#do not worry 34 Will get covered on its own eventually. and i kept the original version | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tallstars-rewrite · 3 years ago

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Chapter 34

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Recovery did come, slow as it was. Some days later, Talltail sat by the big glass window. Jake was curled up pressed against his side, snoring loudly. It still felt a bit strange that the kittypet didn’t have even a small qualm about letting a stranger into his home, and treating him as though they were clanmates their whole lives. Talltail certainly didn’t dislike it. It felt safer than sleeping alone, and even if the water the twoleg put down had an unpleasant metallic tang to it, at least he could be sure it wasn’t going to kill him.

Another oddity he’d found in the den was the twoleg sometimes lit a small fire inside at night, in a little stone cavern in the sitting room, and somehow kept it contained. It was more than a little frightening at first, but also incredibly warm. It was his first sight of real fire. Talltail couldn’t help but be mesmerized at the rare opportunity to closely watch such a dangerous unpredictable thing, feared by all the clans, without having to worry.

But that was about where the benefits stopped.

In the couple days he’d been there, he had also suffered getting slobbered on by a dog multiple times, and the twoleg constantly trying to stroke his fur. Once it had made the mistake of trying to pick him up, but Talltail had quickly made it clear that was not going to fly. He also had to deal with letting it take on and off the uncomfortable soft wraps and smearing his cuts with a foul smelling goo. The twolegs paws where clumsy and shaky. It made him long for Briarpaw’s much more gentle touch. I will never complain of the smell of herbs again, Talltail thought. Not that he’d get the chance either way. But however unpleasant it felt, he suffered captivity with as much dignity as he could manage. And his wounds did feel a bit better.

The twoleg came up behind them and crouched down, making strange high pitched noises at Talltail, a sound he noticed the twoleg only made at cats. Talltail ignored it, tail lashing when it had the nerve to start touching his back. He turned slowly with a searing glare.

“You are an ugly hairless lumbering fool. You smell of fox-dung. I’d rather sleep in the dirt place than breathe in your stench.”

The twoleg made a pleased crooning sound and went on stroking his fur.

Talltail continued, “you have a kits’ senses and wouldn’t be able to find your own stupid ugly nose even though it’s attached to your face. You are lower than a worm, and I despise you and everything you stand for. You are too flea-brained to understand a word I’m saying, aren’t you?”

The twoleg meowed back at him. It sounded like garbled nonsense.

Talltail narrowed his eyes. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you mocking me?”

The twoleg meowed again.

Talltail bit its paw.

Jake snored himself awake while Talltail still held one of its long digits in his jaws.

“Are you getting along?” he yawned.

Talltail spit out the paw and the twoleg made an amused sound and lumbered away. “We are getting along great,” he said through gritted teeth.

“That’s good. You’ve only bit him five times so far, that’s much better than the last cat he tried to take in,” Jake purred.

“Your twoleg does not take hints very well.” Talltail replied, ears flat in annoyance.

“Well I never claimed he was wise. He’s really very fond of you though.”

“Then he truly isn’t wise at all."

Jake yawned and stretched “How’s your brooding going? Anything go by outside?”

“Nothing more than some birds,” Talltail sighed.

“Oh!” Jake said suddenly. “I forgot to mention...I had an idea about what you can do. My friend Nutmeg has seen lots of strays go through here in the past moons. There’s a chance the cats you're looking for were among them.”

“You forgot to mention that?”

“In my defense, there’s been a lot of other things to think about.”

“In which case,” Talltail stood. “I think I have stayed here long enough. My cuts aren’t bad. I can manage on my own without that terrible goo.

He expected Jake to argue, but instead he nodded. “I’d never expect you to stay in a house like this, even I find it a little cramped sometimes. A promise is a promise. Follow my lead and you can sneak out.”

Jake took a couple paces towards where the twoleg was sitting and let out a very loud yowl.

“Hey! Time to open the door!”

Eventually the twoleg grumbled, stood up slowly on creaking limbs, and shambled over to the side door. He looked down at Talltail and tried to nudge him back with his long hind leg. Talltail let out a small hiss. Who does it think it is, pushing me?

Jake winked at Talltail. “Just be casual. Act like you don’t care.”

Talltail pretended like he was busy grooming his chest fur. As soon as the door was open, Talltail shot out faster than a hare, across the yard, and clammered through a gap in the fence. Jake squeezed after him a heartbeat later. The twoleg made a hooting sound, but Talltail was already out of sight.

He huffed in the fresh air as soon as he set paws on grass. Never had he been so relieved to feel it.

With a contented sigh of relief, he turned to dip his head to Jake. “Thank you for everything. I’ll think of you often for being so kind to me. You’ve more than repaid your debt.”

Jake blinked at him. “It wasn’t just to repay a debt! And I want to go with you.”

Talltail stared. “G-go with me? This could be really dangerous. I may not like your home, but you're safe here. Where I’m going isn’t, and who knows how long it will take. Do you even know how to fight?”

Jake puffed out his chest “I’ve been in a fight! I got into a tussle with an old stray once, sort of by accident, but I held my ground! See this scar on my ear?”

He turned his head to show off the very, very small nick in his right ear.

When Talltail didn’t respond, Jake gave a dramatic sigh of defeat. “Well, all right. I can’t make you take me. But be careful of the neighbor dogs. And the alley cats. And the rude twolegs. And the cars. The paths and alleyways can get really confusing if you don’t follow them all correctly, and you can end up turned around and running nose first into all kinds of danger. You know where to watch out for all of that, right?”

He was giving Talltail a very pointed look as he spoke. Talltail flicked his long tail in annoyance, but couldn't help looking out at the town with unease. This place was unfamiliar and completely strange to him, not anything his warrior training had prepared him for. Obviously, because warriors aren’t supposed to come out this far in the first place.

It was hard to admit to himself after he’d been so determined to do this on his own that weaving through this loud foul smelling town made him nervous, and he didn’t even know where to start.

Jake had an amused glint in his eyes. “I know you’re on a super important mission, but if you want to accept this 'kittypets' help, I'd love to show you around.”

Talltail eventually had no choice but to accept that maybe he did need a guide. For a little while at least.

Jake perked up immediately. “Great! Then I’ll take you to see my friend Nutmeg. You guys seem like you're a similar breed of paranoid, maybe you’ll get along. You can describe those cats to her, and we’ll decide where to go from there.”

Talltail still wasn’t sure about this. He felt deep down that he really did want Jake’s company, remembering a time when it felt like such a relief to go see him. And he didn’t realize until after he left WindClan how empty it would feel to be completely alone for so long. But at least unlike back then, he didn’t have to feel guilty about seeing Jake because it was no longer a simple excuse to get away from his clan duties. But still... I came out this far because I needed to do this on my own, didn’t I? Why should another cat be bogged down with it?

“This could take a while, Jake,” Talltail warned again as they walked. “Are you sure you don’t have anything more important to do?”

Jake’s eyes smiled brightly in the greenleaf sunlight. “I assure you, I have absolutely nothing better to be doing.”

***

Talltail followed Jake, leaping down off the fence into Nutmeg’s yard.

“Wait here, I know how to get her attention,” Jake said, trotting up to a tall glass opening in the nest. He began pawing at the window until a disgruntled looking tortoiseshell poked her head through an opening flap.

Nutmeg pushed her way into the yard and regarded Jake suspiciously. “I haven’t seen you in a couple days. Is that weirdo still in your house?”

“Actually he’s in your garden.” Jake replied.

Nutmeg’s eyes bulged as she had apparently only just noticed Talltail sitting with his tail wrapped tightly around himself, trying not to look awkward.

“Um. Hi.” Talltail said.

The bristling tortoiseshell flicked her gaze from him back to Jake, not hiding her obvious unease. “Ah. I see.”

“I know, I know, you don’t like strangers in your garden, but I promise we’ll be gone quick. We just wanted to ask about the cats you’ve seen.” Jake looked back at Talltail. “Nutmeg keeps tabs on all the cats in the area, she sees everyone that goes by. Spying is like, her main hobby.”

“I am not spying, it’s a matter of safety. When I see dangerous looking strangers, the cats that go outside ought to know.” Nutmeg’s tail lashed and Talltail knew she was clearly still unhappy about him being there. He remembered suddenly, now that he’d caught her scent, that she was almost certainly one of the kittypets he had frightened not long after arriving.

“Right I'm er...sorry for scaring you before, I suppose.” Talltail muttered. Nutmeg simply flicked her tail in vague acknowledgement.

Jake nudged her and she sighed. “Fine, I suppose I'm sorry for calling you weird.” She then added, quieter, “but what exactly am I supposed to think when a big stranger shows up covered in blood and talking to himself?”

“Anyway,” Jake interrupted before Talltail could respond, “his name is Talltail and we’re going on a quest to find a group of strays.”

“‘We’?” Nutmeg stared at Jake. "Why are you going?"

“Yes we, because we’re friends and I’m a good guide.” Jake retorted. Nutmeg looked very doubtful, which made Talltail a bit nervous. He hoped Jake wasn’t exaggerating his navigation knowledge, but it was too late to turn him down now.

“Well…” Nutmeg hesitated, “A lot of strays have passed by here. Who exactly are you looking for?”

Talltail did his best to describe the five cats. “The only one I need to find is the smallest of them, dark brown almost black, sort of long messy fur, one ear tip sliced off. His eyes are two different colors. Looks obnoxiously aloof all the time. It would have been a couple moons ago.”

“A couple moons ago, that’s not encouraging.” Nutmeg said. “But surprisingly, I think I know who you mean. They’d passed by here before. Made themselves very known, weird bunch, too friendly for their own good if you ask me. I remember because it was a little before I met Jake. Before him, they were some of the oddest cats I’d ever seen. And before you I guess. They stopped to talk to Quince, I think they mentioned something about staying in the big wooded park in the center of town. It’s supposed to be a big area with no cars, and there’s lots of food, and apparently housefolk will feed you too if you know the right ones to ask. I overheard them saying were going to stop traveling for a bit, I guess they just had a loss or something. Mind you, that was some moons ago, I don’t know if they’re still there, but that’s what they said last I saw them.”

“Wow you remember all that? You’re positive?” Talltail asked.

Nutmeg sniffed, as if she were offended. “Of course I’m sure! I’m sure of every cat I see, especially weird ones.”

“Alright, alright. Do you know where this park is?” Talltail pressed.

“Um...well no, I have no need to go that far outside my house myself.”

“I think I know!” Jake piped up, “I haven’t been there, but I’ve seen it from a distance. We just have to cut through some alleyways to avoid the cars.”

“If you think it’s safe to do that…” Nutmeg narrowed her eyes, “Not every stray likes you, you know.”

“I’ll be fine. I know exactly where I'm going.” Jake nudged Talltail “See, aren’t you glad you have me?”

“Sure. We should get going though. Thanks for your help. As a reward, I promise never to come into your garden again.”

She snorted. “Actually, as my reward, you can try to keep Jake from doing anything fluff-brained.”

“I never do anything fluff-brained!” Jake purred as he turned with a flick of his tail. “Come on, no time to waste.”

He scampered back up the fence and beckoned Talltail to join him. Jake was far too excited about the grim mission, and Talltail was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable about not giving him all the details. “You’re only going with me a little ways,” Talltail reminded him quickly. “Just to the park. Then I have to continue on my own.”

“Sure, sure, but let's get going! You’ve never seen a town before, I remember how intense it felt the first time I saw it, I’ve got so much to teach you!”

Talltail allowed himself a small purr of amusement. There was still a distance to go. No need to be a drag the entire way when Jake was being so helpful, right? As long as he didn’t slow down.

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#FRU34 #chapter 34

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let-it-raines · 5 years ago

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Catch Me If You Can (40/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I’ve written a lot of words - it’s actually a ridiculous amount - but some stories worm their way into your heart. This one definitely goes in the top five of that for me. I don’t know if it’s because this was the first story I managed to write after getting some pretty harsh words sent my way or if it was because this story was something I wrote throughout my pregnancy. Did you guys notice how much food was involved? That’s why. Haha. Nevertheless, this is a special one. Thanks for coming along for the ride ⚾️

Thanks to you @resident-of-storybrooke for all of her hard work with me on this one! I’ve kept this epilogue a secret from you as your gift for being a spectacular human being, so I hope you enjoy it ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35| 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40

-/-

“What are you wearing today?” Ruby asks her over the speaker on her phone.

Emma hums in response as she thumbs through the clothes in her closet, passing by sweater after sweater that Killian has organized by color despite her consistently messing up his organizational system for their closet. Miraculously, it always gets fixed, heels going on the shelf and white sweater moving to its section instead of chilling with the red jackets on the other side of the room. She didn’t need a closet this big, not really, but if this is what came attached to the master bedroom in their brownstone, Emma is certainly going to fill it up with clothes and boots and far too many hats.

She’s simply not going to organize them the way that her husband wants her to.

“I’m not sure yet,” Emma tells Ruby while running her hand runs over a black turtleneck sweater that might look good with her plaid skirt and the thigh-high boots that she owns three pairs of now since she wears them so often. It’s not a problem no matter how much Killian says it is as he places them on the shelf. “It’s cold outside, but it’s going to be sunny. Maybe my plaid skirt with the black sweater. What are you wearing?”

“Jeans and a sweater, but it’s not my big day.”

“It’s not my big day either.”

Ruby sighs, and Emma can imagine the exasperated look on her face and the way that Graham is likely sitting on the bed behind her reminding her to be gentle or something similar. He should know better after so many years with Ruby – she’s not gentle when she’s in a teasing mood, and she’s definitely in a teasing mood.

“It is your big day,” Ruby corrects. “Your husband could be retiring from baseball today. That’s a huge fucking deal.”

Emotion lodges itself in Emma’s throat, and if she could swallow it down and get rid of it for the day, she would. Quickly, she turns around to look and make sure Killian isn’t standing in the closet or the bedroom. He’s not, at least that she knows. He could be hiding in that blind spot near the bathroom. He’s got weirdly quiet footsteps, and she can very rarely hear when he’s moving in this house.

“Killian wants to think about it as any other game. He’s told me approximately five hundred times that this isn’t a big deal.”

“And you believe him?”

“Hell no,” Emma scoffs as she unties her robe and hangs it on a hook before pulling the plaid skirt off of its hanger and slipping into it as most as she can without having someone tug the last little bit. It’s got this stupid hook that never does quite right. “He hasn’t slept in days. Like, actual days. I wake up in the middle of the night to find him reading or running his fingers over me or something. Killian doesn’t want to admit it, but baseball is in his bones. He’s never going to be able to fully leave it behind. He just…they’re down three games to none in the ALCS and even if they win tonight, they could lose tomorrow. I don’t – I want him to win tonight, but I think if that happens, he’ll just keep holding onto the hope that it’s not over yet.”

“It’s never over until it’s over.”

“You sound like Killian.”

“I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time with him in the past six years. It was bound to happen at some point.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who was supposed to start picking up his mannerisms, not you.”

“We’re sister wives, baby.”

“Um, no,” Emma laughs as she clasps her bra together behind her back, “we are not sister wives. I love you, but that’s not true.”

“Ah whatever.” Ruby scoffs. “Is the jersey going to go over that sweater well?”

“Yep.”

“The plaid may not mix with the stripes.”

Emma clicks her tongue, a protest on her lips, but then there’s a high-pitched squeal followed by small legs lacking pants running into the closet. It’s not like she can judge. She doesn’t have a shirt on.

“Mommy,” Jace squeals, still giggling and running toward her until he’s slamming right into her calves and wrapping his fingers around her legs while his dark mop of hair brushes up against her thigh. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.” “What, Jace?” she questions with a small laugh before scooping him up and resting him on her hip. She swears that he gets bigger every single day, and it kind of freaks her out. Then again, most things about being a mom to a two-year-old kid are terrifying. But also weirdly rewarding. She’s been reassured by Mary Margaret, Elsa, Ariel, and Anna that it’s normal, but she’s not sure she believes that quite yet. “What’s got you running in here out of breath?”

“Daddy funny,” Jace giggles, and like he was summoned by the laugh (he probably was), Killian walks into the closet with a small smile on his face and the slightest shake of his head.

Handsome as ever.

“Daddy is funny,” Emma agrees, leaning down to press her lips against Jace’s forehead, “but we can’t tell him because his ego might get bigger and then you and I won’t have any room in the house.”

“Ems,” Ruby interjects, “I’m going to let you go so that you can continue to tell lies about Killian being funny.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon. I’m wearing the plaid skirt.”

“It’s not going to go with the stripes,” Ruby says before the line goes dead.

“You’re hysterical, love,” Killian grumbles, walking toward her and placing his hands on her waist. They’re warm and rough, callouses that she’s grown used to scratching up against her skin, and he tugs her zipper up without her asking. He’s going to have to undo it when she puts her sweater on, but it’s sweet that he realized she needed a bit of help. “Where’s your shirt?”

“Where are our son’s pants?”

He arches a brow before waggling them both across his forehead, a smirk stretching across his lips. “Touché, darling. Touché. Jace seemed fit to not stop squirming around so that I could tug his jeans up.”

Jace smiles at her, a toothy grin, and it’s almost not fair how much he looks like Killian. Genetics are not supposed to work this way. There is supposed to be some of her in him. She didn’t carry him in her body for nine plus months for him to not at all be like her.

There’s supposed to be some kind of payback or reward or something.

(Unconditional love or whatever, probably.)

“Baby, did you not let Daddy put on your pants?”

“Nope.”

“Would you let me put on your pants?”

“Nope.”

Emma rolls her eyes and looks up at Killian who simply shrugs his shoulders. “Well, I guess you won’t wear any pants, and I won’t wear a shirt. Daddy will have to go without shoes.”

Killian shrugs. “All in all, I think I’ve gotten the good deal here.”

“You have,” she promises, pressing up on her toes to quickly brush her lips over Killian’s. He needs to leave soon to go to what may be his final practice (she swears that she’s not thinking about it too much), but they were all going to ride over to the stadium together. “I’ll get him dressed, okay? You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Swan, no. You’ve still got to get ready. I’m perfectly capable of dressing him.”

“His lack of pants suggests otherwise.”

Killian opens his mouth to say something, but then his lips are pressing together and he’s reaching forward to run his fingers over Jace’s stomach while his other hand comes to rest on her ass, squeezing enough that she jumps.

“I’ll dress him,” he continues. “We’ve got to have a go at the jeans again. He might want the light wash instead of the dark. The kid is particular.”

“Just like you,” Emma sighs before handing Jace off to Killian. “I’ve only got to curl my hair and then finish getting dressed, okay? It shouldn’t take me more than thirty minutes, and then we can go.”

“There’s no rush, my love. Take your time.”

Killian walks out of the closet talking to Jace, murmuring little nothings that Emma can’t make out but that she’s sure are sweet and funny and probably ridiculous. It makes her heart swell, which isn’t good for how emotional she is today. She told herself that she wouldn’t be sad, that she would believe Killian’s lies about today not being a big deal, but Killian is a liar. Anyone that says today isn’t a big deal is a liar.

She’s a liar.

And she’s standing in the middle of her closet holding her hand against the chain around her neck staring at shelf after shelf of Yankees t-shirts and sweatpants and uniforms. This sport and this team are so intertwined with their lives and nearly everything that they do, and Emma’s not sure how she’s going to function commentating on games where Killian isn’t playing. When she got the promotion, she knew this would happen eventually. It was at the back of her mind, and it was supposed to stay there.

This wasn’t supposed to come so soon.

Killian is only thirty-three, and Emma always thought that they’d have more time.

Dammit. Why is she letting herself spiral like this when she’s supposed to be curling her hair and putting this sweater on and not freaking out?

Taking a deep breath, Emma grabs the black sweater, a pair of socks, and her boots before tugging them all on, taking each task one at a time while she gets ready. It’s fine. It’s simply another day and another baseball game. There’s nothing happening today that’s any different. They’re going to go to the stadium, drop Jace off with Ariel, Killian will go to practice, and Emma will go up to the booth to review her notes and do the pre-game show. Then the game will begin.

It’s all normal and just what they’ve been doing for almost every home game since Jace’s birth.

(Except it’s not normal.)

(She’s going to act like it is.)

When they get to the stadium an hour later, Emma and Jace both fully dressed despite the complications, the hallways are full of people – publicists, players, family members, coaches, vendors. Anyone Emma can think of is flooding the walkways, most of them waving hello and giving Jace high fives that Emma knows Killian will sanitize later simply because he’s a germ freak now, and there’s a particular look in each of their eyes, a tightness in all of the smiles, that make it especially hard for Emma to pretend that today is a normal day.

“Jace Jones,” Ariel yells out when she comes into view. “What’s up, my man?”

“Ariel,” he screeches out, squirming in Killian’s arms until Killian puts him on the ground and he runs toward Ariel. He’s a blur of pinstripes and the number twenty-nine running in a miniature version of Killian’s jersey. Emma’s got her version hidden away in her purse.

“I was always jealous of other guys who got this.”

Emma twists from where she’s standing to look over at Killian as he softly smiles at Ariel and Jace, the crinkles around his eyes much more prominent than they’ve ever been. “What?”

He nods his head before turning to face her as well. Killian puts his hands on her hips, tugging her a little bit closer to him, and she lazily slings her arms around his neck so that she can smile up at him and his stupid blue eyes. Emma talks for a living. She should be able to find a better way to describe how much she loves Killian’s eyes, but that’s not really in the job card for baseball commentators.

Killian’s lips tick up to the right, the crinkles showing up some more, and he can’t seem to decide between looking at her or Jace. “That,” Killian repeats, nodding at Jace. “I used to be damn jealous of all of the guys who got to have their kids watch them play and got to wear their numbers on their backs. He’s not…fuck, Emma. He’s not going to remember that I did this, that I got to be this really cool guy who lived out my dreams and brought joy to a lot of people, and it’s so idiotic – ”

“Hey, hey, no,” she whispers as her hand keeps running through the hair at the nape of his neck and her own eyes fill with water, “don’t go there, twenty-nine. You’ll drive yourself crazy. Jace may not remember seeing you play professional baseball, but he’s going to know that you did. And he’s going to have a million other memories that are going to be so much cooler than this, yeah? Today isn’t an ending, babe. It’s a new beginning.”

Killian sniffles, his jaw still tense, but it softens a little bit when he dips his head down to hers and starts running his lips across Emma’s jaw and down her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that light her entire body on fire and make her cant her hips up into his until Killian has her pressed into a concrete wall. It’s not unusual for them to find a spot to make out in this stadium, not at all, but it’s unusual for them to be this open about it. Their relationship has been a public one without their permission, and they try to keep it as quiet as possible.

Right now, Emma doesn’t care.

Not at all.

Until there’s a whistle and Ariel speaking. “I know you guys are probably going to try for another one of these munchkins during the infamous baseball mating season, but here is really not the place to do it.”

Killian chuckles against Emma’s jaw, his scruff brushing into her skin while his smile is tattooed there, and of all of the things Emma is going to miss, she thinks this might be at the top of the list. She guesses that they’ll simply have to do it at home…or Killian can come visit her at work. They have their options.

“Daddy kisses Mommy a lot,” Jace explains to Ariel in his broken speech, which only makes Killian snicker into her skin even more before he pulls back.

“I bet I can kiss you more than I kiss Mommy,” Killian challenges as he swipes Jace out of Ariel’s arms and peppers kisses across his face and down his arms.

Emma’s heart is never going to function normally again, and their insurance is not going to cover this.

“You guys are ridiculously cute,” Ariel sighs before walking up to Emma and wrapping her up in a hug so that she can whisper in her ear. “It’s all clear for you to come down after the game. Will and Eric are under strict instructions to keep him in the dugout instead of letting him go back to get his PT and hide out away from the field.”

“Thank you, A. You’re the best.”

“Yo, Professor Jones,” Will calls out from down the corridor, and everyone’s eyes glance over toward him. “I know you’ve got that fancy college degree now and could actually be a professor, but you’ve still got to show up to practice.”

“I’m right outside the door to the clubhouse, Scarlet,” Killian yells back.

“Outside isn’t inside, man. I bet Jace knows that, and he’s only two.”

“Give me three minutes, and I’ll be there.”

“Al is going to have your head.”

“He can have it.”

“My boy,” Killian sighs as he brushes Jace’s hair off of his forehead, “will you be good for Ariel so that Mommy and Daddy can go to work?”

“Nope.”

That is undeniably the word of the day.

Sending Killian off to practice and the game is a little bit more difficult than usual. The words are lengthier, the hugs longer and tighter, and the final “good luck” and “I love you” weigh heavier on Emma’s mind as she walks away from the clubhouse and to the elevators so that she can go and do her job.

It’s a hard day, but it is simply a day.

And a ballgame.

-/-

Before Killian’s first pitch, he looks up to her in the commentator’s booth and taps his fist right over his heart.

She does the same thing back before holding her hand to the ring that still rests against her sternum.

“You’ve got this, twenty-nine,” she whispers, not caring that the microphones are going to pick it up.

-/-

The Yankees lose, 3-2, and the loss definitely stings. The season is over, but Killian’s career is also finished, the bookend closing on the mound and his time there.

A beginning, she told him. It’s an ending but also a beginning of him not spending half of the year with a crazy schedule. Her schedule is crazy too, but at least she won’t be traveling with the team anymore.

It’s a new beginning for her too.

Chants of Killian’s name ring out around the stadium, a melody that sends chills down Emma’s spine, and Killian walks around the bases waving. He looks like he both loves and hates it, and Emma chuckles as she waits in the dugout, hidden away from him until he steps back on the mound one final time.

The man she loves is so intertwined with this game and this field, but she knows he’s also so much more than any of this.

He’s everything.

“You ready to go support Daddy, kid?” Emma asks Jace as his little blue eyes look around at all of the noise. He’s not used to this.

“Yes,” he says, and Emma sighs in relief at finally getting that word out of him.

It’s not a long walk, not at all, but it feels that way as she passes by all of Killian’s teammates, past and present, to get to him. When he sees the two of them, he immediately moves toward them. His strides are long, almost quick enough to be a run, and Killian wraps his arms around them so tightly that Jace protests and tries to move. He can’t, though, especially when Killian slams his lips into hers and kisses her deeply enough that every thought that Emma had disappears into the continuing chant of the crowds.

Killian. Killian. Killian.

It’s overwhelming but in the best way, and every thought that Killian has about it is felt in the kiss that leaves her breathless and with barely working limbs.

Falling in love with Killian was like this, overwhelming, unexpected, terrifying, and thrilling all at once, and she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

“Easy tiger,” Emma laughs when Killian finally pulls back, “we’ve got company.”

“Are we talking the kid we just squashed or all of these people?”

“I’m talking Jeff and the camera that’s on our face. I’m supposed to interview you right now.”

The smile that breaks out on his face is beatific, and he kisses her again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Killian grabs onto Jace and pulls him into his arms. “You too, kid. You ready to watch Mommy work? She’s really good at this even if it isn’t her job anymore.”

“She play baseball?”

“Something like that, lad.”

Emma barely remembers the questions that she asks Killian. It’s a blur of laughter and funny questions and maybe one or two actual questions about baseball. It all gets interrupted by Jace’s talking, most of it tired babbling, and then Liam, Elsa, and the rest of Killian’s family coming out onto the field. The stands don’t empty out, the constant buzz of the stadium staying around, but Emma doesn’t bother looking around up there when she’s got so much going on down here.

It’s absolutely everything.

Even more so when Killian takes Jace’s hand and walks him around the bases, the two of them laughing together in the way that they always do whenever they’re together, and Emma is most definitely scouring the internet for those pictures tonight.

But far too soon, the moment is over, reality coming back to everyone, and Killian has to go inside to do his press conference just like so many of his teammates. There are still articles to be written and deadlines to be met, and the world doesn’t resolve around them.

Emma’s world revolves around the two guys wearing the number twenty-nine.

She gets Jace back from Killian when they go inside, and the two of them hide out in the corner of the back of the press room as Killian settles down behind the table and all of the journalists and photographers sit in their seats. It starts mostly with the game, Killian’s stats as well as his team’s. It’s standard, just like any other post-game press.

Until it isn’t.

“You threw a one-hundred-and-one mile per hour pitch out there eighty pitches in. And it was accurate. Why are you hanging up your glove when you have some good years left?”

Emma flinches at the question, but it’s one she knew he would get. It was pretty much inevitable.

Killian’s hand reaches up to rub over his eyes, the blue sparkling against the red rims from where he’s cried and tried to hide out. “Look,” Killian starts while staring down at the baseball cap in front of him, signatures from every single teammate marking it up, “I get that I’m only thirty-three. That’s not old in life, but on occasion, it’s old in sports. The fact that I’ve played this game professionally for twelve years for the same team is a wonderful honor, especially when you consider the issues I’ve had with my shoulder. I think…it feels damn good to be able to throw an accurate strike like that one you mentioned, but it feels better to be able to hold my son without pain. It feels better for me to be able to embrace my wife or keep my arm around her shoulder while we watch a movie. Those are things I might not be able to do if I keep playing and screw my arm up a little bit more.”

Emma adjusts Jace in her arms, careful not to rouse him since he’s probably about five minutes from sleep. The kid has no idea the declaration of love his dad just made for the two of them, all of the declarations he’s been making, and he has no idea just how lucky they are that the sweet man having to talk to strangers about a huge part of his life ending is also the dumbass who thought it would be a good idea to ask her out on television.

It’s a good thing that Killian has learned from his mistakes and that she knows how to forgive.

“So you’re retiring because of your family? Lots of guys play with families.”

Killian rolls his eyes. Emma does too.

“I’m retiring because it’s my time,” Killian corrects with a forced smile on his face. “I love this game and everything that it has given me. I’m never truly going to leave it. I think I’ll likely take a few years off, maybe spend a hell of a lot of time making another kid with my wife, and then I’ll come back somehow. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get into the commentator’s booth with Emma. I think we’d make a hell of a team, and there’s nothing I’d love more than working with her again. Maybe I’ll be a coach for an MLB team or for a college or for my kid’s little league team. I don’t know yet. I haven’t exactly gotten it figured out.”

“One more question,” Ariel calls out, and Emma swears that she’s not crying. Nope. It’s not a thing that’s happening.

Except that she’s definitely crying and far too emotional, and she doesn’t want Killian to be up there by himself for his last press conference question. So as there’s a loud chorus of questions with every reporter’s hand raised, Killian still trying to pick someone to ask a question, Emma moves around the side of the room until she’s stepping up on the stage, her heels clacking against the platform, until she’s gently sitting down on Killian’s lap.

He rolled back in his chair in anticipation of her walking this way.

And his hand is warm on her arm and around Jace’s back, and just the slight touch is enough to make her emotional all over again.

Killian deserved to go out winning the World Series again. He deserved for his Hall of Fame career to have a big bang for an ending instead of a quiet fizzle, but life doesn’t work out that way. If this is what he wants, this is what he wants, and it’ll be perfect for him.

“Lawrence,” Killian calls out, nodding to the reporter who took over Emma’s job at ESPN.

“In all of your career, what’s been your favorite moment? Do you have one?”

Killian snickers at the question before turning to the side and pressing a kiss against her forehead. “World Series 2019, game seven. That was the year that changed every aspect of my life, and that game was incredible. I don’t think I’d ever experienced such an adrenaline high before. I don’t know if I have since in terms of baseball. I just…that was a special win for me because I got to do it with my mates, a lot of whom have retired since then or been traded to other teams, but I also got to do it with Emma. I know that I…God, I know that I sound like a sap right now, and I – ”

Killian tilts his head to the side and buries his face in her hair while his arm tightens around she and Jace. She can feel his body shaking the slightest bit.

“It’s okay, Killian,” Emma promises, whispering in his ear while Jace twitches in her arms, waking up the slightest bit. “You’re doing great, twenty-nine.”

“I was a fucking liar when I said that today wasn’t a big deal.”

“I know.”

He chuckles, that same chuckle she’s heard almost every day for six years, and when Killian pulls back from the two of them, he’s got a smile on his face.

“That year was the first time I had a partner in my life outside of my brother that I knew was always going to be by my side, no matter what happened, and I think baseball wise, that moment is always going to be my favorite. I’ve loved almost every minute of this journey, even having to deal with all of you guys hounding me about every move that I make, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ve got a toddler who is fast asleep and needs to go home.”

Emma twists her head to look at Killian, and he throws her a wink before leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers in a kiss while applause fills the room, an echo of the standing ovation Killian received while out on the field. He doesn’t stay to listen to this one, though. Instead, he encourages her to stand from the chair, and the two of them walk out of the room with his arm looped around her waist to the sound of people cheering for Killian.

He deserves every single clap.

They don’t stick around the stadium much longer. Killian runs into a few people who want to say goodbye, mostly those who won’t see him in their personal lives, but they’re able to leave pretty quickly. Their families have already gone home per Killian’s request of not making a big deal out of today. They’ll have some kind of celebration next week, one full of food and laughter and joy that isn’t so bittersweet like today.

When they get home, Jace is completely out, the car ride having knocked any remaining wakefulness out of him, and instead of waking him, Emma tells Killian to go take a shower while she changes Jace into his pajamas. He protests, like he always does, but eventually he relents and walks out of the room and down the hall to their bathroom so that he can shower. Emma figures that he likely needs a little time alone anyway.

It’s a weird day.

Once Jace is asleep, his arms wrapped around Will, the stuffed lobster toy that Jace named after Will Scarlet, Emma quietly turns on the baby monitor and closes the door behind her before making her way to the bedroom. The water in the shower is running, a constant hum of a stream, and Emma really does intend to let Killian be and let him have his moment alone where no one will bother him while the warm water beats against his skin. But Killian left the door to the bathroom open, pretty much inviting her inside, and she doesn’t think that he’ll mind even if her plan is simply to stand underneath the water with him and have her makeup fall down her face until she’s left looking like a terrifying clown.

Slowly, she steps into the room, the tile cool against her feet, and strips out of her clothes, picking them up off the floor and throwing them into the hamper. Killian hasn’t noticed her yet, the water pressure too high for him to hear her, and he’s got his back turned to her so that she has a view of strong legs and a firm ass that looks a million times better like this than in baseball pants.

She’s lucky for a lot of reasons. The muscles that stretch up Killian’s back and his arms tick off some of the more superficial ones.

Steam escapes the shower door when she opens it, a little bit of water too, but then she’s quickly pulling the clear glass door closed and stepping onto white tile so that she can wrap her arms around Killian’s waist, her finger threading into the patch of hair over his stomach, and her cheek nuzzling between his shoulder blades. Heat curls between her thighs at the feel of him, at knowing just how much she loves him, but instead of acting on any of it, she presses her lips to his back, laying soft kisses wherever she can while Killian’s hand comes to rest over hers.

“I thought you had banished me in here so that I could be alone,” he finally says as the water continues to pound down on them.

“Do you want to be alone?”

“I want to be with you.”

Emma hums and moves her arms from his stomach, sliding them up his body until her hands come to rest on his arms. Killian grunts something unintelligible, a mixture of pleasure and relief, and she’s barely even begun to work out the knots in his shoulder. He didn’t get his post-match massage, none of his usual recovery happening, so his shoulders are particularly tense. She knows exactly what to do, which muscles to apply pressure to and which to knead. It’s a rhythm and a practice that they’re been doing for years now to make sure Killian’s shoulder doesn’t get too stiff in the middle of the night.

Running her hands from his shoulders to his neck, she kneads the straining cords there while Killian reaches forward to press both of his hands against the tiled wall. His head drops, chin practically touching his chest, and his groan is almost more than Emma can handle.

“Fuck, love. I don’t...this feels so damn good, but if I don’t get to touch you soon, I’m going to lose my bloody mind.”

The heat she feels at his words, spoken in a deep and gravely tone, is almost dizzying, and Emma is ready to let him touch her, to let him bring her to life in the way that he always does. But today is Killian’s day, whether he wants to accept that or not, and instead of letting Killian turn around and kiss her, Emma wraps her arms around his waist again, dipping lower and lower until she can feel him straining warmly against his stomach.

She wants to tease him, to draw this out and make him go crazy with want now that they have actual alone time together, but Emma’s never been very good at being patient, especially not when it comes to this man wanting her. Killian’s the patient one, the one who is willing to wait until things are right, but his shallowed breathing and stuttered words make her think that he’s not very interested in being patient right now.

“Emma,” he breathes out, a mixture between a plea and a promise.

“You do this thing,” Emma begins as her finger traces underneath him, tracing a line in the vein in his length that Killian loves for her to do, “with your arms that make your veins more prominent. It’s just, like, all of the time, and your forearms are ridiculous. I get distracted staring at them. You’re a very distracting man.”

She wraps her fingers around his cock now, slow and steady as Killian’s knuckles practically go as white as the tile, and moves it in long strokes. Killian is very obviously trying to keep from thrusting his hips, the tenseness in his body back in full force, and all Emma can do is continue to stroke him and let him find more pleasure than pain as the water falls down around them and causes the hair on Killian to mat together and for the hair on her head to tangle.

“Sometimes I worry that I don’t let you know how much I love you,” she continues while Killian’s feet move and his hips begin to pump, aiding her hand in its work. “You’re so good with words and affection, with letting me know how much I mean to you, and I wish I could do the same with you. You deserve that.”

Killian’s step falters once more, and Emma thinks that he’s on the precipice of coming until he turns around, her hand falling from him as Killian’s hands come up to grip her face, kissing her with something approaching desperation. His tongue is sinful, hot and wet mixing in with hers, and Emma can feel his all the way down to her toes. There have been times over the years when they’ve gone through rough patches, when things weren’t always great between the two of them simply because of busy schedules or disagreements, but they’ve always worked back from those and come back to this.

Come back to this and everything else that makes up the two of them: baseball games, late-night baking sessions that never go right, attending far too many weddings and baby showers, having their own wedding at a courthouse on a random Wednesday, racing each other through Central Park as they run, laughing at the other as they trip over a pair of socks, sharing the depths of their hearts while under the covers, the lights of the city surrounding them.

Sobbing at a false positive on a pregnancy test. Sobbing at the accurate positive.

It’s a whirlwind, their life, and none of that can encapsulate it all.

Emma’s eyes are shut tightly as Killian continues to kiss her, his mouth insistent, and there’s no stopping the curl of heat now. Absolutely none. Especially when Killian moves his left hand and turns the water off, the stream immediately stopping so that chilled air hits the heat of her skin, gooseflesh rising. It’s cold, that’s undeniable, but Emma doesn’t care as her desire roars and Killian slowly backs them out of the shower with water dripping down both of their bodies.

“I swear if you let me trip, Jones,” Emma mumbles out as her feet hit against the cloth of the mat in the bathroom.

“You’ll what, Jones?” He enunciates the last word with a flick of his tongue against hers before he’s pulling back so that her nipples are no longer brushing against the thick patch of hair on his chest. Emma whines, her thighs too slick with wanting him to even care how desperate she sounds, and all Killian does is grab a towel from the shelf to wrap around her body, the soft cotton nothing compared to Killian’s touch. Even if he’s being an asshole right now. “I know you’re capable of a myriad of things darling, but I think you’re too desperate for me to do any of them.”

“You’re pretty confident in yourself, aren’t you?”

The towel tugs tighter around her waist, pulling her back into Killian so that his straining length brushes the inside of her thigh, and his lips are so close to her ear, breath heavy, that she’s not sure if she can handle any more of this. “Extremely. You usually like that about me.”

“You’ve had a lot of people complimenting you today. I wouldn’t want it to get into your head.”

“Of course. You’re here to keep me humble.”

“Exactly. I’m very good at my job.”

“Mhm,” Killian hums as the towel drops around them and Killian’s hands find the globes of her ass, kneading both of them while he continues to back them up into the bedroom. His lips are on her neck, her shoulder, back to her lips. “I love you, you know? It’s ridiculous how much.”

“Funny thing, I feel the same way.”

“Good.”

Once Emma falls against the mattress, they come together quickly, easily, like they have thousands of times before. Killian knows each inch of her skin intimately, knows just where to kiss and to touch and how to thrust, and it takes absolutely no time for her to begin to feel that desperation of needing him seep into her bones and settle there like it’s going to make a permanent stay. He’s fully seated in her, a heavy and thick drag that is like nothing else, and she can feel all of him hovering over her, heat and strength surrounding her he takes his time with his thrusts.

They’re slow, languid, and so damn breathtaking that Emma can’t even speak. She’s not sure that she wants to. Sometimes sex is just sex, a simple release of desire and passion to physically feel good. Other times it’s words of affection written with each kiss and feelings of love enunciated with each thrust and swirl of a thumb over a bundle of nerves.

Right now is the second one, and every word that Killian spoke to her earlier – in the hallways, on the field, in the press room – is echoed back to her as he moves within her and over her, his lips writing his love while Emma holds on and attempts to write the same words back.

Her heartbeat is thundering, a sound so loud that it blocks out nearly every other noise, and then she’s there, falling apart with a plea and a whisper, pleasure shaking over her body faster than she thought it would.

Holy fuck.

“Fuck,” Killian repeats back, almost as if he heard her thoughts. “Fuck, love. You’re exquisite.”

“So are you. You planning on finishing anytime soon?”

“I’m an old man. I’ve got to catch my breath.”

Emma barks out a laugh that Killian captures with a resounding kiss while his hips snap into hers, a perfect fit that is like nothing else in the world, and as his fingers intertwine with hers and he pulls them up above both of their heads, Killian joins her in her bliss, his body tensing up as his words become breathless, a mess that gets carried away with the thrum of the ceiling fan.

They collapse against the mattress, a tangle of sweaty limbs and wet hair, and when Killian pulls the comforter up over them, Emma turns on her side until she’s snuggled against Killian’s chest with her cheek resting against his heart and his hands in her tangled hair.

“We’re going to have to take another shower.”

Emma laughs with unbridled joy before pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Tell me the truth. Did I have mascara running down my cheeks this entire time?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

“Totally worth it.”

“Tell that to sheets that have little black marks.”

“I think we can wash them.”

“Possibly,” Killian sighs. His hand moves down her back until it’s resting on her ass once more. “But your mascara is damn stubborn. Ruined one of my favorite shirts that way.”

“It did not.”

“No, no, it did. I swear.”

Emma huffs and reaches around to pinch Killian’s side. He doesn’t even flinch. “Would it be so terrible for the two of us to go downstairs and make some brownies and then eat all of them so that we don’t have to share with Jace?”

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.” Killian winks, trademark smirk curling on his lips. “Besides asking me out. That was a pretty bold move on your part, Swan. You had no idea that I had feelings for you. It’s not as if I’d given you any inclination.”

Emma laughs again, uncurling herself from her husband and sitting up in bed with a sated, goofy grin. “I had a pretty good idea, my love.”

-/-

Tag list: @dorisquinn @onepunintendid @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @carpedzem @tornadoamy @397bartonstreet @snowbellewells

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan

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hookaroo · 5 years ago

Text

Vocivore, Ltd. (39 of 45?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, @courtorderedcake, @facesiousbutton82 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE and HERE!!!!!!!!!*************

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!! CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*

***CH 36 ART! DETECTIVE JONES BOWS BEFORE HIS NEW MASTER!!!!!!***

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

(what the heck happened to the horizontal line, tumblr??)

Present (Friday, continued)…

The first siren was the most beautiful sound Jones had heard in a very long time. His sense of time had been growing increasingly fuzzy, but his estimate would have leaned toward a wait of at least an hour. Likely a gross exaggeration, but with Killian in such dire straits, and the attention-seeking behavior of his own dizzying pain, every moment had stretched to an interminable age.

Thankfully, Emma had resumed the duty of applying pressure to her husband's wounds, and Jones could take advantage of the respite to recline back against the bloodied altar. He didn’t know for sure, but he had a suspicion that fragments of the stun projectile remained in his throbbing shoulder. Emma had graciously wrapped a second bandage around the first, which seemed to be containing the bleeding for the most part, but didn't do much for the agony. All adrenaline now long gone, Jones could feel each heartbeat through the wound, and an overwhelming exhaustion pressed down upon him. More than once, he had caught himself beginning to topple sideways, close to passing out. Dizziness bordered on nausea. He could only imagine how Killian must be feeling. As far as Jones could tell, his counterpart drifted in and out of consciousness, frequently coming back with sobs of terror as he relived tortures endured, and Emma could not always soothe him easily.

Now, as the first scream of a siren echoed up to the rafters, Jones forced himself alert and struggled closer to Killian's side, knowing that Emma would want to direct the help where it was needed most. She met his gaze gratefully, squeezed Killian's knee with a murmured word of encouragement, then rose. As she jogged toward the front door, Jones listened to the labored breathing beside him and prayed that the medics weren't too late.

"In here," called Emma, one foot still inside the church. Evidently she was reluctant to leave her husband for too long. "Hurry!"

Killian whimpered and Jones lay a gentle hand on his forearm.

"Still with us, mate?"

Uniformed paramedics trooped inside, following Emma's urging, and Killian shivered, seemingly only half-aware of his surroundings. The detective managed one more reassuring squeeze before shuffling aside. He watched with hooded eyes the efficient dance of emergency medical assessment, waving off attention for his own injuries in favor of faster intervention for Killian.

The medics were quick to administer supplemental oxygen as they measured vitals and made a preliminary examination of his wounds. Emma managed level-headed answers to their questions, keeping out of their way but determined to stay by Killian's side. He seemed confused and afraid, struggling against every touch despite Emma's pleas for him to remain calm. The medic at his left side was already on her third cannula as she tried to hit a moving target. Pouches of blood and saline awaited only a reliable access to Killian's compromised circulatory system.

Emma's phone buzzed. After reading the message and typing a quick reply, she reported to no one in particular,

"Second ambulance is close. My dad’s following in his truck. He's gonna direct them in here."

One of Killian's medics seemed to be getting ready to activate a power drill into his upper arm. Jones wondered if he might be starting to hallucinate, but in response to Emma's look of confusion, the medic explained how the long bones can be just as effective at transporting drugs and fluids as peripheral veins are. "It's not overly painful," yeah right. Already woozy, Jones couldn't watch, and even Emma had to look away as the battery-powered device buzzed a stylet through skin and muscle and into the humerus. Perhaps the woman was correct; Killian didn't seem excessively bothered. He'd grown quiet and mostly still, focused on the effort of breathing. Under the mask, he almost looked like a fish out of water, gulping at air too thin to metabolize. The impression was only strengthened by the bluish-gray tinge to his skin.

This was evidently cause for concern. The activity around him doubled in calm intensity, and even Emma backpedaled to allow them more space to work. Jones was just gathering the fortitude to stretch out a comforting hand when the church door scraped open again. He had missed hearing the new ambulance come wailing up, but he could see a doubling of the whirling flashes outside.

David still had his arm in a sling, but that didn't stop him from being the first one inside.

"Emma!"

Fixated on her husband's struggles to breathe, Emma didn't seem to even hear her father's call. David urgently beckoned the new arrivals inside and started up the aisle himself. He did an impressive double take at the monstrous corpse on the floor, watching it warily as he skirted an unnecessary circle around it, then hurried to the foot of the stairs. He faced a moment of indecision when catching a glimpse of his son-in-law in the midst of the crowd of medical professionals, eventually deciding to creep up in between Emma and Jones in order to provide his daughter with moral support. Kneeling behind Emma and pulling her close against his chest, he cast a worried glance at Jones.

"Hey, partner. You okay?" he murmured, making sure to keep his voice at a level that would not disrupt critical communications elsewhere.

"Glad you could j-join us, mate," Jones gritted out, shivering painfully. The sackcloth tunic he wore certainly did not provide much warmth. He was beginning to regret having insisted Emma lay all of the blankets she'd found over Killian, especially considering that most of them were now strewn carelessly in a heap after the medics had desired better access to their patient.

David read his thoughts and reached gingerly around Emma, grasping at one of the discarded blankets nearby. Absently, Emma helped him to drag it back out of the way. The prince tore his eyes away from the frantic scene in front of him, gave Emma a comforting squeeze, then pulled away. As he spread the blanket over his quaking partner, David hissed,

"What the hell happened? What were you two even doing here?"

"Saving the world, naturally," grimaced Jones. The second band of EMTs had finally arrived, and they were trotting toward the altar, though to Jones it appeared as if they were moving in slow motion. David finished tucking the corner behind his good shoulder, leaving the fabric loose beneath the saturated bandage on the other side.

One uniformed man started to set up shop at Jones' right just as Emma turned and reached for David, her strong façade crumbling. David was forced to adjust his position in order to accommodate his wounded shoulder blade. As the prince gathered his weeping daughter in his arms, Jones could hear him whispering words of hope. He's going to be ok. They'll get him home; Whale will fix him up. People could survive a collapsed lung. And they were talking about Killian, here.

Jones heard all of this despite the other portion of his attention devoted to responding to the questions being put to him by the two EMTs assessing him. Turning his face away from the blood pressure cuff that was currently magnifying the throb in his coat-hanger-pierced forearm, Jones caught sight of what had so deeply upset Emma. Not only were the medics inserting some sort of drain in Killian's chest below the still-protruding dagger, but they were also preparing to intubate and take over his respirations with mechanical ventilation. It all looked serious and scary, but was obviously for the best, if his own efforts were ineffective.

True professionals, Jones’ medics kept their focus solely on him despite the commotion nearby. Their attempts to start an IV were barely distinguishable from the squeezing, pulsing anguish lower down his punctured forearm; Jones was just grateful they hadn't yet pulled out their bone drill to use on him. As he looked past the gurney that was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, Jones spotted the massive corpse of the Master slumped where they'd left it. And surrounding it…

“Bloody hell,” muttered the detective. Still in the dark about the situation and extremely on edge, David's head snapped up and he looked around wildly, fumbling for his gun.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"They're over there." Jones gave a stiff nod to indicate the direction in which he was looking.

The slaves were gathering around their Master. Forming a mournful and eerie circle tribute. Or maybe it was panicked directionlessness. Even those too weak, stunned, or injured to walk were compelled to slither along the ground, inch by agonizing inch, all to be closer to the commanding presence they could no longer feel or hear. If anything were to remind the detective of a zombie horror film, the sight before him now would have been a top contender. Even more were staggering their way into the bustling church, clogging up the doorway through which additional paramedics were attempting to enter.

"Wow," grunted David, still slightly alarmed. "That's disturbing." He glanced warily back at Jones. "You're not... feeling the urge to join them, are you?"

The detective's attempt at a laugh came out more like a groan. "Not yet, mate; thank the gods. I'll let you know if I do."

"Well," said David thoughtfully, "at least it will make it easier to round them all up."

A sudden frenzy of activity distracted both men from the sight. Emma scrambled to her feet as Killian's backboard was hauled up in preparation for transport to the ambulance. She shot the briefest of glances at her father, but was already making as if to follow even before he had a chance to say,

"You go. I'll handle things here."

Just as the front doors had ground to a close behind Killian's gurney, one of Jones’ medics rose to her feet. She found a place on the altar’s façade on which to hang his bag of saline, saying,

“Okay, Mr. Jones. I know you're probably anxious to get to the hospital where you'll be more comfortable, but since you're stable for now, we are obligated to triage the rest of the scene before deciding who gets priority.”

“Understood,” Jones assured her. “I can wait.”

As she collected her remaining equipment, her partner turned to David.

“Would you mind keeping an eye on him? I'll tell you what to watch out for.”

David hesitated, looking torn. “I…” He turned stricken eyes upon Jones. “Killian, I didn't want to give Emma one more thing to worry about, but in her message she said that Hope was... safe? I didn’t see her… and who’s taking care of her right now?”

The detective gave him the best impression of a reassuring grin that he could manage under the circumstances.

“She isn’t here, mate,” replied Jones with a definite slur to his words. He could feel some kind of narcotic beginning to take effect, blurring pain and mental acuity alike. “But she is safe and being looked after; I give you my word.”

David’s teary smile was laced with confusion. “She… but then where…?”

With a deep sigh, the detective closed his eyes and rested his head back against the hard surface behind him. “I don’t believe that’s my story to tell, David. Sorry.”

He heard the medic begin to relay quiet instructions to the prince and slitted one bleary eye open to interrupt.

“If you’d rather assist with the injured slaves, I should be okay here. This thing has an alarm, doesn’t it?” Jones indicated the portable EKG currently monitoring his heart rate. David winked at him, rubbed his eyes with one hand, and settled in next to Jones.

“Nonsense. What kind of friend would I be if I left you here all alone?” He shifted his weight a bit, trying to get comfortable. “Besides, I wouldn’t be much help anyway with one arm out of commission. Bossing the medics around, I guess, but I get the feeling they don’t need my input.”

Jones gave him the barest hint of a smile before closing heavy eyelids again. “Thank you.”

For the second time in three days, Detective Jones was reminded of that lonely Seattle night, when the poison in his heart had nearly killed him. He even had the aching soreness in his chest as an additional parallel.

How much nicer it was to have a caring friend by his side while he waited!

(horizontal line goes here angry face)

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #wish realm killian #David Nolan #paramedics #emergency medical attention #needles #intraosseous line #chest tube #intubation #ambulance #detective charming #Vocivore ltd

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shipmistress9 · 5 years ago

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FTLOAP - 39: Once Upon A Time We Had A Lot To Fight For. We Had A Dream, We Had A Plan

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Okay, this was a tough chapter to write, though for once not because of the content. Let me tell you about the fourteen days since I last updated. The first nine I had writer's block and couldn't get even one word down for this story. Then followed two days where I was on quite a high and got down 7k words, which is a lot for me. And after that, there were two and a half days through which I struggled again to get anything done, which left me and my alpha-reader with less than half a day for edits. I still can't believe it's actually done by now, and if it sucks... well, then I'm sorry!

In addition, I'm not quite sure of this chapter. It got awfully long, but somehow I feel like nothing happens. I mean, I know that's not true. But still, it feels off. Well, it's something of a bridge chapter, I guess.*sigh*

This week's chapter owes its title to a friend who made me listen to The Rasmus again after many years of not thinking much about this band. And when I listened to 'Sail Away'... well, the very first lines of lyrics of that song just really hit me. They fit so well to how Hiccup and Astrid feel right now.

Also, a special shoutout to @lauracalabresi Thank you for your comments over the last few days, they were a great encouragement! ^^

. o O o .

Hiccup couldn’t remember how he’d made it back to the stables, nor how the night had passed in any specific detail. It was all just a blur of pain and sorrow, of desperation and hopelessness. It was over. Everything was over. It was true what he’d told Cami once, after all, that his entire life only revolved around her. But now, she was gone, and he didn't even understand why. He’d been so sure...

But now, it seemed as if the Gods had abandoned them, if not for that guttering spark in his chest that kept reminding him of her, cruel and unrelenting.

When Eret arrived at the stables, hours after the sun had risen, Hiccup was still sitting in his stall, unmoving, staring blankly out the small window, and registered nothing until his cousin’s broad hand touched his shoulder.

“Hey, Hiccup. You okay?”

Slowly, Hiccup turned to look at Eret, and forced a wry grin to his face.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m just… just tired, I guess. I’m sorry, I didn’t finish polishing all of your kit, but I’ll get back to that today.”

Eret gave him a scrutinising look, but nodded, accepting this explanation. “That’s fine, I won’t need it right away. But–” He paused, his eyes on Hiccup’s injured and bandaged hand. “What’s this?”

Quickly, Hiccup covered the hand with the other one. “Nothing. I cut myself, but it… it’s nothing.” At some point last night, the pain of the cut had eventually registered in his mind, but it was still too dull and unimportant to matter. All it did was remind him of her hands on his as she’d attended to the cut. Probably the last time he’d ever felt her touch… He swallowed, then made an effort to appear normal. “Anyway, what brings you here today? Don’t you need to do some training, or so?”

Eret still looked at him funny, but then shook his head. “Maybe later. But I came here for another reason. The thing is… I’m going to need my squire from now on. The hunts start tomorrow and then there’s the first small tournament in a few days, and… I already talked to father and we agreed that it will be safe enough now to keep these hotheads–” he nodded at the stallions, “– in a separate part of the main stables, now that the herd isn’t there anymore and there’s enough free space. They need to get used to that anyway. So... for the rest of our stay, you’re going to be my squire full time, which also means you’ll have to move; I can’t afford the time for you to hike back and forth to these stables. We could move to our townhouse, where there’s enough space for you to have your own room… but Grandfather’s staying there and...” he shrugged helplessly.

Hiccup needed a moment to wrap his head around what Eret had said. He seemed to be sorry for some reason, but Hiccup actually couldn’t see why. As much as he’d enjoyed the solitude of these outer stables during the past months, a change like this seemed like the best thing that could happen to him right now. It would keep him busy, would keep him from mentally tearing himself apart. It would keep him from remembering all the nights they’d spent here...

And then the rest of it registered. Oh. Right. His grandfather, who thought of him as a failure. Well, he was right, after all, but that didn’t mean Hiccup needed to hear it from the old prune.

“So what else is there?”

“Sharing a room in the squire barracks or the couch in my rooms,” Eret said apologetically, and then hastened to add, “It’s clean! I promise!”

Hiccup almost laughed – out of humour or despair, he had no idea. But he managed to keep the smile up. “The couch will do,” he murmured.

Something like a relieved smile played around Eret’s lips. “I’d hoped you’d say that. Dag and I already organised a trunk for your things and while it’s not an enclosed room, you’ll at least have a separate corner for yourself there. A little bit of privacy. Come, I’ll help you pack your things, then we can get the horses ready to be moved.”

Not having any reason to hold back, Hiccup got to work. His few possessions were quickly tossed in a rucksack – with Hiccup carefully avoiding a certain object hidden between the straw bales least Eret would ask unnecessary questions – before they turned their attention to the horses. All the while, Hiccup felt as if Eret was throwing him weird looks every now and then, but it never became so obvious that he felt like asking about it. To him, it wasn't important, and if Eret wanted to talk about something… well, then he could bring it up. Which he eventually did.

They had just started their way to the main stables – with Hiccup riding Chomp and leading Hunter at his side while Eret rode Squish and led Crusher – when Eret eventually broke the silence. "So… what do you think of these… new plans?"

Hiccup snorted. "What's there to think about?" he asked and tried not to sound as bitter as he felt. "I’m your squire and I would have needed to fully act like it by now anyway. So this is good, a change for the better.” Wrong! “And in case you meant the… the festivities... It's the King's right to entertain his people with hunts and tournaments and whatever else he's planned. It might even get interesting for us.” He forced himself to shrug nonchalantly in case Eret was still watching him.

“Yeah, interesting might be the right word.” Eret let out a deep sigh. “But that’s not what I meant. I mean this whole wedding scheme. I don’t get why Uncle Osmond thought that was a good idea. Or Daniel or my father, for that matter.”

Hiccup’s hands around Chomp’s reins tightened; it made him wince when the cut stung and the stallion snort in annoyance. Was Eret honestly asking him what he thought about her impending wedding? If he hadn’t been in danger to spill out exactly what he was thinking, he might have laughed. Instead, he just said, “Same answer. I don’t think it is my place to question the King’s decision. She’s going to marry one of these noblemen for the sake of the Kingdom. That isn’t really different from what was planned before, right?”

“True,” Eret admitted reluctantly. “But it still doesn’t feel right. And it’s certainly not right for Swanja! From what Snot said last night, she isn’t herself anymore. She lost her spark, her wit. He said she’d tried to appear unperturbed, as usual, but he saw right through her. All this must have hit her pretty hard; she was devastated at her birthday dinner. She wouldn’t even let us help or comfort her, for Odin’s sake!”

He sounded tense, worried, and Hiccup was incredibly glad that they’d reached a narrow path by now that wouldn’t allow them to ride side by side. It meant Eret couldn’t see his expression of soul-deep pain and self-loathing. Devastated… That seemed like an apt description of her the last few times he’d seen her. And it had been his fault.

Everything was his fault! And always had been… If he’d spoken his mind more firmly all those years ago, about not losing their connection to the Kingdom, his father might have stood up against their fellow tribesmen. If he’d acted more like the tribesman their people had expected him to be, they wouldn’t have been so openly against him being the heir to the High Chief’s title. If they hadn’t lost their standing within the tribes, his parents and siblings might still be alive and he would be a knight by now too. He could even participate in this competition for her hand as a ducal heir himself.

The thought was too good to be true, literally, and, unable to bear it, Hiccup pushed it aside. They all had thought they’d been doing the right thing back then, and reprimanding himself for it now, when he knew better, wouldn’t do him any good. Besides, he didn’t even need to go that far back into the past to pin down his mistakes.

He should have stayed away from her in the first place. The idea that, after all the things he’d messed up, his life could change for the better… this too had been too good to be true. Again, he’d made the wrong decision by becoming Eret’s squire just to be able to see her again, and now, she was paying the painful price for his impudence. Oh, he’d thought he’d been right back then, too. But the pain in her eyes last night was wholly and entirely his own fault, and any attempt of his to comfort her was bound to only hurt her more.

There was nothing he could do to help her.

Except…

“Don’t worry,” he heard himself say, oddly calm and composed. As if it wasn’t really him who was speaking. “What was is you said once? The Princess is a fighter. She’s tough. This whole wedding thing took her by surprise, but I’m sure she’ll accept it, eventually. She’ll come around and then you all can be there to support her when she’s ready for that.”

Eret grunted, but didn’t say any more until they’d reached the end of the narrow pass where he waited for Hiccup to take his place next to him. “You’re right,” he admitted, face turning to Hiccup, who was now focused entirely on keeping his feelings locked away as deep inside himself as possible. “But this is still different. Our fathers want her to marry one of us. How can we support her as her brothers when everyone is looking for signs as to who she’ll choose as her betrothed?”

“But maybe that’s the point,” Hiccup replied with a light shrug. “She was to marry one of you anyway, wasn’t she? Maybe it’s time to get over how you grew up like siblings and start seeing each other as what you are. An option. I… I think I know her well enough by now to say that she won’t spontaneously fall in love with one of those strangers her father presented to her. But a love match was never a likely possibility – for neither of you. And I remember what Daniel said on that first night we spent here, your accolade. He said that you would be good for each other, and… and I agree.”

Saying those words felt like a hungry beast tearing at the dead remains of his heart and soul. It hurt! But it was better this way. His own pain he could deal with, but hers? Not so much. And if it wasn’t within his power to help her directly, then the least he could do was send comfort in another form.

As they rode on, Hiccup was aware of Eret’s scrutinising gaze on him, and all he could hope for was that he wouldn’t see how Hiccup felt inside. But he didn’t say anything else until they reached the stables where a group of grooms quickly took over the horses to lead them to their new stalls.

“Hey, Hic,” he eventually spoke again once they were alone. “I know I offered to help, but… Would it be all right for you to get Markor and Cassie on your own? They shouldn’t give you any problems, after all. And I’ll take your bag up to my rooms, and…” he paused, grimacing, then shook his head. “There’s a message I have to send and I need to see whether I can find Dagur. Gotta talk to him…” He ran a hand through his hair, and if Hiccup wouldn’t be feeling so dead inside anyway, he’d be sorry for his cousin. It wasn’t only she who’d gotten thrown into this mess, after all…

But still, it was better this way.

“Sure,” he agreed with a sympathetic smile and a clap to Eret’s shoulder. “See you tonight then.”

On his way back to the outer stables, he wasn’t able to control his thoughts and emotions any longer though. He didn’t cry; after last night he didn’t think he had any tears left, but the pain still returned in full force.

It’s better this way, he kept chanting to himself. No matter how much the thought of her marrying Eret or one of her other brothers hurt, it was still the best option there was. She would have a good life with a husband who respected her as a person and not just saw her as an object, who cared for her. It might not be the right kind of love that connected them, but at least there was some form of affection, enough for her to eventually find comfort in her fate. It was all that was left for him to hope for.

And if she chose Eret… Well, Hiccup did feel sorry for him and Dagur. Even with knowing that their relationship couldn’t last, having it end this abruptly couldn’t be easy either. No wonder Eret had wanted to talk to his lover.

Once back at the outer stables, he concentrated on getting Cassie and Markor ready. It was a welcome distraction, and the familiar motions and the simple affection the horses offered gave him comfort, Cassie especially. She’d been with him for so many years now, had been his only support during trying times, and now easily adapted to his pain again. He took several minutes just scratching her and accepting her rubbing her nose to his chest, until something like a smile was back on his face. Not a happy but at least a content one.

The smile didn’t last long though, only until he entered Markor’s stall. The gelding directly looked up at his visitor, clearly hoping and then being disappointed as it wasn’t who he’d hoped it would be. The sight gave Hiccup a new sting, and he did his best to cheer the horse up by rubbing and cuddling his neck.

“I know, I know. I miss her too,” he whispered, hiding his face against the gelding’s warm fur. It was three days now since she’d last been here – a long time considering how often she’d been here during the past three months. No wonder Markor missed her, especially since he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t come. “But don’t worry, boy. She’ll get back to you. You’ll see.”

Hiccup let himself feel comfort from the horses’ presence for a few minutes longer, before he got them both ready. He struggled a bit with which saddle to put on Markor, but then decided on the ridiculously decorated side saddle. It was the official saddle, after all, and he would need to ask Eret where to store the unofficial but more practical one.

When he was done, he let his gaze wander through the stables that had been his home during these past wonderful months, and gulped. Leaving this place for good felt like a sign. It was truly over, and their time really had only been borrowed, had never been intended to last.

He was about to leave when he remembered the one thing he’d left here before and hurried back to his former sleeping stall to retrieve it. If anyone was to find it by chance, it would only raise unnecessary questions. Hesitantly, he picked up the small swan-shaped oil pot. His chest was tightening – at the sight, at the memories, and at what it stood for. He’d been so grateful to Cami for this gift, not just because of why she’d given it to him but also because of what else it represented. He’d meant to keep it during the weeks and months of their separation, as a reminder and a promise for better times. The scent of the oil alone would have served to comfort him over missing her. But now? Now, it only hurt to look at it, the cool ceramic feeling as if it was burning his skin. All it did now was remind him of what could never be.

With a low suppressed sob, he stowed it away into a pocket, then left the stables without looking back. He tried to leave it all behind him as he once more rode down the path to the main stables on Cassie’s back, but his thoughts kept whirling around the pot and what it stood for. Why had the Gods abandoned them? He’d told her that maybe they’d been wrong, that they weren’t soulmates meant for each other after all. But he didn’t believe that, not really. She’d been right, he’d felt it too, the connection, their bond – and still felt it! All that had been real! And yet… And yet, the Gods had turned away from them, had separated them without leaving them any hope. Why? What had happened, what had changed?

A whirlwind of thoughts blew through Hiccup’s mind, thoughts that, in a way, added another layer of pain to his battered soul, but that, at the same time, made perfect sense.

It was all his fault.

With shaking hands, he pulled the pot back out of his pocket – leaving Cassie to find the way on her own – and stared at it. They’d gone too far... It made sense, now that he thought about it. This had to be what had angered the Gods. Them ignoring the rules, getting intimate before it was allowed. A part of him wanted to blame Cami for her support, for her assurance that it would be all right as long as they kept to certain rules. But Hiccup knew that wouldn’t be fair. It had been his decision to go further than he’d felt comfortable, than he’d been taught was allowed. He had ignored the rules he’d learned, had given in to his desire. He should have known better!

His breath became ragged as he kept staring at the oil pot and everything clicked into place. Them getting intimate must have angered the Gods. The timing was a clear indication. They’d gone too far, and before they’d been able to break another rule with their forbidden plan to have anal sex, the Gods had put an end to it. The timing was unmistakable.

It was all his fault!

A pained sob tore itself from Hiccup’s throat. Having lost her… that was bad enough. But now, he knew that it had been his own doing, that he should have known better. If he hadn’t been so foolish and selfish… their future would still be in reach.

Hiccup’s hand tightened around the pot – until it cracked. Without a warning, he was emerged in a cloud of intense mayweed scent, and it momentarily rendered him blind and deaf to everything around him. His mind got flooded with the memories he’d tried to hold back – of her smile, of her being in his arms, of burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. Of the flush on her face and her little gasps, of the taste of her skin, of holding her through the night. Of all the things that could never be.

With a pained and desperate outcry, he hurled the pot away. He wasn’t looking, didn’t care where it might land. He only wanted to get rid of it, to never relive those memories again. It was too painful.

But when he heard the splash of water, he looked up after all, puzzled. Without him noticing, Cassie and Markor had paused near the little lake that used to house her swans, and the pot must have landed in there.

How fitting, Hiccup thought bitterly as he watched the waves on the surface getting smaller and fading away. Eret had told him about the swans’ fate, how that, too, had hit her. It felt oddly right that this place now was also where all their hopes, dreams, and plans for the future were buried. Forever.

He stayed for a little while longer, gazing at the now-calm lake, and let the pain wash through and out of him. It was over, and there was nothing he could do but accept it.

He let himself wallow for a little bit longer, then forced every remaining trace of pain into a distant corner of his heart to keep it locked there forever. From now on, he had to function. Be it the upcoming tournaments and other occasions or the possibility of still seeing her regularly in case she chose Eret – he couldn’t let her or anyone else see his pain.

From now on, he wouldn’t let his emotions slip ever again.

. o O o .

A part of Astrid still clung to the hope that she would eventually wake up. Nothing seemed real; not the days she’d spent getting introduced to all her suitors, not the evening meals she was to take in the usual company of her father, the Grand Dukes, and their sons, and not the nights when she lay awake crying or too agitated to fall asleep until exhaustion took over. And now, she sat beneath a neat little pavilion, overlooking the fighting grounds that were decorated for the first of many upcoming tournaments, and still didn’t feel as if she was fully awake.

The whole setting was just… surreal. The sudden snow from the previous week had all melted by now, but it was still rather cool, and the practical part of her mind was grateful for her gloves and the warm cloak she was wrapped in – even as her heart kept recalling the warmer days from not so long ago. Around her, everything seemed dull and bland, colourless beneath the grey sky, except the brightly painted flags and banners everywhere which seemed completely out of place. It all just felt wrong to her. And the fact that the men in the arena beneath somehow believed that fighting each other would gain them her favour was just absurd.

Not for the first time, a pained outcry sounded over the crowd followed by a wave of whispers as one of the fighters fell to one knee and clutched at his thigh. Blood quickly stained his blue-and-green-coloured clothes in shades of red, and Astrid hoped that the blow from his opponent's sword hadn’t severed his main artery. It was quite possible that he’d not survive if it had.

The thought upset her even though she didn’t feel as if there was much left of her to be upset. She’d probably talked to this man during the past days, and now, he might very well be dying a pointless death. And the worst was that, if he died, he wouldn’t be the first and certainly not the last one either.

The first had been an accident during a short hunting trip two days prior. The man’s horse had been wounded by a misguided arrow from one of his companions, and the fall off his horse’s back onto the uneven ground of the forest had caused severe injuries – or something like that. Astrid only dimly remembered how the King and the other men had talked about it during dinner. It had been one of three deaths on that day, and since then, the body count had only climbed higher.

And as much as the small sane part of her mind despised these unnecessary deaths, she still had to admit that they weren’t unusual. Accidents during hunts happened. Likewise, injuries during tournaments weren’t uncommon. Many of the young men who participated considered the event incomplete if they hadn’t gotten a scar out of it. Once she had agreed with that bit of joking humour, but now? Now, she just felt numb.

So it was with a heart of stone that she watched the loser be carried off to the healer’s tent, festooned with Freya’s symbol. He wouldn’t be the last victim of these festivities, that was for sure. But as much as she loathed that thought… it wasn’t what really bothered her.

As selfish and as vile as the thought made her feel, she couldn’t bring herself to care too much for these strangers who had all come to haggle over her future as if she was nothing but a pretty adornment for their household. They had known what they were in for.

Although… with a strong sense of unease, she remembered the half hour she’d had to spend with Thuggory the other day. And even though she tried to forget his words, they still lingered.

“So here we are, Milady Astrid, in a close and intimate conversation, just like it should be. I hope you’re enjoying my company, because you’d better get used to it.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I will never become your wife. There’s nothing you can do to make me choose you!” It had been nearly the only words she’d said for days she actually remembered.

But Thuggory had only laughed. “Oh, you naive and stupid girl. You think I can’t force you to choose me? What if there’s nobody else left? What if I remove every other candidate until you see reason? You will become my wife, whether you want it or not.”

A shudder ran through her at that memory, and she quickly buried it in the depth of her mind. Thuggory could talk all he wanted, and chances were that he’d get himself killed. She didn’t even really feel bad for hoping for that outcome. But even that wasn’t what really concerned her.

No, what truly occupied her mind was the same topic that was ruling her every thought since the moment the King had made his announcement on her birthday.

She could see him standing at the side of the battleground, holding Eret’s substitute shield and sword ready in case his master might need them. It was the first time she’d seen him since he’d fled from her in the armoury that night, and even though she’d known he would be here, the sight of him had floored her completely.

During the last few days, her heart had… No, it hadn’t started to heal, but it had become numb. She’d refused to think about him, hadn’t let her consciousness dwell on what couldn’t possibly be true. He couldn’t have been right! This wasn’t the first time they’d encountered difficulties or misunderstandings, like when they’d first started to get intimate and he’d more or less avoided her for days. Back then, they had only needed some good advice and the chance to talk openly until everything was clear again. This was no different… wasn’t it?

Her eyes were burning, her lower lip starting to quiver, and she turned her attention back to the fighting men before she would burst out into tears in public. It will all be solved, she repeatedly thought to herself. We just need time to work it out.

But deep inside, she knew that this was very different from the little problems they’d encountered before. Because they already had talked. And it hadn’t solved anything. On the contrary, as much as she hated to admit it, the words he’d said to her at the armoury were not ones she could easily dismiss.

‘We’ve already lost.’

Yes, she’d refused to believe those words, but she also couldn’t simply dismiss them as wrong. No matter how much she wanted to ignore them or how much she tried to come up with a solution… she couldn’t find one. Maybe he’d been right after all...

This was another thought she’d vehemently ignored during the past days, but now… Seeing him standing there tore all wounds open anew. No, she didn’t want to believe that their shared future had been nothing but a pipe dream. But arguing against it became harder and harder, especially with seeing the utter hopelessness in his posture. Oh, he might be trying to hide it, to appear unperturbed and focused on his work – but she easily saw through him just like he’d always been able to see through her mask. She could see how much he was suffering, saw the pain in his hollow eyes. He’d said that he still loved her, that their feelings hadn’t been just their imagination. And yet, he’d clearly given up. There was no fight in him anymore, no strength to even consider fighting. He was broken, and seeing him like that broke her, too.

Biting down on her lip, hard, she gazed down at her hands, clenched into tight fists to keep them from trembling. So, what if he had been right? She’d tried her best to find a solution, but everything she’d brought up he’d warded off as impossible, and rightly so. And he who was so much smarter than her, who was able to think so quickly and come up with solutions for every problem… had given up. Slowly and against her will, the realisation seeped into her heart.

They’d already lost…

Once more, she glanced at where he stood and it felt as if her heart was breaking all over again. It was over, really and truly over. Her hand wandered to her chest as if to catch the shards and keep them together, but it was no use. A fresh wave of pain tore through her and it only got worse when she saw him grimace and mimic her gesture, his hand pressing to his chest as if he could feel it too. For a short heartbeat, he glanced up at where she sat and their eyes met. It was like a last goodbye, a last shared moment, the acknowledgement that he felt the same but that that didn’t change anything.

There was no hope left for them, nothing they could do.

. o O o .

The realisation left her feeling hollow, even more so than the pain of the announcement and his words had before. There was nothing left for her. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to hope or to fight for. All that was left to her was a dull and empty future with a man she didn’t care for while always remembering what she’d lost, what could have been. It was a frightening thought, and for two days, it was all she could think about, making her tumble deeper and deeper into her misery, until Ruff put an end to it.

“This can’t go on,” she exclaimed when she spotted the plate of once more untouched tea and biscuits. “I get that you feel horrible and I’m sorry, I really am. But you’ve got to eat! You can’t let yourself waste away just because that boy turned your head and broke your heart. No matter how much you might despise this and how little I like to remind you about it, you’ve got responsibilities.”

Astrid snorted, the only reaction that gave away she’d listened at all with her standing by the window and looking out over Lake Vola’s calm surface. Responsibilities… Yes, that was all that was left to her. Fulfilling the expectations placed on her, marrying to keep the Kingdom stable and popping out children for her future husband until her body gave up. It wasn’t any different from what she’d been prepared for all her life, but where before she’d accepted the thought with a certain composure and even a hint of pride to fulfil this duty, it now only made her feel dreadful. But who knew… maybe she would be lucky; maybe she would end like so many other women and not survive such a life for long…

She flinched when, without a warning, a hand touched her shoulder. “Milady, you’ve got to move on,” Ruff said urgently. It could have come across as cruel and cold-hearted, but Astrid knew her maidservant well enough. Most of all, she was practical. “I know it’s not easy, but you have to. You have a few hours left before today’s hunting party returns and you’ll have to welcome them back; how about you try and get on other thoughts until then, take a break? You could visit your horse; Tuff can escort you there. Or the herb garden? Maybe there are a few plants that already grow, or you could clean it up for the warmer days?”

Swallowing, Astrid closed her eyes. Ruff was right, and she knew that. She couldn’t continue like this forever, like nothing but an empty shell. Eventually, she would have to go on, to get over him. A tiny voice in the back of her mind was screaming at her that this was wrong, that she shouldn’t have to get over him, that they were meant to be… But she ignored it and hoped that, one day, the voice would disappear. So far though, it only threatened to tear her apart – the logical knowledge that they had no chance against the denial still simmering beneath – and she wrapped her arms around herself in a fruitless attempt to keep herself together. Suddenly, seeking distraction sounded like an excellent idea.

“Okay,” she whispered weakly. A slight frown crossed her face as she thought about Ruff’s suggestions though. The idea of visiting Markor was alluring, but even with him now housed at the main stables, he was too tightly linked to all those wonderful memories she tried to forget, and she wasn’t sure whether she could stand being near him yet. No, that wasn’t an option, and visiting the herb garden wasn’t an appealing idea either; it would only remind her of these last few days at the dead royal gardens where she’d been offered like meat to a pack of wolves. But what else could she do?

Something like a small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered another option, another place she could go and hide from reality, from who she was, and where she got treated like a normal person.

“Is Tuff ready?” she asked in a quiet but somehow steadier voice. “I’d like to go visit Fishlegs.”

Ruff reacted with an approving grin. She even went so far as to pack the biscuits and other pastries to take with her, even though Astrid felt odd bringing food Heather might very well have prepared herself as a gift. However, she understood that Ruff’s main motivation was her hope that Astrid might still eat something, so she didn’t say anything, and not even half an hour later she knocked on the door to her friends’ house.

There were grunts and the shuffling of cloth audible, even through the door, but it still took over a minute before a tired looking Fishlegs opened her. When he recognised her though, his face brightened. “Astrid! Now, that’s a surprise. Uh, come in, come in.”

He stepped aside and waved her in, threw a wondering look at Tuff but shrugged and closed the door again when her warder made no attempts to come in as well and instead stayed with the chickens outside. He hurried around on his short legs to which he owed his nickname, and picked up boxes and other stuff to make room for her.

Astrid hesitantly took the seat he eventually offered to her and watched him with a worried expression. “Is everything all right? Is this a bad time for me to visit?” she asked, a little self-consciously. She’d looked forward to coming here once the plan was made, but hadn’t spared even a second to think about whether her friends even had time for her. But Fishlegs directly warded her concerns off with a smile and a shake of his head.

“No, no, don’t worry. We were just taking a nap, but it’s time to get up anyway.” As if to contradict himself, he yawned. “Uh, sorry. ‘s been a tough few days, but who am I telling this… Still, it’s good to see you. How are you doing?”

Warding his question off with a grimace and a shrug, she began to unpack the parcel of treats Ruff had given her. She hadn’t come here to dwell even more on her situation though, so she directly changed the subject. “And you?”

Fishlegs gave a little shrug, then longingly eyed the biscuits. “May I?” He reached for one when Astrid nudged the parcel toward him without a word, and ate it with obvious delight. “Mmh, that’s good. Not sure when I last ate anything.” He took another one, and only continued speaking once it was gone, too. “I’m okay. Tired. Overworked. Usually, I wouldn’t take a nap at this time of day, but Master Mulch insisted on it. He claimed that I’ve been on my feet for over thirty hours – and the fact that I don’t know whether that’s true is probably proof enough. But there’s just so much to do! It’s like these men are actually out on getting severely injured. More than one even asked whether he’d keep a ‘cool scar’ out of it.” He shook his head and helped himself to another pastry.

Or others are out to get them injured, she thought, grimacing as she again remembered Thuggory’s sneer. She shuddered, but ignored Fishlegs’ inquisitive look. “So, what kind of injuries do you have to treat? Mostly cuts, I assume?”

“Aye. Or that’s my job, at least, while Master Mulch treats the more urgent injuries,” he nodded, then intently looked at her. “Do you remember how to treat such a cut?”

Astrid chuckled, surprising herself with the sound. It felt odd, as if her being happy was some form of betrayal. But that was a stupid thought; Ruff had been right in insisting for her to get distracted would do her good. And she also was incredibly grateful for Fishlegs to catch up on her mood so quickly.

“I think so?” she replied to his question, focussing on what he’d taught her. “First, you have to clean the wound, with clear water or maybe strong alcohol. Then you put willow bark tincture on it, for disinfection and against the pain. Depending on how deep the cut is, you might need to sew it shut with a good needle. At last, you cover the wound with moss to soak up blood, put a tight-enough cast around it, and threaten the patient with your eternal wrath in case they don’t give the wound enough rest to heal properly,” she recited Fishlegs’ former lesson – even though the last bit was her own addition. It had the desired effect as it made him laugh and congratulate her on still remembering.

They chatted for a while longer, with Astrid feeling lighter by the minute, until Heather joined them. She looked even more tired than her husband had, and gracelessly slumped onto the bench next to him. At first, she eyed the pastries Astrid had brought with a slightly wrinkled nose, but then shrugged and picked one to nibble on.

“Hey, love. Had a good rest?” Fishlegs asked, then jumped up, startling Astrid. “Wait, I’ll make you a mug of that herbal tea. Astrid, what about you?”

“Sure, why not,” she replied with an amused smile, then turned her attention back to Heather. “Lots of work for you too, I guess?”

Again, Heather shrugged. “Yes, but it’s manageable, all in all. Mostly providing refreshments for those watching the tournament and preparing and preserving whatever them men bring from those hunts. It’s not like the crazy increase of work Justin has.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow at her, which made the other woman chuckle.

“Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking. I say that, but still, here I am, looking as if I’d been up for over three days straight.” She shook her head, a soft smile spreading over her face. “But I still say it’s not the work. I’m just kinda always tired lately. Maybe I’ve caught some bug, or so. It’ll pass.”

Before Astrid could reply anything, Fishlegs returned and placed a steaming mug in front of each. “So, here you go. But I’ve gotta leave you now. I’m sure we’ll get new patients once the hunting party returns, and I need to help Master Mulch prepare for that. Bye, Astrid. Was great to see you again.” He waved at her, bent to kiss Heather goodbye, and left.

Astrid reached for her mug, and hummed. She knew that the brew was too hot to drink it yet, but she could still enjoy the heat as part of the comfort around her, and she basked in it all, in this small sanctuary.

Until Heather brutally tore her back into reality.

“So, you’re getting married,” she stated.

It wasn’t a question, and when Astrid threw her a short baffled look before quickly averting her gaze she thought she detected a strange expression in Heather’s eyes. Pity, determination, and… satisfaction? But no, she certainly had imagined that last one, she thought and shook her head, chiding herself. She, too, was overly tired and exhausted, that was all. “Yes,” she breathed, the only answer she could think of. What else was she supposed to reply anyway? It wasn’t a secret, after all. Not anymore.

Heather watched her for a minute, quietly, and then sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding weirdly formal. “I remember what we talked about some while ago, and… Well, judging by how you haven’t openly proclaimed your love yet and your gloomy mood… I guess the one you had feelings for isn’t someone your father would approve of?”

Astrid pressed her lips shut, her hands around the mug tightening. This was not why she’d come here. She didn’t want to talk about this, about him, didn’t want to think. She wasn’t strong enough for that, not yet. “No, he’s not,” she mumbled weakly. “And-and it’s over anyway.” Saying it out loud, now that she knew it was true, hurt even more, and she hoped that Heather would drop the topic now. But apparently, she wasn’t that lucky.

“I see,” Heather sighed. “Well, again, I’m sorry for you. But this is part of what I meant, you know? When you asked me about how it feels to be in love and I told you to be careful? And it’s probably better this way anyway, that it’s over I mean.” She sighed again. “Gods, I sound heartless. I’d apologise, but what I wan– what I need to tell you won’t sound any better to you.”

Astrid wanted to make her stop talking, to order her if necessary, but she couldn’t find her voice. Unbiddenly, just thinking about him made images and memories flash through her mind, of his shining eyes when he smiled, of his touch when he cradled her cheek, of his warmth when he held her in his embrace. They flooded through her, leaving her powerless to rein them back in, and only Heather’s voice – even as it had caused this in the first place – was able to tear her out of it again.

“The thing is… I know that a marriage out of love is one of the best things that can happen to a person. But you are more than just an ordinary person! You aren’t just responsible for your own happiness, but also for that of your people. And even though I wouldn’t want to begrudge you a love match… I want to ask you to make a prudent choice. Please, think of your people.”

Astrid was trembling, but with the painful memories had also come the numbness of the last few days. As if her body and mind reacted on reflex, shutting down to ward off any harm. “What exactly are you asking of me?” she heard herself ask, her eyes on the little waves on the tea’s surface.

Heather gave a deep sigh. “I… I want to ask you to marry Dagur – or his horse-crazy boyfriend, if necessary. These two… with their impossible relationship and their refusal to marry and take responsibility, they’re a bigger threat to the Kingdom’s stability that those pathetic Malarians who can’t do anything but be an annoying pain at the border. Please, I-I’m begging you. It is within your power to separate them and end this selfish infatuation of theirs that so easily can turn half the Kingdom into chaos. Marry Dagur and give him an heir. It’s w-what the people need!”

There was a heavy silence once Heather stopped talking. To Astrid, it felt oppressive, like a thick blanket smothering everything; every sound, her thoughts, her movements, even the air to breathe. Only slowly, she managed to raise her head and to look at the other woman.

Heather was clearly afraid of having spoken her mind so openly. She was watching her with wide eyes, one hand over her mouth to cover it, the other wrapped around herself in something like a protective gesture. It was a funny sight, in a way. This woman, who had adamantly fought expectations and the people who had wanted to keep her in the place she’d been born into, was afraid of her, a powerless puppet who wasn’t even allowed to choose what she was wearing? It was ridiculous.

But Astrid felt too numb to laugh. Instead, she silently gazed at the woman who she’d thought of as a friend until now. “Thanks for the tea,” she eventually whispered, let go of the untouched mug, and rose to her feet to leave.

In passing, she heard Heather mumble another “I’m sorry!” but she wasn’t in a condition to accept the words.

Tuff looked up in surprise when she appeared next to him, but quickly caught on to her mood after he caught her expression. “Guess that didn’t go as Ruff hoped, eh? What a surprise… You wanna go back?”

Astrid nodded and mutely followed Tuff back to her chambers. And all the while, her head was spinning around what Heather had said.

How dare she? How dare she ask something like this of her? Essentially, it was the same thing the King had asked of her, the same he had suggested. But marrying Dagur – or Eret or Snotlout for that matter – that was insane! How could people even think of this option? It was ridiculous, and wrong, and simply impossible.

. o O o .

No matter how much Astrid tried to dismiss Heather’s suggestion as pure idiocy, the thought kept popping up in her mind at the weirdest of moments. Over and over, she mulled it over in her head, all the reasons why it was a stupid idea and could never work out. It was annoying – but she was still grateful for it. Thinking about this kept her mind occupied and prevented her from drowning in pain. At night, she was still helpless to the onslaught of memories, crying until she had no tears left, but at least during the day she was managing better now. And during dinner two days later, she was even able to pay attention to what happened around her again.

“Hey, Dag. Could you hand me the cheese plate?”

The question came from Snot next to her, and Astrid reacted without thinking as she reached for the plate that stood right in front of her and pushed it over to him.

“Uh… thanks, Astrid,” Snot grunted, clearly perplexed.

She gave him a nod and something like a small smile, then looked around into the astonished but smiling faces of her brothers. “What?” she asked, a little defensively. It wasn’t as if she usually was too proud to help either.

Eret’s smile softened a little. “Nothing. It’s just good to have you back.” She frowned, but he didn’t elaborate and she was grateful for that. She really hadn’t been here lately, had she?

With a low sigh, she reached for a bread roll and the cheese as well. She did it out of reflex, to not get scolded again for eating too little, and only after taking a first bite did she realise how hungry she actually was. Maybe Ruff had been right after all. Maybe it was time for her to accept the lot fate had dealt her and roll with it. As always, the thought came with a hidden, painful sting, but she refused to let it hit her, to even let the tiniest of thoughts about… about this topic reach her consciousness. She might be more composed now, but she certainly wasn’t strong enough for that. So when Eret addressed the older men at the other end of the table a minute later, she happily focused all her attention on their conversation.

“Uncle Spitelout? I know I’m asking this every night, but have you received any news from Daniel today?”

At that, Astrid looked up with real interest now. Whenever Spitelout was at the castle, he happily took over overseeing the royal pigeonry for the time being. She’d never understood his fascination with the birds, but then, everybody needed a hobby, she assumed. It made him happy and also meant that he was always informed about what kind of messages had left or reached the castle through the homing pigeons. And even with how twisted her thoughts about Daniel were these days, she was still eager to hear from him.

However, Spitelout, who’d just pushed his plate away with a clearly satisfied sigh, just gave a little grunt and shook his head. “Sorry, boy, but there still was no answer. The last time we heard from him was a week ago when he informed us that everything goes as planned.” He shrugged. “Beyond that, ‘No news are good news’. Besides, who knows whether your message has even reached him yet? My birds only fly to their nests in Westhill, after all, and from there a courier would have to be sent out to find him and deliver your message – and while we know where the Prince is supposed to be, itineraries in that region can be seen as little more than polite suggestions.”

“Looks like you’ll have to wait until he’s back, son,” Eret II added with an amused smile. “Just be a little patient, he’ll be back in two weeks anyway.”

Eret grunted, but didn’t ask anything else, and instead focused on his overly full plate.

Astrid had watched the short exchange with a bit of apparently obvious bewilderment, so Dagur, who seemed to have caught her puzzled look, now leaned over to explain in a low voice. “Eret sent a pigeon with a message to Westhill, a day or two after… well, after this whole mess started. I read a part of it and it was hilarious; a collection of not-very-nice insults and the repeated demand for what in the name of Hel’s pale tit Daniel had been thinking.” He shrugged, grinning. “To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if Daniel chose not to answer. I certainly wouldn’t. Either way, their next meeting is going to be fun. Chippy was fuming in the beginning, and I bet he’s still not entirely calmed down, though don’t ask me what exactly it was that had set him off like that. He didn’t even tell me.”

She threw a glance at Eret, and the tight grip with which he held his cutlery and the slightly troubled grimace on his face seemed to prove Dagur’s words true. It made her wonder. Sure, she didn’t have the most sisterly feelings for Daniel these days either; his knowing about this plan and not telling her felt like too much of a betrayal. But it made little sense for Eret to have the same reasons for his anger. She didn’t get the chance to further wonder about his behaviour though.

“I’ve got to agree, it’s good to have you back among the living,” came suddenly Snot’s voice from beside her, and when she turned to look at him, he had a wide grin on his face. “And since the kitchen provided us with this dish tonight... May I suggest you try this cold venison? It’s deer prepared after a recipe our chef in Westhill developed, and it is delicious.”

Perplexed, she watched as Snot placed a piece of the rosy meat onto her plate before she could even react. Then she grimaced, and shook her head. “No, thanks. No venison for me,” she mumbled. Snot couldn’t know her feelings there, of course. But she simply wasn’t able to eat any form of venison – or meat in general – lately. Not since her birthday.

“Snot, you really are an idiot, do you know that?” Dagur commented dryly as he reached over to pick the venison off her plate and devoured it whole. The sight made a small amused smile tug at her lips. Good manners weren’t exactly one of Dagur’s strong assets – and probably never would be.

Snot huffed, but didn’t further react to Dagur. Instead, he turned his attention back to Astrid and the cheese plate between them. “I’m sorry, how thoughtless of me. But… well, then how about this?” He cut off a piece of soft cheese with a greyish-yellow rind and held it out for her with a broad smile. “Father and I brought this on your father’s request; he liked it a lot the last time he visited Westhill. It has a rich and piney flavour that only develops when the cheese gets extra time to age.”

Hesitantly and with a slight frown, Astrid accepted the offered cheese, more out of reflex than of real interest. What was up with Snot? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know this behaviour from him; focussing all his attention on one person, being friendly and observant while more or less subtly advertising himself, his family, or his home. But so far, he’d never directed it at her! Was he actually flirting with her? He couldn’t be serious, could he? Surely, he had to be joking, overacting to throw it back into their fathers’ faces… right?

She looked at him, trying to detect something in his expression, a twitch of his lips maybe or an amused spark in his eyes. But there was nothing. Still trying to make sense of Snot’s behaviour, she took a bite of the cheese, but couldn’t help but grimace at the weirdly unctuous taste. “Urgh, sorry, but I think I’ll pass this one,” she said in as polite a tone as she could muster. She kind of appreciated Snot’s attention as it served as a good distraction, but it still left a strange aftertaste.

Hoping he would leave her be now, she wanted to reach for her glass of wine, but sighed when she found it empty.

“Here, let me get you a refill,” Snot directly prompted. He reached for one of the wine carafes at the end of the table, and before she could even blink her glass was filled again. “This one is another speciality we brought from Westhill, and if I remember correctly, you quite liked this one. ‘Rich-yet-not-overpowering berry fruit flavour surrounded with hints of cassis and cherry’ was your description, I think.”

Despite her annoyance at his renewed attention, Astrid couldn’t help but feel grateful, both for the wine and that he’d remembered. She tried a sip, and couldn’t help but hmm. The rich liquid tasted wonderful and made her relax almost instantly. Before she knew how, the glass was empty, and with a low, regretful sigh, she placed it back onto the table. She didn’t want to get drunk, couldn’t afford it, but the idea of getting rid of all her problems, if only for a few hours, was alluring. And the wine really did taste good.

So she didn’t object when Snot got her another refill, and didn’t even mind him directly diving into his next story about all the formidable vineyards they had in Westhill and how much more they could have.

With a resigned sigh, she settled on sipping her wine and tried to drone out his monologue. A part of her tried to reason that he certainly didn’t mean to annoy her into anger with his apparent flirting. Maybe she was just too over-sensitive and strained right now to detect the signs of joking.

Because he couldn’t be serious, right? He couldn’t be actually flirting with her. No matter what their fathers wanted, he was still her brother! But the longer the dinner lasted, the more plain his advances became and the more she wished to get away from him. Snot, like all of her brothers, had always been a source of comfort to her, but tonight she felt the opposite.

His behaviour reminded her of the impossible implication of her marrying one of them. Although, at least Snot didn’t seem to think it impossible, even though the thought made her shudder. Marrying one of her brothers… that was completely insane!

Wasn’t it?

. o O o .

Right...Yeah, it still feels like not much has happened in this chapter, but it's actually been a lot, I think. Many little things, development, preparation...Sorry if it sucks...

And I promise this is still very much a Hiccstrid story!

*jumps back into hiding*

Next chapter

#For The Love Of A Princess #FTLOAP #hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #hiccstrid angst #romance #Royalty AU #hiccstrid royal au #medieval au #Hiccstrid Medieval AU #httyd #Hiccup and Astrid

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annakie · 5 years ago

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Continued Notes on a Blog Cleanup

I started doing this a couple of weeks ago, I’m still doing it even though I’ve now passed the place I was trying to get to to find a thing awhile ago.

But now I’m in March of 2013, closing in on two years of blog cleaned up.

I’m on page 1811 of 2968 (working backwards) with 15 posts per page. My guesstimates are that since I started posting the blog cleanup I’ve generated about 100 posts, that’s probably a little on the low side, but it’s a workable number. When I started I had 3021 pages of blog, so adding in about 7 more pages worth of blogs since then, that means I’ve deleted about 60 pages worth of my bog, or somewhere around 900 posts.

Sounds about right.

Anyway, here’s a bunch more thoughts on tumblr in general, this blog cleanup, and a Doctor Who Nostalgia Rewatch.

What’s crazy is that about 1/3rd of my entire blog was done in the first 18 months of its creation. It’s now over 8 years old, but I hit the 2000th page back around November 2012, when the blog was made in May, 2011.

I’m just now getting to the point in the blog where I kept a pretty full and steady queue in the first few months of 2013, so things move faster now instead of like 100 posts per day untagged like the early days. And I didn’t post at all for most of the last couple of months of 2017 and early 2018 so, there’s a few-months gap there, eventually. But I figure... why stop the nostalgia tour now. Mostly because I’m finding things I want to organize better. I’m also finding a lot of edits or personal posts I made and didn’t tag properly in the time period I’m covering right now.

When all this is done, I’ll probably do a mass blog export again, now that I’m happier with the contents. Tumblr ain’t gonna be around forever, y’all.

Still, deleting a lot of stuff. Posts are being deleted for

Being out of date, like “Hey this game is on sale, go buy it!” or “SIGN THIS PETITION AGAINST CISPA!” or “The new season of Parks and Rec starts September 23rd" (of 2013 or whatever).

Sometimes for being a reblog of a thing that I only marginally ever cared about and no longer do at all.

Things that have now been proven false, or false alarms, or things we no longer have to worry about for whatever reason.

“Hoooo boy it’s 2019 and now THAT sure turned out to be a bad take!” (”Guys, this new show called House of Cards is on! It stars the AMAZING KEVIN SPACEY, I LOVE HIM!” OK that wasn’t verbatim but close, and Yikes.)

Still, the cringiest of the cringe. But there’s a lot less of that now, which is nice. I at some point over the beginning of 2013 started doing a lot more tagging of my own posts so the tags are a much nicer place to look than some of the terrible other-people’s tags. Although I’m still only tagging at like 60 - 70% of the time.

Observations:

What takes the longest is adding tags to posts. So for the most part tags are only getting added to things I made. About 45% of which are personal posts, and about 45% of which are mass effect creations posts, so far. About 10% are things I think I may want to find again someday, though a lot of those things are being put in the “reblogging really old stuff” queue.

The blog is like, 30% Doctor Who, 40% Mass Effect and 30% Psych/Elementary/Leverage/Misc now. It’s better.

I JUST started getting really to the part where I contributed a little more to the ME/DW fandoms besides yelling at hate-taggers. Still. Mid-2013 me is still doing that on occasion. Although now it’s sometimes about Kaidan Alenko instead of just Martha Jones. I’m still kind of torn about how I feel about all that now. I’d say that it’s funny how there doesn’t seem to be a lot of it on tumblr these days. Now it feels like we all have more important things to fight about. Also, tumblr is, you know, on life support.

It feels like my blog liked and watched Supernatural longer than I did in reality? It felt like a short flirtation to me, there continues to be supernatural content on my blog for over a year now. Pretty sure I stopped watching mid-season 9 so maybe that’ll stop soon. Still, way less than the general population of tumblr it felt like at the time.

People with names like 221BTardisImpala really were the worst about tagging their hate and other stupid stuff.

I’d somehow forgotten about that terrible, gross post twisting Kaidan into an “abuser” for stupid stuff like “He brought a bottle of alcohol (you know, the one Shepard bought him?) to Shepard’s quarters!” and “He did a bad thing at 17!” (and clearly the person we are at 17 is the same person he was at 34.) and and just the most asinine reasoning applied, and tagged. The whole “I gotta tear down characters other people like to make my fave the REAL WINNER” is just... ugh. I got back to that post and honestly, am still thinking I should have deleted the whole thing.

I’ve picked another few tags on controversial characters that I love like Jacob Taylor and scrolled through, and like I posted earlier about Martha Jones, hate tagging in general seems to just... not happen that much anymore, even after scrolling back a year or two in those tags. That makes tumblr a nicer place to be. I know we still see the occasional like, shitty shakarian shipper in the Kaidan Alenko tag (and again, that is a very small % of overall shakarian shippers) but it’s nothing like what it used to be.

It won’t be long until the WTNV explosion happens on tumblr, or maybe it had already started at this point. It took me a few months to catch on. And then I’m gonna listen to it and love it, and ask for rec’s for more podcasts, then I’m gonna get into Thrilling Adventure Hour and the blog is gonna become a much more positive place. Looking forward to getting to all that.

Does anyone know if there’s a theme or script that lets you add tags from your dash or main blog page without editing a post? I’d go back and do this again to tag some more good reblogged posts, I think. I’d probably have also deleted more stuff if I could have done it from my blog without going into editing. :p

Seriously though, tumblr feels like such a different place now. It’s... quieter. It feels almost like empty nest syndrome around here. Or maybe I’m just curating my own experience so much better. But again, when I do go look at other people’s blogs from posts I’ve reblogged, like almost none of them are still active. Although it’s also surprising the number that died just like, in the last year.

Another interesting thing has been... watching the rise and fall of a personal friendship through the first few years of the blog. Back then there were a few people who I was really close to, mostly online. I can feel the main friendship I had with that person slipping away as their life changed significantly starting the previous few months from where I am in that blog. And honestly, I did my own part of leaving them behind when I gained a whole new group of close friends from TAH. We’re still like, facebook friends, but it’s a reminder of how fluid online friendships can be.

Doctor Who Rewatch Thoughts:

I am going to catch up on my blog before I run out of Doctor Who to watch, I think. Considering things are starting to take a lot less “grooming” now on the cleanup.

I’m now about to embark on Silence in the Library. Am I ready to see River Song die again? No. I am not. This will be the first time I watch these episodes in years, probably since Matt Smith was around? Definitely since The Husbands of River Song. This... will be difficult.

Hoo boy Voyage of the Damned was bad, I’d forgotten how bad. Not Fear Her bad but, pretty bad. Though I was amused that there was a character named Foon. For some reason that word had always triggered something in my mind when they called the world that on Hello From the Magic Tavern and now I know why.

Martha Jones, still awesome in Season 4. Donna Noble shines brightly. Although I’d forgotten how much weaker the first half of her season is than the very good second half.

That was the first time I’d watched The Fires of Pompeii since Capaldi took over. Funnily, I felt like his character got more Twelve-Like as the episode went on somehow. The long scene between just Ten and Capladi’s character was neat to watch in retrospective.

#personal post tag thingy #notes on a blog cleanup

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alwaysanotherooc · 7 years ago

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The De Vega Siblings

#LoveHacks -Kamella "Kella" Aurelia De Vega, Paid Blogger (26 At the time of #Lovehacks) (27 At the time of The Freshman) (35 At the time of Endless Summer)

The Freshman -Kasen "Kessa" Sofia De Vega, English Major/Author (17 At the time of #Lovehacks) (18 At the time of The Freshman) (25 At the time of Endless Summer)

Endless Summer -Kemen "Ken" Rodrigo De Vega, History Major (13 At the time of #Lovehacks) (14 At the time of The Freshman) (21 At the time of Endless Summer)

Just a forewarning: possible triggers, mention of poverty, child neglect, hinted child abuse, anxiety, disassociation, and dangerous living situations. Happy ending, but still. Also, none of this is canon, at all. I just decided to connect the MC’s of LoveHacks, The Freshman, and Endless Summer because I could, even though by now it goes directly against canon.

Brief Family History =============== The De Vegas

-The De Vega siblings were born in Harlem, NYC, New York, USA, to Katy De Vega and Dougie Santiago. -Kella, being the oldest by nine years, saw the most of their parents, and remembers all of it but says nothing about them. Kessa, the middle child, saw very little of their father, and her best memory of him is the rather violent fight he had with their mother after being told she was pregnant again. Ken has no memories of his parents at all, and has rarely felt the desire to. -Kella was 15, Kessa was 6, and Ken was 2 when their mother left their apartment one day and never came back. They waited over a month, until the landlord came looking for their mother for the overdue rent. Then that night, Kella went through the apartment and picked out everything of value, packed up a bag for each of them, and set out to find them somewhere else to live. -Kella kept her siblings on the move around their school district, making sure that no matter what, her brother and sister had food and a warm bed. Kella often said she needed to stay late at the library to study, which, early on was much to the irritation of Kessa, but the librarians never bother the three of them, all the way in the dustiest section of the library, covered only by thin winter coats and pillowed on each other's arms. -Kella only told one adult what was going on, her sister's English teacher, who was curious why Kella showed up to Kessa's Parent Teacher night instead of their mother. Kella confessed, building quickly into hysterics, that their mother was gone, and it was only her keeping them together. Kessa, who was nearby holding the hand of a distracted Ken, overhead her sister sob, "I don't want to lose them, and I don't want them to be taken away from me!" -Kella raised Kessa and Ken, slowly sold off pieces from their old apartment for money to buy food and clothes and occasionally, medicine for her siblings. Kella was as gentle as she could be, as kind as life would let her be, but as vicious and diamond-hard as she had to be, she was protector and sister, defender and mother. Provider in all forms of the word. As a result, Kella became a rather angry child, ready to spring into action at any moment, a thousand perfectly composed arguments poised on her tongue, and a knife up her sleeve if things went wrong. -Kessa became more and more aware of their situation as she grew up, and worked very hard to take any pressure she could off of her older sister. Kessa was fine, and she dedicated her role in their family into being completely fine. As a result, Kessa became slightly neglected, emotionally. Kella worked herself to the bone to earn enough money to provide, and caring for a baby was no easy task in itself. Kessa allows people to take advantage of her giving nature, to take too much from Kessa with too little in return, which leads to vicious fights after a long while. -Ken wondered aloud a few times where their parents were, and eventually stopped asking. Ken knew that he loved his sisters, and he loved it more when they smiled, so he made every effort to do so. Ken became their sunshine, their rock, and as a result of that, he became easy to manipulate, in that if you could convince him it would be for the betterment of others, Ken would throw himself upon the ramparts. -Kella graduated high school and immediately went to work as a waitress in an upscale restaurant in New York, easing into being able to afford a shack to keep the weather off of her siblings and to keep them fed and clothed, though she struggled through the years to meet the rising needs, despite them asking for only what they needed and even then only when absolutely necessary. -Ken fell gravely ill when he was four, so sick that he burned with fever and shook with chills, and Kella could not even afford the bus fare to get them to the doctor, much less the most likely thousands of dollars worth of medical bills that would come when she took him, and she knew when she did take him that he and Kessa would be taken from her. Still, Kella worker harder than ever, at every odd job she could, to scrape enough money together to do something, when, as if by some God given miracle, Ken was better overnight, completely healthy once again. Kella and Kessa, too tired and relieved to question it, never spoke of it again, and if they noticed strage glowing lights or sounds around Ken’s sleeping form the night it happened, they said nothing of that either. -Unbeknownst to the siblings, they had an estranged aunt and uncle from their mother's side, Tia Sofia and Tio Grant, who had been looking to reconnect with Sofia's sister. Instead of finding their sister, they found a Jane Doe notice from a Harlem PD Morge, who had died three weeks before from drug overdose. The Harlem PD informed the already distraught couple, "We found Miss De Vega's last place of official residence on Rhodam, where her landlord said she'd lived with three kids, one teen girl, a younger girl, and a toddler boy. The landlord went up to see Miss De Vega in March of last year, said she was two months late with rent, and said the kids were very on edge. The next day, landlord went back up with a Child Services rep, and the kids were nowhere to be found." Since the PD had no idea what the children looked like, or even their names, the search seemed impossible. -Tia Sofia and Tio Grant were sick with worry at the thought of three children all under legal age being on their own for over a year and a half. The couple searched everywhere they could think of for the kids, using up their vacation time to look for them. The children were just another case file number to the Harlem PD, one of a hundred similar stories, but Sofia and Grant never gave up, determined to find their family. -Sofia and Grant De Vega were a very happy couple, who loved each other very much. They had married young, at 20 and 21, respectively. Sofia was a fifth grade teacher, and Grant was a surgical nurse, and though their jobs were demanding and draining and stressful, they were never anything but loving and happy when it came to one another. They never had children but had always wanted them. -Sofia and Grant live in Sofia's family's ancestral home, a palatial coastal 'cottage' originally built in 1801, by the De Vega settlers under the rule of the Spanish. The house evolved from a Governors house to the land of the 'Cursed De Vegas' a family legend which allegedly happened in the 1850's. After falling on hard times, the De Vegas were looking to sell the home and the lands surrounding it, and were approached by a woman who wanted to buy the property. The head of the household, Raphael De Vega, is said to have laughed for an hour at the suggestion that any woman could afford to buy their home, and laughed an hour more at the idea that a woman would then become the head of the house. The woman was furious, and turned on her heel and left. The family wasn't concerned, until the woman returned the next day, with, as legend goes, a glowing green rock in each hand. As Raphael De Vega opened his mouth to unleash the dogs on her, she threw the glowing green rocks at the ground, where they burrowed deep into the earth and caused a minor earthquake. The woman said she was a witch, and that since Raphael De Vega refused to sell to her, she had used her rocks to curse the land, so that if it were ever sold, the De Vega family would fall to ruin the likes of which they could not imagine. There is also some family controversy as to whether or not the witch and Raphael were old lovers, but the fact remains that the family was so terrified by her threat that the house remained in the family to present day, though needing serious structural work and extreme renovations over the centuries, the house had stood on the coast, a proud nod to California's origins with a quirky backstory. -The house itself is called La Casa Verna, or Spring House, and other than the history of the witch, which in itself is good for an epic family debate, there are a few other oddities about the home. There is a room on the first floor of the house that has never been updated, and to the present day has no electricity or running water. This room was left to itself for its purpose. This room is called the Measuring Room, where, once a year for the big family reunions, family members will be taken one by one into the room and have their height and initials marked onto the walls of the room. This tradition is something that was started in the early twentieth century, as the room was briefly a nursery after a small fire on the second floor. The De Vega family at present consists of around 40 people, including the estranged children of Katy. Despite all of the markings of height in the room, however, there is still quite a lot of room on the walls, for more stories to come. The lands surrounding the house were used by Grant's brother Theodore Ortiz Soto and his husband Jericho, who had transformed it into a horse ranch and vineyard. -Sofia and Grant started their search for their missing nieces and nephew after they had been gone for a year and a half, and their mother had been dead for almost a month. Their search lasted three more years until finally, they had a solid lead on a Keman De Vega, a seven-year-old in a Harlem public school. -After living off of each other for so long, the three siblings were very wary of outsiders and dreaded the day their luck at evading child services wore out. Kessa often lost sleep at the thought of sleeping anywhere but next to Kella. Ken jumped every time he noticed an adult watching them a little too closely, though he didn't quite know what that meant. Kella took up boxing at a hole in the wall gym, to beat out her frustrations at their circumstances. -It was a normal May day, after lunch, and Ken was looking forward to seeing his sisters after school and showing them his artwork he'd received back when a police officer walked into his classroom and asked to speak with him. Ken immediately bolted, racing past the officer and past a startled couple in the hall to lock himself in a bathroom stall, hysterically screaming, "You can't take me away from them!" -Ken spent two hours screaming and sobbing, half in Spanish and half in English, before his sisters showed up to calm him down. After spending a good twenty minutes holding on to one another and easing Ken down from his hysterics, Kella explained that they had an aunt and an uncle, who'd been looking for them, and wanted to take them home to California, give all three of them a home, and a family. -None of the three siblings believed any of it was true, though they went with Sofia and Grant to California two weeks after they were found, once school was out. Kella was 20 and hardened by necessity, Kessa was scared and a realist of the world, and Ken was terrified of being taken away from his sisters. None of them believed that they were really heading anywhere but an orphanage, or maybe a foster home, not even when they were pulling into the garage of an old Spanish style mansion, rolling hills of grapevines behind it. They didn't believe it was all really happening until one night when Kessa and Ken were both having nightmares and Kella was having a breakdown of how to be there for both of them at once, when suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder and a kind voice saying, "Let us help, carina." -Ken quickly befriended all of his new family members, which greatly helped Kella and Kessa meld seamlessly into the family. Ken became instant best friends with Tio Grant's brother Theo's son Diego, a friendship which the family joked could withstand a nuclear bomb. -The extended family of the De Vega's had often wondered where little Katy had run to, and what had become of her. Though they were sad and outraged at the circumstances her children were found in, they were almost grateful for it. The three siblings brought new life, new vibrancy to the family. Mostly, though, they hadn't heard everyone's stories fifty thousand times, and the elders of the family quickly loved their enthusiasm for hearing endless stories about the family, no matter how DULL. (Though to be fair, seldom few of their stories were.) -Sofia and Grant wanted Kella to go to college immediately, but she decided to stay behind for another year and help her siblings settle into their new lives. -Kella attended Hartford, became best friends with Mark Collins, majored in Communications, and got a coveted internship at Buzzfeed New York. After working there two years, she found her way back to San Francisco to work for ClickIt, where Mark was also working. Kella moved in with Mark’s friends Brooke and Syreena, effortlessly fitting into his circle of friends. -Kella, fed up with the racist and sexist environment of ClickIt, broke off from the company and co-founded a San Francisco hard-hitting news outlet named PostAuthority, which quickly became one of the most popular online lifestyle and news blogs on the internet, and the number one most popular blog in San Francisco, earning the Blackbourne Award in its first year of operation. -Eventually, Kella began dating her co-worker Leah, and they were as happy as could be. -Kessa attended Hartford after her sister, quickly befriending her suitemates Kaitlyn Liao, Chris Powell, Zack Porter, Abbie Richards and Tyler Wu. Kessa’s initial attendance at Hartford relied only on her acceptance into a full scholarship. Upon her first day at Hartford, it was discovered that her scholarship application hadn’t gone through, and she needed to pay full tuition. Kessa became the intern for Professor Enrique Vasquez, working alongside his TA, Sophomore James Ashton. Kessa took the recalcitrant, cynical, humongous asshole professor and turned him into something resembling a human being before he died, helping him rectify things with his daughter and be there for the birth of his grandson. In turn, Enrique was the first of her group of friends to learn about her horrible past by YEARS, and was so immensely embarrassed at every nasty thing he ever called her, he wrote her into his will, providing a scholarship for the rest of her tuition if she finished the book he had based on her, and one other book about three siblings growing up on the streets (based on her early years). Kessa and Chris fell in love, Kessa graduated Hartford and immediately got engaged to Chris, who became a US Senator before long while Kessa became a highly acclaimed author. -Ken grew up happy and content, but careful. He took after Kella and Kessa both, in that he started training in mixed martial arts with Kella when he was ten, and Kessa taught him how to make friends and more importantly, how to be one. Ken had the best qualities of both sisters, and whatever he didn’t get from them he had with Diego. Diego became an honorary De Vega sibling, his parents and Tia Sofia and Tio Grant often joking that they were attached at the hip and at the hand. Ken and Diego’s friendship made it easy for Kella and Kessa to focus on their studies and their careers, knowing that their brother had someone who was ride or die for life, the same way that they were. -Ken and Diego’s relationship was...unconventional. Ken, from his background on the streets, was a high functioning mess of anxiety and tightly coiled rage that he kept locked way down deep in his chest, and Diego, with his background as ‘the foreign kid’ at school and the bullying heaped upon his from such, was a highly functioning mess of disassociation. The only reason either of them were highly functioning was because of the other. Each one knew the front, back, side, inside and outside of the other better than they knew themselves, they knew how to break the patterns of succumbing to the mental illnesses plaguing them. They knew how each other worked, how they moved, how they lived. Ken had Kella and Kessa, but he also had Diego, and Diego had him, and nothing was going to take it away from him. Ken loved humanity, he was friends with humanity, but he trusted none of it but his sisters and Diego. -Ken eventually went to Hartford too, but it wasn’t until his Junior year that he and Diego had their adventure. They participated in a contest at Hartford for ten students to win an all expenses paid one week trip to the luxury Caribbean island of La Huerta, and would stay at the five-star resort, The Celestial. Ken never told anyone but his sisters all of the horrible things that he was subjected to on the island, and his sister’s never spoke of it again, but the family soon became aware of the siblings turn against Rourke Industries, and despite a few jokes about Ken seeing ‘inside the belly of the beast’ during his visit to the island, it was never questioned. Ken returned from the island hand in hand with Sean Marcus Gayle, who immediately came out to the media as bisexual, and dating one sunshine and kittens Keman Rodrigo De Vega.

#The De Vega Siblings #Ken De Vega #Kella De Vega #Kessa De Vega #choices: stories you play #choices: endless summer #endless summer #choices: The Freshman #the freshman #choices: lovehacks #lovehacks

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teacherunicorn · 8 years ago

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Opposites Attract (Chapter 65)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66

Tag List: @the-chick-with-the-best-fandom, @does-it-matter129, @dcgoddess

It was only the morning after Alyssa had brought Oswald back to the hotel that Bruce showed up at her door.

“Brucie.” She greeted. “Been a while. What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping I could stay with you for a while, Ms. Connors. I’d earn my keep like the rest of your children.”

Alyssa frowned. “Are you kidding? Alfred would kill me. Then you. Then, me again.”

“You needn’t worry about him. I’m sure he’ll respect my decision.”

“What’s brought this on?” her voice took on its natural mothering tone.

Bruce looked down. “I found the man that killed my parents. He confessed.”

“More hollow of a victory than you thought?”

“....I had the gun in my hand. He wanted me to pull the trigger. Said...’a man gets tired of doing bad, and going unpunished.’ He shot himself when I left the room.”

“Damn.” Alyssa sighed. “Well he’s right, you know. Even the best killers expect something to happen. No matter how fast you run, fate catches up with everyone.”

“I want to understand how it all works.” Bruce declared, his conviction returning. “Why anyone would choose a life like that if they knew what it would do to them. But to do so, I need to learn how to live in the same world other people live in. I need to understand the darkness, and the evil. Not just at Wayne Enterprises, but in the bad parts of town. No one knows more about Gotham than you, and as such you’re the most worthy consultant.”

Alyssa chuckled, smirking slightly. “Well look sharp kid. Class is in session.”

******

Alyssa took a bit of devilish delight in assigning Bruce to several mucky, hefty chores. He had asked to be treated like one of her kids, and he was; but newbies often got hazed. Mama Gotham’s children were as family oriented as she was, and while everyone was always welcome, you had to earn your right to be a member of their family. Prove yourself.

To his credit, Bruce took the hardships rather well. The kids may have been treating him a bit harsher than other newbies, but that was because they knew who he was. They were here because they needed to be, Bruce could return to his mansion and lavish lifestyle anytime he wanted -- which is why everyone had been making bets on how long he would last.

But a week later, he was still there, and he was still alive. And Alfred had only called her twice to check in.

When she found a second to breath between Bruce, Oswald, her mayoral duties, and her kids, Alyssa was pouring over everything that even mentioned the word Arkham. Strange was good and covered his tracks, but if working for Fish had taught her anything it was that everyone had a weak spot. She just had to find out what it was.

“Alyssa?” a voice in her office doorway made her look up. “I-I was wondering if you might take me by my mother’s grave. I wanted to see her...”

Alyssa couldn’t help but look at Oswald with pity. Whatever Strange had done to him had left him a shell of the man he once was. He was doing it to all the inmates, which is why she had to put a stop to it. But there was no point in trying to save her friends if she didn’t help the ones who’d already been victimized.

“Course, Ozzie. Get your coat and we can head out.”

******

It was raining in the graveyard, but Oswald paid little mind to the umbrella Alyssa held over her head, choosing to step up to the headstone.

“Hello mother.” he said with tears in his voice. “What a lovely spot. I am so sorry that I couldn’t be here for the funeral. But I think you’d be proud of me. I’m a changed man. Or...at least I’m trying to be. To be honest...I don’t know, if I’m going to make it without you....”

“You don’t have to worry, Mrs. K.” Alyssa stepped up and took his hand. “Ozzie’s gonna be okay.” Oswald gave his friend a grateful smile.

“Hello.” an older, fancy dressed man drew their attention. “I’m terribly sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all.” Oswald assured. “Lilies.” he gestured to the bouquet the man was holding.

“Her favorite, if memory serves.”

“Yes they were. Did you know her?” he asked as the man set the flowers in front of the headstone.

“Long time ago. I found her again only in death, I’m afraid. I’m Elijah Van Dahl.” he held out a hand to the pair.

“Alyssa Connors.”

“Oswald Cobblepot.”

“...Cobblepot...You’re related to Gertrude?”

“My mother.” Oswald informed.

“...Mother? You’re Gerturde’s son?”

“Yes. I-I’m sorry how did you know my mother exact--”

“How old are you?” Elijah cut him off.

“Excuse me?”

“How old are you? Gertrude left --”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

“Twenty-seven years ago, yes that’s right. Oh my god, she...she never told me!”

“Told you what?” Alyssa frowned.

“That I had a son.”

******

Elijah Van Dahl lived in a very old, very big house that reminded Alyssa of the drawings she had made of her dream home as a child. The man supplied Oswald with some dry clothes to change into while he and Alyssa talked of the woman who had brought them all together.

“Mrs. K wasn’t all that fond of me at first. She thought I was a bad influence.” Alyssa said as she took a seat across from Elijah. “She was right of course, but I think she eventually understood that she couldn’t keep Ozzie sheltered forever.”

“It sounds as though you and Oswald are very close.”

“He’s my best friend. Has been since we were kids.”

“I’m glad he had someone like you in his life.”

“So what happened?” Alyssa asked, taking the cup of tea that was offered to her. “Why didn’t you know about him?”

“Gertrude, came to work as a cook for my family.” Elijah informed. “We were young....my parents were furious when they found out. I threatened to run away with her. Turn my back on my inheritance and my name. It was the first and only time I stood up to them. They must have known my words were just that; a spoiled child making idle threats.” he sighed. “The next day, she was gone. My parents wouldn’t tell me where she was, only that she’d be taken care of, and that I was not to look for her. And to my shame I didn’t....”

“I never actually thought to ask about you.” Alyssa admitted. “Oswald and his mother were so close, it seemed impossible to imagine anyone else in their little family unit.”

“Oh, I hardly think that fair my dear.” Elijah smiled slightly. “After all, she let you in, didn’t she?”

******

As it turned out, Elijah was married to a woman named Grace, who had two children of her own; Sasha and Charles.

Despite Elijah’s assurance otherwise, none of them seemed pleased to find Oswald and Alyssa in their home. Oh, they put on happy faces sure, but anyone who had ever been a victim of false kindness could see right through them. Elijah had lead a sheltered life, so he did not, and Oswald’s head had been wiped, so that left Alyssa.

The young mayor found them extremely snobbish, not unlike the high class people she had been made to endure at parties she attended with Lex. Once they learned of her name and status however, they became much more...friendly, if that was the right word. Especially Grace’s son Charles, who kept refilling her wine glass the second it even came close to being low.

Alyssa excused herself at one point during the evening meal to check in on the responsibilities she had been ignoring all day. She hadn’t expected this to go beyond taking Oswald to visit his mother’s grave, and now she had been away from her desk for far longer than usual.

“I hope we’re not making you uncomfortable.”

Alyssa jumped about a foot in the air, holding a hand over her heart as she turned to face Charles. “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry.” he said, though he chuckled not seeming sorry at all. “I imagine it’s a bit awkward, being the only person at the table who isn’t a member of the family.”

“Oswald was my family long before any of you came into the picture.” she informed. “I’m happy for him.”

“Then smile. You don’t look happy.”

Alyssa resisted the urge to roll her eyes and out on a large, clearly fake smile. “Better?” she asked sarcastically.

“Well now you just look stiff.” Charles said, laughing as though they were joking like old friends. Alyssa suddenly noticed that he had been stepping closer to her, and now her back was against the wall. “You ought to loosen up a bit.” he laid a hand on her arm and Alyssa opened her mouth to tell him to remove it, only to be cut off by rich boy lips.

Squeaking in surprise, she pulled back instantly and slapped him squarely across the face. Charles’ head snapped to the side with the force of the slap, and he raised a slow hand to his cheek that was beginning to glow a bright red.

“Mother!” he called, bringing not only Grace, but the rest of the household into the hallway with him.

“Charles, what on earth happened!” Grace exclaimed when she saw the mark on her son’s cheek.

“I came out to check on Ms. Connors, and out of nowhere she hit me!”

“You’re the one who pinned me up against the wall and kissed me!” Alyssa exclaimed.

“I did no such thing!”

“I think you should go Ms. Connors.” Grace said, barely restrained anger in her voice. “I will not tolerate my children being around someone who hurts them again.”

“Fine. Your lasagna was lousy anyway, and I’ve got work to do. Come on Oswald.” Alyssa pushed past the group towards the front door, stopping when she noticed Oswald wasn’t following her. Looking over her shoulder, she frowned. “Ozzie?”

Oswald’s eyes flickered from her, to the floor, and then to his father before he took a step closer to the man, attempting and failing to stand straight.

“Wow....” Alyssa let out a breathy chuckle. “Upgraded. have we?” Oswald’s gaze went back to the floor, but he remained in his place. “I see how it is. See ya around, Penguin.”

Oswald flinched at both the name and the slamming of the door as Alyssa walked through it. Even as his father put an arm around his shoulders, he found he couldn’t silence the voice in the back of his head; screaming at him that he had just made a terrible mistake.

******

As she was noticing was a habit of her’s, Alyssa promptly threw herself into her work in order to ignore her emotions. On the drive back into the city, her mind was going a hundred miles an hour making a to-do list. The top dozen things on this list all involved her being at the mayor’s office, but for some reason she looked up to find she had parked herself outside the GCPD.

Surrendering to her instincts, she unlatched her seatbelt and headed into the building. She hadn’t annoyed Jim Gordon in a few days; that always made her feel better.

She was just approaching his desk as the boyscout himself was walked past her in handcuffs.

“What the hell is going on here?” she demanded.

“I’m not in the mood Connors.” Barnes said gruffly, slapping a case file into her chest before turning on his heel and heading straight for his office.

Alyssa gave the folder a bewildered look before her eyes snapped back up to the man being towards the door she’d just come through. “Jim!”

“Alyssa, find Harvey!” Jim called to her. “The bomber, Alyssa! Everything that happened today was set up to trap me!” The officer leading him gave his arm a yank, making him walk again. “The bomber Alyssa!” Jim yelled over his shoulder.

If you had asked her five minutes ago, Alyssa probably would have told you there was nothing left the world could do that would genuinely surprise her. But she stood there a moment, blinking dumbly as she watched Jim Gordon be lead out of the precinct.

Remembering the case file she was holding, she flipped it open and was greeted by gory photographs and the GCPD logo at the top off the official documents. Among the photos of a dead body that Alyssa illy recognized as officer Pikney, there were a few of this morning’s bombing incident at the art museum. The bomb itself had been a fake, but a painting had been stolen in the chaos, and several more defaced.

In the empty frame where the stolen artwork had been cut out, there was a curly green question mark drawn in spray paint.

Alyssa instantly saw red, closing the file with a sharp smack! She marched straight for the lower levels of the building, not stopping until she had reached Edward Nygma’s office. She entered without knocking, making the man look up from his work only to be slapped across the face.

“That was for Jim.”

“...Oookay.” Edward shifted his jaw, certain his cheek would bruise. “And what exactly have I done to warrant your wrath on detective Gordon’s behalf?”

“Don’t play dumb.” she scowled, throwing the case file onto the table next to them. “It’s never suited you.”

Edward picked his glasses up off the table where they’d landed when Alyssa had slapped them off, and glanced at the tab on the edge of the folder, quickly working out why she was so angry with him. “Ah....figured that out, did you?”

Alyssa scoffed. “Please.” she opened the folder and held up the question mark picture. “This calling card may be new to everyone else, but did you really think I wouldn’t recognize it?”

“...To be honest, the thought didn’t occur to me.”

“No, of course it didn’t, because you forgot the golden rule of catching criminals: they always screw up somewhere. You’d think you’d remember that, as if it weren’t the case you’d be out of a job.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Edward said quickly. Alyssa may have recognized the mark, but he’d covered his tracks perfectly. She may know the truth, but there was no way she could get anyone to believe her.

“Doesn’t matter.” she shook her head. “Like I said, criminals always screw up somewhere, and you made the biggest screw up of all: you messed with someone I like, and that is not a safe place to stand.”

“Alyssa --” Edward reached for her arm, but was smacked away.

“Don’t!” she snapped. “You’re going down, poindexter. Hard.”

#oswald cobblepot imagine #edward nygma imagine #jerome valeska imagine #selina kyle imagine #bruce wayne imagine #gotham #jim gordon imagine #gothamTV

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steviexevans · 8 years ago

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Tennessee Trip || Stierra

Tagging: Stevie Evans & Sierra Reid When: April 14, 2017 - April 16, 2017 Where: The Evans’ house in Dayton, TN Notes: Dwight, Mary, and Stacey Evans included in this para played by Cailin and I!

Stevie

The plane landed five minutes before the scheduled time and Stevie's hold on Sierra's hand never let up. It was his second time on a plane and the sensation felt foreign to him. A quite breath escaped his lips as he smiled, relieved they were back on the ground. He was back home. He thought he'd be back here at the beginning of November, not many months later with his claim-to-be by his side. "I'm willing to bet they're already here waiting for us." He said as he leaned forward to look out the window at the people who moved around on the tarmac. Stevie turned to look at her and kissed Sierra's cheek. "How do you feel?"

Sierra

"Nervous," she admitted. She had been distracted on the plane, making sure Stevie's anxieties about flight were soothed, but now that they were here, all her fears about them not liking her were surfacing.

Stevie

"Hey. They'll love you, okay." he said, taking both her hands and placing her knuckles against his mouth. "And Stacey's been poking at me about you because she can't wait to talk your ear off." he kissed her hands and lowered them to press against his chin. "Just remember I'll be with you the whole time. So if anything comes up your not comfortable with. You let me know and I'll take care of it."

Sierra

Sierra nodded and tried to smile. She knew her Stevie would always protect her, but she still wanted them to accept her, a feeling she hadn't had since her school days.

Stevie

The people in the rows ahead of them were up and taking care of their luggage in the overhead bins. Stevie didn't stir from his as he wanted to place both hands on Sierra's face to look into her eyes. The pads of his thumbs caressed the edges of her mouth and he pressed a soft kiss. People walked past them and he eventually lowered his hands to stand, removing his carry on from it. When he traveled he preferred to keep everything in one small bag. He heard stories of airlines losing people's luggage and he had so little in the way of personal belongings that he didn't want to risk that taking place.

Sierra

Sierra on the other hand had checked a giant suitcase. She always overpacked. They filed out of the plane and Sierra clutched onto Stevie's hand. She had seen pictures of his family, but she was sure she still wouldn't recognize them in person. She just knew they were all beautiful.

Stevie

They worked their way through the people who disembarked and it took five minutes or so to get to the baggage carousel. There were voids amongst them, gathering luggage for their Dominants and their families. Stevie helped one get a couple heavy pieces off before he spotted Sierra's. As soon as he thunked it to the ground he laughed breathlessly. "I think you packed double the amount of clothing I own."

Sierra

Sierra twisted at her ring, feeling apprehensive. "You don't have to get it. I can take care of it. I know I overpacked." Does it look like I'm showing off? she wondered. She should have packed like him. Kept it simple. But she wanted to look nice for them. As it was, she wore a simple white and black dress, long sleeved to cover her ugly arms. Her hair was tamed and twisted back and her makeup was subdued.

Stevie

Stevie had such a smile on his face because he was about to see his family again, and they were to meet the woman he loved. Even if her suitcase weighed as much as the boxes of tiles he had to carry around on sites. "I got it." he said, working it to its side to pull up the handle that came with it. He looked up at her, pulling his hair back and out of his eyes and gave her a smile to show everything was fine. His eyes dropped to the bag but before they did he noticed the nervous twisting of the ring and he made sure to take her hand the moment he could. Stevie walked them away from the people still waiting for their bags. His eyes looked around to see if his family was there. They must be somewhere...

Dwight

Dwight Evans smiled and squeezed his daughters shoulder. "I think I see someone familiar." His wife smiled widely and he could feel her happiness at being reunited with her son. But she definitely noticed the girl with him and she sighed. "Oh, Mister Dwight, isn't she lovely?" Dwight nodded. They'd been shocked and a little concerned that their son wanted to be in a claim so soon, but the submissive girl was beautiful, lithe limbed and well dressed.

Stacey

"I was certain they got lost!" Stacey said as she raised to her toes, eyes here and there to try to land on her brother and his sub. The teen wanted to meet Sierra for so, so long. Same with Sam's Domme but that wasn't happening as long as her parent's pride kept making things hard on that end. The girl only wanted her family to be one once again. If she kept praying and hoping, wishing on every star, or whenever the clock read 7:11, 1:23 or even 12:34, or every little thing that was wished on, then she'd keep doing it. Stacey, still not as tall as her mom, but getting there, saw someone with long hair in the distance and she lifted a hesitant hand but it shot up as soon as she knew it was him for certain. The wave, so enthusiastic it could have propelled off her body, continued until it caught his attention. Oh my gosh! And Sierra was just as pretty as the pictures he sent her!

Stevie

The search took no time and he saw his dad behind a wall of people, but it was Stacey who caused his smile to grow. "There they are," he said. Stevie looked down to Sierra and hoped her eyes were on them just so she could see who they were before taking her over. His family appeared as happy and excited as he felt so that worry might have been for nothing. However, he'd not let Sierra know he was nervous about this. He remembered how he felt when he met her parents and knew she was feeling just as afraid.

Sierra

Sierra felt sort of light lightheaded by nerves and her heart leaped in her chest when he said he spotted them. There was no turning back now. His parents were good looking, but not in a polished, reconstructed way. Just a natural beauty that allowed them to age gracefully. And his sister was even more gorgeous. A China doll face, completely blemish free set on a slender neck, showed off by a blunt, chin-length bob. Sierra tried desperately to smile and she just hoped she was.

Dwight

Dwight smiled when they were close enough. "Welcome home, son!" He and Stevie had always had s close relationship and he desperately missed that. Mary broke away from her Dom and threw her arms around her son, hugging him close. "Oh, it's so good to see you, sweetheart!" She pulled back and held his face in her hands, kissing his forehead, then pulling back and smiling wider. "So handsome!" But she still wished he would cut his hair. But she'd bring that up later.

Stevie

There were hugs and happy words from one to the other and Stevie felt at home with his family once again. They were all here pretty much, minus Sam. Which was someone he wouldn't have thought of before but after so many months at Cavendish he'd started to see him as someone he wanted to talk to and bring back into his life. Slowly, but there wasn't as much anger as before. "It's good to see all of you," He said, hand returning to Sierra's and holding her close. "This is my Sierra." he said, not realizing he used 'my' before her name.

Stacey

Stacey had to worm her way through her parents to give Stevie a big ol' hug because it's been waaaaay too long. Stacey wanted to tell him about all her lessons and what she's learned and she wanted to show Sierra all the pretty dresses her parents bought this year. There was a lot to talk about but she had to hold it in, which made her feel more bouncy that normal. It wasn't often when something new and exciting happened around here and she welcomed it. Stacey gave Sierra a cutesy wave and smiled before going to give the submissive a hug. She was part of the family so she figured she should get used to the hugs.

Sierra

The title warmed Sierra and she warmed shyly at his family, offering a quiet, but polite, "Hello." His little sister had wrapped her arms around her and Sierra's eyes widened in surprise, but she hugged her back, admittedly a little awkwardly. Stevie's mother hugged her next and then stepped back to look her over, which made Sierra uncomfortable, even though the woman said, "What a lovely dress." "Thank you," Sierra said. Her eyes moved to Stevie's father and said said properly, "Pleased to meet you, sir." Mr. Evans smiled warmly and said it was nice to meet her too.

Stevie

Stevie stood close, but gave Sierra enough room with his family for them to get their greetings in. "We should head out. I bet you guys are tired from waiting around for us and I can't wait to see home again." As excited as he was about showing Sierra this part of his life, he hoped she would be fine with how small their house was. Especially his room which was the size of a shoebox compared to the rooms at the academy.

Stacey

Stacey went around and looped her arm around Sierra's asking, "Are you really into photography? Stevie showed me some pictures and they're good. Real good. Do you like it?" Her questions tumbled out and Stevie shook his head at this. Five minutes in and his little sister was determined to make a best friend before they reached the parking lot.

Sierra

Sierra was caught off guard by the chatter. She wasn't used to people approaching and being so friendly. Mostly, people just left her alone. "Oh, thank you," she said. "Yeah, I do."

Dwight

"Mom's making your favorite for dinner tonight, Stevie," Dwight said, grabbing Stevie affectionately by the shoulder and pulling him.

Stevie

This was what Stevie wanted from his family; glad they welcomed Sierra easily. He imagined there would be a conversation at some point during his visit, but for now, this was fine with him. He pulled Sierra's suitcase and continued to hold her hand because wrapping his arm around her would be awkward with the way he was pulling this luggage."

Stacey

Stacey looked down and saw the hand holding, thinking for a moment how she'd like for a guy to do that with her. That the Doms her age were weird and annoying. She was glad they were gone away to their boarding schools because it gave her a break from them. It didn't stop her from wanting to meet someone that'd make her feel like a princess. Like the way she imagined Sierra felt with her brother. "Do you think you'll be able to take some pictures of me this weekend? if you have time that is. I don't want to make you do anything you don't want." Stacey asked Sierra.

Stevie

Stevie looked to his little sister and said, "Stace. Let us get settled in first before you make your requests. We're not going anywhere for a few days." The girl nodded but she wanted to keep asking. Which she almost did but she saw the way her brother looked at her and she behaved.

Sierra

Sierra was surprised at the request from his little sister. She wondered if she had ever been this enthusiastic, but she doubted it. She smiled shyly and said, "I'd love to take your picture."

Dwight

Stevie's parents exchanged happy looks. It was wonderful to see Stevie and Stacey together again and they knew it made their daughter happy to have another girl around. They lead the way to their car and let everyone get settled inside.

Stevie

The back seat of the car was a little cramped with the three of them pushed together. The last time they had a full car was when Sam was with them. Not that the front seat wasn't offered to him. He wanted to keep next to Sierra, so she'd not go long without his touch. His comfort. Stacey chattered about her classes and her tutor and with the way she went on about the man, Stevie wondered if she developed some type of crush on him. "How's everything with you guys?" He asked as soon as Stacey pulled Sierra into photography talk."everything's going fine,"

Dwight

Dwight said simply. Nothing had changed much with their financial situation but he didn't want Stevie worrying about that right now, not with his impending claim on the horizon. Mary picked up on this and turned in her seat to smile at her son. "So tell me everything about the ceremony. The venue and things like that."

Stevie

Stevie looked to Sierra and laughed as he shook his head. A hand went through his long hair and he could feel the heat from the city, knowing he'd need to pull his hair up to keep from sweating too much. "A lot of those details falls on Sierra's mom." He needed to talk to the woman and figure out what her plans are, so he could relay it back to his parents. He never had interest in anything big, but he could tell how much it meant to his submissive as a way to show how appreciative she was of her parents. "I know it's May 6th."

Mary

Mary nodded. "Well im sure it will be lovely." She looked at her husband, who said, "we're still working out the details on how we're going to get there, to Maryland, but we won't miss it."

Stevie

Stevie wanted to ask if it was money they were worried about. And he nearly did but by doing so in front of Sierra and Stacey that would make things uncomfortable. They tried to keep a lot of the financial struggles from Stacey because they didn't think she should feel bad about the nice things they gave her. "I'm pretty sure it'll all get figured out." He said, holding Sierra's hand and trying not to play with her rings as he thought about asking whether or not they'd feel okay with Sam and his Dominant being there. It was one part of the ceremony he was nervous about.

Dwight

"Oh it will, son," Dwight said. "Don't even think about it. You just focus on your claim." Mary smiled encouragingly.

Sierra

Sierra had been eavesdropping and she desperately wanted to let them know they already had a suite booked by her mother at the nearest 5-star hotel, but that was something she would bring up to Stevie in private. She didn't want to appear she'd been listening in, so she turned back to Stacey who was admiring one of her bracelets and complimented, "I love your hair."

Stevie

It wasn't as if he doubted that they would, because this was a moment he knew they wanted to take part in. He didn't want them to put what little money they had towards travel and a hotel. Stevie looked to Sierra, curious if she or her parents already considered this. That felt weird for him, as if he were already starting to look for help. Was that right of him? Though he said nothing and only leaned in to kiss her behind the ear after she spoke to Stacey.

Stacey

"You do?" She asked, a hand went to her hair and Stacey ran her fingers along the ends; it cascaded back into place. "I used to hate my hair this length but it looks way cute on me and goes with lots of the different outfits I have. Plus it takes close to no time to take care of." That had been hard losing all her hair after Sam left but Stacey liked to make the best of everything.

Sierra

Sierra was almost distracted by Stevie's kiss, but she was determined to focus on Stacey for the time being. She smiled. "It does look way cute. And I bet it's super easy. Just don't start bleaching it. Trust me."

Stacey

Stacey looked at Sierra's hair, which she'd seen in pictures and knew it was very, very blonde. Almost white and the young submissive didn't put two and two together. "You bleach your hair?" She asked and on the ready to touch it as if that'd give her the answer to her question but she'd been told by her parents and tutor that it was impolite to touch people when they didn't give permission.

Stevie

Stevie looked out the window and recognized the neighborhood. A couple of the houses on the street had For Sale or For Lease signs out. "When did the Rogers move?" he asked. He used to talk to spend time there after they moved to this neighborhood a few years ago.

Sierra

Sierra nodded. "Yes, and it completely ruins it. And you have gorgeous color." It was the same as Stevie's, so maybe she was a little biased. She heard his dad answer Stevie,

Dwight

"Oh, about a few months back. Hard to say when, exactly."

Stacey

"Nobody's ever told me the color of my hair is gorgeous." She thought people had nice-looking hair but for Sierra to compliment hers. It made Stacey sit up a little straighter and smile a little more. "Thank you," she said, before she was reminded by her dad that she should show appreciation whenever a compliment was given.

Stevie

"Don't let her fool you," Stevie leaned over to whisper in Sierra's ear, "She used to get constant attention from Sam when it came to brushing her hair before bed."

Stacey

Stacey reached over and poked his arm, "First. I can hear you. Second it wasn't all the time. Only when I couldn't brush it myself."

Stevie

Stevie laughed, "Which was all the time." She gave him a look and crossed her arms. It felt good to be back with his family again and for Sierra to get to see them in person, instead of through stories. He shifted his attention back to his dad, "I hope they moved to a nicer house. Miss Rogers busted her butt running the grocery store. It'd be nice for that hard work to be rewarded." The car pulled into a small driveway and parked in front of a single-car garage.

Sierra

Sierra looked surprise. "Your brother used to brush your hair?" It conjured such a sweet image in her head and she thought of Stevie's older brother in a whole new way.

Dwight

Dwight didn't share the feeling. He would speak to Stevie in private about how they weren't to talk about Sam. It made Mary upset and even now, he could see that look on her face. Wordlessly, he reached over and took her hand.

Stevie

When the car parked he opened the door and placed a hand out for Sierra to take,

Stacey

Stacey was doing the same on the other side as she went to the front of the house. She didn't have her own key so she had to keep there until dad opened the door for them.

Stevie

"Alright. Here's the place." he said, going around to wrap his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. "The pictures probably made it look bigger than it really is. But there are some good memories in this place.

Sierra

"Sierra smiled at him. "It looks lovely," she said honestly. Size didn't matter.

Dwight

Dwight opened the door and let them in. "Not much has changed since you've been gone. But we're going to do takeout for dinner tonight. Sierra, do you like Chinese?"

Sierra

Oh, right, eating, she thought. "Yes, sir," she said.

Stevie

"We'll be right in," he called out to everyone as they went into the house. Stevie's arms remained around Sierra. When it was only them on the front lawn he asked, "How are you holding up?" It was hard for them to talk between themselves and he wanted to check now before they headed inside. Stevie hugged her close and kissed a spot on Sierra's shoulder. He may be home but Stevie made no plans to tone down his affectionate side.

Sierra

Sierra let out a breath. "I'm okay," she said. His family was wonderful, but keeping up her smile and manners was exhausting her. She smiled for him though. "Your sister is great. And your parents seem lovely."

Stevie

Stevie loved his family, which was no secret. And he had a feeling he crossed a line before when he said Sam's name. Not aware of it until a couple minutes later, as he was someone they didn't talk about. With being in Cavendish and seeing him every so often, it flowed out of him without a second's thought. Still, Stevie didn't' say this and continued to hold Sierra. He pulled from her to walk over to the driver side, opening it to tug the trunk release to grab their bags. "It feels good to have everyone here. I'm curious how it'd go with your parents here. And-" he shook his head. He knew the latter would go well and he felt at a crossroads about having Sam and his Domme at their ceremony in May.

Sierra

Sierra rubbed a hand over his shoulder. "And your brother?" She prodded gently.

Stevie

Stevie looked at her, with a bag in his hand, and he nodded slowly. "I do worry that things won't go over well between my parents and Sam at our ceremony." He hated to admit this. "A year ago I'd never consider inviting him, but now." He didn't know if they'd be able to talk about this again this trip. "It's such a complicated situation."

Sierra

Sierra didn't say anything for a long time and then she leaned over and pressed her lips to his cheek. When she pulled away, she caressed the spot with her fingertips. "It's your day," she said soothingly. "You have whoever you want there and everyone else can behave. Don't worry about it."

Stevie

Stevie wanted to laugh. Not at her or what she said. At the situation. A lot took place since October and he remained on the fence when it came to how to approach this, but he knew Sierra had a point. They needed to behave. Everyone involved were adults and if they wanted to bicker or squabble. That was on them. He set the bag down and turned around to hug her close. "I won't. I'll do what feels right. If it turns into a mess. That's not on us."

Sierra

Sierra shook her head, looking up at him. "It's not. If we had our way, no one would be invited."

Stevie

Now he did laugh. "Well," he started, eyes up at the house and feeling glad to be home even if they've not set foot inside. "I agree. What we're doing is good. It makes your parents happy. Especially your mom. And we'll have all our time after the ceremony for it to only be us." Stevie kissed her, releasing Sierra to grab her suitcase and his carry on. "Let's head in. I want to give you the tour."

Sierra

Sierra smiled and followed him inside, prepared to have a great trip getting to know his family.

Stevie

Stevie entered the house as if he'd only been gone an hour, not stopping until he reached his door. He pushed it open and flipped a light switch, wheeling Sierra's suitcase to keep next to the full-size bed. Wow. He used to think this room was an okay size but after his time at the school, it felt smaller. It WAS smaller. By a lot. His room had a window, that faced the backyard. There were numerous drawings and paintings on his walls. An easel was in the corner next to an old desk with an even older computer on it. He tried to keep his room tidy but there were splashes of paint on the wood floor underneath the easel that he needed to clean up at some point. There were pictures of friends and family on his desk, along with drawing books and a few classic novels he enjoyed. A closet with a sliding door was partway open and a guitar he lucked into stood next to it. He hadn't much time to play on it. He considered taking it back with him and asking Sam to teach him. He walked to the center of the room and stood on a dark blue rug, "We can start the tour here. " He said, eyes moved around not exactly sure where to start. Not that there was a starting point.

Sierra

But Sierra was already off and looking at all his art on the walls. He had definitely improved, but there was always an obvious talent. She raised her fingers, touching them, feeling the texture of the dried paint, the grain of the paper. If she closed her eyes, she could almost picture the boy in the pictures she'd seen, his blue eyes wide and eager, his cheeks still full from baby fat, his hair shorter, but still floppy.

Stevie

Very few people have been in his room, mostly his family and a couple of friends. Everyone else he kept from here because this was his favorite space. He watched Sierra go from one part of the wall to the other, touching his art and taking it in. Stacey always liked when he painted or drew happier subjects, especially the one he did of her a couple years ago that she kept in her room. His mom encouraged his creativity while his dad thought it was a good outlet, but that it shouldn't detract from his studies and work. Stevie leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he watched Sierra. "I need to add portraits of you in here."

Sierra

Sierra turned to look at him over her shoulder. "Why?" She asked. "I like that it's like this. The things of your past that made you who you are. I'm your future."

Stevie

Stevie didn't have anything to say to this, tilting his head at how she went about the room and found one of his earliest drawings. Not the typical ones you did as a kid with crayons and tracing your hand to make it look like a turkey for Thanksgiving. It was of a tree outside their old house. A tire swing hung from it and he had Stacey and Sam there. It was when he attempted to capture people for the first time. It was crude, for certain, but it was a drawing that held a lot of meaning for him. It was also the only one in the room that had his brother in it.

Sierra

Sierra smiled at the drawing. It was easy to tell who was who. Sam was the tallest in the picture, bigger than the other two children. The other two were the same size, but one had blonde hair flowing to her waist and a dress on, while the other wore all blue - shorts and a t-shirt.

Stevie

Stevie could hear talk in the living room and he slid over to the door, to stand there so he could be a part of both rooms. Stacey was in the living room on the phone, talking about something that made her laugh uncontrollably. He'd only been able to hear this during their talks and to see her doing it, like when he lived here, it felt nostalgic in a sense. His dad was in the backyard, while his mom was nowhere to be found. It was as if they'd fallen back to their old lives, without even trying. "I want to show you the rest of the house," he offered his hand to her.

Sierra

Sierra put her hand in his, smiling and letting him show her his world.(edited)"We've been in this house for a short period of time, but we made it home pretty soon after we unpacked the first box," he said as he took her into the living room. The furniture in this room was very lived in and comfortable. Warm. There were pictures on the walls and a large collection of movies in the old entertainment center he, Sam, and his dad put together some years back. Stevie mostly watched and handed tools over when needed. Stacey was on the couch, laid out and flipping through a magazine while chattering away. She waved at them and told her friend her brother and his claim were there, the girl already referring to Sierra as that. She knew Stevie and that he wouldn't bring someone home unless they were the one. She loved hearing about everything from him. What he'd share at least. It reminded her of a whirlwind romance, something she only got to experience whenever she managed to sneak a fan fiction read or two.

Stevie

There was a piano in the corner, one of those upright ones, and Stevie went to it, pulling out the bench to pick up a music book. "I can play a little bit of piano. I mostly doodled in here instead of paying attention to the lessons." Which he felt some guilt about. It was before he realized how strapped for cash his family was. If he'd known he would have paid better attention.

Sierra

Sierra smiled, taking everything in. It was a close, homey environment, and she could see how Stevie had grown up to be the affectionate, wonderful man he was. She smiled a little bigger, listening to how he doodled instead of playing music. Sierra touched the keys and played a little melody before taking her hand back.

Stevie

Stevie walked around and leaned against the top of the piano, impressed and feeling something else. Perhaps more attracted to Sierra than before. "I didn't know you play." Stevie looked at the keys, curious if she'd show another little song for him. Or them as Stacey turned to see what was happening in the corner of this room. She took weekly piano lessons and wanted to hear what songs Sierra knows. "Do you have a favorite piece?" Stevie asked her.

Sierra

Sierra immediately became self conscious and began twisting at her rings. "Oh. No, it's nothing. I took lessons as a kid. I haven't really played in years."

Stevie

Stevie looked to Stacey, then back to Sierra. "Stacey's taking lessons now for close to a year. She sometimes plays what she's learned whenever we Skype."

Stacey

The blonde told her friend she'd call right back and soon hopped over to the piano to sit next to Sierra. "My teacher says I'm doing great." She said, fingers on the edge of the piano, looking at both of them. "He gave me some sheet music to practice. One is from an actual movie. Wizard of Oz." Stacey then added after a couple beats, "Did you like to play when you were younger?"

Sierra

Sierra smiled. "Sometimes, but it was rare. I wasn't very good and I was more interested in other things. But I would love to hear you play," she said politely.

Stacey

Stacey wasn't exactly naturally gifted when it came to the piano but she did fine considering she started a week after her birthday last year. The girl beamed at Sierra and reached to the small stand and picked up a couple thin booklets. There were introductory pieces that she memorized and played for fun. Then the ones that were slightly more advance. "Here's one from Snow White." she said, turning a couple of pages in her Disney piano book to make sure she wanted to play Someday my Prince Will Come. "I was taught this one...I think...three months ago. I started to go through the other ones to get used to reading music on my own." She kept talking, clearly excited about this. "Can you scoot over a little?"

Sierra

Sierra did her one better and stood.

Stacey

There were a couple moments of Stacey getting comfortable behind the keys, toeing the pedals and fixing her posture. She could feel her teacher tapping her fingers with a pencil to get her hands positioned correctly on the keyboard. A metronome played in her head, to keep in beat with the music, and she started to play the piece. She made sure to read the notes and not do it from memory so she'd learn the keys by feel and not by look.

Stevie

Stevie went over and tugged at Sierra's wrist to bring her over to the couch as he was sitting on the arm while Stacey talked to her. "So. This is the living room." He said, with a smile. "Mom's in the kitchen behind me." He thought to continue the tour, but by keeping put. Everything could be seen from this one spot. "And dad's doing something in the backyard." The sliding glass door showed the man going towards a small shed with some tools.

Sierra

Sierra nodded, though she was trying to listen to his sister playing.

Mary

Mary came out with a tray, laden with a pitcher of ice water and an assortment of crackers and cut up cheese. "This should tide you over until dinner," she said, smiling at Sierra. She went to Stevie and stroked a hand over his hair before kissing the top of his head. "Welcome home, my beautiful boy." She smiled at him lovingly as she tucked his hair behind his ear. Her eyes slid over to it and she tsked. "Though I hope you're considering a cut for your ceremony..."

Stevie

As Stevie was about to lift a cracker he felt his mom's hand in his hair. There was the inevitable mention of how long it'd grown since she last saw him. "Why would I want to cut it?" He took such good care of his hair, proud of the way it looked and how long it was. Stevie's hand went through the long strands and felt how soft they were.

Sierra

Sierra held her tongue as Mary kept speaking.

Mary

"Well, you know, I know some boys are wearing it this long, but I'm sure there will be a photographer and I'm worried you'll look back and wonder what you were thinking. I mean, it's longer than your sister's," she tried to joke. "And you have such a handsome face. It's a shame all this hair distracts from it..." She sighed. "But obviously, you do what you think is best. That's just your old mother's opinion." She leaned down and kissed his head again, then whispered, "Please don't let your sister sneak any of the cheese," before slipping back to the kitchen to continue with dinner.

Stevie

Stevie knew she meant well, and as much as he wanted to say that he'd cave and get a trim, he knew he wouldn't. "Don't worry mom. I'll have my hair back when we take photographs. It'll look fine." He hoped this would suffice as an answer because he didn't want this to be an issue. Though, as soon as she mentioned Stacey and cheese he thought about Sam. He wasn't told to be mindful of what he ate. His hair was the only thing that he went back and forth with his parents, but food and clothing were never an issue. Stacey was still at the piano, unaware of what was said, and he wonder if this was something that went on awhile and he never paid mind to it or if it started recently. "Can you imagine me with short hair for our ceremony?" He asked Sierra, trying not to think too much about the food thing.(edited)

Sierra

Sierra didn't want his hair tied back in their photos. She wanted their photos to capture them in this moment. Beautiful and young with her Dom and his gorgeous long hair. But she didn't want to say anything. When his mom left, she shook her head. "You'd be handsome, I'm sure," she said. She curled into his arm, her fingers sneaking up to play with the ends of his hair. "But I like you the way you are."

Stevie

"I'm glad you feel that way. I don't intend to cut it, other than a trim to keep it healthy." He enjoyed how she played with his hair, along with the way it felt whenever her fingers pushed through it and pulled when she was caught up with their lovemaking. There was no way he'd cut it because he wanted to keep enjoying that sensation with her. Stacey finished one song and decided to do one of the ragtime numbers she loved to get into. Stevie laughed and kissed Sierra. "Want to dance to this?" It was a catchy tune.

Sierra

Sierra's face froze as she realized something. "We've never danced together before."

Stevie

"Up for seeing how we do?" He asked, moving to stand in front of her. He didn’t know how someone danced to this particular style but he didn't care. He was at home with his family, who welcomed Sierra in with open arms. Stevie's hands took a hold of hers and swung them, slightly, in beat with the song

Sierra

Sierra bit her lower lip as he swung her arms and she got off the couch. She glanced around, still feeling a little shy, but she began to dance with him. It had been a long time since she had danced. At all.

Stevie

This was how they spent time together, which kept their family close. Something Stevie loved, but when Sam left there was a noticeable hole in their family. After a couple years it wasn't as noticeable but right now Stevie felt it. He wondered if they'd ever have their entire family together again or if it was wishful thinking. And for him to even consider this, surprised him as he never thought he'd want his older brother around again. Stevie held onto Sierra's hands and danced with her, watching her feet and guiding her along with the song. He laughed and smiled with it, aware his mother stopped what she was doing to watch.

Mary

Mary smiled from the doorway of the kitchen. It felt so good to have her son back home. One of your sons, a voice said in the back of her mind, but she desperately tried to ignore it. She only had one son now. One son that was about to claim. He looked at the girl with such adoration and it warmed her heart. He would be a good Dom to her, to anyone he chose. The girl noticed Mary in the door way and let go of Stevie, gesturing, offering her to take her place. Mary waved a hand. "Oh, no I couldn't . . ." she said with a laugh.

Stevie

When the song ended, Stevie wrapped his arm around Sierra's waist and brought her close to hold and kiss. He grinned and chuckled against her cheek. "We've had our first dance now." He said into her ear. Stevie kissed her lips and let go because he needed to keep things at a family friendly level between them when they were here. A knock came soon after, which was probably the Chinese food they ordered.

Mary

Mary went to the door and paid for the food before bringing it all in. It was expensive, but the good thing about Chinese was that there was usually leftovers, so they got a few meals out of it. "Stacey," she said, "please go set the table."

Stacey

Stacey placed all the books into the bench and went to wash her hands before touching plates and utensils.

Stevie

Stevie decided to go ahead and show Sierra the backyard while he alerted his dad about the food's arrival. "Did you play around in your yard growing up?" He asked, sliding the door open and allowing her to go before him.

Sierra

Dwight thanked Stevie and headed inside while Sierra nodded. "Sure. Didn't everyone?"

Stevie

Stevie shook his head. "There was a kid in my old neighborhood that wasn't allowed outside. I didn't know he was in the house until I saw him in the window." It was a sad story because he could tell how much he wanted to take part with the other kids but he couldn't. Stevie talked to him briefly, when he was able to crack the window open but he rarely had alone time due to his mother being home at all times. Stevie took Sierra's hand and brought her to the large tree and laid his hand a rope, which he tugged to bring down a rope ladder. "This is a treehouse I built with my dad right after we moved here." He pointed up at it. It wasn't large but when he started work in construction he learned how to make it sturdy and decent looking.

Sierra

Sierra felt sad at the story and didn't say anything. Who wouldn't let their child outside? Who wouldn't want him to have friends? Sierra looked up in surprise. "You built that?"

Stevie

"My dad and I did. I came up with how to go about it and he helped me get it started. When he got tied up with work I took care of completing it." He placed a hand on the ladder and hung it there with some of his weight as he leaned on it. "After dinner I want to take you up there."

Sierra

Sierra nodded. "Definitely. I want to see it.”

Stacey

Stacey pulled the door open and was about to yell that the food was served and she had to remind herself that the last time she did this she was giving a small swat on the hand because it was seen as rude to yell. The girl went across, quickly, to them and looked up. "Oh. I should warn you I've moved some things in there while you were away." she said to her brother. There were magazines and letters up there. Things that she mostly wanted to keep from her parents.

Stevie

Stevie looked at her with surprise. He never told Stacey the tree house was off limits but his sister was scared to go into it ever since he completed it.

Stacey

"Before I forget. Dinner's ready." she said as she turned on her heel and returned to the house.

Stevie

"I'm curious what we'll find up there of hers. I mostly kept a record player, books and drawing pads. I considered it a private space." Was he annoyed? He couldn't tell. Stevie took Sierra's hand and led her to the house, closing the door behind him and pulling a chair out for her.

Sierra

Sierra wanted to ask if it was weather proof, since he kept things like a record player up there. But soon they were inside and she took a seat at the table, thanking Stevie for pulling out her chair. Dwight lead them in saying grace once they were all seated and then he gave permission for everyone to dig in. Sierra put a tiny bit of everything on her plate, willing herself to finish the plate. She eyed Mary as she pulled a couple of chicken fingers off Stacey's plate and replaced the spot with vegetables.

Stevie

Stevie waited until Sierra filled her plate before he did the same. He took her hand underneath the table and raised it to his lips to kiss the knuckles. His attention was pulled away when his dad brought up school. "It's going well. I have good grades in all my classes and the professors seem to like me." He lowered Sierra's hand and looked to his dad. Now wasn't the time to bring up how he considered to leave Cavendish to study architecture in another academy. There would be too many questions and not enough answers.

Mary

Mary smiled. "Well of course they like you. Who wouldn't?"

Sierra

Sierra smiled and twirled some lo mein on her fork. It seemed Stevie was loved and favored everywhere he went, which she understood completely.

Stevie

Stevie laughed. He didn't know what to say and used that time to move his honey walnut chicken from one place to the next. He felt fortunate with various aspects of his life and the type of person he was, but he wasn't one to think anything about it. He speared some chicken and was about to eat but his eyes went to Stacey's plate. It was clearly different from the others and he thought of the cheese remark earlier. This unsettled him and once again he thought of Sam. He didn't want his sister to go through the same as their older brother. He'd bring this up to Sierra about whether he should say something or mind his own business. "How's work?" He asked his dad. They hadn't a good talk in a couple weeks.

Dwight

Dwight launched into a talk about what he did and how it was going, but

Sierra

Sierra's mind was somewhere else. She popped a few bites of food in her mouth, even though she didn't taste much. She had gotten better about eating and she had begun feeling full and happy around Stevie, but new situations still made her anxious and this was definitely a new situation.

Mary

Mary noticed. "I'm sorry I couldn't make a home cooked meal on your first night. We thought Chinese would be a fun treat. But tomorrow I'll be making Stevie's favorite."

Sierra

Sierra shook her head, feeling caught and embarrassed. "Oh, no, please. I like Chinese. I'm sorry, I'm just taking in everything and I was distracted." She popped a bite of broccoli in her mouth as if to prove her point."

Stevie

Stevie leaned onto the table with his forearms, chewing, and listening to his dad talk. He partly checked in to see what his mom said to Sierra and Stevie lowered his hand to rest on her knee; giving it a light, affectionate squeeze. "It sounds to me you've found a good job with even better hours. Bet you're happy with his new schedule." He said to his mom, smiling. It'd always been a struggle to find work that didn't keep his dad away for so long. Except when he started work himself and was able to alleviate that for awhile. His pay checks weren't as high as before because of his reduction in hours and focus on school.

Mary

Mary nodded, wiping her mouth with her napkin. "Definitely. But if it changes again, I always know he's doing the best thing for his family." She rubbed his arm affectionately and Dwight smiled at her.

Stevie

There was no question about that. Stevie knew his dad did the best he could and whenever he got angry or frustrated with how things went with him in the last few years; it caused tremendous guilt to set in. But he wouldn't breathe a word of that to his family. It felt selfish to. "I was thinking about taking Sierra out tomorrow to show her around the city. Don't worry mom, we'll be back in plenty of time for dinner. I don't get to have my favorite home cooked meal. Not the same way you make it." He took an egg roll and dipped it a couple times. Maybe he'll see if they can bring Stacey with them at some point, though he did want privacy with his girl.

Mary

Mary selfishly wanted Stevie at home since she hardly saw him anymore, but she knew she couldn't smother him. Dwight knew it too. "That sounds like a fine idea. I'm sure you'll have fun."

Stevie

Stevie turned to Sierra, leaning in slightly so it was only for her to hear, "There's one place in particular I want to show you," he smiled before he returned to his attention to his mom. "I'll pick up something for dessert while I'm out. Maybe get Stacey's favorite since we're doing my favorite meal already." He offered setting his fork down to replace it with a napkin Stevie looked to his sister who was quietly eating her meal, as if she were in another world that wasn't exactly part of this conversation.

Stacey

Though when dessert was mentioned her expression changed to a hopeful one. She rarely got to enjoy sweet treats and she looked to her dad to see if he'd allow it.

Dwight

Dwight nodded. "I think that's a good idea since it's a special occasion."

Mary

Mary wanted to protest but she didn't want to talk back to her Dom, especially not in front of her children and their guest.

Stacey

Stacey looked to Stevie and he could swear it was a look of appreciation. "Do you remember what I like?" She asked, almost as if she were testing him.

Stevie

"It's not like I've been gone for years, Stace. Not unless you decided you don't like the ice cream from Rustic anymore." He laughed. His sister has always been vocal about how much she enjoys their ice cream. He even would get her some whenever he was on his way home as a sorry that he wasn't around as much due to boarding school and the work. Stevie looked at Sierra, hand on her knee again. "Want more or are you ready to check out the tree house?"

Sierra

Sierra smiled, watching the exchange between the siblings. She knew not every sibling was like this, but when she dreamed about having brothers and sisters of her own growing up, this was what she pictures. Playful. Loving. Supportive. Sierra had only eaten half of her plate, but she nodded. "Ready when you are."

Stevie

"Don't worry about our plates, mom." He said, setting Sierra's over his empty one, laying the silverware and napkins on top of it. "Sierra and I will get to them when we get back in." He rose to his feet and held his hand out for Sierra. They were only going into the backyard but he liked touching her, keeping her close. Maybe some people would view that as smothering in a sense, but it was what made them happy. Stevie pulled the sliding glass door open, which was near the table and brought her back outside before closing it. "This will probably be one of the few times we'll have privacy."

Mary

Mary nodded, but as soon as they were outside, she looked at Stacey. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get this cleaned up."

Sierra

Outside, Sierra smiled. "I don't mind. I like your family. And we're here to see them. You don't have to feel like you have to sneak me away all the time."

Stevie

Stevie grinned, still holding her hand but moving to stand behind Sierra to wrap his arms around her as they walked slowly to the tree; Stevie guiding her from behind. "It's not all the time. Just some." He clarified, kissing her shoulder when they reached the base of the tree. "I'm glad you like my family. We're a tight-knit unit."

Sierra

"I can see that." She paused, not sure if she should say what she was thinking, but she did. "It makes me see just how painful the situation with Sam must have been.

Stevie

Instead of moving away from her to hold onto the rope ladder, Stevie's arms remained around her. His lips pressed to her shoulder and he nodded silently. It was hard. It continued to be hard. Eventually he moved his lips from her and spoke. "Stacey has been the one that tried to keep things going as if nothing changed. She's the main reason why I went to Cavendish because I wrote him out of my life by then. But she has a way of poking until you cave. At least when it comes to me. She doesn't talk about him to mom and dad."

Sierra

"It sounds like they were close, despite the age gap and the gender difference. The way she keeps in contact with him. Or the way she said he used to brush her hair."

Stevie

His hands went to her waist and he nodded, stepping around to take hold of the rope ladder. He remembered when he first installed this and how he played around with Stacey by refusing to throw it down until he felt like it. It didn't last long because he didn't like to hear her beg. "They were. It never felt right after Sam left. I didn't want to fill that gap he left behind, but I tried to be there for her as best as I could." His eyes looked down at the frayed ends of the rope and tried not to laugh, but a low one came out. "Trying to brush her hair was close to impossible. I don't know how Sam did it."

Sierra

Sierra grinned. "Hey, I think every girl wishes they had a big brother to brush their hair for them." She paused. "Why did he? I mean, why didn't your mom do it? It doesn't really seem like a task a teenage boy would take on." She hadn't thought much of Stevie's older brother, only her Dom's resentment of him and his disappointment that he hadn't been excited about their claim. But seeing him in this new Evans family light fascinated her a little.

Stevie

"Is that what you wished for? An older brother to brush your hair." He smiled, leaning his cheek against the ladder while he looked at her. "From what I heard Sam had a way of doing it so it never hurt Stacey. She'd get these tangles and he worked them out." He pat on the rung, "Come on. Lets head up and we'll talk more about this."

Sierra

"Maybe," she said. "I think I just wanted an older brother, period. Someone that would protect me and make me feel like a grown up even if I was a kid, or would humble himself and play with me as if he were a kid." It took a little effort to get up the ladder. She wasn't very strong, but eventually, she made her way to the top and climbed inside.

Stevie

It was like riding a bike and after a couple rungs he felt at ease going up the rest of the way, sitting at the top and leaving his legs to dangle out of the opening as he worked the ladder up. "Would you have felt the same way if you had an older sister?" His hair fell into his face while he looked down, catching the bottom of the ladder and neatly folding it to set aside for later. Stevie hadn't been up here since before he left and it was clear Stacey took residence in the small space. There were pictures of celebrities, mostly guys. There was a small area with some papers and envelops. His battery operated record player was closed and tucked away, glad he installed glass in the window or it'd been rained on. From where Stevie sat he could see a couple polaroids, they didn't look too old, of Stacey and he assumed a few of the girls from around the neighborhood. She looked so happy.

Sierra

This was definitely a girl's hideaway now. Sierra shrugged. "I suppose I would. I just always liked the idea of an older brother."

Stevie

Stevie thought about this. He never wondered what it'd be like to have an older sister. When Sam was there it was a perfect dynamic. He didn't mind being the middle child as much because they worked together as a unit. It wasn't until Sam left that he realized how much Stacey looked up to him. He placed his hands onto the floor and pulled himself away to tug his record player out, unlatching it and clicking to see if there was still juice in the batteries. "Older brothers are pretty good. I don't know what its like to have a sister but when things were fine at home. When Sam was here. He kept an eye out for Stace and I." He looked around the space for his records, not seeing them. "I can tell when we talk at the school how he looks at me as if I'm still that little brother he left behind."

Sierra

Sierra smiled leaning back against the wall. "That must be nice. To have someone that still sees you as someone innocent." She looked at him. "Maybe he just regrets missing that time when you were a little boy. I'm sure he wishes he could come back here and hang with you in this treehouse or brush Stacey's hair." She touched the corner of a picture on the wall. "It's sad, actually. Because he can't. The treehouse isn't the way he left it. Stacey's cut off all her hair. Nothing can be how it was again. He missed it." She paused and looked at Stevie. "I'm sorry. I'm thinking out loud. That was probably insensitive."

Stevie

"It's not insensitive." he said with his hand on the metallic latch, flipping it up and down while he looked at her instead of searching for his records. "A lot took place after he was voided. It hit our family hard and my parents practically acted as if he died instead of trying to continue a relationship with him. It sounds bad. Now that I've been away from it and seen and talked to him. It sounds real bad. But I was there with them, mainly because it hurt us deep. We couldn't be like Stacey who continued to love him," he stopped at what he realized what he was saying. "God. Now that I'm saying this. It sounds insensitive. Selfish."

Sierra

Sierra crawled across the floor to him and pulled her arms around his waist, hugging him to her. "I don't think you stopped loving him. You can be angry with someone and still love them."

Stevie

When her arms went around him it took Stevie some time to relax into them. Coming back home was nice and it was a different house than the one that Sam grew up in, but it was still the same family. He knew Sierra was right. That you could be angry at a person but it doesn't erase the love you felt towards him. It could be that very love that made him furious to begin with. To see how it hurt all of them and he didn't think it hurt Sam at all but when he saw him in Toronto, when they finally met up. He could see it in his eyes and the way he asked about everything. Even with how he wanted Stevie to see how quick he was moving with his claim. Stevie's own arms went around her and he buried his face into her hair, kissing it. "No. You don't stop. Not if you truly love and care for the person. It was easier being angry with him from a distance but now that we're in the academy together it's harder. Not that I want to stay angry. I don't. I'm tired of being angry. But whenever we don't see eye to eye it's as if that's my default setting instead of wanting to understand his point of view."

Sierra

Sierra shrugged a little. "Of course. Changing that will take time. You were a kid the last time you saw each other. You both were. You had to deal with the fallout of him being gone and you had to grow up too fast. And I'm sure he experienced things as a void." She stroked a hand down his chest. "But I know you. You have too much love and strength to be hateful toward him. You'll work it out. Just don't put so much pressure on yourself to make it happen fast, my sweet."April 26, 2017

Stevie

She truly saw him for the type of person he was. He may have made his own mistakes growing up but the Dominant did try his best to be the type of person to not only make his family proud, but his submissive as well. The very submissive who comforted him because she wanted to and not because he asked her to. He doubted his parents would ask of Sam and how he's been, but he knew they'd have opinions of he wanting his brother at their ceremony, which gave him more stress than actually telling them that he was claiming someone he'd only known since October. "I won't," he said finally while he spoke into her hair. "Have I ever told you you're quite good at comforting me?" his lips skimmed across her blonde strands and he ducked to look at Sierra's face with a soft smile that only tugged one side of his full lips.

Sierra

"Reall--" she cut herself off. "Sorry. No you haven't. But I'm glad I can make you feel better." She kissed the corner of his mouth, hoping it would match the other

Stevie

"What do you think about my treehouse?" He asked after some quiet moments ticked by. Stevie looked around it, remembering how he wanted to add more but that was set aside when he made the decision to leave for Canada. His fingers went up her back, then down. His motions were slow and soothing, to him, and he hoped she liked it. "My father helped me put the base in before he was pulled away by work." His hand splayed on her back but he brought it all the way up to tangle his fingers into her hair. Stevie played with the strands, ticking his eyes to look down at her.

Sierra

Sierra felt herself relaxing more and more into him. "I think it's awesome. The perfect little clubhouse."

Stevie

"I've never considered it a clubhouse before." Then he looked around the small place and smiled. "There was no real plan for this other than I wanted to see if I could build a treehouse. But I see it's served a nice getaway from Stacey. There's a lot of things in here my parents wouldn't exactly be thrilled with." He noticed some candy wrappers and an old portable DVD player that used to belong to a cousin of theirs. He was curious what he'd find if he pressed play. "I don't blame her for needing alone time."

Sierra

Sierra frowned and looked around. She didn't see anything incriminating. "What do you mean?"

Stevie

"It was small things about what she should or shouldn't eat." His fingers went deeper into her hair while he talked. "It made me think about what Sam told me, basically what led him to making that choice to void himself."

Sierra

Sierra fell silent for a moment. "I did notice your mother sort of...controlling her plate."

Stevie

"I don't have a lot of experience when it comes to how submissives are brought up before they go to finishing school. I knew Sam had his tutor but I didn't know what went into it. In class they teach us how to be attentive to our submissive and instill our dominance over them." He thought of the lessons and recalled one in particular. The one regarding lifestyle and controlling what their subs ate or how they dressed. Was what his mother did a type of preparation for that? "Did you experience anything like this when you were her age?"

Sierra

Sierra thought of how to answer. "Not by my tutors or my parents. I was taught that I had to be obedient to Dominants, but mostly I was taught etiquette along with my regular studies. It wasn't until I went to boarding school that I was told what to eat and wear and speak. And not by the school. By my, um, friends." She didn't know what else to call them.

Stevie

His eyes remained on her as she shared something from her past, things Stevie was still learning when it came to Sierra's upbringing. "What did they tell you?" He wondered if their guidance was sound or if they catered it to be subtly cruel to here; mostly based on how they treated her in the end.

Sierra

Sierra didn't want to talk about it, but she didn't want to refuse him either. "They made comments about how I looked anorexic, but if I ate anything they didn't eat, they'd call me a little piggy. They told me I couldn't pull off certain shoes or accessories I owned but it was just so I would give it to them instead." At the time she didn't know any of this, but years later, she looked at it with fresh perspective. "They told me who I would talk to at parties, which...which guy I was expected to please." She shook her head, cuddling into him, wanting to curl into the safety of Stevie. "Do we have to talk about this?" Her voice sounded small.

Stevie

Stevie knew the situation between Sierra and her so-called friends was bad but not to this extent. The question he asked of her gave answers he wasn't sure he knew how to respond to. These were events that took place before he entered her life. These events shaped her into the submissive that he currently held; aware of the way her body tensed as she spoke. When she burrowed into him, needing his comfort; Stevie held her tight. He hoped to God Stacey never experienced anything Sierra did because he was bound to get involved; much like he did with that one Dominant he sent to the hospital. "No, my sweet Sierra. We don't. We won't talk about that again unless you're at a place where you wish to discuss it." He could hear the tone in his voice, the underlying anger that coated the words. He wanted to protect her from a situation that already took place...

Sierra

Sierra breathed out, bringing herself back to the present. She tilted her face up to his and palmed his jaw. "Don't be mad," she begged quietly. "Don't let it ruin our time here."

Stevie

Were they really here? At his home? In a treehouse he built with his own two hands? With the submissive he planned to claim in a month's time? These questions pulsed his mind, feeling her hand onto this cheek, and Stevie giving her that soft smile. The one that said he understood. That there was no need to worry. "It won't," he spoke while his own hand brushed through her hair. He watched the strands drift away from Sierra's forehead, settling into her hair. Stevie kept combing through it and he never broke their gaze. "Thank you for sharing what happened." he whispered, leaving his fingers in the thick of her hair while the side of his palm rested on her shoulder. "I think I need to say something to my dad about this. What they're doing to Stacey. It may be small things but it doesn't feel right."

Sierra

Sierra felt soothed under his fingers. She half wondered if everything that came from them was magic. She nodded at his words. "If you think she needs to be protected, then you need to protect her." Her thumb traced over his pale stubble. "It's what you do."

Stevie

"It's what I try to do. I don't want to make our trip here unpleasant if I do call attention to my concerns. Especially when I intend to bring Sam up in the conversation. Which isn't always well received."

Sierra

Sierra looked up at him with pure adoration. "I wish I was as brave as you."

Stevie

Stevie didn't expect that. "Because I'm going to talk to them?"

Sierra

Sierra nodded. "Some people wouldn't stand up to their parents, bring up subjects they know are sore. That's brave."

Stevie

Was it normal to feel this type of warm sensation in his chest at her words. He wanted Sierra to see him in this type of light, because that was the type of person he was. His hands went down her back while his other cupped the side of her cheek. "That's how I am. No matter what the situation is, I'll speak my mind and do whatever necessary to care for the people I love. I'll be their voice." His hand skimmed her cheek and he looked at her lovingly. "Even if it's a situation out of my control, I can be there in other ways. I can be the person to lean on and share fears with. I can be the light at the end of a long, dark, winding tunnel. That bravery can come in various forms and I do what I can to be that strength. For you. My sister. My parents." And Sam, but that was still up in the air even though he felt that if something did come up he'd be there.

Sierra

Sierra nodded. "I know you can," she said quietly, simply.

Stevie

If this were to happen at some point during this trip he'd like for Stacey and Sierra to be elsewhere. Perhaps in this very treehouse because he'd not want his little sister to be aware of this discussion. Not of it has the potential of not going well. Stevie's hand caressed her skin, trailing his hand across her now familiar body but still finding it exciting and new. He lowered to kiss her forehead, then one now-closed eyelid. "You make me feel capable of doing things." He spoke against her skin, skimming his lips against her forehead once again.

Sierra

She reveled in all his touches, the obvious ones, the faint ones. Everything was heaven. "It has nothing to do with me," she insisted. "You can do anything."

Stevie

Stevie shook his head, wishing to disagree with her. There was a shred of truth to this but there was more. His palm lined her jaw and Stevie slid down the wall to reach her level. "Please be aware you do play a part in how I go about things."

Sierra

Sierra gave a faint smile. She didn't want to argue with him or agree with him. So she leaned in and kissed those deliciously full lips of his.

Stevie

They'd not been able to do this since their arrival and as much as Stevie wanted to drive his point home; he didn't. There was the hope she'd see the truth behind his words. That she did influence his choices. Stevie's hands took hold of one of hers and brought it to his cheek. His scruff was evident by this time of day and was certain she'd feel the rough grain against her soft skin. His mouth busied with hers and he pulled at Sierra, wanting her on his lap.

Sierra

She let him lead her around, climbing onto his lap and touching his face. She loved when he guided her around. Not only did it let her know what he wanted, but it made her feel desired. Like there were things he wanted, needed, fantasized about, and he wanted her to do it. "Is it wrong that we're making out in your childhood treehouse."

Stevie

His hand hooked her knee and his hand snaked around her back until it gripped Sierra's waist to move her closer to his body. He stilled at her question, lips inches from hers. "Fifteen year old me would be completely happy about this." He admitted. He sealed their lips together, pushing himself against hers while he hugged her into him. "Do you feel it's wrong?" There was a hint of a smile in his voice.

Sierra

"Maybe," she said, fingers sneaking up to get lost in his glorious hair. How could his mom want him to cut all this? "But more of me wants you to touch me so bad I don't care..."

Stevie

"I want to touch you," he brushed his lips across her, kissing her cheek and jawline. "This is the only place we'll have privacy until we go home," his hand smoothed over to her knee and slowly moved his palm upwards, feeling her thigh as he went. "I'm going to touch you," he said, kissing her neck. "I want you to feel my touch."

Sierra

Sierra breathed through parted lips as she closed her eyes. God, just the way he talked to her was enough to make her come. If the world was ever cruel and they had to be separated, phone sex would be no problem...Her fingers curled in his hair already getting excited and tingly.

Stevie

To have her fingers in his hair, tugging and wanting him in the way that caused him to push her onto this floor and give her what she craves. What he craved. A hand went over the bare skin of her thigh; savoring the softness and loving their connection. His hand went up and up; lips on hers and breathing in as much of her as he could while he started to get dizzy from it himself.

Sierra

Sierra was laid out on the floor and she smiled. "This feels...naughty," she said in a low voice before he kissed her. She felt his hand moving up her thigh and she couldn't help spreading her legs for him.

Stevie

It didn't take long to guide Sierra to the floor, Stevie pushed the record player aside and settled against her. His mouth pressed firmly against hers while his fingertips teased the inner part of her thigh. "I want to hear you," he hovered over her mouth. "Can you do it low enough for only me to hear?"

Sierra

Sierra wasn't sure, honestly. But his fingers were making her squirm with anticipation. "Yes," she said. "Angel, please..."

Stevie

When he moved his fingers next, they ghosted the front of her panties. Stevie, from that very faint contact, could feel her warmth and signs of arousal, as the skirt of her dress started to pool at his wrist. Kissing Sierra while his hand slipped into her panties, continued to intoxicate him as if she were the finest wine he'd been given. Tasting and savoring her, noticing the sweetest notes and aromatic bouquet. His need for her continued to grow, as if each time they kissed created further want instead of satisfying. That he may never get his fill, but he'd sure as hell try for the rest of his life.

#para: sierra

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ciathyzareposts · 5 years ago

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Zork Marathon: Selling the House that Zork Built

Written by Joe Pranevich

On June 13, 1986, Infocom ended, but our story does not. That is the day that Activision officially acquired Infocom. The team had fun with the event, even hosting a mock (Jewish!) wedding for Activision CEO Jim Levy and Infocom CEO Joel Berez. This was 18 years before same-sex marriage was legal in Massachusetts, otherwise they might have been in trouble! Infocom had made tremendous games, but they were no longer the successful upstart they once were. Depending on your point of view, Activision’s purchase either kept the adventure ball rolling for a few more years or ensured its eventual downfall.

Rather than doing a regular check-in post, I hope you will humor me as we look at Infocom’s situation both immediately before and after the purchase. This analysis will be based on sales data and other information that has leaked out in the three decades since Infocom was a running concern. There will be charts! We’ll also briefly recap 1985 and the beginning of 1986 games before looking towards the future. What happens to our Infocom marathon once Infocom is no longer its own company? Does this mean I need to play Activision’s Murder on the Mississippi (1985) and Portal (1986)? No, but there are still more games in front of us than behind.

If you were expecting a Consulting Detective post today, I am sorry to disappoint. We will continue our exploration of the Pilfered Paintings shortly, but for my birthday I gave myself permission to make charts instead. What could be a better birthday present? I hope you enjoy this brief return to our Infocom Marathon which I hope to resume properly in a few weeks.

As the strange newlyweds looked each other in the eye on that fateful June morning, I like to think that Joel had just two words that he was dying to say to his new beau, two words that would tell his new partner exactly what he meant to him. In my head, that meeting could only have ended one way, “Hello… sailor.”

They were charging people for adware!

The Difficult Truth

Over the years, commentators have blamed Infocom’s demise on the iceberg that was Cornerstone development or the graphical overreach that was Fooblitzky. Those releases were failures, even colossal ones, and they both contributed to the premature end of Infocom as an independent company. And yet, here’s the big secret: I don’t think they had a choice. Using sales data that has leaked from the company since its closure, it seems clear that by 1984 Infocom knew they were up a creek. They scored one lucky break with Hitchhiker’s Guide and that bought they time and acclaim to land a bigger partnership, but that alone could not have cut it. If Infocom wanted to survive, they needed to get into different markets. They had to experiment because despite producing more than a dozen fantastic titles, they weren’t moving the needle the way that it had to be moved for them to have long term viability. We do not know today which games were “profitable” because they took different amounts of time and energy to make each one, but even without knowing their break-even point, the sales data shows something was amiss.

Infocom had some great successes. The hallmark of a title being a “success” in this era was often considered 100,000 units sold. Despite producing great games, only five titles met that criteria prior to the purchase: Zork I through III, Deadline, and Hitchhiker’s Guide. Suspended managed 99k units sold, so it could be an honorary member of that club. Except for Hitchhiker, those are all titles very early in the run. (Two more titles hit that goal under Activision: Wishbringer and Leather Goddesses. We’ll cover that in a future post.)

Even though they had a handful of successes, the truth is that Infocom only survived as long as they did because of Zork.

Two of these lines seem different than the others.

Zork I: The Great Underground Cash Cow

There is something different about the first Zork game. For reasons that are nearly inexplicable today, it captured the public’s eye at a critical moment in gaming history and held on to it. For years, new gamers discovered and fell in love with Zork, while experienced gamers bought new copies as they purchased new computers. Zork was Infocom’s best selling title in 1981, 1982, 1983, and 1984, not just by a little but by a lot. Despite taking swings at sequels, science fiction, mysteries, comedies, and many others, Infocom saw each one surpassed in turn by a five-year out-of-date juggernaut. Zork I actually increased in sales every year until 1984. It sold 152K units in that year alone! Of course, we can’t say whether these were bargain bin vs original full price, but it is a tremendous number of copies.

Let me highlight this fact for you because it is critical to the failure of Infocom:

20% of every title Infocom ever sold was a copy of Zork I.

If you include the two direct sequels, that total comes to 34%. What must it have felt like in a forward-facing company like Infocom, to take swing after swing at success… only to never once recapture the genie in the bottle that was their very first product. Even worse, it was a product created on a lark while their founders were still in college! Every new Implementor, every new revision to the engine, and every investment on play-testing and they still could not deliver a game that captured the imagination like a little house in the forest with a boarded-up front door. This wasn’t sustainable and the management knew it; Infocom needed another hit in order to stay relevant. In 1984, they managed just that with their release of Hitchhiker’s Guide, but it was too little and too late.

This is titles shipped rather than dollars, but not a good sign.

Declining Unit Sales

Even with Hitchhiker’s Guide sales through the roof, Infocom could not effectively respond to a weakening market. Too many new companies were producing too many new games, some of which were replacing quaint text adventures as the “must have” titles on new systems. A lot has been written about the Infocom pattern of having a large back-catalog: Infocom titles remained viable on the shelf of your neighborhood computer stores for years, making them sell more like books than the games of the era. This pattern was weakening by 1984 and by 1986 the company couldn’t move as many units as they had four years prior.

Given all of that, can we blame Infocom for their desperate (and misguided) attempts to branch out? Cornerstone cost too much to build, ran too slowly, and was poorly-adapted for the PC era, but that is the fault of the project management rather than a bad idea from jump. Similarly, experiments with graphical games must have seemed like a logical necessity. They chose a terrible way to do it, a least-common-denominator graphics engine that was far too slow for action games, but the idea isn’t wrong. Infocom didn’t fail to identify that they needed to do something else, they just absolutely failed to understand their new markets or build to them properly. The far-sighted among them realized that they could not win by making more text adventures. Even their best new games (many of which more fun than Zork I) could not get enough attention in the market to be viable. Add into this other boneheaded decisions such as wasting far too much money on rent at their new corporate headquarters, and failure was inevitable.

This declining pattern would continue under Activision, as we shall soon see. They pushed the Infocom team to produce more games faster, to offset the declining sales for each title by simply having a lot more of them. They ceased back-catalog sales. This would not prove to be a successful strategy either, but we will get to that part of the story in time.

I want to be careful here to stress that I am talking about declining unit sales, but somehow the top-line numbers for 1985 still looked pretty good. That year, Infocom reported a 15% increase from sales the previous fiscal year. My presumption is that the higher cost of Cornerstone offset the smaller sales figures, but this paltry increase (and the last increase they would ever show) was nowhere near enough to recoup the high development and marketing costs that were lost.

Activision pushed Infocom hard, but it was not enough.

The Sale

While I could wax poetic about the terms of the sale and how the staff felt about it, our friend the Digital Antiquarian has already done a better job of this than I am likely to do thanks to his research and interviews. You can read his explanation here, but let me provide my own views on the big points.

First and foremost, by 1985 Infocom was getting desperate. With their declining sales and poor strategic thinking, the company was amassing significant debt and had little to show for it. They had previously been courted for a merger by Simon and Schuster, but that deal was long off the table. Infocom CEO Al Vezza hoped to be acquired by a company like Lotus, but there was no interest. The dealmaking began that December with the first informal meetings between Jim Levy, CEO of Activision, and Infocom. This happened almost simultaneously with the layoff of the remaining business products group, cementing Infocom (in Activision’s eyes as well as the rest of the world) as a gaming-only company. This was followed by the resignations of Marc Blank and Joel Berez. (But don’t worry: Marc will be back for Border Zone in 1987.)

In February, Activision and Infocom signed an intent agreement; it was followed by the real deal in June. In just seven months from idea to execution, Infocom was “saved” from their imminent demise and given a new set of opportunities and a new set of promises. By all accounts, the next period under Jim Levy’s management was a positive one even as the sales didn’t precisely flow in. We’ll get to what life was like under Activision in the next yearly wrap-up.

Looking Back

Since our last check-in, we’ve looked at five additional games (Wishbringer, A Mind Forever Voyaging, Fooblitzky, Spellbreaker, and Ballyhoo), plus Cornerstone. It’s been months since I played Ballyhoo, but I am eager to get back into playing some text adventures. If you are coming late to this party, here’s an index of all of the games we have played so far:

Dungeon – (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Zork I – (1)

Zork II – (1) (2)

Deadline – (Ilmari) (Joe)

Zork III – (1) (2)

Starcross – (1) (2) (3)

Suspended – (1)

The Witness – (Ilmari) (Joe)

Planetfall – (1) (2) (3)

Enchanter – (1) (2) (3) (4)

Infidel – (1) (2) (3)

1983 Books

Sorcerer – (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Seastalker – (1) (2)

Tutorial Game – (1)

Cutthroats – (1) (2) (3)

Hitchhiker’s Guide – (B) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Suspect (Ilmari) (Joe)

1984 Books and Updated Manuals

Cornerstone – (1)

Wishbringer – (B) (1) (2) (3)

A Mind Forever Voyaging – (1) (2) (3) (4)

Fooblitzky – (1) (Video) (Interview)

Spellbreaker – (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Ballyhoo – (1) (2) (3)

Wishbringer has become, without a doubt, my favorite game to play so far in this marathon. It is so whimsical, lovingly done, and beautifully connected to the Zork saga. If you play only one Infocom game in your life, you should play Zork I… but Wishbringer should be in everyone’s top three, at least so far. I’m not sure if the ratings exactly align with my feelings, but it is still a bright spot in my memory. Maybe as I get further through, I’ll assemble my final “Top 10” list, but Wishbringer has to be close to the top tier.

Spellbreaker and Ballyhoo, while good, feel like the Infocom crew put their fears on paper rather than making the best possible games. Both of these titles are about endings and times changing, topics on the teams’ minds when they were playing, but the melancholy has not aged as well as the other titles. Spellbreaker is nearly impossibly hard, even by earlier Infocom standards, although bringing our Enchanter’s story to a close was more fulfilling than the ending of the first Zork trilogy.

AMFV still just feels like an art piece and a product of the 1980s rather than a timeless classic. I have absolutely no desire to ever pick it up again.

Although technically part of the previous batch of games, I am still impressed by the appeal (even today) of the Hitchhiker’s Guide games. As of September 2019, the original “banned” Hitchhiker’s game is the #3 most read post on the site. The introduction to the Infocom game is #8. I doubt we’ll see many more games in our marathon with such crossover appeal! Our number one post is, appropriately enough, from Secret of Monkey Island.

Infocom’s least sold game.

The Long Road Ahead

With Infocom resigned to the dustbin of history, you’d think we’d be close to the end. Absolutely not! In fact, we have just about as much ahead of us as behind, assuming that we get to it all. The Activision years were busy years, even as the company struggled and Infocom branched out. These years also brought a continuum of collaborations to Infocom’s world, ranging from games as before where Infocom was the sole developer to games where they were just a label, and every possible combination in between. I’m not completely sure of the history of each of our upcoming games yet, but I am looking forward to researching them as we get there.

Here is a quick census of what we have left. Not all of these will get the full treatment; some may warrant only a bonus post or a slot in a yearly wrap-up:

The so-called Infocom “canon” is 35 games from Zork I to Arthur, even though a couple of the later games were developed by third parties. Of these, we have sixteen games left so we have made it just shy of half way. Only three were in the original Zork Marathon plan, now all but abandoned: Stationfall (1987), Beyond Zork (1987), and Zork Zero (1988).

There are four “Infocomic” releases, two each that tied into to the Zork and Leather Goddesses series. I’ve barely looked at these and have no idea how much “game” is in each one. According to the data that I have, ZorkQuest II has the dubious distinction of being the worst-selling Infocom title ever at less than 4,000 copies. These were developed in partnership with Tom Snyder Productions.

Other than Beyond Zork, there are two more RPG/text-adventure hybrids that Infocom worked on to different extents: Quarterstaff and Circuit’s Edge. We played the latter as “Guest Game 1” before the current format of the blog. Infocom also has their names on several other RPGs including two Battletech games as well as Tombs and Treasure for the NES.

Two graphical games, Leather Goddesses II and Simon the Sorcerer; we covered the first already. Infocom was consulted (how much, I am not clear) on the first Simon game, but was not involved in any of the sequels.

A promotional release of Mini-Zork I for the Commodore 64 many years after the C64 was a dominant platform. Why?

Six Infocom novels that take place in the Zork and Planetfall universes.

Four Japanese versions of Infocom games (Zork I, Planetfall, Moonmist, and Enchanter) which have added graphics. Another Japanese “Infocom” release, Nigel Mancell’s F1 Challenge for the Famicom, defies explanation.

And finally: Return to Zork, ending the marathon in 1993. It’s possible this may get played before some of the above games, but we’ll be pushing RtZ out to as late in 1993 as practical so that I can play as many of these as I can.

The games immediately in our future are fairly “normal” and it will be a while before desperation set in and we get the more bonkers choices. Thanks to Activision cracking the whip, 1986 and 1987 will see more games produced faster than ever before. Can Infocom keep up the quality with less development time and less QA? We’re going to find out soon.

We’ll start Trinity (1986) right after Consulting Detective, but I have one more bonus post before then: Crash Dive! (1984). This is Brian Moriarty’s second game and that last that he made before joining Infocom. His first game was one of the worst we ever reviewed, yet his Infocom debut was nothing short of amazing. Where will this middle work fall on the scale? I’m looking forward to finding out… just as soon as I figure out who stole these paintings. See you soon!

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/zork-marathon-selling-the-house-that-zork-built/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost

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disrepairhouse · 5 years ago

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Chapter 34 - Updating

When Metal Sonic told RK to test his new leg to ensure it was working properly, this wasn’t what he meant. He watched with equal parts ‘I told you so’ amusement and irritation while the large red echidna stood and tapped his foot impatiently, going through the endless sea of text messages and voicemails from the human woman down the street. RK hadn’t wanted to put it off too long after he got all the updates on the return home since they both knew full-well that she would show up at their door before long, likely with questions (if not demands), and RK needed to be prepared to deal with her. However, he hadn’t expected there to be quite so many.

They started out simple enough. A quick ‘just making sure this number works’ that turned into a frantic confirmation of Chaos’ awakening and eventually Itara’s return home with Metal and Ned. He heard in great detail about the state Itara was in when she returned home via said voicemail, he was grateful to Ned for taking her to a hospital so quickly. However, what should have been the end of the voicemails only continued into more concerned messages that questioned where he was at, if he was okay, why he was taking so long to return home, if he knew that Itara was home, that she’d tried to wait for him to ‘wake up’ at some point, and eventually devolved into repeated texts of the same ilk. Apparently, she got tired of talking -RK didn’t think that possible- and decided to test whether texts would work.

He was going to pretend he never saw those.

He couldn’t get out of her knowing he had a phone number to call him by, but at the very least he could pretend his ‘phone’ was basic enough that it didn’t receive texts.

Once he was finally done going through and deleting every message from Lynda, making a note to let her know he at least received them at a later point, he reached up to rub the side of his head. At least everyone was home safe and in one piece. Mostly. He dragged the news about Kipper and his disappearance out of Itara after he finished sharing files with Metal and was overall wholly unsurprised with the doll’s actions. He knew he hadn’t been sticking around just for the amusement, but the idea that the psychotic little doll was now out there running around with half of Itara’s powers would have been cause for concern if there weren’t much bigger concerns.

The news about Chaos was one thing.

The news about Gaia was another.

The idea that Solaris might follow suit was a universe of trouble all its own.

But there wasn’t much they could do about it in the meantime, either. For now, it was better to focus on their own recovery and worry about the Gods later, maybe even let someone else deal with it entirely. If no one managed to wrangle Chaos and Gaia back down, then he would worry, but for now he just wanted to check that his systems were running, that Metal didn’t run off to try and fight Sonic again, and Itara was as okay as she could be. In addition to Kipper, she also told him about the journal and her mixed feelings about it and that concerned him more than the physical injuries.

At the moment, she was resting in her room, listening to music in an attempt to keep herself distracted, but later he planned to have another talk with her. However, even his plans to discuss current issues with Metal were brought to a short stop as a knock came from the front door. Metal disregarded it, as he had been since the last conversation with Lynda, but RK knew better and headed for the door to answer it. He was hoping to have longer to prepare before his next conversation with the human woman, but no such luck, it seemed. Best to get it taken care of and done with, he supposed.

However, it wasn’t an eager strawberry blonde behind the door once RK opened it, as he had expected. Instead, the ever-irritated, and equally shocked, Susan stood on their doorstep, her stance impatient as she looked ready to leave if he hadn’t answered right that second. The two exchanged glances for a split second before the surprise fell away and Susan crossed her arms, “So you are home, after all. We were beginning to wonder.” Metal moved into view behind him, gaining a quick glance from the woman before she refocused on RK, “Lynda said she was having a hard time getting in touch with you.”

“I noticed. I only saw her messages a few moments ago, so I haven’t had the chance to get back to her just yet. I was… recovering, from an incident, but I’m getting caught back up now. What can I do for you, Susan?” He had planned explanations for Lynda, but he wanted to keep interactions with Susan minimal, especially now.

“Well, I’m glad to see you up and about again,” though neither RK nor Metal were fooled by the vague attempt at pleasantries, “I assume you’ve heard about what’s going on in Station Square and Spagonia?” RK gave a short nod. “And the announcement from Soleanna?”

That one, RK hadn’t heard. He glanced back at Metal, who shrugged in response. It was the first he had heard about it, either. They turned back to Susan again and RK questioned, “what announcement?”

Susan studied them suspiciously, but explained, “I’m surprised you didn’t hear. The Royal Family made a statement the other day about the events and how they plan to respond to it. In addition to increasing more physical defenses, I guess they’re moving the Solaris Festival up a few weeks and adding an extra day of events. They’re hoping to ask for the Sun God’s protection from everything that’s going on.” She didn’t sound overly convinced of the usefulness of such measures and her normal bitterness never left her tone, but she kept at least those comments to herself. Instead, she added, “Which is the reason I’m here. There’s a meeting at my house for the neighborhood so we can discuss the situation and the festival. I suggest attending.”

“When will it be?”

“An hour or so. I didn’t have a number or anything for you so I wasn’t able to call ahead of time. You know which one is my house, correct?”

“Yes. I know.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you soon.”

She hardly waited for a response before she turned on her heel and strode back down the driveway. Metal and RK watched her for a minute but shut the door and turned to one another to debate the situation. “I forgot about the festival,” RK hummed, “I don’t think it’d be wise to skip the neighborhood meeting, but perhaps it’s best to keep Itara away from the festival.” The two bots glanced down the hall towards the open bedroom door, listening to the unusually loud music that echoed through the house for a moment before RK shook his head, “Even more so than usual, considering her current state.”

“She had to realize Mephiles was only out to use her eventually,” Metal scoffed, though hadn’t looked away from the hall just yet. “For someone so apparently smart, it sure took her an awful long time.”

“She knew all along. She was just playing ignorant. Willful ignorance at its worst, really.”

“Organics.”

There was a moment of silence before RK moved for the lab door, “in any case, I’m going to go look into that announcement and see what all was covered. Can you let Itara know about the meeting and ask if she’d rather stay here or come with me?”

“I suppose.” RK nodded and headed downstairs while Metal crossed the living room to look in on the tiny hedgehog. She was curled up in the middle of her bed, staring off with a music library of some description open on the laptop in front of her. It was unusual for her to be doing anything other than playing games or messing around on her phone, but he supposed both those items were broken and lost in Spagonia so perhaps this was her best next option. The list of songs on the open playlist was relatively short and, after looking their names up, he realized most were from video game soundtracks. One or two were background themes for the simulation game she played with the others, one was a level theme from one the games they had for the console in the living room, but a couple were boss themes for games they didn’t own, so far as he was aware.

The one she was listening to was one of those boss themes. It was intriguing to listen to for some reason and before Metal realized it, the song ended and he found himself ever so slightly disappointed. It switched to one of the background tracks for her simulation game and Itara gave no indication that she even registered the sudden, drastic, shift in tone and pace. Metal thought it important to inform her as perhaps she hadn’t noticed.

“Hey.” She jerked from the unexpectedly sharp tone and unnoticed appearance and stared over at him, wide-eyed. Before she could fully register his presence, he commanded, “turn that other one back on,” and with a slightly uncomfortable shift, “and turn it up.”

Itara stared for several seconds, but slowly nodded and reached over to switch the song back, turning the volume up a bit. Once she had done so, and finally zoned in enough to realize the strangeness of the request, she eyed him again with her usual alertness. “Wait, what?”

“There’s going to be a neighborhood meeting at that Susan woman’s house in an hour regarding what’s going on lately,” Metal informed her, distinctly ignoring the strange stare he was receiving, “RK wanted to know if you planned to go with him or if you’d rather stay here.” He debated whether or not he should mention the bit about the Solaris Festival but decided against it. If she went, she would find out then, and if she didn’t it wouldn’t concern them, anyway.

He watched curiously as a world of uncertainty spread across the little hedgehog’s face, watched as her gaze shifted down and away from him and her brows pulled together, as she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, before she finally sighed and dropped her head. “Y-Yeah… a-alright, I guess I… I’ll go,” she stammered, shifting uncomfortably as she reached over to pause her music, much to Metal’s dismay. The requested song hadn’t ended but he wasn’t going to say anything about it this time. Instead, he followed her down to the lab after she asked where RK was at and contemplated whether or not he should go with them. The idea of having to deal with Susan for even another second, in a house full of humans and their skewed view of current events sounded agonizing, but at the same time, he wanted to keep an eye on RK. The other bot was still experiencing glitches with the upgrades.

Once RK explained what he’d learned about the announcement and the ongoing state of the other two gods, the three prepared to deal with the meeting down the street. Both Metal and RK had to change clothes to keep their various robotic parts hidden and Itara had to change out of the pajamas she hadn’t changed out of since they arrived home. Unfortunately, RK’s usual outfit was beyond repair due to the battle and subsequent flood, leaving him with either the extra camo sweats he kept around for just in case or the outfit from New Year’s. Damn. He liked that jacket and he doubted he’d find boots like his old ones so easily again.

With a final check of information, as well as stories regarding what happened after the attack on the museum, RK lifted Itara up onto his shoulders where she quickly got comfortable, and the three headed down the street. The sun was still a couple hours from setting but was dipping below the tree line beside their house. Spring was in full swing so the days were getting longer and the snow was long gone, much to Itara’s relief, but there was still a decent bite to the evening air. RK noticed that the grass in their lawn, specifically, had grown a fair bit compared to the neighbors and wondered if he should take care of that sooner rather than later. The snow had only recently melted completely yet it seemed the rest of the neighborhood wasted no time in trimming and redecorating their lawns. What once was a clump of snow in Lynda’s yard had slowly melted and revealed a two-foot garden gnome statue, which she’d already surrounded in much smaller gnomes and fairies.

The walk down to Susan’s was silent amongst the three, each lost in their own thoughts, but once they reached the house in question – a two-story house that sat at the far end of the street on the opposite side, facing down the dead center – a significant amount of chatter and clamor built up past the white paneling. RK hesitated a short moment to prepare himself to deal with all the questions likely to be flung his way and continued up to the door, pressing in the small red button that served as a doorbell. The clamor inside hushed slightly at the sound, though it was brief, as the lock clicked and Lawrence, Susan’s husband, swung the door open.

“Ah, there you are. Come on in.” He wasn’t nearly as off-putting and scathing as Susan, but he wasn’t a friendly face, either. He hurried them in and before RK had even enough time to scan the packed room, the ever-prescient strawberry blonde shot over from the opposite side to greet them.

“RK! You’re back!” Lynda half-screeched, concern and relief written all over her unusually make-up light face. She reached for his hand, nearly stabbing herself on the elongated claws had RK not shifted them before she could, and continued, “I’ve been so worried! Sparky said you came back and were just resting but I hadn’t heard from you for so long I just didn’t know what to think! Thank Heavens you’re all okay!” She shifted her gaze up to Itara at this, honed in on the wrapped arm and frowned, “How are you holding up, Itara? What happened? Are you alright? Simon has been awful worried about you. He’s just in the other room with Camilla, you should go see them.”

Itara’s face dropped at the mention of Camilla, but kept her mental comment to herself as she glanced away from the human woman. Instead, she forced out a wary, “I’m… fine. I’ll be fine. But sure, I’ll… go say ‘hi’ to Simon… I guess.”

“That’s for the best, the adults have a lot to discuss,” Susan interjected, impatient as always.

Itara shot her a quick scowl while RK pulled her up off his shoulders and set her down. “Be careful of your arms, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” she sighed and gave another small wave to Lynda as she followed the directions towards the other ‘kids’. As much as she wanted to know what all they were talking about, she did at least want to see Simon. She had to tell him her handheld was lost, after all. Once she was down the hall and headed for what was apparently Camilla’s bedroom, taking in the extravagant details and decorations of the two-story house along the way, her ears perked once she heard the ‘adults’ begin whatever meeting they were having. She could still hear them just fine, heard Lynda pull RK and Metal over to the rest of the group and offer them all manner of drinks, then Susan berate her for derailing the conversation. Then they finally got into talk about what had happened.

Itara stopped listening at that point, both because she knew better than all of them what was actually going on and also because she reached her destination. Camilla’s room, even at a glance, was easily twice the size of her own bedroom and much, much nicer. Not that Itara cared, she liked smaller spaces, it was easier to reach things if they were closer together. But the excessive extravagance, from the clean white walls, to the lace bed covers and multiple pillows, to the silver accented furniture reminded Itara of another room she tried to avoid thinking about and froze her at the door for several minutes.

Camilla and Simon were sat in the center of the room, on a large, round rug, homework packets tossed carelessly beside them, deep in conversation about the same topic as the adults two rooms away. Though their conversation was far less serious in nature as Simon was rambling about fighting the beasts that were still running rampant while Camilla vaguely humored him. It wasn’t until Simon motioned widely with his arms and his eyes happened to follow one of them that he realized they had company.

“Itara! You’re back!”

The exclamation drew all three of them out of their thoughts and put their attention on Itara, who shuffled uncomfortable under the gaze. Camilla said nothing and made no movement towards her, but Simon bolted to his feet and ran over, moving to grab onto her much the same way Lynda had done to RK until he noticed her arm in the bright blue sling and stopped short. “Oh, jeez, are you okay?”

Itara shook her head, less as a response and more to focus in, as she explained, “I’m fine. I just… ran into trouble.”

“I’m so glad you’re back, though! When I heard you got separated from everyone on the trip, I was afraid something real bad happened and then Sceira came over and looked all upset, asking where you lived. What even happened? I heard those monsters AND Robotnik attacked the university!” As he battered her with concerns and questions, he pushed her over to the rug Camilla was still sitting on, which created an awkward moment where the two made eye contact before looking away again. “Tell us what happened!”

Once Simon took a moment to breathe again, Itara sighed and looked briefly between them. She and RK had discussed what they would tell people who asked about what happened, but for some reason she almost felt like telling Simon the truth. In this one instance, she was grateful for Camilla’s presence, because she knew she would never reveal so much to her. But the thought that Sceira had actually been upset about her going missing, and even went to the trouble of bring her stuff from the hotel back for her, continued to catch her off-guard. RK had explained how her suitcase got back home, but she still didn’t want to believe Sceira of all people could be worried about her.

“I…” She shook her head again and explained, “I just… when the monsters attacked, Sparky and I ended up separated from everyone and while Sparky tried to fight them off, I tried to find somewhere to hide. It was chaos-,” well, no, it was Robotnik, “I got caught up with some of Robotnik’s badniks and ended up further out from everyone.”

“Did you actually see Robotnik?”

A shudder ran down the hedgehog’s back as she thought about the response. She did far more than see him. “I… yeah.”

“Whoa. Is he really that scary? Like, I’ve heard a lot of stories about the guy, but I heard you mobians really have a history with him. Sonic fights him all the time, right? Is he the only one of you guys who do? Is he really that special?”

Once again, Simon bombarded her questions she only half wanted to answer but she sighed with slight amusement and annoyance. They really had no idea, did they? But she wasn’t going to explain the entire history of Sonic and Robotnik’s rivalry so, instead, she changed the subject and asked about the festival. “You guys heard about the festival changes, right?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s pretty crazy, I don’t remember them ever changing the date before and we’ve gone to the festival every year I can remember,” Simon responded as he reached up to rub his head, “hey, I just realized.” He looked at Itara again, “you’re new to our school, but are you new to the area? Have you ever been to the Solaris Festival? Do you know about Solaris?”

Itara almost scoffed. She wanted to be bitter in her response, but knew it would be suspicious and took a deep breath to calm herself before responding, “No, I’m not new to the area. I’m… very well acquainted with Solaris.”

“Oh, that’s right, you like history stuff, right? Did you do a lot of research on him or something.”

“…Something like that.” She shifted uncomfortably as she suddenly regretted bringing the festival up. She wanted more information on the subject, but she should have realized it would bring conversation to Solaris. She didn’t want to think about him right now. Luckily, Simon was a well of continuous topics today and shifted once more.

“But the fact that the festival is gonna be a day longer is kind of cool. Camilla and I were just talking about what we’re going to do for it. Our families usually meet up for it and we all watch the lighting of the torch together. My mom and I play a lot of the games they have set up, too. Camilla’s family usually sticks to the ritual stuff, though.”

Games?

Itara’s interest piqued again as she looked between them curiously. She’d never paid attention to the festival outside the lighting of the torch, since it was the part distinctly designed for Solaris. “What kind of… games?”

“Oh man, all kinds! I thought you weren’t new?” Simon questioned, an eyebrow rose.

“I’m not, I just… never paid attention to the rest. I guess I… also stuck to the… ritual stuff.” Camilla eyed her curiously, only for a brief moment, before she looked away again. She hadn’t said a word since Itara appeared and was going through a great bit of trouble to do so. On the one hand, Itara was curious as to why, but on the other hand she still didn’t much like Camilla so the longer she remained silent, the better.

Simon went quiet, as well, when she answered. She worried, for a moment, that she may have said something suspicious and he had caught onto her lie. There was still a lot of everyday situations she struggled with and while they had lessened a great deal since hanging around Simon, they still existed here and there. However, her brief moment of concern came to a close as Simon got excited again, smiled widely over at her and clapped his hands together.

“You should come with us this year!”

“What?”

“We should all meet up at the festival, the four of us! Sceira goes, too, we sometimes meet at the snack stalls. The four of us should meet up and Sceira and I can show you and Camilla the more fun side of the festival! We can eat snacks and play games and watch the performances or… listen to them, in Sceira’s case. There’s this big dance before the main performance where you can join the boat dancers and they’ll teach you parts of the dance, it’s fun! I heard there’s gonna be even more stands than any year before because of what’s happening, a lot of places that don’t normally take part are planning to, so there’ll be even more to do!”

Itara and Camilla exchanged brief glances at his suggestion before they returned their attention to him again, neither looking all that sure of it. In Camilla’s case, she wasn’t sure whether her parents would allow her to break away long enough to go do something fun with her friends. They were always strict about the festival events, with a full schedule including meet-ups with other members of the community. Itara, however, wasn’t sure she wanted to go to the festival in the first place. For the first time in her life she wanted to keep her distance from her father and going to an event specifically planned for him, calling for his help and his protection, sounded like a panic waiting to happen.

Then again, a night out with her… friends… sounded fun.

As much as she didn’t like Camilla, and Sceira was on thin ice, she did at least like Simon. Plus, maybe Tobi and the others from the game night would be there, too. Speaking of which. She turned a sharp eye on Simon, who crippled under her sudden gaze with a quiet what, and sat up straighter to accuse him, “You told Tobi about my gaming.”

Simon turned red in the face and gave a short, guilty laugh as he reached up to rub his head. “Whoops, you found out.” Her glare sharpened but Simon only laughed again as he straightened up, himself, “Ah, c’mon Itara, it’s not like it wasn’t obvious, anyway. How’d you find out, though?”

“I… he….” She glanced towards Camilla, one of the distinct names on the exceptionally short list of people that could not learn of their game night, even though it was long since over and a parent had broken it up that night, anyway. But she shook her head and explained, “I’ll tell you later. The point is, you traitor.”

“Sorry, sorry. But hey, more people to play with, right?”

She frowned as she remembered one of the reasons she agreed to come to the meeting, “…About that...” She wondered if RK would get her a new handheld. Not to mention all the games they had to rebuy now. She didn’t think they could get them all at once, even if they got used versions, but she at least wanted to get that first simulation game again. Not to mention she needed a new phone, too. What she didn’t know, however, was how pointless it would all be soon.

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nancygduarteus · 6 years ago

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Why So Many Instagram Ads Are Enticing Women to Freeze Their Eggs

One of the Instagram ads for Extend Fertility, a New York-based egg-freezing service for women, presents two images. First, there’s a hand with freshly manicured nails, followed by a sassy pink cartoon of a human egg with big eyes and long lashes. “If you can afford this,” text reads above the nails, “You can afford this,” referring to the cartoon egg.

The ad, part of a campaign created by the woman who gave us the Aflac duck and the iconic “yes! yes! YES!” Herbal Essences commercials of the late 1990s, is intended to raise awareness among millennial women about egg freezing’s capacity to extend their potential fertility well into their 40s. It’s just one of a number of marketing experiments that Extended Fertility and several other egg-freezing upstarts are running to get out word of their services. Kindbody, which debuted its first New York City clinic in 2018, takes an Instagram-friendly van across the country to dole out free hormone tests. Trellis Health recently popped up at a location of the indoor-cycling studio Flywheel to offer a women’s-empowerment spin class. All three companies partner with popular figures on social media, who spread the gospel of reproductive control to their own audiences.

Cost is often a theme: The campaigns emphasize that egg-freezing services can be in your price range, whatever that might be. But contrary to what Extend Fertility’s sassy little egg suggests, egg freezing costs a lot more than a manicure. It’s a relatively new procedure, and although it’s no longer considered officially “experimental” by the American Society of Reproductive Medicine, it’s rarely covered by insurance. At traditional fertility clinics, which have long focused on helping people who are already infertile to conceive, egg freezing usually runs in the low five figures. Most of the newer upstart clinics do offer prices thousands of dollars below the more traditional settings, but that’s still in the range of a decent used car. Neither of these prices includes the cost of medication, which can be as much as $5,000.

The new clinics compare their services to manicures and blowouts because they offer financing, allowing customers to pay small amounts over time. This is one of many ways the companies tell young women that the procedure is just as easy as, say, getting their roots touched up. They invite prospective patients to come to informational seminars in tastefully appointed offices. They provide young, friendly, female fertility coaches. They associate themselves with green juice and spin class.

The intense pressure to get married and become a mother has long been a source of significant anxiety for young women, and as what it means to be a woman in America changes, those pressures haven’t abated. Instead, they just look a little different: As millennials delay marriage and worry about their careers, the average age of first-time motherhood in America has crept into the late 20s. For affluent and highly educated women, it’s even older, prompting fears among many people about the viability of having babies well into their 30s.

In that way, an egg-freezing clinic might be the perfect business model: By finding an ambient fear and promising to alleviate it, these new companies paint an expensive, invasive, uncertain procedure as just another normal thing women do in order to live their best lives. There’s a thin line between making something “accessible” and marketing the prospect of motherhood like a beauty product, though, and these new companies are still figuring out which side of it they’re on.

Whether a woman who freezes her eggs will actually be able to have a baby with them years in the future is far from certain. After an expensive retrieval process that requires several weeks of daily hormone injections, half a dozen office visits, and anesthesia for the retrieval itself, the eggs are then kept in a cryogenic freezer until they’re ready to be used in in-vitro fertilization. According to James Grifo, the director of the Division of Reproductive Endocrinology and Infertility at New York University’s Langone Fertility Center, skilled practitioners have the same rate of success with frozen eggs from young women as they do with fresh-egg IVF, which is 55 to 57 percent in patients under 40. “It is by no means a guarantee,” he says.

Younger or particularly fertile patients sometimes can do a single round of egg retrieval to get the 15 to 20 eggs recommended for decent odds of pregnancy in the future. But many women opt to repeat the procedure multiple times, Grifo says, especially if they’re toward the end of their natural fertility and producing fewer viable eggs with each round.

Despite the costs and daunting odds, egg freezing’s popularity is expanding in the United States. Only 9,000 women nationwide froze their eggs in 2016, but according to Extend Fertility’s CEO Anne Hogarty, her company alone did a thousand egg-freeze cycles in 2018. Kindbody, which has only been open for a little over six months, says it has already done a hundred. Trellis wouldn’t reveal their numbers so far, but the brand has been around since 2018, and it’s part of IntegraMed, which is the largest network of fertility doctors in the country.

These new businesses’ Instagram and Facebook ad campaigns have put egg freezing on the radar of an untold number of women who likely wouldn’t have thought to visit a fertility doctor while young and single. For those potential patients, the message is one of familiar, friendly empowerment. These new clinics emphasize that they can give working women more time to focus on their nascent professional success. At the same time, research suggests that work isn’t why unmarried women consider their fertility options: It’s the limited availability of partners with whom they’d want to raise a family. That probably doesn’t make for much of an empowering Instagram caption.

“We’re trying to make what we’re doing into a lifestyle brand that’s more appealing to people and not something that’s so foreign and sterile,” says Rebecca Silver, Kindbody’s director of marketing. “We don’t want to look or feel like a health-care company.” Extend Fertility and Trellis both told me that their target demographic begins at 27 years old, while Kindbody hopes to reach consumers as young as 25.

That desire to skip the traditional doctors-office feel is clear in both Kindbody’s country-crossing van and Trellis Health’s offices, which are appointed in an Instagram-friendly style that includes soft pinks, plants in minimalist pots, and encouraging words on the walls like “It’s up to each of us to invent our own future” and “Invent your future.” At its mobile events, Kindbody gives out T-shirts and branded S’well water bottles, in addition to controversial hormone tests, which some doctors fear could be used to stoke unnecessary anxieties in perfectly fertile young patients. (Kindbody says they provide the appropriate medical context to anyone who takes one of their tests.)

Kindbody, Trellis, and Extended Fertility offer regular informational sessions that bring in groups of prospective clients to learn about egg freezing, and they all told me their goal is simply to get the facts to young women who have been underserved by the industry in the past. But a 2017 study from University of Minnesota Duluth found that marketing messages from egg-freezing companies were usually persuasive instead of neutrally informational, and that few provided detailed information on the process’s limitations or downsides. The three companies emphasized to me that egg freezing isn’t a guarantee of future pregnancy, but if you peruse any of their online egg-freezing FAQs, the numbers that Grifo gave me, which paint a more modest picture of the possibilities, are absent. They also don’t tell you that most of the people who freeze their eggs never thaw them.

Scarlett Leung, Trellis Health’s head of operations, told me that “fertility declines rapidly basically when you hit 32.” But as the psychologist Jean Twenge has reported, American women’s ideas about disappearing fertility in their 30s originated in reviews of birth records for French women living more than a century ago. The modern numbers are far less alarming: A 2004 study found that 82 percent women in their late 30s conceived on their own within a year of trying, compared with 86 percent of 27-to-34-year-olds. For those worried about birth defects in older mothers, Twenge’s survey of the available research found that 99 percent of pregnancies in 35-year-old moms were chromosomally normal, and 97 percent in 40-year-old moms.

These new egg freezing companies’ questionable marketing tactics don’t mean that egg freezing serves no purpose, or that there’s no need for more accessible information about women’s reproductive care. Biological clocks are real, even if Americans’ cultural understanding of them is a little off-kilter. The inability to conceive can be heartbreaking for women who just want the opportunity to be moms.

One thing these companies are unambiguously good at is explaining their prices. All three business I looked at for this story included detailed cost breakdowns on their websites, which is a rarity when planning for any kind of medical expense. Their rates are sometimes as low as half of those of traditional clinics, and the companies say they intend to make those numbers sustainable in the same way that most start-ups do: attract enough customers that the business’s cost per patient becomes manageable.

In a way, what these business are doing makes perfect sense. They’re corporate citizens in a health-care system that eventually reduces everything to a purchase, including many issues of life and death. The rich have had access to egg freezing for years, and now entrepreneurs are trying to find a way for those in the next several bands of wealth to get on board. It’s the same way appliance-makers and retailers have made stainless-steel kitchen renovations accessible to people who can’t afford professional-grade home kitchens: take a luxury, make a version of it more affordable at scale, and give people a short-term credit line to buy into a life slightly fancier and more comfortable than the one their current options afford them.

Except it’s not a gas range we’re talking about here. It’s a baby, or motherhood as a concept. The ways Americans have been expected to save up their money to buy these very different things has been uncomfortably similar for a long time, but by dressing up deeply personal procedure in the visual trappings of modern consumerism, egg-freezing start-ups might have made those similarities just a bit too clear. The sassy little cartoon egg might be a bridge too far, encouraging young women into medical debt for a service they likely won’t need and that itself provides no guarantees. What might be more useful for this generation of women would be a reconsideration of the pressures American culture puts on them to become mothers if at all possible, in spite of what might be their own ambivalence or differing personal priorities.

Sidestepping these broader cultural concerns to sell a novel, complicated, and very personal procedure means companies that want to market egg freezing broadly have some communications challenges to overcome. When Extend Fertility’s cartoon campaign launched, the company told Ad Age that it hoped it would inspire viewers to share it. That has happened, but maybe not in the way the campaign’s creators had hoped. I became aware of the ads in 2018 after seeing a 35-year-old friend complain that she found their sudden arrival on her Instagram feed invasive. Similar sentiments are not uncommon on social media, and a journalist at Wired wrote about why it felt “creepy” to find them inserted in her feed.

Extend Fertility’s Hogarty, who joined the company in early February, also doesn’t seem to love the cartoon egg. “The origins of that ad campaign predate me, and as the market evolves, we certainly want to evolve our brand and our ad campaigns with it,” she says. “You can look to see us doing that shortly.”

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2019/03/egg-freezing-instagram/584053/?utm_source=feed

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ionecoffman · 6 years ago

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Why So Many Instagram Ads Are Enticing Women to Freeze Their Eggs

Article source here:The Atlantic

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theconservativebrief · 6 years ago

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The burgeoning US-China trade war isn’t impossible to stop, it’s just that there’s no clear way of ending it — especially because it’s not obvious what President Donald Trump wants out of all of this in the first place, or what China is willing to give.

The United States just after midnight on Friday made good on its threat to impose sweeping tariffs on Beijing, putting a 25 percent border tax on $34 billion worth of Chinese goods imported to the US. China responded with $34 billion of tariffs of its own on its imports from America.

The tariffs and counter-tariffs mark the start of a trade war for which there’s no obvious end. Worst-case scenario: It results in a series of measures and counter-measures that could have a major negative impact on consumers and global economies. Best-case scenario: The sides reach some sort of an agreement, and it ends.

I spoke with multiple experts to ask whether there’s still an off-ramp in the US-China trade standoff, or if we’re hurtling toward an unstoppable and sustainable trade war. The general consensus: There’s always an off-ramp, but it’s complicated. It’s unclear what both parties want out of this, perhaps the US in particular, and now that the tit-for-tat has begun, neither side wants to look like a loser in order to get out. Thus far, neither is feeling the pain too much, but they could eventually.

“The broad answer is, sure, there’s always a way out of these things, there’s always a deal to be done,” said Edward Alden, senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations. “But it’s very hard with the Trump administration to figure out what those deals might look like.”

Alden’s and 10 others’ full responses, edited for clarity and style, are below.

Michael Froman, fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations and former United States Trade Representative under Obama

There is always an off-ramp. It requires both parties to know what it is, with specificity, they actually want to see agreed to and making sure that what that is is something that the other party — with pressure — can ultimately accede to. But if they can reach an agreement, there’s always a way of backing down from this kind of tit-for-tat trade action.

Having said that, if we look back historically, once tariffs are in place, they tend to be pretty sticky, and constituents begin to defend the tariff itself. We, the United States, have a 25 percent tariff on imported trucks that goes back to the “Chicken War” of 1963 with the European Union, where the European Union kept our chicken out of their market, and in retaliation we imposed a 25 percent tariff on trucks. And that continues today.

So, there is always an off-ramp, but there needs to be concerted work on both sides to avoid these tariffs becoming a more permanent feature of the environment.

Scott Kennedy, director of the project on Chinese business and political economy at the Center for Strategic & International Studies

The trade war already started. Essentially, it got under way last year, and [Friday], it took a big step forward with the imposition of $34 billion in tariffs in each direction. In two weeks, each side will add another $16 billion. So, it’s already started.

Is there an off-ramp? There may be, but it’s very far down the road. We’re not going to get to that exit for quite some time, until both sides feel enough economic and political pain that they decide it’s in their interest that there’s a solution to this. Currently, both sides think that moving forward with trade hostility is a better choice for them than negotiating.

Chad Bown, senior fellow at the Peterson Institute for International Economics and former senior trade economist under Obama

Unfortunately, President Trump’s tariff war with China has no end in sight. There does not appear to be any plans for negotiations, and his administration has not explained what it hopes to achieve by instigating this crisis. So we are left with the cost of Trump’s tariffs, the resulting retaliation against US farmers, the worry of further escalation, and no clarity from him on what comes next.

Mark Wu, law professor at Harvard

Right now, we’re still in the opening throes of a trade war. Both sides are testing each other’s resolve. The question is whether either side will blink, or whether they’ll continue to engage in some form of tit-for-tat escalation. So far, the scale of trade affected by the $34 billion in tariffs is not that large; both economies believe that they can withstand the short-term negative impact. Neither President Trump nor President Xi can afford to appear weak to their domestic constituency. Each has painted the other side’s actions as unreasonable. But ultimately, both leaders realize that they need each other’s cooperation on a wide range of other non-economic issues. Against this backdrop, each side is gauging the likelihood of the other side yielding further.

Whether this becomes a sustained conflict or we reach a negotiated settlement will turn on: (a) how much more the Chinese are willing to offer in terms of concessions, and (b) what the Trump administration ultimately finds acceptable. So far, both remain unclear.

The current US-China trade conflict concerns two major sets of issues. The first is the lack of reciprocity in terms of tariffs, market access, and investment. China has already offered some concessions in this area, such as open[ing] up particular services sectors, lowering investment restrictions, and offering to buy more American agricultural and energy products. Such concessions can be made to align with China’s overall economic reform agenda. The problem is that there is a second set of issues, which concern technology transfer and high-tech industrial policy, including the Made-in-China 2025 initiative. The US has demanded that these programs be dismantled because they unfairly disadvantage foreign firms, but China views them as critical to its plans to transform the country into a high-tech power. On this second set of issues, so far, there’s not been much in the way of compromise.

The US is betting that the Chinese leadership will ultimately feel threatened to offer some more concessions on both sets of issues, especially if a trade war impairs China’s ability to carry out its own reform agenda. China, on the other hand, thinks that the US leadership is unlikely to have the stamina to withstand the political and economic costs associated with a protracted conflict and will ultimately settle for a much lesser deal than what it is demanding. As is often true at the start of any war, both sides appear fairly confident that the other side will blink first. Until that changes, we’re likely to experience more fireworks to come.

Joshua Meltzer, senior fellow in the global economy and development program at the Brookings Institution

There’s always potentially an off-ramp. I think the problem is we don’t know what that off-ramp looks like. The administration and Trump have not articulated what is realistic and what China could do that would lead the US to stop imposing tariffs.

China has offered [to make some changes]. There were discussions early, and they offered to buy more agricultural products and more energy products. In the scheme of the types of issues that the US has identified that has problems with China, which it laid out in the Section 301 report, these types of measures are not enough. [Section 301 of the Trade Act of 1974 allows the executive branch to respond to unfair, unreasonable, or discriminatory trade practices].

I don’t think, either, at that point the administration had worked out itself what it necessarily wanted from China, and it was giving conflicting messages about what it needed. So China was also very confused about what the US administration was looking for, and I think that continues today. There’s been no clear statement by the administration about what type of outcomes or changes it wants China to make. At this stage, it’s unclear what a negotiated outcome would look like. Both countries would like to find a way out of this, but the way that the administration has set it up so far makes it very difficult for this to stop, at least in the short term.

Todd Tucker, fellow and political scientist at the Roosevelt Institute

There are absolutely still off-ramps.

Given Trump’s highly transactional nature, China could offer up to buy more US farm products and help more on North Korea, and then Trump could declare that a win and call the whole thing off.

Moreover, the longer trade tensions drag on, the more you will start to see job loss and other observable pains in politically important states. If Trump tries to neutralize the effects on, say, diminished farm exports through the Roosevelt-era Commodity Credit Corporation, Congress will have to eventually pony up money to help cover the CCC’s losses. Farm state senators like [Iowa Republican] Chuck Grassley have indicated little enthusiasm for that idea. Republicans may have to be dragged kicking and screaming into providing a check, but it could eventually happen. That could then allow for an off-ramp in the medium term.

Edward Alden, senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations

It’s a good question, and it’s the one everybody is asking right now. We all try to look back at history on this, and if you look back, certainly, in modern history, there just haven’t been that many cases where the United States has imposed these sorts of tariffs on imports. And when it was done, it was always pretty clear what the US wanted to lift the tariffs. There was some clear demand of one sort.

To take an example, against Japan in the 1980s on semiconductors. The United States slapped 100 percent import tariffs on $300 million worth of Japanese semiconductor imports, and the goal [was] very specific, it was to get the Japanese to buy more American semiconductors. In fact, the US asked for market share targets — we want 20 percent of the Japanese market, and the dispute ended because the Japanese agreed to that. So, it was reasonably straightforward.

There have been other trade disputes where the asks were a little more complicated, but it has always kind of been clear what the deal would probably look like. The difficulty in this case is that no one really knows what the deals to end this conflict are going to look like.

With China, the US has outlined its broad goals, which are a substantial remaking of the Chinese economy, but nothing more precise. With the Europeans, it’s not at all clear what the US wants to lift steel and aluminum tariffs. The Europeans are trying various things out — maybe we can restart trade negotiations, maybe we can cut auto tariffs — but there hasn’t been any positive response from the administration.

The only place where we’ve seen this administration do detailed negotiations is NAFTA, and of course, NAFTA has not really gotten very far. The US has asked for a bunch of big things, and so far, Mexico and Canada are not willing to agree, and so the talks are stalled.

The broad answer is, sure, there’s always a way out of these things, there’s always a deal to be done. But it’s very hard with the Trump administration to figure out what those deals might look like. That’s what worries all of us, is that the result of that is just going to be more escalation. We know what the next steps are — the barrel is kind of locked and loaded on two cases already, the auto tariffs and the additional $200 billion on China.

We know what comes next if they can’t do deals, and it’s much bigger than what’s happened so far.

Simon Lester, associate director of the Cato Institute’s Herbert A. Stiefel Center for Trade Policy Studies

In my view, there is an off-ramp, but it is not clear whether the Trump administration is willing to take it.

Some people believe that the Trump administration is not really interested in a deal, and has just been looking for excuses to impose higher tariffs. If that’s the case, the trade war will continue and possibly escalate. However, others believe the administration is threatening and imposing tariffs as a negotiating tactic. If that is correct, there is a chance that the tensions will ease. Whether that happens depends on a couple factors.

First, there is the question of how the American public reacts to the US tariffs and to the Chinese retaliation. If enough consumers and businesses are hurt and complain, the administration may have to back down. Related to this is the performance of the economy. The tariffs are going to hurt a number of sectors, but it might take a little to time to show up in the economic data. When it does show up, the administration might be forced to pull back a bit.

Second, if the Trump administration decides it is willing to back off, the US and Chinese negotiators will need to craft a face-saving deal that allows both sides to declare victory. The Trump administration is so dug in to this fight that they will look foolish if they remove the tariffs without getting anything in return. The negotiators will need to come up with some Chinese concessions that are sufficient for this purpose. And on the other side, the Trump administration will have to give China something, so that China will not be perceived as caving to US bullying.

Another factor is whether the administration keeps antagonizing trading partners other than China. Most trade experts agree that a better strategy to address Chinese trade practices is to work with other countries as part of a multilateral effort. So far, however, the Trump administration has spent more time attacking these other countries’ trade practices than trying to organize a coalition against China. How the administration approaches trade with other countries going forward could have an impact on the US-China dispute.

Chin Leng Lim, law professor at the Chinese University of Hong Kong

We need to accept the reality of additional tariffs while working towards a Washington-Beijing settlement, and we should just let any questions over tariffs go to the World Trade Court.

There used to be a logic to trade controversies. If a country has a significant trade surplus and punitive tariffs are imposed on it, it’s meant to just suck it up. Trump wants restitution for China’s trade surplus, China is more than willing to deal but Trump wants his restitution just so. He wants to hit China with tariffs too, and — according to that old logic — he wants China to take its tariff beating quietly. Beijing, however, says if there’s going to be a settlement there’ll be no Trump tariffs and cites current global rules.

Let me first emphasize that what Trump wants isn’t new. Trump��s tariffs reflect how the US used to advance its case for trade before the World Trade Organization ushered in a more brittle regime which worked for nearly 25 years. Citing WTO rules doesn’t meet Trump’s visceral dismissiveness about the WTO.

That’s because Trump’s knows his demands go beyond what the WTO can deliver. We’ve moved roughly in a span of 20 years from using the WTO to open up trade with China through China joining, to then using it to justify punitive tariffs against Chinese goods and to force China to sell its own industrial raw materials. What the global regime can’t handle however is the existence of massive trade surpluses. There are no rules for that. And what the WTO can’t do is to make China buy more because the WTO just hasn’t worked in this important way. The last time a round of market-opening global trade talks ended successfully was 1994, before the WTO. That’s why Trump now wants to go back in time, to the system we had pre-1994.

So here’s how the June deal fell through. China says it is willing to buy more and offered to halve imports on a bunch of products worth around 70 billion dollars. But it said there’ll be no deal if Trump follows through with tariffs. Trump’s pre-1994 logic however requires tariffs to be in place and more importantly a system where the US gets to impose tariffs whenever required, unilaterally. That is for Trump the only tool he has for opening up the Chinese market. That’s Trump’s reset button.

But Beijing wants to preserve the WTO and traditional American allies to help it preserve that house that America once built.

In short, there’s an off-ramp but for Trump the highway sign says “GATT Pre-1994.” While Beijing can’t contemplate rejecting the benign instrument of China’s own rise and development, which other nations can benefit from, Trump sees that as an unfair machine. And he is adamant.

Marc Busch, international business diplomacy professor at Georgetown University

This is not the new normal. While Trump’s negotiating objectives are far from clear, the US, like Europe, has legitimate concerns about China’s lack of enforcement of intellectual property. That’s not to say that Section 301 tariffs are going to do much good in this regard, but Trump is right that there is a real problem. For its part, China is feeling more pain from these 301 tariffs than the US, but China’s threat to escalate with non-tariff barriers, like regulatory measures, should greatly worry Trump. In short, there’s reason to negotiate.

Keeping in mind the timing of both sides’ WTO cases, along with the US midterm elections, this could easily go into the late fall. One question is whether Trump can politically dole out enough exemptions to US businesses looking to be spared from the 301 tariffs. If not, look for domestic political opposition to mount, alongside those already being hurt by the Section 232 tariffs [on steel and aluminum].

I am very worried about what all of this will mean for the future of Trade Promotion Authority in the US, a provision that gives this and future presidents more credibility to negotiate preferential trade deals. While I admire the efforts in Congress to claw back authority over Section 232, for example, I fear that there’s a slippery slope here. Back in 2007, Nancy Pelosi demanded concessions of President George W. Bush on Trade Promotion Authority, and this recent bout of congressional angst, although well placed, could do much more damage. This would leave the US even further behind in the race to sign preferential trade agreements.

Matt Gold, law professor at Fordham University and former deputy assistant US Trade Representative

The Chinese are not likely to negotiate with President Trump because he imposed retaliatory tariffs and national security tariffs on Chinese goods in violation of WTO rules to which the United States, China, and 162 other WTO member countries are bound. In trade diplomacy governments will not negotiate to stop a country from taking WTO-illegal actions, for two reasons.

The first reason is illustrated by the two guys who walk into a car dealership. First guy tells the salesman if you don’t lower the price of that car by $2,000, I’ll take my money down the street. Second guys says to the salesman, if you don’t lower the price of that car by $2,000, I’ll break your legs. The first is negotiation. The second is extortion. Why? Because the first guy is threatening to do something he’s legally entitled to do. The second is threatening to do something that he’s not legally entitled to do.

The United States’ retaliatory tariffs are WTO-illegal because President Trump failed to follow the WTO’s retaliation process, to which the U.S. is legally bound. Following that process would have guaranteed that China would not have retaliated against our retaliation. Instead, China would have negotiated for a solution during the process, or we would ultimately have been granted the legal right to retaliate. President Trump’s unprecedented refusal to follow this process precluded the Chinese from negotiating, guaranteed that they’d retaliate to our retaliation, and undermines all of the global trade agreements on which the global economy relies.

The second reason is illustrated by the guy and his 12-year-old son who walk into the television store. The guy pays the owner $800 cash for a TV. But when he and his son try to carry it out of the store, the owner and a security guard stop them. “I own this TV now,” says the guy. “That is correct,” says the owner. “You paid $800. So you now own it. But, you have to pay me another $800 cash if you want to take it out of the store.”

What are the chances that the guy, in front of his son, is going to just pay another $800? Pretty much zero. He’ll call the police if he thinks they’ll be effective. He’ll try to handle it on his own, if he thinks the police won’t be effective. But, there’s virtually no chance that he’s going to just reach into his pocket and pay a second time. China previously “paid” the United States by making concessions to the US in exchange for which the United States took on the obligations in the WTO’s Dispute Settlement Understanding — which require us to follow the WTO’s retaliation process. China also previously “paid” the United States by making concessions to us in exchange for which we took on the obligations of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade, Articles II and XX – which preclude the US from imposing the recent national security tariffs on Chinese steel and aluminum.

Thus, President Trump is telling China that, even though the Chinese already paid the US to take on certain obligations, they now have to pay us again to get us to fulfill those obligations. What are the chances that China is going to just sit down and negotiate the amount they’re going to pay to secure US fulfillment of obligations China’s already paid for? As a former US trade negotiator, and leading expert in this part of international law, I can tell you that it’s pretty much zero.

Original Source -> Can the US-China trade war be stopped? 11 experts weigh in.

via The Conservative Brief

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