in tomorrow.”

Robyn nodded. “I am very much in favour of that idea.”

“You are looking after yourself, right?” He asked seeing the lights of the dome starting to dim.

“Are you?” She returned quickly.

“Yes.” He saw her quick turn of her head towards him. “I will go to Matthew to talk to him on Monday.”

“I will call you if a bad dream wakes me.”

With a silent nod as the remainder of the house lights went down, Robyn’s head turned towards the stage and immediately leaned forward as Ludovico Einaudi walked on stage, dressed impeccably in a black suit and white shirt. She got to her feet along with everyone else, clapping loudly, the composer taking a bow twice before he took a seat at the piano. Robyn sat on the edge of her red seat, waiting with baited breath for his hands to touch the keys, to hear the first sound of a note and as simple broken chord was played, her eyes closed and her whole body relaxed to the sound of the music.

Taron watched fascinated as Robyn’s shawl fell from her shoulders as she leaned closer to the balcony her eyes closed, her whole body taken in by the music after only a few notes. He knew he had his favourite artists but for Robyn it was as if she was completely lost in the music within seconds and he smiled as she moved even closer to the balcony so she could fold her arms over the red felted barrier and leaned her chin on her hands, completely captivated by the piano sounds. A part of him could feel her pull away from him but he inwardly scolded himself for suddenly feeling jealous of a man playing piano. Taron had seen her Spotify playlist, scrolled through her music on her phone and knew it was more than just music to her. It was an escape from a reality she had a hard time dealing with and seeing the way she became so engrossed in the music as she played it, understood the importance of something as simple as the piano music he could hear. Instead, he leaned forward to place a hand on her back, letting her knew he was there and she turned her head to give him a smile before taking up her previous position of leaning on the barrier mesmerised by the composer on stage.

As the soothing sounds of Le Onde played through the theatre, Robyn’s face broke into a smile, her right hand automatically playing the notes on the balcony in time with the ones she heard. One of her favourites and first composition of his she had learnt to play, it was beautiful and stunning live. Her view was terrific and only as the man sat at the piano could see really appreciate the expensive box she sat in. The piano was positioned more sideways than she had first thought and Robyn could not only see the keys but also his hands as he played and she was fascinated by the smoothness and faultlessness of his playing, not one mistake or hesitation to be heard. She knew she had moved away from Taron but she couldn’t help herself and needed to get as close as she could, to fully watch and take in the beautiful music and playing in front of her.

Clapping hard, along with the rest of the audience, after a fourth solo piece, the orchestra walked on stage and took their places with her instruments and they accompanied the piano for a number of wonderfully composed pieces, Robyn finding herself moving her right hand as if she was conducting them, playing air piano, just out of habit as it would be her norm when listening to the music on her couch. Even though she was enjoying every moment, after half an hour of sitting as she was, she could feel a twinge in her lower back and had to move into her seat, feeling the nudge from Taron as she got comfortable in her chair and realised that the view from sitting in her seat was just as spectacular as leaning forward. She nudged him back and settled beside him, their arms side by side on the arm rest.

Robyn sat in her chair perfectly still, except for her hands tapping out notes along to the beat and Taron chuckled as she almost launched herself at the barrier again nearly an hour later as what he presumed was another of Robyn’s favourite songs was played and she was using the top of the balcony once more as an invisible piano, playing along, her eyes closed at one point for a long time, her whole body lost in the music. As the tune filtered to his ears, he recognised it as one Robyn had played a little bit of for him but judging by her hand movements, she had learnt how to play the whole song and getting caught up in her love for the music being played and her beautiful joy, leaned forward to join her, slipping his left arm around her waist.

Robyn felt the warmth on her right side and knew it was Taron but she was so caught up in the music, she didn’t really acknowledge him not wanting to miss a note or moment of bliss from the stage. Watching the Italian composer play live was such a different experience to watching videos on the internet and it was such an incredible feeling getting to see him play the pieces she loved to play and practiced constantly to learn.

As the music changed and he ran into his next solo piece, she took a long breathe as her most loved piece filtered to her ear and she felt Taron move a little closer to her. Closing her eyes, she was only aware of the music all around her, her hands copying every note perfectly in time with that played live in front of her and not even realising it, Taron had moved his right arm closer to her and she was taping notes out on his arm and even less so the two tears that trailed down her cheeks as she became entranced by the music. It had taken her weeks to learn this song, hours of sitting and playing but it was the most wonderful distraction from the mess her life had become and helped to heal a shattered heart as she concentrated on loving something other than a piece of shit of a man.

Taron knew he should have been concentrating on the actual composer but he was so taken aback by how quick Robyn’s fingers played out the beat of the notes on his arm, by how she hit each note perfectly and as he looked to her face, became concerned with how emotional she had become, how tears were on her cheeks, her eyes still closed, her focus once again on the music and he was yet again seeing a new side to her, that vulnerability she was slowly letting him see coming through. As the song slowed down and the crowd erupted, jumping to their feet in applause for the set of solo songs, he kept his arm around Robyn’s waist and hugged her sideways as they stood, watching as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. He dropped his hand from her waist and bent down to pick up her bag and routing through found a pack of tissues and pulled one out handing it to her.

“Thanks.”

“Means a lot to you.”

“So much.” Robyn dried her cheeks. “Got me through some shit times.”

Taking her hand, Taron sat back in his seat, Robyn back in hers and he wrapped his left arm around her shoulders, not caring who was behind them and as Robyn lightly leaned against him, he was very happy to give her a little comfort as the orchestra picked up again and a more lively song played.

Robyn kept the tissue in her left hand, worried she was going to get overly emotional again and let Taron keep her right hand in his, both on his lap as they sat close together for the last twenty minutes of the concert. If she could have clapped harder, she would have and on their feet at the end, the standing ovation lasted a long time and Robyn stood and watched every musician leave the stage, a little bit of hope inside that there would be an encore but as the house lights came back on, her heart dropped a little but she was smiling and unbelievably happy.

Turning to Taron who had sat back down in his seat she sighed. “Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome.” He watched as Robyn sat back in her seat, another happy sigh filling her whole body. “Better than a Welshman with a Care Bear?” He asked her.

“Better than a Care Bear.” She answered. “Nowhere near as special as a Welshman.” She said firmly. “Thanks for the tissue.”

“No worries. You ok?”

Robyn nodded. “Sometimes it gets to me. He is my go-to calm down music so it brings up some memories.”

“I get that chicken. Happens to me when I listen to Bowie sometimes.”

“Remember when we said how Tiny Dancer has nice memories for us? And doesn’t remind us so much now of when you were in the ambulance?” She saw Taron give her a little nod. “I will listen to Ludovico Einaudi and play his music and remember this night. It only has good memories now.”

Taron stood up and reached for her hands and once she took them, helped her to her feet and drew her close to him for a hug, knowing she needed one and him too because once again he was getting a glimpse into a past he did not like and needed a distraction and hugging Robyn always distracted him.

She didn’t even hesitate to snuggle into him, her face resting on his shoulder as his dipped into her neck and as she brought her right hand to the tight hair at the back of his neck, she felt his smile on her skin and laughed as he lifted her off her feet for a moment before setting her back down. “You are setting the bar very high for the presents Taron.”

“And baking too.” He added, laughing hard as she lightly slapped the back of his head.

Robyn happily would have hugged him all night and the next day too, breathing in his familiar scent, just holding him and being held back in a loving embrace. Whatever damage Keith had done to her heart was mended in the last few seconds of that hug and as Taron kissed her cheek when he let her go, Robyn didn’t see Taron standing in front of her any more but a man who she knew she could turn to for anything no matter how small and if she did happen to call him in the middle of the night because of a bad dream, knew he would happily take the call without question.

“Robyn?” He asked watching as she stared at him, his eyes opening as she moved her face a little closer to his and placed the lightest of kisses to the side of his lips, moving to kiss his forehead in that loving way she always did.

“Thank you for everything you have done for me today.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He winked.

“Oh dear, what else do you have planned?”

“Well, nothing but you never know what could happen.” He looked to the exit of the box and saw the stewards waiting patiently for them to leave. “Want to take a trip to gift shop on the way out?”

“Best birthday ever!” Robyn exclaimed, picking her shawl up from her chair. She had been so caught up in the concert, she couldn’t even remember when it fell from her shoulders.

“Let me.” Taron took the blue shawl and carefully wrapped it around her. “Don’t need you getting cold.”

Once Robyn had her bag, they walked out of their box, thanking the staff and Taron guided her back to the lifts and to the gift shop which was a little busy but he stood close by her side paying for the programme she picked up. He had called Anthony as Robyn browsed the items for sale in the shop and when they reached the place where the black car had dropped them off, Anthony was there waiting for them.

“Good evening Robyn, Taron. Have a nice night?”

“It was wonderful.” Robyn said, smiling as the driver used her name.

“Yeah Anthony. We had a great time.”

Taron didn’t even get a chance to make the first move to get Robyn to nestle into his side because before the car even moved, she had lifted his left arm over her shoulder and cuddled into him, her left leg crossing over her right, her left arm draped lazily over his stomach. His eyes closed a soft smile on his lips as she initiated the cuddle and he gave her left shoulder a light rub, feeling a long breath fill her body, so similar to the one had taken too. They didn’t talk to each other and once again it was Anthony interrupting the comfortable silence in the car to let them know they are at Taron’s apartment.

Robyn had her shawl pulled tight around her as she walked alongside Taron to his door, stepping into his dark home as he let her in first. She used the light of the door to find her way to the couch and sat down on the soft material, blinking a little as bright light flooded the apartment when Taron turned on the lights. She watched him empty his pockets, putting his phone, wallet and the programme onto his coffee table and dropped onto the couch right beside her.

“You lost your words?” He asked.

“A little.” She answered him.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Not at the moment. You have done so much already.”

“Always willing to do more.”

“As well as stealing my words.” She joked, leaning her head onto his shoulder.

“Want your care bear horse?” He asked.

“Nope.”

“Want some cake?”

“No thanks.”

“Want to change into your pj’s?”

“Nope. Wearing the fancy dress for as long as possible.”

Taron smiled. “Want a cuddle?”

“If there is one going.”

“Always.”

Robyn kicked her heels off and curled up onto her right side, leaning into Taron’s left, her knees resting on his legs, her head under his chin. She re-thought her position for a second and sat up before Taron could even get his arms around her and carefully took the hair comb from her hair and stretched forward to place it on the coffee table, moving back to Taron, tucking her body into his.

“Just in case.” She said into his shirt. “Thank you Taron.” She prayed he felt the squeeze she gave his side, the light kiss to his chest, hoping he properly understood how much the whole day never mind the evening meant to her.

Taron didn’t answer her but held her close, letting her snuggle right into him, very much enjoying the affection he could feel from her. He had never known her to be so quiet, always having something to say or needing to make sure he was ok but the tables had very much turned and he found himself perhaps for the very first time, because even when Robyn was having an off day, he was still her main priority, willingly letting him take care of her properly for once, letting him in, being a girl for want of a better word. There was no doubt in his mind that his wonderfully strong willed and stubborn Robyn was still there but as he placed a very light kiss on her hair, he very much liked the other side she was showing him, giving him the perfect opportunity to build her trust and be the man she deserved to have in her life.

Robyn lay with her eyes closed in a haze of happiness and love, adoring the beat of his heart under her ear and his stomach moving under her hand every time he breathed and it was always something that calmed her, knowing he was alive and well. She burrowed a little further down his chest and could feel sleep calling her.

“You plan on sleeping here all evening.” Taron whispered to her, feeling her body move a little after being so still against his.

Robyn laughed a little. “Maybe.”

“Would you not prefer a soft comfy bed?”

“You are soft and comfy.” Robyn answered, her eyes opening at she realised the words she had said to him.

Naturally Taron’s heart jumped as her response but he tried to hide it with a laugh. “And sleep in your dress?”

“It’s comfortable.”

“So, it seems.” Taron mused.

“What do you mean.”

“Robyn you’ve been asleep for the near part of the last two hours.”

His words made her sit up fast, surprise written all over her face. She reached for his left arm and her eyes opened when she read the hands on his watch. “Jesus Taron. Sorry! I didn’t even realise I had fallen asleep.”

He only smiled at her. “It’s ok. You seem to need the sleep. You did say you were a little tired earlier.”

“A little tired. Not in the need for a nap again tired.”

“Guess I was too comfy and warm.” He teased “You sure you are feeling ok? You are cold and tired, normally the sign of a cold and being the expert on hiding a cold, I should know.”

“I am normally cold and I guess just too much excitement today. I am sorry I fell asleep on you again.”

“Don’t be sorry. I did it to you last night.”

Robyn looked down as she heard Taron’s stomach rumble, a smile on her face. “I really do believe that you have not eaten all week and it is catching up on you now.” A look of guilt filled Taron’s features and Robyn didn’t miss it. “I know it is quite late but shall we get you something to eat?”

“Well, I had planned on having our little cakes but someone gave them away.”

“You have a large cake in your fridge but surely something more than cake would be better.”

“Chicken it’s after midnight.”

“Has the time ever stopped you eating before?”

“I doubt there is anything in my fridge that can make a meal.”

“Well let’s go and see.” Robyn went to get up from the couch but stopped and sat back down beside him and gave him a firm hug. “I don’t have the proper words to explain to you what today has meant to me and thank you just doesn’t cover it all but thank you.” She took her arms from around him and stood up from the couch, walking into the kitchen. “You want to help me?”

Taron nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat before he got up, praying for his racing heart to slow down, his hands to stop shaking. Just like that his protective Robyn was back and he wished she could just stop for more than two hours and let someone else really take care of her but he would take those two hours over nothing at all and he got to his feet, taking his jacket off as he walked to join her in the kitchen. He threw his jacket back onto the couch and stood beside her as she stared into his fridge.

“So, we got some peppers, mushrooms and milk that has been out of date for five days.”

“And birthday cake.”

“And birthday cake, two slices of left-over pizza and some tomatoes that probably have seen better days but are useable. You are really not eating at home are you.”

“My days are long and there is catering on set. I get home around eleven every night and crash on either the couch or my bed.”

“Breakfast?” Robyn asked him.

“Coffee.” He could feel the disapproving looks rolling his way as she closed the fridge. “I eat, I do.”

“You got any pasta?”

“Somewhere.”  He moved past her and routed through his presses, finally pulling out an unopened packet of penne pasta. “What you thinking?”

“I know it is late but you feel like some pasta bake? Can be put together and made in about half an hour.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Taron followed Robyn’s directions as she asked for different kitchen utensils and as she got the pasta boiling, he was chopping up the peppers. He moved to the mushrooms and Robyn found some garlic and an onion as she looked for a baking dish for their dinner. She chuckled at him as he squinted while cutting the onion, the fumes from the vegetable immediately making him cry.

“Taron no!” Robyn called but her warning was too late and he already rubbed his eyes with his hands and she saw his flinch as his eyes stung more.

“Oh, ow fuck. Ow ow shit!” Taron dug the heel of his hands into his eyes as they reacted to the raw onion on his hands.

Robyn rushed to wet a clean tea towel and ring it out, moving back to Taron. “Here.” She took his hands away, using a little force as he protested. “Let me help you.” She placed her left hand on his right cheek and very lightly rubbed the wet towel over his closed eyes, hearing him groan. “It will take a few wipes.” She swiped his eyes again. “I am going to wet the towel again. Don’t touch your eyes.” Making a second trip to the sink, Robyn quickly wet the tea towel and didn’t ring it out as tight so it still held some water. She moved back to Taron who stood very patiently, his whole face a little pained with his eyes still closed. She used a little bit more pressure this time when cleaning out his eyes, but still being careful. “Ok open for me.” There was some hesitation in his movements and very slowly he opened his eyes, blinking a lot as he tested to see if they still hurt. “Any better?” She asked him.

“Much.” He blinked hard again and felt Robyn take his hands when he went to rub his eyes.

“Let’s not do that again.” His lower lash line was red and she could see he was still feeling a little the irritation from the onions he was cutting. “You have sensitive eyes.” Robyn said still holding the tea towel in her hands in case he needed it.

“Apparently so.”

“Me too.”

“Is that why you asked me to cut the onion?” He took the tea towel from her and wiped both his eyes again, the coldness from the cloth really helping to ease the tingle. “So you wouldn’t cry and do this?”

“Not at all. Just needed some help to cut the vegetables. I didn’t think you were going to rub your eyes with your hands like that. I will finish the onion if you would like.”

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all but let me see you before I give you a different job. I need to make sure you can see properly in case you cut yourself.” Placing her two hands on his cheeks, she ran her thumbs under his eyes. “You will live but I will get you to grate some cheese for me instead and I will finish the onion. Give your hands a really good wash first though.”

“I will.” Feeling a little stupid at what he did, Taron made sure to wash his hands thoroughly twice with soap and the moved the grate the cheese Robyn had set out for him. His eyes were still a little tender but he finished the cheese easily. “What next?”

“Frying pan with a little bit of oil.”

Taron got the heat on his hob going and added the garlic and chopped onion when Robyn gave it to him, giving the start of their base for the sauce a stir. Once it was soft, he took the vegetables from Robyn and added them to the pan and kept an eye on them as behind him Robyn chopped up the tomatoes and then using a potato masher she found, squished them down into a chunky sauce.

“Veg is done.” Taron told her as he gave the nicely browned vegetables in his pan another stir.

“Perfect.” She brought her tomato sauce over and poured it into his pan. “Keep stirring.”

“Yes chef!” Taron called with a light chuckle as he mixed everything together. “I miss this.”

“Miss what?” Robyn asked as she shook in some salt and pepper to the frying pan.

“This. Cooking with you.”

Robyn grinned. “Cooking with me or getting a fresh home cooked meal?”

“Both.” He replied as she threw in a pinch of some herbs, Taron not even knowing he had herbs in his kitchen. “I liked getting to do this in your home every night. It is not something I get to do when I am working so it’s nice to get the chance too.”

“Well, when you have catering and are working, I can understand why you wouldn’t.” Robyn checked the pasta. “But it is nice to cook something yourself.” She lifted the saucepan from the hob and moved to the sink, using the lid the drain the water from the pasta. “A home cooked meal is always enjoyable.”

“Yep. This is bubbling.”

“That’s ok. You can turn the heat off and come over to me with the pan.” Robyn now stood at the island with the drained saucepan of pasta. “Just pour it in here unless you want a smooth sauce. We will have to blitz it.”

“Nope I am ok with the chunks of vegetables.”  He carefully spooned the sauce into the pasta and as he put the frying pan into the sink, Robyn mixed their pasta bake together. He came to stand next to Robyn and then had a second thought and walked to the coffee table to get his phone, turning his camera on as he walked back to his island. “Smile.” Robyn looked to him and smiled after he had taken his first photo.

“What are you doing?”

“I never got the photos last time of us making sandwiches in the fancy fancy clothes. I am not making that mistake again.”

Robyn grinned as she looked to her dress. “It is what we do in your London home now isn’t it.”

“Seems to be.”

Robyn transferred the pasta and sauce into the pyrex baking dish. “You want to sprinkle the cheese on top?”

“Please.” Taron added more cheese then was probably necessary to the top of the pasta. “Oven?” He asked once done.

“Yep.” Robyn opened the oven for him and he carefully placed the dish on the middle shelf and closed the oven door. “And in fifteen minutes or so we shall have some pasta bake.”

“That gives me enough time to change.” Taron said. “And if you want to take the dress off, you can too though I know you are becoming partial to a fancy dress.”

“I think it might be nice to put something slightly more comfortable on.” She ran her hands down the side of her dress. “And you know, in case I use you a pillow again, may as well be appropriately dressed for that.”

Taron nodded and they walked to the bedroom, pulling his shirt from his trousers and opening the buttons as he walked. “Fifteen minutes enough time for you?” He asked as he sat on the bed to take his shoes off.

“Loads. Won’t take me long.” Robyn took her toiletry bag from her case and some clothes to change into. “I will take the bathroom.”

Robyn closed the bathroom door behind her, dropping all of her belongings on the ground. She looked in the mirror and once again was taken back by the woman who stared back at her. A flush on her cheeks, a glint in her eye and with her whole posture straight and tall, Robyn smiled to herself. It had been a long time since she felt so comfortable in a man’s presence and the fact that twice in the last twelve hours, she had fallen asleep in Taron’s arms, just said so much to her. Not to mention that her emotional reaction in the theatre hadn’t made him run away either. She sighed and knew she had passed that point of no return where she would do anything for Taron and although that had been her way since she had met him, now it was because she loved him and loved him dearly. She quickly took off her make-up and unpinned her hair, tying it up out of the way, slipping into a pair of black running shorts and blue long-sleeved t-shirt, a sports bra on underneath. She left her toiletry bag in the bathroom, knowing she would need it in the morning and carried her dress out, giving the bedroom door a knock before she walked in.

“Come on in Robyn. You don’t have to knock.”

“Just in case you are in your nudey nudes.” Robyn chuckled as she walked into his room, Taron in his own pair of shorts and a t-shirt, hanging his suit back up in his wardrobe.

“No such luck chicken.”

Robyn laughed a little and put her dress on his bed, taking her garment bag from her case so she could keep her dress neat and tidy by placing it inside it. Once zipped up, she placed it laying across her case, Taron coming to stand beside her.

“Something smells cooked in the kitchen.”

“Probably our very late-night dinner. We should have stuck with the cake and some tea.”

“Really?” Taron asked as they walked back to the kitchen.

“Yep. It is so late. You are not going to sleep.”

“Robyn, do you even know me at all? Sleeping is my favourite thing to do and sleeping on a full stomach? My second favourite thing to do.” He stopped in front of the oven and carefully opened the door. “And that is done.” The cheese was a golden yellow colour and bubbling in the heat of the oven. “And looks delicious.”

Robyn watched Taron lifted the hot dish of dinner from the oven and placed it carefully on a heat resistant coaster so it wouldn’t burn his countertop. She grabbed two plates and put them in the oven before he closed the door and then turned the oven off. “The heat will warm up the plates for us so the pasta doesn’t go on a cold plate.”

Less than a minute later, Robyn took the hot plates out and Taron happily dished their home cooked meal out, Robyn stopping him from filling her plate too much.

“This smells amazing.” He said as he took a seat on a stool at his island. “Thanks for cooking this.”

“We did it together.” As Taron tucked into his food, Robyn filled two glasses of water for them, placing one in front of him. “Thank you. So good.” He said through a mouth of food.

Robyn smiled and sat beside him, picking up her own fork and tasting their pasta bake, agreeing with his comments. Their last meal, if you could call it a meal, was their afternoon tea which was over ten hours ago and the tasty pasta was filling and perfect even if they were eating dinner near one in the morning. Taron went for another scoop while Robyn filled her glass with some more water. She sat back on her stool, smiling as Taron polished off all of the food on his plate.

“I have a question.” He said to her as he picked up his glass of water.

“Shoot.”

“You admit to being cold but yet insist on wearing shorts to sleep in.”

Robyn smiled into her glass. “Well because you insist that we have to share a bed and we both know you just ooze heat from your core, I have to comprise by wearing shorts.”

“You don’t wear them at home?”

Robyn shook her head. “Pyjama bottoms.”

“So, the shorts are just for me?” He grinned, laughing when Robyn rolled her eyes and slapped his arm lightly. “Anything to be cosy right?”

“Yep.” She said through a yawn. “Oh sorry. No idea where that came from.”

“It has been a busy day.”

“It’s been a most perfect day.” She corrected.

“Let’s tidy this up and hit the hay. We can turn a movie on. You can choose.”

Robyn smiled at him. “Any movie?”

Taron went to speak but stopped realising what he had agreed too. He sighed. “Your choice.” He waited for her to pick one of his movies, waiting for her to say Rocketman but she surprised him when she told him he could choose. “Wait what?”

“I will watch anything and you know that.”

“Except anything scary.”

“Except anything scary.” She agreed. “Going by my sleep pattern today, I will probably be asleep before you, so you can pick.”

They tidied up the kitchen, putting their used plates in the dishwasher and once they had wiped the counters and sink and put the left-over pasta in the fridge too, Taron turned off all the lights and followed Robyn towards the bedroom.

“Give me two minutes.” She had stopped at the bathroom.

“Sure.”

After she used the toilet and brushed her teeth, she turned off the light and walked into the bedroom. Taron was still in his bathroom but she climbed up onto his bed, taking her side and slipping her legs under his duvet, shuffled down and laid her head back on the pillow. Her eyes automatically closed and she felt another yawn coming through, her hands covering her mouth as she stretched happily. She settled comfortably on his soft bed but her eyes opened when she remembered that she left her phone in her clutch bag on his couch. She kicked her legs to get the duvet off so she could get up to go and get it.

“What did my duvet do to you?” Taron asked as he wandered out of his bathroom.

“I left my phone on the couch. I was going to get it.”

“You stay there. I will get it. Mine is in the kitchen too.”

It took Taron less than a minute to grab their phones and he closed his bedroom door when he came back into his room. He handed Robyn her phone and crawled over the bottom of the bed to get to his side but crawled back when he remembered he hadn’t turned off the main light. They were plunged into darkness for about five seconds as Taron made his way across the bed again and was able to turn his bedside light. He slid his legs under his duvet too and laid back against his pillows. Picking up the TV remote, he turned his flatscreen on and went straight to Netflix, doing a quick scroll before settling on a random adventure type movie. Although Robyn said she would probably fall asleep pretty quickly, now that he was cosy in his bed, he felt the same and wasn’t too concerned with the movie he chose. He turned to lay on his left side, his arm under his head, looking to Robyn who was on her back, her hands on her stomach, fingers linked together. She was never one to sleep on her back and her still position made him smile a little.

“So that’s the end of the birthday cuddles then?” He chuckled, her head turning so she could look at him.

“I am just wating for you.”

“Sure.” Taron moved over to her a little and turned over onto his back, so their shoulders were touching. “I think you are just tired.”

“Happily so.” She assured him. “Best birthday ever.” Robyn turned onto her right side, slipping down the pillow so her chin was on his shoulder.

“Now you are ready for a cuddle.” Taron lifted his arm and Robyn moved so her cheek rested fully on his shoulder, her left hand moving to rest over his heart.

“Thanks Taron.”

“Anytime Robyn.”

Taron pulled the duvet up so it covered Robyn to her chin and reaching for the TV remote, he turned off the movie playing in the background and then his bed side light. He had no interest in it and happily closed his eyes enjoying the warmth from Robyn and the way as always, she just fitted right into him. He cherished these moments with her and before, where it was a need that pushed them together in the same bed and possibly convenience, now it was his own selfish need that almost pinned for her feminine curves against his side. Robyn was asleep within minutes of snuggling into him and his mind worried for a moment at her tiredness but with the excitement of the day and the emotional journey she went on, he just figured she was a little jaded. Telling his mind to shut up, to go to sleep, Taron turned his face so his nose was buried into Robyn’s hair and moved to place his right hand over her left which was still placed over his heart.

[reyesstrand]

96 and 100 for Tarlos!! 😘

thank you for your prompt!! 💗 this one turned out to be very fluffy so like...yeah! 

feel free to send me a number from this list if you’d like. also available on ao3! 

TK realizes that being in love — like, make-your-heart-sing  love — makes his long shifts sometimes unbearable. He loves what he does, and for the most part he can keep focused on the tasks at hand without letting his mind drift to what he could be doing instead of finishing reports or scrubbing down the rig. But when these twenty-four hour blocks start to bleed together, feeling like one long stretch of time on the job, he finds that he’s often counting down the minutes until the next team takes over. Tonight’s one of those nights, and he’s exhausted enough to realize that having the next forty-eight hours off is just what he’ll need to recharge. It definitely helps that even though Carlos works tomorrow, he’ll at least get to spend the night with him. 

He sees the tiredness hanging over the rest of the team, too — there have been some crazy calls over the last few hours, and all their muscles are aching and they’re desperate to sleep off all that they’ve witnessed. After he grabs his bag from his locker, TK takes the stairs two at a time to check in on his dad. 

Rapping his knuckles on the doorframe, TK pokes his head into his dad’s office, where Owen's focused on the laptop screen in front of him. “Hey, I’m heading out.” 

He pauses for a second, remembering the coughing fit his dad went into at the scene of the last kitchen fire they responded to. 

Quietly, he adds: “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Owen says, stretching his arms out over his head. It makes TK feel guilty — hell,  he’s always got that small pit of guilt that sits heavy in his stomach whenever he opts to spend time with Carlos instead of going home right after a shift — and he considers just texting his boyfriend that they’ll catch up over the next couple of days, and that he’s going to wait until his dad’s wrapped up and grab a ride home with him. His dad is able to read him like a book, though, always has, and he points a finger at him. “Go and have a good night, son.” 

“Are you sure?” TK’s positive that his hesitation is written all over his face, and Owen sighs at him. 

“I’m fine, kid, I won’t be too far behind you anyway,” Owen says, leaning back in his chair. 

TK mulls it over in his head before he adds: “I, uh, I probably won’t make it home tonight. I’ll text you.” 

Owen doesn’t press; he just gives him a look. “Nothing stupid?” 

TK huffs out a laugh. “No, I swear. It’s just Carlos.” 

“Ah,” Owen says, smiling now, and TK rolls his eyes before lifting a hand in a wave before his dad can try and get more information out of him. It’s been five of the best months of TK’s life, and his dad seems to sense it on him because he has nothing but nice things to say about Carlos. He heads back downstairs, smiling down at the be there in five message on his phone as he steps out into the pleasantly cool evening. An all-too familiar car slows down in front of him after a few minutes of waiting, and TK’s already feeling more awake as he opens the passenger door and slips in. 

“Hey,” Carlos’ voice is honey-sweet, and TK accepts the quick kiss as he deals with the seatbelt. 

“Hey,” TK says, a little breathless, settling into the comfort of Carlos’ presence while the other man drives off. He’s out of uniform, dark-grey shirt hugging his arms, and TK doesn’t even try to hide his obvious staring. 

“So, did you want to go grab some food or something?” 

TK fiddles with his phone, tapping it against the heel of his palm. “I was just thinking we could head to your place?” 

Carlos nods. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” 

“I’m just tired,” TK quietly admits, not ready to add that he seems to get the best sleep whenever he’s curled up with his boyfriend. Instead of admitting that, he clears his throat. “It’s been a long shift.” 

“I get it,” Carlos says, sparing a glance at him, moving one hand off the wheel to grab TK’s fidgeting hand to thread their fingers together. 

They get to Carlos’ place, and he practically beelines for the bedroom, Carlos turning off lights behind them as they go. It’s almost midnight, and TK can feel his eyelids growing heavier with every passing minute. As he pulls off his shirt and pants and kicks off his shoes, he watches as Carlos does the same, and he ungracefully plops onto the bed. Carlos pulls the covers over him, and drops a kiss just above his eyebrow, and TK has never felt so deeply and effortlessly loved. 

“I’m sorry,” TK whispers, eyes moving all over Carlos’ face. “I feel like you wanted to do something more fun than just...sleeping.” 

“I can’t think of anything better than this, Ty, seriously,” Carlos says, already opening his arms. “Come here.”

TK goes, immediately feeling more calm wash over him as Carlos curls his arms around him, his chest pressed to TK’s back, feeling comforted by the feeling of the steady rhythm of Carlos’ heartbeat between his shoulder blades. He settles into the embrace, ducking his chin forward to press a kiss to Carlos’ hand. 

“Besides,” Carlos starts talking, picking up the dropped conversation, his words mostly whispered into TK’s ear. “This is how I get the best sleep. Just being able to hold you makes me feel right. And you’re the only one I wanna wake up to, preferably for as long as you’ll let me. Never apologize for wanting this, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” TK mutters, running his fingers absently up and down Carlos’ forearm, already feeling sleep pull at him as he slurs, “I feel the same, by the way. I feel like I don’t tell you enough how much I care about you.” 

Carlos takes a few long seconds to respond, to let the words hang in the air between them. The last thing TK hears before he’s gone to the world is, "don't worry, TK, I know."

* * *

TK doesn’t know how long he’s out for, but the early morning sunlight’s streaming into the room when he eventually blinks open his eyes. He stretches out his limbs and he feels Carlos press a kiss just under his jaw. 

He remembers all too quickly that Carlos is stuck with a day shift, and if he hasn’t left yet it probably means that he’s going to have to go sooner than he’d prefer; he wishes he could stay in bed and cherish these moments as long as possible but Carlos eventually heaves a sigh and starts moving to get out of bed. 

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” TK asks, even though he knows there’s no chance of Carlos risking being late; TK's the same, always hating it but leaving his boyfriend nonetheless when he has to get to work. 

Carlos hums against his shoulder, squeezing him tight once more. “I wish I could, but McCoy’s out this week so I’ve got a rookie with me. Can’t be setting a bad example.” 

TK lets out a garbled, muttered noise in agreement, though he still sits up when Carlos moves off the bed, beginning his morning routine. TK watches him for a few moments, but he still feels exhausted, and Carlos seems to pick up on it because he crosses the room to stand on his side of the bed — which seems like a big thing, for TK to have a determined side of Carlos’ bed — and runs a hand through TK’s hair, eventually bringing his palm down to drag his thumb along TK’s jaw.

TK sighs, and leans into the touch, this act of allowing himself to feel vulnerable still a new thing. He only opens his eyes when Carlos starts talking to him. 

“Get some more sleep, Ty,” Carlos says, and TK starts to protest, saying something about going back to his own place so he’s not imposing, only for Carlos to interject. “You can stay here without me, you know. But if you do leave, let me know what you’re up to later and maybe we can do something when I’m off shift.” 

“Sounds like a plan, baby,” TK replies weakly, his mind a little too muddled with sleep, but he definitely picks up on the warmth spreading through his chest at Carlos’ insistence that he belongs here; that his home is open to his presence. 

With a quick kiss pressed to his temple, Carlos pulls away to go shower, not without murmuring, “I’ll see you later, cariño,” into his hair first. TK slumps back down, face turned into Carlos’ pillow, as he contentedly lets sleep take over once more.

[blue---rose]

White Widow - Chapter Six

Fanfiction.net | AO3

Title: White Widow Chapter: Six Author: Blue Rose

Huge shout out to my new beta - CherryBerry12. Thank you :) 💖

“Jesus, what did you eat today? Where did it all come from?!”

If Sakura could, she would have pinched her nose closed, but she needed both hands for the task of bagging up the dog poop while keeping the leash out of it. She didn’t understand why dogs never watched where they were going and tried to keep Akumaru from stepping in his droppings before she could clean up.

Finishing, she tossed the mess in a waste bin they passed before crossing the street.

“That crap was almost as big as your head.” Sakura laughed.

The pair had just come from a small park at the end of the block and were now heading to their intended destination. On the surface, it was just a smart thing to do — letting the dog relieve himself before they needed to go inside. In reality, it was her just procrastinating. And she used every second of it.

However, the growing puppy didn't care much about taking a stroll today. Especially when they approached the towering highrise. This was his other home, and his panting and excitement signaled he knew exactly where they were.

"Ok! Ok! We're going."

Approaching the entrance, Sakura was careful to watch her step while she admired the way the evening sun reflected off the smoked glass and steel. There was a dark, eerie beauty she found in the looming structure before them.

 The last time she'd been here, a thin layer of snow had covered all of the asphalt. Frigid temperatures caused the flurries to stick to the ground like falling powder — perfect for making snow angels.

 She remembered that the exterior had been decorated with strings of twinkling blue lights as well with poinsettias arranged beneath the windows in a festive holiday display.

 Thank goodness the weather was not below freezing as it was prior, months ago. Though, that didn't stop a wave of nerves from washing over her, wondering again how she managed to get herself into another weird situation.

 Oh, yeah... that's right.

 It started with a favor.

 It always started with a favor.

 Because she had a difficult time saying no and was consistently willing to lend a hand to anyone in need.

 Which is why she was opening the glass doors to walk through the vestibule, speaking to the concierge in the lobby to give her name.

 Well, it was much too late to change her mind and Sakura sighed, releasing Akamaru from her arms after the elevator doors closed. Making a steady ascent to the top floor, she mulled over the reasons she was there in the first place.

 Sasuke had asked if she could return the dog to Kiba's family.

 He'd never met any of them, and correctly presumed she would know how to reach someone. It wasn’t much of a stretch. She and Kiba had been friends since freshman year in high-school.

 Sakura conceded to do his bidding, but followed up with some questions of her own — like, why was he watching over the dog to begin with?

 Despite being guarded, Sasuke answered all of her questions. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling things were being left unsaid.

 What quickly followed however, were thoughts of the canine’s owner. And soon she felt the dormant bud of concern blooming within her, once again.

   Kiba .

  Gently nudging away the worry she'd felt, Sakura went along with it. Especially after Sasuke revealed that it was against his lease to have a dog — up until now he'd been taking a risk.

 Feeling a little sorry that he’d been keeping him, she agreed to return the pup. Which is how she'd ended up here.

 The elevator came to a smooth stop at its designated floor, the thick doors sliding open. Akamaru pulled her down the hall, towards the other home he knew by scent and memory.

 Sakura only knew they were at the correct place because of the ' PH3 ' plaque beside the red door.

 Reaching out, she pulled down on the lever-like knob, entering once a voice beckoned her inside.

 "Hello?"

 She unhooked the leash from the studded collar just to watch the ball of fur run deeper into the suite, his tiny paws gaining traction against the mahogany planks of wood. Following seconds later, she rounded the corner to catch sight of a figure standing near an alcove.

 Sakura looked on as Akamaru whined near the person's feet, pawing at their immaculately pressed pants. He then proceeded to roll onto his back, completely exposing his belly.

 Sakura brought her eyes up to greet a woman whose tips of brown hair curled around her sharp jaw. Defined lips were painted a deep violet with a peremptory tone to match. Her voice was smooth and rich, whisking past her ears.

 "Sakura."

 Tsume Inuzuka stood as statuesque as royalty. Her commanding aura matched the intensity in her swirling, chocolate brown eyes. The attitude alone was worthy of any crown, but she was far too brutish for something as dainty as a tiara. Her brassknuckles nature had served her well in business...

 And, maybe in her personal life as well?

 The matriarch was already married to husband number three if she remembered correctly. Despite being rather intimidating, there was another side to her... a more gentle side. Something that was softer around the edges and reserved only for a select few.

 Sakura hoped she could tap into that side now. Maybe it would help, especially when a certain topic was brought up.

 "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

 Reaching down, the brunette picked up the squirming pooch to move him under her arm, briefly inspecting his form with a keen eye.

 "Hello, Mrs. Inuzuka...Er! I mean, ' Shimazu ' now... isn't it?" Sakura ran a hand across her neck, smiling to cover the wince she so desperately tried to hide.

 "Tsume is fine. Come here, let me get a good look at you. You've finally got some meat on those bones, I see."

 Almond-shaped nails dipped in black lifted the young girl's chin, fingers tilting her face and Sakura felt a blush warming her cheeks under the scrutiny.

 "Ah... yes, it has been a while. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice."

 The dark-haired woman moved to sit on a loveseat, reaching for her glass of wine.

 "Lucky it's not the weekend, or I would have been in California by now," she asserted, swirling the Merlot around in the wine glass.

 Sakura politely declined the offer to join her with a glass of her own. She did accept a seat, however, sitting across from the older woman as she continued.

 "I thought he would've lasted a lot longer before dumping his responsibilities on someone else. Speaking of which..."

 Tsume raised her eyes to meet Sakura's, the tips of her nails clicking against the glass before she pressed on.

 "You mentioned that you haven't heard from that son of mine. He's decided to stop responding to me too, which has been very irritating."

 The layered ends of Sakura's high ponytail swung across the top of her shoulders as she shook her head. Her bangs rested partially in her face but their eyes remained locked as she confirmed what she’d said earlier over the phone.

 "No, I have not."

 The hand that was twirling the glass stopped, digits gripping the stem while the ambrosia settled within.

 Shadows from the lowering sun tilted across the walls signaling the oncoming sunset. Quiet and sobering — as something stirred in the air and the mood changed. 

 Sakura sat immobile and tried not to fidget under the weight.

 The tension was broken when Tsume released a hum, cutting off eye contact to look down. Reaching over, she grabbed a piece of prosciutto arranged on a platter from the coffee table.

 Sakura slowly released the breath she had no idea she was holding until then. 

 Hesitating, she felt the need to tread lightly but knew it was necessary to shed some light on the situation. Be that as it may, it didn't look like she was going to be discovering anything new with the way things were going.

 "That's actually why I wanted to speak with you. He hasn't responded to my messages either. At first, I wasn't worried, because of... well-."

 Kiba's history of disappearing was left unspoken, but Tsume grunted in understanding, taking a long sip from her glass.

 His mother was instantly reminded of his past rebellious acts. Although there usually would be some sort of... warning that preceded any dark turn.

 Her remarrying or becoming bi-coastal were just a few examples. She could remember the fights and fallouts that followed. Especially regarding his choice of outlets.

 The reckless behavior, the unsavory habits, the disagreements... she remembered them all.

 But...

 Tsume thought they'd long moved past that. He seemed to finally settle down... as much as someone like him could. He'd been taking care of his apartment, had stayed out of jail-

  As far as she knew ...

 -and out of most forms of trouble for quite some time now. It was hard to recall the last time she'd received a phone call that ended with screams, threats, or sour disappointment. She'd hate to think he'd regressed.

 "Is there anyone he's been hanging around? A new group of friends, maybe? Other than Ino and yourself—"

 Tsume was in the dark to whom he was associating with these days. "...he rarely tells me anything and I can barely keep up with him."

 Sakura was not the type to be dishonest but she found herself in an uncomfortable position. Choosing her words carefully and hoping her deception wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass, she gave what she thought would be just enough.

 "No one I've talked to has seen or heard from him either. I'm sorry."

 She was here to get as much information as she could, without giving too much away.

 All because...

 Sasuke had also asked that she keep his name out of everything. As far as Kiba's folks were concerned, he didn't exist. And he'd like to keep it that way.

 He had his reasonings; he’d murmured some explanation and Sakura relented because it made sense at the time. Maybe not giving names was the safest route.

 But now that she was here, it was uncomfortable as hell, and her stomach felt like bats were fluttering away in it. The calm expression she presented on the surface, however, was flawless.

 Moments ticked, ticked, ticked away... before Tsume finally waved her fingers dismissively. She'd heard everything she needed to hear. Crossing one leg over the other, the perfect cuff in her pants rested against her heel.

 "No matter. Someone is already looking into it. If that boy thinks he can get away with ignoring me, he has another thing coming. I'm just wondering what foreign jail cell or backwater whore house I'll need to rescue him from this time ," she sneered, gulping down the last of her wine.

 Sakura adjusted slightly, not saying a word but giving her a small nod. But her fingers curled into fists hidden within her pockets, the rings she wore digging into her skin.

 It's not like she wanted him to be caught behind bars. Or needing to be dragged to a health clinic the next day, for thorough testing.

 It's just...

 At least he would be found, and all this fuss would have been all over nothing. But until that happened...

 Sakura gave Tsume a small smile, hoping to ease away any concern this conversation may have brought.

 Hidden away on the inside, she wished someone was there for her right now — who could return the favor. Someone who would gift her the same comfort she'd just offered Tsume to maybe put her mind at ease. Because even after speaking with his mother and listening to her confident answer...

 Sakura could not shake the feeling that just wouldn't go away.

 Something was amiss.

 But she hoped that she was off track... and just being paranoid. And that his mother was right.

 This was just one of those... 'Kiba times'.

 It's exactly what a large part of her was wishing for... and what she needed to believe.

    ✧･ﾟ* : *ﾟ･✧

 He hated that damn bow.

 Sure... on its own, it was harmless.

 That was all an illusion, though. Being an inanimate object did not stop it from being a vexation.

 And just how could something so insignificant, be so... troublesome? After all, it was merely a decorative accessory, attached to a pair of heels. Looking so innocent, affixed to the leather band caging her slender ankle.

 But looks could be deceiving.

 It became problematic when his eyes traveled north. And for the life of him, Sasuke couldn't fathom how a few inches on a shoe could be so devastating. The manner in which they elongated her legs as his focus strayed upward. Following an invisible path along smooth, pale skin.

 Limbs that seemed to go on and on for days — filling out to thighs that were soon hidden from view beneath sparkle.

 The dress she wore did nothing but accentuate her curves; dips and valleys that filled out an enticing figure.

 Sakura's slender neck supported her head as it cocked to the side, smiling at whatever some teen girl in front of her said. And her green eyes crinkled in mirth as she let out a laugh, bringing the clear plastic cup to her lips for a drink.

 Speculating if she always smiled that brightly for everyone.

 Sasuke tore his gaze away, eyes landing on the DJ booth in the corner — the LED lights around the display throbbed to the beat of the track, playing across the speakers.

 Like hell he’d be caught staring.

 It wasn’t like they hadn’t just spent... what? The last two hours together? Getting everything ready for the party. He'd seen her then...

 Same outfit…

 Same smile…

  Same god damn heels.

 So what had changed? Could he not keep himself from finding her?

 His eyes constantly tracking her, flickering to trace her migration around the open space.

 Even when he caught himself it wasn't enough to stop the cycle from repeating. His eyes would be lowered, idly scanning the party, not focused on anything in particular.

 Then...

 A flash of sequins before his eyes would settle on that little black bow.

 Wasn't that the textbook definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?

 Sasuke's mind didn't pass along that bit of information to the rest of his body. Instead, his eyes would start the trek all over again, his avaricious gaze taking her in before cutting away.

 Seeking out a distraction, he leaned against the expansive window behind him.

 The tempered glass usually flooded the suite with natural light during the day. Now, it hummed against his back, miniature vibrations warbling along the surface from the tracks deep base.  And it felt cool against him as he sighed.

 Taking another swing of beer, Sasuke hoped the warm sensation he felt didn't spread to his face. But at least he could make it appear the fault of alcohol and not the salacious thoughts starting to run rampant in his mind.

 Like...

 If the rest of her was as soft as the skin on her inner wrist was. The pad of his thumb had brushed against it when he had passed something to her earlier. And watching now, at the exposed skin her dress didn’t cover...

 Damn him if it certainly didn't look the part. He would only need a few seconds to graze his hands across the perceived silkiness to know the answer.

 Lowering the amber bottle, he swallowed thickly, sighing after. A quick look at his watch had him quickly releasing another one, wondering again why he was still there. Glancing over his shoulder at the snow-covered streets below, a minute passed — before a prickling behind his ear caught his attention.

 He was being watched.

 Everything around them started to fade away when his eyes suddenly met hers. Twinkling stars locked onto his own, piercing through the smoky haze around them, her focus solely on him. And suddenly, Sasuke's mouth was no longer satisfied with the bitter taste of alcohol.

 No...

 He was craving something else entirely.

 And as he moved closer—

   .

  His vision completely went white. 

  .

 And like coming up for air after treading murky waters, he broke through the surface and was brought back to the present… somewhat painfully .

 Surely, the sound of flesh meeting leather must have been heard during the impact. But his brain only registered the sound after as it echoed in his mind.

 Then there was the ringing.

 Lots and lots of ringing.

 .

  Ka-KLUMP-PAK!

  whoooo-sh...

  THUD.

 .

 ...

 "........... -ke? "

 He could have sworn that the saying went: you were supposed to see stars.

 Not feel them.

 ' Oh shit that hurt .'

 "...... -uke ? Sasuke ?! Are you alright?"

 ' Fucking stars. '

 "Sasuke...?"

 And fuck him and his own negligence for not seeing that coming.

 The ringing in his left ear dimmed low enough that he was finally able to hear the question. Blinking back the few spots that danced behind his eyelids, Sasuke grunted, pushing away the hands waving in front of his face. When there were no longer four eyes blinking down at him, he rose to sit up.

 The boxing gloves that had been strapped to Itachi's hands were now lying between them, his profile relaxing though remaining in its hunched form.

 "You were supposed to dodge the second hook. I pulled back but it was too late." He fussed over him again, but Sasuke batted away the concern, sitting up fully when the ringing in his ear finally disappeared.

 He felt a trail of moisture slide down his temple but breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that it was only sweat. He still counted his blessings though, thankful it wasn't his brother's leg that flew at him instead. If it was, his head would have been knocked clean from his shoulders.

 Sasuke removed the padded mitts he wore, tearing at the velcro with his perfect white teeth — more embarrassed than hurt. His brother had dangerously quick hands, and he should have known better than to allow his mind to wander when they were in the middle of sparring.

 "Where were you?" the elder asked, mirroring his unspoken thoughts while moving away to grab them water from the kitchen.

  'So he's going to call me out after all...'

 Sasuke huffed, choosing to stay seated on the mat below the hanging punching bag. He slowly worked his jaw open and closed a few times, rotating the Temporomandibular Joint.

 Good... nothing was broken.

 "Nowhere." Sasuke deadpanned, feeling along the curve for swelling.

 Itachi raised a brow at him as he passed him the chilled bottle. Knowing where further questioning would lead to, he pivoted to another topic.

 "I see your temporary house guest is no longer here..."

 Taking a much-needed sip, Sasuke began to explain what had transpired. Of how he had gotten Sakura to facilitate Akamaru’s return, along with agreeing to a few terms.

 Terms that were presented more as a... suggestion, of course. Maybe gather a little information while she was there if she could?

 He took full advantage of her gentle disposition, to coax her a little. Anything to help seal the deal.

 And when it was all said and done, they parted ways with an agreement in place.

 Sasuke didn't realize the amount of silence that stretched between them until he looked up, catching his brother’s stare. Keen orbs continued to study him, inky depths watching...

 Causing his own brows to snap together.

 "What?"

 "........"

 The corner of his brother's mouth twitched, deep lines appearing across his face before smoothing again.

 " What? "

 Sasuke didn't want to repeat himself, but the silence had struck a nerve. It brought back memories of when they were younger and how he felt whenever he was overlooked, ignored, or even excluded from certain things.

 Being an adult now, he could understand why things were handled the way they were and he harbored no resentment. However, that didn't stop the feelings from returning every now and again and bringing him back to the times when he used to be shooed away.

 Itachi never bothered to take the time to explain anything, because Sasuke was too young at the time. No one around had felt the need to, back then.

 And then there were the other occurrences, where he'd be left with nothing more than a whisper of— "Next time, Sasuke."

 As fleeting as it came, the memories all disappeared when Itachi finally caved.

 Learning lessons from the past, Itachi saw no reason to get Sasuke unnecessarily riled up.

 "Nothing."

 It would have been convincing, too... if they hadn't known each other so well.

 Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Sasuke leaned back on his elbows, his damp shirt stretching across his torso. He dragged his water bottle with him as a fresh breeze stirred across the loft from an open window.

 "Just spit it out already. You can either say it now and get it over with. Or later..." His nose twisted as if he was going to sneeze.

 "...no doubt in some cryptic way. Do us both a favor and spare me the hassle," Sasuke ended boldly, taking another swig and draining the bottle below the halfway mark.

 It took some time, but pointing out the obvious had its desired effect and Itachi finally asked what had been on his mind.

 What came was an inquiry about the woman — whose name, he'd noticed; was always spoken with a certain... tone . 

 Was there something going on that he should know about?

 And since Itachi had avoided using a condescending tone when asking the question, the prodding managed to disarm him.

 "Nothing..." Sasuke answered; slate-colored eyes drifting as his brother moved to sit near him. Breaking eye contact, a few of his fingers pressed into the padded mat underneath them.

 "... at least, not yet?"

 He always did find it difficult to keep things from his brother.

 Itachi could have easily sprained his wrist while sitting; his weight careening with a jolt at the quiet admission. He recovered well enough, sitting down fully and eyeing his younger brother with veiled surprise.

 And for a while, the only sound in the room came from the jingling chains holding up the punching bag, as it drifted in small circles near them.

 Sasuke finally gathered the courage to glance up, but his brother's eyes were peering outside, deep in thought.

 The sunlight kissed Itachi's low ponytail, gathered across one shoulder and his umber touched gaze looked far away.

 The question surprised him when his lips suddenly moved.

 "You like this girl, Sasuke?"

 He wasn't sure why, but he flinched.

 What was he supposed to say, Sasuke thought as his teeth pinched the inside of his bottom lip. The tip of his tongue could almost feel the impression left by Sakura's teeth from their last kiss. The ghost of the intimate touch came to mind at the most inopportune time.

 Did they really have to get into this when he still couldn't find the right words to describe what was happening between him and Sakura? It was all just one big ball of complication as far as Sasuke was concerned.

 An intricate web, twisting with many threads of complexity...

 With the label of 'friends ,' not quite fitting...

 And it was far too soon to be thinking about ‘love’ ...

 But 'just fucking' was too crude, and there was an interest there beyond the physical — as nice as that was.

 A string of fate that seemed to constantly pluck at his attention whenever she was near, while driving him to distraction when she wasn't.

 And it was comical and annoying at the same damn time. And, well...

  Ah fuck , he'd asked for this, didn't he? Him and his big mouth.

 "I-..." Sasuke hesitated, blinking in contemplation before trying again. "What I mean is-"

 Long fingers wrapped in protective white tape lifted. Two digits extended to brush against Sasuke's forehead, effectively cutting him off.

 "I just want you to be mindful." A sharp gaze fixated onto his own, and even though he took a breath to respond — his brother's gentle smile gave him pause.

 "I also want you to be happy," he continued, lips curving into a knowing grin. 

 Rising from the mat with a stretch, Itachi made his way down the hall towards the bathroom, leaving his younger sibling alone with his thoughts. He also ignored the small frown zeroing in on his retreating back.

 Sasuke slowly shook his head, following the figure of his brother until he disappeared around the corner.

 Whatever surprise that lingered was quickly overshadowed with something else as he gulped down another drink of water.

 An unexpected flare of delight engulfed him as he slowly returned his brother's grin...

 And there was only the empty room left to witness the handsome sight of Sasuke's dimple — a rare, but genuine smile pursing his lips at the unclouded approval he'd just received.

 ✧ ･ﾟ * : * ﾟ･ ✧

 "Is that the last of it? What about that other set in the back?" one mover asked the other as they stood near the rear of the box truck.

 "The dresser with the mirror? Nah, that's going to a couple in Bethesda. That's our next stop. Here, take this when you go up and drop that off. She already tipped us... just get them to sign," the driver told him, closing the rolling door when he jumped down from the back of the vehicle.

 The clipboard was placed on top of the sealed, brown box the taller mover was already carrying in his arms.

 Making sure it was perfectly balanced in his hands, he turned to go up the freight elevator... making one last and final trip.

 The front doors to the newly leased space were still propped open, and he placed the box down, just inside the sizable foyer.

 "This is the last one," he called out, his russet eyes scanning the invoice, looking for the client’s name. "We just need an autograph from Ms.-... ah-."

 "I'll do it!"

 There was a conscious effort not to look down at the exposed legs of the young blonde as she came bounding towards him, hips swaying in a pair of forest green cotton shorts.

 He also did his best not to stare at the: 'I love cock' written in graffiti font on her shirt — and the word 'tails' stamped right below it in smaller print. 

 Though slightly crude, the tongue-in-cheek message had made him chuckle most of the afternoon while he was working.

 Ino smiled brightly, nibbling on the capped pen while her eyes took their time to locate the signature line.

 Tugging on the brim of his hat, the helper began to calculate his chance of success in scoring her number. And in turn go completely against company policy.

 His opportunity to risk it all was interrupted when the owner of the suite appeared from around a corner.

 Sakura shooed the golden femme away, signing the papers instead. She thrust the paperwork back in his hands after thanking him.

 Mouthing a quick 'sorry,' Sakura apologized for the actions of her all-too-flirtatious friend.

 The company had done an amazing job and had earned the positive review she'd leave.

 Ino twirled away to retrieve a stash — hidden earlier on the built-in shelf, snagging a lighter as well. Turning, she climbed over the back of the sofa.

 The hand holding the bright red plastic waved in their general direction.

 "We really can't thank you enough. Did you guys have to train to be so amazing?" Ino climbed down with a purr and a wink, still flirting as she settled on the floor.

 Sakura let out a nervous giggle, ushering the smitten guy out the front doors.

 "Is there anyone who is spared from your relentless-... philandering ?" She huffed, unlatching the mechanism holding both doors open, closing them tightly.

 Really, her friend could be so embarrassing sometimes.

 "What can I say? I love a man in uniform. Besides, I left them alone for most of the afternoon… you should be thanking me." Ino twisted the grinder in her hands, her spine resting against the front of the large sectional.

 Sakura slowly came over to stretch out behind her, laying down on her stomach. Sinking into the cushions, she felt the tension slowly release from her overworked muscles.

 Despite any possible... sexual harassment lawsuits, she was glad her bestie was there lending a helping hand. Moving was always a grueling task, so any help was appreciated. She'd even done some manual labor when she helped Sakura paint a room back at her old apartment.

 Leaving the place in immaculate condition scored her most of the security deposit back. Her comrade teased that it was unfair and that the only reason she did was that the place was barely lived in.

  "I'm just glad it's all done." Sakura mumbled from her sprawled position, her sweat pants resting dangerously low on her hips. They were already rolled down twice at the waist, and now a bit of blue cotton peeked from underneath.

 Ino paused, oceanic eyes spanning the layout. One eyebrow pinched inward after taking in the bare dwelling.

 "I wouldn't exactly call this... 'done,' Forehead. You have your bed and this monstrous couch. Other than that, you really need to get this place decorated."

  'Let the nit-picking begin.'

 "Yeah, yeah..." Sakura mumbled around a throw pillow, her face still buried in softness. "I'll order a bunch of stuff later."

 There were three different flavors of frozen yogurt chilling in the freezer. And her books and medical journals were unpacked and stored away. As far as she was concerned, everything else could wait.

 Ino wasn't convinced but instead concentrated on rolling the canappa before her, grunting at the stickiness.

 They still had to officially 'bless the house,' after all.

 Sakura turned towards her, raising a hand to cradle her head, cheeks still pink from burrowing into the pillow. It was only when she was spaced out that a particular thought drifted back to the forefront of her mind.

 And with all the bustle from today, there hadn't been a quiet moment up until now, to bring it up.

 "Did that guy ever call back again?"

 As it turned out, Tsume wasn't kidding when she said someone was looking into Kiba's disappearance.

 A private investigator reached out to her, asking a series of questions. Sakura told him exactly what she'd already shared, her story and timelines never changing. Not that there was much to tell.

 Afterward, she'd given her best friend a heads up, instincts warning that she'd be next.

 Much later he did get ahold of Ino, though, she had very little to say. Her answers were similar to Sakura's, as they'd both lost contact with Kiba around the same time.

 And she made it clear that she didn't know anything beyond that.

 Licking her lips, Ino brought a knee up to her chest, her sock covered foot dragging across the throw rug while she remained mindful of the low table in front of her.

 "After the first time? No."

 She then extended her tongue to wet the ends of paper as she expertly rolled the joint. Humming in affirmation, she eyed her handy work.

 "He was a pushy bastard though. When you talked to him, did you tell him anything? Maybe let something slip you shouldn't have?"

 Sakura sat up in surprise.

 "What? No..." She shook her head although the blonde was still facing forward, away from her.

 An eerie feeling ricocheted in her tummy.

 "D-... did you?"

 Ino snorted, flicking bits of grass from her nail bed. "I should have," she murmured.

 "Ino!"

 She was just being a bitch, but it's what she did when she felt annoyed... agitated .

 "To be honest, I'm not getting a good feeling about any of it. Not to mention... a P.I. coming around? Asking questions? This is getting to be a bit much."

 What's next?

 The police?

 It was not a good look to have a bunch of authorities hanging about, despite the reason for their presence.

 "I know..." Sakura began, the cushions shifting under her movements.  "I don't like any of this either... but even Sasuke-"

 The blonde spun around so fast she feared whiplash. Sparks of contention lit the glare Ino threw her way.

 "We don't know him, Sakura!"

 When she yelled, it surprised them both, their eyes wide and staring. It hadn’t been on purpose. Of course it hadn’t been, and Ino couldn't remember the last time she'd been so quick to snap.

 So, after taking a much-needed breath, the apology floated in the air between them.

 But not for what she said .

 No...

 She'd meant that.

 But… for the way she said it? Maybe she was a bit too harsh. She regretted it the moment it left her lips, so she made another attempt to apologize, keeping her voice even and much calmer.

 "We don't know him. Now, I'm not saying he's a bad guy or anything, but he's Kiba's friend..." Ino stressed, "not ours . I think he's cool and all, but we need to think with our heads here, and not with..."

 Her eyes lowered to Sakura's lap, hearing the sharp intake of breath when the seated girl immediately stiffened with indignation.

 "I'm not!" Sakura tried to defend herself. And if her leg wasn't twisted beneath her body she would have snapped her legs shut.

  'Guilty, much?'

 "Then we need to think smart. I don’t know about you, but I can't be seen mixed up with anything shady. Having some private eye sniffing around is a no-go for me."

 Ino turned back to the low table in front of her, her thumb rolling over the spark wheel twice, before the lighter flickered to life.

 Sakura sighed, shoulders dropping as she just let it go. She looked instead to the beautiful vase of flowers sitting close by.

 The arrangement of orange roses, honeysuckle — and a few other things she couldn't name were sorted together.

 It was a beautiful house warming gift from Ino, and she appreciated the floral scent as it drifted through the air. But she knew even its sweet smell wouldn't stand a chance against the thick haze that was sure to come.

 Sakura rolled to her feet, moving around her friend to approach the veranda door to crack it open. Nudging it slightly, she felt the crisp breeze charming its way past the small opening and into the room.

 Ino continued her musings on an exhale, swirls of grey, blueish smoke wafting towards the darkened recessed lighting above.

 "Sasuke was right about one thing, though..."

 She stood up, approaching her friend from behind and passing along the lit herb. "We should stay out of it. Besides, someone is looking for him... his family has it covered."

 Darting off to find an ashtray, she left the pink-haired woman to lean against the glass with her private thoughts, gazing at the skyline beyond the metal railings of her patio.

 Taking a long drag, Sakura hoped the calming effects would kick in soon and burn away her lingering restlessness.

 Everyone, it seemed, was just shying the Kiba issue away or even brushing it all aside. And it made her feel so damn torn inside.

 Reaching around, she patted herself down, feeling around for her phone.

 Oh, she knew what was going to happen... but she went for it anyway.

 There wasn't a choice, was there? Besides, she was nothing if not steadfast.

 And while fully aware of what was going to happen once she pressed 'SEND', Sakura didn't hesitate. 

 Her rather nimble fingers typed away, making another attempt to at least... try to do something.

 .

  Message:

   Just let me know you're ok...

  Please?

 .

 Sakura's hand reached up to remove the joint from her lips, holding her breath with a deep inhale as she re-read the note again.

 Sending out the text, she slowly blew out a trail of smoke.

 A familiar notification sound cackled in the air as the last cloud left her peach-stained lips. And her eyes caught sight of what showed up on the screen.

 The message was undeliverable.

 Just like the previous dozen she'd sent before that.

 Some of the messages she sent were laced with concern, others spewing threats of sterilization. She quickly discovered that anything sent out was shortly returned after bouncing through mobile data and Wifi signals.

 All of her messages went unanswered.

 But whatever disappointment or irritation she felt was quickly tempered down as conflict echoed in her mind.

   "'...-e.'"

  Because wasn't this the same thing she'd done in the past? Completely ghosting everyone close to her?

 Absconding without a care in the world, regardless of who it might hurt, or what it could affect?

 Sakura had exhibited the same pattern of behavior herself a while ago. And at her worst, she had gone days without responding, keeping her distance.

   "'...-ite.'"

  The memories surfaced like the smoke drifting past her face as she took another hit, contemplating just how much it sucked... being on the other side now.

   "'...-rite.'"

  Ino returned, handing Sakura the found ashtray while quickly plucking the weed from her aloof grip. Humming a tune, she went over to go see about playing some music.

 But Sakura stayed put, unable to shake the word that haunted her mind.

 One that felt weighted like the heavy crystal she held in her grasp. Looking down, she caught the way a few rainbows appeared with every deviation of the ashtray, and every time a flash of color reflected she imagined a voice whispering in cool, mocking tones inside of her head.

"'...-crite.'"

Taunting all the emotions echoing through her, even as she accepted the bitter truth in the word, repeating over and over again...

    "'Hypocrite.'"

  ✧ ･ﾟ * : * ﾟ･ ✧

 " The sky is clear and you can see for miles across the grasslands. But as easy as she could look beyond the Serengeti, she could just as easily be spotted.

  Shoulders hunched low, the lioness hugs her body close to the ground. Blending in among the straw-colored grass... she inches her way closer. She must eliminate as much distance between her and the intended prey before launching her attack. Her sisters are in tune with her, circling the herd on either side, bellies low to the ground as they stalk closer.

  The pack has not eaten for days, and this may be their last chance before the grazing animals migrate north and out of their territory. There are plenty of mouths to feed back at the den and a few hungry cubs who will not survive the rest of the season without a steady supply of food."

 The prone figure nibbled on the last of his fish cake sandwich, his heavy boots hanging off the edge of the loveseat. His large frame laid sideways on the furniture, leaning against the armrest as he watched the clip on his screen.

 He always was a fan of a good old-fashioned hunt. There were just some things in life, that only Mother Nature could do with such... finesse .

 You could learn a lot if you sat back and watched her work.

  "The wildebeests were on alert, taking turns to raise their heads to keep on the lookout."

 He listened to the thick, South African accent as it narrated the encounter playing on the phone. The screen zoomed in as long blades of grass hung from the wildebeests’ chewing mouths while they kept an eye on the young calves. Soon, the camera panned out to show how close the hunters had gotten.

  "It is far too late to be overly cautious now. The lioness and her sisters were in striking range and had only to pick their target.

  Digging their long claws into the heated dirt below, they sprint across the plain. 

  The chase was on..."

 His phone suddenly chirped, and a notification for a new message appeared at the top.

 The man’s narrowing squint flickered up but quickly went back to the action.

 The screen flashed to the pounding of hooves kicking up clouds of dry dirt. And he focused, excited to watch what happened next.

  "The ground vibrates as the herd stampede away, now catching sight of the fawn and black death machines barreling towards them. The chaos is enough for one to lose its footing, one back leg twisting beneath its lumbering body."

 The front hooves clambered against the ground while the frightened animal tried to gain leverage, but it was too late.

  "The seasoned lioness is there in a blink, ready to capitalize on the last mistake the prey would ever make in its life."

 Slow-motion captured the way the lioness’s claws hooked into the large antelope, trying to gain purchase as her jaws opened wide across the prey’s neck.

 The beast finally got to all four hooves just in time to feel the weight of another lioness as she bit at its spine, her body hanging from its rear.

 Losing strength and blood, the scared animal let out a long moan as the lions worked together to bring it down. A third lioness bit at its heels and soon the pressure was enough. A billow of dirt rose in the air as all of their combined weight crashed to the dusty, hot earth below.

 The narrator's voice decreased in volume once again, as another message notification came through — the rhythmic beeping much louder than the nature video, still playing on the screen in full-screen mode.

 Sighing, the man sat up straighter, swinging his legs to the floor to check.

   Message:

  Any updates?

  Message:

  Or has this been a waste of time?

   'Damn.'

 And the documentary special was starting to get to the good parts too. Locking the screen, he stood tall in a stretch, straightening the henley shirt he wore and trudged to the adjoining room.

 The small apartment was oftentimes used as a temporary working space. Although rarely used for the more... messy parts of their job, it was quite convenient for quick meetups. And with the newest development, it made for a well suited temporary office.

 Located just behind a deli, but with a hidden entrance and secured parking, it had only made the best sense to set up shop here, for now.

 The next room was much darker with the blinds drawn the way they were, but multiple computer monitors glared with artificial light as the man came to stand behind the seated teen. A pretty penny had gone into the elaborate setup — more than a few parts couldn’t be bought in just any store.

 There were a few programs open that he was familiar with while scanning the screens, but most he was not.

 And as intelligent as the man thought himself to be, he would never presume to understand what any of the letter and number combinations meant, trailing across the monitor on the left.

 "Looks like you are up and running. What's the status?"

 "I think I've found a way in," Chef replied, his eyes never leaving the screens as he typed away. His favorite song had just begun to play in his ear, and he was seconds away from turning it up before the guy showed up behind him.

 " Think ?" The man's arms folded and his lips melted into a frown.

 "Yeah. What? I can't go back and get in the same way I did before, my dude. They've already patched that shit. I also don't want to set off any alarms. Gotta be sneaky," Chef offered in a huff.

 Besides, he'd already tried the old route and got locked out. But when inside before, he had discovered some other cracks — and hoped to take advantage of one of them now.

 "But you can do it?"

 "Yeah. I can do it."

 The teen went back to work when he felt the figure move away, turning up the volume to catch the tail end of his song. This was exactly why he never took up private offers before. But... the money should be worth having to deal with someone breathing down his neck, in the end.

 The man turned away, sheathing the hidden knife back into its pouch in silence, leaving the room just as quietly as he entered. Hopefully, the teens’ confidence would produce some good results... and soon.

 A real shame too, that he didn't know...

  His very life depended on it.

   ✧･ﾟ* : *ﾟ･✧

  He was counting stacks of collected funds in his living room when one of his phones went off.

 With their associate still missing, Itachi gave Sasuke the task of fulfilling a few orders and handling some assignments. He'd been on the run for the last few days, completing  transactions that were left to be done in Kiba's absence. Just because he was missing didn't mean the business stopped and even grunt work needed to be seen to.

 He'd used the opportunity to do a little digging on said person's disappearance, but not finding satisfactory answers left him feeling a little perturbed.

 He had been in a sour mood as of late and could think of nothing that might turn things around.

 So seeing her initials flash across his chirping phone's screen was bittersweet — he couldn’t tell whether Sakura calling him at this very moment was a good thing or not.

 There hadn't been a chance for him to reach out to her. Though, no matter how busy he was, he knew he should have found the time.

 And maybe a part of him was feeling guilty for only texting a few things in the last few days...

 But she had his number too, damnit. He had made sure of it when he physically saved it on her phone the last time they were together.

 It was a personal number that not too many people had access to, at that.

 She could have easily called sooner too, but that was neither here nor there.

 Maybe her voice would be the ray of sunshine needed in the otherwise shithole-pit-of-darkness his mood had been sinking into.

 "Hello?"

 Sasuke's voice was unhurried and a little scratchy — coming out husky after not being used for the last two hours since he'd gotten home and showered. He thought he might be coming down with something and made a mental note to drink some hot tea later.

 In the future, Sakura will share with him just how much his voice alone could make her feel sometimes — even when heard over the phone. No way she could tell him that right now, though. There was too much power in that bit of information and she resisted the urge to clear her own throat, hoping the whimsical flutters would go away soon.

 " Sasuke... "

 Maybe one day — around the same time, Sasuke would finally admit how fond he was of hearing her say his name, regardless of its nature or the mood.

 Nonetheless, an eyebrow hitched as he wrapped a thick wad of bills with a beige rubber band.

 "What? Did you misdial or something...?"

 If the answer was yes he wasn't sure he could handle it — not with how this week was going.

 But she said no, and he could just see the smile on her face when she released a small laugh.  He imagined the soft, cupids bow he could still remember the feel of... if he tried.

 Maybe it was a good thing she called, after all. Even after a bit of chatter, he could already feel some of the day's tension releasing from his moody form.

 " Actually, the reason I'm calling was... "

   Why haven't you called?

  Why haven't you taken me out on a proper date yet?

 Already he could hear that — and the other half-dozen questions, all in his mind before she finished.

 He could almost feel his answers forming, and hoped they wouldn't sound like excuses when he said them out loud. Because... damnit, he'd been meaning to see a bit more of her. But with everything going on-

 " -I... well, actually, Kankurō wanted to know if you were coming to his birthday party? He said you already received his invitation. And his order, which — by the way, I won't even ask what's on that list ."

 She trailed off but picked back up with a giggle. 

 " Anyway, he wanted to make sure you didn't forget, and were going to be there. "

   Wait.

    What?

  Having the question ring inside of his mind was not enough, and his mouth opened to express the dumbfounded stutter his brain felt.

 "What?"

 She'd called him only... for that ?

 It's all anyone was talking about, she said; oblivious with his disappointment. Sasuke listened as his hands slowed down to a full stop, trying to keep the frown at bay.

 After the last few — irritating days he's had...

 That's the reason they were finally speaking?

  Kankurō ?

 Maybe talking when he was in low spirits wasn't the best idea after all. Something in his clipped tone must have given him away because after a bit of silence she hesitantly asked.

 " Is everything ok? You sound a bit... distracted? "

 "Yes."

  'No.'

 Bloody hell, that's not what he'd meant. No... it is what he meant, but he didn't mean to say it like that-

 "Just finishing up something."

 " Oh ..."

  'Fuck.'

 Things were quickly spinning out of control and he needed to figure out a way to salvage it.

 Or just end it... before he said something completely Sasuke like, and ruined it for everybody. 

  "Oh... well, it sounds like this is a bad time. I'm sorry-"

 "Don't be-"

  ' Gentle ... you idiot, nicer!? ' 

 "-I mean, it's fine." Sasuke continued after the slight pause.

 Ok, so that wasn't much better and he winced when a rubber band popped, stinging his hand before reaching for another one.

 Sakura waited a beat but wasn't convinced. " Ok... well, I guess I'll see you there? Sorry to disturb you."

 Sasuke fumbled with the phone for a second yet wasn't quick enough to stop her from ending the call, and he sat there after feeling like he just dropped the ball in a major way.

 He groaned, dropping everything in his hands and grabbing at his locks while sinking further into the sofa. It was no use trying to text her back because even he knew when to cut his losses.

 At least no one was there to witness the embarrassment... but he could hear the guffaw his cousin Shisui would have released if he could see him now.

  'Real smooth, Uchiha... real smooth.'

  End Chapter

✧ ･ﾟ * : * ﾟ･ ✧

[imnottiredofgettingoveryou]

What about number 20 drinking hot cocoa and cuddling together on a cold night with Elliot that leads to smut? ❤️

Stop 1 on my apology tour! Sorry again that this took so long but I hope you enjoy :) This takes place around Decemberish.

Warnings: I listen to my requests: here, there be smut. Back to the Future/Donnie Darko discourse (that’s almost more offensive)

Word Count: about 2300 

Elliot was needier around the holidays.

He tried to pretend that all the Hallmark-style movies and Christmas ads showing smiling families filled with warmth didn't get to him. He knew it was the time of year when billionaires beefed up their coffers by exploiting those warm fuzzy feelings for profit, and he tried to focus on that- the rage.

Often, though, it was the loneliness at the forefront of his mind, his alienation stark against endless images of supposed normalcy.

You had snuck past his normal defenses and become a steady presence in his life over the last few months. Something about you made him feel comfortable, like he could talk to you about anything.

And Elliot had guts to spill, no doubt about it. But he rarely did so. He was still treading lightly with you, not wanting you to learn anything about him that would make you think of him as broken.

But some things were harder for him to resist. And once that unforgiving chill had settled over the city, it just felt way too natural for him to seek out your warmth.

Even on days when you don't see each other, you feel connected. You text here and there, or sometimes Elliot will just send you a picture of some nearby scenery he thinks is pretty, or whatever he's doing at the moment. Just to say "hey, it's me, I'm okay." Maybe a little bit of "I'm thinking about you." And sometimes, usually hidden a bit more deeply between the lines, "I'm not okay."

Like today, for example. It was a picturesque winter day outside, straight out of a painting. It was snowing but not too cold, the snowflakes on your face feeling more like heaven than hypothermia. Couples interlinked their bemittened hands, the approving 'beep' of credit card scanners echoed out across the city, and you knew - you just fucking knew - that somewhere, Elliot was curled up like a burned spider, depressed as shit.

It was only confirmation, really, when he texted you a picture of a single packet of Swiss Miss slumped against a styrofoam cup that looked like it had been stolen from an AA meeting. The text under the picture stated simply:

fEsTiVe

Oof. Yeah, he knew how you felt about that. He was fishing for a response, which meant he needed some company. You couldn't help but smile a little as you texted him back.

You: Don't tell me...

Elliot: im gonna make it with water : )

You: ASKLDJLKDFJ

You rolled your eyes. Yeah, that just wouldn't do.

You: I'm coming over & we're making hot chocolate like grownups

You headed in the direction to do just that, and thankfully he didn't leave you in limbo for very long before your phone lit up with an 'okay : )'

└[∵┌]└[ ∵ ]┘[┐∵]┘

When you got to his apartment, he opened his door just enough to look you up and down with one eye and scrutinize the contents of your shopping bag.

"You really bought hot chocolate mix in a mason jar?"

"Mhmmmm," you confirmed, raising an eyebrow at him.

"How much was it? Fifty bucks or something?"

"Don't worry about it, smartass."

He smiled and opened his door all the way for you, and you gleefully stepped in, took your coat off, and sat your supplies down in his kitchen.

You dug around the chaotic mess of his cupboards and found a lone saucepan, pouring in a mixture of cream and milk and setting it over low heat. You criss-crossed your body with your arms and tried to rub some heat into them. You were dressed appropriately in a sweater and thick leggings, but could still feel the chill in his apartment.

Behind you, Elliot sat on the couch queueing up the torrent player on his laptop. He looked up as you were trying to warm yourself up.

"Cold?" he asked.

"Yeah - good thing I brought hot chocolate to this fucking igloo and not popsicles." You gave the milk a quick stir, making sure it didn't boil, and unscrewed the jar of cocoa mix. You had started adding it little by little to the warm milk, watching the little pieces of chocolate melt, when Elliot approached you from behind and reached around your waist. Careful not to interrupt what you were doing, he drug his fingers lightly across the fabric that covered your belly and nuzzled into your hair.

"Is this okay?" he purred into your ear. "Are you gonna get distracted if I..."

"No," you breathed, continuing to stir.

At that, Elliot's hands splayed out on your stomach and he pulled you against him, his warm embrace smoothing your goosebumps as his chest pressed into your back. He rested his chin on your shoulder, and let his eyes fall closed.

You stayed like that for a few moments, just enjoying the closeness, before his hands slipped under your shirt. His fingertips teased the soft skin around your navel, and he trailed one finger slowly along the waistband of your leggings. When it dipped just underneath to graze your hip bone, you gasped and reached for his wrist.

"Okay, that's getting distracting babe."

Shit. You didn't mean to call him that, but when you turned your head and met the warm gleam of his luminous eyes, you thought he had probably been caught up in the moment too. Pretending to be normal.

The cocoa was well-mixed now, and you hoped it would taste as good as it looked. Elliot backed up and gave you some room to maneuver around the kitchen. You found two mismatched mugs and carefully filled them up over the sink.

"Better wait a few minutes unless we wanna scald our tastebuds off," you said as you added mini marshmallows to the mugs. "What do you want to do while we partake?"

"You wanna watch Donnie Darko?" he asked.

"Why? So I get scared and cuddle up to you? You're gonna have to try harder than that."

"No," he said, rolling his eyes. "Because it's Back to the Future fanfiction."

You stared at him, blinking twice before saying anything. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't stutter."

You lifted your eyebrows slightly, a little surpised that he was already teasing you back so early in the evening. "Okay, I'll bite. Let's watch it."

You grabbed the mugs and headed toward his couch, and Elliot went to pull the blanket off his bed. Then he stopped and turned to look at you.

"Do you just want to sit over here?"

You nodded and sat the mugs on the floor at the foot of his bed, then laid down on your stomach and got comfortable while he retrieved the laptop. Once all was situated, he laid next to you, matching your position, and pulled his blanket up over your backs.

"So tell me how this is BTTF fanfiction, exactly?" You scooted just barely closer to him, your body almost subconsciously seeking out his warmth.

"Well, there's a fan theory that Doc convinced Marty to sacrifice himself in the time jump so he could save the world. Sound familiar?"

"Elliot, I know downers are your poison, but you sound like a real crackhead right now."

"Then there's the Delorean reference..." You could see his little smirk in your periphery as he rested his hand on your lower back beneath the blanket.

"That's reaching."

"No such thing as coincidence."

You reached out and felt around the edges of your mug, testing the temperature. "I think we can drink these now." You handed Elliot his hot chocolate and brought your own to your lips carefully.

You were right, it was just hot enough and sweet and rich and-

"Good," Elliot confirmed.

"What can I say? Call me Gordon Ramsay." After you had both sat your mugs back down, letting your palettes recover from the rich taste, Elliot discarded his hoodie and laid down on his side, then pulled you against him so that his chest was pressed against your back. Your legs slotted together and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, making you melt into him as you settled in to finish the movie.

Between the hot drinks and your shared body heat, the temperature underneath Elliot's blanket warmed up quickly, and clothes slipped off until you were down to your leggings and undershirt and he was in his black t-shirt and boxer briefs. Once all unnecessary layers were shed, he resumed his position spooned snugly behind you, and it was only a matter of time before you grew comfortable enough to fall asleep.

You passed out for a spell, waking up to face a closed laptop and feel Elliot's steady breathing in your ear, his arms still wrapped securely around you.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, just relaxing against him, before his hands started to roam over your body in his sleep. You smiled as his fingers clumsily traced along your curves, until you felt them dig into your hips to pull you flush against him. Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden roughness; his hands didn't hesitate as they traveled back up your body, and you yelped when they found your breasts and squeezed hard.

Elliot rustled behind you at the noise and suddenly his hands were gone. "Fuck, sorry."

You reached around to find his hand and squeezed reassuringly. "It's okay. Good dream?" You couldn't resist grinding back against him a little, the answer to your question becoming quickly apparent.

Elliot's hand was back on your hip, his grip on you tightening as you rubbed against his arousal. "Yeah."

"Tell me about it."

"No," he stated simply. His lips grazed the outside of your ear, and when you shivered, he caught the lobe between his teeth. "I could... show you."

A pang of arousal shot through you at his words, vivid snapshots flashing in your mind of what he might want to do to you that had made him so hard.

You answered him by pulling off the rest of your clothes; he swallowed hard enough that you could hear it, then followed suit. His blankets rustled as the two of you scrambled to discard your clothing.

Elliot didn't miss a beat, pulling you back against his chest as soon as the two of you were naked, and he was still so warm from having been cocooned up with you that you couldn't help but relax into him. You pulled your hair to the side so he could suck on your neck while his hands roamed over your breasts, stomach, hips.

There must not have been much foreplay in his dream, you thought as he pulled your leg up your body for access. Not that you minded; the ache you felt for him was becoming hard to ignore, at any rate.

Elliot wrapped a hand around himself and rubbed the head of his cock against you until it was coated with your wetness. He teased the tip through your folds, grinding against you once he found your clit, but the stimulation quickly became too much for you and for him. He couldn't deny your pleas to fucking do something already and you felt him start to push in.

He was so much more patient than you when it came to this, and he never got tired of using it to his advantage.

He took his time working his cock into you, and once every inch of him was seated inside you, he didn’t move; he wasn't giving in to you completely just yet. You whined and squirmed and dug your fingers into the arm that he had wrapped around your waist, but he held fast. You had no control with him behind you - couldn't wrap your legs around him, couldn't pull him closer, pull him deeper - and you knew he liked it that way.

The thought made you clench around him hard. That got him moving.

You sighed in relief at finally feeling that sweet push and pull of him inside you. Closing your eyes, you relaxed and relinquished control to him, trusting him to take care of you. You were trying to be quiet, trying to tamp down your responses to the ripples of pleasure that washed over you each time he filled you; you wanted to hear him. Your efforts were rewarded as his little huffs and sighs against your shoulder escalated into soft moans.

Volume control became futile once Elliot adjusted his angle to hit your g-spot, your mouth falling open enough for broken moans to spill from your throat. Elliot lifted a hand up to your face to trace his middle and index fingers over your parted lips, then pushed them into your mouth. You sucked his digits hard, and he groaned in appreciation before he removed them and began a wet trail down the front of your body. Upon reaching his destination, he massaged your clit between his still-warm, still-wet fingers until your toes were curling against his calf.

"Elliot," you whined, "I'm--"

Coherence fell away as easily as quiet had as your orgasm overtook you, but you managed to cry out Elliot's name a few more times as you shook in his arms.

When he came, he bit your shoulder hard, and you were still too high on endorphins to notice it hurt before he was peppering the spot with sweet, soft kisses of apology.

Elliot gingerly removed himself from you, flinching at the lingering sensitivity from his orgasm. You gave each other space to breathe and cool down, and as your chest heaved you realized you hadn't even kissed him properly yet tonight.

Intent on remedying this, you rolled over and crawled towards him as soon as you were physically able, pressing your lips against his and not caring that he tasted like over-priced chocolate.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

shout out loud (the moment of the peak) [Six Cowgirl AU]

Derby Lineup

Talk Of The Town and Arthur

All That Jazz and Samuel

SheBeast and Bulldog

Rookie’s Gambling Chance and Lucas

Hell Comes Handily and Salt

Out-Burn Kamikaze and Hurricane

Lord of The Flies and George

Donut Tell Daddy and Hugo

Jewel-Eyes and Rodric

Deepest Fathoms and Rocky

———————

The fair grounds was a cacophony of sounds: shouting, neighing, clatters of tools, hoofsteps, laughing- it was all swirling into one big mess of noises, and Joan could barely think because of it. By the way Blazer kept fidgeting and tensing his muscles beneath her thighs, he was antsy, too.

“It’s okay, boy, it’s okay.” Joan murmured to her steed. She saw his ears flick back and his haunches shift underneath her, but he doesn’t rear. “I know, it’s loud. I don’t like it, either.”

Carefully, she slid off of Blazer’s back and walked him to the stables where Bessie and Maria were waiting for her.

“Maria got you registered,” Bessie said. “You need to go get dressed.”

“Dressed...? Oh, right! Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go do that!”

Bessie shook her head as she watched the girl scurry off to the jockey dressing rooms.

“She’s a scruffy little thing, isn’t she?”

Bessie turned around to see Aragon standing there, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Catherine.” Bessie said, “I didn’t know you were racing today.”

“I’m not,” Aragon said, “I came to watch. We all did. Jane’s up in the stands with the others already.” She paused to glance at Blazer, who was fretting anxiously in his stall. “Now...about your pair here.”

“I know what it looks like, Catherine.” Bessie quickly said, “They don’t look like much. It probably seems like I scraped them both off of the street or something, but they have a light.”

Aragon quirks a brow up.

“You should see them run. They know what they’re doing. I believe in them.”

“I hope so, Elizabeth.” Aragon said, “Your girl is gonna need some support. This is her first race. She’s not going to have many people on her side yet.”

Bessie swallowed hard at that revelation. Most of the stands will be screaming against Joan, not for her. She just hoped the girl and her horse would be able to hold out for the entirety of the race.

—————

Joan is sitting in the jockey room, in a far corner, away from all of the other jockeys. She had already dressed out and was patiently waiting for her race of the day. She was clad in black riding boots, white pants, and a checkered indigo and white jacket. Her safety helmet and whip were beside her on the bench she was sitting on. She already had her long blonde hair done in a braid and then a tight bun so she could tuck it safely out of eyesight when the time came to race.

At first glances, she almost looked like she knew what she was doing.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. She did know what she was doing, she’s been training, but the anxiety of her first race was getting to her. For example, she had woken up that morning mid-panic attack before her eyes even fully opened.

And she knew for a fact jockeys that knew what they were doing wouldn’t have that happen to her.

It didn’t help that everyone else in the room was a man, meaning she was not only the youngest, but also the only girl. Now she really had to prove herself worthy of being equal to her male counterparts.

Hoping to distract herself from her festering anxiety, Joan looked up to watch the big TV up on the far wall, where the hosts of the racing channel talked about the odds and favorites of the next race today. SheBeast was a close second favorite going into the race, next to another horse by the name of Lord of The Flies.

Names Joan didn’t recognize at all continued to pop up on the screen, until, finally...

Joan’s heart dropped right back into the pit it almost crawled out of.

10th- Out-Burn Kamikaze

They were dead last in favorites.

“Would you look at that,” A biting voice cackled from the side. “The runt and her piece of psycho roadkill are last.”

Joan whipped her head around to glare at the owner of the voice- Thomas Cromwell. At his side was a younger man, slightly younger than Cathy.

“At least I don’t abuse my horse.” Joan spit, making herself seem tougher than she actually was.

“Abuse?” Thomas exclaimed. “Don’t spread lies, little girl. You don’t know anything.”

“Well, new jockeys are known to say things to try and weaken their opponents.” Comments the younger man, “They’re stupid enough to think it actually works.”

Joan was just about to leap up and thrash the two of them when someone came into the room to tell the jockeys it was time for them to saddle up. Thomas and his little goon, who Joan would later learn was Thomas Culpeper, another jockey to Henry Tudor, head out for the place where all the horses were being held at the end of the walk. Joan glared at the back of their helmeted heads, considering using her whip on them, but couldn’t find the courage to do so.

They all heard loud voices of the fans as they made their way to the paddocks. As the horses and trainers lined up came into view, each jockey moved towards their respective mount. There, Joan saw Blazer shifting anxiously on his haunches, looking all around as the sounds grew louder and louder. Maria was doing her best to calm the horse.

“Hey,” Maria said, “How are you doing? You look pale, hun.”

“Nervous.” Joan answered honestly, clenching and unclenching her hands. “Really nervous.”

“I can tell.” Maria offered an encouraging smile and then helped the girl get her helmet on. “Remember, let him make his own pace coming out of the gate. Don't push him until the very end. And no whip unless absolutely necessary. Bessie’s orders.”

Joan nodded as she clambered onto her horse’s back. Blazer shifted his weight beneath her, but didn’t throw a fit. In fact, he seemed to settle with the girl mounted on the saddle.

“Have a safe ride," Maria called after them as Joan and Blazer were led out onto the track by an escort. “Good luck!”

Passing that threshold, Joan realized she and her horse were no longer Joan and Blazer.

They were Hurricane and Out-Burn Kamikaze.

(Jockey nicknames were an occasional thing that riders chose, but Anne said the press loved it, and Joan needed all the help she could get to get people to like her, so she went along with it. Thus, Hurricane was born.)

Cheers erupted from the stands as the ten horses in the race were walked out onto the field. Joan had told herself to keep her eyes forward, to stay focused, but she found herself looking all around the track stadium to try and find the only people who would be cheering for her. And she did, along with the Royalling Stones Farm team, who must have came to watch.

Ice cold fear shot through Joan’s veins. Now she really couldn’t mess up or it could ruin Bessie’s image- her image for Catherine, Jane, and their team.

And that was something she really didn’t want to do.

The escorts led the horses up to the starting gate as the announcer spoke loudly to the crowd, introducing the racers. One by one, each horse was walked into the stalls in order. Blazer- no, Out-Burn Kamikaze had no problem getting into his designated spot, number six, but once the door shut behind him loudly with a clank and squeal, that’s when he began to act up.

Out-Burn Kamikaze began nervously neighing and backing up against the gate. Blazer was starting to slip out of his race facade, which isn’t something Joan wanted to happen. Not during their first race.

“Shh, shh,” Joan whispered, leaning down to speak into her horse’s ear. “It’s okay. It’s-” She cut herself off with a yelp as the stallion to her left rammed against the metal grating separating the two of them, startling Out-Burn Kamikaze further.

The clamor was starting to get to Joan, too. The stall was so small and it was so noisy from all the rattling iron and horse cries. She felt like she was suffocating and, without realizing it, she found herself becoming shortened of breath.

“Holy shit, kid, are you alright?” The man to her left, the one with the stallion who hit into her grate (he apologized, at least) asked.

“She’s fine.” Said the man to Joan’s right- Thomas Culpeper. “Let her work herself up. Maybe then she’ll realize this isn’t for her.” He laughed cruelly.

His taunting words registered in Joan’s ringing ears and she grit her teeth, stamping down her panic attack. It just kept bubbling to the surface, so she finally gave up on calming herself and rather turned to her horse.

“Come on, boy,” She half whispered, half wheezed, “Calm down. It’s okay. I’m with you.”

Just when she thought she had Out-Burn Kamikaze settled, an ear piercing ringing sounded from above and the gates flew open.

The horses jetted from their stalls, leaving clouds of dust floating in the air for Out-Burn Kamikaze to totter blindly through.

Joan swore she could hear laughter and mocking whispers amongst the roaring crowd above her. For a split second, she turned her head up to them to stare helplessly, but then she whipped her gaze back down and tugged on the reigns.

“Come on, Blazer!” Joan urged the staggering, crying horse, “Come on! Come on! You can do it, buddy! Come on, you’re my big brave boy, aren’t you?”

Those words seem to get through Out-Burn Kamikaze’s fit because he suddenly reared and charged forward, nearly throwing Joan off in the process. Luckily, the girl held tightly to the reigns and hollered in glee as her mount took off.

“Yes! Yes! Go, Blazer! Go!”

The sound of the hoofbeats was hypnotizing. And it only got more and more hypnotic the closer and closer Joan and Out-Burn Kamikaze inched towards the competition.

The first horse they passed was a deep red color, then a chocolate brown one, then one the shade of bloody mud.

“Easy, Blazer, easy,” Joan said to her horse. “You’re doing great, buddy. Steady on.”

Out-Burn Kamikaze snorted and urged himself forward without his rider’s command. Almost sensing his need to speed up, Joan obliged and finally lifted herself fully off of the saddle, leaning forward and adjusting her weight so it would be at the front. Practically standing up on this sprinting beast’s back made a strong sense of vertigo wash over her, and she thought she might fall off, but Out-Burn Kamikaze’s increasing speed brushed away her worries.

“Run, Blazer, run!” Joan cried into the wind, “Run, boy! Let loose! Go! Go!!”

Joan’s grip may have been tight on the reigns, but Out-Burn Kamikaze was controlling himself. He weaved through two horse almost perfectly, despite them never training with moving obstacles, only the occasional stock-still ones. He knew to angle to the right to avoid getting his legs tangled up in an opponent’s and banked a hard left at the next turn that was so sharp it cut off the rider in front of him.

“You’re doing it, Blaze!” Joan cheered, “You’re doing it!” She laughed, and couldn’t tell if the tears in her eyes were from joy or the wind and dirt flying into her face. Either way, she was ecstatic. She also needed to get goggles.

They both crossed the finish line for the third time, starting the final lap. Joan was still shouting in glee when, suddenly, something slammed into Out-Burn Kamikaze’s side on the last leg of the race, ramming him right against the wall where one side of the stands were situated above. Joan yelped as her shoulder and side were grated painfully against the metal as her horse was pushed further against the structure. She turned to see Culpeper glaring at her from his raging red horse, Hell Comes Handily.

“You’ll learn one way or another, little girl!” Culpeper spat, “This isn’t for you!”

Joan grunted and she heard Out-Burn Kamikaze screech a furious neigh. He whipped his head to the side, baring his teeth and rotating his ears back. His anger was a cold, deep, dark thing that Joan knew about well. He once kicked down a barn door just because he was pet in an area he didn’t want to be pet in. That being said, Joan has taken a lot of time to learn his mannerisms and techniques to calm the beast.

Now was not one of the times to use those.

“You don’t belong here!” Culpeper hissed.

Joan grits her teeth, feeling the scrapes already tearing open on her shoulders thanks to the wall. She looked forward and saw they were about to come to the next turn and cross the finish line. The wall was going to end. Joan smiled.

“What are you grinning at?” Culpeper growled.

“This.”

Joan heaved her body to the side, hitting her helmet against Culpeper’s thigh and causing him to lurch Hell Comes Handily away in surprise. Joan leaned off of the saddle, shifting her weight downwards and aiding Out-Burn Kamikaze in the sharp turn that nearly flung her off of him completely, but she held tightly. Her arms ached as she pulled herself upright again, but the impressed swell of coos and shouts around her gave her strength to get situated again.

“Good job, Blazer!” Joan said, “Good boy! Keep going! Burn, Blaze, burn!”

With a mighty huff, Out-Burn Kamikaze hauled himself forward with a burst of speed. In those final moments of the race, it felt like he was flying, spreading majestic flaming wings and soaring down the finish line.

And soar they did.

When Joan crossed the finish line, she felt like she could breathe again. Even though the race was barely three minutes long, those moments felt like an eternity. But finally it was all over.

She collapsed forward, taking deep breaths as if SHE had did all the running, and hugged around Out-Burn Kamikaze’s furry neck. She buried her face in his mane, laughing.

“We did it, buddy! YOU did it!”

Slowly, the horse came to a halt and Joan sat up, finally taking in the full view of the stands from down on the track. She laughed again, a wide smile stretching across her features. Sure, the people probably weren’t cheering for her, the fourth place winner, but it still felt good to hear.

“They’re going to be cheering for you one day, bud,” Joan told Blazer, who was coming down from the high of running as Out-Burn Kamikaze. “We’re going to be their champions.”

A sudden swarm of reporters and cameras then caught Joan’s attention. She turned to them, realizing they were coming towards HER.

“What did it feel like to be pinned against the wall by one of the best rider’s in England?”

“How did it feel to beat that rider?”

“How long have you been training this horse?”

“Were you scared when Out-Burn Kamikaze wouldn’t run at first?”

“Why didn’t he run at the beginning?”

“What exactly did you do on that final turn?!”

Joan, who was slightly overwhelmed by all the attention, did her best to answer all the questions. She made sure to be polite and used her manners when speaking to the reporters- everything she saw counted. Plus, they had several cameras trained on her. She had to choose her words wisely.

“Joan!”

“Maria! Bessie!”

Joan slid off of Blazer’s back right into the arms of Bessie and Maria, who held her tightly.

“Oh, sweetheart, you did wonderful!” Maria exclaimed. “You were so amazing out there!”

“Maria cried.” Bessie snickered. She cups Joan’s cheeks as her roommate blubbered about that being a lie. “You’re not the only one, though, Mars.”

Joan sniffled a little, laughing as Bessie brushed away a half-dried tear streak trailing down her face.

“It was just- it was unbelievable.” Joan whispered. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I know,” Bessie said, smiling. “I’m so proud of you, darling.”

Joan grinned. She glanced over Bessie’s shoulder to see Jane and her team walking over.

“Wow.” Catherine said. “Just- wow.”

“You were amazing!” Anne declared.

“Yeah, when Culpeper had you pinned against that wall, I didn’t think you were gonna get out of it.” Anna admitted. “But you did! You really proved me wrong. You are something else, Joan.”

A dark pink blush appeared on Joan’s cheeks and she fiddled with her helmet calls sheepishly. She obviously wasn’t ready for this amount of praise.

“Thanks.” She said shyly.

From behind her, Blazer was starting to act up, so she quickly turned to him.

“Is he gonna have another fit?” Katherine asked.

“No,” Joan said, watching the way her horse bounced on his front legs and bobbed his head up and down. She smiled brightly. “I think he knows he won.”

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 38: The Sports Festival Part 11: End Credits

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Katsumi stared dumbly at the scene before them, several long seconds passing before she’s able to process what she’s seen, even with the rest of her class going wild around her. Going wild might actually have been putting it mildly.  Especially where Loud Kid was concerned.  She’d be surprised if Bird Girl, sitting next to him, didn’t have some hearing damage after they’d watched Toshi and the Newb fight.

Toshi and the Moth Girl in third (and the memory of the Moth Girl kicking the crap out of Shiro Monoma was something she was really going to savor), the Horse Girl in second, and the Newb in first place.  What was the world coming to?!

She would, if forced to admit it, confess that the Newb had actually fought hard.  He’d gone full out using his Quirk, never hesitating, even against Izzy, which was something she’d struggled with.  Katsuimi hated to admit it, but she’d probably have been hard pressed to defend against his speed and range.  The Horse Girl, though, she couldn’t believe she’d made it that far.  Especially since she’d won her first match by pissing off her opponent.  It wasn’t a completely unviable strategy, but the way she’d gone about it just made Katsumi’s skin crawl.

“Quite the sweep for our class, isn’t it?” Izzy asked.  

Katsumi nodded.  “You sorry it ain’t you down there?  You nearly beat the Newb and I know you coulda taken Horse Girl and Moth Girl.  Probably Toshi too.”

Izzy smiled and just shook her head.  “Perhaps. I pushed myself harder than I ever had before and did not completely succumb.  I am quite happy with that.”  She gave Katsuki a playful nudge.  “As for winning against them, it is difficult to say, though not completely unlikely.  I did beat you, after all.”

Katsumi stared at her for a moment, then broke into a laugh.  “That sense of humor you’re developing needs some work, Izz.  That definitely wasn’t funny.”

“It was a little funny,” Izzy said.

“It was a little funny,” Katsumi conceded.

Izzy regarded her thoughtfully for a moment.  “And what about you?  I was your first opponent and I defeated you.  Do you regret that you did not make it farther?”

Izzy always was one for the hard hitting questions.  She knew how much winning in general meant to Katsumi and knew that she’d been the direct cause of her loss.  It wasn’t an apology—Katsumi neither expected nor wanted one—but it was an acknowledgement of what had happened.  

“I ain’t embarrassed I lost, if that’s what you’re asking,” Katsumi replied.  She ran her left thumb over the knuckles of her right hand, still sore from where she’d punched Izzy’s ice wall.  “Considering I was going to throw it all away before you talked me into fighting, I’m happy to have made any kind of mark at all.  Can’t even say I’m disappointed.  You put up one hell of a fight.  Just… motivated for the next time around.”

Izzy seemed satisfied with that and nodded.  “Of course, you do realize I will be equally motivated.”

A smile worked its way across Katsumi’s face.  “Then we’ll just have to get stronger together, won’t we?”

Another nod.  “And then I can look forward to kicking your ass again.”

Katsumi felt her eyes go wide.  “Who the hell’s been coaching you in telling jokes?  Is it Sparky and Horse Girl?  Or Ghosty and her gang of idiots?”

Izzy looked confused, exaggerated, faked confusion.  “Joke?”

“I really gotta stop underestimating you.”

***

On the third place platform, Toshi gave Kocho a reassuring grin.  The moth-girl from General Studies seemed down, even though she’d placed. He could understand that, he supposed. The General Studies students who made it to the Tournament always fought hard and any defeat had to be heartbreaking. But she should have been proud of her accomplishments too.

“You did great,” he said. “Almost a new record.  Except for that one year, you did better than anyone else in General Studies.”

She did smile a little bit. “I know,” she said.  “Keep telling myself that.  Still…”

“You really wanted to win,” Toshi said.

“I really wanted to win,” she agreed.  

“Always next year,” he said. The competition in the Second Year Sports Festival was way more intense than the First Year.  It was extremely uncommon for anyone outside of the Hero Courses to get past the first stage, let alone place.  But considering how well she’d done…

“Maybe,” Kocho said. “Think I impressed anyone enough?”

“Could be?” Toshi replied, which wasn’t nearly as reassuring as he’d hoped he’d be.  “I could quote you all kinds of statistics, talk about the people who’ve made the jump over the years, but really, it all really depends on what the teachers and staff see in you.  But you fought hard.  Smart too. I’m rooting for you!”

That did get another small smile out of her.  Maybe that was enough.  Not exactly the heroic victory Toshi had been hoping for, but he’d done what he could.

“All right, folks, let’s give a big hand to our winners! And here to present their medals, former Number One Hero, All Might!”

Grandpa Might’s entrances weren’t quite as dramatic as they might have been in the old days, and he was no longer quite as muscular as he had once been (though far more healthy than he had been prior to Aunt Eri restoring his health) but he was still a large, fit man, and today he wore a version of his old blue, red, white, and yellow costume, tailored to fit.  His trademark smile was on his face and Toshi could easily tell it reached his eyes. In point of fact, Grandpa Might seemed to be practically vibrating with excitement and grandfatherly pride.

“In Third Place,” Present Mic announced, “Koharu Kocho and Toshinori Midoriya!”

Grandpa Might took a moment to steady himself before he approached the platform, first slipping a Bronze Medal over Kocho’s head.  “Young Kocho,” Grandpa Might said, “you showed significant skill and courage today. A credit to yourself and your class.”

His grin grew broader and he embraced her, causing her dark eyes to go wide with surprise.  Grandpa Might was still an incredibly affectionate man. “I think we’ll be seeing great things from you,” he told her.

Grandpa Might turned his attention to Toshi.  “And Young Grandson!”  Toshi thought his face was going to split wide open from the grin.  “Your grandmother and I could not be prouder of you! You’ve done us all proud!  Your dedication to your classmates, your dedication to going Plus Ultra…  You are an example to us all!”

Toshi was pretty sure Grandpa Might was going to cry, but he held it in as he placed the medal over Toshi’s head, then hugged him tight.

“Grandpa… Might…” Toshi squeaked.  “Can’t… breathe…!”

Grandpa Might released him quickly, then rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.  “Ah, sorry, sorry!” he babbled.  “I got a bit carried away there!”

“All right!  Let’s give another round of applause for our Third Place finishers!” Present Mic announced and the crowd went wild.  

“They’re cheering,” Kocho said, eyes wide with wonder.  “They’re really cheering… for me…?”

“For you,” Toshi assured her.  “For both of us.  People love a winner, one way or the other.”

He knew he had a lot to live up to.  His grandfather was one of the greatest Heroes of all time.  His dad was well on his way to matching that, if he hadn’t already. His mom was an incredible Hero in her own right.  Grandma Inko, Grandma Yua, and Grandpa Hideki were all incredible people too.  It would take a long time for him to reach their levels.  But today felt like a pretty good start.

***

On the Third Place platform, Midoriya and Kocho looked proud and pensive, respectfully. Up on the First Place platform, Haimawari looked nervous as hell, shaking like a leaf, an expression of confused awe on his face.  As for Mika…

Finally, she thought, the respect I so clearly deserve.

She already knew what her classmates thought of her.  Oh, for sure, Chihiro and Akaya were her friends, and so were many of the students in 1-B, like Kana, Anime, and Shiro.  But she also knew that people like Aoyama and Shoji dismissed her as trouble and that Kirishima-Bakugo threatened her with violence on a regular basis.  Mika was even well aware of the fact that most of the school considered her to be a perverted joke.  Word got around, after all.  And she would proudly embrace “pervert.”  But joke?  Never.

Maybe, just maybe, a few more people would start taking her more seriously after this.  Of course, if that meant she had to actually start acting more seriously, than forget it.  There were too many super attractive people in this school to give up on trying to get with as many of them as she possibly could before graduation (This would probably one day include sex, but for right now, she’s settle for making out and some fondling.  Her or them. She wasn’t picky.).  

Hell, she’d be surprised if she didn’t have a dozen plus new admirers after today.  Nothing sexier than a girl who could kick ass.  She should probably send the vampire girl, Kan, a gift basket or something though.  She’d gotten the better of her through the utmost use of her provocation skills.   That was rough.  She’d do it again in a heartbeat, and it would probably be great against villains, but she also might well have cost Kan some internship opportunities by making her lose her cool like that.

Blood oranges, maybe? Or was that too much of a joke?

She was also, if truth be told, more than a little worried about the possibility that Daddy had seen way too much of her fights, especially her first one.  It might have finally irrevocability shattered his perception of her as his innocent little girl.  He was supposed to be working today, but if he saw the highlights or something…

He might also try to kill Haimawari.  He’d gotten to full on second base with that last “shove” that had sent her out of the ring. Which would be a shame, to kill somebody with an ass like that.  Of course, Kana was interested in him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t look at the menu.

“And in second place,” came the voice of Present Mic, “Mika Mineta!”

“Young Mineta,” All Might said, as he approached.  He seemed to be weighing his next words carefully.  Probably trying to decide whether or not to lecture her.  Adults did that a lot.  “You utilized all the skills at your disposal, even if some of them were rather… unconventional.  Take pride in that!  A Hero must be willing to use all their skills, no matter how diverse!  Still, a Hero must also be mindful of their image as well!  It is a balancing act.”

With that, he slipped the Silver Medal over her head, deftly managing not to get it tangled in her horns, which was an impressive feet.  After that, he gave her a brief hug.

As the crowd applauded again, Mika grinned. Second Place.  Not bad, not bad at all.  And Kirishima-Bakugo was sure to be furious about it… which made it all the sweeter.

***

First Place.  He’d won the Sports Festival.  He’d won fights against people demonstrably more powerful than him, like Izumi and Midoriya.  All this time, ever since he’d gotten his acceptance letter, Isamu had questioned whether or not he had what it took to be a Hero, whether or not he even belonged in U.A.  When he’d found out he was in a class with nothing but the children of Pro-Heroes, several of them the children of Top Ten Heroes, that feeling of unworthiness had only sunk in further.

But since coming to U.A., he’d made friends, learned new skills, and pushed himself harder than he’d ever pushed before.  Midoriya, Izumi, Shota…  all his friends believed in him.  And not one of them had treated him like he wasn’t worthy of a place at U.A., no matter his pedigree.  

And now he’d won the whole damn Sports Festival.  And for once, he actually believed that it was really happening to him and wasn’t just part of his coma dream theory.  When they were gathering them up for the closing ceremony, he’d briefly mentioned to Midoriya that he couldn’t believe he’d made it this far.  But then Midoriya had something that had really stuck with him, crashed right through the self-deprecating cloud he’d been living in.

Midoriya had said that he had to believe it, or else he was just making the efforts of everybody who’d been competing and fighting against him worthless.  He’d said that they deserved to have their efforts recognized, not just dismissed as some kind of dream.  It was about respect, Midoriya had told him.

And Isamu had realized he was right.  He’d been so caught up with his own issues, that he hadn’t stopped to think about how that might have been framing everyone else’s efforts.  He respected all of them—even Mineta—too much to do that.

“And now,” Present Mic announced, “your First Place finisher and new Sports Festival Champion…  Isamu Haimawari!”

And then there was All Might before him, Gold Medal in hand.  He’d almost gotten used to having one of the greatest Heroes in the world as his teacher, but had not had a lot of close-up, one-on-one time with the man. He’s not intimidated, not exactly, the man’s too friendly, too smiley, to really be intimidating.  But All Might is still an incredible presence, a reminder of how far he has to go and what he might someday be.

“Young Haimawari,” All Might intoned, giving him that famous grin. “Today, you displayed amazing skill and ability.  You’ve taken a major step on the road to becoming a Hero!  Whatever doubts you may have, know that while your doubts keep you humble, they can also hold you back.  Use this victory as your springboard to self-confidence!  And know that we are all quite proud of you!”

With that, he slipped the medal over Isamu’s head, then hugged him.  Isamu was taller than average, but All Might dwarfed him easily, leaving his head pressed against the man’s muscles.  Fortunately, he survived the hug with nothing crushed.

His parents believed in him. His friends believed in him.  All Might, the greatest Hero of any generation, believed in him.  

Maybe Midoriya was right. The time for moping and self-doubt was over.  He’d earned this.  He could take pride in it.  He could use this to motivate himself, to be the best that he could be.  His confidence issues weren’t going anywhere any time soon.  But he also felt more at ease than he had in a long time.  A competition stocked to the gills with the children of Pro Heroes and the winner was him.  As far as the public knew, a total newcomer to the Hero scene, and known only to him, the son of two very skilled, though long-retired Vigilantes.  Mister Aizawa had been right… this truly was anyone’s game.

And it was his.

“And that’s our winner, folks!  Let’s show all our winners, and all our competitors, just how much we appreciate all of them!  They all went beyond!   PLUSSSSSSSS ULTRAAAAA!”

“Hn.  Do you have to yell so loud?  You’ve already got the microphone.”

***

With two days off before they had to be back in class and permission to go home, Isamu walked the streets of Naruhata for the first time since he’d started U.A.   The moment he’d stepped off the train, he’d felt more relaxed. This was his home turf, the place where he belonged.

People on the train had recognized him as the guy who’d won the Sports Festival.  He’d had total strangers congratulating him and more than a few teenage girls trying to flirt with him.  That had been a little awkward.  But he’d managed.  

Now, back in his own neighborhood, it was familiar faces that congratulated him, names that came easily to his lips.  And finally, his steps carried him to what he always considered sacred ground, The Nice Guy Convenience Store, the convenience store owned by his father, Koichi Haimawari.  It was the place where he offered up convenient foods and goods at reasonable prices, but also where he held court and listened to the problems of the people in the neighborhood.  That Dad had been the Vigilante known as the Crawler was an open secret here, and the people of Naruhata looked after their own and kept it from outside ears and eyes. But if you had a problem, then it was well known the elder Haimawari would do everything in his power to help you. He’d made a lot of friends over the years, knew the right calls to make, the right favors to call on.  Even though he had long been sidelined from being a Vigilante, he was still helping people.

Helping people, he had taught Isamu, was the absolute best thing a person could do in this world, Hero or not.

Isamu stepped towards the store, the automatic doors parting for him with a small whoosh.  “He is the man who won the Sports Festival!” came a voice from the counter.  “My son!”

He felt his face redden. “Daaaad,” Isamu wailed.  “You’re being all dramatic again.”

Dad stepped out from around the counter, slow, careful steps that kept him from aggravating his bad leg. “Can’t blame a dad for being proud, kid.”

“Give your old man a break,” another voice said, gruff and growly, but warm and touched with pride of its own.

A second voice, tense and reedy, added, “He’s had the Sports Festival on all day.  Been glued to the highlights and post-game ever since.”

The voices in question belonged to a short, stocky man with thick muttonchops and hair that came to a point, and to a tall, slim man wearing red-tinged glasses.   They were as familiar a sight to Isamu as anyone, longtime friends of the family from his parents Vigilante days.

“Uncle Jube!  Uncle Ichimoku!  I didn’t know you were going to be here!”

Uncle Jube laughed at that. “Wouldn’t have missed it, kid. Besides, somebody had to keep any eye on the place while your old man was glued to the TV.”

Uncle Ichimoku pushed his glasses up on his nose.  “You did great, Isamu.  Fushichou said to tell you she’s proud of you.”

Fushichou was Uncle Ichimoku’s daughter, with a telekinetic Quirk.  Together with Uncle Jube’s daughter Mujina, who had a Quirk that gave her double-wooden knives in her hands, they too were familiar and friendly presences in his life, despite being several years older than him.  He’d harbored a bit of a crush on Mujina at one point, actually.  They’d both gone to other Hero schools, but had encouraged him to try out for U.A.

He was glad he’d listened.

“Where’s Mom?” he asked.

“If I know your mother, she’s already put together a surprise party for you,” Dad said.  He hesitated, then added, “…Well, she’s probably gone out and picked up a cake.   …She’s probably raided the freezer for ice cream.  …If we leave now, there might still be some for us.”

Isamu had to laugh at that. It was certainly an accurate description of his mom.  Planning and organization were not exactly her strong suits.  Her desk in her office looked like a paper bomb had gone off in it and she was perpetually up against the wall on her deadlines.

“You okay closing up early?” he asked his dad.

“Sure,” Dad said.  “Benefits of owning the place.  People will understand.”

Dad gave him another look over, a faraway look in his eyes.  

“You, ah, you okay, Dad?” he asked.

“Just… so proud of you,” Dad said.  “I’m proud of the work me and your mom did.  We helped a lot of people.  Maybe even helped save the city once.  Small works do wonders and I was proud to be a friendly neighborhood Vigilante.  But you… you’re going to be truly spectacular, amazing, sensational… and a whole bunch of adjectives I haven’t even thought of yet.”

“Daaad,” Isamu wailed again. “Don’t be so mushy, okay?”   But he was smiling.

Dad went on, “So.  Any idea what Heroes might try scouting you?”

…He hadn’t thought about that!

[theperidotshade]

Part Three of Ardyn Saves Regis on a Whim (which really needs a title, damn it)

Well, I’ve been sick all day, which means the only thing I felt like doing was sitting around in sweaters and yoga pants, writing.  So here it is, the much-earlier-than-expected third installment.  Enjoy the suppressed emotions and reckless magic use!

Regis was exhausted by the time the statue of the Mystic grew visible through the smoke and distance.  He and the ex-Chancellor been ambushed many times over the course of their journey through the destroyed city to the oldest part of Insomnia, a trek that had taken a lot out of him physically and emotionally.  To see his people, his city, in such a state…no, best not to ponder that matter just yet.

Izunia took the lead, heading toward one of the few free-to-park lots within walking distance of the monument.  It was mostly empty, by this point, the vehicles wrecked and abandoned or else driven out of the city by the survivors.  The few remaining cars were mostly Crownsguard-issue, their drivers out aiding wherever they could.  The one exception was—

Regis stopped, blinked, and burst out in slightly hysterical laughter.

Gods, that had to be the ugliest vehicle he'd ever seen.

Yes, that was clearly a classic under that horrific paint job, but the color.

Regis stared at the car, then at his unlikely rescuer, then back at the car.

“You drive that.”

Izunia sniffed theatrically.  “Yes.  And your point is?”

Regis struggled to keep the amusement out of his tone.  He failed.  “You drive a car…the same color as your hair and magic.  Isn’t that taking theme a bit too far?”

The Accursed rolled his eyes.  “As if you have any room to talk.  Every single one of Somnus’ descendants have dressed entirely in black and metallics—and don’t presume your car’s color escaped my notice either.  Back in my day, we wore color.”

"Fair," Regis admitted, "I need to be closer to the statue to activate the Old Wall without the Ring—are we walking or driving?"

Izunia's lips pressed together tightly for the barest of moments before smoothing out.  "Driving.  There will undoubtedly be more foes lurking about, and I'd rather a quick getaway be possible at this juncture."

With that, Izunia unlocked the doors, slipping into the driver's side.  Regis followed his example, settling in as the Accursed cranked down the convertible roof and secured it.  Izunia turned the key in the ignition and the engine started with the sound of a well-cared-for vehicle.

Their silence lasted the short drive over to the Mystic's stone likeness.  Regis tried not to look to closely at the destruction of his city, instead focusing on scanning the streets for MTs, Glaives, and daemons.  There were none, this part of the city mostly abandoned for more populated areas as the attack stretched on into hours.  Regis kept noting strange, small details through the false-composure that had settled on him—the stray cat sitting atop a pile of rubble, washing its paws.  The bent grass poking up through the cracks in the sidewalks.  Izunia's knuckles, white with tension on the steering wheel.

They pulled up to the curb just outside the visitor's entrance for the monument.

Regis got out, leaving the door open.  "I shouldn't be long," he said.

Izunia nodded.  "If daemons come, we'll have to make a run for it.  I'll keep the car running."

Regis nodded.  He suspected there was more to Izunia's choice to remain in the vehicle, but didn't comment.  He had a job to do.

Walking forward with difficulty, Regis bypassed the visitor's center, suppressing a preemptive wince.  The stairs up to the maintenance access were going to be horrendous on his knee, but there was no choice, not without the Ring.

He climbed.

The last step finally came what felt like an eternity later but was likely only a few minutes.  He didn't need to go up far—only to the statue's knees.

The hidden panel was untouched, opening with a numerical code.  It was the next bit that was the real security.

Regis grimaced.  He'd always hated this part.

He plunged his hand into the darkness of the interior of the monument.

The world swam before his eyes, resettling as an alien presence made itself known behind his eyes.

Who dares—oh.  You live.

"I had a bit of unexpected help," Regis replied to his ancestor.

Now that's interesting, who'd have both the power and inclination…

Regis waited patiently for the Mystic to finish the sentence.  It took several minutes, as his ancestor examined his memories of the past few hours.

A noise of pure shock echoed in Regis' mind.

Ardyn?  He…he saved you…he said that, oh gods what have I done?

"Your Majesty?" Regis asked, hesitantly.

Ah, never mind that.  The mental projection gave the impression of hastily suppressing grief and guilt and who knew what else.  You came to me for a reason, I believe.

"Yes," Regis replied, making note of the Mystic's strange reaction for later consideration, "I wish to activate the Old Wall."

And you sent the Ring with the young Oracle, I see.  Well, that's easily done.

Regis hastily pulled his hand back as the statue began to move, stepping off the stone plinth.

The presence in his mind lingered a moment.  Ardyn would not have acted in your favor without motive—you have the chance to correct our line's greatest folly.  Don't waste it.

The sense of alienness faded as the stone sentinel moved out of sight.

Regis stared after the likeness of the ancient king, then back toward the street, where Izunia sat within his unsightly car.  There was tragic history there, something deeply personal, and it seemed the Accursed was the injured party.  How unexpected.

He climbed back down the stairs, rejoining Izunia.

The ex-Chancellor nodded absently in greeting as Regis slipped into the car.  He was staring off after the statue, tapping a finger idly against the steering wheel.

"How odd, to see him memorialized like that," Izunia murmured, seemingly unaware that Regis' attention had focused sharply on him at the first word.

Regis cleared his throat.  He was curious, certainly, and this felt like something he urgently needed to know, but he wasn't going to intrude on a personal moment unless he had to—not to mention that they needed to get out of the city immediately.

Izunia startled, shaking his head abruptly.  He regained his air of carefree condescension quickly, but Regis could see it for the mask it was.

"Shall we be off?" Izunia asked.

"Let's," Regis said.

"Good," came the reply, "You may wish to watch our backs—getting out of the city is going to be tricky."

The truth of Izunia's words became clear as soon as they pulled out onto the main highway out of Insomnia.

There was a blockade barring the way, hastily constructed but still impassible.  They'd have to find a way around it.

A new wave of dropships had arrived, fewer in number but enough to make trouble.  With them had come a magitek armor piloted by a vaguely discernible figure within—an officer, to all appearances.

"Ah," Izunia said, "Of course Ulldor would be here, with young Ravus out for the count and Glauca's premature demise.  I'm sure by now someone has reported my defection.  How are you at elemancy from a moving vehicle?"

"Good enough for our purposes," Regis replied, already eyeing the armor and the dropships to determine the proper order of attack.

"Excellent," the Accursed replied, "I'm about to do something exceedingly reckless."

In the next moment, three things happened: first, the Niflheimr forces noticed the unusual coloring of their car and began shouting, pointing at the vehicle barreling toward them.  Second, Izunia took his hands off the wheel to make a complicated gesture at the armor, which shot up into the sky—right into a dropship, puncturing the fuel tank.  Third, Izunia shouted something indecipherable to Regis, pointing at the breach in the 'ship.

Regis caught on instantly, sending a stream of fire straight for the leaking fuel tank.

It exploded, taking out the ship, the armor, and every other dropship in reach—which was nearly three quarters, as the outermost fuel tanks and engines were punctured by shrapnel.

That left only the blockade to worry about.

The MTs and Niflheimr officers manning the barricade opened fire.

Regis erected a shield as quickly as he could, concerned by the grunt that escaped Izunia.  He chanced a quick glance at the driver, reassured by the Accursed's quick shake of the head.

Getting an idea, Regis expanded the shield to cover the hood of the car.

Izunia picked up on his plan immediately, accelerating quickly.

They braced for impact.

The car plowed through MTs, officers, and concrete barriers alike, smashing their way out of Insomnia.

Once they hit the open road, Regis chanced a look back.  The few remaining dropships were in pursuit, gaining on them quickly.

"Three dropships behind us," Regis informed his unlikely ally.

The Accursed grinned.  "Hold the wheel steady, would you?"  He didn't wait for an answer, turning in his seat to call lightning out of the sky.

Regis swore and grabbed the steering wheel.  Triple impacts behind him sent massive shockwaves through the earth, informing him of Izunia's success, though he dared not take his eyes off the road.

Izunia took back the wheel nonchalantly under Regis' glare.

"That was incredibly stupid of you," Regis said.

Izunia shrugged.  "It worked, did it not?"

"That's not the point—you could have killed us both!"

"Killed you, you mean."  The Accursed hummed, barely listening.

"Gods, now I know how Clarus fe—wait, what?"  Regis blinked.

"It would only have killed you.  I cannot die."  Izunia's voice was bitter.

Regis examined his rescuer more closely.  The Accursed looked like a middle-aged man, on the surface, but there were little signs here and there of his long, long life—deep creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth, dark bags beneath his eyes.  Nearly every inch of him was covered, but Regis could discern bright white and red patches of skin on his neck, hands, along his hairline.  It was a sure bet more scars lurked beneath those numerous layers.  The most telling of all, though, was the black patch of blood on his vest, surrounding a bullet hole—right above his heart.

Regis stared blankly at the hole.  That was a fatal wound.

"You were shot," he said, shock leeching all expression from his face and tone.

"Yes," Izunia replied.

"You really can't die.  'Immortal Accursed' is literal."

"Yes."

"Gods, how did that happen?"  Regis switched his gaze to Izunia's face.

"The Astrals' gift to me had a…side effect, so to speak."  The Accursed's hands tightened on the wheel.  "They couldn't have their tool perish too soon, you see, so they tied my death to the demise of the Starscourge, and vice versa.  Your son is the only one who can kill me.  And you know how that is supposed to occur."

"That must have been…difficult…to discover."  Regis ignored the reference to Noctis for the moment.  This was already hard enough to process.

"Oh, it was," Izunia said, forcedly light and airy, "It was quite disconcerting to be turned away from the Beyond the first time.  And waking up, well, let's just say it was quite a surprise to return to consciousness just as they were pulling my corpse from the cross."

"…Cross?" Regis asked, a sinking feeling deep in his chest.  That sounded an awful lot like…

"They crucified me, you see, after the Crystal rejected me.  On my brother's orders."  The words sounded increasingly difficult to say as Izunia went on.  By the end, the Accursed's hands were shaking on the wheel, and the dark, gravelly undertone to his voice had come to the forefront.

For a moment, Regis couldn't breathe—Six, the man must have suffered, and at his brother's hands—but then the implications of that sentence dawned on him.  The Crystal rejected him?  His brother…had authority…

Regis glanced at Izunia's face sharply.  "On your brother's orders?"

"Somnus' orders, yes."

Regis sucked in a breath.  But that would make Izunia not an Izunia at all, but…

The Accursed eyed him, bitterly amused.  "Is it really so difficult to believe?"

Regis shook his head slowly.  "Perhaps I wish I suspected wrongly."

The man laughed.  "Ah, now that is quite understandable.  Very well, allow me to reintroduce myself.  Ardyn Lucis Caelum, at your service."

Regis closed his eyes, sighing.  Yes, things were beginning to fall into place, and he did not like it one bit.

"So," he began, "Your older brother—"

"Younger brother, actually," his distant relative said, rambling slightly in a way that gave away his nerves, "By quite a number of years, in fact.  A decade, or near enough."

"Then why is he the Founder King?"  Regis asked.

"A better question would be why he's known as the Founder King," the—no, Regis really needed to started thinking of him by his given name, or this would get confusing quickly—Ardyn replied, "Our mother was responsible for most of the actual work of unification.  It could be that he was just the first to call it by the modern name."

"History says nothing about his—or your, I suppose—family before his wife and son."

"That's…probably deliberate.  Damnatio memoriae was declared in my case, though I do not know why Ama would be included in that."  Ardyn's profile, set against the sinking sun, bore a definite resemblance to the rest of Regis' ancestors, now that Regis knew what to look for.

"Ama?" Regis asked, seizing on the unfamiliar word to distract himself from the fact that it was looking increasingly likely that the royal line of Lucis (his line, oh gods) held authority they really shouldn't have ever had, save by treachery.

"A Sol term, used to refer to the parent who gave birth to you."  Ardyn's lips quirked.  "But do keep trying to deny what you've just realized, it's quite amusing to watch."

Regis rolled his eyes.  "So glad I could entertain you—"  He faltered and fell silent.  He was about to call Ardyn 'Your Majesty', wasn't he?  As a joke.  But, oh Six, it was true.

"Ah," Ardyn said, "I see it's hit you.  It's…difficult, is it not?  Realizing your life has been built on a lie."

Regis struggled to control the utter devastation that was rising up inside him.  He managed it—but only just.  He was definitely heading for a breakdown.

"You sound like you know," his voice came out strained, but even.

"I do.  Crystal and Ring were given from the Draconian into my hands, and the gift of taking in that which cannot be healed, all with the promise of ending the Scourge once and for all.  'You are the Chosen,' Shiva told me, 'You will save us all.'  So I did, over and over, until I was brimming with it, on the verge of death but unable to pass on.  And then the very tools I was meant to wield rejected me, and it was made clear that all along—I was the real tool, and I had served my purpose."  Ardyn's knuckles were white again, fine tremors running up his arms.

Regis was shaking as well.  "I—I don't know what to say.  Gods, how could that ever be made right?"

Ardyn relaxed suddenly, expression softening.  "You need not say anything.  It's enough that you do not agree with what they did."  He looked up ahead.  "Perhaps we should postpone the rest of what must be discussed for the morning.  The sun is setting, and it is still some time before we reach Hammerhead, as I will have to make a few false trails.  The daemons avoid me, so it is safe to get some rest if you need it."

Regis sighed, tension draining slowly from his shoulders.  "Yes, I think that's for the best.  We need to discuss your role in certain treaties-that-turned-out-to-be-traps as well, and I think that will be best done at significant volume."

Ardyn laughed.  "I look forward to it."

Regis settled back against the seat and closed his eyes.  The day's events were going to hit him like a freight train, very soon, and he wanted to have at least a few hours of rest before that happened.

[maskehase]

OROSOROS

Ox and Monkey stood together in the library. Shelves crammed with books faced them on all sides.

Monkey turned. "Which volume did you say you're looking for, again?"

Ox seemed not to have heard.

"Ox?"

"Hm?"

"I asked, which volume are you looking for?"

Ox returned a blank stare.

"I don't remember the title... the cover was green... or, maybe, it might have been red... the author had a name that sounded something like 'Johnson'... or it might have been 'Jackson'... or 'Anderson'... or 'Alexander'..."

Ox ambled toward the nearest shelf and began to scan down a row of spines. Monkey went to the opposite shelf. Most of the books' labels were too worn to be legible. Those which could still be read suggested either that all of the books in this room had been misshelved or that the library had no shelving system at all. The latter, thought Monkey, seemed more likely. Indeed, in all the time he and Ox had spent trawling through the library, through basements and sub-basements, through archival stacks and back rooms filled with card catalogs and filing cabinets, through sub-sub basements filled with filing cabinets for back rooms' archival card catalogs, he had seen little to indicate that any order existed within the library at all. Despite this, Ox never tired of her search. Now, eyeing the shelves in the remotest corner of the library's third sub-sub-sub-sub-basement, she seemed neither nearer nor farther from her goal than she had at the start of the quest.

"Oh, I do wish I could remember where I put it! My memory used to be so keen that I never needed to organize, I knew exactly where everything went without any labels at all. But then the collection started to get so big, and by the time I knew what was what with the labels there was just too much and it was all out of order already! I tried to keep up, but then I lost track of the labels, too, so I had to make labels for the labels, and then labels for those labels, and then I lost track of everything. Oh! But I remember the name of the author! It was 'Benson'. No, wait, it was 'Borgeson'... actually, no, it was 'Boris'... or was it just..."

The falling books gave Ox no time to finish her thought. At the time he slid the conspicuous tome from its place against the wall, Monkey had not suspected that it was a load-bearing book, but it made its nature plain in an instant, as the entire set of shelves collapsed sideways without its support. When the dust settled and only the books seemed worse for the collapse, Ox noticed the door set into the wall behind the shelf.

"I certainly don't remember THAT!"

Monkey inspected the door. Its grainy surface pattern indicated that it was wooden, but it was painted in the same peeling off-white shade that coated the surrounding brick walls. It had no doorknob, but a small recess flush with the surface of its right-hand side suggested that it might slide open to the left. Monkey stepped toward the door, grabbed the sunken handle, and pushed.

He had expected that in a moment the flickering fluorescence of the hallway would fill the darkness of another forgotten storage closet, but was taken aback when a beam of bright light poured out from behind the door. After a minute, his eyes adjusted to the glare and he gazed beyond the door’s frame, straight into the face of a snake.

It was a statue, but Monkey's shock was real.

A coil of shining metal descended from behind the statue's large bright head, wrapping around a pillar of wood and leaving the tip of its tail hanging at the midway point of the pole. Four electric lamps blazed above, one hanging at each corner of the square metal ceiling, and around them the wood-paneled walls bristled with paper sheets. Evidently someone had nailed these reams of paper to the walls and then drawn on each sheet a letter in red ink, so that each door-less wall bore a grid of leaves marked with the pattern:

SATOR AREPO TENET OPERA ROTAS

As Monkey stepped through the doorway he recognized the papers as book pages. On closer inspection they were pages lifted from a Bible, or rather from three separate Bibles, one for each wall, though he could not recognize any of their versions. On each wall the arrangement of pages was the same, Monkey observed. The text of each version was different, but on each wall the page numbers were arranged in the pattern:

63, 1, 28, 11, 50 17, 60, 39, 6, 62 58, 59, 61, 65, 64 72, 56, 105, 66, 57 116, 111, 94, 121, 83

Ox stepped into the room after Monkey. "Now that I think about it, this room feels familiar after all. I think the book might be here! Or, directions to the book were stored here... or, the book has a set of directions leading here? Anyway, this place has something to do with the book... what's that on the post?"

Monkey quit studying the papers on the wall and turned toward Ox, who was staring at three leaves fastened with as many nails to the trunk of the centerpiece sculpture. As he approached he saw that these pages were covered with red ink handwriting, marked not with one large letter each like the pages on the walls had been, but with normally-sized text. He lifted one page's bottom edge and stooped to read:

I have reached a conclusion which may be of some interest to you. You might be familiar with the concept of a palindrome, but if you are not, then allow me to provide an example for your instruction:

SATOR AREPO TENET OPERA ROTAS

This phrase, which contains the same ordered sequence of twenty-five letters when read from the first to the twenty-fifth as when read from the twenty-fifth to the first, is a palindrome. It is a particularly exceptional palindrome at that, as it may be reformatted to form the "magic square" which is palindromic both horizontally and vertically, the same forwards as it is backwards along two axes:

SATOR AREPO TENET OPERA ROTAS

Additionally, the phrase's evenly alternating pattern of vowels and consonants makes it exceptionally pronounceable and mnemonic, and lends it easily to reshaping in the form of other palindromic squares. For instance, if the outer ring of letters is omitted, then the five-by-five square collapses into a pronounceable three-by-three square:

REP ENE PER

If the median ring of letters and the vowels of the outer ring are removed, the five-by-five square collapses into an unpronounceable three-by-three square:

STR TNT RTS

If the five-by-five square is collapsed inward from its upper-left and lower-right corners, the following pronounceable three-by-three arrangement results:

SOR ONO ROS

Here the form of the palindrome becomes most significant. The palindrome, a string of characters which is identical forwards and backwards and which forever returns to the spot at which it began, evokes infinity, and mimics the form of a circle. The palindrome square, having both horizontal and vertical extent as a circle does, illustrates the circular nature of the palindrome more fully. The letter O, which also takes the shape of a circle, naturally echoes the form of the palindrome. Thus, modifying the original magic square such that the phrase it displays remains pronounceable while the letter O takes emphasis as the marker of the horizontal and vertical extent of the palindrome's circle will bring the form of the palindrome to fuller expression. This suggests an alternate reading of the palindrome itself, taking the letter O as an appropriate marker of its beginning and reading in a clockwise fashion around the perimeter of the square to complete one cycle with this as the result:

OROSOROS

This text is not fully palindromic, but shares with the palindrome a cyclical structure and the potential for endless repetition. This suggestion of infinity is strengthened when the form of the palindrome is rightly shifted from that of a square to that of a circle, as it is in the illustration on the page to the left of this one. There the letters on the edge are aligned in a ring rather than in rows and columns and are arranged like the letters around the perimeter of a compass, with their uppermost points angled toward the edge of the circle and their lowermost points toward its central letter N. The palindrome reaches its clearest possible expression when letters cease to exist as discrete elements and instead are woven together as calligraphy, the curve of the O leading into the bend of the S leading into the arch of another O leading into the spokes of an R and then back again, on each side, like the two halves of a lemniscate feeding into one another. Such a figure is displayed on the page to the right of this one. At this extreme of expression the distinction between representation and embodiment dissolves, and the figure shimmers with oscillation between the dual functions of object and symbol, simultaneously one and the other, neither and both.

Monkey squinted at the page, unsure of what he had just read. Then he scrutinized the leaves to its left and right, noting that the design on the former did indeed resemble a compass, but the latter's calligraphic sigil simply looked like two knotted red worms devouring each other. Grotesque. Nothing in it shimmered. Only the statue shimmered, perching above Monkey on the pole. Two empty black slit-pupils stared down at him, silent and inert.

Quickly Monkey turned to Ox, who had shifted her attention to the pages on the walls. Now she shuffled from corner to corner, lost in thought, touching one page and another, tracing lines in her mind's eye as she rotated her head slowly, deliberately, from side to side, as though returning to a long-neglected habit. She seemed distant, away in a world of her own, moving at a steady pace toward a goal that whispered recognition into the features of her face. Something was departing from her, or filling her, leaving hints that built upon each other like pen strokes on a page. Just as her face was at its brightest and the last "t" seemed about to be crossed, Monkey spoke.

"You said it was green?"

Ox gave a start. Instantly the knowledge left her body.

She turned to Monkey.

"What?"

"The cover of the book you were looking for. It was green?"

"What book?"

"I was helping you find a book. You said that its cover was green."

"Were you? Did I?"

“Yeah. We've been searching for hours now. You said the volume had a green cover.”

Ox contorted her features in thought.

“Yes, I remember now. The cover was green... the author's name was... sounded something like... “Johnson”... yes... I remember...”

"Well, we won't find it in here. There are no books in this room with green covers."

"Right... you're right... yes...”

Ox hobbled over to Monkey, who offered her his hand. She took it, and together they made their slow way back out of the room, into the hallway where Monkey turned and, after one last glance at the gleaming serpent, slid the door shut.

Without a word, he began to lead Ox toward the staircase down to the next sub-basement.

---

(Magritte, René. La Maison De Verre. 1939.)

[marymosley]

COVID-19 Situation Demonstrates The Potential For Harm To Society Caused By Politicians

By Darren Smith, Weekend Contributor

Putting aside the discussion of whether or not actions taken by various elected officials were reasonable, the hurried effects suffered by the public during the COVID-19 virus pandemic at the behest of politicians should if anything prove the potential for damage caused by unscrupulousness or incompetence in government.

Today’s events should be by now a self-evident reminder of the great importance of putting the right people in office and the folly of settling for very fallable politicians. The next coming weeks will make that point likely more for you, with less consideration to your rights or interests.

I want to take a moment to emphasize, because it frequently will be the case that many fail to recognize this article is authored by someone other than Jonathan Turley: My opinions are mine alone and not necessarily his. His realm is among political leadership and mine is not, so what I write should not be confused with his.

The last two weeks were to varying degrees dependant upon political approaches and facts on the ground; we’ve objectively speaking seen a significant erosion of individual rights and the assertion of sweeping, and unquestioned executive power on behalf of state governors and mayors of cities (in the U.S. example)–ostensibly out of necessity to contain the spread of COVID-19 contagion. Whether or not one agrees with the efficacy of such power, it is wielded to fight a perceived threat. The public and the courts will in the end need to decide whether this erosion was in their interest or was constitutional.

Objectively, let us look at what has been mandated or granted by executive branch declarations of emergency:

Churches, mosques, temples ordered closed

Curfews ordered during night time (Kauai)

Prohibitions on more than ten citizens lawfully assembling

Political assemblies shuttered

Certain healthcare facilities ordered closed

Travel restrictions

Education denied (school closures)

A governor given carte-blanche by legislature to nearly limitless spending

Persons denied property right to pursue chosen business or trade (mandatory closures)

Forced confinement in homes or facilities

Open ended time tables for enforcement of restrictions

Threat of arrest for violating executive orders

It might just be my observation alone, but to me it almost seems there is a competition or at least a mantra for some politicians or officials to impose the hardest or most novel restrictions on the public, comparing those in neighboring jurisdictions. One example was that Seattle mandated a “no eviction” policy during the “crisis” and a few days later, WA Governor Jay Inslee imposed the same mandate state wide. I do not see how a tenant that fails to pay rent or causes a nuissance to the property somehow affects the propogation of viruses but one can always piggyback atop a crisis and bypass the legislature when the fear is abound. Or when Oregon’s Governor imposes a restriction of 150 people occupying the same event, Washington’s governor quickly follows suit, or was it the other way around? It can be difficult to know which number to use, can we just settle on 57? A governor can even double-down on their last executive order and decrease the number to 50 then 10. Do I hear two? Maybe even conjoined twins must be seperated.

The rubric of a “threat” or “enemy” is so often utilized by those at worse intending the seizure of power or at least the imposition of a policy. But there is a definite hubris that can tempt some to use their fear invoked powers and punish those who do not agree there is a perceived threat and do not behave accordingly.

Arbitrary action sometimes results from unchecked power

The website “Geekwire” featured an article that demonstrates this very well. In the story, WA Governor Inslee discussed his claimed “data-driven” strategy for his numerous state of emergency declarations. And according to him, too many Washingtonians are not cloistering themselves enough and therefore should expect greater restrictions if they do not fall in line.

“Tolled roads in Washington show a “relatively steady” decline in travel, Inslee said. But the Washington Department of Transportation data shows some roads with 20-40 percent traffic declines or less, which Inslee stressed “is not enough.”

“It is clear that we have continuation of too many social interactions in our state,” he said.

Somehow Governor Inslee could derive from DOT data exactly the purpose and intent of every vehicle occupant on the road and whatever that might be, it apparently is unacceptable to him. So what level of vehicle travel is too much or too little to prevent a pandemic? It apparently constitutes too much social interaction for his personal taste, but because it is incorporated into an executive order involving a state of emergency, his pet peeve is now enforceable against the Washington population. I have to take exception to that. I fail to see how a person driving himself alone in a car on State Route 167 poses any public health emergency. It seems enough people are not, as perhaps Cartman might say, respecting his “authoritah”. Perhaps he is taking logic lessons from President Erdogan.

I believe it is incumbent upon citizens of any nation to engage themselves in a thought experiment where they place themselves in a lifetime in which they are living under today’s restrictions, (which will likely become more stringent before they are fully liberated). That is exactly at a minimum what can happen if we allow incompetence and malfeasance in public office: settle for bad politicians, suffer the benefits of that decision. There will always be a threat or promise that can be whipped up into a vortex by an opportunistic policical leader. Or equally as damaging he/she might be so inept at leadership that bad decision making can lead to swift economic downfalls or social upheavals.

Simply look at how fast businesses shuttered and jobs were lost based on the mandates of political leaders. Public health might have been the reason today, but stupidity and incompetence might be the reason later. It was not the Corona Virus itself that caused businesses to downfall, people to avoid each other, or treasure to be lost. In fact, the scientific community itself argues whether a virus is definable as a living organism. It was the actions and mandates of politicians–for better or worse–that caused or invoked nearly all of this. Take it to heart and be forewarned. You may believe today it was for the better good, but you will not find it acceptable if such problems are imposed upon you later when lesser politicians are granted power over your lives.

Now that you’ve had a bit of a taste of what it is like to lose some of your liberty, you might want to be a little better guarded when you go to the polls in future elections. You very well could actually get the politicians you deserve. The choice is entirely up to you, and what you hold most dear.

By Darren Smith

The views expressed in this posting are the author’s alone and not those of the blog, the host, or other weekend bloggers. As an open forum, weekend bloggers post independently without pre-approval or review. Content and any displays or art are solely their decision and responsibility.

COVID-19 Situation Demonstrates The Potential For Harm To Society Caused By Politicians published first on https://immigrationlawyerto.tumblr.com/

[pocket-luv101]

Sharing a bed LawLicht and KuroMahi can I pick two ships or just one?

Dear Anon, I didn’t know if you wanted two separate fanficsor one fanfic with the two ships. I wrote something like this for LawLichtalready [Here] so I changed it to sharing a pillow fort (close enough to a bed)because I don’t like to repeat fanfics a lot.

LawLicht {7: Sharing a Bed/Pillow Fort}

“What are you? A five year old?” Licht sighed, exasperated,when he returned from practice and found Hyde. He was used to Hyde setting upsurprises for him so he didn’t think that he could be shocked by him anymore.He was wrong. Hyde had piled pillows and sheets on their bed to make a fort. From its size, Licht was certain that he used every spare pillow andblanket the hotel had.

“Kranz is going to yell at us for ordering so many pillows,Shit Rat.” Licht marched to the foot of the bed where Hyde peaked out of thefort’s opening. He grinned up at him and didn’t appear the least remorseful.With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, Hyde wrapped his arms around Licht’swaist and pulled him closer. He quickly hit him over the head before he couldpull him inside. “Don’t think you can charm your way out of this! I’llsuffocate you with these pillows.”

“You’re so cute when you’re angry.” Hyde purred and Lichtcouldn’t look more disgusted with his transparent ploy. Inside he was blushingand Licht wished that his red eyes didn’t affect him as much as they did. “Butthere’s really no need to be mad. I didn’t order these pillows so Kranz won’tyell at us about a big hotel bill. I stole them.”

“That’s worse!” Licht yelled. “You really know no guilt, demon.”

“Nope. But can this demon tempt an angel into joining himunder the sheets?” Licht hated to admit that he was a little intrigued. Hydesaw him eye the fort curiously so he explained. “Your mom called today. Don’tworry, nothing happened. She was just checking up on you because your nexttwo recitals are pretty close. She said not to push yourself too much.”

Hyde quickly explained when he saw worry cross Licht’s face.He knew how close he was to his mother from the relieved smile on his face.“Why didn’t you give me the phone when she called?”

“You were practicing and you would’ve kicked me forinterrupting. Then again, I’ll still get kicked if I waited to tell you. If I’mgoing to get kicked either way, I did the latter so I could talk to your mom.Nice lady. She was a little surprised when I picked up for you though.”

“You didn’t say anything weird and gave her the wrong ideaabout us, did you?” Licht’s eyes narrowed when Hyde teasingly stuck his tongueout. They only started dating recently and he hadn’t told his parents yet. Hedidn’t know how to tell them that he fell under a demon’s spell. “What does mymom’s call have to do with this fort.”

“Come in and I’ll tell you.” Hyde still had his arms aroundhis waist and only let go to take his hands. Licht went willingly and theyentered the fort together. He was a little surprised with how large it wasinside and he wondered how long it took Hyde to build it. When they weresettled inside, Hyde laid back and Licht sat next to him. “I asked your momabout what you were like as a kid. I was hoping that she would send pictures ofyou as a little angel. I’m sure you were adorable.”

“I earned my wings early in life.” Licht said proudly andHyde laughed lightly to himself because his conviction was adorable to him. Hestopped when Licht lightly kicked him. In return, Hyde reached up and gentlytouched the white streak in his hair.

“She didn’t send me any pictures but she did tell me aboutyour childhood.” Hyde remembered their conversation and sat up so they werefacing each other. “She said you never got many opportunities to do things likethis so I wanted to surprise you with a little pillow fort. I couldn’t let anangel sleep on the ground so I built it on the bed.”

“You did this for me?” Hyde nodded and the small gesturewarmed his heart. Licht never had many opportunities to play with his friendswhen he was a child because he practiced so often. He did have a few friendsbut he lost touch with them. He remembered the friend he made a promise to andfelt a little regretful.

Licht never did anything half way. He loved playing the pianoand he immersed himself in it. While most respected that dedication, not manychildren his age had the patients to stay his friend when he rarely pulledhimself out of his busy schedule to spend time with them.

Hyde was probably the first person outside of his family andKranz who didn’t mind. Not only did he fully support his dream, he also gavehim little reprises. Building a fort for him to play in was only one example.He thought back to the time he took him to the KTV and the zoo. He hadn’trealized how much Hyde had done for him since they met.

“So, do you like my surprise?” Hyde looked at himexpectantly.

“This is nice.” Licht couldn’t lie to him even if it wasembarrassing to admit it. Though he did have to add, “But I would love it ifthere were more stuff animals. All the movies I saw had them guarding thefort.”

“Then prepare to fall in love! Meet our stuff animal army.”Hyde pulled down one of the blankets to reveal a pile of stuff animals. Hebrought every animal Licht could want but he had no idea what they would dowith them after they take down the fort. Still, he was proud that he couldsurprise Licht twice in an hour. “Aren’t I the best and most thoughtfulboyfriend ever? I deserve a hug. Come here and give me my reward.”

Hyde spread out his arm, expecting Licht to give him areluctant hug. He was promptly disappointed. “Can’t. The stuff animals need myattention and hugs right now.”

His jaw dropped when he saw that Licht had already buriedhimself under the pile of plushies. The sight would be amusing if it didn’tmean he couldn’t sit next to Licht. He was surrounded by the stuff animals andthere wasn’t any room for Hyde. He doubted Licht would move any to let him in.How could his brilliant plan be backfiring on him?

In the end, Licht was the one that surprised Hyde. He movedthe stuff cat off his lap and said, “Your hedgehog form can sit here. But ifyour quills hurt my new stuff animals, I’m kicking you out of my fort.”

“I thought it was our fort.”

“Then I’ll kick you out of our fort.” Licht corrected andthey both smiled at each other. Hyde chuckled but he transformed and quicklycrawled onto Licht’s lap. Even though he wished that he could be in his humanform, he sighed contently when Licht began to pet him. “Thank you, Hyde.”

KuroMahi {7: Sharing a Bed}

“Kuro?” He groaned at the sound of his name. Kuro didn’t openhis eyes but he felt the bed shift beneath him and he knew that it was Mahiruinstantly. He easily recognized his warm body and soft voice even in his sleephazed state. Mahiru stayed on the far side of the bed and Kuro moved to closethe space between them. Without opening his eyes, Kuro found him and gentlyspooned him.

Mahiru didn’t say a word but Kuro knew that he needed him ifhe sneaked into his room at night. He slept in the guest room and Mahiru rarelycame in when he knew that Kuro was asleep. Kuro didn’t ask why he came into hisroom and kissed his hair instead. In the dark, Mahiru found his hand and lacedtheir fingers together. After a moment, he whispered. “Are you awake, Kuro?”

“Now I am.” Sleep made his voice hoarse but Mahiru could heara tenderness in it. “Nightmare?”

“No. I had a long day but I can’t sleep. I don’t know why.”Mahiru admitted. “Distract me until I fall asleep?”

Kuro rolled onto his side and reached over Mahiru to turn onthe lamp. With its dim light, he could see Mahiru’s weary expression. Hebrushed his fingers over his soft cheek and then trailed them through his hair.As he absentmindedly repeated the gesture, Mahiru relaxed. “I’m not much of anentertainer but what do you want me to do?”

“… I’m not boring you, am I?” Mahiru didn’t answer him andasked a question of his own instead. When Kuro’s hand brushed his cheek again,Mahiru placed his hand over his. “Remember when Licht and Hyde came over today?While Licht was playing with you, I talked with Hyde. He brought up that… youhave needs and wants. Is this enough for you?”

“That troublesome brother of mine.” Kuro groaned and ran hishand through his hair. Why couldn’t he focus on his own relationship instead ofbothering Mahiru? He could feel Mahiru’s worried eyes watching him as he waitedfor an answer. They had been dating for almost two years now but they neverwent further than a few heated kisses.

Kuro would be lying if he said that he didn’t want more withMahiru but he didn’t want to push him. He was willing to wait for him andpressed a chaste kiss on Mahiru’s brow. “What happened to ‘thinking simply’? Thinkingsimply, I’m not going anywhere so there’s no need to rush. You’re important tome and I want to treat you right. When you’re ready, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” Mahiru relaxed when Kuro nodded.

“You make me more than happy already.” Kuro told himhonestly. He wasn’t the best with words so he knew that he couldn’t describeeverything he felt. But he still tried. “Honestly, this is new for the both ofus. I’ve never been with someone I loved so much. You’re far more than Ideserve or even thought I’d find in my lifetime. So, I don’t want to mess thisup by rushing. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Mahiru whispered and smiled up at him. Kurocontinued to stroke his hair and Mahiru let his warm hand lull him to sleep.When his breathing slowed to an steady rhythm, Kuro pulled a blanket over themand fell asleep as well.

I didn’t know if I should make two separate post for this but I decided to put them both in one post.

[Send me a number and a pairing and I’llwrite a short fic for you]

[jugandbettsdetectiveagency]

Tacos and Tequila - Ch.3

Thank you for your wonderful love for this fic, once again. Now onto the tacos...

Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Read on AO3

Hour 3

Betty’s eyes had started to feel heavy the moment the movie started, but she’s fallen into an unsettled sleep around the time Lorelei and Dorothy manage to get Ernie Malone’s pants off in search of the roll of film. She startles awake in time to see Marilyn Munroe in her iconic pink dress for the final number; she’d always wanted a dress like that.

She glances over at Jughead who’s slipped down into the cushions, legs comfortably spread and fingers playing absentmindedly with the strand of hair that’s managed to escape his hat. His startlingly blue eyes look a little sleepy around the edges, and Betty is struck for the second time in the space of a few hours with thoughts of how handsome he is. The muted calm of the tequila is still swirling around her head, fogging her thoughts. He feels her gaze on his profile and turns to meet it, soft smile on his lips.

Betty’s stomach gurgles loudly and his smile turns into a grin as she blushes shyly.

“Hungry?” he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. She nods, reaching for her phone to check the time. The bright numbers flash up reading 19:48 and she realises she hadn’t eaten since a hastily swallowed protein bar before getting into her car earlier. “Hang on.”

Betty jumps as he vaults over the arm of the chair, disappearing into his room before emerging a couple of minutes later, pajamas swapped for jeans, dark green jumper pulled over his head, and a thick wool-lined denim jacket draped over his shoulders. She looks up at him incredulously as he retrieves a pair of blue and red striped gloves out of his pocket and pulls them on.

“Why are you dressed like you’re going outside?” In the hours between arriving and finishing the movie Betty’s pretty sure the snow hasn’t let up – it’s probably increased if anything.

“Because we’re going outside,” he replies with a grin. “To get food.”

“Are you crazy? There’s probably like a foot of snow out there already, don’t you have food in here?” Jughead throws her a look.

“First of all, the crazy is debatable; it depends who you ask. And secondly, you’re in a room shared by two college freshmen. You’re lucky you’re not swimming through dirty laundry right now and you want a fully stocked kitchen as well? You’re expectations are a little too high there, Cooper.” Betty rolls her eyes at his spiel, standing hesitantly.

“But it’s freezing…” she starts to complain doubtfully. Jughead turns his eyes skyward, pushing his beanie more firmly over his ears.

“And thus God invented the winter coat. Come on, Betts – live a little!” The use of a newfound nickname causes her to start. Jughead appears not to have noticed, Betty quickly composing her features. His taunt niggles at her slightly and before she knows it she’s pulling her arms through her thick, tan trench coat and fishing through her belongings for her gloves. “That’s more like it,” he says through a smirk and she can’t help but let her eyes follow him affectionately as he opens the front door. Her fingers go to the elastic in her hair, releasing the waves in the hopes of keeping her ears warmer.

“I’ll concede, but only because I’m so hungry,” she grumbles half-heartedly as he locks the door.

“Your hair looks nice down.” The compliment is unexpected and so casual that Betty flounders for a moment. What puzzles her the most is that Jughead didn’t seem to have any ulterior motive in saying it, simply tossing it her way before starting down the hall. There’s no, Betty that’s a lovely sweater… but do you really think it goes with that skirt? She jogs a little to catch up once her legs unfreeze, tucking a strand behind her ear nervously before realising that defeats her ‘ear warmer’ strategy and flicking it back out again.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, eyes on the ground. “T-that’s a nice sweater.” She curses her own ineptitude, but is grateful for the companionable silence that settles over them as they descend the stairs. He holds the door open for her, waving her outside with an exaggerated gesture.

Betty’s foot sinks, calf deep, in white, downy snow. “Ugh.”

“Ugh? What do you mean ‘ugh’?” Jughead asks as if she’s personally offended him. Betty shrugs.

“I don’t know, I just grew up with this stuff – it’s a nuisance at best,” she explains. “I seriously considered going to school on the West Coast just to get away from the winters here if it wasn’t for my–” She pauses, not sure if sharing the secret of her overbearing mother and institutionalised sister this early in their acquaintance would be considered too much. Jughead looks at her expectantly. “I just got into Columbia, is all,” she finishes lamely.

“Congrats,” Jughead commends briefly, before continuing with his previous offence. “Not to sound all Hallmark but don’t you think snow is magical? Most people usually do,” he says, raising an eyebrow. His eyebrows are so expressive, Betty notices. She catches herself thinking about how unlike ‘most people’ she deems herself to secretly be, once again.

“West Coaster?” she guesses.

“Born and bred,” he grins. She nods, pleased with her correct assumption. “But really, there’s just something so peaceful about it; quiet. Everything shuts down if it’s heavy enough and you can sit inside,” Betty gives him a pointed look at this, gesturing to their surroundings. “You can sit inside once you’re fully supplied and just feel like you’ve got no responsibilities.” Betty understands what he means. Snowfall presses a pause button on the whole world for a moment or two. She’s in desperate need of pause.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she concedes with a small tilt of her lips, casting a quick look to Jughead out of the corner of her eye. Unexpectedly, he’s frowning.

“You don’t have to agree with me,” he says, shoving his hands deep in his jacket pockets. Betty feels her expression mirror his own. Here he was, trying to explain the merits of heavy snowfall to her, only to be upset when she agreed. She was lost.

“You’ve swayed me, I guess,” she replies with a shrug. Jughead peers at her from the corner of his eye for a few unnerving seconds before letting out a heavy sigh. The next moment his frown drops.

“Besides, there’s nothing better than untrodden snow,” he continues as if uninterrupted, kicking up a cloud with the toe of his boot. It’s true, she has some fond memories of waking up on snow days, heading into the front yard to build a fort and toss snowballs at Archie across the road as the little redheaded boy fired them back.

Betty’s eyes take on a mischievous glint as she bends down and quickly scoops up a handful of snow, squeezing it and throwing it in Jughead’s direction before he can blink. It thwacks the sleeve of his jacket before bursting into dust. Betty can’t help but let out a joyous giggle at the look of pure shock gracing his face.

“Oh, it is on.” Betty squeals as he bends down to retaliate, skipping as quickly as she can with the hindrance at her feet, away from his onslaught. She dodges his first throw swiftly, only to be hit in the back by his second. She ducks behind a lamp post to gather her ammo.

“You’re disturbing the peace!” she yells at him, rosy flush high on her cheekbones, snowflakes turning the tip of her nose pink.

“You started it, I’m merely following by example,” he returns as another snowball hits him square in the chest. He’s worked up a stock, however, throwing one after the other until she can’t dodge them anymore.

“Okay, I surrender!” she yelps, trying to get away as she feels some of the snow slip chillingly beneath the collar of her coat. Her foot hits an icy patch and suddenly she’s falling, eyes clenching shut as she braces for impact.

The feeling never comes, the warmth of a hard chest hitting her back instead.

“Careful,” Jughead murmurs, hands on her waist to steady her. She’s breathing a little faster than normal, and she’s not entirely sure it’s from the shock.

“Thanks,” she breathes, righting herself quickly. There’s colour on both his cheeks when she turns to look at him, but she’s sure it’s just from the biting cold. Betty clears her throat. “Where are we going anyway?” They fall back into step besides one another.

“There’s a market on the corner just up here,” Jughead points. “We can get some groceries, but that’s not what we’re having for dinner,” he adds with a flash of his smile.

“We’re not?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the p but not adding further explanation. The market is dead when they arrive, everybody already having retired for the storm. Betty picks up a few things for breakfast, knowing she isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Thoughts of stocking up Archie’s cupboards so he has something to come back to invade her mind, but she pushes them down quickly. That’s not her responsibility; he’s not her responsibility.

Jughead rounds the corner, basket full with a rainbow of sweets and confectionary. Betty lifts a brow. He shrugs, following her to the checkout.

“Gotta have a varied diet,” he quips as she lifts items to the conveyor belt, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

***

“What is Mama’s?” she asks a few minutes later, nose scrunched delicately in unbridled disgust as they stand before a dingy looking shop, tucked just inside an alley way.

“Any student passing through here has to sample the delights of Mama’s late night tacos. It’s just a rite of passage,” Jughead explains, heading towards the door.

“You don’t exactly seem like a joiner,” Betty says, lowering her voice as they enter the shop. Jughead greets the man at the counter, ordering two specials quickly before turning back to look at her.

“Meaning?” Betty shifts under his gaze.

“Well… from what I’ve heard from Archie you seem like a bit of a loner,” she winces, aware that her words may sound a little harsh. A feeling of guilt curls around her stomach – partly for betraying Archie’s private conversations to her, and partly because Jughead has been nothing but accommodating since she arrived. The memory of his earlier description of her, no matter how frustrating, does little to ease the feeling. Jughead’s face is unreadable.

“True,” he finally says, and Betty lets out a breath she doesn’t realise she’s been holding. “But I’m always available when it comes to food.” Betty chuckles, accepting the polystyrene tray that’s handed to her.

“We have this place back home. It’s like a real old school diner with red vinyl booths and neon signs. Pop does the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted, and his burgers can cure even the worst days,” she tells him with a reminiscent smile. The phantom smell of freshly cooked fries makes her chest clench, a homesickness she’s not used to feeling settling over her as she thinks of the kind old man with the warm brown eyes.

“Burgers? Sounds like my kind of place.”

“I’ll take you one day,” she tells him, the offhand comment coming out all on its own. Betty can’t be sure but she thinks she sees colour spreading across the base of his neck as he looks down at the floor.

“Is this safe to eat?” she asks once they’re on their way back again. “I mean, that place didn’t look the cleanest, and I’m not getting sick for some second rate taco when we’ve got perfectly good food now,” she worries. Jughead just shakes his head.

“Just wait, Betts. You’re gonna love it.” For some reason, she believes him.

[determined-magi]

The mood hadn’t gotten any better...

Even after they had managed to at least make one point, and get the bickering noble and prince stop, the tension had only gotten worse. None really spoke to one another if not for the formalities needed in regards of their movements to take, and reports to dwelve upon...

Their soldiers didn’t do anything to change it, wary of consecuences.

A saddening sight, for the few of them who were no mercenaries. If not worrying to see, and a place to bury deep in them doubt, and a hesitation for their own loyalty to those leading. An understandable reason, and a more than a sane action to take... if it weren’t that they would likely be backstabbed for trying.

And so they to march, silent, as the others. Eyes gazing to those who too saw what unfolded. They broke files to be among those they found most comfort with, even when frowned upon by their own, a natural reaction. Little did it help, but when things seemed to not get better, it was what kept them together... much like it had done before to them... if only it could still. They speak at times, comments on their actions become less and less heard, lest they be caught making critiscism of their own lords by wrong ears, or the lords themselves...

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by them too, it hurts them. But... it soon enough begins to become a bitter feeling, they were trying, did they see it not? They weren’t letting anything between them, anything bothering them, be vented down or taken on them, no... they were doing all to not take their stress off on others, it angered them somewhere deep down. Their own people, of all of them... it felt like a dagger, a knife in their back, but they had to remain, otherwise it would be another lost battle. One they could not afford to lose right now.

They had chosen to visit their families, in hope of it helping... it had been a while since they had not seen, and another since they had spoken through letters. They had chosen not to for a time now, in care of keeping their location hidden. A painfully stressing task, more so when the spy who spoke of their well being kept an inconsistent schedule of visits...

They miss them, their warmth... the hum of their souls. It was of the few things keeping them, along their goal to stop their own kingdom from bringing pain and despair to an undeserving race. Their bloodlines did not deserve the world they would be brought unto, no... But how to stop it? What can they do? One had stoked fires the others knew they wouldn’t be able to put down easily. How to keep them safe? How....

...

No...

That stench in the air, smoke and ash...

They had cleaned themselves from it, even if the stains had not left entirely, the smell was too strong, no... this was from somewhere else. Eyes grow wide in fear, in realization. Instinctively seven reach toward one another, urgency filling their hearts as a single spell is cast and an alarm is sound. People soon enough suit and ready their tools, few remaining behind to carry and watch over camp equipment and items, the rest marching quickly. Seven moving the fastest, six desperate souls clinging for dear life, a beacon of light greets them, gold and copper like a dying sunset, but it was no such thing... no, nor did the smell give ease to their mind. The prince doesn’t need to look to them, he can feel their minds, hoping, praying it wasn’t real, asking what had gone wrong... denial...

As expected, they arrive first, they leave a cancelling spell to the time distortion cast on their own soldiers upon reaching the entrance.

Smoke and ash greet them, along the smell of a variety of burning things, flesh, wood, food, metals... everything. The fight long since gone, but its aftermatch still fresh, through enhanced senses they could hear it, cries... the hollering, moaning of survivors, the agony of few clingling dearly to life, the wheezing of few losing. Their grips tighten deeply, harshly upon their weapons. They recognize particular voices, between grieving and pain... they rush without thought, driven only by the single urge to find them...

six falter upon the final step is taken...

They are among piles and piles of corpses, soldiers and civilians alike rounding in search of loved ones, in watch to keep the dead respected and safe from whatever wave that could come again. Heads snap towards them. Their gazes going for  seeing their presence as a blessing to a mocking of the help they did not get in time, they could tell. They even their breath, or try to as they gaze upon failure, upon the dead... They can’t blame them... How? How had this happened? Eyes furtively search for their own, mind still crying to search their bloodlines, ignoring whatever words are spoken to them... they had to find them, they could hear them, they had to... please let the silent ones not be as they fear, let their silence be not that. Enough had happened, please... Oh gods, please have some mercy upon them, if not they, let their bloodlines be saved from it. They can’t-...

They freeze upon finding them, all together... Some with their gazes lost, broken... tense as they take seat. Most show sign of fighting, of battling for survival as eyes stare towards the same directions, one they follow. One that breaks the firm grip of their weapons, and has them feeling weak, each step harder to take towards lumps covered in what few fabrics were left, what few things they could use to keep them from seeing those under them, and the damange left. The prince watches silently, gaze lost as well, thoughts riddling his head as grief claws at him from their links. Guilty and regret coming to bite him the hardest, for once...

Legs fail them, and he watches as six fall right besides sibblings, by parents, by familiars and friends alike. Hands reach for covered heads, trembling, throaths tight and mubling a trembling attempt of words in a steady tone, breath shaking as in unison it grows in volume until its peak becomes a broken cry, a single hollering of grieving minds...

The prince doesn’t know how long he is there, how long he listen to their cries, or for how long he is lost in his mind. Pushing away what feelings he had, ignoring the noise surrounding him. This wasn’t his fault, was it? No... it couldn’t be. They had done everything to keep them safe... but then... then...

Damn it...

“ Your orders. “

“ Help check the ruins, prepare what you can, find resources to make carts to take them, and order the troups to escort them to the abandoned city by the mountains. They can’t stay here for much longer, there they will have better structural defenses.  “

He takes seat near a burnt steam, gaze still lost, but now on the remains of his people. No... this was his fault. This is a blow he’ll admit, he’s... he’s been too bent on his own goals. Nay, he still is, he knows. The fires are the same consuming his heart, he knows... revenge was still something he dearly desired, he eagerly awaited. But now? Now he had to touch ground, this were his people, the only people he had that truly stood by. He was their king, and as such he had to ensure their safety, their future, vengance would be his in due time, it could wait, but they? Their existance was fragile, just as shown, it could not wait.

He listens with a half absent mind to the report, trying to think of ways in between grieaving minds, between guilt and regret. He would let himself feel what was due soon, he had to be their king. And right now, they needed new land to live at, more safe than this open place. The mountains would keep them well, no raid will be easier there, and through their people’s magic they will thrive as the future capitol... perhaps in time they will return to the sea of green, but now it was clear they could not live there.

He hums upon the finishing of the report... The Council....hm, they would have to deal with it, now. They have understimated them, he won’t do so again, nor will he delay their adressing any longer. It will be only them this time, however, their soldiers will remain among those who need potection, and help in settling to where they’ll go. It will be easy... yes, they may rise their numbers again, but such was a sacrifise he was willing to pay, Even if it only aids to their decay, they will give a blow strong enough to ensure they can’t pull it off again, not in a few years at the least if they are lucky. The other settlements will have it being an example, should they cross the line the same fate would await them, death and ruin for those who try to rise such. A fair punishment...

His head turns to the man, dimissing him with a single gesture, let him return to his family, tonight was a night to mourn, tomorrow would be a morn to bid farewell, a time to march to the east. And they to the own kin. He sighs... it won’t be long before bloodlust settles among them too, the loss of loved ones will not ease, not here, nor yet. They will too find themselves as he had been, he’ll have to find his way to use such to his advantage, now he had one... but it would not last long, that much he knew. And it won’t be enough, he knows, god he knows. They are a few levels away from the threshold, but even then he can feel the effects, no... their blood will only aid to the thrist of more. Ah, another terrible mistake of his... His brother had been right, he did indeed regret it soon enough... if only he had seen it...

Nay, he did see it... he did not care then. What a fool he was...

He stands, no time to dwelve indeed. His head moves towards another guard, asking for the wounded, at least he could do this one right. With that in mind, he walks as he listens their locations. He will see what he’ll do soon enough, the wounded do not wait, and every second could be the death of another.

[writerspink]

K-12 Words

K

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1.1

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1.2

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2.1

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2.2

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3.1

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3.2

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4.1

pattern cave hope mile group travel blush killed seed bottom hide important let ticket timid pounds restart silent cranky keep real bright quite curved repeat trip without dart consonant mountains quiet apologize roar grip groan bolt food injury century exhausted cabin atmosphere floor it’s scold transportation delighted giant hill something build fog method rough left everyone obey deserve speak therefore soon french switch until pushed state knob hobby between surround collect fire I’ll arrive road happened certain top order astronomy inches club catch farm nibble color yourself received connect told gaze check wear English half ten fly gave box finally wait correct oh quickly person became shown minutes strong verb stars front feel fact street decided contain course surface produce building ocean class note nothing rest carefully scientists inside wheels stay green known island week less machine base ago stood

4.2

round award crowd slowly yet products, goods, services vowel himself strange whose draw team hold feel flood sent save stood yard notice warn enemy deep please flap coast music wrote safe blast behind island lizard figure famous garden correct whisper listen joined clear share net thus calf maybe cried piece fold seen england decided bank fell pair control clean telescope trouble glass float morning horse produce course hunting rest step statement contain shouted filled zigzag accident cents instrument fly single express visit desert seeds chew dome experiment break gravity against branch size low plane system ran boat game force brought understand warm common bring explain dry though language shape thousands yes equation government heat full hot check object am rule among noun power cannot able six dark ball material special heavy fine circle include built

5.1

mark wealthy row feeling across attention ran map students inside design art mouth ring skill hot during shelter full till log (book) blossom discard bring quickly scientists party town covered wise early cram grain harm goal pause inform heal clue fame freeze badge pimple dim missionary diet dumb rod march agree stick government bulb mall ban greed skiing poison stove image grew fact material dangerous flow gap ago stack explain didn’t strong voice true drawing surface gift corner cloud since king dawn pulled dozen friends greedy burning upon knew insect decimal nervous pay foot weak smooth aware steady serve lost nonetheless beach front atlas questions less cost slight motor banner wire area carefully separate equation local minutes fast table plan fine waves fair sing dive suppose boat thousands shape among toward gas factory birds wait understand sure ship report captain human game history reflect special brave bounce though else can’t matter square syllables perhaps bill felt suddenly test direction center farmers ready anything divided general energy subject Europe moon region return believe dance members picked simple cells paint mind love cause rain exercise eggs train blue wish drop developed window difference distance heart site sum summer wall forest probably

5.2

include cage language base red brain building feast better built demolish excess leap tower ocean plains cold claw information scholar climbed woman worry strand heavy herd common ground damp pack choose president least increase half english invent class measure dash tremble object become doubt became bare wheels continued shiver engine core couple business stars week peak numeral brought nothing touch reached uncle symbols however rumor evening inasmuch (as) force curious heat career system valley dust flock spray robber practice lonely remember luxury warm heard calm rock frighten leader difficulty best gum cheer key support universe stream bit usually fish parade balance money note cliff stand proof you’re pale machine complete cool shown street today shy easy several search unit war power caught settle itself fuel mention fresh planet plane straight period person able direct space wood seal field circle lady board besides hours passed known whole similar underline main winter wide written length reason kept interest arms brother race present beautiful store job edge past sign record finished discovered wild happy beside gone sky grass million west lay weather root instruments meet third months paragraph raised represent soft whether clothes flowers shall teacher held describe drive appreciate structure visible artificial

6.1

afraid absorb british seat fear stretched furniture sight oxygen coward rope clever yellow albeit confess passage france fan cattle spot explore rather active death effect mine create wash printed process origin rose swift woe planets doze gasp chief perform triumph value substances tone score predict property movement harsh tube settled defend reverse ancient blood sharp border fierce plunge consider terms vision intend total schedule attract average intelligent corn dead southern glide supply convince send continent brief mural symbol crew chance suffix habit insects entered nursery especially spread drift major fig diagram guess wit sugar predator science necessary moisture park ordeal nectar fortunate flutter gun forward globe misery molecules arctic won’t actually addition washington cling rare lie steel pastime soldiers chill accordingly capital prevent solution greek sensitive electric agreed thin provide indicate northern volunteer sell tied triangle action opposite shoulder imitate steer wander except match cross speak solve appear metal son either ice sleep village factors result jumped snow ride care floor hill pushed baby buy century outside everything tall already instead phrase soil bed copy free hope spring case laughed nation quite type themselves temperature bright lead everyone method section lake iron within dictionary bargain loyal resource struggle vary capture exclaim gloomy insist restless shallow shatter talent atmosphere brilliant endure glance precious unite certain clasp depart journey observe superb treasure wisdom

6.2

prepared journey trade delicate arrived track cotton hoe furnish exciting view grasp level branches privilege limit wrong enable ability various moreover spoil starve dollars digest advice sense accuse pretty wasn’t industry adopt loyal suggested blow treasure cook adjective doesn’t wings tools crops loud smell frail wisdom fit expect ahead lifted deed device weight gradual respect interesting arrange particular compound examine cable climate division individual talent fatal entire advantage opponent wouldn’t elements column custom enjoy grace theory suitable wife shoes determine allow marsh workers difficult repeated thrill position born distant revive magnificent shop sir army struggled deal plural rich rhythm rely poem company string locate church mystify elegant led actual responsible japanese huge fun meat observe swim office chart avoid factories block called experience win crumple brilliant located pole bought conditions sister details primary survey truck recall disease radio rate scatter decay signal approach launch hair age amount scale pounds although per broken moment tiny possible gold milk quiet natural lot stone act build middle speed count consonant someone sail rolled bear wonder smiled angle fraction Africa killed melody bottom trip hole poor let’s fight surprise French died beat exactly remain fingers clever coast explore imitate pierce rare symbol triumph ancient cling disturb expose perform remote timid bashful brief compete consider delightful honor reflex remark brink chill conquer fortunate fury intend pattern vibrant wit

7.1

capture remark western outcome risk current bold compare resident ambition arrest furthermore desire confuse accurate disclose considerable contribute calculate baggage literacy noble era benefit orchard shabby content precious manufacture dusk afford assist demonstrate instant concentrate sturdy severe blend vacant weary carefree host limb pointless prepare inspire shallow chamber vast ease attentive source frantic lack recent distress basic permit threat analyze distract meadow mistrust jagged prefer sole envy hail reduce arena tour annual apparent recognize captivity burrow proceed develop humble resist peculiar response communicate circular variety frequent reveal essential disaster plead mature appropriate attractive request congratulate address destructive fragile modest attempt tradition ancestor focus flexible conclude venture impact generosity routine tragic crafty furious blossom concern ascend awkward master queasy release portion plentiful alert heroic extraordinary frontier descend invisible coax entrance capable peer terror mock outstanding valiant typical competition hardship entertain eager limp survive tidy antonym duplicate abolish approach approve glory magnificent meek prompt revive watchful wreckage audible consume glide origin prevent punctuate representative scorn stout woe arch authentic clarify declare grant grave opponent valid yearn admirable automatic devotion distant dreary exhaust kindle predict separation stunt

7.2

evade debate dedicate budge available miniature petrify pasture banquet pedestrian solitary decline reassure nonchalant exhibit realistic exert abuse dictate minor monarch concept character strategy soar beverage tropical withdraw challenge kin navigate purchase reliable mischief solo combine vivid aroma spurt illuminate narrator retain excavate avalanche preserve suspend accomplish exasperate obsolete occasion myth reign sparse gorge intense revert antagonist talon aggressive alternate retire cautiously blizzard require endanger luxurious senseless portable sever compensate companion visual immense slither guardian compassion escalate detect protagonist oasis altitude assume seldom courteous absurd edible identical pardon approximate taunt achievement homonym hearty convert wilderness industrious sluggish thrifty deprive independent bland confident anxious astound numerous resemble route access jubilation saunter hazy impressive document moral crave gigantic bungle prefix summit overthrow perish visible translate comply intercept feeble exult compose negative suffocate frigid synonym appeal dominate deplete abundant economy desperate diligent commend boycott jovial onset burden fixture objective siege barrier conceive formal inquire penalize picturesque predator privilege slumber advantage ambition defiant fearsome imply merit negotiate purify revoke wretched absorb amateur channel elegant grace inspect lame tiresome tranquil boast eloquent glisten ideal infectious invest locate ripple sufficient uproar

8.1

apprehensive dialogue prejudice marvel eligible accommodate arrogant distinct knack deposit liberate cumulative consequence strive salvage chronological unique vow concise influence lure poverty priority legislation significant conserve verdict leisure erupt beacon stationary generate provoke efficient campaign paraphrase swarm adhere eerie mere mimic deteriorate literal preliminary solar soothe expanse ignite verge recount apparel terrain ample quest composure majority collide prominent duration pursue innovation omniscient resolute unruly optimist restrain agony convenient constant prosper elaborate genre retrieve exploit continuous dissolve dwell persecute abandon meager elude rural retaliate primitive remote blunder propel vital designate cultivate loathe consent drastic fuse maximum negotiate barren transform conspicuous possess allegiance beneficial former factor deluge vibrant intimidate idiom dense awe rigorous manipulate transport discretion hostile clarity arid parody boisterous capacity massive prosecute declare stifle remorse refuge predicament treacherous inevitable ingenious plummet adapt monotonous accumulate reinforce extract reluctant vacate hazardous inept diminish domestic linger context excel cancel distribute document fragile myth reject scuffle solitary temporary veteran assault convert dispute impressive justify misleading numerous productive shrewd strategy villain bluff cautious consist despise haven miniature monarch obstacle postpone straggle vivid aggressive associate deceive emigrate flexible glamour hazy luxurious mishap overwhelm span blemish blunt capable conclude detect fatigue festive hospitality nomad supreme

8.2

exclude civic compact painstaking supplement habitat leeway minute hoax contaminate likeness migration commentary extinct tangible originate urban unanimous subordinate collaborate obstacle esteem encounter futile cordial trait improvises superior exaggerate anticipate cope evolve eclipse dissent anguish subsequent sanctuary formulates makeshift controversy diversity terminate precise equivalent pamper prior potential obnoxious radiant predatory presume permanent pending simultaneously tamper supervise perceived vicious patronize trickle stodgy rant oration preview species poised perturb vista wince yearn persist shirk status tragedy trivial snare vindictive wrath recede peevish rupture unscathed random toxic void orthodox subtle resume sequel upright wary overwhelm perjury uncertainty prowess utmost throb pluck pique vengeance pelt urgent substantial robust sullen retort ponder whim saga sham reprimand vocation assimilate dub defect accord embark desist dialect chastise banter inaugurate ovation barter muse blasé stamina atrocity deter principal liberal epoch preposterous advocate audacious dispatch incense deplore institute deceptive component subside spontaneous bonanza ultimate wrangle clarify hindrance irascible plausible profound infinite accomplish apparent capacity civilian conceal duplicate keen provoke spurt undoing vast withdraw barrier calculate compose considerable deputy industrious jolt loot rejoice reliable senseless shrivel alternate demolish energetic enforce feat hearty mature observant primary resign strive verdict brisk cherish considerate displace downfall estimate humiliate identical improper poll soothe vicinity abolish appeal brittle condemn descend dictator expand famine portable prey thrifty visual

9.1

stance vie instill exceptional avail strident formidable rebuke enhance benign perspective tedious aloof encroach memoir mien desolate inventive prodigy staple stint fallacy grope vilify recur assail tirade antics recourse clad jurisdiction caption pseudonym reception humane ornate sage ungainly overt sedative amiss convey connoisseur rational enigma fortify servile fastidious contagious elite disgruntled eccentric pioneer abet luminous era sleek serene proficient rue articulate awry pungent wage deploy anarchy culminate inventory commemorate muster adept durable foreboding lucrative modify authority transition confiscate pivotal analogy avid flair ferret decree voracious imperative grapple deface augment shackle legendary trepidation discern glut cache endeavor attribute phenomenon balmy bizarre gullible loll rankle decipher sublime rubble renounce porous turbulent heritage hover pithy allot minimize agile renown fend revenue versa gaunt haven dire doctrine intricate conservative exotic facilitate bountiful cite panorama swelter foster indifferent millennium gingerly conscientious intervene mercenary citadel obviously rely supportive sympathy weakling atmosphere decay gradual impact noticeable recede stability variation approximately astronomical calculation criterion diameter evaluate orbit sphere agricultural decline disorder identify probable thrive expected widespread bulletin contribution diversity enlist intercept operation recruit survival abruptly ally collide confident conflict protective taunt adaptation dormant forage frigid hibernate insulate export glisten influence landscape native plantation restore urge blare connection errand exchange

9.2

feasible teem pang vice tycoon succumb capacious onslaught excerpt eventful forfeit crusade tract haggard susceptible exemplify ardent crucial excruciating embargo disdain apprehend surpass sporadic flustered languish conventional disposition theme plunder ignore project complaint title dramatic delivery litter experimental clinic arrogance preparation remind atomic occasional conscious deny maturity closure stressed translator animate observation physical further gently registration suppress combination amazing constructive allied poetry passion ecstasy mystery cheerful contribution spirit failed gummy commerce prove disagreement raid consume embarrass preference migrant devour encouragement quote mythology destined destination illuminating struggle accent ungrateful giggle approval confidence expose scientist operation superstitious emergency manners absolutely swallow readily mutual bound crisp orient stress sort stare comfort verbal heel challenging advertisement envious sex scar astonish basis accuracy enviable alliance specific chef embarrassed counter tolerable sympathetic gradually vanish informative amaze royal furry insist jealousy simplify quiver collaborate dedicated flexible function mimic obstacle technique archaeologist fragment historian intact preserve reconstruct remnant commence deed exaggeration heroic impress pose saunter wring astound concealed inquisitive interpret perplexed precise reconsider suspicious anticipation defy entitled neutral outspoken reserved sought equal absorb affect circulate conserve cycle necessity seep barren expression meaningful plume focused genius perspective prospect stunned superb transition assume guarantee nominate

10.1

install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

10.2

warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

K-12 Words was originally published on PinkWrite

[hyrulehb]

How Do You Stay Awake?

The evening started normally enough, Kou relaxing in Kei’s room at the base, then tranquilizer darts got involved. Now the two young ajin are forced to try and stay awake until the drug runs its course. Slow dancing wasn’t on the list of suggestions, but that’s what happened and then it evolved into even more.

Tags: language, sex, needles I guess, KouKei, fluff and a speckling of angst maybe? Happy endings. Takes place before the final battle and lost of the Gulf team.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

A soft, contented sigh left Kou’s lips as he felt a hand moving slowly through his hair. Nails gently scraping into his scalp just enough to send a shiver of satisfied pleasure rolling down his spine. The fingers would crest to the edge of his hairline where it melded seamlessly with the skin of his forehead before trailing backwards over the back of his cranium and ending at the base of his skull. The wrist would turn and up the hand would travel again. The greatest part was when the fingers would slide and press on the sides of his head, creeping up behind his ears slipped back down again.

Fuck, this was the best. He could probably fall asleep right there. It was astounding to think that the person giving such great massage was such a scumbag half the time. Still he loved him all the same, these quiet peaceful moments were rare and far between lately in their lives. Right now, they had retreated into the dark-haired ajin’s room. Sure, they got up to some naughty business, they WERE teenagers after all, hormones with a limited selection for an outlet were a thing as well. But more often than not, they ended up like this. Cuddling in some way, usually with Kou dazing off into space while Kei read from his tablet or some tome that looked like it could reduce the more athletic boy’s brains to mush by just opening the first page.

At the moment, Kou was leaned against the side of Kei’s bed and the shorter boy laid on top of it. One of Kei’s hands was obviously occupied with the light locks, but the other Kou hadn’t the slightest idea of what he could be doing with it. Kou could hear the intellect fiddling around with something, but honestly, he couldn’t drag himself out of his state of bliss to care enough to investigate.

He probably should have cared, after all, since when it’s connected with Kei, an unknown aspect usually came back to bite him in the ass.

Well, to be fair, it wasn’t in his ass this time. No, a sharp pain radiated from the right side of his neck. His only warning had been the soft sound of Kei shuffling around on the blankets, the rubs along his head never pausing in their hypnotic rhythm.

The feeling had unfortunately become a familiar one, the source coming from ajin and humans alike. Instincts kicked in, fight or flight, live or die, there was no thinking, just moving. Kou’s body surged forward on its hands and knees, the movements slightly clumsy as his limbs started to feel heavy and numb. He’d only traveled a few feet away from the bed before he fell on his side, the pain of his head bouncing against the hardwood floor making him yelp and clench his eyes shut in pain.

When he looked at the bed again, the light-haired teenager was surprised by what he saw, okay, maybe he really shouldn’t have been. But how was one supposed to react when they saw their lover casually sitting cross legged on the bed with a bored expression and a syringe in their hand.

“What. The. Fuck. Kei?! What was in that?”

“You know, azaperone, combelen, domosedan, dormicum, dero-“ The other’s casual listing was cut off as Kou growled out, hand pressed against the small wound on his neck. It was probably bleeding more than it was supposed to because he had jerked away so suddenly. Hell, he was probably lucky that the needle hadn’t broken off inside of his flesh. The light-haired teenager shuddered at the idea of a long thin piece of metal just sticking awkwardly halfway in and out of his throat. “Wha-What are you doing? You know that means absolutely nothing to me, just tell me what it does!”

“If you actually read the report I gave you yesterday you would know that those are all drugs inside of what makes tranquilizer darts.” There Kei went again, twisting the situation so that suddenly Kou was somehow at fault and not the male that had literally just stabbed and injected his lover with…. Wait what?

“Why the hell would you do that?! Are you trying to put me to sleep for some sick kick?” Kou’s mind was whirling, trying to make logic out of this mess, but even now he could feel his limbs becoming heavier. He hated this feeling, becoming powerless to even move himself an inch. It brought back horrible echoes of his first death.

“Geeze, you’re so fucking loud,” Kei grumbled back, there was a small black case next to him that Kou hadn’t noticed before. His fingers moved quickly, picking up a new syringe and filling it from the same vial he had used on his companion. There was no hesitation in his movements as he lifted the needle up and against the flesh of his own neck. He knew he had to avoid the jugular vein, despite how tiny the pinprick would be, an opening in such a major highway for his blood would be a catastrophe. Dying would eliminate the whole purpose of doing this. A steady thumb felt its way over the plunger and as the metal slid into flesh, he pressed down.

“Whoa…” The word left Kou’s lips in a soft breath, he still couldn’t get over how easily the shorter ajin could bring harm and even death upon himself. Even after subjecting himself to an endless cycle of death by hanging until Kei decided to come let him down, slicing and abusing himself always made him feel sick. While Kei accepted his lot, and had faith in his abilities as an immortal, Kou could never let go of that sense of doubt. That maybe… just maybe, they wouldn’t come back this time.

Pushing away those thoughts for now, the broader ajin grumbled out, hand still pressed against his neck as he watched Kei take the needle out of himself and put the medical supplies away, “Okay, so why did you inject both of us?”

“It’s training.” He rolled his eyes as he got the expected ‘HAAAAA?!’ from the ajin he once saw as only another threat to his obtainment of a quiet life. Now, it was so very strange, Kei couldn’t imagine after all of this finally settled down and there would no longer be any fighting or hiding, that Kou would be absent from his side. No, the lighter-haired teen had made himself quite comfortable in Kei’s life and was attached to his side. ‘Kind of like a disgusting growth.’ Of course, he thought that with the utmost tender of emotions that his frigid heart could provide.

“What is the biggest weakness that an ajin has?”

“Umm dying in a way that takes us a long time to come back?” Kou was speaking from experience with that one, after all, death by suffocation took a few minutes and most of the time, it took an ajin the same amount of time to reanimate as it did for them to die. Though there were also other factors involved like missing limbs, snapped bones, weakened internal structures, and yada yada… Kou had stopped listening to Ogura’s explanation halfway through.  

Honestly, Kei was surprised and more than a little impressed with Kou’s answer, having expected him to answer something idiotic like ‘dying’. Then again, the brunet was proving to be a better learner through experience rather than through text or listening. He wasn’t exactly sure how to physically introduce the periodic table or advanced history, math, or other more theoretic subjects; the laws of physics were easy enough though. Kou had an unfortunate pension for dying by means of extreme heights.

“While that is a problem, there are ways to counterattack it. Such as doing things that would hasten death,” A quick gunshot to the head or cutting major arteries and veins to bleed out were the examples that came to mind. Sure, there would be cases where they wouldn’t be able to accelerate their deaths, such as in the case where they were pinned down or didn’t have any tools available for their use. Though even a pencil could be deadly… with enough force and determination.

“Knocking an ajin unconscious is where our greatest flaw lies, my IBM, when it’s not being an asshole can sometimes appear even while I’m out. It’s not very reliable though.” God, why did his IBM also have to be included on the list of dumbasses in his life, even if it did say things that made Kei think and perhaps even feel regret, that didn’t mean its sass was appreciated.

“Quiz time, how have you and I almost been captured the most?” Kei could see Kou filtering through his memories with a grimace, but his answer was quick, “Darts.”

“Exactly,” Kei affirmed, leaned back on his hands, the drugs, even in their lower dosage were brutal. His limbs felt like they had cement blocks attached to them and his eyelids felt like they had magnets attached to each lid. It was a struggle, but talking was helping to keep him awake, “The darts that most governments use to take down ajin are basically the same, per my research, so if we can build up a tolerance for it we should be safe from an attack from any source.”

“You really don’t have a shred of faith in humanity, do you?” Kou groused, still it made sense, they had been using those dart guns themselves in preparation for a battle against Sato when he, no doubt, reared his head again.

“I’m a realist,” was the articulated answer as he set the medical bag into his bedside drawer, Kei had stolen the supplies, however he had also been put in charge of keeping an inventory of them, so it was easy to fudge the numbers. The darts were ready made so a few vials and syringes wouldn’t be missed. He laid awake too many nights wondering how he could protect himself since the day he discovered that he was inhuman.

That reminded Kei and he glanced over to where his lover was sitting, the taller boy’s shoulders weaving slightly as he tried to keep upright, “By the way, we can’t drink any coffee or take any stimulants, that would defeat the purpose of trying to build up a resistance to it.”

“You got to be kidding me, I already feel like I could drink a café dry and I still wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes open,” Kou whined as he forced himself to his feet, pacing the length of the room. It was helping, so was the start he got when he finally removed his hand from his neck and saw how it was painted bright red. “Fuck, you couldn’t have warned me at least?! I could have ripped my throat open!”

“You would have come back anyway,” Kei countered, he wished the other would stop, the back and forth movement was making the dark-haired ajin feel even more exhausted as it seemed to have an almost hypnotizing affect. Rolling his eyes as he heard Kou snip back, “It still hurt!”

“Oh, grow up, it was just a small prick.”

“I know what you are, but what am I?” Kou smirked as he got a flabbergasted look in response, a small rush of pride running through him as he knew that he had managed to catch the other teen off-guard. However, his expression quickly shifted to one of annoyance once more as Kei criticized him, “What are you, eight?”

It must be nice, living with a much more carefree and open personality like Kou, Kei mused to himself as he watched the other fume. The other ajin’s cheeks heating up in a mixture of anger and embarrassment as he crossed his arms over his chest. As if that would somehow make a physical barrier against Kei’s snark.

The seconds ticked by and Kei’s head was starting to lull backwards until Kou’s voice reached him, “Hey… Hey, wake up! This was your dumb idea to begin with, you can’t fall asleep first!” Kei conceded, opening his eyes once more, unsure of when he had closed them. He was still sitting up, but his arms felt like jelly. Kei remembered then that he had decided to do this with Kou for two reasons, one was the hope that they could keep each other awake, and two, he wanted to try and protect the other ajin that had stolen his icicle of a heart. So often, it felt like Kou’s warmth was about to make him crumble.

The intellect wasn’t doing this to just strengthen Tosaki’s forces, if he was then he would have invited Izumi to join them to build up her tolerance as well. No, this was going to be their failsafe. If the white-haired man and his crew turned on them during or after all this was over, Kou and Kei would have a means to escape capture. It was the same case with the female ajin, if they managed to tranquilizer her, then she’d be out of commission while they would still be going strong.

Kei doubted that Kou would connect all these hidden dots though, but that was fine. It was Kei’s job to worry and plot for the worst, not the trusting and warm Kou.

“So how are we going to stay awake? Just sitting here isn’t really helping,” Kou griped while stepping into Kei’s attached bathroom. Wetting down a towel so he could wipe the blood away from his neck and hand, groaning as he saw the dark red stain on the collar of his hoodie. Looks like he’d have to get it washed for the third time this week. Both Kei and Kou had learned how to get bloodstains out of clothing since the need was so great. Usually though, it was the lighter-haired ajin who had his clothing and skin suffer the most.

“Chess, go over the plans and yesterday’s meeting?” Maybe being productive was the answer, Kei hated wasting time. Though the time he spent alone with Kou wasn’t exactly purposeless, it was grounding and practically therapeutic for Kei. To know that the other was still there, alive and in his arms. It was a much-needed break for both of their sanities after being pelted with orders for harsh training and seeing news report after news report of horrors being committed both around the world, and in Japan in relation to both ajin and Sato.

“Do you want to put me to sleep faster?” Kou accused, stopping in front of the bed with a small pout, then there was a gleam in his eye as he leaned forward, catching pale pink lips with his own. “I can think of something fun we can do to keep ourselves awake.”

Kou was elated when he felt the intellect responding positively, the kisses were soft and chaste. However, it was when Kou pressed his tongue against the seam of the other ajin’s lips that he received a sharp smack to the back of his head. Drawing back with a pained yelp, Kou’s muddy red eyes glared into the matching pair of his partner’s, “Ow, what the hell, babe?”

Those stupid pet-names, Kei hated them and he hated the way that they made his stomach do these odd twists inside of him. Yeah, he totally hated them with a passion.

“What usually happens after we have sex, Kou?”

It was so weird that someone could ask that question without a blush and with a completely monotone voice. Still Kou racked his brain for an answer, replying lamely as he knew it wasn’t the one that Kei was searching for, “Umm, we cuddle for a few hours and are happy?”

There was another smack to his shoulder this time as Kei corrected, “Wrong, you snuggle, I get crushed to you like some overstuffed teddy-bear. The important part of the answer is that we usually pass out. I always try to fall asleep before you because you snore like a freaking Hokkaido bear. We are trying to stay awake remember?”

“I don’t snore!”

“I’ll record the evidence next time,” Kei amended, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. He stretched his arms over his head, hoping the action would help wake him up. Pushing a hand against Kou’s chest to get him to back up a little. Kei muttered while moving towards the laptop on his desk, “How about we listen to some really awful, loud music. That might help keep us awake. I got some music from Ogura that he said is called ‘American screamo’.”

“That… just sounds awful,” Kou laughed, but maybe that would make the stupid tranquilizer be forgotten. He shadowed the shorter boy, curious about what the English song might sound like. Both of them were sluggish in their movements, shoulders weaving slightly and their balance had gone to shit. More than once Kei almost ended up faceplanting into the carpet when the taller ajin would bump into his back on accident.

Kou only gave a cheeky smile and laugh whenever the other would send a glare back at him. It was Kei’s fault he was acting as graceful as a drunk elephant so he only had himself to blame really.

Then again, Kou was hardly a ballerina normally.

A click to the laptop resulted in the opposite of what Kei had intended, soft classical music flowing out of the speakers and the dark-haired ajin felt his cheeks heating up. There was nothing to be ashamed of, after all, Kei had discovered the theory that listening to classical music helped to focus the brain and encouraged critical thinking was true. Still, the sweet notes were probably seen as lame and outdated to the other teenager behind him.

“Shit, I need to change the CD, hold on.” Where had be last seen the case that Ogura had chucked at his head during dinner one night? Kei had managed to catch it at least, meaning he didn’t have to regrow an eye or something stupid like that. Though the researcher would probably have watched that with interest while spewing some lame apology and puffing out smoke.

Turning on his heel Kei stumbled, it felt like his body had a fifth of its normal reaction time, like the world was moving in horrid slow motion. At the same time, it seemed like it would also speed up with a jerk when his body finally did move, the synapses in his brain firing rapidly but the message was slowed down by the traffic jam inside his nerves and muscles caused by the tranquilizer. The rush was like being able to break through the barrier before having to slow back down rapidly to avoid crashing into another.

Disorientating to say the least.

Kei never made it to bookshelf however, as a warm hand caught his hip and another interlaced with the fingers of his left hand. A tug and the dark-haired ajin was stumbling into a broader chest. Blinking in confusion he looked up to see the grinning face of Kou as he declared, “It’s cool, I think I know what to do with this music.”

“What are you talking about? Let go already,” Kei’s demand was sharp, but his body wasn’t following through with the protest. Instead, in its sleepy state, leaning closer to that familiar source of comfort and warmth.

“Come on, just relax.” The taller boy hushed, the softness of his voice startling Kei and he could feel himself letting go of his desire to push away. One thin brow arching up as he silently questioned what Kou was plotting.

Kei didn’t have to wonder for long as Kou lifted their intertwined hands higher and to the side, while Kou’s other hand had moved to slide further along the intellect’s lower back, both supporting him and holding him closer. Then Kou started to sway gently with the music, taking one step to the left and making Kei unsteadily follow him. Then a step backwards, causing the cynical ajin to bang his head against the other’s solid chest when he tripped forward slightly. Kei caught on and groaned as he tried to tug himself free of his lover’s tight hold, they were slow dancing. A lethargic, clumsy semblance of it at least, but still doing it.

Cheeks feeling horribly hot Kei grumbled as Kou tried to spin them around, stepping on the raven’s toes when he did so. Hissing Kei had to return the favor, making sure to put his whole weight onto Kou’s as the lighter-haired immortal yelped in pain. However, to Kou’s credit his grip didn’t loosen, instead making them continue to do a bastardized version of a box step waltz. Giving in, Kei moved to brace his free hand on Kou’s shoulder to help him stay balanced.

“How do you even know how to do this?” complained Kei as he tried not to make sense of the pattern that Kou was making. It seemed completely random, because, of course, it was. Putting his trust in Kou to move and lead them was something that his mind rebelled against and made the dance even more sloppy.

“Believe it or not, I’m a big fan of romantic comedy movies, you’d be surprised how often they manage to stick something like this in there.” Came the answer with a grin, Kei was glad that this time, Kou was the one that was blushing at the admission. The other really did look adorable, but Kei would rather die than ever admit that, so instead he muttered, “God, you’re so lame.”

“You know… I’m really trying to be romantic you asshole.” Kou snarled back, his embarrassment turning to anger and as the music took a slight crescendo he moved to follow his instincts. Dipping the other ajin low and grunting in slight pain as, in a moment of panic and fear of being dropped Kei moved his free arm that had been resting against Kou’s chest to wrap around the taller boy’s neck.

“If you stop trying to bend my spine the wrong way, you might actually succeed,” Kei snipped back, both almost losing their footing and they tried to straighten back up after the dip. Instead of answering, Kou’s lips found themselves against Kei’s. Stealing a quick kiss as he spoke, muddy red eyes meeting a matching pair. “You’re having fun, admit it.”

“I am, and I hate it.”

Kou was laughing loudly at that, spinning them faster though each time they threatened to topple over with the drugs still coursing through their systems. The brunet’s mirth was contagious and Kei found himself chuckling softly as well as Kou managed to dip him once more without getting a vice grip around his throat.

Normally, Kou would have gotten the clawed fingers of Kei’s ghost ripping through him multiple times by now, but it seemed that the tranquilizer had a thankfully calming effect on the IBM. Still the taller ajin kept his ears out for any crackling hiss that would be his only warning of the monster appearing.

The CD continued to play, song after song, the pair managed to come up with some kind of style that would fit it. A faster paced, jazzy piece had Kou trying to kick his heels up, and one ill-fated jump had the ajin kissing the hardwood floors. Scrambling back to his feet with a groan as he wiped the blood from his nose on his sleeve. A classical tango brought out Kei’s teasing side, using Kou as an anchor as he swung his hips and let Kou spin him about. Even if the action made him feel sick when they finally slowed back down into another waltz. They probably looked like drunk, idiotic teenagers, but with the door locked, they had the privacy to act how they wished.

As the laptop finally fell silent as a result of the last song reaching its end, the pair stood there. Panting slightly and soft smiles on both of their lips as Kou pressed his forehead against Kei’s. For a few moments, they stood in silence, enjoying the presence of the other and the assurance that each was there. Alone in moments like these, Kou noticed that Kei seemed to almost always being touching him in one way. Maybe it was his own way of making sure Kou wasn’t going to just disappear.

Humming softly as he realized how much energy was buzzing in his veins. “How long were the tranquilizers supposed to work anyway?”

“I’m guessing that they should have worked their way through our systems by now.” Kei mused as he glanced at the clock on his nightstand. He had started them out with a very small dose and planned that as the days continued to up it more and more. The body revived with a same amount of muscle it had before it died and the same ideal physical condition. Under that idea, their tranquilizer tolerance would remain despite resetting.

“Which means we can totally do it now!”

“Dumbass, there you go thinking with your dick again.” Kei grumbled, but let himself be pulled towards the bed. Already he could feel his body heating up as Kou pulled off his hoodie and shimmied out of his jeans, calling over his shoulder as he tossed the clothing to one corner of the room, “Come on, it’s not like you’re complaining.”

No, Kei supposed he wasn’t, as he let his head be tilted upwards so that his lips could meld with those of the other ajin and his back hit the mattress unsure of how he had come to shed his own clothing so fast. He really, really wasn’t complaining.

Kou moved to settle himself to be crouching over the smaller form on the bed, a smile on his face and eyes warm with love and lust. Kei felt his cheeks reddening again, how could Kou let himself be seen by ANYONE with such an expression on his face? It was so embarrassing and Kei looked away. But a gentle hand on his chin turned the colder ajin’s head back to face him, lips enveloping his own as Kou’s other hand started to trace the familiar dips and curves of Kei’s lean frame.

Sometimes, the pair would dive into sex, being rough and quick, each touch searing and demanding as it searched for pleasure. Other times, it was slow and sweet, sensually cheesy like one of those horrid romance novels that Kei had awkwardly caught his mother reading.

It seemed that this time, it was going to be the latter situation. As Kou kissed Kei, probing for entrance and letting their tongues meet. They had done this so many times now, but each time there was always a little hesitation. That fear of rejection from both parties. Forms warming whenever they received acceptance instead.

Kou knelt between the other ajin’s thighs, the kisses he lavished were to the Kei’s lips, cheeks and forehead, peppering him with the affection that the cold boy secretly craved. It was so strange, how the naïve ajin could make the intellect feel like his body was crumbling into a million pieces, just waiting to be put back together again by Kou’s skilled hands. Blue collar worker like him, labor came naturally to Kou. In this case, it was a cliché ‘labor of love’.

The thought had Kei’s face flushing as the other placed a kiss to side of his neck. The feeling of lips, tongue and teeth making the ajin tremble and toes curl as pleasure rolled over him in waves. Then Kou’s bites became a little rougher, the sucks across his throat growing just subtly more possessive as Kei’s fingers scratched down Kou’s back. Leaving bright red lines in their wake that threatened to draw blood but didn’t. At least not yet.

The blissful fog tried to shroud Kei’s mind, another nip brought him slightly out of it though, eyes narrowing as he tugged at Kou’s hair, “Oi, we talked about leaving marks! I don’t want to kill myself just so I don’t have to die of embarrassment from the others seeing me covered in hickies.”

“Or you could wear a sweater or scarf,” Kou countered, wincing as he felt Kei twist his fingers and pull harder. Shit, if only he had a hair pulling kink this wouldn’t be a problem. Instead he turned his sucks into soft kisses once more as Kei hissed before letting go of the short locks. “It’s the middle of summer you idiot… In Tokyo!”

Any additional harsh retorts were silenced as Kou ran his fingers along Kei’s ribs, it wasn’t a tickling motion, he would have punched him if it had been. The fingers would drag their nails lightly when they traveled downwards. Starting where the dark-haired ajin’s back rested against the bed and drawing inward. Following the trail of the other’s ribs over his sides and towards the middle of Kei’s chest. Then the hands would turn, only the smooth pads of his fingers being felt as they moved back towards their starting point.

This process continued a few more times, Kou also gracing Kei’s chest with kisses and then the hands traveled lower. A soft moan leaving Kei’s lips as he felt a warm hand wrapping around his member. The touch and friction was good as Kou ground his hips against him. Both panting softly as neither wanted to play around any longer. Kei reached over into the nightstand, tossing the small bottle to the brunet as he warned, “Warm it up first or you’re going to have my foot up your ass.”

“Don’t worry, I got you, babe,” Kou answered breathlessly, sitting up straight as he popped the cap off and poured some of the clear liquid into his palm. Swirling it around until it was no longer cold and a mood killer. Kei could be so picky about the temperature sometimes, then again Kou couldn’t sleep unless it was cold in his room.

Those stupid pet names again: babe, honey, baby, doll, and so many others that Kou would call him always made Kei flush. It was embarrassing and if Kou even dared to call him one of them in front of the others he would probably disembowel him. At the same time, he didn’t hate the name calling, not that he’d ever admit it. Still such affectionate terms shouldn’t be used for him, scum would be more accurate in Kei’s eyes.

His musing was cut short as he felt a finger circling his entrance. Kei’s eyes snapped up to meet Kou’s, whose bushy brows were pinched together as he waited for permission. A nod and the finger slide inside. The feeling was still so odd and automatically Kei’s body tensed up, but just as quickly he forced himself to relax once more. It was even easier to do so when the other ajin had his free hand return to stroking and pumping his dick.

It was Kou, and it was safe. The brunet knew how to do these kinds of things, much to Kei’s relief and embarrassment.

Eyes staring at the ceiling as he felt Kou add another finger, scissoring and stretching him out with practiced efficiency. Another finger was added and the stretching continued, Kei counting back in his head as Kou made sure that things would be as comfortable as possible for him. There were two reasons that the athletic ajin always took such care, one, he loved him of course. The other… he didn’t want his dick ripped off by Kei’s stab happy ghost.

Drawing his fingers out, Kou leaned forward to meet Kei’s waiting lips in a kiss, not needing to see to prepare himself and Kei moved his legs to wrap around Kou’s waist. Then the larger ajin was pressing forward, Kei’s arm immediately clawed at Kou’s back as he tried to adjust and accept the feeling of being invaded. Both of them moaning into the kiss as Kou’s thighs pressed against Kei’s ass.

“Fuck, Kei how is that you always feel so good?” Kou breathed out, whole body shivering as he stayed rooted where he was, buried deep in his lover. There went Kou spouting off nonsense that made Kei want to cover his face with his hands, but instead they remained on the other’s shoulders. Breathing coming in short pants. “Just shut up and move already.”

Who was Kou to disobey when Kei asked so nicely? Drawing himself back before thrusting back forward again, feeling Kei’s hips lifting to meet him. While they didn’t see eye to eye a lot of the time, they managed to reach a perfect rhythm like this. A change in angle made Kei let out a keen, shit there it was. Sure, the dark-haired boy understood the science behind that little magic spot inside of him that made him see stars. The little bundle of nerves that fired pleasure through him when pressure was put against it.

Wanting to be a doctor he always paid more attention to health class and did his own research. But being an ajin and with Kou made him more acquainted with the body than he ever thought possible.

Knowledge and boring facts didn’t make the experience any less intense as Kei moaned. It was during sex that it seemed that Kou and Kei also switched roles, the usually stoic ajin flushing and crying out in pleasure while Kou would grit his teeth and moan softly as he drove his hips back and forth.

Kei’s head fell back as he felt a warm hand once again wrap around his member, pumping in time with Kou’s thrusts. They weren’t going to last long, that much was obvious as he raked his nails down the lighter boy’s back once more. The tranquilizers were definitely long gone as each felt the tight tension in their bodies growing yet more taunt.

“Babe, you ready?”

“Hah, what the fuck do you think?” Kei gasped out, shuddering as he felt Kou scrape his teeth against his throat once more. The smaller ajin digging his heels into the small of his companion’s back in an attempt to bring him deeper somehow.

Then Kei felt that taunt string inside him finally snap, coming with a gasp as his muscles clenched in reaction making Kou moan as he thrust in just a few more times before following the other teenager off the peak of pleasure.

With a puff, Kou collapsed on top of his lover, panting to drink in sweet air like it was water. Kei groaned as he pushed at the taller ajin’s shoulder, basically getting crushed, “Heavy, get off me. Now who’s ruining the romance?”

A small snort was Kei’s only answer as Kou rolled off to the side, though not before peppering the other’s eyelids and cheeks with a few short kisses. Both of their bodies were shivering in the aftershocks. Kei grimaced slightly, he wanted to clean up and knew he’d have to change his sheets later, but he felt too boneless to care at the moment. An arm wrapped across Kei’s torso, a worn, but happy voice asking teasingly.

“So, I’m allowed to cuddle you or not?”

A kick to his shin was his answer, making Kou curse before feeling Kei curl closer to him. With Kei’s head on his shoulder, this was how both ajin fell asleep.

Happy Valentine’s day again, @origami10 helped me edit this so I could get out as soon as possible. Hope you enjoyed it, if you did please tell me so!

[themusicenthusiast]

Friday, August 24th, 2018 – Heart of the City’s First Album Release Show Sees Them Unleashing Their Supercharged Soul on a Packed Trees

A ton of work goes into making an album, from the initial writing process to recording those songs that arise from that and the subsequent post process that ensures everything is perfect. That the resulting creation is reflective of what the artists want the listener to get out of the experience of listening to it. Heart of the City had put all of that time in and then some, and on this Friday night they were getting back to the historic Deep Ellum area of Dallas for the first of three planned album release shows to celebrate the fruits of their intense labor. The iconic Trees was hosting the outfit. A band comprised of veteran musicians with a vast array of experience, they’ve managed to carve out a sound that simultaneously unique and familiar. And in celebration of this milestone moment they had assembled a bill that was every bit as eclectic as they are. The show had a little bit of everything (or at least most of it), beginning with Trees Marie and the Heavy Hearts. They were a last minute addition to the show, filling one of the support slots that had rotated between a few other acts, and luckily none of those other artists were able to make this date work. Marie and company were the perfect band to set this night in motion, coming out swinging, making it look as if their entire reputation hinged on this show and it not only going well but being stellar.

Kinetic. That would be an appropriate word to describe them, the quartet being on fire from the start and only raising the intensity with each song. Parts country and Americana, they also relied heavily on some rock ‘n’ roll elements, at least in regards to the primal power that fueled their high-energy performance and brought out the best of Marie’s powerhouse voice. They had some fans out but also caught the attention of quite a few new listeners as they performed some cuts off their first LP as well as the newly released Ramblin’ Queen, getting this extraordinary night off to an impressive start. The KuL brought the rock, splicing it with anything from funk to blues, all while including that brash demeanor that defines punk. Within a few songs they were firing on all cylinders, proving to be an indomitable force as they churned out one massive song after another. They weren’t all about pulse pounding action, though, reining it in for a time with one number as they offered a glimpse at their softer side, which was still every bit as thrilling as the blistering rock ‘n’ roll they excelled at. The KuL is one of those bands that amazes you every time you see them. Personally, I haven’t caught them often, though they make a lasting impression, and every time I wind up seeing them again they seem even better than before. They’re one band that thrives on a connection with an audience, and even though they didn’t have quite the crowd they deserved this night, their mission was still to make everyone feel something and they worked tirelessly to create that kind of bond with those who were glued to what was unfolding on the stage in front of them. While technically headlining the event, Heart of the City took the (highly coveted) next to last slot on the bill, meaning they hit the stage at the prime time of 10:58, ready for what was almost certain to be their best show to date. After all, it was representative of much blood, sweat and tears; the group looking ready and determined once the curtain opened on them. They certainly made a bold entrance, the lead single from Heart of the City and their standard opener, “The River”, sounding impeccable. There was so much power packed into not only the most striking moments of it but also all of the fine nuances that their music is teeming with. Marveling at them was the only option available and it was something the throng of supporters that had packed Trees by that time did; Paco Estrada motioning with a hand at one point, mimicking a winding river as he sang, while Joshua Wayne Billingsley downright killed it. The trumpet defines the soulful, funky blend of rock they’ve crafted, and right away he put all of the heart he could muster into it. It was clear they meant business and aimed to entertain more thoroughly than ever before. After a quick greeting, Richard Panter launched them into “Dancing With the Devil”, the steady, forceful beat of the kick drum resonating well within those hallowed walls, bolstering the hypnotic quality of the track. And already taking some liberties with it, allowing the live versions to stand apart from the recording, Estrada channeled some more soul as he delivered the second verse; bassist Brandon Callies and guitarist Zach Arrington finding their groove and owning it during that one. Those two really worked off one another’s energy, having fun while still balancing the professionalism that is required. A new addition who hasn’t logged much time on stage with these guys yet, Arrington already looked as if performing these songs was second nature to him. Thus, he was able to focus more on his performance and entertaining; the additional guitar doing a great deal to expand upon an enrich the bands’ sound. Considering this was their CD release show, it only seemed right that Heart of the City pull out all the stops, which in this case meant enlisting the help of a few guest vocalists. Namely the same ones who appear on the record, such as Stanley Francisko of Cure for Paranoia. The hip-hop vocalist/singer was welcomed to the stage for “Don’t Go”, adding a whole new dynamic to it. He and Estrada found an excellent rhythm as they swapped out parts, ultimately co-singing the piece, the former’s smooth, rapid-fire delivery and the rich, soulful voice Estrada wields yielding something intoxicating. They had more of that planned, though the next individual was preoccupied at that time, forcing them to carry on with their set, busting out what was likely to be their lone cover of the night, along with “End of Suffering”, with earned one of the strongest reactions yet from the onlookers. They were exceptionally cohesive as they knocked out that emotive song; the harmonies that Estrada and Callies struck up sounding amazing. By that time another member of Cure for Paranoia was on hand, Cameron McCloud ready to lend his talents to a personal tale he noted he had co-written with Estrada. “Depression” provided one of the most powerful moments of their 62-minute long set, the downtrodden mood it casts being mesmerizing, the honesty of the lyrics doing all it can to convey what it’s like to suffer from extended periods of depression and other mental disorders. McCloud only had a few parts where he got to really take control, though he was instrumental in the song achieving its full authenticity, and brought another dominate presence to the stage. “Thank you for being here, and your time and your patience,” Estrada said a couple tracks later. “Paco dressed up for you tonight!” Callies then quipped, speaking of the sharply dressed frontman and guitarist. “These are my church clothes,” he responded. That was about the longest conversation they had this night and it was nice because it did provide some subtle laughs, though it was the music that did most of the conversing for them. And it spoke to the soul. “Waiting” and “Cruel” were two shining examples of that, and quite possibly stood out as the strongest songs Heart of the City performed this night. The first of those brought Taylor Autry and his abilities on the keys into the spotlight as he guided the ethereal and optimistic piece along, while the latter served as a testament that perspective is key, and no matter how trying life may get, “…love can make it beautiful”. Each number struck more of a chord than the last and imparted some sort of knowledge on the spectators, right up through the spirited, Motown-esque “Stash” that lead to a massive finish. “You made our year!” That was the remark Callies had made in advance of that closer, and as they surveyed the enthusiastic fans the six of them appeared elated by what this night had brought. It was an outpouring of love for them and the record they had released into the world, and they were delighted by the fact that they had made it memorable for everyone, that much was evident as they took it all in. The audience wasn’t prepared for that to be it, though. Initially confined to just a few people, chants for an encore quickly spread and became near impossible to ignore. Estrada still tried to brush them off, though. “I think we have a schedule to keep,” he stated, soon checking with the sound guy who gave them the go ahead for one more. They had to dig into their collection of covers for it, pulling out Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)”, a song they’ve made into their own. That was the perfect end to the set, not just the song but the act of being requested to do an encore. It thrilled them, Callies and Arrington seen beaming during their final moments on stage. Right out of the gate Heart of the City exuded a confidence that only grew as they settled more into a groove. They were a machine, precise and absolutely in tune with one another, making them a robust force, yet each of them operated well separately, too, bringing their own flares to the overall chemistry they demonstrated. This impressive collective of exceptionally talented musicians was in rare form this night. That can surely be attributed to the excitement of the occasion as well as the legendary stage they were gracing, both aspects helping to fuel their drive, allowing them to put on this astounding performance at Trees. This soulful, R&B blend they’ve devised and dubbed “supercharged soul” is so unique and stunning. It plays well to their abilities as musicians, showcasing something new in each of them that hasn’t been glimpsed at in their previous endeavors; and for Estrada, known for his impassioned nature as a singer, it allows him to somehow pour even more himself into the music. The celebration of the release of Heart of the City will continue on August 31st and September 1st, at Hole in the Wall in Austin, TX and Continental Club in Houston, TX, respectively. For those unable to make it to one of those, vinyl copies of the record can be purchased from Hand Drawn Records. And if you do a little searching, you might find it on digital retailers as well. Francisko and McCloud probably would have made appearances regardless, though they were on hand because Cure for Paranoia was set to close Trees down, the soulful hip-hop collective hitting the stage around 12:30 with plenty of eyes glued to them. McCloud and Francisko handled working over the crowd, while Jay Analog and Tomahawk Jonez provided the programming; the group covering a lot of territory during their first few songs alone, including getting political for a brief time, and they even touched on social elements in the country at the moment. Like any good hip-hop act, they’re using their station to call attention to some important issues, though they’re also armed with plenty of material that’s more about life in general and enjoying it; Cure for Paranoia providing an engaging and fun performance to cap off the show as they tackled plenty of cuts from their self-titled release and then some. From start to finish it had been quite a night. Personally, it was nice hearing several bands that were so drastically different from one another, each bringing something different to the table, though all were top tier acts when it came to delivering an engrossing performance. And on somewhat of a related noted, Estrada proved himself one of the few people in the D-FW music scene capable of packing out Trees two weeks in a row after appearing on stage there the Friday before with his rock band. Heart of the City Set List: 1) “The River” 2) “Dancing With the Devil” 3) “The Lover” 4) “Don’t Go” 5) “If I Ever Fall in Love” (Shai cover) 6) “End of Suffering” 7) “Depression” 8) “The Silver Line” 9) “Call Me” 10) “Waiting” 11) “When the Lights Go Down” 12) “Cruel” 13) “Stash” 14) “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” (Eurythmics cover)