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[mobilefoodcartmanufacturer]

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[lupin-et-rose]

Second Chances Best Served...

Jigen x Female Reader (1st person)

"Supernatural" AU

(Warnings for mild language, mentions of violence and sexual themes. Minors DNI.)

'Your target can be found at the Monkshood Cafe, 8 o-clock sharp on Saturdays. Revenge best served hot.'

With the sun streaming through the tinted windows, I could almost convince myself the sun was setting. But it's much too early for that. Grinders and boilers whir to life around me. The clicking of cups and tills carry the rich scent of coffee and cash through the air. Tendrils of steam dance on the wood-panelled ceiling. Tapping to the tune of human chatter from every direction.

Heat emanates between my palms as I lift my own cup of 'coffee' to my lips. I glance at the clock on the wall. Quarter till eight. Fifteen minutes till payday number two...The thick, full-bodied beverage in my hands soothes the burning hunger in my gut. Though the prickle of anticipation still lingers on my skin. I can be patient, it's not like I'm low on practice. It's just another mangy mutt I'm putting down, after all.

The client gave me no physical descriptors to engage with; the place and time were really all I had to go off--actually, scratch that. That's not necessarily true. They certainly did their research beforehand, nailing down the target's habits and haunts. Certainly makes my job easier. Whoever it is I'm looking for, they have a very specific comfort zone and are quite picky about punctuality. Another point in my favour. Judging by the venue I've been sent to, seems this target is rather old-fashioned as well. I could think of a couple well-known names in the underworld who fit that description. But, perhaps the most telling detail of all--this new client sought me out by my reputation. That can only mean one thing. 58...59...

The bell rings over the door.

I look up. My frozen heart jolts inside my chest. Or...not. At the same time, I can't help thinking; you've gotta be shitting me. But there's no mistaking it. The rumpled suit, the gangly limbs, the scraggly beard--and that thrice-damned hat! I bite my tongue. The sharp tang of iron swells in my throat, setting my nerves on fire. My stomach burns.

I can hear the beat of his heart from here. Ba-dum, Ba-dum, slow and steady as he strides to the counter. Just an ordinary day at an ordinary cafe. No curled fangs. No pointed ears. No flashing tail. To any passing civilian he's just as human as anybody else. I run my tongue over my teeth. To those beneath the surface, he's a well-known thief and a nigh-perfect marksman. Still presumed human. I know that man is hairier beneath the suit than most would expect, but that's a far cry from the monsters I'm typically enlisted to hunt. To kill.

A low hiss rattles under my breath.

His head snaps to the sound. On a dime, his eyes meet mine. Pulsing fire turns to chilling ice in my veins. That lazy-tom-cat visage balloons beneath the brim of his hat. Jaw slack. Tanned skin turned pale. The barista hands him his drink and his change. He doesn't even look at her. His actions are somehow automatic, inattentive, and miraculously polite. A familiar sight when his mind is so far away.

He keeps those slow and steady strides, now away from the counter and toward my booth. The scrambling of his pulse nearly swallows the sound of his steps. I hide the aching in my gums with a sip of my cup. The disgruntled gunman slams his drink on the table and snarls.

"What in the hell are you doing here?"

"Aww, so you do recognize me," Turn on the charm and everything comes easily. His nose pinches. "I'm touched Jigen, truly. It's so good to see you--"

"Don't play coy with me, woman," The man insists on keeping his voice lower than the thermostat. "People like us don't bump into each other by accident. Just what the hell are you up to?"

"Up to?" I ask, quirking a brow. One long sip is enough to prompt a scowl. "Well, I've found a new job recently. Pays quite well. I was scheduled to meet with a new hire here this morning, but it's just as well I ran into you."

A growl rumbles deep in his chest. My own ribs tense. Skin prickling, jaw aching, crimson red flaring at the edge of my vision. One deep breath. Keep it together, I remind myself. Don't lash out. Target 'best served hot,' remember?

"So there's a bounty on my head."

"Something like that," I shrug. A wave of a hand finds him sitting in the bench seat across from me. "Makes sense, wanting to take a mangy mutt off the street. It's perfectly sunny and you still smell like wet dog."

The marksman's lips curl in a half-snarl. "And you smell like death-"

"Rude."

Jigen scoffs. His nose twitches. The brim of his hat suddenly locks onto the lid of my drink. "What's your poison?"

"Tea." Single syllables are the easiest lies.

"Tch. Of wcourse, you would," his dimples twitch. The movement flickers like candlelight before disappearing again. He sniffs. "-What flavour?"

"Blood Orange."

His hat lifts scarcely an inch. One hazel eye, sharp as a knife, pins me to my seat. "Tell me the truth."

"You can't handle the truth."

His teeth grate and grind from across the table. "You're after the price on my head, aren't you?"

"If I had known it was you, I wouldn't have drawn up the contract."

"Oh really? Got a soft spot for all the sorry suckers you screwed over the years?"

"Stop it, you know it wasn't like that."

"Wasn't it? And how would I know, exactly?"

"Now you're just being bitter."

"I'd say I have a right to be bitter, don't you? Sixteen years of nothing but a note and now you show up to arrest me? Tch. What a shitty joke." Jigen sits silently for a moment. This may be the first sip he's had of his own coffee since we spotted each other what was it--I glance a the clock--twenty minutes ago. Wow.

"Are you here to arrest me?"

"Do I look like a police officer to you?"

"No, you look like a washed-up actress. Maybe a blood-sucking parasite. But I'm guessing that's not what you do for a living."

"Asshole. You're lucky I'm supposed to bring you in alive. Otherwise, I'd put a bullet in your head like the dog you are."

"You rotten-!" His insult falls short. "Hold on a friggin' minute. Since when were you doing hit-jobs?"

"Not as long as you."

"Hey-!"

"Don't act like you've got ground to stand on, Scruffy," My vowels clip sharply between growing teeth. "You and every boss you've ever worked for haven't given a shit about killing for as long as I've known you. Even your 'precious'-"

"Don't." One word. Clipped and colder than mine ever were. "He's not like that. Not anymore."

I'm ashamed to admit it, but I almost believe him. Almost. "Pfft, is that so?"

"That's never what he was about anyway," Jigen says quietly. "It just happened."

"Right~...Between 'just you and me'? That's a crock of blood and bullshit."

"(Y/N)--"

"Look, we can play this whole cat-and-mouse, chicken-and-egg game 'till the sun goes down, alright? So let's just cut to the chase," One last drag of that bloody drink--the lingering red on my lips never tasted so sweet. "Why don't you just come along quietly? I turn you in, get the next half of my paycheck, then we never have to see each other again. Deal?"

"Do you even know what you're turning me in for?"

"Oh, sure. Wrote up a contract and everything. But that doesn't really matter now, does it?"

"If that's how you feel about it, then no."

"Huh?" Sure, single syllables are always better to lie with. But every woman in the underground knows that a no means no. But still- "You're passing up a golden opportunity here, Hotshot. I get paid, you get your ass whooped, and then charming prince Lupin can come to your rescue. It's a win-win-win!"

"No." Jigen insists. "Let me go."

Pointed teeth prick the flesh of my lip. Moulting from charmer to snake in the blink of an eye. Again that iron tang flushes my tongue. This time the taste is bitter and boiling. "I could just kill you, ya know. Bleeding you dry would be worth more than any bastard could pay me."

"Oh yeah?" One long sip from now-cold coffee. He doesn't seem to care at all. My cold veins burn. "And why would you want me dead over all your other romantic rejects?"

"Why does any woman want any man dead?"

"You want me to count the reasons?" Jigen drawls.

"Hah! No need," my lips twitch against my will. I force them down. "Though if you remember how the saying goes, revenge is best served--"

"Revenge is best served on a warm, naked body."

"Jigen!"

The sharpshooter throws his head back and laughs. "Haha! You ancient prude."

"Rude!"

Jigen continues laughing. Such a candid response throws me back on my heels. My fangs grit against one another like nails on a chalkboard.

"What the hell are you laughing at?!" I snap. "I am here to drag you with your tail between your legs, you filthy mutt. Not to ham it up like one of your drunk-ass poker nights with--"

"What if I told you I could get you your money without dragging me anywhere?"

"Eh, that wouldn't be as fun."

"The hell?!"

"Just saying," I shrug. "Whether it's my hands or someone else's wringing your sorry neck, the money would just be a bonus."

"A bonus? Don't give me that shit about a bonus!" Jigen bristles. "Just what the hell did I do to piss you off, huh?"

"You want me to 'count the reasons'?"

Silence. Lighting outside the window shows morning has passed to midday. The clock keeps ticking, though it sounds more like a heartbeat now. The sharpshooter sits still, his cup still in hand. "Let me guess." He says. His voice simmers beneath the clatter of the cafe. "If I'm right, you let me go and sate your bloodlust some other way. If I'm wrong...you can kill me. Turn me in. Whatever. Either way, you never have to see me again. We have a deal?"

That paper cup I'd been holding was now a crumpled ball. A collapsed star pricks the inside of my palm. My white-knuckled grip splinters the space between us. "Hmph. Alright, Bullseye. Hit me with your best shot."

His voice starts low and quiet. Without hesitation, as if he's been thinking about this for a long while. "I kept that note you left, ya know. The paper's long gone, but I'm not the kinda guy to forget someone's last words to me. You said-

'Jin--I know we both tried, but I guess 'just you and me' is not enough anymore. You're in over your head. I am too. I'm sorry I can't stay.'

"-Short and sweet, just like that," I see the words he spoke so clearly I could swear I was writing them all over again. His voice is stronger now, but still so distant: "Spared me the long break-up monologue, I'll give ya that much. You're right. I was over my head; with my siblings both 'out the nest' --hell, I'm not gonna lie. I was drowning. Didn't see another way out.”

"So you signed on with the mafia?"

"Hey, the mafia paid better wages than that damned bodega. So I took it. I know you want me to say I regret not telling ya-"

"But you don't."

"No, I don't. Because I know exactly what you'd do if I did. You were in deep shit, too, ya said so yourself. Twenty-some years without drinking human blood--without turning--you were getting the Hunger pains, weren't you?"

"Pfft. 'Turned'? 'Hunger?' What do you think I am, a werewolf-like you?" I ask.

"No, you're a vampire. So you left me planning to take that news to the coffin with you."

"Hmph. I see your sharp eye hasn't changed much. Think the werewolf senses tipped you off?"

"Not many creatures stink of iron and raw meat," Jigen says, snarky as ever. "I'd heard rumours of a vamp for hire hunting werewolves. Didn't occur to me that-"

"That I'd be the one?" Something like a dry smile ticked the corner of my lip. "Yea, I get that a lot. Told you ya couldn't handle the truth."

"Who says I'm not handling it?"

"I can hear your heartbeat, Jigen. I can smell your godawful stench and that stupid hat-"

"Eh, what's my hat got to do with this?"

"Everything and nothing, now just shut up and listen, would ya?"

Jigen slouches in his seat but keeps his mouth to himself. The man sits silently. Fingers clenched to the point of trembling. A marksman shaking in his boots. He couldn't draw a gun fast enough to defend his life. Now's the time, something pings in my mind. Perfect time to take him in or take him out--bada-bing-bada-boom, revenge is served.

I know exactly how I'd do it, too. Shove the table forward, stabbing the edge into his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. My heeled boots could nail the instep of both his ancient loafers before he could catch his breath. Breathless, panting, pained and pinned the booth. His only other avenue would be his nose. A far too prominent feature that could easily be knocked out of place with a well-aimed punch. Would hardly have to worry about the groin, after that. I could make a run for it, make it look like he'd been about to assault me. Or, I could cuff him all professional-like an officer making an arrest. Either way would be fun. Messing with public opinion is always part of the game.

But, for the first time in...I don't even know how long--I don't move. I don't wanna play. I want to sit. I want to stay. I want to watch his face unfold as the whole truth unravels before him. The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. An unravelling I once witnessed within myself, oh so long ago. So help me, god... I continue.

"You lied to me, Jigen. All those years ago I could feel you lying to me. I didn't know what was happening to me or to you and I couldn't even talk to you about it." My lips twitch a little at the callback. Unintentional or not, the irony still stings. "So why should I believe a damn word you say right now?"

The marksman's slouch wilts with every word. When I look up he's almost melding with the seat of the booth. He opens his mouth a couple times but all that comes out is: "Was I right then?"

"What?"

"That you hate my guts for all the shit I pulled back then. The reason you're so gung-ho to gut me head to toe."

I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat.

"Heh. I don't regret keeping you out of my mess," Jigen says. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't've been there for yours."

"...I know," I confess. Every word aches, but it needs to be said; "I think I always knew that. I guess it was just..."

"Easier to believe the other's gonna cheat ya somehow. Yea, I know the feeling."

A moment of silence. It strikes me, that ringing of sincerity in his words. Leaned back in his hair, hat drawn low over his eyes. This is the most relaxed I've seen him since before this moment. Before this conversation, past all the years of separation, before everything went to shit it was just--this. Just this. The thought tilts me back on my axis. As if this is the first time someone told me the earth is round instead of flat. Though I can't see much of his face beneath the damned hat, I get the sense we're both seeing differently. More intently, I decide. I can see it in his posture, in his mouth; the lean of his shoulders absorbing his every word and movement, his lips curl into dimpled corners, soft and sincere. I flush and turn away.

"So...I guess this means you won. A deal's a deal."

"Huh?" I never realized before just how Jigen-like that sound is. "What about your contract?" He asks.

I shrug. "Eh, I'm allowed to change my mind. Scumbag didn't read the fine print so I'll be in the clear with cash in hand."

"But it'll probably only have the commission, right?"

"Oh well, twenty-five million's nothing to scoff at. I can get by for a little while." I pause, glancing from the table to the clock to the window. It'll be a few hours before sunset. But the rest of my day will probably be cutting ties and cleaning up the mess of this job.

'Either way, you won't have to see me again ...'

I look back at Jigen. His words echo between my ears. Even after sixteen years, this man doesn't really feel like a stranger. And yet he is. A stranger that you meet once in a cafe and never cross paths with again. I could just go along with the deal. It would be just as he said. But--I don't wanna play that game. My jaw aches, fangs slowly retracting to where they belong in the light times. Finally, I can venture an unabashed smile.

"In the meantime, what d'you say we do a little catching up sometime? Say...eight o-clock next Saturday?"

Jigen splitters, having been lost in his own thoughts. "Wha-real, er, where?"

"Anywhere in the world."

His startled gape stretches into a blinding-wide grin. "How about right here?"

"--It's a date."

'Note to self: Your target will be found at the Monkshood Cafe, eight o'clock next Saturday. Second Chances best served hot.'

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes 27:Hill climbing preparations

Part 26 here!<-

Rehearsals were going well. With Darren out of mind and no further incidents, students had gotten back into a steady blow of progress. The band was a little shaky at first but Summer had learned that Nick had a point about her being a bit strict in the beginning. With that hurdle jumped, Summer felt comfortable enough to take a short break. Her feet swung from over the stage's edge like a kid on a swing while she took a moment to call Oscar. It had been a few days since their last check in date. The fact that he didn’t blow her fun up meant his own hands were full. Fortunately, two rings was all it took before his face popped up on her screen, covered in what was hopefully seawater.

“Hi Oscar! Ummm sea life treating you will? You look a little…”

“Wet? Sigh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss the cold of the tundra. All the storms and aquatic grimm yanking me off the boat is getting annoying. Anyways, Penny told me you had a little scare recently? Everything okay?”

“Yes, I think.” Summer rubbed her face. “Well…as okay as things usually get. I do feel better than usual. I’ve gotten to perform quite a bit the last couple days.”

“Really? Did you take my advice by any chance?”

A guilty smile found its way on Summer’s face. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nah. I’ve just been singing a couple of covers and a few originals that anyone with a radio has heard. The lyrics in the journal are just that, in the journal. I actually wanted to talk to you about a trick Nick got me to try. You’ve actually mentioned it once before early on.”

“Is that so- woah!” Oscar yelped, nearly falling from the rock of the ship crashing through a wave. “Hehe. Sorry about that!”

“Everything okay over there? I can call later?”

“No it’s fine; just rough seas. That’s good though. Challenging waves and other harsh weather factors have been swelling for quite some time. You’re too young to remember this but Atlas was actually a bit warmer. Hot places were cooler and sailing wasn’t as wild.”

“I’ve heard about that in class. Don’t scientists think it might have something to do with magic being back?”

“Or the gods roaming through Remnant.” He smirked, confident about the latter theory. “Harsh conditions mean it’s difficult to press forward. As if the world itself is trying to keep things away. With a little luck, passing these hurdles are all the answers we need.”

Answers. Summer couldn’t begin to imagine having those. It was more terrifying than reliving if she had to be honest. She wouldn’t know what to do if the gods themselves didn’t know what to do. The only thing worse is them saying she couldn’t do anything.

“Let’s cross our fingers you aren’t on a boat for nothing. Speaking of Shiva, Nick talked me into entering my headspace willingly. I was even able to manifest a shovel in it!”

“A shovel?” Oscar quirked his head.

“Yeah it wasn’t the usual blue empty space. It waslake; the lake as a matter of fact. I chucked a shovel at Shiva and told her to start digging her grave.”

“Nick told you to do that!?”

“Weeeeeeell… he only told me to confront her with unwavering resolve in a way Veronica would. I’m pretty sure that meant being cut throat but I may have defaulted to cock intimidation. Pretty sure I stoked the flames of war. But it felt good!”

The cheerfulness in her tone was genuine. While manifesting and confrontation was something Oscar had tried to get her to do early on, there are ways to go about it. Headspace or not, poking at a beast was always risky. “I’m glad you’re feeling good, but exercise caution. I wouldn’t try that alone. There’s a lot we don’t know about that space. I doubt you can actually die there but if that really is your mind you're traversing then serious backlash might happen if things go wrong. Remember, Shiva has an edge. Don’t let her play you in your own head.”

“Believe me, that’s the last thing I want. I’ll be careful Oscar. Thanks for worrying about me. Couldn’t ask for a better therapist”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Ruby and your dad give some pretty solid motivational speeches.”

Hehe, don’t sell yourself short. I should probably get going. Good luck! Watch the gods tell you to perform an exorcism or drown me in sacred water.”

Oh if only it was that easy. “If she had any signs of a soul I would’ve tried that already. Take care Summer. Call me when you need me”

“You know I will.” She hung up and looked over at Nick. A few of the girls had taken the opportunity to strike up a conversation with him. In typical fashion, Nick just let them fawn in vain. “Geez, take a hint ladies.” She mumbled.

“Oh my gods! I wasn’t aware you could sing!”

“So talented!”

“Can you sing for my birthday!?”

All the back chatter and compliments made it hard to focus on one person. Nick did his best to calm them all, giving a faux laugh and smile. “Hehe, thanks. I can hold a note, I’m not as good as my sister, and I’m way too sheepish to sing at a birthday. Now we should probably get back to working maybe? Practice is almost-” his eyes caught the door entrance before he finished. Valerie had walked in.

As if by will, her head automatically turned to meet his eyes. Valerie couldn’t help but give some kind of disarming smile, giving a small wave that was quickly rejected when Nick went back talking to the people around him. Not even Valerie could deny that burn. She put her hand down before she felt anymore like an edit, walking over to Eliza to get what she had to do over with.

“Hey soldier.”

“Huh? Well look who finally decided to show! I expect more from a representative of this school.”

“Oh brother…” Val couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I’m not even gonna pretend that I’m sorry like I usually do. Look, at least I did what was asked of me. Boiler is fixed for now and there should be no problem getting hot water when the big day arrives.”

“Keep a keen eye on it just in case. I don’t have any time to deal with tiny problems during the tournament.”

“Yeah you and everyone else in this room. Now if you excuse me.” Valerie pointed both thumbs back and tried backing up slowly.

“Hold on…”

“Uuugh. Yes? I got plenty of practice to work on. Make this quick.”

Eliza narrowed her eyes. “Wow, someone is more aggressive than usual. If that’s how you’re going to be then I’ll spare you the lecture. Just know you better be careful or I might pull the rug out from under you this year.”

“Hmph, bold words. You gotta make it to the top of the hill before challenging the ruler. Though you’re more than welcome to kick Nick around and take his spot for all I care. See ya. Just text me the meeting information. Got things to do.” Valerie turned around and headed off. On the way out she saw Summer staring at her with a raised eyebrow from afar. To make matters worse, the cheerleaders moved by the exit. Veronica being among them. Valerie was ready for some kind of sly comment but to her surprise Veronica briefly acknowledged her, nodded, and then went back to what she was doing.

Eliza looked at the time and figured everyone made enough progress for one day. “Alright everyone! You can all start wrapping things up. I’m sure all of you have things to-” the sound of everyone packing their belongings overpowered her voice. “Do.” She finished. At least she could trust everyone to clean up on time. “Nicholas, get your butt in gear.”

“Oh thank goodness!” Nick wasted no time squeezing his way through the girls that lingered around him. “Sorry! The VP calls! Let’s go Summer!”

“Right behind you.” She turned towards the band. “It would be a good idea for you all to practice a little longer. Not because you may or may not need it but because I’ll finally give you room to experiment. Just no funny ideas about adding drum solos.” Summer hopped off stage and headed off, quickly catching up to Nick, Eliza, and Veronica. “Well aren’t we an interesting looking bunch?”

“An idol, witch, heir, and fashion designer. This is the beginning of a bad joke I’d say.”

“Bold of you to call someone a witch when they’ve agreed to help you train.”

“Would you prefer magical girl, or maybe sorceress?” Nick nudged her.

“I prefer my name. However…sorceress is endearing, I suppose.”

“I could call you that while you teach me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” She said in a shrill voice. “I’m already regretting this.”

“Well while you two train to death, I’m finally going to get some real shut eye. I can hear my bed calling my name already.”

“Not so fast.” Veronica interjected. “Since we ended up being free at the same time and I have to work a little more diligently…”

Summer didn’t like where this was headed. “Veronica, my hot headed designer, I’m well aware of what it’s like to be a perfectionist. However, please don’t rope me into this.”

All three of them looked at her at once. “It’s your dress!”

“I know that! No need to remind me! I am tired though. It’s Monday, the weekend was crazy, and I just put in a full day of school with extra curricular activities. Allow me two hours at least!?”

“Ugh, ever the whiner. Fine but I don’t want to hear any complaints about design. Most would be thrilled to be heavily involved with their clothing.”

“Well consider this a show of good faith towards your skills.”

The four of them continued to talk all the way to the manor. Eliza tried to stay on important topics while Nick did his best to keep things casual. It never really worked out considering Summer's insistence to not help her dear brother and Veronica’s curiosity about events to come. It was only when the girl’s feline ears twitched by the gate did she begin to quiet down.

“Hmmm?” She stopped immediately.

“Huh? What’s wrong Vee-”

“ACHOO!!!” The girl yelled. The sneeze was so strong Veronica lifted off the ground slightly. “Phew…sorry about that.” She sniffled her loss and continued walking like nothing happened, leaving everyone confused. Veronica was the first to enter with everyone lagging a bit behind. Her eyes looked around until they spotted her mother, Blake, coming down the stairs in casual clothes and wet hair.

“Hey everyone! Finally home I see? And with a friend?”

“Uh classmate. I wouldn’t exac…ummm that’s not important. Hehe, I’m Eliza Marigold.” She stammered. It didn’t really dawn on her that she’d be meeting Mrs. Belladonna herself today. “You look lovely. Though���you look a little red? Are you sick?”

“Oh it’s nothing! Just umm got out of the shower is all.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s ma?”

“Out back with Jaune.”

“Really?”

“One hundred perfect!” Blake said, unusually preppy. “Well I don’t keep you kids held up. I’ll be in the living room. Nick, Summer, I think your mother is in the garden.”

“Cool. She must be setting up the candle test already. Follow me Eliza.” Nick took her hand and guided her.

“Think I’ll get lost or something?”

“No, I just don’t need you judging every inch of this place until you find something to criticize.”

“……It’s too bright in here.” She heard Nick snicker at her attempt. “You suck.”

With those two out of the way it was time for Summer to mosey to her room. “Finally, nap time!”

“Don’t you wanna practice too?”

“What they’re doing is something I already know. Besides, Nick and I do most of our practices separate. He’ll get me when he needs me. Wake me up if you need anything.”

Veronica waited for the girl to get out of sight before giving her mom a look meant to inspire shame and embarrassment. “Really? We’ve been out all day ya know? You had plenty of time.”

Blake put her hand over Veronica’s face. “Shush your face. It happens sometimes. Thank you for the heads up.”

“Y’all are gross but that’s nothing new. I won’t mention it again if you could bring dinner up to my room. I’m gonna be spending quite some time in there.”

“Even across the world I guess some habits don’t change. Deal.”

xxxxx

In the garden, Weiss stood on the balcony with a cup of coffee. The sound of footsteps behind her caught her ear. She was more than a little surprised to learn that they belonged to not just Nick. “Eliza?”

“Mrs. Schnee. Thank you for allowing me in your home.” Eliza gave a curtsy.

“How’s your father?”

“Oh you know him, always up to something.”

Weiss wasn’t sure if that was good or bad considering his track record. “I see. Well make yourself comfortable. Nick, everything is already set up. Never would’ve thought this is how you’d try to get this done. Don’t push yourself.”

“Heh, push myself? Me?”

Weiss playfully rolled her eyes and left the balcony, ruffling Nick’s hair on the way out. Nick looked at Eliza confused. “You know you don’t have to be so formal around her, right?”

“Let’s not focus on my speech and pay attention to why we’re here. Anyways, how does this training work exactly?”

Nick walked to the railing to point at the fifteen candles spread throughout the garden. “The goal is to light all the candles at once without burning anything. It’s harder than it looks. It requires timing, speed, accuracy, and control above all.”

“Never took you for one who cares much for traditional methods of fighting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use your glyphs to manipulate the elements.”

“Yeah, because I suck. Summer on the other hand…” He hunched over in defeat. “Not so much.”

Eliza couldn’t help but scan the area multiple times. This couldn’t be all there was to it. Could it? The five candles in the actual hedge maze looked a little challenging, but Nick was…Nick! Despite her reservations about his attitude, he was smart and knew how to work.

“Do you increase the candle amount as you go?”

He nodded. “That’s the natural progression. Summer can do thirty without thinking much about it.”

“Meanwhile you can’t even do half that amount. You sure you’re the older twin?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” He pouted. Nick grabbed his sword and got into his low stance.

“So I’m just supposed to observe you?”

“No. I’m going to need help with the fires too.”

That’s not something she wanted to hear. “Tsk, alright. But first, let me see if I’m able to do it. Wouldn’t be that good of a teacher if I couldn’t.”

She climbed on top of the railing to get a better look. She raised her right hand to the sky and took a breath. Five flames ignited her fingertips as she thought of the best approach. Moments later, Eliza launched all five with a downward swing, another five swing left, then the final five to the right. Each flame danced on the winds below them before finding their targets.

Amazed, Nick’s jaw dropped for a second before saying anything. “First try!?”

“Not exactly. You did say all at once so that may have been cheating. Let me try again.” She wrapped both arms around herself then swung them out, causing a gust of wind that blew out the candles.

Nick watched closely. Breathing, posture, line of sight; anything he could to gain knowledge. Eliza cuffed her hands together. A small flame flickered into existence and grew slowly until it was the size of a baseball. Eliza threw it over the garden underhanded. The moment it reached max height she pushed her hands downwards like if she closed a lid. This made the flame split apart into embers that fell quick enough to reach each candle. Nick couldn’t believe she was two for two.

“Seems I got the hang of it.” Eliza blew the candles out and hopped off the railing. “I’d do it while off the railing but I’m positive we know the results.”

“Yeah no kidding. While I’m lucky I picked the right person to help me, doing that so easily kinda stings. Not gonna lie. You really are a sorceress.”

“Tsk, flattery gets you nowhere. Assume your stance.” She ordered. Eliza kept a close eye on Nick. He opted to square his feet with his shoulders, a sturdy stance for sure. “So far so good.” His blade pointed up and outwards. A red glyph began to form at its tip, conjuring a ball of intense flame that was as big as a softball. Eliza’s eyes narrowed. She could not believe what she was watching. “You’ll miss.”

“Huh?” Nick said, trying to focus.

“If you shoot the fireball then you are going to miss.” Eliza channeled a silver orb in her palm that bursted into shimmering light. Nick’s glyph suddenly vanished and took the fireball along with it.

“Hey! Don’t just negate my semblance out of the blue! I didn’t even shoot it yet!”

Eliza wasn’t sure what she had expected from this training. It was clear now why a talented person like Nick was fumbling. Frankly, it was annoying. Down right inexcusable. Eliza folded both her arms. “You’re so idiotic in the strangest ways possible, you know that right? To think you’re stronger than me?”

Nick huffed. This wasn’t constructive at all. “You gonna actually help, or continue to insult me? If I knew how to do this on my own then I wouldn’t ask for help.”

Nick ran his hand through his tangled hair and let out a sigh. Eliza could tell he genuinely had no idea what was wrong. It kinda got to her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be picking on you like that. You weren’t wrong to ask for help.”

“Normally I have an inkling of how to progress but I’m hitting a wall. All of this is just…”

“Too much?” Eliza leaned over and thumped his head. “Because it is. That’s exactly your problem. You are doing far too much at once. Why are you trying to do so many steps at the exact same time?”

“What do you mean at the exact same time? All I did was make a fireball.”

Eliza could feel her eye try to twitch. “Okay. I should’ve expected that from you. Guess I’ll teach by showing.” She stood beside Nick and made a flame. “See? Now this is as basic as it gets, just straight up fire. A fireball requires controlling the shape of the flame;maintaining its heat as well.” The flame swirled around itself to make just that.

“Okay? I’m following you so far.”

“If a fireball was all you were making then no big deal. However, I just saw you attempt to make a fireball that has to keep its shape, burn hot enough, long enough, and must be aimed at multiple targets at once. No mind can do all that on a dime. It’s simply too much.”

Nick watched Eliza move behind him, putting her arms right on top of his, guiding his movements as if she was holding his blade. Her chin rested on his shoulder to get a clear line of sight. Nick was no stranger to being led through an attack, but man was it weird to have Eliza this close!

“Ummm…”

“Bear with it and focus.” She uttered, trying not to yell in his ear. “Make a flame. Just a flame. Let it heat swell and dissipate in sync with my breathing.”

“Shouldn’t it be with my own?”

“Not when your heart is beating like a drum. To think Nicholas Schnee would lose composure from a girl touching him?”

“Can’t hear you, focusing.” He was trying anyway. Eventually he managed to slow his heartbeat. He could tell Eliza was taking deep breaths on purpose to help. In sync, he made another fire glyph as she ordered.

“Good, now make it as hot as you want, then make it into a ball.” The flame shaped into the size of a baseball this time. Eliza smiled. “See how easy it is to control the size after you’ve completed the previous steps? You’ll save dust this way.”

“What’s next?”

“Aiming. You already know where your targets are but you also aren’t in a rush. If you need time to make a shot then all you have to do is make the time.” Eliza raised Nick’s sword higher in the air. “Launch it into the air, confirm where you need the fire to hit, then guide the flames to it.”

Nick took a deep breath and launched the fireball ball in an arch over the garden. He waited for it to reach the middle and fall briefly before making it burst into smaller flames that hit the candles. Eliza finally let go so he could pump his fist into the air.

“Woohoo!”

“Don’t celebrate yet, but good job. A moving target would be harder but not impossible. Repetition will allow you to eventually group certain steps together without having to think about it. You’ll get used to making fireballs that are a certain size and speed as long as you allow yourself to process each step as you are now. I noticed you let the fireball fall. Why?”

“I always end up not lighting them all because the fire dies too quickly. I realized the flame wasn’t hot enough the moment I shot it, so I let it get closer to the candles before having to split it up. Good thing you told me to aim higher or I may not have noticed.

“He can process things like that but not realize breaking the steps up will make things easier? How does his brain work!?”

Another gust of wind blew the candles out. “I’m willing to help you further but I think it’s time you held up your end of this bargain.”

“Antsy, aren’t we? Fair enough.” Nick put his sword down and sat on the railing. “What I’m about to tell you is going to make your tournament life a hundred times simpler. This is your second King of The Hill. Remember the rules?”

“Of course I do.” She followed his lead and sat down as well. “All previous tournament and combat skills leading up to the tournament are calculated so they can rank you compared to the other contestants. In order to progress higher you must defeat the person directly above you in the rank to switch places. Those who win are rewarded a reprieve from being challenged immediately to decrease rematches, but the loser can be challenged by whoever is directly below them. Conversely, if you challenge a person and lose, then you have to wait a set period before trying again while defending your current spot. The entire tournament is on a time limit that tests endurance, strategy, and the skills you’ve used all year. The winner is whoever is ranked number one by the end; the king of the hill.”

“Correct! It’s pure chaos. However, you forgot an important thing. You’ve participated once and managed to get third, so that’s automatically where you start.”

Eliza’s eyes lit up. “That’s a rule!?”

“Yep. As long as you still participated in prior tournaments this year, which you have. Congratulations on skipping the taxing part. Now you’re in the grueling section. The only way you go up is through me and Valerie. A slip up could cause you to waste too much energy and that could drag you out of third if you lose or even win against me immediately, because if I get challenged and win, then I can challenge you again before you challenge Valerie or after you hypothetically lose to her. Let that sink in for a moment.”

Eliza could feel her heart drop to her stomach. If she were to beat Nick and lose to Valerie then at best she’s at a third of her strength for a rematch she doesn’t want. Beating Nick was a goal but she didn’t need to do it twice in a day! The worst part is she is at his mercy in this scenario; getting a reprieve only if he needs one. He could very well best her and then she’s even more tired defending third place.

“Is it sinking in? Third place is its own special hell. Let’s knock Valerie into it.” He smiled.

“And how do we manage that exactly?”

“By knocking me into it! I want to take a dive in our match. A good one. The two of us will put on a spectacle to show our might that ends with me losing. This will throw everyone off into thinking you are exceptionally strong and-”

“Are you saying I’m not!” She folded her arms.

Nick chuckled nervously. “Let me finish before you get upset. Yes, you're strong, but will think you’re stronger than me by a decent margin. This is where the mind games kick in because the two of us haven’t actually used that much energy, but the other contestants don’t know that.”

Eliza rubbed her chin. “You…want them to fight you?”

“Exactly. No one's gonna pass up the opportunity to get a leg up on me. You know that better than anyone. Unfortunately for them, I’ll actually be trying against them and I fully intend to go end them quickly. This does multiple things. It makes the gap between the top three look bigger, allows me to stir the lower ranks rotation, keeps you rested, and makes Valerie anxious because you will not immediately challenge her. We are going to burn time until it gets to a point that once she’s knocked out of first, getting back up will be nearly impossible.”

“I fail to see how that’s possible. If she’s rested-”

“That’s just it, she won’t be. You can challenge her freely and not worry about me for most of the tournament. Use the time to learn how to fight her then I’ll challenge you again and win, then immediately go fight her. You’ll briefly be back in third place but fourth place holders will be exhausted and think twice about challenging you, Eliza Marigold; the person who beat Nicholas Schnee.”

“You made a safety net for third”

“I made a safety net for you! I will beat Valerie so she’ll fall to second place and that’s where you jump in to knock her to third. By that point she’ll have to wait and losing twice in a row is gonna give people ideas. Even if she beats them it’ll be a race against the clock and you can challenge me to avoid fighting her if it comes down to that. Boom, guaranteed second place for you with a potential at first place.”

The plan was insane, daring, and yet clearly thought of. “This is…a lot. Not to mention not full proof. What if I actually don’t need you to weaken Valerie and can take first place for myself?”

“Then by all means take it. I’ll knock Valerie to third myself and then fight you. Careful though. If I win you’re stuck with her and plenty of time you have to stall.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “What if I refuse this off altogether?”

“That’s fine. We’ll just all have to do our best.”

“Your entire plan hinges on you beating Valerie. What if-”

“I’ll win.” He deadpanned. “I can take her this year. No questions about it.”

He started giving that same exact look he did a few days ago. “Not that I’m not interested but this feels a little unlike you.”

“Is that bad? People are always saying I’m too soft around Valerie. This is a tournament and there’s no rules against teamwork. You in?”

He hopped down and extended his hand. Nick did his best to seem casual about all of this but it was clear to Eliza he was pretty frustrated at Valerie. It wasn’t her place to pry. If he was willing to go this far then she might as well keep an eye on the entire thing. A chance to progress, and a good event. As long as those two things happened without incident then she had no reason to object. Then there was the other problem. She already helped him train…Eliza shook his hand.

“Glad to do business with you. I guess it’s only fair now that I give you the choice to stop training me. Wouldn’t want this to feel like I’ve gained so much tangible progress while yours relies on-”

Eliza tossed him his sword. “Quit with the chivalrous act. If I don’t train you to my standards then I’m positive your plan is bound to fall apart. Helping you here can only benefit me, or did you already forget I could teach you a thousand ways to improve your glyphs and still even the playing field?” She made another silver orb.

Nick gulped. He actually did forget how big of a pain in the ass it was gonna be fighting her. Semblance training doesn’t mean much if you can’t use it. “Have I ever told you that you can be terrifying and comforting at the same time?”

“Nobility should be just that. It’s why people like your face so much whenever you look like you beat the crap out of somebody.”

“People like my face because I’m handsome!!!”

“Less chitchat. More candle lighting.”

Nick hunched over in defeat. Marigolds, what can you do with them?

[fandomrewrites]

Season 3a; Episode 3: Fireflies

Hello all! I’m going to try to post every Saturday from now on but I apologize ahead of time if I can’t. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and as always constructive criticism is appreciated! Let me know if you want to get added to the taglist!

Season 3a; Episode 3: Fireflies

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend, Isaac Lahey x Reader

Warnings: Just usual Teen Wolf things

Word Count: 2,313

Season 3a masterlist

I wander around the woods alone looking for any sign of Boyd and Cora. Derek, Scott, and I split up to look for them. We figured this would allow us to cover more ground and give us the best chance in finding the two werewolves before they caused harm to anyone. 

Derek called me about 15 minutes into the search, "Hey, I'm by the trails at the entrance to the preserve. Come meet me. Scott thinks we should stick together."

"Alright, I'll be right there." I hang up and start making my way towards the Alpha. 

Once Scott, Derek and I are together again we quickly run through the woods chasing after Boyd and Cora. Derek stops short, dropping to look at something on the ground.

Scott and I stop next to him to see tracks in the mud, "Is it them?" Scott asks.

Derek nods, "We're not the only ones who decided to stick together."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I questioned.

"I don't know."

"Derek, I saw Boyd try to rip two little kids apart. Are they going to do that to everyone they find?" Scott asks, clearly worried.

"Everyone and anyone." Derek sighs.

"Well, we're going to need more help then." I say as I pull out my phone calling Isaac.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Following the sounds of a girl yelling for another girl we quickly make our way towards her to make sure she gets out of the woods safe. Isaac makes it first, just in time to save her from a transformed Cora.

Cora grips onto Isaac's jacket and throws him into a tree. She moves to attack him once more but I leap over Isaac and take Cora down. Cora scrambles back up quickly but now comes face to face with Derek. Scott, Isaac, and I circling the brother and sister. 

Cora carefully watches us but rather than staying to fight she makes the wise decision to run. Derek quickly charges after her, Isaac and I close behind. Scott stays for a brief moment to make sure the girl isn't hurt.

We wait in a small clearing as Scott talks to Stiles on the phone. I quickly check my phone to see a missed call from Lydia. I message her to let her know that I will call her back later but I'm busy right now and can't talk.

Once Scott finishes the call Derek speaks up, "This doesn't make sense. The public pool is on the other side of the woods. We haven't tracked them anywhere near there."

"Derek... they killed someone." Scott says.

I shake my head, "I don't think so. Like Derek said it doesn't add up. They can't possibly move that fast."

"They killed someone. Someone totally innocent is dead and it's our fault." Scott says.

"It's my fault." Derek takes full blame.

"We need help."

"We have Isaac now."

"I mean real help." Scott pauses and looks at Isaac, "No offense."

"Not exactly sure how I could take that any other way." Isaac replies, pulling his lips into a thin line. I instinctively grab his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. 

"They're too strong for us. All of us. They're too fast, too rabid-"

Scott is cut off by Derek, "We'll catch them."

"But what happens if we do? Are we just going to hold them down until the sun comes up?” Isaac asks.

"No, we tie them up. Find somewhere to keep them." Derek trails off, "Maybe it would be easier to just kill them." 

"Derek, we won't kill them. There needs to be somewhere we can keep them." I say.

"What if it's the only thing? If we don't know how to catch them, what else do we do?" Isaac questions.

"We find someone who knows what they're doing. Someone who knows how to hunt werewolves." Scott replies.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Derek, Isaac and I sit in Derek's Camaro watching Scott and Mr. Argent talk. "You think this is going to work?" Isaac asks.

"No." Derek answers simply.

"Me either." Isaac replies.

"It won't work with that attitude." Both guys turn to look at me, "Look all I'm saying is, it's the best plan we have. We need to do something. Might as well try it."

The two werewolves stay silent as they turn to watch Scott and Mr. Argent once more. After a minute we watch as Scott gets into Argent's car. "What the hell is he doing?" I ask. Though neither Derek nor Isaac have an answer.

We follow them to the crime scene of the teenager at the public pool. Next thing we know Argent now joins our group in the woods to help us find Boyd and Cora.

He kneels down to examine the prints in the mud, "You've been tracking them by print?"

"Trying to." Scott confirms.

"Then you've been wasting your time. The only creature on earth that can visually track footprints is man. And if you're not trained like me you have no idea that this print is Boyd's and these-"

Isaac interrupts, "Are Cora's?"

"No, they're yours. You trampled Cora's when you first walked over here."

Isaac lifts his foot up and gingerly places it back down, not quite sure where to step. "I know the four of you are probably focusing half your energy on resisting your own urges under the full moon."

At Argent's words I glance down at my clawed hands, I still haven't fully learned how to stop the change. I only know enough to make sure I don't go killing innocent people or fully transform. 

"But that puts you at a severe disadvantage to Boyd and Cora who have fully given in. They've got the pedal to the floor, while you four are barely hitting the speed limit." 

"So what do we do?" Derek asks the hunter.

"Focus on your sense of smell. Actual wolves are known to track their prey for up to a hundred miles a day by scent. The trained hunter can use a scent trap." Argent turns his attention to me, "(Y/N), it may actually be beneficial for you to turn into a wolf if you can control it."

I nod, "Yeah, I can do that."

"(Y/N/N), are you sure? You-" Scott starts.

"Scott, I can control myself. You don't need to worry about me. Turn around, I need to get undressed." I mumble, slightly embarrassed to be saying that in front of Allison's dad. 

Everyone except for Isaac turns around. I give him a pointed look but end up rolling my eyes and stripping, "Can you not check out my sister in front of me?" Scott asks.

"I could, but I don't want to." Isaac replies, a smirk on his face. I shake my head, quickly fold up my clothes then hand them to Isaac. I step away from him, take a breath and close my eyes.

When I open them again I am in my wolf form. "You guys can turn around now." Isaac says. 

As I was getting undressed and changing form Argent continued to talk, telling us about tracking by scent and that in my wolf form we would probably have the best results.

As the conversation continues, my nose twitches catching a scent. I take off quickly, "(Y/N)!" Scott yells out for me.

"Let her. If she needs help she'll howl. We need to focus on this first." Argent says.

I run around trying to find the smell, blood, but I am unable to locate it. As I pause to try and catch the scent again, I start hearing a high pitched noise as the trap that the others are setting starts to come together.

I turn my attention to the emitters and head to the school. I sit crouched, hiding in the bushes waiting for Boyd and Cora. I howl when I see them racing towards the school, letting the others know that they're coming.

I wait for them to pass then start chasing after them to help coral them as they get closer to the school. I snarl when the two werewolves stop in front of Isaac. Before any of us can react though, Argent moves in with his SUV. 

We watch as Boyd and Cora move to climb over the school rather than inside. "The rear door, we need to get them open." Argent states.

Derek nods and heads inside to open the back doors. "Someone has to drive them inside." Scott says.

Argent pulls out a stun baton, "I'll go."

But I'm already moving to the back as I hear Isaac reply, "I'm faster." He follows after me to the back of the school.

I make it just in time to see a flash bolt go off. I close my eyes and tilt my head away from the bright light. When I don't hear anymore bolts hitting the pavement. I open my eyes to see Allison kicking the doors closed and wrapping chains over the handle. I tilt my head, Isaac next to me staring at the young hunter. 

She stares back before lifting a finger to her lips causing Isaac and I to both nod. 

Isaac and I stay waiting by the front doors. After a few minutes of silence we hear fighting begin. It's loud and we can both quickly tell that something is wrong. I focus my energy on Scott, trying to figure out what he's feeling. He's not in pain but he's worried. 

That's when I realize that he's safe but Derek isn't. I automatically start making my way down to the boiler room. At the same time I use my mental connection to find Derek. I immediately have a sense of pain spread through my chest. 

"Scott! Scott!" Isaac calls as we make it to the basement. Scott starts to open up the boiler room, the sun now up. Making our way inside we see Derek laying bloody beside Boyd and Cora, who are both alive and now transformed back into their human selves. 

"There's... a teacher... back there." Derek starts saying, "I'll take care of her."

Derek stumbles as he tries to stand up, Scott moving forward to help, but Derek catches himself. "Get these two out of here." The two boys hesitate, "Go!"

I start to make my way out of the room as Scott and Isaac pick up the unconscious Boyd and Cora.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Once the two werewolves were safe, I privately changed back into a human. I gave Isaac a quick kiss goodbye and Scott and I headed to the hospital to talk to Stiles. 

We stood in the morgue looking down at the body of Stiles' friend Heather. "So Boyd and Cora might not have killed anyone?" Scott asks.

"You're going to wish they did." Stiles replies.

"Why?" Scott and I question in unison.

"I'm not totally sure yet, but that other girl who was out in the woods, Emily? They're eventually going to find her..." He pauses, "She's one of them. Emily, Heather, the guy Lydia found at the pool. All three were virgins. All of them are going to have the same three injuries. Strangled. Throat slashed. Head bashed in. It's called the Threefold Death."

"So if they're not random killings, what are they?" Scott asks.

"A serial killer." I answer.

Stiles nods, "But more than that. Human sacrifices."

"Maybe it will be over then. I mean don't these things usually happen in threes?" I question.

The two boys look at me, "When is anything ever that simple?" Stiles asks.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Once we were finished at the hospital I headed to Lydia's to spend the night. "So you don't know how you found the body?" I question.

"Nope. I left to go to the store and once I was out of the car I realized I was at the pool." She replies, biting on her lip.

"Well maybe this is something to do with the bite."

She tilts her head in confusion so I continue, "Well Derek said that he's never heard of anyone being immune. So maybe the bite made you into something, just not a werewolf."

"I guess, but what creatures are associated with death? And why couldn't I become something different? I don't always want to find the dead bodies."

I give her a gentle smile and pull her into a hug. Lydia rests her head on my chest while I comb my fingers through her hair. "Finding the bodies isn't ideal but maybe once we learn how to control it you'll be able to save them before they die."

She hums, "That would be better."

"Let's see... A phoenix has an association with death. Zombies and vampires too. But for both of them you would have had to die which you didn't."

Lydia cuts me off, "What if I did?"

"What?"

She turns to look at me properly, "When I was in the woods, I don't remember anything. I could have died and come back to life."

My eyes soften, "Lyds, you haven't been craving blood or human flesh. The sun doesn't bother you. Your body temperature hasn't changed. I'm pretty sure you aren't dead. But hell even if you are, you'll still be my best friend. I'll always be here for you."

She softly smiles then leans over to kiss my cheek, "Love you." She mumbles, then lays her head back down on my chest. "So the best option right now is a phoenix. Anything else you can think of?"

I pause thinking, "A banshee. I don't know a lot about them but I do know they are associated with death. I can start looking up things tomorrow."

"Sounds good. Thanks (Y/N/N)."

"Of course." I smile down at her as we both close our eyes and drift off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:  @crazy-fan-101 @rogershoe

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[rei382]

for your halfway to 1k post (congrats btw!!!) how about something just,,, soft,,, if you’ve ever heard Trace-Like Getaway by never shout never, maybe something to go with that song? 🥺💖💕

Safe Haven

Every morning that he was here with him it was the same thing. Every morning he was torn from his little piece of heaven, forced to get up and face the real world. He hated it, Roy thought as he brushed a stray strand of golden hair from the sleeping face. He hated that he had to leave every day. Hated that they couldn’t show themselves to the world together. Hated that they had to hide what they had, had to hide each other. He hated the way he knew the world would perceive them, their relationship. He hated that he knew that if he wanted to proudly show it off, he was most likely to lose his job and everything he’d worked so hard to get. He hated it all; but he loved Ed so much.

And the days that Ed was not there at all were the worst.

Something – maybe the drifting touch over his forehead – made Ed’s eyelids flutter. He let out a soft sound, the kind that made Roy think of their messy sheets and slow, lazy times of pleasure, and nuzzled closer to Roy. He knew that Ed still had quite some time to remain in bed. His job at the campus usually allowed him to stay in his peaceful slumber until well past 8am, while Roy had to show up and open the office already at 7.30am. It was always so tempting to stay in here, in their safe cocoon of blankets and privacy, but duty called.

Reluctantly, Roy placed a soft kiss on the sleepy forehead and dragged himself out of bed, carefully as to not wake Ed up. He went about his morning routine; taking a short shower, pampering his hair, wearing the heavy, restricted uniform he had grown so used to it was like a second skin. A second skin I love tearing off of you, Ed usually says. The thought makes him smile softly as he heads out of the door, ready to start yet another boring day of saving the world.

*

When Roy opens the door to their home again it is already well past sunset. Today was not an easy day. With the tension at the border with Drachma, his day was busy and stressful. Harsh decisions had to be made, and even though Roy trusted himself and knew he had no choice, he wasn’t sure if he was fully satisfied with the steps taken. But there is nothing he could do about it now, anyway. What he is looking for is seeing Ed, now mostly likely awake, already in his home clothes, probably lounging on the couch in the living room in front of the fireplace with one book or another and a steaming cup of tea next to him. As he steps into the house he is not disappointed and he is greeted with an Ed in the exact position he had in his head. Some things never change, he thought to himself as his hands automatically reached for his jacket, one by one undoing the buttons.

“Ed, I’m home,” he calls, already knowing his man well enough to know how deep he can be absorbed in something he’s reading when he’s really into it. It seems though that the sound of his voice is enough, this time, to get Ed’s attention, as the immediate result of the call is that he twists and arches towards him. Roy can’t help the smile on his face when he sees the bright grin that spreads on Ed’s lips the moment his eyes land on him. This – he could get used to it.

Probably already did.

“Welcome home, Roy,” Ed says, and then places his book, upside down and opened so he won’t lose his spot on the coffee table right before he gets on his feet and closes the distance to him. Roy accepts the kiss happily. It’s like Ed has some kind of a magic powder on his lips; the moment they touch his, all the hardships of Roy’s day almost disappear. They still lurk somewhere in the dark, distant part of his mind, ready to attack him again when he is at work; but for now, he can let go. “I missed you. You didn’t wake me up today, again.”

Roy chuckles and places another short kiss on Ed’s lips before he lets him go. “I told you already. I just can’t do that. You look so peaceful when you sleep.”

“Maybe,” Ed says and heads into the kitchen. They’ve been through this enough times; when Roy returns home from work, Ed would make him coffee. He started doing that the third time he saw Roy heading straight for the water boiler and hadn’t stopped since. Roy was always grateful for it. “But if you don’t wake me up how am I gonna kiss you good day? You’re depriving me of a basic right.”

“How cruel of me,” Roy replies with a smile, and follows Ed. Usually he’d use the time it takes for his coffee to be ready to get rid of the uniform, but today he feels like being close to Ed. So he leaves the jacket open and walks over to wrap his arms around Ed, placing his chin on his shoulder. He leans in enough to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah. You’re lucky I’m not reporting you for abuse, or something.”

Roy chuckles. How was it even possible to love someone that much? It is at that moment that he reaches a decision. He’d been thinking about it for a while, considering the possibility and always somehow rejecting it on the threshold. But why not, really? “Hey, Ed?”

“Hmm? I need you to let go of me now, water’s almost boiling and if I try getting it like that I’m gonna spill – “

“Yes, in a moment. Would you like to go on a long weekend getaway with me?”

Ed, who until now was busy trying to prepare the mug despite the interruption that was Roy’s hug, stopped everything he was doing. The kettle already whistled, but he didn’t walk over to it. “You know I would love to, but your work, Roy. You think I don’t see how tired you are every day nowadays? I’m not sure now’s the best time – “

“Will you trust me? My office can handle without me for one day. I am allowed to take a day off once every blue moon or so, and I’d like to spend it with you, somewhere we don’t feel like we have to hide.” He reaches over to turn the stove off. Slowly the whistle dies away.

“Roy, you know I want to, but if people find out – “

“They won’t. Not until we’re ready.”

“If we suddenly go somewhere – “

“Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one will recognize you or me. Don’t you want that, Ed?” he kisses him again, and lets go. Ed returns to his task of making coffee.

“Of course I do,” he pours the hot water, stirs the liquid, then hands it to Roy.

Roy takes it and places it back on the counter, then turns back to Ed. “Then what’s the problem? I’ll take next Friday off, and I’ll book us a cabin somewhere, in a village up north – “

“Won’t it be too cold?”

“I plan on having a hot spring for us. Besides, it’s not winter yet. It shouldn’t be too bad. Imagine waking up in the middle of the woods, when it’s just the two of us, and we can go out for a walk and cuddle in front of the fireplace…” He places a kiss on Ed’s lips. “Don’t worry about my work. Yes, it is busy now, but I can probably spare one day. I want more than having you over for the night and leaving you early in the morning. I want to stay in late with you. I want to wake up when the sun is already high up in the sky, shyly looking at us through the blinds. Then I want to wake you up, softly, kissing you and holding you close. And then I want to make sweet love to you, and stay in bed with you until we decide we must get up, to eat, or shower, or whatever. Can I have that? Just this once?”

Even while he was talking, Roy could feel how Ed melted in his arms. He knew the images he conjured were appealing to him, too. He feels, as well as hears, him taking a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh. “How can I say no to this, Roy?” his arms wrap around him, head resting on Roy’s chest. “If you say you can… then yes, of course, yes.” He smiles and lifts his head to kiss Roy. “I’m good with wherever you take me. Your coffee?”

In a way, Roy finds it very hard to think about the coffee right now. He was going to have a long weekend with his man. Just the two of them, somewhere nice and romantic where they both can forget about their responsibilities, even if only for two or three days. He smiles at Ed, and reaches over to take his mug before making his way to the living room. “Thank you,” he says. “What would you like to have for dinner?”

And Ed tells him, and for a moment, Roy feels that this is home. Not in the sense that this is his house, as it has been already for years; but with Ed in it, it can be the places they both always needed. A safe haven.

[allfreshcarpetcleanersrr]

Steam cleaning carpet in Georgia

What Is Steam Carpet Cleaning & How Does It Works?

Steam carpet cleaning has become one of the most popular methods and is used on priority as compares to other methods. However, every carpet cleaning technique has its own advantages. But the steam carpet cleaning method offers quick cleaning and refreshing of a carpet.

Steam carpet cleaning in Georgia is an effective and efficient way that relies on the natural cleaning powers of steam. It reduces the effect of harsh chemicals and works with simple water-based solutions. Understanding the details of steam carpet cleaning and its working can help you decide whether steam carpet cleaning is right for your home business.

What Is Steam Cleaner?

Steam cleaners are designed to produce dry vapor steam to help lift dirt and stains, remove build-up and sanitize hard and soft surfaces. Steam cleaners consist of a boiler, tank, detergent compartment, steam vacuum, refill, and other sorts of accessories like brushes and attachments. Water is then heated in the boiler to create steam under high heat and pressure- during the steam cleaning, steam may get combine with stain removal and cleaning.

Moreover, industrial level steam cleaners may also include a steam vacuum that automatically removes the contents into extraction tanks, which increase the efficiency and productivity of the steam cleaner.

How Does A Steam Carpet Cleaner Work?

Steam cleaners are useful for cleaning and sanitizing both soft and hard surfaces, but they are particularly great for cleaning carpets. When the steam temperatures reach up to 360 degrees, F and low pressure up to 150 psi, steam cleaners are effective at removing build-up dirt, stains, and pathogens.

During steam cleaning, steam vapor enters into the carpet and surrounds carpet fibers to help soften and loosen dirt. After this, the steam cleaner's vacuum component applied pressure to lift away the moisture along with the germs and dirt.

Hot Water Extraction & Steam Cleaning:

Hot water extraction is the method recommended by most professionals at priority- it is commonly known as steam cleaning. In the hot water extraction, hot water is essentially sprayed on the carpet and then sucked back into the machine with debris and dirt that was on the carpet. However, a cleaning solution is also added to the water to assist in the removal of stains and soiling.

This procedure is different from the regular steam cleaning procedure- however, it is widely accepted that the term steam cleaning actually refers to hot water extraction, which is the most common carpet cleaning process.

Why Professional Steam Carpet Cleaning?

Professional steam cleaning services in Georgia use the most advanced and superb techniques and tools to work as per your preferences. Professional cleaners may use either a truck-mounted unit or a portable machine. The portable machine has a number of benefits like it can be used in an apartment and condo building in units. Moreover, truck-mounted units are more powerful than portable units and should be used whenever possible for maximum efficiency.

Though many people try DIY methods for steam cleaning to clean their carpet, it might not be that effective. Professionals follow all the standards and regulations to make it done correctly and use the advanced tools to clean your carpet easily. Moreover, hiring a professional also saves your money as they use their own tools. So, if you are planning to steam clean your carpet and want perfect results, always consider professional Steam Cleaning Services In Georgia.

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[long-bodyswap]

I Wanna Be A Coyboy

by aussiebootboi

Billy was a weedy kind of guy. His parents had died when he was 5 year old and his grandmother had reared him. Although, small of build, he made up for it in being a bright and studious sort of guy. And, although you wouldn't know from just looking at him, he had a proud ancestory of Incan heritage. His great -great Grandfather had been of mixed Spanish and Incan blood. Their family had originally been of noble birth, and many tales of strange rites and incantations had been recounted at by his grandmother.Sadly, his grandmother had died when he was 15, and he had been forced into foster care, seeing he was still under legal age. He hated them. 

Their treatment was not overly honourable - basically they just wanted the government allowance and had treated Billy poorly. Eventually, after 18 months of poor treatment, he had run away. His closest friend in high school had moved to Florida a few years before and Billy was sure the friend's family would take him in & help support him as a new foster family.He had been lucky with a number of hitched rides with long haul truck drivers, but his luck had finally run out. Here he was in a small town in mid Texas, and no accommodating truck driver for over a day. He was now sick of the sight of the dusty gas pumps of this run-down gas station and was wishing his luck would change soon.Late in the afternoon, hot golden sun beating down on the iron roof of the station's pump cover, Billy was half woken up but the double ring in the station office as car tyres ran over the black bell cord. 

He looked up and saw this beaten up white wide convertible pull up at one of the bowzers. The guy who got out of the car was tall, about 6'4" , around 30 years old, and was so overly muscley, you would have thought he lived in a gym. He had a strong jaw line, wild, uncombed dirty blonde hair that hung down to his shoulders and cold, blue eyes. He wore a dusty, stained white tank top that pulled tightly over his enormous pecs, a polyester Hawaiian shirt over the top, unbuttoned, and his biceps looked like they were going to burst the short sleeves. His jeans were tight around his huge, beefy thighs and he wore a pair of snake skin cowboy boots. 

The man oozed sexuality. He was one hot-looking porn stud. As he got out of the car, he snatched from the back seat a dusty, cream Stenson and put it on his head.Billy was mesmerised. He was still a closeted gay guy and his man answered all his fantasies. Billy felt a slight tinging in his cock as the guy came towards him."Do you work here?" The voice was strong, arrogant, a deep bass coming up from that deep chest and was definitely Texan."No." Billy's voice was weedy and high in comparison. 

"I think the guy is in the garage to the side."As he said that, a fat, balding man, about 45- 50 years, wearing a blue boiler suit came from the side of the gas station; he used a bit of cotton wading to wipe his hands."Hi Jim-Bob, what you up to today?""Just in town for some supplies. Fill 'er up, Bud."The garage owner pumped gas into the convertible, all the while making small talk to Jim-Bob about the weather and wheat and corn prices. Jim-Bob followed the mechanic into the office, his heels making a clunking sound on the tarmac. 

He came out of the office, slotting a packet of Marlbro Red's into the top pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. As Jim-Bob made his way to the car, Billy summoned the courage to talk to him."Excuse me, sir." His voice weedy and slightly whiney."Yeah, kid." Jim-Bob said, turning on his heel and making a scraping sound on the tarmac."Where you headed?""What's it to you?""Um.. I'm trying to get to Florida and I wondered if I could hitch a lift to somewhere where I could link up with some interstaters.""Well. I could take you as far as my farm entrance and then you would have to walk about 5 miles to the Interstate Junction.""Oh, that would be great, Sir.""Yeah, get rid of him for me, will ya Jim-Bob. The kid's been hanging around here too long. 

He's starting to become a nuisance." The garage owner said, from the doorway of his office."Hop in, Kid. And stop calling me Sir." Jim-Bob threw his hat into the back seat, threw himself into the driver's seat and started the engine. Billy quickly collected his rucksack and bag and got into the car.With a jolt they had left the garage and were speeding through the main part of the town and shortly out onto the long flat plains. Jim- Bob opened the packet of cigarettes and lit one up."You want one?""No. I'm allergic to cigarette smoke.""Fuck! Well, seeing its my car, I won't ask you if you mind, cause I don't." Jim-Bob was obviously non-sympathetic to the non-smoker's cause.There was a stoney silence. The low, undulating countryside: fencing racing along the sides of the road, seemed to stretch to eternity."You got a girlfriend."Billy, replied in the negative."Shit!! You some kind of queer or something. 

Fuck! Have I got me some queer with me.""No!" But Billy's voice quavered slightly. He was frightened. He was almost 17 now, and for a while he was fairly sure he was gay, although he was still closeted about his sexuality. The look of a strong, muscley guy turned him on. The smell from this guy in the driver's seat, that musky male smell from a hard working guy in the heat, so close to him now, was arousing him and he didn't want to show his feelings or the hint of an erection that was threatening to reveal itself."I have been too busy to date girls, that's all. I took a girl to the last End of Year Ball." Billy justified himself."Did you screw her?""No." Billy said in a reflex manner."Then you could be a fag after all."There was no reply to that and Billy kept silent. The miles continued to roll by. But Billy was still drawn to those cowboy boots. The way Jim-Bob had walked in them at the garage: so arrogantly and with manly authority. He wished he could be like that; but he would always be a weedy guy. He vaguely remembered his father being a stick-like man: no bulk and his business shirts hanging off his cavenous chest. 

During this period of retrospection, he was now staring at Jim-Bob's snakeskin boots."Jesus, what you staring at, Boy! I swear you're some kind of fag.""I'm sorry." Billy said. Then off the cuff: " I bet you score big time with the babes in those boots. I want a pair when I get a bit older and have worked out more in the gym to bulk up." He felt he had got himself out of that hole."You're damn, right there mister. Do I pull them in. The sound these mean mother-fuckers make in a bar, has those hot cock-thirsty pussies just wanting it: they are panting for it and man! They can't get enough of this piece of meat. Kid, you have a long way to go to get anywhere in the league of this stud."Billy could just see this guy leering at the women. He was personally disgusted and although he was in awe of the sexual power Jim-Bob was giving off, he loathed the type of guy he represented.

Jim-Bob pulled over sharply to the side of the road and turned to Billy."Well, kid. This is the end of your trip. That's the entrance to my farm over there and I don't plan to take you any further. About 5 miles straight ahead you will find the Interstate junction. You should be lucky enough to get yourself a ride to where you want to go. OK, shift that faggy arse of yours."As Jim-Bob was taking to Billy, a motorbike was making its way towards them. Jim-Bob had glanced at it, but hadn't taken much notice. As the bike went past the entrance to Jim-Bob's farm, the rear tyre picked up some of the scattered gravel. One stone fairly hit Jim-Bob on the side of the head, just above his ear and he slumped forward. The bike, unknowingly, continued along the road, deaf to Billy's calls. Billy felt Jim-Bob's neck and could still feel a strong pulse. 

A trickle of brilliantly coloured blood rolled down the side of his head.Oh God! What to do, thought Billy. He looked across the road and saw the mailbox and a dirt track making its way over a small rise. That's his farm. Maybe there some help there or at least a phone. With considerable effort and some time, Billy moved the limp body over to the shot-gun seat. In all that time, not another vehicle had passed. Fortunately the car was automatic and Billy was able to drive the car up the dirt track. About a mile down to it, he came to a low, run down farmhouse. The front verandah was full of old, rusty machinery and one corner was at a sharp angle where the floor stumps had rotted and no longer supported the verandah poles. Billy drove to the rear of the house, where the car was obviously parked and it was shaded. Manoeuvring Jim-Bob's body was going to be a difficult task. Billy called out, but no one answered. 

He walked up to the house and knocked on the screen door. No one answered and he decided to go inside. The kitchen was gloomy after the bright back yard. Dishes were piled in the sink; empty beer bottles were stacked by the side of the fridge. It soon became apparent that Jim-Bob lived alone. Only one side of the bed had been slept in and there were only his clothes to be seen from the open closet door.With boots leaving furrows in the dust and lots of breath breaks, Billy finally dragged Jim-Bob and dumped him onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. An unconscious body is a dead weight and Billy wished he had spent time in the gym. 

Back in the kitchen, Billy found the wall phone and the red-boarded letter from the phone company disconnecting the phone for not paying the bill. There was no way of getting a doctor out there and Billy was frightened to leave Jim-Bob in case he died. A runway didn't have a very strong case in court and no judge or jury would believe that it was accidental and not a robbery. Billy put a cool, damp cloth on Jim-Bob's head, checked his pulse again and washed the blood which had now congealed. The pulse was strong, so it was obviously a case of concussion.He then proceeded to undress Jim-Bob. 

The manly sweat that came off from the boots was deeply arousing. Billy took deep breaths and fantasised a little about having this strong man, now being an overly gay man, taking Billy up into his arms and hugging and kissing him, and saying endearments. Billy returned from his dream and looked down on the homophobic bully lying on the bed. He loosed the belt buckle - a large circular, shiny tooled piece of silvery metal - and undid the buttons. 

The monster of a flaccid cock fell out of the now-loosen boxers. At least 6" and thick, Jim-Bob had at least not lied about his piece of meat: it would easily grow into 7 or 8 inches when erect. Billy wanted to desperate touch it but was afraid in case Jim-Bob woke. He did manage to lightly brush his hand against it.His ordeal had made him tired and so, after putting the groceries in the fridge and bringing in his gear, he searched for a knee rug. 

He made himself comfortable on the sofa and started to reflect on the day. This lead to other recent unhappy events and this invariably caused him to reminisce on happier times with his loving grandmother.With his mind wandering even more, thoughts of his attraction towards Jim-Bob began to form: that strong, muscley body, those hot snakeskin boots, the tight jeans showing a decent package. A tingling in his dick started up and he developed interesting fantasies with what he could do with that hot body. Words popped into his head: something vaguely he could remember from his grandmother. "Irikalimabro. Tradi om, broroo dinda, broroo dixi, broroo dinda, fore rimni dint crawlix, fore rimini dint crawlix." With these words chanting, softly in his head, he fell asleep.

* * * * *

Billy woke with a splitting headache. Light was streaming from the window and it was obviously morning. His head felt unbearable and he had problems focusing. With some effort he concentrated on the brown shape across the room. Eventually he could make out some checked shirts hanging in the closet. He then realised that he was lying on a bed. 

Where was he? This wasn't home or anywhere he recognised. His vision was steadily cleared and he could make out through the dirty net curtains a dusty yard and an open white convertible between him and a rundown barn with one door hanging off its hinge.He vaguely remembered having seen that car before recently. 

Where??? Through the fog of the headache, it dawned on him where he had seen the car before and then the previous day's events converged onto his fuddled brain. He sat up abruptly. Where was Jim-Bob, and why was he now sleeping in the bed? He turned to get out of bed and as he did, the room spun. When his vertigo had subsided, Billy made another attempt to stand up. As he did his jeans fell to the floor and there was a metalic clunk where the blet buckle hit the wooden floor. He bent down to pull up his pants and then had to sit down abruptly. These weren't his jeans!! 

The belt buckle was the same as the buckle he had loosened from Jim-Bob yesterday!Suddenly he felt his stomach erupt in nausea. He was definitely going to be sick real quick. He stood up and lurched out of the room and quickly made his way to the bathroom, where he was violently sick. Waves of nausea washed over him and for some minutes he just held onto the toilet bowl and wished it would all end soon. Eventually, the sickness passed and when he felt strong enough he made his way to the sink. He splashed water on his face and then gasped as he looked into the mirror.His stomach lurched again, but it was empty and he gave a loud, hollow burp instead. There, staring at him, his face bleached white was Jim-Bob's face. 

Gradually he surveyed the rest of his body. Yep! Everything he saw was what he associated with Jim-Bob: the nicotine-stained fingers, the strong masculine hands with curly blond hairs on the wrist, the Hawaiian overshirt, the tight blue jeans, the strong jaw that was lightly shadowed with beard stubble, the wavy dirty-blond hair down to the broad, muscley shoulders."Oh, my God!!" Jim-Bob's deep voice sounded back at him. "Jesus! What happened.""Fuck!!" and a high pitched squeal came from the sitting room further in the house. Billy recognised that voice: it was what he thought of as his.Billy rushed into the sitting room. 

The boy was standing by the sofa, looking in at the grimy, bevelled mirror over the fireplace. He turned when he saw Jim-Bob standing in the doorway."What the fuck have you done, you freak!!" Billy squealed at Jim-Bob. "You fuckin' faggot! You fruit!" He then lunged at Jim-Bob, his hands ready to punch the life out of him.Jim-Bob put his hands up to protect his face. Billy aimed at punch at Jim-Bob's stomach. Billy reeled back, holding his hand and crumpling up with pain. "Fuck!!" he explained. Jim-Bob put a hand out to Billy's arm to see if he was alright. Billy pulled away and then lunged to make another hit. Jim-Bob reacted by seizing Billy's wrist, griping it tightly. Billy tried to pull away and cringed, "Shit! That hurts.""Then stop." Jim-Bob's voice boomed. He was having problems adjusting to his new body. He didn't realise he that much strength in his body now. He hadn't meant to hurt Billy, but you could definitely see red markings on the boy's wrist where he had gripped him. He would also have to get used to not talking as loud. 

He was shouting now and he had only intended to speak to the kid in a normal voice.The reaction of hearing his voice from his old body caused Billy to break down and cry. He was obviously distressed and confused. "Hey," Jim-Bob said. "I don't know what's happened. Hopefully it's a temporary thing. But no matter, I'm not leaving you till all this is sorted out.""What happened? I last remember giving you a lift and dropping you off outside my farm.""You were hit in the head by stones thrown up by a motorbike. I brought you up here, put you to bed and then I fell asleep and somehow a switch happened in the night.""Yeah, well if I was hit in the head so hard, how come there is no bruise or headache?" Billy sneered."That's because I have the headache and cut," Jim-Bob moved his hair to reveal the cut above his ear. "And that's why I'm off to get a shower and take some headache tablets." Jim-Bob turned and retreated to the bathroom.

Finding some pills in the medicine cabinet, he stripped. He stared at the stud like body in the mirror. He was one Hot dude now: rippling muscles, huge pecs and biceps, a ripped 6-pack. His dream had come true. He was getting a hard-on just looking at himself.He entered the shower and started soaping himself, luxuriating at the feeling of running his hands over his tight muscles. When he came to his cock, he saw a thick, yellow rim of dick cheese."Jesus, dirty pig." He explained. He started washing around the head when he felt a wave of erotic sensations washing over his body. Man! did that feel good. He did it again, rubbing his thumb under the skin: the sensation was incredible. He started stroking himself: it was soo good. His cock was stiffening now, a monster 8 inches and thick, ropey veins along the shaft. He was pumping this muscle monster now and when he couldn't hold back any more, his legs bent, he released a hot, ropey stream of cum all up the shower wall. 

He kept pumping and the fire hose of cum kept pouring out. Exhausted, he sat down in the shower, feeling the warm water washing over his head. He had never shot that much or so intensely before. A small river of cum was trickling down the wall nearby. With a finger he scouped some of it up and licked it. It tasted salty and slightly sweet. Man! one of the best things he had ever tasted. He sure wanted to do that again soon.He rubbed himself down, enjoying the sensations of the rough towel against his tight muscles. Into the bedroom, naked, his cock still red and swinging, he made his way to the closet. A white wife-beater, a cleaner Hawaiian shirt, tight black jeans and the same white snakeskin cowboy boots. He looked at himself in the mirror, now that he was dressed and liked what he saw. He had power, presence, strength. 

He could feel the boots on his feet and the leather shaft rubbing slightly against his calves. He was growing a hard-on again because he was finding himself so sexy and Hot.Back in the bathroom, to return the towel, he bent down and as he stood up he hit his head on the edge of the cupboard. "Shit!" he said and rubbed his head. Boy! I must be tired, he thought, because I never swear. This is all been a little too stressful this morning.On the sofa, Billy was lounging, an unhappy or perplexed expression on his face. "Breakfast, or shower," Jim-Bob asked him."Breakfast. I don't need a shower.""No way, boy. While you are in my body, you are going to continue to treat it the way I did. And that means regular washing. OK. Breakfast it is, and then the shower." Jim-Bob decided he needed to be forceful with Billy from the start. Why waste this strength and power he was feeling. With these muscles, he knew he could force Billy to do almost anything he wanted.Breakfast was basically a silent affair. 

Billy decided he didn't want to be communicative and munched morosely throughout the entire meal. Jim-Bob then ordered a day of cleaning the house. Dishes were washed; laundry washed and hung on the line (Jim-Bob found a mountain of dirty clothes piled up by the side of the bed); vacuuming and mopping of floors. Throughout all this, Billy had needed regular cigarette breaks. Jim-Bob didn't like the idea of him sullying his body but also recognised that it was hard to make a person quit cold turkey, and Billy still had cravings. Jim-Bob reckoned they had worked hard enough for the first day and recommended a bath for Billy. Billy, tired after the work and recent ordeal, agreed.All through the day, Billy had asked Jim-Bob how this strange phenomenon could have happened. Jim-Bob was as ignorant as Billy, but had decided to make the most of it and was sure it was a temporary condition. 

He wanted to return to his old self and get to Florida and continue his studies and start his new life.From the bathroom came a muffled "Fuck!" "What is it now," Jim-Bob asked through the door."Kid, you have one average sized dick. How am I going to snatch pussy with this thing. Its almost useless.""Yeah, well you'll get used to it.""Does this mean I'm a queer now?""That's up to you. You sure don't sound like one, although it probably wouldn't hurt you to learn some tolerance.""Well, fuck you!" came the reply and then silence.Later they both had an afternoon nap and then proceeded to prepare the evening meal. 

The bath seemed to have soothed Billy, because he was finally even-tempered and personable. As they were preparing the vegetables, Jim-Bob slipped with the knife and nicked his finger."Shit!" he said before sucking his finger and hopping around the room. "Oh Man! Shit, that hurts."It was a small cut and after lightly bandaging it, they continued the preparation, although Jim-Bob couldn't help musing that that was about the fourth or fifth time he had sworn that day. This was surprising because he never blasphemed with anything stronger than a Jesus or Damn.Dinner was a successful meal. Billy was in a friendly, conversant mood and started asking questions about being on the road and the reasons why he was, considering he wasn't the normal type of hitcher.

After the dinner, they moved out onto the side porch to view the sunset and just rest. Billy suggested they both have a beer. Jim-Bob hated the taste and smell of beer and declined. But Billy insisted and to be concillitory, he accepted. A bottle was tossed to him and he cracked it open. The hops fragrance waffed out and he steeled himself for gagging that normally ensued. It didn't happen. The smell was rather enticing instead. He was liking this scent after all. He took a swig. What was this stuff?? It tasted fantastic. He swigged again."Hey! I thought you didn't like beer.""Yeah, I know. Normally I don't. What brand is this??""Bud." Billy said.Well Jim-Bob had tried Bud before and it definitely had never tasted like this before. Maybe it was bottled differently in each state."No. All comes out of one brewery, as far as I know," was Billy's answer.Jim-Bob quickly finished off his beer and reached for another. 

Billy declined his offer of having another. He wasn't enjoying the taste as much as usual and thought maybe this case had gone off or something. They watched the encroaching gloom of evening, and it was the insects that finally forced them inside.A game of poker was suggested. Jim-Bob agreed which surprised him, seeing he loathed most card games; in fact he boycotted most games. As Billy didn't have much money in his pocket, they decided on using the coloured pins from the chinese checkers box, with each colour being a ranked value. The game quickly became intense. Throughout it, Billy regularly smoked and Jim-Bob drank beer. In his previous life, Jim-Bob suffered from asthma around cigarette smoke, but now he was hardly being effected. He definitely wasn't finding the smoke a nuisance. 

Both were in a good mood. When the game was not too intense, Billy had relaxed enough to tell bawdy male jokes. Most of what he knew were the kind involving women's breasts and sex. Traditionally, Jim-Bob found them degrading and disgusting and wouldn't remain in the hearing of them. But he felt so masculine, so manly, sharing male time with Billy, that he laughed as heartily as Billy. He was finding them funny and he was feeling a tingling in his dick. They were actually turning him on! As the evening progressed, although Jim-Bob was obviously becoming drunk, he was still the superior player. By the end of the evening, he was playing like a pro and scooping the kitty. 

This stunned Billy, who prided himself on being a crack poker player. Around 11, they decided to call it a night. Both men were tired when they slipped into their crisp, clean sheets on their respective beds. In the case of Billy, a temporary bed had been made up in the spare room - normally a lumber room.

[brajeshupadhyay]

Thousands of us have picked up a surprise savings habit in lockdown, a Money Mail survey reveals today. The coronavirus crisis has inflicted job losses and pay cuts – and still threatens to kill off many struggling businesses. But despite the doom and gloom, many Mail readers have found they are saving hundreds of pounds thanks to lockdown, and becoming more financially secure as a result. Spending cuts: Despite the doom and gloom, many readers have found themselves saving hundreds of pounds thanks to lockdown and becoming more financially secure as a result  Large expenses such as holidays, commuting costs and entertainment have vanished following unprecedented social-distancing restrictions – giving households the chance to set aside money during an economically uncertain time. Exclusive research for Money Mail by Consumer Intelligence today suggests 16 per cent of people now feel financially better off. Almost half are spending less since social-distancing restrictions were introduced, with 38 per cent saving more. Nearly four in five families say they have more money to spend since lockdown, with a quarter having between £200 and £500 more in disposable income each month. The findings come as figures from the Bank of England yesterday showed the nation saved £16.2 billion in April. In the six months to February households saved an average of £5 billion every month. What is more, households cleared an astonishing £5 billion of credit-card debt, which was more than double the previous record of £2.4 billion paid off in March. In a standard month the nation would usually clear £300 million of credit-card debt. Becky O’Connor, personal finance specialist at insurer Royal London, says: ‘A financial divide has opened up during lockdown. ‘While some are really struggling on reduced incomes, there’s another group whose experience has been almost the exact opposite. ‘If you are in a position to do so, there might never be a better time to ‘build back better’ and save.’ Here, Money Mail meets some of the nation’s new ‘accidental savers’. At last, I’ve managed to build a little nest egg  By HENRY DEEDES  All my life I’ve been a spender rather than a saver. Whatever I’ve earned during my career, my bank account has always puffed and wheezed its way through to pay day. I’ve tried to be sensible. I’ve opened saving accounts, dabbled in Isas. I even bought Premium Bonds once. Much good it’s done me. You see, any disposable cash I’ve ever had has this annoying habit of winking at me through the computer glass, urging me to go out and enjoy it. Terrible, I know, but there’s something innately therapeutic about rewarding yourself after a busy week with a little something.  A case of wine, something new to hang in the flat. Perhaps another ill-advised addition to the summer wardrobe from a tempting online emporium. Invariably, no sooner have I clicked the purchase button and the boiler will suddenly crank to halt and there’ll be nothing in the cookie jar to pay for a repair. I never learn. Lockdown has changed all that. Like a lot of people, I imagine, being trapped inside an apartment for the best part of three months has brought about a vast reduction in expenses. No need now for expensive Travelcards, pricey gym memberships or all those overpriced cups of coffee every day. And that’s before you’ve taken into account what I used to spend going out to see friends.  Remember socialising? Drinks rounds, restaurant bills. I dread to think how much I used to splurge on late-night Uber journeys during normal times. But it was a lot. And so with all these weighty charges lifted from my balance sheet, I’ve started to experience a novelty. When I check my balance at the end of the month, there’s now actually something left in the kitty. In the past I’d have been tempted to do something extravagant. ‘Why not?’ would have been my attitude. But in these times of enforced isolation, that thinking has been replaced with what’s the point? Instead, I’ve been putting it in an online investment Isa with savings app Moneybox. I pay a set amount in each month, as well as any additional funds I might have left over.  It also has a nifty feature which rounds up all my debit card transactions to the nearest pound and automatically squirrels away the extra cash. H ow satisfying it has been, how oddly empowering. Each time I check to see how my savings are accruing I now get that same whoosh of excitement I used to get when an Amazon parcel would plonk through my letterbox. It would be nice to think that when this is all over, when the High Street tills begin to ring again and when the beer pumps start flowing, I will be able to maintain this spirit of restraint.  If nothing else, this pandemic has taught us how quickly life can go south. In bleak times it pays to be prudent. Doubtless this is the last thing Chancellor Rishi Sunak wants to hear. As we re-emerge from lockdown, he needs as many idiots like me as possible flashing their plastic around with reckless abandon to get our ravaged economy moving. But if this crisis does make some a little more financially responsible, surely that’s no bad thing in the long term.   I have cleared my credit card    Olivia McCulla, who works in PR, has saved by moving back in with her parents By moving back in with her parents, Olivia McCulla, who works in PR, has saved enough to pay off her £1,000 credit card debt. She still pays £775 a month in rent for her flat in North-West London but gets £100 back that would usually go on bills because she isn’t there. Her £120-a-month travel costs and £150-a-week work lunch habit have also disappeared while she works from her parents’ home near Leeds. She has also saved thousands after the two hen-dos and four weddings she was supposed to attend this summer were postponed. However, she now has eight weddings in the diary next year to budget for. Olivia, 29, who wants to buy a property in the next few years, has opened a new savings account. She says: ‘It feels more important than ever to have a rainy-day fund with things being so uncertain. ‘In London I was paying £9.50 for a gin and tonic and through the nose for a very small flat I dread going back to. ‘Lockdown has made me question if I even want to buy in London.’ Before the coronavirus crisis, Olivia was saving about £100 a month. Her father Bernard, 65, and his wife Susan, 66, have seen their household costs rise slightly since their daughter moved home but are also saving money each month.  They previously spent £100 eating out each week, so their bank balance is boosted by £400 a month. And instead of paying a tradesman £2,000 to replace his patio with a flower garden, Bernard did it himself and slashed the cost in half. Before social-distancing regulations were relaxed, Bernard was also saving £180 a month on his golf and walking-football memberships. He says: ‘We are very fortunate. Lockdown has made me think we should live more for today and enjoy our pensions more.’ I feel guilty I’m better off  Quids in: Ashleigh Meale is saving between £500 and £700 a month Ashleigh Meale says her ‘stripped-back life’ means she is now saving between £500 and £700 a month. This is despite her grocery bill doubling to £400 a month and signing up to a TV and film- streaming service costing £60 a year. Before lockdown, the 27-year-old recruitment consultant, who is currently working from home, was putting away between £250 and £500 but would spend hundreds of pounds a month socialising with friends at expensive bars and restaurants.  Now, she and her boyfriend Rob, 38, cook their meals from scratch at home. Ashleigh, who lives in Sheffield, is also saving £70 a month by working from home and not having to pay to commute by bus. She has also been unable to spend money on holidays since the Government warned against non-essential travel. Ashleigh admits that, while she is not a natural saver, she has now realised how much she spends unnecessarily and hopes to remain mindful about what expenses she reintroduces when restrictions are finally lifted. She says: ‘Feeling better off financially during this time is a strange position to be in and it does make me feel guilty when so many people are struggling. But it has given me time to re-evaluate things, and I have no intention of blowing what I’ve saved. ‘I don’t need to be out all the time spending money on eating out and drinks when I could be just as happy with a barbecue in someone’s garden. What I have missed the most is my friends — not the expensive socialising.’ Pay cut but £400-a-month saving  Sally Walsh is saving an extra £400 a month on top of £200 she was already setting aside in a help-to-buy Isa Sally Walsh was worried when she was told she would have to take a 10 per cent pay cut in March. But despite the shock announcement, the 24-year-old engineer has found her finances have improved during lockdown. She is now saving an extra £400 a month on top of £200 she was already setting aside in a help-to-buy Isa. Since working from home, Sally has saved around £200 a month by not having to commute to central London, and a further £200 by not eating or drinking out after work. The only bill to go up is her food cost now she cooks almost every meal at home. Sally, who has lived with her parents in Bromley, South-East London since graduating, is determined to continue saving even after lockdown lifts. She says: ‘My goal is to move out as soon as possible. I feel like I am closer to it now. ‘I don’t have to spend so much on going out. I hope I will soon be able to have people over and cook for them.’ Childcare cut by thousands  Claire Jarrett and her partner Jon Howell are saving £50 a day in train fares alone Claire Jarrett and her partner Jon Howell have saved enough since lockdown to pay for renovations on their home. The couple need to fix the roof on their house in West Malling, Kent, and want to make the garden more child-friendly for their one-year-old daughter, Eleanor, to play. Claire, 31, had only been back at work for two days after returning from maternity leave before staff were told they had to work from home. With Jon, also 31, working from home too, they are saving £50 a day in train fares alone by not having to commute to the insurance firm where they both work in Bromley, South-East London. They are also saving around £5 a day on lunches at work, £80 a month on petrol and £200 a month by not eating out. But their biggest saving has been on childcare. It usually costs £800 a month to send Eleanor to nursery — but the couple have not had to pay since March. It has helped the couple to replenish their savings after Claire’s maternity leave and move their renovation plans a bit further forward. However Claire says their financial gain is likely to be short-lived. She says: ‘Lockdown has made us realise we do not need to go out as much but lots of the costs will be re-introduced when life goes back to normal, unfortunately.’ Not relying on investments  Retired Gerry Short is making savings by not playing golf, employing a cleaner or taking weekend theatre trips Retired Gerry Short has seen such a drop in his spending that he has decided to stop withdrawing income from his investments for the next couple of years. Gerry, 61, a former college principal, has two pensions that pay £20,000 a year. He gets a further £16,000 a year from investments.  After the pandemic hit the stock market, his investments plummeted. While they have recovered slightly, he wants to give them time to recover. His reduced outgoings mean he can do this as he is making savings on weekend theatre trips which can cost up to £100 a time.  He was refunded £60 of his golf-club membership. He also stopped spending £20 on drinks three or four times a week after games.  The father-of-one, who lives in Leicestershire, also no longer employs a cleaner, which cost £100 a month. He says: ‘I was aware I was spending a lot as a distraction after my wife died and knew it couldn’t continue. Lockdown has given me time to plan further in the future.’ Windfall from lost holiday  Dannielle Phillips has had to put expensive holiday plans on halt Dannielle Phillips, 32, spends most of her spare cash on trips away. But since lockdown kicked in, expensive holiday plans have ground to a halt. She has already got an £870 refund for a trip to Mexico that was supposed to take place in April. And she has received a £500 voucher she can use to re-book her holiday to Portugal in June for next year. Dannielle, a senior marketing consultant, had always put £250 a month into Premium Bonds, but has since increased this to £750 a month. Since lockdown began, she has saved around £2,500 in total, which she says would have been impossible for her before. She has always checked her banking apps frequently, but is definitely more aware of incoming and outgoing transactions now. Dannielle, who lives in Croydon, South London, says she also feels very lucky it worked out like this because she had originally handed in her notice in February and was planning to leave after finishing a project six weeks later. But the new job she had been offered fell through so her company agreed to rehire her. Dannielle says: ‘I am looking forward to lockdown ending but also dreading it because I will need to rebalance old habits. ‘I’m going to try to budget more at the weekends because I want to keep saving to buy a house. ‘Building up my savings has become more important to me because the future feels so uncertain.’ a.murray@dailymail.co.uk Some links in this article may be affiliate links. If you click on them we may earn a small commission. That helps us fund This Is Money, and keep it free to use. We do not write articles to promote products. We do not allow any commercial relationship to affect our editorial independence. The post UK’s accidental savers: Poll shows many are better off in lockdown  appeared first on Sansaar Times.

http://sansaartimes.blogspot.com/2020/06/uks-accidental-savers-poll-shows-many.html

[video-killed-the-radio-host]

The Bake Sale

Carlos' phone went off just as he got into his car. He knew from the ringtone exactly who it was, and he smiles as he answers.

"Hello beautiful."

"You have a job to do when you get home." Cecil says, sounding frustrated.

"Oh?" Carlos purrs, switching his phone to his left ear as he dug in his pocket for his keys. He unlocks the door and slides intobthe driver's seat, pulling the door shut. "Is this the kind of job where I do that thing with my tongue to drive you crazy? Or I could-"

"Brownies." Came the blunt reply.

"Carlos this is no time to mess around. The bake sale is this weekend and I refuse to take second place to Steve Carlsburg again for the third year in a row."

Carlos chokes on a laugh. "Excuse me?"

Carlos could picture Cecil at this point, waving his hands in annoyance and ranting at the countertop. He smiles again.

"I can hear you smiling. This is no laughing matter! This is serious Carlos!"

There was a clatter and then a few curse words that Cecil had picked up from Carlos over the years.

"I do love it when you talk dirty." Carlos teases.

"Carlos!" Cecil snapped.

"Okay. Okay I'll help you."

There was a pause and then Cecil's voice returns, quieter and meeker now.

"Thank you."

"I love you, you dork. I'll see you soon."

-

The drive home was fairly short and Carlos knew exactly what he wanted to make. He slips his shoes off by the door and hangs his keys up on the hook before making his way to the kitchen to find his exasperated husband sitting cross legged on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

"You're home!"

"And your ass is on the cooking space. Get down." Carlos scolds, crossing the room and kissing him chastely.

"You didn't mind me being up here last week." Cecil retorts as Carlos pulls him by the beltloops to the edge of the counter to kiss him once more before he took a step back

"I can't make an award winning desert with you up there." Is Carlos' answer as he sheds his jacket and starts to wash his hands.

Cecil follows, pulling his hair back. "What are we making?"

Carlos looks over his shoulder. "We're making my mama's brownies."

Cecil's face lights up in awe. "There's no way Steve can beat that!"

"Exactly." Carlos nods as he dries his hands. "Lets get started, shall we?"

Cecil nods and bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for instruction.

"Preheat the oven to 350 and then get the eggs, butter, and chocolate." Carlos instructs, pulling the baking dish out and lining it before moving to the spice cabinet and pulling down both white and brown sugar, cayenee pepper, cinnamon, coca powder, vanilla extract, and flour. He then gets the can of coffee beans, Cecil never drank his coffee black so they had plenty, and deposited them all into the counter. He measures out the butter and chocolate needed and puts them in a bowl, handing it to Cecil. "Melt these please."

Cecil takes the bowl and puts it in thr microwave for a minute and a half, turning to watch Carlos sift together the flour, coca, cinnamon and cayenne. The look of concentration and determination was beautiful. Carlos sets the bowl aside and grabs another, looking up at Cecil with a grin. The microwave beeping startled Cecil so much he nearly fell, causing him to look away. He brings back the melted butter and chocolate, handing it over. Carlos takes it and pours the mixture into another bowl and adds the sugars and orange zest and finally the coffee.

"Eggs." He says, glancing up. "Fours please. One at a time." He instructs.

Cecil complies, cracking and adding the eggs with equal pauses between. Once the eggs were mixed in, Carlos stops and adds the dry ingredients and the vanilla extract. He then picks up the wisk and mixs some more. Finally he stops and dips his finger into the batter.

"What do you think?"

Cecil leans forward and takes Carlos' hand, pulling the finger into his mouth. The blonde's pupils dilated a little as he does so and Carlos just smirks. That is, until Cecil bites him.

"Why you little-"

"I think it needs more vanilla." Cecil interrupts.

Carlos hands over the bottle. "Be my guest."

Cecil takes it and bites his bottom lip as he pours. Once satisfied, he caps the bottle and nods in satisfaction. Carlos stirs again and tries it.

"Perfect." He muses, turning and pouring the batter into the waiting pan before sliding it into the oven and starting the timer. He puts the supplies back where they belong and the dishes in the sink to be washed later before making his way back to Cecil, who was standing near the stove. He pulls Cecil close and spins him around so he's pressed against the counter. The taller man let out a squeak of suprise, but it's quieted by Carlos' deep kiss. Cecil sinks into the kiss, bringing his arms up around Carlos' neck as he's lifted up onto the counter.

"My ass is on the cooking space again." Cecil whispers with a shudder and Carlos drags his tongue up the artist's neck, teasing his ear before gently biting him. Violet eyes once closed snap open as he's dragged forward once more. His legs automatically wrap around Carlos' waist as his back is pressed against the cool marble.

"Not anymore." Came the reply.

"Shut up and kiss me."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

CARLOS' BROWNIES!!!

Yield: Makes 18 rich and super fudgy brownies

Ingredients:

• 1 cup all-purpose flour

• ¼ cup cocoa powder

• 1 ¾ teaspoon ground cinnamon

• ½ teaspoon salt

• ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper (you can use 1/8 teaspoon for a little less “heat”, if you’re not sure)

• 1 cup unsalted butter

• 12 ounces bittersweet chocolate chips (I use Ghirardelli brand 60% cocoa chips)

• 1 ¼ cup granulated sugar

• ½ cup, packed, brown sugar

• 1 teaspoon instant espresso coffee granules (I use Medaglia D’Oro brand)

• 4 eggs, room temperature

• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

• ¼ teaspoon orange zest

-Preheat your oven to 350°, and line a 11 x 7 x 1 ½” glass baking dish with enough foil so that there is a slight overhang (for easier removal), and lightly mist with cooking spray; place the prepared baking dish on a parchment-lined baking sheet. (You can use a 9 x 13 pan, too; just know that the brownies will be slightly thinner, and you will need to adjust the baking time to about 25-35 minutes.)

-Sift together the flour, cocoa powder, cinnamon, salt, and cayenne pepper, and set aside these dry ingredients.

-Place the butter and the chocolate into a small to medium-size glass bowl, and place the bowl over a pot of very gently simmering water (double-boiler method); allow the butter and chocolate to melt together, stirring occasionally to blend.

-Once the butter and chocolate is melted, carefully pour it into another large bowl, scraping ever last bit of it out, and allow it to cool slightly for about 5-10 minutes.

-Next, add both of the sugars, plus the instant espresso coffee granules, into the melted butter/chocolate mixture, and using a whisk, gently whisk those in until well blended.

-Add one egg at a time into the mixture, gently whisking until it is blended in; add in the vanilla and the orange zest, and whisk those in.

-Next, add the dry ingredients into the mixture, and gently whisk those in until they are incorporated, taking care not to over-mix.

-Pour the batter into your prepared pan, and bake for about 55 minutes, or just until a toothpick inserted comes out fairly clean (it’s not quite the same doing a “toothpick test” on fudgy brownies as it is a cake—you still may get a little batter, but it shouldn’t be too wet.)

-Allow to cool in baking dish for about 10 minutes, and then using the overhanging foil, lift the brownies out and allow them to completely cool and set (which can take 3-5 hours!) before cutting.

[aceofwhump]

Are you doing requests? If so I'd like to see a story from before Luthers accident where Diego gets injured doing his vigilanteing and has to go back to the academy because as much as he hates Reginald and luthor he has nowhere else to go (bonus points if luthor and Diego run into each other while both trying to help at the same accident)

Thanks for the request! I hope you like it :D

“What are you doing here?” Luther shouted as he threw another one of the bad guys across the large lobby of the bank. The man crashed into the wall and slid to the ground unconscious.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Diego responded back as he lett one of his knives fly, hitting the shoulder of the guy hiding behind the counter. The man dropped to the ground with a shout of surprise and didn’t get back up.

Diego had been mopping up at the boxing club, earning his place in the boiler room he now called home, when his police scanner announced a bank robbery in progress. He dropped his mop, grabbed his gear and ran out the door throwing his leather harness on as he ran to his car. The various leather straps and holsters he put on his body held a innumerable amount of knives. He always felt more comfortable with the world when he wore it. Years and years of living with those knives in his hands and now he felt naked without them. Diego threw on his black diamond shaped mask, reminiscent of his old Academy mask, and pulled out of the parking lot. He turned the police scanner’s volume on max and listened for the precise location of the robbery.

He expected a couple of guys with maybe a gun or two at one of the smaller banks. They tended to get robbed often due to the size and horrible lack of security. Seriously what’s one old guy pretending he was still able shoot a taser going to do to stop bank robbers? He would drop in quietly and quickly take them out with a knife or two. Easy peasy. He’d be home in an hour or two with a few less thugs on the streets

He didn’t expect the bank robbery to be at the largest bank in the city or for there to be a dozen employees and customers held hostage while a large group of suspicious figures dressed all in black, ski masks and all, pointed semi automatics at them.

Diego also didn’t expect to see his brother crash in from the ceiling and start throwing punches when four of them broke off from the group and started heading towards the large vault in the back. Diego, who was hiding out of sight, observing the situation from afar and waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move, startled at the loud explosion of concrete and glass that rained down on the bank. He stared in shock at Luther who was wearing his old Umbrella Academy uniform, the tight leather jumpsuit they all wore as kids and black mask making him stand out amongst the richly dressed patrons of the bank. Immediately, Luther started fighting his way through the group of robbers.

As soon as Diego saw Luther start throwing punches, he cursed and broke through the front door, the element of surprise completely gone now thanks to Luther. Luther lifted up a nearby table and threw it at the man coming towards him.

“Dad sent me,” Luther said as the table went flying across the lobby and knocked the man down, “You?”

Diego ducked behind the counter as one of the guys started firing off a few rounds at him. The hostages were screaming, throwing themselves on the ground to avoid the chaos. Diego crouched low and threw another knife. He curved the blade around the corner and towards the sound of the gunfire. It landed in the guys hand making him drop the gun and cry out in pain.

As he jumped back over the counter and into the fray he shouted at Luther, answering his previous question, “I was in the neighborhood.”

The two brothers landed in the center of the lobby at the same time as a momentary lull in the battle settled. They stared at each, sizing one another up, before Luther nodded his head and said, “Okay.”

Diego smirked and nodded back, “Okay. Can we take out these assholes now? Several of them ran off towards the vault before you crashed in and distracted me.”

Luther scoffed at the last part but chose to ignore it for the moment. He nodded his head and gestured for him to go on, “After you Number 2.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Before they could take a step towards the vault, one of the robbers shouted from behind him. Diego spun around and froze. Three of the robbers were holding several hostages at gunpoint and shouting at him and Luther to not move. The hostages knelt on the floor in fear, several of them crying and begging for them not to hurt them.

Diego, without taking his eyes off the robbers spoke to Luther who was standing several feet behind him, “Go to the vault. I got these guys.”

“You sure?” The sound of Luther’s voice told Diego that he was about two seconds away from launching himself at these guys. If that happened the hostages were as good as dead. Luther always did think with his muscles over his brain. Planning ahead wasn’t his forte. Yet another reason Diego thought he should have been the leader.

“Oh yeah,” he said, a wicked smile making its way across his face. “I got this. Go to the vault.”

Diego slowly, and as inconspicuously as possible, drew two knives out of the holsters on his thighs, “This’ll be fun.”

He heard Luther run off after a moment’s hesitation and soon it was just him and the bastards holding guns to the heads of innocent people.

“Get on the ground or I’ll shoot her!” the head douchebag screamed at Diego.

“Alright. Just take it easy,” Diego slowly raised his arms in surrender, waiting for the perfect time to attack.

The guy who was shouting at Diego earlier swung his gun away from his hostage and pointed it at Diego, prepared to shoot him in cold blood.

Diego smirked. Just what he was hoping he’d do. Got you now, you asshole.

Now that the gun wasn’t trained on an innocent he could make his move without worrying about the idiot shooting his hostage. He threw back his wrist and released one of the knives at lightning speed. The man fell to the ground grasping at the knife now embedded in his throat. He was dead before his hit the ground.

All hell broke loose once the man hit the ground. The other two turned their weapons on Diego and fired. The hostages slammed themselves to the ground to avoid being hit while Diego dove for the nearby counter. Bullets flew towards him and Diego leapt across the room, throwing the second projectile at the second gunman as he dodged the flying bullets. Right as he let go of his knife he felt something strike him in the ribs but he ignored it and threw his last knife at the final gunman. He went down just like the first shooter, knife hitting him straight in the heart.

Diego landed behind the counter and crouch low as bullets from the third man’s gun rained down upon the counter. He pulled out another knife and aimed it. Letting the knife fly, he felt it curve through the air towards its intended target. The guy would never know what hit him. A grunt of pain and the absent sound of gunfire told Diego his knife hit its mark.

He stood up from his hiding place behind the counter and found all three gunmen dead, the hostages slowly getting up from their crouched positions on the floor and looking around in fear and confusion.  

Diego heard footsteps coming from behind him. He whirled around, prepared to throw another projectile but stilled when he saw Luther coming around the corner. He relaxed and put his knife away, already looking around for his other knives which were scattered around the lobby. He tried not to leave any behind if he could help it. It wouldn’t be good if the cops picked them up as evidence considering he wasn’t supposed to be doing this kind of stuff. So he went to the closest bad guy and yanked his knife out of his chest, wiping the blood off on his shirt and putting it back in its holster.

“I heard gunshots. Everything okay?” Luther asked, slightly out of breath from his own fight.

“All good. What about the guys in the vault?”

“They’ve been taken care of,” Luther said as he rushed over to the scared hostages and tried to calm everyone down.

Diego hummed in reply and leaned over to pick up another knife. As he bent over his vision whited out and a sharp spike of pain shot through his chest causing him to pitch forward and land shakily on knees. He caught himself from falling completely on his face by slamming a hand to the ground and squeezing his eyes closed. The pain continued to increase and he bit back a groan. He pressed a hand to his ribs, where he remembering feeling something slam into him earlier, and felt wetness. He pulled his now shaking hand away and saw dark red blood coating it.

Fuck!, he swore. He’d been shot.

Diego quickly glanced at Luther but he hadn’t noticed anything amiss. He helping an older woman stand and reassuring the others that they were okay now. Diego picked up the stray knife and stood up, moving stiffly, one arm pressed to his side trying to stem the flow of blood without alerting anyone (mainly Luther) to the fact that he was bleeding. He was grateful for the black outfit he wore because it hide the blood rather well.

He slowly made his way around the room, pushing down the pain, and gathered the last of the remaining knives. By the time he picked up the last one he was breathing hard and sweating. His side was now covered in blood and he was getting weaker. He felt a bit light headed and wobbly. Definitely losing too much blood, he thought.

Diego heard the increasing sounds of sirens coming towards to the bank. That was his cue to sneak out of the bank, preferably before the cops arrive, and take care of his injury. He stifled another groan of pain and turned towards the exit, focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Luther stopped him before he made it out of the lobby, “Diego wait! Where are you going?”

Diego did his best to look nonchalant as he turned around slowly to address his brother. “Gotta split before the cops get here,” he explained.

Luther looked a little put out but he nodded his acceptance, “Okay. Well…It was good to see you Diego.”

“…See you around Luther.”

——————————————————————————————————–

The drive back to the boxing club was a blur to Diego. Focused on preventing himself from passing out and bleeding out in his car, Diego didn’t really remember the drive back. Someone he managed to arrive more or less in tact and stumbled into the gym, one hand pressed to the wound on his ribs as he tried to staunch the blood freely flowing through his fingers.

It hadn’t slowed down since he left the bank and he was pretty sure there was no exit wound which meant he had a bullet he needed to get out. The hospital was out of the question. How would he explain how he got shot? They’d end up calling the cops and he really didn’t have time to deal with that. No he’d have to try and take care of himself.

Diego ignored the worried glances from the boxers around the gym and stumbled to the boiler room he now called home. A lot of the boxers who frequented the gym had gotten to know the stranger who lived in the boiler room. Some only knew he mopped the floors at the end of the day. Those who were here more often knew it was more than that. He was a part of the gym. Most didn’t question when he walked in strapped to the nines with various sharp and deadly weapons. Nor did they didn’t question why he occasionally walked in bleeding. Like now for instance. A few thought about offering assistance but they knew Diego would just brush them off and move on. He always did.  So they glanced at him, made sure he made it down the hall okay, and returned to their sparring.

Throwing open the door to his room, Diego all but fell down the stairs to his first aid supplies. He dug out the box from under the sink and fumbled at the case’s latch. He frowned at the meager offerings his first aid kit now offered. He hadn’t replaced most of the items after the last time he was injured and he certainly didn’t have enough to take care of the bullet lodged in his side. Sighing, he grabbed the remaining bundles of the gauze to put together a temporary bandage that would hopefully slow the bleeding.

Diego moved to his bed and plopped down. Removing his hand from the wound he winced at the flow of blood. He quickly pressed the gauze to the wound and pressed down hard. Pain exploded through him and he groaned, his vision tunneling for a minute before he got a handle on the pain.

As the stabbing pain died down to roar, he finished wrapping up his ribs, grabbed a jacket to help with the cold that was now seeping into his body (a sure sign that he was losing too much blood) and summoned up all the energy he could.

He made his way back outside and climbed into this car, momentarily resting his head against the back of the seat as he caught his breath. He didn’t have the energy nor the time to go shopping for new supplies and he couldn’t go to the hospital. There was one other option but Diego loathed it. He’d run away from that place for a reason. But if he didn’t get this wound taken care of soon it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t have a choice. Back to the Academy he went.

Diego groaned for an entirely different reason than the pain in his side and reluctantly made his way to the mansion that had once been his home. When he left at the age of 18 he swore he wouldn’t come back but he knew he didn’t really have a choice. He needed help from someone who wouldn’t ask questions or report him to the police.

Diego turned the radio on while he drove, hoping the litany of voices would help him stay focused. Halfway to the mansion the radio station began to speak about the “return of the Umbrella Academy” and how two of the masked heroes had just saved a bunch of people at a bank. The thought of him being associated with the Academy again pissed him off and he punched the button to turn the radio off, effectively shutting off any further discussion on the topic. He’d spent years trying to separate himself from being “the Kraken”. Will this stupid city ever forget? That was one of many reason he hated that Vanya wrote that stupid book. Maybe people would have forgotten if she didn’t write her tell all book about them.

The house came into view and Diego pulled down the back alleyway. He put the car in park and slowly pushed himself out the car. Clenching his jaw against the pain, he pressed a hand to his bleeding ribs and stumbled through the door leading into the kitchen. This was the one place he knew Dad wouldn’t be. He’d just go in, hopefully unseen by anyone, grab some supplies from the infirmary and get the hell out of here. Easy.

Unfortunately things didn’t go according to plan. Did they ever? As he painfully made his way towards the stairs, one step at a time, breathing harshly against the pain, he ran smack into Luther.

Fuck! So much for in and out unseen.

Luther stopped in his tracks, eyes wide in surprise at seeing his brother twice in one day. He had changed out of his uniform and was now wearing regular a pair of jeans and and a simple t-shirt.

Diego watched as Luther’s face went through half a dozen emotions including surprise and confusion before he noticed the blood now dripping onto the floor beneath Diego. The sight of blood seemed to kickstart his brain.

“Diego? What-? Is that blood!? You’re bleeding! Ho-hold on. I’ll go to get dad!” Luther panicked. He started to head back up the stairs but stopped abruptly when one of Diego’s knives embedded itself on the wall in front of him. Luther spun around and was startled by the aggressive anger on Diego’s face.

“Don’t! If you go get Dad I’ll leave right now. I don’t care if end up dying in alley, I’m not seeing that bastard. Don’t you fucking tell him I’m here.”

“Are you insane? You need help! Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” Luther was still surprised by the vehemence in Diego’s tone but his desire to help his brother overtook anything else. Even though they argued with each other over everything, he loved his brother and right now he looked terrible. “Should I get Mom?”

“No. Don’t bother mom. I just needed supplies to get the bullet out. I didn’t have what I needed at home. Knew Pogo would keep this placed well stocked.”

“Bullet!? You were shot? Jeezus, Diego.”

Diego didn’t have the energy to argue with Luther anymore. He started to move forward again but his knees gave out on him, the blood loss finally taking its toll. He reached out to catch himself but missed the wall and fell to the ground in a heap. He bit back a scream as the wound in his stomach burned fiercely. Fire raced through him and he curled up into a ball, desperate to quell the pain eating at him. Darkness slowly edged his vision as oblivion finally took him.

——————————————————————————————————–

Diego woke up slowly, awareness coming one sense at a time. The sound of faint beeping behind him. The feel of the sheets beneath him. The bright light streaming in behind closed eyes. The smell of antiseptic. The dull ache of pain in his side.

He shifted and groaned as the dull ache grew to an annoying throb. He pried his eyes open and found himself surrounded by the familiar sights of the Academy infirmary.

“You’re awake!”

Diego turned his head towards the sound of the voice. Luther was sitting in a chair next to him, eyebrows raised in surprise and the hints of a smile on his face.

“Luther? What happened?”

“You passed out and were bleeding pretty badly so I carried you to the infirmary.”

“Did you do this?” Diego gestured to the bandage wrapped around him. They had all been trained in basic first aid but he didn’t know Luther knew how to remove a bullet. Mom always handled that kind of stuff. Diego had learned due to necessity but he’d be surprised if Luther had actually taken the bullet out of him.

“No. Mom did. She’d be here but she said she had something else to do for Pogo and Dad. Don’t worry she won’t say anything to them about you being here. I made sure since you were so adamant about it earlier. Oh and she said that the wound wasn’t too bad. Didn’t hit anything major. She pulled the bullet out and patched you up. You should be fine with a few days of rest.”

Diego shifted and felt the pull of something on his his hand. He raised his arm and blanched at the sight of a needle sticking out of him. Quickly looking away so he didn’t puke or faint, Diego shut his eyes tight and focused on not passing out. Don’t think about the needle currently attached to your skin. Don’t think about the needle. His skin grew clammy and he began to tremble. He was pretty sure he was about to pass out when Luther grabbed him lightly by the arm and pulled him back to reality.

“You alright? You don’t look so good. Maybe I should go get Mom again. I’m not the best at this.”

“Stop. ‘m fine. Just…just give me a minute,” Diego said, shaking off Luther’s arm. He took a second to pull himself back together before quickly yanking the needle out of his hand and carefully climbing off the table. His legs were still weak and the movement made him dizzy. His hand darted out to grab the edge of the bed while he waited for the lightheadedness to die down again. He heard Luther chuckle and shot a glare at him.

Luther stopped chuckling under Diego’s glare. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just..the big bad, knife wielding vigilante is still scared needles?”

“Shut up. At least I don’t have my head shoved up dad’s ass.”

“Diego!”

“Luther!”

The two of them glared at one another before Luther spoke again. “Did this happen at the bank?” he asked seriously.

“What do you care?” Diego replied as he attempted to walk again. He winced as the action pulled on his newly stitched up wound but ignored the pain and started to gather up the items he needed.

“You’re my brother, of course I care. Why didn’t you say anything? I could have helped.”

“Didn’t concern you.”

“That’s bullshit. You should have told me you were hurt.”

Diego ignored him and shoved several clean bandages, some pain meds, and other first aid supplies he was out of into a bag and headed out the door. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard Luther shout after him.

“Diego, wait! Are you really just gonna leave like that? You passed out! You’ve lost a lot of blood. You should rest.” Luther’s voice followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen. Diego spun on his heel to face him and had to reach out and grab the nearest table chair to keep himself upright as a wave of dizziness hit him.  He squeezed his eyes closed until it passed and he felt he equilibrium return.

“What do you want me to say Luther? I’m fine. I can take care of myself. Been doing it for a long time now.”

Luther crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed, “Yeah clearly.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Diego shot back.

“I mean you’re reckless. You always have been. You got hurt today and you could have died. Dad trained us better than that. You could have been killed because you didn’t know what you were doing. You shouldn’t have even been there. You left the academy of your own free will. You have no business acting like you’re still apart of it!”

“Fuck you, Luther. At least what I do actually helps people. You’re still trapped in this stupid bubble that Dad built for you. You can’t see the truth. Dad doesn’t know shit about leading a team. He really doesn’t know how to be a fucking father. He fucked us all up and yet here you are, still blindly following his orders. One of these days you’re blindness is gonna get you killed.”

“I’m not the one who got shot today.”

Diego had enough. He shook his head in frustration and turned around heading for the exit once more. Nothing he could say would change anything. Luther would always follow their follow. Always do what he said. Always believe what he told him. He couldn’t listen to any more of Luther’s bullshit. He was leaving. Now.

“Diego!”

Diego stopped, one hand on the door handle, and turned his head slightly. He kept his back to Luther but turned far enough to show Luther he’d wait to hear what he had to say. One last chance.

“I- I just…take care of yourself, okay?” Luther said, “And for what’s it worth, it was good to see you.”

Diego swallowed, his emotions getting the better of him momentarily. He tamped them down and turned to look Luther in the eyes, “Someday you’re going to realize that Dad isn’t the perfect father you believe him to be. And when that happens, don’t come crawling to me.”

Luther was startled by the harshness in Diego’s voice but recovered quickly and looked at Diego with irritation and disappointment. A look Diego had gotten many times from his brother before.

Without another word, Diego opened the door and stepped into the night leaving this house, Luther, and his past behind him once more.

[catsafarithewriter]

Re: prompts: “Hello? Can you let me in? I tried blowing up your door but it didn't work.”

A/N: Inspiration for this one caught me by surprise, prompted by the song Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake (suggested by glitterowl on Discord), with inspiration creeping in from The Property of Hate webcomic by Sarah Jolley and Counting Stars comic by Strangely Katie. (Oh, and the animated short: Entropy probably had a hand in all this too.)

Right, now I’ve finished plugging all these wonderful creations (check them out though) onwards. 

x

come come come come come along now

run away from the hum-drum

x

In her time in student accommodation, Haru had become accustomed to the strangeness of life. Especially during the wee small hours of the night. There had been the time someone had set the sofa in the common room alight (and sent everyone scurrying out into the quad to wait out the fire alarm) and another incident involving drain pipes being climbed, and another sleepless night spent waiting for the flooded boiler to be fixed.

So Haru didn’t respond immediately when her balcony door shook on its hinges. 

Technically it was a balcony door. There was a balcony beyond it, certainly, but health and safety had seen fit to seal it shut on fear of accidents, so now Haru had a very large glass window with a doorhandle. 

There was a tap at her window-door. 

A polite, wood-against-glass tap, and not something she was used to hearing since she was on the third floor of the building. It was at this point she rolled over towards the sound and saw the figure standing on her balcony. 

“Hello?” it said. “Can you let me in? I tried blowing up your door but it didn’t work.”

She stared. The figure looked almost human - tailored suit and top hat and a cane in one hand - but the outline looked… off. She couldn’t tell if that was just her tiredness or if there was a fancy dress party going on somewhere on campus. With a lot of drink, apparently. 

She leant over and unlatched the small window - that was a window and not a refurbished door - and said, “It’s 3am.”

The figure didn’t move. “Is it? And is that… bad? I can never keep track of human time.”

“I have an 8am class tomorrow. Today.” She blinked and the world swam a little more into focus. She realised the figure wasn’t just on her balcony - they were perched on the railing itself. So much for health and safety. “Go away.“

The figure dissolved away. 

Haru started to think that that was that, when something flipped through the small open window and landed on her desk. It stepped off the desk and dissolved again, and this time Haru could see its form solidifying back into a taller, human-sized form. 

“Go away?” the figure echoed. “And after I’ve come all this way to find you? I think not.” 

Haru stared. Again. She slowly reached across and flicked her bedside light on. The figure’s appearance came into sharp relief, and now she could see not only the top hat and suit, but the feline face and orange tail that had thrown her off originally. Impressive suit, if that’s what it was. Could be, but even the most diehard cosplayer probably couldn’t make themselves shrink at will. 

The figure - cat, creature, monster - tugged at its sleeve, and Haru saw a flash of orange fur between glove and shirt. 

“Am I dreaming?” she asked eventually. 

The cat head tilted. “Goodness gracious, I hope not. Otherwise this trip has gone terribly wrong somewhere.” 

“Only I’m pretty sure I should be dreaming.”

“How so?”

“For starters, human-sized cats don’t exist.”

The feline head tilted the other way. “You have big cats, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“And small cats,” the figure continued, “so why not human-sized cats?”

“Cats don’t normally wear suits,” Haru said. 

“There’s your answer then. I am not a normal cat.”

Haru dragged her dressing gown off her chair and pulled it around her shoulders as she swung her feet out of bed. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “So if you’re not a normal cat and you’re not a dream, then what are you?”

“I should have thought that was perfectly clear. I am me.”

Haru wrinkled her nose. “That’s not an answer.”

“Isn’t it? Then what are you?”

“Human. And cold,” she added with a meaningful look to the open window. The creature stood between her and it, and - dream or no - she wasn’t about to go anywhere near the magical stranger. 

The figure didn’t take the hint, waving her answer away with one immaculate white-gloved hand. “Nonsense. That isn’t what you are. Those are merely passing, window-dressing comforts–”

“Being human is passing?” Haru asked. 

“Naturally. With the kind of adventures you’re set to have, you could end up as a squirrel. Or an oak tree. Or an antique chair.” 

“I don’t fancy being a chair.”

“Well, of course you don’t. You’re far too attached to being human - how are you going to change with that sort of attitude?”

Haru eyed it - him? - and raised an eyebrow. “If this is a dream, I’d like to wake up now.”

“Charming.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You wished for me.”

“I… No, I didn’t. Pretty sure I’d remember asking for this,” she said.

“You most certainly did,” the figure said, and gestured to Haru’s desk with a sweeping motion. 

She looked to the jar of folded paper stars.

She had put the last one in only that evening.

“A thousand paper stars for one wish,” the figure said. 

“But,” Haru blurted out, “I never wished for you.” She blinked. “Sorry. That was kinda rude. But still–”

“You wished for adventure,” the figure said, plainly unperturbed by Haru’s curt dismissal. “For other worlds and excitement and action. What form did you think it would take?”

Haru blinked. Again. Maybe she had asked for adventure; her life was predictable and mundane and she was tired of university exams being the monster that clung to her days, but even so… “Even so,” she said, “I didn’t think that it’d actually…”

“Actually what?” the figure asked. “Work? Then why did you wish?”

“I don’t know. Because it was fun and therapeutic and I liked the idea that maybe it was…” She trailed off, suddenly self-conscious. 

“Magic?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. 

The figure sat down at the desk chair, somehow avoiding the piles of worn clothing. “Young woman–”

“Haru,” she supplied automatically, and then wondered if that had been a mistake. There were tales, after all, of creatures that could steal someone’s soul and mind away once their name was given. 

The figure smiled, but there was no cunning behind it. “Baron.”

It took Haru several more seconds to realise that the figure was giving a name in kind. 

“Miss Haru,” the figure - Baron - started again, “do you think your wish would have brought me here had you wanted a pony, or an unlimited supply of chocolate chip cookies, or eternally good internet access?”

“Not unless you were bringing the pony,” Haru said. Her eyes widened. “Are you telling me I could have wished for perfect wifi?”

“Not exactly–”

“Man, did I waste those stars.”

Baron’s lips twitched, as if he were fighting back the urge to laugh or scowl. Haru hoped it was the former. “Miss Haru, only a person’s truest innermost wish will work on the paper star magic. Whether or not you thought it would work, your wish was honest. You want adventure.”

Haru opened her mouth and found she had no immediate dispute to that. She narrowed her eyes. “Fine, but that still doesn’t give you permission to blow up my window.”

“No harm done, however?”

“You still tried!”

“It wouldn’t open; what other option should I have taken?”

“You could have left.” She inhaled deeply. The dream - if that was what it was - still didn’t disappear. “But you didn’t and here you are. So, what happens now?”

“Well, that is up to you. You wished for adventure and it came knocking. But only you can take that first step.” Baron tapped the sealed door with the crook of his cane and the nails keeping it in place popped out. The handle clicked. 

The door swung easily open. 

“And after the first step?” Haru asked. 

“Adventure.” 

Baron stepped out into the threshold, two steps and his feet lifted up from the balcony floor. His cane tapped against the air, a tap-tap-tap wooden sound, and a staircase built from air swam hazily into view. He smiled at Haru’s expression, and extended a hand towards her. 

“Come along, Miss Haru. You did wish for this.” 

She eyed the offered hand and the offer that went with it, and then to the glittering eyes. Like gems. In fact, she wasn’t sure they weren’t gemstones. Something about this strange individual led her to believe just about anything could be true. 

“If I say yes,” she asked quietly, “what’s going to happen?”

“Oh, absolutely anything.” Those eyes glimmered. “But isn’t that the point?”

She looked to her room - to the walls covered in photos of friends and family from back home and of her time at university, quiet attempts to maker herself feel like a part of something bigger. To the pile of coursebooks and the messageboard with dates and assignments pinned to it. To all the familiar pieces she had collected; her favourite pens, a cuddly toy from childhood, the memorial t-shirt from a concert… All the little things that carved out her space in this lost corner of the universe. 

Everything that cried out to the world: look at me, this is me. 

What was it Baron had said?

I am me.

She looked back to the figure, to his alien silhouette and unearthly eyes and presence that spoke of worlds and magic beyond her own. 

“Come along now,” he said, one gloved hand resting in the space between them. “Don’t you want to run away from the hum-drum?”

[monstersdownthepath]

Tena’s Tiny House

Major Artifact

Aura: Overwhelming Conjuration

CL: 24th

Weight: 10lbs

Slot: —

This miniature domicile can easily be lifted from the ground with the attached handles, but inside is a space larger than some towns. The original creator was an eccentric architect by the name of Tena J., a Conjurer obsessed with miniaturizing and optimization of various extradimensional space. The Tiny House was not only her greatest creation, but her final one before she vanished mysteriously.

Tena’s Tiny House can be entered via the front door. Opening the door via manipulation of the extremely tiny knob instantly shrinks the opener to a scant few inches in height. This miniature size only persists so long as one remains within an inch of the surface of the House. Once inside, it’s easy to become overwhelmed, because its small and cutesy name belies the fact that it’s the creation of a powerful Extradimension Conjurer; the interior of the Tiny House is akin to a Mage’s Magnificent Mansion, except it interior dimensions are almost two miles in diameter, and nearly three-hundred feet tall from the lowest floor to the ceiling. The entry hall is an enormous, grandiose affair akin to a resplendent hotel atrium, where one can see hundreds of doors, halls, and further constructs beyond that and peer upwards to see the dozens of floors. One can look from the first floor all the way to the ceiling, the entire interior lit by bright, multicolored lights.

The whole of the Tiny House is staffed by countless Unseen Servants and several usually-harmless, humanoid constructs, and has small “tele-pads” which allow guests and the ‘staff’ to rapidly move between the floors of the Tiny House without needing to climb up and down miles of stairs. There exists numerous empty but important structures that suggest the Tiny House was meant to be lived in permanently but was nowhere near finished, such as a garbage pit with unfinished, nonfunctional furnaces (which some guests have taken upon themselves to aid in cleaning), several silent boilers which should have provided warm and hot water to all the rooms (they have functional plumbing--which itself seems to have been finished by a third party--but the water never exceeds 60 degrees Fahrenheit), and enormous conjuration engines which, via careful magical analysis, would have apparently created clothing and minor supplies for the guests. Several portions of the Tiny House also remain completely unlit, though whether this is because it’s unfinished or to accommodate light-sensitive guests is unknown. There is also a half-finished circle of Transmutation magic nearly thirty feet across, analysis of which suggests that it was going to be used to shrink or grow guests on an individual basis to assure they could exist comfortably in the House; as it is, all the rooms are scaled only for Medium-sized creatures.

Tena did seem to finish the most important parts before vanishing, though. the main kitchens function perfectly, capable of generating enough food to feed up to 300 people each day and magically restocking every 24 hours. The food is, unfortunately, rather bland, and the selection of spices and flavorings is tragically limited. In addition, there is another conjuration engine of prodigious size, defended by automaton constructs and automatic turrets which allow no one to approach, which generates raw materials that the Unseen Servants use to repair or replace portions of the Tiny House’s interior that become damaged. Typically, it takes no more than 1d4 days for the servants to repair even the loss of whole rooms at a time.

A being can stay within the Tiny House as long as they remain comfortable and so long as they do not destroy too much of the locale--doing so will cause the constructs within to become lethally hostile. They are only armed with simple weapons, but they are constantly manufactured by the primary conjuration engine within the House until the hostile element is dead or removed. Any being exiting the artifact for any reason cannot re-enter for 24 hours; if they attempt to open the door, they will simply not shrink.

Destruction: The Tiny House, and everything in it, is destroyed if a Sphere of Annihilation is brought inside of it, and then the Sphere is destroyed via the Gate spell achieving the 15% “rip into the spatial fabric” result. The interior and inhabitants of the Tiny House will be drawn into the tear and ejected across random points in the Multiverse.

Bringing a Sphere into the Tiny House will automatically cause all of the constructs within it to become hostile. In addition, there are many inhabitants which would prefer not to be scattered to the astral winds and would likely work against the would-be destroyer.

[thewul]

It can comfortably transport 5 passengers and its list of specs is dizzying

Super off-road performance：

German MAN TGS 41.540 8×8

Torque:2500 N·M , Engine: 540 horsepower

12-speed off-road mode automatic transmission with gear locking device

Michelin 14.00R20 XZL tyres

Full time 8 wheel drive with 4 inter-wheel locks and 3 inter- axle locks

Armadillo three-point torque free sub-frame system

High strength FRP Sandwich panel

Rear mounted motorcycle mounting system

18,500-pound T-MAX 24V electric winch, wireless remote control system

Spare tire electric mounting system

Comfortable home decoration,homelike experience

Automatic intelligent electric management system

24V LED light with branded switch

Dc inverter air conditioner cooling capacity 2.4Kw×3

Filtered positive pressure ventilation system

4 Kw diesel air heater

Integrated microwave oven

High-end integrated coffee machine

Lifting 43 inch LCD TV

High-end audio equipment

Natural latex couch

High-end Marine teak flooring, non-chemical oil polished

Kitchen equipment

Integrated refrigerator

2.1 Kw single induction cooktop, cook hood

A full set of kitchenware

Integrated automatic washer dryer

Water supply system

950L stainless steel fresh water tank

Automatic water pump

9 Kw automatic diesel hot water boiler

40L water heater

Bathroom

Automatic thermal control shower

Electric ceramic toilet

120L stainless grey water tank with level sensor, 60L stainless blackwater tank with level sensor, electric  sewage pump

Configuration on the second floor

Professional, unique technology for automatic lifting

Flybridge of a yacht and comfortable open living room

Ring comfortable latex couch with electric lifting table

High-end professional audio equipment

High-end quiet refrigerator

Vehicle Information:

Total length: 11,180mm / Total width: 2,495mm / Total height: 3,930 mm

Wheelbase: 1,800 + 3,600 + 1,400 mm

Chassis: German MAN TGS 41.540 8x8

Total weight: approximately 19,000 kg/ Min ground clearance: 385 mm

Approach Angle: 33° / Departure Angle: 38° / Longitudinal passage Angle: 31°

Tank: Dual tank, 400 + 400 = 800 liters

Transmission: 12-speed off-road mode automatic transmission with gear lock

Power: 540 horsepower / Torque: 2,500 N·M

Tyre: Michelin 14.00R20 XZL

Drivetrain: full time 8 wheel drive, with 4 inter-wheel locks, 3 inter-axle locks

Cab: Leather suit with 800 mm wide berth, 2 seats

Structure and Configuration:

Accommodation 5 persons

L-shaped 5-seater Lounge and electric lift dining table, converts to twin bed, 2,000 x1,300mm

Standard bedroom with door, twin bed 2,000 X 1,500mm

[anantradingpvtltd]

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