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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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Indruck hunt nsfw!!! I'm so excited you're doing fills again, they're always so good!

Thanks so much, and here you go! Duck’s form is based on a Green Wrasse, and Indrid’s is based on a Flamboyant Cuttlefish.

Go along the trenches they said. It’ll be easy they said.

Duck’s been here for two hours, trawling the spot where the sea bed and reef give way to deeper water in search of black moon oysters. It’s courting season in Kepler, and if he can find a few he’s certain at least one of the two mers he has his eyes on will agree to a date. But at this rate, he’ll be bringing some of his model ships as his gifts for his first year of courting, and that’ll be embarrassing. No one wants to date a mer with such a boring hobby.

So here he is, far from where most reef mers would even think to come, searching for a shellfish notorious for it’s shadowy color. At least there aren’t any deep sea mers around to see him repeatedly get hissed at by the same eel because he keeps losing his bearings and checking crevasses he already searched. He’d rather not have an audience.

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

Indrid cannot believe his luck. Weeks of hunting, of hunger, with barely any food to be found, and now a tantalizing, green tail dangles near his hide away. No mer in these parts has such coloration, so it must be a very big fish indeed.

His foresight is half-obliterated, so he must rely on skill to earn his prey. He camouflages as best he can along the rockface, creeping along beneath the ledge where the tail keeps disappearing and reappearing. If he lunges too soon, he’ll miss and scare off dinner.

Almost...almost…

He pushes up in a burst of speed, grabs the tail, and propels back into his lair, his prey putting up a remarkable fight. He doesn’t notice his error until it punches him in the eye.

“OW!!”

“What the fuck?” The merman spins, lashing out again but missing him in the dark.

“I, I am so very sorry, I thought you were a fish!”

“I look like a damn fish?” His unwilling guest gestures angrily at his upper body.

Because his eyes are adapted to dark water, Indrid can clearly see the muscles in his arms, the round belly and charming face. Now he wants to sink his teeth into him in an entirely new way.

Oh, right, he’s waiting for an answer.

“From down here you did. I assumed all reef mers stayed far away, and thus missed the obvious explanation for the size of your tail. I, ah, am not the sharpest when starving.”

The wary, annoyed expression softens, “Ain’t there food down here?”

“Yes, but it’s fast, poisonous, or fought over, and I’d like to keep all my tentacles attached to me.”

The merman points at the cave ceiling, “The reef is just up there. We got plenty to eat.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t, they’d recognize me as a deep water mer and be frightened.”

“I could vouch for you. Assumin you don’t plan on grabbin anyone else.”

“Of course not” He flicks all his tentacle tips, trying to hide how hurt he is by the suggestion.”

“Then you can be my guest. There’s a festival tonight, so the grub oughta be good.”

“You mean it?”

“Yep.” He nods, black hair swirling around his forehead.

“Thank you so very much! I, is there something I can do to repay you?”

“Well…”

He mentally crosses all fingers and tentacles, hoping for an answer along the lines of “kiss me” or “hold my hand on the way there” and he flickers his lower body an appealing yellow to sweeten the deal.

“...you got any clue where to find black moon oysters?”

“Yes” he cocks his head, “why?”

“Wanna give ‘em as a present to some mers tonight.”

“Ohhhh” Indrid nods, understanding and trying to hide his disappointment, “a courtship gift. Of course, right this way…Duck.”

The mer starts, “How’d you-”

“-Know your name? Foresight, though it’s severely diminished right now. He smiles, holds out his hand, “I’m Indrid. Now, let us find you those oysters.”

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

Duck never expected a deep sea mer to be so chatty, but as they weave their way between rocks in search of their quarry, Indrid talks amicably about all manner of things, often swimming backwards so he can ask Duck questions about his life on the reef. Listens intently as Duck tells him about his time studying coral health, demanding details as they float across a deeper trench.

Still, Duck feels like he’s not carrying his conversational weight, and when Indrid peers into another empty crag he asks, “hey Indrid, what kind of fish only comes out at night?”

The other mer blinks his glowing red eyes, “What kind?”

“A starfish.”

A slower blink, and then Indrid snickers, “I didn’t know we were in the pun timeline.”

“Sorry, know it’s silly-”

“Why was the shark worried after eating a clownfish?” Indrid wiggles his tentacles.

Duck smiles, “no idea.”

“Because it tasted funny!”

He giggles, “that was awful.”

“Precisely!” Indrid beams, then pulls Duck flush against the cliff-face. In the darkness beneath them, he can just make out something immense swimming along the trench. Indrid doesn’t release him until it’s out of sight.

“Apologies, but there was a non-zero chance of that being an aggressive shark.”

“Glad you were here watchin my ba--holy fuck!”

Only Indrid’s eyes are the color they were a moment before. The rest of him, even his hair, is the same speckled grey of the rocks.

“Indrid that’s, that’s incredible! I know mers who can color change a little, but nothin like this.”

“It’s mainly for survival purposes, but I am glad you, ah, you like it” Indrid returns to his usual color, save for his tentacles, which flash pink on their way back to silvery-blue.

“Can you control it?”

“To a degree; some of it is subconscious expression of emotion, but much of the time I can manipulate it as I need. See?” He holds one tentacle out in front of Duck’s tail, matching it perfectly.

“That’s so fuckin cool.”

“I, ah, would be happy to show you some more” the pink flashes are back, “but first…” he pulses up to small ledge, slips three tentacles inside, and retracts them with a flourish a moment later, each hold a pitch black oyster, “let’s get you to your party.”

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

In spite of there being no timelines where Duck reneges on his end of the deal, Indrid remains nervous most of the way into town. Then the other mer stops, reaches into a stand of kelp and produces a scallop, “here, you were hungry when we met and you put off eatin to help me, seems only fair to get you a snack before you get there.”

Indrid grins, rips open the shell, and downs the mollusc in what he hopes isn’t a completely horrifying way. It’s been so long since someone shared a catch with him.

“Do you still want to see more camouflage?”

“Hell yeah.”

They pass the rest of the journey to the town square with Indrid changing color, the two of them laughing as Duck comes up with increasingly ridiculous things for him to match. He adds in extra effects, hoping to dazzle Duck, and he’s having so much fun he’s almost sad to arrive at the party.

Then he sees the buffet, and it’s difficult to be that upset. Better still, Duck doesn’t immediately leave him in search of his potential lovers. Instead he guides Indrid to a cluster of other mers his age. Juno, Aubrey, and Dani all welcome him into conversation and help him navigate some of the unfamiliar foods Duck gathers from the large stone tables.

Deep sea mer courtship is very goal focused, but up here the custom seems to be unhurried, as much a chance to catch up with friends as find a mate. There’s even dancing, which he’s drawn into when Aubrey coaxes Duck onto the dance floor and the merman offers Indrid his hand. They spin and flit about each other, Indrid initially taking care not to brush him with his tentacles. When it happens on accident and Duck responds by thwacking Indrid back with the tip of his tail, Indrid takes to touching him whenever the dance allows.

Since none of the reef mers swim screaming away from him, he and Duck even join in on the group dances. Indrid shows off, changing colors to match his partner because he catches Duck smiling whenever he does.

The first of Duck’s crushes arrives, though Duck stays, dancing, with Indrid.

“Are you supposed to wait until a certain time to offer your gift?”

“No. I, uh, I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never done the whole courtin thing before.”

“Understandable. Though if you ask me, I’d say you have a great deal to offer.” He nudges him with a tentacle. Duck takes a deep breath, then swims away after the other mer. Indrid hasn’t even made it to the table when Duck is once again beside him, saying they weren’t interested and would Indrid like to keep dancing?

He would, and they do, trading jokes and stories as they turn in slow circles around each other. They alternate between the dance and recharging with their friends until Duck’s other crush swims into view, having gotten to the party rather late. Duck’s approach is more confident, and Indrid encourages him along with the others. After ten or so minutes, Duck catches his eye and gives a thumbs up. Indrid returns the gesture and watches that stunning tail swim away.

Indrid stays, continues talking and eating with his new friends. He’s even approached for courtship twice, demurring both times. It’s not long before he regrets this choice, because his foresight keeps showing him flashes of what Duck is getting up to with his new partner and getting his hands and mouth on another mer might be a welcome distraction. He finishes the last of his meal, waves goodbye to his friends with a promise to come see them again, and swims home alone.

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

Duck hums as he swims over the edge of the trench, carved coral box in hand. Indrid left Dani directions for how to visit him, so Duck’s no longer concerned about swimming into the wrong cave and getting eaten.

The front of the cave is empty, and the scant light still filtering in doesn’t show him much beyond it, so he floats further and calls, “Indrid? You home?”

Red eyes appear in the dark, followed by flashes of pink and yellow, “Duck?”

“Didn’t see me comin?” He grins, swimming up to greet the other mer.

“There were only a few futures where you visited so soon after the party. Is something wrong? Does your new partner need more oysters?”

“Nope, came ‘cause I wanted to see you. Is, uh, is that okay?” Nerves creep up his tail; maybe Indrid was only interested in their exchange yesterday and not in him.

“Of course. I, ah, my lair is rather messy but if you come this way I have some lights.” He motions for Duck to follow him. As they swim deeper into the cave, bioluminescent kelp and algae flicker to life, revealing walls covered in elegant, detailed carvings. They turn left, coming to a room filled with yet more carvings, a large, comfy looking hammock, and a floor scattered with shells.

“You did all these?” Duck touches a lovingly rendered carving of a ray.

“Yes. They help me capture visions from time to time, or are simply images I enjoy.” That same light pink is coursing up through his tentacles and occasionally racing through his hair.

“Oh, that reminds me, here” Duck holds out the box, “seemed like these were your favorite last night, so figured you’d like some more.”

Indrid studies the crab rolls in their neat lines, “Oooh!” His tentacles wiggle, “thank you. That was very sweet of you.” He swims over to a small table, sets the box atop it, and then begins searching a rock shelf. “But I insist you share some of them with me, assuming you don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Uh-”

“Where are those blasted plates-”

Duck rubs the back of his neck, “Indrid? Is, uh, is that a yes or a no?”

The other mer turns, flashing bright blue, “To...oh, oh my, really?”

“Future just tell you I’m courtin you?”

“Yes. I, but I thought you made your choice last night?”

“That ain’t really how this works. I mean, I had a great time last night, might see her again, but I ain’t made any kind of choice about bein exclusive. Besides uh, I, uh, if I’m bein honest, mer I thought the most about last night and today was you.”

“Oh.” Indrid says much more softly as Duck swims to him and brushes his tail along a tentacle.

“It’s okay if you ain’t interested, I can back off and we can have dinnerAHfuck” he laughs as Indrid uses all available limbs to pull him closer with a delighted chirp.

“The answer is very much yes, Duck Newton.”

“Thank fuck” Duck leans in, kissing him eagerly as two tentacles tease up and down his tail.

Then he can’t see a fucking thing and Indrid curses, “Of all the time for my kelpalabra to die. One moment, let me find something so you can see.” He pulls back, red eyes and kaleidoscopic lower half the only thing in Duck’s vision, achingly alluring even as he mutters around the room.

“We, uh, we can keep it like this.”

“You’re certain? I thought you couldn’t see in these conditions.”

“Can see what matters.” Duck opens his arms and Indrid chuckles, swimming into them.

“I’m amazed you were not swarmed by admirers last night.”

“Flatterer” Duck kisses his cheek.

“I am being entirely truthful. You are so charming, and so very handsome…” Indrid strokes his face as his tentacles glide up his chest and down his tail, “mmmm, I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.”

“How, uh, sensitive are these?” Duck lets one tentacle curl around his fingers, brings it to his mouth for a kiss.

“About the same as my hands, but far more flexible.” Two tease just below his hips, his scales beginning to ripple and part at the stimulation. The surrounding darkness heightens each grope and stroke, his body having little to no warning of where the next touch might come from. His world is nothing but Indrid’s hands and tentacles on his body, that little voice and moonlight smile illuminated by the colors of his affection.

“Fuck, ‘Drid, this is so fuckin nice.”

Indrid hums, pulsing a warm yellow as he coaxes Duck open, kissing his neck and nibbling his ears. Duck winds his fingers into his silver hair, gives a testing tug and gets a moan in reply.

“Again.”

He growls, pulls harder as his cock emerges, scrapes his teeth up Indrid’s neck and discovers that makes him practically scream in delight.

“You wanna be in me, or should I fuck you?”

“Ah, beg pardon?”

“Wait, fuck, do you not have-”

“I have this” smaller tendrils emerge from beneath a fold between his front tentacles, “there isn’t really room for anything to go in, and while I can get some shape from it” he demonstrates by twining three into something close to Duck’s dick, “it is unlikely to be the method you’re used to. My kind mate by sort of, hmm, mushing them together? My, that sounds deeply unattractive when I say it that way.”

Duck licks his lips, “They look pretty damn dexterous.”

Indrid’s eyes glow brighter, “The are.”

“Get over here and show me.”

The other mer comes to him so forcefully they’re propelled back into a wall. Duck barely registers the collision, too busy moaning as tendrils curl around his dick, stroking and sucking so elegantly he’s pretty sure he’s never going to be satisfied with a blowjob again.

Okay, except for one form the mouth currently devouring his own with kisses. Indrid moans and squirms in his arms, tentacle and fingertips caressing him from cheek to tail.

“May, may I try something?” Indrid pants in his ear.

“Long as you don’t stop what you’re already doin, ohfuck,” He bucks his hips as more tendrils push into the slit under his dick, Indrid purring as they do.

“Ohhhhhgoodness, you feel wonderful Duck, please, please say we can do this again?”

“Damn, ain’t even made you cum and you’re already beggin for a next time?” Duck teases, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, pleaseplease” tentacles tighten around him, trapping him against Indrid as the other mer frantically fucks him, “I’ll can make you feel so good, I want to, please”

“Mission fuckin accomplished” Duck yanks on his hair and Indrid yelps with joy, cumming inside him and across his dick. The orgasm makes him lose control of both his colors and his tendrils, meaning he shimmers like the inside of an abalone as tugs and twitches along Duck’s dick. The touches draw his own climax from him with a groan, and he buries his face in Indrid’s neck, mouthing kisses along it as he spills into the water.

Slowly, all tentacles and tendrils relax and withdraw, leaving only Indrid’s arms around him.

“You asleep?” It’s only half a joke, as Indrid is going limp.

‘Mmmhmm. A perfectly wonderful mer just robbed me of all my energy in the best possible way.”

“Heh, funny, most stunnin mer in the ocean did the same to me.” He swims them over to the hammock, guiding them down onto their sides as Indrid looks sleepily up at him.

“In that case, would the wonderful mer like to join me for dinner after we nap?”

Duck kisses his nose, nestles closer as Indrid’s tentacles shift to match his tail, “Yeah, he would.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay #mermay fills

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dingletragedy · 4 years ago

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3, 4, 12, 15 and 21 💞

3. favourite line/scene you wrote this year?

woah what a question! i wrote so many words this year and i can hardly remember half of them lmao!

but i remember being very proud of the cave scene in ocean blue:

Finally, they break through the treeline and stumble onto sand.

It’s a tiny cove of beach, just a thin strip of white-gold that’s bordered by cliffs on either side, rockpools stretching out to the water and meeting the waves, foam spraying. Ben drags him along the sand, already flicking his sandals off. Callum follows suit, and he barely notices the sting of hot grains on his soles, instead breathing out at the familiarity of it.

Ben stops them by the edge of the rockpools, just before the rock itself merges with the sand, and where the foam of the waves fizzles out to a dull trickle.

“Be careful,” he says, stepping up onto the rock. “Try not to step on the sharp bits, you’ll probably fall and crack your head open.”

“Oh, very reassuring,” Callum murmurs, almost slipping as fizzling seawater hisses over the gleaming rock. Ben holds onto him closely, and they start to tread out closer to the cliffs, where huge boulders of rock rest like tiny mountains, deep red and lined with cracks of blue where sea wind has sunk its claws in.

Before long, the seawater is lapping at their knees. Or rather, Callum’s knees and Ben’s waist. Ben drags him along quickly, and suddenly everything goes strangely dark, as they tread light feet into the entrance of a small cave.

Beneath them, the floor of the cave is dome-like, deep but still translucent blue, and Callum can see all the tiny details of it, the shadows of starfish and tiny crabs huddled close on the rocks, seaweeds and dark sponges that splay themselves out when the sun hits through the water.

It takes him a while to notice the etchings on the cave walls, the white scrapes that have been carved into the clay red, and he tilts his head up as he marvels at all the names that are engraved, that are part of this little tucked away place.

Ben interlocks their fingers under the water, and they walk to the ledge of the rock and climb up, where the tide has dipped low enough for them to step carefully over the wet, exposed surface.

“I thought you said this place is a secret?” Callum says, reading over all the names, some faded, others fresher.

“It is,” Ben says. “Well, a local secret.”

The way Callum’s heart falls into his feet is a slow, gradual thing, a pull that turns his neck and the tips of his cheeks warm, that makes the wet air around them feel too hot. Ben just watches him for a moment, and then he steps forward slowly, eyes raking up the wall until he finds what he’s looking for, rolling up onto his tippy-toes and extending his arm up to point.

BEN MITCHELL.

It’s faded, worn down and almost lost against the rocks, but it’s there, large and bordered by tiny lines, almost like cartoon sunbeams. Just beside it, Callum sees JAY BROWN in an attempted cursive. He blinks up at them slowly, roams his gaze over the other names clustered there, the ones that are almost completely invisible, drawn over by someone else. Some he recognises, others he doesn’t, but there’s one, in particular, that stands out, brings Callum’s heart right back up and into his mouth.

PAUL COKER, it reads, directly below Ben’s name, accompanied with a tiny, wonky love heart.

“This place,” Ben starts, voice so soft that it’s almost lost under the distant swell, the muted lapping of the water behind them, “It means a lot to me. It’s where I first fell in love, I suppose.”

“Wow,” Callum breathes, and he tries to fully understand the scope of this, of Ben bringing him here, showing him this place he holds so close to his heart. He tries to understand how incredibly, intricately personal this is, and why Ben has let him see it. “It’s a beautiful place to fall in love.”

“Yeah,” Ben breathes, “it really is.”

“What was his name?” Callum asks, despite the fact he knows. But this is Ben’s story to tell, and he wants to give Ben every chance he gave Callum this morning.

“Paul,” Ben whispers, eyes wet with a sad smile as his finger brushes delicately over the caved name. He pushes his other hand along the tops of his thighs, curls his finger anxiously over his knee as he releases another long exhale. Callum stares, swallows thickly. He feels worlds away but like nothing could ever move him from this point in time.

“It was two summers ago, the best of my life,” Ben starts. Callum holds his breath against the intensity in his voice.

“Paul was special, Callum. So special, and his life was just taken from him as if he was nothing,” Ben continues quietly, wistfully, but his voice grows tight and panicked as he talks, eyes watering some more. Callum's heart spikes in his chest.

Darkness shadows across Ben’s face slowly, creeping in as his eyes grow dull, and he curls into himself again. He opens his mouth again, then snaps it shut, taking in a shuddery breath.

“You can stop if you want,” Callum whispers, gentle. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry, it’s just,” his eyes are misty again, “it’s hard to talk about him. But I want to. You—you opened up to me this morning, Callum, you told me your truths, and I think I owe you mine in return.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Ben,” Callum says. And he means it, more than anything.

“Maybe not,” Ben says. “But I want you to know every part of me, and this is the biggest.”

Callum gives Ben a soft, reassuring smile, and time, time to breathe, time to gather his thoughts and do this his way. The wind wisps its way into the cave, settles itself in Callum’s bones.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning, hey?” He says in the end, echoing Ben’s earlier words.

And Ben does, just as Callum had only hours earlier.

He tells Callum everything, from their first date, Ben running scared and hiding away for weeks, to their last moments, bright and brilliant until they weren’t, until they were broken down to splintering glass.

Callum suddenly feels like the cave has shrunk down, like the walls are scraping against his skin and his shoulders are hunched in painfully, knees tucked up into his chest as he listens to Ben speak, the distant, detached way he’s running his palms over the rock. He wasn’t expecting to hear all this, and now he isn’t sure he wants to, isn’t sure he deserves these explanations, these stories that feel too personal and too deeply ingrained in history to be ripped into the present.

“That’s awful,” Callum makes an odd sound in the back of his throat. “Ben, I’m so sorry.”

“It was,” Ben nods slowly. His fingers are still tracing over the rock, following the natural rivets, tracing letters. “And there was a time I thought I weren't gonna get through it. Ever. But Jay saw me through, he’s been the best.”

“I’m glad you had Jay. And Paul, he—he sounds beautiful,” Callum whispers, Ben’s head rolling to loll on Callum’s shoulder. “I can feel his warmth in your stories.”

Ben’s face tucks further into Callum’s shoulder, and gradually, Callum lets his cheek rest atop Ben’s head, the two of them resting together, eyes wet, Ben silent as he breathes slow and measured. In the distance, Callum feels that oncoming wave again, can hear that warm fizzle, that buzzing in his fingertips.

“And I think he’d be proud of you, too,” Callum continues quietly, the words escaping before he can stop them, finds heat at his neck as he speaks. “The way you’re still going, that you keep coming back here. That you could have left and gave it all up, but you’re still here. Persevering, and not letting anybody tell you who to be, or what to feel. And you should know that I admire you for that, and I…I really like you, you make me feel like I have something to belong to, and to become.”

He finds Ben’s hand, rests his fingers in the gaps between Callum’s own.

Ben pulls away a little, facing Callum fully, and when Callum meets his eye carefully, he finds that Ben’s are shiny, full, brows pinched as he stares right back, something akin to a revelation passing over his features, something Callum feels in his chest when Ben blinks, lashes gone clumped.

“It’s been so long since I cared about anyone,” he says. “But I care about you, Callum. And that’s why I brought you here today.”

“I’m so happy you did, Ben,” Callum says, voice tight and eyes wet. “It’s beautiful.”

“This place, Secret Beach as it’s unoriginally known as now, it’s like the heart of our town,” Ben explains. “It’s hidden away and some of the locals don’t even know it exists, but that’s what makes it so special? And you deserve special, Callum.”

Callum stares at him, dumbfounded and flushed, almost shrinking under the intensity of Ben’s gaze, under the open and vulnerable wideness of his eyes, the earnestness of his shuddering chest, the refracting light on the water shimmering and dancing on his cheeks. Then Ben bends down, and he dislodges a small rock from the pool beside them, slippery and shining and sharp, and he loops his tan, calloused fingers around Callum’s wrist gently, places the rock in his palm and curls his fingers over the smoothness of it.

“Ben,” Callum breathes, staring down at the rock in his hand, at Ben’s fingers folding over his own.

“Go on,” Ben lifts his hands away, and he gestures his head towards the cave wall, towards years and years of traditions and secrets and heartache and grief. “Do it.”

“I can’t,” Callum says, and his voice is caught in his throat suddenly, overwhelmed and unsure of himself.

“I want you to,” Ben says, fiercely. “Really want you to.”

Callum just stares at him for so long, the rock in his palm seeming to weigh his hand down. He can’t help but feel that there’s something else here, something more that Ben isn’t saying, the most vulnerable and delicate parts of him are still hidden by that wall of glass, that Callum’s only just starting to crack through. Other things, though, have already shattered the glass completely, and it scares Callum somewhat, the thought that he’s managed to break down that barrier. It scares him because he doesn’t quite know what to do now that he’s smashed his way through.

Turning slowly, Callum runs his fingers over the damp wall, and finds a place to squeeze his name in, where there’s a smooth gap of deep red. Slowly, and carefully, he carves; CALLUM HIGHWAY, SUMMER ‘19, into the rock, fingers shaking as he scrapes the colour away and leaves white scratches, leaves his name imprinted here. It’s more than the lingering bruises on Ben’s neck, more than the borrowed grey hoodie on his back, more than the paint on Ben’s hands, than pencil marks and colour etched there.

It’s more than the Summer.

It’s a piece of him permanently etched here.

When he lowers the rock, there’s stuttered fuzziness to his heartbeat. Ben reaches for his wrist again, and he slowly pulls them back into the water, where it’s cool against their grazed knees, and they kiss slow, unhurried, wet lips, hair trailing rivets of water along their necks and shoulders.

Callum feels something shift between them, and he opens his mouth up wider, clings close, because he doesn’t ever want to let this go.

and ben and callum’s first kiss in weekend kings made me feel so much whilst writing it!

Their mouths touch again, and it’s molten, soft and melty and cautious, Ben’s bottom lip caught wetly between Callum’s. Ben has to let out a shudder of a breath, toes curling up so hard it hurts as he starts to twist his fingers in Callum’s hair. Ben feels out of body, like he can register each touch and press, he can hear the rain tapping heavy fingers on the rooftop and the low buzz of the record player and the rasp of Callum’s breathing but it doesn’t feel real.

But it is real, so real. And it’s the most intimate moment of Ben’s life, standing in the dark, holding the warm body of this soft boy, kissing him, tender and so full of feeling.

It’s Callum who pulls away the next time, and when he doesn’t duck straight back in, Ben peels his eyes open slowly to look up at him, panics.

Callum’s chest is rising and falling noticeably, his eyes intense and gentle all at once, hooded but so open. They’re locked together for a beat, and time seems to stand still for them. All of a sudden, the rain is gone, and there’s just silence. It’s just him and Callum, standing on this invincible plane, bound together.

“How long?” Callum asks, their faces still pressed up close. He’s so warm, burning up under Ben’s touch.

“So long,” Ben answers honestly. “So fucking long.”

“I’m sorry,” Callum breathes past his lips, muffled by another kiss. “‘M so clueless. Is it too late? Please tell me it ain’t too late?”

“No,” Ben hushes him, tries to pull him closer again with a nudge to his hip, but Callum shakes his head lightly and just stares down at Callum “It ain’t too late. It couldn’t ever be too late.”

4. total number of words you wrote this year?

174,115 apparently

15. something you learnt this year?

oh uh... that i write too much fic?

nah, joking, there's no such thing as too much fic!!!! i’m not sure if this counts exactly, but i think i’ve gotten a lot better at writing dialogue ... maybe!

21. most memorable comment/review?

firslty, i literally remember all the comments people leave on my fics because it means so soooo much to me that people like my writing enough to leave a comment! and there’s been so absolutely gorgeous ones this year i couldn’t of ever imagined receiving! but any comment by the likes of @ballumory @eastendies @totallyradioactive15 always make me cry!!!

#thanks gemma!#asks #calthighway

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besidemethewholedamntime · 4 years ago

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who care about what they think? & fs also for the prompt list x

Hello! I’m so sorry I took so long with your prompt but I hope this cute fs family moment makes up for it almost? I really enjoyed writing this and I really enjoyed writing Sarah again. I hope you like it!

purple bubbles in the air

{Read on Ao3}

or read below!

“Hey, I thought we agreed we’d never bring up each other’s parenting mishaps after they happened!”

“This ‘mishap’ has lasted two weeks now. Two weeks! It’s not a mishap anymore, it’s a disaster.”

“Pft, her hair is purple. It’s hardly a disaster.”

“Will you listen to yourself? Our two-year-old’s hair is purple!”

Sarah looks up at both of them from where she sits in the bath, surrounded by mountains of bubbles, a significant amount of them piled on top of her head. Unfortunately, they do nothing to hide the fact that her hair is a rather alarming shade of purple. It rather emphasises it.

Both Fitz and Jemma stand looking down at her. Jemma’s arms are crossed and Fitz’s are on his hips, and while Jemma looks distinctly unimpressed, Fitz has been trying his hardest not to laugh.

He looks at his daughter grinning in amongst her sea of bubbles, and fails to see the catastrophe that Jemma does. “So? She likes it!”

“She also likes it when we give her ice-cream for breakfast or take her swimming after she’s just had her lunch. It doesn’t mean it’s good for her.”

“No, but her having purple hair doesn’t lead to her puking everywhere so it’s definitely not as bad.”

Jemma rolls her eyes so hard that he’s surprised she doesn’t fall over. “I can’t believe you’re failing to see how serious this is.”

They’ve tried hard to be parents of the more ‘free-range’ variety, and for the most part they’ve managed it quite well. Fitz is proud of how they’ve managed to curb their personal anxieties and let their daughter explore her own way through childhood. He’s especially proud of Jemma, for he knows that to ignore the temptation to follow strict rules and routines hasn’t been easy for her. She’s been as easy-going as she’s ever been, but evidently purple hair is where she draws the line.

Sarah giggles, clapping her hands together so spray bubbles in every direction. A cluster lands on Jemma’s nose, which Fitz wipes away softly whilst trying – and failing – not to smile. “It looks like I’m not the only one.”

“Oh, Fitz,” she sighs, trying not laugh herself, and sits down on the closed toilet seat. “What are we going to do?”

He sits down on the edge of the bath, scooping up some bubbles and gently blowing them towards Sarah, who laughs and tries to catch them in her little starfish-shaped hands.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Is there anything to do?”

Jemma pinches the bridge of her nose briefly. “We can’t just leave her with purple hair.” She looks at the culprit bottle of shampoo, sitting harmlessly on the side of the sink. “I don’t understand it.”

It was supposed to be a harmless chemical reaction, that’s what the company had said in their very apologetic email the first time Fitz had phoned them. They had sworn left and right that it would fade on its own, and that his toddler’s hair would be back to normal within a few days. Now, nearly two weeks later, the colour doesn’t seem to be going anywhere any time soon.

“Me neither,” he admits. “We only used it twice.” Jemma shoots him a look. “I. I only used it twice.”

“Nothing seems to be working,” Jemma sighs, and looks at the seven other bottles of shampoo they have lined up on the other side of the sink. “You would think something would have, surely.”

They’ve created a vaccine for an alien virus and taken down Hydra more times than he can count, but for the life of them they can’t figure out how to reverse the effects of the shampoo. Sarah’s had more baths in the past two weeks than she’s probably had in her two years, and Fitz has probably bought more bottles of shampoo in the past two weeks than he’s ever bought in his whole life.

“It’s not the end of the world,” he says. “She seems happy with it.”

“We can’t just leave it,” Jemma says, looking horrified. “We wouldn’t be able to take her out at all. Imagine what everyone would think!”

“Who cares what they would think? Sarah’s happy and healthy, and people pierce their baby’s ears all the time. I don’t think purple hair is any worse than that.”

Jemma looks at him for a long moment, and eventually smiles a little. “Oh alright, I suppose you’ve got a point.”

He grins at her. “I’m going to remember that you said that.”

“This doesn’t get you off the hook for dying her hair in the first place,” she says, pointing her finger at him in warning.

“For the last time, Jemma, it was an accident! I didn’t realise I wasn’t meant to buy the shampoo.”

“It’s been two weeks!”

“Which is well past the limitation on bringing up parenting accidents,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “Or shall I bring up the raisin incident?”

Jemma tries to stare him out, but can’t help turning bright red and eventually she hisses, “Fine. I won’t bring it up again.”

“Thank you.” He turns to Sarah, flicking more bubbles at her that she reaches for with such delight. “You like your hair, Sarah, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she giggles, splashing bubbles everywhere. “It’s purple.”

“It’s very purple,” Jemma says gravely, and though a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, she still looks unhappy at the whole thing. She turns to Sarah and says in her soft, sing-song voice, “Your gran and grandad are going to love this.”

Fitz had forgot Jemma’s parents were coming to visit this weekend, but having met Mr and Mrs Simmons before, he doesn’t think there’ll be any trouble.

“They’ll find it hilarious,” he says, reaching over to take her hand, troubled somewhere deep in his chest by that uncertain look on her face. “Your mum especially.”

“I know. That’s what I’m worried about.” She buries her face in her free hand. “They’ll never let me live it down.”

“I’ll tell them it was all me. One-hundred-percent my fault.”

“Oh, don’t worry. That’s what I’m telling them as well. You won’t even get the chance.”

He rolls his eyes but says nothing. Sarah laughs loudly and sprays more bubbles around the room. Their entire world sits purple-haired, covered in soap, and completely ecstatic before them. He thinks he can endure a little teasing for that.

#aosficnet2 #fitzsimmons #aos #fanfic by moi #prompt fill things #this was so much fun to write #i've missed Sarah #like i hope there's a bbg fs but i'm also going to miss *my* bbg fs #but anyway #this is cute and fluffy #enjoy!!

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mollymauk-teafleak · 5 years ago

Text

Lavender Tea

A year after the end of Black Coffee, Percy is thinking about his next steps with Vax'ildan. And he decides he needs to talk to his best friend.

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

When Percy opened his eyes and all he saw was a blind, total darkness, he was scared for a moment.

But slowly, surely, reassuringly, the room began to come into focus around him. What was complete blackness before became shades, shapes just visible in the gloom. The rocking chair, the bookcase, piles of clothes on the floor, the posters on the wall for old films Percy hadn’t actually seen but wanted to one day.

Vax’s room.

And Vax himself in his arms, shifting a little in response to Percy’s sudden jolt. He murmured softly, black hair fallen across his face, stretching a little so his warm, bare skin moved against Percy’s before settling back into the depths of his sleep.

Suddenly, his moment of fear seemed so stupid. How could he be afraid when he had Vax sleeping beside him? How could anything be less than perfect?

Percy smiled and gently moved the hair away from his boyfriend’s face, not wanting to wake him but also knowing he hated it when he started the day with a mouthful of his own hair. Then he kissed him, feather light against his jaw. Just because he could.

Now aware and awake, Percy knew there was very little chance of him getting back to sleep. He was horrible at settling back down once he anything shook him out of his dreams, even now when the darkness spoke of an hour nowhere near dawn, let alone their alarm. It was like his brain always kicked immediately into overdrive, as soon as his eyes opened, running at a million miles an hour whenever it wasn’t tied down by sleep.

Percy really disliked his own mind sometimes.

Sighing, he realised he may as well make the effort. He knew Vax kept a wide array of teas in the kitchen, baffling Percy who had always thought tea just came in one flavour with Earl Grey for very special occasions. One of them must have something in it to knock him out.

Disentangling himself from his boyfriend was easier said than done. Vax always spread himself out as haphazardly as possible and seemed to have some kind of magnetic attraction to Percy’s body heat, clinging to him like a starfish to a rock. The soft little whimpers and whines Vax made nearly broke his heart but he promised himself that it wouldn’t be long.

He knew his boyfriend was shy about his apartment, thinking it small and poky compared to his own. But honestly, Percy felt more at home here than he ever had in his penthouse. There he was surrounded by silence, rattling around like a doll in a playhouse that was far too big for it. Here he had to dodge other people’s shoes as he stepped into the hallway, there were coats hung up on pegs alongside his own, it all smelled of cinnamon and apples from the many candles Vex bought and clustered on the fireplace.

It was a home. And the more time he spent there, the more he felt like it could be his home too.

He hummed softly to himself as he took a mug from the cupboard and moved to try and figure out which of the boxes contained tea bags that would knock him out and not taste like a mouthful of garden.

“Purple…” he muttered, voice thick and sleepy, turning one of the boxes over in his hands, “What the hell kind of tea is purple…”

“It’s lavender, Perce.”

Percy made a very undignified squeaking noise, slammed one hip into the counter as he turned and had to fight not to crumble to the floor.

Keyleth watched him with a wince, standing there awkwardly in nothing but an oversized t-shirt that was clearly Vex’ahlia’s, her mane of red hair in complete disarray, an empty glass in her hand.

As much as Percy didn’t want to think about it, she’d clearly just come from the exact same situation with one twin as he had from the other, a night of sleep following an awful lot of sex.

“Um…” Percy felt his cheeks radiating heat, “Should we...high five or something?”

Kiki gave a nervous giggle, “I think we can leave it implied. I thought you were taking Vax over to your place?”

“And I thought you two were sleeping at yours.”

“We should make a rota.”

Percy had to laugh, despite the fact that he was in nothing but his boxer shorts in front of his best friend. Sure, she’d seen him in a state of undress before but it had never been his finest hours.

“Lavender tea will make me sleepy, right?” he decided just to go for it, sniffing at one of the tea bags, relieved to see they weren’t actually purple.

“Definitely,” Kiki nodded, moving to the sink and filling her glass, “I’ll take one, if you’re offering?”

Percy nodded, grabbing a second mug and filling them both with steaming water once the kettle filled it’s end of the bargain. After the awkwardness had faded, it was actually quite nice. He couldn’t ever feel anything but relaxed around Keyleth, they’d known each other for too long.

And the two of them sitting in companionable, familiar silence in the flat of the only two people they loved more than each other, there was something very homely about it. It felt like family.

Percy smiled into his mug at that thought. That was the idea, he supposed, if this was going to work out.

Kiki lingered, leaning against the counter and cupping her own mug, inhaling the steam. She didn’t seem to want to break their lovely little moment either.

“Hey, Kiki?” Percy finally said, a strange kind of bravery stealing up on him from the comfort of it all, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?” she hummed, still looking down at her tea, exhaling softly so the steam suddenly twisted and took shape in the air, becoming translucent, barely there flowering vines.

Percy chuckled softly as the vines reached out, much further than steam normally would, and twisted around his hand, leaving a nice warm sensation as they dissipated, “Clever… um, so, I’ve been turning this idea around in my head and I need you to tell me if it’s totally crazy or if I should go for it.”

“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive,” Kiki grinned at him, showing a glimmer of the mischievous side few people would think lived behind such a sweet face.

“They are in this case,” Percy set his mug down and took a deep breath, realising he was actually going to have to put this into words and make it real, “So do you think...do you think it would be a good idea if I asked Vax...a particular question…”

She was already smiling as he stammered his way through it, her eyes widening and starting to shine.

“Oh, Kiki, you know what I’m trying to say, put me out of my misery!”

Laughing, she abandoned her mug and flew across the room to throw her arms around him, nearly sending them toppling onto the floor.

“Shh!” Percy desperately tried to hush her in between his own delighted laughter, “Don’t wake them! Either of them!”

Keyleth nodded, stifling her grin behind her hand, “You mean it? You’re going to marry him?”

“Well, he has to say yes first,” Percy blushed, “You think he will?”

“Of course he’ll say yes,” Keyleth said with perfect confidence, her smile a million watts.

Percy smiled, wishing he could be as certain as she was. But, he had to admit, it did feel wonderful to say it out loud. It felt right.

“Okay, lavender tea’s kicking in,” Percy chuckled, kissing Keyleth’s cheek and nudging her back to her feet, “I’ll see you at a more appropriate hour.”

“Go back to your fiance, dear,” Keyleth smiled, waving him off as she headed back to Vex’s room to do things he didn’t want to think about.

“Shh!” Percy hissed helplessly, rolling his eyes and heading the opposite way down the corridor, being sure to close the door quietly but firmly.

Sinking back into the slightly sagging but still very comfortable bed, feeling Vax immediately melt around him and settle happily against his chest was heavenly. He smiled and inhaled deeply, loving the scent of his overnight hair treatment, the smell that got caught on his clothes and made him remember soft moments like this.

He let himself think it. My husband.

He grinned so hard it hurt.

It felt right.

#perc'ildan #modern au #black coffee universe #Percy de rolo #vax'ildan #vexleth #critical role #keyleth #vox machina

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canid-slashclaw · 4 years ago

Text

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Six months passed since Kaleb and Amalthia had first moved in together. Since that time, she transferred some of her most important possessions from her father's place - including the ubiquitous workbench and welding components, which she set up in Ulfgar's back storage room. Kaleb, on the other hand, could not quite bring himself to return to his old homestead, especially considering the circumstances of his departure.

His tour of duty with the Seraph was over, so now he had far more free time available to establish his career options. During this time, both he and Amalthia began searching for hotspots throughout Tyria, hoping to cash in on their respective combat skills. Helping to clean towns of troublesome undead became a particular specialty of theirs.

***

Kaleb clamored up a small hill while waving a brightly colored banner that was attached at the end of a long pole. As he held the colorful object aloft, the mournful groans of the undead became ever louder.

"Hey! Over here you maggot shitters!" In spite of their various states of decomposition, they moved with surprising bursts of speed. So much so that one of them nearly snagged Kaleb by the ankle just as he was trying to sprint away. When he reached the top of the precipice, he found that his only avenue of escape had been blocked. The undulating mass of festering corpses began surging directly towards him as he threw down the banner then pulled out his revolvers. His weapons blazed as scores of the rotten creatures began to fall in droves. Seconds later, he saw a row of their heads explode followed by a thunderous crack.

"Keep up the good work, love. You're doing great," came Amalthia's voice from another precipice three hundred yards away. She waved to him while lying in the prone position with her high-powered long rifle tucked firmly against her shoulder. Several shots from her longarm destroyed half a dozen of the putrid creatures as they tried converging on Kaleb's position.

"A little more off the side, if you don't mind Miss Steelblade," Kaleb shouted as he felled several more of the creatures with his revolvers.

"Be more specific, Mr. Grimwald. Left or right?"

Twelve more zombies surged upon Kaleb's position. He quickly turned, reloaded then emptied all but two rounds in each gun as the corpses fell all around him.

"Whichever side is closest to killing me first would be great. Please and thank you."

Amalthia reloaded as well then lined up more heads for a multi-shot takedown. As the high-velocity rounds ripped through the row of skulls, showers of rotten brain matter splattered across Kaleb's face and clothing.

"Ugh! Well, that's one jerkin that's going to become a work shirt," he quipped as he tried his best to prevent the rest of his designer outfit from getting soiled from the remnants of the undead.

"Serves you right for wearing your church clothes to a risen slaughter," Amalthia shouted with laughter.

Kaleb chuckled at the comment and responded in kind. "Well, then I am appropriately dressed, cause this sort of thing is my kind of preying!"

"Pray or prey? Homophones are a bitch, aren't they?"

"Oh. Now you're just being factious. Clear my back."

Amalthia unleashed two more rounds, as one of the risen's body started to convulse after it had been relieved of its head. Reloading, six more to your left."

"Got 'em!"

He fired the remaining four rounds then as he reached down to reload, he found that his ammo reserved had been completely exhausted.

"I'm out. Hit me up for some reloads," Kaleb shouted as he locked his eyes upon hers.

She grabbed four bundles of replacement speedload rounds then, then using an atl ltl-type throwing device, hurled them in Kaleb's direction. With reflexes rivaling that of a cat he caught the reloads then promptly attempted to chamber a full load of them into each revolver. However, the undead were almost upon him by the time he was trying to reload.

"Looks like Bob is gonna get a workout today." Kaleb drew his longsword and began hacking away at the risen masses.

"Did you hear that? Something's coming, love - something big!" Amalthia's lower ears began to twitch from picking up the low frequency sound.

"My hearing isn't a sensitive as yours. You have any clues as to what it might be?" Kaleb asked as he finally had a chance to reload his guns.

Amalthia replied. "Nada. Surely even you can hear it now, because it's really, really close."

Kaleb readied for the next onslaught when, suddenly, a cluster of trees in front of him began to part. Rising up from the parted treetops, stood a massive humanoid figure that looked to be at least thirty feet tall.

"I may not have heard it, but I sure as hell see it. Giant... RUUNN!"

With a measure of speed even he had not dreamed was possible, Kaleb darted towards a mass of undead all the while firing wildly, hoping to avoid the giant that was rapidly coming his way. The creature's enormous stride quickly closed the gap as he tried desperately to avoid its grasp. It was too late.

The hideous decomposing monstrosity grasped hold of the young man, lifting him up towards its massive head. He fired several rounds into its skull but with no effect. As the creature's lipless jaws yawned opened to devour its prey, drawing Kaleb ever closer towards its foul-smelling mouth, the abomination's entire body began to convulse. Suddenly, the creature began to buckle to the ground. Kaleb looked up at its face and saw standing atop its head; the backlit form of a slender horned feline. When the monstrosity finally crumpled to the ground, Amalthia was standing over the creature with her longsword planted deeply into the base of its skull.

"Base of the neck. It's the only way to kill those things, silly!" Amalthia said as she loped off the vanquished foe on all fours. She then ran over to Kaleb and gave him a brief but passionate kiss.

"Well, I knew that. I was just firing for effect."

"Yeah, right. Sure you were. You panicked. Admit it!" She playfully chided him.

"Did not!" He stuck his tongue out.

"Bullshit. Did too! Be a man and fess up!"

"Okay, okay. I'll admit, I was a little freaked when a thirty foot monster was going to turn me into two-hundred and ten pounds of poop," Kaleb retorted.

"Um. The undead don't poop."

"They do too. Or else how else would they be able to keep eating so much."

"Well, I've never seen one poop," Amalthia shook her head while grinning in amusement over the nature of the conversation.

Upon gaining his composure, Kaleb pointed to the fallen giant. "Poop or no poop, that's quite a haul, there. Whaddya think? A hundred gold just for the big guy?"

Amalthia shook her head. "Nah. Fifty tops. You know how cheap town mayors are in these places."

"Y'know. If neither of us had a conscience, we could have let them snack on a few of the townsfolk first. I'm sure the mayor would have paid us double for each head we turned in," Kaleb stated as he began the grim work collecting the heads (or at least what he could salvage) from the fallen undead.

"Blah! It's going to take me over a week to get this stench out of my fur. Well, it looks like I trashed yet another set of flashy clothes as well," Amalthia grumbled as she began hacking off the heads from the fallen corpses.

Kaleb gathered up a sack full of heads as well then hurled them into the back of the dolyak cart. Any skulls that were fragmented or too badly shattered to be reconstructed were placed in a separate wooden box.

"I hope they don't chince us on our kill count. I know I must have blown up at least thirty heads."

Amalthia began her own meticulous count. "Perhaps you should use Bob a bit more, then. He does give a much cleaner cut, after all."

"That's all fine and dandy from your point of view. You're not the one standing just inches away from hordes of gouls wanting to have you for their next meal." Kaleb sounded miffed.

Her ears drooped. "I didn't mean it that way, Kal. I was just trying to be funny, that's all."

Kaleb came up to give her a reassuring hug. "I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

She looked into his eyes then gently licked him on the face. "It's alright, sweetie. I think the both of us are just tired, stressed and exhausted. Tell you what - once we show the town mayor our bounty and collect our pay, we can go to Lion's Arch and shop for some totally new wardrobes."

"Um. Did you just lick me after cleaning the undead gunk off your fur?"

Amalthia planted her muzzle on his lips then ran her tongue down his mouth for a moment before pulling away. "Would you expect anything else?"

She smiled and laughed. Kaleb, on the other hand, hunkered over and spat on the ground several times.

"I think I'm gonna be sick..."

***

The couple headed on over to Lion's Arch the following day. Flocks of seagulls soared low over the fishing docks as Amalthia and Kaleb enjoyed the seaside atmosphere. They were strolling along the boardwalk, hoping to find some unusual decor for their new place.

Kaleb held up a giant bronze starfish sculpture. "Like it?"

Amalthia placed her clawed finger to her lips then shook her head. "Nah. The nautical theme is just not our style."

"Bummer. It would have looked great hanging over our bed."

"Um. That's asking for a death wish, you know. One good bump and that thing will go falling off and wind up gouging through someone's eye socket. I'll pass, thank you very much," Amalthia said as she turned away giving a dismissive wave.

"Do your people perceive everything as being deadly? I thought they loved sharp, pointy objects." Kaleb quipped.

"Weapons, yes. Poorly made, tacky sculptures? No so much."

The artist merchant gave her an angry glare. Kaleb carefully placed the tacky object back on the display wall.

"Hey. Didn't we come here to buy new outfits?" He said.

"By Buntfur's tail... you're right love! Let's head on over to Ariyana's place."

Kaleb and Amalthia headed towards the main shopping district. Each wanting to hold the others' hand, but knowing that open displays of romantic affection between their races would only invite unwanted trouble.

They finally arrived at the boutique named Roses and Thorns Apparel. The menagerie of custom-made outfits overwhelmed Kaleb - everything from norn wedding gowns to sylvari casual wear was on display. He especially liked the charr-themed human-sized apparel.

The owner happened to see them walking in. "Darlings! Why come on in!"

"Hi Ari. I'm back, as promised," Amalthia said as she waved to the chicly dressed sylvari woman.

Ariyana immediately recognized her client and strode over with a grace befitting a feline. Her large green eyes looked Kaleb over carefully as the patterns in her barklike skin glowed a shimmering pale blue.

"Oh my. Who is this specimen of a man?"

"Kaleb's the name." He reached out to shake her hand. With the regalness of a courtier, she clasped his hand with both of her delicate fingers as she greeted him with a wide smile.

"Kaleb. Your name is no stranger to my ears. Amalthia, darling - tis good to see you!" She reached out to give the charr a hug.

Amalthia returned the favor. "Good to see you again as well, Ari. How are things going here? Is Jestin around?"

"Fine, fine. My dear. As a matter of fact, things are going quite splendidly. One of the noble families from Divinity's Reach commissioned us to design their wedding apparel. They wanted a norn theme with a bit of sylvari flare thrown in. Oh. I almost forgot... my fiancé is downstairs putting the finishing touches on a business suit for a client."

"I'm glad that things are working out so well for your business. So you and Jestin getting... what's the word, love?" Amalthia struggled with the word as she looked in Kaleb's direction.

"Married?" Kaleb helped her out.

"Yes. Married."

Ariyana's face lit up when she heard Amalthia call Kaleb 'love'. "Goodness me. So are you and this lovely lad together as well?"

Kaleb held Amalthia's pawed hand. "Yes we are. We've been through a lot together and I'm very happy to call her my significant other."

"Just a moment, dearie." Ariyana ran towards the basement stairway and shouted. "Jestin my dear. You must come up now. You'll want to see this."

"Be there in a minute, dear."

Unable to contain her jubilation, Ariyana gave both Kaleb and Amalthia a big hug. Her fiancé came up the stairs a short time later. He was a slender human of long blond hair and soft porcelain skin complexion. He appeared to be somewhat shy and introverted, but when he joined his mate his demeanor changed dramatically.

"Jestin. You remember Amalthia, don't you?"

"Yes I do. Nice to meet you Amalthia." He shook her hand and only gave Kaleb a friendly stare.

"He doesn't bite darling. This is Kaleb, Amalthia's mate."

"Mate? Oh wow! Nice to meet you Kaleb!" Jestin eagerly grabbed him by the hand and shook it vigorously.

Kaleb clapped him on the shoulder and smiled as he returned the handshake. "Nice to meet you too, Jestin. Even nicer to see that there are more couples like us around."

"So true, indeed," Ariyana said as she remembered something else. "Oh how rude of me. Would you two like to go out somewhere to dine or have you already eaten?"

"His stomach is a bottomless pit and so is mine. We are game," Amalthia replied as she gave Kaleb a quick kiss on the cheek.

The two couples headed out of the shop then down along the main thoroughfare as they perused the various eating establishments. Ariyana noticed that her friends were not holding hands in public and decided to provide some encouragement.

"It's okay, darlings. People here don't think twice about cross-racial couples displaying affection with each other."

Kaleb seemed skeptical. "But a human and a charr? I have yet to see a couple like Amalthia and I."

"Well, someone has to start somewhere. Might as well be now, right?" Ariyana said as she clasped hold of each of their hands and joined them together.

"Thanks, Ari. I just don't want our open display of affection to be a source of trouble for you and Jestin," Amalthia said as she held Kaleb's hand tightly.

As the quartet rounded the corner to the next alleyway that led to another row of shops, Kaleb noticed a group of around twelve scruffy men approaching their direction. When they got closer, he could see that they had a number of weapons sticking out from under their jackets.

"Well take a look at this sight, boys. Two humans holding hands with a fleabag and a walking cabbage," said a large bearded man with a scarred face and rotten teeth.

A smaller man with a patch over his left eye reached into his overcoat for something sinister. "We don't like their kind. Disgusting!"

"Disgusting is right. Get 'em, boys!" The twelve men rushed the quartet only to be stopped in their tracks when Kaleb drew his revolvers.

"I've got enough here for each of you. Now let's just call this a cultural misunderstanding and we'll all be on our merry way."

The big man laughed. "Oh. I'm scared of your big, bad guns. Go ahead, boy, and shoot. If you do, it'll bring the full force of the Brotherhood and the Lion Guard on top of yas."

"He's right, Kaleb. Let's do this up close and personal. Ready Bob?" Amalthia said as she reached to draw her longsword.

Ariyana stopped her before she could unsheathe her weapon. "It's okay, darling. No need to draw that long, nasty object."

"Ariyana, please... don't!" Jestin shouted as he tried to stop her.

Ariyana calmly moved towards the men as she began to monologue.

"I have invited my friends to brunch. And those who know me also know that I hate breaking promises. Now you all be good lads and run along," she smiled with a strangely wicked gleam in her eye.

"Well. If they are going to lunch then they'll need to have some appetizers first, starting with a salad," the big man said as he drew out his shortsword and lunged towards the sylvari.

When his blade swung down, all it met was air. But before he had time to react, a slender feminine form emerged from behind followed by unimaginable searing pain. Ariyana's dagger thrust deeply into the man's side, causing his eyes to roll back just seconds before he fell on the ground dead.

The remaining eleven men had no time to react before the sylvari's fleeting shadowy form began slashing away at their vital areas. One of the last things the skinny man saw as a dagger going into his eye socket. When it was all over, twelve bigots lay on the ground either dead or dying.

Amalthia looked at Kaleb and confessed. "You now, if I were into doing women, I would ask her to be my mate right now."

Kaleb laughed in agreement. "I would too."

"Aren't I enough for you, Kaleb?" Amalthia teased.

"Well, you made the statement. So I just had to respond in kind." He laughed.

Jestin just sat on the ground quivering in shock. "I... I had hoped she wouldn't slip back into her old ways. Damn those narrow-minded bigots for doing that to her!"

Ariyana wiped off her twin daggers using the cloth from one of the fallen goons then deftly slid them away under her pantaloons. "Aww. I'm so sorry, dear. I had a momentary relapse. People like them cause me to do that sometimes. Please forgive me."

"I do," Jestin said as he stood up and held his mate close.

"Glad to know he forgives you. But I can't say much for the Lion Guard. Lookout!" Kaleb said as he pointed towards some approaching soldiers. "If you will, dearie. Be so kind," Ariyana said to her mate who pulled out a small staff.

Within seconds, an invisibility bubble formed around them. Jestin then beckoned for everyone to head towards the alleyway at the far end of the street.

"Hurry! It will only hold for another ten seconds," he said while trying to maintain the illusion.

Mesmers. Gotta love 'em, Kaleb mused to himself as they successfully evaded capture.

The illusion fell away once they were safely on the other end of the row. Amalthia looked at her sylvari friend and said. "That was some mighty fine dagger play. Where'd you learn to do that anyway?"

Ariyana casually smiled acting as if nothing unusual had transpired. "Well. I wasn't always a fashion designer, you know. Before my beloved found me and saved me from those dreadful Nightmare Courtiers, I used to be one of their best assassins, although I am ashamed to admit it now."

"You were part of the Nightmare Court?" Kaleb queried.

The sylvari bowed and shook her head in shame. "It was a dreadful time for me. To even think I was part of that vile entity. Anyway, my beloved saved me from myself."

"How'd he do that?" Amalthia asked.

Jestin held his mate close. "I will explain the rest. She still gets very upset whenever this subject comes up."

The young man began to tell his tale of how he and some elementalists from the Pact forces came across a Nightmare Court patrol in the Brisbane Wilds. During the engagement, Ariyana managed to kill nearly every Pact member except for him.

"There I was scared out of my wits. She held those daggers just below each ear threatening to thrust them into the base of my skull. My death was only moments away when reinforcements arrived. While she was distracted, I managed to conjure an illusion to slip away. By the time she realized what happened, she was already surrounded."

He continued his tale.

"The Pact commander wanted to execute her on the spot. I, however, wanted to see her live to see her answer for her crimes. It was during our trek through the wilderness that she began to break down and confess that she really didn't want to be a part of the Court. She was chosen because of her natural ability with the blade. So by the time we reached base camp, my perception of her began to change. I no longer thought that she was an inherently evil person, err sylvari I mean. Anyway, she was just caught up in a situation where she had to adapt in order to survive."

Ariyana interjected. "Out of all my captors, he was the one who took the time to understand me for who I was. I suppose it was then that I began to fall in love with that human."

"So what about you? Did you fall in love with her?" Amalthia asked.

"It certainly wasn't love at first sight. But after talking to her awhile, my feelings for her began to grow. It was then that I decided to vouch for her character. Several weeks later, she was put on trial for her alleged crimes. Through a miracle of good fortune, I managed to convince the judiciary that she was a victim of circumstance. In the end, the court ruled in her favor. We've been together ever since," Jestin said with a smile as he held Ariyana's hand.

The sylvari smiled and asked. "Fair is fair. Please, tell us your story."

"Oh my. Where to begin," Amalthia said as she and Kaleb took turns discussing the origin of their love affair. After exchanging stories, the two couples headed on over to one of the local eateries. They arrived at a local seafood cafe and each ordered their own local dishes.

"I wonder if they will launch an investigation into that incident back there," Kaleb wondered as he dove into his plate of shrimp pasta.

"Murders happen here all the time. If I confessed, they might actually award me a medal for cleaning up the city of its filth. Sorry if the comment may come across as cruel and insensitive," Ariyana said with a sheepish look on her face. She and Jestin shared a crab legs delight with several sides of cornbread.

Amalthia laughed as she poured her mead over a fourteen-ounce bloody rare dolyak steak. "It's okay. I understand. The old ways never truly die out. Learn to embrace them, my sire always says, because you never know when they might come in handy."

Kaleb raised his glass to offer a toast. "No truer words spoken, m'dear! To the old ways... and new."

"Here, here," came the chorus.

Once they were finished with their meals, the four of them headed back to Ariyana's place of business. Kaleb looked at his outfit then at Amalthia's and realized they had lost track of their main reason for going to Lion's Arch in the first place.

"Ari. Can you possibly hit us up for some new outfits? We need ones that are durable and can survive the rigors of our profession," Kaleb commented as Amalthia nodded with a big smile in agreement.

"Why of course, darling. Once we are in the shop, I'll break out the sketchpad and we'll work out a design that is suited to you both! Oh. I have a wonderful vision in mind already."

Amalthia's ears fluttered. "Ohh. I can't wait to see your idea! Bite-resistant body armor is a must, though."

"But of course! You will never know it was even there," the sylvari said with a smile.

Kaleb interjected another idea. "Oh yeah. Our outfits must be matching, if possible. It would be nice for people to see that she and I work as a team."

"Consider it done, dearie."

Kaleb and Amalthia spent the next few hours getting their measurements taken by Ariyana and Jestin. Once the measurements were finished, Amalthia began perusing the rest of her friend's shop hoping to find some additional inspiration. She looked at a long, white dress that appeared to be made for a petite human.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Kaleb said as he wrapped his arms around Amalthia holding her close.

Even though she was a head and a half taller at full standing height than Kaleb, she lowered her heels enough so his head could comfortably rest on her shoulder. He stroked her mane and kissed the side of her neck as she purred in satisfaction.

"Um. I suppose so. What exactly is it?"

Stunned, Kaleb gave her a brief explanation of human marriage rituals and mentioned some of the traditions and customs that went along with them. Upon hearing the information, Amalthia began to smile and gave her mate an affectionate lick on the face.

"So I guess that's what I'll expect if you have to kiss me," Kaleb said with a laugh.

Ariayana overheard the conversation and chimed in. "Ohhh. Wouldn't that be special? To have the two of you join under the banner of such a sacred tradition? You keep giving me ideas, my furry horned friend."

Amalthia turned to the sylvari. "It was actually Kaleb's idea to see me in one of those."

"My dear. You would look splendid!"

"I agree with Ari. That would look really good on you, with a few alterations of course," Kaleb said as he held Amalthia's pawed hands.

In the background, Jestin looked at his new friends and smiled as he walked over and stood next to his mate.

"It is truly the dawn of a new era in Tyria when a human and a charr consider getting married to each other."

Kaleb thought to himself as he held Amalthia close, indeed it is my friend, indeed it is. (All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 24 is posted here.)

#gw2 fanfic #tyrias-library #the outliers #kaleb and amalthia #human and charr #guildwars fanfiction

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complicatedandstained · 5 years ago

Text

The Other Day at Hot Topic: Claire’s

Axel steps out of Hot Topic with a guilty conscience and a pleased smile that he cannot quite contain.

“Let It Snow” ironically graces the island mall’s speakers overhead, as he traces the familiar path over to Claire’s. He finds himself caught up in the surge of people mid-morning brings to their two story, air-conditioned corner of paradise. Locals and tourists alike beginning their holiday shopping clad in pompom hats and red and green Hawaiian shirts. Above their spirited chatter, Axel can already hear the staccato grumble of Vanitas giving Roxas hell back in Hot Topic.

Dumbass is going to have to cut that out quick if he wants to get Aqua her job back.

Axel hammers a few more exclamation points into the ‘hurry up’ message he’s composing before firing it off to Demyx.

Axel would have liked to stay with Roxas and Vanitas himself, but his own shift has already begun, and the children of Claire’s can’t pierce their own ears. Or so Marluxia tells him. And he needs to play nice with Marly today, for Saïx’s sake.

Anyway, it’s Dem’s day off, and Xigbar can only take so many of his distractions at the tattoo parlor before he starts barking like his German Shepherd. So Dem’d jumped at the chance to come in and continue wooing another potential Organization member. Never mind that the band already has a singer...

And that would turn off Vanitas to the conversation, for sure. No way was he getting caught in Demyx’s web of rehearsals, demos, and shameless merch promotion. No way in hell.

Roxas can probably hold his own until then. Vanitas might wind up in a neck brace, but it’s a sacrifice Axel is willing to make.

And it’d be Aqua’s fault, really, for getting a little too into her part and storming out instead of babysitting Hot Topic’s newest rivals for him.

God. Saïx is going to throw a fit if he finds out about any of this.

And Axel figures his introverted boyfriend is already going to be in a rare state from his long day of meetings, margs, and sucking up.

Of course, Axel will have to tell him something.

He just might have to temper it first. Nothing will be too over the top tonight. He’s thinking red wine, candles, massage oil, bubble bath…

Then Saïx can just drown me.

Axel snickers to himself and then laughs outright, recalling Roxas’ flat out refusal to believe that Saïx would date him. A soccer mom trips over her Adidas slides at Axel’s sudden outburst, and, used to being stared at, Axel winks at her—which does not help her catch her footing—before ducking into Claire’s.

Axel’s smirk finds its way back out as he surveys the moderately busy store. Everything smells like spilt sugar plum perfume. One cluster of small fries gathers around the metallic green and red tinsel hair accessories and another around the tourist faves—cowrie shell bracelets, puka shell necklaces, silver starfish shaped earrings—all strategically located near the entrance. Axel weaves easily between them, too absorbed to notice the lanky, red-headed freak in their midst, and sidles up to the side of the register, where an athletic blonde woman with a pixie cut is finishing up a sales transaction.

“Larxene, you light up my world like nobody else,” Axel croons to his coworker, overtop the One Direction lyrics floating through the speakers. “The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed!”

He leans fairly close to her ear, his arms crossing on the counter, but she ignores him in favor of straightening a stack of coupons, a scowl forming across glossy pink lips. “You’re late,” she says.

A dry sound escapes his throat. “Missed you too.”

Larxene puts in beaucoup hours at both Claire’s and Hot Topic to pay for her apartment fees and architecture courses, and, therefore, Axel sees entirely too much of her, and vice versa.

She replaces the 15% off stack atop the cash drawer and checks for anyone else in line before turning around and leaning back to speak to him. “I was hoping you weren’t coming.” Her smile is not charming, but he returns it with vigor.

“Sometimes life disappoints us.”

Her smirk twists, and an eyebrow rises. “That why you look like crap today?”

“Hm?” Axel glances toward one of the thousand mirrors atop their neat white accessory displays and sights his swept back, unstyled hair, the shock of golden freckles sprinkling his nose, the foreign, childlike quality of his eyes without their cat eye liner.

He’d almost forgotten. Saïx, Xigbar, Roxas…Why hadn’t they said anything about it?

Xigbar’d told him once he prefers his men without makeup. But of course now he’s dating Demyx and his glitter bronzer loving self, so what the hell does he know. Saïx has seen him with and without and everything in between and would never have said anything. Vanitas and Aqua had been a smidge distracted what with his threats to fire them and all. But Roxas…

Huh. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Saïx monopolized the bathroom this morning,” Axel tells Larxene with a playful touch of bitterness.

“Taste of your own medicine, hm?” teases a voice, approaching from his other side.

Axel doesn’t need to look up to recognize his manager—Saïx’s closest friend.

An arm inked with a familiar black, brown, and forest green pattern of vines, leaves, and thorns wraps Axel’s shoulders and gives a brief squeeze. Axel raises a hand to press Marly’s wrist, turning and narrowing his eyes at him skeptically.

“Hello, Marluxia.”

“You look good,” Marly insists in his easy, confident way, stepping back to observe him. “Natural beauty.”

They are all acutely aware he is only saying this because Axel is not breaking as much of the dress code as usual.

“Don’t listen to him,” Larxene cuts in, tapping Axel’s chin. “You look like crap.”

Axel raises his hands defensively to either side, eyelids shutting them out, “There’s this hoity-toity Hot Topic management conference today. I am a good boyfriend and let Sai primp for an extra hour.”

“And Axel spent the extra time squeezing into those pants,” Larxene quips to her boss, pinching the tight gold denim in question, opposite hand propped on her hip.

“Unquestionably.” Marluxia smirks, eyes flitting through the store to ensure he’s not neglecting his head managerly duties.

Axel balks, shooing away Larxene’s loose grip on his thigh. “You don’t like the pants?”

“No,” both say in unison, horrified, wide eyes back on Axel and the outfit in question. “We’re obsessed with the pants,” Larxene corrects quickly on both of their behalves. “It’s your face that’s the problem.”

Marluxia chuckles despite his earlier disagreement, as Axel’s arms cross, and he steps off in the direction of his piercing station.

“Boss,” he growls, “I’d like to report one of my coworkers for unsportsmanlike conduct.”

Larxene pauses in rooting through a fringed black pleather handbag to stick her tongue out at him, flashing the lime green plastic of the tongue piercing he’d done for her. “Then maybe you should go work at Dick’s.”

“I hope you mean Dick’s Sporting Goods,” Axel raps his knuckles against the top of her head, grinning thinly.

“Either way,” she interrupts, smirking up from her handbag, from which she’s produced a tube of liquid eyeliner.

Axel opens his palm for it with a sheepish smile. “You’re an absolute darling, you know.”

“Screw yourself,” she snipes pleasantly, but releases the tube into his palm. He snatches and pockets it hastily, lest she change her mind.

“Children. Please,” Marluxia’s hand raises to rub his forehead beneath his neat bubblegum pink bangs. “You primadonnas are making me miss my old job managing White Castle.” Marluxia’s elegant nose crinkles as if he can still smell the burger place’s unique onion stench. “If I’d had to manage both their incompetence and your drama, I think I would have taken an early grave.”

Axel rubs at the back of his neck and chuckles good-naturedly, and Larxene scowls and elbows him in the ribs.

Marly winces at this interaction and rolls his eyes. His throat clears with a neat little cough. “Regardless, there are a few things I’d like to discuss with you both while I have you here. First and foremost, we are running our flower crown promo through this weekend. You are encouraged to wear a crown to advertise the sale and may take one from the display or bring one from home if you like.”

Marly straightens the ring of red roses crowning the shoulder length, sharply layered pink hair he’s undone from his usual ponytail.

Axel’s lips tip up just as Larxene’s tip down.

“I’ll do it if she does.”

“Douchebag.”

For a moment, Larxene’s glare could set off a smoke alarm, but noting Marly’s noble attempt to cover a groan with his hand, her expression softens. Larxene sighs. “Fine. I’ll do it for you, Marly.”

“And the children,” Axel prompts with an alligator smile, eyes following a trio currently knocking over Naminé’s elaborate pyramid of bug-eyed Beanie Boos. “Do it for the sweet little children.”

“Sure, yeah, whatever,” she flicks her wrist toward another group of their miniature customers, pulling down a shelf of earrings whole, “and the bratty little children.”

Axel snorts, though he knows deep down she doesn’t mean it. Larxene enjoys seeing little kids smile over stupid little cute things and helping preteens accessorize for their first dates. She would just stab him with a stiletto heel for saying so.

“And another thing,” Marly continues, loudly enough to pause their squabble, and ushers them toward the back of the store. They pause near the wall length, color-coded flower crown display, where conversations are less likely to be overheard and customer complaint surveys less likely to be filed. “We need to discuss your timeliness.”

Axel blanches and then wonders why Larxene does too.

“Larxene, I know that you picked up Kairi’s shift at the last minute,” Marly begins, sweeping a few strands of hair behind his ear and pretending not to notice Axel’s shoulder jutting into hers.

“And Axel, I’m aware that Saïx asked you to check up on Hot Topic in his absence.”

Axel nods and tries not to scowl at the reminder.

“Ordinarily, as you know, I’m happy to let these things slide,” Marly continues, folding his hands in front of him above his short violet half-apron.

“And we appreciate it Marly—” Axel puts in, though it doesn’t stop the man’s expression from growing steelier, and there’s a reason he gets on so well with Saïx.

“However,” Marly interrupts, “with the holiday season upon us and new recruits starting out, I’m going to need you, my more experienced warriors to lead the charge.” He gives each of them a measured look and nods with approval at their attentiveness. “I hope I can count on you.”

“Of course, boss,” Axel purrs easily, patting the man’s bicep.

Larxene crosses her arms and nods as well. “Anything you need.”

“Good,” Marly’s smile grows jagged fangs, “because in Kairi’s absence, I’ll need one of you to train our new employee later today.”

Larxene groans loud enough that a passing service dog yips back. “Anything but that,” she corrects.

Marluxia laughs a villainous sort of laugh, before he walks off to take over ringing on the register, waving his fingers at them like a noble might a peasant. “Work it out, darlings.”

* *

Axel and Larxene duck into the narrow lavender painted staff lounge, mid-argument. He heads for the time clock, while she props herself up on her knees on the sleek, black sofa that feels much like a slab of stone in an old timey prison, to try on flower crowns in the mirror above it.

“I’m not training another Kairi clone,” she repeats.

“Naminé and Kairi have completely different personalities,” Axel interjects readily, having had this conversation, regarding Marluxia’s interest in hiring doppelgängers, more than once already.

“Then you train Kairi 3.0.”

The first crown has golden leaves that stick up from Larxene’s head like horns, and she swaps it out for another with black and purple blossoms and silver stems. She seems to prefer that. He has to admit it’s striking with her skinny black jeggings and slinky white camisole.

“I’m happy to train Kairi 3.0.” Axel shrugs turning around as he ties off his Claire’s apron. She beckons him forward and he bows his head so that she can crown him with a ring of ocean blue and seafoam white blooms.

“What,” her hand near slips, setting the flower crown slightly askew, “seriously?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to subject anyone to you.” Axel joins her, kneeling on the couch to get at the mirror. Shifting her eyeliner from his pocket, he begins tracing a lid as she readjusts his crown. “But if she doesn’t want to pierce ears, sweetie, you don’t have much of a choice.”

She tugs the crown half off, down below his ear, and smacks him with it. The line above his eye smudges hopelessly.

Glancing back at the mirror, he frowns at the flowers tangled in his hair, scoffs at his single charcoal raccoon eye, and abruptly starts to laugh. Larxene joins in, clapping him on the shoulder. “You suck,” she says, “do you know that?”

“I know,” he says after a minute, tugging at the crown and further upsetting his hair, “just help me fix this.”

“Fine,” she pushes him by the shoulder down onto his ass, and loosens his ponytail, wrapping the band around her wrist, “but I want to hear the latest Hot Topic drama.”

“Drama?” His shoulders stiffen though he attempts to hide it as he combs fingers through his hair. “No drama. When has there ever been drama?”

“You were 15 minutes late, genius.” She lifts the flowers and tugs harshly at a snarl. “Tell me the drama.”

Axel hisses, hands raising in attempt to stop her. She removes the crown entirely and gently smooths back his auburn locks. He lowers his hands. “Alright, alright, gees.” He exhales and his hands fold neatly in his lap. “His name is Roxas.”

#kingdom hearts #axel #larxene #marluxia #saix #roxas #akusai #akuroku #organization xiii #the other day at hot topic #my writing #claire's #edited #because i forgot i'm not supposed to curse on tumblr #xigdem

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jincherie · 7 years ago

Text

lost & found | seokjin

↠ written for the kreativewritersnet au bingo! ↞

↼pairing: seokjin x reader ↼genre: selkie au,roommate au, fluff ? ↼words: 9.1k+ ↼notes: well this has been sitting unfinished in my documents for a shameful amount of time, but I finally got that last leg of inspiration I needed to finish it so!!! Here it is!!! It’s a bit of a mess tbh, but I hope you like it nonetheless (and sorry for another shitty ending!!) 💖💗💘💞

How were you supposed to know that beautiful sealskin coat you picked up on the beach belonged to none other than your friend Kim Seokjin, the most beautiful man alive and the keeper of your heart?

↼posted; 28.11.2017

↼ masterlist | bingo masterlist | moodboard by @thelast-taco

“Jimin!”

The male in question jumped, letting out a small ‘eep!’. His head narrowly missed the bench as he withdrew from the cupboard beneath the sink, abandoning his search for detergent in favour of sending you a dirty look. “y/n what the hell, you’re going to give me a concussion one of these days.”

He was referring to an incident that occurred not even a week ago, where you’d been rifling around in the cupboard above the bench and nearly dropped a glass on his head, when you pulled out the mug you’d been looking for a little too quickly. You shot him a cheeky grin, sitting on the stool at the bench. “It’s not my fault you’re clumsy, Chim. You should be thanking me for having the reflexes of a god. You could have died if I didn’t catch that glass.”

Jimin rolled his eyes at your dramatic exaggeration. “Whatever, you loser. What did you want? Don’t tell me I nearly had to take a trip to the hospital for no reason.”

You smiled brightly. “We’re out of cashews.”

Jimin glared at you, grabbing the dirty tea towel from the bench and throwing it at you in rage. “Y/n! You seriously ate all my cashews?! You’re unbelievable, I only just bought them yesterday too, you fiend.”

You laughed, feeling a little guilty. “I’m sorry Chim, I was studying at the table and they were right there. I couldn’t help myself, you know how weak I am for salted cashews.”

The silver-haired male sniffed, crossing his arms. “Snake.”

You couldn’t help the grin, enjoying the banter. “Anyway, I came in here to tell you I’m about to go down to the corner store to get more. Was there anything you wanted me to get while I’m down there?”

Jimin grumbled, and you shot him a smile, adding sheepishly, “…I’ll pay?”

The male before you suddenly beamed at you, expression shifting in a split-second. “Oh, well in that case yeah, can you get me some strawberries? Lots of them, please. They’re on sale and I need them.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Of course, we can’t have you go without your weekly strawberry fix.” You grabbed your bag and keys, pausing for a moment at the door. “Is Taehyung coming today?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, fully aware of what you were really asking. “Yes— and yes Jin is coming with him, like always. They’re coming sometime this morning.”

You nodded, pretending Jimin hadn’t just seen right through you and ignoring the happy skip your heart had just done at the confirmation Jin would be coming as well. “Oh, good. Taehyung owes me a couple of rounds of Uno and I need to beat him just once at that god forsaken game so I can mend the massive hole he’s blown in my pride and move on.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Literally everyone but Jin knows you like him, y/n. Why do you even try to—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Oh, look! At the time! Gotta go so I can be back before they get here! Bye Chim!” you exclaimed loudly, easily drowning out the male’s soft tone as you waved farewell and flew out the door, making a beeline for your car. Jimin simply rolled his eyes. God, you were weird.

. . . . . . . . . .

You’d gotten your ‘groceries’, and were now standing on the beach in front of the store, feet dug into the sand and sun basking your skin in pleasant warmth. The town you lived in was a cute little beach city full of sand and summer days that never seemed to end. You loved it here. It wasn’t too remote, the university you attended wasn’t too far away, and the weather was always lovely. Plus, you adored the ocean, the beach, the waves. You loved it all, and were extremely happy with your life as it was, living with two of your closest friends and even being lucky enough to see Kim Seokjin, Jimin’s friend and the most beautiful man alive, at least once a week. Things couldn’t get any better. Well, they technically could, but you were happy with things as they were now. Not too much, not too little— just enough.

The sea today was relatively calm, not that it ever really got particularly wild. Sometimes, in stormy weather, the waves were rough and wild; the ocean an untameable mistress. There had been such a storm the night before, which was part of the reason you’d stopped by the beach. Sometimes, after a particularly good storm, there would be interesting things washed up on the beach. Usually it was just trash (which you picked up and disposed of properly, of course— you weren’t a monster) but occasionally there would be a rare find, like a beautiful shell unlike others littering the sand, or some strange sea life, or perhaps just other interesting knickknacks, like the countless number of children’s toys you’d found that had no doubt been lost on a fun day-trip to a beach city nearby.

You turned, beginning to move in the direction of the small cluster of rock pools towards the end of the beach. They were hidden behind a larger set of rocks that looked imposing enough that no one bothered to try and climb past them. You, however, knew better, the cute little alcove that lay beyond them, and so regularly made the trip to the small cluster of rock pools that was flanked on all sides by rock, ocean, or trees and thin forestry. Even if the storm hadn’t washed up anything good, it still felt nice to sit and gaze into the water for a while.

The breeze was cool against your heated skin as you climbed past the rocks, traces of winter still in the air even as the mid-morning sun beat down on your back. As your feet touched the cool sand on the other side of the rocks, you took in the sight before you, instantly feeling at peace. The waters in the rockpools were clear and serene, a crystalline window into the lives of the tiny sea creatures below. You smiled as you watched two small hermit crabs duke it out for a prized-shell nearby, observing the tiny fish in another pool and the beautiful starfish in another.

On days where Seokjin and Taehyung didn’t come visit, you’d often come to this little alcove. There were a variety of sea life that passed near this beach, but your favourite was always the seals. Sure, some animals were cute, but seals were cute. They were soft, squishy, and had those large, adorable eyes that with one glance had your weak heart melting. They were also your favourite because sometimes, on those days, you would come to this alcove and a small group of seals would pop up from the water not too far from shore and play. You loved watching them, how they interacted with each other and swam about without a care in the world. For the most part they didn’t notice you, but when you sat on the large rocks that extended into the water in a sort of natural pier, sometimes they would come up and greet you.

Your favourite seal, not the most playful but definitely the boldest and most adventurous of the bunch, was also the largest and had a beautiful, speckled light grey coat that you couldn’t help but admire every time it came near you. You’d lovingly named it ‘Chubs’. The other seals may glimpse in your direction every now and then, giving you more attention on the days you brought fish for them, but Chubs would look at you often, aiming those large chocolate eyes in your direction and causing your heart to skip a beat regularly from the cute, mesmerising image. You had a certain fondness for that seal, although you didn’t know if it liked the name you’d given it. You’d said it aloud one time when it had come near you, swimming besides the pier, and it had proceeded to spin and flop backwards, causing a large amount of water to splash up and soak you. You’d found it adorable and continued to secretly call it Chubs, feeding the affection in your heart.

There weren’t any seals today, to your disappointment, but truthfully you were also a little glad. If there were seals then you would no doubt want to stay and watch them all day, which would then cause you to miss your chance to see Seokjin— and that was something you could not bear to do. He didn’t come visit all that often, maybe once a week at most, and it was something you very much looked forward to. Right from the first second you’d seen Seokjin, you’d felt inexplicably drawn to him. To be fair, he was the first real crush you’d ever had. And just like Jimin had said, literally everyone but Seokjin knew about your painfully obvious feelings for him. It was a miracle, honestly. You were torn between being thankful and resenting it.

Humming to yourself, you stepped carefully along the rock separating the small, crystalline pools, the breeze causing gentle ripples across the water’s surface. You’d just made it to the other side, feet touching the sand alongside the pools, when your eyes caught on something unfamiliar in the scenery. Your head whipped to face it, gaze falling upon a grey lump partially hidden behind a rock slightly to your left. Curious, you moved forward to inspect it, crouching down on the balls of your feet.

To your surprise, it looked like a bundle of grey… furs? No… You shuffled closer, a hand extending to brush your fingers gently against it. A soft gasp left you at the feeling and the realisation. It was sealskin, and while the fur wasn’t particularly long it was beautifully soft against your skin. The colour reminded you idly of Chubs’ coat, but you didn’t worry since you knew no one in the area was allowed to harvest seal skins, although some high-end brands still sold them as jackets. You reached and took the bundle of furs in your hands, standing up. Someone had probably accidentally left their sealskin jacket behind, and you knew how ridiculously expensive they could be. The owner must be devastated right about now. Humming to yourself again, you clutched the soft furs to your chest and turned in your spot, deciding to head back to your car and go hand it in to the nearby surf club or something. Admiring the feeling of the furs against your skin while you could, you began the trek back to your car.

It didn’t take you long to return, your pretty blue car coming into view. It wasn’t the newest model but it wasn’t ancient, and you adored it— it was a powerful little thing and you would probably cry when the day came and you had to part with it. Still humming, you reached the car and unlocked it, opening the boot and the small chest compartment you kept within. Carefully you placed the sealskin inside, making sure it didn’t catch on anything, and closed the lid. You stepped back, admiring your work, when you felt your phone buzz against your thigh. Wondering idly who it was, you slipped it from your jean pocket and unlocked it.

Kookie [10:16AM] Your boyfriend and the loud one are here, also can u get me some chocolate

You frowned at the phone because Jungkook, but your heart skipped a beat nonetheless. Crap, Seokjin and Taehyung were already there— you were losing precious time! You shut the boot, quickly moving to the drivers seat. Handing in the misplaced coat would have to wait, you needed to haul ass back to the flat you shared with Jimin and Jungkook so you didn’t miss Seokjin while he was there. You didn’t know if it was going to be a short visit or a long one, but you didn’t want to risk it. But it wasn’t just that, you had a score to settle with Taehyung. Your pride wouldn’t allow you to wallow in misery at your loss to him any longer, and couldn’t take it if he kept lording it over you.

You slipped into the front seat, locking the car for security out of habit more than anything and pulling out your phone. Turning the car on, you quickly typed a response to Jungkook.

You [10:18AM] TOO LATE I already left, so no chocolate for you

You [10:19AM] And he’s not my boyfriend shut your snake mouth

You [10:20AM] and stop writing incriminating things you little turd what if he SEES

Satisfied, you locked your phone and threw it on the passenger seat with your small amount of groceries. Releasing the handbrake, you put your car into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot, making your way back to your house.

It was a short trip, only five or so minutes really, and in no time you were parking before your flat once more. Hopping out eagerly with the groceries, you almost skipped up to the front door, letting yourself in with your key.

“I’m home~!” you sang, swinging the door shut behind you and skipping into the kitchen. You lowered the bag of strawberries gently onto the bench just as the eager patter of Jimin’s feet greeted your ears.

“Y/n!” Jimin rounded the corner, looking ready to cry in sheer happiness. “You got them! Have I ever told you how much I love and value you as a friend? Because I do, I really do.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out the chocolate bar you’d gotten for yourself after passing the boy his strawberries. “Yeah I know, but I can’t believe it took five punnets of strawberries to get you to say it.”

Just then, as though the little fucker had literally sniffed it out, Jungkook came bounding around the corner with an eager look, eyes locked on the chocolate bar already unwrapped and halfway to your mouth. “Is that for me?!” he beamed, already moving forward in anticipation. The pure, unadulterated look of excitement in his eyes almost made you want to share it with him, but then you remembered his jab from before. If anyone was ever responsible for accidentally revealing your feelings to Seokjin and it wasn’t you, it would be Jungkook. The boy didn’t have a filter half the time and if he did you were convinced it was defective.

“No it’s mine, go get your own you leech,” you smiled at him, taking a decisive bite of the chocolate bar. Jimin stood a couple of feet away, blissfully eating his strawberries as he watched.

Jungkook looked crestfallen, a hand coming to clutch his heart. “Why are you so mean to me, y/n? That chocolate bar was practically calling my name.”

“It’s character building,” you said through a mouthful of caramel and chocolate goodness, ruffling his hair. “I’m toughening you up for the real world.”

Jungkook wrinkled his nose at your first action, sniffing at your lack of manners. “That’s disgusting,” he said, ignoring your jab. “But you never know, maybe Jin’s into it—”

You abruptly shoved the remainder of the chocolate bar in his mouth in a panic, cutting him off before he could incriminate you any further. You glared, annoyed that you’d not only just lost the chocolate bar to the smug jerk before you, but also that he’d nearly blabbed out loud a reference to your feelings for Seokjin—while he’s in the same house, no less, and only a couple of rooms away.

“Jeon Jungkook you muscled-up little snake, stop incriminating me!! If he finds out I’ll murder you, and even Chim won’t be able to find your body,” you threatened with a glare, throwing the chocolate wrapper at his smug face. Jimin snorted as he nibbled on another strawberry.

“Kookie don’t risk it, she’ll really kill you and I’d miss you.” Jimin grinned, throwing the leaves from the strawberry he’d just eaten at the younger male. You watched as pink bloomed lightly on Jungkook’s cheeks.

“You’d miss me?” he queried around a mouthful of chocolate bar, doing the very thing he’d just ridiculed you for only moments ago. You glared at him. What a butt.

Jimin’s eyes widened the slightest bit, as though he’d just realised exactly what he said, but a grin quickly slipped back onto his lips and you had to give him props for his quick recovery. “Yep. I’d miss your stink, all the dirty clothes you leave around the house, the way you constantly find my stash of spicy ramen and eat it all—”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, laughing and throwing the wrapper you’d thrown at him back at Jimin. You wanted to hit yourself because for someone in love with their best friend, both of them had just wasted the perfect opportunity for a tender, heartfelt moment. It seemed obliviousness to another person having feelings for them was a common trait among your friends—Jin included.

“I don’t stink!” Jungkook protested with a laugh. “I always spray cologne—”

Jimin wrinkled his nose playfully. “Yeah, the cheap one that stinks up the whole—yah!” He giggled, Jungkook having shoved him playfully.

There was a sudden call from the loungeroom that brought you all back to reality. “Jiminie, is y/n here? Where is she?! I need her to come here so I can beat her again!”

At the sound of Taehyung’s smug, playful tone you felt your blood boil, unable to help yourself as you snatched the only other chocolate bar you’d bought off the bench and began marching towards the loungeroom.

“Kim Taehyung you fiend, I am a changed woman!!” you announced loudly, barging into the room and pointing the chocolate bar at him accusingly. “I have come here to beat you and I won’t accept your trash talk or defeat!”

Taehyung was clearly amused as he played along with your dramatics. “The only thing that’s changed is that I, Kim Taehyung, Master of the Cards and the greatest Uno player to ever live, have devised more ways to beat your sorry ass at this game!” he said, flicking the Uno cards in his hands from one palm to another like a professional casino dealer.

You bristled, resisting the urge to throw something and lose your final chocolate bar when another voice reached your ears and caused you to freeze.

“Hey y/n,” Seokjin greeted cheerfully as he entered the room from another doorway in all his god-like glory. He plopped down on the couch near Taehyung, flashing you an angelic smile that nearly made your heart stop. This man was bad for your health.

“A-ah, hey Jin,” you smiled, already feeling the heat in your cheeks at having been caught so off-guard. You recovered quickly though, flashing him a devious grin. “You’re just in time, I’m just about to beat Taehyung at Uno.”

“No you’re not~!” Taehyung sang, reaching over to pinch your cheek playfully as you sat down opposite him on the other side of the coffee table. “But it’s cute that you think so.”

You glared at Taehyung, opening your chocolate wrapper and taking a bite. “I hope you like losing.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes and began to set the cards up, placing some for Seokjin when he said he wanted to play too. Your burning desire to beat Taehyung at his own game and win was just enough to distract you from the fact that Kim Seokjin, the most beautiful man alive and keeper of your heart, was sitting just three feet away. With a loud cry from Taehyung the game began and you threw your all into winning back your dignity.

. . . . . . . .

As the door shut behind the two males that had been visiting your house, you flopped down against the couch, wearing a large, smug grin. Finally, finally, you’d beaten Taehyung at his own game— you’d obliterated him!! Sure, he’d won the first round, but it was just to lull him into a false sense of security. Every round after that, you’d beaten him by a landslide. Finally, you’d earned your dignity back. Seokjin had just been playing to observe the two of you, and you were glad you hadn’t lost any more face in front of the man you had feelings for.

After Taehyung had gotten fed up with losing, you’d all settled to watch some of the latest drama you’d taken up, an interesting crime and supernatural thriller combination. You’d had the secret joy of sitting next to Seokjin the entire time, your arms brushing occasionally and your face in a constant state of pink. Time, however, had passed quickly and before you knew it Taehyung and Seokjin were packing up to leave, waving as they exited through the front door and you lost sight of them. You were glad you got to see Jin, but as always was the case after he left your heart felt a little hollow. You were quick to distract yourself, jumping on the opportunity when Jimin came over with hot chocolate in hand. You shot him a bright smile as you accepted the cup, taking a pleased sip. “Mmm, thanks Chim.”

The silver-haired male grinned. It was late afternoon, around 4:30. You’d spent a majority of the day having fun with Seokjin and Taehyung, but now you weren’t sure what to do. You didn’t want to study— didn’t even have anything to even study for— but didn’t really know what else you felt like doing.

You allowed your thoughts to turn back to the time Jin had been here, remembering and focusing on each small gesture he showed you. A warm smile directed your way that elicited a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, a cheeky grin that stretched his full lips as he one-upped Taehyung during the game, his unique laugh as he leant over to whisper a terrible joke about cows in your ear that had you giggling despite yourself. Jimin watched the dreamy grin appear on your face and rolled his eyes. “Stop that, your heart eyes are showing.”

You straightened up, shooting Jimin a playful glare before you took a sip of the hot chocolate in your hands. “Your heart eyes are showing 24/7, but you never hear me saying anything about it—ow!”

Jimin withdrew his hand from where he’d promptly flicked your thigh to get you to shut up, seeming satisfied for now. “Don’t say it, he’ll hear you!”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, gripping your cup delicately as you gracefully swung one leg over the other. “Chim, I don’t know how many times I’ve said this but it’s so painfully obvious to everyone but you two that you’re in love.”

Jimin gave you a half-hearted side-glare. “You hypocrite, that’s exactly what I said before about you and—”

You took a loud, obnoxious sip to drown out his voice. “Mmm, good stuff! Is this an original recipe?”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “You know it’s store-bought, you’re the one that’s always complaining about the price— and don’t change the subject! You can’t turn my own words back around against me, I’m in a better position than you because I’m not in denial about the extent of my feelings.”

You snorted, reclining back against the couch with a flick of your hair. “I’m not in denial!” you said flippantly, taking another imperious sip of your hot chocolate. “It’s just a crush. A very long, very intense crush.”

The silver-haired boy gave you a look that told you he didn’t believe a word you said. “y/n,” he began, like a parent explaining something to a child. “You laugh at his terrible jokes and look at him like he personally hung the stars in the sky. You’re in lo—”

“Nope! Nope, nope!” you burst, straightening once more. “Nope! Am not! Don’t say it!”

Jimin nailed you with a pointed look and you froze, mind going over your words and actions. Was that…denial? But if that was denial, then did that mean…

You groaned loudly. “Ugh, I hate you,” You muttered, flopping back once more, mindful of your drink. “Look what you’ve done, now I’m doubting myself and contemplating everything. I hate you.”

The male beside you seemed satisfied with his work. “Everything becomes easier once you accept it, y/n,” he said, speaking as though his time on earth had wizened him beyond your years. “There’s no point denying that you’re in love with Seokj—”

The silver-haired male never got to finish, the door before you opening and sending a sharp bolt of fear straight to your heart. That was probably Jungkook, and if he caught wind of the newfound label on your feelings for Seokjin he’d never let you live it down.

To your surprise, it was Taehyung that slipped inside through the gap, followed by the man you’d just been referring to himself. You didn’t know what your face looked like right now but from the look of Jimin trying not to laugh it must have been a sight to see.

“O-Oh, Jin.” You stuttered, caught completely off-guard and trying desperately to hide it. Taehyung rolled his eyes at the fact you’d left him out. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey y/n, nice to see you again too!” Taehyung beamed, cutting his friend off before he could even think to speak. “We’re here cause we’re looking for something Jin misplaced.”

“What did you lose?” Jimin asked, eyes seeking Seokjin’s own with a glint you couldn’t recognise nor decipher. You turned your own gaze to the man in question, curious as to what he could have possibly misplaced. Just as Jin was about to answer, Jungkook entered the room from the hallway, stopping in surprise when he caught sight of the two males at the door. “Oh, hey hyungs.”

Seokjin sent the youngest a sharp look. “Yah! Would you all stop interrupting me?” he grumbled, before catching your gaze and shooting you a brief smile that may or may not have stopped your heart where it beat in your chest. He returned his gaze to Jimin. “I misplaced my… jacket, you know the one I inherited ages ago? It’s from my late parents, I take it everywhere with me and it’s very important to me so…”

Something changed in Jimin’s eyes, but you didn’t have time to decipher it before he was smiling back. He hopped up from his seat beside you. “Oh! Yeah, I know that jacket. We’ll help you look.”

You looked between the two with a frown. What jacket? You’d never seen Jin carrying a jacket with him, as far as you knew he mostly wore sweaters and turtlenecks (and he looked like a treat when he did so). But jackets? You didn’t doubt he’d look good in one, in fact you had to stop yourself from following a certain train of thought that was elicited from the image you conjured in your head of Seokjin in a leather jacket, but you’d never seen him wear one or carry one around.

Taehyung and Jungkook seemed to go along with it (although you think the latter was just because he wouldn’t have noticed either way whether Jin wore a specific jacket around or not) so you held your tongue and didn’t mention it. If they wanted to be weird and pretend Seokjin wore jackets then who were you to stop them? You decided to just go with it, jumping up with a smile. “Yeah, we’re happy to help!”

Seokjin shot you a grateful look that made your chest swell, and you decided even if there was no jacket you were happy if he was happy. That thought caused you to pause. Wow. Jimin really was right, you were whipped as hell.

“Thanks, you guys. Really.” He said, letting out a relieved breath. Taehyung nudged his side with a soft smile, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I told you they’d be happy to help’.

Jimin shuffled over to the doorway to slip his shoes on, and you followed suit, quickly donning your ballet flats. Jungkook, the messy little gremlin he was, hadn’t taken his shoes off all day and so was already ready to go.

“Where have you checked already?” Jimin asked, large eyes turning to Jin once more. That look was present again, and struck something familiar in your brain. That underlying tone… was it urgency? No one was making it seem as though it was particularly urgent, even if it was important, but the look in Jimin’s eyes had you thinking perhaps there was something you didn’t know about, that he did, that made this a little bit more urgent.

“Uh, the beach we walked on this morning before coming here, the one at the end of the street,” Jin supplied, gaze absent for a moment as he tried to recall the details of his day. “Then we came to see if it was here. I could have lost it anywhere along the beachfront though, we went for a… long walk this morning.”

You hummed, thinking to yourself. “So we’ll have to check along the beach both ways and the stores?”

Jin nodded, “I think that would be best.”

You all filed out of the house, Jimin turning and locking the door once you were all out. The afternoon sun was pleasantly warm against your skin as you waited with the others for your friend, Jin fidgeting from foot to foot and looking more unsettled than you had ever seen him before. Jimin finished locking up, and you all moved off to begin looking.

. . . . . . . . .

It was after an hour or so of fruitless searching that you found yourselves back in front of your flat, gathered next to your car. Jin had remained relatively calm throughout the whole ordeal, but a glimpse in his direction told you he was growing slightly anxious, if the constant jiggling of his leg was anything to go by.

You’d split off when you reached the beach, Taehyung flouncing over to Jimin and Jungkook and announcing that it would cover more ground if you split up. And so you’d been left with Jin, not that you were complaining, and the two of you had gone off to cover the remaining parts of the beach.

However, you hadn’t had any luck in finding Jin’s jacket (which you still weren’t entirely sure existed), and neither had the others, so you’d come back for your car— your next location for searching was the line of shops along the beach, and since it was almost dark it would be a lot easier with your car. Since the actual beaches were empty, you were hoping someone might have picked it up and handed it in at the nearest shop or surf club. At that thought, something familiar tickled the back of your mind, but you shook it off. You needed to focus on this.

You turned your gaze to the tall male next to you, watching his expressions as you waited for a response from Jungkook and the others. His eyebrows were furrowed, teeth worrying his plump bottom lip as his eyes stared to the side, unfocused. He was clearly worried, wrapped up in his own thoughts, and didn’t notice at all when you snuck up beside him until you jabbed him lightly in the ribs.

He let out a sharp yelp, body curving away from you and your intruding finger. He shot you an affronted, accusing look. “YAH! Y-y/n, what the hell—"

You allowed a soft smile to slip onto your face, hand going to rest on his arm where it clutched dramatically at his ribs as you tried to reassure him, “You’re worrying about it, but you shouldn’t— we’re going to help you find it, Jin.”

His eyes were wide as they met yours, his mouth falling slightly open in shock. “O-oh. Thanks, y/n.”

You beamed at him, heart swelling. “No problem!”

He cleared his throat, turning away so quickly you almost missed the inkling of pink blossoming across his cheeks. “R-right.”

You raised your eyebrows, searching for a response when your phone went off with a loud chime, alerting you that the others had finally responded. Immediately your hands flipped your phone around in your grip, fingers sliding effortlessly to unlock it and bring up the message.

Chim [6:34PM] still no luck, we can’t find it anywhere. you find anything?

You were quick to respond, Seokjin still off in his own little world a few feet away.

You [6:34PM] nope, nothing. we searched the whole beach couldn’t find a thing

Chim [6:35PM] ok, well we should probably stay as we are to cover more area and go along the shops to see if anyone might have handed it in. you good to drive with Jin and check the shops on your end?

You almost rolled your eyes. Why did he even bother asking? Why wouldn’t you be good to drive? You were with your crush, not intoxicated. Although, you glanced at the walking Adonis a few feet away from you, if you were being honest and particularly cheesy you could say you were drunk off your love for—

A sudden chime ended that errant train of thought. Your eyes found their way back to your phone.

Chim [6:37PM] ? you’re looking at him again aren’t you

Chim [6:38PM] god damn it y/n focus

You resisted the urge to giggle.

You [6:38PM] yes yes I’m here, don’t get your knickers in a twist I’m good to drive

Chim [6:39PM] alright, good. we’ll text you when we’re done over here and meet back at the house keep us updated

You snorted, rolling your eyes. Your phone chimed once more before you could put it away.

Chim [6:40PM] and don’t get too distracted ;p

At that you bristled, shoving your phone back into your pocket from whence it came. You turned to Jin, eager to move on. “The others didn’t have any luck finding it either, so we’re gonna go along the shops and take my car.”

Jin’s chocolate gaze swept over to meet yours, head dipping in a soft nod. “Alright,” he said, making an effort to slip on a smile for you. “Let’s get going then.”

You nodded, spinning on your heel to move towards the driver’s side of the car—

—and stepping straight into the stupid hole Jungkook had dug the other day when looking for rocks (why? You couldn’t for the life of you remember). Your leg buckled and with a yelp you were suddenly tripping forwards, nothing close enough to grab to halt your fall.

As though it came straight out of one of the dramas you watched weekly with Jimin, a pair of arms looped around your waist, halting you in your rapid descent to the ground. You spun in the strong arms around you, coming face to face with Jin.

Heat raced to colour across your cheeks, your eyes wide and face not too far from his own. He seemed alarmed for a minute, his own cheeks tinting pink, before he recovered with a shaky grin. “I have to say, it’s not often I have girls falling for me like this.”

You groaned, letting your head loll back dramatically. “Just drop me, it’ll be less painful.”

Jin laughed, that beautiful squeaky laugh you loved so much, and pulled you so you were standing once more. His gaze went to your ankle, a tender look surfacing in his glimmering eyes. “Is your ankle alright?”

You peered down, lifting your foot and giving your ankle a couple of tilts and twists. It was a bit sore, but not enough to really impact you or stop you from doing anything. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for catching me,” you shot him a dramatized look. “I could have died; I owe you my life.”

He cackled, moving over to the passenger side. “Damn right. You can repay me by beating Taehyung at Uno again— it’s always nice to see him lose for once, he’s a really sore winner.”

You snickered, continuing on your original path to the drivers side, although a bit slower this time, and slipping in. “That’s true, he really is.”

Once you were both safely in the car, you pulled off the curb and took off towards the line of shops you were going to search. It didn’t take you long, a couple of minutes at best, before you were pulling up and parking a little off to the side from the first establishment on the street.

Twinkle Toes Dance, a somewhat peculiar name for a dance studio owned by a friend of yours, Jung Hoseok. Of course, such a ridiculous name for a studio hadn’t been his first choice— he’d lost a bet with Jungkook and been forced to call it that as a result. To this day he remained somewhat salty about it, but you knew it had grown on him and he now regarded the name with a certain amount of fondness. You marched up the sidewalk towards the establishment, bursting through the front door with a certain amount of theatrical emphasis that only you could possess.

“Hobi!” you sang, entering the building with Seokjin hot on your heels. To your pleasant surprise the dancer in question had just exited the door to the studio room in front of you, pausing in his tracks at the sound of your voice. Sweat glistened over his toned form, crimson locks sticking to his forehead slightly as his warm eyes found yours and he threw the towel in his hands around his neck.

“y/n!” he beamed, flouncing over to you and abruptly swinging his arm around your neck to bring you into a playful headlock. He cooed, rubbing his knuckles into your head, “I thought I banned you from coming here?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing lightly as you slipped out of his weak grip and he brought you in for a hug. “You did, I came anyway.”

Last time you were here you’d distracted his sister, who was employed as the receptionist, with talk of things like boys and your favourite music groups so much that he’d ended up banning you from coming. There wasn’t any heart to it, of course, but he enjoyed teasing you about it nonetheless.

Hoseok snickered, before his gaze flickered from you to the male standing behind you. You turned, just barely catching sight of the look Jin wore before his face shifted and he offered the dancer a smile. You paused, confused—he’d looked… slightly mad. But why? You didn’t take Seokjin for the type to have a resting bitch face; he was too beautiful.

“Oh, right,” you snapped yourself out of your thoughts, offering a smile. “Hobi, this is Jin. Jin, this is Hoseok.”

Hoseok beamed, holding his hand out, and Seokjin returned the smile as he shook it. You almost missed how his leg jiggled anxiously as he did so.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Hoseok grinned, moving his hand behind his head to ruffle his hair sheepishly. “Sorry I’m such a sweaty mess, you guys caught me right after a class.”

Jin shrugged, smiling easily. You resisted the strong urge to let out a dreamy sigh. “It’s no problem,” he said, a slight lilt of amusement tinging his tone. “We did come at a peculiar time.”

Hoseok laughed, before his gaze found yours once more. “Ah, that’s right. What brings you guys here on such a fine evening?”

You straightened, angling your body to better include Seokjin. “Oh! Right, we’re here for him. He lost his coat, probably somewhere along the beach, and we’re wondering if by any chance someone might have come and turned it in…? It’s pretty valuable to him, is all— the sentimental type of value.”

Jin nodded along with what you were saying, and Hoseok let out a soft ‘ah’ of understanding. He shot the tall male a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to hear that man, but as far as I know no one has turned anything in. I’ll ask around some more though, I have another class in half an hour so I’ll see if anyone else has seen it?”

Jin nodded, a grateful look gracing his angelic features. “That would help a lot, thank you.”

Hoseok grinned. “No problem, I wish you luck. Maybe someone turned it in at another place.”

You let out a soft laugh, “That’s what we’re hoping! Thanks Hobi, and I hope your class goes smoothly!”

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “My next class is contemporary, and it’s full of middle aged rich women who have just finished their work day. Of course it’s going to go smoothly.”

You laughed, turning to begin making your way back towards the door, your hand hovering and gently pressing against Seokjin’s lower back to guide him along with you. “I wish you luck as well, then. See you later, Hobi!”

The male waved farewell as you and Seokjin exited the building, moving along to the next store in line. The tall male was visibly bummed and more anxious than he had been before, despite how much he tried to hide it. Even if you were confused about the sudden “existence” of this jacket, you hoped you found it soon so he wouldn’t be so bummed. You prayed someone had found it and turned it into one of the following shops.

As it happened, you had no such luck. Each store you entered told you the same thing: no one had handed anything in, and no one had mentioned anything about a coat abandoned on the beach. With each unsuccessful venture into a building you could see Jin growing more and more frantic. You wondered just how much this jacket meant to him for him to be getting so worked up over its (possibly permanent) absence.

He was restless, frantic almost, as you neared the end of the street and therefore the end of the shops almost an hour later. You’d heard no word from the others except that they hadn’t found it, and you knew Jin was trying desperately to hide how bothered he was. You got the sense that his self-control, the only thing stopping him from growing truly upset, was hanging on a meagre thread, and you weren’t sure what to expect whenever it inevitably snapped.

It didn’t take long. The last building on the street, before the road curved and was lined by sand and trees, fell on the corner and was a small, cute bookstore where your friend Namjoon worked the counter. You’d entered, feeling somewhat desperate yourself at this point, and greeted him, making some quick small-talk before asking him. The result had been the same, to your disappointment, and you’d left no more information than when you’d entered.

The walk back to your car was long, and spent in silence that sported a tense edge. A glance to your side told you Jin was wrapped up in his own thoughts, brows furrowed and lips twisted as he gazed at the ground by his feet. You finally reached your car, both of you wordlessly slipping in.

The doors shut loudly, leaving the car in silence once more afterwards. You didn’t start the car just yet, turning to glance at Jin. He had his eyes closed, head tilted back against the headrest, and his eyebrows were furrowed like he was trying not to cry. You guessed he was pretty upset.

“Jin,” you tried, moving to gently place your hand on his arm that rested on the centre console in what you hoped was a reassuring manner, “Don’t worry, okay? I’m sure we’ll find it, we just have to keep looking—”

“Keep looking where?!” Jin exclaimed, voiced raised with audible distress. You flinched back, eyes wide as he continued to speak, words gushing forth in a well of emotion and you belatedly realised that the thin string holding him together for the time being had snapped. “There is no where left to look! I left it on the beach, I know I did, and we can’t fucking find it anywhere. It’s- it’s lost and I’m never going to find it again. Oh, god I’m— I’ll never be able to—”

You cut him off before he could grow any more distressed, confusion colouring the thoughts racing through your mind. “Jin, what are you talking about? You don’t have to get so distressed, I mean I know it had sentimental value to you but you can always—”

“You don’t understand!” he burst, interrupting you mid-sentence. He spun to face you, eyes welling with a cocktail of frustration and sadness. “It’s not just a coat! It’s not replaceable! Without it I can’t go back to the ocean , I cant go home! I’ve heard all the stories and I’m so stupid, I shouldn’t have been so fucking careless—”

“You’re not making any sense—” you tried to say, hand gripping his arm still. You were struggling to keep up and comprehend all the things he was saying. He couldn’t go back to the ocean? His home?

Jin laughed, but unlike usual there wasn’t the slightest trace of humour and the sound left a heavy feeling in your stomach. “Of course it wouldn’t make sense to you, you’re human,” his eyes opened and you were taken aback by the raw look in them as his gaze captured yours and held it hostage. “y/n, I’m a selkie. Every time I come ashore I shed my coat and every time I return to the ocean I slip it back on again. That coat is everything to me, it’s a part of me— whoever has that coat has complete control of me. I can’t go home.”

You were stunned speechless, frozen, as his eyes watered and a single tear fell down his cheek. He shook and trembled beneath your hand, before he turned and threw his face into his hands, fingers threading through and gripping his hair in distress. “I can’t— I can’t go home. I’ll never be able to return to the ocean again and I’m going to be trapped here, the prisoner of whoever has that god damn coat, and all because I was so fucking careless and left it on the beach without hiding it like I usually do. God, why did I have to be so fucking stupid.”

To your utter shock his entire frame began to tremble, and a muffled sob escaped him, his voice hoarse and strained, “I shouldn’t have left it there. I sh-shouldn’t have even come ashore with Taehyung today. Oh god…”

You didn’t know what to say, what to do. Your brain was working overtime, whirring away to comprehend everything he’d just thrown at you. A selkie? Was he being serious? You vaguely recalled the legends your grandmother would tell you about the seal people who had the ability to shed their skin and become human upon land. You also remembered, as Seokjin had said, how the coat of seal skin the selkie’s shed when coming onto land was their most precious item, and whoever possessed the coat possessed control of the selkie.

All at once there was a series of realisations in your mind as bit by bit things started to connect. Oh. Oh. This morning, when you’d gone for a walk and found the sealskin… coat… and Chubs, and the other seals you’d often see that possessed a certain glint you could only describe as human in their eyes...

Oh my god.

You wanted to facepalm, and nearly did. Christ, you were an idiot. You’d literally just spent the better part of the past three hours looking for the ‘coat’ your friend and crush had lost on the beach and not once did you connect it to the bundle of sealskin furs you’d found in your little alcove just this morning.

Wordlessly, you undid your seatbelt and opened the car door, moving back around to the boot. Lifting it, your gaze zeroed in on the coat of the hour— there it lay, nestled safely within the confines of the chest in the back of your car, unsuspecting of the drama it had caused. Actually, you mused, this was pretty much your fault, even if you’d had good intentions in taking it from the beach. If you hadn’t taken it then Jin would have no doubt found it right where he left it, and would be on his merry way back in the ocean by now. Once more, you resisted the urge to slam your face into the nearest hard object, and instead grabbed the coat before shutting the boot and moving back around to return to your seat, the door closing behind you.

You cleared your throat. Jin hadn’t moved since you’d left, but looked up at the sound of your voice. His eyes, red-rimmed and slightly swollen, found yours questioningly. You offered a sheepish look. “Uh. Well, let me start by saying I’m sorry. I went for a walk this morning along the beach I usually go to, and I kind of found it sitting there. I thought someone lost it, so, ironically enough, I picked it up to turn it in in a shop or something but got distracted and uh… I completely forgot about it until now.”

Jin’s brow furrowed as he gazed at you in confusion, “y/n, what—”

You cut him off by holding up the fur coat in your grasp. “I’m guessing this is yours?”

Jin’s gaze flew to the object in your hands and his breath hitched in his throat, eyes shooting wide. They began to water once more and he looked as though he could hardly believe it was there before his very eyes after all the emotional turmoil of the night. One trembling hand came up, then the other, as he gently took it into his grasp and pulled it from your grip. His eyes closed as his fingers came into contact with the silky furs and he let out a heavy breath of relief, shoulders sagging like a massive weight had been lifted.

You allowed a few moments of silence to fill the air before you spoke once more. “I picked it up so no one else could take it and stored it in the boot, in a chest. It was safe, but I’m sorry I ended up making you so upset. I think the real idiot here is me.”

Sniffling, the male sent you a soft smile. He hugged the coat to his chest. “You know, I did leave it in the open. If you hadn’t picked it up, then someone else probably would have. I should really be thanking you for keeping it safe.”

You grinned, grateful he wasn’t blaming you, and leaned back against your seat. “I suppose that’s true,” you said, pausing for a moment to allow your words to fade into the air before speaking once more. “So… a selkie, huh.”

Seokjin’s eyes widened, like he only just realised he had, in fact, told you all of that. “Uh…” he floundered for a response, a sheepish look on his face. “Yep.”

A soft laugh escaped you. “I’m guessing Taehyung is too? You always arrive and leave together, and I’ve seen those little secretive looks you share.”

Jin sighed, shaking his head, but was unable to stop the small smile from stretching his lips. “Yeah, he is— Jimin too.”

You sputtered, leaning forward in your seat. “What? Jiminie too?! But he never leaves to go to the ocean—”

Seokjin sent you a look that was tinged with a strange mixture of affection and sadness. “Jimin gave up his coat; he stays by choice. Little Jiminie fell in love and hasn’t returned since— it’s why we come and visit him, instead. Well, it used to be why— now we don’t only come for Jimin.”

His words, combined with the meaningful tilt of his head as his chocolate eyes gazed into yours, caused a wave of heat to flush into your cheeks. Instead, you focused on the other part of what he was saying. Jimin fell in love? But wh—oh. Suddenly it all made sense.

“Oh,” you said simply, eyebrows raising slightly. Jin nodded, “Yeah.”

You were silent for a moment as you mulled everything over. Jin’s gaze never left you, and you started as you turned and met his eyes once more.

“I really do owe you,” he said softly, a look surfacing in his eyes that bordered on fond and sent your heart racing. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had actually lost it, and I owe you for keeping it safe. I don’t know how I can repay you for that.”

You were silent for a moment before you decided to speak. “Well, Chubs,” you began, delighting in the way he jumped and pink flooded his cheeks. Ah, so you’d been right. Exposed. “Are you planning on blessing land with your presence this Saturday?”

Jin’s eyebrows rose as he shot you a confused albeit slightly flustered look, taken aback. “Ah, yes, I guess?”

You smiled at him, reaching over to boop his nose in a sudden rush of confidence. “Then you can repay me by having coffee with me at Rock Hop Café, the one where Yoongi works,” you said, before your confidence faltered slightly and you quickly added, flustered, “That is, if you want to, of course. Otherwise, actually, you don’t really need to repay me—"

Seokjin laughed, cheeks pink, and interrupted you before you could ramble yourself into a hole once more. “That sounds good to me,” he grinned, gaze fond. “I’ll look forward to it.”

You returned the look, beaming, before you busied yourself turning the key in the ignition and starting up the car for the short trip home. The entire way you spent the time asking Jin various questions about what he was and whether all the myths were true or not, and with a laugh he answered each and every single one.

At the end of the day, you supposed, you’d found more than an item that had never really been lost in the first place.

1K notes · View notes

phoenixselise · 4 years ago

Text

Tips To Migrate Legacy Data

Migrating legacy data is challenging.

Numerous associations have old and complex on-premise business CRM frameworks. Today, there are many cloud SaaS options, which accompany numerous advantages; pay more only as costs arise and to pay just for what you use. Along these lines, they choose to move to the new frameworks.

No one needs to leave important data about clients in the old framework and start with the void new framework, so we have to relocate this data. Lamentably, data relocation isn't a simple assignment, as data movement exercises devour around 50% of organizational exertion. As per Gartner, Salesforce is the head of cloud CRM arrangements. Along these lines, data movement is a significant theme for Salesforce sending.

Data Migration in General

1. Make Migration a Separate Project

Data movement isn't a "fare and import" thing taken care of by a cunning "press one catch" data relocation device that has predefined planning for target frameworks in the product arrangement agenda.

Data movement is an unpredictable action, meriting a different venture, plan, approach, spending plan, and group. A substance level extension and project must be made at the venture's start, guaranteeing no curveballs, for example, "Gracious, we neglected to stack those customers' visit reports, who will do that?" fourteen days before the cutoff time.

The data movement approach characterizes whether we will stack the data in one go (otherwise called the enormous detonation), or whether we will stack little bunches each week.

This isn't a simple choice, however. The methodology must be settled upon and conveyed to all business and specialized partners to ensure when and what data will show up in the new framework. This applies to framework blackouts as well.

2. Gauge Realistically

Try not to disparage the unpredictability of the data relocation. Many tedious errands go with this cycle, which might be invisible at the task's start.

For instance, stacking straight data sets for preparing purposes with valuable data, yet with touchy things muddled, so preparing exercises don't create email warnings to customers.

The fundamental factor for assessment is the number of fields moved from a source framework to an objective framework.

Some time is required in various phases of the venture for each field, including understanding the area, planning the source field to the objective field, arranging or building changes, performing tests, estimating data quality for the field, etc.

Utilizing sharp instruments, for example, Jitterbit, Informatica Cloud Data Wizard, Starfish ETL, Midas, and so forth, can decrease this time, particularly in the construction stage.

Specifically, understanding the source data – the most vital errand in any movement venture – can't be mechanized by apparatuses, yet expects examiners to require significant investment experiencing the rundown of fields individually.

The least complex gauge of the general exertion is a limited day for each field moved from the legacy framework.

An exemption is data replication between a similar source and target blueprints minus any additional change – at times known as 1:1 movement – where we can put together the gauge concerning the number of tables to duplicate.

A nitty-gritty gauge is its very own specialty.

3. Check Data Quality

Try not to overestimate source data's nature, regardless of whether no data quality issues are accounted for from the legacy frameworks.

New frameworks have new principles, which might be abused with legacy data. Here's a basic model. Contact email can be obligatory in the new framework; however, a 20-year-old legacy framework may have an alternate perspective.

There can be mines covered up in chronicled data that have not been contacted for quite a while; however, they could actuate when moving to the new framework. For instance, old data utilizing European monetary standards that don't exist any longer should be changed over to Euros; in any case, economic forms must be added to the new framework.

Data quality fundamentally impacts exertion, and the straightforward guideline is The further we go ever, the more splendid wreck we will find. Subsequently, it is fundamental to choose at a reasonable time how much history we need to move into the new framework.

4. Draw in Business People

Money managers are the main ones who genuinely comprehend the data and who can consequently choose what data can be discarded and what data to keep.

It is critical to have someone from the business group required during the planning exercise. For future backtracking, it is valuable to record planning choices and the explanations behind them.

Since an image is worth more than 1,000 words, load a test group into the new framework, and let the business group play with it.

Regardless of whether data relocation planning is looked into and affirmed by the business group, shocks can show up once the data appears in the new framework's UI.

"Goodness, presently I see, we need to transform it a piece," turns into a typical expression.

Neglecting to connect with topic specialists, generally bustling individuals, is the most widely recognized reason for issues after another framework goes live.

5. Focus on Automated Migration Solution

Data relocation is regularly seen as a one-time movement, and designers will, in general, wind up with arrangements brimming with manual activities wanting to execute them just a single time. Yet, there are numerous motivations to evade such a methodology.

On the off chance that relocation is part of various waves, we need to rehash similar activities on different occasions.

Commonly, there are in any event three relocation runs for each wave: a dry hurry to test the exhibition and usefulness of data movement, a full data approval burden to test the whole data set, and to perform business tests, and obviously, creation load. The quantity of runs increments with helpless data quality. Improving data quality is an iterative cycle, so we need a few emphases to arrive at the ideal achievement proportion.

Hence, regardless of whether relocation is a one-time action commonly, having manual activities can altogether hinder your tasks.

Salesforce Data Migration

Next, we will cover five hints for a fruitful Salesforce relocation. Remember, these tips are likely relevant to other cloud arrangements too.

6. Get ready for Lengthy Loads

If not the greatest, execution is one of the greatest tradeoffs while moving from an on-reason to a cloud arrangement – Salesforce not barred.

On-premise frameworks typically consider direct data load into an entire database, and with great equipment, we can undoubtedly arrive at a vast number of records every hour.

Be that as it may, not in the cloud. In the cloud, we are intensely restricted by a few variables.

Organization dormancy – Data is moved using the web.

Salesforce application layer – Data is traveled through a thick API multitenancy layer until they land in their Oracle databases.

Custom code in Salesforce – Custom approvals, triggers, work processes, duplication identification rules, etc. – a considerable lot of which debilitate equal or mass burdens.

Therefore, load execution can be a considerable number of records every hour.

It tends to be less, or it very well may be more, contingent upon things, for example, the number of fields, approvals, and triggers. However, it is a few evaluations slower than an immediate database load.

Execution debasement, which is subject to the volume of the Salesforce data, should likewise be thought of.

It is brought about by files in the primary RDBMS (Oracle) utilized for checking foreign keys, exceptional fields, and assessment of duplication rules. The basic recipe is around 50% log jam for each evaluation of 10, brought about by O(logN) the time unpredictability parcel in sort and B-tree activities.

Also, Salesforce has numerous asset utilization limits.

One of them is the Bulk API limit set to 5,000 clusters in 24-hour moving windows, with the limitation of 10,000 records in each bunch.

In this way, the hypothetical most extreme is 50 million records stacked in 24 hours.

In a genuine venture, the most extreme is a lot of lower because of restricted group size when utilizing, for instance, custom triggers.

This strongly affects the data movement approach.

In any event, for medium-sized datasets (from 100,000 to 1 million records), the vast explosion approach is not feasible, so we should part data into littler movement waves.

This impacts the whole arrangement cycle and builds the multifaceted movement of nature. We will include data increases into a framework previously populated by past relocations and data entered by clients.

We should likewise think about this current data in the relocation changes and approvals.

Further, protracted burdens can mean we can't perform relocations during a framework blackout.

On the off chance that all clients are situated in one nation, we can use an eight-hour blackout during the night.

For example, for an organization, Coca-Cola, with tasks everywhere in the world, is beyond the realm of imagination. When we have the U.S., Japan, and Europe in the framework, we range new zones, so Saturday is the leading blackout choice that doesn't influence clients.

Also, that may not be sufficient; thus, we should stack while on the web, when clients work with the framework.

7. Regard Migration Needs in Application Development

Application parts, for example, approvals and triggers, ought to have the option to deal with data movement exercises. Hard disablement of licenses at the relocation load hour isn't an alternative if the framework must be on the web. Instead, we need to execute a distinctive rationale in approvals for changes performed by a data relocation client.

Date fields should not be contrasted with the real framework date since that would cripple the stacking of recorded data. For instance, approval must permit entering a previous record start date for moved data.

Compulsory fields, which may not be populated with verifiable data, must be actualized as non-obligatory, yet with approval touchy to the client, permitting void qualities for data originating from the relocation dismissing void rates creating from standard clients using the GUI.

Triggers, particularly those sending new records to the combination, must have the option to be turned on/off for the data relocation client to forestall flooding the mix with moved data.

Another stunt is utilizing field Legacy ID or Migration ID in each moving article. There are two explanations behind this. The first is self-evident: To save the ID from the old framework for backtracking, after the data is in the new framework, individuals may at present need to look through their records utilizing the old IDs, found in places as messages, archives, and bug-global positioning frameworks. Unfortunate propensity? Possibly. In any case, clients will thank you on the off chance that you protect their old IDs. The subsequent explanation is specialized and originates from the reality that Salesforce doesn't acknowledge expressly gave IDs to new records (in contrast to Microsoft Dynamics) but creates them during the heap. The issue emerges when we need to stack youngster objects since we need to appoint them to the parent objects. Since we will know those IDs only after stacking, this is a worthless exercise.

How about we use Accounts and their Contacts, for instance:

Produce data for Accounts.

Burden Accounts into Salesforce, and get produced IDs.

Join new Account IDs in Contact data.

Produce data for Contacts.

Burden Contacts in Salesforce.

We can do this all the more by stacking Accounts with their Legacy IDs put away in an exceptional outer field. This field can be utilized as a parent reference, so when stacking Contacts, we nearly use the Account Legacy ID as a pointer to the parent Account:

Create data for Accounts, including Legacy ID.

Create data for Contacts, including Account Legacy ID.

Burden Accounts into Salesforce.

Burden Contacts in Salesforce, utilizing Account Legacy ID as parent reference.

Here, the pleasant thing is that we have isolated an age and a stacking stage, which takes into account better parallelism, decline blackout time, etc.

8. Know about Salesforce Specific Features

Like any framework, Salesforce has many dubious pieces of which we ought to know to evade upsetting shocks during data movement. Here are a modest bunch of models:

A few changes in dynamic Users consequently produce email warnings to client messages. In this manner, we have to deactivate clients first and actuate after changes are finished on the off chance that we need to play with client data. In test conditions, we scramble client messages, so any imagination stretch does not terminate warnings. Since dynamic clients devour expensive licenses, we can't have all clients involved in all test conditions. We need to oversee subsets of active clients, for instance, to initiate only those in a preparation climate.

Latent clients, for some standard items, for example, Account or Case, can be appointed simply in the wake of allowing the framework consent "Update Records with Inactive Owners." Yet, they can be allowed, for instance, to Contacts and every single custom article.

At the point when Contact is deactivated, all quit fields are quietly turned on.

When stacking a copy Account Team Member or Account Share object, the current record is quietly overwritten. Notwithstanding, whenever piling a copy Opportunity Partner, the form is essentially included bringing about a copy.

Framework fields, for example, Created Date, Created By ID, Last Modified Date, Last Modified By ID, can be expressly composed simply in the wake of conceding another framework authorization "Set Audit Fields upon Record Creation."

Any stretch of the imagination can't move History-of-field esteem changes.

Proprietors of information articles can't be indicated during the heap yet can be refreshed later.

The precarious part is the putting away of substance (archives, connections) into Salesforce. There are numerous approaches to do it (utilizing Attachments, Files, Feed connections, Documents), and every way has its upsides and downsides, including distinctive record size cutoff points.

Picklist fields power clients to choose one of the permitted qualities, for instance, a kind of record. However, when stacking data utilizing Salesforce API (or any device based upon it, Apex Data Loader or Informatica Salesforce connector), any worth will pass.

The rundown goes on. However, the reality is: Get acquainted with the framework, and realize what it can do and what it can't do before you make presumptions. Try not to expect standard conduct, particularly for center articles. Continuously exploration and test.

9. Try not to Use Salesforce as a Data Migration Platform

It is exceptionally enticing to utilize Salesforce as a stage for building a data relocation arrangement, particularly for Salesforce engineers. A similar innovation for the data movement arrangement concerning the Salesforce application customization, a similar GUI, a similar Apex programming language, a similar framework. Salesforce has objects that can go about as tables, and a SQL language, Salesforce Object Query Language (SOQL). In any case, kindly don't utilize it; it would be an essential building blemish.

Salesforce is a phenomenal SaaS application with many pleasant highlights, for example, progressed cooperation and rich customization; however, mass preparation of data isn't one of them. The three most huge reasons are:

Execution – The processing of data in Salesforce is a few evaluations slower than in RDBMS.

Absence of expository highlights – Salesforce SOQL doesn't uphold complex questions and scientific capacities supported by Apex language and would debase execution much more.

Architecture* – Putting a data relocation stage inside a particular Salesforce climate isn't advantageous. Ordinarily, we have various conditions for explicit purposes, frequently made impromptu so that we can put a great deal of time on code synchronization. Besides, you would likewise be depending on the network and accessibility of that particular Salesforce climate.

Instead, fabricate a data movement arrangement on a different occasion (it could be a cloud or on-premise) utilizing an RDBMS or ETL stage. Associate it with source frameworks, focus on the Salesforce conditions you need, move the data you need into your arranging territory, and cycle it there. This will permit you to:

Influence the full force and capacities of the SQL language or ETL highlights.

Have all code and data in one spot with the goal that you can run examinations overall frameworks.

For instance, you can join the freshest arrangement from the most exceptional test Salesforce climate with real data from the creation of a Salesforce climate.

You are not all that subordinate upon the innovation of the source and target frameworks, and you can reuse your answer for the following undertaking.

10. Oversight Salesforce Metadata

At the undertaking starts, we generally snatch a rundown of Salesforce fields and start the planning exercise. It regularly happens that the application development group includes new areas into Salesforce, or that some field properties are changed. We can ask the application group to tell the data movement group about each data model change, yet doesn't generally work. To be sheltered, we have to have all the data model changes under management.

A typical method to do this is to download, consistently, pertinent relocation metadata from Salesforce into some metadata archive. When we have this, we can recognize changes in the data model; however, we can likewise analyze data models of two Salesforce conditions.

See More: What Does Data Migration Mean?

0 notes

tisfan · 7 years ago

Text

Holiday Spending

Chapter 10 -- Fruit of our Labors

All I Buy For Christmas - Renting in the New Year - Will you Steal My Valentine - Up for (Mardi) Grabs - Hopping Down the Money Trail - (In) Memorial Day Sale - (Folding) Paper Anniversary | (Financial) Independence Day | Back to School (Fundraiser)

“... 29 year old male, Caucasian…”

“Applying pressure, where is all this --”

“... cutting him out of this… what is this?” The EMT held up a pair of mangled safety scissors.

Tony blinked, glanced up. “Stark Secure body armor,” he said. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from Bucky’s hand. He was secured in the gurney, face-down so the EMTs could work. His hand was limp, dangling over the side like a pale starfish. Blood dripped down his skin from the shoulder, travelled in thick rivulets over his wrist, and splattered onto the floor of the ambulance. “You won’t be able to cut it. There are velcro closures on the right and left sides.”

“What the hell is it made of?” The EMT was still holding her scissors like a child she was mourning for.

“Cellulose nanocrystals,” Tony responded. He’d been primary in inventing them; part of his Materials and Processes 417 class project that Howard had jumped on, tossed over to R&D with a muttered “guess that’s what I’m paying for” about Tony’s classwork.

The ballistics resistant material was in testing phases, still, but Tony had liberated a few pieces for Bucky’s personal use. If nothing else, they were lighter and more breathable than a standard tactical BPV. Made from plant fiber and coated with molecular crystals, the Stark Secure was supposed to be the better option; the best option. Certainly more protection by the pound, more protection for the dollar. That was supposed to be what it was.

“I’ve got a blood pressure of about 70 over fuck you,” another reported. “Not registering. He’s already deep in shock.”

“No, seriously, you think?”

Someone peeled back the tactical vest, cut away Bucky’s stained tee underneath, dripping with blood. Not… not as much blood as Tony might have expected. He held onto that hope.

That hope lasted about two minutes until Tony got a look at the fucking hole in Bucky’s back. Furious red and black at least the size of Tony’s fists together, just to the right of his spine. Damnit, it couldn’t have hit where the arm and plates already were? Some of that would have deflected--

Blood welled, and the EMT covered it with a thick pad, putting pressure down. Tony would have thought Bucky too out of it to feel pain, but he groaned, thick and guttural. More blood dripped out of his mouth.

“Ok, he’s as stable as we’re getting,” one of the EMTs reported. “Let’s get this bus going before this poor bastard is a DOA.”

“... non-responsive to verbal, BP still not registering…”

“Pulse is weak…”

(more under the readmore, or catch the entire fic at A03)

“... eavy deformity to the upper back, Behind-Armor, Blunt Trauma, bleeding as expected. Pulse 45, respiration rapid, thirty-five. Full spinal immobilization including C-Collar in place per BLS protocol, O2 via NRB at 12LPM. ETA five minutes.”

The two guys in the back nudged around Tony, and one of them poked him, hard, in the shoulder and indicated that he should grab onto a strap. Tony did his best to get out of their way.

Bucky had stopped making noise. He barely seemed to be breathing, although the paramedics didn’t seem too upset by that. Tony looked down at his lap, bracing his feet on the rough metal of the ambulance. There was blood on his pants, his tie. His hands.

Literally, blood on his hands.

Tony had looked through the various ballistics material when developing the nanocrystals; the theory was sound. Tests on dummies had provided a lot of good information. But that wasn’t the same as a flesh and blood human. He wasn’t even sure testing had gotten as far as the gelatin-stuffed proto-test models, the ones that imitated the surface tension -- if not as far as bones and interior organs -- of humans.

What the hell was he thinking, letting Bucky be a first live-fire exercise? Not that Tony had any intentions that Bucky be fired upon, but wasn’t the motto safe, rather than sorry? He thought it might be something like that. Of course, Tony’s personal motto was more like run before crawling, so there was always room for improvement, and even with --

The ambulance jerked to a stop and the EMT shoved Tony against the wall in their hurry to get Bucky out of the back and into the med bay, which Tony thoroughly approved of.

He hopped down, but at that point, someone else caught him by the elbow. “We’ll take really good care of him, Mr. Stark,” someone said. “But for right now, we need you out of the way. Let the doctors do their jobs.”

Tony found himself standing on the pavement, just outside the Emergency Entrance, not quite knowing what to do. Not alone, exactly. There were people around, but they were people who were utterly and completely unconcerned with Tony. Other emergency cases came in and EMT teams wandered around. For people who were in the medical health industry, Tony took note of the fact that many of them smoked cigarettes. He overheard a conversation between two drivers, talking about the problematic drivers who refused to get out of the way; that could kill someone, and Tony found himself absently plotting a new grid-traffic system that could be controlled from dispatch, to clear holes. He brought out his phone, tapped a few notes and sent it away to R&D.

Eventually it occurred to him that there might be paperwork or red tape that Bucky needed to have cut or filled out. As Bucky’s technical employer, as well as his boyfriend, he could assist there.

Tony was always at his best when he had something to do to keep him from dwelling on everything that had happened.

But by the time he made his way around to the check-in and visitor’s section, Jenn had arrived on site. She covered him immediately.

“We don’t know what happened to the shooter,” she confessed, bustling him into the hospital, and then directing him to a private waiting room. That seemed unfair, somehow. It wasn’t that everyone else loved their relations more, or were more important, but that the same time, “no, this is best, Mr. Stark, if someone comes after you for a second chance, we don’t want indiscriminate firing in the lobby, someone entirely uninvolved could get hurt.”

Tony let her lead him away. The white walls of the room -- some spare patient consultation thing, covered with advertisements for pills and diagrams of how the body worked -- were clean, but somehow sad. Jenn checked the exits, pulled the blinds all the way shut.

The whole thing felt very surreal, like Tony wasn’t actually here, wasn’t actually in his body at all. That he was still in front of the restaurant, Bucky’s blood on his hands. “I did this,” he said, looking down. Somewhere, someone had gotten him wiped off, a bit, but his jacket and shirt were still stained and Tony wasn’t sure he could handle it any longer.

“Can you--” He held his hands out for Jenn to see.

Jenn nodded, already on her cellphone. “I’ve pulled together some of your security team,” she said. “They’re on their way in, including Bain, I know you find her a comfort. They’ll bring you a change of clothes and a bit of a way to clean up. It’ll be a while before we know anything, but I’m prepared to stay, if you want to. Anything longer than sixteen hours, however, and we’ll need to relocate you to a safer place, all right, Mr. Stark?”

Was there a safer place?

Tony hadn’t wanted to spend his life ruled by fear, but it wasn’t his life that he was spending anymore, was it?

He nodded, listlessly. “When Bain gets here, see what news you can get, okay, please?”

He collapsed into the flimsy plastic chair, let his face sink into his hands. Smelled Bucky’s blood on him.

Bucky woke up screaming for Tony.

And then he was just screaming.

Pain. Oh, god. Pain. And he was strapped down. He could barely move, and yet he struggled against restraints. His left arm was totally numb, worthless. And his right was on fucking fire.

No. no please, not the other arm.

Bucky could barely turn his head; pain radiated up his spine. He was still screaming, struggling. There were voices and nurses, and the smell of medical antiseptic. Someone was saying his name, but he couldn’t listen, because where the fuck was Tony, where was he?

A cotton smell and the fluff feel at the back of his throat, and he… garlic taste flooded his mouth...

darkness...

tony…

ow.

The second waking was a little less frantic, although pain still clouded everything, hanging over it like thick blankets on the clothesline. Bucky fought his way through to the light; opened his eyes.

It wasn’t too hard to recognize a hospital room. They sucked.

The bed was uncomfortable and his back ached where he was slumped over; not quite reclining, certainly not laying down.

He was covered in tubes; a cannula was looped around his ears, blowing too-dry, too cold oxy-mix up his nose. Two IVs were jammed up in his arm -- at least his arm was still there, thank god, he remembered a burst of panic and black terror that he’d lost his other arm. A thicker tube lay against his hip and the less he knew about where that one went, the happier he’d probably be.

Dozens of monitors and measuring tools were stuck all over him; he resembled nothing more than a tasty fly, waiting for a spider.

As awareness trickled back, the noises were regular, but annoying. A blood pressure cuff inflated itself, squeezing his thigh. Between the IVs and his artificial arm, he guessed they didn’t have room for it elsewhere. Each time it squeezed, it tugged unpleasantly on his leg hair; he was going to have a bruise and a bunch of plucked hairs when they got done with him.

He twisted his neck, trying to see; his right arm was cuffed with a padded leather restraint, held down. The left one unmoving -- he’d been in the hospital before, they probably turned the fucking thing off. The nerve-cluster in the back of his brain that let him feel pressure and operate the device wasn’t pinging, so it probably wasn’t malfunctioning.

No call button.

Fuck, what the hell was he supposed to do now?

Spiraling up into a panic again seemed to be the answer; the heartbeat monitor picked up on his distress first, and then his breathing got erratic.

There was pain, but pain was secondary.

Where the fuck was Tony?

Was Tony okay?

Why… why wasn’t he here?

He turned his head, watched the heartrate monitor go up, and up again until it was beeping with distress. This wasn’t the military where the philosophy was, if you’re on the table, you’re important, and if you’re not, you probably won’t die in the next six hours. A civilian facility had some sort of quality control, right?

His breath jerked in and out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe through his nose; his mouth dropped open and he took great gasping breaths. His mouth was so dry, thick and cottony. His tongue and teeth were coated with sticky and he couldn’t work up any spit.

The blood pressure cuff activated again, squeezing. An alarm went off for that, too; he could barely read the numbers, but he was pretty sure that was high. Better than low, he supposed.

A strange bubble of calm stayed there in the center of his head while all the other parts of his body checked into Hotel High Anxiety.

He took another few breaths, then fell back on the bed. He couldn’t maintain that level of anxiety, he was too damn exhausted. And then he was in too much pain. Everything hurt. Literally. He went through from nose to toes and couldn’t find a single thing on his body that didn’t ache, throb, pulse, or sent shooting sparks up his nerves.

Pattern recognition was a thing Bucky did; being in the military so long, everything happened in chunks of time. After a while, despite the erratic breathing and the stupidly excessive heart rate, the blood pressure cuff was going off rhythmically. Every fifteen minutes, it squeezed his thigh.

Which gave him some sort of measurement of the passage of time. He drifted off from time to time, waking to blink and wonder all over again where he was, why he hurt so much. Was it night? He couldn’t tell, the ward wasn’t quiet, but hospitals never were. The light under the door was brilliant and he could see feet pass by from time to time.

Eventually, seven times he could recall the machine checking his BP, the door slid open a crack and a shadow moved inside.

His heart rate spiked again, and then the shadow separated itself, stepping into the vague light from machines and monitors.

“Tony.”

Bucky’s voice was barely a croak, a shaking whisper rattle. He wasn’t even sure it was a complete word, but Tony, oh, god, there he was. All rumpled hair and wearing an MIT sweatshirt and looking like he just rolled out of bed. The most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen.

“Oh, god.” And Tony was there, at his side, fingers absently plucking at the blue and flowered hospital gown that Bucky was wearing. Bucky leaned his head as far as he could to one side until Tony took the hint and brushed his hand down the side of Bucky’s face.

Bucky licked his lips; there wasn’t any spit in his mouth at all, and the sound his tongue made was raspy, alien. Lizard-like. “Water?” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, there were so many things that Bucky wanted to say instead, like how relieved he was that Tony wasn’t shot, that Tony was the most precious thing in the world to him, and that Bucky was just so damn happy that he was okay, that everything was fine. But he didn’t have the breath for that anyway, and his mouth and throat were screaming for something to drink.

“Uh,” Tony muttered, staring around. The room was mostly dark, the most light crept in from around the door, but eventually Tony found a tray on the far side of the room with a styrofoam cup. He rattled it, and the sound of ice and slushie water swirling in it send flames up through Bucky’s throat.

Tony unfolded a plastic straw and stuck it in the cup. “Just a little, baby,” he said. “I don’t know if they’re gonna want you for a surgery.”

The half-sip or so that Bucky managed before just leaning forward enough to let the straw touch his mouth was gone too soon. And yet, he fell back against the mattress, trying to suppress his groan of agony.

Everything hurt. His fucking shoulder hurt worst, pain that spiraled up from his fingertips, wrapped around his arm like concertina wire, scissoring and fresh and silver, all the way up. “Why’s my head hurt?” Bucky asked. It wasn’t like he could check anything. He could barely move, and his arm was strapped down.

Tony made a face -- Bucky wasn’t even sure there was a name for the expression that twisted up Tony’s mouth. “You got shot, baby.”

Essense of no, really.

“Yeah, got that,” Bucky said. He licked at his mouth again; now that there was spit there, he was a little more conscious about how nasty his mouth felt. Coppery and full of cotton. His teeth were coated with a scrim of plaque. Still, his head hurt. Not like a headache -- although he’d be a fucking liar if he said he didn’t have a headache. That would have been bad enough, but there was a stinging, slicing pain, just above the back of his neck.

It wasn’t the pain, although that was bad enough in its own right. The sick, blinding fear that he’d lost the use of his right arm -- and that hadn’t even let go, not a little bit, it crouched at the back of his mind like a feral animal, ready to bite and pounce and tear if he took his eyes off it for a second. Now that he had eyes on Tony, some of the despair was gone. But at the same time, he couldn’t see himself.

A doctor hadn’t been in to see him, and Bucky was hovering over a pit of ignorance. He had no idea how bad his injuries were. The look on Tony’s face, a skittering of his gaze, alternating with the way he stared at Bucky’s face, it couldn’t have been good.

And Bucky was a coward. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to ask.

“The shooter--”

“Don’t you worry about that, honey,” Tony said. He couldn’t seem to stop touching Bucky, his face, the side of his neck, fingers dancing down Bucky’s chest. Even though it hurt, each touch and tap were like having the apple-soft center of a bruise poked, Bucky couldn’t ask him to stop. Didn’t want him to stop. Wished he had his arm free, so he could return the favor. Each drop of pain was just a little more realism.

“Don’t-- don’t worry? Tony, you’re still at risk, and I’m… stuck here and --” he struggled against his injuries, the tie-down. He didn’t mean to, but it was…

dark

slithered around him like snake...

The next time Bucky was aware that he was awake -- according to the one nurse that he talked to some time in the deep early morning, he’d been drifting in and out for several days now, not a thing that made him happy, and that sometimes he was awake and aware, but that he wasn’t absorbing those conversations, so every time he woke up, they were having to go through it again -- the straps on his arm were gone, but his arm still hurt so much that moving it was torture.

He did have a call-button, though, so he pressed it.

“Mr. Barnes,” the nurse said, efficient and cheerful. She gave him a few sips of ginger-ale that sat unpleasantly on his stomach for a bit before his body decided to let him have it. “You came out of surgery well, how are you feeling?”

“Surgery?”

“Your acromioclavicular joint was separated, and you have three distinct scapula fractures. On the plus side, Mr. Barnes, since we were in there anyway, the doctor took the liberty of upgrading your bracing hardware for the prosthetic. Once you’re back to seventy percent, at least, you should notice some better movement, and certainly less pain. Technically, we did it to make sure that therapy on the opposite arm was effective. But, consider it like a bonus.”

The way the nurse laughed, Bucky didn’t have to wonder what his expression looked like. “The shooter?”

His nurse glanced at him. “You are single-minded,” she said.

No, Bucky thought. It was just that he didn’t remember. He knew someone had told him, but between the pain medications and the surgeries, he wasn’t holding on to information. There was something vaguely wrong with that, something that made him desperately uneasy, but he couldn’t even hold onto it long enough to get his fret on.

“Just tell me,” Bucky said.

The nurse checked a few of his vitals, humming thoughtfully. “They think it was that boy,” she said, finally. “That college football player, the--” then pressed her hand to Bucky’s chest as he surged forward.

“Rumlow,” Bucky said. Ow. Why did she have to shove him like that.

“That’s the one. Stay put, Mr. Barnes.”

His heartrate was already spiking, blood pressure cuff doing its thing.

That didn’t make any sense; what the hell would Rumlow gain from murdering Tony now? He was already out of school, just because Tony was dead, it -- ow, fuck, there went his chest again, just thinking of Tony dead and cold and unmoving was enough to ache -- wouldn’t change anything. Not for Rumlow, at least.

“That’s stupid,” Bucky finally managed to say.

The nurse sighed, pulled an injection kit from her pocket. “You keep saying that,” she said. She stared at him, her eyes huge and wide and somehow not quite innocent. “Why do you think that? Did you see something, the day of the hit?”

“Huh?” Why the hell would a nurse care about something like that? He was vaguely befuddled that she knew even that much about it; although he supposed if he’d asked about it a few times, some of the shift-staff might have gotten the run down, just to answer the questions.

“Oh well,” she said. She tapped the needle a few times. “You’re well compromised by this point. No one’s gonna believe anything you say, even if you saw anything at all. Head wound, brain damage. Mental trauma. Not a reliable witness.” She pulled the cap off the kit and took a step to the side.

Something cold slithered into Bucky’s belly. “What are you doing?”

“It’s just for the pain, Mr. Barnes,” she said. “Once you get excitable like that, you--”

“No,” Bucky said, firmly. Didn’t a nurse, a real nurse, flush the site with saline before injecting anything into the shunt? Why… why couldn’t he remember anything for more than one waking period at a time.

He looked more closely at the nurse.

“Bain.”

She sighed. “Don’t draw too many conclusions, Mr. Barnes,” she said. “You’ll blow my cover, and that’ll make me cranky. If you just stay asleep, all of this will be over, and I don’t really want to kill you. Too much mess to cover up.”

Bucky struggled, but he was so weak, and everything hurt so much.

“Don’t worry,” Sunset Bain said. “You don’t have to be afraid. You won’t even remember this…”

That was precisely what Bucky was worried about.

What had she said, earlier, about the bracing hardware; they’d updated his arm, his prosthetic?

Bucky twitched, just barely heard the servos in his left arm and stilled his fingers again. He let a low, helpless whimper escape from his throat. “Please…”

“He’s not worth all this, I hope you know that,” she said, coming closer. “Spoiled little rich boy; he has no idea what he’s doing, the company is infinitely more valuable to the lives of our American soldiers without him behind the wheel. You should appreciate that, Mr. Barnes. There’s no need for you to have been so injured. Drone soldiers, they’re the way to go.”

“Is that how you shot Tony? With a drone?”

“Ah, well, there are some satisfactions to my work, a little personal touch, that means so much.”

Braced. Waiting.

She stepped closer, needle out. She reached for the shunt, pressed the tip of the needle into the soft plastic ring.

Bucky twisted.

Oh, fuck. Everything lit on fire; his spine, his arm, his shoulder.

But he twisted anyway.

Got the full use of his hips behind it, swinging the prosthetic up and over; he could barely bend his elbow, so it wasn’t a punch, just a heavy blow, the full weight of steel alloy and plastics underneath. He’d had to learn to move it, it was so damned heavy when he’d first gotten it, he’d walked lopsided for months.

Bain shrieked in surprise as he rolled, but she’d been caught unaware.

The sound she made when the arm struck her was small, almost a whimper, and she went down in a splatter of blood and a crunch of bone.

Bucky screamed. The pins and supports in his spine were electic agony as the weight of the arm, still mostly immobile, pulled and yanked at him.

Call button. Call button.

Bucky fumbled, felt something tear in his shoulder. Found the remote and mashed it.

There were footsteps, running. He didn’t care.

Bain was struggling, weakly, on the floor. Squirming. Trying to crab away.

Whatever was in that syringe… foggy, fading… Bucky shifted again, grabbed hold of the IV tube with his teeth, as close to the site as he could manage. Bent the tube in his mouth and bit down.

He…

darkness...

“You’re so fired,” Tony said.

Bucky was struggling with the fog and disorientation that came from yet another round of surgeries.

This time, at least, he’d woken up with Tony’s hand firmly in his, with his prosthetic alive and buzzing with new information. With a brightly lit room and a feeling of safety.

“Why?”

“Why, he asks?”

Behind Tony, Jenn Walters gave Bucky a thumbs up, then slipped out of the room.

“Because I don’t think I can go through this again, baby,” Tony said. He pushed Bucky’s hair away from his face. “I know, I know, your month’s been worse, but this may well have been the worst week of my life.”

“Did I miss anything new?” Bucky asked.

The on-again, off-again memory loss bothered him more than he knew how to say. Every time he woke up in the morning, hospital walls around him, someone had to fill him in. Repeat everything that had happened since that bullet struck the vest.

Bain… she’d fucked him up, but good.

“We got Bain to roll on her boss,” Tony said. “She’ll do ten, with time off for good behavior. Probably back out on the streets in seven. I’m not entirely happy with that, but her face is all over the papers, so hopefully she won’t be able to snow anyone else as thoroughly as she’s done to us. It’s hard to be an assassin if everyone knows what you look like.”

Bucky managed a very painful shrug. “There’s surgeries. And other countries.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” Tony said. He swallowed hard. “Turned out, she was being financed by Obadiah Stane.”

“Your godfather?”

The look that flittered across Tony’s face was both pain and annoyance. He’d probably told Bucky this before. “Yeah. Turned out, he was behind my parents, too. That third body? One of his stooges that was supposed to make sure my parents were dead after a hitman slammed into their car. He got run over by accident. If the hitman hadn’t left the body behind, we might never have had enough warning…”

Bucky made a small, soft sound. He didn’t think he could bear it, if something had happened to Tony. Knew he couldn’t have.

“So what’s this got to do with why I’m off th’ job?”

“I have a new job for you,” Tony said, brushing invisible wrinkles out of his tee.

Bucky’s eyebrow went up. “Do you?”

“Well, I suppose the question is, more, will you?” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. The kind that everyone knew. Bucky heard the heart rate monitor speed up, echoed by the feeling of his pulse in his ears and throat.

Tony cracked the lid, and the ring was Tony, all the way. Golden metal swirling around rubies, the band thick enough that if Bucky put it on his hand, it’d cover from knuckle to knuckle. Not ostentatious, but obviously expensive. Tasteful.

Bucky cleared his throat, a rumbling sort of cough, and then, he thought, maybe he could breathe again.

“Ohgod.”

There went that eyebrow again.

“You’ve asked me before,” Bucky said, suddenly.

“Yes,” Tony said.

“Have I turned you down yet?” He knew that answer, of course. He never, ever would. Tony was his whole life.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Tony said, shrugging like it didn’t matter.

“I may not be able t’ hold onto my mind,” Bucky said, shuddering a little, “but what’s in my heart, Tony? That ain’t gonna change. Yes. You already know it. Yes.”

#winteriron #prompts #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #holiday spending AU #September #medical stuff #violence #drama #angst #this fic #the author has regrets

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loviswriting · 5 years ago

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Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Bizarre Beach! Torn Between Scylla and Charybdis!

JJBA part 4 fan fic. Chapter 6: Quattro Stagioni and the Italian man

Summary: During his stay in Morioh, Jotaro needs to come up with a subject for his doctoral thesis in marine biology! Strange happenings in the waters of Morioh beach piques Jotaros interest, making him investigate strange sightings of a mermaid, followed by injured surfers! In hopes of finding a subject for his thesis he teams up with Kishibe Rohan and Joseph Joestar to solve the mysterious happenings! Is it the work of an actual mermaid or is there a Stand user lurking around the corner?!

Number of chapters: 9

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Total word count for all chapters: 12 749.

Chapter 6 word count: 1305

Authors note: this is my first fan fic, I tried my best and hope you will enjoy it! You may also read it on my Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20937995/chapters/49778429

Jotaro and Rohan dove into the water and saw Scylla and Charybdis head towards them. They headed towards their respective enemy, ready to engage the fight. Jotaro reached Charybdis first, starting to launch a barrage of punches towards it, but it replied by swallowing up a huge amount of water and becoming a large shield for its user, rendering the punches useless. Jotaro tried to move to its side to get another angle but Charybdis followed his movements quickly. However, it did not seem to attack, There are no stones here that it can shoot towards me… Damn, I should have let Rohan go after this one again! Jotaro tried to get a look at Rohan but Charybdis blocked his path and came at him with its vicious fangs. Now it tried to suck up Jotaro in an attempt to chop off his limbs. “Star finger!” Star Platinum’s right fingers shot away into the side of Charybdis, disrupting its sucking and leaving Jotaro un-sucked. A bit away Rohan struggled with Scylla. He was still tired from the swim and had a hard time hitting Scylla with Heavens Door, only having to dodge and wait for an opening. Soon, he thought, continuing to dodge, and with each and every dodge he swam a little bit closer to the Stands body, making his way between the necks lounging towards him. Then he got close enough to the body to reach it with Heavens Door, however, the necks were surrounding him, able to strike him from all sides. The necks rushed towards him, but Rohan was prepared. “Heavens Door!” the Stand punched Scylla and its necks immediately wrapped themselves around each other, leaving Rohan untouched. ‘Tie your necks together’ had been written as a command into Scylla, leaving its necks immobilized. This made Scylla start to swim towards Charybdis and Rohan saw the rock with the starfish on and started to swim towards it to get a chance to turn it into a book and let it learn human communication. But Scylla was faster and reached Charybdis, not before long, which still was defending against Jotaro. The two rocks with the starfish made their way towards each other and clumped together. Without hesitation Charybdis swam into the cluster of necks and bit them off, untangling the tangled mess. “What?!” Rohan cried as he approached the Stands, “It undone my precious work?!” Jotaro was finally able to swim up towards Rohan, “Seems like they team up now, so should we.” Scylla and Charybdis assumed a formation where the stumps of Scylla's necks grabbed a hold of Charybdis and started to merge with it with the help of its Stand energy. Charybdis mouth opened up wide, revealing its hundreds of tooth, starting to point outwards. “It’s.. a cannon!!” Rohan burst out, as Scylla and Charybdis then launched a barrage of poisonous sharp teeth towards them. “Heavens Door!” Rohan grabbed Jotaro and wrote the command ‘launch Jotaro up above the water’ in Jotaro, making both of them fly up through the water, a few meters into the air. They broke the water's surface with a loud burst of water, before dropping down into it. The saw that the barrage of teeth still was flying towards them under the water and they dodged to a side each, the teeth flying up through the water and beyond behind them. “That was a close call!” Rohan stated before hearing a loud bang, making both of them turn around in the water. Suddenly a mid-size freighter was behind them and had been struck by the teeth, making a hole in one of its containers. “When did that get there?!” Rohan said confused, starting to be completely done with this ruckus. “Fuck, it’s leaking oil!” Jotaro observed as the container started to gush out oil and knowing this was quite a catastrophe for the ocean he acted quickly, “Za Warudo!” Time stopped and Jotaro made his way towards the freighter as fast as he could, then making Star Platinum take a deep breath out before time reached its limit and resumed. Star Platinum started to suck up all the oil that made its way into the water, but it gushed out more than Star Platinum could contain. Rohan swam towards the boat as fast as he could, observing the oil leaking out and Star Platinum sucking in, all while being worried about Scylla and Charybdis which seemed to recharge for another attack by regrowing teeth, “What should I do?!” he panicked in his head to himself, when suddenly something unexpected happened at the freighter. “ARI ARI ARI ARI ARI ARI ARIIIIIII!” a barrage of punches were launched at the holes in the oil container, proceeded by the sound of several huge zippers showing up to cover up the holes. “Is that?! A Stand?!” both Rohan and Jotaro said in unison, as they saw a blue and grey Stand covered in zippers standing on the boat in front of the now-fixed container. “Is it an enemy?” Rohan said worried, looking for a Stand user. “No.. Look at the boat's name and flag. It’s not from here,” Jotaro pointed at the boat's name, Quattro Stagioni, and its Italian flag. Then a man with black hair wearing white clothes with an excessive amount of zippers showed up. “He must be an Italian Stand user! What are the odds!” Rohan gasped, Or a Final Fantasy character... he then thought to himself. Jotaro sighed, “I don’t speak Italian.” “Now you do!” Rohan quickly replied, “Heavens Door!” and wrote upon Jotaro that he can now speak Italian. Certo che lo faccio… Jotaro though and sighed, “Hey you, zipper guy! We’re Stand users under attack and that attack to your ship was caused by two starfish Stand users that we’re trying to immobilize!” he tried to summarize the situation as fast as he could, with the risk of sounding like a lunatic. The man on the boat looked down at them and then into the water behind them, seeing a faint radiance of Stand energy in the water below them. He stood quietly for a moment. Shit, maybe he doesn’t actually speak Italian! Rohan thought, giving himself a wet facepalm on his already very wet face. “… Japan… What a bizarre country,” the Italian man said and took a step up on the boats reeling and then jumped down towards the water, “I’ll make short work of this. Sticky Fingers!” His Stand appeared and punched the water’s surface making a huge zipper that the man disappear into, zipping it closed. “What kind of weird power is that?” Jotaro said curiously as if it was way more bizarre than anything else he had seen which was a real overstatement since he had fought a rat with a cannon launcher just a few weeks ago, “Let’s dive,” he said to Rohan and the both of them dove underwater again. They saw Scylla and Charybdis waiting idly a bit away, it seemed they could not get too close to the surface but with their targets back they proceeded towards Jotaro and Rohan, ready to launch another barrage of teeth. But before they even got close, a huge zipper showed up beneath the moving rocks with the starfish. The Italian man climbed out of it with his Stand, fists raised. His eyes were filled with cold determination, “Arrivederci!” it took two punches at the starfishes and the both of them were cleaved with a zipper each going through them, making their Stands disappear back into their bodies. The Italian man caught the rocks with the unzipped starfish and made his way to the surface. Jotaro and Rohan nodded to each other and also made their way back up. “Meet me on the boat,” the Italian man said and swam towards the freighter, followed by Jotaro and Rohan.

#jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #fanfic #jjba fanfic #jjba diu #jjba part 4 #jotaro #Rohan Kishibe #bruno bucciarati #jjba part 5 #vento aureo #Diamond is Unbreakable

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thetakenpokemon · 7 years ago

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FtV - Mission Briefing Transcript

TYPE: Transcript SOURCE: Guardian Ship, Flight to Venus DESCRIPTION: Mission Briefing PARTIES: Three, One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter - Cayde-6 [C6] - Vanguard Mentor; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Titan [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2] ASSOCIATION: Vanguard; Guardian; Cayde-6; Hunter; Titan; Mission; Venus; Taken

//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE// //TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS//

[C6.01] Alright, this is going to be a mission briefing since apparently Zavala said I need to do this more often. [u.1.01] From what I’ve heard, you didn’t inform the last two fireteams on the Taken threat when you sent them out. [C6.02] How was I supposed to know that they lived under a rock? The news of the Taken are all over the place, everyone and their mother know about them and what they do. [u.2.01] I didn’t read much into the Taken until recently. [C6.03] Oh really? Quick question. [C6.04] Do you happen to live with a pink starfish by any chance? [silence] [u.1.02] The mission briefing…? [C6.05] Fine, sheesh. You folks really need to join Ikora and Zavala’s ‘No Humor Club’ after you both are done with this. [C6.06] ANYWAYS! [C6.07] The mission is gonna be simple, we got some leftover Taken crawling around in the Ishtar Sink. One of our best took out the Echo of Oryx there, so you two have some clean-up duty. [u.2.02] Wait, is this the same Guardian that killed Oryx by themselves? [C6.08] Yeah, that’s the one. Although they technically ‘rebuked’ him, something about Ascendant Hive can’t be killed outside their man-cave. [u.1.03] Throne World. [C6.09] Yeah, what he said. The Guardian was also however in the Fireteam that raided Oryx’s man-cave and killed him there, so he did kinda kill Oryx twice. [u.2.03] Ah, now I see. [silence] [C6.09] So! Back on topic. Cleanup duty! [C6.10] It looks like they’re mainly clustering around the Ishtar Collective, the Golden Age university place thing. [u.1.04] We know what that is, Cayde. [C6.11] I know you do, but I was checking to see if the gal knew. [u.2.04] Hey! I’m not that oblivious! [u.1.05] Actually…you kinda are. [C6.12] Does this mean I need to explain how to use a gun as well? [u.2.05] The hell? I- [laughter] [u.2.06] You both fucking suck. [C6.13] Hey, watch your damn language missy. [silence] [coughing noise] [u.1.06] So, just clean up whatever Taken is left? [C6.14] Yeah, nothing too difficult. Think of it as duck hunting. [C6.15] But with instead of ducks, they’re corrupted space aliens and robots who kill you with super powers. [u.1.07] …Noted. [C6.16] Actually, I just remembered something. [C6.17] The Taken have someone leading them in the Ishtar. [C6.18] It’s a powerful Taken, a Fallen Captain by the name of Kolviks. He’s very big, so you shouldn’t be able to miss him. [C6.19] So he’s going to need to be your priority. If you kill him, the rest will be disorganized and be easy pickings. That or they run away, either way it’ll be easy after that. [silence] [u.2.07] It’s…a good thing you remembered to tell us that. [u.1.08] That’s definitely not ‘clean-up’ duty Cayde, it sounds more like a Search and Destroy mission. [C6.20] Hey, you wanna do my job? You can take over my mentor duties and I’ll be out there shooting. [u.1.09] Fine, whatever. We’ll find Kolviks and kill him, that and any other Taken we find on the way. [u.2.08] I always wanted to try my weapon out on these things, the Taken should make good target practice. [C6.21] Do whatever you two like, just make sure to come back in one piece. [C6.22] Also I wasn’t kidding about you doing my job. I’m sure Zavala and Ikora wouldn’t notice with you in my place. [u.1.10] Cayde. [u.1.11] I’m a Human Titan. You’re an Exo Hunter. [C6.23] Yeah, that’s true. Not to mention they might actually like you, that’d make things very suspicious. [C6.24] Heh, was worth a shot. But YOU on the other hand- [u.2.09] Not happening. [C6.25] Sheesh, fine. [silence] [C6.26] As your Ghosts have already told you, you’ll be arriving soon. [C6.27] Keep in mind, the most effective way to kill a Taken is a blow right to the head. A bullet or a strong punch should do, that or simply use your flashy powers. [C6.28] Because the best way to kill something is to aim for the head, the Taken are no different. [u.1.12] Cayde, I already- [C6.29] Ahem. [silence] [u.1.13] Ah yes, now I remember. [u.2.10] I am going to kill you both. [C6.30] Another question. Do you happen to know Eris Morn? You sound almost exactly like her after you tell her a funny joke. [silence] [C6.31] Oh look! It appears that you both arrived! I’ll be watching you through the feed, so now get out there and hunt some killer alien space monster ducks! [C6.32] That and Kolviks, he’s gonna be a big duck so be sure to have your rifles ready. [u.2.11] I’m using a Hand Cannon, not a rifle. [C6.33] What did you say? Sorry, can’t hear you over the lack of rifle gunshots! [incoherent swearing]

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#fromtheveil #taken #plot

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readbookywooks · 8 years ago

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This is the bright candlelit room where the life-timers are stored – shelf upon shelf of them, squat hourglasses, one for every living person, pouring their fine sand from the future into the past. The accumulated hiss of the falling grains makes the room roar like the sea. This is the owner of the room, stalking through it with a preoccupied air. His name is Death. But not any Death. This is the Death whose particular sphere of operations is, well, not a sphere at all, but the Discworld, which is flat and rides on the back of four giant elephants who stand on the shell of the enormous star turtle Great A'Tuin, and which is bounded by a waterfall that cascades endlessly into space. Scientists have calculated that the chance of anything so patently absurd actually existing are millions to one. But magicians have calculated that million-to-one chances crop up nine times out of ten. Death clicks across the black and white tiled floor on toes of bone, muttering inside his cowl as his skeletal fingers count along the rows of busy hourglasses. Finally he finds one that seems to satisfy him, lifts it carefully from its shelf and carries it across to the nearest candle. He holds it so that the light lints off it, and stares at the little point of reflected brilliance. The steady gaze from those twinkling eye-sockets encompasses the world turtle, sculling through the deeps of space, carapace scarred by comets and pitted by meteors. One day even Great A'Tuin will die, Death knows; now, that would be a challenge. But the focus of his gaze dives onwards towards the blue-green magnificence of the Disc itself, turning slowly under its tiny orbiting sun. Now it curves away towards the great mountain range called the Ramtops. The Ramtops are full of deep valleys and unexpected crags and considerably more geography than they know what to do with. They have their own peculiar weather, full of shrapnel rain and whiplash winds and permanent thunder-storms. Some people say it's all because the Ramtops are the home of old, wild magic. Mind you, some people will say anything. Death blinks, adjusts for depth of vision. Now he sees the grassy country on the turnwise slopes of the mountains. Now he sees a particular hillside. Now he sees a field. Now he sees a boy, running. Now he watches. Now, in a voice like lead slabs being dropped on granite, he says: YES. There was no doubt that there was something magical in the soil of that hilly, broken area which – because of the strange tint that it gave to the local flora – was known as the octarine grass country. For example, it was one of the few places on the Disc where plants produced reannual varieties. Reannuals are plants that grow backwards in time. You sow the seed this year and they grow last year. Mort's family specialised in distilling the wine from reannual grapes. These were very powerful and much sought after by fortune-tellers, since of course they enabled them to see the future. The only snag was that you got the hangover the morning before, and had to drink a lot to get over it. Reannual growers tended to be big, serious men, much given to introspection and close examination of the calendar. A farmer who neglects to sow ordinary seeds only loses the crop, whereas anyone who forgets to sow seeds of a crop that has already been harvested twelve months before risks disturbing the entire fabric of causality, not to mention acute embarrassment. It was also acutely embarrassing to Mort's family that the youngest son was not at all serious and had about the same talent for horticulture that you would find in a dead starfish. It wasn't that he was unhelpful, but he had the land of vague, cheerful helpfulness that serious men soon learn to dread. There was something infectious, possibly even fatal, about it. He was tall, red-haired and freckled, with the sort of body that seems to be only marginally under its owner's control; it appeared to have been built out of knees. On this particular day it was hurtling across the high fields, waving its hands and yelling. Mort's father and uncle watched it disconsolately from the stone wall. 'What I don't understand,' said father Lezek, 'is that the birds don't even fly away. I'd fly away, if I saw it coining towards me.' 'Ah. The human body's a wonderful thing. I mean, his legs go all over the place but there's a fair turn of speed there.' Mort reached the end of a furrow. An overfull woodpigeon lurched slowly out of his way. 'His heart's in the right place, mind,' said Lezek, carefully. 'Ah. 'Course, 'tis the rest of him that isn't.' 'He's clean about the house. Doesn't eat much,' said Lezek. 'No, I can see that.' Lezek looked sideways at his brother, who was staring fixedly at the sky. 'I did hear you'd got a place going up at your farm, Hamesh,' he said. 'Ah. Got an apprentice in, didn't I?' 'Ah,' said Lezek gloomily, 'when was that, then?' 'Yesterday,' said his brother, lying with rattlesnake speed. 'All signed and sealed. Sorry. Look, I got nothing against young Mort, see, he's as nice a boy as you could wish to meet, it's just that —' 'I know, I know,' said Lezek. 'He couldn't find his arse with both hands.' They stared at the distant figure. It had fallen over. Some pigeons had waddled over to inspect it. 'He's not stupid, mind,' said Hamesh. 'Not what you'd call stupid.' 'There's a brain there all right,' Lezek conceded. 'Sometimes he starts thinking so hard you has to hit him round the head to get his attention. His granny taught him to read, see. I reckon it overheated his mind.' Mort had got up and tripped over his robe. 'You ought to set him to a trade,' said Hamesh, reflectively. 'The priesthood, maybe. Or wizardry. They do a lot of reading, wizards.' They looked at each other. Into both their minds stole an inkling of what Mort might be capable of if he got his well-meaning hands on a book of magic. 'All right,' said Hamesh hurriedly. 'Something else, then. There must be lots of things he could turn his hand to.' 'He starts thinking too much, that's the trouble,' said Lezek. 'Look at him now. You don't think about how to scare birds, you just does it. A normal boy, I mean.' Hamesh scratched his chin thoughtfully. 'It could be someone else's problem,' he said. Lezek's expression did not alter, but there was a subtle change around his eyes. 'How do you mean?' he said. 'There's the hiring fair at Sheepridge next week. You set him as a prentice, see, and his new master'll have the job of knocking him into shape. 'Tis the law. Get him indentured, and 'tis binding.' Lezek looked across the field at his son, who was examining a rock. 'I wouldn't want anything to happen to him, mind,' he said doubtfully. 'We're quite fond of him, his mother and me. You get used to people.' 'It'd be for his own good, you'll see. Make a man of him.' 'Ah. Well. There's certainly plenty of raw material,' sighed Lezek. Mort was getting interested in the rock. It had curly shells in it, relics of the early days of the world when the Creator had made creatures out of stone, no-one knew why. Mort was interested in lots of things. Why people's teeth fitted together so neatly, for example. He'd given that one a lot of thought. Then there was the puzzle of why the sun came out during the day, instead of at night when the light would come in useful. He knew the standard explanation, which somehow didn't seem satisfying. In short, Mort was one of those people who are more dangerous than a bag full of rattlesnakes. He was determined to discover the underlying logic behind the universe. Which was going to be hard, because there wasn't one. The Creator had a lot of remarkably good ideas when he put the world together, but making it understandable hadn't been one of them. Tragic heroes always moan when the gods take an interest in them, but it's the people the gods ignore who get the really tough deals. His father was yelling at him, as usual. Mort threw the rock at a pigeon, which was almost too full to lurch out of the way, and wandered back across the field. And that was why Mort and his father walked down through the mountains into Sheepridge on Hogswatch Eve, with Mort's rather sparse possessions in a sack on the back of a donkey. The town wasn't much more than four sides to a cobbled square, lined with shops that provided all the service industry of the farming community. After five minutes Mort came out of the tailors wearing a loose fitting brown garment of imprecise function, which had been understandably unclaimed by a previous owner and had plenty of room for him to grow, on the assumption that he would grow into a nineteen-legged elephant. His father regarded him critically. 'Very nice,' he said, 'for the money.' 'It itches,' said Mort. 'I think there's things in here with me.' There's thousands of lads in the world'd be very thankful for a nice warm —' Lezek paused, and gave up – 'garment like that, my lad.' 'I could share it with them?' Mort said hopefully. 'You've got to look smart,' said Lezek severely. 'You've got to make an impression, stand out in the crowd.' There was no doubt about it. He would. They set out among the throng crowding the square, each listening to his own thoughts. Usually Mort enjoyed visiting the town, with its cosmopolitan atmosphere and strange dialects from villages as far away as five, even ten miles, but this time he felt unpleasantly apprehensive, as if he could remember something that hadn't happened yet. The fair seemed to work like this: men looking for work stood in ragged lines in the centre of the square. Many of them sported little symbols in their hats to tell the world the kind of work they were trained in – shepherds wore a wisp of wool, carters a hank of horsehair, interior decorators a strip of rather interesting hessian wallcovering, and so on. The boys seeking apprenticeships were clustered on the Hub side of the square. 'You just go and stand there, and someone comes and offers you an apprenticeship,' said Lezek, his voice trimmed with uncertainty. 'If they like the look of you, that is.' 'How do they do that?' said Mort. 'Well,' said Lezek, and paused. Hamesh hadn't explained about this bit. He drew on his limited knowledge of the marketplace, which was restricted to livestock sales, and ventured, 'I suppose they count your teeth and that. And make sure you don't wheeze and your feet are all right. I shouldn't let on about the reading, it unsettles people.' 'And then what?' said Mort. 'Then you go and learn a trade,' said Lezek. 'What trade in particular?' 'Well . . . carpentry is a good one,' Lezek hazarded. 'Or thievery. Someone's got to do it.' Mort looked at his feet. He was a dutiful son, when he remembered, and if being an apprentice was what was expected of him then he was determined to be a good one. Carpentry didn't sound very promising, though – wood had a stubborn life of its own, and a tendency to split. And official thieves were rare in the Ramtops, where people weren't rich enough to afford them. 'All right,' he said eventually, 'I'll go and give it a try. But what happens if I don't get prenticed?' Lezek scratched his head. 'I don't know,' he said. 'I expect you just wait until the end of the fair. At midnight. I suppose.' And now midnight approached. A light frost began to crisp the cobblestones. In the ornamental clock tower that overlooked the square a couple of delicately-carved little automatons whirred out of trapdoors in the clockface and struck the quarter hour. Fifteen minutes to midnight. Mort shivered, but the crimson fires of shame and stubbornness flared up inside him, hotter than the slopes of Hell. He blew on his fingers for something to do and stared up at the freezing sky, trying to avoid the stares of the few stragglers among what remained of the fair.

#Mort

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