#as i eat chocolate i think of the words to describe it: rich smooth and deep with sweet-salt caramel tang

[cinnamon-roll-whump]

Really really love how sensory this community is

Like, I know non-whump stories do this too, but I notice it so much with whump stories and non-whump stories by whump writers. How sensory everything is-- the first word I thought of was "sensual", by the way, but that has rather the wrong connotation for what I mean.

Sight is easy to describe, people see things all the time and barely notice, and often sounds fade into the background. But when a writer describes the copper tang of blood in the whumpee's mouth, how they can feel their hair matted and plastered to their neck with sweat, five different words just to describe the sweetness of the cake Caretaker gives them, the first kindness in years, or the clean, sweet scent of the air when they're allowed outside, the grain of wood or cool, rough stone under their fingertips, the cool pressure of a blade on their skin, not quite breaking through...

It brings you so solidly, viscerally into the story, grounds you there, holds you attention and captures your heart.

It's wonderful.

[red-writes]

Career oriented 

Escort! Bakugou x Reader

Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot      of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first. 

cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)

a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.

The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you. 

While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.

 A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.

“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg. 

“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.

“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin. 

“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore. 

Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club” 

Momo giggles, “You're still with him?” 

His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm. 

“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up

“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”

You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.

“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right? 

Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”

“Certainly ma'am” 

+

You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort. 

You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy. 

His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.

Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try. 

+

You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified. 

Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.

Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest. 

“S-So..What- um..-”

“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous. 

“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally. 

He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be” 

You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.

“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.

“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date. 

“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin. 

You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead. 

“Okay, I have an idea” 

You cock your head to the side curiously.

“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again. 

“What do you say?”

“Alright!” 

+

The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work. 

Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.

“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.

“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.

“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake. 

“No, just realized somethin’” 

The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?” 

He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face. 

“You look pretty when you're having fun” 

A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other. 

“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed. 

+

Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,

‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged. 

After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?

Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax. 

You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was. 

The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road. 

You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face. 

+

Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.

You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming. 

“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.

“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.

“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together. 

“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile

“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.

“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer. 

When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.

“Check, please”

+

Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and  laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were.  He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside. 

The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you. 

His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.

“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move. 

“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”

With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you. 

When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head. 

“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips. 

“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs

“You asked for this”

You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls  greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time. 

You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.

“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy. 

He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest. 

He whistles, “Nice place”

“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.

“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.

“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it. 

“That’s my hard working girl” 

you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment. 

“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.

“Yes, if you want” 

“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“Goodnight love” 

“Night Kats..”

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Together, We’re Just Better Off

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my “new look” bingo square fill for @starkerfestivals January event - I love the look of Tom in a nice suit & just kind of went from there!  Word Count: ~4.7K Warnings: This is strictly NSFW (there be smut ahead, y’all!) Summary: 

For this year's Parker Tech silent auction, Peter decides to get a custom suit made - the result is a randy Tony and porn without much plot.

Read on AO3 here.

Tony was in trouble.

There was no other way to describe the feeling in his chest when Peter walked down the stairs after two hours of secretive getting ready for the annual Parker Tech silent auction.

Standing on the last stair, Peter looked – obscenely sexy. The brand new, custom made, charcoal colored suit hugged every line of his husband’s body in a way that shouldn’t be legal. The cut of the pants made his slim legs look miles long, the snug fit of the jacket tapering off just right at the cusp of narrow hips. Adding the slightest dash of color, Peter paired the grey suit with a dark green button up, the top two buttons undone – the slightest flash of smooth chest the penultimate addition to the entire outfit.

The dark color of the shirt brought out Peter’s eyes, and when he looked up, the most confident facial expression sat on blush painted cheeks. It took Tony a second to remember to breath, their eyes meeting with a spark of electricity that felt tangible in the few feet of space between them. The need to eat Peter alive sat low in Tony’s belly, the muscles in his legs loading up in desperate preparation to pounce – the tantalizing idea of Peter under him in that very second almost enough to beat out the rest of his higher brain function.

Shaking his head, a millisecond before he acted on his animal instinct, Tony brought himself back from the cusp of ruining Peter’s tailored made suit – but only just barely. His fist clenched tight at his side, the delicate throb of his half-hard cock against the seam of his own suit pants just enough stimulus to keep him grounded.

Instead of pouncing, Tony took measured steps towards Peter – the space between them narrowing down to inches. When finally within touching distance, Tony reached out to rest his hands on Peter’s hip, the soft fabric of the delicious suit as lovely as the aesthetic it portrayed. Gripping slightly, Tony tugged until they were pressed flush together, Peter’s chest warm and firm against his own.

“If you had any idea what I wanted to do to you right now, Pete.” Tony whispered, his lips pressing against Peter’s ear, breath brushing against the smooth skin there. “It shouldn’t be possible – you looking this fucking good. How am I supposed to focus tonight? Or get anything done?” He peppered kisses down Peter’s jaw and neck as he spoke, goosebumps following in his wake.

“I’ll have Obie following me around all night, desperately attempting to get my attention – but I won’t be able to focus. Not when I’ll be able to look across the room and see your ass so delightfully encased in pants that are so sinful; so fucking distracting, Peter – even now.” Tony drew back then, his lips finally finding Peter’s for a softly teasing kiss – “who do you think you are?”

The chuckle against his lips made the heat in Tony’s belly burn a little hotter – Peter knew the exact effect he was having, the knowledge of being not only attractive, but dangerously so, giving the younger man a sort of fuel that stoked a different kind of fire. Already the smartest person in the room, Peter armed with anything extraneous at all was frighteningly perilous. His aura spoke of curiosity and excitement, a cocktail of things that always proved interesting for Tony – especially in such a public setting.

Peter drew away after a minute, there kisses settling down to just the barest press of lip on lip. “I know exactly who I am, Tony Parker – your husband, the very one who will be teasing you to within an inch of your life while we play nice. The one who, when we can finally sneak away from our own event, will let you strip me down, piece by piece, until there’s bare canvas for you to do whatever you wish with.”

Kissing his forehead, Peter let his lips rest there, each gust of warm air making Tony’s skin tingle. “That’s who I am.”

Tony let a groan fall from his lips, every one of Peter’s words caressing his skin with liquid fire, only to settle in the depths of his belly where the boiling pit of heat was steadily gaining height – the prospect of combustion a real threat.

He grabbed one of Peter’s hands where they took up residence on Tony’s shoulders, his fingers tight on a pale wrist. Bringing it down between them, Tony brushed Peter’s knuckles against the already insistent bulge there – both men sucking in a breath at first contact. “You’re going to kill me. Death by unresolved want.”

Peter wiggled his hand until he could turn it around, his palm all of the sudden pressing hotly against Tony’s cock. “Just be good, Tony. I’ll let you have what we both want.”

Letting their lips touch ever so slightly, Peter gave Tony one more squeeze before pulling away, the space between them once again huge – every inch feeling like a million miles apart.

Tony felt Peter’s eyes roam over him, the rich chocolate of them almost entirely taken over by blown pupils, making his stare dark and inviting. Every inch was taken in, from the fine Italian leather shoes on his feet to the purposefully done bed-head hairdo at the top of his head. The gaze made him stand a little straighter, Tony’s cheeks reddening with a flush he couldn’t push down.

“You look pretty damn good yourself. Love the all black on you.” Peter seemed to want to take a step back into his orbit but thought better of it – his hands slipped into tight pockets, feet shifting, instead. “Getting through the night might be a challenge for us both.”

And it was – if the leering stares and hidden touches were anything to go by. Having gone into business together as equal partners after their first year of marriage, both Tony and Peter were in high demand; everyone wanted to speak with the brains behind the operation. Tony spearheaded the design elements, while Peter manufactured and created all of the brilliance that came from Tony’s ideas – which usually meant both were detained in their own conversations throughout a good majority of every event.

Yet, for some reason, the space between them seemed even bigger than usual. Tony’s fingers ached to press against Peter’s lower back, his skin burning with need. When he couldn’t see Peter in any direction, Tony’s brain wandered to the perfect rendition of Peter’s silhouette in his thoughts – the visual so very distracting. So distracting in fact, Tony found himself unable to really follow any of the conversations he attempted to be immersed in. In all ways, Peter owned him; his entire body so wrapped up it was impossible to focus.

Any time he could, Tony circled back to Peter, their bodies pressing tightly against each other each time he felt the need to approach. Though the encounters were always brief before one of them got swept away by someone else needing to talk to them about some sort of bull shit, Tony felt able to catch his breath and refocus – as if Peter’s touch was his grounding force, a simple moment of contact just enough to refresh him for the minutes to come.

Despite the dynamic tension between them growing with every second, the event went off pretty swimmingly. Most of the things up for auction were donated by people within the crowd (who would unsurprisingly bid on their own junk, just because they could). The alcohol flowed nicely, each guest spending most of the evening with never-ending champagne in their hands and the slightest bit of rose tint on their cheeks from the constant drinking. Items sold, speeches were made, and money was collected – a through and through success.

When neither could stand it any longer, Tony made a couple of excuses before grabbing Peter and making a hasty exit. Warm fingers slid into the gaps of his own, Peter squeezing the digits in an attempt to make the touch a little closer – anything to make the connection between them more solid.

In leaving early, Tony decided to leave the Audi with the parking attendants, the two of them stumbling home hand-in-hand – the crisp, cool night air dulling the fire building between them down just enough to actually get back to the penthouse without any public indecency charges. It pushed the control of their patience, letting their hands and the occasional brush of their sides be the only point of contact until they got into the bedroom; but when Peter started to strip without a word being said, Tony knew it was worth it.

Shrugging out of his suit jacket, Tony sat at the edge of their bed, his fingers distractedly undoing the buttons of his shirt – his hazel eyes laser focused on Peter’s movements. As each piece of gorgeously tailored clothing hit the floor, Tony’s anticipation and want skyrocketed, his cock hard as nails before Peter’s pants were completely undone – the fly just barely down enough to reveal the answering bulge of want.

Tony managed to get his shirt off before attempting to get off the bed and reach for Peter. His husband shut down the move pretty quickly, however, his brows quirking as he spoke. “Mm, I don’t think so. Just sit there, Tones – watch me.”

Unable to do anything other than what was asked of him, Tony quickly shed his shoes and socks, pants following along a few seconds later. Down to just his boxer-briefs, Tony let himself lean back and watch the rest of the reveal – his plan of attack starting to culminate with each new inch of bare skin on display. His fingers itched to touch; the feeling of what Tony knew to be completely smooth skin something he felt starving for.

Before he could fathom it, Tony found himself with a lapful of Peter Parker, his husband now completely naked – the strong thighs straddling him squeezing as calloused hands moved to grip slim hips. Too distracted by pale skin, he wasn’t quite ready for the real thing so suddenly thrust upon him. Tony’s cock throbbed with want as Peter settled firmly on his legs, his cock nestled so nicely against the crease of Peter’s ass.

Wrapping his arms around Peter’s hips, Tony pressed up and forward, his lips seeking out the warm expanse of flesh. He nestled his nose in the slope of Peter’s clavicle, tongue peeking out to trace the sharp bone. As he worked his mouth along traps and up the length of Peter’s neck, Tony let his hands trail along hard planes of muscle, the tips of his fingers tracing the light dusting of hair coating Peter’s pale skin.

Peter worked his hips teasing over Tony’s cock as he let his husband take his fill – the slide of his boxer-briefs against an over-sensitive cock drawing long moans from Tony’s chest each time he let himself come up for air. The motion was hypnotizing, the tease of Peter’s warm hole like a siren calling his name.

Not willing to wait any longer, Tony grabbed under Peter’s thighs, hefting him up enough to turn and switch their positions – Peter’s legs splayed open wide when he hit the bed, the space there quickly occupied by the length of Tony’s body. Before getting comfortable in the warm press of their bodies against each other, Tony wiggled out of his boxer-briefs until they were finally skin to skin, both parties stark naked and eager for what was to come next.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were panted breaths and the slick suction of lip against lip or lip against skin. Tony trailed his tongue from the small divot between Peter’s collar bones, down along rippling six pack abs until he reached his destination – an excited cock pressing against his chin upon arrival. He let the tip of his tongue fall into the crevice of a deep belly button before finally peeking out to lick across the purpling tip of Peter’s already leaking cock. The bitter saltiness of pre-cum made his mouth water, Tony’s lips opening just enough to suck and tongue up the leakage.

Strong fingers found their way into Tony’s hair, Peter’s hips rising in hopes of getting more of his length inside the wet warmth of a talented mouth. Reaching up, Tony gripped Peter’s hand, his fingers signaling the other man to grab on a little tighter. With a sudden burst of energy, Tony opened wide, taking the entire length of Peter’s cock into his mouth, only stopping when the tip hit the back of his throat. After the initial reflex to gag passed, his throat relaxed enough for Tony to comfortably start bobbing his head.

“Fuck, Tony – you always surprise me with that move,” Peter panted out, his fingers loosening and tightening rhythmically in Tony’s hair with every move and bob of his head. “You suck my cock so well, baby.”

As if he were highlighting his words, Peter let his hips come up off the bed, the move pressing his cock even further down Tony’s throat. Giving no sign of resistance, Tony tried to relax further, his hands that were grasping Peter’s hips tightly slipped down until both ass cheeks fit within the palm of his hands – his fingers gripping until Peter caught the drift and started to thrust.

It started out gradually, Peter moving into his mouth with the smallest of thrusts. Tightening his mouth around the rigid length, Tony brought his eyes up, the honey hazel of his stare meeting chocolate brown of Peter’s. The silent conversation that took place spoke volumes, and within minutes, Peter was recklessly pressing his cock in and out of the depth of Tony’s throat – the gags and moans of their push and pull echoing around the otherwise silent room. Hearing it made the heat in Tony’s belly simmer hotter, his cock hard and sticky against his own stomach.

With every intention to get Peter off before the fun really began, Tony redoubled his efforts – the rawness of his throat making it easy to take thrust after thrust. His own hips pressed down against the mattress, the slightest bit of friction just enough to keep Tony from going completely crazy because of the heart rushing arousal continuously pulsing through him. His body felt like it was on fire – the throb and growth of Peter’s cock in his mouth the biggest catalyst to the coursing desire.

By the time Peter’s fingers were tightening in his hair, Tony’s mouth was red and abused, spit dripping down his chin and neck readily – any sort of residual embarrassment gone; Tony’s only thought revolving around making his husband cum as soon as possible. With every second that past, Peter’s huffs of breath got a little quicker, the pitch reaching a new height the closer to orgasm he got.

“Jesus, fuck – I’m going to come, Tony. I can’t – I can’t…” Peter babbled, his hips stuttering in their thrusts, the fingers in Tony’s hair tight, each strand so close to being yanked out by the root. His final gurgle brought a sound from Tony’s chest, the noise spit slick and muddled. With a final thrust, Peter fell apart, his loud shout like the sweetest music.

Letting him settle, Tony kept his mouth around Peter until his husband was pulling away, his spent cock pulsing from the oversensitivity. He shifted away then, Tony sitting up slightly to pull in several deep breaths, his jaw tight and tired from being open and extended for so long. The lactic acid already starting to accumulate there was worth it, Peter’s fucked-out look sending a whole new wave to Tony’s center.

“You should turn over,” Tony mumbled as his hand tapped at Peter’s hip – the man already moving to oblige before all the words were out of his mouth. Peter looked so damn good that way – his weight equally distributed between forearms and knees, pert ass spread and on display. With no hesitation at all, Tony pressed his nose to Peter’s crease, his lungs drawing in a deep breath – the scent and sensation forcing his eyes closed. Here soon, Tony would be buried deep within that delicate heat. His cock would be encased so perfectly, like every inch of Peter was made for him, not just his beautiful brain and intricate personality.

He caught Peter looking back over his shoulder, glazed eyes taking in every one of Tony’s movements. A soft smile graced his lips, the laziness of post-orgasm making him that much more beautiful.

“Hurry, Tones – I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.” Thrusting his hips back, Peter spread his legs a little wider, the soft pink of his hole enticing; the view upping the ante.

Impatient to once again exist within Peter’s tight heat, Tony dragged the bedside table drawer open, his fingers hastily wrapping around the half-used bottle of lube. He settled back between Peter’s legs, the bottle resting against his knee while he used both hands to spread pert cheeks. His tongue darted out, the tip brushing against the furled muscle.

Peter shouted out a moan, the slick heat of Tony’s tongue causing him to press his hips back, the move a desperate attempt to get more of him; tongue, teeth, fingers – whatever Tony wanted to give.

The earlier thought of eating Peter alive came back tenfold, each pass of his tongue bringing the musky taste of his husband’s most private place to the forefront of his attention. It felt good to consume Peter’s very essence. There were so many ways Tony’s couldn’t possess every inch of him that times like this were fucking intoxicating; every inch of Peter’s body called out to him, Tony’s touches an irresistible stimulus that neither wanted to ever give up. If he couldn’t have him all the time, Tony would cherish the hell out of the times he could.

Fumbling blindly for the bottle of lube, Tony lapped at Peter’s hole distractedly, his hands working hard to get the tube open and the slick on his fingers. The lube was cold on his molten skin – runny liquid warming up quickly up contact. It felt absurd to give up his mouth’s position, the tightness of Peter’s hole around his eager tongue delicious but never enough. Yet, the desperate urge to finally be buried inside spurred Tony into action – he shifted slightly then, the tip of his index finger joining Tony’s tongue in deep exploration.

Slowly, like he was trying to remember every ripple and crevice, Tony ran his finger around Peter’s rim, his tongue following in swift pursuit. He did that a couple of times, feeling with a certain kind of awe, as Peter loosen under his ministrations. Little by little, the tip of his finger slipped inside, Tony only stopping when the webbing of his finger hindered his movement.

Intimacy with Peter, despite how many times they came together in that very way, always felt like a brand-new experience. In his rapture, Peter would make a new noise, or tighten in a spot that Tony couldn’t remember being affected by. It shouldn’t have surprised him then, when Peter pressed back into the sensation, the greedy muscle of his ass pulling Tony in further – anatomical limitation be damned. Groaning, Tony finally shifted his face away, his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen consumption – when he was focused on the delicacy that was Peter’s ass, oxygen was the furthest from his mind.

The shift in position gave Tony a little more leverage. Within a few thrusts, Tony found Peter’s prostate, the tip of his finger running teasingly over the spot before withdrawing in hopes of repeating the process all over again. He moved into the teasing rhythm, the flutter of Peter’s hole a few minutes later the only thing reminding him to add another.

Little by little, Tony felt Peter relax around him – his cock was thick and full again, the length hard and dragging against the sheet below them. Each thrust forward or spread of his fingers to the side drew a loud huff from one of them, both men making enough noise to make it hard to decipher where one sound ended and the other began.

Three fingers deep and both reaching incoherency, Peter seemed to be just cognizant enough to push them towards the next step – his hand reached back, gripping on to Tony’s forearm. “That’s enough – I need you in me. I can’t wait, anymore.”

Letting a groan fall from his throat, Tony nodded – the capacity to form words leaving him in an instant. He forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths, his entire body was on fire and every minute shift felt like a sharp tilt to the universe – Tony already so far off his own axis.

Tony sat up on his heels after pulling his fingers from Peter’s heat, his hands shaking slightly as he opened the lube again. He poured the cool slick directly on his cock – the sudden change in stimulus calming him down, bringing him back to Earth’s surface where he could actually focus on finally sliding home.

His hand wrapped around himself, Tony gripping his cock as lightly as he could while spreading the lube around, each touch like a cattle prod to the heat so close to overwhelming him.

“How do you want me?” Tony thought to ask, his hand falling by his side to stop himself from stroking the throbbing length.

Without answering, Peter turned until he was sitting, his hands wrapping around Tony’s chest. In a quick move, Tony was on his back, the wetness of pre-cum and lube collected on the sheets rubbing against his bare skin. The feeling of it made his skin pebble, the rush of arousal getting to be too much.

Peter grinned down at him – his muscled legs bracketed Tony’s hips, a steady hand reaching behind himself to grip Tony tightly. Strong fingers wrapped around his cock, the electric pulse of Peter touching him magnifying the effect of sweet contact to his neglected sex. Another low moan sounded from his chest, the sight of Peter over him and the touch of his husband’s skin driving him up the fucking wall.

“Pete, please – “ Tony started to moan just seconds before Peter gripped him tightly.

Shifting, Peter moved until Tony was lined up perfectly, the loosened heat of Peter’s rim teasing him with little twitches and enticing heat. One small move and Tony would be buried in delicious tightness, Peter’s warm walls welcoming him home like a solider home from battle.

He couldn’t recall who finally made the shift, the initial connection too good to really give two shits about rational thought – all Tony could think about in that moment was the swift slide of his cock into Peter’s depth; the heat and affectionate feeling all consuming. He shouted Peter’s name as they fit together – each inch inside like another step to the most gratuitous pleasure. Gripping Peter’s hips tightly, Tony slammed his eyes shut – his stomach clenching.

“Fuck – don’t move. I-I – I need a minute.” Tony forced a harsh breath from his lungs, the grip of his fingers tightening with every ounce of fight needed to keep from falling over the edge.

Tony tried to keep his breathing level, the heat in his belly cooling down as his heart slowed – though he wasn’t going to last long, he felt in control enough to actually enjoy whatever happened next.

The soft brush of fingers along the length of his face had Tony finally looking up, hazel meeting brown in a soft glance. “You’re beautiful like this. Fighting for control – steps away from your most vulnerable.” Peter started to roll his hips as he spoke, the soft caresses to Tony’s cheek a gorgeous juxtaposition to the delectable grind. “I can’t wait to watch you come undone, Tony. Hear you shout my name and fall apart because of me.”

Tony couldn’t help the slur of fucks dropping from his mouth, Peter in complete control of his pleasure. Wanting to thrust up didn’t matter, not when Peter moved his hips the way he was – each roll and lift calculated – the timing and pressure instigated to tease every ounce of pleasure from Tony that he could.

One particular slam down must’ve felt good – Peter moaned loudly, then doubled his efforts. The slap of skin on skin overtook the entire room; each thrust heard, felt, seen, and remembered – the entire sensory experience latching on to the little shards of control Tony was death-gripping, the small chips turning quickly into large cracks ready to break apart at any minute.

Unable to stop himself any longer, Tony gripped Peter’s hips tighter, his own lifting in time with Peter’s rolling thrusts. Each press up caught Peter’s prostate on the upstroke, Tony completely overwhelmed by the tight squeeze around him as he pulled out, only to wind-up and press back inside impatiently. It was too much – both Peter and Tony babbling mindlessly, the pace now random, completely out of stride to the rhythmic fucking taking place just moments before.

“Cum – please, Pete. I’m so close and want to feel you lose it around me.” Tony was practically begging, his skin gleaming with sweat, the muscles just under the surface burning, exertion and overstimulation a tantalizing pleasure-pain that felt SO good.

The jump over the edge never ceased to be anything short of amazing. Tony felt Peter clamp down around him, his cock pulsing between them untouched – shot after shot of warm, pearly cum landing on Tony’s chest, each pulse like a spot of lightning caressing his skin. The squeeze was too much, all of the stimulus coming together in a glorious culmination of orgasm, and Peter, and heat – a glorious cocktail of little deaths.

When Tony finally came back to, Peter was slumped over on his chest, the evidence of his husband’s orgasm now smeared over Peter’s abs and the hairy expanse of Tony’s belly. The feeling of being marked made the satisfied thrum of happiness in the back of his mind pulse a little harder – his heart beating in time with the contentment coursing through him.

Soft lips pressed against his after a while, Peter’s fingers gripping his cheeks lightly.

“That was amazing.” Peter’s voice was gruff, his throat scratchy from moaning and shouting out his pleasure.

Tony turned his head, leaning his forehead against Peter’s cheek. His own fingers made soft paths up and then back down his husband’s back, the sweaty skin cooling quickly in the aftermath. Soon, they’d need to shift and clean up – the many memories of waking up glued together enough of a reminder that ignoring their mess wasn’t really an option. Until then, he’d soak up the closeness, Peter’s post-sex clinginess one of Tony’s favorite parts of the process.

“You’re amazing,” Tony finally mumbled, the capacity to form sentences and understandable words finally coming back to him. “And that suit, Pete – I’ll have that first look of you in it stuck in my mind for the rest of my days.”

Peter chuckled against his neck, the two of them now separated, Tony lying flat on the bed with his warm bundle of a husband tucked tightly against his side. The bask of afterglow enveloped them both – their jumble of limbs a beautiful thing.

“It had the desired effect, then,” Peter said, his lips moving against their spot on Tony’s neck. “I’m thinking about adopting the look – something new, you know?”

Turning his head, Tony pressed a kiss to Peter’s hair, a soft smile on his face. “I guess I better get used to getting nothing done, then.” He thought about all the distraction coming his way – all the clothes ripping sex they would have. Grin growing, Tony settled further into the mattress, sleepy and content with the newest change of events.  

[katcadecascade]

Snow Much Fun With You

Basically Qrow sends his kids out to play in the snow.

Ao3

If there’s one thing about Atlas is known for, it’s for its perfect snow days.

One would think that the tundra would have blizzards or hail but the elite just love to have everything according to their taste, including the weather. They just have the money and the means to get what they want.

So come morning, Atlas is frosted with flawless white snow.

As a bird faunus born and raised in Mistral then later Vale, Qrow is still not used to seeing weather so utterly peaceful. Rain and wind still chill his bones and the slightest amount of ice brings a great discomfort to his wings.

Still, even he knows a good thing when he sees it and so does his kids.

Usually all the kids are lined up at the two coffee machines or tea kettle as Ren cooks up a quick breakfast before morning briefings. Not today as Nora, Ren, Oscar, and Ruby are practically pressing their noses against the glass windows, eyeing up the winter wonderland beyond the academy walls.

“It’s so pretty,” Oscar awed.

The farm boy probably only seen snow in his books so actually feeling the gentle cold is drastic change in scenery compared to their trip to Argus.

One other Mistral kid is currently drooling.

“I wanna eat it,” Nora said.

“Don’t,” Ren instantly forbade.

“But it looks like ice cream!”

Ruby shook her head, “Trust me, it’s not worth it.”

Oscar snickered, “Wait, did you eat snow before?”

“In my defense I was little and Patch’s snow days were more hail than snow so it all looked like little balls of ice cream.” She snorted at her own memory, “At least I didn’t pull a Yang.”

“You better stop right now Ruby,” her sister warned, setting down her mug of tea next to Blake’s. Yang glare moves to Qrow when he starts cackling too.

Qrow grinned maliciously at his niece, “I nearly forgot about that day, still don’t know what possessed you to lick that street pole.”

To nearly everyone’s surprise, Jaune is the first to laugh at that anecdote. Besides him, Weiss can’t eat her toast, far too disgusted at her teammate’s old hijinks.

“You licked a street pole?” Weiss cringed. “That’s so unhygienic!”

“That’s one way to describe their childhood,” Qrow muttered, recounting the many messes Tai’s girls caused.

“Ewe,” commented the ice princess.

Back with the four snow gazers, they all stare longingly to the cold lawns below, probably wishing to skip out on the meeting or for Oscar’s case, school. As for the three kids seated with Qrow, he can see how their training daze is wearing off, leaving everyone’s excitement dwindling down.

Yeah, Qrow needs to fix this.

“You know,” he begins, gaining everyone’s curiosity, “the garden’s field should be piled up with snow.” Slowly, temptation sparks into the kids’ eyes. “And usually the meetings are just about announcing the mission roster, not a big deal.”

Blake tilts her head, “I don’t think the General or the others would think that.”

“True,” he nods, “but Jimmy owes us one for arresting us.”

“Welp,” Nora perks up, “I don’t need any more convincing!” Her hands are instantly holding onto Ren and Oscar, “Let’s go!”

Her sprint triggers Ruby’s competiveness so red rose petals are blazing out of the kitchen. Jaune jumped out of his seat to follow the rest of his team while Blake and Yang just shared a grin before heading out too.

Weiss frowns at Qrow, “Are you sure about this?”

She acts exactly like her sister except for the way her fingers tap on the table and how her eyes flicker to the door. Qrow sort of expected this from her, stubbornness for her career but the bone deep need of defiance for her own worth or character.

Qrow always seen her as a caged bird, freer and more at ease with her friends out in the world. But she’s back in Atlas, a place she escaped from and had to return for the sake of the world.

His feathers bristle at her fate, large black wings flaring out a little as he places a hand on Weiss’ shoulder, “You deserve all the snow in the world, snowflake, know that.”

Her shoulders lose its tension and she smiles gratefully. Weiss stands up and is about to run out until she freezes up. Qrow is about to reassure her again until Weiss tugs at his arm, dragging him away too.

Huh, little snowflake is stronger than she looks.

In no time they make it to the academy’s garden, which is basically the size of the average park because this is Atlas and Atlas is rich and lives for the aesthetic.

True as Qrow’s word, the entire landscape is blanketed with snow. Some lumps of it are in the open field while the flower beds and bushes are dusted nicely and snow packed trees are lined evenly down the pathways. The kids are already running wild in the snow, feral even as Nora and Ruby do cartwheels and Yang just chucks herself at Jaune, sending them both down.

Oscar, despite shivering, has an almost manic grin as he rolls in the snow. Near him, Blake laughs and lets herself fall into a snow pile. Ren appears to be building the foundations of a snowman.

The moment they enter the garden, Weiss lets go of Qrow to chase after Ruby. There’s no grace or charm in her run, tripping as she reaches the red hooded girl.

Qrow simply leans against the doorway and takes out his scroll to snap a few pictures too. Oh right, he sends a text to Clover about their delay. He switches back over to the camera function, about to press the recording button but coldness smacks his face.

All of his kids are a chorus of laughs and cackles as Qrow whips the snowball off his face. Worst part is, he has no idea who his attacker is. Instincts tell him it’s Ruby though.

He trusts his gut fast as the winds, he beats his wings in one smooth motion to launch himself forwards. Scooping an armful of snow, he charges at his niece to land his ammunition in her face.

Ruby falls on her butt, her hair messier than usual with the snow clinging to each strand. Her gritted teeth and fire in her eyes could probably melt the weather, “This is war old man!”

And thus, the war begins.

Alliances are tedious, what with everyone betraying everyone.

Jaune shoves snow down the backs of Weiss and Nora. Oscar lands a solid hit on Jaune’s forehead. Qrow gets a nasty combo attack from Blake and Ren, both too sneaky for their own good. At some point Qrow gives into old habits to shield Ruby with his wings right as Yang pulls a Taiyang, the signature move of just tearing chunks of snow off the ground and flinging it.

Ruby pops her head out of the feathery shield to stick her tongue out. He has to shove her head back down when the rest of her team decide to aim at their leader.

As she laughs against Qrow’s chest, he can’t help but think how it’s like she hasn’t grown up at all. She’s budding warmth in his life, cradled in his arms and wings and Qrow tussles out the remaining snow out of her hair.

“Having fun kiddo?”

“Yep,” she grins widely and proud, “Thank you for this.”

Qrow doesn’t have an excuse in mind to deflect, too roped up in the snowball fight. Honestly, he’s having fun too.

His kids are just really special, aren’t they?

Ruby gives him one last smile right before she drops a handful of snow on his head. Apparently, that’s a signal for the rest of them to toss snow to rain on top of them.

Never mind, they’re all brats.

Qrow flings his wings out to their full span, scattering lose snow off. He wraps his warms around Ruby’s waist to hoist her up and pins her arms to her side.

He commands to the others, “Get her!”

“NOOO!” She wails as her friends betray her.

It’s a bombardment of coldness, most are targeted on Ruby but she’s a small human shield so Qrow still gets hit too. As long as the brat gets the majority of it, he’s fine.

After that, everyone is tuckered out and snow ridden. While their clothes are designed as water and snow proof, Yang and Jaune did manage to shuck snow underneath because they’re jerks like that.

A loud whistle has everyone facing the doorway to the academy.

Clover sends them all a wryly smirk, his arms full of towels, “Sorry to break this up but we still got work to do.”

Behind the captain, Marrow carries a tray of hot steaming mugs. He asks Clovers with a frown, “Seriously? That’s all you’re going to say about this?”

“You’re just sad you didn’t get invited.”

“I am not!”

Eventually the kids are lined up, grateful for the dry towels and hot chocolate. Qrow lets his kids go before him, so he’s glad that Clover saved the largest towel for him. His wings shiver underneath the cloth, trying to contain as much warmth as possible as all enter the hallway.

“Thanks,” Qrow offers Clover a small smile but he’s a little preoccupied with picking out ice stuck to his wings.

He shivers and twitches a bit. Now that he’s away from the cold weather, it’s easier to feel the small snow pieces stuck between his feathers.

“Are you okay?” Clover halts their walk to examine him.

His gaze is full of genuine worry and care and Qrow can’t help it when his feathers puff up at the tenderness of it all. Many people only see the wings and care for the aesthetic of it rather than who it is attracted to.

Or so Qrow had always told himself. Most of the time his assumptions are correct but it took a while for him to process that people like Tai or Summer actually do look pass the wings and sees Qrow.

Yet there’s something about the way Clover peers into Qrow that disarms him, something that asks for all of his walls to fall down. Qrow can’t help but want to let Clover in.

The kids are already walking ahead but Ruby glances back before urging everyone around the corner, leaving Qrow and Clover in the hallway, the morning sun lights the frosty garden beyond the windows and the quiet atmosphere settling between the two men.

“Just got some snow stuck here and there,” Qrow removes the towel off his wings, lettings them pan out and shake off lingering snow. “I’ll probably have to groom them again. Some parts feel tangled after Nora sent me crashing.”

“That sounds painful, the Nora part that is,” Clover said, knowing from training experience at how enthusiastic Nora is.

“Yeah,” he nods and he can’t help but watch how teal eyes wander over the expanse of his wings.

There’s a soft, gentle look in Clover’s expression, almost dazed yet concentrated on memorizing the individual feathers. None of it felt securitizing or overly analyzing Qrow like he’s an abnormality.

Far from it, he felt safe around Clover. Maybe it’s from how easily they pair up in missions or how pleasant his company is. Qrow wants more of this, whatever this even is.

So biting down his hesitance, Qrow asks, “Would help me later, with my wings?”

Clover’s eyes goes back up to his red ones, both holding onto each other as something unspoken falls between them.

It was always Clover saying that if Qrow ever needs to talk that he’ll be here for him. Qrow has yet to take up that offer, settling for easy silence or card games to entirely avoid his issues.

Now he’s reaching out, trusting something very intimate to share with Clover just because Qrow desires the touch of Clover on him.

If Qrow crumbles from just Clover’s words and eyes, what will happen underneath his hands?

That honestly sends a shiver down his spine. It has been so long since Qrow trusted someone to groom his wings.

“Of course, Qrow,” he promises because yes, it sounds as weighty as devotion.

That realization blooms into Qrow, watching how his own wants and needs reflect in Clover’s eyes. Everything Qrow thought he was imaging or second guessing, the lingering touches and the flirts and the way Clover just watches Qrow in the corner of his eyes, it was all little details that piled together into something big.

And just like with snow, Qrow wants to fall into it.

“Come on, lucky charm,” Qrow doesn’t stop the smile tugging onto his lips as he takes Clover’s hand, “Everyone’s is probably waiting on us.”

He nearly has to pull Clover as he leads them to the meeting room but like always, Clover finds his footing to be at Qrow’s side.

[howling-harpy]

Peonies and primroses in Pennsylvania fair

Word count: 6780 Rating: G Pairing: Winters/Nixon

Summary: Harry is excited. He’s on a holiday from work, Dick has been discharged from service, and Nix let it slip in a letter that he was planning to visit, so Harry seized the opportunity to tag along and make it a reunion.  Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction based on the HBO drama series and the actors’ portrayals in it. This has nothing to do with any real person represented in the series, and means no disrespect. A/N: This is a sequel to my fic “Dear lover”, found on my blog but not linked here because Tumblr hates links.

*

Summer, 1952

Harry was excited. He had been looking forward to this week since late winter when the matter had been agreed upon via letters, and now that the day had finally arrived, he was ready to go. Kitty watched him with amusement. “I’d ask you if you packed everything you need, but since you’ve packed and repacked thrice, it would be a stupid question.” Harry just grinned at her. She was right: the suitcase had been sitting by the door since yesterday. “Thank you for your concern,” he said, “and for your patient supervision.” 

She huffed a laugh and turned back to the kitchen. “Is your friend going to stay long enough for coffee?” 

Harry glanced out of the front window to the driveway for the umpteenth time, still seeing no car, and absently answered: “Uh, I don’t know. You never really know with Nix. I asked him to just pick me up on the way, but he’s never been one to turn down a treat either.” Harry followed Kitty to the kitchen and sat down at the table. There was a coffee cake under a glass dome, baked only yesterday and iced this morning, and it was clear that Kitty wanted to present and serve it to a guest, but whether this was the occasion or not was unclear. Kitty seemed to sense that and directed one of her sharp looks at Harry, tilting her head. “But you’re both very anxious to get on the road to see your friend, aren’t you?” Harry smiled sheepishly. “Yeah.” He didn’t need to explain it to her: he had told her more than enough in the letters he had written from overseas, and shared enough pictures, postcards and letters from Nix and Dick for her to understand. Kitty smiled knowingly. “It’s been some time, hasn’t it?” Harry sighed. “Yeah, I haven’t seen Nix since -45, or Dick since he moved back to Pennsylvania. And now it’s going to be all three of us again.” Just thinking about it brought a bright smile to his face, and again he glanced outside to search for the car Nix had described. “Really, I’m so glad Nix mentioned this visit in his letter. It didn’t even occur to him to pick me up even though I live along the way, that dog.” “He always seemed a bit aloof,” Kitty noted. Harry grinned. “He is, but it’s part of his charm. Dick always says he knew he was in trouble from the moment he befriended him.” Kitty gave an indulgent little laugh, a sound that both joined and separated her from their boyish habits and experiences. After only half an hour, a beautiful blue Buick finally turned on the Welsh’s driveway. Harry could barely keep himself from darting up and running to the door, but managed to stay put long enough to watched the car park and a dark-headed man get out of it. Kitty laughed at him when he skipped to the door and yanked it open before Nix got the chance to ring the doorbell. With a grin on his face, Harry took in the man in his early thirties standing on his doorstep, a finger reaching for the bell and now frozen in surprise. “Lewis Nixon,” Harry said. Nix’s surprised expression melted into a familiar smile, now worn on an older face. “The one and only,” he said, opened his arms and welcomed Harry’s enthusiastic hug. They hugged tight for a good while and gave each other friendly slaps on the back before Harry pushed Nix at arm’s length to properly look at him friend. “You look good, Nix,” he said, “and haven’t changed a bit.” He wasn’t lying either, there was the same mischievous gleam in Nix’s brown eyes that hadn’t faded in seven years, his hair was combed back, and his face was clean-shaven with the bluish touch of five o’clock shadow already there. He might have been older now, more distinctively mature rather than boyish, but Harry couldn’t tell. It was Nix just as he remembered him. The corner of Nix’s mouth tugged upwards in a lopsided smile. “You’re just the same too. It’s good to see you, Harry.” Harry grinned, and Nix returned the expression. When they had grinned at each other enough while hanging on the doorway, Harry remembered himself and with a slap on Nix’s arm invited him in. “Come on! We can be on our way as soon as we’d like, but come say hi to Kitty at least.” “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Nix said. “I listened to you yapping on and on about her too much to miss the real deal.” Nix didn’t take his jacket off and Harry didn’t offer to take it, guessing that they’d be leaving almost right away, but Nix did take a good look around the house when Harry took him to the kitchen. Kitty was standing by the kitchen counter when Harry and Nix stepped in and came to meet them with a charming, curious smile on her face. “Welcome to our home, Mr. Nixon. I’m Katherine Welsh,” Kitty said and offered her hand in a greeting. Nix gave her one of his charming smiles, took her hand and gave it a graceful shake. “Mrs. Welsh, it’s an honor to finally meet you. Harry spoke of you so much.” “And he wrote about you,” Kitty countered, “only good things, I promise.” “So he lied! Good man,” Nix said and laughed, let go of her hand and put his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Kitty didn’t laugh, only smiled and gave Nix a sharp once-over that he bore with resilient ease. “Will you be leaving right away or would you like to stay for coffee?” Kitty asked, looking between the men. “I baked a coffee cake.” Harry glanced at Nix, still not knowing their plan and wondering how Nix felt about it; he had always been restless when things really mattered, and seeing Nix here without Dick in his tow was strange enough to remind him that this was supposed to be a quick stop on the way. “We do have a lot of road ahead of us still, ma’am, but cake sounds wonderful,” Nix said, swinging on his heels. Kitty tilted her head. “Are you in a hurry?” Nix shifted again, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets. “Well… Not exactly, no. But you see, it has been a long time since we’ve seen our friend, and we did agree to go directly to him, so it feels a bit strange to linger.” Harry took another look at Nix and suddenly realized that he looked tired. It was the same strain he had gotten used to seeing during the war and thus didn’t immediately recognize as unusual now, but Nix really looked like he had been driving all night. A memory surfaced, a whole collection of them, of Nix looking like that, shifting and anxious and restless, and Dick leaning into his space to bump shoulders or just gazing at him with that reassuring calm of his, and Harry wished they were already there so Dick could do it now. Kitty looked at Harry and Harry looked at Kitty, and Kitty nodded. “I’ll pack you some cake and coffee on the road then.” Within half an hour with Harry’s suitcase, packed lunch and cake, some sandwiches, and coffee in a thermos, Nix and Harry were on their way. Nix drove even though Harry had offered to. As soon as they settled on the highway with only smooth open road ahead of them, Nix relaxed with only one hand on the wheel of gestured towards the plastic boxes of Kitty’s baked goods. “Give me some of that cake, will you?” Harry threw him a surprised look but got the box out anyway. Nix had never been a person with a sweet tooth before. “Sure. Kitty’s an amazing cook and baker, I bet you’ll like this.” Kitty had cut the cake into ready slices and Harry handed one to Nix, who took a large bite out of it, neverminding the crumbs falling in his lap. “I bet. I saw that cake the second I stepped into your kitchen and haven’t stopped thinking about it since,” Nix said, mouth full. Harry laughed, filled with pride. “She’s amazing. I think I’ve gained a dozen pounds just eating her food.” “Yeah, I can see that,” Nix noted playfully, eyes gleaming. “I’m the same. Ever since I stopped drinking I’ve been craving pastries. If it’s made of wheat and hopefully chocolate-covered, I will want it.” Harry broke a slice of cake in half for himself. It had a sweet coffee-chocolate icing, and Harry marvelled at Kitty’s skills as he inhaled the rich, spicy smell of the cake. “You quit for real then, huh?” For some reason Nix looked awkward for a moment, swallowing the cake and half shrugging. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. It just… Well. I don’t drink, but I do eat to make up for that.” He gave a laugh, light and ironic. “First when I stopped drinking I lost some weight, and then gained it all back when I started eating. There’s a balance in the universe, I suppose.” “That’s good to hear. Now you and Dick can go about frustrating barkeepers by ordering plain lemonades together,” Harry chuckled. Nix laughed with him, but afterwards started to chew on his bottom lip, almost nervous. Harry watched him from the corner of his eye for a moment and didn’t have to wonder what that was about. Bringing up Dick was like that, and Harry could empathize. All three of them had been so close back then, and that feeling of camaraderie didn’t fade with time, but distance felt weird. When Harry had last seen Dick he had felt it as strongly as before, all of it, like they could just go back to army right then and there, and Harry would still be as willing to take a bullet for Dick as he had been back in Europe. Nix and Dick had been as thick as thieves and close friends already when Harry had joined their posse, so he could only imagine what Nix was feeling right now. Harry looked at the road ahead of them instead of Nix when he said: “So how long has it been? Since he moved out?” Nix didn’t answer right away even though he certainly knew the answer. Hell, Harry wouldn’t have wondered if he knew the exact number of days. “Four years,” Nix said finally. “He moved out four years ago when the job didn’t turn out that well, and he moved back into his home state. We’ve been writing some, but because he was called back in service and all that we haven’t seen each other since when he left New Jersey.” Harry had enough tact to not ask about the job. He had about a hundred theories, but if he was perfectly honest he didn’t want to ask Nix about his family; every time it came up it was like pulling a trigger on one of Nix’s moods. “Well, you were getting a bit old for living together like that," he joked. "I really don’t get it, after army I certainly had had enough of bunking together with other smelly guys.” Nix snorted. “Harry, if all guys are smelly, then how on Earth can you ask your poor wife to share a house with you?” “As a group! Guys are smelly as a group!” “Sure, sure,” Nix admitted but with a smirk on his face. “Lucky for us, two is hardly a group.” “Maybe you’re right there,” Harry said with good-natured humor. Besides, Dick had always been very meticulous with his hygiene anyway, so maybe their living situation had been amicable as long as it had lasted. That brought another thought back in Harry’s mind: “I can’t believe you almost ditched me from this visit!” he said, slapping Nix in the arm. “Hey, ow, I’m trying to drive here!” Nix whined. “And I didn’t try to ditch you, you already saw Dick a few years ago! It’s my turn now.” Harry scoffed, then laughed. “He’s my friend too, you selfish ass! We both used to see him every day, it’s not like once every few years is going to suddenly be enough!” “Yeah,” Nix said, suddenly sighing so heavily his breath trembled. “Yeah, I know.” Harry sensed something strange in the air between them, something dark and aching and impossible to pinpoint, so much like Nix’s moods which he thought had been left behind with his boyhood and drinking. He slapped his arm again, gentler this time. “Oh, don’t be like that. We both know you’re his favorite anyway, so there’s no reason to pout. I want to see my buddy too, is all.” Something about that seemed to comfort Nix, because a smile was back on his face again. Harry took out more cake for both of them. “Come on. It’s not that long a way to go either. We’ll be there in a few hours.” The car seemed to speed up a little bit, Nix straightening up on the driver’s seat. “Yeah.” * Dick had moved back in Pennsylvania, near a small city with lots of open fields and forests around it, and a view towards distant mountains that were blue against the horizon. Nix had a map of the area that he asked Harry to read for him, and when Harry folded the map open, he saw a route already planned onto it with a pen. They drove through the city and into the outskirts, through fields and across a river, past scattered houses with yards and big gardens. Harry pointed out the right turn, a smaller sand road off the main road, lined with giant oak trees, and they drove that road all the way to its end. At the end of the road, surrounded by a meadow and a half wild orchard, was an old two-story house, freshly painted with a sharp dark-tile roof and a homely looking porch. They passed a letterbox that read “Winters” on it, and Nix took the car slowly to the driveway that was only tire tracks in hay and grass. While Nix drove, Harry kept his eyes on the house. It looked nice and large, and he would have bet that Dick had painted it himself. While they were still driving down the driveway, Harry saw the front door swinging open and a man stepping out onto the porch. There was no mistaking Dick Winters for anyone else, not with his unmistakable posture, height and still bright red hair. For some reason Harry had expected him to be wearing his uniform, but despite that thought his blue jeans and plain button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows were a natural fit. The front door left wide open behind him, Dick watched them from the porch with no shoes on and a bright smile on his face. Nix parked the car and while he was still busy shifting the gear off, turning the engine off and gathering his things, Harry was already up and out of the car, waving at Dick. “Hey! It’s been forever, buddy!” Harry greeted him, strode right to the house and jumped the few steps up to the porch. Dick gave him a warm smile. “Hello, Harry,” he said and leaned down to hug him. Hugs from Dick were a rare thing, he was always very formal and proper even amongst friends, but apparently after two years apart and in front of his own house he was much more relaxed, and Harry accepted the hug with joy. “It’s been too long,” he sighed when they pulled apart. “Yes, yes it has,” Dick said in return, and then his eyes darted back towards the car. “Welsh! I’m not carrying your stuff for you!” Nix shouted from behind the car, popping the trunk open. Harry barked a laugh and skipped back down to go get his suitcase. Nix’s impatience was even funnier considering that he had dragged probably three times more stuff with him than Harry had, the small suitcase barely even fitting in the trunk of the car with Nix’s bags and travel chest. Nix was hovering by the car, one of his bags swung over his shoulder and pretty obviously hiding behind the trunk’s hood and the tail light. Harry frowned at the nervous display, and for the first time it occurred to him that Nix himself might not have been entirely blameless in what had caused Dick to leave New Jersey. Harry wondered had there been some sort of a falling out, some bigger crisis or an argument between the two, but immediately after he figured that had it been something serious Nix wouldn’t have come in the first place. And even if there had been something bad between then, it would have taken place four years ago, and now was now. It was all about clearing the air.   So Harry settled on direct action, slammed the car’s trunk shut, grabbed Nix by the lapels of his jacket and dragged him behind him to the house. “Now, wait a moment…” was all Nix managed before he found himself being pulled up the front steps and essentially thrust right in front of Dick. Harry could barely hold back his grin. He glanced at Dick, whose expression was utterly unreadable but his eyes were welling with emotion, and then at Nix who was lingering on the steps, acting almost coy. “Hi, Lew,” Dick softly said, his hand raising in a small wave despite their proximity. Nix looked flustered, looking up at Dick through his lashes. “Hi.” Harry huffed a laugh before striding into the house, leaving the two at each other’s mercy. The house was old, probably from the previous century, but recently renovated, the paint on its walls clearly fresh. It was a nice house with dark wooden floors, big windows and a lot of open space. The hall gave way directly into a roomy kitchen, where Harry could see clearly new cabinets, a large masonry oven and a stove, and by the window a good-sized dining table. He peeked into the living-room as well, seeing a fire place, a tea table and some armchairs, a plush green carpet on the floor and an empty china cabinet in the back. There were stairs in the hall leading upstairs, where Harry assumed the bedrooms were. He set his suitcase down by the stairs and shook off his coat. The house seemed pretty well furnished, but there were also signs of how recent the move had been: various necessary things were still missing. There was no coat rack, for example, only one of the chairs from the kitchen with a pile of coats and sweaters and a few hats on it, there were carpet rolls by the living-room doorway, and boxes stacked up by the stairs. Dick was clearly still in process of moving in and making the house his own, but still it already had a homely feel to it. Harry had his coat folded over his arm and was glancing around when Dick and Nix stepped inside. Whatever had been between them outside had vanished, both smiling easily.     “Oh, just… Put that wherever,” Dick said, spotting the coat over Harry’s arm and gesturing towards the clothing pile on the chair. “I’ve only just started settling in, renovations delayed the furnishing and so on.” “I think we’ll manage,” Harry said, tossing his coat on the top of the pile. “It’s a really nice house, Dick.” Dick smiled, pleased. “Yeah? I thought so. It needed, and probably still needs, some work, but I really liked the location, the garden and the fireplace.” “How many rooms do you have?” Harry asked. “There’s the kitchen, the living-room and the bath downstairs, and four bedrooms on the second floor, plus a small attic chamber.” Harry nodded, impressed. “That’s nice. There’s room for a family here.” Harry’s chest grew warm just thinking about his friend having a family of his own. Dick would be amazing at it, and he would deserve all of it. The garden would be a perfect place for kids to play in. Dick smiled, proud and happy. “Exactly. A family,” he said, glancing at Nix. Harry wondered if family was a sore subject for Nix, but couldn’t figure out a tactful way to express his lack of judgement about his situation. He could only hope that Dick could communicate it well enough with a look, as he often did with Nix. But Nix didn’t look offended or called out at all. He was circling the hall and peeking into the rooms like a dog in a new house he was curiously inspecting. You could almost see his tail wagging. Harry and Dick exchanged a look about him, and then with a fond shake of his head Dick cleared his throat. “Do you want to see the house some, Nix?” Nix started and gave a laugh, a bit awkward like he had got caught doing something forbidden. “Yeah, sure. Although I can already tell you need some curtains here.” Dick laughed and showed them around while also appointing them rooms to put their things down and settle in. The kitchen and the living-room were pretty well arranged, but with a closer look both had a strong mark of generous relatives and a helpful mother on them, and the upstairs were clearly more a work in progress. Still, Dick had his own bedroom, a guest room, and an office with a couch bed. Harry took the guest room while Nix dropped his stuff into the office. They had dinner at home, mashed potatoes with chicken roasted in the oven and a side salad. Dinner turned easily into coffee and biscuits, which continued so long that the day turned into evening, they got hungry again and made sandwiches to take with them into the living-room. Conversation was just as easy as always, now maybe even more so because they all had so much to tell. Only a few years had passed, but many things had happened and changed, and letters could only express so much. Harry talked eagerly about his job in the school system, about all the students and the curriculum he was trying to get approved both by the higher-ups and the teachers, and mused on how he, a former unruly school boy, had now joined the ranks of the school staff and was forced to consider his past antics in a new light. Nix confessed to similar escapades during his school years but without any remorse. Predictably Dick had been a model student, and Nix briefly teased that had they known each other in school he would have lured him in trouble. Dick had a new job in the city and he seemed excited about it. He managed personnel, and getting to use his organizational skills in practice brought him a great deal of satisfaction. He didn’t mention New Jersey at all, and neither did Nix, and Harry didn’t ask. Harry had taken a bottle of whiskey with him, but now found he had no one to share it with. Nix shook his head. “Yeah, no, I quit over a year ago. I think I told you.” “Yeah, you did, but… Completely?” Harry asked, brows raised. Nix shrugged with a half a smile. “Yep. There was really no middle ground there for me. It was either keep drinking or kick the habit for good.” “Damn. Who do I drink with now?” Harry sighed. Nix’s smile was almost a grimace. “It wasn’t really good for me.” Harry bumped their knees together. “I hear you. I’m happy for you, Nix, but drinking alone is no fun either.” Dick took half a sandwich from the plate and turned to Harry. “You may drink in my house. It’s allowed.” Harry considered this. “Well, maybe a glass or two, even though it’s not that fun. It’s not like I drink much at home either.” Dick went to fetch him a glass from the kitchen. Harry filled it, then mindfully placed it as far away from Nix’s corner of the table as he naturally could. “Kitty doesn’t like you drinking, huh?” Dick asked when Harry took a sip of whiskey. Harry smiled fondly and felt a tug of longing at the mention of his wife. “No, she sure doesn’t. We haven’t really talked about it and she isn’t that forward about it, but she doesn’t like to see me drunk, so I limit myself to a glass every other weekend, if even that. It’s so easy to forget about when you don’t do it that often.” Nix scoffed. “Oh, I wish. My first three months dry were hell. I didn’t have a wife to keep me straight either.” Harry smiled sympathetically. “I bet Dick took that upon himself, huh? Wrote you weekly letters of moral support and brought you back in the fold?” The traces of grimace vanished from Nix’s expression and his eyes lit up. He waved his hand dismissively, and that was all Harry needed to know that he had hit the nail on the head. He laughed. Dick grinned too. “Merely simple words of encouragement to support what was already there,” he noted, and Nix’s smile stretched into a grin as well. Dick’s eyes twinkled. “Despite the distance and my service, I always have time for my men.” Nix snorted and shook his head, blushing. “Oh, right! How are the young American soldiers nowadays?” Harry asked. Dick took a moment to think about it, sighed and shook his head. His expression turned nostalgic. “Not like we were,” he finally said. “I don’t think there will ever be another bunch of guys as dedicated and fine as we were.” “Cheers, I’ll drink to that,” Harry said, and Nix clinked his soda bottle with his whiskey glass. “I’m officially discharged now,” Dick said. “That’s it for my time with the army, for real and certain this time.” “Everyone still calls him Major though,” Nix said to Harry, who chuckled. “So, what’s next for you then?” Harry asked. “My civilian career and tending to my garden,” Dick said. Harry rolled his eyes at Dick’s avoidance. “That we already covered. I meant on the social front. Still no date for Dick Winters, huh? No babies about to take up those bedrooms?” Dick had grown up and gained enough confidence around this talking point that he didn’t blush, but instead returned Harry’s look with one of his noncommittal, blank ones. “No kids. I’ve already explained this to my parents, grandparents, aunties and uncles, my little sister and most of my friends.” Harry raised his hands in a peace offering, dropping the subject. It was a difficult one for him as well, so he left it. “How about a wife? I bet there’s a line by now,” he asked. Dick huffed, finally flushing a bit and dropping his gaze. “That would be the logical first step to kids, at least. But no, no wife.” Nix sniggered, slumping down on his chair most likely in order to reach to poke Dick in the shin. “Not from the lack of trying either, on everyone else’s part, that is. His mother and all the nice ladies at his church are taking waiting numbers for their and their friends’ daughters and nieces.” Dick threw him a look and rolled his eyes. Harry joined in the teasing. “Your bedroom is for two, though. Are you sure there’s no one to take up the extra space?” Despite his blush, Dick managed to smirk. “Even if I were to take someone to my bed, that doesn’t make that person a wife.” Harry sputtered and laughed and Nix inhaled his soda, ending up spitting half of it out in the following coughing fit, making Harry laugh harder and Dick grin. The evening went on. They played a few rounds of cards and stayed awake defying their growing exhaustion. Harry downed three glasses of whiskey and with his lowered tolerance dozed off in one of the armchairs, and so did Nix despite not having had a drop of alcohol. Harry kept drifting in and out of dream, vaguely aware of Dick quietly moving about and taking dishes to the kitchen, and even more vaguely aware that when the flowers of the wallpaper started to look like real plants blooming from the walls, he was asleep. He toed that fine line, sinking into the cushions, enjoying the light buzz of alcohol and the joy of being with his two closest friends, and observing the living-room wall bloom with peonies and primroses and deep green wines, covering everything and gently pulling everything into their world. Quiet words drifted into Harry’s dream. At first they didn’t register at all, too soft and nonsensical to be anything but a dream. “Lew. Wake up, Lew... Lew… Hey, hi. Hi.” “Mm hi.” “Shh, Harry’s asleep.” “Yeah, me too.” The words were soft, almost muttered, the voices so gentle and smooth that they seemed to belong in the dream world with the flowers. “How do you like the house?” “It’s perfect. Just… perfect. I love it.” “I’m glad.” A beat of silence, short as a breath and still like hours in the dream. “I wanted to carry you over the threshold.” A quiet laugh. “You are… So much.” “Too much?” A humming sound. “No, just right. Just perfect.” A shifting sound from a chair, the cushions shuffling against clothing. “Come ‘ere.” A deep sigh filled the room, a strangely layered sound, and it took Harry’s dozing brain a moment to realize it came from two people at once. It was a strange sound, both like the air being knocked out of someone as well as a sound of deep contentment. “I’m so happy to see you again,” Nix whispered, his voice strangely muffled. Dick sounded a little strained. “Yeah, you too. I missed you so much.” The words were finally registering to Harry, not only as coherent sentences with meaning, but also as things spoken by familiar voices that he recognised as his friends’. Their voices were quiet and soft, gentle like they sometimes briefly were when they seemed to talk about something just between themselves despite having company, but the words were something Harry hadn’t ever heard from them before and they didn’t fit the picture. Puzzled, Harry listened, and after a moment risked turning his head towards the voices a bit and cracking his eyes open ever so slightly. Nix was still in his chair where he had dozed off, Dick was standing right next to him, and they had their arms around each other. Nix had his arms wrapped tightly around Dick’s middle, his face pressed against his stomach, Dick’s shirt covering half of his mouth and muffling his words. Nix had his eyes closed. “Don’t ever leave again.” “I won’t,” Dick reassured softly, “don’t you either.” Nix nuzzled against Dick, his palms flat against his back. “I won’t, I promise. I won’t ever leave you. I’ll stay right here with you, I swear.” “At our house.” Dick sounded almost giddy. His hands were cradling Nix against him, one sunken into his hair and gently combing through it again and again. Nix smiled and pressed his cheek more firmly against Dick’s stomach. “Yeah. Our house.” Another pained sigh sounded in the room. Nix’s brow furrowed, and like caught in a flood of some emotion he turned to fully bury his face in Dick’s shirt, mouth open in a trembling gasp and his hands grasping at his back. “I’ve been so lonely, Dick,” he said in a small voice. “I missed you. I’ve missed you for years, and it feels like I still do even though you’re right here.” “Oh, darling.” Dick sank down to sit on the armrest of the chair in a fluid motion as if spurred on by Nix’s tone alone, and as smoothly he wrapped his arms around Nix, pressing his head against his chest instead of his middle. Dick’s hand stroked Nix’s back, up and down in an urgent caress, and his head came to rest on top of Nix’s, fair cheek to black hair. “My darling.” They stayed together like that, and Harry watched them through his lashes. They swayed a bit, rocking from side to side while wrapped around each other, tight but gentle, in an embrace that despite everything didn’t seem tight enough for them. They stayed like that for a long while, both with their eyes closed, Nix pressed against Dick and squeezing him to him, and Dick leaning over him like wanting to shelter him. They remained like that even when the flowers and vines faded back into the wallpaper and became just pictures again. Harry was wide awake but closed his eyes again. He didn’t think anything, just concentrated to staying still and inconspicuous, afraid of intruding on this moment that he was definitely not welcome to. “Are you tired?” Dick asked quietly. Nix mumbled something into his shirt. Then, “yeah. I was too anxious to see you again to sleep, and then I drove all day.” Dick hummed, his voice thick with affection. “Poor you. You should go to bed.” “We really should.” “Do you think we should wake Harry and tell him to go to bed?” Harry was uncomfortably aware that both of them were looking at him then. Nix made an agreeing noise. “We probably should. He’ll mess up his back like that.” Despite agreement, neither one made a move to get on with it, and for a long while it was quiet. For such a long while in fact, that despite the tension and the shock Harry felt himself drifting off again. The next thing he knew was that he was nudged awake. Dick was shaking him by the shoulder. “Hey, buddy. You should go to bed.” Harry blinked and looked around. The living-room was dark, and Nix was nowhere to be seen. Harry let himself be pulled up from the chair, stretched until something in his back popped, and then followed Dick upstairs and into the guest room. As he got into bed he wondered briefly if he had dreamed it all. When Harry woke up the next morning and got dressed, he still wasn’t quite sure if he had dreamed it or not. He was almost entirely sure that it had been real, he had been awake to hear and see it after all, but… But. He stared out of the window and felt the gears in his mind grinding. There was some sort of a mental block in his head just refusing to comprehend any of it. He had seen and heard that. It felt like everything had just been called into question, and every single thing, every single interaction and factoid was now re-evaluated in the light of this new information, and all of it formed one mess of a puzzle in Harry’s mind. How had something like this slipped by him for so long? Or how had they managed to hide it? Harry thought about Nix and Dick and tried to see their friendship as something different and more. He had seen them wrapped into each other in a manner that was definitely not simply friendly. Nix hanging onto Dick like that may have been excusable if he was drunk, which he wasn’t, but Dick holding him like a bride, stroking his hair… Harry rubbed his hands over his face. How had this escaped him was the question. Maybe it was because neither Nix or Dick matched his mental image of men like that, but that was a flimsy excuse for not seeing what was going on right in front of him. How had their friendship got into that point? How had Harry missed something like that? He had always known that Nix was special to Dick, that there were Dick’s friends and then there was Nix, but somehow it hadn’t added up. Another disturbing thought arose in Harry’s mind: had he known all along, but chosen not to see it? Was he that cowardly that he would let himself live on in denial rather than face the truth? And if he could deny it, did the truth even matter that much? Or did it matter so much in fact, that denying it was the only way to cope? He thought about Nix’s soft, openly vulnerable voice confessing how much he had missed Dick. He thought about Dick stroking Nix’s hair. Suddenly Harry felt himself flushing. Four years they had been apart and only yesterday been reunited. No wonder Nix hadn’t wanted Harry to tag along, he must have been looking forward to the reunion and wanted it to be private. He rubbed his face again. Whatever the case was, he would have to face them both and go have breakfast. He could tell by the sounds around the house that at least Dick was already awake.   It turned out that he was wrong. Both Dick and Nix were awake, but only Dick was actually preparing breakfast and Nix was sitting at the table, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Good morning,” Dick greeted Harry with a bright smile, ever the morning person. “Have a seat.” Harry did. There was a pot of oat meal on the table, as well as a selection of homemade jams, a bowl of sugar and butter on a plate. Dick was making toast in a pan on the stove and brewing coffee while at it. Harry made himself a bowl of oat meal with butter and a spoonful of strawberry jam. “Did you sleep okay?” Dick asked. “Yeah,” Harry answered and wasn’t lying. It was being awake that was giving him trouble. “Do you want toast with that?” Dick asked. “Sure. Thanks.” “Give it a minute and you can have these slices.” When the toast was done, Dick served two slices to Harry and put two more in the pan. It was a beautiful summer morning outside, and from the way the sun was shining from the blue sky one could tell it was going to be a hot day. Harry watched Dick make two slices of toast for himself, then pour three cups of coffee. Dick set his plate on the table, then brought the coffee cups over. He handed Harry one, then made one cup with milk and sugar, and another with only a dash of milk. He set the other cup in front of Nix, touching his arm to get his attention. Nix opened his eyes and was happy to find a cup of coffee in front of him. They shared a smile, and Nix took a clearly pleasurable sip of coffee, slightly more awake but his eyes still drooping. Dick was leaning his cheek on his hand and watching Nix with a fond smile. Then he caught Harry watching him from the corner of his eye and the smile was contained. Harry took a bite of his toast and shrugged. “Go on, be happy in your own house. It’s allowed,” he said, teasing being an easy and familiar routine to fall back on. Dick cast his eyes down and smiled. He took a sip of his own coffee and glanced at Nix again. “Yeah, I know. It’s not that, it’s just… Well. It’s good to be home, you know.” Harry nodded. “Yeah.” And he did know. He glanced out of the window into the half wild garden that Dick was only starting to tame. It would be a lot of work, all on top of the usual fuss with a day job and maintaining an old house like this one. “You really going to have a family here, Dick?” Dick turned fully to Harry then, perhaps hearing the several layers of the question. Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he did; Dick was always prepared for everything, after all. But Dick met his gaze head on, steady and unwavering. It looked like he turned the question over in his mind, but just to amuse Harry. He seemed like he had the answer ready already. Dick nodded. “Yeah, I’ll have a family. Maybe it’ll be small, but it’ll be loving and good.” Harry stared back at him and took another bite out of his toast. Dick studied him intensely then, like he was looking for something, and Harry allowed him. After a moment Dick seemed to find what he was looking for, because he nodded to himself and returned to his coffee. “You know what they say, Harry,” he said, “homes are not found, they are built. Families as well.” “Yeah.” Harry tasted his oat meal with the jam. “This is really good.” Dick nodded. “My mother and sister will get the compliments.” It was a warm, cozy kitchen, and the breakfast was sturdy and delicious. Coffee and occasional nudges from Dick together were slowly waking Nix up. The sun was already high up. It was going to be a beautiful day.

[lokisgame]

Ill Communication

[part 1]

"Where do you put it all?" Maggie wondered as Mulder wiped the last of the sauce of his plate with a piece of bread crust. "I run?" He never really thought about it. Sport helped him calm down and burn off the emotions that came with the job; no matter how much he ate, he burned it off sooner or later. "You don't do this often either," Maggie smiled her gentle smile, "home cuisine I mean." Mulder shook his head sheepishly and glanced at Scully, who looked lost in her own happy thoughts. He sure could get used to this. "You should come to dinner some time, with Dana." "I don't want to intrude on your family time," he said, heart aching. He wanted to, but only if Scully wanted him too. "You did so much for her, for us," Maggie's words made him lower his gaze and study the wine glass, "you are family, Fox." Scully recognized her mother's smile, one that made even her feel too small to handle all the love, and broke the tension getting up and gathering plates. "Why are you trying to make him uncomfortable?" she said with humor. "I am not." Maggie laughed, shaking her head and took the notepad Scully kept close at hand. 'Do you need anything from me tonight?’ Scully read the note, a little surprised, "you're leaving?" 'I can see you're in good hands, I'll stop by on Sunday.' Maggie kissed her cheek then turned to Mulder. "Can you call me a cab, please." "I can drive you," he offered, getting up as well. She rounded the table and hugged him warmly, "no need, but thank you, and remember that my invitation stands." "I will," he said, hugging her back.

Once the door closed after Maggie, Scully tugged at his sleeve. “What was that all about?” Mulder shrugged and went back to the phone, tapping the machine with one finger. Scully noticed the blinking red light "Oh, can you write down the messages for me?” Hand over his heart, he pretended to be shocked, Scully was starting to get used to his pantomime. “Yes, I trust you that much, you want desert?” He nodded eagerly and she went to the kitchen. They met back on the couch, two bowls of ice cream on the coffee table, Mulder’s unfinished wine, the coffee machine gurgling in the background. "Telemarketing, mom, mom,” Scully looked through his notes, "another one from mom, she really got scared." Mulder sighed and stopped picking chunks of chocolate from his ice cream. He took the notes and replaced them with her own bowl; there was nothing urgent in the messages anyway. "Where were you all day?" she asked, poking the ice cream to melt faster. "Did the mechanic take that long to check the oil and breaks?" Shaking his head, he pointed to the notes, then the top of his head. "You talked to mom, okay, but you don't look like you had a haircut." That made him laugh and he ran his fingers through his hair, this time smoothing them flat. "Skinner!" she exclaimed and chuckled. Mulder grinned and showed her 3 fingers, then folded his palms under one cheek, spoon in his mouth, miming sleep. "You got me 3 days off." She stated, not so amused anymore. He nodded solemnly, digging in his bowl, avoiding her eyes. "With or without the weekend." He showed her 5 fingers and she sighed. "Fine, and what will you do, while I'm gone?" One arm around her, he pulled her into his side, kissing her cheek softly; his lips ice cream chilled. Scully looked at him, blushing surprise. "What was that for?" Mulder nodded in the direction of the kitchen. "Dinner? You're welcome." He let go and got back to his ice cream. "You took the time off as well, didn't you." He didn't look up and it was all the confirmation she needed. She expected it actually. There was no point in arguing, it was Friday night anyway. So, curling her feet under herself, she leaned against his side, enjoying her desert and his relieved sigh. When Mulder moved to get up after a while, the tv remote dug into her thigh. He took the bowl from her and went to the kitchen; one glance and she figured he must have heard that the coffee was done. He knew where she kept the mugs, took the milk from the fridge, though he liked his black. Coming back, he offered her her favorite mug and she offered him the remote as he sat down in the exact same spot, so their shoulders touched again. He found the game, Scully didn't mind. She watched the green field, the scores, the players dance and swing and run; it looked kind of funny without the sound.

When Mulder came back with the coffee and Scully again leaned against his side, something in him cracked. Not in a dramatic way, he didn't weep with joy or anything, but the warmth that flooded him, made the thought of going back to his apartment, take-out food and impersonal porn feel like a punishment. He felt home around her. By the 6th inning, Scully's head fell on his shoulder, her breathing measured, one-two of deep sleep. Pulling the blanket of the back of the couch he draped it over her, and then closed his eyes as well, just for a second... Until she wakes up... Was carb coma a proper medical term? He had to ask... And by the green light of the tv, they slept.

The clock on the VCR blinked 3am when he woke up, Scully cuddled into his side, her head on his shoulder in the narrow space of the couch. Nature called, so as gently as possible, he untangled himself from her arms, resting her head on the pillow, she was a little warmer than usual, but it could be sleep. He tucked her in. Why did he try to stay quiet was a mystery. The glaring white light of the bathroom chased away sleep. He downed a glass of water and looked at himself in the mirror. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was the right thing. By the light of the tv, he scribbled a note and weighed it down with a glass of water on the coffee table, where she would find it. Allowing himself one last long glance, he left, locking the doors on his way out.

Scully woke up, startled, disoriented and alone. She kicked away the blanket, sitting up, head swimming with the abrupt motion. The tv was off, no light under the bathroom door. "Mulder?" She called into the darkness. Nothing, no movement, just silence. She went to check the bedroom, if by some slim chance he was hiding from her. Turning on the lights in the kitchen, everything was the way she left it, the few dishes, two mugs in the sink. Forcing herself to calm down, she figured, he must have left. She shouldn't feel surprised, and yet she was. Undressing as she went, she found her pj's and climbed into the cool bed, watching the lights dance on the ceiling, as sleep evaded her. She could use a warm Mulder right now, the man was a walking furnace, but smelled better. She drifted in and out of sleep, waking up startled after what felt like hours but was in fact minutes, hating it, aware that she would be useless in the morning. Only when the sky started to turn pink, she managed to fall asleep, her last thought being of Mulder, and his cute ears. He could be her ears.

[notsugarandspice]

Let’s Talk About Parks

Parks & Rec AU!

the chapter where I got sick of an OC and threw them out the door

Read it on AO3.

                                     CHAPTER 3: REPORTER

“Okay, s-so a plant like this is n-not safe to eat,” says Bill, bending down to indicate the pointed leaves in the grass.

Mike is trailing close behind a small crowd of 12 year-olds who seem mildly fascinated by the trip. He loves promoting educational programs for the youth, even though he can see the distaste in their eyes. Mike put Bill in charge of preteen nature hikes because he always enjoys being outside, and seems great with kids, mostly from having many of his own. He shudders remembering the day one teenage girl got pregnant when a young department representative led the program, and he had to deal with the psychotic outbreak of the mother.

“The spiky ones are p-pah-poisonous and can cause a lot of p-pain if consumed. And this,” Bill sits back on his heels and rips out a pleasant looking plant, “is Country Honeysuckle.”

“Wow,” says Mike, taking the tiny leaf from Bill’s hand.

“It s-smells nice.”

“Oh, yeah! Smells amazing,” says Mike and puts the plant in his mouth without hesitation. The bitterness instantly invades his taste buds, and he can feel the tip of his mouth numbing. “Oh! Ew-“

“Mike, d-duh-don’t eat that!” Bill grabs the corner of the leaf sticking from Mike’s mouth and throws it on the ground.

“Why did you let me eat that?!”

“I never told you t-to eat it!” Mike can hear the children stifle giggles while he feels his tongue getting caught between the teeth. “Mike, everyone knows not t-t-to eat the Country Honeysuckle, did you listen to anything I’ve said?”

“I can’t feel my tongue-“ Mike starts tugging on it, and doesn’t feel the touch of his fingers.

“Jesus, don’t t-touch it, and stop s-scaring the kids-“ Bill leads Mike away towards the car and gives him a bottle of water to wash the taste off. Mike sighs in defeat and watches the children continue the hike.

*

“Ben!” Mike beams when he sees his friend waltz into the Parks and Recreation office, looking adorable in a white sweater and blue scrubs. “I have amazing news. I asked a reporter to write an article about the pit.”

Ben sits down on the chair in front of Mike’s desk and smiles reassuringly. “Hey, that sounds great.”

“Right? The press is a weapon. You can either use it to kill people or feed them.”

Ben tilts his head to the side in confusion.

“You know, when you start off with large projects like these, press exposure is very important. It’s the momentum that keeps it alive. Do you remember the graffiti project last year?”

“Oh, the one with penises at Tucker Park.”

“The lack of funding didn’t let us remove more than five. I’m still haunted by the remaining penises.” Mike looks off to the distance in horror. “One penis in particular.”

He ushers Ben to the conference room and invites Lucas to join them in preparation of the reporter’s arrival.

“Okay, I need everyone to be on their best behavior when she gets here. Please stay on message and don’t stray away from our main goal - promoting the filling of the pit, and turning it into a park.”

*

“Hi, I’m looking for Mike Hanlon.” Eddie raises his head from a Seventeen magazine and gives the blond woman a blank stare.

“Okay.”

The guest looks at Eddie weirdly, but before he has the chance to say anything, Mike runs out of the conference room. “My ears are ringing!”

“Hi.”

Hanlon makes his way to the entrance and reaches out to shake the reporter’s hand. “I’m Mike Hanlon, the deputy director of Parks and Recreation.”

“Greta-“

“Bowie, yes. I’m a fan of your work. I’ve read everything you’ve ever written. Your article on raccoon problem in Pawnee is definitely your best work. Nature’s bandits,” says Mike and beams at Greta.

“Thanks!”

“Do you want to take a quick tour before we get started?”

“Oh, I’ve been here before several times.”

Mike pauses for a second, astounded. “Quick tour?”

Greta clears her throat and forces a smile. “Okay.”

He steps back and walks further into the office, folder in hand. “This is Jim Hopper, our boss. Jim, this is the reporter I told you about.”

Jim comes in closer and clenches his jaw irritably, the grip on the coffee mug stronger than necessary. “No comment.”

Greta looks between Mike and Jim. “About what?”

Hopper ignores the reporter and turns towards the door of Hanlon’s office. “Hey, Sinclair! Maybe one day you’ll figure out how to spell a word with three letters in it.”

“C’mon, Jim.” Lucas smiles mischievously and shrugs.

Mike rolls his eyes and remembers that Sinclair has been trying to be a kiss-ass for weeks now. He somehow convinced Jim to play online Scrabble, and they’ve been at it for hours at work. Mike doesn’t know how to put a stop to it.

“Alright, Greta, follow me.” They step into the conference room where everyone is still situated, and Eddie slips behind Mike to step in with a small notebook. “Well, this is our team.”

“Hi everyone,” says Greta with a noticeable lack of interest, surveying the small space like a hawk.

“Lucas Sinclair, boy genius. Smooth like chocolate.”

Lucas furrows his brows. “That’s a weird way to describe me.”

“Eddie Kaspbrak, nineteen. Cool enough to be anywhere and chooses to be here.” Eddie looks up from flipping through a magazine with a blank expression, his eyes magnified by the dark eyeliner.

“And this is, of course, Ben Hanscom and Richie Tozier, the real heroes of the story.” Ben shyly waves to Greta. “Ben is the citizen who brought the pit to our attention, and Richie is the citizen who gracefully fell in it.” Mike points to the two casts on Tozier’s legs.

“Well, why don’t we get started?” asks Greta and positions herself next to Ben, taking out the tape recorder. “I need to record this, that’s okay with you?”

Mike sits down on the opposite side, and his heart starts jackhammering in the middle of the chest. He hates interviews, hates when his own words can be used against him because sometimes, he can’t control what comes out of it. And now there is a tape recorder sitting right in front of him like a taunting menace that wants to destroy his career.

“Um… Sure. That way it’s v-verbatim.” He can already feel his body temperature go up rapidly.

“Mike, are you in charge of the committee?” Greta starts scrambling a question on the page without looking up.

Mike looks nervously between the recorder and Ms. Bowie and presses the pause button quickly. “Well, um, it’s called a sub committee, actually-“

“We can do this on tape,” says Greta with a sickly smile, and releases the button. “Is this your meeting place?”

Mike feels his heart beat pick up again and he swiftly presses the pause button once more.

“Really?-“

“We don’t have a specific meeting place. We meet everywhere, and um, anywhere.”

“Alright, Mike, why don’t I ask the citizens a couple of questions first and then get back to you?”

Mike looks at Ben and at his reassuring smile nods and heads towards the office taking off his suit jacket on the way there. Once he gets to the table, he takes one of the folders and fans them over his underarms that are unnaturally soaked.

*

“Richie, why don’t you tell me about the night you fell into the pit?”

“I mean, it’s a pretty cool story. I just finished practicing with my band-“ Richie takes the tape recorder and put it close to his mouth, “-Three Skin, formerly Foreskin, but that one didn’t stick because our bassist quit.” He puts the recorder down when he sees Mike enter the room again, breathing heavily. He glances at Eddie sleeping on top of the magazine he was reading earlier and starts speaking louder.

“I was walking home, and I saw a toaster on the bottom of the pit,” Richie smiles when Eddie groans and lifts his head in irritation, “so I was like maybe I should get that, then I fell in, and now I have two broken legs.”

“Such a tragedy,” whispers Mike, wiping his forehead.

“Why would you want a broken toaster from the pit?” asks Greta, quickly jotting her notes. Mike is envious of her obvious confidence.

“Dude, I don’t know? I was wasted,” says Richie laughing and his head whips to the side when Mike gasps loudly, mouth open in shock.

“W-what? Richie, you were drunk?” asks Ben, tugging on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Totally. You knew that, babe.”

“I didn’t. You were supposed to tell me, I gave you anesthesia at the hospital.”

“Okay, I probably wasn’t really thinking because I had two broken femurs on top of being, like, blackout drunk-“

Mike reaches out to press pause on the tape recorder, but Greta moves it further from him without looking and continues to feverishly jot down the notes.

“Rich, I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me about this-“

“Like you’re so perfect. You’re on ADD medication, and you drink all the time-“

“What? You’re allowed to do that!”

“Stay on the topic,” says Mike through gritted teeth and stares blankly at the wall in front of him, horrified.

“Wow, Rich, thank you so much for bringing that up in front of a reporter,” says Ben and moves further away from his boyfriend.

Mike stands up and quickly goes back to his office, putting his head on the table as soon as his ass hits the chair. He can hear someone shuffle in and he knows it’s Ben before he starts speaking. He can feel a large hand on his shoulder, and he instantly feels himself calm down, even if the tiniest bit.

“Mike, it’s not that bad, right? Do you want me to go talk to her?” He can hear the sound of crutches and knows that Richie followed them to the office.

Mike lifts his head and looks at Ben sympathetically. “Oh, Ben. You’re so sweet and innocent and pretty. The press are basically sharks, and you guys just threw a bucket of bloody parts in the water.”

*

“Eddie, let me ask you something,” says Lucas, getting himself a cold cup from the water cooler. “Do you think I’m in top five good-looking guys in Pawnee?”

“No,” says Eddie without lifting his head from the magazine.

“Do you think Mike’s got me beat?”

“Lucas!” bellows Jim from the doorway of his office, cradling his cup of coffee. “You suck at Scrabble.”

“I know, right? You’re the pro.”

“You’re worse than my ex-wife, and she is the absolute worst at Scrabble.” He takes a sip of the drink. “And, she’s a bitch.”

“Ah, whatever. I’ll get better and beat you some-“

“I doubt that. Her name is Diane Hopper, and she is a serious bitch.”

*

Mike is already busy typing out an email to send Greta when she leaves the building. He knows this interview isn’t going to end well for him, and he’s already looking for a strategy to get out of the predicament. Mike is halfway done with the well-written letter when Ms. Bowie knocks on his door.

“You got a second?”

Mike instantly straightens in his chair, agitated. “Uh, sure.”

“I really have to head back to the office, but I didn’t get a chance to speak with you. Do you want to meet tomorrow morning at the pit? I think there’s still plenty to discuss?”

Mike stares at Greta dumbfounded for several seconds, but then finally recovers, his heart beating unbelievably fast. “Of course! I’ll see you then.”

“Alright. Bye!” calls out Greta, already typing something on her phone.

*

Mike arrives at the pit extra early to make sure that he’s mentally prepared for Bowie’s questions. He’s been on edge lately because of this project expanding to a size he couldn’t control, which turned out to be a much bigger deal than he anticipated. He is about to dive into the depths of the pit once again when he hears the sound of tires on gravel and notices a taxi pulling up. Mike moves closer and sees Greta getting out of the vehicle, wobbling in her heels on the uneven surface.

“Sorry I’m late!” exclaims Ms. Bowie as she struggles to make her way to Mike.

“That’s alright.”

Greta’s blonde hair looks messy, and her lipstick is smudged as if she slept with her makeup on. “Do you have a pen and paper I could borrow?”

Mike’s eyes can probably roll out of their sockets any second now. “Sorry, no.”

She nervously rummages through her purse, some of the contents spilling out on the gravel. Mike bends down to get them, but she beats him to it. I can’t believe my first interview is with such an unprofessional person. I’m fucking grateful I got to to the re-do but, Jesus, who wears the same dress the next day? AND, she’s late. I need this park, and I won’t let her ruin this.

“So, how big is this lot?” asks Greta with a black eyeliner in hand and a crumpled piece of paper that’s apparently her notebook now.

“How big is what? I don’t know, Greta, you tell me.”

“I don’t-“

“A hundred or something, I don’t know-“

“A hundred what?”

“I don’t know, Greta Bowie, I don’t know.”

“Are you okay?” Fuck this. This project means too much to me to deal with her rendezvous.

“I have to get something from my car.” Mike swiftly walks towards his Prius, locks the door and lowers the seat to a lying position. He has to take five minutes of long breaths before he musters up the courage to go back to the pit. He grabs the sunglasses from his glove compartment to make sure his cover isn’t blown. Mike stands closer to the edge again and avoids Greta’s penetrating eyeliner-smudged stare.

“So, how did you end up at the Parks and Recreation department?”

“A couple of years ago my father got me the job. It wasn’t nepotism or anything, I was actually qualified,” Mike looks down at his feet in disappointment in his own blabber mouth, “crap on a stick, technically it was ne-“ He stops midway when he sees Greta shamelessly yawning in the middle of the interview, so much that the black eyeliner she was writing with falls back on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m exhausted.”

Mike sighs loudly and throws his head back. Everyone knows that Greta Bowie is sort of a loose girl. But she is the best reporter in town and typically stays professional. Mike’s disappointment peaks and he leaves on account of a stomach ache, running towards Ben’s backyard which is just a minute away from where the interview was. He starts knocking on the screen door loudly, and within half a minute Ben pops up.

“Hey! You’re home.”

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Well, I was doing the interview at the pit, and it was going super well, but I left in the middle of it because it was going too well, you know what I mean?”

“Right.”

“Can I come in?”

Ben seems to hesitate for a second, his face concerned and slightly surprised. “Sure.”

Mike confidently walks straight to the kitchen, waving to Richie who’s playing Wii on the couch, just like he always does. He sits down on the kitchen table, face in his hands.

“Well, how did it go? Did she ask about Richie being drunk?” asks Ben from the counter, pouring coffee into two mugs.

“No, just standard questions. But there was one annoying thing where she showed up looking like a complete trainwreck, in the same dress form last night, and smudged makeup and everything.”

“What? Really? That’s kind of unprofessional.”

“Right? She didn’t even have the recording device or a piece of paper. It’s like, I spend so much time worrying about us not getting the approval for this pit, and now she can’t even write a sensible article.”

Ben sits down on the table and places a mug in front of his friend. “I’m sorry, Mike. This really stinks. I wish she took this more seriously. I don’t think she understands what’s at stake.”

“I know she doesn’t. I’ve heard things about her but she was so nice when we met, I didn’t really question it.”

“I know what you mean.” Ben smiles encouragingly and clinks their mugs together. They spend the rest of the afternoon playing Wii with Richie, making pancakes, and putting a puzzle together.  

*

Lucas walks into his office and sees Eddie sitting at his desk, nervously biting his lip. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie looks up and smiles mischievously, swiveling away from the computer. “Kicking Jim’s butt in Scrabble. I just played ‘Lexicons’. He’s going down.”

Lucas looks horrified from where he stands on the threshold of the doorway. “No, no, no, no, no!” He runs up to Eddie and pushes the chair out of the way.

“What?”

“I was letting him win, you dumbass.” Lucas shoves Eddie out of the chair and sits down to check the score.

“Whatever.”

“C’mon. Lateral? Communal? Zonal? A ‘Z’? Are you fucking kidding me? Eddie!” Lucas turns around to scream some more, but Eddie already exited the room, laughing on his way to the water cooler. Lucas swears he heard the boy say ‘kissass’.

Mike enters the office and instantly plops into the chair, irritation, and disappointment filling the room. Lucas notices the tension right away and stares at Mike incredulously. The other quickly grabs the phone and punches in a number.

“Greta Bowie speaking.”

“Hi, this is the deputy director of Parks and Recreation-“

“Mike?”

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Hi-“

“I accidentally ate an old burrito.”

“What?”

“I was acting very strange yesterday, and it’s simply because I had food poisoning from that burrito. So… I was hoping we could have a redo of the interview over lunch? I’m buying.”

“Sure, I guess I’m free. I assume we won’t be eating Mexican.”

“Why?”

“Because of your burrito?”

“Oh,” Mike laughs whole-heartedly at his own stupidity. “Well, it wasn’t a Mexican burrito.”

*

“Are you sure that’s the best thing to eat right now? asks Greta, pointing at the large stack of waffles sitting in front of Mike, whipped cream a tall tower on top. They decide to go to JJ’s diner after all since it’s Mike’s favorite place in town. Since waffles is a sensible food choice for a grown man.

“What do you mean? It’s the best thing on the menu.” Mike takes a sip of coffee and sighs in frustration. “Look, I feel like I acted oddly at the pit, and I wanted to apologize.”

“Yeah, you were kind of weird.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say weird. Look, we’re just trying to turn this eyesore into a beautiful community park, and your positive article could really help us out.”

Greta smiles slightly and nods. “Okay. Let me ask you a little more questions then. What are the odds that the park is actually going to get made?”

“A hundred percent? I’d be lying if I said I have doubts.”

“Wow, you’re a lot more confident than your coworkers. Do you want to hear some of these quotes?”

Mike shifts in his seat, growing slightly uncomfortable, and his appetite is no longer present. “Sure.”

“The Sullivan Street pit is always going to be a pit.”

“Well, duh, until we turn it into a park.” Mike starts cutting into the waffles to distract himself.

“Hey, you should write an article about unicorns since they’re more likely to exist than this park.”

Mike laughs nervously, waffle falling out of his mouth. “Tell that to a fourteen-year-old girl.”

“You should write an article on the Pope getting married because that’s more likely to happen than this park.”

“There are some counties where the Pope can be married,” says Mike, stuffing an abnormally large waffle piece in his mouth, the fork shaking slightly.

“You should write an article about the sun falling out of the sky-“

“Why would you write an article about that-“

“This park is never, ever, ever, ever going to happen.”

Something about that specific sentence is simply too much for Mike. He slumps in the seat and admits the defeating tightness in his chest, hoping that whatever people said isn’t going to affect that building of the park that much. But it’s mostly wishful thinking.

*

“Jim Hoppaaaaaaaaar,” sings Lucas when he sees his boss step out of the office.

Jim turns around and comes up to the table where Sinclair is eating some yogurt, and Hopper is clearly frustrated.

“Lucas.”

Young man sighs in defeat and puts the food down. “Look, Jim, I don’t know what to tell you, man. Eddie was on my computer, and the game was already open. It was all him, I didn’t touch it. I don’t even know what lexicons are, I thought it was a luxury vehicle. You’re the word king! And Eddie was obviously cheating,” says Lucas quickly, nervously throwing his hands around.

“I knew it couldn’t have been you. You don’t even have the vocabulary,” says Jim smirking.

“I know-“

“You can’t even spell vocabulary.”

“Uh, yeah. V-O-G-X— Ugh! Was that right?”

Jim steps back to his office, smiling. “We’re cool.”

*

“Okay, Jim, listen to this.” Mike saunters into his boss’ office with the newspaper in hand.

“I don’t ca-“

“An abandoned lot on Sullivan Street has been proposed as the site of a new park. That’s good. But then it gets a little unpleasant. Da-da-da. Ben has ADD… Pretty drunk…. I didn’t throw up, I spit up. JJ’s diner got a nice ad here. Oh! We’ll see.”

“Mike, this article is not good-“

“It ends on a hopeful note, Jim. That’s all I need.” Mike puts the newspaper in front of his boss and leaves the office with a wide smile on his face.

Perma Tag: @happytozier @studpuffin @j0ys @qwertykevin @its-stranger-than-you-think @trippy-alexissss @letmybabyystayy @tinyarmedtrex @d-nbroughs  @aizeninlefox

Parks & Rec AU Tag: @gazebo-motherfucker @1-800-lonelyheartsclub

[pitiful-pitiful]

Therapy Bot (sort of squip x reader)

Word count: 834

Summary: so this is basically me projecting- a squip enters scenario, nothing super romantic at this point, I’ll probably continue this later

I was spiraling. Well, more accurately, I was crashing and burning. I wasn’t eating, I was barely sleeping, my apartment was a trash heap. A friend of mine had noticed my particularly bad depressive episode and convinced me to get this thing she described as a therapy bot, a SQUIP. She said she had one and that it was perfectly safe. I believed her. She got one for me, and didn’t even make me pay her for it, which is insane, considering how ridiculously expensive I’ve been told it is. 

I make it back to my apartment before I start to question my decision to get this thing. I’m insane. It’s official. I pull the baggie out of my purse before dumping it on the ground along with my backpack. Staring at the pill in the baggie, I know I’m about to break down. Impulsively, I open the bag and swallow the pill inside. Following the instructions given to me, I dig through my bag to pull out the Mountain Dew that I had bought at the campus Walmart on my way home. I chug as much as I can. 

“This is just some weird joke, isn’t it?” I mutter to myself before throwing myself onto my futon. After a few minutes of questioning every decision I’ve ever made, and maybe crying a little, I feel a sharp pain in my temple, making my body shoot upwards into a sitting position. A voice echoes in my head.

“Calibration in process, please excuse some mid discomfort.” The pain continues, slightly more intense than before, not unbearable, but certainly not mild. “Calibration complete, access procedure initiated.” The pain quickly subsides. I let out a sigh of relief. Until the voice returns. “Discomfort level may increase.”

“What?!” I yell. Possibly concerning some of my neighbors. The pain returns, more intense than any migraine I’d ever had. I let out short scream before shoving part of my hand in my mouth as not to alert anyone further. My sense of time is altered, I feel like it’s been hours since this started.

“Accessing neural memory.” The voice rings out again. “Accessing muscle memory,” a short pause, “access procedure complete.” The pain subsides and I slump into my futon. A man appears in front of me and he speaks with the same voice in my head, “(Y/n) (y/l/n), welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor, your SQUIP." 

"You’re hot.” I immediately slap a hand over my mouth. He chuckles.

“I have chosen a physical form that you would find simultaneously comforting and authoritative. I suppose it is ‘hot’.” He begins to pace back and forth. “Please note, that speaking out loud to me, will only result in a negative reaction from others, just think at me.” I nod. “Good.” His voice is smooth and rich, like well-made chocolate, like that brand, Divine, that’s super expensive but my mom buys some for me from time to time. “Now, Miss (y/n), I would like you to clarify what your initial goal for me is.”

“My friend said you were like a therapy bot for her, I want to, you know, not want to die." 

"Of course. I suppose 'therapy bot’ is one way to put it. Miss (y/n), this will be a process, and I will need you to listen to what I tell you to do. I’m not a miracle worker, Although I do come pretty close sometimes.” I nod, I would love to listen to everything he tells me to do. He smirks. Shit, he heard that. “Despite the fact that I am in your brain, I cannot simply remove your depression.”

“Why?” I ask. He moves towards me and sits down on the futon, with one knee touching mine. 

“Do you notice how side effects for antidepressants often include suicidal thoughts and actions?” I nod. “These medications increase a person’s energy levels, making them more likely to have the motivation to kill themselves. If I were to increase your dopamine and serotonin levels right now, it would likely kill us both." 

"Oh." 

"Let’s start by just talking. My next recommendation would be to clean, improve your diet, and keep you hydrated. This will help improve your general mood, even if it’s only a small improvement.” He places a hand on my knee. “Telling me about your issues will help you." I take a deep breath and instantly start to cry.

“T-thank you.” I manage to choke out between sobs. He begins to rub my back in slow circles. “I-I feel like,” I pause to take a deep breath, “I feel like, no one has cared this much about me in a long time.” My SQUIP wraps his arms around me in the warmest most loving hug I’ve felt in months, if not years. I start to cry even harder.

“Let it all out. Crying is good. I promise I will help you get better.” And for the first time, I believe that I’m going to get better.

[hinatadovahkiin]

Hinata the Dragonborn #2

Faendal and the Golden Claw

Breakfast was an interesting affair, in Hinata's opinion. The whole family had woken up fairly early, a little before dawn. Gerdur had gone out in the garden to take care of it and then went on to feed the chickens and the cow. The Hyuuga girl had tried not to stare too much at the 'cow'. It looked anything but one, but she decided to keep that opinion to herself. It's milk was no different than that of the cows from home, though. Gerdur had brought in a whole bucket of milk and had poured it in some pot to boil it by the fire place. Hod had also gotten out early, returning with several fresh loaves of bread.

That morning, Hinata decided, breakfast was rich but fairly simple. There was bread and cheese, and also some of the smoked bear meat. Both men had eaten heartily, smoothing down their bites with large gulps of freshly prepared herbal tea. Gerdur had also helped herself to a piece of bread and some cheese, but had opted to have mostly porridge with milk, which was also Hinata's and Frodnar's main choice for breakfast. Stump was laying near the fireplace, gnawing on a big, meaty bone that Delphine, the innkeeper, had procured for him. Or so Gerdur had told her.

"Hinata." Gerdur called her, while wrapping up some bread, meat and cheese in some cloth. She also noticed a canteen with what she assumed was some tea."Could you be a dear and take this to Faendal? He's our local hunter and also helps out at the mill. He's been rather distracted lately and I think he might've forgotten to eat again."

"Uhm, Gerdur, how do I-"

"He's easy to spot, being the only elf in town. Either look for that or for his lovesick expression." Hod laughed heartily at his wife's explanation.

Gerdur handed her the package and Hinata made her way out of the house. It was early enough and she could hear the roosters from the neighbouring houses crowing. The sun was barely poking its way over the horizon, throwing a frenzy of shimmering light and shadow spots through the trees. Despite the sunny morning, it was quite chilly and Hinata could see her breath. Before heading off, she took a slow, deep breath and exhaled contently. The scent of the air was sweet and fresh, somewhat unlike the one at Konoha's surrounding forests, but still vaguely familiar and reminding her with a bittersweet feeling of home.

It didn't take her long to find Faendal. In fact, he was all too easy to spot with her Byakugan, seeing as he was all nervous energy and very distinctly different from the surrounding human forms. Hinata found him pacing near a tree stump, by the wood mill. He was holding some sort of letter on his hands, expression shifting between anger, hopelessness and desperation. Occasionally he would throw a dirty look towards a small house on the other side of the street and mumble some things which a proper girl like Hinata would not care to find out or repeat.

Elves were strange creatures, the Hyuuga heiress decided. Their skins were of distinctly non-human color. The elf she had seen at Helgen was taller than the Jarl, Ulfric (who was the tallest human she had ever seen), but this particular elf was shorter than the average Nord, but still slightly taller than her. Faendal was of a tanned complexion and even so he looked somewhat pale. His eyes were dark, a very vivid brownish color. His facial features were pleasantly handsome with what she determined to be distinct elvish sharpness to them. His hair was near shoulder lenght, straight and silvery. It was worn loose, but by his currently slightly unkempt look she guessed he hadn't had a wink of sleep last night. There was this haunted tiredness to his face that made her relate with him. Gerdur had been right in at least that – he indeed had the look of someone who was lovesick. In a way, he reminded her of herself.

"Oh. Did I see you talking to Sven?" the elf had whipped so fast in her direction that she nearly jumped in fright. He spoke quickly, but with a clear voice. He glared at her for what was all two seconds after which his expression turned into something more friendly (or at least neutral). He frowned. "Hm. Maybe not. Maybe...nevermind."he shook his head thoughtfully." But I would stay away from him if I were you."

"Uhm." was Hinata's intelligent reply and almost immediately she felt embarrassment crawl its way on her cheeks, as she mentally kicked herself for lack of manners. "G-good morning. G-gerdur s-sent me to give you t-this." She nearly shoved the package and the canteen on top into his hands in her nervousness.

For a while, he just kept staring at her critically, without uttering a word. She didn't dare to look up, feeling his gaze upon her. It eerily reminded her of the way some of the Elders still looked at her. Elves, Hinata decided, had something creepily perceptive about them. Predatory intelligence, if you will. Finally, after what seemed to be forever, he spoke.

"You are not a Breton." he started, never removing his scrutinizing eyes from her."And you are not blind. You arrived yesterday with Gerdur's brother, did you not?"

Finally, Hinata gathered the courage to look up. His head was slightly cocked to one side, indicating his peaked interest. Absently, she took note of the slight circles underneath his eyes. Faendal sighed and he shifted the package to his free hand so he could look at the letter again.

"Nevermind that now. Tell Gerdur I give her my thanks." the elf sat down on the tree stump and ran his fingers through his silvery hair.

Obviously dismissed, Hinata bolted for Gerdur's house, nearly tripping over the semi-full loading cart in front of the inn. Whatever kinship she felt about Faendal, it was outmatched by her sense of discomfort. He was so...intense. There was no better word to describe him. She wondered what was written in that letter to make him be so... Hinata stopped in her tracks, several feet away from the gate of Gerdur's and Hod's place. No. It was completely wrong and intrusive to one person's privacy. But Faendal was so distressed about the letter and maybe she could help if she knew what was written in it. Besides, nobody would know.

A chill ran down her spine as she tried to shove that little voice out of her mind. She was a Hyuuga and not some mingling, gossipy housewife of no consequence. She was also a ninja and ninja were curious and suspicious beings by nature. In the end, after standing frozen like that by the gate for ten minutes, said nature won over her sense of better judgement. She headed right back to the wood mill, activating her Byakugan and hoping the overly perceptive elf wouldn't notice her.

Dearest Sven,

I really enjoyed that last poem you sent me. It flattered me to no end as you compared my hair to chocolate waterfalls and my skin to the softness of the pale petals of a white, moonlit rose...

Hinata felt as her gentle heart broke over Faendal's predicament. Apparently, he was madly in love with this Camilla and he was vying for her affections along with this Sven fellow. She bit her lip as Faendal sighed sadly again, his expression absolutely crestfallen. The Hyuuga's sad eyes now gleamed with determination. She would help the elf win over Camilla. If he could do it, then so can she win Naruto over! With these thoughts in mind, she headed back, again, to Gerdur's house.

Frodnar was playing with stump by the river. Ralof was dressed in farmer's clothes and looked well rested and clean. He had tied his hair into a pony tail, though that little braid still hung to the side of his face. She smiled shily as he waved hello and grinned at her. She quickly entered the house and found Gerdur cleaning the mess the men had made at the table.

"Gerdur?" Hinata started. "What c-can you t-tell me about Camilla?"

Late morning found the Hyuuga girl cleaning up the various armors and weapons in the company of Frodnar and his dog Stump. She was sitting on a log at the back of the house, humming lightly, as her trained hands worked expertly over the various crevices and kinks of the armor pieces. Frodnar was watching her with something akin to awe and Stump was sitting beside him, lolling his tongue and doing his happy doggy grin.

"Uncle Ralof told me you killed the headsman with a single poke to the chest." he suddenly blurted, having worked up the nerve to talk to her.

Hinata stopped humming and looked at him, blinking twice.

"Uhm, y-yes I did." she replied softly and continued with her work.

"Wow! And if you poke them in the head, do their brains squirt out through their ears? That would be totally awesome!"

"Uhm. N-no. T-the enemy just d-drops dead."Hinata wondered where this line of questions was going.

"And uncle Ralof said you killed a bear with just an Iron Dagger. I saw the pelt! That bear must've been huge!"Frodnar exclaimed."Are you some kind of an assassin? Like those from the Dark Brotherhood? I mean, they'd totally kill someone with a single poke! And Faendal would be so jealous! He killed a bear once at three hundred yards during a blizzard and I bet it wasn't as big as yours! Hey! Can you teach me how to do that poke thing? I'd totally want to kill Imperial Soldiers like that!"

"Uhm. I-it's a family secret, Frod-dnar." Hinata mumbled. "It t-takes years of t-training, too."

"Aww. Maybe you can show me how to throw daggers? That would be totally awesome as well! Uncle Ralof said you killed a bunch of them Imperials with daggers to the throat. I've been begging Faendal to teach me how to use the bow, but he says I'm too young. I'm not too young to use daggers, am I? I mean, they're small  and I already know how to throw, so..."

"N-no, Frodnar. I started w-when I was four."

"Sweet! So you can show me how to do it later, since you're busy right now." With a grin, Frodnar ran off to play with Stump.

Hinata could not shake the distinct feeling she had just been played into a rather elaborate verbal trap. She sighed. There was no backing out of it now, and it would probably be better if she actually did show him some throwing techniques. It would be the least she could do for the boy and his family to return their hospitality. She picked up the armor she was polishing and gave it a once-over. Satisfied with her work, she took up an Imperial Sword. She would be done in another hour or so and then she would head off to sell her goods to Lucan Valerius, the local merchant. She had a plan that had been carefully constructed after her rather lengthy chat with Gerdur about one Camilla Valerius.

Apparently, several years back, the Riverwood Trade had been owned by this very old Nord fellow. One of his children had decided he was getting too old to live on his own and had taken him to live with them in one of the farms near Whiterun. It was around that time that the Valerius siblings had appeared and with every last bit of their meager coin had managed to keep up some business within the small community of Riverwood. And it was also around that time that Sven the Bard and Faendal the Hunter had discovered they both found the younger Valerius sibling to their liking.

Camilla was a charming young thing, if a bit too stuck in the clouds sometimes. She was one to seek adventure and was also a die-hard sucker for romantic poetry and novels. Gerdur described the somewhat comical at times rivalry between the two young men. But, as of the last few months, things had taken a more desperate turn and both Faendal and Sven were ready to do nearly anything to win Camilla's affections once and for all.

Hinata could see how Camilla found it hard to choose between the two of them. On one side there was the incredibly intense, intelligent and cunning persona of Faendal, who happened to spend a lot of time hunting for various types of wild game, sometimes returning after being missing for days with a troll skull and a sizeable amount of troll fat (an expensive commodity). He also happened to be quite handsome in his own, elvish way and, according to Gerdur, was usually very polite and witty.

Then there was Sven, who was the typical tall and broad-shouldered Nord. Who also happened to be ridiculously good at singing and writing sickeningly sweet romantic poetry. Hinata had yet to hear him sing or to recite some of his works, and her only contact with him had been distant, as she was busy with Ralof, finding his sister.

And speaking of Ralof...

"You really did a good job with the armor and weapons. Don't let Alvor, the local blacksmith, see you, though. He'd whisk you away to make you his apprentice." the tall blond man joked as he examined one of the Imperial Swords. " These should fetch quite a good price. If there is one thing those Imperial Bastards do well, it's their smithing. Their armor is usually lighter than a Nord's, but it isn't designed to battle with the cold, nor does it withstand the steady pounding of a nice, two-hander. Their swords are of superb quality as well-"

"T-they have good b-balance and the handle is c-comfortable."

Ralof grinned.

"You really know your stuff, don't you, Hinata? You know, I've been meaning to ask you...I hope it isn't too personal or that you don't take it the wrong way... But you seem to have military training. I find that to be very strange for someone as gentle as you." His voice steadily grew from slightly teasing and cheerful to more serious. "I wouldn't be asking, but I need to know my family would be safe."

"I-I understand, Ralof." she replied softly, her eyes looking down at her hands that were already fiddling with each other nervously,"I told you I-I was a ninja, r-right? And I c-come from K-konoha. Village hidden in-in the Leaves. I-it is called a hidden v-village, because it is w-where ninja live a-and train. We a-are like mercenaries b-but under the d-direct c-control of the Daimiyo, t-the leader of o-our land. W-we answer t-to the Hokage, the supreme c-commander of all ninja in a c-country and the Hokage o-only answers to the Daimyo. Some ninja, l-like myself, come from clans. I-I am from the Hyuuga clan. W-we possess a bloodline c-called the Byakugan. Y-you a-already know w-what it does. Uhm."

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Hinata. It wasn't right of me to-"

"N-no, Ralof. It w-was the right thing to do. They are your family. I understand." She said, managing not to stutter in the end, looking him in the eyes. She would've done the same, after all.

Ralof sat next to her and remained silent for a while.

"I'm leaving for Windhelm tomorrow." he suddenly said, looking sadly at her. "I don't want to go so soon, but every moment I spend here puts Gerdur and her family in danger. Maybe when the war is over I can return without worrying about the Thalmor bursting through the door. I've told you already several times, but I really think you should join us in the fight for the Freedom of Skyrim. You're a capable woman and I'd  rather have someone like you to watch my back."Ralof chuckled."Even when you are in front of me."

The effort earned him a blush and a shy smile from the Hyuuga.

"You don't have to leave with me right now, you know. I've spoken with Gerdur and she agreed to help you find your way around here for as long as you need it." the blond man tucked in one of her dark locks behind her ear and by doing so gently brushed his thumb against her burning cheeks.

She squirmed a bit, glowing a new shade of red while he chuckled. It took her ten more minutes after he left her to her own devices for the blush to recede. She wished he didn't look so much like Naruto. She also wished she knew how to tell him that she didn't like him like that. And then she'd imagine his broken, crestfallen expression and she'd feel inexplicably guilty about it. With a sigh she carefully packed the armor and weapons in bags and headed to the Riverwood Trade.

"Well, one of us has to do something!"

"We are done talking about this!"

"Well, what are you going to do then, huh? Let's hear it."

"I said no! No adventures, no theatrics and certainly NO THIEF CHASING!"

"Uhm."

"Oh, a customer. Sorry you had to hear that. What can I do for you, young lady?"

"I-I brought some armor and weapons to sell, and hopefully I c-can look at your robes." the shy girl sad softly and brought up the two bags.

Lucan Valerius was all too happy to take a look at the weapons and armor. He took his time examining each and every piece, noting down prices or if they had scratches and the like. Hinata took her time examining the shop. She had heard something about thieves but the only thing that seemed out of order was the broken lock of the front door. Lucan noticed her stare.

"Oh. Eh, we had a bit of a...break in. We still have plenty to sell, though. Apparently, the robbers were after only one thing – an ornament made of solid gold. A golden claw of ancient Nord craft." The man looked whistful while describing said artefact."Camilla here wanted to go and chase them, but these are armed bandits, and at Bleak Falls Barrows no less."

Lucan sighed and then looked at Hinata.

"I can offer you 2 300 septims for all of the armor and swords."

Hinata nodded, trying to hide her surprise at the offered amount. Ralof had told her to expect between 1000 and 1 500 septims for the entire set of gear she had cleaned, oiled and polished. Apparently, she had done a good job to fetch that prize and Lucan was no push-over when it came to his job as a pawnbroker and local merchant.

"Now that this is settled... Camilla, help the lady choose some robes!"

"No need to yell, Lucan, I am right over here." the young woman said as she rolled her eyes in exasperation. As the older sibling tactfully took the armor and weapons to the back room, Camilla gave Hinata a look from head to toe. "You know, Lucan can be a little thick sometimes, but he means well. Come on, let see what we can find."

Camilla pulled out a box in which there were several different types of clothes stacked.

"Why do you need robes, anyways? You don't strike me as a mage.Hmm. This one is too light and pale and this one...brown doesn't suit you. This one is enchanted, but I doubt the ugly color is worth the price. You need something blue or...lilac.Hmm. Oh ! How about this one? It's a brand new one. No enchantments or anything. The outer tunic isn't too long and it gives a lot of room for movement, the pants are thick and keep the cold out. Also, they go marvelously with this pair of black shoes! And these gloves will keep the cold out. Oh, come on now, put them on!"

In the end, Hinata bought what Camilla had suggested and was on her way to Gerdur's home with about 1 500 septims in her coin purse. Her improvised Kunai wrappings were easily hidden by the upper tunic of the dark grayish-blue apprentice robes she was wearing. She made note to ask Gerdur about this Alvor that Ralof had mentioned. She'd  need those knives and daggers sharpened, and probably a few new daggers as well.

"Hey boy. I heard you nailed a septim to Lucan's doorstep. Damn near drove him crazy. That true?"

"Yeah, so?"

Hod looked around for his wife but apparently, she wasn't around. The man grinned proudly at his son and ruffled his hair.

"Ha! I knew it! Had your name written all over it, that one did!"

"That ain't nothing! Wait till you see what I've planned for next week!"

Hinata giggled, the father-son interaction reminding her of Naruto's antics. Both turned to her, surprised by her presence but then Hod grinned and Frodnar rushed at her side.

"Hinata! Can you show me how to throw daggers now? Huh? Can you?"

"Uhm. I-I need to find Faendal to speak with him and t-then I c-can give you some pointers?"

"Oh, okay. I'll be playing with Dorthe by Alvor's smithy." the boy ran off, Stump following close behind him, barking happily.

"Gerdur told me you might be planning to get Faendal and Camilla together," Hod stated seriously. "I've told that girl, Camilla, time and again You need to choose between those two boys. It ain't fair to Sven or Faendal to keep tuggin' on their heartstrings like that." Hod shook his head. " Camilla's a nice lass but she spends way too much time with her head in the clouds, fancying herself some sort of princess and the boys... meh. I'd usually say that one should stick to their own, but Faendal is a fair and hardworking lad and Camilla would do better with him. Sven's taken too much after his own father, and that ain't a good thing, let me tell you that. But listen to me, rambling on about people like some gossipy wife. You'd better go talk to Faendal. He's cutting wood right now, by the wood mill."

Hinata thanked Hod for his time and went for the wood mill. She found the elf easily enough, chopping wood just as Gerdur's husband said he would.

"Uhm. F-faendal? C-can I talk to you for a m-minute?" Hinata started nervously.

The elf placed another log and chopped it into two with ease. He put away the two pieces and finally looked at her.

"The not-Breton. Hinata was it? Gerdur mentioned you'd be staying with her family for a few days." she had his full attention, which unnerved her to no end."You said you wanted to talk? Well then, speak."

Hinata blushed at his tone and looked down at her fiddling hands. She took a deep breath and prepared herself as best as she could.

"IknowhowtomakeCamillachooseyou." she blurted out rapidly, mortified at the thought that he might end up insulted by her mindling. Hinata half hoped she hadn't understood what she had said.

"Oh? Let's hear it then."

Hinata wasn't one to swear, but had she been...well...fuck.

"U-uhm. S-some b-bandits stole a g-golden c-claw a-and C-camilla w-wanted t-to go and g-get it. B-but i-if you g-go t-then...I-I t-thought t-that m-maybe...uhm..." She blushed a darker shade of crimson and the words died out in her mouth. She took another deep breath. "Iwashopingyou'dcomewithmetoBleakFallsBarrowsandgetthegoldenclawback."

She bit her lower lip, trying to calm her nerves. Faendal blinked once. Twice. Then, slowly, his eyes brightened and a very small smile stretched upon his lips.

"If I bring back the golden claw and then Camilla would...but that would mean...and then...Oh. That's  a brilliant idea! Why didn't I think of it sooner? And here I was busy forging a letter. What are we waiting for? I'll go get my armor and my bow and arrows. Wait for me by the other side of town, by the bridge. I will be there shortly."

Hinata nodded, not trusting herself to speak again. As Faendal went to get his gear, so did she went to Gerdur's house to prepare a few bags, some potions and maybe some food, just in case.

"Oh, Hinata? Where are you going?" Ralof asked, coming from upstairs, after hearing the door open and get shut.

"Uhm. B-bleak Falls B-barrows. F-faendal a-and I are getting the g-golden c-claw back for Camilla." she explained, while figuring out how and where to attach the various pouches and the big knapsack.

"Bleak Falls? I'll come with you."

And before she could say anything, Ralof was already attaching pouches of his own and taking up a shield and his trusty Stormcloak War Axe.

888

"Ralof? I didn't think you'd still be around." Faendal said while shaking hands with the blond Nord. "So, what brings you with us? Other than keeping the not-Breton girl safe, that is."

"Hah. You've always had a bit of a mouth on you. I'll be leaving tomorrow and, to be honest, I don't want to miss out on the fight." Ralof grinned at the Elf."And Hinata here will probably have you eat your words. Right, lass?" He winked at the pale kunoichi and she turned slightly pink at his antics.

"Don't tease the-, ah, Hinata. She is shy and I doubt Gerdur would be pleased, either." Faendal said sternly and seriously, as the three of them headed for Bleak Falls Barrows.

Not too far away, two pairs of eyes watched curiously.

"So, that's Hinata." Dorthe said skeptically. "She doesn't look like much. And your Uncle is all over her."

"I'm not lying! Uncle Ralof said she poked a man in the chest and he died! Come on! Let's follow them. They are going to fight bandits at the Bleak Falls Barrows and I bet she's going to kick ass!"

"Fine, but if your Uncle or that Wood Elf end up saving her, I get to tell you I told you so."

888

"The wind's picking up. Let's hope the weather persists and there isn't a blizzard." Faendal said as he readjusted his fur cloak.

"There's the old Imperial Watch Tower up ahead. Hinata, can you check if there are any bandits?" Ralof turned to the kunoichi and she nodded.

Faendal was just about to say that it would be unwise to do so when the petite pale girl suddenly exclaimed Byakugan and the veins on her temples bulged.

"One armed with a two-handed hammer resting by a tree, next to the bridge. Male, average height, favors his right side. Female with a longsword, also armed with a longbow and...18 arrows. Has a dagger hidden in her left boot. She's resting by the entrance of the tower and talking with target number three. Male, tall, heavily armored, possesses a sword and a shield. Fourth target is male and at the top of the tower, observing the surrounded area. Hasn't spotted us yet, also heavily armored and bearing a two handed sword. There is a chest there and something is glowing in it. Unable to determine what."

Ralof looked particularly smug at Faendal's awestruck expression.

"That is useful." the elf finally stated. "Very, very useful."

Hinata released her eye-technique and the veins receded.

"That isn't any normal magical ability. And your eyes...That is hereditary, is it not? Simply fascinating."

"Y-you're very observant, Faendal." Hinata finally said, as the three of them crept closer and closer to the tower. Thankfully, the wind had mostly died down and it wasn't shoving snow particles into their eyes. That, however, also meant that they could not use the snow gusts for additional cover and Ralof's Stormcloak Curiass and heavy shield did not make it any more easier for them to sneak.

"I think I can take out the bandit by the tree from this distance. As long as the wind doesn't pick up again." Faendal said quietly and in one swift motion took out a steel arrow and set it on his bow. He aimed carefully and he was about to unleash the arrow when there was a loud dog yelp and two child-like screams not too far away from them. Apparently, the Bandits had heard the sounds as well, as the bandit by the tree drew out his huge hammer and the only woman present prepared her bow. An arrow whizzed by Faendal's cheek as Hinata activated her Byakugan.

"Frodnar!" she exclaimed with sudden alarm and darted to the children's location.

Another arrow whizzed and Ralof used his shield to block it. He did not wait for the bandit with the hammer to come any closer, and as her lifted his two-handed weapon, the Stormcloak smashed his shield into his torso, forcing him to stagger backwards. With a swift hacking movement, he slashed the man's throat with his axe, leaving him on the ground, gurgling and bleeding to death. The bandit woman was almost dancing around Faendal's arrows, showing a lot more fighting aptitude than her now dead comrade. The third bandit  was upon Ralof as the woman decided to attack Faendal in a melee fashion, bandishing her one-handed longsword. Anticipating her move, the Wood Elf took out his Iron Dagger and parried as best as he could. The longsword, while quite worn, was well kept and of superior quality. Faendal was well aware that any slash would be enough to break his dagger. He needed to do something, and quick. A quick side glance to Ralof revealed that the Nord wasn't fairing any better against his opponent, who was also wielding a shield and a sword. And quite expertly too.

"Urgh!" the woman suddenly grunted, as a knife lodged itself to the side of her throat. Faendal lost no time and picked up her longsword, shoving it down her chest with one clean, smooth move. In the spand of a few seconds, he watched in awe as the otherwise shy and timid girl took on the last bandid with nothing but her bare hands.

"Gentle Fist 8 Trigrams 64 Palms!" she intoned, the veins around her eyes bulging. Her fingers literally glowed in a pale, slightly bluish light. Faendal wondered if the girl was out of her mind. And then she intoned: "Two Palms! Four Palms! Eight Palms! Sixteen Palms! Thirty-Two Palms! Sixty-Four Palms!"

Her hands shot out so fast that they were practically blurrs, even to his acute elven sight. The man stood paralized for a few moments, then he coughed out blood and fell to the side, dead before he even reached the ground. The Bandit with the shield had  turned only for a second but that was all Ralof needed to shove his axe into his neck, separating the head from the body in one swift, but bloody strike.

Hinata let out her breath and her strange stance loosened. The veins around her eyes receded and she turned around to face Ralof and Faendal. Or that's what the elf thought she did. When he followed his gaze, he saw the two children and the dog he had heard earlier.

"Frodnar, Dorthe!" he exclaimed sternly, glaring at them both. Ralof's own glare was no less intense."What in the name of the Nine possessed you to follow us up to the Barrows?"

"If your mother sees you here, Frodnar, she'd skin us both alive! And Dorthe! I thought you were the sensible one!"

Dorthe looked properly abashed but Frodnar was too busy staring dreamily at the three of them, nothing on his mind but their impressive battle.

"Uncle Ralof! You chopped that man's head clean off! That was SO AWESOME! And Hinata! She poked a whole pack of wolves to death in the blink of an eye and-"

"Frondar, Dorthe, you will go back to Riverwood immediately. Do you have any idea what would've happened if we hadn't heard you and Hinata hadn't come to your rescue? You two are in so much trouble-"

"Mister Ralof, please don't tell father or mother! I promise I'll keep Frodnar away from such ideas, just please don't tell them! We're sorry! We really are." the girl, Dorthe, pleaded.

Faendal shook his head and Ralof sighed. Kids these days. At least he knew he could count on Dorthe to keep her word.

"Very well. I won't say anything to your parents or Gerdur." the children looked relieved, but he wasn't finished. "BUT! You will help Gerdur at the mill or Alvor at the smithy. This isn't some game you know. You could've died. Look at Stump, the poor sod. Do you want him to die because of your little 'fun' games?"

Both children shook their heads no, shame clear on their faces.

"I'm sorry." Frodnar mumbled, trying not to cry.

"No one got hurt, so it is quite allright. I believe you've learned your lesson."Faendal said and then turned to Ralof." I'll make sure the kids do as they're told. Well, you better be off now. We've still to reach the Barrows and we've lost enough daylight as it is."

The two children ran off down the road, along with Stump and the three of them watched their descent until they could no longer be seen. After rummaging through the tower and discovering a nice frost enchanted short sword (which Faendal took in lieu of his earlier encounter), they headed out.

"We'd best hurry up. Let's go, Faendal, Hinata." Ralof took the lead up the snowy road to the Bleak Falls Barrows.

There they were met by several bandits, most of them archers and a single one wielding a heavy two-handed axe. As they quietly entered the temple itself, they made note of the numerous freshly killed bodies of skeevers and also one dead, heavily bitten all over, bandit. There was a fire cackling at the other side of the hall and Hinata informed them there was a man and a woman there. With two swift and accurate arrows, Faendal made quick work of them.

"There is a locked chest here." Ralof said as he finished looting the bodies of anything useful.

"I'll take care of it." Hinata said and activated her Byakugan. She shoved two glowing fingers at the lock and it made a distinct clicking sound. And extremely useful technique, but one that literally killed the lock for any further uses. Sadly enough, they only got a  Potion of minor healing and about fifty septims.

As they made their way quietly through the temple, they saw a man, another bandit, standing by a lever of some sort. Silently, Hinata prepared one a dagger and activated her Byakugan. The man, however, pulled the lever and suddenly mechanisms from all about the chamber started moving, visible only to her all seeing gaze, and small poisoned darts started shooting out from all directions. With a pained grunt, the man fell to the floor, dying quickly from the large amounts of poison. Hinata lowered the dagger and turned off the Byakugan. Faendal and Ralof shared a look as the kunoichi tenderly approached the body.

"T-there is an entire complex m-mechanism all around us in-in the walls. It is c-connected to the gate ahead of us and t-these pillars over here." Hinata said as she approached the three pillars. She stared at them for a while and then Activated her Byakugan again. Faendal and Ralof watched her as she slowly turned each of the pillars untill they were positioned in a snake-snake-whale configuration. Her gaze was oddly intense, almost unseeing in the way she was glaring.

"She's looking at everything and everywhere at once." Faendal mumbled, fascinated by his realization."She really is all-seeing."

Ralof merely nodded in acknowledgement to his words.

"You c-can pull the lever now." she said as she turned aroud, veins receding once more. As Ralof pulled the lever, Faendal spoke to her.

"This room was designed as a puzzle" he pointed towards the head statues with the animal symbols, including the one that had crumbled next to the lever. As the door opened and no darts pelted their bodies, the three of them moved on to the next room, as cautious as ever.

"Someone has been through here." Faendal finally spoke, taking note of his surroundings.

"H-hai."Hinata agreed, her ninja training not leaving her far behind the elf's observations.

"I don't like this place. It's too quiet." Ralof finally said, after entering yet another devoid of life room.

"Hmm..."the Hyuuga heiress activated her Byakugan once more, opting to leave it on for longer this time. "there are t-three small specks of life b-beneath us, down the spiral stairs. I t-think they're sk-keevers?"

Ralof and Faendal nodded as the former took out his axe and shield, while the latter prepared his new, enchanted sword. Ralof took the first rodent with a shield bash and a well-aimed stab. Faendal took out the second one by cleaving it in two with a single swish. The third ran past the men and aimed a pouce at Hinata, who easily sidestepped and poked it at the side of its neck. A nasty crunch resounded and it lay dead on the ground.

"T-there is a man ahead. N-no. An elf. I think?" her glaring eyes took on a spark of uncertainty. "I also see a spider. A big one. It's lying in wait on the ceiling. It's using the elf as a bait."

"That...is a big spider." Ralof stated as he hefted up his shield higher and tightened his grip on his axe. He dashed forward as the Wounded Frostbite Spider lunged for him, only for its mandibles to clash with his shield. It screeched as Faendal's flurry of arrows hit their mark. Hinata rushed past the two men and went for the web-trapped elf.

"Thank Arkay! I'd thought I'd never make it out of here alive!" the dark colored elf exclaimed as she nimbly slashed at the thick webbings keeping him in place."Now hurry up and get me free before that damn spider turns around and tries to eat me!"

"Damn spider!" Ralof shouted as he brought down his axe upon its head, killing it. "I really hate spiders."

"Ha! I'm free! Sorry, but i have a treasure to get to – Ack!"Arvel the Swift, as previously web-trapped elf was known, tried to make a dash for it, only to find himself at the mercy of Hinata's powerful Chakra pokes. "Bloody bitch, what did you do to me! I can't move my legs and arms!"

"He has t-the golden c-claw." Hinata stated as she removed it from the sputtering elf. "D-don't worry, Elf-san, t-the p-paralysis will wear off in several hours." the Kunoichi stated as she gently positioned his limbs in a more comfortable position.

"That is useful. Very, very useful." Faendal exclaimed, amusement evident in his voice.

"Should we get back? We have the golden claw." Ralof asked.

"Uhm. T-there is something up ahead. "she looked in a certain direction at a wall, eyes squinting as she concentrated on her vision. "It's at the edge of my d-divination field, b-but I c-can make out a wall. With glowing words. I-I think they're words."

Ralof and Faendal shared a look again.

"We can continue on, if you like. We got so far, why not go through it all, then?" Faendal said and Ralof agreed.

"Hey! You're  not leaving me here like thi-" Alver tried to complain, but Hinata pinched him at the base of his throat.

"Sleep, Elf-san."

"These are the burial chambers?" Faendal guessed as he looked at the various symbols and signs carved in the stone walls.

"Aye. Ancient Nord Burial grounds." Ralof explained as he looked at the well preserved state of the various bodies. "Would you look at that armor." He whispered as his hand  rose to touch the surface of the finely crafted metal piece."

"Grr!" the eyes of the dead body opened and one hand grasped tightly around Ralof's arm.

"DRAUGR!" Ralof yelled as he hacked away at the undead creature with his axe.

Suddenly, bodies started rising all around them. Hinata's eyes widened as she realized she couldn't see them through the Byakugan.

"Hinata!" Faendal yelled as he  whooshed past her with his enchanted sword and slammed it firmly into the head of the draugr behind her.

They were too many. Hinata deactivated her Byakugan and took a deep breath.

"Run upstairs! Now!" the kunoichi yelled as she prepared her Gentle Fist Stance."Go!"

"Damn it, Hinata!" Ralof yelled at her.

"I don't want to hurt you, just GO."

Faendal grabbed the shouting Nord and pulled him away as much as he could.

"KAITEN!" the pale girl almost screamed as almost all of the Draugr were nearly upon her. She started spinning. Really fast. And then she was surrounded by whisps of that pale white-blue light. The light intensified and for a few seconds Faendal and Ralof could see nothing but the light. And then there was the screeching sound of ripped metal, the sound of metal against metal, metal against hard stone, bones cracking, dry flesh ripping... then the light faded and all was silent, except for a dull thud and the heavy panting of a girl.

"Hinata!" Ralof yelled in alarm as he saw her collapsed form in the middle of a whirwind of dead body parts.

"I-I'm allright." she said meekly as she squeezed her eyes shut. "I-I need a m-moment."

Her head was spinning and she was pretty certain she'd need a Magicka potion or two.

"You should stop saving me, Hinata. I'm supposed to be the big strong Nord." Ralof chuckled, albeit it was strained, and he brushed away some of the stray strands of hair that were upon her face.

Faendal moved on ahead.

"There are quite a few traps here, be very careful where you step." He cautioned, as he gingerly sidestepped any loose plates on the ground. Going even further ahead, he saw a corridor with swiping blades trap. Moving swiftly, having timed the movement of the blades, he made it unscathed to the other side and deactivated the trap.

Ralof and a rather unsteady looking Hinata catched up with him as another wave of draugr were upon them.

"Sit this one out, Hinata." Ralof said and helped her sit down by one of the stone coffins.

Faendal noticed that Ralof was now sporting a new axe, or, rather, an Ancient Nord War Axe. The draugr in this room were a lot less numerous than the one in the first. As they moved forward, Hinata cautioned to be wary of the oily liquid that was splattered on places on the floor and also of the precariously hanging oil lamps above their heads. As they progressed, Hinata's step became more steady and soon enough they found themselves in a cavern-like area with blue glowing mushrooms. The Kunoichi took interest in the and harvested almost all of them. Among the ruins of the temple they found several gems, various ancient rings, ear pieces and other jewelry, some in better condition than others. Faendal was particularly satisfied by a jeweled golden necklace, which he immediately claimed for Camilla, along with two matching golden rings that they had stumbled upon earlier. For himself, the elf took an Ancient Nord bow, along with a set of Ancient Nord Arrows. His own bow was better, but he liked the idea of having this one gracing the wall beside his fireplace as a memento of this adventure.  It was only a bonus that it happened to be enchanted with fire damage.

"You could make instant dinner with that one! One shot and wham! Instant roast rabbit!" All three had laughed heartily at Ralof's joke, though Hinata's version of a hearty laugh was more of a melodic giggle.

Finally, the three of them approached a closed gate. It was easy enough to guess how to open it, as the correct combination of symbols was etched onto the bottom part of the golden claw. Hinata, however, said that, with her Byakugan she would've been able to pass by the locking mechanism of the gate. At that, Faendal had amusingly remarked that she would make the greatest thief since the infamous Gray Fox of legend. Ralof had given him a dirty look at that comment.

"Is that the wall you spoke of?" Ralof asked as they entered the final chamber of the Bleak Falls Inner Sanctum.

Hinata nodded as she strained to hear better the very faint sounds of...chanting?

"Ano... d-do you hear that?" she asked, looking at both of the men.

"I don't hear anything except for the bats." Faendal immediately exclaimed, looking as confused as Ralof. He was certain she was not talking about the bats.

"It's like ... chanting." she mumbled as she approached the wall.

"There is a coffin here, might be another Draugr" Ralof stated.

"C-can't you hear it? It's so loud." the kunoichi exclaimed as she traced the cuneiform script.

Here lies the Guardian

Keeper of the Dragonstone

and a FORCE of eternal

rage and darkness.

"Fus..." she mumbled and at the same time something kicked out the heavy stone lid of the coffin.

"Ro...Dah!" the massive draugr hissed and an invisible force slammed all three of them painfully into the wall.

"Ungh!" Hinata cried out as she felt one of her shoulders getting dislodged.

"Argh!" Ralof was first on his feet as he body-slammed into the heavily armored Drauger, forcing it to stagger backwards. But as he was about to shove his axe into the Draugr's neck, the undead creature kicked him in the chest. Faendal, finally on his feet, fired several arrows in quick succession and then took out his sword and flanked the creature.

Hinata activated her Byakugan again. Her shoulder was definately dislodged and she also sported several cracked ribs, making breathing somewhat painful. At least they weren't completely broken. The Kunoichi stood up rather tentively and then slammed herself into the cuneiform script wall, forcing her Humerus back into position. Very painful but effective. She then uncorked one of the remaining Healing Potions and gulped down the disgusting liquid as quick as she could. She threw the empty glass bottle to the side and rushed into the battle, slashing the Draugr at its joints and its neck. Faendal dealt the final blow as he managed to shove his swords through the undead creature's chest from behind. With a heavy grunt, the elf pulled out the sword and the dead body fell limply to the ground.

"That Draugr...it shouted. Like the Greybeards...like Jarl Ulfric. That was a shout!" Ralof rambled on in excitement and awe. And shock. For a while he just stood there, staring at the undead thing they had just defeated. Suddenly, he started laughing like a maniac. " My brothers and sisters...haha! At Windhelm! Oh, Talos! They'd never believe me when I tell them we dispatched a huge Draugr that could shout! Oh, this is going to be quite the story to tell the future generations!"

"You can take its armor as proof." Faendal suggested, prodding at the huge corpse with his boot." He's a bit larger than you, so the armor would definately fit. Hmm. Hinata, can I borrow your steel dagger for a second?"

It took Faendal the better part of an hour to remove the armor of the creature by releaving it of its arms and other body parts. In the end, he was pretty proud of his handy work, Ralof was pretty disturbed and Hinata had opted to look at the pretty stone plate at the bottom of the coffin for the sake of her own gentle psyche. But she had to hand it to the elf. He had a very clinical approach to the whole... dispatching process.

"I think Alvor can fix the huge holes on both sides. What do you think, Ralof? Ah, Ralof?" Faendal looked at the Blond Nord to see him staring with a pale face at the hand the elf had thrown absently to the side. Its palm was lying on his boot. "Oh, for the love of... it's  just an arm, Ralof."

Hinata actually giggled at that, despite the horridness of it all, or, perhaps, because of it.

"Uhm, c-can I take this stone p-plate with us?" the kunoichi pointed at it.

"Oh, of course, Hinata. Let me carry it, though. It looks heavy." Ralof immediately picked it up and gently wrapped it in the old linen cloths lying about the coffin."Looks secure enough to me. Okay, let's head out before it gets too cold outside. It's probably already dark."

In only a matter of a few minutes, the three of them were at the exit.

"Ah, at least the sky is clear tonight. Imagine trying to get this load to Riverwood in complete darkness, eh Hinata?" Ralof commented, but his words went unnoticed by the Hyuuga girl.

"Hinata, is everything allright?" Faendal was first to notice that she was staring unblinkingly, with wide horrified eyes at the sky, quickly beginning to hyperventilate.

"Hinata!" Ralof cried out in alarm as she collapsed to her knees, crying, whimpering, shivering violently.

The Blond kneeled and grasped Hinata's shoulders, squeezing them gently and calling out her name. She was unresponsive, not even registering neither his attempts nor those of Faendal's to get her out of her sudden state of shock.

"Two moons!" she suddenly croaked out through sobs, then rambled on in her native tongue. Ralof embraced her tightly, gently rocking her back and forth, trying desperately to understand what was going on.

Beside them, Faendal stood as still as a rock, hand covering his mouth and his vividly colored eyes wide with his terrifying realization.

"Hinata, please tell me what's wrong!" Ralof pleaded again.

"T-two moons! Two moons, Ralof!" she sobbed. " I-I'll never go h-home!NEVER!"

"Hinata calm down!" came Faendal's cold and sharp voice."Look at me, girl. Ralof, let her go. She needs to get over her shock. Hinata, I said look at me!"

He shook her violently and then forced her face to meet his eyes.

"You are not alone, Hinata! We are here. I want you to breathe in slowly and then breathe out. Stay with me, Hinata. Ralof, give me the canteen."

The elf spashed the cool liquid on her face and then gently slapped her.

"We will get home, Hinata! Stop crying, woman! This will not get you back to your world. If there is a way to get you here, then there is a way to take you back home as well. Get yourself together or are you giving up!?"

Faendal's steely words finally got to her and she blinked. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy from the crying. She wiped at her tears and then she frowned at the elf.

"I'll never give up!" she stated with determination and then wiped her face again. "L-let's go."

Not a word was uttered on the way back.

After a late night dinner at Gerdur and Hod's home, Faendal went to his home, but not before giving Hinata a reasurring smile. As the rest prepared to bed, Gerdur could not help but notice the Hyuuga's strange mood. When she asked her brother about it, he explained that there was nothing they could do, except giving their support.

"Please Gerdur, I know it may be too much to ask, but let her stay as long as she wants to. She has nowhere else to go."

Somehow Gerdur knew that Ralof was not just repeating himself. There was this desperation in his eyes that spoke silent volumes about what had transpired in the Bleak Falls Barrows.

"I already told you that I will, Ralof. Don't you worry about that." with that, Gerdur went to sleep.

"Hinata, are you awake?" the blond Nord whispered.

"I-I am." she replied quietly, her voice slightly hoarse. Ralof sadly reflected that she was crying again.

"You've been crying again." he said softly.

"I-it's just t-that I-I'll never see them again." she sobbed quietly."F-father, my sister Hanabi, m-my cousin N-neji...M-my team, Shino, K-kiba and K-kurenai-sensei. A-and Naruto-k-kun. I-I'll never see him again."

As she shook with her quiet sobs, Ralof felt as if someone splashed him with cold water. Of course, she had someone in her heart. Feeling incredibly sad and somewhat guilty of his behavior, Ralof gently placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, gently rocking her back and forth.

"Shh..." he whispered in her hair." It's okay to cry. Let it all out. It's okay to cry, but not okay to cry all the time, you know?" he joked gently as his fingers ran through her hair. His effort was rewarded with a weak giggle. He smiled at her. "You are a strong girl, Hinata. Strong and gentle, and smart. You will find your way back home. I am sure of it. And then you will be back to that Naruto of yours and if he isn't waiting for you then I will come there and kick his ass into Oblivion."

And despite herself, Hinata giggled again.

"Y-you're a g-good person, Ralof." She whispered as she wiped her tear streaked face.

The blond man grinned at her and then kissed the side of her forehead before letting her go.

"Go to sleep Hinata. I don't want you to be groggy when I leave tomorrow."

"Good night, Ralof-kun." Hinata mumbled sleepily.

"Goodnight, little princess." Ralof mumbled back, and soon both were asleep on their cots.

The next morning they woke up early and the entire household had a rich, filling breakfast. With cheerful laughs and lots of smiles, Ralof said farewell to his sister and her family. Finally, he turned to Hinata  and pulled her into a bear hug and off the ground, making her blush prettily.

"Oh, and one more thing before I leave!" he said and swiftly leaned down to her face and stole a kiss before she realized what happened.

With a high-pitched eep, and face as hot as the sun, her pale lavender eyes rolled back into their sockets and she fell unconscious into Hod's hands.

"RALOF, YOU DIRTY PIG!" his sister screeched after him, as he laughed heartily, a pretty pink blush marring his own face. Now he would go to Windhelm, knowing he had kissed the prettiest girl of two worlds.

[xicanafemmefatale]

Tulum in recent years has become one the hottest destinations – Everyone is launching new design collections, inspiring projects and now culinary wonders!

Noma´s pop-up restaurant in Tulum is a product of mastermind Chef Rene Redzepi whose vision of cooking seasonal and simple food blended almost effortlessly with modern techniques catapults his diners into to a juxtaposition of explosive flavors.

The restaurant is outdoors, tucked inside the beauty of the tropical tree canopy of palm trees on a cleared edge of jungle behind La Zebra hotel—and offers a never-before-seen menu featuring hyper-local ingredients.  Cooking is done over open fire, ingredients are meticulously sourced from throughout the peninsula and specialties brought in from the rest of the country. A real sense of imagination and team spirit is present throughout. Noma Tulum´s team breathes an eagerness to learn and try other ways of looking at food. Without a doubt a great moment of cultures clashing and merging.

The hottest restaurant on the planet wastes no time making you feel like one of the luckiest diners in the universe. Champagne is poured the second you’re seated and the first few minutes are a blur of color and discovery (Pigs shiny with coconut fat! Ice cream that sets the tongue on fire!) as a sea of people introduce you to dishes you are sure to be talking about well after the restaurant goes dark here, as planned, after a mere seven weeks.

“Setting up a restaurant in the jungle is one of our more challenging tasks,” says restaurant manager James Spreadbury, whose colleagues sport shorts behind their aprons.

Spreadbury is one of 145 employees, family members and guests of Noma in Copenhagen, hailed for four years as the “Best Restaurant in the World” and on hiatus since the end of last year, when the restaurant at the fore of the new Nordic trend closed for the second time in its history. The first was in 2015, when the team flew to Tokyo for a five-week pop-up. Success in Japan led the next year to Noma Sydney, which is where planning began for a seven-week run (April 12 through May 28) here in Mexico.

Such is the reputation of Noma and its chef, Rene Redzepi, that tickets for all the $600-per-person dinners sold out in two hours.

Back to the blur.

“Pinuela and tamarind,” says a server, setting down cactus fruit that remains crisp despite boiling and gets its pow! from tamarind paste, mezcal drops and cilantro flowers. “It’s not bitter or poisonous. It just feels like a lot of seeds.” The dish is quickly followed by a ceviche featuring a queen clam from the Sea of Cortez, its maritime freshness flattered by powdered local lime leaves, and salbutes, sheer, deep-fried tortilla cups filled with dried tomato concasse and eaten with our hands. The fine crunch comes not just from the shell, but also from crickets from Oaxaca and grasshoppers roasted in garlic. Two young men ferrying a suckling pig, a mahogany prize splayed on palm fronds, sidle up to the table to let us preview a future course.

Redzepi, who spent five months researching the region, is also enchanted by what he calls “spice,” in particular capsicum, or chile peppers, native to the Americas. Having coached the world on fermentation and foraging, he and his kitchen crew now refer to heat as “the sixth flavor,” after sweet, salty, sour, bitter and umami (a Japanese-coined word used to describe a pronounced meaty taste). Diners first encounter heat in a visually arresting bowl of cool masa broth floating “flowers of the moment.” It takes a few seconds, but droplets of habanero oil on the surface of the broth make themselves felt, loud and clear. (Can we talk? The bouquet appeals more to the eyes than the tongue.) The last course, chocolate sorbet served in pasilla peppers that have been simmered in sweet-sour melipona honey, goes out with a bang, too. “Diners were very skeptical,” says Redzepi. “But it’s one of the best desserts we’ve ever done.” The intense chocolate and the chile heat are dynamite; envision a Fudgsicle crossed with a firecracker.

If “Gilligan’s Island” had a fine-dining restaurant, Noma Mexico would be it. The ad­ven­ture starts across from the oceanfront La Zebra hotel, where smiling greeters check your name off a guest list and lead you to your table via a sand trail that passes bushels and baskets of some of the many ingredients (jackfruit, mangoes, Yucatan limes) on the tasting menu. In the near distance is a long kitchen, inside of which all the cooks acknowledge each arrival with a thunderous “Yes!” (The best table may be No. 23, parked front and center amid the greenery and with a view of the kitchen that captures the four local women whose sole job is making tortillas.) Initially, you’re too dazzled by the parade of tropical dishes to notice the thought that has been lavished on the design. Soon enough, you find your fingers rubbing the smooth surface of the tables made from salam, a local hardwood, and now known as the Noma style of furniture. Everything including the water pitchers and dagger-like knives was custom-made in Mexico.

If there’s a more stunning fruit soup on earth than Noma Mexico’s bowl brightened with star fruit, grapefruit, avocado, mango (and more), I have yet to dip into it. Part of Redzepi’s talent is creating brilliance from humble ingredients: a halved coconut pressed into service as an edible display case for shimmering caviar and coconut cream; finger-length apple bananas, sliced and served with what looks like ink but is in fact charred banana skins crushed with orange juice — a surprisingly luscious portrait in ebony and ivory, finished with seaweed oil. This is food that makes you laugh and think and brace yourself for the next course.

By the end of the night, I feel as though I’ve met everyone who works at Noma. The extreme hospitality at Noma Mexico — confident, knowing, comforting — feels genuine. No doubt, it springs from the closeness of the team. The notion of family takes on new meaning when you consider the staff, made up of more than 20 nationalities, pretty much lives together for the life span of the pop-up, with only Mondays and Tuesdays off. Speaking of family, Redzepi keeps his biological tribe close. Along for the ride on this pop-up are his wife, three young daughters, twin brother (who performs maintenance) and mother-in-law, whose background in psychology makes her Noma’s “well-being officer.”

So why Tulum? To begin with, Chef Redzepi just wanted to come to Mexico. Ina  brief conversation with him he shared he has spent quite a lot of time here over the past decade, traveling mostly within the Yucatan state, Oaxaca, and Mexico City.

“I keep coming back to learn and be inspired by the rich food history and tradition. We decided on Tulum because we didn’t want to be in a city. Having already done two pop-ups, in Tokyo and Sydney, we wanted something quite small, intimate, and to be more in touch with nature. At the same time, we need to be in a place with the existing infrastructure to support 145 team members—schools for our children, an international airport nearby, and then I also wanted to bring the team to a place I knew they would love. To be able to swim every day in the Caribbean Sea before coming into the kitchen is simply once in a lifetime.”

Yucatan is a huge peninsula encompassing three Mexican states. Most of it is covered in jungle, most of it very rural, with incredible diversity and ways of cooking and eating that don’t exist where we are from. People truly live off the seasons, they eat everything that’s worth eating, and they have been doing so for thousands of years. They consume food in a very sophisticated and thoughtful manner; it is more than just sustenance, and in between all of this there is so much discovery and inspiration.

Known for his use of foraged and hyper-local ingredients, Redzepi has partnered with non-profit Traspatio Maya for the duration of Noma Mexico. The organization represents a network of 15 Mayan communities cultivating indigenous products, which include staples such as beans, corn and squash.

Noma Mexico runs through May 28 in Tulum, Mexico. noma.dk/mexico. $600 per person (sold out)

Redzepi’s first foray into taking Noma international was a two-month stint in Tokyo, Japan in 2015 followed by a 10-week pop-up in Sydney, Australia in 2016. The 40-seat Noma in Copenhagen, which was named World’s Best Restaurant four times, served its last meal in February. Redzepi has plans to reinvent it with Noma 2.0 – an urban farm and entirely vegetarian restaurant.

NOMA- What its like to dine at one of the best restaurants in the world Tulum in recent years has become one the hottest destinations - Everyone is launching new design collections, inspiring projects and now culinary wonders!

[loribos]

New Post has been published on Toronto Events, Activities and Entertainment

New Post has been published on http://www.torontonicity.com/2017/04/06/figures-restaurant-avenue-road-review/

Figures Restaurant Opens on Avenue Road: REVIEW

Walking into the vestibule entrance of the new Figures Restaurant at 137 Avenue Road, it looked like I had arrived at a comic book store that would be the envy of Sheldon Cooper, but where was the entrance to the restaurant? The hostess revealed that the door to this new Toronto resto-lounge is hidden in the cartoon-covered wall of the vestibule to present a speak-easy vibe. It’s worth spending a few minutes at the front to admire the classic Marvel comic books and Batman figurine collectibles that are showcased.

Entrance at Figures Restaurant leads to a secret door to the restaurant.

Figures Restaurant is housed in a Yorkville restaurant space that has seen several changes in the past year, with the most recent incarnation being Coco Lezzone. With foot traffic from local Yorkville hotels, Figures is bound to attract celebrities and Toronto’s foodie elites to taste its extraordinary cuisine.

As we walked in, we were led upstairs to a long, narrow, dark room that featured elegant banquettes and tables and a bar along one side. Covering the walls and ceiling are murals of famous action figures to stare you down while you eat and drink.

Interior of Figures Restaurant in Toronto

Banquette at Figures Restaurant

The creative menu features tapas style small plates – and, a word to the wise – plan on ordering three plates per person if you are coming for dinner so you don’t leave hungry.

At the recommendation of our server, my dining partner opted for the Maleficent cocktail, $19, a concoction of double still rye, Bruichladdich The Classic Laddie Single Malt Scotch Whiskey, pineapple and lime juices, sage and bitters. She described it as “an enticing blend of flavours with some sweet, not spicy and a little kick.” The drink was served lit on fire for added drama.

Maleficent Cocktail, $19, at Figures Restaurant

Owners Nader and Patrick Marzouk obviously have a love of comic book heroes and action figures and have shared their passion as the theme of Figures. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that the whimsical theme translates into casual cooking; this is fine dining at its best with Executive Chef Ron Stratton showcasing his talent in innovative dishes such as Beet Chevre Truffle, Cherrystone Clam Fava Bean and Octopus Escabeche.

Fennel Kalamata and Saffron, $18, at Figures Restaurant

We started with Fennel Kalamata and Saffron, $18. The fennel was cooked to perfection, releasing its licorice-tasting essence, with still a bit of crunch. The Kalamata olives provided a satisfying saltiness to the fennel’s sweetness.

Our second plate was the Fairytale Eggplant Sesame Chickpea, $12. The eggplant was really tender and we wondered whether it had been braised to achieve this effect. The sesame elevated the taste of the eggplant with its nutty flavour, while the chickpeas provided an interesting contrast in textures.

Coho Salmon Sunchoke, Dandelion, $24, at Figures Restaurant

Our third plate to share was the Coho Salmon Sunchoke, Dandelion, $24. This was one of my favourite dishes: the salmon was so tender – it just fell off the knife – while the artichoke puree provided a smooth, earthy mouthfeel.

Octopus Escabeche Black Garlic, $20, at Figures Restaurant

Next up was the Octopus Escabeche Black Garlic, $20. The octopus is cooked and served cold so that you can taste its full flavour. Both my dining partner and I agreed that the texture was not fishy at all and somewhat similar to chicken. The Black Garlic sauce was delicious for drenching these scrumptious molluscs.

I still had trouble connecting the comic book theme with a fine dining establishment. As if intuiting my puzzlement, Nader and Patrick explained to us that walking into a comic book themed restaurant made you feel relaxed. And in order to appreciate good cuisine (or anything quite frankly), you need to feel relaxed. And that is the missing link that made me understand the connection.

Oxtail Plantain, Red Stripe, $18, at Figures Restaurant

Oxtail Plantain, Red Stripe, $18, was our fifth plate. I wasn’t enamoured with the plantain pancake, finding it too doughy and bland, but the oxtail was rich and lean, with flavour that was enhanced by the lager…delicious!

A5 Kobe Beef Maitake XO Sauce, $70, at Figures Restaurant on Avenue Road

The A5 Kobe Beef Maitake XO Sauce, $70, is a gustatory sensation. Figures uses Kobe Beef sourced from the Hyogo Prefecture in Japan. In other words, unlike many restaurants, Figures is serving authentic Kobe Beef. The beef was melt-in-your-mouth tender with a rich flavour enhanced by the dried-seafood XO Sauce. It is cooked in a vertical position so the top is medium rare while the bottom has a crispy base. The Maitake mushrooms, which grow in clustered leafs, added an earthy taste to the dish. This is a must-have dish at Figures. With Spider-Man hovering above us on the ceiling, I was concerned that he might use his web-shooters to steal our delicious Kobe Beef.

Spider-Man adorns the ceiling at Figures Restaurant

Beignet Nutella Blood Orange, $14, at Figures Restaurant

For dessert, we ordered the Beignet Nutella, Blood Orange, $14. These crispy pastries were good, particularly the hazelnut flavoured one; however, we couldn’t get beyond calling them “good, fresh donuts.”

Mexican Chocolate Fleur de Sel, 22 Carat Gold, $18, at Figures Restaurant

Our second dessert plate was the Mexican Chocolate ($18), which was a hollow round egg of dark chocolate that enclosed a soft brownie sprinkled with 22 Carat Gold. This gives new meaning to the word “rich dessert.” Tucked beside the soft brownie were two mini action heroes. Was I supposed to eat them? The dark chocolate was delectable: rich, semi-sweet and fine.

The resto’s background music was lounge-style and at an appropriate level to allow for conversation for most of our meal. At 9:30 p.m., the DJ signaled that it was time to shift gears and the volume was definitely louder as he spun one of my favourites from the David Bowie songbook,“Fame.”

DJ spins tunes at Figures Restaurant

We thorough enjoyed the fine dining at Figures Restaurant. Drop by for dinner or late night bites: You will be in for a holistic sensory experience.

Star Wars wall decor at Figures Restaurant

Figures Restaurant is located at 137 Avenue Road (just south of Davenport Road), Toronto, 416-900-1022. Hours are Tuesday to Saturday from 5:30 p.m. to 2 a.m.

[readbookywooks]

The Carew Murder Case

Nearly a year later, in the month of October, 18 — , London was startled by a crime of singular ferocity and rendered all the more notable by the high position of the victim. The details were few and startling. A maid servant living alone in a house not far from the river, had gone up-stairs to bed about eleven. Although a fog rolled over the city in the small hours, the early part of the night was cloudless, and the lane, which the maid’s window overlooked, was brilliantly lit by the full moon. It seems she was romantically given, for she sat down upon her box, which stood immediately under the window, and fell into a dream of musing. Never (she used to say, with streaming tears, when she narrated that experience), never had she felt more at peace with all men or thought more kindly of the world. And as she so sat she became aware of an aged and beautiful gentleman with white hair, drawing near along the lane; and advancing to meet him, another and very small gentleman, to whom at first she paid less attention. When they had come within speech (which was just under the maid’s eyes) the older man bowed and accosted the other with a very pretty manner of politeness. It did not seem as if the subject of his address were of great importance; indeed, from his pointing, it sometimes appeared as if he were only inquiring his way; but the moon shone on his face as he spoke, and the girl was pleased to watch it, it seemed to breathe such an innocent and old-world kindness of disposition, yet with something high too, as of a well-founded self-content. Presently her eye wandered to the other, and she was surprised to recognise in him a certain Mr. Hyde, who had once visited her master and for whom she had conceived a dislike. He had in his hand a heavy cane, with which he was trifling; but he answered never a word, and seemed to listen with an ill-contained impatience. And then all of a sudden he broke out in a great flame of anger, stamping with his foot, brandishing the cane, and carrying on (as the maid described it) like a madman. The old gentleman took a step back, with the air of one very much surprised and a trifle hurt; and at that Mr. Hyde broke out of all bounds and clubbed him to the earth. And next moment, with ape-like fury, he was trampling his victim under foot and hailing down a storm of blows, under which the bones were audibly shattered and the body jumped upon the roadway. At the horror of these sights and sounds, the maid fainted.

It was two o’clock when she came to herself and called for the police. The murderer was gone long ago; but there lay his victim in the middle of the lane, incredibly mangled. The stick with which the deed had been done, although it was of some rare and very tough and heavy wood, had broken in the middle under the stress of this insensate cruelty; and one splintered half had rolled in the neighbouring gutter — the other, without doubt, had been carried away by the murderer. A purse and a gold watch were found upon the victim: but no cards or papers, except a sealed and stamped envelope, which he had been probably carrying to the post, and which bore the name and address of Mr. Utterson.

This was brought to the lawyer the next morning, before he was out of bed; and he had no sooner seen it, and been told the circumstances, than he shot out a solemn lip. “I shall say nothing till I have seen the body,” said he; “this may be very serious. Have the kindness to wait while I dress.” And with the same grave countenance he hurried through his breakfast and drove to the police station, whither the body had been carried. As soon as he came into the cell, he nodded.

“Yes,” said he, “I recognise him. I am sorry to say that this is Sir Danvers Carew.”

“Good God, sir,” exclaimed the officer, “is it possible?” And the next moment his eye lighted up with professional ambition. “This will make a deal of noise,” he said. “And perhaps you can help us to the man.” And he briefly narrated what the maid had seen, and showed the broken stick.

Mr. Utterson had already quailed at the name of Hyde; but when the stick was laid before him, he could doubt no longer; broken and battered as it was, he recognised it for one that he had himself presented many years before to Henry Jekyll.

“Is this Mr. Hyde a person of small stature?” he inquired.

“Particularly small and particularly wicked-looking, is what the maid calls him,” said the officer.

Mr. Utterson reflected; and then, raising his head, “If you will come with me in my cab,” he said, “I think I can take you to his house.”

It was by this time about nine in the morning, and the first fog of the season. A great chocolate-coloured pall lowered over heaven, but the wind was continually charging and routing these embattled vapours; so that as the cab crawled from street to street, Mr. Utterson beheld a marvellous number of degrees and hues of twilight; for here it would be dark like the back-end of evening; and there would be a glow of a rich, lurid brown, like the light of some strange conflagration; and here, for a moment, the fog would be quite broken up, and a haggard shaft of daylight would glance in between the swirling wreaths. The dismal quarter of Soho seen under these changing glimpses, with its muddy ways, and slatternly passengers, and its lamps, which had never been extinguished or had been kindled afresh to combat this mournful re-invasion of darkness, seemed, in the lawyer’s eyes, like a district of some city in a nightmare. The thoughts of his mind, besides, were of the gloomiest dye; and when he glanced at the companion of his drive, he was conscious of some touch of that terror of the law and the law’s officers, which may at times assail the most honest.

As the cab drew up before the address indicated, the fog lifted a little and showed him a dingy street, a gin palace, a low French eating-house, a shop for the retail of penny numbers and twopenny salads, many ragged children huddled in the doorways, and many women of different nationalities passing out, key in hand, to have a morning glass; and the next moment the fog settled down again upon that part, as brown as umber, and cut him off from his blackguardly surroundings. This was the home of Henry Jekyll’s favourite; of a man who was heir to a quarter of a million sterling.

An ivory-faced and silvery-haired old woman opened the door. She had an evil face, smoothed by hypocrisy; but her manners were excellent. Yes, she said, this was Mr. Hyde’s, but he was not at home; he had been in that night very late, but had gone away again in less than an hour; there was nothing strange in that; his habits were very irregular, and he was often absent; for instance, it was nearly two months since she had seen him till yesterday.

“Very well, then, we wish to see his rooms,” said the lawyer; and when the woman began to declare it was impossible, “I had better tell you who this person is,” he added. “This is Inspector Newcomen of Scotland Yard.”

A flash of odious joy appeared upon the woman’s face. “Ah!” said she, “he is in trouble! What has he done?

“Mr. Utterson and the inspector exchanged glances. “He don’t seem a very popular character,” observed the latter. “And now, my good woman, just let me and this gentleman have a look about us.”

In the whole extent of the house, which but for the old woman remained otherwise empty, Mr. Hyde had only used a couple of rooms; but these were furnished with luxury and good taste. A closet was filled with wine; the plate was of silver, the napery elegant; a good picture hung upon the walls, a gift (as Utterson supposed) from Henry Jekyll, who was much of a connoisseur; and the carpets were of many plies and agreeable in colour. At this moment, however, the rooms bore every mark of having been recently and hurriedly ransacked; clothes lay about the floor, with their pockets inside out; lock-fast drawers stood open; and on the hearth there lay a pile of grey ashes, as though many papers had been burned. From these embers the inspector disinterred the butt-end of a green cheque-book, which had resisted the action of the fire; the other half of the stick was found behind the door. and as this clinched his suspicions, the officer declared himself delighted. A visit to the bank, where several thousand pounds were found to be lying to the murderer’s credit, completed his gratification.

“You may depend upon it, sir,” he told Mr. Utterson: “I have him in my hand. He must have lost his head, or he never would have left the stick or, above all, burned the cheque-book. Why, money’s life to the man. We have nothing to do but wait for him at the bank, and get out the handbills.”

This last, however, was not so easy of accomplishment; for Mr. Hyde had numbered few familiars — even the master of the servant-maid had only seen him twice; his family could nowhere be traced; he had never been photographed; and the few who could describe him differed widely, as common observers will. Only on one point, were they agreed; and that was the haunting sense of unexpressed deformity with which the fugitive impressed his beholders.