#first pic is a scan which is why he looks so flat

[bandaidfingers]

Happy Star Wars Day!

I went insane with this Metal Bikini Han Solo collage last month >:o) I’ve doodled him in the infamous metal bikini in the past, but decided it was time I dedicate myself to a real quality illustration of it. Enjoy! Lol

nine bazillion process pics under the cut

[lunarmote]

Kyoto travel log, week 0

Part 2 of my arrival in Japan, where I talk about getting on the train to Kyoto Station, Kyoto Station/Tower, and my first experience being among cherry blossoms!

Read Part 1 here.

Train from Osaka Station to Kyoto Station

As an artist my eyes are trained to spot visual discrepancies at a pace that I cannot cerebrally comprehend. While I was looking out the window of the train to Kyoto Station I kept thinking the world looked so different; here was an identifiable symbol, a house, and here were a row of trees, but the “feel” of them on-scene was completely different, owing to what exactly, the architecture/arrangement of elements/compactness/colors/roofing?

I thought once about what I’d read on a digital nomad’s blog, that traveling doesn’t just teach you about another culture, it teaches you about your own culture as well. When you ponder over what makes this thing look distinctly different you have to also know what made all the other houses in your home country/street look ordinary and I didn’t know at all. I couldn’t identify any of the trees in my hometown, I didn’t know what type of tiles they used for their roofs, I knew nothing about urban planning and power lines and why the ones back home were so visually chunky.

I’ll let you see for yourself...

Mid-day shadows...

Kyoto station

These are Kyoto Station and Kyoto Tower! The lighting looks a bit dull here compared to the pics I took of Osaka but man, the sheer scale of things is so impactful when you exit and see the tower smack-dab in front of you. Due to the pandemic I hadn’t been among that many people in 3 years and it reminded me so much that we are still living in an alive, bustling world. There were people with their EOS and Canons taking pictures and other people pointing to their maps and looking lost. 

There is separate bus station with its own bus map. I got very lost reading it and had to ask someone, again. He was kind enough to type up instructions for me in my Notes app (in English!) telling me which bus routes were OK, which stop to get off at, and how long to walk :’)

The bus operates differently here. You get on through the rear doors. There is a card reader and a place to take a ticket - essentially you are logging your start and end destinations either by scanning your card twice, or taking a start ticket and paying when you get off in the front. The Kyoto city bus I took charged a flat fare for all rides so there was no ticket dispenser. 

The view from the river

When I got off at the stop to my guesthouse I was met by a swirling cloud of cherry blossom petals. It looked like something out of a movie. I’m not really one who can lose myself in my surroundings, but for a second I was stunned by the beauty and stillness of that moment.

It was pre-golden hour: the sun had gone down slightly, casting everything in an aged yellow light. I waited at the crosswalk while petals fluttered down: I reached out, as if to graze them and cushion their fall. One of them suddenly drifted upwards and I realized it was actually a white butterfly.

When was the last time I’d seen a butterfly in California?

There were stepping stones to a central platform where some college-age kids were playing music. My heavy backpack and camera bag threw off my center of gravity; I was so oafish in jumping from stone to stone that Japanese kids kept passing me, calling out to their moms who lagged behind. It was so wonderful to watch: families enjoying themselves on a warm spring afternoon, not feeling the pressure of time.

I walked around for a bit more until then sun came down, then went back to FamilyMart to grab some dinner (cold soba). That was my first night in Kyoto.

[miracle-sham]

Our Faces are Hidden Behind Masks of Glass.

| {Maribat 2k20 – Day 1: Late Night Discussions} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] |

| Sometimes, when secret identities are revealed, you just need a cuppa tea and some reaffirmation—and maybe some cuddles too. |

| Word count: 1534. |

==–==

| A/N: So I really thought SCAB would be my first piece of writing posted on here/for Maribat but then I got mugged in a dark dank alleyway by the Maribat2k20 MariTim prompt calendar and stabbed by the knife of inspiration. So uh yeah enjoy. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then send me a DM or an ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

 Heck-heck-heckity-heckles, Marinette chants in her head, desperately needing to find an empty alleyway that she can detransform in. She flicks her yo-yo towards a random skyscraper, and swings her way across the Gotham night skyline, scanning the streets below for somewhere that met her criteria.

 Just as her earrings bleep thrice to signal that she was down to two dots, she spots it, an empty alleyway not in plain view of any roads, or windows. There! She cheers internally, dropping down into the alleyway and whispering a “Tikki, spots off!”

 However, her relief at finding a place to detransform is short-lived, for as soon as the bright pink glow fades away, she's faced with the sight of Red Robin half changed into civvies, domino in one hand. Marinette stares at him in shock, and he stares back. Blinking blankly, she tries to wrap her mind around the fact that one of her "civilian" friends is actually a hero. A hero she's allies with, friends even.

 The two stand there for a solid minute as their brains reboot. Tim cocks his head to one side, gaze flickering between looking her up and down, and staring at her earrings. Marinette also cocking her head to one side but her gaze switches between his bare face and the domino in his hand.

 Once their brains finish rebooting, immediately the two blurt out the first thoughts to come to mind.

 “Tim... You're Red Robin?”–

 –“Wait, Marinette, you've been Ladybug this entire time?”

  Marinette swallowed, blinking back tears, suddenly very aware of how vulnerable she was in the open with her secret exposed and—oh god, Tim's the first person to know my identity bar Master Fu… This is the first time I've ever had my identity revealed and I didn't even get a choice—She manages to choke down a sob before spitting out, “I think we should take this somewhere more private.” The words burning her tongue with the acrid taste of fear.

 He nods sharply—almost more of a jerk than an actual nod. “I agree.”

 Neither makes an attempt to move, both still staring.

 “My place or yours?” She asks, hesitantly, half frowning.

 He nods again, more softly this time, “Mine, but lemme just um…” Gesturing towards the amalgamation that was half his Red Robin suit and half civvies as he speaks.

 Marinette's eyes widen in realisation, practically squeaking, she stutters. “Oh. Uh yeah, sorry!” She stiffly turns her back to him in an act of respect of privacy and cradles her face in her hands as her cheeks flush bright red from embarrassment. God, I'm never going to live this down, am I?

 After about a minute of stewing in her embarrassment, she hears Tim clears his throat from the other side of the Alleyway. “Okay, done.”

 She turns around to face him again, the blush has faded somewhat in the time passed but it's still very clearly noticeable. She can't help but glance at his civilian outfit. “Oh, er, nice?”

 He sort of just blinks at her, rather bemused. “Uh, thanks… I guess?”

 An awkward silence hangs over them as they shuffle and dance around each other on their way out of the alleyway. The walk to his theatre house is just as silent and awkward despite the hundreds of questions on each of their lips. A good thing then—Marinette supposes—that we didn't go to my place, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle an even longer awkward silence.

==–==

 They take the civilian route inside—also known as using the door like a sane person—because apparently, vigilantes will only use windows as entrances provided there are windows to enter and that the vigilantes in question are suited up. Tim spends a good thirty seconds opening his front door, deactivating a bunch of different security protocols most likely. The hallway and lounge lights were already on probably to try and deter potential robbers—the house is in Crime Alley after all—but once they enter said hallway, all the ceiling lights on the first floor switch on.

 Tim guides her to the sofa, which she perches on the edge of, facing the massive fish tank before disappearing into the kitchen. The sound of shuffling feet, cupboards and drawers opening, and the click of a kettle—or perhaps a coffee machine? She can't quite tell from this distance—are the only things to give away what he's doing in there. Marinette has no doubts that he's making the noise on purpose, he's a bat. But she's not quite sure if the noise is because he's comfortable here, or if it's because he's trying to make her feel more welcome?

 A minute later, Tim re-emerges with two teacups in hand. He gently lays both on a coffee table between the sofa and aquarium, one of the cups pushed towards her general direction. He plops himself down on the sofa as well, albeit leaving enough space between the two of them that a third person could sit there.

 She picks up the drink and peers at it, perplexed, for a second, question falling from her mouth before she can stop herself, “Earl Grey? With lemon?” I thought he was a coffee person?

 “Alfred.” Is his clipped response.

 She nods and 'oh's under her breath. That explains it. Marinette takes a sip and her eyes light up. “Oh wow! This is delicious!”

 Tim raises his eyebrows in amusement and snorts but doesn't comment. The conversation lulls again. They sip their tea in silence.

 When Marinette finishes her tea, she carefully puts the mug back down, with an audible clink, on the coffee table. She hesitates and the words Kagami once told her come unbidden to her mind. She grimaces, glances to Tim.

 He's watching her with that calculating gaze of his, however, it seems far more tumultuous in nature this evening. He's hiding his mouth behind his mug like another mask.

 Marinette leans back against the sofa and stares at his ceiling before idiomatically biting the bullet and physical biting her lips. “How long are we going to do this?”

 He freezes. “Do what?”

 She gestures vaguely in the air between the two of them. “This, tiptoe around the elephant in the room or I suppose in our case, the vigilantes in the room.”

 Her phrasing manages to bring a small smile to his face but not a second later it fades and he purses his lips.

 Solemnly, he gives her a once over. “So you're Ladybug then?”

 Marinette huffs. “And you're Red Robin.”

 “Does anyone else know that you're her then?”

 She turns her head away from him, “No, you're…” Her throat closes up and she's forced to blink back tears again. Barely holding back the sniffles, she chokes out the last few words. “You're the only other person to know.”—Not technically a lie, it's not like Master Fu remembers anything about the miraculous, let alone my identity.

 Tim deflates slightly, curling his shoulders inwards. “I wish you had told us before, we could have supported you. You shouldn't have had to deal with all that without help”

 “What? Like Batman didn't start off alone?” Marinette snaps back automatically, no real heat behind her words.

  “Batman's not exactly a pillar of good life decisions or emotional stability.” He retorts with a raised eyebrow.

 Sighing, she shakes her head and whines, “Tim…”

 “Marinette.” His lips twitch upwards like he's in on some joke she doesn't get, “On the bright side, now we know each other's identities, we can help each other on cases and patrols, or cover for the other in or out the masks.” He offers, sounding so calm and nonchalant.

 Marinette shuffles closer to him on the sofa. “That would be useful. I just. I.” She stutters, brain moving faster than her mouth.

 Tim grins ruefully. “You're worried I'm gonna tell the rest of the bats who you are, right?”

 She curls up instinctively. “Yeah…”

 “Don't worry, they're also detectives. If they can't work out your identity then why should I give them the answer?” He tries to joke but it falls flat.

 “The magic of the Miraculous stops people from making the connection between my two identities.” Marinette responds.

 “Ok, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm not going to give you away even if they ask.” He also shuffles closer to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him.

 “Thank you, Tim.”

 “No problem, Mari.”

 Marinette pauses. “So this won't affect our relationship in or out the mask, right? We're still friends?”

 “Of course! This doesn't change a thing.” Tim, emulating Dick, pulls her in for a hug, and if Marinette melts into his arms—well he's not going to say no to that, not when he's so touch starved.

==–==

 When Dick breaks into the house the next morning to check on Tim, seeing as he never checked out for the night nor did he return to the cave, he finds the two cuddled up together—fast asleep on the sofa. He nabs a spare blanket and pulls it over the two of them, snaps a pic to serve as evidence to Tim being okay, and then skedaddles before either can wake.

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

@maribat-2k20

[missjosie27]

Year 3 Part 7- Keeper of the Keys

Hey, guys. I'm sorry this update took so long. Shit has been well...weird. Hard to explain. However, rest assured I am not abandoning this pic, not by a long shot. Updates just won't be consistently regular as a warning to all my readers. To make up for some lost time, this is a longer chapter and I hope you all enjoy!

To say that Tulip Karasu was eccentric was an understatement. Nevertheless, David had no choice but to play ball for now if he wanted any of the information he sought. He was a bit apprehensive sitting at the Ravenclaw table during dinner, but luckily Andre’s assertion proved to be correct. No one desired to sit near her and therefore they could spend the meal alone and in peace.

Stuffing Dennis into her shirt pocket, the Ravenclaw began to serve herself and cut up her chicken into several tiny pieces before eating. The young Gryffindor was hungry, but he preferred to focus on the matter at hand. Something about this girl was oddly fascinating. He also had many questions to ask.

“So how exactly did you stumble across my brother’s room and how was I not aware of that? Furthermore, since when are multiple people looking for the vaults?”

“One question at a time,” Tulip countered with a smile. “I still need to know why I should work with you, David Grant.”

The use of his full name was another idiosyncratic habit she seemed to demonstrate. That being said, it couldn’t hurt to give her a pitch. Especially since it sounded like she had been working with another person, possibly more than one in searching for the vault. From the looks of it, their progress was better than his in finding the latest one.

“I don’t usually play this card but...I’m the best chance you have at getting inside of a vault. I’m one of the strongest duelists in our year and I’ve broken one curse already.”

“You’re a very determined and talented person, there’s no denying that,” Tulip replied thoughtfully. “But it seems like I’m closer to finding the next vault than you are. Why shouldn’t I just go off on my own?”

“Because if we assist each other, it’ll help us solve the mystery faster,” David explained. “You found my brother’s room, but I doubt you’re any closer to knowing the vault’s location.”

“True. You make logical points. But Dumbledore forbade any student from searching for them this year. What if something goes wrong and you try to pin the blame on me?”

Tulip was testing him, he knew that. She followed rules no more than he did. But clearly this was a person who didn’t trust people easily.

“I don’t rat on my friends,” David said simply. “When I thought Bill might not make prefect, I tried to take the blame from McGonagall. I’d do the same for you.

“Perish the thought of me ever becoming prefect,” Tulip laughed. “However, I am glad that you value the people around you.”

“I’ll put this simply: I don’t care about whatever so-called power the vaults have. I’m only in this for one reason and that’s to find my brother.”

The Ravenclaw girl scanned him up and down, as though he were a mildly intriguing piece of modern art. David felt a bit uncomfortable but said nothing. Finally she spoke again.

“I don’t know that I like you yet, David Grant, but I do trust you.”

Okay that’s a start...I guess

“Then will you tell me who your accomplice was?” he asked her.

“Merula Snyde.”

David immediately spit out the pumpkin juice he’d been consuming causing a few Ravenclaws to look over with mild disgust.

“WHAT?! But why would you team up with her of all people? You seem way too smart to trust Merula.”

Tulip gave him her most serious look yet.

“Merula is a lot smarter than you give her credit for. You may not like her personality, but there’s no denying her skill.”

David scoffed. “Yeah I’ll get back to you on that one. I’ve beaten her so many times in duels I’ve lost count. She’s always trying to one up me but never succeeds.”

“Her greatest weakness is that she believes she’s invincible. But more on that later. The point is we were working together at one point but then we had a falling out. Unfortunately she still has the other key to your brother’s room.”

“Then we have to get it back.”

“Agreed,” Tulip said. “But the question is ‘how’? She’s not going to hand it over willingly.”

“I’ve found over the years that the only way to get Merula Snyde to do anything is by forcing her. Typically after one beats her in a duel.”

“That may work, but this situation is also quite delicate and we don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves from the teachers. Especially if they caught us fighting.”

David agreed with that conclusion. They would need to try another method.

“Then what do you suggest?

Tulip gave another sly smile.

“Leave that to me. I’ll come up with something that will turn Merula on her head.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tulip told him she would need some time to plan and would message him when ready. In the meantime, David kept busy with homework which was significantly heavier this year with two added electives. He also enjoyed the start of Quidditch season given it was the first week of November. Unfortunately, unlike the previous year, things didn't go as swimmingly for Gryffindor this time around. Slytherin edged them 300-260 in the opening match. None was as ecstatic as Merula and she constantly reminded him about it during the week.

“I really hope Tulip comes up with a plan soon,” David muttered one day while sitting in the common room with Rowan and Bill. The two third years were finishing Transfiguration homework while the prefect looked over potions he might expect to find on his OWLs. “If I have to listen to Merula brag about Slytherin’s victory any longer I might just have to learn the silencing charm in order to shut her big mouth.”

Rowan chuckled as he turned the page on Intermediate Transfiguration by Emeric Switch.

“You’ll get your chance at payback soon enough, especially if you intend to get that key.”

“I know...I just wish she’d hurry up. Losing to Merula in anything is unbearable.”

“Be thankful you weren’t directly responsible for the loss,” Bill said to him, indicating the somber figure of his brother slumping in one of the chairs. Charlie had been noticeably quiet since the match, avoiding crowds and shutting himself up in the dormitory most of the time outside of class.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“He’ll get over it,” Bill assured them. “But despite what you may think, Charlie is super competitive when it comes to Quidditch. He hates losing and this was the first time in his career he’s never caught the snitch.”

“Can’t win them all I suppose,” David sighed. “We should have won, though. Skye was flying circles around them again. And that Slytherin beater totally committed a foul before Charlie could seal the deal.”

“It happens. I hate losing to Slytherin too, but a little perspective never hurts. There’s another cursed vault out there we need to find.”

David and Rowan nodded. You could always count on Bill to be level headed when it came to these situations.

“Speaking of, any luck with deciphering the rest of that book?”

“It’s slow going,” Rowan said shaking his head. “I swear I’m going barmy from trying to make out all the symbols. It gets more complicated the deeper you get into the book.”

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Bill said kindly. “The best thing we can do now is getting into that room.”

As it happened, there was more progress on that front. Jae Kim suddenly appeared in front of their group.

“I was told by a certain Tulip Karasu to tell David that she wants you to meet her in the courtyard straight away.”

The three Gryffindors looked at each other with anticipation.

“Did she say anything else?”

Jae shrugged.

“Nope. I’m just passing along the message. If you’ll excuse me, I have orders to fill.”

Bill gave an uneasy expression as the Korean boy walked off.

“I sometimes wonder if I shouldn’t be doing more to prevent him from running that little black market of contraband he has.”

“Jae does plenty to get himself in trouble without your involvement,” David chuckled. “I swear we don’t even need Zonko’s. He supplies half the school with Fanged Frisbees by himself.”

He stood up and brushed off some of the couch lint on his jeans.

“Guess I better see what Tulip wants.”

“Hopefully she’s got a plan,” Rowan said eagerly.

“Yeah...hopefully.”

Despite barely knowing her, David had a feeling that whatever Tulip Karasu wanted, it was bound to be interesting to say the least.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He made his way down to the specified area where Tulip was waiting just outside the entrance. Unlike her uniform, she wore a blue coat over a thick sweater with a matching beanie hat with a puffball on top combined with a flowy skirt, black tights, and flats. It was a brisk day despite the sunny weather and winter was well on the way.

“Good. You made it,” she greeted him. “Are you ready for my plan?”

“Don’t need Trelawney’s ‘Inner Eye’ to predict you’ve got something cooked up.”

“You’re becoming more perceptive,” Tulip said with a mischievous smirk. “Merula is over there, holding court with her lackeys.”

David gave a small peek, and sure enough the Slytherin girl was there alongside Barnaby and Ismelda. What they were talking about, he couldn’t hear but Merula was clearly animated about something.

“I’d recognize that orange tuft of hair anywhere. So what’s the big plan?”

“Even though they aren’t that bright, Barnaby and Ismelda are still tough and ruthless,” Tulip explained. “We need a diversion to lure them away from her. And luckily, I have the perfect item for the job.”

Out of her coat came a dungbomb, except twice as large and covered with some kind of outer shell.

“I call it the ultimate dungbomb,” she grinned. “Mixed in with some stinksap. I used the hardening charm ‘Duro’ to give it some heft. We toss this into their little circle and they won’t know what hit them.”

“Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that thing,” David said, eyeing the putried projectile. “So now what? Do we levitate it or something?”

“Follow my lead. We hide behind the fountain until the perfect moment to strike.”

And so they entered the courtyard, tiptoeing along the way, careful not to make too much noise. The wind aided them in this goal and as they drew closer David could make out the conversation the three Slytherins were having.

“...can’t believe this! We’ve searched everywhere! We’re never going to find a cursed vault!”

“We should cast the Cruciatus Curse on Grant on his friends. Torture makes everyone talk,” Ismelda suggested with dark glee.

“Talking to you is torture. You have some serious issues, Ismelda,” Merula responded.

“We should ask Dumbledore. He’s really smart,” Barnaby said thickly.

By now Tulip and David were crouched low behind the fountain, peering over slightly to get a sense of distance from their opponents.

“Dumbledore spent half his welcome speech telling us to stay away from the vaults. Or did you forget that, you nitwit,” Merula chastised.

“We could give him Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. I heard he likes those.”

“Sometimes I wonder if your brain was replaced by a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean.”

“I still say we should use an unforgivable,” Ismelda cut in. “I’d like to cast the killing curse on the next Gryffindor I see.”

That earned a look of derision and disgust from her leader.

“You don’t even know the killing curse.”

“I sat on a bowtruckle once!” Barnaby pipped up.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ismelda asked, looking at Barnaby as though he had a second head.

“I thought we were talking about killing things.”

“Ugh, I hate you both,” Merula commented, rolling her eyes.

David shook his head behind the fountain.

“Merlin, this is literally too stupid to listen to. Now?”

Tulip nodded.

“Now!”

Using her wand, the Ravenclaw sent the ultimate dungbomb flying into the air towards the Slytherin trio. It exploded upon impact causing a toxic mist of green and yellow to fill the air and all three began to tear up, covering their noses with their arms.

“Dear, Merlin that is awful!” Ismelda cried, coughing into her arm.

“I can’t breathe!” Barnaby said coughing as well. “Let’s get out of here!”

Merula was hacking and wheezing too, but she still had enough oxygen to call after them as they ran.

“Get back here you cowards! It’s just a dungbomb!”

David wasted no time in stepping out of the shadows, Tulip in tow. They both confronted the angry Slytherin, who became irate upon laying her eyes on them.

“I should have known it was you!” Merula shouted, trembling with rage.

“Your powers of perception are truly dizzying,” he said to her in a bored tone.

“Hand the key over to us, Merula. I don’t know how long I can stand your stink,” Tulip demanded.

The look on the Slytherin’s face went from rage to incredulous.

“Us? You betrayed me, started working with Grant and have the audacity to ask me to give you the second key?”

“Actually...yeah.”

Merula’s expression returned to its usual nasty leer.

“Well too bad. I’m not giving you anything. How does it feel knowing I found your brother’s room before you did, Grant?”

“I don’t have time for this, Merula,” David said sternly. “Give us the key, now.”

Tulip then did something unexpected, stepping forward, a note of sympathy in her voice.

“We could use your help. This doesn’t have to turn ugly. Work with us.”

David was surprised at the offer of assistance and wondered where it stemmed from but predictably, Merula turned it down.

“I don’t want to work with you, I want to duel. Specifically you, Grant. Beat me again and the key is yours…” she withdrew her wand from her sleeve. “But I don’t plan on losing to you. Not this time.”

David withdrew his own wand and prepared for battle. In truth, he was looking forward to pop her ego once more.

“You never learn, do you Merula?”

He quickly fired a disarming spell, but she ducked while sending one of her own which missed over his shoulder, causing Tulip to dodge.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Despite it heading straight for her chest, the Slytherin demonstrated remarkable athleticism by rolling to her side and firing back a retort.

“Flipendo!”

David was forced to copy the same maneuver, scraping his elbow on the stone but managed to avoid the knockback jinx. Wheeling back around he aimed a jelly legs jinx but again it missed due to Merula’s agility.

She’s clearly learned a thing or two since last year

The Slytherin began pressing forward, drawing closer with each curse she fired off, putting David on the defensive retreating from his original spot back towards the wall. Some of the spells he recognized, some he didn’t and he was fairly certain a few were the kind a thirteen year old girl wasn’t supposed to know. All the same, he had to think of something before one of them landed on his person. Then, he remembered her weak spot, the same one as always.

Too aggressive. Too wild with her spells

Indeed while she was driving forward, he could see a manic look in her eye, the kind that someone had when they were determined but unhealthily obsessed. David then came up with an idea. Dropping his stance and his wand into a wide, lazy position, he allowed his opponent to think she was catching him off guard. Sure enough, Merula took the bait.

“Remollio!”

A jet of sickly, yellow light headed straight towards his head. Smiling slightly, he ducked forward into an almost ninety degree angle and sent back a spell of his own.

“Fumo!”

A mass of black smoke issued in front of Merula, blocking her vision and senses. It was all the time he needed to strike the winning blow.

“Depulso!”

The banishing charm smashed into the Slytherin girl sending her flying back and hard onto the ground into a groaning heap, wand dislodged.

Dissipating the smoke, David walked forward, wand aimed and ready in case she tried to cheat or lash back out.

“I win again, Merula. I won’t ask a third time. Give me the key.”

Clutching her shoulder painfully, she rose from the ground, grabbed her wand, and proceeded to chuck a golden key at his feet.

“Fine! Take the stupid key! I already got what I needed from that loser’s room anyway.”

Tulip came up behind him now that the duel was over, picking up the key, sympathy still lurking in her dark brown eyes.

“Merula, please we could still use…”

“My help? Save your breath. I don’t work with traitors!”

Lavender eyes switched over to David and for the first time, he saw that they were on the verge of tears.

“Watch out for this one, Grant. It's only a matter of time before she stabs you in the back.”

Without another word, Merula brushed past them, the sound of combat boots hitting against stone echoing across the courtyard as she ran back towards the dungeons.

David wondered what Tulip’s reaction would be to these thinly veiled accusations but to his slight surprise her sympathetic expression was gone, replaced by her usual mischievous delight.

“Mission accomplished, David Grant. Let’s go to your brother’s room.”

Though satisfied with receiving the key, Merula’s reaction unnerved the teenage Gryffindor. He didn’t bring it up further but there was no doubt Tulip hadn’t told him everything about her history with his chief rival.

At least not yet.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The two teens wasted no time in heading towards Jacob’s room and soon they were standing in front of the dark brown, wooden, door. However, there was one question still burning in the back of David’s mind.

“Tulip?”

“Hm?”

“What did Merula mean when she said she already took what she needed from my brother’s room?”

Tulip shook her head.

“She was lying. We used this room because it was full of valuable information and research but there was nothing worth taking or pointing to the location of the vaults themselves...at least nothing that I saw.”

“Jacob was always pretty savvy at hiding things,” David informed her. “It’s perfectly possible you missed something. Hell, I just found a quill that turned out to be his transfigured notebook. I know this will sound strange, but I haven’t felt this close to him since he disappeared. There are a lot of things I’m still finding out.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the Ravenclaw teen asked him seriously. “You may not like what you find.”

David didn’t hesitate with his response. Any potential negative revelation about his brother could not outweigh the possible benefits of discovering more about his whereabouts.

“That’s a risk I’ll have to take. I have to see where he did his research.”

Tulip nodded, taking out her key and inserting it into the first part of the lock. She handed him the one they received from Merula.

“Do the honors.”

He did so, unclicking the lock, the golden seal falling to the floor with a metal clank. The door creaked open and the two teens entered the mysterious space. However, it was dark and impossible to see anything.

“I can’t see two feet in front of me,” David said aloud. “Tulip, you there?”

“Yeah. Lumos.”

The sight that greeted them was both unexpected and horrifying. Out of the shadows stepped a tall, bald, sickly pale man cloaked in black robes. His features were gaunt and waxy as though they had been warped or burnt, especially his nose, which was disproportionately smaller. But that was not the most disturbing aspect of this person. Within the skull like head were a pair of deadly, luminous blood red eyes that reeked of menace and murder. There was no mistaking who it was.

“Y-Y-You Know Who! It can’t be!” David cried.

“Run, Grant! RUN!”

Tulip immediately pulled him back before the figure could pull out his wand and slammed the door shut behind them.

Catching their breath from the near heart attack they both suffered, it took a few moments before either one could say anything.

“How is that possible? You Know Who is dead,” he panted.

“Use your common sense, David Grant. That was clearly a boggart. Hogwarts is crawling with them these days.”

Regaining his wits, the Gryffindor realized Tulip was right and mentally smacked himself for being so gullible.

“Merlin, that was embarrassing.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Tulip reasoned. “A lot of grown witches and wizards would have reacted the same way, if not worse.”

She paused before adding. “I am curious, though. Why is your boggart, You Know Who?”

The truth was, David didn’t know the full reason why but before he could explain that to Tulip they were interrupted by another very unpleasant presence.

“Well, well...David Grant and Tulip Karasu...why am I not surprised to find you two here together?” Severus Snape spoke in his usual dangerous, silky tone.

Oh, shit

“Professor I-”

“Silence,” the potions master cut across him. “Your brother was the most disobedient student Hogwarts had seen since James Potter. You may have overtaken him.”

“But we’re allowed to be here, sir. It’s not after hours yet.”

“Do you really believe me to be a naive simpleton, Grant? Stay away from this corridor and give up your search for the vaults, or I will ensure you will share your brother’s fate. Now back to your common rooms, both of you.”

The two teens did not dare argue but before they parted company under Snape’s watchful eye he saw Tulip mouth to him, ‘We’ll talk later.’

They would need to. With Hogwarts' nastiest professor onto them and a boggart taking the form of Voldemort blocking the way, another method of gaining access to the room was needed.

David sighed as his brother’s room went out of view. He really hated roadblocks.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thankfully, Snape couldn’t be everywhere at once and that included meal times as well as meetings after Transfiguration which the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws shared together. Though both David and Tulip were eager to try and go back to the room they mutually agreed to stay away for the time being lest the head of Slytherin catch them again. The main priority was getting rid of the boggart.

“Professor Sprout used some kind of spell to defeat the boggart that scared Penny earlier in the year,” David mused while he and the Ravenclaw walked together after class one day.

“Well technically we’re supposed to cover boggarts in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. But we can’t wait for that incompetent buffoon to actually bring it up or teach us for that matter.”

“I swear these gormless prats are more and more useless with each passing year,” David agreed. “Guess it’s time to hit the library.”

“Let’s agree to research there after lessons are done every Friday,” Tulip suggested. “I’m sure there’s a lot we can learn before the holidays come around.”

“Sounds like a plan. I can bring Rowan along too. He’s one of the smartest people I know. Super brainy.”

Tulip suddenly hesitated.

“Actually, I’d prefer it to just be the two of us...for the time being. I can’t really explain it right now. Just trust me.”

As it was with Merula, David didn’t press the issue but he was steadily growing evermore curious about his new partner’s past. Whatever happened between her and the Slytherin teen must have been severe but he sensed there was more to it than that.

Adding to the surrounding mystery was another anonymous message he received one night. He had just come back from dinner with Penny, Tonks, and Diego when Rowan rushed to greet him quite frantically.

“David!”

“Whoa, steady on. What’s up?”

His best friend proceeded to pull out a letter from his robe pocket and hand it to him. The envelope was not addressed and carried no visible distinction.

“I found this on your bed,” he explained. “It just...appeared there. I didn’t open it in case it was private or cursed.”

David stared at the mail for a split second debating his chances. If it was a message from ‘R’ once again he was mostly certain it wasn’t cursed. Such a group would have tried to kill him by now. Then again he also had no idea what they were capable of given the general mystery surrounding them.

Taking his chances, he slit open the envelope, removed the parchment inside and read the contents aloud.

“You are in grave danger. Your investigation into the Cursed Vaults has drawn the attention of a group who is not to be trifled with. Be careful, but remain courageous. I’m depending on you to reach the final vault before the others. I will assist you when I can. I hope the next time I deliver you a message, the circumstances are far less mysterious.

Sincerely,

A Friend’” 

Taking a moment to reread the letter and analyze its contents David looked towards his brainiac friend for a possible explanation. Rowan appeared to be as lost as he was.

“For the record, I have no idea who wrote you that letter. Do you?”

David certainly had no more inkling than the hippogriff by Hagrid’s hut. There were a number of possibilities, which included his brother, an enemy playing tricks, or even the Headmaster himself.

“I’m as lost as you are. I’d say it was a ruse except for the fact none of the Slytherins know how to get into our common room. If anything, it sounds like an ally of some sort.”

“I sure hope so,” Rowan responded with a bit of anxiety. “These anonymous messages are starting to creep me out a bit.”

He paused before asking another question.

“By the way, what’s with this Tulip girl? Why does she insist on working with you alone?”

David genuinely shrugged.

“I wish I knew. Your guess is as good as mine.”

In truth, David had little time to reflect on it at the current moment. Tulip was a vital piece in all of this and he could scarcely afford to scare her off. Whoever the mystery man was that claimed to be on his side, there was no use in dwelling on that either. Aside from his schoolwork, which he was careful to pay close attention to, the only thing that mattered was learning how to get rid of that pesky boggart in his brother’s room in order to properly access it.

Thankfully, that wasn’t too difficult in principle. Within their first round of research the Ravenclaw girl discovered the spell ‘Ridikkilus’ which was the same one Professor Sprout used to disperse the boggart in the Herbology classroom. However, given the risks of using the spell without prior experience and with Snape still looming over their heads, Tulip advised against going back to the room before they were ready. David wanted to head back as soon as possible but he eventually relented as his new partner in crime told him to practice over the holidays while she thought of a plan.

Honestly, she’s always scheming that one

However, with Christmas around the corner, the dreaded return back to West Country loomed over his head and he was not looking forward to the strained, emotionally stunted holiday as was per custom in the Grant household. But on the eve of his departure, he received a distraction of sorts, something quite unexpected.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was the last Hogsmeade trip of the season before the holidays and David used that time to share a glass of butterbeer with his friends namely Rowan, Ben, Tonks, Penny, and Charlie. The Three Broomsticks was even cozier and warm this time of year and full of festive cheer and decorations, many of which he helped Madam Rosmerta put up before the big customer rush as a ‘thank you’ for giving him the quill. In return, he and his companions received a round of free drinks.

“I tell you what. Life doesn’t get much better than this,” Rowan said, taking a satisfying swig.

“I can’t wait to go home and see my family for Christmas,” Penny beamed. She was snuggled up in a blue coat with a matching beret, leggings, and snow boots. David couldn’t help but notice the rosy glow on her cheeks and how pretty she looked. “My sister is dying to know more about Hogwarts even though I’ve told her so much already.”

“What about you, Dave?” Ben asked genuinely.

David tried to hide the fact that he was secretly conflicted and tried to play it off with his usual sarcasm.

“Well my mom will stress herself needlessly from making the dinner, my dad will read his newspaper and do paperwork, we open some presents followed by an awkward crying session from said mother who tops it off with a bottle of wine….so yeah. Merry Christmas to me.”

The blond boy was unsure how to respond to that as flushed with embarrassment.

“I...uh…”

“Relax, Ben,” Tonks cut in. “Dave knows you didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, I know exactly how to cheer him up.”

She transformed her face into that of a toucan’s beak, something usually never failed to elicit a laugh. But this time the Gryffindor teen didn’t budge.

“Oh come on, David that always works. Show a little festive cheer!”

Before she could stick another butterbeer under his nose the second Weasley brother came back over with another round and a message.

“Drink up you lot. Also David, my brother wants a word with you.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“For what? Did he mention a reason?”

“Just said it was urgent. He’s over there sitting by himself. Pretty moody by his standards.”

Shrugging, he took the spare butterbeer weaved and ducked his way through the Christmas crowd and found Bill seated at one of the tables meant for two people. Indeed, he had a curious expression on his face.

“Charlie told me you wanted to talk?” he said, taking his chair. “Is everything okay?”

“How are you in the ways of romance, Dave?”

It was a loaded question, one he was not prepared to answer at all. Because the answer was not at all.

“Uh, Bill...I think you may want the tea shop down the street,” he joked referring to Madam Puddifoots. “What’s this about, anyway?”

“I’m obsessed with this girl named Emily Tyler,” the prefect explained and there was a swooning glint in his eyes. “She’s not only beautiful but in Defense Against the Dark Arts she single handedly stupefied an entire swarm of vampire bats.”

“That’s not saying much given the current state of that class,” David joked again, taking a sip from his glass. He did, however, see Bill’s point. He knew of Emily Tyler and many older Gryffindors had the hots for her. She always hung out with the same group of friends chatting away about gossip, makeup, Witch Weekly, and whatever they found interesting that day. She was also quite wealthy on both sides of her family. “So what’s the next step then? Are you going to tell her?”

“You make it sound so simple. But I was actually hoping you could talk to her for me.”

David had never seen Bill this...timid before and it was a bit unsettling. The tall, lanky, long haired Weasley was usually the cool one of their group- collected, confident, the voice of reason and was a favorite among the student body in the way he conducted his prefect duties. To witness him as being so unsure meant this girl meant a lot to him.

“Bill, no offense but you’re asking the wrong bloke. I know less about this stuff than you do. I’ve never even had a girlfriend.”

“Well neither have I. I’ve also never been in love before.”

“And what makes you think...wait you’re in love?” he asked, completely floored.

“Am I? I don’t even know anymore. What’s happening to me?”

It was then the adolescent Gryffindor knew just how important this was to Bill and the least he could do was try and spread some cheer before Christmas. Just as Tonks pointed out. If he could play matchmaker for one of his best friends, what was the harm?

“Don’t worry about a thing mate. I’ll go talk to her. No problem.”

Bill smiled in response, his worried brows relaxing slightly.

“Good. She’s actually right over there.”

He pointed behind him ever so subtly to indicate her presence, and sure enough, there she was hanging out with her usual assortment of friends, holding court at one of the wall booths.

“You sure you want me to do this?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t serious.”

“Then I will,” David replied simply. “I’ll be right back.”

He drained the latter portion of his butterbeer and made his way over through the vast crowd. Upon finally reaching the booth it didn’t take long for the group of girls to look up at him with curious looks as though he were some kind of exotic alien. That certainly didn’t help his nerves but he pressed forward anyway.

“Emily Tyler?”

David didn’t need to ask as he recognized her right away. He could see what the elder Weasley meant. Like Bill, Emily was a fifth year but physically quite mature, and could have passed for two or three years beyond her age. True to word, she was very pretty, piercing brown eyes to go with high cheekbones and a slim, feminine jawline to go along with extensive makeup. Dark brown hair formed a widow’s peak along her forehead and was pulled back into a high ponytail. She also appeared to be quite fond of the color pink as she wore a long sleeved magenta dress complete with thick, pink tights, a cardigan and boots. It was indicative of someone who grew up quite upper class.

Though she did not look annoyed, there was a haughtiness to her expression that was a tad unsettling to the third year cursebreaker.

“That’s my name,” she responded evenly, ignoring the whispers of her posse. “And you’re that cursed vault kid, David Grant. What can I do you for?”

“Well I’m a friend of Bill Weasley’s…”

This didn’t seem to impress her.

“Okay?”

Out with it. She’s not going to wait for the grass to grow

“He fancies you and wants to know how you feel.”

On cue the rest of Emily’s friends began to giggle though she gave no indication as to how she personally felt.

“If I can speak in his favor, he’s a solid bloke. You couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

“He fancies me? I have to say I’m surprised,” Emily finally responded.

“It’s true. Haven’t seen him this frazzled...well ever really.”

“Is this some sort of joke? Because I don’t want to look like an idiot. What did he tell you?”

“Fair warning: I know as much about romance as I do about advanced Arithmancy, don’t hex the messenger,” David told her bluntly.

“Perish the thought. I want to hear this,” Emily said as much to her friends as she did to him to stop them from giggling.

“What else can I say? He thinks you’re amazing, powerful, beautiful, strong. Bill is as cool as any person in this school but he’s a mess over you. And you couldn’t ask to date a finer person.”

There it was. A glowing recommendation and an honest account of his friend’s intentions and feelings. Surely that was enough to win over a girl right?

He thought wrong. A very unpleasant, arrogant smirk crossed Emily Tyler’s face as she began playing with her pink, manicured nails.

“What a prat.”

David did a double take.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t get me wrong he’s reasonably handsome but why would anyone date a Weasley?”

Anger surged through David as his right hand turned into a fist around his glass mug. Was she really turning him down for the reasons he thought she was? The resumed giggling from her cronies made it worse.

“May I ask why?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Everyone knows the Weasleys are one the poorest wizarding families in Britain. They have no means, no manners, and no prospects. Why would I lower myself to such a standard?”

“I think you should take that back,” David said with quiet fury.

“And so what if I don’t?” Emily sneered. “Tell your friend thank you for sharing his feelings, it was a good for a laugh but he’s delusional if he ever thought he had a chance with me.”

By now, pure hatred surged through his veins, temper getting the best of him. More from the shock of someone actually insulting Bill, Emily Tyler was now the queen bitch in his eyes. Slamming his mug on the table with tremendous force, causing the four girls to jump with fright.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” he growled. “Bill must be attracted to your looks because your personality is pure rubbish.”

Emily recovered from the shock and shot him a venomous, threatening stare.

“You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know enough. You sit over here prattling on like my mother at a book club thinking you’re the greatest thing since Merlin’s first bowel movement. But you’re nothing but a stuck up piece of shite. I’m just glad I can tell Bill before he wastes any more time on you.”

He flipped the glass over, spilling the small amount of butterbeer left inside.

“Get bent...snobbish twit.”

Without wasting another second, he turned and left, still fuming over the audacity of Emily Tyler to call his mate ill mannered and inferior. It was also a highlight into the flaws of his own house. Just because you were bold and confident didn’t make you a good person. So pissed he was, he barely noticed Bill’s reaction when he sat back down at the table.

“Dave?”

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re about to explode. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Of course, Bill didn’t believe that.

“What happened and what did Emily say?”

On the one hand, David really didn’t want to reveal the full extent of Emily’s denigrating insults. It might shatter his heart given how much he liked her. Then again, it wouldn’t do to have someone he looked up to pining after someone who would sooner rip his heart out and stomp on it than date him. The truth was more important than protecting him from it.

“Bill...I won’t lie to you. It wasn’t good.”

“What do you mean?”

He hated seeing Bill’s confused face and he suspected that what was to follow would be equally as painful.

“Mate, she’s not interested. And she didn’t mince words.”

The eldest Weasley’s expression fell dramatically.

“Oh.”

“You can do better than her,” David tried to reassure him

“But-but she’s the most beautiful girl in our year...this whole school.”

“She’s also mean, arrogant, and generally awful. Bill, she insulted you and your family.”

He didn’t want to go there but there was little other choice than to prevent his friend from continuing his obsession. And he wasn’t fibbing. Bill did deserve better.

“She did?”

“Heard it with my own two ears.”

“But what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” David emphasized. “And that’s the point. You’re too good for her. And not the other way around.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Bill said with the slightest of tremors in his voice.

The third year leaned forward, speaking with the utmost sincerity he could muster.

“Listen to me...you’re one of my best friends. You’ve taught me a lot about dueling, magic, and Hogwarts itself. Everyone I know looks up to you as a person, prefect, and role model….and so do I. Don’t let someone like Emily Tyler change that. Be good to yourself.”

His impassioned speech seemed to finally break through and the Bill Weasley of old shone through.

“Thanks, David...I’m sorry for acting like an idiot. She’s the first girl I really fell for...it’s hard you know?”

He didn’t, not truly since he’d never had a crush on a girl before. But David felt a great deal of sympathy for his friend. Anything that could rattle the cool Bill Weasley could rattle anyone else.

“Of course.”

“Now let’s grab another butterbeer. Next one’s on me.”

“Cheers, mate. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

He and Bill made their way back towards their friend group where Charlie, Rowan, and company were waiting, greeting them warmly. Though the drinks were sweet and the atmosphere quite merry for the upcoming Christmas season, David own’s spirits were far from being satiated. A part of him knew his angry reaction to Emily’s rejection of the eldest Weasley was due to his own misapprehension and unhappiness that plagued him this time of year.

Images of his brother flashed before his mind as though it were a dream sequence.

For all the faith people placed in him, he wished he could take his own advice.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Happy Birthday Baz Pitch!

Can’t Find My Way Home--Fic and Art

I decided I wanted to do something special to celebrate Baz’s birthday. I’ve written a fic but this is the first time I’ve created/posted a fic and a pic. I’m not an artist. I’ve not really created anything artistic since junior high, MANY years ago.  But while I was writing this fic I had an overwhelming urge to attempt a sketch of Baz. The art posted here is my attempt. I can’t thank @vkelleyart enough for her feedback on the fic and her incredible words of encouragement and advice on the art--I’d never have been brave enough to post it, if it weren’t for her steadfast support. Also thanks to @basic-banshee for her beta work on the fic and her encouragement to post the art that accompanies it. And the way she Brit picks for me!

The art goes along with chapter two. Fireside conversation. 

Read the fic at AO3. 

Excerpt from Chapter One below.

Can’t Find My Way Home

Chapter One

Simon

I should’ve stayed in California with Agatha.

No, probably not a good idea.  Not with Penny and Micah leaving too.

I could’ve stayed with Penny, in Chicago. Would’ve been a bit awkward. This is the first Christmas she’s spending with Micah’s family and all. I didn’t want to barge in on that.

It’s looking like I might end up stranded in New York City, on my own, for Christmas.

They’ve delayed my flight to London twice already today.

Not like I won’t be by myself even if I do get home. I’ve not got anyone to spend the holiday with, not with Penny and Agatha here in America.

I could’ve stayed. I just didn’t want to do that to them.

Agatha’s made a life for herself here. She’s got her friends and her new boyfriend. Dr. and Mrs. Wellbelove flew in the day before yesterday to spend Christmas with her. It would have simply been too awkward for me to stay, what with them meeting Tyler for the first time.

Penny offered. To let me stay.

Micah did too. Told me this kind of storm usually shuts down the East Coast.

But it’s their first Christmas together. They don’t need to be dragging me along to Micah’s family home.

He’s got a big family, Micah does. Like Penny. Three or four sisters, I think. One brother? I can’t remember. And cousins. Penny says it’ll be a whole scene.

I’ll be fine on my own. I want to get home, to my flat.

The flight status just changed on the monitor again. Now it’s blank—not even a time estimate or ‘delayed’ anymore.

And then the announcement I’ve been dreading comes overhead. Flight’s cancelled.

Fuck.

It’s chaos at the counter now. I’m leaned up against this pillar, right close so I can see all the people queueing up. There are no seats left anywhere at this gate. Haven’t been for hours.

That’s how I ended up sitting on the floor.

Close enough to hear all the frustrated travelers arguing with the clerks.

Close enough to hear that voice.

The one I’d know anywhere.

Baz.

Baz

I fix my gaze on the ticket clerk in front of me. “There must be a flight going out tonight.”

“No, sir. Storm’s shut down all flights.”

“I need to get to London.”

“You and everyone else.”

This is unacceptable. I need to get home. “You don’t understand. I need to get on a plane to London. Tonight. I need to be there by Christmas. Whatever the price for a change fee.”

The clerk narrows his eyes at me. “Listen. I told you. No flights going out tonight. They’re shutting it down. Now what’s it going to be? Rebook or refund?”

“What?”

He waves my ticket at me. “Rebook you once flights are cleared or do you want a refund? I haven’t got all day.”

He damn well does have all day if there are no flights leaving this hellhole of an airport.

“I need to get to London as soon as possible.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Listen, mister. I’m telling you. No flights. Big storm. You want a rebooking voucher or a refund?”

“Are flights leaving Newark? Can you get me on a flight out from there?” I’m wracking my brain to think of options. This blasted storm is blanketing the entire northeast with snow.

I should have left earlier in the week. I knew I shouldn’t have left it to the last minute. I’d been so sure I’d make it home in plenty of time.

Then this storm had come up out of nowhere. My co-workers had been nonchalant about it, inured to the vagaries of weather in the tri-state area. I assumed the airports here were better equipped at handling snow. Better than Heathrow, at any rate.

Obviously not these amounts of snow.

“They’re all shut down. The whole East coast. There aren’t any flights going out of anywhere. Period. Now for the last time—refund or rebook. You’re holding up the line.”

I step away from the counter moments later, a slip of paper in hand and no prospect of reaching London anytime soon.

I aggressively punch in a search for train schedules on my mobile. Perhaps I can go south. There should be less snow south of here, shouldn’t there? I could book a flight out of somewhere down there.

But where? Philadelphia? Baltimore? Washington?

The weather map is grim. All those cities are under the same massive storm alert as we are. Trains don’t seem to be running either.

What the hell is going on with this country? I thought they were supposed to be intrepid and blasé about weather deviations like this. Obviously the television shows have vastly exaggerated the hardiness of the populace. And of their transportation systems.

Fuck it all. My mobile battery is now well into the red zone. I scan the gate area for a place to charge it while I plan my next step. I need battery power if I’m going to be doing searches all night.

There. I can see charging ports on that pillar beyond the counter.

I stride over to it, pulling my charging cord out of my bag. There’s a sudden movement to my left as I bend down to connect it. A pair of worn-down trainers come into view. “There’s another port over there,” I say, waving my hand at another free outlet. “I’m using this one.”

It’s only when I stand up that I come face to face with those familiar blue eyes. Bronze curls. Tawny, mole-dotted skin.

A face I would recognize anywhere.

The face I see in my dreams.

The face of the boy I’ve been hopelessly in love with since fifth year at Watford.

“Baz.”

I blink at him and my mind is a blank. So, of course, I say exactly the wrong thing.

What I said to him countless times during the eight years we were roommates.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Snow?”

Simon

I don’t even know why I stood up. Habit, I suppose. Even now, years later, I’m still on alert when I see Baz.

I’ve not seen him since the leavers ball, almost five years ago now. I knew he was in London. Penny ran into him about a year ago, at Foyles. Of course.

He’s not changed a bit. Still as pale as ever, tall and posh and impossibly fit. Can’t even be arsed to say a proper hello.

His hair’s longer. That’s different.

There was a moment, when our eyes first met just now, that something else flashed across his face. It’s not often you can surprise Baz Pitch. He’s always got that cool, indifferent expression.

Except then, for that split second. He looked . . . well, I don’t know how to describe it.

“You on this flight too, then?” Great snakes, what a stupid thing to ask. Of course he is. Why else would he be at this gate? I tense up, waiting for that sneer of his, the perfect arch of his raised eyebrow.

It doesn’t come.

Which surprises me.

“The one to London? Yes. Doesn’t look like anyone’s getting out of here tonight.” He bends down to check the connection on his mobile.

I shove my hands in my pockets and glance over at the queue. “They rebook you, then? I suppose I should get in the queue.”

Baz shakes his head. “They’ve no idea when flights will be cleared.” He stands up and waves a slip of paper at me. “I took the refund. I’ll find my own way out of this.”

“What’re you planning?”

He’s always plotting something.

“I’ve got the refund. Just need to find a way south, to an airport that’s not shut down by this fucking nightmare of a storm.”

I frown. I’ve been watching the weather on my mobile. This storm is huge. It’s covered the whole eastern part of the country. “Where’re you going to find an open airport? This thing’s massive.”

I know that expression. A muscle in Baz’s jaw twitches and I see his knuckles whiten as he grips his mobile.

“I’ll find a way.”

Honestly, if anyone could it would be Baz. He’s an absolute prat, a complete wanker of a human being, but he’s bloody brilliant. And determined. Even I have to admit that.

“Well, good to see you again, Baz. I’ll be off.” I tilt my head at the long queue. “May as well figure out what to do next.”

Baz

It’s probably been our most civil interaction in years. I’m at my wits end with my travel plans all bollocksed up but I can’t find it in myself to snap at Snow. Not when the sight of him makes my chest feel tight. When I can’t keep my eyes from hungrily taking in every detail of him.

He looks the same. Worn trainers, track bottoms, hoodie—just like always. His hair is longer, the curls disheveled and falling over his forehead in that familiar way. I want to reach out and push them from his face, sink my fingers into the mass of them. My eyes follow the trail of moles along his neck, dart up to the one on his cheek that I’ve longed to kiss for years now.

I want to keep him here, talking to me, letting me soak up the sight of him.

But he’s already moving away, waving his hand as he steps to the back of the queue.

“Snow.” His name wrenches out of me.

He stops, tilts his head and gives me a puzzled look. “Yeah?”

I clear my throat. “Are you rebooking or getting a refund?”

His brow furrows. “What?”

Classic Snow response. I roll my eyes and repeat myself. He shrugs. “Dunno. I’ll probably see if they can rebook me. I’ve got nowhere else to go.” He looks around. “Don’t fancy spending Christmas in an airport, mind you, but I suppose it could be worse.”

I don’t know what I’m thinking. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that I haven’t seen him in years and he’s still making my heart pound like it did when we lived together. I can’t let him walk away. I’m surely making an arse of myself but the words are out of my mouth before I can summon the strength to keep them in.

“Get the refund.”

“What?”

“Get the refund voucher. I’ll find an airport that will get us out of this fucking country and back home in time for Christmas, Snow.”

“You mean leave here? How? There’s a bloody great blizzard out there, Baz. Snowmageddon or whatever they’re calling it.”

“Go get the refund. I’ll figure things out while you’re in the queue.”

To my utter shock he shrugs, nods his head and makes his way to join the mass of people in front of the counter.

Simon

I don’t think his hair is all that’s different about him.

Baz has never directed that many words at me without an insult slipped in somewhere.

He’s probably just preoccupied. The travel inconvenience has him off his game.

My eyes keep going back to him as I wait in the queue. He’s leaning against the pillar, head down, furiously tapping at his mobile.

I like his hair this way. Falling down around his face in soft waves.

He always used to slick it back at school. It gave him such a severe, distant look. Went with his personality, I guess.

The only time he tied it up was when he was on the pitch.

Why am I thinking about Baz’s hair?

I shake myself and take a step forward in the queue. It’s slow and I’m bored. Everyone around me is complaining and arguing.

My eyes are drawn back to Baz. He’s still hunched over, scowling at whatever is on his screen. I let my eyes roam over him.

He’s still fit, the twat.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Baz in jeans before. They look expensive, tailored like they’re made for him. He looks really good.

Fuck.

I can feel my face grow hot, even before I turn away from him to scan the waiting area, trying to find something to focus on that isn’t Baz. I don’t know why I’m being like this. I know I haven’t seen him in a while but it’s just Baz. It’s not like he’s one of my friends. Far from it.

I’d been so excited, that first day at Watford. I’d never lived anywhere so posh, never been around people like that.

I don’t know why Watford gave out scholarships. I don’t know how I managed to qualify for one. All I know is one day Headmaster Mage showed up at the care home, signed some papers and whisked me off to a place that could have come out of one of my fantasies.

He’d explained it all on the train. That I’d live at Watford, that he’d be my temporary guardian while I was there since he’s the headmaster. He’d gone on about the clubs and classes and people I’d meet. It was like one of my dreams come to life but even better.

Until I met my roommate. Baz.

I’d introduced myself, stammering ‘cause I was so nervous, put my sweaty hand out towards his. And he’d just glared at me.

I didn’t know anything about him. Didn’t know his mum had been the previous headmaster. Didn’t know she’d been killed in a hit and run on her way to Watford a few years before. Didn’t know Baz was in the car with her when she died.

I didn’t know any of that.

I wanted to make a friend. That’s what all the roommates in stories were—friends.

He’d glared at me and moved off, leaving me standing there with my hand still held out.

It didn’t get much better after that. I couldn’t do anything right. Not in class, not in the room, not on the pitch.

Baz even said I breathed too loud.

It was open hostility the first few years but by the end we’d gotten into a bit of a pattern. We’d stopped getting into scraps after third year.

I didn’t want to get expelled—Watford was the only home I had. Being in the care homes for the summers was bad enough. I couldn’t imagine being back in them full time.

I’d stay out of his way as much as possible—sit far from him in class, in the dining hall. I’d shower in the morning, he’d do it at night. I’d try to study in the library with Penny and he’d stay in the room.

Things were almost civil by the time we graduated. Almost.

If you call sharing a space with someone and barely speaking to them civil.

I’d learned all about his mum by then. And I’d learned Headmaster Mage had been the one to take her place. Figured that first day was likely harder for him than for me. Being stuck with some charity case of the headmaster’s was the last thing he’d wanted to be saddled with.

I can understand that. I can understand how upsetting it was to go back to a place that meant so much to his mum.

I suppose it was easier to take it out on me than anyone else at first. I get that. But then I suppose we got into the habit of needling each other, sniping and snarking constantly. And it stuck. We didn’t know how to be anything else.

At least I didn’t know how.

I tried fifth year. Tried to bite back the comments, tried not to flare up when he would say things in that cool, posh voice of his.

I’ve a temper. Didn’t manage holding it in too well. Baz has a way of going for the low blow, every time. It’s maddening.

It didn’t help at all seventh year, when Agatha broke up with me. I knew she liked Baz. Liked him more than me. They were a better match—everyone could see it. Both from wealthy, old families, both gorgeous and elegant, just made for each other.

Except it never happened. He’d spent years trying to break us up and then, when we finally did, he just seemed to stop caring. I’ve never understood that. I thought for certain he’d sweep Agatha off her feet and that’d be it.

I think Agatha was expecting that as well.

I’m finally getting closer to the counter. Three people left in front of me. I take a peek in Baz’s direction again.

He’s looking right at me. With that funny expression on his face. I can’t place it, it’s nothing like his usual sneer.

My face gets hot again and I turn my head.

But I can’t get that image out of my mind.

He looked . . . he looked hungry? No, that’s not it.

Longing? Is that it?

I’m sure I’m reading it wrong. He’s probably just tired.  

That doesn’t explain why he’s looking at me that way though.

Baz

The trains are as fucked as the airlines. I’m desperate enough to look at bus schedules, even if the thought of traveling by bus makes me shudder.

It’s useless. Everything’s shut down. Planes, trains, busses. I’m fucked. There’s no way I’m getting home in time for Christmas. No way I’m going to be there for Mordelia’s birthday.

And thanks to American internships and their brutal holiday leave policies I’ve got to be back here in another week. I’ll be lucky if I get three full days at home and I’ll be missing the most important ones. Fuck it all.

I hate it here. I hate this internship. I want nothing more than to move back to London. I know it’s a reputable company. I know it will be a good addition to my resume.

They’re planning on opening a London office in May. That’s the whole reason I’ve put up with this misery in the first place. The hope that this internship will lead to a full-time job offer in London.

There’s no guarantee of that though.

Some days I want to give my notice, walk out of there and never go back.

I’ve thought about it. Thought about not coming back next week. But I’m not one to give up. Not one to shirk my duty.

I’m a Pitch. I’ll see it through.

I wonder why Snow is here. Probably visiting Bunce.

I ran into Bunce last spring, before she moved to Chicago. She and Snow were still sharing a flat then. It wasn’t hard to get her talking about him.

I know he’s taking this year off. I know he’s working in a care home. I know he’s planning on going to graduate school, in Social Work.

I hadn’t realized how desperate I was to know how he was doing. I had assured myself I was over him. That I could listen to Bunce and not feel any emotion other than vague interest.

Seeing him now proves just how wrong I was. I can barely take my eyes off him.

I don’t know what I’m thinking. I don’t know why I told him to take the refund. I don’t know why I’m letting myself hope.

Nothing’s going to be different. He’s not going to be friends with me.  

He’s not going to realize I’m in love with him. That I’ve been in love with him for years.

There’s no hope of him falling in love with me.

I’m not sure he even likes me, to be honest. I wouldn’t, if I were him. I’ve been beastly since the first day we met.

I square my shoulders. I’m certainly not going to let on how I feel about him. I’ve kept it to myself for years. I can keep it under wraps a bit longer.

It would be so much easier if I hadn’t just told him I’d find us a way home though.

I’ve booked us a rental car. Which is likely one of the stupidest ideas I’ve ever had. How we’re going to manage driving through this blizzard is beyond me but it’s the only option I’ve got left.

Miraculously I have managed to secure us a Range Rover. The rental rate was obscene, which is likely why it was still available.

But money is no object to me at the moment. I need to get home.

I’m an excellent driver. I’m familiar with the vehicle. It’s a more manageable size than some of these American behemoths and I know it should handle well in snow. At least the kind of snow we get back home.

I’ve no idea how it will handle in this blizzard. But it’s all I have so I am putting my faith and my energy into making this work.

It takes four hours to drive to Washington in good weather. Likely double in this muck. Planes are still flying out of there but I’m not sure how long that will last. They’ve got freezing rain at the moment but that could change rapidly into snow.

If Washington shuts down then my next option is Richmond.

I’m plotting this all out on my map. If we get to either of those places tonight we can fly out on tomorrow’s flight. That would get us to London by Christmas Eve. Not ideal but it will do.

Better than Christmas day, but I’ll even take a Christmas day arrival if I have to.

I save the flight data and maps on my mobile. I don’t want to book a flight yet, not sure if Washington or Richmond will be my best option.

Snow is still in the queue. I let my eyes rest on him, drinking in the sight of him. I’ve not let myself think about him. Not since I saw Bunce. It’s too hopeless to let myself dwell. It hurts to think about him. To know he’s been in London for all these years. To know that I can’t simply call him up and ask him round to the pub. Because I’ve been such a wanker to him for so long.

Because he’d never say yes.

Because I don’t even have his number.

He’s filled out a bit. He’d always be so thin when he’d come back at the start of term. Painfully thin. Wan and anxious. And then he’d settle in somehow, the light coming back into his eyes.

I’d watch him shovel Cook Pritchard’s food in at mealtimes. And then in a matter of weeks his color would be back to that golden glow, his face would lose its sharp angles, he’d be back to the Simon Snow I knew and loved.

He looks like that now. I suppose he must look like that all the time, since he’s out on his own and doesn’t have to go back in care every summer.

I don’t know why Mage did that. Sent him back to those homes at end of term. Surely he could have stayed at Watford.

Mage was there. The caretaker was there. There were always some staff on hand to keep the place up during the summer. Some of the professors lived just off the grounds.

I’m sure the Wellbeloves would have taken him in.

Simon spoke about it once. Seventh year. I don’t think he intended to reveal as much as he did. He’d always spent Christmas with Wellbelove’s family and I asked him why he didn’t go home with her in the summers too. They’d broken up by then so it was a bit cruel of me to ask. Which means I probably did it intentionally.

Christ, I am such a pillock sometimes. Most of the time.

He’d said then that Mage made him go to the homes in the summers. Said it would keep him closer to his roots, his origins. Make him a stronger man.

If I hadn’t already hated Mage I think that would have made me do it. I can’t imagine forcing Simon into that situation when he didn’t need to be in it. It was cruel.

But it was the next part that gutted me.

“I’m old enough to sign myself out now.” He’d said it so softly I’d barely caught it.

“What?”

“I can sign myself out. If you’re over sixteen you can leave. Be on your own.”

“So why don’t you? Certainly it’s better being anywhere but there?”

He’d looked down at the floor and shrugged. Snow can carry on entire conversations using shrugs. It’s maddening.

“Nowhere else to go. It’s better than being on the street. Three meals a day and showers.”

“But surely . . .” and then I’d stopped. Because I wasn’t sure of anything all of a sudden. He had no family. He had no income. I could have let a small flat for the summer, paid for my expenses on my own. He didn’t have that luxury.

“Surely you could stay with someone—Bunce, Wellbelove?”

He had shaken his head. “Too many people at Penny’s. There’s barely enough room for all of them. And Micah’s visiting this summer.”

He hadn’t mentioned Wellbelove. I suppose that would have been awkward, spending the summer with your ex-girlfriend. I don’t know why I had brought it up.

“You could . . .” I’d managed to stop myself in time. I couldn’t believe I’d almost asked him to come home with me for the summer.

No, I couldn’t do that.  Couldn’t have invited Mage’s charity case home with me. What would my father have thought?

Snow wouldn’t have come anyway. He’d have assumed it was some elaborate plot to humiliate him or make him wretched. He’s always thought the worst of me. With good reason, of course, but it still twinges.

[garageprojectmotorcycles]

Royal Enfield Continental GT650 review / ride report.

When was the last time you read a bad bike review in a magazine or online? Was it the debacle that was the Bimota V Due? Even Braap’s are given a positive spin by reviewers even though they had 5 product recalls in less than a year. So many motorcycle reviews these day are either a reworded press release or a well written advertisement. Now I reckon there are two reasons for that; the sceptic in me says if the magazines don’t write a positive review, then the advertising dollars stop flowing. There are plenty of examples of that car companies having a dummy spit when they don’t win car of the year so it no doubt happens in the motorcycle world too. The other reason is that it’s 2019, motorcycles have been manufactured for a long time, manufacturers have got the basics down pat. This is were Royal Enfield excels, the basics.

I wasn’t planning on writing a review but my bike was getting serviced and it wasn’t going to be ready in time for the Perth Café Racer Run to the Hills ride, so I needed a suitable replacement. As my review of the Benelli Leoncino got an amazing 36 likes (amazing because that’s 34 more than I thought it would get once Ric and I liked it) and a couple of sales, I thought Ric might be open to the idea of handing me the keys to something else. Scanning the showroom floor at MotoMax, a Ducati Sport Classic, Triumph Thruxton, Rickman Honda and a cluster of classics caught my eye. Ric handed me the keys to a mildly customised Continental GT650. Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers.

We both had conditions, Ric’s was simple “Bring it back with a full tank you tight arse bastard and if you drop it, you bu….”. I’m not sure what he said as Peter was saying “look, look” while pointing at a lady across the road who was jogging past. It was far more interesting watching the world go up and down. My condition was the same as always, I wasn’t going to write a positive review just because I got a bike for the weekend. If the bike is shit, then I’ll say so but you don’t have to post the review.  So here it is….hang on…before we get to the review, lets get some background.  

Royal Enfield sold 32,000 motorcycles in 2017 and not many of those were sold outside of India. They now sometimes sell double that in one month with their top selling model the Classic 350 outselling all their other models combined. It sometimes cracks the monthly top 10 list of number of bikes sold in India. Royal Enfield sells more Classic 350’s in one month than all the road bikes sold in Australia from all brands in one year. Unfathomable figures when you consider the company was at the brink of bankruptcy in 1991.

When Sid Lal’s dad bought the company, nothing really changed until 2010 when the Indian Tech economy boomed and hipsters finally had some disposable cash. Sales picked up and then skyrocketed the company to the fastest growing motorcycle manufacturer in the world. The success of the brand in recent times is partly because they upgraded (think EFI, ABS etc) their Bullet/Classic line to make it relevant while keeping the looks of the old motorcycle. Boomers started realising their bucket lists were getting longer and they were running out of time to cross stuff off. Learners around the world are often restricted to motorcycles that take more time to get to 100km/h than it does for a politician to answer question in parliament and Royal Enfields are perfect for that market.

The increase in sales meant Sid (the CEO at the time) had cash burning a hole in his pocket so off he went to the UK and bought Harris Performance which I remember reading about in the UK magazines for making custom frames for GP bikes. They’ve developed the chassis for all the new models including the Continental GT Café Racer, the Himalayan adventure bike and the recent 650 twins. The Café Racer handled as good as it looked but it didn’t get many hearts racing and only sold in low numbers, hence it was discontinued after a couple of years. The Himalayan has been known to get a few hearts racing which has more to do with them being ridden where they are named after. A devoted fan base will see the Himalayan continue to be developed for many years. The real game changer for Royal Enfield though, are the two 650 twins, the Interceptor and the Continental GT 650. Royal Enfield are exporting more than they are selling domestically and dealers in Oz are selling far more twins than they are of the 350cc and 500cc singles.

I’m not a brand snob so will any bike I can get the keys to. My list of motorcycle brands I’d like to put my bum on is topped, like most peoples, by the Italian exotics such as Bimota, MV Agusta etc. For me, Royal Enfield sits a long way down that list; I’m no fan boy who gets excited when a manufacturer changes the colour and releases it as a 2020 model. I lived in the world of sportsbikes and track days so Royal Enfields never registered on my radar; I always felt they were a little weird looking. Sort of like a girlfriend I had  in the 90’s that looked like a cockeyed Nicole Kidman without the Botox. Like my girlfriend, if you ride a Royal Enfield a few times you start appreciate the attraction and you end up falling in love. Since my first Himalayan motorcycle adventure in 2013, I have ridden all of the Royal Enfield models in Australia and in the harshest of conditions that the Himalayas can throw at you and while I still wouldn’t consider myself a fan boy, I would say I was an advocaat. Damn, it’s 11pm and I’m out of beer and wishing I had a liqueur cabinet. Is there an Uber drinks?   

The Conti I got had a few subtle changes made to it. The tank hand been replaced with the rounder tank from an interceptor, bar end mirrors had been fitted and the bike had been encouraged to find its voice with some aftermarket reverse cones mufflers fitted. The bar end mirrors worked perfectly, completely vibration free all through the rev range however the bike was a little quiet for my liking. You could certainly hear it under throttle and it let out pleasing pops and crackles on a decline but I’d like a deeper, louder sound. More Tom Jones than George Michael. If you’ve got standard pipes on your bike and you’re bored with it and possibly considering a change of bike, put an aftermarket set of pipes on and you’ll fall in love again. The Interceptor tank looked great on the Conti and helped take my eyes off what I consider to be the ugliest seat in the market. For some reason, Royal Enfield in Australia decided that the dual seat would be standard and the solo seat with a cowling that is used for the promo pics, and is standard in most of the 50 other countries that it is sold in would be option for Australia. I know looks are subjective but the transformation that the single seat makes on this bike is amazing and I wonder why more people aren’t swapping them over when it is such a cheap option. Maybe it’s just me. 

I am trying to squeeze myself into my daughters Katy Perry T-Shirt when Andy arrives early on his Ducati Sport Classic. With no time for Small Talk, it was time to Roar into Leederville to meet the others. We took the back roads before getting onto the freeway and this is the Conti’s playground. With narrow 100/18’s on the front and 130/18’s on the back, the bike flicks left and right really quickly. On familiar roads, I found myself turning in too quickly and having to readjust my line which the bike did without drama. Later on in the day when the speeds picked up a little and the mercury wanted to blow its load, the front end felt squirmish when going over the bitumen that is poured into the cracks of the road. No one else felt it so again, maybe it was just me.

Our group heading to the start point of the ride consisted of a Sport Classic with Zard pipes, a Thruxton with Staintunes, a V7 Guzzi with Lanfranconis, a Honda CB1100 with an aftermarket 4 into 1 and a W650 with open pipes. It was amazing listening to all the different sounds as we lined up at the Christmas trees, sometimes known as traffic lights by boring people. The Sport Classic consistently got the jump on the rest of at the lights but the rest of us all had a turn at coming second without any clear next fastest. The Conti is styled as a Café Racer of old but it is no race bike with ligths like they were in the old days. Sid Lal himself says “…we (Royal Enfield motorcycles) aren’t going much faster than 100 miles an hour. If someone wants a quicker motorbike, go elsewhere.” During the week, the media reported that a car was hooning through the tunnel at the outrageous speed of 140km/h. The bar had been set low so there was simply no need to crack the ton in the tunnel. Absolutely no need. By my calcs, I reckon 170+ is possible but as I never break the speed limits I’ll never find out.

Riding along the Tonkin, I rolled the throttle on and off, looking for flat spots but couldn’t find any, it just smoothly accelerates all the way to the redline in a very linear fashion. The 5 speed box has perfectly spaced gear ratios and I rarely looked for a 6th like I constantly do on my W650. We joined the rest of the riders and took off along the escarpment as the pace crept up through the hills. The bike was in its element, enjoying being thrown around and asking for more. I worked my way to the front of the pack and when there was a break in the traffic I gave it what it wanted and took off. On these sort of roads, I neither needed or wanted anymore power, I just enjoyed rolling the throttle on and rolling it off coming into a corner, letting the engine compression slow me down with only a slight dab on the rear brake when needed. The Pirelli Phantoms had more than enough grip and never troubled the ABS system. I considered putting the Phantoms on my bike but baulked at the price so Royal Enfield aren’t skimping on quality to ensure they stay at the $9990 price point.

After a cool down and a group photo, we headed to lunch at Parkerville and to pay our respects to Kevin the kookaburra who had his head ripped off recently by a complete and utter wanker. As we hit the road again, I found my right hand feeling a bit tingly which is a little unusual. My bike has thicker grips so maybe the thinner grips on the Conti passed on the vibes or maybe I’m just old and the years of abuse I’ve given my right hand is coming back to bite me. The suspension soaked up the bumpy roads but my bum was starting to feel a bit numb. The seat looks flat but is actually slightly rounded which was giving me numb bum…which would have come in handy when it also got years of abuse in a previous life. These are the only two faults with the Conti GT that I could find, both of which wouldn’t stop me buying one as I’d change the hideous seat and put thicker grips on anyway. Everything else was perfect; the horn is louder than my cars, the clocks are easy to read, clutch and brake lever action is effortless, the gearbox is ridiculously smooth, riding position is spot on.

At under 10k, the only bike that is comparable to the Conti is its stablemate the Interceptor. The visually challenged Harley 750 is being run out a similar price, Suzuki threw a bikini fairing on its SV650 and called it café racer and is watching them gather dust on the showroom. The Benelli Leoncino and the oddly styled Husqvarna Svartpilen are similar prices but I doubt the circles in the Venn diagram of people interested in these three bikes would overlap.

For $13,000, the W800 from Kawasaki is another option but I’d rather have the Conti and spend the difference on customising it. The only other option is to buy a Triumph Street Twin at $16,000 and then throw some money at it to make it a café racer. Buying a bike that 100’s of other people have got and keeping it standard, doesn’t make any sense to me. If I had Triumph money to spend and the option was to have stock a Street Twin or a one of a kind Continental GT with a big bore kit, killer paint job, custom seat and a custom exhaust then it’s a no brainer. I’m in the minority though as most riders are happy with buying a good looking bike and leaving it alone. The Continental GT can be enjoyed as is but also makes a very smart choice as base for a custom motorcycle.

[smuttyassholes]

Attention - Namjoon Smut

Request: You guys get to an after party late because you couldn't decide what to wear and he's clearly upset. Once you get there, he leaves with the rest of the boys for a few pics etc. And another idol comes & tries to flirtn & since u were mad w joon too, u do it a little back on purpose, joon notices & goes over (v defensive + he was already pissed) he pulls you to the restroom, lifts up ur dress only to realize ur not wearing panties and he fucks you infront of the mirror ;)

a/n: I know this probably didn’t go the way you expected it to, but my asshat of a professor decided to assign a whole ass book and a shit ton of textbook chapters/exercises on the first week and I’ve been swamped with a bunch of bullshit so I’m not all creative atm. Bare with me please. - asshole 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How are you still not done yet?!” Namjoon yelled from the living room. “If you don’t hurry up we’re gonna be extra late.”

“We’re going to Leo’s first win after party, and you expect me to rush the way I look?!” You yelled back. He knew damn that Vixx was your all time favorite group, let alone Leo being your favorite artist. How dare he try to rush how you looked when it would be your first time meeting him.

“Whatever. I’ll be in the car.” You heard him grumble before hearing the door open and close.

You rolled your eyes. “Always so dramatic.” You sighed before scanning your lip tint collection for the perfect shade to compliment the rest of your makeup, and carefully applied it before giving yourself a quick once over before smiling at yourself.

You walked out of the room, went into the living room and grabbed your handbag before walking out and getting in the car.

-

The drive was silent but you could tell Namjoon was thoroughly upset, however, you didn’t get why. He’s been with you long enough to know that you take forever to get ready, it’s practically his fault for telling you five hours prior instead of giving you a formal heads up on the event, so you didn’t even bother pleading your case. It would be best to stay quiet and hope that you could enjoy the night.

By the time you got there, you checked the clock on your phone and saw that you were only shy of ten minutes late, so that made you a little more ticked off by Namjoon’s earlier actions. Mostly because you definitely weren’t the only late ones, even then, it’s not like it mattered because he left with the rest of boys to go take pictures right after you walked in.

That being said you walked around mindlessly, trying to see if you knew anyone. Though you probably didn’t, so you just decided to see if there were any drinks nearby, which thankfully you saw not too far from your current spot.

On your way over, you were suddenly bumped by a tall, well dressed man who smelled like expensive cologne. Part of you was ready to go off, but the other part was too distracted by the familiar pink hair color that stood out.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” The familiar soft voice spoke down at you, and you momentarily forgot how to English as you stared up Leo. 95% because of shock, 5% because you didn’t think he was this tall in person.

“Uh. No. It’s fine.” You stuttered out and looked up and him. “It’s not like I fell or anything. Just a tiny bump.” You smiled.

“Still. I feel bad. You could’ve fell.” He frowned.

“No, really, it’s fine.” You insisted. “I mean, even if I did fall, it’s not like I’d hate you or anything. You’re too great for me to hate you.” You spoke before thinking and your eyes widened at the fact that you just nonchalantly said that, but before you could reply, you heard him chuckle, and you mentally cursed yourself.

“I’m so sorry. I totally didn’t mean to come off as weird.” You cringed at yourself.

“No, it’s nice to meet people that like me as an artist. Especially when they’re cute.” He smiled. And you didn’t know if it was the prior argument you were in with your boyfriend, or not but you played along with it, hoping your night wouldn’t end horribly after all.

“O-Oh.” You smiled shyly. “I’m just pretty average. Nothing special.”

“Well, to me you don’t seem ‘pretty average.’” He smiled, and you nearly swooned. His personality on camera was so different from how he’s acting. Was he really not as shy as he came off as?

“You’re pretty talkative for someone who acts so shy on camera.” You smiled up at him.

“No, I actually get pretty shy, but I feel comfortable around you for some reason.” He scratched the back of his neck and you saw his Adam's apple bob. It had been a good while since a man had been nervous in front of you. Namjoon was confident from the get go, and it was a blessing and a curse. You’d began to wonder if he ever even felt nervous around you before.

“Would you like a drink?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, and before your voice could fail you, you quickly nodded your head, silently hoping you didn’t come off too eager.

You followed behind Leo as he led you to the counter and pointed at a chair for you to take, which you gladly accepted, but before you could sit, the clearing of someone’s throat interrupted, causing you to turn around and meet an unamused Namjoon.

“Are you really about to sit in that chair?” He glared and you scoffed.

“Yes. Now go back and play with your little friends like you have been. As you can see, I’m fine on my own.” You smiled at him and turned back to face Leo.

“Don’t worry about hi-” You started but Namjoon grabbed your hand to turn you around and drag you away.

“What the fuck?” You almost yelled, trying to get your hand out of his grasp, but to no avail, as you ended up being dragged into the nearest restroom.

“What the fuck was that?” He spat out.

“Am I not allowed to keep myself entertained while you abandon me?” You quirked a brow.

“You were flirting with him. It was obvio-”

“No. He was flirting with me. I never flirted back.” You stated matter-of-factly.

“Whatever that was. Why? Just because I was gone? Were you that desperate for attention?”

Your mouth dropped did he really just? “So, let’s get this straight. You don’t talk to me since we leave the house, we get here and you leave immediately after walking in, Leo comes up to talk to me and I finally get to talk to somebody, and then you rudely interrupt us because you finally wanna remember that I exist. Correct?” You quirked your head to the side.

He was silent, opting to breathe in heavy as a response.

“That’s what I thought.” You said, moving around so you could walk past him, and get out, but he quickly blocked the door.

“No. You can’t leave.”

“Why not.” You sighed. Completely fed up with whatever mood he was in.

“He’s your favorite artist. I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone with him.” He said quickly.

“Why? You think I can’t be faithful?” You questioned, feeling a little offended.

“No! Not that.” He almost yelled. Closing his eyes in frustration.

“Then what? I don’t have all damn night.” You looked up at him, trying to read the look in his eyes.

“I guess I’m just, I don’t know. Jealous.” He said, looking away.

You blinked at him. The embodiment of confidence is feeling jealous. It was unlike him.

“Does Leo make you that uncomfortable?”

“A little. I mean, you’ve done nothing but talk about him as your favorite artist ever and you’re always listening to his songs, and watching his videos. You’ve never given me and the guys that kind of attention.”

“Namjoon. Do you even hear yourself? I like him as an artist and just that. Not as a person. Sure, he’s hot and all, but I’ve been with you for almost a year. The least you could do is have some faith in me. Is it so bad to like your favorite artists? You used to be obsessed with watching girl group performances and I never once said anything. And I don’t give you guys the same attention because I can see it in person. I’ve never met Leo before, I can only ever watch videos and videos alone.”

You looked at him and waited for a reply, but you couldn’t get one. You sighed, giving up. “If you need me, I’ll be outsi-” Before you could finish your sentence, Namjoon grabbed your face and brought your lips to his, cutting you off.

The kiss was only soft for a few seconds before it got rougher, Namjoon pushing you against the sink, picking you up to place you on it.

“What just happened.” You whispered, pulling away a bit.

“I fucked up and now I’m apologizing.” Was all he said before placing his lips back on yours, giving you no room for further argument.

He tapped your thigh with his finger and you spread your legs so he could slip between them to be closer, his growing bulge pressing against your thigh, making you moan unconsciously, and move your hips towards him.

“Fuck.” He said, placing his hand on your lower back to hold you against him, groaning when it wasn’t enough. “Get up and turn around.”

By this point, there was no point in arguing. You slid off the sink and turned around so you faced the mirror in front of you, watching as Namjoon stared down at you while he undid his belt and slid his suit pants down before grabbing the helm of your dress and lifting it right above your ass.

“No panties?” He smirked, running his palms across the curves of your ass.

“They would’ve shown through the dress” You bit your lip as he squeezed the flesh of your ass in his hand.

“Smart girl.” He smiled, sliding his hands down to cup your heat, causing you to flinch, getting a hum in approval from him. “You’re always so sensitive.” He whispered to himself more than to you. “It never takes much to get you going.” He said while slowing sliding a finger into you, causing a small whimper to leave your lips.

“Do you think you can stay quiet for me?” He looked at you through the mirror, and you nodded. “Words.”

“Yes, I can stay quiet.” You sighed, as he slid his finger out, and spread your legs wider.

“Good.” Was all he said before sinking to his knees and placing his tongue flat against you, the feeling catching you off guard, and causing you to grip the sink for support. Your legs almost closing had it not been for Namjoon’s hold on your thighs, to pull you closer to him.

“Fuck, Joon, please. Do something.” You whined, backing yourself onto his face.

“But I am.” His muffled reply leaving the best vibrations in its wake.

“Eat me like you always do.” You whispered, reaching back with one hand to grab at his hair.

“Ask like a good girl.” He mumbled, drawing a small circle on your clit with his tongue.

“Please eat me like you always do.” You scrunched your eyes closed in frustration.

He hummed in response before poking his tongue inside you, then bringing it out to run up to your clit and suck on it, your legs tightening in response.

“Oh, shit.” You let out as he pushed two fingers into you, pumping at a reasonable pace to match his mouth, before speeding up, and curling ever so often, leaving you whimpering quietly while he did as he pleased, only stopping when your legs started to shake.

“I want you to look at yourself while I fuck you, okay?” He said breathlessly.

“Okay.” You swallowed hard, the thought turning you on even more as you looked into the mirror to see Namjoon grabbing his cock and pushing it inside you.

The both of you groaned as he bottomed out, and he stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust before you pushed back to give him the hint that he could move.

He brought his hips back, making slow and shallow thrusts, before gradually speeding up, causing you to grab onto the sink even harder to keep your body from moving too much. Not that you were complaining because watching Namjoon’s face scrunch up in pleasure was even more of a turn on. The way his eyebrows furrowed together or the way his suit still looked good while he was slamming into you made the situation ten times hotter.

“You look so good underneath me, you know that? You take my cock so well.” He grunted, placing a finger on your clit and rubbing lightly. “Like your pussy was made just for me.” He emphasized his words with particularly hard thrusts and pinches to your clit, ignoring the whines and small moans that fell from your lips.

His words plus what you saw in the mirror were all too overwhelming and you closed your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of Namjoon. But only for a moment as he grabbed your hair and made you look back into the mirror.

“I thought I said to watch, baby girl. You’re normally so good at listening, why can’t you do something so simple?”

“I-It’s too much to handle.” You whispered out.

“I know. I can feel you clenching. You like watching yourself get fucked, huh? Getting used like the fuck doll you are.” He licked his lips.

“Yes, fuck.” You started. “I love it so much.” You breathed out.

“Such a good girl for me. I know you’re about to cum, but hold on a bit, okay?”

You nodded and tried your best to hold your upcoming release back as you felt Namjoon pull out all the way and slam back in. The whine that left your lips maybe a little too loud, but at this point, you didn’t care, it felt too good to care.

“Rub your clit for me, baby, show me how much you wanna cum.” He growled, placing both hands on your hips, and pulling you back into him. Your hand trailing down between your legs to rub eagerly at your clit, your orgasm building fast.

“Mh, gonna cum for me? Go on then, cum for me, but say my name when you do.”

“Fuck, Namjoon, I’m gonna cum.” Your voice was higher in pitch and you knew you were getting even closer as the pressure in your stomach kept building, so close to snapping.

“Fuck, babe, I’m clo-” He was cut off by his own orgasm, his body stilling as his cum shot into you. His orgasm triggering yours.

While regaining your breaths, the realization of it all hit you. You just fucked in the restroom, at a public event. And now you had to deal with looking fucked out for the rest of the night.

“Fuck.” You groaned.

“What?” Namjoon spoke, sliding out of you and pulling his pants up.

“We still have the rest of the event to stay for and I look like shit.” You whined, getting up and straightening your dress back down.

Namjoon smiled down at you and draped his suit coat over you.

“Who said we had to stay?”

[voidendron]

The Outside: Chapter 52

Series Ask Blog: @asktheoutside Oof. I’m glad I had this chapter done ahead of time. :/ I’m sick and feel like crap today and really don’t want to do any writing. Also, I think you’ve been waiting for this chapter for a while. :)

Chapter 52: Uncovered Chapter Warnings: Swearing

March 18, 2031, 12:00 PM Los Angeles, California

Jacques pulled at the collar of his ill-fitted shirt with his free hand, the other clutching his sketchbook tight against his chest. Within were the sketches he was going to be reviewing with Bing; the android wanted to see if he could help uncover the identities of the people Jacques had run into at Marlow’s.

It hadn’t been Jacques’s idea. At all. He would have rather stayed at their motel, hunkered down under his covers. It almost made him regret bringing up the…were they Egos? Figments, he’d say, just in case. As far as he knew, they were lesser Figments. A part of him wished he hadn’t mentioned it to Silver. He wanted nothing to do with the other Septics, but going to Bing’s home would get him face-to-face with three of them. Fucking wonderful.

The hand that had been at his neck flashed toward the handle above his head as the van bounced over a speed bump. He offered Mark a glare into the rear-view, but the man had his eyes trained on the busy street and never noticed. Silver sat quietly in the front seat, hands fiddling together and eyes occasionally flicking to the mirror as if to make sure Jacques was all right. Roxanne had stayed with Amy and Chica at the Fischbach’s place. At least it was quiet.

Jacques lowered his sketchbook into his lap; flipped through the pages until getting to the newest ones. Natemare was the only one he was sure of. His image completely redrawn after one of those fuckers at the cafe had torn the original out. Then there was the security guard, the man in the baseball cap, the corporate-looking woman, and the android. And Jacques knew the guy was an android. He had to be.

He’d also learned that the “Iffy” guy at Marlow’s was not only the owner, but Infelix. That was…wonderful news. Jacques had been ticked with Silver for not telling him, even if it was the artist’s fault for not wanting to hear the Iplier whenever he’d tried to bring it up.

There was even a picture of Ed in there. While the artist could care less if the cowboy wound up killed, he really wanted to know what the hell had happened; if that had really been Ed, or someone pretending to be him.

He glanced up when the van pulled to a stop, jolting its passengers when it hit the too-high curb with its front tire.

All three clamored out, Jacques’s foot catching and only Silver grabbing his arm keeping him from face-planting into the sidewalk. He grumbled and shrugged the superhero off when he had his footing, hugging his book close once it was flipped shut. His eyes scanned the complex; four two-story homes in a single building. Duplexes, that’s what they were called, right? The one to catch his eye was the second from the left, a wheelchair ramp leading up to the door rather than stairs like the other three homes. The previous couple to live there had apparently been elderly, with one confined to a chair.

Someone was sitting on the ramp and waving them down. Jacques didn’t know which of them it was. Certainly not Bing, right? But did any of them wear glasses? Bing always wore sunglasses, but glasses glasses? They were thick-framed and black; the guy’s gold-brown eyes tracking the trio as they made their way up the walk to the ramp, and stood when they started their way up it.

“You’ve got the pics?” he asked. His eyes found Jacques’s sketchbook, and the artist curled his fingers around it possessively even as he nodded.

“Bing?” So it was Bing. The android lifted his gaze to his creator, brow arched. “Where’s everyone else?”

A shrug. “Yan and Sophie’re upstairs, Chase at the library with Anti, Jimmy’s on a run with Ky, and…y’know, I don’t know where Jim and James are. With the kids, maybe?” A crash from above their heads followed by laughter from three sources confirmed that theory. Jacques had to wonder what had happened. Jim tripping, probably.

“Crowded…” the artist mumbled. There were seriously that many people in a small, four-bedroom home? At least he wouldn’t have to talk with any of the Septics.

When the door was closed and locked, Bing pulled his glasses off. His eyes immediately brightened and started glowing like they always had, and Jacques could only narrow his own. What the fuck?

“Jacques.” Bing was cutting toward a desk off in the corner of the living room, dragging a kitchen chair behind him. “Could take a while, so you wanna grab anything from the fridge?”

A shake of the head and the artist ducked around Silver; casting the hero a harsh glare when he opened his mouth as if to say something. He found himself settling into the cushy desk chair as Bing swapped it for the one from the kitchen. Why Bing opted for the stiff wooden one and let Jacques take the comfortable one, he wasn’t sure. But eh. Whatever.

“So how many were there?” the android asked. He was getting the laptop started up so wasn’t actually looking at the artist. His core was humming softly, fingers tapping at the desk as he waited for the laptop to boot up.

Flipping his book open, Jacques stopped on the hyper-realistic image of the security guard and tapped a spot on the page not stained by graphite. “Four. That is not counting Natemare and Ed.” He felt eyes on the back of his head, and it took everything he had not to curl into himself. He didn’t know if it was Mark or Silver, or if someone from upstairs had come down, but he hated it. “You think you can find who they are?”

Bing was opening tabs; connecting a cord to his wrist and the device with his free hand. A second was already snaking from the back of his neck into a different USB port on the laptop. “If they’re documented. I’m hopin’ to at least figure out their aliases and jobs. The more we know so we can avoid ‘em, the better.” When the android turned to face him, Jacques perked up a little. “Let’s see Natemare first. We’ll start with him.”

Jacques went back two pages from the guard and held his sketchbook out a little. When Bing went to take it, however, his grip tightened and he pulled it closer. Uneasiness knotted his chest at the thought of handing it over. His fingers curled around the pages and into the spiraling binder.

The focused expression on the android’s face softened and he moved his hands away and onto the keyboard. “All right,” he murmured. His voice was soft; as if speaking to a frightened child. “I’m not gonna take it. But you wanna hold it up a little? I need a good scan of his face.”

Jacques felt himself relaxing. Bing wasn’t going to take his sketchbook. He just…needed to look. You’re too possessive, he thought. Relax. Work with Bing. Not against him. Figure this out. He swallowed, lessened his grip on the book, and brought it back up so Bing’s bright stare could scan over the image.

When the android nodded and turned away, Jacques shifted closer to watch the screen. Bing’s hands were flashing over the keyboard, pages upon pages flickering across the screen far faster than the artist could keep up with. Images and colors changing so fast it made him dizzy to watch for too long. He found himself blinking rapidly and shaking his head; looking to the android’s face instead. He was leaning in close to the screen, unbothered by the flashing colors. Jacques had to wonder if Bing was even seeing what was on the screen, or if the connections to his wrist and neck were sending everything straight to his head.

A chittering sound left the android, head tilting. It reminded Jacques of a fucking bird. He started clicking as he perked up. He looked…excited.

“Nathaniel Thompson!” he shouted.

Jacques about jumped out of his skin from the startle Bing’s static-laced words caused.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Bing lowered his voice back to a respectable level and added, “That’s his alias: Nathaniel Thompson. He’s a wanted criminal; works for this ‘Devon Ripley’ guy in a fuckin’ gang, and Ed’s been seen with ‘em, too. Not often, but still. You see either of ‘em again, you get the hell outta there.”

A shake of the head and Bing gestured for Jacques to turn the page; he turned to the security guard’s drawing.

There was another bout of silence, but it didn’t take as long to pull up his information; Jacques figured Bing was running matches for all of them at once to make that find so fast. Wouldn’t surprise him.

“His name’s Michael Garring. Okay, so this dude’s a security guard at the Los Angeles Mall,” he started, zooming in on the guy in the first staff picture he came across. “But get this…” He clicked on another tab, and Jacques leaned away when Mark and Silver came up behind them to look. He didn’t like how they stood behind him and hunched into himself. “He’s only part-time there. He’s also a security guard at a small-business hunting place on the other side of town from the mall. The owner is also the only one to run the tills and upkeep the shop. Literally his only hire is this guard to act as fuckin’ bouncer.”

Bing turned to the artist and gestured to his sketchbook. “Let’s see the dude with the hoodie.”

Nodding and flipping through the pages, Jacques stopped on the man with the shrouded face. There were very few details he’d caught on that man. Even in the detailed drawing his face was covered in shadow and without detail to look far too flat against the rest of the image. Bing wasn’t looking at the man’s face, though; he was pointing at his hands. The hands that looked like they’d gotten into a fight with a fucking blender. He then pointed out the cap and hoodie; both with the vague shapes of whatever logos Jacques had seen briefly. Some sort of cat head, he’d thought.

“Judgin’ by the guy’s hands and the logos, this’s the same guy to own the hunting place Michael works at.”

He pulled up an image of the owner, and Jacques grimaced. His hands might have looked like they got stuck in a blender, but his face? It looked like something or someone had taken a blade to it. Multiple times. It was a miracle that whatever had caused those scars hadn’t touched his eyes considering how close not one, but two of the marks were; jagged and pale against tanned skin, the hair wherever they met with it refusing the grow back. He looked annoyed; like a little kid who hadn’t wanted their picture taken, stare cold as it looked into the camera.

“That is…good reason to cover his face…” the artist murmured.

Mark leaned forward, placing a hand on the back of Jacques’s chair and making it tilt back far enough the Septic thought it would fall backwards. It didn’t, but it sure felt like it was going to! “What’s his shop called?”

Bing shook his head. “I was gettin’ to that.” When he looked directly at the Septic, Jacques found himself furrowing his brows. “I hope to hell his name seems familiar to you, ‘cause I think I know who he is.”

Leaning back toward the laptop, Bing went back to the shop’s homepage: Angus’s Hunting and Tackle.

“…Angus Hunter,” Jacques read. “But…it is not possible? He was not canon!”

“Technically, neither were you,” Bing said. “And I’m bettin’ this is the Hunter Infelix told us about.” A shake of the head, and Bing turned back to the computer. “So this Hunter guy, I don’t know if he’s tracking us down or if he’ll just be keepin’ an eye out for us. Either way, not good. What we need to figure out is if the rest of ‘em are Egos.”

“Wait.” Mark held up a hand, and Jacques felt a pang of annoyance. “You’re brushing this Angus guy off like you all know who he is. So..?”

“Angus the Survival Hunter. Seán’s first Ego; that’s if he is who we think he is. I uh…don’t think any of us even knew the guy was real?” Jacques and Silver both shook their heads. “And if he was, we figured he’d faded long before the other Septics came along.”

“He was from Seán’s Far Cry series when he was new to YouTube,” Jacques added. “We…did not think our creator was popular enough back then for an Ego to come alive. But…if this is Angus…”

“It explains why he never showed up in our plane when he did start gettin’ popular. I’ll bet he’s been out here a long time. And I’m not gonna be surprised in the fuckin’ slightest if he’s bitter as hell with the populars.” Jacques felt Bing’s gaze fall on him with that last statement, but he dropped his own; refusing to meet the android’s eyes.

“And… And the others?” Mark asked. His voice was halting; almost like he was afraid to find out who any of the others were.

It didn’t take Bing long to pull up an image of the corporate woman. “Jane Wolffe.” He raised a brow at his creator when Mark spluttered. “Yeah. I’m thinkin’ that too. And I thought our aliases were uncreative? ‘Yeah, I’m just gonna…name myself after exactly what I am!’ Gonna have to do some digging to find her job ‘cause everything so far’s pretty vague. And the android’s Beau Garring. Says here he’s Michael’s ‘adopted’ brother. I call fuckin’ bullshit. I’m not findin’ much else on him, though…”

At that point, Bing was rambling and slowly shifting back into the androids’ language; clicking and whirring in ways they couldn’t understand. Jacques was half-convinced all the new information had broken him.

The artist leaned in to look at Jane’s image on the screen, then turned to Mark. He didn’t…understand. Why was she such a big deal? “Who is..?”

Silver’s eyes were scanning the picture of the woman even as he answered in his creator’s stead, “Mark was in a skit called ‘Werewolves’ a long time ago. Jane…uh. Well, she was one of the wolves in it.”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Jacques closed his book and hugged it close to his chest. Anxiety was bubbling up in his chest as he held it close. “So…so we have a security guard…a werewolf…an android…a-and…the fucking Survival Hunter himself out here, possibly tracking us? That is…fucking wonderful...”

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Did You Lose What Won’t Return

After a mission goes horribly wrong, one Legend has an incredibly difficult decision to make. But he's not the only one who will be affected by it.

Warning: This hurts. Not a fully happy ending, not for CaptainCanary shippers anyway (though there’s some happiness in it). Inspired by some of the promo pics for the next episode. 

Thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta.Can be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

Did you lose what won't return? Did you love but never learn? The fire's out but still it burns And no one cares, there's no one there

"Flares," The Script

"You got him back? How is he?" Sara's moving at something between a jog and a flat-out run toward the Waverider's medbay, her hand at her comm, a mix of relief and worry bubbling up from somewhere inside. Maybe she won't lose another Snart on her watch, after all, she thinks distantly, taking a corner just a bit too fast and nearly smashing into a surprised Zari. Maybe…

"He's still out." Ray pauses and something in Sara's stomach flipflops. "They…they did something to him. Gideon is still running tests. But Constantine says something's off too."

Why would he… "Is John there?"

"He was. Stepped out a moment. Oh!" Surprise suffuses the man's tone. "I think he's waking up already. Leo, I mean. That's surprising; Gideon didn't think…"

Sara puts on another burst of speed, wondering precisely what Gideon didn't think.

Ray and Mick are both in the medbay, both watching Leo, who's prone in one of the chair/beds. He's wearing some sort of shapeless hospital-gown-type-thing, and there's a bloodstain or two on it, and Sara's heart plummets. But he's also stirring, and that's got to be good, right? It's got to mean that he's regaining consciousness, that it'll be fine, they'll get him home…

Mick looks over at her as she stops in her tracks, and they exchange a glance of understanding. Not their Snart, but there's a debt there, and they sure as hell don't want to see him die again.

Ray's closer, checking the monitors with a frown on his face, so when the man on the bed suddenly opens his eyes, tenses and lurches up and off the surface, landing shakily on his feet, it's Ray who first exclaims and tries to steady him.

The man wearing the hospital gown pulls away from him with an irritated snarl, which is not a sound she's ever heard out of Leo, so maybe Sara's already suspecting the impossible when he turns, freezing when he sees her and Mick.

Sara takes a step forward involuntarily, even as Mick whispers a muffled, disbelieving oath behind her.

Leonard Snart is staring back at them.

Later she'll wonder how she'd know so instantly that it was him, and not Leo. They're identical, after all. (Well, they're more than that, but those revelations are still to come.) But she knows it, instantly and instinctively, and simply stops dead in her tracks to stare.

Leonard stares back, those blue eyes watching her intently for a long moment. Ray moves to collect the wires and leads he'd disconnected and starts to say something to the man he's almost certainly still taking for Leo.

But Sara holds a hand up to stop him. She's not sure why. Maybe, she thinks faintly, she just wants to see what Leonard will say. He stares at her a moment longer, then transfers his gaze to Mick,

"Mick?" he says, and the voice is the same as she remembers, the familiar drawl with its faint edge. Always a shadow of the chill in it, even when he's making an effort not to use the Cold persona. "Good. You're OK." He lifts a hand to rub his eyes and wavers a little on his feet—although he also yanks his arm away when Ray, looking concerned, tries to steady him again.

"Back off, Boy Scout," he growls, but there's no real anger there. Ray blinks, starting to realize something's off, even as Leonard shakes his head roughly again.

"Musta been a dream," he mutters, then glances at Mick one more time before transferring his gaze to Sara.

His gaze. His eyes, that guarded expression she last saw at the Oculus, identical to Leo's eyes yet somehow completely different.

"Sara…" he murmurs, taking a step.

And then another. Another.

Sara can't move. Can't breathe. Can't…

Then Leonard's standing in front of her, eyes looking straight into hers, searching. Ray's saying something in the background and Mick's replying, but Sara can't quite hear them, because Leonard is there, he's right there in front of her, and…

And then he's kissing her, lips warm and slanted hard over hers, tentative at first and then more assured as she responds, because she can't help but respond, because it's Leonard, and he's finally stealing that damned kiss.

There's a noise probably properly described as a squeak from Ray and a grunt from Mick-and an amused "well, well then!" from the tall man who stops one step inside the medbay. Sara, recognizing the voice, heaves an internal sigh and pulls away, just slightly. Leonard lets her go, lips quirking as he gazes at her…then visibly wobbles on his feet again. Sara puts out a hand involuntarily and he grabs it, accepting the help that he wouldn't from Ray, and, damn, that's another clue that this is an intrinsically different man than the one who'd gotten separated from her and John in that mental institution.

"Leonard?" she whispers, reaching out with her other hand to try to support him. "What's going on?"

"I…" He blinks at her, then shakes his head. "Damnit."

And then he drops like a stone.

It's sudden enough that Sara doesn't have a prayer of actually catching him. She yells to Mick and Ray as he hits the ground and there's a flurry of activity, the two men converging on them to get the fallen man back in the medbay chair, and John is going on about something and…

Sara can't breathe.

This can't be happening.

It is, she thinks distantly, too good to be true.

It is happening. And it is too good to be true.

"There is brain damage," Gideon tells them promptly, once Leonard/Leo is settled back on the medbay bed, out cold and hooked up to all the different monitors again. "They performed some sort of procedure on him." She pauses. "Not a classic lobotomy, but enough to…affect portions of the brain that aren't entirely well known even to the Time Masters. I do not know what the goal would be been. It was, possibly, simply an experiment."

Mick curses, suggesting what he's going to do to the people responsible as soon as he can leave the ship. Sara doesn't disagree—not at all—but she motions for him to quiet anyway, needing the next shoe to drop.

"What else, Gideon?" she asks quietly. "Is this…"

"Now that I have had reason to run a scan on him, it is clear that the man we knew as Leo is physically the same as the man from Earth-1," Gideon says, pausing to let them digest her words. "His hand is of my make.

"He is, however," she continues, "approximately 39 months older than he should be chronologically. If the Oculus explosion knocked him through worlds, it could have knocked him through time as well. And perhaps have had an effect on his mind and memory. I'm not sure what else would have caused that." Another pause. "This is not a situation that has any clear equivalent in all my databanks."

John mutters to himself nearby, but Sara ignores him for the moment, especially since she needs to get the situation clear in her head and start coping with it.

"So," she says, looking at the man in the bed, "we're figuring that the Oculus somehow threw Snart into Earth-X, a few years ago. He didn't have any memory—I don't think Leo ever mentioned his past much, so I guess that's plausible—and wound up meeting The Ray and joining the Resistance."

Silence greets her words. John's across the room, holding a hand out over Leonard's motionless form, frowning, and Mick and Ray, the only other two remaining on the ship who knew Leonard Snart, look at each other. Then Mick huffs a sigh, shrugging.

"If he didn't remember anything, from when he grew up and all the shit after," he mutters grudgingly, "Snart mighta been a really different person. Hell, I woulda too." He's quiet a moment. "But…he knew me…the me from there…said they grew up together."

"If he had some foggy recollection of you from here, he might have thought that," Ray offered. "Memory's a weird thing."

Sara sighed. "And then he came back to Earth-1 with us and…"

"And the blighters at that hellhole fucked about with his brains and somehow screwed him up." John, strolling back over to them, sounds simultaneously angry and world-weary and admiring in a way only he, Sara thinks, can manage. "And it's not just memory—though I should say that's certainly part of it." He waves a hand at the man on the bed. "He's got…well, it's not quite like two souls. Did before this mess too, but this is the first time I was able to put my finger precisely on what the oddity is."

The three of them stare at him. John—who's already run afoul of Gideon's ire multiple times for his habit—fishes a cigarette out of his pocket and turns it over in his fingers, clearly wanting to light it but unwilling to draw that ire again. For the moment.

"How is that even possible?" Ray asks after a moment. "Um. I mean…don't you…kinda just get one?"

Sara starts to respond, but John beats her to it. "Actually, Dr. Palmer, a lot of traditions allow for more than one soul," he says, pointing the unlit cigarette at the other man. "Some Inuit beliefs, some peoples of Asia and Indonesia…but, at any rate, I think this soul started out as a single one. It's almost like it…split. Like an, what is it, amoeba?"

"He's not a science experiment, British." But Mick doesn't sound angry. He does sound as world-weary as John at his weariest, though, and the warlock gives him a nod of acknowledgment, looking not entirely unsympathetic.

"You said you lot thought he died at some place that was outside of time?" he asks. "By an explosion? Who knows what getting knocked helter skelter through time will do to a bloke. And…well, magically speaking, a willing sacrifice might have earned himself some peace. From memory, anyway. A fresh start of a sort."

Sara snorts. "You call getting thrown into Earth-X peace? Seriously?"

"Well. Didn't say that peace might not be mixed with penance." A shadow crosses the man's face. "You did say he knew the dark."

"He did," Sara said quietly, standing as she hears the medbay monitors indicate a change in Leo…Leonard's…condition. "Ray, could you go tell the others what we know? I know they're wondering."

She hears Ray's assent, but she's focused on Leonard and on John, who's motioning to her to approach.

"Get him talking," he mutters. "I want to study the…situation…while he's awake and distracted. And you, love, are an excellent distraction, especially based on that little display."

Weirdness abounds, and John remains John. Sara smiles a little, even as she reaches out to touch Leonard's hand as his eyes flicker open.

And, yes, it's still Leonard.

"Sara," he murmurs. "Mick?"

"Hey." She reaches out another hand as Mick joins her and as Leonard tries to sit up. "Stay put for a minute. You hit the ground pretty hard."

"Oof."

That gets a snort out of Mick. "Yeah, oof. Boss? That you?"

Leonard blinks at him, then shakes his head, but not in a way that indicates dissent. "I ...think?" he mutters. "Ugh."

Sara hesitates, then, glancing at John, who's nodding at her, broaches the subject they're all dancing around. "Do you remember…Leo?" she asks quietly.

Leonard stops rubbing his eyes for a moment and blinks at her too. A frown crosses his face, then an odd, very unSnart-like smile. Sara, watching, thinks that's the most he's looked like his...like the man they'd thought was his doppelgänger...since he woke up.

"Leo," he says slowly. "Yeah...like…a distant dream. Or like a story I remember being told once, a long time ago." His eyes fly wide open then. "Blue light...and then this long dream, and then I woke up here."

Sara drags in a long breath, then lets it out, glancing at Mick.

"Leonard," she says, "we need to talk."

It's like remembering a fading dream, too, but they manage to establish that the man called Leo Snart woke up in Earth-X more than four years ago, with almost no memory at all. The only name he could dredge up was a childhood nickname, which the scouting party had apparently accepted as truth. They'd taken him to Earth-X's Mick Rory, whom he'd seemed to remember, and two fell in together as partners like they'd always meant to be that way.

Then he'd met Ray Terrill.

Leonard stares at the wall as he says the name, a puzzled frown on his face. Sara's heart twists, remembering how Leo had looked at the man with his heart in his eyes. She glances up at John, who's furiously frowning in Leonard's general direction, and sighs.

"Well?" she says.

It's the first time Leonard seems to notice that John Constantine is in the room. He twists about a little to observe the other man, eyebrows going up as he gives the warlock the patented Leonard Snart once-over, which is, at least, somewhat similar to the Leo Snart once-over. Although his reaction is not.

"Who the hell are you?" he says.

John gives Leonard the same slightly lascivious smile he'd given Leo in a similar circumstance, but Leonard just scowls at him, unimpressed. John shrugs and sighs, then strolls around to perch on a medbay stool near Sara and Mick.

"The trauma from the explosion and getting tossed through the multiverse...it not only wiped out your memory, mate, it just plain reset you." He shakes his head. "Even the depths of your subconscious mind, which isn't really how that's supposed to work. But you can't argue with what's there."

He points at Leonard. "You lived more than four years with no memory of…a lot of demons. It made you a different man. Literally. Your soul, it's split. I could guess your sacrifice at the Oculus thing had something to do with that too, as I told these two, but I can't know that. But that's what is."

Leonard stares at him, then closes his eyes.

"It wasn't a dream," he mutters, and Sara's heart twists again. Mick makes a faint noise and looks at John, who's watching them with sympathy in his eyes.

"Is it gonna stick?" Mick asks. "I mean...is it permanent?"

John nods to him, then looks back at Leonard, who's opened his eyes again. "Well, here's the thing. It doesn't have to be," he says. "Your AI says she can fix the brain damage, go back to before the 'hard reset' they unintentionally did on you. And I can...resort...the souls. Bring Leo back to the surface."

He points at the other man. "But that means you go back to sleep. And you're probably not coming back from that. The choice you make...it's permanent."

Leonard's face goes still, blank, all the shutters down. Sara glances at Mick, then stares at John, who's still watching Leonard.

"It's all you, mate," he says quietly. "Your decision. But for both those things, it's gotta be quick. Say, 24 hours and that's from the time you woke up. Sooner might even be better, but I think we're confident saying that long.

"Let me know."

Sara leaves the medbay not long after that, giving Leonard space to ask John any more questions, space to talk to Mick, who has, after all, been a constant of sorts for both Leonard and Leo. She updates Ray, who tries to talk to her about it but flees before he can, heading for the study and the distraction of work.

It doesn't help, for once. She pushes some time charts around, then heads for her room. Maybe she can get some rest.

Maybe not.

It's a while later, already into what they consider nighttime in the ship's cycle, when there's a noise at the door. Sara, who's been lying in her bunk contemplating the ceiling, glances up, then pushes herself into a sitting position as Leonard—now dressed in his more habitual clothing, either from storage or the fabrication room-pauses in the doorway, then slowly strolls into the room, watching her.

She speaks before he does, as soon as the door slides shut behind him.

"You're going to let John do it, aren't you?" she says quietly. "You're going to go away again."

Leonard doesn't answer immediately, making his way to lean against the bunk and look up at her. Memory rises, of earlier conversations, but Sara stifles it, pushing it back down fiercely, waiting for him to speak.

"Yeah," he says finally.

She'd been expecting it. But...it still hurts, breaks something inside that had only just started to mend.

"He promised to go back. I can't be the reason he breaks that promise," Leonard tell her, voice soft in a way she's rarely heard before. "I've broken too many in my life. Despite all the horror in his world, he's happy." There's a brief look of wonder on his face, and Sara almost smiles to see it. "And he has a mission, a purpose, people who are counting on him. I can't mess with that."

Sara nods, staring at her hands, which are loosely clasped before her. After a moment, to her immense surprise, she feels Leonard boost himself up onto the bunk, arranging himself to sit next to her. Their shoulders are brushing, their legs side by side, and it's the most physical contact she's ever seen Leonard make with anyone.

After a moment, she turns her head to see his face, see him watching her, eyes intent and dark. So they're going to have this conversation, she thinks, before he goes. She's not sure if she's glad or terrified.

"Sara, we both know I'm all sorts of shades of messed up," Leonard says quietly after a moment. "I can't imagine loving someone with the...generosity of spirit that he loves Ray Terrill with. It's...amazing." Sara watches him swallow, shake his head. "It took me...how long?...and probably more nerve than I'd ever managed before to just...admit...to myself and you that I had...feelings."

"At all?" Sara asks, trying to keep her tone light and failing miserably. She shifts a little to face him better and they're close, so close.

"About you."

Echoes. So many echoes. Sara closes her eyes, then opens them, and he's still there, watching her.

"Mick doesn't need me. Not anymore," he says, after a moment, lifting a hand as she starts to argue. "I just...We talked a little. Trust me." He shakes his head. "And Lisa's got a better chance at life without me. And before you argue, I got Gideon to tell me more about where she is, the path she's on. It's good. Better." A slight smile. "Not the one I would have predicted for her, but...good."

So few reasons for him to stay. Sara smiles sadly, looking at her hands again, then back up at him.

The look on his face is...it reminds her of his expression at the Oculus. She hadn't been ready for that look, and the realization is a punch in the stomach. She makes a noise of denial, involuntarily, and Leonard hesitates, then shakes his head.

"I don't regret leaving much," he says quietly, lifting a hand to brush a piece of hair out of her face. "But I regret leaving you."

"Me and you?" Sara whispers, regretting it immediately. She tries to look away, but Leonard's left hand is now along the side of her face, his eyes searching hers. After a moment, his lips twist in a rather self-deprecating fashion.

"Probably wouldn't have worked anyway," he murmurs, fingers stroking down her jaw. "Both too stubborn."

Sara closes her eyes again, leaning into the touch. "Would have liked the chance to try."

"Yeah. Me too."

And then he's kissing her again, not the desperate kiss of the Oculus or the fiercely stolen kiss from earlier in the medbay, but something softer, sweeter, a might-have-been. Sara leans into it without even meaning to, lifting a hand to wrap her fingers in his shirt, holding him there, making it last. It starts to heat up, and they let it, because there's no room for regrets here, and no more time.

When they finally part, she looks up at him again. But he's not looking back; that blue gaze is turned inward. And then, as she watches, he's back, and there's that look of wonder in his eyes again.

"He…doesn't mind," he whispers. "Leo. He's making an effort to tell me...you...so. That it's...OK."

"Mind…?" Sara stares at him, then sucks in a breath as the meaning of the words registers. "You're sure?"

"Sure as I can be." His expression's starting to change, darkening, and not in a bad way. "Sara?"

It's a question, that word, and she does him, them, the grace of turning it over for a moment. But there's really only one answer for her, for him, right now.

Sara lets a spark of mischief show as she looks up at him, letting her answer enter her eyes.

"Well," she drawls, reaching for him again, "Leo is big on closure."

That gets a slight laugh. Leonard smirks at her, and then they let go of it all, reaching for each other, hesitation falling away faster than Sara would have thought possible.

The next kiss isn't desperate, or fierce, or sweet. Or rather, it's all of them and none of them, and they're both smiling as their lips meet, despite the fading time, despite everything. After a moment, Sara growls a little in mock frustration, and grabs two fistfuls of his shirt again, pulling him against her, then toppling them both back onto the bunk.

From there, well, they both lose track for a while, letting desire run wild, touching and tasting, egging each other on with murmured comments and incoherent noises. Eventually, Sara's shirt is mostly unbuttoned, and she sits up to shuck it off entirely, throwing it to the floor. Leonard, who's somehow retained his sweater although Sara had long since managed to get his (very annoying) tight jeans off, sits, then stands up to watch her, groaning as she starts to wriggle out of her own jeans.

Well, then. She makes the process as suggestive as possible, keeping her eyes on his as she runs her fingers over the black silk of her panties, eventually kicking the jeans to the floor. Kneeling on the bed, she stretches, confident in what the movement will do to her body-and smiles at the noise he makes.

"This isn't quite fair," she whispers, nodding at his relative state of dress.

"True." He eyes her, gripping the bottom of his sweater, desire and something a little more complicated in his gaze. Sara, watching him hesitate, reaches out, catching his hands in hers.

"Do you want me to dim the lights?" she asks quietly. "It's OK."

But Leonard shakes his head roughly, taking a step back.

"No," he mutters in return, yanking the sweater up over his head, voice muffled by the fabric. "If not now, when?"

Point. She watches as he pulls the sweater off, and the shirt beneath it, balling them up in his hands briefly before taking a deep breath and dropping them to the floor before looking back up at her.

Sara takes a good long look in return, drinking him in, lean muscle and vicious scars and all, letting him see the continuing desire in her eyes before she shifts to sit on the edge of the bed and reaches out to pull him to her.

"You gonna make love to me, Leonard?" she murmurs into his ear, running her fingers down his spine and feeling him sigh under her touch. "You better be a hell of a thief."

She can feel his chuckle through his chest just before he turns his head to look at her, moving even closer. Sara wraps her legs around his waist, closing her eyes as they move together, then opens them with a gasp as he slides one hand, with those oh-so-nimble fingers, between them.

"Stole that kiss, didn't I?" he whispers, those blue eyes staring into her, his lips only fraction of an inch away, fingers dipping beneath the black silk.

Sara shudders, staring back, licking her lips and lifting an eyebrow, trying to regain just a little of her equilibrium.

"Yes, but it took you long enough." This is so them, she thinks, bantering to keep the feelings at bay. Or, at least, to pretend they're at bay.

"Well…" The lopsided smile-smirk on his face, his body warm and hard against hers, eyes darkened but warm and intent on her: That's how she wants to remember him, Sara decides—then ruthlessly shoves the thought away, trying to stay in the moment.

Fortunately, he makes it easy, turning his head to whisper, warm breath soft against her ear, fingers stroking even lower. "You wouldn't want me to rush things too much…"

And then there's too much going on to even think about the future. Just the moment, and all the heat between them.

Much later, she wakes in the night and puts out a hand, surprised just a little to find Leonard still there, warm and solid, spending his last night asleep besides her.

He sighs at the touch, and opening his eyes, stares at her, blue gaze gray in the low light. After a few moments, they once again reach for each other at the same time.

One more farewell, then, this time slow, even reverent, careful and tender. The only words a quiet gasping of names, the only things they can touch, feel, hear, each other.

When they fall asleep again, they're curled up together, no space between them. No space for the demons. No room for regrets.

He leaves her in the morning, not lingering, and Sara understands. She keeps her eyes closed as she feels his lips brush her forehead, she keeps her eyes closed as she listens to him dress, and she keeps her eyes closed as she hears the door slide open and closed.

She keeps her eyes closed and tries to make sure everything's committed to memory. All her senses, scent and sound and touch, every moment of last night. She didn't get a chance to prepare, before. Now, she has one.

There's a little time. Leonard has more things to say to Mick too, she's sure, and maybe even to Ray. A little time.

But not much. Not much at all.

After a while, she rises, then goes to the training room and works out a little bit, losing herself in more physical activity and the pleasant burn of her muscles. She checks the course of the ship, and then heads back to her room. She showers and she dresses—her original White Canary outfit, the one she wore to the bar in St. Roch.

And then it's time.

By the time she gets to the outer room of the medbay, Ray and Amaya, of all people, are walking out. Ray glances at her and away, distress in his eyes, but keeps going. They'll talk about it later, Sara's pretty sure. Maybe drink a toast, her and Mick and Ray. The last of the Legends.

Amaya gives her a look that tells her that they're going to be talking about it, too, if in a different way. She pauses just outside the door, an aura of waiting about her, and Sara, after a moment, realizes why.

Good.

John's waiting near the door to the inner part of the medbay. He lifts an eyebrow at her, but Sara doesn't take the bait, for once. She's watching Mick and Leonard say their farewells.

Leonard's body language is still very...Leonard. His arms are folded and his expressive is all studied insouciance. Mick's watching him in return, arms also folded, but there's something a little more complicated in his eyes and expression, and Sara knows it's a measure of how far Mick's come.

"Tell the kid goodbye for me," Leonard's saying as she draws closer. "And make sure you give Hunter one last insult – and make sure you tell him it's from me." A smirk, there and gone, and then a pause.

"And Barry..." he says finally, then frowns, then shrugs. "Eh. He knows."

Mick snorts. Leonard smirks. So much history there, Sara thinks, watching, and so much pain.

The two men pause a long moment, then Mick shakes his head as Leonard offers him a hand. Instead, he grabs his oldest friend in a bear hug.

"Bye, Boss," he says, voice rough.

Then he turns and quickly walks away, heading for the door, where Amaya is waiting for him.

Leonard watches him go, then turns to Sara.

They've already said what they needed to say to each other. So they just look at each other. A last memory.

Finally, Leonard nods. There's finality in the gesture.

"Goodbye," he says quietly, "Sara."

"Goodbye," she says, just as quietly, "Leonard."

And this time, it's him that turns and leaves.

She's in the study, later, burying herself in work to keep from thinking, from wondering. She's completely lost track of time when she hears the noise from the door.

Leo's standing there, watching her.

It's unquestionably Leo; again, she can't really say how she finds it so very obvious, but it is. While she's been distracting herself with Time Master journals and charts, something precious has slipped away, and she didn't even see it go.

The burning in her eyes makes her look away, then back, watching Leo stroll into the room, his grace very like Leonard's, yet very different. It wasn't so long ago that she'd been indulging in some very vigorous carnal activity with that same body. Sara glances back down at the map, feeling an unfamiliar rush of warmth in her face, then shakes her head and looks back up.

"Thanks," she says quietly.

Really, what else can she say?

Leo nods to her, gaze calm and steady. He leans against the desk, studying her, and as much as Sara wants to look away, she doesn't let herself. After a moment, she sees a glimmer of something in his eyes, almost...mischief.

"I think," he says after a moment, "that given how tired and slightly worn out I am right now, maybe I need a nap more than thanks. I'm a bit older than you, and apparently not in as good shape as I thought I was."

Sara actually laughs, feeling herself flush a little again.

"But," she says, "your Ray…"

Leo smiles and waves away the protest. "I can tell you, Sara, that almost no one could understand better about taking the time with the people you love while you still can. I'll tell him what happened and why, and he'll give me some shit about it." A smirk, one that's almost familiar. "And then I'll make it up to him."

Sara laughs a little, looking down yet again and smoothing the map on the desk with her hands. Then she glances back up.

"Is he...there?" she asks, and they both know who she's talking about. "At all?"

Leo's gaze goes distant, much like Leonard's had last night. But then he shakes his head, something unfathomable in his eyes.

"He's…asleep," he says after a moment, quietly. "Like a fading dream."

"Sacrificing himself again," Sara whispers, then shuts her eyes. "Damnit. I'm sorry, Leo. It's not that I want you to be gone. He made that choice, and I understand why. I just…"

"You thought he was gone, and then he wasn't, and now he is again." There's understanding in his voice and, when Sara looks at him, in his eyes. "And even though you got a…decent goodbye, this time..." He smirks, his expression again familiar. "...it was still a goodbye."

Sara doesn't trust herself to say anything, though, at the sight of that smirk. She turns away, eyes burning again. But Leo doesn't let her. He moves with her, reaching out to catch her right hand and bringing it up to his chest, putting it over his heart.

Leonard's heart, beating steadily.

And then the tears overflow and she curses every single one of them as they do. Leo just stands there with her, holding her hand, letting her grieve.

"This is a gift, Sara, the most precious gift I could ever have been given," he says, finally. "And I swear to you I'll make the most of it."

She sniffs, angry at her sorrow, all the mourning she hadn't let herself do before, but she also looks him in the eye, because he deserves it. "And your Ray."

"And my Ray." There's a light shining in his eyes that makes her smile as he says the name. "And you know, you should too."

Sara, regretfully, pulls her hand away. "What do you mean?"

"You don't let yourself get close to people. Oh, sure, physical closeness." He waves a hand. "But not real intimacy." Another smirk. "I recall…enough of last night…to say you let yourself do that for the first time in years. Remember it. Look for it. Appreciate it."

Sara studies him. "OK," she says finally. "I'll try."

Leo nods, a slightly different expression entering his eyes. "I can tell you this, and I'm sure of it to the bottom of my soul. Souls," he amends. "He wanted you to be happy."

She's still digesting that as he takes a step back.

"And now, when you're ready," Leo tells her, "I'd like to go back to Central City, let Cisco Ramon send me back to Earth-X." He grins. "I think I have a very important question to ask someone."

Sara lifts her eyes and regards him for a long moment. Then she smiles.

"I'll set the course right away," she says. "It shouldn't be too long."

"Thank you. Captain."

Sara watches him go, then looks down at the papers before her. After a time, she shakes her head, moving out of the study and onto the bridge, crossing to the viewscreen and its sparkling panorama, all the potential and the pain of time, spread out before her.

She thinks about cards and scotch, about Captain & Tennille, about taking chances and making amends.

About love great enough to sacrifice itself.

And the life ahead of her, waiting.

"Thanks, Leonard," she whispers, staring out at the timestream. "Sleep well."

But did you see the flares in the sky? Were you blinded by the light? Did you feel the smoke in your eyes? Did you, did you? Did you see the sparks filled with hope? You are not alone 'Cause someone's out there, sending out flares

[coffee-for-himchan]

Until I See You Again (Jongup x reader)

Word count: 3.9 k+

Genre/warnings: fluff ❤

Summary: Home just didn’t really feel like home when Jongup was away on tour, and you found yourself suffering more and more because of the lack of his presence every day. Noticing how you were slowly losing happiness and were getting lonely, Jongup, despite being on the other side of the world, decided to plan out a special date, one that you’ve never had before, just to show you how much he cares and how much he wanted you to feel loved.

He looked at your face, a little worried about you and how you spent your free time. It was the first time he’s been away for so long, and the first time you spent apart from each other for longer than one or two weeks. You smiled at him through the screen, but the way you looked at him gave away you weren’t happy at all, and he sat on the edge of his hotel bed, a little worried and a little guilty he was the cause of your sad feelings. “Hey, (Y/N)…” he looked right into your eyes, “are you sure you’re doing fine?” He saw you smiling even brighter and shaking your head in agreement, responding, “Don’t worry, Yup. I’m fine.” Crack. He heard it clearly. A voice crack. And what’s even worse, at the word “fine”. You both were caught off guard by that, and it took him some time to react. “(Y/N)…” “Yup, it’s getting late and I have work tomorrow. Just make sure you eat and rest a lot so you have enough energy to get out on stage and do your best, okay?” “(Y/N)-” “See you later, Yup. Bye!!” you waved at him, your smile starting to crack and fade as you quickly disconnected, more than sure he suspected something was wrong. You let your body fall back on the bed, and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. Were you acting stupid? Maybe, but you missed him so bad. You were pretty sure that around a week ago it started actually hurting physically, the lack of his hugs and kisses making your day so painfully plain and boring. You were glad conversation was still there, more or less at least, but it was undeniable that you craved to be with him physically, being able to squeeze him tight and never let go so he wouldn’t be able to leave you like this ever again. “Get it together.. You’re being clingy,” you mumbled to yourself, sitting up with a swift move and letting a hand slide through your hair before standing up, “he’s an idol, what did you expect? Just deal with it like the damn adult that you are..” No matter what you told yourself, you still missed him, and doing random things all around the house didn’t really distract you from your thoughts at all. You sighed, finally giving up and sitting down on the couch, wrapping yourself up in blankets and taking your laptop in your hands, typing away at a work assignment that you originally didn’t intend to start up until next week, but were forced to do now, as it was the only thing that stopped your mind from racing and wandering back to Jongup, who, quite unfortunately, was too far away.    Jongup was laying on his back, sprawled all across the hotel room bed, his hand flat on his stomach as he stared up into the ceiling, raising one eyebrow every now and then as apparently that helped to concentrate.    “Hey, Himchan hyung..” he trailed off, not looking at him but knowing exactly where he was. Apparently the priority of this evening for Himchan was to take a perfect selca. God, he was usually good at it, but somehow he had a hard time taking a picture that he felt comfortable sharing with the world today, and that irritated him. He’s been in front of the windows with the astonishing view behind them for 10 minutes already, snapping away, but for some reason he couldn’t get it done. “Himchan hyung,” Jongup called a little louder, as he understood Himchan was too much in his own little world to hear, “I thought you were a natural. Can I ask for advice?” Himchan paused for a little, seemingly proud he just got lowkey complimented by his friend who slightly rolled his eyes in response. It’s not like Himchan didn’t need reassurance every once in a while though, so Jongup just let it slide without any additional savage commentary on top, deciding it was his good deed of the day and patiently waiting for a response. “Depends. What’s bothering you?” Himchan put his phone down and looked out of the window, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets and scanning the city view behind the glass. “I mean, I know it’s nothing big, but I think (Y/N) isn’t taking the distance in between us too well..” Jongup said quietly. “Oh, tell me about it,” Himchan’s head snapped into Jongup’s direction, “Not really sure I’ll be able to suggest anything useful, but let me try.” “I don’t think she’s used to spending so much time away from me,” Jongup got into sitting position, letting his legs slide down the side of his bed, “I mean, I miss her too, but I guess I’m kind of able to cope with it. Just makes me want to be with her again more and more every day, and realize how much I love her. You know, regular everyday life does sometimes make me want to spend some time apart from her, but at moments like these I guess I just have some time for myself, just to understand I don’t want to spend all of that time by myself, and… Himchan hyung, stop grinning,” he remarked after a second, and realized his mistake. Himchan. Jongup and (Y/N) shipper number one. God, why was he paired up in one room with him again? “Look at you, oh my God,” Himchan said, making Jongup slightly cringe at his use of English for the “oh my god” bit, “kids in love. If only I understood your youth-fueled desires and feelings…” “Himchan hyung, you’re not that old, you know..” “But I’m single,” he sighed slightly, turning his head back to the window, “anyways, what do you intend to do?” Silence hung over the room for a little while, as Jongup raised his eyebrow up and down again. Concentration, the key to success. “Why do you think I asked you for advice in first place? I don’t know,” Jongup said, seemingly irritated by how clueless he was, “It’s still weeks until we’ll be back, and I can’t stand the fact she’s all sad and lonely at home.. I didn’t even think anyone could need and miss me this much in first place..” “Hey, what about this,” Himchan turned to Jongup and walked a few steps to the front, “I don’t really know, but like.. You guys do video chat, right?” “You literally crashed our conversation earlier on today to whine about the lack of coffee and Daehyun acting mean-” “Be respectful,” Himchan glared, and, even though he sometimes was a little too cringey and childish of a person to be taken seriously, Jongup still had to agree. His hyung was an authority, after all. “What if you, like, take her out on a date?” “Himchan hyung, are you telling me to fly back to Korea, that’s not gonna work-” “No no, that’s not what I meant. Tell her to get ready for something special, and then plan out like.. A facetime date? Yeah, that’s about as good as I can explain it.” “F-facetime date..?” “Yeah. Tell her to, like, go places, or just stay home or whatever, I don’t really know what you guys prefer. Fact is, do the things you usually like doing together. You do it here while you got free time, and she does it back at home while you chat over the phone. Doesn’t matter there’s half the world in between you two, you got internet. Which reminds me.. I think the last picture was actually good..” Silence followed as Himchan casually browsed through the pictures in his phone, trying to find the perfect selca, and Jongup sat on the bed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the floor. “Hey, Himchan hyung?” he asked, getting a hum in response, “didn’t you say you were single?” “It’s not like I want to be, you know?” he looked up a little, smiling a sad smile, “I’ve got tons of ideas for when better times come around, and for now, let me dream at least. Okay, I think I found the right one…” he said, looking at the picture on his phone screen, satisfied with the result. An Instagram notification soon popped up on Jongup’s phone, and he decided to give Himchan’s masterpiece of a selfie a look.

“Nice pic, hyung,” he said, deciding two compliments a day wouldn’t hurt anybody. Jongup fell back on the bed, and closed his eyes. Damn, would he be able to think of something cute and original enough? He could only hope and try, so instead of going to sleep like he first intended to do, he popped down on the bed, legs-crossed and with a cup of noodles in one hand, thinking out loud and letting Himchan decide if his ideas where stupid or not, because apparently Himchan was the dating expert without a date.

You rolled over to your right side and groaned into the pillow, squeezing the blanket a little tighter. Seven in the morning. Who was crazy enough to text you this early?

Oh, wait, you were dating Jongup. Mystery solved.

“Wear something nice and meet me at the park at 10 AM, below that tree that you tried to climb up last summer but fell down from,” the message said, and you furrowed your brows. First off, thanks for those oh so sweet mems. It didn’t help that Youngjae was present at that time too, and you still got teased about it every now and then, even thought you just wanted to forget that incident. And second off.. what in the heavens was about to happen?

You tried to make sense of it the whole morning, but weren’t able to do so. His Instagram selfie from this morning indicated he was still on tour, but what did he mean by “meet me”? You tried to understand it, but then again, was there someone who completely understood Jongup as a person? You were certain even he surprised himself sometimes, so you just shook it off and tried to obey his orders as good as possible without dying from anticipation and curiosity first.

It was 10.01 AM already. God, the tree. You hated it, but he’d told you to wait here, so you did. At some point, your phone started buzzing in your pocked, and you fished it out, just to be faced with a video chat request from Jongup.

“Explanation, please?” you raised a brow at him when you noticed he wasn’t in his hotel room, but somewhere out in town. Was that behind him.. a park?

“Do you really need one? It might get cheesy or stupid, I’m not sure yet-”

“Or both,” he chuckled as you said your remark, revealing his beautiful, unique smile for you to admire a little.

“Okay, but while I’m at it, how about you just plug in some headphones so you look more, or maybe less, I don’t really know, like a creep walking around and talking to yourself, and take a walk with me?”

“A walk with you?” he saw you not catching on to his idea, so he started walking and explaining.

“Imagine I’m there, and I’ll imagine you’re here. Distance doesn’t really mean a thing if we still can have a good time, right?” you nodded slowly, having a mild idea in mind of what he was about to say.

“So, like, let’s just do the things that we love doing together, even if only through the phone camera.. I’m sorry, but that’s the best that I can offer you now..”

“Yup, don’t you have schedules?”

“Not for today,” he scratched the back of his head, looking ahead of him for a little so he knew where he was going, “we have a day off, so don’t you worry about it.”

A moment of silence followed, and just for a second he was afraid you’d call him stupid for even thinking about something like this, but instead, he saw you slowly moving from spot, finding a pair of tangled up earphones in your jacket pocket and plugging them in.

“Okay, I guess you’ve planned something, right?” he saw you smiling brightly, and couldn’t help but smile back.

“I hope your phone’s charged, don’t even think I’ll leave you alone today..”

“Why did you want to meet under the tree though? You know I hate it,” you couldn’t help but wonder, and he laughed at your comment.

“Shh, it’s an iconic place, now let’s go...”

It all started with a walk in the park. At first you felt slightly weird for talking on the phone like this, and you were worried people would throw you glances, but, the more you talked with Jongup, the less you cared what everyone else thought about you. He was his usual self - sweet, a little lost in his words and actions, but more than simply adorable and loving when it came to talking to you. He made extra efforts to ask you questions, and told you about how his days went, never forgetting to mention how they were good, but would be better if you were there. You walked and listened, a little amazed by how much he talked since he was usually more on the quiet side, but grateful he tired hard to make conversation as interesting as possible. Well, not that he had to try hard, because once you started talking, you suddenly had so many things you wanted the other person to know about that you simply couldn’t stop.

“Watch the street,” you told him as you saw him squinting into the distance, about to walk over a zebra crossing.

“You’re not my mom,” he answered, chuckling a little and thinking to himself, “Gosh, so adorable.”

“I don’t want you to get killed mid-tour, okay? I worry about you a lot, and I have my reasons,” you told him, coincidentally coming to a street crossing yourself.

“I’m aware of that, and I’m glad you do, thanks, babe,” he said and started moving across the street, trying to see what was on the other side properly.

“Moon Jongup, I swear. I will cut this date short to go and get you a pair of glasses if you continue squinting non-stop,” he heard your half-laughing, half-scolding tone, and his heart warmed up a little.

“Glasses don’t suit me that well.”

“Stop lying.”

“I’m not lying. Have you seen me the last time I had glasses on?”

“Yes. You looked hella cute.”

“Well, if you say so..” he gave you a cheeky grin, but you still knew he’d refuse to spare himself the squinting and get some much needed glasses. So cute, yet so stubborn. Yeah, that was Jongup.

A coffee shop seemed to be the next place you were heading to, and it slightly amazed you how Jongup took the time to study the map of the city he was currently in, and how he found all of those places, just to make it seem like you were really doing everything together.

“Yup, you know you could’ve just stayed at the hotel or something, right? There wasn’t any need to try and search up all of those places you’re going to right now to keep me company-”

“Don’t ruin the aesthetic. I’m going wherever you’re going.. Or vice versa, since I’m the one who’s taking you out? You’re the smarter one, you figure out,” he told you, and you smiled, knowing he really put a lot of thought into all of this.

Not that Jongup was usually someone without thought or idea, it’s just that.. You didn’t think he was aware your minds worked slightly differently when it came down to this. You craved affection in every possible way, any time, while Jongup would be the person to forget about attention and affection as a whole for days in a row, just to crash your place one evening and demand cuddles, being all clingy and adorable. That was also one of the reasons he didn’t really mind being away from you for a longer time. He could actually cope with it, and at first he thought you could too, but after the previous conversation you had he started thinking, realizing not everything was completely the same to you as it was to him, and wanting to change things up a bit, making sure you were alright without him by your side.

The smell of warm, tasty coffee hit your nose as you waked into the tiny building, and you ordered yourself an extra large latte, sitting down at a table for two in front of a window and taking off you jacket. You heard Jongup talking to the waitress on the other end of the line, and were slightly amused by his language skills, as his accent was so, so cute. The place he was at seemed just as relatively empty as your coffee shop, and, when he had found the perfect place to sit at, you laughed.

“Don’t tell me you got hot chocolate..”

He raised one brow, making you chuckle.

“Who do you think I am? A kid?”

“Pretty much,” you leaned on your elbow, resting your head on one hand, “you can’t fool me. You never get coffee.”

“Okay, busted, I guess,” he smiled sheepishly again, happily closing his eyes for a little just to open them wide seconds later, slightly scaring you with his sudden change in facial expressions.

“Yup.. What will the others around you think of you if you act this way?!” you said while laughing at the silly facial expressions he kept pulling because apparently they made you laugh.

“Do I look like I care?” he said, chuckling a bit just to look shyly around right after, realizing you were maybe right and he probably needed to stop.

You felt your happiness levels rise higher and higher with every passing moment. Sitting at the tiny coffee shop, and having Jongup at the other end of the line, telling you stories and keeping you company was a thing you’d needde already long ago, and apparently he was very happy about his decision to plan something like this out as well. Completely in love with this guy you called yours, you sat and simply admired him and the way he used his only free day to keep you company and make sure you weren’t lonely, even if he was miles upon miles away.

“So, okay, optional step now,” Jongup told you as you both exited the cafes, “we could go sightseeing, but that would be only on my end of the line, in that case. I’m quite close to the old part of the city, and I’ve been told it’s pretty, especially by Himchan hyung who bombarded me with pictures of it not too long ago,” you laughed at his little eye roll. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, him and Himchan were in fact close friends, and you were glad someone was keeping and eye on him while he was away.

“Hey, that sounds good to be honest.”

“In case you’re tired, you can just go home now and rest for a bit, we’ve been walking a lot. Or you can also just wander the streets, whatever’s more suitable. As long as you’re ready for some architectural beauty, it’s fine, because apparently there’s a lot,” you heard him say, and decided you’d do the latter, as you still didn’t quite feel like going home just yet.

He decided it would be better to switch from the front cam to the back cam of his phone, and just show you everything he saw, only letting you hear his voice while you saw all of those beautiful places he wandered around. You found yourself smiling at the thought of Jongup being at such a pretty destination, when you heard him say.

“Hey, (Y/N)? Promise me we’ll come here together sometime soon, I actually really like this place.. Just needs more of you to be perfect.”

“Promised,” you smiled even brighter, and laughed as he switched the cameras for a second, pulling another funny grimace and continuing his little sightseeing tour as if nothing happened. 

He made sure you got some takeout so you weren’t hungry, and told you to go home because of the amounts of walking you had done during the whole day. You gathered all of your things that you needed for a cozy evening and threw them on the bed, along with the phone, telling Jongup to wait for a little as you needed to change.

“Doesn’t look like one of your shirt,” he couldn’t help but smirk as he saw your outfit of choice, with, coincidentally (or maybe not) consisted of some comfy shorts and one of his t-shirts.

“Maybe you don’t even need those glasses, looks like your eyesight is just fine,” you said, showing him your tongue as he rolled his eyes at your statement.

“Do those hundreds of eyerolls that you do every day help your vision?”

“Maybe..” he said, trailing off a little, “but believe me, if I really want to see something, I will. And you, especially in my clothing, is a sight I never want to miss out on..”

You stayed in bed, watching some dramas or other things together. He had started watching a minute prior to you on his side of the line, and spoiled every single important moment, making you laugh and cry out at how unfair that was. In reality though, you didn’t mind at all, at least not if the person spoiling the show for you was Jongup.

You yawned for what seemed to be the tenth time already, and saw him shifting on the other end of the line, turning the sound of his laptop a little quieter.

“Hey, how about we end it here?” he said, and quickly regretted the sentence when he saw your face. 

“Or, hey, if you don’t want to, we can-”

“No, no, Yup. You’re right. I’m falling asleep already and you must be tired too. You have to rest in order to be able to do everything properly tomorrow, so let’s go to sleep I guess..”

“Hey, (Y/N)?” you had looked away for a little, and when you turned your head back to the phone, you could feel his intense stare piercing right through you.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said softly, making your heart skip a beat, “just wait for a little longer. We’ll go places and cuddle and everything, I promise. Just wait for a little, and don’t feel lonely, okay?”

You nodded, not really wanting to add anything, except something you felt like you weren’t saying enough in the past time.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Yup, and thanks for the beautiful date. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he simply said, and it took you a few more minutes of goodbyes and promises to squeeze each other with hugs and shower each other with kisses once you were re-united for you to finally disconnect. Laying your phone on the bedside table and climbing under the blankets, you were surprised at the way you felt. He was still physically missing, but somehow you didn’t feel alone anymore. Just knowing that he was on the other side of the world, probably thinking about you, made everything a little better, and you were able to fall asleep, dreaming of being in his arms again. Soon.

[kittenwritesstuff]

Sympathy for the Devil

Fandom: FOX Lucifer Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x reader Genres: fluff Words: 1.870 Summary: Reader takes Lucifer to the beach. He doesn’t like the idea at first, but grows to enjoy it - requested by Anonymous

„In the land of God and Monsters, I was an Angel-„

“Uh, no, that would be me!” Lucifer’s cheerful voice rings from behind you as his hands comes to land on your hips, pressing you lightly against his chest. Much to your disappointment, he’s already dressed in his suit.

You pout as you reach to turn down radio’s volume, quitting singing along with it.

“I made you coffee,” you announce, pointing to a cup with steamy, dark liquid and Lucifer hums in response, taking it. His other hand, however, stays on your hip.

“I gotta dash. Detective called, we’ve got a case.”

“But you remember our plans for today?”

“I do, how could I not?” he jests, a tiny hint of revulsion in his voice and you turn around to face him with a quirked brow.

“Lucifer, why does a beach appears so uninviting to you?”

“Because of the sand. And I can’t wear a suit while I’m there, so…”

“But baby…” you murmur seductively and Lucifer’s eyes light up with lust. You smirk and lean in, your lips now pressed against his ear. “I bought a very new, very red and very sexy bikini. Maze shouted ‘va-va-voom!’ when she saw me in it.”

“Maze saw you first?” he asks sounding offended and you roll your eyes.

“She helped me choose the best one.”

“Well, in that case… I can’t wait to see you in that red piece. At least I’ll have a beautiful view during that rather miserable event which is a dinner on a beach.”

“You make it sound as a punishment of sorts.”

“It is! I lost a bet! It never happened and now I must suffer a horrible penalty! Oh, how unhappy I am, how broken shall I be afterwards!”

“Get your perky ass out of here before I lose my temper,” you say coldly, although jokingly as you push him away from you, ignoring his attempt at kissing your lips. but Lucifer is persistent and eventually he grasps your shoulders and pulls you close, planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

You smile widely, waving your hand to usher him to leave.

“Go, Chloe will be mad if you’re late again.”

“I’ll tell my sweetheart kept me in bed, unable to let me go,” he teases, winking at you as he swaggers towards the front door.

“Be ready at 5, hot shot!”

“I sure will, baby!” and with that, he closes the door behind himself, leaving you with a goofy grin and fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

It wasn’t always like that. You hated Lucifer’s guts when you were introduced to him. You were a witness of a murder and Chloe Decker arrived, followed by an overly joyful man in a black suit. She said he was her partner and you grimaced, visibly mocking him as he told you his name. It sounded stupid to you and the fact that Lucifer tried to hit on you and, later on, asked directly about your sex life, you were sure that there was no, even tiniest, amount of sympathy for him in you.

It changed drastically when Lucifer turned out to be the one solving the case before Chloe and arriving to save you from being murdered. You were in so much shock that you agreed on going for a coffee with him the next day, surprised by how clever and kind he could actually be.

And after that one coffee, you went for another, and another and then a dinner, which lead to being now in a regular, very happy and very satisfying relationship with mister Morningstar. You never imagined him to be a man to settle for one lady but time proved that Lucifer needed stability and love and you were gladly giving him both, and much more.

What you couldn’t always stand was the fact that you rarely saw him not wearing a suit. Well, apart from times where you, yourself, threw that pricey-looking thing on the floor of your bedroom, Lucifer always wore it. He looked sharp and ridiculously handsome in it, but you wanted to make him relax, to stop being Lucifer – Chloe’s partner and the owner of Lux and be Lucifer – your boyfriend, foolish and sometimes too handsy.

You’re done with your breakfast and when you look at the clock, it’s almost 8 AM. Humming to the song that’s currently playing in the radio, you pack your bag and head to work, making a mental list of what you should prepare for an afternoon with your boyfriend.

______

“I should hire you as one of my demons. You’re awfully persuasive,” Lucifer remarks in his usual teasing manner as you hand him a basket with your dinner. You hoist a bag with sunscreen, two blankets and towels onto your shoulder as you lock the door to your apartment.

“You’ll love it, babe, I promise,” you plant a wet kiss on his cheek as you take his hand, leading him to your car. Your grin grows wider and brighter with every passing second. You’re excited, you can’t hide it and despite how much Lucifer hated the idea of going to the beach, seeing your elated behavior makes it a thud more bearable. He loved seeing you happy and smiling.

He also loves seeing you in a short black dress, loose but flowing around your figure in a way that accentuates your lovely curves. He can see the strings of your bikini peaking out of the dress on the back of your neck and it makes fondness and adoration tickle within him. You’re beautiful, more beautiful than any girl he’s ever seen.

You drag him to the car, almost running to driver’s seat as Lucifer sits in passenger’s. He smoothes his white, loose shirt and you watch for a moment as the material stretches a bit lower, exposing his torso. Damn, what a great idea it was! You have to admit that in that shirt and beige linen pants he looks ever better than in a suit and you bite on your bottom lip, focusing your attention on the road.

You arrive within minutes and once your car is parked, you cheer loudly and jump out of the vehicle, much to Lucifer’s amusement. He’ll bear it, if it means making you happy.

“Come on, come on, you can go faster!” you usher him as you dart onto the sand, hastily taking off your sandals.

“Oh, you shout it very often, Y/N, you know I can,” he replies, grimacing as his bare feet touch the heated sand. You give him a stern look as you pull him by his hand, scanning the place to find a decent spot.

“I packed a book for you, in case you got bored.”

“I intend to keep my eye on you the entire time, my sweetheart. Don’t want any other man to stare at you for too long.”

“Is my little devil getting jealous?” you tease after you finally find a spot and reach to your bag to take out the blankets. You spread them and lay your bag there.

“I only wish them to know that you’re mine,” Lucifer explains innocently as he places the basket with food carefully and sits down, watching as you tug on the hem of your dress, wiggling your ass playfully.

“Oh, they will, I assure you,” you wink at him before you pull your dress up and over your head, pleased with yourself when you hear Lucifer’s gasp. You toss the garment aside.

“Do you like it?” you ask, a flirtatious smirk appearing on your face as you catch Lucifer’s spell-bounded gaze.

“Are you kidding me? I love it! Are those little horns there?” he points at the material covering your right breast and you nod, turning around to show him what’s printed on the back of the panties.

“No way! You’ve got a tail, baby girl!”      

You say nothing, instead you wiggle your bum again, grinning when you hear him giggle.

“Y/N, you little minx!” he calls fondly and in next second you feel strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you on the blanket. You erupt into a fit of giggles, unable to contain your mirth as Lucifer starts peppering your skin with sweet smooches, adding a loud “mwah!” every now and then.

He only ceases when you punch his biceps and tell that the two of you draw too much attention. Then, as per your request, he covers your skin with a sunscreen, of course not able to stop himself from pinching lightly your buttocks. He even goes to swim with you for a bit, but, just as he said, most of the time Lucifer simply watches you – as you swim, as you sunbathe, as you steal the book from him and read it for some time.

As the evening starts to approach, you suggest going home and Lucifer eagerly approves of your plan, having eaten most of the food. You drive quickly – to be frank, you can’t wait to wash the sand off of your body and weird places it got into and when you step into your flat, announcing that you’re going to take a shower, Lucifer obviously joins you, glad to help you get rid of the dirt.

Not that you mind – he seemed to enjoy himself and he voices it, in between fervent kisses, going as far as suggesting that you should go there more often.

Delighted, both of you leave now steamy bathroom – you take your phone, about to order a pizza and Lucifer takes his, to call Chloe and see if there’s any new lead. Just as he unlocks his cellphone, an indignant expression appears on his face and you come to his side, glancing curiously at the screen.

You start cackling almost immediately.

There’s a photo of the two of you – you’re sprawled on the blankets with Lucifer hovering over you, your digits in various weird angles. It’s captioned “didn’t know you were into public sex :P”

Next one is sent shortly after first – you’re laying on your stomach, your head resting on your folded arms. You’re eyes are closed, but Lucifer’s are wide open and fixed on you with adoration gleaming in them. This one has a caption saying “lovey-dovey Luci” with a heart-eyes emoji.

Lucifer growls and you decide it’s time to take the phone from him. You do so and he sits on your bed, shaking his head.

“I’ll kill that little demon,” he states matter-of-factly and you cackle.

“No, you won’t. You’ll say nothing, because I love those pics and am now sending them to myself. And I changed your homescreen. Maze got a nice shot of me in that suit.”

“Kudos for Maze, I suppose.”

“So, don’t be grumpy, my candy man,” you sit next to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and bringing him for a kiss. He pulls away seconds later, only to look at you, his pupils dilated, desire taking over his eyes and body.

“What am I going to do with you now, Y/N?”

You grin innocently, although your gaze tells him exactly what you want.

“I’m naked, Lucifer, you know what to do with me.”  

[holyfrijolesmm-blog]

The Temple Visit to Fung Ying Seen Koon

During Jesse’s holiday break, we opted to take a day trip. Jesse did some research and came across a day trip to the New Territories region of Hong Kong. According to Wikipedia, it has about 9,450 people per square mile! Compare this to Yuma’s 784 people per square mile and Phoenix’s 3,165 people per square mile. Yowza! This territory was leased and given back to China in 1997. We live in Shenzhen (Shen-Jen) and are able to see this part of Hong Kong across the bay. Jesse shared with me that this part of Hong Kong is not the traditional part we might see with the familiar high rises, etc. in the movies.

We slept in and had our coffee and breakfast. We don’t have a coffee maker, but recently we had purchased these coffee kits for individual cups which were made in Japan and sold at Walmart not far from here. It’s a little filter bag that has a paper hook on either side to connect to your coffee cup. You just pour your hot water and you have yourself a nice cup of joe! We do have a hot water pot in China. This thing is freakin’ fantastic! You just add water and pop the button down and in less than a few minutes you have steaming water and then the button pops up and turns off automatically! I don’t know why I don’t have one of these at home as I use it for oatmeal, coffee, tea, or just to enjoy hot water and honey. I will definitely be getting one of these when I go home.

We went on the metro to Futian which is where we would walk across through immigration. The metro is super clean and new and has a flat screen on the inside with a little locomotive to show you where you’re heading next. Additionally, it has a barrier wall to ensure no falls into the tracks area, which I can appreciate after watching that one scene in House of Cards. The entrances have footprints to show you where to stand. Those entering are on the sides going into the car and those exiting go straight out. The train was full so Jesse and I stood most of the journey (I have to lean against a bar or hold on as I don’t have the coordination yet to go hands free) for what seemed to be an hour ride with a few metro line changes. Two observations I’ve made, is one EVERYONE is on their cell phones. We as a human race very much have this is common. I see WeChat screens that are familiar on occasion. Second, it’s very quiet and courteous. There are signs encouraging passengers to allow more fragile populations to have seats first and I’ve seen several younger persons offering seats to more elderly people or those with babies. The metro bathrooms are only squatty potties so I had to roll up my pants so I wouldn’t have any accidents. You will see rolled up pants in one of the photos. Oy.

Once we got to our stop we had to complete a “departure” card, which is a little postcard-like item where you list your address, passport and visa number and you take that and your passport and stand in line. I am notorious for choosing the wrong lines (aka slow), and indeed I chose wrong. The immigration person was very thorough, asking me to tuck my hair back, since it is shorter than in my passport photo and asked me my name twice to be said audibly aloud. After about two minutes, he finally stamped me through, and I waited passed the gate for Jesse. Jesse seemed to be in the line for about five minutes, which in immigration wait time feels like 30 minutes! Jesse was finally given the go ahead and we made our way to the Hong Kong metro. Jesse said I needed an “octopus” card so I could ride the metro in Hong Kong, so we purchased one of those, got some Hong Kong dollars, and made our way to the Fung Ying Seen Koon Temple, after only two stops on the metro. We walked from the metro station underneath a road toward our destination. The metro walkway path to the exit was lined with bike after bike! There were so many signs that said no bikes and that violators would be subject to fines, but that was not a very good deterrent. Were these bikes owned by people working in Shenzhen and living in Hong Kong? It’s hard to say.

Once we walked another minute or so we reached the temple. The temple was built in 1929 and is associated with Daoism. I’ve read two different stories about how it was named. It was either after two divine mountains or two islands. The first thing I noticed was all the steps leading up to a beautiful structure. It was a sight to behold with bright architecture in reds and bold blues. I loved seeing the animals depicted in carvings in stone or in ceramic flower pots. Despite bamboo poles all around, it was still a beautiful building. I am not very familiar with Daoism, but I’ve read in one article that people believe “The Way” to heaven is by living in harmony with nature.

I will say that the nature in China is beautiful. I am a true Arizona Gal. I love my sunny weather and mild winters. The winter here has been mild and there are so many trees and flowers everywhere. I love the fact that I can look outside my living room window and open the patio doors to see a beautiful mountainside full of trees. The other cool thing here is that many of the plants will have a plastic plaque tied on the trees with a picture and a QR code for you to scan and learn more about them. I still think that’s so great!! I grew up with a mom who had quite the green thumb so I was familiar with many flower plants, but there are many trees I don’t know about as I’m around mesquites and palo verdes mostly.

There are also aspects of Daoism where you provide “offerings” to deceased loved ones. I saw items such as food (meat and fruit), flowers, incense sticks, and other goodies posted at various locations in front of statues and near people’s pictures. Indeed, imagine a wall with perfect 8x10 black and white photos with names and dates lined up one after the other. The times there were no pictures there was a small cubby hole. I don’t know if ashes are behind the pictures but I noticed offerings in some of the cubby holes to include bowls of soup, bottles of spirits, and even some gummy worms! I told Jesse that he could bring me offerings of chocolate and margaritas. Hehe. As we walked up the steps we found our way to more steps and were able to see walls on the diagonal with photos and there was a little house or building up high on the mountainside so we ventured up. Along the way I saw a car made out of tissue paper on its own proper foundation of wire! I didn’t know what it was and thought it must have been from a parade or some event, but Jesse said it was an offering and was getting prepped to be burned in one of the many furnaces we saw around the temple. And wouldn’t you know it, but I found an article online that had a paper Mercedes as an offering! It is believed that once the item is offered and burned it can present itself in the after world. Man, I was thinking to myself that I would want Jesse to offer me a paper mache Nissan 350 Z. Can you imagine? I miss that car! Haha!

As we walked up more steps, the steps were uneven and seemed to be carved out of the stone. We arrived at a structure which was reminiscent of a gazebo. I imagined people dancing under the roof. The area was lush with trees and so calm the higher we walked up despite being on a busy roadway. You’ll see a pic of Jesse and I with the temple as one background and high-rises on the flip side. We finally came upon a small cemetery. Sometimes I get a little weirded out around cemeteries, but I didn’t find myself feeling weird at all, but I didn’t want to disturb anyone just the same, so I said a quick “peace be with you” and walked back down. We took a different route down and once again saw all these amazing walls with those beautiful black and white photos. The dates indicated people who died both young and old. I loved that all the photos were black and white. I also enjoyed seeing the older faces and sometimes younger faces of those who had lived a long time. I saw facial features that reminded me of my own dad and aunt. It was really interesting. I took some pics but I didn’t want to get too close to the faces as I didn’t want to be disrespectful.

Jesse and I made our way back to another area and Jesse told me this pathway lead to a very special place. I thought we were going to visit another sacred area and he said it lead to the elevator! Haha! So I gladly accepted the relief from taking more steps.

I really enjoyed this visit - much more than I had anticipated. I loved seeing the families in groups visit loved ones and bringing offerings. I loved seeing the staff take care of the temple by washing its floors and touching up paint on frames that would probably house statues. It was a beautiful place to visit, calm and serene. I hope you enjoyed my trip memories! I appreciate writing this blog now too, so that I can read about my adventures in years to come. :)

#templememories #Fairlady #NewTerritories

[janeykath318]

Closure 6 (the fic I cried while writing)

Jamie stood at the door to her room, preparing to finally leave the hospital after a long five weeks. She felt almost normal again, though still physically far from her former self and was eager to get outside at last. Winona and Ally were helping get her meager belongings ready and make sure she had the required hypos in her bag. Bones had told her she had to take one every morning and evening until her system was stronger.

“All ready to go, honey?” Winona asked, zipping Jamie’s duffle up. “Spock’s parked by the door, so we can make a quick getaway.”

“Yep. I am so sick of this place.” She declared. “Ready to be home!” Well, she thought she was, anyway. Winona had warned her the memories would be overpowering at first and recommended she stay with a friend for a time, but Jamie decided to face it head on.

“Don’t overdo it now,” Bones warned her. “If you have ANY problems, comm me right away. I’ll be checking on you frequently to make sure you’re you’re obeying the restrictions.”

“Yes, Doctor McCoy” she sighed with an aggravated eye roll. He was really annoying with the protective doctor mode. It was perfectly understandable, but she wanted her best friend back and the sooner she was out of this place, the sooner that could happen.

She was smuggled out the door and into Spock’s car with little fuss. Uhura was there to keep reporters at bay and she soon joined them in the vehicle just before it made its getaway.

Staring out at the damaged city, she was grateful she even had a home to go back to. Thousands of people had been killed or displaced when their buildings had collapsed when the Vengeance crashed into them.

She’d talked to several nurses who’d lost loved ones in the attacks and found an empathy there as they tended to be more open with someone who understood what they were dealing with.

In her low moments, Jamie resented the fact that she COULD understand them.

She’d grown up watching her mother grieve a man she’d never known and she’d felt guilty that she’d never really known what she was missing.

Now, though, she knew exactly what and who she’d be missing for the rest of her life and it hurt like a razor blade in her chest.

“I should’ve punched Khan harder,” she muttered.

Spock, miraculously, did not say anything. Maybe he’d learned there were times to keep his logic to himself in the aftermath of the tragedy.

Nyota gave a her an understanding look.

“I wanted to do the same thing,” she admitted to Jamie. “I may understand why he did what he did, but he killed part of our family and hurt our captain.”

“I heard you got to shoot him with a phaser,” Jamie commented, feeling warmer at the loyalty of her space family. “Must have been awesome.”

“It was” the lieutenant confirmed. “I think Spock thought it was hot. You should have seen the wild, feral look he shot me right before he knocked Khan out. Whoa, boy!”

She pretended to fan herself, bringing a pleased smile to Jamie’s face.

“I was not in control of myself,” Spock explained. “But I admit it was very satisfying to see Nyota coming to my aid.”

“I bet it was,” Jamie smirked.

Spock pulled up and parked in front of the apartment building that housed many Starfleet officers including himself and Nyota and where Jamie and Chris called home for the last ten months. It was well over 100 stories and gleaned in the Sunshine. Jamie soaked in the warm rays for a most moment before fumbling for her key card.

“I’ve got it, honey,” Winona said, coming alongside her as she neared the lobby doors.

“What floor are you on?”

“Sixteen,” Jamie replied absently, looking around at the familiar leather furniture and steel and glass features of the lobby she’d walked through countless times.

The trip in the elevator was quiet as she thought about the many stolen kisses and goofy moments they’d shared on their way home after she’d returned from a mission.

Jamie walked purposely down the hall and swiped her card and placed her thumb on the pad that scanned her print and let them in.

It looked the same as when Jamie and Chris had left to go to the Daystrom meeting: neat and tidy. Chris couldn’t stand to leave the place messy, being a bit of a neat freak.

“Wow, nice place. Chris always had to have everything ship-shape,” commented Ally, looking around at their eclectic decor, which included both western art and Jamie’s collection of various spaceship models. Even the little kitchen area was clean, amazingly.

The bedroom though, was what cracked Jamie’s composure. The smell of his cologne, the wedding picture over the bed, her pink cami laying on the floor where it had been unceremoniously removed that last night……

She opened the closet and saw all his shirts hanging there and that was all it took to bring the tears up.

“Chris….” she gasped, eyes filling up. She felt her husband’s loss all over again, seeing all his things hanging there like he’d be back any minute.

Winona was by her side in an instant, arms pulling her in close as she cried. Tears were rolling down Ally’s cheeks as well and she sat down on the bed behind them.

“It feels so final now, Mom,” she sniffled between sobs. “Before, I kind of mentally separated myself from it. How am I going to do this?”

“Not alone, that’s for certain,” Winona whispered. “If you don’t want to stay elsewhere, one of us will stay with you.”

“Right,” Allison agreed firmly. “Crying alone is overrated. Let it all out, Jimbo.”

She did, even more than she ever had at the hospital until she was spent and exhausted. Somewhere along the line, She was helped into bed and her shoes removed and vaguely heard Bones’s voice over her as gentle hands soothed her hot forehead.

When she woke up again, it was dark out, and she was alone, except for quiet voices coming from the living area.

Pulling herself out of the nest of covers, she groggily stumbled to the bathroom to wash her face. Someone had been cleaning up, because most of Chris’s things were gathered in a box by the door.

It was a small space, so Jamie knew it wouldn’t make any sense to keep unused toiletries around. A few unfamiliar and decidedly female accessories had replaced them and she assumed they were her mother’s.

Having made herself somewhat presentable, she ambled into the kitchen to find food for her growling stomach.

Something smelled good and she saw Winona and Allison sitting at the table eating soup and looking through a photo album.

“Hey, what’s for dinner?” She rasped out. “No fair starting without me.”

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” Ally said, greeting her sister-in-Law cheerfully. “And no need to gripe. We only just started. Plenty of soup left for you. It’s broccoli cheese, from the deli down the way.”

Jamie’s stomach growled loudly again, causing them all to crack up laughing while she dished herself up a generous bowl of cheesy deliciousness. It was warm and creamy and pure comfort food, which was just what she needed.

“What were you guys looking at?” She said after she’d licked the bowl clean in a scandalously ill-mannered way.

“Just peeking at the pics from your surprise wedding. I still can’t believe you pulled that over on us.”

Allison was still a little irritated that she hadn’t figured out her brother’s plans until Jamie and Chris were holding each other’s hands in front of Admiral Barnett. It had been the surprise of the year, according to the papers and most of Starfleet buzzed with speculation as to how the well known couple had pulled it off.

Jamie shrugged. “You did say we were evenly matched evil geniuses.” A faint smirk threatened as she remembered their massive trickery.

********** They’d planned what was ostensibly a big birthday party for Chris, inviting fifty of their closest family and friends to the ranch for a celebratory cook out. Only Jamie’s mom, Chris’s dad, and Richard Barnett were aware of the true purpose of the event.

It was the only way they could think of, short of eloping, to get married without it getting turned into a PR show or media feeding frenzy.

“Appealing as eloping sounds, I can’t make Winona miss her only daughter’s wedding,” he’d said one night on one of their dates.

“Me neither,” Jamie had agreed fervently. “Besides, won’t it be great to see their faces when they realize what’s happening?”

“You know it,” he smirked.

The plan went off perfectly. Halfway through the afternoon while everyone was mingling and looking satisfied, Jamie and Chris slipped into the house a few minutes apart to change.

Her heart was pounding with excitement and nerves as she redid her makeup and slipped into the baby blue chiffon dress she’d picked out.

She hoped Bones, Spock, and Uhura would forgive her for keeping this a secret, but she thought they’d understand once she explained. Winona had been in earlier and laid out her accessories, including a dainty flower crown to bedeck Jamie’s flowing blonde locks and the pearl set Winona herself had worn for her own wedding.

Then she put on white flats and breathed in and out deeply before emerging onto the patio as casually as possible. She caught her fiancé’s gaze and he smiled brightly, excusing himself from the conversation he’d been in and heading her way.

Eyebrows were raised, but no one grasped what was happening until the Admirals and the parents joined her on the deck and Richard got their attention with a sharp whistle.

“Not nearly as good as yours!” She whispered to Chris, who was known for his ear-piercing volume. She’d first heard it the day he broke up the bar fight with an especially loud whistle that stopped Cupcake’s fist mid-punch.

(Heaven help the poor cadet or junior officer who happened to merit the Pike Train Blast, as it was called.)

Chris gave her the side eye, which made her clap her free hand to her mouth to keep from giggling.

“You may all be thinking "I came here for a barbecue, not a wedding,” Barnett was saying. “Well, you’re getting both. Jamie and Chris hope you’ll forgive them for doing it this way, but it seemed the best scenario to keep things private other than eloping. Things like this get tricky when two Federation heroes tie the knot. It’s been a long time coming, but I am thrilled to FINALLY ensure the end of Chris’s long bachelorhood.”

There were titters and sounds of agreement from the guests who knew the groom quite well.

“So if you two are ready, you can face each other now for the vows.”

Jamie put her hands in his and adoring ocean blue eyes locked with tender grey blue as the two of them made their solemn promises.

In minutes, they’d slid each other’s wedding bands on and were officially husband and wife. The whoops, whistles, and cheers that followed their first kiss were unforgettable and Jamie opened her eyes to smile at her new husband.

“You sly, sly, woman,” he said in her ear. “You know what it does to me when you wear that color.”

“That’s exactly right,” she responded smugly. “And YOU know I like you in gray. Brings out your eyes.” She ran her hand down the front of his light gray suit, extremely grateful he was able to be back on his feet.

He didn’t have time to respond since they were quickly swarmed by excited guests, eager to scold and squeal.

Nyota went easy on her, having understood the reason for secrecy.

“You rascal!” She said as she hugged her captain tightly. “I never suspected a thing until you came out all dressed up. That was brilliant scheming, you two, even if I am a little annoyed with you right now.”

Spock was next. “Congratulations, Admiral, Captain. Your ruse was well executed and admirably planned.”

Bones, on the other hand hung back until last, his face a study in various degrees of agitated emotion.

“I can’t believe you had the gall to do this and not tell me, sir.” He said tightly, forcing a smile as he shook hands with Chris. “Not that I’m not happy for you, but this is a pretty big thing to hide from your best friend.” He looked at the bride pointedly.

“I probably should have let you on in it, Bones,” Jamie admitted “and I hope you’ll forgive me, because I’m sorry if I hurt you. Literally, only three people in the world knew.”

“Wow. That’s tight-lipped, especially for you, Jamie,” her friend said, a teasing glint returning to his face.

“Yep, well. I’ve got GREAT incentive to keep my lips sealed,” Jamie said suggestively, winking outrageously at Chris.

“Dammit, Jamie!” He groaned and then turned to Chris again. “Good luck, Admiral. You’ll need it being married to this troublemaker.”

Chris merely smiled lovingly at Jamie.

“I’m partial to trouble, McCoy. It comes in such an irresistible package.”

Jamie batted her eyelashes at him and thought flirting with her husband was going to be quite enjoyable. *********

Looking back on the pictures with Winona and Ally, Jamie was crying again–but not the gut-wrenching sobs from earlier. These were cleansing bittersweet tears that came from her grief at what she’d lost and the thankfulness that she’d had such wonderful moments with the man who’d turned her whole life around with one sharp whistle.

“You can whistle really loud, you know that?”

[thegloober]

How an open MRI scan finally helped my back pain

Lorraine Woodcock’s claustrophobia meant that having a traditional MRI was impossible – but an upright open MRI scanner has changed that.  Anna Magee reports

Lorraine Woodcock was putting something in her car when her back suddenly went into spasm.

‘I was immobilised for three hours until I could get a doctor to the house,’ remembers Lorraine, who is a PA from Surrey, where she lives with her husband.

‘I was given an injection and three different types of painkillers so that I could eventually move.’

While Lorraine’s initial spasm subsided, she now has lower back pain that radiates down her right leg; pain she has had for 12 months.

Back pain costs the NHS £1 billion a year

As a lifelong exerciser, Lorraine is eager to have answers to her troubling pain, in order that she can have treatment and once again be able to be fully mobile, enjoying the fitness classes and regular walks that have kept her slim and well for years.

Lorraine Woodcock, 50, is claustrophobic which made traditional MRIs terrifying for her

Lorraine is not alone. An estimated 2.5 million people experience back pain which costs the NHS more than £1 billion a year.

Now, a new survey suggests that over half of people with back pain said it troubled them at least several times a month, with 56% describing it as either somewhat or very severe with one in seven suffering every day.

Moreover, the research on over 2000 people also found that, like Lorraine, a fifth have been forced to give up a favourite pastime such as sport or going to the gym.

Lorraine says that her specialist, Dr Courtney Kipps, a consultant in sports and exercise medicine was initially concerned about either a pinched or trapped nerve caused by a prolapsed disc and thought an MRI would help to make a confirmed diagnosis.

‘I have been referred for two MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) scans in the past but wasn’t able to get through either,’ says Lorraine.

‘During the first one, I had to be taken out of the scanner after a couple of minutes. And with the second, I just couldn’t go through it at all.

‘Both times it was the same – my heart begins to race, and I am overwhelmed with anxiety, and I feel like I absolutely have to get out of there.’

What happens during an MRI?

During a traditional MRI scan, you lie on a flat bed that’s moved into a circular scanner which is hollow.

Tradtional MRI scanners are hollow and cylindrical

Depending on the part of your body being scanned, you’ll be moved into the scanner either head first or feet first.  You may also lie face up or face down.

For example, a woman having her breast scanned would go in face down and head first.

However, for her lower back pain, Lorraine had to go into the traditional MRI scanner head first and facing upwards.

Being inside a traditional MRI scanner facing upwards can feel terrifying if you are claustrophobic

‘Once they had moved me into the cylindrical hollow of the scanner, the top of it felt like it was just centimetres from my face. I found that so terrifying, I felt closed in’.

At certain times during the scan, the scanner will make loud tapping noises.

‘Then when the noise started, I just couldn’t stand it. I felt so stupid not being able to handle a simple MRI scan, but there is just no way I could do it. It was impossible for me. Even trying to breathe through it didn’t help’.

Lorraine is one of almost eight million Brits that suffer with claustrophobia, which is a fear of enclosed spaces. For many of these, the closed in nature of traditional MRI scans make them unbearable.

It’s estimated that some 4 million MRI scans are performed annually across the UK.

What if I am claustrophobic?

According to the new research released this week, 17 per cent of those who suffer with back pain in the UK, also suffer with claustrophobia.

As a result, an estimated half a million MRI scans may be disrupted each year by claustrophobic patients; disrupted meaning re-scheduled, aborted during the process, delayed due to a request for sedation or cancelled altogether.

Now, Upright Open MRI scans – done while a patient is upright and looking out – are slowly changing that (pic below).

The Upright, Open MRI scanner from Medserena

For Lorraine Woodcock, who today is having it for the first time after, this represents her only chance at finally getting a reason for her chronic back pain, and subsequent treatment.

‘I did some research online and found realised these open MRIs were an option, so I spoke to my consultant about it,’ says Lorraine.

Lorraine sits in a chair from which she can see out, onto a screen that plays Rick Stein’s Mediterranean Escapes on a DVD.

Each scan takes about four minutes and there are three in total. Lorraine sits through all three, looking relaxed, smiling and happy throughout.

As Lorraine watches her cooking programme, the scanner goes to work. I have had two ttraditional MRI scans myself and I also noticed, this one is much quieter.

MRI utilises a large magnet, radio waves and a computer to form images of your body and the traditional one, contains the magnets in a cylindrical tube.

With an Upright Open MRI, you can have a scan sitting or standing, in an unenclosed space because the design of the system enables the patient to be positioned in different postures, allowing access from different angles.

Why is Upright Open MRI different?

‘With the Medserena Upright Open MRI scanner, patients have nothing in front of their face at all so there is no feeling of claustrophobia,’ says Professor Francis Smith, Medical Director at Medserena’s Upright MRI Centre in London (they also have a clinic in Manchester).

‘All coils (magnets that function as scanners), even the head coils for brain scans, are designed to allow patients to clearly see outside the system, he explains.

‘The procedure is conducted in a natural weight-bearing position, so the patient can stand up, sit down, flex their neck and be moved into different postures – thereby allowing the scan to be carried out in exactly the position that pain is experienced.

‘Indeed, this means some conditions may be underestimated or may not even be seen at all in a traditional tunnel MRI scanner.

‘For example, this type of MRI scan can offer a thorough, more conclusive diagnosis of conditions than a traditional MRI scan, ranging from whiplash, pelvic floor disorders and breast implant leakage to problems with the spine or neck’.

So what did Lorraine think? ‘It was much kinder than the traditional MRIs I have had in the past,’ she says. ‘I could have sat there all day – even the noise wasn’t as bad – the whole experience was really comfortable.

‘And I was quite enthralled by Rick Stein’s programme so I clearly wasn’t feeling any claustrophobic effects.’

Following her Upright Open MRI scan at the Medserena Centre in London her consultant Dr Kipps was able to diagnose Lorraine’s conditions, which turned out to be nothing a little physiotherapy couldn’t fix.

‘The scan showed that my two bottom discs were dehydrated compared to the other upper discs and as a result, the muscles surrounding my lower left back were working hard to protect it’, says Lorraine.

That resulted in the muscles tightening and not doing what they should do, which is to provide adequate support for Lorraine’s back, resulting in significant pain.

‘I am booked in for physio sessions to help rectify the tightening of the muscles which should in time release and I am also able to carry on with the gym as long as I listen to my body when it tells me to stop.

‘With physiotherapy to strengthen the tight muscles in Lorraine’s lower back, the pain should soon ease and she will be able to get back to the gym,’ says Dr Kipps.

‘I’m delighted to finally know that there isn’t a serious problem,’ says Lorraine.

‘Unfortunately, it was only after my previous experiences with conventional tube MRI’s that I started researching alternatives on the internet.  Sadly many people do not realise or have the knowledge that an Upright Open MRI scan is out there.’

Upright Open MRIs are also helpful for obese people who otherwise might not find traditional MRIs possible.

You may be suitable for a consultant referral for an Upright Open MRI on the NHS (talk to your doctor consultant). Privately, your health insurance company, for example BUPA should pay for this.  If you elect to self-pay, at Medserena the cost for an upright open MRI scan starts from around £595 for a joint scan.

For more information, log on to: back-pain-mri.com and fear-of-mri.com

Backcare Awareness Week runs from October 8-12th

Related Healthista content:

6 causes of lower back pain and how to fix them without painkillers

Back pain left this woman on morphine – then a new gadget changed everything

10 minute yoga sequence for back pain

back pain – 10 ways to help yourself using the power of your mind

7 surprising ways to get rid of back pain

Source: https://bloghyped.com/how-an-open-mri-scan-finally-helped-my-back-pain/