#refrigeration and air conditioning courses

[thegeorgetelegraph]

What are Refrigeration and Air Conditioning?

An HVAC technician is entitled to the responsibility of repairing or fixing these appliances. Refrigeration and air conditioning repair are one of the most popular and lucrative sectors of this industry.

[therefrigerationinstitute]

Refrigeration Operating Engineer NY

Seeking a job as an operating engineer in the refrigeration field in New York? If that's the case, you can start an exciting new career path with the help of The Refrigeration Institute's expert staff, who will teach you everything you need to know about the most cutting-edge refrigeration technologies and methods and get you ready to pass the mandatory certification exam.

[bhushaniti]

Bhushan ITI in Rajasthan: Empowering Futures in Mechanical Engineering

In the vast and diverse landscape of education in Rajasthan, Bhushan Industrial Training Institute (ITI) stands out as a beacon of opportunity for aspiring individuals in the field of Mechanical Engineering. Established with a vision to bridge the skills gap and empower the youth, Bhushan ITI has been a catalyst for change in the educational landscape of the region.

Mechanical Engineering at Bhushan ITI:

Bhushan ITI offers a comprehensive program in Mechanical Engineering, providing students with a solid foundation in the principles and practices of the discipline. The curriculum is designed to meet industry standards, ensuring that graduates are well-prepared to tackle the challenges of the dynamic and ever-evolving field of mechanical engineering.

State-of-the-Art Facilities:

One of the key factors that set Bhushan ITI apart is its commitment to providing students with state-of-the-art facilities. The institute is equipped with modern laboratories, workshops, and classrooms that create an immersive learning environment. Students have access to cutting-edge technology and machinery, allowing them to gain hands-on experience that is crucial for success in the field.

Experienced Faculty:

The success of any educational institution lies in the expertise and dedication of its faculty, and Bhushan ITI takes pride in its team of experienced instructors. The faculty members at Bhushan ITI bring a wealth of industry knowledge to the classroom, ensuring that students not only grasp theoretical concepts but also understand their practical applications in the real world.

Industry-Relevant Curriculum:

The curriculum at Bhushan ITI is carefully crafted to align with the latest industry trends and requirements. Students undergo a well-rounded education that covers fundamental concepts as well as emerging technologies in the field of Mechanical Engineering. This ensures that graduates are not only equipped with traditional knowledge but are also ready to embrace innovations in the industry.

Skill Development Initiatives:

Recognizing the importance of skill development in today's competitive job market, Bhushan ITI places a strong emphasis on honing practical skills alongside theoretical knowledge. The institute conducts workshops, seminars, and industrial visits to expose students to the real-world applications of their learning. This hands-on approach prepares them for the challenges they may encounter in their professional careers.

Placement Assistance:

Bhushan ITI is committed to not just imparting education but also ensuring that its graduates find meaningful employment opportunities. The institute has a dedicated placement cell that works closely with industry partners to facilitate internships and job placements for students. This strong network with the industry enhances the employability of Bhushan ITI graduates.

Promoting Entrepreneurship:

In addition to preparing students for traditional employment, Bhushan ITI encourages an entrepreneurial mindset. The institute provides support and resources for students interested in starting their own ventures. This approach not only fosters innovation but also contributes to the development of a self-reliant and enterprising workforce.

Community Engagement and Social Responsibility:

Bhushan ITI not only excels in providing quality education but also actively engages with the community and takes on social responsibilities. The institute organizes outreach programs, skill development workshops for underprivileged youth, and community development initiatives. By doing so, Bhushan ITI contributes to the overall upliftment of society and emphasizes the role of education in creating positive social change.

Adapting to Technological Advancements:

In the rapidly evolving landscape of technology, Bhushan ITI ensures that its curriculum remains up-to-date with the latest advancements in the field of Mechanical Engineering. The institute recognizes the importance of emerging technologies such as automation, artificial intelligence, and Industry 4.0. By incorporating these elements into the curriculum, Bhushan ITI ensures that its graduates are well-prepared to meet the demands of the modern industrial landscape.

Alumni Success Stories:

The true measure of an educational institution's success lies in the achievements of its alumni. Bhushan ITI takes pride in the accomplishments of its graduates, many of whom have gone on to make significant contributions to the field of Mechanical Engineering. These success stories not only inspire current students but also serve as a testament to the quality of education provided by the institute.

Continuous Learning Opportunities:

Recognizing that learning is a lifelong journey, Bhushan ITI encourages a culture of continuous learning among its students and faculty. The institute facilitates workshops, seminars, and webinars with industry experts, keeping students abreast of the latest developments in the field. This commitment to ongoing education ensures that Bhushan ITI graduates remain relevant and adaptable in their careers.

Global Exposure:

In an era of global connectivity, Bhushan ITI recognizes the importance of providing students with international exposure. The institute has collaborations with renowned institutions and industries worldwide, facilitating student exchange programs and global internships. This not only broadens the horizons of students but also prepares them for the globalized nature of the workforce.

Conclusion:

Bhushan ITI in Rajasthan stands as a beacon of educational excellence, particularly in the field of Mechanical Engineering. Through its commitment to quality education, practical skill development, community engagement, and global exposure, the institute continues to shape the future of aspiring engineers. Bhushan ITI's holistic approach to education ensures that its graduates not only excel in their careers but also contribute meaningfully to society. As the institute evolves with the changing landscape of technology and industry, it remains a symbol of educational innovation and empowerment in the heart of Rajasthan.

[saoodoffice4]

VRV AC PCB REPAIRING COURSE IN TILAK NAGAR DELHI

VRV (variable refrigerant flow) systems have become more widely popular across India due to the many benefits they bring over traditional HVAC systems. VRV units provide greater energy savings, flexibility and scalability for commercial as well as residential applications alike, making them a smart investment decision for both applications.

If you want a career in VRV AC repair, training will be key to making it successful. At AC PCB Repairing Institute of Delhi we offer an intensive VRV AC Repairing Course in Tilak Nagar Delhi designed to equip participants with all of the knowledge required for becoming certified VRV technicians.

This course covers various subjects, such as:

Learn the fundamentals of VRV systems as well as its various components; their operation and maintenance; as well as troubleshooting techniques for VRV systems.

Diagnostic Tool and Equipment Utilisation

This course is taught by experienced instructors with decades of combined VRV industry knowledge, who will use various teaching methods such as lectures, demonstrations and hands-on exercises during class sessions.

By successfully completing this course, you will have gained the skills needed to:

Locate and diagnose VRV system issues; repair VRV components to maximize VRV system performance and efficiency; optimize VRV performance to meet expectations.

Maintain VRV systems according to manufacturer specifications

AC PCB Repairing Institute in Delhi’s VRV AC Repairing Course is an ideal way for students to develop the necessary skills needed to become certified VRV technicians. Our course provides hands-on learning by experienced instructors and can prepare you for a career in VRV AC repair. If this course interests you, look no further.

Here are a few benefits associated with taking the VRV AC Repairing Course offered at AC PCB Repairing Institute of Delhi:

Experienced, qualified instructors offer instruction that covers an expansive array of VRV topics in this comprehensive course. Plus, participants have an opportunity to gain hands-on experience using these systems!

Network with other professionals from the VRV industry. You will have an opportunity to earn a certificate of completion from AC PCB Repairing Institute of Delhi.

Are You Curious about Learning VRV AC Repairing Course in Tilak Nagar Delhi from AC PCB Repairing Institute of Delhi? Visit their Website or Get in Touch With them Today to Discover More.

We hope that this information is of assistance! We wish everyone luck.

[kolkata-edu-guide]

Get The Best Godrej Air Conditioning and Refrigeration Engineering Course From George Telegraph

Get Godrej certificate in air conditioning and refrigeration course. This collaboration brings in a new era of quality technical education. To know more visit George Telegraph today.

https://www.georgetelegraph.com/godrej-airconditioning-refrigeration-certificates.aspx

[rileyslibrary]

Lift and learn.

Synopsis: You discover Ghost’s unique skill; estimating the weight of items just by lifting them. You decide to challenge his ability by giving him little tests and he (for once in his life) loves to show off.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,381 (approx. 5-6 minutes reading time.)

Notes:

Mindless, platonic fluff with minimal plot.

Want more?

———————————————————————

The storage room is vast and poorly lit, with rows of metal shelves stretching into the distance. The air conditioning blows cool air throughout the facility, with only the gentle hum of the units and refrigerators breaking the silence. You and Ghost stand at the entrance, surveying the endless supply of crates and boxes ahead of you.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” you remark, kicking a nearby stack of boxes.

Ghost nods. “Come on,” he says as he walks between the shelves, “the faster we start, the faster we’ll be done with it.”

You follow him, walking down the first row of shelves, scanning the labels on the boxes and crates to see what they contain.

He checks the list you made with the food you’ll need for the mission, and he points toward the direction of the canned goods.

“Go look for the soup,” he advises, “and don’t lift the crate yourself.”

You turn to face him. “Why not, sir?”

“That thing weighs about 20 kgs,” he says, “you won’t be able to lift it alone.”

“Is that so?” you raise your brows. Ghost lets out a long sigh.

“I don’t doubt your abilities, soldier—I just know the box is too heavy to be lifted from up high,” he says. “I don’t want you to get hurt, and you don’t want to clean tomato soup off the floors now, do you?”

You roll your eyes and walk over to the box in question. You turn to glance at Ghost out of the corner of your eye—he’s ticking things off the list. You decide to give it a shot. You take a deep breath and grasp the box by its handles, attempting to pull it off the shelf. Your arms strain as you put all your weight into it, but the crate doesn’t budge. You try again, but it’s in vain.

Just as you’re about to give up, Ghost appears at your side.

“Told ya; it’s a heavy box,” he says, amused.

You step back, allowing him to take your place. He grips the box and lifts it off the shelf.

“That’s over 20 kgs.” He comments as he curls the box. “Around 24 kgs, I’d say.”

You stare at the box as it moves up and down, then at him. He approaches the large food scale and places the box on it. As he predicted, the box weights precisely the amount he estimated.

“Do you do this a lot?” you ask.

“No,” he says, chuckling, “I normally curl barbells.”

“Estimating the weight of something just by lifting it?” you clarify, “I saw you do it before when we were packing stuff from the armoury.”

“Ah,” he says, flicking his wrist, “it’s nothing.”

He surely doesn’t act like “it’s nothing.” He’s trying to portray himself as humble. But he looks far too cocky about it. He puffs out his chest and places his hands on his waist. His head tilts a little higher, and he squints his eyes, resulting in narrow creases at their corners. There’s also a slight stiffness in his upper body muscles. Is he flexing? Yes. Yes, he’s desperate to show off his skill once more. And, of course, you don’t waste the opportunity.

You gesture to a massive stalk of bananas. “How much does that weigh?” You ask.

He walks towards the bananas, his hands still on his hips. “Ah,” he says as he lifts the stalk, “this should weigh around 1.3 kgs.” He states and places the bananas on the scale. He waits for the scale to flash and then turns to face you when it indicates just a little over the amount he predicted.

“Wow, Lieutenant!” You yell and clap your hands together. “Do it again!”

He takes a sharp breath from his nose and gestures with his hands. “Give me something more difficult this time.” he says with pride.

You look around the storage room and spot a pile of sandbags in the corner.

“Okay, how much does one of those weigh?” you ask.

He redirects his gaze to the sandbags. He shrugs. “30 kgs.” He says.

“That doesn’t count, Lt.,” you frown, “you didn’t even lift them.”

“I don’t have to lift them, Y/N; we fill sandbags to exactly 30 kgs each.” He explains and turns to look at you with a you-should-have-knew-that expression.

You decide to step up your game.

“Okay, Lt., what about me?” you ask, pointing to yourself.

He raises his index finger at you. “I’m not lifting you.” He states.

“Why not?” You ask, and he goes on to explain how it put him in trouble on a deployment about a decade ago. “Bananas, don’t get offended when you estimate them to be a few grams heavier.” He explains. You promise him you won’t be insulted, and he brings his right hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks to stop you.

“O’ay,” you mutter through your pinched lips, and he lets you go. “See this cardboard box over there?” You ask, and he turns to look in the direction of a big, beige-coloured box on the ground. It’s taped shut and sealed with no hint or label of what it might contain.

“Can you estimate its weight without looking what’s inside the box?” you ask.

He gives a short chuckle and mutters something like “if I can, she asks” under his breath before walking to the box. He tilts his head, trying to estimate its weight by looking at it. He stretches his arms and cracks his knuckles, readying himself for what he’s about to do. He gathers his cargo pants from his thighs, and lowers himself to the ground in a deadlift position, grabbing the box by the handles. He takes a deep breath and pulls the box up with all his might.

But the box turns out to be lighter than you both anticipated, making Ghost lose his balance. He stumbles backwards, his arms flapping as he tries to regain control of his body. In his panic, he forgets to let go of the box which seems to defy gravity, and it flies through the air, driven by the momentum of his fall.

“Lt.!” you yell as you hurry to him, kneeling on the floor, “are you okay, sir?”

He stares at the floor, then at you, then back at the ground. You grab his arm to pull him up, but his ego is too bruised to allow you to do that to him. He gets up on his own and dusts his trousers.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you apologise, “I had no idea.”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest—he looks defensive. “Neither of us knew, soldier,” he says, trying to reassure you, and walks towards the box.

“Huh,” he says as he lifts its flaps. “I fell backwards by a rocket explosion before,” he recalls, “but never by a cardboard box filled with sanitary pads.”

You giggle, and he shakes his head. He picks one of the packages and shows it to you. “Will you need a couple of these during our mission?” He asks.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, lowering your eyes to the ground.

He picks up two packs and puts one of them under his arm. “No shame in that, soldier,” he comforts you and shakes the other pack, “these babies almost broke my hip about a minute ago.”

You smile in response—at least he can make a joke out of this uncomfortable situation.

“You’re impressive, Lt.,” you comment, “a walking and breathing human scale.”

“Eh,” he shrugs as he crosses the final items off the list, “it helps with missions and loading up the trucks.”

“Now,” you continue, looking at the boxes you’ve collected for the mission, “how about we fill up the truck before one of us gets hurt in this warzone of a storage unit?”

He lets out a laugh. “Yes, let’s get outta here,” he agrees, “I don’t want to get jumped by a bunch of Kleenex.”

———————————————————————

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [6].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. almost drowning, a nauseating amount of stupidity, swearing, sex jokes, bribery, the boys are shirtless for most of the chapter. WORD COUNT. 5.2k.

TAGLIST. @cerealdreamwriter @tyongff-ff @dinonuguaegi @certifiedmoa @blueberrgyuu0 @primantha @blu3bell4 @nunugget @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @captivq @tocupid @seosalad @ddazed-lhs @gyuszie @mifuyuyo @error-cant-function @twocupsofsuga @flowerbe0m @dangerousconnoisseurbanana @laviesm @keikeu @elavin @chaemmie @rikisly @satsuri3su @gyugyubin @junhuicosmo @skzenhalove @luvkpopp @yansbolobao @emer-syn @eggomi @drunkinjake @soobiverse @deobitifull @haechanspudu @yawnzzn27 @7myoi @toothfa-1-ry @imsiriuslyreal @maimoirs @whippedforbeomgyu

NOTE. this is my favorite chapter so far i think i peaked here. the ppt scene was inspired by anthpo, my professors' tendency to use the socratic method to instill trauma in their students, and hoshi from seventeen's tiger agenda. also, most of this was written before i found out odi has passed 😔 fly high little guy.

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 6 — the obligatory pool episode.

THERE’S A HEATWAVE IN TOWN. When you wake up, it feels like you got transported into Satan’s rectum. It’s sweaty and disgusting under your covers, and kicking them off does nothing to appease the hellish humidity inside your room. But when you roll over to grab the remote for the air conditioning, blindly press on the button, nothing happens.

You try again.

It’s not working.

You jolt up from your bed, hair a mess, and armpits too sweaty for comfort. A power outage. Of course, there’d be no power on the hottest day of the year.

“Fucking shit, I’m so hot,” you announce as you make your arrival downstairs. It’s only Sunghoon and Jay in the living room. They turn away from their game of jenga upon your arrival.

“Yeah, you’re super hot,” says Jay. “I mean, damn global warming sure sucks, huh?”

The wooden tower collapses. You stifle out a grunt of agreement. “Apparently some feeders in the neighborhood broke down,” Sunghoon informs you. “They’re still fixing it. The generator also wasn’t working when Heeseung hyung went down the basement to turn it on. I think we need to get that fixed too.”

Well, shit. That’s not good news. You give Sunghoon a pat on the head for speaking thirty-six words to you today before walking over to the kitchen. Last time you checked, there was a stash of popsicles in there. You’re pretty sure they haven’t been completely water-fied by the blackout yet.

For some reason, upon nearing the kitchen island, the fridge door is hanging open. You understand why when you step on something— er, someone— on the way towards your frozen delight. “Ow!” Beomgyu hisses from the floor. There’s remnants of cold wind filtering out from the refrigerator. Beomgyu has claimed it as his territory, and he’s glaring up at you from his spot. “Watch where you’re going.”

“‘Scuse me.”

You walk over him, hiking one leg across his torso before infringing upon his fridge monopoly to grab a half-melted melon bar. This isn’t exactly how Beomgyu imagined how it’d be like to be in between your legs. “I’m not sure if you’re dense or if you just don’t give a fuck,” he says, propping himself up by the elbows as you dig through a plastic bag.

“I really just don’t don’t give a fuck.” You snap a bite out of the pale green popsicle. “Want one?”

“Give.”

“Go get one yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m sure you’d love to.” You close the fridge door shut and make sure to kick his side with your foot when you cross over him again. He lets out a cry of pain. You turn back, satisfied with your cold exploits, but there is no wall separating the living room and the kitchen, so Sunghoon and Jay were witnesses to that entire conversation. “Do you also want a bite?” you ask. Their ears burn a couple degrees brighter before declining.

Was that an intentional insinuation? Yes. Do you enjoy destroying their composure on purpose? Also yes. It’s a new hobby you picked up since staying here, and it’s definitely one you’ll miss once your dorms get fixed and you’d have to move out. Jay and Jake are both particularly difficult to get through, but sometimes you can manage to fluster the former, just like now. Jake has been impossible so far. You’ll get him one day. He can’t be left unscathed.

This may seem terrible, and sometimes you do get a teensy bit conscientious when one of them starts crying or becomes temporarily incapacitated— until you remember they have this whole secret bet going on that definitely involves you, so you should be allowed to fuck around this much, right?

“Hey! Why don’t we have a pool party?”

The genius idea comes from Jake. You immediately run up back to your room upon hearing the suggestion to change into a bathing suit, pausing right before your door because you don’t want anyone waving the PD&J at your face for indecent attire again. So you throw on a beach kimono for the safety of your wallet. They emptied the jar out yesterday to buy some meat for a barbecue party that’s supposed to be scheduled this weekend, but looks like you’re gonna be having that sweet, sweet pork belly tonight right by the chlorine scent of the pool. 

You hurry downstairs, so fucking ready to be submerged in cool, refreshing water. But when you get to the courtyard— all the boys already loitering in and around the pool— you realize something. 

Something a little dangerous.

“You’re finally here!”

Oh no. They’re hot.

“We’re playing chicken fight, come jo—”

A rather scantily clad Sunghoon pushes an equally scantily clad Jake off Soobin’s unclothed shoulders and into the splash of the water. They are all bare-skinned, glistening wet, and although it’s not a bad sight to behold at all, it’s a discovery that you wish had remained undiscovered until you finally leave this damned house.

Listen. It’s not like you’ve never seen any of them shirtless or almost naked before. Jay was literally in his highlighter underwear when you first met him. But you were never put in a situation where you’re able to look at them closely because all those times have been meshed with something stupid.

It’s very easy to overlook their general attractiveness when they all act like third-graders, bitchless losers, scandalized Victorian men, or all of the above at the same time, in the same sequence. It’s really easy to forget that.

But Heeseung has his soaked tank top sticking to his skin and Beomgyu is pushing his wet hair back with a wide grin. Your housemates might actually be a tad bit more attractive than your prolonged, initial impression of them. This can cause a little internal trouble.

“Why aren’t you getting in the water?”

Soobin is the one that’s asking, having already left the water fight in the middle and is now looking up at you, chest deep near the pool’s edge. You look down. You’re not sure if he’s looking directly at you because you’re a little focused on his toned arms resting above the ledge, but if he is, then good on him for keeping up with his eye-contact practice hours.

“Hey,” you call out, crouching down and hugging your knees. “Do you work out?”

Silence. Pink scatters across Soobin’s cheeks. He coughs out an unintelligible response and disappears back under the water, quietly swimming away. Yes. This is how it should be.

Feeling a lot more at ease after confirming you still have the upper hand, you finally dip your legs into the pool and stretch out your back with a satisfied groan. Fuck, this is perfect. You’re honestly unsure how you’re supposed to transition back into life at the dorms when this house has a perfectly refreshing pool at your disposal. You don’t remember what life was like before this. You’d live here for the rest of your life if you could. But you have enough pride in your system to prevent you from extending your verbal contract with Jake. Two months. It’s a few days past the halfway point now. All you could do is enjoy this life of comfort as much as you can.

Until it gets ripped away from you in the form of Jake yanking your ankle and dragging you under the water with a horrifying splash. 

Before you know it, you’re gasping for air and grabbing the nearest thing your arms could reach out for so you don’t fucking drown— but when you finally manage to rise back to the surface, a loud inhale of air into your lungs, the person you managed to hold onto just happens to be Heeseung.

Heeseung, who’s looking down at you with wide, alarmed eyes while you’re wrapped around his waist. Heeseung, who shoves you back into the water out of panic and shock and whatever the fuck his problem is.

Jake rushes to pull you back up. Heeseung is dead to you.

“I’m sorry.”

He failed to kill you so he’s now down on his knees, timid palms on his lap, and head lowered in guilt.

“I am very sorry,” Heeseung repeats. “I am deeply reflecting on my actions.”

You’re sitting on the half log shaped chairs on the courtyard, still wet, arms and legs both crossed in petulance as Sunghoon quietly dries your hair with a towel from behind (no, you didn’t scare him into doing this). 

“Stand up.” He flinches at the tone of your voice. “Go get yourself dried up so we can finally start the barbecue.”

He’s awfully obedient. You watch as his slumped figure trudges back into the house. “Was that too much?” The back of your head hits Sunghoon’s bare stomach when you try to look at him. He’s holding your head in his hands with the damp towel in between.

“You’re always a little much,” he mumbles.

“Is that a bad or good thing?”

Sunghoon ponders for a moment, staring at your upside down face. “More is always better than less?”

You smile, snatching the towel from his hands and jumping off from your seat. “Good answer.” Two gentle pats of praise on his cheek set his skin on fire. Speaking of fire, you can already smell the scent of smoke and deliciously cooking meat wafting in the air, so you run over to Jay who’s on grilling duty, hoping to get an early bite.

“Can you pass me a plate?” he asks, flipping the cut up pieces of meat on the barbecue grill. “Thanks.”

“Gimme one.” You open your mouth, chasing after the slice of pork belly on his tongs until he brings it closer to your mouth for you to bite. “Holy shit,” you muffle out, hot air escaping from your lips.

“Good?” he asks.

“Very good.” You swallow the piece. “One more?”

He lets you snack on a bunch of well-done beef before they could reach the plate and at some point he mentions, as you’re tearing open a few packs of ramyeon to cook, that you look a lot like the curled up pieces of shrimp he’s currently grilling. You narrow your eyes at him, hand dangerously hovering above boiling water with a square of raw noodles. “Are you trying to say I look charred and have a terrible posture?”

“No.” Jay raises a piece of shrimp in the air, showing it off to you. “Doesn’t it look cute?”

Now that you’re looking at it a little closer, it does look kind of cute. Huh. “Would you eat me if I was a grilled shrimp?”

Jay thinks about it. He keeps thinking until you start smelling something burning. “I’d keep you safe in my pantry,” he finally answers. 

“So you’ll just let me spoil over and die?”

His expression drops. “Fuck.” The shrimp is unsalvageable. “I guess I’d have to eat you.”

The rest of dinner goes on as you expect. Jay and Beomgyu take turns over the grill until Jake thought he’d be naturally gifted over the fire and ended up making charcoal with the last pack of galbi (“It’s fine!” he said. “I’ll take care of it!”) and today’s heatwave suddenly becomes a whole lot hotter with the rising flame on the fucking grill right when Soobin brings out the marshmallows for dessert. It gets quickly defused by a fire-hydrant bearing Heeseung. Now your charcoal galbi has toxic frosting on them. This is the sign to move on to the next part of the program.

The set of log-themed chairs on the courtyard has a bonfire set-up at the center. Of course this unreasonably nice house has that. It’s already getting dark, ink seeping into the orange tintent sky. Jake decides to redeem himself after watching Heeseung fail to set up the chunks of wood for the nth time. “You don’t know how to start a fire? Dude, that’s so lame.” 

“You burnt all our remaining meat with those fire starting skills of yours,” Heeseung huffs, stepping aside for the self-proclaimed camping expert.

“You still ate them.” You’re pretty sure that isn’t healthy.

“Because you would’ve felt sad if I didn’t.”

“You’re both equally lame,” Beomgyu chides, plopping down beside you with a bag of chips that you unceremoniously dig your hand into. “You two haven’t even had your solo chapters yet.”

A flame erupts on the bonfire. Both of them turn to look at Beomgyu. “What?”

“What are we arguing about?” Jay joins in, looking a little too excited for the squabble.

“About the fact that I’m cooler than both Heeseung and Jake.”

Heeseung’s expression falls flat. “You dropped out to become a streamer.”

“Leave of absence! I took a leave of absence and I’m coming back next year!”

Sunghoon and Soobin are both just ignoring the mess, roasting their skewered marshmallows on the bonfire and you aspire to be that level of unbothered. “Let’s consult a professional’s opinion,” Jay suggests, and all their eyes immediately fall on you. “Who do you think is the coolest?” Apparently that professional is you.

“This is like asking which dwarf is the tallest midget,” you wrinkle your nose. “But alright. Why don’t we settle this like real men?”

“Arm wrestling?” Sunghoon jumps in.

“Cooking contest?” Heeseung pitches.

“Do you want us to beat the shit out of each other right now?” Jake’s eyes fly wide open, alarmed. “I don’t think that’s a healthy way of settling arguments.”

“The fuck? No,” you spit out. “Thirty minutes. Prepare a powerpoint presentation explaining why you’re the coolest loser. Convince me. Ten slides max. Good luck.”

Something about almost naked men scattered around your home premises, aggressively typing on their keyboards with so much concentration and determination is so funny. You’re enjoying the raw bag of marshmallows by yourself beside the fire, watching as Heeseung starts panicking when you yell out “Five minutes left!” and starts typing even more aggressively. It’s pretty entertaining. Why haven’t you done this before?

At some point Jake brings out a projector and a projector screen to the courtyard. Seems like the power is back on, and your classroom of death has been set in place.

“Okay. Who wants to go first?”

You’ve produced a clipboard while they were working very hard on the PPTs earlier, legs crossed, fire crackling in front of you, and you click the butt of your pen in intermittent seconds as you scroll your eyes from left to right across the six boys standing in front of you. Heeseung looks confident. Jay and Beomgyu, too. There’s sweat dripping down Sunghoon’s forehead and Jake is furiously flipping through his notepad like he’s cramming for a final exam. But the poor, unfortunate soul that just had to look away from your gaze is none other than—

“Choi Soobin.” He flinches, nearly letting go of the laptop he has clutched against his chest. “Give it a go. The rest of you sit down.”

He looks rattled. “I’m not— I’m not really good at presentations,” Soobin chokes out, and the rest disappear from his side.

You let your chin rest on your knuckles, leaning forward. “Are you forfeiting? Is this a forfeit I’m hearing?” He doesn’t respond. You sigh. “Choi Soobin, are you settling with a D? A tiny, miniscule, measly D?” Beomgyu lets out a snort. You shoot him a sharp stare. “The other Choi, please shut the fuck up unless you want me docking points from you. Choi number one, please start your presentation.

Beomgyu straightens in his seat and Soobin hesitantly clears his throat, turning towards the blank, white projector screen as he holds the clicker with a visibly shaky hand. “Good— good evening,” he starts. “My name is Choi Soobin, and today I was tasked to explain why I am the coolest housemate out of the six. The answer is I am not. I’m not very cool. But—”

When he clicks to the next slide, your clipboard clatters on the ground.

“But I do have a hedgehog, and that’s kinda cool?”

“Holy shit,” you exhale a breathy squeak, the picture of the rodent’s cute little snout occupying half of the large screen. Soobin cycles through a bunch of photos of his hedgehog and the various screams of delight you’re eliciting after each photo makes him smile a little bit more. “Look at that little guy! Oh my god. What’s his name? Where is he? Can I meet him? Please let me meet him, Soobin I am begging you, I will get on my knees for you.”

“His name is Odi and he’s currently living at my parents’ house,” he explains. “I’ll invite you sometime.”

“That’s cheating! This isn’t part of the guidelines!” Jake interrupts, pointing an accusatory finger at the photo of Soobin holding Odi in his hands. Your coos are unceasing.

Heeseung nods along. “Professor, I believe this is completely unrelated to our topic at hand.”

Soobin looks visibly offended. You straighten your expression and click your tongue. “Ahem,” you start. “As much as I believe that Odi is the darn cutest little shit to ever exist and I will die for him given the chance, Heeseung is right. Mr. Choi, I’m afraid I’d have to give you a C.”

He presses the clicker. The slide is back to the video of Odi running down a slide.

“Okay. B minus.”

Now it’s the one where he’s laying stomach-up on the floor.

“Fuck. God dammit. B plus and that’s it. Soobin, sit down. Heeseung, you’re up next.”

Soobin seems satisfied with the grade, dimples popping out with a smile as he takes Heeseung’s seat in the audience when the latter readies himself for his turn. He stifles out a cough-laugh, one corner of his mouth crookedly twitching upward, confidently sauntering up to the front with his iPad, and it’s mildly unsettling because he’s usually Nervous Boy #2. But it’s almost cheating how pretty his teeth are when he’s smiling. 

And apparently he’s aware of that fact. Because after projecting his title slide (LEE HEESEUNG 101: the anatomy of a Cool Guy™), the next thing that appears is actually a photo of his very charming smile, coupled with Chip Skylark’s “My Shiny Teeth and Me” as the background music for his scientifically-grounded explanation. The next slide is a zoom in of his eyes next to a photo of Bambi. He has a venn diagram. This is actually pretty compelling.

Heeseung is a good speaker. He’s really good. The rest of his presentation goes smoothly, finishing it up with a list of references in APA format. Jake and Jay give him a round of applause.  “If you have any questions, I’ll be more than happy to answer them,” he smiles.

“That was a fantastic presentation, Mr. Lee. I particularly liked the part when you demonstrated your ability to make very impressive, but also very alarming sounds with your fingers.” You flip through your very blank clipboard, nodding and throwing out hums at the times you deem appropriate. “I’d give you an A plus, but...I have one question for you.”

He nods. “Yes?”

“Heeseung, can you hug me?”

It evidently catches him off-guard, just as you predicted— persona of confidence crashing down like a waterfall as he stutters out, “Wh—what?”

You clear your throat. “Only cool people are able to hug me. I need to confirm that you’re cool.”

“I can hug you!” Jake declares right next to you.

You blindly reach out your arm to give him a head pat. “See. Jake says he can hug me so he must be pretty cool. Heeseung, you can do the same, can’t you?

There it is. He’s back to being nervous and you feel like your job here is done. “O–of course,” he stifles out, following it with a strained laugh of weak incredulity. “Why wouldn’t I be able to hug you?”

“Then prove it.” You stretch out your arms, ready to squeeze and be squeezed. “Give me a big ‘ol squeeze, pretty boy.”

You stay like that for ten seconds as Heeseung remains glued to his spot in front, eyes shaking and nipping at the dead skin on his lips. You let your arms fall back to your sides. “Okay. C minus. Next.” His expression quickly transforms into offense.

“I feel like this grading system is a scam.”

“No hug, no opinion. Sit your ass down,” you click your tongue, smacking him with the clipboard when he weakly trudges back and squeezes next to Beomgyu on the crowded seat to your left with the box of snacks occupying most of the fake log, even though there’s clearly enough space next to you because Jay already started walking to the front even without your instruction.

Jay does not give an introduction, only a rough clear of his throat and he opens his presentation with just a slide occupied with his face. Slide two is another picture of his face, only slightly zoomed out. The next one has the hashtag JWU. Then there’s a full body mirror selfie.

The rest of the presentation proceeds in the same manner— a wordless slideshow of what is possibly his Instagram feed and before you know it, it’s already over. “Okay,” you exhale, pressing your palms together in front of your lips. “I understand that you are indeed a very handsome individual, Mr. Park, but what does that have to do with the assigned topic?”

“The question is why I am the coolest one here,” he says. “I’m cool because I’m Jay Park.”

It falls quiet.

You finally break the silence.

“Shit, that’s a pretty compelling argument.”

“This is bullshit!” Sunghoon argues. “He didn’t even say anything! There was no discussion! He should be disqualified.”

Jay remains unfazed. He defends with irrefutable wisdom, “Sometimes pictures speak louder than words.”

“Damn.” You let your clipboard fall to your lap. “I’m giving you an A.”

“Fuck yeah.”

Your decision elicits outrage from some of your students. “How is he getting a higher grade than me?!” one of them raises.

“He’s getting a higher grade because he doesn’t think I have cooties, Heeseung.” 

Heeseung throws his arms in the air in defeated frustration as Jay takes his snug seat right next to you again, a victorious smile gracing his face. You run your eyes through your scratch paper once more, pen tapping at the edge of the board. “Beomgyu, do you want to go next?” you ask, which is a mistake on your part because he starts acting just as obnoxious as Heeseung, which— if anything— just triggers your desire to make him crumble to his knees.

He even pulls out a lecture stick, testing it out by snapping it at full length on his palm. Is the fucker trying to go after your role as professor? Where the fuck did his glasses suddenly come from?

“Alright,” Beomgyu begins, the first slide displaying the words Why Choi Beomgyu is the coolest Housemate. “First thing’s first, does anyone in the audience know what my name is?”

“Oh, me!” Jake raises his hand. “Choi Beomgyu!”

“Correct!” The next slide appears when he hits the screen with the stick, revealing his name in a large, bold font with large spaces in between each syllable. “Choi. Beom. Gyu. Choi Beomgyu. Now, I’d like to direct your attention to this specific syllable right here—” he draws a circle around ‘Beom,’ “—what does Beom mean?”

“Offense,” Sunghoon answers. Beomgyu’s face scrunches up.

“What? Fuck, no. Another meaning— oh! Yes, Soobin hyung?”

“Tiger?”

His eyes brighten. “Exactly!” 

The next slide is a photo of a tiger on a field of green grass, grooming its fur as Beomgyu passionately rattles on with fun facts about the animal. You have no idea where this is going. “Tigers are some of the most amazing creatures on the planet, they are the largest members of the cat family and are renowned for their power and strength. As the largest member of the cat family, Tigers are strong, powerful and one of nature's most feared predators—”

“Did you get that from a website?” Jay interrupts.

Beomgyu dismisses him. “Yes, I did, but that’s not the point. The point is—”

Next slide. A hit from his lecture stick. It’s more text. Beom = Tiger. Beom = Choi Beomgyu’s cute nickname. Tiger = Beomgyu. 

“We have discussed that tigers are the coolest animals in the world. My name has tiger in it. Therefore I am the coolest person here. End of presentation. Thank you.”

He drops the stick to the ground and is about to walk away with Jake’s applause, but your penetrating stare stops him right before he reaches the crackling bonfire. You scribble on the clipboard before letting it settle face-down on your lap. You look up at him. “Beomgyu, are you a furry?”

Beomgyu freezes. He lets your question settle in his system before voicing out a very loud, very crunchy, “What the fuck?”

“Is this your way of telling us that you’re a furry?” 

“No! What are you talking about?” he hisses. “I’m just saying that since tigers are cool, that means I’m also cool and—”

“So, you’re identifying with a tiger?” you cut him off.

He presses his lips together, cautious. “Yes…”

“Because you have the word tiger in your name?”

“Yes.”

“And because they’re cool?”

“Yes. We’ve established that alr—”

“Okay, so you’re a furry?”

“Ye— no!” he yells out. “I’m not a fucking furry!”

“Understood. You’re a furry in denial.” You write something down on the clipboard. Beomgyu’s shoulders slacken in defeat. “I’m giving you a B plus. Take a seat, Tigerboy.” Though he grumbles in distaste, he listens to you anyway, trudging deflatedly back to his seat next to the equally grumbly Heeseung.

There are two people left to be victimized. Jake looks excited, so you don’t want to indulge his positive emotions. “Sunghoon,” you call out with a pleasant smile. He squeezes his eyes shut and mutters something under his breath before forcing himself up the log without you having to tell him. “Good boy. Go set up your thing.”

Unlike the rest, Sunghoon doesn’t have a laptop or phone or flash drive with him when he awkwardly takes the presenter spot in front. He’s standing on the balls of his feet, arms tucked behind his back and lips tightly pressed together nervously. “Mr Park,” you pull down your clipboard. “You’re free to project your slides.”

“Well,” he coughs out. “The thing is.”

“Yes?”

He exhales loudly. “I don’t have any slides.” You raise a brow. “I don’t know how to use powerpoint.”

You look at him. “I see.”

“I don’t know how to use this projector, either.”

You pause.

“Okay. I understand.” He breathes out a sigh of relief. “Alright, next present—”

“Wait!” Sunghoon stops you. “I can still give my presentation, I don’t need any dumb slides! I’m just as cool, if not cooler than the rest of them, so you can’t just skip over me.”

“Mr. Park,” you start. “Unfortunately, one of the criteria for this presentation is the quality and organization of your slides. I do not see any slides being presented, Mr. Park. You may present next time once you’re fully prepared.”

“What about Jay?” he tries to reason. “He just showed you a preview of his camera roll!”

The man in question has his mouth hanging open, pausing in the middle of stuffing a nicely toasted marshmallow into his mouth. You let out a sigh. “He had philosophy, Mr. Park. Philosophy,” you explain. “Do you have philosophy? Are you confident that you can convince me with your words alone? Without the help of cute animals and pictures of your pretty face?”

At the mention of his face, his knitted brows of frustration quickly melt into faint pink hues dusting his cheeks. You sniffle a little, rubbing a finger under your nose as you flip through the next page of the clipboard that’s resting on your lap. “Meet me in my office after class,” you tell him. Sunghoon grunts and stomps back to his seat in defeat.

“This sucks balls.”

“You have quite a few options to pick and choose from here,” you hum. “Jake, you’re the last one up. Please tell me you have a presentation prepared.”

“I do, and it’s gonna blow your mind,” he grins.

“Looking forward to it.” You watch blankly as Jake runs up to the front to connect his laptop to the projector, an excited bounce in his every movement and you start wondering how you can shatter this one’s hopes and dreams.

He asks if he can start. You give him a nod. At the click of a button, something boomerangs into the blank screen with 2007 Windows graphics and animation. The atrocious mismatch of fonts say Jake Sim is the coolest one here and here’s why.

“Reason number one—” Jake starts his presentation, turning over to the next slide and your vision is attacked with more outdated graphics, more jarring transitions and animations. “—I’m super funny. Allow me to demonstrate.” He begins by clearing his throat. “What did the Italian chef get sent to jail for?”

“What?” you go along.

“Too much assault.”

An assault is also a very proper descriptor for his PPT aesthetic. An assault to your eyes. It’s like watching a car crash that you can’t look away from even if you try. Reason number two is that he has a great smile (he does). Reason number three is because he has a dog (he also does). Reason number four doesn’t exist because he miscounted and skipped over to Reason number five.

“And lastly, Reason number ten—”

He takes something out of his pockets. It’s a couple dozen bills being thrown into the air.

“I have a lot of money.”

The rest of the boys are quiet. Jake grows quiet too, chest rising and falling after that very enthusiastic presentation and his wide grin slowly melts into that muddled with nervousness and unease because you aren’t saying anything yet— just looking at him with stern eyes and a sharp gaze. “W-well?” he rasps. “How did I do…?”

“How much?” you ask. He cocks his head in confusion. “How much money do you have?”

“Oh.” Jake blinks, now understanding. “I don’t know but it’s a lot.”

Your eyes sparkle, posture straightening. “Will you give me some of that money?” The unease has left Jake and has now transferred to the other five boys around you. Oh boy. Oh no, their eyes all seem to be saying.

“Sure, why not.”

You clap your hands together. “Jake wins. Class dismissed. Good night.”

It doesn’t take long for chaos to break out.

Heeseung and Jay are demanding for a recount (there is nothing to count except the sweet, sweet cash you’ll be receiving) and Beomgyu accuses you of being a slave to capitalism (that should’ve been evident from how you tried to scam money out of them with nudity and a jar on your first week here). Soobin starts clearing up the projector set-up and Sunghoon is on his knees begging for another chance to do his presentation as you watch the digits on your phone screen bump up in real-time when Jake wires you a decent chunk from his bank account.

Another successful day at the residence. This heatwave is better than you thought.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[jeankluv]

The forgotten boy - Suguru Geto | Chapter 06

words: 3k

summary: He made a deal with the devil, over 1,000 years ago. Just for the sake of his loved ones but the deal came with a condition. Everyone he met from that moment on, would forget about his existence within minutes, and will be like that for the rest of the eternity

Like that Geto Suguru lived for 1,000 years, being forgotten by everyone he met, not being remembered by anyone and being alone.

"You remember me?"

You nodded. “Of course I do.” You smiled. “You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee.”

tags: angst, fluff, fantasy au, different lifetimes, dual pov, use of y/n, fem!character, modern settings but also past settings, eventual smut, destiny, characters death (in the flashbacks), blood

notes: it’s been a long time since I posted, but here there is a new chapter ❤️

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist | ao3

Suguru leaned against the lamppost in front of the building, waiting for the familiar figure to come out and go to work. According to the schedule he had posted on his refrigerator, he had to go to work at eight, so he would leave the house early.

Not even close to 10 minutes passed when Suguru saw his “friend” come out of his building with a shotgun. Allowing another 10 minutes to pass, to make sure that Nanami would not return, Suguru entered the building with a smile and went up to the floor. Although he had told you that he had lost the keys it was a lie, obviously, but that apartment didn't need keys to enter either. That was why it had been so easy for him to settle in that place.

Suguru got rid of his clothes and got into the shower. Letting the water run over his body, he relaxed and felt peace settle into him. He didn’t know how long he was under the warm water, but Suguru didn't care, he let the falling water take away the worries from his body, take away that disturbing feeling he had felt in the subway. He let it go down the drain.

With the towel wrapped around his waist and his hair still wet, Suguru left the bathroom and headed to the kitchen. The sun shone clearly in the sky and it seemed to Suguru that everything had much more color, as if the gray tones that had been accompanying him for so long were being painted in bright colors. And he knew who was responsible behind it.

“Wow… so this is the place you now call home?” A voice that passed through Suguru's body filled the silence of the house.

Suguru turned around in horror to confirm the owner of that voice. “Kenjaku…”

“Don’t look at me like that Suguru.” A smile was drawn on his face. “Haven’t you missed me? It’s been, how long since the last time 50, 60 years?”

“80.” Suguru said with his eyes narrowed.

“Oh yeah! 80 years, you were in Scotland at that time, right?” Kenjaku approached the fruit bowl and picked up one of the apples. “Back then the world was a mess, although now… humans are still just as useless.” Juice with the apple.

“Kenjaku, what are you doing here.” He demanded to know Suguru, as he crossed his arms.

“Checking on you. Lately you seem happy.” A shiver ran through Suguru upon hearing Kenjaku's words and he felt like his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t worry Suguru I won’t do anything, I was just curious.” He laughed.

“Stay away from her.” Suguru murmured with his fists clenched and his gaze sharp.

“Oh… yeah I will stay away.” He smiled, biting the apple. “Don’t worry.” Kenjaku moved across the kitchen and smiled at Suguru again. “Anyway, my dear Suguru.” He patted his shoulder gently. "We will see each other again."

A gust of wind came through the window causing Suguru to close his eyes tightly and by the time he opened them again the figure of that person, if you could call it that way, was no longer there. Suguru let the air out of his lungs and rested his hands on the kitchen island, looking for a foothold. His eyes then focused on the rotten apple that Kenjaku had left there.

The knot he had in his stomach became bigger and Suguru felt himself trembling at that moment. He knew Kenjaku well enough to know that many times his words and promises were empty.

Taking the apple, he threw it in the trash and leaned against the cold wall of the apartment, with his eyes closed and thinking about that blurry memory.

—1,000 years ago

Suguru was exhausted, he didn't even know how many days they had been in that place. But it seemed that the curses and everything that was before them could not be defeated.

He rested his forehead on his hand and sighed looking at the map of the territory where they were. They were far from the capital Heian-kyō but if those curses continued to advance at the rate they did, they could reach the capital before winter arrived and that would be catastrophic.

At 6 years old he didn't want to believe the stories of his best friend's mother, but 20 years later there he was trying to find a way to stop those monsters.

It had been 10 years since Suguru, along with Satoru had left their hometown and joined the ranks of the emperor's army as cadets, hoping to one day occupy the highest positions. The first great honor came when they were both 21, after defeating a high ranked evil spirit, the two best friends were received with honor by the emperor and promoted in their rank.

After that the two continued to achieve success and now at 26, Suguru was general of one of the divisions. Suguru's division was near Fuji, in fact the soldiers could admire how the mountain rose in the distance with just stepping outside their tents. Meanwhile the division led by Satoru was located near the capital, in the Owari area.

Suguru punched one of the map figurines and tilted his head back, letting out a big sigh in the process. He was tired of fighting so much, he just wanted to return home once and for all.

“General Geto.” A young voice interrupted his thoughts.

Suguru fixed his gaze on the young boy that was standing in front of him, he probably wasn’t older than 18 years but Suguru could tell his determination was strong. “Yes?”

“That monk is here again.” Suguru sighed and touched his temple, trying to calm down the pain on his head. “He wants to talk with you.”

Suguru resentfully nodded. “Let him in.” The boy nodded and left the tent.

No more than 5 minutes passed when that person that Suguru had already met, entered. The atmosphere inside the tent changed drastically and Suguru felt the hair on his entire body stand on end. He didn't understand why he let him enter or talk to him, when that person's entire aura screamed danger.

“Hello general Geto.” The monk smiled at him and a shiver ran down Suguru's spine, that smile did not bring him any good feeling.

“You have been trying to see me for the last three weeks.” Suguru composed himself and tried to look as rough as possible, without showing an iota of weakness.

“Oh just, you know these curses are really strong and I think my help could be useful.”

Suguru shook his head. “Can a monk do anything against those curses, specifically against the king?” Suguru replied.

“General Geto, I am not a monk.” A smile appeared on his face. “I am a sorcerer and of course I can help you defeat them.”

Suguru bit his tongue, the idea sounded tempting but he didn't like that person. He knew there was something in his aura that worried him and he wanted him away from there as soon as possible.

“We don’t need your help.” Suguru sentenced and pointed to the exit for that person to leave.

The person laughed and stood up walking towards the exit. “My name is Kenjaku.” He smiled. “When you need me, General Geto just call me and we can make a deal.”

And in the blink of an eye the one who had called himself Kenjaku disappeared from Suguru's sight as if he had never been there. Suguru dropped into his chair and touched his chest, hoping that his heart was still there. He did not understand what that meeting had been, nor that gloomy aura that he had felt. But he just hoped it was the last time he would have to witness it.

—Present day

With his hand again on his chest Suguru checked if his heart was still there. It was.

Suguru leaned back and took a deep breath, feeling how his chest was squeezing him and not letting him breathe. He didn't trust Kenjaku or his intentions, for 1,000 years he had made him suffer and he knew it wasn't going to end.

Suguru was afraid, he was terrified. For the first time in a long time he had found something that made him happy, that made him feel alive and he wanted to continue exploring it but knowing that Kenjaku's threat could harm you... Suguru wanted to continue being happy like those few days, he wanted to continue going to your cafeteria and be welcomed with your smile. He knew his heart could be full thanks to you, you would fill it with your voice and your warmth.

Suguru clenched his fists and a growl came from the back of his throat, he needed to clear his head and in that apartment, which didn't belong to him, he couldn't do it. Changing his clothes and preparing a small bag with some changes, he left Nanami's apartment.

Suguru left the building and began to walk, aimlessly, only knowing that he needed to clear the storm of anguish and agony that had formed in his mind with Kenjaku's appearance before him.

On the other side of the city, you moved behind the bar, preparing coffees and whatever they asked for non-stop. Apparently all the customers had decided to come to the cafeteria at the same time. You and Yuji had not been able to take a single break since you had opened the cafeteria that day and your legs were already feeling the pain.

“Hello!” A singing voice made you look up.

You smiled when you saw who it was, despite wearing her dark glasses and her mouth mask, you could identify your best friend anywhere. “Hime!” You greeted with a smile.

“How are you?” She asked.

“Pretty busy as you can see.” You looked around. “I don’t know why we have so many customers here today.”

“Yeah…” She laughed. “That might be my fault.”

You looked at her confused. “What did you do?”

“I posted a picture with one of your cups and…” She looked around and then at you shrugging her shoulder.

“I can’t believe you.” You sighed. “I mean thanks but isn't it a bit risky to come here?”

“Yeah but I wanted to see how you were handling things.”

“I’m a bit tired but… it’s okay.” You smiled.

“Tomorrow it’s your free day, right?” Utahime took your hand. “Let me invite you to a spa or something.”

“I can’t.” Utahime tilted her head confused. “I have a date.” You smiled shyly.

“What?!” She gasped with a loud scream.

Everyone on the place turned to look at both of you and it that moment you realize how fucked Utahime was, because it was clear that some people recognize her.

“Shit…” She whispered.

“Yeah…” You took her hand and guide her to the back where only employees could enter.

People began to crowd around with their cell phones taking photos of Utahime and shouting her name. Sometimes you wondered how your friend could endure all that, how she didn't get dizzy with the flashes and the screams of all the people.

“I’m so sorry y/n…” She said, taking off her glasses and mask.

“It’s okay, after all you are a superstar.” You smiled, not giving much importance to the matter.

“Still…” She sighed and sat down on a chair.

“Hime, don’t give yourself a hard time for this, it’s okay…”

Utahime nodded and then smiled. “Now tell me about your date.”

“Oh…” You chuckled feeling your cheeks burn. “Well, he is a customer that usually comes here.” Utahime was paying full attention to your words, with her gaze being completely focused on you. “We… well we actually went to eat lunch a few days ago and tomorrow we will be meeting again.” You played with your hands.

Utahime had her mouth completely opened, processing your words. “How come you didn’t tell me anything?”

“I don’t know, a lot of things happened.” You pursed your lips remembering what happened yesterday.

“Shoko told me.” Utahime said. “Those ugly bastards don’t know anything about art.”

“They are from an art gallery…”

“Still, they are tasteless. Your paintings are amazing, breathtaking, god they deserve to be exposed in the best museums.” Utahime said angrily. “You know that I can take them down, right?”

Of course you knew how powerful Utahime was and how her words were able to make others fall. “I know, but there is no need.” You sat on the chair. “I just need to become better… that’s it.” You sadly smiled.

“Y/n…” Utahime murmured.

“You know.” You stood up. “I should go out there, poor Yuji is all on his own.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She nodded. “I’m sorry for all that.” She pointed to the outside.

You shook your head. “Now maybe we’ll get more tips.” You joked. “You already know where the emergency exit is, right?” Utahime nodded. “Well, then I'll see you soon?”

"Probably." Utahime stood up. “I have some pending matters and I am starting to prepare the next album but we can meet.” She smiled. “Because I'm going to need to know more about that date of yours.”

“I know the three of you will give me a hard time.” You joked.

“Yuki is also seeing someone so, me and Shoko, we will be giving both of you a hard time.” She joked back. “Take care.” She hugged.

“You too Hime.” You waved goodbye at her and went back to work.

The place was so crowded and Yuji behind the counter seemed to be trying to make everything the best he could. You quickly started serving and attending the new customers, most of them were looking for Utahime or were there because of her post and asking for the same coffee as her.

Once the last customer was served, you looked at Yuji and sighed in relief.

“Y/n…” Yuji spoke and you hummed in response. “You know Utahime?!” He said out loud.

“Yuji! Lower your voice.” You said, noticing how the eyes of the customers were on you.

“Sorry… but for real, you know her?”

You nodded and Yuji gasped in response. “We went to high school together and she is one of my closest friends.” Yuji had his mouth opened. “Why are you so shocked?”

“It’s just… that wow, you know more famous people?” He asked and you shook your head. “Oh…”

“Why? Do you have a favorite celebrity or something?” You tilted your head scanning his face.

“Yes!” He smiled wildly. “I love Megan Thee Stallion.” You opened your mouth in surprise.

“I don’t know if she knows Megan personally, I could ask her and maybe get you something.” Yuji looked at you with his eyes wide open.

“You would?” You nodded. “Oh! I love you so much y/n.”

You giggled and shook your head. “I can’t promise you much but I will do what I can.” Yuji nodded enthusiastically and turned to keep working.

You did the same and with your mind set on work, your workday passed in a flash. You said goodbye to Yuji at the train station and like every day you stood near one of the large windows so you could see the views of the dazzling city.

Without being able to help it, your mind wandered to Suguru and the date you would both share tomorrow. Covering your smile with your hand, you left the station and began walking towards home. The atmosphere was pleasant, the trees were beginning to bloom and the days were slowly beginning to get longer, which filled your heart with immense warmth.

“Y/n?” You turned around to look at the person calling out your name.

When you turned completely you ran into a man you didn't know, he was about 40 years old and was wearing elegant clothes.

“Excuse me, you called me?” You said doubtfully and with the alarms set.

The man smiled, a smile that made your skin crawl. “Yes, but I just wanted to see your face more clearly. 10 freckles huh?”

After saying that, the man turned on his heel and began to cross the street. When you wanted to get a better look at him, he had already disappeared. You hadn't noticed how your breathing had become labored and you had to hold on to breathe properly again.

Who was that man? And why and how did he know your name? Turning on your heels you ran to your apartment and when you got there you closed the door with all the possible bolts.

Your entire body was trembling, that smile and look had left you completely paralyzed.

Blue approached you and began to give you affection, you smiled when you saw your cat and took her in your arms, feeling the warmth of your animal against you. You stayed on the ground hugging Blue for a long time, it wasn't until Blue started meowing for food that you had the strength to get up.

That disturbing feeling was still in your body and it seemed like it didn't want to go away.

You wanted to get up tomorrow and see Suguru. As crazy as it seemed, he gave you an unimaginable security and you wish that he was with you at that precise moment to calm you down like he did after you had that nightmare.

Dragging your feet as if you were carrying something heavy attached to your feet, you sat on your couch and picked up your sketchbook. You began to draw, first Blue, then the landscape that you could see from your window, then Suguru and then you began to draw the nightmare and finally the face of that man.

With another shiver running through your body from your feet to the last hair of your hair, you slammed the notebook shut and closed your eyes, trying to forget that image and sensation.

You laid down on your stomach and tried to sleep and prayed for that man not to appear in your dreams.

————-

Heian-kyō (平安京, lit. "peaceful/tranquil capital") = During the Heian era it was Japan’s capital, now known as Kyoto.

Owari (尾張国, Owari no Kuni) = Was a province in the area that today forms the western half of Aichi Prefecture, including the modern city of Nagoya.

— comment if you want to be tagged

🏷️: @drownedpoetess @aducksmokingquack @walkingtravesty97 @pdacex @zhenyuuu @n1vi @blendingcaramal @mimiixen @bbyxxm @paprikaquinn @my1fx @alwaysfreakingout @simplysm1le @lavender-hvze @ghostkat23 @lveegsoi @madaqueue @katsukisbitch @tbzzluvr @that-one-xachster

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith doesn’t miss Earth the way everyone else does.

He does miss it, of course. He had a few months early in their journey that he stubbornly insisted he didn’t, but he’s grown enough now to admit that yeah, wifi was nice. So was non-recycled air. And a yellow sun. (God, it’s so weird to genuinely miss a yellow sun. He never thought that shit mattered.) None of this even covers how much he misses, to his grand shock, the culture of Earth — it’s strange and humbling to have to explain what a car is. Or a country. Or the concept of global warming, which is an embarrassing thing to have to put into words to someone who’s never really heard of it. (Like genuinely very humiliating. Explaining to someone that they very nearly shortened the life span of humanity because of consumerism, essentially, is something he still thinks of and just shudders.)

Mostly, though, he’s happy to be in space. Space is weird as shit and so is he, so he feels like he has an easier time just functioning, really. He likes the untethered-ness of it all, the lack of general structure. He doesn’t spend a lot of time wishing things were different.

Except for right now.

His sword, which he has been boredly slashing and poking at the wall of the Empire ship, gets stuck in the tiny crack where two sheets of metal panelling are pushed together. He huffs grouchily at it, pulling it out, then has to plant his boot on the wall and yank when it refuses to do so. The tip of the blade gets unstuck quicker than he’d expected and the change in force startles him, sending him sprawling on the floor.

He scrambles to his feet, bright red, clearing his throat and trying to roll his shoulders casually, as if he was intentionally on the floor. He looks like a huge massive dork, so thankfully no one was looking his way anyway.

“Are y’all almost done?” he calls, trying really hard to sound like he’s just innocently inquiring and not whining. It is no easy task — he’s bored and he’s hungry and he’s restless and this stupid ship smells like a stale refrigerator and he’s really really bored, in case he forgot to mention.

He scowls when no one answers, sticking out his tongue at the green and yellow paladins, both of whom are hunched over a control pad, wires everywhere, trying to hack in or out of something. Keith’s not sure. They told him and Lance to keep watch at the door and then stopped responding, basically.

This is the part of Earth that Keith has missed. Back home, Keith got to do all the investigative shit, too. Don’t get him wrong, he likes being the stabby one, as Shiro has so patronizingly put it; he likes being the one to run head first into conflict with a smirk on his face and a sword on the ready. It’s fun to be the impulsive one and be rewarded for it. It’s fun to be able to wreck Empire shit and practice witty one-liners to shoot off at annoying generals and sergeants or whatever the Galra equivalent is, just to watch their eyes twitch in rage before Keith cracks them one. All missions are two parts, essentially, fucking around and finding out, and Keith loves having free reign to fuck around.

He just wishes he got to be part of the finding out, too.

He sighs, long and loud and petulant because obviously no one is listening. He knows that his investigative research with Blue was at a very different level than all the stuff Hunk and Pidge do. He understands that on an objective level. If he wants to be part of the find out portion then he has to be prepared, has to put in the effort to learn and keep learning, to know how to recognise red flags and read code and all that nerd shit.

But computer science is just so boring.

Keith is a science person. Duh. He went to pilot school. Physics was eighty percent of that whole spiel, and he’s always had an affinity for chemistry, even if said affinity caused a lot of explosions and also Adam’s blood pressure condition. Science is cool as shit.

But coding is fucking boring. He has tried and tried to sit down and learn it, but every time Pidge tries to explain the basics his eyes glaze right over, and it’s not fair to her to waste her time.

He sighs again. He gets to wait, then.

Deciding that he’d rather not slash a hundred new scratches in the ship’s wall, lest the damn bridge feel more like a prison cell than it already does, he starts to pace, swinging his sword back and forth randomly. He could try to practice a few of the techniques and swordplay choreo he’s been learning, but that’s no fun without a partner. He’s become spoiled with the castle’s training bot. With Shiro hanging back with Coran and Allura, there’s no one around to clash swords with.

He perks up. There is, actually. He forgot that Lance had unlocked a sword when he first got switched to Red.

He spins around, trying to find where Lance ducked off to. He expected to find him leaning on Hunk’s back or pestering Pidge, like he often does — they’ve long since learned to work around him — but he’s nowhere to be found. Keith walks around the area, poking his sword at piles of sentry parts he cut up a few hours ago, peeking behind control panels and various big important chairs. Nothing.

“Lance?” Keith calls softly. Something like worry sours his stomach.

Please, for the love of all things good and holy, don’t let Lance have been hurt or taken this whole time. Keith will never forgive himself.

Thankfully, a hand sticks up by the far end of the bridge, blue armour glinting in the ugly purple lighting. Keith heaves a huge sigh of relief, jogging over. He thought he’d seen Lance before Hunk and Pidge had hunkered down to get info. But in that brief moment of panic, he wasn’t sure.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks as he comes close enough to Lance to speak. The red paladin has wedged himself between some kind of steel storage bin and the wall, in an impossibly narrow sliver of space, which explains why Keith missed him when he was looking.

Lance doesn’t answer right away, instead nudging a roll of wire with his foot. He has something resting in his lap, and wire is looped around his fingers, sliding back and forth as he carefully weaves it into a pattern. Keith watches, intrigued, for several passes of the craft.

“Nicked it from Team Punk when they really started to get wrapped up in their nerd corner,” he explains, finally looking up at Keith to shoot him a wry grin. Keith grins back. “Standing guard is boring as hell, especially when we took out all the sentries and barred the doors. And the castle is parked outside, so hell if I know what we’re guarding for.”

“Fuck, I know,” Keith groans, sitting down in front of him. Honestly, there is no real reason for them to be here. He half suspects Shiro has sent them all out for some peace and quiet, which is rude.

He grabs the spool of wire by Lance’s feet, inspecting it carefully. It’s very thin, and flat instead of a round tube-ish shape that wire usually is. There are two wrapped around the spool, too, one red and one blue. Keith curiously looks back over to Lance’s lap, trying to get a better look at what he’s doing with the wire. He doubts it’s anything mechanical — Lance gets as bored as he does when Hunk and Pidge try to explain stuff — but he’s intrigued on what has kept Lance’s interest for so long.

He’s surprised to find that he recognises what Lance is making, or at least sort of. It’s a long, spiralling chain, like the wire has been woven together to make some kind of mini spiralled staircase. He remembers, although vaguely, seeing other kids at recess in elementary school, sat down all over the place, clambering all over each other with flat plastic string, making boxy keychains or scratching spiral bracelets.

“Oh, hey, I know that stuff,” he says. He scrunches his face, trying to recall the name of the craft and coming up completely empty. It’s not friendship bracelets, the string was too stiff for that. Not that loom elastic thing either. “I don’t know the name, though.”

Lance chuckles lightly, sliding a last piece of string through a loop before tying it all off. He hooks it next a growing collection of them that Keith just notices, with a wide array of colours and patterns, hanging off his utility belt like leaves from a branch.

“I don’t know the name, either.” He tilts his head in consideration. “Well, I do. I googled it once, and I got some strange French name that didn’t fit, so I never used it. No one ever, like, sought it out or anything. Someone just came to school with a pack of the thread and everyone was obsessed with it for a week before forgetting about it.”

Keith tilts his head in acknowledgment. That’s what he remembers, too, but he doesn’t remember ever having any friends who would give him any of the string to try, nor was he ever comfortable enough with whatever foster parents he had to fumble through a request for the string.

“…Can I try?” he mumbles, after watching Lance start and weave a new one. He’s not entirely sure why, but suddenly his cheeks are red, and shyness pricks at the back of his neck. He’s suddenly nervous that Lance is gonna laugh at him, gonna tell him no, gonna give him a weird look for asking at all.

It’s ridiculous. Lance wouldn’t do that, and there’s nothing wrong with Keith asking. But he feels the nerves anyway.

“Sure,” Lance says easily, tugging on the strings and setting his chain aside. He smiles brightly at Keith, brown eyes crinkled and soft, and although the shyness fades away his blush goes nowhere. If anything, Keith feels his face get hotter. “What colours do you want?”

Keith clears his throat, wishing the flush away. He points to the red and blue spool he’d seen first. Lance quickly unravels thread to the length of his arm, matching up both colours before cutting. He sets the spool to the side then carefully lines up both threads, folding them in half and wrapping them over his thumb too quickly for Keith to see what he does exactly.

“I’ll start it for you, ‘cause it’s hard.”

“Hey,” Keith protests immediately. “I can start my own.”

Lance raises an eyebrow. He blinks at him, slowly, for several moments. Keith huffs and looks away.

When he looks back, Lance is grinning, and he holds out the carefully started craft.

“It’s genuinely very difficult to start them,” he promises. “I’m the only one of my siblings who knows, they used to ask me to start theirs all the time. It’s way easier to do rather than start, trust me.”

That mollifies Keith a little. He does trust Lance, and now that he thinks about it he can vaguely recall how one person on the playground would hold court while a million people crowded around them, fielding dozens of requests for starts.

“Okay, watch me first, then I’ll walk you through doing it yourself.” Slower than he was moving before, Lance loops and weaves the thread, taking great care to keep his hands open so Keith can see the entire process. The chain he’s making looks different from the one he made earlier, and Keith says as much.

“Yeah, this one’s a box chain, it’s way easier. The spiral one is hard.” He snorts at Keith’s pout. “Don’t give me that look, doofus. You can work your way up to spiral. Try this one for now, okay?”

He hands the started chain off to Keith, then scoots out from his little nook, settling in beside Keith to help guide his hands.

Right beside Keith. His entire left side is pressed against Keith’s entire right, and he slides one hand under Keith’s arm, accidentally brushing across Keith’s ribs, to help guide his hands. Keith tries everything he can to stay still, breathing shallowly out his mouth, determined not to move even a muscle, either so Lance doesn’t move or does he’s not sure. He’s not sure what’ll make him feel less like he’s going to explode, less like every spot Lance touches isn’t going to burst into flames.

“Okay, start with the loops. See how there’s already kind of a square shape? Flip the red thread in either side of it, yeah, like that. There should be two loops and the extra string should hang opposite of each other. Okay, now take the blue string, and weave it over and under — yeah, just like that! It should create four mini squares in a big square, you nailed it.”

Lance looks up at him to shoot him that big beaming grin again, and Keith tries to muster a weak smile back at him, realising for the first time that he has yet to breathe and he should probably do that before the spots in his vision get any worse and he passes out.

This is fine, this is normal, Lance touches people all the time. He is a touchy person. This is so not worth him going batty about, what is his brain’s deal.

“Alright, now loop the extra thread around your fingers and pull it away from each other. It’s kind of a pain because it’s super smooth so it doesn’t really want to stay together, and it takes a learning curve, but — oh, hey, you got it! Good job. Now do it again.”

Trying to remind himself to breathe every few seconds, Keith repeats what Lance taught him, over and over again until the chain starts to look like an actual chain, to Keith’s pleasure. He’s fascinated by the quick way the squares build, how the layers are so thin but it doesn’t take long at all for them to stack into something longer than his pinky finger.

Keith blinks, startled, when Hunk and Pidge clap their hands, calling out that it’s time to go. He realises that there’s a bit of a crick in his neck from hunching over, the tips of his fingers feel raw, and the chain has become as long as his hand. Although it hasn’t felt like more than a few minutes, he’s clearly been doing this for a while.

This is amazing. A boring mission has never flown by this fast before!

“Looks great,” Lance says, genuine pull of his brows belying the truth to his words — he’s not just saying that at all. “You picked that up fast.”

Keith coughs, standing on wobbly, half-asleep legs. “Uh, yeah. I’m good with my hands.”

Lance makes a strange noise as he bends down and tucks the spools of wire away, a muffled, kind of derisive snicker. “Yeah, I bet you are,” he mumbles to himself, turned away, as if he didn’t mean for Keith to hear it.

Keith stumbles. His jaw drops. Lance is out the door and on his way to his lion before Keith can react.

He twirls his chain in his hands when he finally remembers how to do other things rhan have Lance’s words repeat in his head a bajillion times, walking slowly to his own lion. His right side still tingles ever place Lance touched it. He grins a little to himself, remembering the easy way Lance guided his fingers, smiled at him.

Maybe these boring missions aren’t so bad after all, actually.

[saccharinesunsetretired]

First Time For Everything | Wolfbur x Reader

This one stumped me for a while, but here it is! Based off @drop-of-void's Wolfbur AU, more specifically this post that you should definitely check out. I hope I did him justice, because I love Wolfbur very much <3

Summary: Neither you nor Wilbur realized that he could, in fact, knot you despite him not being in rut. It turns out to be a pleasant discovery.

Warnings/Tags: Smut, fluff, fingering, knotting, reader is afab but gender neutral

Word Count: 2.2k

MINORS DNI - BLOGS WITHOUT AN AGE INDICATOR GET BLOCKED NO EXCEPTIONS

It was strange sometimes, having Wilbur around. There were things that Wilbur didn’t understand about humans, things that you (perhaps foolishly) assumed that he should know. For example, the time he spent an hour staring at your refrigerator trying to figure out the source of the cooling, or the time he nearly broke your phone in an attempt to understand what all the buttons did. 

The first time you had sex with him was similar in a way. He understood the basic mechanics of it, of course, but he was unsure of himself. Humans are just so fragile, he said. I don’t want to hurt you.

You had reassured him that he wouldn’t, that it would all be fine, and it was. Wilbur, for all of his anxiety and hesitation, did just fine. A lot better than fine. It was easily the best sex you’d ever had, mostly because Wilbur was so eager, so willing to do whatever you asked of him and more than happy to learn. It was endearing, seeing him so happy at the thought that he made you feel so much pleasure. 

You assumed that as long as Wilbur stayed in his human form, none of his Lycan traits would unexpectedly show up. He warned you that during his rut, that might not always be the case, but it wasn’t time for that just yet. You figured you had more time before that became a problem. 

You were wrong.

It started out just fine. You were sitting out on the porch with him, enjoying the fresh air. A few innocent touches to Wilbur’s thigh left him staring at you with an intensity that instantly prompted you to kiss him. He kissed you hungrily, more desperately than he usually did. You chalked it up to him just being in the mood more than usual. “Darling,” he gasped against your lips, “I could take you right here.”

You laughed softly between heated kisses as Wilbur’s hands wandered your body. “We’d both get splinters,” you protested. The porch was in decent condition, but it was definitely not the most comfortable or safe.

“Don’t care,” Wilbur replied. His lips went to your neck. He buried his face in your neck and inhaled deeply. A Lycan thing, you figured.

“You’ll care when you have splinters,” you said, sighing contentedly at Wilbur’s touches. “Come on. We can take this inside.”

Wilbur quickly agreed and scooped you into his arms. You let out a surprised little squeak when he did, but he paid no mind. His expression was focused, determined.

He placed you on the bed and wasted no time getting on top of you. He was insatiable in a way that he usually wasn’t, but once again, you blamed it on pent-up desire or something of the sort. His fingers were immediately sliding your shirt up your body, and you were quick to help him remove it entirely.

“Just wanna feel all of you, darling,” he murmured, fingers running down your body to the waistband of your jeans. You helped him hastily unbutton them and pull them down before letting them fall to the side of the bed. Then it was your underwear, which he tugged on so hard that it was nearly ripped right off you. You winced at the tug on your skin.

“Shit, sorry,” Wilbur said, looking slightly alarmed.

You laughed it off. “Feeling especially eager today, Wil?”

“You have no idea,” he replied. His fingers then went to the hem of his own shirt and tugged it off. It was your turn to put your hands on him, tracing the lines of his body with your fingertips. He shivered, a pleasant sight for you. It only took another few moments for him to get completely undressed.

The second you were both completely bare, his lips were back on yours, teeth nearly clashing. Part of you wanted to tell him to be gentle, to slow down, but another part of you only wanted more. Of course, the latter is the side that won. Your hands wandered to his hair, grasping at his curls and pulling him closer. 

With how absorbed you were in the kiss, you almost didn’t realize his hand running down your body. Once it reached your sex, you realized what he was doing. He inserted a finger and silenced your moan with a kiss. The second you pulled away, he was teasing you. “Now who’s eager? Hm?” 

“Please shut up and kiss me again.” Wilbur laughed softly before immediately complying, his lips meeting yours once again as he slowly moved his finger in and out, not enough to do hardly anything but tease. It was simultaneously intoxicating and infuriating. 

Wilbur’s lips then trailed down to your neck, and once again, he inhaled your scent. You couldn’t help but giggle at the ticklish sensation of his breath. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“Um…” Wilbur pulled away just enough so that he could see your face and stopped moving his finger. “Smelling you. Is that…do humans not do that?”

“Not generally,” you said. “But it’s not that weird.” 

“Then can I keep doing it?” Wilbur asked. He was practically a master at giving you puppy-dog eyes whenever he wanted something, and you could hardly ever deny him.

“Sure,” you said. Besides, the feeling of his face against your neck was warm—comforting, in an odd sort of way. He went right back to it, kissing and sniffing at your neck and inserting another finger. You couldn’t help but whine as he nipped softly at the skin on your neck. You couldn’t tell if he was biting harder than usual or if his teeth were somehow sharper. Perhaps another Lycan thing.

He started curling his fingers and watched hungrily as you moaned and arched your back slightly, trying to get closer. His fingers moved frustratingly slow, giving you enough pressure to tease but not enough to get you off. 

“Wilbur, please-“

“You’re not cumming unless it’s on my cock, sweetheart,” Wilbur cooed. “For now, you take what I give you, yeah?” You nodded frantically, preferring even this frustration over nothing. It had taken him a little bit to experiment and figure out how to talk dirty with you, how to tease and what you liked. Thankfully, your preferences often lined up with his. Very convenient.

His lips went back to your neck, biting softly at the skin there. You moaned as his tongue brushed your skin, tasting the beads of sweat that were already forming there. You were getting wetter by the second, to the point where you could hear it as his fingers pumped in and out. Just as soon as he started speeding up, he stopped and withdrew his fingers. 

Normally, you would have complained, but after his earlier words, you knew better. “Ready for me?” Wilbur asked. You watched as he sucked the fluid off his fingers, tasting you so casually that it seemed like nothing to him. You nodded, and he shook his head. “Words, darling, use your words.”

In that moment, you were beyond grateful to your past self for teaching Wilbur about human terms of endearment. The way he said ‘darling’ had you shivering in anticipation. “I’m ready, Wil. You have me.” 

He grinned before leaning in and kissing your jaw. “That I do.” Calloused hands parted your legs, allowing him to settle between them. “You gonna be good and take my cock like I want you to?”

“Y-yes, Wil. Just—please get going.”

He needed no further encouragement. He entered you slowly, soaking in the sounds of your whines as he stretched you out. He let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a grunt as he got settled. Your hands went to his back, holding him close, and he slowly began to move.

His thrusts were deep but slow at first, quickly increasing in speed. You held on, scratching at his back as he thrusted and grinded against you. “I needed this,” Wilbur said between gasps and quick breaths. “Needed you so bad, you have no idea.”

“M-me too,” you managed to say. “Just please keep going.”

“Wouldn’t dream of stopping.” His thrusts increased in speed. You whimpered, nails digging slightly into the skin of his back. You had apologized the first time it happened, but he loved it so much that you didn’t bother to stop anymore. It’s like you’re marking me, he’d said. Marking me as yours.

And you knew how he loved being yours, just as you loved being his. He pushed you closer and closer to your orgasm, and you could feel his thrusts getting sloppier. 

And then, you felt something a little strange, an odd push at your entrance that you hadn’t felt before, like something was bumping around it. It was strange but not at all unpleasant, and before you knew it, you were finishing anyway with a cry of Wilbur’s name.

And then you felt yourself being stretched wider than you’d ever been stretched before, stretched to the point that it burned for a moment before you were filled fuller than you’d ever been. Just like that, Wilbur stopped moving, gasping and panting above you, his eyes slightly wide. You gripped at Wilbur’s shoulders, whimpering at the feeling of being so blissfully and inexplicably full. 

You remembered Wilbur explaining Lycan mating to you, how, during ruts, Lycans would knot their mates. Like…dogs, I guess, he’d said. He was bright red as he explained it before assuring you that it only happened during ruts. 

But this wasn’t a rut—at least, you didn’t think it was—and you still had his knot in you. There was no other explanation for why you felt so full. “W-Wil,” you managed to say, your voice a soft whine.

“Fuck,” Wilbur said under his breath. “Fuck, darling, I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t think this would happen, I…I thought that…that it wouldn’t happen unless I was in rut, and-“

“S’okay,” you managed to say. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. He wasn’t looking you in the eyes. “I didn’t—I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m so sorry. I-“

“Wilbur,” you managed to say. “It’s okay. This—fuck, this feels so good.” The feeling of being filled like this was addictive, scratching an itch that you didn’t even know you had. You let out a soft gasp as he shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. 

“It—it’s good? You don’t mind?” His eyes were wide and hopeful, looking down at you with a mixture of excitement and concern. “It’s okay that I knotted you?”

“Y-yeah,” you said shakily. “It’s good, Wil. Really good.” You let him sigh and lean against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You brought a hand up to run your fingers through his hair and gently scratch at his scalp, and he let out a soft, rumbling noise in response. “You okay?”

“So good,” Wilbur said, murmuring against the skin of your neck. “I was so scared that I’d hurt you or that you’d be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” you reassured him. “It feels so fucking good, Wil. It’s perfect.”

“Then I’m gonna do it again,” he murmured. “Knot you as many times as you want, darling.” He kissed the corner of your jaw and nuzzled against you.

You sighed, a soft exhale as you relaxed further. The feeling of being stretched and filled was still there, of course, but having him this close was also warm and comforting. When you breathed in, you could smell him—the scent of sweat, the forest, fresh earth and rain. “How long do the knots stay for?” you asked as you continued running your fingers through his hair.

“A while,” he replied. “Fifteen…maybe twenty minutes. I…I know it’s a long time, and you might not want to do this again, and—“

“Shush,” you said. “I’m comfortable.” When he went silent, you continued. “I told you it was okay, and I meant it. Honest.”

“Okay,” he said softly. He kissed your jaw once again. Rain fell softly on the roof of your little home, the only sound you could hear other than Wilbur’s soft breathing. He let out a low hum and stayed nestled in the crook of your neck, occasionally pressing a kiss there.

The two of you laid like that for a while, letting the time pass peacefully as you enjoyed each other’s warmth. Eventually, Wilbur tensed up a little before releasing into you with a soft moan and a sigh.

The sensation of being filled so entirely was intoxicating, and you found yourself moaning as he pulled out of you. Your sheets would definitely need a good washing after this, but you didn’t care, not when you were so full of him. He gazed at the spot between your legs for a moment, admiring his work. “You like taking me like that, huh? Want me to fill you again?”

You nodded eagerly, pulling him into a kiss. The kiss lasted long seconds, and when you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, a small smile playing on his lips. “As you wish, my mate.”

You were definitely in for a long night.

[castletown-cafe]

Castletown Café Episode 26: Ralsei’s Cauldron Cake

In the beginning of Deltarune Chapter 2, we return to the Dark World located within the school's supply closet. This becomes the main hub where Darkeners from all kinds of Dark Worlds call home after their respective fountains are sealed. After the inhabitants of the Card Kingdom move in and you've explored the town named after your save file, you get to explore Ralsei's castle! Greeting you upon your entrance is a huge cauldron, which Ralsei explains as the cauldron he does all his cooking with. During the cutscene, a cake rockets out of the cauldron, complete with explosion sound effects. As it falls, Susie catches it in her mouth and devours the entire thing, claiming it to be thick on the frosting. But all that frosting makes for a pretty cake!

I recall another cake popping out that Susie also devours on the second interaction with the cauldron, where she says something about it being chocolate-flavored. Unfortunately, I don't see a lot of recordings about later cauldron interactions, so I should replay again sometime to see if this happens or not. The final time, however, Susie asks for a strawberry cake as a room-warming gift (which may or may not happen until after you visit the rooms on the top floor...yep, I need to replay). Ralsei tells her there is a slice of cake in her fridge, and Susie protests that it's "not cauldron-fresh".

As I thought of the different kinds of food that appear in this game, from consumable items to cutscene-related foods, the Caldron cake had been brewing in my mind since last year. Originally I thought it'd be great for October, but I found the flavor to be more appropriate for summer: a Neapolitan cake. Three layers of strawberry, vanilla, and chocolatey goodness with likewise-flavored frosting! Why not, after all, combine the flavors together into one tall, beautiful cake?

But life decided to throw wrenches in this plan. For one, there had been a shortage of buttercream frosting. Said frosting was unavailable in all nearby stores, across all brands, and even online, buttercream was overpriced. I assumed scalpers were snatching the stuff up to sell for a higher price. Even in 2023, we're still feeling the effects of the pandemic, and as such, some ingredients are difficult to get your hands on.

It seems that life was trying to tell me to make my own frosting, as unsurprisingly, the scalpers I tried to buy frosting from didn't place them in a box with cooling packs during the hottest month on Earth ever recorded (this all took place a month prior to the writing of this blog entry). So, of course, the seals burst when travelling under the heat dome that had covered a good portion of the country, though I don't know exactly WHERE the seller was located.

That's when I found recipes for a type of frosting I had never heard of before: ermine frosting. It's like buttercream, but way less sweet. You make a base using flour, sugar, and milk, cook it over the stove until it's thick like pudding, then cool it before whipping unsalted butter and adding your mixture to that plus vanilla and a pinch of salt. So I made two ermine frostings, one vanilla, and one strawberry. I had already purchased some chocolate frosting so I didn't need to make chocolate, but I came up with a recipe for chocolate ermine frosting included in the recipe portion of this blog entry.

Summer may not be the best season to make cakes, given the warm weather. Because many homes in Oregon, especially older ones, don't have air conditioning pre-installed, I needed to keep the cake refrigerated to prevent the frosting from melting and the cake from falling apart, as a precaution. Therefore, spring would be a better season to make this cake, this way, there may be less worry of melting.

I fought a lot of obstacles, and learned a lot as well making this cake. While it is an involved project, especially since you may need or want to make different flavored frostings (which taste way better than the pre-made stuff), the cake itself isn't that tough. While a Neapolitan cake may sound daunting as you're making a cake with three different flavors, all you really need to do is just make a large amount of vanilla batter, divide it into three batches, and add cocoa to one bowl and strawberry reduction to the other.

For the strawberry cake, you first need to make strawberry reduction. You take half a cup of strawberry puree and cook it in a saucepan over medium-low heat to reduce the amount of liquid. After a while, you should end up with 1/4 cup of thick strawberry puree. You don't need to make a reduction for the frosting however, just take another half-cup of unreduced puree.

For the chocolate, combine three tablespoons of unsweetened cocoa powder with three tablespoons of hot water, stir, and let sit for a few minutes before adding it into the cake batter. This lets the cocoa "bloom", adds moisture to the cocoa, and also explains why you add a couple tablespoons of hot water or coffee to a chocolate cake (if you make it from scratch). This gave me the idea to do the same thing if you were to make a chocolate ermine frosting.

Because this is a big project, I found it easiest to divide making the reduction, frosting, cake, and assembly over three days. On Day 1, I thawed about 1 and 1/2 cups of frozen strawberries, pureed them in the blender, and then used half a cup of it in the strawberry frosting. After that, I made the vanilla frosting, and finally, the strawberry reduction.

Day 2 came the cake baking. I followed the recipe by My Cake School, making a vanilla batter, dividing it into three, and adding the strawberry reduction to one batch and the cocoa to the other. While I made the cake during the nighttime so they'd be ready the next morning, I think it's best to store them in the freezer overnight. BUT FIRST! Once your cakes are cool, remove them from the pans and level the tops of your cakes so they're nice and even. Then you can store them in the freezer. This way the cakes will be easier to assemble and decorate the next day.

The final day was the day I assembled and decorated the cake. These pictures show the pattern I used for the filling: rings of strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate frosting.

The pattern inside:

As a three-layer cake, it has two layers of delicious frosting filling in between. The chocolate cake is usually the densest, so it often is the bottom layer, which I recommend. You can layer your cake any way you want, I put the vanilla in the middle and the strawberry on top, even though the strawberry cake is probably denser and should go in the middle, though it worked out fine for me.

The cake would get placed in the freezer after each cake was stacked on top of a filling layer. This made it easier for the cake to stick together and for the frosting to be firmer, to make the cake as a whole easier to decorate. I suggest 15 to 20 minutes for each time the cake gets returned to the freezer.

The next step was to seal the cake in a crumb coat, which I used a thin layer of the vanilla ermine frosting for. Professionals use this trick all the time, to keep the cake crumbs sealed inside and to prevent mess when the final layer of frosting is applied. The cake gets frozen again after the crumb coat to give the cake a smoother and more solid surface when decorated.

I then applied strawberry frosting on the top and around the topmost sides, covering the strawberry layer. Vanilla was piped in the middle, with chocolate on the bottom. Between applying the different frostings, I returned the cake to the freezer at 20 minute intervals to prevent the sides from getting too messy and the frosting from mixing.

Lastly came the decorative blobs of frosting on top, arranged in an alternating circular pattern of strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate. On the bottom of the cake, a border of chocolate frosting is piped around the circumference. A delicious project like this was worth the time and effort! It is a delightful, edible work of art.

RALSEI'S CAULDRON CAKE:

Strawberry reduction:

About 1 cup (or more) fresh strawberries, or 2 cups frozen

1/2 cup strawberry puree, from either fresh or frozen strawberries (I thawed about 2 cups of frozen strawberries so I'd have 1/2 cup of puree for the reduction, and another 1/2 cup for the frosting)

Note: You'll need about 1 cup of puree because while half will be reduced for the cake batter, the other half goes into the strawberry ermine frosting. You'll have leftover puree that you can use for whatever you want. The reason I'm overestimating is to make sure there's plenty for the cake and for the frosting.

Either wash, dry, hull, and slice enough fresh strawberries for 1 cup of puree, OR thaw about 2 cups of frozen strawberries.

Place fresh or thawed frozen strawberries into a blender or food processor and use the puree setting.

Measure 1/2 cup for the reduction and pour into a saucepan over medium heat. Cook for 10 minutes or until liquid is greatly reduced, leaving you with 1/4 cup of a thick strawberry puree. Have it cool and set aside. If you're doing the cake over multiple days, store the reduction in your refrigerator.

Vanilla ermine frosting (from Nagi on recipetineats):

1 cup granulated sugar

5 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 cup milk

2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter

1 pinch salt

1 & 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Remove unsalted butter from your refrigerator and set it out to soften. Measure your sugar and flour, and add them to your saucepan.

Turn on your stove to medium heat and give your flour/sugar mixture a good stir with a whisk for about 30 seconds or so.

While whisking, slowly pour in the milk to avoid lumps from forming.

Keep stirring with your whisk as your mixture cooks and thickens. This is to prevent your roux from sticking to the bottom of the pan or burning.

Once your frosting base has reached a pudding-like consistency, it's ready. The thicker it is, the more structure your frosting will have.

Pour your frosting base into a bowl and cover the surface with food wrap to prevent a skin from forming.

After your frosting base has cooled completely (and if you stored it in the fridge overnight, take it out to let it soften for an hour or more so it mixes easily with the butter), beat your softened butter on medium speed for a few minutes. You want the butter to go from a pale yellow to a near-white.

Once your butter has been whipped for a bit, slowly add your frosting base, a spoonful at a time. It should take a minute or two to add the entire base to your butter.

Add salt and vanilla, and keep beating for a few more minutes until your frosting has reached its desired consistency.

Strawberry ermine frosting (from Mimi on eatsdelightful):

1 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup strawberry puree

1/2 cup milk

1/3 cup flour

2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 pinch salt

Measure another 1/2 cup of leftover strawberry puree from making the reduction for the cake, or that more frozen strawberries/hull and slice more fresh strawberries and puree in a blender or food processor if you need more. Set aside.

Once again, set aside another 2 sticks of unsalted butter to soften.

Combine flour and sugar in a saucepan over medium heat and stir with a whisk for about 30 seconds.

While whisking, slowly pour in the milk to avoid lumps, and then the strawberry puree.

Keep stirring your frosting base until thickened, just like with the vanilla frosting base.

Once the consistency has reached that of a thick pudding, pour into a bowl, cover the surface to prevent a skin from forming, and let cool completely.

Once the frosting base has completely cooled, whip unsalted butter on medium speed for a few minutes.

Slowly add in strawberry frosting base to the whipping butter, a spoonful at a time, over the course of a minute or so.

Add salt and vanilla, then keep whipping for a few more minutes until your frosting has reached the desired consistency.

Bonus: Chocolate Ermine Frosting (based off of the strawberry ermine frosting recipe):

3 tablespoons cocoa powder

3 tablespoons hot water

1 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup milk

1/3 cup flour

2 sticks (1 cup) softened unsalted butter

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 pinch salt

Combine 3 tablespoons of cocoa powder with 3 tablespoons of hot water in a small bowl. Stir together and set aside.

Set aside another 2 sticks of unsalted butter for softening and combine sugar and flour in a saucepan over medium heat, whisking for 30 seconds.

Slowly add in the milk while whisking to avoid lumps, then add in the cocoa mixture. Stir to combine.

Stir constantly while your frosting base cooks and thickens. When it reaches a pudding-like consistency, it's ready.

Pour mixture into a bowl and cover the surface to prevent a skin from forming. Cool completely.

After the frosting base has completely cooled, whip butter for a few minutes on medium speed until light in color and fluffy.

Slowly add the frosting base a spoonful at a time over the course of a minute or longer.

Add salt and vanilla and continue to beat for another few minutes until the frosting has reached the desired consistency.

The cake itself (from Melissa Diamond on My Cake School):

3 cups cake flour, spooned and leveled

2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 & 1/4 cups buttermilk (or 1 & 1/4 cup milk mixed with 1 tablespoon lemon juice and sat aside for 5 or more minutes if you can't find buttermilk)

1/4 cup vegetable oil

2 tsp vanilla extract

1 & 1/2 sticks (or 3/4 cup) softened unsalted butter

2 cups sugar

4 large, room temperature eggs

3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

3 tablespoons hot water

1/4 cup strawberry reduction

Get the butter out and let it reach room temperature. After that, set out other cold ingredients such as eggs, buttermilk, and the strawberry reduction. Gather the rest of your ingredients as well, so they're all together.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F, and grease and flour three 8x2 cake pans.

Spoon and level 3 cups of cake flour into a sifter, add baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Sift together into a mixing bowl, then stir together for 30 seconds. Finally, set aside your dry ingredients.

Measure and combine buttermilk, vanilla, and vegetable oil in another mixing bowl and set aside.

In yet another mixing bowl, whip softened unsalted butter on medium speed until smooth. Add your sugar, a little at a time, then keep mixing for another few minutes, anywhere from 3 to 5, until your butter and sugar is fully creamed together, light, and fluffy.

Add eggs, but only one at a time as you beat. Once the yolk disappears and is fully incorporated, add in the next egg, beat, etc., etc.

Once all the eggs are in and beaten, reduce the speed to low and alternate between adding the flour mixture and the buttermilk mixture, starting and ending with the flour mixture. Just remember the pattern: flour, mix, buttermilk, mix, flour, mix, buttermilk, mix, flour, mix. Stop immediately once everything's fully incorporated to prevent overmixing.

You've made an enormous batch of vanilla cake batter! Now's the time to divide it up into three flavors. Here's how to divide it evenly: the batter should yield about 7 and 1/2 cups....divide that by three....and you have 2 and 1/2 cups of batter for 3 bowls.

Combine 3 tablespoons of cocoa powder with 3 tablespoons of hot water in a small bowl. Stir and set aside for a few minutes.

This is a good time to add the strawberry reduction to one bowl for the strawberry batter. Just pour in that thickened strawberry puree and carefully fold it in to combine, in order to prevent over-mixing the batter. Once you've got yourself a bowl of pink cake batter without any vanilla swirls remaining, your strawberry batter is ready!

Now, pour in the cocoa mixture into another bowl of cake batter, and gently fold it in, until the batter is completely chocolatey. You remaining vanilla batter will be left as-is.

Now that we have all three flavors ready, we can finally pour them into our prepared cake pans. Give these a good gentle tap on the counter to remove any huge air pockets. If you want, you can wrap the sides of each cake pan (before filling them with batter, of course) with wet baking strips to ensure an even bake, which will hopefully make later leveling much easier.

Stick your cakes in the oven on the same middle rack to ensure they all bake together at the same time, about 25 to 30 minutes, depending on how hot your oven runs. They may not all fit on one rack, so you can just put in two in one 25 to 30-minute interval and bake the remainder in the other. To check when they're done, insert a toothpick in the center of each cake. If they come out clean with just crumbs, they're done!

Let your cakes cool before removing them from the pan.

Once your cakes have cooled, get your cake leveler and level them so that they're even. If you don't have a leveler, a knife may do, however, they may not be as even this way.

If you're assembling and decorating the next day or later, wrap and store cakes in the freezer. Freezing them will make it easier to crumb coat, pipe on filling, frost and decorate.

Take out your frostings and let them soften to room temperature. Get three piping bags fitted with the tips of your choice, and stand them up in glasses to make them easier to fill.

Place your bottom cake layer (the chocolate is usually the densest, so it's best to use that one as the bottom layer) on a round cake board. Set it down on a turntable or small Lazy Susan and pipe in an arrangement of the strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate frostings.

Place your second layer on top and freeze for 10 minutes or so to harden the frosting. Take out, and then pipe on another layer of the three frostings in whatever pattern you'd like. Top with the top cake layer and freeze again.

Remove stacked cakes from the freezer and pipe on a thin layer of vanilla frosting for the crumb coat. Cover the cakes in this thin layer to seal in the crumbs so you have a better surface to decorate your cake with. Freeze for 10 to 15 minutes for a more solid and sealed surface.

You can do whatever layer you want to start decorating with. I began with the top layer and worked downward. Pipe on a thick layer of frosting covering the top of the cake and smooth out with a frosting spatula or scraper, giving it that nice, flat top surface seen by professionals. Because the sides will have those strawberry-vanilla-chocolate stripes coinciding with the cakes, freeze between flavors to prevent your frostings from sticking and blending together. So, as an example, after you've done the top and the sides of the top layer of the cake, stick it in the freezer for about 15 or 20 minutes. Next, pipe on a layer of frosting matching the middle flavor and smooth it out like you did with the top flavor, and freeze again. Lastly, do the same for the bottom, then freeze. What I mean to say is: freeze between the stripes on the sides!

Like this!

22. Now that the stripey sides are done as well as the top of the cake, we get to pipe on the fun blobs. One way to do it is to do big blobs of the three flavors on top in a pattern....or you could do whatever design you want. Don't forget to pipe a border around the very bottom of the cake to make it look nice and neat!

23. Your cake is done! Unless you want to add sprinkles, candles, or even candy. You decorate how YOU want, of course, this is just an idea going off of how I did it.

24. Enjoy your tall triple-layered cake full of three-flavored goodness!

Sources:

Nagi, "My Secret, Less-Sweet Fluffy Vanilla Frosting", RecipeTin Eats, recipetineats.com. Link: https://www.recipetineats.com/fluffy-vanilla-frosting/

Mimi, "Strawberry Ermine Frosting", Eats Delightful, eatsdelightful.com. Link: https://eatsdelightful.com/strawberry-ermine-frosting/

Diamond, Melissa, "Neapolitan Cake", My Cake School, mycakeschool.com. Link: https://www.mycakeschool.com/neapolitan-cake/

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The Dog: Part III

Mike has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. It’s not so much what you said, “Be sure to give me five stars on Uber,” but your reaction after you had said it. He caught the look of abject horror that crossed your face when he opened the backseat door to let Bono out of the car. The fact that you cared enough to be embarrassed by such a bad joke was adorable. 

You are adorable. 

For the first time since his diagnosis, you were the first person that greeted him after a seizure who didn’t have that pinched, worried, pitied look in your eyes. You understood his condition, probably better than he did at the moment. It takes him a moment to acknowledge the feeling that he felt riding home in the car, having a normal conversation with another human being. You didn’t fuss over him or the condition. You didn’t try to make friends with Bono with the high pitched baby talk some strangers have tried. You showed him where to find heat features if he wanted them and left it at that. Everything you did put him at ease. 

He felt comfortable. 

He unlocks the front door and opens it before turning back to see if you’re still there. You are. He gives you a wave, which you return before pulling away from the curb. Bono sits on the edge of the porch, wounded nose sniffing the air as he watches the dark orange Subaru drive off. When it’s out of sight, Bono stands and follows Mike into the house. He stands still while Mike unhooks his harness and leash and hangs them up on the coat rack by the door before he goes into the kitchen. 

Mike rubs his forehead tiredly. “Guess it is about dinner time, huh?” 

But Bono didn’t go into the kitchen to beg for food. He had opened the refrigerator and picked up a bottle of water, bringing it over to Mike. He took it with a sigh.

 “I’m going to have to teach you how to bring me the whiskey instead.” 

Bono’s ears drop slightly and Mike scolds himself. He had been reading through the material that had been given to him on Bono and his training. Tone was very important to a service dog of Bono’s nature and anytime Mike sounded displeased or frustrated, Bono picked up on it, sometimes interpreting it as a correction and not a statement. To make up for the  lapse, Mike opens the water and takes a significant drink before scratching Bono’s head. 

“Good boy. Buen perro (good dog).” 

***

He dreams about the attack again that night. The metallic ring of blades being unsheathed. The whistling of the machete’s through the air. The stinging bite of it as it cuts through clothing and skin. The wet slap of blood being sprayed over the bodega. It becomes so repetitive that there’s a rhythm to it: ring, whistle, hit, slap. 

Ring, whistle, hit, slap. 

Stop. 

Ring, whistle, hit, slap. 

Stop! 

He wakes up once again, hands raised in an effort to shield his face, his neck. Bono is already in his lap, nosing his way into the invisible circle that Mike’s arms, in their defensive position, have created. He brings his arms around the dog, hugging him close. There’s no one here to see him, to see him buried under the emotional rubble of this act of violence. He finds a new rhythm as he runs his fingers through the soft, medium length fur along Bono’s sides. As he focuses on the dog’s heartbeat and the sound of his tail thumping against the down comforter. 

Slide, beat, thump, breathe. 

Stop. 

Slide, beat, thump, breathe. 

Stop. 

Mike lets his head drop, buries his face into the side of Bono’s neck.

Slide, beat, thump, breathe. 

Break. 

***

Of course the next day is beautiful. Sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature is a perfect seventy degrees. Mike is sitting on the back steps of his home, drinking a cup of coffee, and throwing a tennis ball for Bono. Buds are starting to appear on the bare branches, birds are starting to fill the warm air with their songs. It literally is the perfect day. Bono trots back over to him, bright eyed, tail lazily swinging from side to side in a sedate show of contentment. 

Mike thinks about you. Your kind eyes, dark red hair, freckles splattered across your nose and cheeks. He can’t stop thinking about you and that grimace of a smile at a poor joke. The delicate cant of your hand as you pointed out the heat features in your car. The sadness that clung to the corners of your eyes and mouth when you spoke the name of your brother. You were alone in this world, just like him. But your isolation wasn’t self-imposed, not like his. 

He made the choice to dedicate his life to bring down Oscar Papa. He knew what he was sacrificing, the normal life with a wife and kids and white picket fence on Long Island. Now he sits in the nuclear fallout of his decisions, searching through the ash for anything worth saving. A house that’s in desperate need of some upgrades. An ex-wife who liked the idea of being a cop’s wife but didn’t like the reality of it. He can’t even purchase a new vintage car to do work on anymore because thanks to the seizure disorder, his driver’s license has been revoked. He’s not exactly a catch for anyone. 

But you won’t leave his mind. He closes his eyes and sees you smile. He takes in a deep breath and feels your hand in his. When he reached out for comfort last night, he had Bono, he was thankful for Bono. But he had wished for a human touch. Someone to put their arms around him, hold him against their heart, and remind him that he survived that attack for a reason. Bono drops the tennis ball, wet and slimy now, from the multiple times it had been in his mouth, at Mike’s feet. On a whim, Mike throws out a question. 

“Do you want to go to the beach?” 

Bono’s ears perk up immediately and he tilts his head to the side. 

Mike sighs. “Beach?” 

Bono spins twice, tail wagging at a faster rate. 

Mike pulls out his phone and opens the Uber app. Looks like he’s going to Orchard Beach today. 

***

You’re more beautiful than he remembers and Mike doesn’t know how that’s possible. 

Your hair is braided, a thick rope of mahogany. You’re wearing a faded Queen shirt, a pair of ripped jeans that are rolled up to your mid-calf to keep the sand on just your skin and not in the folds of the denim. You’re throwing a frisbee for a dog with red and white patches, the dog running at full speed and leaping into the air to snatch the disc, and run it back to you. 

He shouldn’t interrupt you. You’re here on your day off, relaxing and enjoying the time with your dog. He’ll only be invading, stealing away your moments and attention from your beloved pet. He shouldn’t even really be here. 

“Is that Bono?” 

Mike turns to see an older woman with straight iron gray hair and a weathered face. She’s smiling widely, not at him, but at Bono.  She has a young dog herself, outfitted in a “service dog in training” vest. She’s trying to get her dog to sit and stay still while Bono is wagging his tail and dancing from foot to foot. The younger dog settles and the woman waits with folded hands. He realizes with a start that she’s waiting for him to give permission for her to pet Bono. 

“Yeah,” he answers, slackening the leash so Bono can go over to her. “Yeah, this is Bono.” 

She bends down and reaches towards Bono who happily pushes his head into her hand. “That’s my sweet boy. I am so happy to see you again.” She tuts. “What happened to your nose, Bono?” 

Bono’s tail is swinging with enthusiasm, his ears perked up and twitching as her voice rises and falls. He’s listening to her. Mike clears his throat. “He, uh, had a run in with the neighborhood cat.” 

She makes a sympathetic nose and scratches his neck, under his collar. “Well, he always was a curious little boy.” 

“I take it you’re the one who trained him to be a service dog?” 

“There’s a team of us,” she answers, smiling brightly, “but I worked quite a bit with this one. Oh, he was a little love from the beginning. Always wanted to be close to us. Had an innate ability to know who was going through a difficult time. When he was a year old, he went and sat with one of the volunteers with his head on her lap for over an hour. She told us later that she had lost her mother that week. And Bono knew that. You have a special dog.” 

He’s beginning to realize that. “How did Bono come to your training facility?” 

A frown crosses her face. “Poor thing was found in a storm drain with three of his littermates. They were just dumped there, shivering, wet, and dirty. They were named after classic rock singers with one name: Sting, Cher, Selena, and Bono. They were about six weeks old when some teenage girls found them. A couple trainers went over to the shelter and temperament tested them; Bono was the only one that passed so we took him.” She’s quiet for a moment before her sharp blue eyes skate over the scars on his hands, the raised skin that disappears under the fabric of his henley. “You’re the police officer that was attacked by the Bronx gang.” 

Mike nods. “I am.” 

She gives Bono a loving look, swipes her thumbs over his muzzle. “You’ve got a good dog, here. He’ll take good care of you.” 

Mike thinks of last night, of waking up from that nightmare and reaching for Bono. “He already has.” 

“That’s good to hear.” She straightens back up, gives her dog a treat and praises him for sitting quietly. “If you need anything, have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call the training center.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” 

“One last thing,” she leans closer to him to share this secret. “I used to bring him out here to Orchard Beach to train him how to maneuver through a crowd and find seating options. He loves the vanilla ice cream at the end of the boardwalk.” 

Mike laughs slightly. “Good to know.” 

She pats his elbow. “Take care of yourself.” 

He watches her move off down the walkway before turning around and seeing you leaning on the rail that separates the boardwalk from the sand. You have your head resting in the palm of your hand, a contented smile on your pretty face, as you watch him and Bono. Your smile widens when your eyes meet. 

“You came.” 

“I did.” 

“Good.” 

He feels like he takes in the first full breath of air in years. 

You introduce him and Bono to your dog, Shasta. She’s a high energy spaniel about the size of Bono. You describe her as friendly, very sweet, but also quite dumb. She looks incredibly happy though, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth and cropped tail wagging. You encourage him to let Bono off the leash so he too can play with your collection of balls and frisbees, but Mike’s unreasonably nervous about it. You pick on his hesitation immediately. 

“Service dogs are trained to stay close to their handlers. Bono isn’t going to run away from you. If anything, you’re going to have to give him a command that tells him it’s okay to venture away from you.” 

He doesn’t trust anyone, hasn’t for a long time. But you’re so different from anyone else that he’s ever met that he finds himself unhooking the leash from Bono’s harness. You hand him a ball and he throws it but it’s Shasta who picks it up, makes three circles around you, before dropping the ball about five feet away from you. You pick up the ball with a groan and hand it to him again. He holds the ball in front of Bono who looks at it and then looks at him. This time when Mike throws it, he gives the command “Go play” and Bono takes off like a rocket after the ball. 

Mike’s never seen him run like this. His backyard isn’t big enough for Bono to gain enough speed for the full body elongation of a gallop. It actually brings a smile to his face to see Bono acting like a genuine dog. You must take note of the drawing realization on his face. 

“You were a police officer, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You go to any bars after work? Or a hard case?” 

His heart stutters slightly, muscle memory of walking into a cop bar once and getting the surprise of his life. He coughs slightly to get his heart back into rhythm. “Yeah, of course.” 

“Well,” you toss a frisbee with an elegant flick of your wrist and both dogs chase after it. “Bono is a working dog. He needs some downtime too.” 

That makes sense. “He seems to enjoy this.” 

You give him a half smile. “Yeah, he does.” 

He’s tired of being alone. He’s tired of living an isolated life. It’s been too long since he’s shared anything with another human being. He’s allowed his whale hunt for Oscar Papa to rob him of anything that could have been seen as an exploitable weakness. Papa is behind bars awaiting trial. Even though he wanted Mike dead, the leader of BX9 seems content with the condemnation of early retirement for Mike. He can start his life again, and what’s more, Mike actually wants to start it again. He picks up one of the balls and throws it for the dogs. 

“You know what else I found out that Bono likes?” he asks you. 

“What?” 

“Vanilla ice cream.” 

Your half grin becomes full fledged. “What a coincidence, that’s Shasta’s favorite too.” 

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[gatheringfantasies]

@illusionoftransience

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Perhaps Siusaidh's thoughts about Manako being a grandma type may hold it's own merits course some people may see her as a motherly type as well who has a lot of heart to give. After all, Manako loves eating her own sweets she bakes and tends to enjoy multiple servings which may explain her figure that seemed quite soft.

Her trust and her carefree nature come with the way Cupid was, being a kind-hearted individual who couldn't hurt a fly in normal circumstances and sees the good in others, especially those who can come into this forest and find her cozy home. Then her ears twitched as she heard the guest speaking out to her.

“E-Eh? Manacutie?” The nickname taken her aback, that soft pink blush kept on her face only grew from it not minding the bow. “I-I wouldn't call myself divine- well- I- well- not like an angel since their ranked higher above than we cupids. Still, I'm happy you are happy to learn more about cupids since we're not really that much known and with some uh- poor examples. Oh right! The cookies!”

The cupid gasped as she went to the kitchen and focuses on the cookies making sure they were made to perfection with this sudden arrival of her new guest and acquiescence. Thank goodness they are still in the proper ranged and needs a little more time until they are fully completed without burning them which had only happen a couple of time when she first started baking in her home away from home.

There seemed to be a few potted flowers in the living room as well as one in front of the window to receive plenty of sunlight, to say the least, they were in good condition. Course Manako was allowing Shou to do as she pleased in her home so even if she noticed where she was headed she wouldn't mind finding out there was no basement this also included no floor upwards making it seem like a one-level home. Though, some of the mattress here was made by special means perhaps some traces of magic that clearly wasn't the cupid's.

“Ah!” She got surprised as hopped in placed from the sudden hand on her back! “Yes, yes I'm doing alright there~. Actually. . .~” Turning off the oven she places some pink mittens on and opens the oven. Carefully taking out the fully baked cookies that filled the air with it's chocolaty aroma and places the tray on top.

“I'm thankful for your offering but I don't have anything that needs to be carried. Though, you may grab a drink from the refrigerator there's plenty of milk last time I checked.” Manako smiled though that blush that only had vanish came back as she looks to the side seeing Shou beside her as suddenly as she placed her hand on her back. “T-thank you, I'm glad you think that. I've baked a lot with my mother when I was little. She would teach me all kinds of things, recipes, and other tips on how to properly bake. S-so, I had a lot of time to get uh- s-skilled with my baking that even those I've known for a few love it. If you want, you may grab a cookie right now as long you are careful.”