#because i have nowhere else to put them and no way to transfer them farther distances | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frutavel · 4 years ago

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I picked up minecraft more seriously now as I'm sure you've noticed, and I think I posted about it here but I was documenting my newest adventure with the intent of writing about Tari and Sama trying to survive in minecraft

Well I'm not sure if I'm going to write it after all, but I still have all my notes and I think it's got some comedic potential so I'm posting them here, from when I first spawned in the world up until I stopped keeping track of things about three weeks later :D

I started mixing in Tari and Sama's POVs at some point, but everything noted here are things that for real happened to me while I was playing!

Under the cut because it's A Lot ^^

- Spawned by mushroom trees

- White horses everywhere

- Gather a little bit of meat and wool

- Find and kill some chickens

- Dig a hole in the ground

- Barricade the hole

- Fear.png

- Noises

- Survive the night intact

- Go out early to look for resources

- Find island

- B E E S

- Gather wood and resources

- Go back to the hole, begin talk of building on the island

- Go to the island

- B E E S v2

- Make beds

- Start building house on a lil hill

- Foundation layer done

- Creeper blows up half the hill

- Repair

- Go out get more food and wood

- Finish house

- Creeper blows up again but this time with more damage

- Trouble with skeletons, almost die

- Repair

- Find a cave

- Worry about building this close to cave, start talk of moving away

- Go explore cave to see what's up

- Gather coal and iron

- Find enderman stuck in cave, release enderman, almost die to enderman

- Spread lanterns and torches around house and cave

- Monsters seem to have given up

- Mood has been lightened

- Explore neighborhood

- Find pumpkins and more food

- Happyness ensues

- Make boat, go exploring by boat

- Tari doesn't come back until next morning bc he almost died while exploring by boat

- Come back w news of a village nearby and more food

- Make a furnace

- Make farm

- Tari stays home watching furnace

- Sama handles farm

- Things going good

- Decide to expand house

- Go hunting for wood

- Find more mushrooms

- Get home late at night very scared but everything is okay

- Mushroom soup babey

- Things seem good

- Go to bed, wake up next morning and go check on farm

- Creeper blows up the farm, half the house and almost kills Samaela

- Panic.png

- "Lead the way Taran-Zhu" he said "Let the healing begin"

- Samaela stays unconscious for a couple days while Tari does repairs

- Realizes they built right on top of cave system

- Samaela wakes up eventually

- Start talk about moving somewhere else again but for real this time

- Begin gathering resources

- Begin making planks for the building

- Take bed, take boat, begin looking for another place to build

- Go to oak tree forest, survey area

- Find big clearing of sand by trees

- Fear farming there won't work, move on

- Find big clearing on top of hill a little aways away

- Worry about exposure, scout nearby woods

- Very dark woods

- Like, really fucking dark

- Dark as shit but no caves nearby

- Spoke too soon, found a cave

- Woods are very dense, worry about getting lost after dark

- Clearing on top of hill seems like best option, unsure as to whether they should go farther

- Decide to hop on boat and keep going

- Find sea turtles, immediately forget sea turtles

- See desert biome, remember village, wonder if maybe building next to village is a good idea

- It's a desert so no

- Also kinda scared of the villagers

- Wonder about other biomes, keep going

- Find little swampy like area with lillypads and weeping willows

- Interest piqued , explore further via river

- Looks like a new biome but vibes are a little weird, keep going

- Row in between very tall mountains

- Starts getting dark, river gets too shallow to continue, make camp for the night, sleep with no issues

- Wake up feeling okay, dig a little bit around the riverbed to make room for boat

- Get on boat and continue exploring

- Row row row the boat gently down the stream

- Find another village, hang around village for a bit, move on

- Little spot accross the river from village seems nice

- There's sheep and cows and pigs, and it's close to the village if they need help

- And it must be safe if the villagers settled here

- Take a closer look around area

- Find cave

- Cave entrance is chock full of coal and iron

- Mine away babey

- Actually make it all the way down the bottom

- Cave is not that big and there are no monsters inside

- Get all surface level minerals

- Bags filled with coal go back to the surface

- It's night

- Panic

- Make quick camp at mouth of cave

- Sleep and wake up fine

- Decide to explore more of area

- Find another cave nearby

- This one looks big

- Bags are full no space for new things

- Tari wants to be closer to sea, Sama is torn

- Sama likes being close to the village

- They decide to build a temporary house near village

- Temporary becomes permanent

- Start laying the foundation and prepare to transfer things from the old house to the new

- Spend a fuckton of time building new house

- Really a fuckton

- Run out of dark oak wood, take boat and go back to oak tree and giant mushroom forest

- Very far away

- Chop until axe breaks, load up boat with wood, go back home

- Build build build buld

- For story purposes Tari says he's going to try and go farther to see if he can find more resources, Sama stays behind to build

- House almost done

- Starts setting glass for glass roof

- Finished the glass go to finish roof

- Runs out of wood again

- Sama goes to oak trees alone

- Woods spooky

- Gets wood

- Go home with no problem

- Tari came home aya!

- Finish house together

- Enjoy a nice evening on the roof

- Wake up next morning bc noises

- Enderman got inside

- Fuck

- Try to coax it out

- It gets angry, Tari gets badly injured but they manage to kill it

- Tari's turn to be in bedrest

- Sama tucks him in the glass room and goes downstairs

- Sees creeper creeping by the window

- War flashbacks

- Sneaks outside, gets it to blow up without damaging the house

- Goes to inspect the damage, sees pillagers in distance, chooses to not engage and pray they'll go away

- Tense day

- Pillagers keep lurking but don't do anything

- Go to bed

- Pillagers still there next morning

- Go fight them

- Success

- Go back hoping no more show up

- Decide to begin farm

- Farmwork has begun successfully

- Put out some lights, make some bone meal for the next morning and go to bed

- Wake up next morning, skeleton got inside

- Is killed easily but at the cost of Samaela's mental health

- She put in so much work on this house and doesn't wanna have to leave again

- Deep breaths

- Go outside to check the situation

- No more monsters around thankfully

- Bone meal helps get started on wheat which is nice

- Harvest wheat

- Put a little staircase in front of door

- It serves no real purpose but makes things feel a little better

- Plus it looks pretty

- Needs more minerals

- Go to cave

- Instant regret

- Skeleton and zombie climb out but catch fire as soon as they go in the light

- Okay

- Go in

- Cave has a little waterfall in it

- Lotsa iron and coal

- Creeper blows itself up

- Go in a littke deeper

- Growling and moaning everywhere but no sign of monsters

- Light up the place and start mining

- Find bottom of cave, nowhere near as deep as previously thought

- Calm.png

- Mine away like there's no tomorrow

- Growling intensifies

- Take a brief peek at mouth of cave and see that it's night

- Forgot to bring bed

- No sense going outside now when monsters are up

- Continue mining and hope for the best

- Water from waterfall sounds soothing

- Growling doesn't stop

- Wonder if they can hear her mining below

- Minerals no longer appearing

- Go back to mouth of cave and wait for sunrise

- Go outside, see creeper

- Fuck it kill

- It blows up and hurts her but she finds coal in the crater so it's not that bad

- Drags herself back home with tons of coal just as it starts raining

- Passes out

- Wakes up in bed

- Tari bounced back way faster that she did

- Damn troll regeneration

- He takes over for now

- Handles things inside while it rains

- Smelts some iron, crafts some lanterns

- They're out of wood again

- Also running low on food

- He leaves Sama with as many torches and lanterns as she'll take and goes off to the oak forest

- Gathers as many mushrooms as he can

- Chops wood until his axe breaks

- Suns starts going down, mad boat dash back home

- Makes it just a little after dark

- Deep breaths

- Time to plank the wood and make mushroom soup

- Things quiet down

- Spider gets in next morning

- Kill it with fire

- Discover that the reason mobs keep getting inside is because they forgot to put glass in one of the windows

- Fix that asap

- Deep breaths

- Wheat garden going well, decide to expand farm

- Get cows

- Get chickens

- Get sheep

- House is finished, wheat is growing, farm is working, Sama is healing

- They both go on a long long trek into the woods to pick flowers

- Go home with a fuckton of flowers

- Get wool from their sheep

- Make dye with flowers

- Make wool carpets for stargazing room and everywhere else

- Fill house with lanterns

- Things are good things are great

- Explore nearby caves with no issue

- Decide to make a basement

- They have time and resources to kill

- Begin digging

- Find iron and coal while digging the basement which is very fun

- Basement almost finished after a couple days

- Trader shows up

- Nothing to trade

- Trader hangs out until night

- Survives the monsters and keeps hanging around

- Finish basement

- Put beds in basement and make an exit that leads outside the house

- Sama hangs some chains around because why not

- Put chests and furnaces on basement

- Things going good

I did some other stuff after the basement, but I stopped takin notes at this point. Hope it was an entertaining read :D

#blabbles #lemme know what you think of my adventure skdhaodhdld #i am not very good at this game #also my house is very ugly because I didn't know how to decor it but i' working on that #it has three stories and the basement tho so is very spacious #i might post screenshots of it if you guys are interested ^^#minecraft #oc:zantari #oc:samaela

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inkribbon796 · 3 years ago

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Like a House of Cards Ch. 10: To Go Forward, Sometimes you Have to go Backwards

Summary: Mistakes happen when you mess around with magical objects.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Brody walked down to the parking lot after the Sides and the Androids had gone up to talk about the plan and safety measures.

Glitch Logan was running diagnostics on the completed machine so Brody was left in silence for a bit.

So it left the hitman with his thoughts. Which wasn’t always a good thing. He took out his wallet to look at a picture. It was the only professional picture he had of the twins.

His Dark — Brody’s Dark — was sitting in a chair with their little twin sons seated in his lap. The hitman was standing behind them. Dark was the only one of the four without a huge smile, his smile a bit more subdued.

The sight brought a sad sight deep from Brody’s face. Another family was being ripped out from under him. Just when things were starting to get good again.

At the sound of footsteps, Brody quickly pocketed his wallet and turned to see, to his relief, his head saw Glitch Logan watching him. His nanite body visible.

Glitch Logan looked at Brody, “You didn’t tell him.”

“A’course[1] not,” Brody scoffed, and put his wallet away. “Bubblegum fooker is takin’ Dark from me, I’m not gonna help him take my twins too.”[2]

Glitch Logan was quiet, which just let Brody go off on a tirade, “I shouldn’t have ta sacrifice one set ‘a my kids fer the other. I wanted T.B, Lils, and Paddy ta be alive an’ safe but I shouldn’t have ta let the Twins not exist ta cause it. An’ I shouldn’t have ta let my kids die ta get the Twins.”[3]

“Your logic is not flawed,” Glitch Logan agreed. “Unfortunately that does not seem to be the situation we have found ourselves in.”

“Fook!”[4] Brody shouted.

“There a problem?” Nestor came down with the rest of the group they needed. Silver, Jackie, Dark, and Wilford had accompanied the time travelers and their past doubles.

“No,” Brody scoffed, glaring at Wilford. “Obviously not.”

Janus was walking down with Roman. The creative Side not wanting to be far from Logan.

“Head back upstairs,” Glitch Logan told them. “This will be a quick procedure.”

“As if we trust you,” Roman rolled his eyes.

“I don’t care if you trust me, I care if you’re safe,” Glitch Logan spat.

“We’ll stay until the transfer starts,” Janus told him. “To make sure you don’t do anything to him.”

The young glitch demon smiled, “I don’t need any of that anymore.”

“Did you do anything to him?” Roman demanded.

“I have only been here for a minute or two, I am fine,” Logan reassured.

Everyone was having their little eleventh hour conversations. Jackie walked up to Diamonds who was signing with J.J.

“Got a question, before I head up,” Jackie asked Diamonds, gesturing to his own throat. “If yeh[5] don’t mind me askin’[6].”

“Not at all,” Diamonds smiled, his voice crackled a bit. “Logan, Google, and Mortician made this for me. It’s a voice box that transmits signals from my brain to the box. It does have to be replaced every few months because my magic destroys it, but it was quite a nice gift.”

“Yeah,” Jackie smiled.

As Jackie was talking to J.J, Brody walked over to Chase.

“I hope yeh[5] don’t remember anythin’[7] I know,” Brody told Chase. “If my world an’ my family is gonna crash down around me, then I don’t wanna remember it.”[8]

Chase was just staring at him, “Me too.”

Brody turned to glare at Wil, “Take care ‘a him, or else I will find some way ta make yeh pay fer it.”[9]

“I will,” Wilford promised but it was clear Brody didn’t believe it.

Then he turned to look at Dark, his expression softer, “Yeh deserve the world, yeh really do an’ when yeh see the Actor, punch him fer me. ‘Cause I won’t be there ta do it.”[9]

“I don’t need to be convinced to hit him more than once,” Dark hissed.

Suddenly the core of the machine began to glow sharply and everyone had a moment’s notice before pain ripped through the people in the middle of the room and a crack shot down the room. Dark, Wil, the Sides, Diamonds, and J.J to one side, and everyone else to the other. A white light engulfed the room.

When the light cleared Silver was standing in a grassy field with Jackie, Ethan, Brody, Chase, and just the Host. The second Host and Nestor were missing.

“I feel weird,” Ethan was patting his chest. “I feel really pissed and angry and I don’t know why.”

“What Ethan is from the transfer, if he is lucky then it will soon fade.” The Host began to run out of the field, “The Host, Brody, and the heroes need to find a time rift out of this point in time quickly.”

“Why, where are we?” Mark asked, picking up Ethan and following him as the rest of the group followed the Host as well.

Coming to a halt, the Host turned to look at them. “Dark is not with the group so the heroes should rid themselves out of their outfits, they will stand out.”

“What is goin’[10] on?” Chase demanded.

“The Host and his allies are in the year 1963, and today is the day that the Entity and the Madman meet again. They will become allies and take over the city within a matter of weeks. By the end of the month the city will become a completely different creature and will be irreversibly driven down the path that will cause the creations of the heroes that fight against both of them.”

“What?” Brody shouted. “How’d we all get thrown back? Where are the others?”

“They have the Anomaly, so we need to find our current Anomaly and use that to get to where Dark and the others are,” the Host explained as everyone started switching into their civilian clothes. “The other heroes and villains were pushed into a different reality and the two groups must regroup.”

With their outfits a touch more casual, the group tried to look like they weren’t time travelers or aliens.

Ethan had to stop a couple times to catch his breath and not have a panic attack. Because he felt like someone had emotionally set him on fire and he wanted to stay next to Mark or Séan the whole time and only started to feel like he was going back to normal by the time the Host took them through a building where Mark heard a rather familiar voice. It was Dark’s and Wil’s voices. Mark could smell the odor of blood and rot in the air. As if Dark had been killing with his aura.

As the crew snuck through the building, Mark froze to listen in. They were so close. Dark wasn’t as powerful, he wasn’t prepared. He could—

“Wil, she’s sleeping,” Dark grumbled, his voice sounding almost as if it hadn’t been used in some time.

“Oh good, good,” Wil decided. Some of his words were hard to understand but suddenly Wil yelled, “I’ve got a great idea, we’re gonna make a TV show.”

Dark was quiet for a long time and Mark wished he could see his face. But he lingered long enough to hear the future mob boss sigh in frustrated indulgence, “Okay.”

A light clapping reached Mark’s ears, “Excellent, Dames, we can talk details at this lovely little diner it’s got—”

At this point, their voices began to get farther away, and the Host cleared his throat so Mark raced away from the door and into an alley.

“Silver and Jackie will accompany the Host into the next building to get the Anomaly, all others should remain up here.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go,” Séan agreed and the Host used his aura to help them break into the apartment building. But since it was set into the hill there were three flights of stairs connecting them to the ground floor and the Host was practically flying down the stairs, his aura helping him navigate the steps and get down safely. Then he took them down the hall to a room where there was a huge magical sigil on the ground and a magic standing in a red tux with black eyes, and a wailing infant cradled in his hands.

It was the Actor, on the eve of another great story.

“There you are,” Marc smiled as the little squirming and crying bundle. “You’ll make a wonderful addition to our story, won’t you?”

Then the door was ripped open and the Host was there. Marc and the baby both startled. “The hell?”

Now that Marc was distracted the Anomaly he’d been working with had nowhere else to put its magic so it ripped open another rift in time. Another point decades in the future but not quite the time that the Host and the others had come from.

Séan had been racing down the hallway and then tripped on a carpet. So he slammed right into the Actor who dropped the baby right into the time rift that immediately closed shut.

“No!” The Actor shouted. “That was my fucking son!”

“Yikes! Host can we get the kid back?” Séan demanded. “Where’d he go?”

The Host’s aura forced a portal around the Actor and he was gone, the box that housed the Anomaly glitched and the Seer grabbed the box and began to sprint out of the room.

He opened the box and quickly pulled out a bracelet, holding the box with his aura as he ran, “the Host and the heroes must go now. Before the Actor returns. They do not have long but they cannot face him now. They do not have the power nor space to be able to do so.”

“Who was that?” Mark asked, following the Host as Séan ran alongside Mark and they headed back up the stairs.

“The archnemesis to the Entity,” the Host told him. “The child he had would have been used as leverage against the Entity. But now he is in somewhat safer hands and will eventually live under the Entity and the Madman’s care. You have actually just saved him from a loveless environment.”

“Was that one ‘a yer brothers?”[11] Séan asked. “Yeh have what? Five ‘a ‘em?”[12]

The Host leaned over the banister to look down at them, “The Host also has a sister.”

“Yeah, but yeh an’ that guy hinted that was a boy,”[13] Jackie stalled.

“Yes, and it is true that the infant was one of the Entity and the Madman’s sons, but the Host likes to include his sister when he can.” The Host gave them a huge smile before starting to dart back up the stairs.

Séan and Mark smiled at each other before following the Host back out of the apartment and into daylight where Chase and Brody were still waiting with Ethan.

“You guys got it?” Ethan asked.

“Time Anomaly scored,” Séan snapped his fingers over in the Host’s direction. “Let’s go home.”

The Host motioned for everyone to pull in together. “The heroes still have to locate the second group. They were pushed into a separate dimension and cannot be left there.”

“We get it, we’re pressed for time,” Mark agreed. “How do we do this?”

“The Host will start up the transfer,” the Host offered as everyone gathered in close. “Six will start the transfer but only five will move through.”

“Do I have time ta[14] say a couple words?” Brody asked.

“Yes, but Brody does not have long,” the Host warned.

“Fine,” Brody agreed before walking over to Chase.

“Look out fer[15] him okay,” Brody asked Chase. “Yeh don’t have ta like him, but just make sure Wil doesn’t take advantage ‘a him. He means e’erythin’ ta me.”[16]

“I can’t promise I’ll be good at it, but I’ll try,” Chase promised.

“Thanks,” Brody smiled sadly, taking out his wallet to look at the picture one last time. The world seemed to fold in on itself around them as a blinding white light came from the Host and engulfed the group. “That’s all I need.”

With a roaring in everyone’s ears the past and future of two different timelines compressed a little tighter before the hole in space and time flexed again and the Host sent them to find the others that had been separated from them.

After the flash of blinding light faded, they were standing in the same back alley. The streets were right but the feel in the air was wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. Of course

2. Bubblegum fucker is taking Dark from me, I’m not going to help him take my twins too.

3. I shouldn’t have to sacrifice one set of my kids for the other. I wanted T.B, Lils, and Paddy to be alive and safe but I shouldn’t have to let the Twins not exist to cause it. And I shouldn’t have to let my kids die to get the Twins.

4. Fuck!

5. you

6. asking

7. anything

8. If my world and my family is going to crash down around me, then I don’t want to remember it

9. You deserve the world, you really do and when you see the Actor, punch him for me. Because I won’t be there to do it.

10. going to

11. Was that one of your brothers?

12. You have what? Five of them?

13. Yeah, but you and that guy hinted that was a boy

14. to

15. for

16. You don’t have to like him, but just make sure Wil doesn’t take advantage of him. He means everything to me.

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perfeggso · 4 years ago

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Noir (yutae)

Week II pt. 2

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 4k (will progressively get way longer)

Yuta had a problem: he couldn’t keep his mind off of Taeyong. He had immediately been taken in by the contrast between the new recruit’s wide eyes and soft expressions and his sharp features and rough background. However, over the course of a little over a week, Yuta had only found himself slipping farther into dangerous territory that made him question his decision to help Taeyong out by taking him on as a partner. He questioned himself when Taeyong’s shirts would ride up and expose the soft skin of his lower stomach, or when Yuta would catch his subordinate zoning out with his fingers running over his lips. These moments sometimes made Yuta feel like a creep, but it was nothing compared to the way most men he grew up with treated women. Also, he had at least a sneaking suspicion his little infatuation might be reciprocated from the way Taeyong would flush easily at any praise from Yuta, for example, or the few times when Yuta thought he heard a hitch in Taeyong’s breathing when Yuta addressed him seriously or got into his personal space.

Yuta had always needed to be careful – his closest friends among the Inagawa-kai knew he liked men and could not have cared less, but being gay was so stigmatized amongst the yakuza and in Japanese society in general that any inkling of Yuta’s secret had to be vigorously guarded to avoid disaster. That’s why Hirai Goro had decided years earlier that at twenty-five, Yuta would, for the protection of the family, marry his daughter Momo. Momo was his best friend since adolescence and was as uninterested in men as Yuta was in women. It was an ideal arrangement, but one that had to be carefully managed. That wedding would be in a year. In the meantime, Yuta had learned to be careful with his encounters, stay in queer-friendly spaces away from work, and read small cues from potential partners since nothing would ever be clearly spelled out for him. He was rarely wrong, and he thought he would be right again about Taeyong too.

“Yuta-san?” Jaehyun’s voice on the other side of the door rattled Yuta out of another Taeyong-induced stupor and he remembered that he was in his office, leaning over his wooden desk with the Miyazaki file disassembled in front of him. Even if Yuta hadn’t recognized that warm voice, it could only have been Jaehyun who, as an unofficial member of the operation without a defined position, was one of the few people who didn’t have to address Yuta by his title.

“Douzo, Jaehyun-kun.” The door slid open and in walked Yuta’s guest, wearing a pinstripe suit and letting his dark hair fall softly over his forehead. Unlike most of Yuta’s acquaintances, Jaehyun had neither tattoos nor visible scars or disfigurements. If it weren’t for his parentage, Yuta figured that Jaehyun would have been an innocent and upstanding member of society. In fact, Yuta wondered why he didn’t stay as far away from his father’s line of work as humanly possible, for his own sake. But, if Jaehyun did do that then Yuta would be losing the benefit of one of his keenest minds. Besides, Yuta knew that Jaehyun was branded as suspicious in the outside world by default just by being a conspicuously wealthy zainichi boy, so he might as well lean into it.

“You look busy,” Jaehyun observed with a smile.

Yuta smiled back and pushed some papers to the far side of his desk, closer to Jaehyun. “That’s because I’ve been working on something. What are your thoughts on this?”

Jaehyun sat on the desk – something the average enlisted man would not be permitted to do – and scanned his eyes over what appeared to be paperwork from several banks in Thailand.

“Looks like he’s got offshore accounts,” said Jaehyun, obviously.

“Bingo!”

“Are they illegal?”

Yuta smiled and hummed to himself in satisfaction. “Those banks are all under current investigation by Interpol for money laundering. One case has been proven. And Miyazaki might be a key player.”

“Congratulations, Shategashira ,” said Jaehyun, pushing himself off the desk, letting out a small laugh once standing.

“What’s so funny?” Yuta challenged.

“Nothing, really,” said Jaehyun. He knew he could get away with saying whatever he wanted. “But Yuta-san, you launder money all the time.”

“I know that very well, Jaehyun,” explained Yuta, knowing the mild defiance from his friend was nothing serious. “But it’s expected from people like us.” Jaehyun scowled slightly, Yuta assumed, at his implication in whatever dirty business the Inagawa-kai did. “For someone like Miyazaki it’s – it’s a career-ending – no, life ending event since he’ll probably have to go to jail for a year or so and never be hired again. His reputation will be ruined. This information could tank Mitsubishi’s stocks for a while too. He’s supposed to be a reputable businessman, not a gangster.”

“My dad always says that companies are just like gangs;” offered Jaehyun, “the salaryman is just a glorified foot-soldier with a less interesting life and their bosses probably have more blood on their hands than they realize.”

Yuta pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, placed it in his mouth, and then offered the pack to Jaehyun with the raise of an eyebrow. Jaehyun took one and as he spoke, Yuta lit their cigarettes.

“That’s why I always listen to your father, Jaehyun, and why you should too,” said Yuta, pausing to take a drag. “Gwang-suk is the most insightful bastard in this whole operation.”

Jaehyun’s face curled into a thoughtful smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. By the way, I know you have proof that these banks are crooked, and that Miyazaki has money in them, but what’s your direct evidence of his wrongdoing?”

“Ah,” Yuta remarked, letting a tumble of smoke fall from his lips. “That is forthcoming, if you have time to wait a few minutes.”

“Sure.”

After another drag on his cigarette, Jaehyun seemed about to begin a new conversation, his expression contorting into one of active thought, but at that moment, a succinct series of knocks rang out on the other side of the door. Yuta put his crossed legs up on his desk and leaned back in his leather chair.

“ Douzo.”

With that, Doyoung, who was wearing slacks, a sweater vest, and an upmarket wristwatch, opened the door with a thin stack of papers under his arm. His eyes went wide when he saw the cloud of smoke rendering the room in soft focus. Still, he steeled himself and managed a salute and a greeting of “Shategashira!”

“At ease.”

Doyoung seemed to sigh in relief and wasted no time fanning the space directly before his face and hurrying to the one small outward-facing window in the room to open it.

“My god, you two, this is absurd! How do you breathe?” Even in disgust, Doyoung’s voice was measured. To most, the thin, almost delicate, and usually soft-spoken man would have been difficult to pinpoint as a member of the yakuza – especially if he was covering his tattoos which he kept more minimal than most of his friends. Nevertheless, his intelligence had always been an asset to the family and any doubt of his intensity would be assuaged the minute he lost his temper, or alternately, came at you coolly with a Sten Gun. Around those close to him though, Doyoung’s vibe was still more nagging grandmother than anything.

“Doyoung,” began Yuta, “tell me you found something good.”

Doyoung made his way back to the desk on the other side of the room, holding his stack of papers up in one hand. “Tell me you two won’t keel over from lung cancer before I show it to you.” And with this jest, he let the papers drop to the desk with a smack . Yuta took one more drag and extinguished his cigarette, partially to appease Doyoung and partially to free his hands.

“All I found was the record of recent wirings, invoices, and transfers for his accounts between Japan and Thailand,” explained Doyoung as Yuta began digging into the papers with Jaehyun sitting in observation. “It appears that he’s been embezzling money from the company under the guise of a bunch of contractors and business expenses that don’t exist as far as I can tell. He’s transferred a lot of it, via some of these banks in Thailand, to a specific woman. You’ll see her information in the paperwork there. Sometimes she uses different names, but I have reason to believe it’s all one person and that her name is Minatozaki Sana.”

“A mistress, perhaps,” speculated Jaehyun, and Yuta let out a hum of agreement.

Doyoung nodded. “That would make sense. I’ll keep on the trail from here and see what else I find; how conclusive the connections are, etc.”

“Good work, Hosa ," Yuta praised. "You’re dismissed if you need to be anywhere. Do you?”

Doyoung shrugged, planting himself in one of the molded wood chairs across from Yuta and Jaehyun followed suit. “I’m going on patrol with Johnny in an hour but I’m meeting him here. Might take a bit of a break. By the way, where’s Taeyong?”

Yuta had to stop a smile from overtaking his expression at the mention of his partner. “I don’t need his help and he’d been working so hard, so I gave him some time to himself. He could be practicing shooting, taking a walk, going to the conbini around the corner, I have no way of knowing.”

Jaehyun spluttered, for what reason Yuta could only imagine. He sat forward in his chair, trying to look serious. “Oi, what is this? The little prince finds something amusing, does he?”

Jaehyun held his outstretched palm in front of his face and shook his head. Yuta was a very intimidating person by most standards and was famous for his wit, but even he had moments of insecurity that his friends could exploit for entertainment. That is, until they got their asses beat for disrespecting a superior.

“No, I promise you, Yuta-san, it’s nothing really. I’m sorry. I was just surprised because in the last, what? Almost-week that he’s been with you, you two have been pretty inseparable. And whenever he isn’t with you, you’re yelling ‘where’s Taeyong? Someone find him now!’” Jaehyun started to laugh harder at his own impression. Next to him, Doyoung adjusted his sleeve, watching, and in his calmly matter-of-fact manner stated, “we’re not idiots, Shategashira . We can tell when you’re distracted, and we can usually guess why. Jaehyun and I think you have it bad for Taeyong. We even bet on it with Taeil.”

Yuta found himself in a bit of a shock. Him? Distracted? Was he that obvious about it?

Yuta pawed weakly at a piece of ash and flicked it into his ashtray, but he couldn’t help himself from smirking just a tiny bit.

“Fuck off,” he practically whispered.

“You don’t deny it,” Doyoung observed, and now it was Jaehyun smirking, ready to watch a confession unfold.

The haze still left in the room seemed like protection from the outside world, and Yuta felt his chest filling with boldness. He didn’t have anything to hide from his friends, anyway. He only cursed the timing. Now was not the time for lust nor – god forbid – for romance.

Yuta bit his thumb nail and sighed. “That’s because you’re not wrong,” he admitted.

Jaehyun and Doyoung exchanged tittering smiles in response.

“Yeah, go ahead and celebrate your victory,” said Yuta, nearly rolling his eyes and allowing his friends to relax and high five each other.

It felt nice to get it off his chest officially, but Yuta also felt a heaviness in his gut as a result of the conversation. What if this was nothing more than a brief infatuation and he was jumping the gun by talking about it? What if Taeyong wasn’t interested? How was he even supposed to go about acting on anything? He was busy and needed to focus and he tried to avoid hooking up with coworkers. Fuck it , he thought, he was already distracted . Yuta finally raised his eyes to meet the gaze of his two friends across from him. Despite their satisfied smiles he still felt the tight, dead-end sensation of a prisoner.

“You should tell him, Shategashira , if you don’t mind my advice,” said Doyoung.

“I should, hm?” Yuta puzzled. “And how do you propose I do that?”

***

Taeyong’s sleeping face was yet another distraction. He and Yuta had been sitting in the front of Yuta’s black 1982 Corolla for a couple of hours and it was already approaching three A.M. Yuta knew Taeyong hadn’t had a completely easy time adjusting to his new life and was hardly sleeping even when he had time to, so when Taeyong’s eyes took on a telltale droopiness an hour ago and their target had yet to come around, Yuta had allowed Taeyong the option to nod off. It was good for Yuta too, as it gave him the opportunity to gather his thoughts about the sleeping angel next to him. Maybe Ms. Minatozaki wasn’t coming home that night at all – or maybe she was already asleep and Yuta had gotten bad intel. Maybe Yuta, who was growing tired himself, could allow himself a moment of weakness and drink in the image of the man beside him. Still, if the lead was correct and Minatozaki was going to be home soon, he didn’t want to miss her just because he was smitten with a boy he barely knew.

Yuta allowed himself one more moment to take in Taeyong’s serene face, admiring the flicker in his dark lashes, the slope of his sharp jaw into his smooth neck – interrupted only by the press of his Adam’s apple against the skin. Yuta’s gaze fell on the pitted scar that dug its way like a crater into the flesh next to Taeyong’s right eye. Yuta had wondered where it came from but never wanted to pry. Taeyong’s earring twinkled as it caught the reflection of a streetlight.

Yuta couldn’t stop thinking of his earlier conversation with Jaehyun and Doyoung. He felt almost laid bare by it, and he didn’t know why. His friends already knew Yuta liked men and he trusted them enough to know they would never challenge his authority. But still, telling them this felt different somehow. Perhaps it was because Taeyong was someone who they, too, were getting to know personally; so they could make an offhand comment by accident or worse, pass judgement in ways they never could on Yuta’s anonymous hookups. Perhaps it was because Yuta felt like he was on the edge of losing control at a time when he needed as much control as possible. Perhaps it was because he knew nothing good could come from giving into his desires. Any impropriety could be used against him or Taeyong after all, and he needed to maintain his position in the Inagawa-kai and help Taeyong in the process. Still, the more time he spent around Taeyong, the more Yuta was sure he wanted to do unspeakable things to him. At least if Taeyong wasn’t interested, he could go from distracted to morose, and the latter state would be a marginal improvement for his ability to focus.

Yuta had asked how Jaehyun and Doyoung would suggest he approach Taeyong with his attraction. Jaehyun councelled him to treat the situation as if it were a heteronormative one: as if Yuta were confident and straight and there were no stakes in the interaction. Besides, said Jaehyun, if you think he’s interested then all those things might as well be true. Doyoung, on the other hand, decided to play devil’s advocate and suggest that Yuta confront Taeyong with the information that he knows Taeyong is gay (which, again, he didn’t). Once he had Taeyong scared and talking, only then should he reveal his true intentions. Obviously, neither tactic was a viable option, so Yuta found himself left to his own devices once more.

Yuta sensed motion in his peripheral vision and jolted to attention, watching as a young woman scurried down the sidewalk and up the stairs of the small house he and Taeyong were staking out.

“Oi! Taeyong!” Yuta yelled, hitting his partner in the arm and waking him, wondering to himself if the violence of the action wasn’t partially a means of relieving some pent-up sexual aggression.

Taeyong raised his eyebrows and looked around, bleary. “Right there! It’s her.” Taeyong followed Yuta’s outstretched finger and noticed the woman just in time to see her finish turning her key in the lock and slip inside.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, realizing what was going on. “Should we go knock on the door or something?”

As they spoke, a few orange lights illuminated the windows of the house. Yuta shook his head. “No, it’s too late at night and she’d be suspicious. She’s likely already in a sensitive situation being a millionaire’s mistress. Besides, we’re only here to confirm her location for when we come back before the meeting. We want to give her as little time as possible that should could use to inform the Yamaguchi-gumi if it goes wrong.”

“So, mission accomplished?”

Yuta grinned his signature grin; wide and almost unhinged under bright eyes. ��Mission accomplished.”

Taeyong nodded, seeming to suppress a shiver, and turned his head to the house which had returned to its dark quiet. “I still don’t understand why we can’t just go around to some neighbors to confirm her identity.”

Yuta tutted, hoping maybe to provoke a clearer reaction from Taeyong. “Too risky,” he explained. “If we do that what will happen? They’ll all tell her the next time they see her that the yakuza were asking about her. We have her I.D. photo; it’s all under control.”

Taeyong nodded, a contemplative pout settling on his face and sending Yuta’s blood rushing.

“ Shategashira ,” he began, “why’d you take me on this recon mission with you if you were just gonna let me sleep?”

Yuta shrugged. “It looks good for you if you can prove you accompanied me. Good for your case so you can gain more freedom.” Yuta cleared his throat. “Can I drive you home, Taeyong?”

Yuta thought he saw a hint of pink bloom on Taeyong’s cheeks, but it dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. Taeyong nodded, eyes gluing to the floor mats.

“Thank you, Shategashira . But if it’s too out of the way –”

“Nonsense,” interrupted Yuta. “Just tell me where I’m going.”

The dark, tree-lined reprieve of Ms. Minatozaki’s neighborhood eventually opened up into the neon jungle which consisted most of the city.

“Take a right up ahead,” Taeyong directed.

Yuta took the turn and soon the car was rolling by a street famous for its adult businesses. A love hotel here, a strip club there. Taeyong made a sound in his throat.

“What is it?” asked Yuta.

“I was just figuring that the girl we were watching for and her Mitsubishi man probably meet up in places like this.”

Yuta wondered what Taeyong was getting at. “You’re probably not wrong,” he said. “Though I’d imagine they do it in nicer parts of town.”

“It’s kind of despicable, no?” Taeyong asked, seemingly to himself, head leaning sleepily against the window. “These guys get power and then suddenly they can do whatever they want. Lie to their wives, launder money, you know? Keep left.” Taeyong paused as Yuta followed his direction silently, allowing him to finish his thought.

“I can’t really imagine you guys doing that, with your samurai code of honor and all that.”

Yuta chuckled. This boy either had Stockholm Syndrome or was purposefully trying to get some kind of result out of his musings. “Taeyong, you forget we’re career criminals. Adultery is the tamest thing some yakuza get up to.”

Taeyong smirked, making Yuta surer the other man was playing him to some end. His tired brain felt suddenly electrified.

“Whatever,” said Taeyong. “Just promise you won’t cheat on Momo with some other woman. I’d lose all respect for you. I’m the tall apartment on the right up there, by the way.”

Yuta’s whole body went stiff. This boy . He decided to be honest with Taeyong – at least to the extent that he could still backtrack at any moment.

“That shouldn’t be difficult for me, Taeyong,” he said, pulling over to the curb. “I don’t think about women all that much. Haven’t been with many, either.”

Taeyong didn’t move to get out of the car. Yuta waited in anticipation, feeling both relieved and like he’d dug himself into a hole. He watched how Taeyong’s face roiled in thought, expressions materializing and evaporating as quickly as bubbles in a simmering pot.

Taeyong sighed, finally speaking. “Well have you been with any men, then? Do you think about men?”

Now it was Yuta’s turn to sigh. What had he done? This was so dangerous. The hopeful look on Taeyong’s face egged him on, but what if it was all a trap? What if Taeyong’s entire appearance in Yuta’s life was a setup to ensnare him? He’d barely known him for two weeks. Yuta could kill people but he couldn’t make a decision in this moment. What did Doyoung say about confidence, again? Fuck it.

“I – yes, Taeyong, as a matter of fact, yes.” Yuta looked straight ahead over the steering wheel, feeling like his center of gravity was stuck somewhere in the seat below him and praying to anything at all for Taeyong to just get out of the car. Instead, he felt the other man inch minutely closer.

“Do you…do you think about me?”

Shit . Yuta was not equipped for this. He was used to spaces where he could be clearer on the rules of engagement – where his work wasn’t so wrapped up in his sexual impulses. He dared a glance at Taeyong, who’s eyes were blown out in anticipation. Yes , Yuta thought. God, he wanted to say yes, but he had some sorting to do in his own mind before he could. He gripped the steering wheel and steeled his face and voice.

“I don’t think it would do either of us any good for me to answer that question,” he said lowly, and Taeyong drew back. The look of shame on Taeyong’s face immediately made Yuta want to recant; he was digging himself into a bigger hole.

“I’m trying to protect you, Taeyong, and I think this is the best way to do that,” he tried to clarify. “I hope you understand. I appreciate you accompanying me today, but I need you to go inside now so I can go home. Please.”

Taeyong nodded and turned to open the door with minimal movement, as if trying to take up less space. Once outside the car he leaned over and said, voice distant with formal intonation, “Good night and good work today, Shategashira . Thank you for helping me. I understand, and your secret is safe with me. Excuse me.”

Yuta watched Taeyong bow and hurry to the front door of his building, disappearing within. Yuta couldn’t remember the last time he felt this shit, but he kept playing it over and he could envision no clean ending to the scenarios where he and Taeyong gave in to each other. Yuta started to drive back the way he came, turning the radio on to avoid slipping into the murk of his mind and having an accident or something. No , he assured himself, you did the right thing . It would have to be this way between them; it was for the best.

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darkwoods-darkdreams · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine you live on the edge of town (II)

“Hello!” Nyssa chimed from the front entrance. She closed the door behind her before joining you in the kitchen. She was so cheery despite it being so late. Upon seeing you, she stopped in her tracks. “Are you alright? You look like you haven’t slept.”

You waved off her concern as you transferred a large bowl from the shelf to the table. You had left the mixture of flour and water to ferment. It always smelled a little sour, as it should, but this time it was overwhelming. Your stomach was in knots just from being close to it. Your apron was still sitting differently on you. You were lucky enough that no one had noticed. You tried to angle yourself away from Nyssa. You had seen the looks she had been giving you lately. She knew that something was going on, but hadn’t asked outright.

“Do you need any-“

You couldn’t take it. You turned and vomited into the waste pail hooked on the wall. For a moment, you remained there, leaning over the bucket and trying to breathe through the nausea. You experimentally moved your tongue. You wanted to wash the acidic taste out, but you still felt ill.

Nyssa was by your side in an instant. She grabbed your arm in case you collapsed. “You can’t work like this. You need to see a physiker.”

You swallowed. You couldn’t allow for that to happen. If this was what you thought it was, if you were… You couldn’t let anyone attend to you. No one could know. If they did, you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. You glared at the bottom of the pail. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. It was just the first time you had been caught. “I’m fine.”

“You aren’t,” Nyssa insisted.

“The nearest physiker is in the next town over.” You shakily inhaled. Your eyes closed as you attempted to focus on anything but the nausea. “It’s not like I can walk there this late.”

Her grip on your arm loosened for a moment. Then, it returned to its full strength. “Then you should see my granny. She’ll know what to do.”

You managed to lift your head and look at her warily. You wiped your mouth on your sleeve. Nyssa’s grandmother had a reputation. The children of Fyerdin called her Granny Waxwood or the Waxwood Witch. She lived in a house on the outskirts of town. She was called the Waxwood Witch because she was obsessed with the healing properties of candles and their wax. She would leave candles burning at all hours. She would use the wax for everything. She would bathe in the melted wax and even use it as a perfume, coating layer upon layer onto her skin to the point that her skin looked like the bark of a tree. When she thought no one was looking, she would eat chunks of wax from a small pot she always-

You turned and vomited into the bucket once more. You sighed, knowing that you shouldn’t have thought too deeply about it. You doubted that you’d survive the trip unscathed. You’d probably end up with a set of candles shoved into your arms.

“Promise me that you’ll go,” Nyssa whispered. “I’ll take care of things here.”

You looked to her again. The concern on her face was undeniable. Your expression softened. “…Fine.”

“Good!” She clapped her hands. “Apron off. Out you go.”

You begrudgingly allowed her to take your apron and shoo you out of your own kitchen. You wouldn’t admit it, but the fresh air brought relief. It was a nice change compared to the yeast and booze. Still, that didn’t mean your journey was going to be a pleasant one.

Nyssa’s grandmother lived on the other side of a river. Crossing it was the only bridge in Fyerdin. Technically it existed as a symbol of the town’s limits, but that had been decreed when the town was only made up of twenty-five people.

You approached the bridge. Seeing it always reminded you of the stories your father had told you of trolls and goblins and other monsters. You wished that he had stayed home to tell you more stories rather than fight and die for some distant king.

You kept to the right side of the bridge. You glanced down at the water rushing beneath. The river was wide due to the snow still melting in the north. You raised your head again. Merchants and other travelers used these roads. You didn’t want to get hit by a cart or robbed by thieves.

The house was easy to find. All of the windowsills were filled with candles. The flames danced against the glass. Even the edges of the door were illuminated, as if all of the light was trapped inside and eager to burst free. As you drew closer, you could see Nyssa’s grandmother puttering about. Your brow furrowed as you wondered what she was doing. After watching for a bit longer, you realized she was rearranging the candles in her home. Your pace slowed as you considered the idea that maybe she wasn’t the best person to ask for advice. A pack of wolves howling in the distance forced your hand. You kept moving.

You hesitated when you reached the door. There were countless handprints along the wood. All of them were from frail, thin hands covered in wax. Your attention lowered to the doorknob. It was covered in wax, too. You decided to knock on the doorframe instead. “Hello?”

The old woman stopped moving. For a moment, you almost thought that all of the flames had gone still. Silence. Then, shuffled footsteps coming toward the door. “Who is it?”

“_____,” you replied. “I’m a friend of Nyssa’s. I was wondering if I could-“

The door swung open, revealing the Waxwood Witch in all of her glory. Her nightgown was stained with multiple layers. Her skin was coated in different colours and scents. Her feet were covered in soot. She stared up at you with wide eyes. When she tilted her head, her hair barely moved. There was too much wax coating her scalp.

You tried your best to take a subtle step back. The smell was making you dizzy. “I-I’m sorry if I woke you. Nyssa-“

“You want candles?”

“No, I’m looking for some help.”

“Help from candles.”

Your mouth opened, but you said nothing. You refocused. “No, not from candles. From you.”

She ushered you in. Against your better judgment, you obliged. You lifted your skirts to make sure that they didn’t catch flame. There were so many candles and so much wax covering the floor that it was hard to walk around. Narrow paths zigzagged through the house. You followed her into another room. There were two wooden chairs. One was completely clean. You guessed that it was where Nyssa sat when she visited. You sat down.

The woman sat down across from you. She looked you over. She seemed to be a bit more coherent now that she was back inside.

You waited, anxious. You didn’t know how useful she would be regarding your predicament. You weren’t even sure if she would keep this a secret from Nyssa. At the very least, the Waxwood Witch wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else. Whenever she came into town for supplies, she was avoided at all cost. She got most things for free because the townsfolk were afraid of her. Well, most of the townsfolk. The candlemaker was more than happy to see her.

You leaned forward. “What should I call you?”

“Granny Waxwood.”

You hesitated. “I mean your name.”

“Granny Waxwood.”

“I…I wouldn’t want to insult you.”

“Insult? I like it.”

You stared at her. This was going nowhere.

Her head tilted once more. “Boy or girl?”

Your body went cold. She couldn’t possibly be insinuating- “I’m a girl.”

“I know you’re girl. I mean little one.”

“L…” Your throat tightened. You couldn’t repeat it. “I-I’m- How-“

“Can tell.” She gestured to your abdomen. “I see?”

You didn’t want to, but she was already up before you could refuse. She placed her hand below your navel. Your face burned. The resistance against her hand was obvious. Still not noticeable at first glance, but enough to be felt, and it was growing bigger.

She shuffled away. “Very tiny little one.”

You sniffled. You had hoped that you were wrong when it first crossed your mind. Now, it felt like the weight of your reality was crashing down on top of you. “…What can I- What am I supposed to do?”

“No drink. Careful. Take rest.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had hoped that she would have a more short-term solution. You had heard people whispering about it. Certain herbs that would stop things before they progressed. Then again, you knew that there was a reason those things were whispered.

“River flowers.”

You looked to her once more.

“Crush up. Put in water. Drop of blood. Will glow.”

You hesitated. You hadn’t seen flowers on the way to her house.

“Married?”

You shook your head. You knew it would be a problem as time passed. Soon enough, you wouldn’t be able to hide the pregnancy. Knowing that you weren’t married, the townsfolk would disapprove. You would be stared at. Gossiped about. They would smile to your face but shake their heads when you weren’t looking. And how were you supposed to raise a child? You owned a tavern. You couldn’t have them crying in another room when the patrons were too rowdy. You couldn’t close down. The werewolf was someone in the town. What if he tried to get involved? Your hands shook as you tried to think of a more positive outcome, but you only came up with more worries.

You stood up. You needed to leave. You needed to think of something. “Thank you. Good night.”

You hurried out before she could call after you.

You huffed in annoyance. You had walked alongside the riverbank as it twisted and curved until you were exhausted. The moon was hanging high in the darkness. You stared up at it, basking in the glow. Maybe Nyssa’s grandmother was wrong. Maybe the flowers were from somewhere far away. Your shoulders fell. They probably didn’t even exist in the first place.

The sight of something dark made you go still. It was faint, but you could still see it. Blood. You looked upstream, farther ahead on your path. There was a curve in the river. On the outer side was a dark figure. It was crouched by the edge of the water. Its pink tongue dipped into the river to pull up mouthfuls. Its maw was shining with a dark fluid. The river water was slowly washing it away as the beast drank.

You froze. It was the werewolf. You needed to leave. You watched the beast. If he heard or saw you, you were going to run and hide as fast as you could.

The wind shifted. You shivered as the cold blew over your back. The iciness only settled deeper into your chest when you saw the grass rustle in a slow path towards him.

The tongue disappeared. Ears swiveled. His head lifted as he sniffed the air. Then, he looked right at you.

“_____?”

You flinched. The voice had come from somewhere else. You turned in its direction.

Nyssa was standing a few feet away. Her hands were clasped together.

You glanced over your shoulder. The river was empty. You swallowed. For a moment, you wondered if you had really seen the beast or if you were just consumed by worry. You refocused on Nyssa. “What are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you!” She hurried closer. “You were gone for ages. I thought that something had happened, so I left the bar.”

Your priorities shifted. “You didn’t close down? What if something happens?”

She crossed her arms. “You’re the one in trouble, not-!”

A howl put a stop to your argument. It was close. Far too close. And it was alone. You knew what it was.

Nyssa grabbed your hand. “We need to go back. It’s too dangerous out here. We’ll sort everything out then.”

You allowed her to pull you back into town. Even as the urge to glance over your shoulder grew stronger and the weight of a distant gaze grew heavier, you kept your gaze on her.

The chill of night was being kept at bay by the flame before you. The tavern had been opened for a few hours already. You could hear people singing and talking and laughing. You were sure that every seat was full. It certainly sounded like it. With so many people drinking, you were hidden away in the kitchens making their food. You didn’t mind it in the slightest. You hadn’t been able to find the river flowers. There was no need. You hadn’t bled since the spring festival. The swell continued to grow. You couldn’t deny it any longer, as much as you wanted to. You were thankful that you always wore an apron. At least it made things a bit more ambiguous. But that wouldn’t last forever. You had seen some of the older women give you looks when you were running errands that morning. It wouldn’t be long until speculation became fact.

Your gaze fell. Your hand slipped between the white fabric and your dress. Fingertips ghosted over the curve. Against your better judgment, you gently pressed your palm against it. There was only slight resistance. You mostly felt your own flesh. You frowned. Soon enough, your womb would be full to the brim and it would be firm to the touch. You wouldn’t be able to ignore it.

“_____!”

Your hand immediately withdrew. You turned from the stove.

Nyssa stood in the doorway, panting. “Could you help me for a bit? It’s a madhouse out there.”

“Give me a moment to finish these and I’ll be right out.”

She sighed. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

You got back to what you were doing, hurrying this time. When everything was plated, you carried the food out yourself. Sliced and buttered bread for the regulars. Meat and potatoes for those with more of an appetite. Your final stop was at a table in the back corner. A few of the younger men were there, laughing. Kelv and Henris were in attendance. They usually stopped by whenever Kelv’s father had given him a bit of money to spend. It was clear that they were all drunk. Even the merchant you had danced with at the festival, Arthur, was slurring his words.

“You’re heaven-sent.” Tomas hunched over his plate the moment you set it down. “What do you put in this?”

You grinned, placing your hands on your hips. “If I told you that, I’d be out of a job.”

“I wish I could eat your cooking every day,” Arthur drawled. “I almost wish I didn’t have to leave at first light tomorrow. Could you make me something for the road?”

“I have some extra pastries that-“ You laughed as all four of them cheered. “I suppose I should bring out one for each of you?”

They nodded.

“Do any of you need another drink?”

Tomas sniffled. “She’s heaven-sent.”

“Nyssa just came by, so we’re all set,” Henris replied.

“Perfect. I’ll be right back.” You disappeared into the kitchen, returning with four more plates. “Can I get you boys anything else?”

“Your hand,” Kelv answered with a hiccup. “Not for me, though.” He gestured to Henris. “Please just get married already. I’m tired of hearing him whine about you.”

Henris’ expression faltered. He immediately sobered. His back straightened. He stared down at his dessert and didn’t say a word.

“The miller’s son and the best baker east of the Hymnals.” Arthur waved his hand like he was directing a music troupe. “The perfect match.”

You were about to go along with their game, but you noticed Henris’ brow twitch. His hand were clenched beneath the table. You relented. “Well, I’ll let Nyssa know that you’ve all had enough to drink. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

You continued down the line of booths. Nyssa flitted up and down the bar to refill mugs. She smiled when your fleeting gazes met. More ale and beer was poured. More barrels were opened.

The second-to-last booth housed some of the heaviest drinkers in Fyerdin. You smiled, though you made sure to keep your distance. Richard was the only one still awake, but his tendency to grope any woman that wasn’t his wife grew even stronger when he was drunk. “Do you need another drink?”

He stared up at you blankly. Then, his attention lowered.

You did your best to mask your disgust. You didn’t appreciate him ogling you on a normal night, but this was even worse.

He didn’t look up. “How about a sip from those tits of yours?”

You scowled. He hadn’t made that sort of comment before. Usually he just asked you to sit in his lap while you poured him another drink. You put your mask back on. Your laughter was a nervous lilt to it. “You and I both know that I don’t keep that in stock.” With that, you promptly walked past him. The booth nearest to the door looked empty. You hoped that it was. You had had enough of drunk men for the night.

Dark clothing came into view as you approached the table. Broad shoulders. Rough hands. It was the hair that gave him away. Black with wisps of silver, like stars in a midnight sky. Nikolas.

Your eyes narrowed. You said nothing. He had never stepped foot into your tavern before, so you weren’t sure why he was starting now. You had invited him countless times when you were still naïve and wanted to be kind to Ilya’s best friend. He always refused and walked off. Ilya tried to comfort you with the knowledge that he was quite nervous around people, but now you knew that he was just the type that didn’t know how to act around others.

Your annoyance grew worse as he didn’t even look at you. He was just staring down at his drink. You didn’t want to get him another one. Knowing him, he’d probably refuse.

Finally, you chose to speak up. “Did you come here to lick your wounds?”

Nikolas’ eyes lifted. He stared back at you.

“What got away from you this time? A deer?”

He leaned back against his seat. “No.”

You exhaled through your nose. The tension hang in the air. You looked to his mug. “Do you want another?”

“I’ll get it later.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you’re that attached to Nyssa, then bother her when she isn’t working.” You then headed farther back into the tavern.

At least, you would have, if Richard’s arm hadn’t shot out to stop you. He had gotten up from his seat and nearly collapsed onto you. One arm was around your waist, pulling your stomach flush against his. His other hand cupped your breast through your dress.

The tray you were folding clattered to the floor. One of the mugs broke with the impact. You tried to shove him away from you, but he was too persistent. “Let go of me!” you ordered.

“Whose brat is it?” He asked. His breath stank of ale.

You went to push him again. Another pair of hands grabbed Richard from behind. In the next instant, he was thrown to the floor. The room went quiet. Henris was standing beside you, red in the face from booze and rage. He turned to you. “Are you alright?”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

His gaze lingered on you, as if he wanted to say something else. He refocused on the drunk. “I think he’s had enough fun for the night.” He then grabbed Richard by the front of his shirt and hauled him up to his feet. Richard was nearly dragged out, his legs wobbling beneath him.

For a moment, you stood there. Your breathing had quickened despite it being such a brief struggle. Your heart was still pounding in your chest. Everyone had turned to look when Richard hit the floor. You hoped that no one had heard anything else. You glanced to Nikolas. He had been the closest. He wasn’t looking at you. He was taking another sip from his mug.

You took a shaky breath and disappeared into the kitchens once more.

Hours later, you closed the tavern for the night. The moment the doors were locked, your body wilted. Your hands slipped behind your back to arch it. Everything felt sore. You didn’t bother cleaning up. You would worry about it tomorrow. After what had happened, you just wanted to sleep and forget.

You trudged up the stairs. You were panting softly by the time you reached the top. Your gaze lowered to your abdomen. It still had so much growing to do. You didn’t know how you would manage. You swallowed. You supposed that you’d find out eventually.

Your bed was a welcome sight. You changed into a nightgown quickly. It sank beneath your hands and knees as you climbed inside. You lowered your head onto the pillow and shut your eyes.

You stirred as a distant noise woke you. You turned to look at the window. The sky was just beginning to change colour. The rooster hadn’t called out to start the day. You got up, mind still foggy. Your hands moved with practiced ease, even though you were still half asleep. You reached for the latch, only to feel that it wasn’t in place. You rubbed your eyes before taking a better look at it. You didn’t remember leaving it open. You gently pushed the panes apart. At first glance, there didn’t seem to be any damage. Your brow furrowed. You peered out the window. Your room was on the second floor. No one could reach the window unless they had a ladder There was no sign of anything like that in the soil. You straightened. You closed the window and locked it.

It wasn’t until you stepped away that you felt something strange. The fabric of your nightgown was sticking to your body. It didn’t make sense. You weren’t sweating. Your hair was completely dry. You grabbed the fabric and pulled it from your skin. The sight of a dark stain made you freeze. Not breathing, you lifted it higher. You whimpered, tears forming in your eyes as the shape came into view. Five marks were the darkest. Fingers from a hand larger than any man’s. At the ends were smaller, triangular stains. The tips of claws. The palm was faint. It had picked up the blood that had dripped from the fingers.

You let go. Your gaze followed the stain. It settled over your stomach once more. Dread washed over you. He had broken in while you were sleeping. He had stood behind you and placed his hand on the growing swell.

You wrenched the nightgown from your body and tossed it into the hamper. You grabbed a dress and began to put it on. You would worry about the stain later. You were far more concerned with how he had gotten in. Maybe there was evidence on one of the doors, or he had used a ladder to get to your room. You hurried down the stairs. The front door was too risky. He would have been seen by someone. The back entrance was much more likely.

When you turned to walk down the hallway leading to the back door, you stopped dead in your tracks. The door was open. Cautiously, you approached it. It was ajar. You couldn’t tell if it had been pulled close to shut by the wind or if the werewolf had moved it on his way out. You leaned down to examine the door more closely. The lock wasn’t broken, but it was covered in scratches. The frame was in the same state. Had he forced it open with his-

A figure moved to stand behind the door. You jumped to your feet with a gasp.

Kelv opened the door. “Did you just wake up?”

You stared at him. What was he doing at your back door? Why hadn’t he knocked on the front or shouted for you? You took a step away from him, your hand over your chest as you tried to calm your heart. “A few minutes ago. Why?”

He hesitated, as if it wasn’t something you should know. “Something happened last night.”

Your hand fell to your side. You steeled yourself. “What happened? Tell me.”

“Jonathan found a body in his fields.”

Your throat tightened. You had a bad feeling about this. “Whose body?”

“Richard’s.”

A second passed. Two. Three. The blood on your clothes. Was it from-

You strode past Kelv. You headed straight toward Jonathan’s property.

“_____, wait!”

“I need to see this for myself.”

He caught up, walking beside you. “You’re not wearing any shoes.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Is something going on? You’ve been acting strange lately.”

You didn’t reply. You just kept walking. Finding the scene was easy enough. Most of the townfolk were already gathered around. Women were clustered behind the fence, hands covering their mouths and tears in their eyes. Children leaned this way and that to get a closer look or played amongst themselves out of boredom. Men were staggered throughout the field, all facing one particular spot. Jonathan was talking to the mayor.

“_____!” Kelv called after you once more.

You didn’t listen. You stepped onto the field, ignoring the feeling of dewy grass and mud between your toes. Your attention shifted to someone standing behind Jonathan and the mayor. Henris. He was farther away than the others. His arms were crossed. He was staring at the ground. You faltered. He had been the one to pull Richard away from you and drag him out of the tavern. It was almost right after his friends had let slip that he had feelings for you. You swallowed. Was this his doing?

You stopped when the body came into view. Your lips pressed together. The smell of blood was so strong that you could taste it. You tried to breathe through the nausea as you looked over corpse. Richard’s body had been torn apart. His organs had spilled from gaping wounds in his abdomen, staining his skin and his clothes and the ground beneath him.

Nikolas was kneeling beside the body. He hadn’t looked up when you approached. His attention was focused on the wounds.

“What do you think?” The mayor moved to stand next to him.

“Too rabid to be a man. Too smart to be an animal.”

“A werewolf?” Jonathan asked. “Like the one that killed my cows and sheep?”

“It’s the same one. They’re solitary creatures. They don’t hunt in packs like wolves.”

“Were the sheep not enough? Has it moved onto humans now?”

“It wouldn’t kill a human if there was a better meal around. This was personal.”

You glanced to Henris. He had moved further away.

Suddenly, he was eclipsed by Nikolas’ shoulder. He was standing now, over a head taller than you were. His gaze was focused solely on you. It only lasted for a moment. Then, he turned away as if you weren’t even there. “The tracks lead into the forest. I won’t be able to trace it back to a source.”

“So you can’t figure out who it is,” you spoke up.

Several pairs of eyes flickered to you, including Nikolas’.

The mayor was the one to speak. “I trust that you’ll be able to sort this out, Nikolas.”

“There are wards I can use. Certain materials that can drive it away. But there’s another problem.”

You tensed. You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“What is it?” the mayor asked.

“It’s likely that the werewolf is someone in Fyerdin.”

Silence fell over the field. When Nikolas looked to the forest, Henris was gone.

“It would be wise to start a curfew,” Nikolas continued. “You’ll have to get volunteers to stand guard at night.”

The mayor nodded. “I’ll ask around today. I hope that you’ll join them.”

“I will.”

With the decision made, the crowd began to disperse. You walked back to the tavern alone. For once, you were actually relieved by Nikolas’ presence. At the same time, you were worried that someone else would die. The werewolf had only chased off Ilya. If your suspicions were correct and the beast had killed Richard for touching you, he was becoming more territorial. You refused to think of it as him protecting you.

You slowed as you entered the garden behind the tavern. You grew some of your own supplies and bought everything else. Usually you only worried about the things that were too expensive to buy on its own. You looked over the mud and the glistening plants. Some of the stems were broken. There were footprints leading to the back door. You frowned. You brought out a rake and upturned what soil you could. It would look suspicious if you only worried about the pawprints. You wiped your brow when you were finished. You had never thought that you’d be hiding evidence of such a creature. Then again, you hadn’t even believed in such monsters a few moons ago.

You washed your feet off before heading back inside. You glanced to the stairs. You wondered if it would be better to burn the nightgown or wash it.

A knock at the door put a stop to those thoughts. You looked over your shoulder. The sound had come from the back door. You approached warily. The werewolf wouldn’t show up in the middle of the day. Someone would see him. You wondered if it was Henris, or Kelv, or-

Opening the door revealed none of the men you expected. You were instead met with the sight of dark leather. Your gaze lifted. Dark hair. Light eyes.

Nikolas.

#werewolf route #fpreg #live on the edge of town #series

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kanene-yaaay · 5 years ago

Text

It started when...

Kanene’s note: Aaaa, okay! This little guy here give me some trouble and I had to re-write it some times but I really liked the ideia, so my butter heart didn’t let me to dig it in some deep archive of my computer, soooo…

Here he is!! Is a boy fluff! xDD

Well, at first it was suppose to be a OC fanfic, but then I felt some urge to made a Logan liking tickling and I think I didn't captured his personality very well xD. However, I really loved the result! Hope you enjoy this as well!!!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belongs to Thomas Sanders! Yaaay!

* This is a SFW Tickle-fic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another arts. There are a lot of wonderful arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* Something around 4000 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* This idea, like most of the good ideas came from NOWHERE! It’s pretty funny to write, tho. Hope you all enjoy it!

* Portuguese Version coming soon!! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Have a incredible week! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

‘If you could create your own Tickle World. How it that would be?’

(~.~)

For Roman it started when Logan stopped going to his room to talk about new video ideas and their developments. Not that it was an obligation of the said (in truth, sometimes it was very frustrating and tiring), but it had become part of the creative guardian routine, almost a bonding moment between both.

Most of time it was good and the royal side found himself waiting for this weekly moments that for some unknown reason simply ceased from existion. They diminished little by little until became so sporadic that Roman took the responsibility into his own hands and now made a point of visit the other when he missed these meetings or just had a random idea and felt the necessity to share it, even if it was undeveloped.

He never addressed this fact to Logan, simply for the lack of some subject that connected or lead to that or for being too distracted debating the good and improving points in the script, where they could be changed and the trails that it would be leading. Because of this he just remembered to bring up the conversation when he already was out of the other’s room, don’t find much motivation to return and broke the pleasant conversation they both had, for the most of time at least, for a subject of which Roman didn’t even knew to what territory it would lead.

For that reason, the subject on matter was left aside.

For Patton, the things initiated a little earlier, perhaps at the very beginning of everything. Just at that period when the one who wears tie moved his balcony chair for a point further away and hidden from the front window.

Those moments when the evening reading in the living room were shifted to the went to his bedroom from where he didn’t came back so early, and, when he did it was only for a short amount of time or somewhere a little farther from the couch itself. Patton lost the count on so many times Virgil had to hiss, like an adorable and cute dark kitty- Okay, focus! Focus!!- until Logan transfers himself to other place or furniture.

The guardian of morality couldn’t help himself in feeling… a bit worried with the behavior change, however, every time he thought in mention it he noticed the extremely rare and calm smile opened so naturally in Logan’s face as he stared something in his phone.

For this reason, for him, the subject on matter was half left aside.

For Virgil, realizing the change on the routine and natural order of the house was absolutely common, small changes happened with small new activities, and the curious aspect definitely was someone who always sought to explore the newest types of knowledge and, due this, for him the things just really began when this change on the routine became… well… routine.

The brain of one on hoodie didn’t waited too much before starting to have the most miscellaneous theories as answers to the not-so-sudden but equally strange change. The hypothesis varied according to his humor, going from it all being Deceit faking being Logan (refuted since both already had been seemed together fighting for the last cup of coffee) to everything being his fault because of his adaptation by the Light Sides, which was the favorite one of that voice in the deep of his mind.

Nevertheless, between all of them, just one hypothesis proved itself as the truth. It was proven on a cold day, the reason why everyone was locked in their room enjoying the warmth from their own beds.

Everyone but Virgil, who already had an almost natural protection (he already accepted the hoodie as part of his own body, it doesn’t matter what the society says.) and calmly headed for the television looking forward to re-watch some movies seeking the references that the last conspiracy theory video he saw said to exist, when his gaze met the shape layed on the couch dropping bubbling giggles.

Logan. Bubbling giggles.

These was for sure two things which didn’t seemed nestable at all, but wow, formed a pretty picture.

So that was it. Logan has an obscure secret. An obscure secret that made him lightly, happily giggle.

(Blackmail, maybe?)

The anxiety’s representation cursed the logic side for being always so respectful about his personal space, his thoughts opinions, desires and almost everything that involved Virgil feeling comfortable, supported and calm around them; because this fact just pushed away any and every evil will to sneaky behind Logan and finally cease once and for all his curiosity.

Consciousness. For that reason, he had to leave the subject on matter aside. But not completely, oh no, never completely.

(~.~)

Logan felt restless. He tapped the fabric of his pants lightly and observed all the landscape, trying to focus on its details and analyze them, seeking for distract his brain off the story he had read the last night, however his mind was always an indomitable spirit when it was referring to this subject. He spent the entire morning thinking, visualizing it, and before he could have a minute for researching about the stars and finally focusing in something else Roman called everyone to discuss in his room about the new scenario that would be used for the special video, which it showed as a proposal practically irrefutable to Logan, who put his obligations above almost every other thing.

- I let the room as a white canvas for we paint it at our desire! - The nomination maybe have been a little too literal, although it didn’t captured the whole essence of the albino forest surrounding the quarter. - Sure I will be the first who- PANDA COSPLAY, IF YOU PUT ‘WELCOME TO THE BLACK PARADE’ ONE MORE TIME, I SWEAR FOR THE HOLY SWOR-

Logan rolled his eyes for the duo fight, and when his glaze dropped all his body froze, electric goose bumps ran down every inch of his skin, his eyes slightly widening, tense muscles.

The grass around him was beginning to transform, to color itself. From where his feet touched green spirals started to very calmly unfold, as if unaware about its surrounding, including the fright of its ‘creator’.

But, since nothing in life is easy, of course it was not only in color that the grass was being transfigured, but also in shape. The centimeters around his shoes were no longer grass, and yes small green, and as it seemed, extremely soft feathers.

Logan felt blush, nevertheless, more than blush he felt scared… No, ‘scared.’ wasn’t the correct word.

Apprehensive. He felt apprehensive

The rationality’s representation glanced at the others, who fortunately wasn’t paying any attention to him.

He stepped back. The color and feathers followed him, each footprint leaving the place more modificated and colorful. Logan felt his mouth dry. That was a bad idea. An awful idea. He wasn’t supposed to feel that way, wasn’t supposed to have this kind of thoughts. He was the logic, rational, serious, trustworthy, fact-based, not shaken up by feelings side.

Apprehensive. Anxious.

Virgil turned around, letting Roman and Patton chat a little about the scenario to discuss a few option with Logan, since he probably would already have some analysis about the place and more tangibles ideas whic-

His eyes widen.

“Coming here was a mistake. I need to do something. I should…. I should….”

- Logan. Logan. Hey, hey, hey. - He lifted up his glare, allowing himself to look as vulnerable as he felt. Virgil moved closer, their eyes met. - It’s alright. Everything is alright. - His voice was in a slowly, velvety, paused tune. Logan’s muscles slightly relaxed. - There are no problem, ok? It’s alright. We are here. It is we, and we are here at your side.

The one who wears a tie nodded, closing his eyes for a moment and bringing up Thomas’ memories from when he was anxious. He taken a deep breath, always a deep breath.

Breathe in. Hold it for seven seconds.

One…

- Everything is alright.

Yes. It was. It was they and everything was alright.

Virgil finally looked down, seeing what was source of concern for the rational side. The green color began to grow more vivid, more palpable as the spirals increased and expanded, getting bigger and bigger until the divisores lines mingled and they form a only one greenish circle.

Two…

Keep your eyes closed. It is more easier to control myself when my eyes are closed. Focus on the breathing. Focus on the dark. There is nothing to be afraid of.

The movements were bold, precise and calculated. Almost mesmerizing. Now little white particles loosened from the circle that resembled the grass. These particles fluttered in the air for a few moments before starting to stretch and took… a softer, fluffier, delicate shape.

Three…

There is nothing to be afraid of.

Wait. Is those feathers?

Four…

It is they. It is they. It is they. There is no problem because it is they.

A pleasant cold wind became, as if it brought distant news of a coming rain. It was so nostalgic that automatically all the muscles off his body loosen and the sound of small raindrops hitting the treetops became present, even if there was no visible cloud.

Five…

They are family. And respect me, so it is alright. Everything is under my control.

The wind made all the feathers move faster and faster, spiraling around Logan and his concentrated countenance. It was like a little private swirl.

And it spined, it spined, it spined and spined spined spined spined.

Six…

And he could be the aspect responsible for the rationality, knowledge and logic for certain, however it didn’t prevented him to be something more, or to appreciate what he appreciated. It was ok.

It always was.

Patton and Roman’s voices stopped to echo across the room, their gazes finally meeting the peculiar scene unfolding in front of their eyes. They both turned, the attention completely captured.

Seven.

- Logan?

The logic side opened his eyes.

Breathe out.

The swirl exploded consuming everything in a matter of few seconds. Nobody could hear nothing and even less utter some other word. They assumed a defensive pose, arms in front of their eyes and legs tensed ready to run away from any danger; until they realized that wasn’t any real danger. The feather didn’t even touched much their skin, feeling more as a stroke than any other thing.

The sensation ceased. The weather seemed different, colder, lighter, cozier.

And, when they were sure that everything really stopped, that there would be no further transformation, everyone opened his eyes, their breath catching for an instant, as if afraid to spoil the art- no! Even better… the world around them.

Through all the space white feathers graciously floated to the ground, as little drops of paint in a emerald green that covered the whole grass, which stirred with the calm breeze that hitted it and and lead to green feathers also been released from the said and fly for few seconds before coming back to their original places. Not that it was always possible, since some usually ended up trapping themselves in the greyish trunks of leafy trees painted in colors that went from pastel to vivids, flashy shades. Small vines decayed from the branches.

Roman stepped forward, curiously touching a pastel one, which wrapped around his wrist, soft as a blanked, each touch leading to electric shivers that made an involuntary smile groom in his face.

The trees were neither too tall nor too high, fact that allowed the cloudy sky been easy seem, not as an anticipation for a storm, but as if it was predicting an pleasant weather either to go out for a wandering or to stay home under the covers catching up on your favorite series. Virgil heard something else, however, he didn’t needed to focus too much before listen the velvety voices came audibles, as if they were brought by the pleasant-scented breeze.

“You are wonderful.”

“Does it tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle?~”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Oh, it seems like someone is a bit ticklish.~”

“Thank you for all your effort.”

“I didn’t even did nothing and already became a blushy mess! Coothie coothie coo!”

“You did a good job.”

“The tickle monster is gonna getcha, getcha, getcha!”

- No! - Logan’s protests snapped everyone out of their trance, causing their eyes quickly find him, who had tripped and now attempted to get away from two floating gloves that mischievously wiggled their fingers in his direction. The huge smile on his face was almost as noticeable in his tune, whose its owner didn’t had any really warm on trying to escape. - Don’t you dare to approach an infinitesimal cent-ack!! Nohohohohohohohohohohoho!

All the words went in vain, transfiguration themselves in laugh when the two gloves ignored his warnings and attacked his ribs. Logan let himself lay on the grass, little snorts flying from his mouth as the said struggled to hold back his laughter, but nothing compared to the volume of the squeal that came from Patton’s lips as he processed the scene unfolded. He excitedly bitted his knuckles, don’t waiting a half second before running to the other.

- Logan!! I can’t belive you like tickling!!!

- Ohohohohohohohohohoho nahahahahahHAHAHAHAAHAaha!! - Their fingers started to focus in his hips, reason why the loud squeaks and more uncontrollable giggles leaved his mouth, but the logic aspect used all his willpower to cover his face with his hands, rolling to the opposite side in order to not being able to see the expression which the cat lover gives to him. Part of him relieved for don’t need to hide nothing anymore and part still very apprehensive with what all of this would result.

- Uh huh, sir! - Patton playfully complained, a grin spreading across his face as he sat at Logan’s side, his hands quickly, and very skillfully, meeting his armpits. Logan shrieked before get lost in a laughing sea, removing his hands from his face in a attempt to stop the new pair which tickled him. His face was completely red, the smile almost brighten the room for its light for being so big, his nose wrinkled and little dimples starting to been present. Patton felt his gaze shine, also laughing. - No hiding that wonderfully cute face of yours, mister! I can’t believe that you didn’t told us sooner, Lo-lo!

- We can all agreed that this is… how would you say it…? - Virgil showed up, discovering to be an impossible mission not smile at the scene. The melodious giggles, yelps and squealing from both sides filled the air. - undeniably adorable.

Unable to explain why, Logan’s laugh increased, his legs squirming when the dad’s quarter got bored from his armpits and now went for his tummy, scratching, poking, squeezing and making his fingers dance through all its extension, which would surely made the mind’s representation curl in a defensive ball, if it wouldn’t the gloves changing its tickles to his thighs, each knead leading to a different squeal.

A thought crossed the one on hoodie’s brain. His smile faded.

- Hey, Patton. - His voice was more serious, a little fearful. - Wait, wait, wait! - He holded his shoulder, slightly pulling him back and making the paternal one reluctantly stop his ‘attack’, staring Virgil with that ‘lost puppy’ eyes, with a Logan behind thanking silently, or as quietly as possible when laughter and snorts unintentionally kept escaping from his lips due two fingers that teasingly scratch the underside of his knees, taking a few sips of air.

- Kiddo, I know you also wanna have some fun, but you need to be patient and wait your turn! -Virgil felt his entire face on fire, especially as Logan turned, apparently interested in the conversation.

- That isn’t it! - Patton couldn’t help but grin with the defensive tune the other used. Virgil frowned and rolled his eyes, his hands gesticulating all over the room. - This situation… It’s too much to show at once. Logan can be feeling vulnerable, maybe even uncomfortable to being exposed like this.

Both turned to the said, worried, alarmed looks. Logan opened his lips, only for a little squeak jump when the gloves started to squeeze and knead his kneecaps, his wobbly arms tried to remove them, but in vain.

- He need a little break… Roman! - The guardian of anxiety drew the other’s attention, who had to break free of some vines before joining the group, his hair a little messed up and with a breathless smile.

- Oh, why do you call , stormACK!! - The prince’s phrase was interrupted when the purple lover grabbed the gloves and tossed them on him, who even tried to fight against the saids, however ended subdued by skills when they found way to his feet. - VIRHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIGIL!! NOhohohohohohOHOHOHOHO!

- Sorrey, dude. - Virgil smirked receiving a sharp, but without any anger in it, glare from the aspect of creativity. It was pretty hard take him serious when the said was squirming and happily laughing, tough.

- Uhuhu. You are evil. - Patton also excitedly smiled, before the duo remembered the previous topic of conversation and turned round to the logic side.

Logan was already sitting, adjusting his glasses and tie, his face still had remnants of the blush so as the smile. Everything got quite quiet, apart from Roman, who still laughing with the tickles. Maybe it was that laugh that gave Logan a bit more bravery to lift his gaze, clean his throat and stare the two side who observed him full of cautelous.

- A-about the previous question, Virgil. - For a moment he wished that the voices stopped their teasing, being promptly answered. Thank you. - I appreciate your concern and the free of judgment reaction of everyone, nevertheless. - “The vulnerability, no, the intimacy doesn’t bother me for the only main fact that it is you all, and I know that I’m more protect in your hands than any other on this vast universe.” - N-no hassle. - At least he could remind and utter something from his lift cards, since his brain didn’t seemed to much helpful on this moment. His face was gonna to melt, he was sure of it. - The sensation of vulnerability just would bother me if the fear of rejection was still present or our intimacy wasn’t yet strong. - Looked away. - The latter situation clearly isn’t the case and the first one… There is no reason to be afraid of. - And shut himself.

- Oh, Lo-lo, you are so silly… - Patton knelt down in front of him, staring in such a tender and affectionate way that for a moment Logan really realized how his fear was irrational. - There is no problem in like tickling. - The smile of the paternal figure increased when notice Logan squirm and lightly blush as heard the word.

- We would never criticize you for something like that. - Virgil didn’t knelt down, but the meaning on between his lines already demonstrate enough. - Liking is liking. If it’s nothing hurting anyone… - Then shrugged.

- In fact is making good! Now we know what to do to hear your fabulous laugh! - The representation of morality evil smirked, wiggling his fingers, which made Logan instinctively stepped away, seeking help on Virgil, who seemed a bit surprise by his action, but he grinned, grabbing one of the flying feathers and twirling this between his fingers.

Logan stepped some more centimeters away as precaution, little giggles beginning to form between his lips.

- Without to mention that he seems to having so much fun! - Patton pointed to Roman, everyone turning to observe the scene where the aspect of hope and dreams still laughing with the gloves’ attack, which apparently found themselves in the mission of create the most bubbling and snorts almost at the same time by scribbling white feathers on his neck.

- Don’t we should help him?

- Do not worry. - Logan adjusted his glasses, voice stuffed with a slightly playfulness. - I programed the gloves to feel when you want more tickles or not. As long Roman don’t wish anymore tickle there wouldn’t be any of it. All of this ‘world’ works as this.

- I have to admit I’m a bit jealous. - Patton absently commented, taking one of the feather falling in circle moviments to the ground. The creator felt his eyes gloom, an absurd urge to smile taking over his body.

- Is that so, Patton? Well, allow me to help you with this impasse. - and before anything could be answered Logan hugged him from behind, digging his fingers on his tummy and leading belly laughter to explode from the cat lover, who started to squirm almost instantality.

- THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT WanS’T WHAHAHahahahahAHAHAT I meAN! LOHOHOHOHohohohohohohohohohohoHOHOHOHO! - His laughter were totally filled with high pitched squeals and screams almost as adorable as his personality.

- Oh, but after your attack I believe that is my right to seek revenge. - His whispered words tickled the shell of the other’s ear, who immediately attempted to hide the ticklish spot in his shoulder, receiving a raspberry in the vulnerable side of his neck. - How kind of you to show that delicate point of yours so I can tickles, tickles, tickles, Patton. Very considerate of you.

- NahahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahaha!!! - He stopped to struggle, just lightly squirming and letting himself to be carried away on this moment of playfulness and affection from the other, the teasing painting a strong blush on his cheeks and small droplets started to accumulate in the corner of his eyes. Virgil snorted.

- Don’t think that I forgot you, Virgil. - Logan only glanced the one on hoodie, but that alone was already enough to release cold shivers down his spine, smile starting to rise in his face. Even when the logic side came back to give attention on the victim on his claws his Fight or Flight instincts didn’t stopped to kick in.

Something velvety wrapped around his waist.

- NO! Wait!!! - Virgil tried to dislodge the vine that involved him, turning around on time to see other in light colors happily coming towards him. - I didn’t even did nothing! Let me g-

- Precisely, dear Virgil. You have allowed me to be attacked without lifting a single finger, and I believe that judicially, this can be termed ‘complicity’. - The soft vines began to curl up around all his body, vibrating as they purred. Virgil closed his eyes and pursed his lips tightly, putting effort for any giggle came out of his mouth. Logan’s expression softened a little. - Do not worry, the pastel ones are responsible for light tickles. - When one found its way to that sweet spot beneath his shoulder blades and camped there the barrier broke, a flow of giggles, snorts, and low yelps flyed from his mouth. Virgil’s legs failed in keep him up and for that reason he ended up being carried, having the sensation that he floated in pure light, soft and unbearable tickles. The smile on his face wasn’t huge, but seemed able to light all the space with its cuteness.

And, for Logan, it was in this exact moment, when the carefree laughter walked and danced through all the room that he spent hours and hours imaginating, that everything started…

… to get really interesting.

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venilegiamavi · 5 years ago

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Travis Miller moodboard from xSnickerss Wattpad stories Rebel One/Trained One

Also, we were talking about it, so I accidentally wrote more. I haven't edited this because I am lazy also, I included part 1 of my AU for those who haven't read it.

“Travis? Hey, Travis!”

“Hm?” I slowed the drumming of my hands against the lunchroom table and glanced over at Allen, one of my teammates. His eyes shifted past me and he continued, “Is it just me, or has that creepy new girl been stalking us?”

I rolled my eyes, “Creepy? She’s not creepy,” I glanced around the room until my eyes met hers. She was biting her lower lip with creased brows as she stared directly into my eyes. I gave her a wolfish grin, “She’s hot.”

The girl’s blue eyes bore into mine as she brushed her hair from her face. She wasn’t far from our table, probably close enough to hear us even, but who gives a fuck. The hot girl had transferred here a few weeks ago.

“She can be both.” Allen reminded me, then he leaned forward and whispered to me, “That Lacey girl is silent. She has been here for three weeks and she never speaks to anyone, she wears nothing but black, and she doesn’t make a sound when she walks. Can we get ready for class,” his voice was almost inaudible as he hissed, “before she cuts us down with her scythe and sends us to hell?”

“She’s not the grim reaper.” I reminded him, finally breaking eye contact with the hot girl- no, Lacey. That’s what Allen had called her.

“She could be.” He insisted.

“Ugh, I am so tired of this fucking city. I can’t wait until we graduate so I can get the fuck out of here.” I groaned, and Allen just rolled his eyes, “Yeah, right. Your mom won’t even let you go anywhere for our tournaments. You think that she is magically going to allow you to leave when you graduate?”

I ignored him, eying the fire alarm, “Hey, you want to get out of here?”

Allen followed my gaze and his eyes widened.

I tried not to grin as we followed the pack of students out of the building. Allen was in front of me, and he had finally stopped complaining about my ‘rule breaking’ and ‘issue with authority’. Whatever. I reached the bottom of the stairs, still rolling my eyes at the back of Allen’s head, when something covered my mouth. I could hear my own muffled yelp, but Allen continued walking, completely oblivious as the alarm loudly continued. Behind me, I could feel the soft body of a woman press up against my back, just as I began to wonder if I could just break free, I felt nails scape against my scalp as she grabbed a handful of my hair. I winced as she tugged sharply on my curls as she dragged me underneath the stairs.

She shoved me against the wall, and I grimaced at how cold it was against my face and chest. I still couldn't see her, and I realized that I couldn’t hear her breathing or moving; all I could hear was my own heart, thundering in my chest. It was a familiar rush of adrenaline that I often got during tournaments when our team got to host at our school. I swallowed hard, trying to calm myself down.

“Shhh, shh, shh.” The voice calmly whispered to me in a similar tone that most would whisper to a frightened pet. I glowered at the grey wall in front of my eyes and tried to stop tapping my fingers on my thighs. I gave an experimental lean into her hands, trying to shift away from the wall a bit, but the hand in my hair yanked back even farther and I hissed in pain before relaxing and letting her hold me tightly against the wall. She was still pressed up against me. Her body felt small and lithe, and I tried to stop thinking about it. Think about anything else or this was going to be embarrassing, I willed myself. The doors clicked closed, and there was a beat before her grip slowly loosened, and she stepped back a bit to give me some room to turn around.

“Sorry,” Lacey began, removing herself from my personal space. Too bad, I mused. “I wanted to talk.”

I raised my eyebrows as I looked down at her, “Have you considered just passing me a note in class?”

She pinched her blonde brows together slightly as she pursed her lips, and after a moment she whispered in an almost nervous voice, “Isn’t that against the rules?”

Damn, she was cute. I tried to focus, “Well, yeah,” I shrugged, “but so is kidnapping someone during a fire and murdering them.”

Lacey’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief as she smirked, “I saw you pull the fire alarm.”

“So, you’re not going to deny murdering me?” I could feel myself leaning in towards her as I returned her smirk. Lacey crossed her arms, but her voice was still playful, “Is there a reason that I should murder you?”

I couldn’t help it. My eyes wandered down her body. She was shorter than me, very slight, with blonde straight hair and blue eyes. She moved like water. Fluidly, graceful, and with a confidence that her voice didn’t seem to match.

“I am not going to murder you.” She reassured seriously, and I wondered for a moment if she had realized that I was joking, but she continued before I could reply, “I want to talk to you. After school. When the fire alarm isn’t incessantly screaming. Ditch your accessory.”

“Who, Allen?”

“Sure.” She shrugged, disinterested.

I nodded, more confused than anything else.

“Good.” She nodded, and then turned and left the school, leaving me leaning on the wall underneath the stairs, trying to figure out what had just happened.

I was even more antsy for the rest of the day, Allen had been confused about why I had changed my mind about skipping school, and even moreso when. I declined when he offered me a ride home, but I waved him off.

She was nowhere outside, so I decided that I would wait. Leaning across a bench, I propped my legs up on one side and pulled out my phone. There were a few texts from my mother. One from my step brother, and one from Allen about practice tomorrow. I had answered the first two, when I glanced up over my phone, I jumped- Lacey was sitting on the back of the bench with her legs neatly crossed, just barely perching her feet on the bench not touching me.

She looked down at me, frowning, and shrugged, “How was your day?”

I paused before slowly urging my heart rate back down, “Fine, I guess. How was yours?”

She shrugged and stared into the distance. A few moments passed, and I restlessly jiggled one of my legs on the bench, “so,” I said, “any particular reason for the impromptu chat? Not that I am not enjoying it, just, you know, was a bit of a surprise.”

Lacey chewed on her lower lip for a moment before she looked me in the eyes, “I think we should date.”

What? I stared at her, but she didn't add anything to her statement, which made me throw my hands above my head as I asked, “Date? Do you even know anything about me?”

Lacey, apparently unbothered by my reaction, curved her lips into a smirk and said, “Travis Miller. You were raised locally, moved here with your mother at a young age when she settled down with your step father, you have a younger brother Nate who also attends school here. You joined the school paintball team last year and are considered a natural, and you like to make sure people know that. You spend almost all of your spare time with your team or friends. You are relatively popular and well liked here. You also,” she added, putting a hand on my leg to still it’s jiggling, “make a lot of noise and can never sit still.”

I stared at her, stunned into silence for once, and she raised her brows, tilting her hear curiously, “Did I get anything wrong?”

Snapping out of it, I drummed my hands nervously at my sides, “Oh, uh, well, no. All right. So, do you know everything about everyone? Or just me?”

Lacey's smile grew a bit, and a bit of a chill passed through me. After a moment, she admitted, “I don't really, you know, fit in.”

I raised my eyebrows, and she ignored me, “I’m not very good and making friends and socializing. People skills are not necessarily my thing.”

I could see that. Resisting the urge to be rude, I nodded. She continued, “So, if we are dating, then you can teach me. That way, I will be able to fit in better.”

Carefully, I shifted my legs to get up off of the bench without disturbing her, and I stood. Frowning at her for a moment before I paced back and forth and thinking it out. I balanced my options. On one hand, she was drop dead gorgeous, and it could be fun. On the other hand, she seemed like a crazy stalker.

Hating myself a little bit, I hesitated, “What’s in it for me?”

#xsnickerss #wattpad #rebel one #trained one #jschristine #mine #but mostly hers #i am just playing

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certified-kingofnewyork · 5 years ago

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Chapter 1

Hey! Sorry I didn’t get to posting this yesterday, I burned my hand while making pizza and it took up more time to deal with than I expected. But I finished this around 1am and figured it’d be best to just post today! Prologue

Word Count: 5.3K Warnings: mentions of death, depictions of panic attack

A boy is stood in the middle of an old, seemingly abandoned, field, around him lies scattered camping equipment. A tent, a chair, a cooler and a bag full of snacks and water, though did he really need a cooler in this type of weather? Maine was cold at night, he had anticipated that, but not by this much. That was entirely his fault, he had never been that far north before, or that far east. Most notable, was the small brown bag that he was clutching to his chest. His eyes were trained on the sky, as if he was waiting for something to happen. Farther off, a door could be heard creaking open and swinging shut. Something that this boy hardly registered. Another boy approached, slowly, assumably caused by the crutch he was using, but truly it was because he was being cautious of this stranger.

“Hello,” He greeted the boy staring at the stars. Though he didn’t seem surprised, he just calmly turned to the boy with the crutch, and upon further inspection, sandy blonde hair and a soft face, blue eyes that could be seen even in the light of the night, the moon only made them appear brighter.

“Hello,” He smiled, looking back up at the sky, unphased and unbothered.

“I thought I saw someone,” He paused, uncertain, “I was about to go to bed. I saw you from my window… Can I-” help you? “Is there somethin’ I can do for you?” The nervous boy inquired. The star-gazer turned again, looking down at him, smiling.

“Oh, no. I’m just here to see the northern lights.” And with that, he was looking up all over again, watching, waiting, almost yearning. The other boy paused, figuring out a way to approach this situation in the best possible way.

“Okay. Okay. It’s just- it’s awful late and you’re in my yard-”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was in anybody’s yard…” He didn’t seem too upset by this though, maybe just slightly disheartened.

“Well…” You are, but it’s okay… I don't mind.

“I thought I was just in a random field.” He gestured to the large space around him, finally spotting the house far off in the distance that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Well, it used to be a potato field, but now it’s my yard.” The boy tried to explain, the itch to know why this stranger was standing in his yard was becoming stronger.

“Oh. Well, you have a really big yard.” He observed. Still, the star-gazing stranger made no attempts to pack up and move, and still, the landowner didn’t seem bothered.

“I guess.” There was a pause, nothing uncomfortable, just a pause.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind that I’m here. I’ll only be here tonight. I’ll see them tonight- the northern lights- and then I’ll be gone. I hope you don’t mind!” While he was talking, the homeowner had been glancing around the boy, observing what he’d brought- suddenly noticing the tent. He didn’t respond to his previous statement, instead, in awe and maybe confusion, he nodded towards the tent.

“Is that your tent?” He was perhaps kind of dumbfounded by this.

“Yes.”

“You’ve pitched a tent…”

“So I can have a place to sleep-”

“...In my yard” His head tilted to the side in a confused, puppy-like, manner.

“-After I see them… I didn’t know I was somebody’s yard- I hope you don’t mind,” The boy seemed desperate to stay, and as he moved around, whatever was in that paper bag was clinking together. That only seemed to confuse the homeowner more.

“Well, it’s not that I-”

“Do you mind?”

“Well, I don’t know if-”

“Oh no, I think you mind!”

“No, it’s not that I mind-”

“No, you do! Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think you would! I didn’t think-” The boy seemed very apologetic now, almost worried that he was overstepping.

“-You see, it says in your brochure-” He continued.

“My brochure?”

“-That people from Maine wouldn’t mind. It says…” He suddenly produced said brochure from out of the pocket of his jacket. It was folded and crumpled, corners ripped, clearly well used. The context given suggests that he’s only had this brochure for a short amount of time, and yet it was already so well worn and used.

“...that people from Maine are different, that they live life ‘the way life should be’ and that, ‘in the tradition of their brethren in rural northern climes, like Scandinavia,’ they’ll let people who are complete strangers- like cross-country skiers and bikers and hikers- camp out in their yard, if they need to, for nothing. They’ll just let you. I’m a hiker. Is it true?” The boy finished, looking at the shorter homeowner expectantly. He looked put on the spot and caught off guard, after a few anxious fidgets he decided to respond, or rather, try to respond.

“Well…” I guess it’s true, but-

“That they’ll just let you stay in their yards if you need to? Cause I need to. Camp out. Cause I’m where I need to be. This is the farthest I’ve ever traveled: I’m from a part of the country that’s a little closer to things… never been this far north before, or east, and did you know that Maine is the only state in the country that’s attached to only one other state?” Did this boy ever stop talking? He sure seemed to like to talk. The homeowner stayed completely confused, and as the minutes passed, it only seemed to be getting worse and worse.

“Uh…” Was his only attempt at a response. In his defense, he didn’t quite know what to say.

“It is!” The star-gazer looked up again, a wide bright smile on his face now. His demeanor seemed to completely change. “Feels like the end of the world, and here I am at the end of the world, and I have nowhere to go, so I was counting on staying here- unless it’s not true, I mean is it true?” This boy seemed to be quite the dreamer. Bright eyes and high expectations, the homeowner would hate to just blatantly tear them down. Still, he debated on letting this complete stranger stay in his yard, hell, he didn’t even know the boy’s name yet.

“Well…” The dreamer wasn’t letting him get a word in edgewise.

“Would you let a hiker who was where he needed to be just camp out in your yard for free?” He sure had a way of being very convincing. The homeowner couldn’t help but feel bad for him, clearly he was here for an important reason, but just what was it?

“Well I don’t-”

“I mean, if a person really really needed to?” He wasn’t letting up. He was running out of choices here.

“I don’t kn-”

“Really really needed to?” His eyes were pleading, and he looked to be clutching the bag closer to his chest now- if that was even possible. He held his breath, waiting for the answer he wanted, the one he was desperately hoping he’d get.

“Well… If a person really needed to, sure but-”

“Oh! I’m so glad! Thank you!” The boy rushed forward and hugged the homeowner, overcome with emotion. He was careful to not topple him over, and even more careful to not knock his crutch out from under him. It took a moment before the homeowner was also overcome with extreme emotion and he gladly hugged back. After a few silent moments, the dreamer pulled away, accidentally and wordlessly transferring the paperbag to the homeowner. He hadn’t meant to, it just happened, neither of them noticed. The moment they were apart, the emotion was gone, and the dreamer felt different, almost a little embarrassed.

“Oh- sorry about that.” He murmured while backing up, still unaware that he no longer had his bag.

“Sorry…” He mumbled yet again, looking away.

“It’s okay.” The homeowner assured with a warm smile.

“I just- really need to be here and do this, so thanks.” The dreamer gave the homeowner a tired and grateful smile, he seemed almost exhausted now.

“Sure… So-” But then he stopped, the dreamer suddenly looked frantic… panicked. He was looking around on the ground, his breathing picking up speed, copious amounts of panic radiating off of him.

“Oh no… Oh no.” He frantically turned to the homeowner, eyes wide and worried, on the verge of tears. He pointed to the bag, mouth opening and closing for a few moments until he could form proper words.

“I need that!” His voice was desperate. The homeowner looked startled and maybe even afraid. He quickly handed the bag back to him, he hadn’t even realized he had it until now. The dreamer clutched it to his chest again, calming down almost instantly. He looked back up at the sky, searching for the northern lights.

“Thanks…” He whispered, letting out a slow breath.

“Sure,” The homeowner said with a nod, but now he was even more confused, and questioning his decision to let this boy stay on his yard, “Okay… Okay… So you’re just lookin’ for a place to see the northern lights from?”

“Yeah. Just tonight.” He confirmed with a short nod.

“Well,” He had to approach this carefully, he had a hint of just how much these northern lights meant to this dreamer, “you know, you might not see ‘em tonight cause you never really know-”

“Oh, no! I’ll see them. Because this is the right time: Solar activity is at an eleven-year peak. And I’m in a good place, your latitude is good. Well, as good as it can be, under the circumstances, I was gonna go to a higher latitude- like, up to Canada somewhere- but I forgot to renew my passport, so I couldn’t, and Alaska is just too far away, so this was the closest place I could get to in the lower forty eight states that sees the northern lights regularly, so I flew, and I took a bus, and then I hiked to get here, so, anyway, everything’s in order. And boy, you have a good sky for seeing them. It’s so big! And dark! And it’s flat here, no trees in the way.” Jeezum crow he sure seemed to like to talk and over explain a lot. The homeowner didn’t know how else to respond other than simply with:

“Used to be a potato farm.”

“Makes for a big sky,” The dreamer looked up again, almost willing the northern lights to appear.

“Yeah.”

“So… you’re a farmer?” He wondered, trying to make some type of conversation while he was still standing there. For a brief moment, he wondered if the other boy’s leg hurt.

“No, used to be a farm. I’m a repairman.” He explained with a slight smile, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh.” The dreamer wasn’t expecting that answer.

“Fix things.” The repairman explained, as if that was necessary.

“Oh.” He laughed now, a wide smile spreading across his face. The repairman tilted his head to the side once more, confused.

“What?” Had he said something funny? What did he do to elicit that response?

“You’re not a lobsterman,” Oh.

“No.” Typical stereotype, not a single person in this part of Maine was a ‘lobster man’.

“I guess I thought that everyone from Maine was a lobster man and talked in that funny… way like they do in Maine, and you don’t talk that way.” He shrugged, kind of confused himself, but all the while still smiling.

“Nope. You’re not Downeast. You’re up north. And this is how we talk up north, pretty much.” The repairman explained.

“Oh.” Was the dreamer disappointed by that? It was hard to tell, couldn’t really gauge an emotion behind a simple ‘oh’.

“No real accent up here.” Always just a mash up of whoever managed to get themselves stuck in this small excuse of a town.

“Oh.”

“Plus the ocean’s a couple hundred miles away. Be an awful long ride to work if I was a ‘lobster man’” The repairman joked, trying to lighten the mood again, this got more than a couple giggles out of the dreamer for a few moments.

“Yeah, well, anyways, thank you, thank you for letting me stay and do what I need to do. It’s important that I do it, and-” He looked sad, like he was hiding something that was troubling him. Suddenly, the repairman wanted to know just what brought him up to Maine, to his yard.

“-I’ve had a pretty rough go of things lately, and I just really appreciate your kindness and understanding-” The repairman cut him off with a tight hug. One that neither him nor the dreamer anticipated. It just happened. Once more, he was overcome with both emotions and feelings. The dreamer didn’t quite participate in the hug, but he did share these same emotions and feelings. He quickly realized what he was doing, and pulled back suddenly. Once again, he was holding the bag.

“Oh gosh, I’m- I’m sorry.”

“Um…” It was the dreamer’s turn to be at a loss for words, confused and a but put off.

“Are you ok?” The repairman seemed worried that he had messed it all up.

“Yeah…” His voice was suddenly weak and quiet, responses short, he didn’t quite want to talk it seemed.

“I’m real sorry I did that. It’s just- you just seemed sad…” He paused, “And also: I think I love you.” The dreamer looked shocked, uncomfortable even, and he instantly took two steps back.

“Huh?”

“Yeah- Yeah I saw you from my window, and… I love you.” He didn’t know why he was being so bold, why he was being so upfront about his feelings. He was hardly ever like that, but it was just happening and he had no control over it.

“Um… okay- well… that’s really nice of you to say, but that’s not-” I’m not here for that “I’m so sorry, but I’m not… here for that.” He was trying to find a way nicely around this topic, which was obviously a sore one. The dreamer looked uncomfortable and anxious, debating whether he should leave and find another yard to stay in.

“Oh no, I didn’t think you were-”

“I’m here to pay my respects. To my husband.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah: My husband. Wes. I’m here to say goodbye to him… because he died recently.”

“Oh jeez…”

“Yeah. On Tuesday, actually. And, see, the northern lights- did you know this?- they are really the torches that the recently departed carry with them so they can find their way home… to heaven, and see, it takes a soul three days to make its way home to heaven, and this is Friday. This is the third day. So you see, I will see them, because they’re him. He’ll be carrying one of the torches. I didn’t leave things well with him- but what you just did there just a second ago- that’s going to get in the way of me saying goodbye to him, I think- or something- and so I think maybe I should go find another yard-” The dreamer, star-gazer, and mourner began to pack up his things. Shoving the already crumple brochure back into his pocket and started to pick up his bag. He’d had to dismantle the tent pretty fast, and wasn’t looking forward to it.

“No! No!” The repairman seemed desperate for him to stay, he hated that he just ruined this boy’s time of closure.

“Yeah.. I oughta..”

“I’m sorry I did that- I don’t really know what happened-” He tried to explain, tried to get him to stay. He felt absolutely awful.

“Well I do, I know what happened-”

“I’m not the kind of person that usually does things like that. Please. Don’t go. Just- do what you need to do and I won’t bother you. Maybe just consider what I did a- a warm Maine welcome. Or something…” He cringed inwardly at himself, absolutely hating what he just said in his attempt to keep the poor boy here.

“Um… you know what? I’m just gonna get outta your way and let you do what you need to do…” He murmured, taking a few steps back.

“Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Alright…” The repairman nodded, taking some more steps back.

“Thanks.” The taller boy simply said before turning back to the sky, trying to recollect himself from the previous moments.

“Sure. Sorry about… all that,” The repairman said once more.

“It’s…” Okay? Was it really okay? Regardless, he said it anyways, “...okay” He finally turned to leave, ready to finally go to bed and hopefully forget all about this interaction, he still felt horrible about what he said and did. But he stopped, one last time.

“And if you need anything, just give a holler, okay?”

“Okay.” And with that he truly left, he was almost officially gone before the other boy called out yet again.

“Hey!” He stopped and turned towards the star-gazer once again.

“Thanks for letting me stay… I really appreciate it.”

“Sure.” That was the thing about him, he never once said ‘you’re welcome’ in response to any of the thanks from this boy. He always felt that saying ‘you’re welcome’ was disingenuine, like he didn’t truly mean it. He wanted the boy to know that he truly didn’t mind letting him stay, like he didn’t owe anything to the repairman for this. He especially wanted him to think that after what he just learned.

“Uh… I’m- my name’s Jack… Kelly… Just so you know.” Ah right, names, they hadn’t gotten to that point yet.

“Okay. Hi, Jack-”

“Hi.” Jack looked expectantly at the other boy, waiting to hear what his name was.

“I’m East.”

“Huh?”

“My name’s East. For Easton. It’s the name of a town a little ways that way-” He pointed towards the direction of East the best he could, “A mess up on the birth certificate… ‘A son, Easton, born on this sixth day of January, in the town of Charlie, Maine’ instead of the other way around…” He was more than used to explaining his name. Then he added, “But my friends call me Crutchie…”

“Oh.” There was an amused smile playing on Jack’s lips.

“Yeah.” Crutchie let out a short laugh.

“Well, happy birthday a few weeks late!”

“Oh thanks!” He smiled, a bit fondly. Crutchie couldn’t quite tell just why he was so fond of Jack, but there was just something about him.

“So… Easton- The place-” Jack was tugging a map out of her other pocket, unfolding it. It was huge and had the entirety of Maine on it.

“Yeah-”

“Yeah! I passed through near there on my way here, and by the way, where is ‘here?’ Where am I? I couldn’t find it on my map.” Well this would be a bit complicated to explain, but Crutchie would try his best.

“Um… Almost.”

“What?”

“You’re in unorganized territory. Township Thirteen, Range Seven,” Jack looked down and checked his map, trying to find the exact place that Crutchie had explained.

“It’s not gonna be on your map, cause it’s not an actual town, technically…”

“What do you mean?” “See… To be a town, you gotta get organized. And we never got around to gettin’ organized, so… we’re just Almost.” He shrugged. Not many new people stumbled through their small and humble ‘town’, so Crutchie never had the opportunity to explain it to anyone, and he always forgot how strange it was to outsiders that found their way in.

“Oh…” Was all that Jack did, or rather could, say about the topic. He had grown up in a large city, he wasn’t used to small quiet towns, let alone small quiet not towns.

“Okay, well, like I said, holler if you need anything,” Crutchie sent him one last warm smile before turning back and heading to his house.

“Okay, thanks.” Jack watched as he left, not wanting him to leave but he had business to do here, and Crutchie would just get in the way.

He let out a sigh and looked back at the sky, hugging his bag to his- wait- his bag, where had it gone? Oh no. Jack began to panic again, looking at the ground, borderline hyperventilating.

“Oh! Oh God!” He cried, his eyes brimming with tears. He opened his backpack and began desperately rummaging through it. Crutchie turned around at the sound of yelling and rushed back to Jack. He was still holding Jack’s paper bag.

“What? What’s wrong!” He gently placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder, trying to get him to calm down.

“My heart!” He sobbed, looking over to Crutchie in a blind panic.

“What? Are you okay-” He didn’t know what Jack could have possibly meant by just crying out ‘my heart’, but he was already assuming the worst. Jack points to the crumpled paper bag in Crutchie’s hand, he only noticed then that he had it.

“My heart!” Jack cried again, desperation rooted deep in his voice. Jack could barely breathe.

“What?” Crutchie was still confused, the bag, his heart? That made absolutely no sense.

“You have my heart!” Why didn’t Crutchie understand, why wasn’t it clicking. Jack needed that bag, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t-

“I what?”

“In that bag! It’s in that bag!” He finally choked out, still pointing at the bag, wanting it back more than anything.

“Oh..” It clicked, his heart was in the bag, but what did that even mean.

“Please give it back! Please it’s my heart! I need it! Please-” Crutchie quickly handed the bag back to Jack, who took it and clutched it back to his chest, his breathing slowing and composure returning.

“Okay okay… okay…” He murmured, taking a few steps back, letting Jack have his space.

“Thank you…” Jack whispered, looking down at his boots. His feet shuffled awkwardly for a moment as he regained himself.

“Sure, yeah… no problem,” He murmured. There was a long pause of silence, which consisted of Jack staring at his feet and Crutchie staring at him, trying to comprehend and process what exactly just happened. The moment dragged on for just a few moments longer before Crutchie built up the courage to pry.

“I’m sorry… did you say that… your heart is in that bag? Is that what you just said-”

“Yes.” Jack nodded slowly, looking up at the smaller boy, looking like a lost puppy. Another pause as Crutchie tried to think of a way to respond appropriately.

“It’s heavy…” Crutchie observed quietly, his gaze traveling down to the bag.

“I guess.” Jack allowed with a short shrug. More questions flooded into Crutchie’s mind, and he had an undying urge to ask them all. He hoped he wasn’t overstepping, but so far Jack seemed to be alright again.

“Why is it in that bag?”

“It’s how I carry it around.” He said quite simply.

“Why?”

“It’s broken.” As if that was the obvious answer. Crutchie nodded slowly, his brows furrowing just slightly, his tone of voice turning soft and cautious as he continued.

“What happened?”

“Wes broke it.” Jack looked down at the ground again, his feet shuffled once more.

“Your husband?” Just for clarification.

“Yeah. He went away.”

“Oh.”

“...With someone else.”

“Oh no I’m- I’m sorry,” Crutchie’s voice was genuine when he spoke, he couldn’t relate to Jack and how he felt, but he could sense that it must have hurt a lot. Enough to break his heart apparently.

“Yeah. And when he did that, I felt like my heart would break… and that’s exactly what happened. It broke, hardened up and cracked in two. Hurt so bad I had to go to the hospital, and when I got there, they told me they were gonna have to take it out. And when they took it out, they dropped it on the floor, and it broke into nineteen pieces...Slate.” Jack shook the bag together to emphasize his point, inside the bag the slate could be heard clinking together. Jack winced at that sound, “It turned to slate.” He looked up at the sky again, blinking back tears at the memory. Crutchie didn’t know what to say, how to respond or react.

“Great for roofing,” He offered, which only got a slight nod out of Jack as a response. He paused, turning back towards his house, but Crutchie stopped yet again and looked back towards Jack.

“How do you breathe?” His question must have caught Jack off guard, cause he looked down at Crutchie startled, like a deer in the headlights.

“Huh?”

“If your heart is in that bag, how are you alive?”

“Artificial.” Jack tapped his chest, and forced a small smile.

“Really?” Medical things always fascinated Crutchie, considering his leg and all. That and he was just generally curious about the medical world and how things worked, it hadn’t occurred to him that Jack had an artificial heart.

“Yeah, cause my real one’s broken. And there’s always a shortage of real hearts for transplants.. So I got an artificial one…”

“Oh..” Crutchie had to withhold himself from adding on ‘that’s cool’, because in all honesty, it was cool, but he didn’t know if Jack wanted to hear that right now.

“So then… why do you still have this one?” Crutchie wondered. Jack blinked at him a few times, as if that was a stupid question to ask. He hugged the bag tighter, the slate inside shifting around with audible clacks.

“It’s my heart.”

“Why do you carry it around with you like this?”

“I don’t usually… but since it’s the one that loved Wes, I figured I might want it with me when I say goodbye to him or something-”

“But it’s broken.”

“Yeah I don’t really-” want to talk about it.

“Cause of him.”

“Yeah I-” don’t really want to get into it.

“Cause he left you…”

“Yeah I really don’t-” want to talk about it right now, or ever.

“Why are you paying your respects to him if he left you?” Crutchie was having a hard time connecting these puzzle pieces, it didn’t make sense, not even in the slightest.

“Because that’s what you do when a person dies, you pay them respects…” Jack tried to explain, wanting to avert away from this topic, he didn’t want to talk about it. He already felt guilty enough as it was.

“But he left you.” Crutchie pointed out once more.

“Yes but-”

“And it seems to me that a man who leaves somebody doesn’t deserve any respects.”

“Well I just- didn’t leave things well with him…” Jack looked beyond guilty, deflated even, like he was the one who had done something wrong in this situation, like he was the one who left.

“What do you mean?”

“And- and I need to apologize to him!” He insisted, just wanting Crutchie to shut up and agree with him.

“But he left you!”

“I know but-”

“Why should you apologize?” He was still genuinely confused.

“Because!” Was Crutchie really going to make him admit it? Guilt weighed him down in his chest. He felt like sinking through the ground, the earth swallowing him whole. That would be nice right then.

“Because why?!”

“Because I killed him!” He admitted, squeezing his eyes shut. Jack took a few steps back, scared of how Crutchie would react. But turns out that Crutchie did the same, he looked almost scared of Jack for a moment.

“Oh…”

“And I’d like to apologize. I was over a year into my recovery from when they put my artificial heart in- I was all better, doing almost all the things I used to be able to do- and then Wes just shows up at my place one day and says he wants me back. And I said, “Wes, I have a new heart now. I’m sorry. It doesn’t want you back.” and that just killed him” Crutchie let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Oh. But it didn’t kill him- you didn’t kill him-”

“Well yeah, I did, kinda, because he got so sad that my new heart didn’t want him back, that he just tore outta there and ran out into the street, and a bus was coming, and it didn’t even see him, and he didn’t see it and it just… took him right out, and if I’d have been able to take him back-”

“Jack-”

“-he wouldn’t have torn outta there like that-” Jack was crying now, he felt so horribly guilty, so responsible.

“Hey-”

“-and been just taken out like that, and so, I just wanted to say goodbye in my own way- not as his sad ex-husband as some big public service- but just privately y’know? And- and-” His voice cracked. Crutchie pulled him into another tight hug. Jack tentatively wrapped his arms around Crutchie before absolutely melting into the hug, for some reason, he felt safe like this. But just as quickly he got comfortable, he pulled back again. Jack gently took Crutchie’s face in his hands, connecting their lips in a short and sweet kiss. Once his brain caught up with his actions, Jack stopped, pulling away yet again. Crutchie was holding his heart once more.

“Oh God I’m sorry-” He started.

“Don’t be!” Crutchie assured, trying to stop himself from smiling.

“I’m so sorry I did that!” Jack apologized yet again, frantic.

“Don’t be! I love you.”

“What? No!” That’s impossible, he can’t just love me.

“Yeah!” Jack’s eyes landed on the bag in Crutchie’s arms, he swiftly stole it back, taking a few cautious steps away from Crutchie.

“Well don’t!” He insisted. Despite his attempts to get away from Crutchie, it didn’t quite work, because he just moved forwards.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t be able to love you back! I have a heart that can pump my blood and that’s all. The one that does the other stuff is broken. It doesn’t work anymore-” Jack himself sounded broken as he tried to explain. Crutchie frowned slightly, feeling horrible that Jack thought that. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what that was like. Overcome with feelings once again, Crutchie pulled Jack into another sweet kiss, and for a moment, Jack found himself kissing back. Then he realized what was happening and stumbled backwards faster than he could register.

Crutchie had the bag yet again. Jack wordlessly snatched it back, but Crutchie reacted fast, and it was back in his possession within seconds.

“Let me have this.” Crutchie pleaded, holding the bag far out of Jack’s reach.

“No! It’s mine!” He tried reaching past Crutchie to grab it, but he kept dodging all of his attempts with such ease.

“I can fix it!” Crutchie insisted.

“What? No!”

“Jack!” He was practically begging now, he’d try and fix it regardless if Jack agreed or not.

“Give it back to me now!” Jack demanded, his voice breaking.

“But it’s broken!” Crutchie was just rubbing salt into the never-healed wound.

“Please!”

“It’s no good like this!”

“But, it’s my heart!” Jack put a strong emphasis on the ‘my’.

“Yes it is! And I have it!” Jack suddenly stopped at those words, just watching Crutchie and wondering what he was planning.

“And I can fix it.” A pause, “I’m a repairman. I repair things. It’s what I do.” Crutchie carefully lowered himself to the ground into a seated position, gently taking the slate pieces and organizing them. He examined them before starting to put them together. Jack let it happen, mostly because his attention was pulled back up to the sky. It was lit up with the most beautiful colors he had ever seen, the northern lights had finally come.

“Oh… Oh wow, oh they’re so beautiful.” Jack mumbled to himself, getting lost in the moment. Then he remembered why he was there, what he was meant to be doing.

“Oh! Oh Wes! Goodbye Wes! I’m so sorry! Goodbye Wes!” As they fade away, Jack looks back down at Crutchie, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Hello… East.”

---

Tag List: @jackie-think-about-it @race-ace @pineappapizza @revolutioninthesewers

let me know if you want to be added!

#newsies #newsies the musical #newsies writing #my writing #jack kelly #crutchie morris #jackcrutchie

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overanalyzingelswordiswhatido · 5 years ago

Text

A Terrible Babysitter Chapter 1

Summary: A strange distortion in time and space turns most of the El Search Party into children. However one of them is still his normal self somehow. The problem is Add has no experience with children and would rather be doing literally anything else other than this.

Add stared around in horrified bewilderment. The living room and dining room were filled with young children. They were maybe eight at the oldest. He pointed at each of them with his finger. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7, 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 12 of them. All looked suspiciously like the El Search Party and that woman that partnered up with them recently. A weak laugh escaped his lips.

“Add!” Ara noticed him first and tripped over herself in her haste to reach him. She face-planted into the ground. Her eyes watered but she got to her feet and wiped the tears away.

“Ara! Are you okay?” Chung asked worriedly, “You fell over.” He half turned to face her. A partially folded piece of paper sat on the table in front of him.

“I’m fine,” Ara stated determinedly. She hurried up to Add and pulled on one of his belt tails.

Add watched her, silently, still trying to wrap his head around what in the hell happened.

“Look what I made!” Ara excitedly held up a piece of paper that was folded into some sort of shape.

“What is that supposed to be?”

“It’s a paper crane!” Ara wailed. She burst into tears seemingly out of nowhere.

Add jumped and stared at her, dumbfounded. “Wait-no-that’s not-! Stop!”

Ara continued crying like she hadn’t heard him.

“Be quiet!” Add snapped irritably. How was he supposed to explain if she couldn’t hear him over her wailing?

“You’re making Ara cry!” Aisha yelled accusingly.

Add shot her a glare, forgetting for a moment that she was a child now. He flinched when the magician stepped back, a look of fear crossing her face.

Ara bit her lip. She quieted to whimpering, tears still flowing from her eyes. If anything she looked more upset, despite the lack of screams.

Add hesitated, feeling bad for snapping at her. He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. I swear. It was best for everyone involved if he found a way to undo this as soon as possible. Children were so irritatingly fragile. There was no way he could avoid hurting them somehow. After gaining some composure, he explained as gently as he could, “I didn’t say it was bad. I’ve just never seen a crane before.”

Ara sniffled and wiped away some of her tears, “So-So it’s good?”

Add didn’t feel like making her cry again so he nodded, despite the fact that he had no idea what a good paper crane would even look like.

“I’m going outside!” Lu announced. She hopped down from where she’d been jumping on the couch and strutted to the door.

“Wait for me!” Ciel slid off the couch and hurried after her.

“Then hurry up, silly,” Lu stopped and turned back to Ciel. Once he caught up with her she continued.

“No!” Add yelled. There was no way to fix this if they weren’t all in the same place. They had to stay inside. He hopped on Dynamo and zipped across the room, dropping down between Lu and the door, “You’re not going anywhere.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Lu argued, “I am Luciela-”

“R. Sourcream,” Add rolled his eyes, “I know.” His eyes narrowed, “You still aren’t going anywhere.”

Lu tried to slip around him, “I’m going outside!”

Add caught her arm as she went by, easily stopping her from getting any farther.

Lu screamed and started thrashing and wriggling in an attempt to get free from him.

Ciel watched with very wide eyes.

Add had to pick her up in order to keep his hold on her. “Dynamo. Put a lock on the door,” he growled in frustration. This was already the worst.

“Sis! I wanna practice with my sword!” Elsword called suddenly.

Add’s head shot up. Shit. Their weapons. Even he wasn’t so inept with children that he would let them have access to things that were clearly dangerous. He set Lu down on the couch as he walked past it. Now that there was no way for her to go outside he wasn’t particularly worried. He ignored the fit she started throwing and caught up to Elsword before the tiny redhead even reached the stairs. Add grabbed him, turned him around, and shoved him back toward the living room.

Elsword stumbled forward and glared at Add, “I almost fell over!”

“Go hang out with your sister,” Add snapped, “I thought you liked her more than swords.”

Elsword screamed incoherently.

Add gritted his teeth “You’re not fucking-” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and scanned the room for Elesis. She was comforting Lu, who was sulking on the couch. “Elesis! Come get your-” He just managed to remember they were children and cut off before calling Elsword an idiot. After another deep breath he forced himself to sound as calm as he possibly could, “Come get your brother.”

Elesis looked up at the sound of her name. She gave Lu a final pat on the head before she calmly walked over and wrapped Elsword in a hug. Elsword stopped screaming. She turned a confused look to Add, “How come he can’t practice?”

“Because he can’t!” Add turned away from them and hurried up the stairs. He carefully checked each room to make sure none of them were in it before he shut the door and made Dynamo put a coded lock on it. Once every room except his own was locked he leaned against the wall and sank to the floor. He was already exhausted? How had this even happened?

“Add!” Elesis’s voice echoed down the hall.

Add groaned and ran his hands down his face. “I swear to fucking god. What is happening now?” He got to his feet and stomped back down the hall. Before he even reached the top of the stairs he heard more screaming. He laughed mirthlessly. He wanted quiet. He wanted to think, to work on a way to undo this.

When Add reached the bottom of the stairs, wind spirits filled the living room. The room was completely trashed. Lu, Elsword, Chung, and Ara were all caught in a whirlwind that spun them around. All four were giggling.

Rena stood in the center of the whirlwind, arguing with Elesis while Raven watched. “You’re going to ruin our fun,” the young elf complained.

“You guys are going to get hurt,” Elesis argued.

“Yeah!” Aisha pointed her finger at Rena, “Add’s gonna glare at you all scary!”

“I wouldn’t let anyone get hurt,” Rena insisted confidently, “The wind spirits wouldn’t drop my friends!”

“What the-” Add cut himself off, staring at spirits that commanded the whirlwind with broad sweeping motions. He transferred the stare to Rena, “How did those spirits even get in here?”

“I don’t know. I asked them to come,” Rena shrugged.

Add laughed and hid his face in his hands. He’d thought Rena would be helpful but it appeared he’d thought wrong. The only helpful one of them was Elesis! She must’ve been a blessing for whatever parent she had, that was for sure. Finally he ordered, “Put them down.”

“But-”

“Now.”

Rena pouted but asked the wind spirits to gently set her friends back on the ground.

Ara stumbled from being dizzy. Add had Dynamo catch her before she fell, slammed her head into the coffee table, and, no doubt, started crying again. Chung, smartly, sat down where he was. Lu and Elsword continued giggling and chased each other in circles. Ciel quickly joined them. Rena continued arguing with Elesis and Aisha about whether or not the whirlwind was dangerous. Raven butted into the conversation, often on Rena’s side, every so often.

Add sat down where he was, hiding his face in his hands again. He laughed until he couldn’t breath anymore. How had this happened? Why was he the only one that was remotely functional? Why was there so much chaos? Why was everyone screaming? Why was Elesis the only responsible one? What happened to Rena? Why was she a gremlin like the rest of them? She was usually so… mom-like.

Add jumped as a hand gently patted his head. He looked up expecting Elesis but instead Eve stood in front of him, patting his head. She was just as tiny as the rest of them but her expression didn’t seem any different from usual. He sighed, “What?”

“You look tired,” Eve observed, her voice no different from usual.

Add scowled, “Thanks.”

“That look is unnecessary,” Eve insisted, sounding more than little indignant, “I was simply making an observation.”

Add blinked. That was emotional for her. Was Eve going to start screaming too? Please no.

“Where are Moby and Remy?” Eve asked.

“In your room.”

“But I can’t get into my room because of your lock.”

Add tipped his head to the side. It was a basic code. Shouldn’t she be able to get past it? Or was that something she couldn’t do in her current child-like form? Her abilities shouldn’t change just because her size did right?

“Can I go into my room?” Eve asked rather impatiently.

“No,” Add answered slowly, hesitantly.

“Why not?” Eve demanded.

“No one else can go in their room,” Add explained. Usually he would let her do whatever she wanted. But he did not want to deal with the fit the others would throw if he did. He didn’t need all the chaos directed at him. It was bad enough it was happening around him.

“Add.”

Add almost didn’t hear Chung’s hesitant voice. “What?” he turned to look at him and immediately noticed him looking a little odd.

“I think I might be sick?” Chung gave him an uncertain worried look.

Add’s eyes widened. What? “What do you mean sick? You literally haven’t left the building. How could you have caught anything?”

Chung flinched, “I’m sorry…”

Add cringed. Oops. He leaned forward and patted Chung’s head awkwardly, “I-Well-I’m not mad. Just confused.” What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to stop the others from destroying the place and look after Chung at the same time?

Add’s eyes narrowed as he realized he still had yet to yell at two of them. Where were the stupid angel and the gun woman-child…person? He sighed and got to his feet. “Elesis,” he called.

The redhead was there in an instant, ready to help, “Yeah? Is Chung okay?”

Add nodded, “He’s fine.” Or at least he will be. Hopefully. He really hoped Chung was just anxious over nothing. The kid had been spinning around in circles for however long after all. He sighed. He couldn’t believe he was actually relying on Elesis of all people. He crossed his arms over his chest, “You’re in charge until I get back. Make sure the place doesn’t become even more of a wreck. If anyone argues with you, fight them.”

Elesis nodded seriously, “I’ll do my best.”

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shebe67 · 7 years ago

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A Weekend in Paris

A/N-It has been fun giving Lucas more family than just Pappy Joe. Posting this for Father’s Day...I think it’s perfect! Sorry for the wait but I hope its worth it! If you need a link to a previous chapter let me know! Please let me know what you think and if you have enjoyed the story!

A Weekend in Paris

Chapter 11

Monday, July 24, 2023, Just outside Austin, Texas

Riley and Lucas had packed up their things and left Paris, Texas behind. Riley was sad to leave, but would always remember it. She got engaged and drunk all in the same day. She was ashamed that she went overboard on the champagne and fell asleep on Lucas. She made it up to him though, they had spent the entire day, just the two of them and there were no interruptions.

They had been on the road since just before noon, Lucas was driving and Riley was staring at her ring and couldn’t help but smile. The diamond of her ring was sparkling as the sun hit it and she kept moving her hand to watch it. Lucas saw her and asked, “I take it you like the ring?”

“It’s perfect and I love it!” she told him. “I’m never taking it off.”

“That’s kind of the plan, I want it to always be right there,” he reached for her hand and held on to it.

He was about to say something else when his phone went off with a text alert. He handed Riley his phone and she opened the message, which just so happened to be from Zay.

I don’t know how close you are to Pappy Joe’s, but you need to get here quick. Your Dad and Pappy have been arguing for a while now. Your dad told your mom to pack up the car because he was ready to go back to New York City.

Riley read the message to him and all Lucas could do was push his cowboy hat back on his head and grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

“What do I say to him, Lucas? It sounds pretty bad.” Riley was really worried about the Friar men.

Lucas thought for a minute and got an idea, “Riley, would you mind driving the rest of the way? We’re only a few miles from Austin and then a little farther to the ranch.”

“Seriously? You want me to drive Pappy Joe’s truck? I have been wanting to drive this truck ever since the first time I rode in it.” She was more than eager to drive.

Lucas found a gas station and pulled in so they could trade places. Lucas opened the driver door and got out and Riley happily scooted to the driver seat. Once Lucas was in the passenger seat and Riley had adjusted the mirrors she took off kicking up some dust behind her.

“Woah city girl, this isn't rush hour in New York City!” he said with a laugh.

She just smiled at him as she concentrated on driving.

Lucas started sending text messages and even called Cory.

“Hey, Cory, how are things between my Dad and Pappy going?” he asked. This was the only situation where it was a little weird to call Cory dad.

“It’s handled for the moment, Lucas. I talked your dad into taking me on a little walking tour of the ranch. How long until you and Riley will be here?”

“We’ll be there within the hour, just keep them apart for a little while longer, please.” Lucas had to think of a way to get through to them.

“I’m with your dad and Zay has Pappy Joe preoccupied with his Grandma Gandy. Everything's under control, Lucas.” Cory filled him in on things.

“Thanks for everything, Dad. Riley’s driving so we should be there pretty quick,” he told Cory.

“Tell my daughter to watch her lead foot and to be careful!” Cory said with a laugh.

Lucas hung up the phone and got lost in his thoughts. He tried to remember when things went so bad between his dad and grandfather. He knew they had trouble before his father got transferred to New York and that seemed to make things even worse between them.

He thinks back to the year his Grammy Emma died. That was hard on his Pappy and his dad. She was the heart and soul of the Friar family. He was 10 years old when she passed and it seems things between Joe and James Friar went downhill after that. Lucas just can’t recall why. He had been lost in his own grief and couldn't understand why God took her away.

Lucas needed to have a talk with both his father and grandfather if he had any hope of mending things between them and he would have to make sure Riley didn’t show his dad the letter Pappy Joe wrote them for their engagement. The letter would help but it wouldn't fix everything.

Lucas was brought out of his thoughts by a horn honking. He looked up and noticed they were in Austin and had gotten caught up in some slow-moving traffic, which apparently didn’t please his fiancé. She honked the horn again and started yelling at the cars ahead of them.

“Come on, ya jerks! The sign says 55 miles per hour, not 20! My grandma drives faster than you people!” Riley was clearly very irritated. She started to honk the horn again, but Lucas caught her hand just as it was about to make contact.

“Babe, it’s just a little traffic, calm down.” He said in a calm sounding voice.

“A little traffic, Lucas we’re practically at a standstill, why won’t they move? Geez, people, come on, will ya?” She shouted again.

Lucas placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, “Riley, take a deep breath and count to 10!” he yelled. “See it’s just someone with car trouble.”

Riley did as Lucas told her and when she saw the stalled car on the side of the road, she felt bad.

“I’m sorry!” she said, sounding remorseful. “We should stop and help.”

“Riley, it’s OK! Someone has already stopped and we need to get to the ranch. Who knew you were so much like your father when it came to driving!” he said with a laugh.

“He did teach me everything I know about driving, which may or may not be a good thing!” she said smiling. She continued to drive through Austin and Lucas went back to his thoughts.

It wasn’t long before they were out of the city and into the hilly countryside. Riley really wanted to talk to Lucas about his dad and Pappy but she wasn't sure what to say. They certainly were no Cory and Alan Matthews.

When she first met James Friar she was a little scared of him. He wasn’t as big and burly as Pappy Joe and his voice was nowhere near as big and booming either. He had a presence about him that all but commanded respect. He was always kind to her but she always got a little nervous when he was around.

James and Lucas had a strained relationship, and she figured it was partly due to Lucas’ actions that got him expelled from school in Texas. She has come to learn over the years that the man she feared isn’t what she originally thought. He worked hard to provide for his family and was there when his job didn't keep him away.

He wasn’t very happy with Lucas’ choice of career. He wanted him to go into business or head back to Texas to help on the ranch. Once James saw his passion for veterinary medicine and understood that Lucas was a natural with animals, he became supportive of his son's dreams and the two found common ground. They had barely had an argument since Lucas turned 18. Riley was glad that her conversation with Lucas’ dad had helped the two forge a new relationship and understanding of each other. She wished it would be that easy for James and Pappy Joe.

She looked over at Lucas who was staring out the window, watching the landscape fly by. “Penny for your thoughts,” she said.

“We don’t have enough money for you to buy my thoughts right now, Riles,” he seemed so sad.

She frowned at him and when she realized that the gate to the ranch was just up ahead she grabbed his hand and said, “we’re here.”

Lucas tightened the grip he had on her hand and asked her to stop the truck once she turned into the drive.

She did as he asked. “Why did we stop, Lucas? It’s not going to make the situation go away.”

Lucas scooted across the seat of the truck until he was next to her. he gathered her in his arms and kissed her as if his life depended on it. When he broke the kiss, he let her go and scooted back towards the passenger door. He took her hand in his again and looked her in the eye, “I promise you and our future children that I will never fight with them the way I have with my father and him with his. I want to be like your dad, a little overprotective and I want them to know that their father will love and support them always.”

“I know that’s the kind of father you’ll be, our children will be lucky to have you for their dad,” she said. She knew he would never put their kids thru the things he had experienced.

“I’m ready, you can start the truck and head for the house,” he said.

Riley started the truck and put it in gear. She probably drove down that driveway slower than she has ever driven in her life.

Monday, July 24, 2023, Pappy Joe’s Ranch

When they pulled up to the house, Riley gave Lucas’ hand a squeeze of reassurance. As they got to the front door of the house they were greeted by every member of Lucas’ immediate family and her parents. His Aunt Jessie and Uncle Jack were the first to offer their congratulations. Aunt Jessie picked up Riley’s left hand in hers and looked at her mother’s ring on Riley’s hand, “That ring was made for your hand, Riley, I had forgotten how beautiful it was. I’m glad Lucas gave it to you, something that beautiful should be worn for everyone to see.”

“Thank you, Aunt Jessie, that means a lot to me,” Riley said.

“Not to force you into anything, but when it comes time for dress shopping, I have a couple of family heirlooms, you might like to see,” Jessie told them.

Lucas looked at Riley and smiled, “this is all your territory. I don’t think I’d look too good in a dress.”

Riley playfully smacked his arm, “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Aunt Jessie excused herself to go check on her boys, Justus and Joey, just knowing they were off causing trouble somewhere.

Next to greet them was Ellie and her handsome cowboy, Sam. Ellie couldn’t get over Riley’s ring and started dropping hints for Sam, who appeared to be rather nervous.

Lucas scanned the room for any sign of his dad or grandfather and didn’t see either man in the house. He found Cory first and asked him, “where is my dad, Cory? I need to have a few words with him in private.”

Cory pointed Lucas in the direction of the pond. He caught sight of his father once he neared the edge of the pond. When his dad heard him approach, he turned and looked at him, but didn’t say anything. Lucas walked over and stood next to his father and the two of them looked out over the water for a bit.

Lucas knew he would have to speak first. James Friar was a stubborn man, nowhere near as stubborn as his own father, but Lucas knew he wasn’t going to break the silence. “You want to talk about it, Dad?”

“Not really, son. Where’s Riley? I’d really like to see her before I leave. I can’t stay here with him, I’m sorry, Lucas,” he sounded like his mind was made up.

“Why not, Dad? He’s your father, how would you feel if it was me running out on you? You and I had our problems, granted nothing like you and Pappy, but I never walked away from a conversation with you, you’re the one that taught me that,” he was gonna have to make his dad feel bad.

“I wouldn’t like it all, but you and I always managed to talk through things, Luke. Your Pappy is a stubborn man and when we start talking it always ends in an argument and that scares me with his age and health. It’s easier to walk away.” His dad just turned and looked back out over the water.

“What do you mean? I’m 23, you’re 43 and Pappy Joe is 70. Granted he’s no spring chicken, but he doesn’t have a foot in his grave yet. He’s healthy as a horse!” Lucas wasn’t going to let it go, “Please stick around for one more day, for me?”

James knew how much this meant to Lucas and couldn’t let his son down. He turned and faced Lucas, he looked into those green eyes that matched his own, eyes that he and his sister had inherited from their mother. I will stay one more day and I’ll stay for the party Luke,” he placed a hand on Lucas’ shoulder, “we better head back to the house, your momma, Topanga, and Ellie have been cooking all day.”

“Wait, you weren’t really going to leave, were you?” Lucas asked.

“I was going to go to Jessie and Jack’s today and head back home with your momma tomorrow, but she has been planning this little shindig since you told us you were proposing to Riley,” James smiled at his son.

“Thanks, dad,” Lucas hugged him.

“Do me a favor son, never put your wife and kids thru this. Never go to bed angry at your child, don’t let things fester and get to the point things are with me and Pappy, please?” his father was almost begging him.

“I can promise you I won’t do that, I already told Riley it would never happen,” his dad smiled as he told him.

Lucas walked back to the house with his father, just in time to hear his grandfather enter the room and say, “Where are they?”

Riley walked over to Lucas and grabbed his hand and pulled him toward, Pappy Joe, “right here, Pappy Joe!”

Pappy Joe put an arm around each of them and pulled them close for a hug, “I’m so happy for the two of you, I’m finally getting my granddaughter! Let me see that ring on your finger, girl!” Pappy Joe held Riley’s small hand in his and pulled his eye glasses out of his pocket and put them on. Pappy Joe had a tear in his eye when he saw the ring.

“What’s wrong, Pappy Joe, does it not look right on my hand? Lucas told me it was his Grammy’s,” Riley’s voice was full of concern.

Pappy Joe looked her in the eye, “this ring looks like it was made for your hand, beautiful! Emma would be tickled to death to see it on your finger.” Pappy turned and walked away from them.

“He’s okay, Riley, I think he just needs a minute, I’ll go check on him,” Lucas told her.

Lucas headed down the hall to his grandfather’s room, he knocked but got no answer. The door was open a bit and Lucas pushed it open.

Pappy Joe heard the door and assumed it was Jimmy (James) coming to look for him. He just continued to stare out the window, with his back to the door.

“Jimmy, please just go, I don’t want to argue with you anymore, it's exhausting! I just want to enjoy celebrating Lucas and Riley’s engagement. Please just go away, boy!” he just didn't have it in him to go another round.

Lucas could hear the weariness in his grandfather’s voice, the old man was tired.

“Why don’t you put an end to it then, he doesn’t like it anymore than you do, Pappy,” Lucas told him.

Joe turned when he heard Lucas’ voice, “Lucas, I’m sorry, I just assumed it was Jimmy. How was your trip with Riley, did she like Paris? Was she surprised.” He wanted to change the subject.

“The trip was good and yes, she loved Paris and was very surprised. Zay has it all in a video for everyone to see. I assume momma and Topanga will make sure everyone gets to see it.”

“That was awful nice of Zay and his girl, what’s her name? I forget, awful sweet girl, though. We best get back out there, it'll be time to eat soon. The ladies have been running ‘round here all day. Bet there’s some good eatin’ to be had.” Joe said

“Sarah, her name is Sarah and she is very sweet. I’m sure mom and Topanga will have an excellent dinner, but I don’t want to talk about that now. I want to talk about you and my dad, what’s going on Pappy Joe?” Lucas wanted to get to the bottom of things.

“We just had some words is all. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“But I am worried, Pappy,” Lucas had his grandfather’s complete attention once he said those words. “The letter you gave us, said that you were proud of him and his choices, the things you said about him and Mom and Granddaddy Bradford, they were beautiful.” Lucas chose his next words carefully, “When I got expelled and dad got the transfer to New York, you told him the best place for me was the ranch. You were happy that proved to be wrong, you said he was right about a change of scenery. You’ve always said New York was the best thing to happen to me. Do you not feel that way?” Lucas knew he was asking a lot of questions, he wanted to figure things out?

“Every word I said in that letter was the truth. I’m proud of you and I’m proud of Jimmy. I don’t think Jimmy wants anything I have to offer him. He’s been in the city 10 years now and I don’t think he’s ever gonna come back home.” Pappy Joe finally said what was on his mind and heart.

“Pappy, have you asked dad if he and mom ever plan to come back to Texas?” Lucas knew this grandfather’s answer before he even asked.

“No, it’s not my place. Jimmy has always made his mind up about things, regardless of what I think. He’s a lot like his momma,” Pappy Joe turned away from Lucas and looked back out the window. “This ranch isn’t any place for someone with your daddy’s head for business. I’m just an old fool.”

“You miss him, there is nothing wrong with admitting that. Dad would love to hear those words from you! The two of you are so stubborn that you talk about everything but what you feel and all that does is end in the two of you arguing. He wants your approval and you refuse to tell him that he has it!” Lucas finally understood what the problem was. His father and Pappy were about to learn a lesson he learned a long time ago from some guy that wanted to be a Sherpa.

While Lucas had taken off after his grandfather, Riley pulled her own father aside and asked him what he thought about the situation with James and Pappy.

“Honey, this is something that the two of them have to work out between them. Issues between a parent and child are touchy,” Cory told her.

“What if I had some information that could potentially end the arguing and get them past their issues, should I share that information, Daddy?” Riley asked.

“Have you spoken to Lucas about this, sweetie?” Cory asked her.

“Yes, I have. He told me not to share it,” she admitted.

“Riley, you need to honor Lucas’ wishes on this, he must have his reasons. You may not be able to fix this, honey.” Cory was sympathetic to what Riley wanted to do, but she needed to do what Lucas asked of her.

“You’re siding with Lucas?” she was a bit surprised at that, her father always backed her.

“Riley, he has his reasons, respect them,” Cory was pleading.

“I have my reasons too, Dad,” with that she kissed her father on the cheek and went in search of her future father in law. She didn’t have to look too far, he was in the kitchen trying to sneak a bite of some pulled pork that had been made for dinner.

“Hey, James, sorry I mean dad. Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked with a smile.

“Anything for my future daughter in law!” he smiled and offered Riley his arm and led her out to the back deck. “What did you want to talk about, Riley?”

“You and Pappy Joe,” she said.

“Riley, I don’t think that is any of your business,” he told her.

“Why? Because I’m not a Friar?" she knew that question was out of line, "I'm sorry that was uncalled for."

"You are a Friar, have been for years now. What I was going to say is that I don't think this concerns you, it's between me and my father," James explained.

"But it does concern me because it concerns Lucas. Your constant arguing with Pappy Joe is wearing on him. It needs to stop before it tears all three of you apart. Lucas is in the middle and that isn't some place he needs to be," Riley told him.

James thought about what Riley just told him, he didn't want this to affect Lucas. His father would feel the same way. If there was one thing James and Pappy Joe agreed on it was Lucas.

"Say whatever it is you need to say, Riley, I'm listening," he would hear her out.

“It’s not so much what I have to say, I want to show you something.” She said as she pulled a piece of folded up paper from her pocket. She held it out towards James.

“What’s this?” he asked as he took it from her hand. He didn’t unfold it right away.

“That is something Pappy Joe wrote, I just copied it word for word, you need to read it.” she really hoped he would.

“What do you mean, Pappy Joe’s words?” he was curious what she was talking about.

“Do you remember the envelope you and Kelly gave us the other night, the one from Pappy Joe? Well, it was a letter for me and Lucas. He told us what he knew about marriage, it was beautiful.” she explained.

“Riley, those words were meant for you and Lucas, what does this have to do with me? James asked, even more, curious about the piece of paper.

“Pappy Joe wrote about you and Kelly. I think he said things about you in this letter that you need to know. Maybe they aren’t things he can voice. I hope you read it. I love Lucas and I love you and Pappy Joe, you Friar men are pretty special.” she gave him one of those trademark Riley smiles, kissed his cheek and walked back in the house.

He watched her walk away and thought how lucky his son was to have someone like her to spend the rest of his life with. He turned the piece of paper in his hand and finally decided to unfold it. He took a deep breath and read the words his father wrote about him.

Lucas, your parents have been together since they were 14 years old. I’ll never forget the day Jimmy came home all starry eyed over your momma. He came out to the barn to tell me all about the new girl in school. Kelly Bradford made quite an impression on your dad. She was all he talked about for the next 6 months. I remember he asked her dad for permission to take her on a date. Jimmy was so heart-broken when your Granddaddy told him that he didn’t want Kelly dating until she was 16. Most teenage boys would have given up, but not my Jimmy. The two of them spent as much time together as Marcus Bradford would allow. The very day Kelly turned 16, Jimmy asked Marcus for his permission again and this time he got it. She said yes and the rest is history. They had spent two years getting to know each other and they fell quickly. Your dad was always respectful of your grandfather’s wishes where your momma was concerned. About a month after they graduated from high school, he asked for her hand. Old Marcus Bradford, couldn’t deny that they belonged together. They got married when they were 19 and a couple years later you came along. I’m proud that you have had their example.

I’m proud of the example Jimmy’s been as a father too. He had a tough decision to make when you got expelled and that caused the two of you to have some rough years. I wasn’t happy with it at the time, I knew I would miss you and thought the best place for you was here on this ranch. I’m glad to admit I was wrong. Moving to New York City was the best thing to happen to you, in more ways than one. I owe your dad an apology for my behavior ever since. I know the only thing that boy wants is his father’s approval but he’s always had it and I just don’t know how to tell him what he needs to hear. You wouldn’t have ever met Riley if he hadn’t insisted you needed a change. You’ve made good friends and you’ve made good choices for your life and I couldn’t be prouder of you, boy.

Riley walked back in the kitchen and noticed it was empty, she was going to offer her help to her mother and Kelly. She heard laughing and talking coming from the living room. Everyone was there, with the addition of two people she had met briefly during her high school graduation, Lucas’ Granddaddy and Memaw Bradford, Marcus, and Lily.

Granddaddy wasted no time, he walked right up to Riley and opened his arms for her, she walked right to him and hugged him, “Riley girl, you’ve grown up so pretty!” he said as he pulled away from her and looked at her.

“Thank you, Granddaddy, it’s so good to see you again,” Riley said.

She turned and saw Memaw waiting patiently, “You too, Memaw!” Riley turned to hug the older woman.

“Look at you, all grown up and so beautiful! I also understand you finally caught your fella here too.” Memaw took Riley’s left hand and looked at the ring, winking her eye in approval and adding, “very nice!”

She and Lucas spent a few more minutes catching up with his grandparents before Riley saw someone in the corner of the room she needed to talk to. She excused herself and walked over to the lady sitting on the end of the sofa that had been pushed to the side.

She sat down next to that person, apparently, waking them from a small nap, “Well, if it isn’t the bride to be!” Ida Mae Gandy had a big smile for her.

“I’m sorry if I startled you when I sat down, Grandma,” Riley said in apology.

“You didn’t startle me, I was just having a power nap,” she said with a laugh. “Now let me see this ring that has been described to me as an ice rink.”

Riley happily held up her left hand for Grandma Gandy to get a good look at her ring. “That’s no ice rink, it’s a very beautiful ring, I must say.”

“Thanks, Grandma. Who described it as an ice rink?” Riley asked.

“My Isaiah’s sweet little girlfriend, Sarah. I think she’s a bit jealous. They showed me the video and some of the pictures from the proposal, that sweet boy did good, didn’t he?” Grandma asked.

“Yes, Lucas did very good, it was a wonderful surprise,” Riley said with a smile.

She sat in conversation with Ida Mae for a few more minutes and excused herself when she saw Lucas’ dad walk into the living room and greet his mother and father in law. She was curious to ask if he read Pappy Joe’s words. He noticed her approach and just smiled at her and nodded. She had her answer.

Kelly Friar and Topanga Matthews walked into the room and announced that dinner was ready. They all headed out to the back yard where tables had been set up for the occasion. There was a handwritten banner that read, Congrats Riley and Lucas!

She suspected that Auggie and his two new best friends, Justus and Joey had a hand in that.

Riley and Lucas were the first to go through the food line, they both had plates heaped with food, they found a place to sit and were soon joined by Zay and Sarah and Ellie and Sam, the sexy cowboy. They talked about everything under the sun, Riley talked about the Eiffel in Paris, Texas and how fitting the cowboy hat on top of it was, Sarah talked about Zay’s grandmother and her thoughts on Texas. Ellie talked about her stint in culinary school and how she wanted to be one of those TV chefs, Sam told them that he was now a full-time employee of Pappy Joe’s and that he would start at the ranch in a few days.

As the evening wore on Riley and Lucas were both anxious about Pappy Joe and James. They hadn’t been able to discuss their separate conversations with them, but Riley had a good feeling.

Someone had set up a makeshift dance floor in the yard and had an iPod hooked up to a speaker system. Couples broke off and started dancing, even Lucas’ grandparents joined in. Riley’s favorite couple on the dance floor had to be Pappy Joe and Grandma Gandy. They were dancing to an old slow song and enjoying each other's company.

Lucas and Zay decided to grab their girls and take a walk down by the pond. Sarah couldn’t believe the stars, “Wow! It’s so beautiful, I’ve never seen the stars like this.”

“All the lights in the city keep us from being able to see them,” Riley told her.

They stood there until Lucas's phone rang in his pocket.

It was Topanga calling him, he answered, “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

“Where are you?” Topanga asked.

“We’re down at the pond with Zay and Sarah, what’s up?” He told her.

“You need to get up to the house now, your Dad and Pappy Joe are at it again and Cory and Sam are trying to keep them apart. Jessie’s involved and you just need to get here, now.” She hung up.

“We have to get to the house, now, Dad and Pappy again.” He grabbed Riley’s hand and made a beeline for the house.

Riley couldn’t believe what she was seeing, her dad was holding James back and Sam was holding Pappy Joe back.

“Old man, you don’t care about me, I have never been able to do anything that has made you happy!” James shouted.

“Now’s not the time for this conversation, Jimmy!” Pappy Joe shouted back.

Lucas ran to stand between them, thanking Cory and Sam for their help, “Would the two of you please stop! This is supposed to be a party, everyone we know and love is here. I thought the two of you could let this go for one night to celebrate with me and Riley, but you can’t!”

James looked at the ground feeling humiliated and angry with himself for starting another argument with his father.

“I’m sorry Luke, it was my fault. I just need to know if he meant these words,” James explained holding up the folded piece of paper Riley had given him.

“What’s that Dad?” Lucas asked him.

“It’s something Riley gave me.” His dad answered.

Lucas looks at Riley and she looked away, he knew what it was.

“Riles, babe what did you do?” He asked, but he knew.

“I showed him what Pappy Joe wrote, I had to, your Dad needed to see it,” Riley explained.

“I asked you not to do that Riley, why?” Lucas asked her.

“I know you did, but you know me and you know I have to fix things, I did it for you Lucas and your Dad and Pappy Joe. I love you and I know what the two of them arguing is doing to you, what it must do to the two of them,” she explained to him.

Everyone was silent. Cory spoke to the crowd, “I think we need to let the four of them talk this out in private.” The crowd started to go back in the house, “Riley, you got this?”

“I got this, Daddy. Thank you,” she kissed her father on the cheek and he headed inside.

“Riley, what did you do?” Pappy Joe asked her.

“Well, since you and your son won’t sit down and have an actual conversation, I showed him what you said about him in the letter you gave me and Lucas.” she was looking him straight in the eyes.

“Why would you do that?” He just couldn't understand.

“Because, you and James need to sit down and have a real conversation, not yell at each other and try to talk over the other person, Lucas and I learned a valuable lesson a long time ago,” she said.

“The most meaningful part of any relationship is conversation,” Lucas said. “That was advice given to Riley and I before we officially became boyfriend and girlfriend. My favorite thing in this world is when she talks to me and I think it always will be.”

Riley walked over to Lucas and grabbed his hand, “I think that’s one of the reasons we get along so well, we talk about everything. There are times, I don’t have to talk to him, we just know what the other is thinking or feeling about something.”

Pappy Joe had sat down on a nearby bench and Riley went and sat next to him, “ Pappy Joe, I’m sorry I shared part of that beautiful letter you wrote us, but James needed to know how you felt. I only did it because…”

“She loves us Dad, at least that’s what she told me when she gave me this piece of paper,” James chimed in. “We’re very lucky that she’s going to be a Friar.”

“Well, that’s something I agree with you about, Jimmy,” Pappy Joe said, smiling up at Riley.

Lucas sat next to Riley while his Dad sat next to Pappy Joe, “Can I ask you about this again, Dad?” James asked holding that folded up piece of paper where Joe could see it.

“You don’t have to ask Jimmy, I meant everything I said in that letter. I’m proud of you and the life you made for yourself, you have a wonderful family.” Pappy Joe said, he was having a hard time looking his son in the eye. “I owe you an apology, I was wrong about your move to New York, it was the right thing for you to do, it’s exactly what Lucas needed, I’m sorry, son.”

James stood up and offered a hand to his father, “I accept that apology, I love you, Dad and I hate that I’ve acted like a child seeking his father’s approval for his life choices. I’m sorry, too.”

Pappy Joe refused James’ hand, instead, he stood up, looked his son in the eye and said, “I don’t say this near enough to any of you, I love you Jimmy and you have nothing to apologize for,” Joe opened his arms and hugged his son.

James couldn’t believe his father had said those words to him, he hadn’t heard them a lot in his life. He returned his father’s hug.

Lucas and Riley were sitting there watching father and son reconnect with tears in their eyes. It dawned on Lucas that there was something his Pappy needed to ask his Dad. He stood up and walked over to them and cleared his throat trying to get their attention. James pulled away from Joe just enough to pull Lucas in and include him in their hug, Lucas just laughed.

Once the three Friar men ended their hug, Lucas got serious and looked at his Pappy and said, “Isn’t there something you wanted to ask Dad, Pappy?”

Joe was a little surprised Lucas would bring that up now and the look on his face must have said as much.

“Don’t stop talking now, the lines of communication are open, ask him or tell him what you’re feeling.” Lucas wanted it all out in the open.

“What’s Luke talking about Dad?” James asked.

“I have something I want to ask, but don’t know what Y'all will think.” Pappy Joe was a bit nervous.

“Just do it, Dad,” James said.

“Pappy, get it all out in the open, please.” Lucas encouraged.

“OK,” Pappy Joe said. “Jimmy, I was wondering if you and Kelly had ever thought about or discussed moving back to Texas?”

Pappy Joe’s question caught James completely by surprise, “Well, I mean, I don’t know, we had talked about it a few times, but nothing has been set in stone.”

“It’s been 10 years since you left and I was just wondered if you had any plans to come home?” Pappy asked. “Do you miss the ranch at all?”

“Dad, of course, I miss the ranch, I miss everything about it. Our jobs and home are in New York though, so is Luke.” James answered.

“Lucas is a grown man about to be a married man with a wife, he won’t need his momma and daddy around so much. Kelly can teach school anywhere, and I need a good man with a head for business on the ranch, someone to take care of this legacy I’ve built. That someone should be a Friar.” Joe had tears in his eyes.

“I just figured with Jessie and Jack here, they’d be taking over the day to day operations, Dad.”

“Their moving off the ranch. They bought a small spread a couple miles from here and will be moving out of the house their in soon. It’ll be empty.” Joe was trying to sweeten the deal.

“Wait, how come this is the first I’m hearing about it?” James asked.

“I didn’t think it would be something you’d consider. Look, I’m gonna tell you like it is, Jimmy, I miss you and I know Marcus and Lily miss Kelly, none of us are getting any younger. I think it's about time you came home. You only left because Lucas needed a change and that was 10 years ago. The boy turned out well, don’t you think? This ranch was your dream once, it can still be that,” Joe was being as sincere as he could be and meant every word.

“You miss me?” James asked, smiling.

“Yes, I miss you, you’re my boy and I miss seeing you every day, maybe that's where all our troubles were coming from, I don’t know,” Joe admitted.

James, with tears in his eyes, said, “I can’t make any promises Dad, but Kelly and I will seriously consider it, I miss you, too. She misses her folks and Lucas doesn’t have near as much time for us as he used to.”

“Dad, I’m right here, I try to see you and mom as often. as I can. But you guys need to do what’s right for the two of you, right now my life is very much in New York City, with Riley.” Lucas would miss them if they left, but he wanted them to be happy.

“We’d miss you too, Luke,” his father told him.

“Um, excuse me, hi, remember me, Riley.” she had been standing there watching the whole conversation, feeling forgotten. It made her all warm inside to see these men that she loved getting along and happy.

Lucas walked over to her and took her hand and pulled her with him, “We could never forget about you, babe.”

“Riley, it was once said that Lucas’ Grammy Emma was the glue that held this family together, I think that maybe when we lost her, me and Pappy Joe lost our way. You and Lucas helped us find a new way tonight, thank you both.” James was smiling as he said that.

Pappy Joe had to agree with James, “I know the two of you sure did teach this old dog a new trick or two. Thank you, Lucas and Riley, Lucas isn’t the only lucky Friar man here tonight, I think it's safe to say that all three of us are gonna be blessed with you as the next Mrs. Friar.”

#a weekend in paris #rucas #sheila's fics #rucas fan fics

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victorluvsalice · 7 years ago

Text

AU Thursday: Holistic Coffee Shop -- Modern Prometheus

Okay, so two weeks ago, I showed you the scene I came up with for Victor using his power of “life transfer” for the very first time. Now, that scene involved a stabbing, courtesy of Barkis Bittern, but this one happens to be even darker!

Mostly because it takes place inside Blackwing. And someone dies. Someone who really goddamn deserves it, to be sure, but still. Your warning for the day!

Backstory: After the above scene, upon getting Emily to safety, Victor eventually goes back and gives himself up to the CIA so they’ll leave his other friends alone. Barkis happily takes him in, and Victor is put into Blackwing custody. Amidst the experiments performed on him, he learns that Alice’s sister Lizzie is too a guest of Blackwing -- she’s a ghost now, trapped inside a containment field for study. The two become friendly, as her cell isn’t far from his, and start making escape plans.

Meanwhile, Alice is furious that Blackwing has her boyfriend and tells the others they have to rescue him. Everyone is for this, and they even bring in this universe’s Bart and Ken to help. Plans are made, discarded, and made again, and eventually the group heads off to find themselves a secret CIA facility.

The escape attempt and the rescue attempt end up colliding, and for a bit all goes well. Victor and Lizzie take out the power and release the child subjects Blackwing was testing on, while the Rowdy 3 run into those same kids later and Martin has Gripps, Cross, and Vogel get them out of there safely. Victor and Lizzie meet up with the remaining members, and all prepare to flee --

And then Angus Bumby shows up with an armed guard, a portable containment field for Lizzie, and a hard whack across the shoulders for Victor. A short standoff ensues, with Bumby THINKING he has the upper hand. . .

"Now, I'm sure I can arrange somewhat more comfortable quarters if you all come quietly." Bumby smiled at Alice. "Particularly you, Miss Liddell. Perhaps something near my room?"

Even through watery, pain-filled eyes, Victor could see the hate smoldering on Alice's face. "You expect me to comply with my family's murderer?"

Bumby shook his head. "Alice, even if you were to escape – who would believe you? You're a coffee girl with a history of mental illness. Specifically, of psychosis and hallucination. We know it's a bit more than that – much more than that, in fact – but to the outside world, if you started going on about Angus Bumby, who disappeared twelve years ago. . .well. Rutledge never refuses a patient."

"It's more than just me!"

Bumby's eyes raked over the rest of the rescue crew. "Ah, yes. A 'holistic detective,' another girl locally known as mentally ill, her dropout brother with a history of untruth, a computer hacker, an unkempt 'assassin,' and a common thug. I'm sure everyone will find them credible witnesses." He smirked. "I have friends in much higher places than you do, Alice. And I've been doing this a lot longer." He nodded to the men with guns surrounding them. "Please – let's do this the easy way? Your sister chose the hard way, and you see how well that worked out for her."

Lizzie tried to lunge at him, but the man next to Bumby twisted something on his device, and the containment field constricted with a crackle, forcing her to her knees. Victor looked at her, then back up at Bumby. He's going to win, he realized with a sick sinking feeling. He's actually going to win. Martin's going to start swinging at any moment, and he'll probably take out a couple of them, but even he can't survive being riddled with bullets. Same with Bart – she'll get a few, and then she'll be dead, and probably Ken too since he'll try to help – and the others will be taken in and Dirk won't have the universe to help him anymore and Amanda will be just another experiment and Todd will probably be 'recruited' and have to help them torture his own sister and Alice – no no no I have to do something I have to stop him – but I don't know how to fire a gun and they'll probably just shoot me if I get up and even if I end up a ghost like Lizzie I won't be any good to anyone I won't even be able to heal anymore –

And, for some reason, he suddenly found himself thinking of Emily and the oak tree.

He blinked, unsure why that memory had popped into his head. Emily was nowhere to be seen this time, thank God, and he wasn't near any trees. . .maybe he was just worried he was never going to see a tree again? No, that can't be it. Dirk says everything is connected – how does that memory connect to what's happening now? He shut his eyes and let it replay. Emily's tortured gasping, the blood under his hands, terror frazzling his nerves, the crunch of the leaves in his fingers – then that incredibly pleasant, warm electricity zipping through his body – and then the dead leaves crumbling to the ground, and Emily sitting up, the color returning to her cheeks, wiping away the blood to reveal the wound was gone – he'd saved her, at the cost of practically killing the tree –

His eyes snapped open. His power – how had the scientists put it? He rebalanced the distribution of life energy – helped and harmed in equal measure. And he'd saved someone from a fatal wound. . .maybe he could – it was a mad idea, but they were always encouraging him to push his powers farther. . .

He reached out and took Lizzie's hand, ignoring the faint sting from the containment field. She looked down at it in confusion. "Trust me," he whispered, then looked up at Bumby. "Sir – I just had a thought."

"What is it, Prometheus?" Bumby said, not even glancing down.

"It's about that, actually. My project name. You said it was from the Greek myth, but there's actually another place someone might have heard it from."

"Oh?"

"Frankenstein. I had to read it for an English class. The subtitle is The Modern Prometheus."

Bumby finally deigned to look at him. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"It's a book about raising the dead, more or less." He gritted his teeth. "Let's try an experiment."

His hand snapped out and closed around Bumby's wrist before anyone could react – and then suddenly his body was overflowing with energy, pulsing through him like a live wire, scorching his nerves with something that wasn't quite pain as he rebalanced the books of life – he could hear Bumby screaming, feel the man trying to pull free; his fingers tightened, sucking with lethal intent – Lizzie yelped, and he squeezed her hand, now comforting, now giving – and then there was gunfire and a familiar howling scream from Martin and a whistling snickersnack and an uncoordinated "Hiiii-yah!" followed by what sounded like someone's foot meeting someone else's groin and he wanted to worry about it but he couldn't right now because he couldn't really think beyond the flow of pure unadulterated life roaring through him, pouring through veins and arteries as it sought a new home, touching him along the way with the merest whisper of the sublime – everything was connected, and right now he was that connection –

And then, with a loud thud!, it was over. Victor released both Lizzie and Bumby, needing his hands to brace himself as he came, shaking and wheezing, off the high of being the conduit for the most powerful force in the universe. He managed, after a moment, to focus on the scene around him. Bumby was lying dead on his left, face twisted in a rictus of shock. The containment man was also dead, blood dripping from multiple gunshot wounds, his device sparking. The rest of the Blackwing soldiers didn't look much better – even those that he could see were still alive weren't getting up anytime soon. His friends were still standing, blood staining faces and hands and clothes but apparently uninjured – and all staring at him like they'd never seen him before. And to his right –

was Lizzie, gaping at him, her body no longer a mass of blue electric light but wonderfully, warmly solid. Victor managed to give her a smile as he struggled to catch his breath. "Oh good. I was hoping. . ."

The world inconveniently started spinning then, the walls and floor switching places like he was stuck on a Tilt-A-Whirl. He pressed down hard on the tiles, trying to steady himself, but all that did was make the ceiling start twisting in a different direction. He raised a weak hand to his head. "I – I think I overdid it a little," he confessed in the vague direction of Alice, tipping dangerously toward the left wall.

Then everything went black.

#coffee shop au #fanfic #tw: death #I mean it's Dr. Bumby's death but still #the image of Victor kneeling between Bumby and Lizzie #blue electricity crackling across him as the world goes to chaos is just #I like it #don't worry folks he's fine at the end #just that was a big transfer and he hasn't been treated well in Blackwing #I mean holy hell if you saw that one clip from Max #worst place ever :(#but everybody's going to be okay don't worry #despite everything this is a positive AU #another one to reblog while you're big banging away Hel :)#queued

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arcanakrp-blog · 7 years ago

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SONG MIJOO – THE EMPRESS. AGENT 03.

[ FILE TYPE: CLASSIFIED ]

//: LOADING PROFILE: SONG MIJOO …

international age: 24 birthplace: seoul, south korea arcana: the empress team number: 1

//: LOADING MUTATION: WEAPONS PROFICIENCY …

application one: enhanced marksmanship — perhaps her personal favorite ability, this gives mijoo terrifyingly heightened accuracy with any projectile. she can quickly calculate where to aim based on environmental factors, how fast the target is moving, how far the target actually is, what the weight and speed of her weapon is, among other factors that may come into play. she, of course, still has to physically aim the weapon or projectile in that correctly calculated place, but with focus and the enhanced nature of the ability, it’s often not incredibly difficult to do so.

application two: weapon calling — this gives mijoo the ability to call weapons to her using nothing but her mind. the longer she has “bonded” with a weapon, the stronger the ability is. for example, she can call an enemy’s weapon out of their hand, pocket, wherever as long as it’s within her current vision. but if it’s her own weapon, one that she’s worn in, so to speak, she can call it without having visual of it as long as it’s relatively nearby (the stronger the bond, the farther it can be). though, of course, her weapons fly towards her in a normal throwing speed, so it’s more useful for her weapons to be closer to her when calling them, rather than being half a mile away.

application three: adoptive muscle memory (weaponry) — this gives mijoo the ability to watch and, literally, learn. she can not know what a weapon is even called, but if she watches someone else use it to its full ability, she’ll be able to mimic that usage down to the little intricacies. this is, however, also limited in that she can only learn what she sees. so if, for example, she only sees someone shoot a machine gun, she won’t learn how to reload it.

overall strengths and weaknesses:

— with regards to her enhanced marksmanship, while her calculations are precisely accurate and her aim perfectly in place, it’s still just that – a calculation. she can account for wind speed and target movement all she wants, but if something unaccounted for obstructs the path of her projectile in the split second between her launching the weapon and the target, there’s nothing she can do to prevent that. but when it works just right, it’s very satisfying and she enjoys trickshotting, such as reflecting a shot off walls or other surfaces, to show off a bit.

similarly, she enjoys using weapon calling in more abstract ways, treating knives like boomerangs to cut targets on the way back to her. or making flashy entrances by throwing guns at the target then calling them back just before they hit their face, catching them mid-air before aiming the barrel right at the target, a smile smug on her face. and okay, maybe that’s not entirely practical, but she enjoys doing it. at least, when it works out right.

just like with her enhanced marksmanship, her weapon calling can be obstructed relatively easily. her weapons travel back to her at normal throwing speeds, so if a target or anyone in the vicinity has good reaction speed, they can easily catch a weapon that she’s thrown or is on the way back to her. even more, weapon calling doesn’t give her superhuman strength of any form, so if she tries to call a large, heavy iron sledgehammer? it will still fly over to her no problem, but actually being able to carry and wield the thing is another question entirely.

and just the same applies to her adoptive muscle memory – she may be able to watch someone swing around that same heavy sledgehammer and learn how to do so, but that doesn’t mean she can actually hold the thing and carry out the learned actions. and if she runs out of arrows? bullets? well, she’s out of luck there because she has no ability to summon ammo out of thin air. but still, she can make a weapon out of anything if she tries hard enough.

//: LOADING HISTORY ..

PRE-MUTATION

if life is a game, song mijoo was born a chess pawn.

in reality, she was a product of too much alcohol and a night full of mistakes. the first mistake being her mom deciding to leave her fiancé’s apartment in a fit of rage. the second, spending her night at a nightclub nursing a bottle of… vodka, was it? she could never remember. the third, going home with some guy that couldn’t keep his hands off her all night. the fourth and perhaps the most important, not using protection.

nine months and one lie to her fiancé later, song mijoo was born and her mother didn’t want her or the man she was supposed to marry. so she ran away. much later in life, mijoo’s father tells her that’s what her mom was best at anyway. running away. it was only a matter of when.

her father, on the other hand, was a man of many talents. but staying still was not one of them, either. no, his talents were of the deceptive kind. he was an actor. well, aspiring, struggling, and never called back after all his lackluster auditions, but an actor nonetheless. maybe he wasn’t meant for the stage, for cameras and scripted lines on stacks of paper, but on the streets? that was where he shined, able to muster trustworthy grins or sinister smirks, able to speak in busan satoori or english with no korean accent heavy on foreign words. he needed to make money somehow what with his minimum wage job at the movie theater useless and his botched auditions getting him nowhere. and so he was a conman, a thief, and mijoo was the perfect pawn to aid him.

ii.

a struggling, single father with a beautiful baby daughter just trying to get by. it was the perfect cover story for short scams or distractions, because for one who wouldn’t give him pity? and second, it wasn’t exactly a lie.

her father was well versed in half-truths, just one of the many skills of the trade that mijoo inevitably picked up herself.

she learned a lot of things from her father this way. how to cry on cue, or frown, or smile; how to slip her hand into someone’s pocket unnoticed, or shake someone’s hand and slide their watch off, or pick a basic lock with nothing but the bobby pin in her hair. she learned how to respond to ara, nayeon, mina, yoojoo, and a plethora of other names as if they were her own, sometimes wondering if one of those names was her mother’s. her father never would tell her.

they lived in various apartments littered across seoul, moving often just to stay safe. she transferred often and never made any friends, but she attended school like any other girl her age. and instead of hagwons or other after school activities, she helped her dad grocery shop at food markets, a distraction with a cute smile to warm the hearts of the grandmas manning the stands, or when she grew older, a charmer who could convince them to give her freebies, heavy discounts. she trolled tourist and heavily populated streets, itaewon, insadong, myeongdong, hongdae, and came home with a backpack full of cash, watches, jewelry to pawn. her grades were nothing to write home about as a result, but that didn’t matter anyway. university, a career, living an honest life was never in her forecast when her father only taught her time and time again that there was always a shortcut to get what you want.

iii.

one of the most important lessons her father taught her, however, was that of betrayal.

at eighteen when she picked the wrong pocket and landed herself in handcuffs, her father never came when they called. and when she was released with nothing more than a warning because the victim had taken a sudden liking to her, he was no where to be found. not at their new apartment, not at their old one, not at his legal job, anywhere. much later, far removed from the incident, she assumed it was for his own safety. a single father with a minimum wage job, a thief of a daughter, and an apartment well above their means was sure to raise some flags, after all. but in the moment, all mijoo saw was red.

she learned long ago when he taught her how to make a smile seem genuine to always be wary of people. but she learned a lot more that day: to never trust anyone under any circumstances, how to hold a grudge, and that her mother wasn’t the only one good at running away.

iv.

she made do with that she had, got rid of her dad’s worthless possessions and pawned the rest. she stayed in seoul because it was all she ever knew, landed a job at the café below her apartment through charm alone, and spent her nights the only way she knew how: quiet giggles and a brush of her hand against some poor guy who would wake up the next morning with nothing in his wallet but his ID and a thank you note. she had burner phones for every name, one for eunsol, another for jiyeon, another for minhee, and more, some lasting longer than others, but never long enough to tie her down. at nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, it was her mission to search and destroy and maybe get some money, jewelry, whatever they would buy her while she was at it.

but at twenty-two, a meteor shower came falling and her mission changed.

POST-MUTATION

vi.

her powers didn’t take very long to manifest. maybe one week after the forest and that odd meteor plagued her dreams, mijoo found herself waking up to a knife stuck in the wall beside her bed. instead of pulling it out, it fell off when she simply thought about it and came flying towards her. she ducked, of course, and it shattered the mirror behind her. but when she looked at the cracked glass, fingers carefully tracing the lines, she saw herself smiling back. small and genuine, just like father had taught her, but real like he could never muster.

it couldn’t have been more perfect, really. she always kept mace with her, a pocket knife too dangling with the rest of her keychains. it was a necessity when playing with emotions, after all, she never knew who could react violently. but now? well, she’d always been a bit reckless, readily putting herself in potentially dangerous situations, but having the power to call weapons to her at the ready, to almost never miss a shot? in mijoo’s mind, this was all a calling to throw all caution to the wind and make the world her oyster.

the compound had other plans for her, though.

vii.

maybe it was the time she hustled an entire pool hall out of their money while playing some darts, betting that rather than just getting boring bullseyes, she could split their darts with hers every time. or maybe it was the time she called a weapon out of her then-chef-boyfriend’s hand and held it at his neck for saying something about her new haircut (it was just a joke, she explained, she wasn’t actually going to cut skin). whatever it was, something alerted the arc right away and went to recruit her quickly, one of the very first to join.

she was reluctant at first, but they didn’t give her much of a choice anyway, and they’d promised her answers, told her of a third skill she wasn’t aware of that allowed her to simply watch and literally learn how to use weapons, won her over with a training ground to hone her new skills freely.

viii.

song mijoo was never loyal to anyone, to any place, always moving, always ready to drop someone at the drop of a hat. her father had broken her long before she had a chance to be put together, taught her how to be selfish, independent. but with the compound, with others who were like her, supernatural and strange, she felt like she had a purpose beyond getting money. she felt like she had some sort of makeshift family that would bail her out if she got in trouble – especially when they were grouped into teams, appointing her (and her partner) as some sort of leader.

it was a strange feeling at first, and she still mainly trusted herself first and foremost, struggling to trust all the new recruits as they came in one by one until they were twenty-six. but as months passed, the strange feeling dissipated and, at least tentatively, she learned to trust her team and the compound.

#arc.app #arc.empress #arc.son naeun

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kansascityhappenings · 5 years ago

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Identity of man found in Idaho cave 40 years ago revealed, along with his colorful criminal past

DUBOIS, Idaho — Nobody could have guessed the identity of a man whose body was found in Idaho’s Civil Defense Caves in 1979.

For 40 years, anthropologists, scientists and investigators from Idaho State University all the way to the Smithsonian and the FBI tried to unravel the mystery of who this man was. The big question none of them could figure out was how long he had been in the caves, East Idaho News reports.

The answers were revealed Tuesday during a riveting news conference held by Clark County Sheriff Bart Mary and others involved in the decades-long investigation.

The man’s remains were so well preserved, there was still skin on the body. Anthropologists believed that he had maybe only been in the caves for five to 10 years. When the DNA Doe Project finally put the genetic and genealogical pieces together, they learned he had been in the cave since 1916.

“Through our research, following the tireless experts of innumerable experts, we have identified Clark County John Doe. His name was Joseph Henry Loveless,” DNA Doe Project team leader Anthony Redgrave said. “Joseph Henry Loveless was born Dec. 3, 1870, in Payson, Utah territory.

Loveless was a notorious outlaw, bootlegger, jailbird and a vicious murderer, according to newspaper records from the era.

The revelation that the man anthropologists believed had likely died sometime between 1969 and 1979 had actually died in 1916 was a shocking revelation.

“This definitely threw most anthropologists — all anthropologists that looked at this (case),” ISU anthropology department assistant professor Samantha Blatt said.

Loveless’s torso, arms and legs have been recovered, but his head has never been found. Researchers have not been able to uncover a photo of him either. Fortunately, the wanted poster published from when he murdered his wife has a description of what he looked like, although he was going by a different name at the time.

Joseph Henry Loveless was a notorious outlaw and vicious murderer, according to newspaper records from the era. The composite image was created using images of his closest relatives and written descriptions.

“Walt Cairns, age about 40 years, height about 5 ft. 8 or 9 in., weight about 165 pounds, dark brown hair, slightly gray around ears, eyes bluish brown, medium complexion, has little or no eyebrows, small scar over right eye, tattoo of star on right hand between thumb and index finger, also tattoo of anchor same place on left hand; he wore a light colored hat, brown coat, red sweater, blue overalls over black trousers,” the poster reads.

A composite of what Loveless may have looked like was created by combining images of his closest relatives and from written descriptions.

The story of how scientists and historians identified Loveless is remarkable. Redgrave said this is now one of the oldest cases to be solved using DNA.

Road to identification On Aug. 26, 1979, a family was searching for arrowheads in a cave near the entrance of the Civil Defense Caves just north of Dubois. Instead of arrowheads, they found something else.

Wrapped in burlap and buried in a shallow grave was the headless torso of a man. He was wearing a white shirt with blue pinstripes and a maroon sweater. He was also missing his arms and legs.

Earl Holden, the Clark County Sheriff at the time, had the area searched for any other remains, but to no avail. He believed, based on the clothing the man was wearing, that he was likely a gambler from 60 years prior.

Coroner Ernest Still performed an investigation and determined the man must have died within the last decade due to the presence of flesh and odor.

Still wasn’t the only one who thought that. In 1979, the top forensic anthropologist in the world, Dr. Doug Ubelaker from the Smithsonian Institute, believed the remains could have been anywhere from six months to ten years old.

“Already, at the beginning, no one could identify who this person was,” ISU anthropology department assistant professor Samantha Blatt said.

Twelve years later, an 11-year-old girl was exploring the cave when she discovered a hand sticking out of the ground. An excavation led by Idaho State University and the Idaho Museum of Natural History uncovered the man’s arms and legs.

Joseph Henry Loveless’ remains were found in the Civil Defense Caves near Dubois, ID, in 1979.

In 1997, the remains were transferred to the ISU Anthropology Department where they have remained ever since.

In March 2019, Drs. Amy Michael and Samantha Blatt with the Idaho State University Anthropology Department decided to ask if DNA Doe Project would be willing to help try to identify the man in the cave.

DNA Doe Project is a nonprofit organization that uses a methodology known as genetic genealogy to identify unknown individuals by using their DNA to find their family tree. Volunteers search through records and other sources to piece the individual’s family history together until they are able to identify the person.

Led by team leader Anthony Redgrave, 14 volunteer genealogists spent more than 2,000 hours researching Clark County John Doe’s family tree. They found 31,730 individuals in the tree and narrowed their investigation down to 250 “DNA cousins.” Searching through those family trees, they tentatively identified the man as Joseph Henry Loveless.

The genealogists discovered Loveless’s parents were Latter-day Saint pioneers from the Utah valley and were polygamists, which made DNA Doe Project’s job much more difficult.

“Descendants of pioneers who have done their family history will know that their ancestors had many, many children – often with several different spouses during the time period that polygamy was practiced,” Redgrave said.

He explained that often leads to intermarrying, which can affect the DNA in unpredictable ways. It also leads to half-relationships or half-cousins where two people only share DNA with one parent. Redgrave said that even though they had numerous close DNA matches, it was difficult to work with and narrow down to one individual.

“We took a lot of extra effort to confirm our potential identity over the course of several days,” Redgrave said.

Even then, Clark County Sheriff Bart May wanted to make extra sure the identity was correct.

“I felt like we needed to take it a step farther to make sure we were 100 percent correct. So we tracked down living relatives, which was really hard to do. But we found an 87-year-old grandson who was willing to talk with us and meet with us and give us his DNA,” May said.

Through the grandson’s DNA, authorities were able to confirm the remains did belong to Joseph Henry Loveless.

“This was an amazing case because watching it progress, it was so difficult because of the intermarriages and the Latter-day Saints practice of polygamy. There were many, many complicated family relationships that we thought would take forever to untangle,” DNA Doe Project Co-founder Dr. Margaret Press said.

The outlaw Finding out the body was Joseph Henry Loveless was one thing. Finding out details about his life was another. To do that, DNA Doe Project searched through eastern Idaho newspaper records.

The man they discovered had a notorious reputation.

Joseph Henry Loveless was born to Latter-day Saint pioneers Joseph Jackson Loveless and Sarah Jane Scriggins.

When he was 28, in 1899, Loveless married Harriett Jane Savage in Salt Lake City, Utah. Five years later, Harriett filed for divorce on the grounds of desertion and failure to support their child.

A year after the divorce, Loveless married Agnes Octavia Caldwell in Bear Lake County, Idaho. They had four children together but Loveless wasn’t the type to settle down. In 1914, he was arrested for bootlegging in Burley. A few months later he was again arrested for bootlegging in Burley but he managed to escape from jail — and it wouldn’t be the last time.

In 1916, newspaper records show a man named Walter Garron pulled off a daring escape by cutting his jail cell’s bars with a saw and then stopping a train.

“The news article is strangely worded but we assume he was being transported to jail on a train and somehow stopped the train in an attempt to escape it,” Redgrave said. “He was somehow caught and put in prison and escaped again anyway.”

Walter Garron was just one of the various aliases Loveless went by. Others included Walter Cairins, Curran, Currans, Cairns, Curnans and Charles Smith.

On May 5, 1916, Agnes Loveless was found dead in the tent she, Loveless and their 8-year-old son lived in on the outskirts Dubois. Loveless was nowhere to be found and became the prime suspect. The problem was, he and his wife were using aliases at the time. The couple, both suspected bootleggers, were known in town as Charles and Ada Smith.

This led to confusion among researchers about who killed Agnes and where Loveless was. They eventually came to the conclusion that Charles and Ada Smith were, in fact, Joseph and Agnes Loveless.

On May 12, 1916, the Pocatello Chronicle published an article titled “Under Arrest on Murder Charge.” Law enforcement had arrested a man they believed to be Walter Currans (Joseph Loveless) for Ada Smith’s (Agnes Loveless) murder.

“Sheriff John Spencer of Fremont County in Spencer, Ida., charged (him) with beating out his wife’s brains. Her death resulted after 50 hours of intense agony. It is charged that the ax was wielded by her common-law husband in Dubois at an early hour Saturday morning after she had returned home from a dance in that city,” the article read.

According to the news article, their 8-year-old son found her and she had been beaten to death with an ax.

At Agnes’s funeral, one of their children was quoted as saying, “Papa never stayed in jail very long and he’ll soon be out.”

On May 23, 1916, Loveless escaped from jail again by cutting the bars using a saw he had hidden in his shoes.

After that, Loveless wasn’t seen again until his headless, dismembered corpse was discovered in 1979. It’s not clear who murdered Loveless, or how he was killed. There is a near certainty though that the murderer is also dead.

Despite that, the Clark County Sheriff’s Office plans to continue the investigation and hopefully discover who killed Loveless.

“This is one of the most exciting cases we have worked,” forensic genealogist Lee Redgrave, Anthony Redgrave’s wife said.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2020/01/01/identity-of-man-found-in-cave-40-years-ago-revealed-along-with-his-colorful-criminal-past/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2020/01/01/identity-of-man-found-in-idaho-cave-40-years-ago-revealed-along-with-his-colorful-criminal-past/

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brocolirose · 5 years ago

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May 9th, 2019: sluggish and confused

Am I procrastinating ? Most certainly. But I feel so confused these days that the itch to write feels like salvation rather than a detraction from my obligations.

Two months have already gone by since my mother’s passing. Lots of factors have afforded me a reasonably quick mourning, and I’ve been trying for all this time to focus on wrapping up everything before an uncertain future. However I hit a wall with paperwork, which I’ve been avoiding for a month or more ; there is so much left hanging, I didn’t even send all the death certs I ought to. Bills to settle, contracts to transfer, succession in many fields.... I’m feeling overwhelmed.

Adding to the paperwork is the space I’ve lived in with my mother. She had a little hoarding problem (no shame in that, although this is exactly what I’ve felt my entire life), and though we had to squeeze past one another we could still navigate the apartment. But still I’ve been left with all this stuff to sort and clean and discard. It’s absolutely stunning how much stuff we can cram and pile up over the years. Unless we’re super organized and somewhat clean-freaks, we’re bound to let dust gather, and more.

My mother had a fantasy self of being a homemaker, or at least a cook. To that end she bought countless utensils and cooking devices — though she never got herself a proper oven or cooking fires. Afraid of gas, she was. So instead she relied on the microwave and other “quick and easy” cooking stuff. Even a sort of frozen yogurt/sorbet maker. Not gonna list it out, but suffice to say she had more pans and pots and devices than she ever needed to use: she never really cooked, despite hours spent in front of cooking shows and pages upon pages of notes taken. What she used most were handheld blenders, electric slow cookers, and the damn microwave. Some of the extraneous items ended back in their cartons, piled up in the farther corner of the living room — which over the years turned into a full-blown attic. Most however were just crammed in long-forgotten corners of the kitchen or the corridor, in nondescript plastic bags (so fucking many plastic bags), covered with a decade or two of dust.

The big stuff wouldn’t be so much of a problem if it was sorted, but what really makes things harder are the smaller trinkets, the dust and grime, and the papers. So much paper. Since she was not terribly well organized, I can’t be sure that there’s nothing important or sentimental among the papers and books, so I’ve got to look through it all. Most end up in the bin, but I’ve found treasures. To the pile of recyclables I have to add every box of food, whether it’s plastic or cardboard; lids of jars, plastic and metal bottle stoppers, one-use tupperwares. Also everything is scattered and mingled. I fished clothing from every corner of the apartment, and piled it all up onto her bed before I sort it all in one go. I didn’t expect a monstruous mountain of dusty cloth to be born out of this endeavour. I don’t know where to gather the cooking ware though — leaving it in the kitchen is a drag on daily tasks, but worse is that I dunno where to put the food.

Piles and piles of food. My mother believed she had to stock up on food, in preparation for an upcoming disaster, like a war or an earthquake. She likely had a paranoid personality disorder. I grew up seeing her like this, having to listen to her secretive yet grandiose blurbs, so it felt “normal”, barely more than quirky and embarrassing. Only when she was hospitalized did I first have a doctor tell me they suspected she had a real psychiatric issue. I didn’t have time to truly digest the information and its implications, and they didn’t have time to have her definitively assessed, because she died the next day. I wish things had turned out differently; but then again she would have had to be a different person: one that acknowledges she may have a problem, one that takes actions to resolve the problem. Paranoiacs are particularly tricky since they are so wary. But if she had been treated, who knows? Maybe she wouldn’t have buried herself in that dark apartment, surrounded by trinkets she never used or enjoyed or remembered, and by tons of food, a lot of it stale, past due, or eaten up by pantry moths.

So that’s what I’ve been tackling for the past month. Shaking up dust and pantry moth webs and shits, in order to sort the edibles from the garbage. Emptying jar upon jar, bottle after bottle, box after box, and sorting the plastic and cardboard from the glass. Getting all that trash out. Changing dirty and torn-up gloves for new ones. Vacuum the dust when I can, and scrubbing and mopping when the dirt’s settled. Untangling cables, emptying cupboards, making piles of sorted stuff and then drowning them with some other unsorted mess because there’s nowhere else to put anything.

And worrying (or rather: knowing full well) that all of this is detracting me from the paperwork I have to tackle; the people I need to talk to, email, call; the forms to fill and the references to provide. And feeling exhausted all the time, no matter rain or shine, but my mood and energy take a sharp dip every week or two; dips from which I can only recover by sacrificing more precious time by letting loose and staying in bed doing nothing, or zoning out on a chair, sometimes (but rarely) outside. Too often for days on end.

I’ve tried to remain social, but there’s really only 2 people I want to see and talk to, and only 1 of them with whom I’m entirely comfortable doing so. I can’t reach out to my family, I don’t know them well, I don’t want to rely on them more than I already have. It looks like I’ve offended some, and I don’t know how to deal with it in a way that’s both OK with them and genuine. It adds to my worries.

I’ve tried scheduling my time, but the dips hit without regards for any plans. And there’s the anxiety, like a fat bubble of queasiness that suffocates me from the inside (a little to the left of my chest, near the throat), yet feels incredibly heavy, like it robs me of all strength to move. And then I procrastinate. But sometimes procrastination takes a better form, like when I tidy instead of doing the admin stuff. However the worst times are the complete confusion. When I can’t hold a thought, when all my will escapes and my wits can’t drag it back.

I forget so many things that I have to do. Actually, I’ve started forgetting where I put my stuff. There’s stuff that gets misplaced all the time, but I normally know where I’ve put my own paperwork, or my tools. Recently I’ve started to forget, to rack my brains trying to remember how I organized my life. Most of my stuff remains in my bedroom. I’ve only moved out some hygiene stuff to the bathroom, and dishware and cutlery to the kitchen (yes I kept my own cutlery in my room, as well as a dish and bowl, and my mugs). There rest is in my room, mostly unchanged — yet I forget.

The usual symptoms for depression are not helped by the fact that there is so much I have to wrap up, and now I’m also facing a little wardrobe malfunction that may be costly, in money or energy, to resolve: all my jeans are ripped at the inseam. Except the boyfriend jeans, which look baggy and plain trashy with their huge holes, but at least they don’t threaten to let my crotch loose... Dedicating time for a shopping session is really not what I want to do.

Okay, I gotta go out. Print stuff, send stuff, maybe scour a thrift store if my soul is not drained by the time I get to the city center. I wish time would stop. I wish I didn’t have to think any more. Or try anymore. I want a rest, blissfully oblivious, unencumbered by ghosts.

#diary #anxiety #procrastination #confused #hoarding #depression #brain vomit

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legit-scam-review · 6 years ago

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Money or Assets? How World Governments Define Cryptocurrencies

Cryptocurrencies — what are they? Money? Commodities? Securities? Utility tokens? Or something else? Few national governments seem to be in any kind of agreement on this question, and for now, at least, their divisions have given such currencies as Bitcoin and Ethereum a floating, indeterminate status on the global stage.

As a result, cryptocurrencies lack a single, definite existence, with some nations treating them as money (e.g., Japan, Germany) and others treating them as an unregulated, speculative asset (e.g., Mexico, Denmark), making them the financial equivalent of Schrödinger’s cat. However, as this review of classifications of crypto throughout the world will show, cryptocurrencies are all these things and more, which is why they deserve to be classified by future legislation according their own, unique qualities.

United States: securities, commodities, property, money

As an indication of how difficult it may be for world governments to ever reach a global consensus on the status of cryptocurrencies, it’s worth pointing out that there’s currently little consensus within nations — let alone among them. This is nowhere more evident than in the United States, where five separate agencies have all had their own competing classifications of cryptocurrencies.

First up is the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC), which — up until June — defined cryptocurrencies in general as securities, meaning assets in which someone invests in the expectation of receiving a return. In March, for example, it issued a public statement indicating that it would regulate anything being traded via an exchange platform as a security.

“A number of these platforms provide a mechanism for trading assets that meet the definition of a ‘security’ under the federal securities laws. If a platform offers trading of digital assets that are securities and operates as an ‘exchange,’ as defined by the federal securities laws, then the platform must register with the SEC as a national securities exchange or be exempt from registration.”

Bitcoin declined by 10 percent following this announcement, yet the statements of other American authorities and agencies differ with the SEC’s assertion that cryptocurrencies are securities. Because, also in March, a New York federal judge ruled that the Commodities and Futures Trading Commission (CFTC) can regulate BTC and other currencies as commodities, putting them on the same level as gold, oil and coffee.

If this wasn’t already confusing enough, the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) has defined cryptocurrencies as taxable property since March 2014, when it declared:

“For federal tax purposes, virtual currency is treated as property.”

Observers would be forgiven for supposing that three separate definitions were enough, yet two additional agencies treat cryptocurrencies as money. The U.S. Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) is the bureau of the U.S. Treasury Department responsible for enforcing economic sanctions, which can include sanctions against certain cryptocurrencies (e.g., the Petro). In April, it announced that it would be treating “virtual currencies” in the same way as fiat currency, making any individual who handled a cryptocurrency covered by an economic sanction liable for prosecution.

Likewise, the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network (FinCEN) presides over the illegal use of money, including laundering and the financing of terrorism. It updated its regulations in March 2013 to cover all “persons creating, obtaining, distributing, exchanging, accepting, or transmitting virtual currencies,” which required exchanges (classified as “money transmitters”) to implement Know Your Customer (KYC) and Anti-Money Laundering (AMC) measures. By expanding its regulations, it brought cryptocurrencies under the concept of money, in contrast to the other governmental agencies who classified it as either a commodity, security or property.

Of course, such classifications aren’t mutually exclusive, yet they introduce confusion and complexity for individuals and businesses that want to comprehend just where they stand legally with cryptocurrencies. Fortunately, there are growing signs that some of the above agencies are beginning to converge on shared definitions.

In June, the SEC finally clarified that it doesn’t regard either Bitcoin or Ethereum — as they are the two largest currencies by market cap — as securities and that it would focus instead on Initial Coin Offerings (ICOs). This move came a month after CFTC commissioner Rostin Behnam delivered a speech that emphasized the increasing collaboration between his commission and the SEC.

“I spoke about my position on the CFTC and the SEC efforts to harmonize rules. Given the large number of dually registered market participants and overlapping policy, there is a real opportunity for the CFTC and SEC to harmonize redundant rules and leave both market participants and regulators in a stronger position.”

Such steps are modest and preliminary, but given that the SEC no longer regards such currencies as Bitcoin and Ethereum as securities, they at least narrow down the field of what cryptocurrencies are in the United States. That said, they still aren’t legal tender, although that hasn’t stopped thousands of U.S.-based businesses from accepting Bitcoin and other currencies as a means of payment.

Canada, Mexico and South America: commodities, virtual assets, legal tender

Like the U.S., Canada doesn’t regard cryptocurrencies as legal tender. However, its approach to virtual currencies is slightly more unified, with the Canada Revenue Agency (CRA) currently defining them as commodities — a definition which would appear to apply in general throughout most government agencies. This is why purchases involving crypto are regulated by the CRA as if they were barter transactions, with the relevant taxation applying. That said, a parliamentary act passed in June 2014 also defined cryptocurrencies as ‘money service businesses’ for the purposes of updating anti-laundering laws, while the Canadian Securities Administrators (CSA) announced in August 2017 that “many” ICOs “involve sales of securities.”

In Mexico, the emphasis is also on cryptocurrencies as commodities. On March 1, the government passed the Law to Regulate Financial Technology Companies, which includes a section on “virtual assets,” — aka cryptocurrencies. Compared to the previous definitions of securities, commodities, property and money, this is an admittedly vague term, and the provisions of March’s law don’t currently narrow down its application (since the law is, in fact, awaiting secondary legislation). However, previous remarks by leading figures in Mexico indicate that the government would be inclined to translate it to ‘commodity,’ with Banco de Mexico governor Agustín Carstens stating in August 2017 that, because Bitcoin isn’t regulated by a central bank, it’s a commodity rather than a currency.

Travelling farther south, the picture is mixed. In Venezuela, the government (in)famously announced the oil-backed Petro in December, and in April, it decreed that the cryptocurrency must become legal tender for all financial transactions involving government ministries. However, while all other cryptocurrencies were immediately classed as financial assets and as securities as a result of the decree establishing the Petro, none have been declared legal tender. Even more confusingly, the Venezuelan parliament has opposed the Petro at every opportunity. In March, it even declared that the state-backed currency is in fact illegal, because it was created without congressional approval and without the involvement of the Central Bank of Venezuela.

While classifications of one kind or another generally apply in the above American nations, cryptocurrencies suffer from a partial non-existence in others. In Brazil, the Securities and Exchange Commission (CVM) declared in January that cryptocurrencies cannot legally be classed as financial assets, despite the fact that the Brazilian Revenue Office had previously stipulated in 2017 that they’re to be regarded as such for tax purposes. In Chile, cryptocurrencies are neither securities nor money, although the central bank has recently begun considering specific regulation.

And in Colombia, the Financial Superintendent has also declared that digital currencies don’t count as money or securities, while, for tax purposes, it can be considered a ‘high-risk investment.’ This makes it somewhat more accepting than Ecuador, where cryptocurrencies are not only not legal tender, but are also prohibited as a means of payment.

While South America often takes a restrictive stance toward cryptocurrencies, some nations within the continent are slightly more accepting. In Argentina, cryptocurrencies aren’t legal tender and they don’t have any regulation specifically applied to them. That said, they are treated as goods under the terms of the nation’s Civil Code, while a December update to tax regulation classifies them as income derived from shares and securities.

What such variations indicate is that, when it comes to the classification of cryptocurrencies, the economic and political situations of the nations concerned make a difference. The inherent abstractness of cryptocurrencies makes them adaptable in terms of their function, so their particular classification and usage all depends on the political and economic conditions prevailing in a particular nation, and what that nation wants to use them for. This is why, in countries where the national currency and economy are relatively weak — or where freedoms are restricted — cryptocurrencies tend to be denied legal status.

Europe: private money, units of account, contractual means of exchange, transferable value

This tendency becomes more apparent when the status of cryptocurrencies in Latin America is compared with their status in Europe. In Germany, the continent’s biggest economy, Bitcoin has been recognized as “private money” since April 2014. Prior to that, its finance ministry also recognized the cryptocurrency as a “unit of account” in August 2013, making it a financial instrument subject to taxation and requiring companies that trade it to register with the Federal Financial Supervision Authority. And this February, the government took a step further in recognizing cryptocurrencies as actual money, exempting crypto holders from the tax when they use their coins as a means of payment — as ruled by the European Court of Justice in 2015.

In the U.K., cryptocurrencies have generally been left undisturbed by regulation, and what’s interesting to note is that the government has recognized that comparing them to pre-existing currencies, commodities, securities or any other financial instrument would be inaccurate. In 2014, its HM Revenue & Customs department wrote:

“Cryptocurrencies have a unique identity and cannot therefore be directly compared to any other form of investment activity or payment mechanism.”

This would account for why the government has yet to propose or stipulate a definite status for crypto, even if the U.K. is part of the G20 group of countries that defined cryptocurrencies as assets rather than currencies in a March document, and even if crypto investment is subject to capital gains tax in Britain — making it an investment.

Across the English Channel, France has also held off applying any specific regulation to cryptocurrencies, although it has been making concerted efforts with Germany to propose laws that would be international in scope. Still, while it appears to be moving toward the creation of a favorable regulatory framework, the Banque de France has — since 2013 — held the position that cryptocurrencies are neither currencies nor a means of payment. On the other hand, the AMF (‘Financial Markets Regulator’) ran a public consultation in late 2017 that resulted in it defining two categories of cryptocurrencies: utility tokens and security tokens. Added to this, crypto traders — both private and commercial — are subject to taxation on their gains, with the government defining Bitcoin in 2016 as a “unit of account” for the purposes of collecting such tax.

Elsewhere in EU, the picture varies considerably, although there seems to be recurring agreement that cryptocurrencies aren’t money — except when authorities want to bring them within the scope of AML legislation. In Sweden, the central bank stated in March that “[Bitcoins] are not money.” This contradicted an October 2013 preliminary ruling from the Swedish Tax Board that stated Bitcoin isn’t subject to sales tax when traded, comes under the jurisdiction of Financial Supervisory Authority regulations and should be regarded as a currency.

In Denmark, the Financial Supervisory Authority delivered a statement in December 2013 that affirmed Bitcoin (and other coins) weren’t currencies, while in March 2014 the Danish central bank issued its own statement declaring much the same thing. As for what they are, the Danish Tax Council finally ruled in early 2018 that crypto-trading profits are taxable, implying that cryptocurrencies are regarded as (speculative) assets.

In the Netherlands, the central bank also denies the currency status of Bitcoin and other cryptocurrencies, having written in a January position paper:

“We do not consider cryptos as money.”

In contrast, a Dutch court ruled in March that Bitcoin can be considered a “transferable value,” making it equivalent to property. This bears some resemblance to a definition being worked on by the Italian Ministry of Economy and Finance in a draft decree, which describes cryptocurrencies as a “digital representation of value […] used as a tool of exchange for purchasing goods or services.” This classification doesn’t quite establish cryptocurrencies as currencies or as property, but it has parallels in a few other EU states. For example, in Latvia, the State Revenue Service and the Bank of Latvia have both asserted that cryptocurrencies represent a ‘contractual’ medium of payment — a status that’s just short of money but close enough in functional terms.

Beyond the EU, Switzerland is perhaps the most significant European nation when it comes to crypto, not least because it has aggressively positioned itself as a desirable place for crypto traders and businesses. In 2014, its federal government published a report in which cryptocurrencies were defined as assets, rather than as currencies or a means of payment. But since then, the landlocked nation has introduced several “regulatory simplifications” in order to attract fintech companies, and it’s in this climate that new approaches to cryptocurrencies have emerged. In November 2017, the regional district of Zug began accepting Ethereum and Bitcoin as payment for administration costs and municipal services, effectively recognizing both as money. It was soon followed by the city of Chiasso (in Ticino), which announced in February that it would start accepting Bitcoin as payment for tax on amounts up to 250 Swiss francs.

Such examples from Europe offer two major takeaways. The first is that EU (and non-EU) nations — much like the U.S. and Canada — are holding back on specific crypto-focused regulation, thereby giving cryptocurrencies the space and time to solidify into definite, stable forms. As such, nations are reluctant to attribute any single ‘definition’ or ‘status’ to digital currencies. Correspondingly, the current application of numerous different categorizations is merely the result of attempts to apply any relevant pre-existing laws that, in lieu of specific legislation, might curb abuses of crypto. These categorizations are stop-gaps and shouldn’t generally be taken for what certain nations or governments ‘really think’ about crypto.

But secondly, even though many European states are gearing toward the announcement of bespoke cryptocurrency legislation, it would seem unlikely that many will advance so far as to actually recognize Bitcoin, Ethereum or any other major coin as legal tender. With the notable exceptions of Switzerland and Germany, the majority of European states deny that cryptocurrencies are money and given how jealously governments and central banks tend to guard their financial powers, it’s unlikely they’ll shift from this stance anytime soon.

China and East Asia

Jealousy is particularly acute in China. In December 2013, the Chinese government issued a notice proclaiming that Bitcoin is not a currency.

“In terms of nature, Bitcoin is a specific virtual commodity that does not have the legal status equivalent to currency and cannot and should not be used as currency in the market.”

Nonetheless, the same notice also acknowledged that “[Bitcoin] transactions act as a way of buying and selling goods on the internet,” and given that it made no attempt to prohibit or discourage such activity, it’s arguable that the announcement acted as a tacit recognition of cryptocurrencies as a means of payment (i.e., as money).

Unfortunately, the Chinese government’s position has hardened considerably since 2013. It banned ICOs in September 2017, while it also prohibited crypto exchanges that same month and later blocked foreign exchanges, citing “financial risks” as its motivation for both acts. In other words, it effectively denied that cryptocurrencies are legitimate securities, assets or commodities in China, just as it had denied their status as currency four years previously. And given that it has also been taking steps to make mining more difficult this year, the current political and regulatory climate in China is now denying cryptocurrency any kind of official status.

Things aren’t so gloomy for crypto elsewhere in Asia. In Japan, the government has gone through an opposite process to China’s, classing Bitcoin as “not currency” in 2014 and then correcting its position in March 2016, when the Payment Services Act finally recognized cryptocurrencies as money. However, as an indication of the uniqueness of crypto, the actual definition included in the act described cryptocurrency more specifically as a “property value” that can be used to buy goods and services, rather than as a currency.

Over in South Korea, cryptocurrencies are recognized as an “asset with measurable value,” a verdict furnished by the nation’s supreme court on May 30. It is consistent with the regulation and guidelines issued by South Korean authorities to date. These include a June update to AML laws that requires crypto exchanges to undertake Customer Due Diligence (CDD) and Enhanced CDD (EDD) measures, something which makes good on the government’s February promise to help foster the “normal” trading of cryptocurrencies as assets.

In Singapore, the government is also inclined to view cryptocurrencies as assets rather than money. In August 2017, the Monetary Authority of Singapore (MAS) warned ICOs and crypto exchanges that it has jurisdiction over those tokens falling under the definition of securities, a warning it repeated in September and also this May to eight exchanges that hadn’t yet registered with it. This is also largely the approach taken in Hong Kong, where the Securities and Futures Commission (SFC) clarified in February that it regards cryptocurrencies as securities, requiring ICOs and exchanges to apply for licensing. It has gone on to shut down certain ICOs as a result of existing securities laws, while it continued to remind the public that cryptocurrencies aren’t legal tender.

Unique identity

Again, what such stances underline is that most developed nations are cautiously open to cryptocurrencies as a new financial instrument, as a new means of generating income and raising capital and as the basis of a new technology — i.e., blockchain. However, it’s clear that few currently want to recognize Bitcoin or any other decentralized coin as money, especially if their governments happen to be more authoritarian. This reluctance is particularly evident in certain examples we’ve skipped over: In Russia, cryptocurrencies are “not a legal method of payment” but rather property, while the government in Turkey has previously stated that Bitcoin is “not considered as electronic money” under current law and isn’t compatible with Islam.

Because most governments are still unsure of how cryptocurrencies will develop in the future, and possibly because they don’t want to recognize the radical implications of decentralized money, they’ve shied away from establishing a distinct legal identity for cryptos. Instead, many have attempted to apply whatever relevant pre-existing laws they can, in the hope that this will curb those effects of cryptocurrencies that may be undesirable from the perspective of a national government. This is why, on an international level, cryptocurrencies have been swamped by a flood of miscellaneous categorizations, from private money to property and ‘transferable value.’

On the other hand, the variation in classifications is also a product of the versatility of cryptocurrencies. Because they generally aren’t issued and control by a central body, there are few restraints on how they can be used. Some holders may therefore use them as a means of payment, others may treat them as a speculative financial instrument or as property, while the future could bring yet even more functions. This adjustability to the needs of holders is one of crypto’s defining characteristics, which is why the U.K. government was probably right to say in 2014 that cryptocurrencies have a “unique identity.” And it’s also why, when the world’s governments finally get around to introducing specific legislation for cryptocurrencies, they’d be well advised not to attempt to subsume them entirely under existing legal categories.