#graham was the second manager i saw content for i think (either it was him or chip) and hes a fav as well

[maraschinotopped]

tried my hand at drawing some of the other managers as well :)

bonus fucked up looking chip when i attempted to draw him for the first time without realizing how his face actually worked

[ashrillvenheim]

Awakening Past

Chapter 11 (Part 1 again too long :3)

pairing: Ashley Graham x Leon S Kennedy.

Content: (+18) romance, angst, gore, erotic/suggestive themes at some point, slow burn, violence, action, self-harm, death talk,

If you're a MINOR or feel uncomfortable with any of these genres or ships, please DON'T keep reading, thank you.

Archive of our own / WORK LIST / Awakening Past Masterlist

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He glanced once more at the cell phone screen and sighed in the seat looking out the airplane window.

"Is there something wrong, sir?" - a female voice made him turn his blue-gray eyes towards her.

 "No no," he paused to see that his companion didn't believe him and let out a chuckle. " I was just checking to see if Ashley had sent me any messages."

"You know she's fine, Agent Kennedy's with her."

William Graham sighed.

"I know that, and I know she can take care of herself. I think I'm the one who still doesn't know how to give her space." He saw the woman in front of him smile. " Well, what's so funny, Miss Hunnigan?"

Ingrid looked up over her glasses.

" I was just thinking how much you two look alike, you worry too much sometimes."

The president arched his eyebrows.

" Says the one who needs to have every detail under control?"

Hunnigan sighed.

"I've had to learn not to do it the hard way."

" I guess Leon is an improvisational agent from what I can gather."

Ingrid laughed, massaging the bridge of her nose.

" I've given up asking what his impromptu plans consist of. They scare me."

William laughed feeling more relaxed. He had asked Hunnigan to accompany him to Boston. They were to meet with the directors of the secret department in Boston to discuss some matters in process. He put a hand to his chin thoughtfully.

"Hey, Ingrid." he called out to the agent, making her look at him. " Do you have the contacts of the agents we were going to meet tomorrow?"

" Yes, why do you ask?"

Graham smiled at her.

" Did you bring any party clothes? "

**

Successive knocks echoed in the back room. Gasps filled the room and an alarm sounded. Leon stopped jumping and walked in circles catching his breath. He hung up the rope and grabbed hold of the horizontal bar. He had managed to set up a small room for his workouts. The alarm sounded again and he started with the pull-ups. Attentive to his breathing his muscles stretched and contracted like a perfect machine. Sweat trickled down his naked torso, decorated by scars in different places.

It turns out Ashley was right. She hadn't woken up since Friday when they'd returned from dinner, and it was already Sunday. He had brought the dogs to his apartment so he could tend to them and she could sleep peacefully. The only time he heard her was Saturday morning to go to the bathroom and since then she had been in bed. Occasionally he would stop by to see if she was okay. He had left the bedroom door ajar for him, so he just had to take a peek and leave.

He heard Mint and Pepper playing in the living room and when the alarm went off again he came out of the mini gym. He had already taken them out for a walk in the morning and now they were entertaining themselves with a ball he had found in Ashley's apartment. He smiled when Pepper wagged his tail at the sight of him and went over to ask for a few brief cuddles before continuing with his brother.

He went to the kitchen, but the laptop on his desk started beeping. He looked at the time and arched an eyebrow. It was early for Hunnigan to call him and she usually did it on his cell phone. He didn't think much of it either so he picked it up and turned toward the kitchen.

" I knew you couldn't live without me." he scoffed with his back to the screen sipping a glass of water.

" I have to admit, it's more fun to play pranks on you and Patrick."

Leon spat violently and turned back to the voice, which was not Ingrid's at all.

The president's smiling expression looked at him along with Hunnigan's and Kennedy disappeared from his sight for a second. He pulled out the chair and sat down as he finished putting on a T-shirt.

" Mr. Graham? " he looked at him puzzled.

The president laughed and settled back in his seat.

" Good morning, Agent Kennedy. " he smiled slyly. " Is this a bad time?"

Leon wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand and shook his hair.

" I'm not looking very presentable, sir."

" Says the one who does the reports with me half naked." Hunnigan snarled mockingly.

Leon glared at her, but William burst out laughing.

" Don't worry Leon, I've asked Hunnigan to contact you. We're arriving in Boston, but I wanted to ask you about Ashley since she hasn't called me nor on Friday nor yesterday."

" Oh she is" Mint's big head appeared on the screen popping out from between Leon's legs "Mint go away!"  the dog sniffed at the screen.

Graham and Hunnigan watched as Leon called Pepper to bring him the ball to distract the other.

" Go fetch it."  He tossed the toy down the hall and turned back to the screen with a sigh "sorry for the interruption."

" I see you've taken to Ashley's dogs."

Leon scratched the back of his neck.

" Yes I I didn't have another one. Regarding Ashley, she's home, I brought the dogs with me to let her rest. On Friday she told me she didn't know when she was going to wake up again, she's still in bed. - "He paused, looking at William. - Has this happened before, should I be worried?

Graham noticed the tinge of alertness in the agent's voice and was glad to know that Ashley was in good hands.

" Yes, relax. After exam weeks it was something she used to do, especially these last two years. " he paused. " I'm still sad to ask you to go and wake her up, there's something I want to tell you."

Leon looked confused for a moment, but then nodded and picked up the laptop.

He called the dogs who followed him obediently and went out into the hallway to open Ashley's apartment with his copies.

To him came a barely preceptive sigh. Graham watched the agent carefully, watching as he put the keys aside and set the laptop on the sofa table.

" I'll go get her. " He said in a soft tone to disappear from the camera.

Hunnigan glanced at the president watching his partner and for a second, just a moment, he caught a subtle, lopsided smile.

Leon gently opened Ashley's door and slipped quietly in.

He walked over to sit on the edge of the bed and touched her shoulder.

" Ashley, wake up princess. " He gently jiggled her arm. She grunted sinking her face into the pillow and inhaled deeply, taking in Leon's natural scent along with a salty tinge of sweat.

Her eyelashes parted and looked lazily at the agent.

"...  Leon...? " she mumbled hoarsely.

He smiled.

" Yes, it's me. Your father called me to tell us something."

She looked at him puzzled for a few seconds, as if still processing the meaning of each word. Finally she sighed and turned lazily in bed rubbing her eyes and yawning.

" Give me... a moment, I'll be right there. " she whispered. Leon nodded and left the room.

He walked back to the living room and sat down on the couch.

" She'll be right back. " He paused thoughtfully, remembering some events of Friday, and was curious to ask a question. " Sir, you haven't received any news about Hoffman, have you?"

The president arched an eyebrow

" No, should I? Has something happened?"

"Only that I almost witnessed a public execution without a guillotine" thought the agent but just smiled.

" Ashley had one last talk with Carla Hoffmann and wanted to know if she had gone to tell her father."

" Define "talk" Leon. " the man asked.

The agent wanted to defend Ashley and opened his mouth to retort, but a female voice was quicker.

 "It means civilized conversation, Dad."

Ashley appeared at the bottom of the screen pulling a cup from the shelves.

Leon turned on the couch to look at her and then at her father who responded.

" I think your civilized conversations and my civilized conversations differ a little."

" I just scared her a little. " She turned to Leon with a cup. "coffee?"

Leon nodded.

" Yes please."

" Leon, for God's sake, tell me she hasn't done something crazy."

The agent took the mug the blonde handed him and looked at the president with a smile as he blew on his drink.

" Not crazy, but it was definitely worth watching. " He took a calm sip and stepped aside as Ashley came over to sit down.

William watched them for a few seconds, the two of them sitting across from him having coffee on a Sunday morning. He looked at his daughter, calm and collected drinking from the mug he gave her. He saw the bracelet on her bicep and then noticed the silver bracelet on the wrist of the man next to her.

She smiled inwardly and subtly leaned forward.

" Whatever it was,  she deserved it. Both she and her father are piranhas, I just hope they don't bother you in the future."

The two young adults smiled into their cups and inadvertently responded in unison.

" She won't. " They both looked at each other in surprise and laughed hopelessly. Ashley smiled taking another sip and crossing her legs.

" I'm still getting to the idea that I'm never going to see her again. " She paused, staring at a distant point. -" I still can't believe I made it, Dad."

William looked at his daughter tenderly.

" You've worked so hard for these, sweetheart, I'm glad you got what you set out to do, even though you almost gave me a heart attack. " They both laughed and Graham cleared his throat, drawing the attention of both of them. " Well, since I have both of you, I want to tell you that you are invited."

Ashley blinked for a few seconds.

" Invited to what exactly?"

" To your graduation party tonight of course."

Leon and Ashley stood with the cup halfway down and it was Kennedy who was the first to come ashore.

" Excuse me sir, I thought you told me you were in Boston."

" Oh yes, we are in Boston, but I have an event room booked at a hotel in Springfield. We have a pilot to take us to the airport there."

Leon turned to Hunnigan.

" Did you know about this? " he asked. She sighed, holding her hand to her face.

" I've complained about your impromptu plans for as long as I've known you, but what Mr. Graham has done to me has no name."

William turned to the crowd, and scoffed.

" Oh come on, it was no big deal."

" Sir, with all due respect and forgive me Ashley, you are the one who almost gave me a heart attack, please don't make me call the Directives about some last minute changes of plans."

" It's a little fib."

" Dad, you're the president."

"And because I'm the president, I don't get to celebrate my daughter's graduation? Pardon me for saying so, but I think they can go to hell for a day. "

They looked at him puzzled for a few moments before bursting out laughing. Sometimes it really didn't seem like they were talking to the president of the United States. Maybe that's why it was so easy for Hunnigan, Patrick and Leon to talk to him.

" Besides, I want to see you in that dress you showed me. " he smiled at his daughter.

Ashley let out a surrendered chuckle.

“ I thought you didn't like my wardrobe decision. “ laughed the blonde mockingly.

“ The dress is beautiful, what I wasn't sure about was whether you'd be comfortable in it.”

She smiled taking another sip and throwing her head back for a few seconds.

“ I still have a lot of plans dad, tonight is just one of them.”

William looked at his daughter for a few long seconds and his heart was overcome with joy.

“ Your mother would be proud, honey. “

Ashley slowly turned around somewhat surprised, as her father didn't usually bring her mother up in conversations, let alone with other people in front of them.

Only Leon sensed it as he glanced sideways at her, the gentle tug on her neck for a second, before he saw her smile.

“ Yes, thank you dad. “ she paused to take a breath and add. “ And where's my not-so-surprise party going to be? “ she teased mockingly.”

William laughed.

“ I'll send you the address and time. “ he turned to look at the blue-eyed agent. “ I don't know if I've left you much time to pack for the occasion, Leon, with the rush of coming to Amherst.”

Leon smiled.

“ Don't worry sir, I've learned to be quite efficient at getting organized.”

“ That's just it, 'cause in the kitchen..." muttered Ashley to herself, earning a stomp that made her jump up and down on the couch. Graham looked at his daughter in surprise 

“ Are you okay Ashley?”

“ Eh...yeah! Mint bit my foot. “ she laughed with a naturalness that surprised the agent. The president didn't question the words in the least and Leon couldn't help but smile inwardly.

“ Mr. Graham, I just have one question. “ asked the blue-eyed man. “ How long had you been planning this?”

This time it was the man whose eyes widened like saucers and Hunnigan's chuckle at his side gave him away.

“ Well, sir, they got to you pretty quick.”

“ What makes you think that, Agent Kennedy?”

Leon smiled.

“ Nothing, just a hunch.”

Oh, Leon's hunches.  Ashley smiled as she saw Hunnigan roll her eyes. Exact plans weren't something that suited his vocabulary much, improvisation seemed to be his strong point. Sometimes he could get unlucky, though he usually came out on the right foot, no matter how terrible and far-fetched the idea was.

She heard her father laugh.

“ Only three months, though I had to make changes three days ago because of Hoffman's move.”

Ashley arched her eyebrows in surprise.

“ Did you know about it?”

“ I found out when I called Professor Narsson to invite her, she told me.”

“ And she didn't tell me anything..." the blonde sighed in exasperation and then added. “Then I guess all my friends are aware of it.”

“ I told Katherine, I guess Emily would let the rest know.”

Ashley laughed, understanding now why they showed up so suddenly to take her out partying that Saturday.

They had planned it all.

Without warning Mint made his presence known by climbing onto the couch and jumped on top of the two of them. Ashley exclaimed and the coffee flew out drenching her and Leon.

“ MINT! “ she scolded the dog, grabbing him by the snout and jumping up.

Leon growled as he felt the coffee burning.

“ See you later!”  said the president, laughing and hanging up.

Leon hurried to take off his shirt and look to see if his skin had burned, but he had been quick. He looked at Ashley on the other side with Mint sitting with his head down.

“ Stay.” She ordered him and left him grounded as she hurried over to Leon. - Are you all right? - She touched his skin to see if he had any burns but he smiled at her.

“ I'm cool and you?”

Ashley blinked for a second and looked at her shoulder with slightly pinker skin. 

“ I'm fine, I didn't get burned, but come on, let me put some ointment on it.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the bathroom.

“ I'm really okay.”

Ashley pulled a jar out of the cabinet and dipped her fingers into the buttery texture. She poured some on her shoulder and chest then picked up more. She rubbed her hands together spreading the ointment and looked at Leon.

“ Let me see.”

“ Do you want me to put it on myself?” he asked.

“ I'll do it in a minute, I've got the hang of it.”

Leon's heart almost stopped. He tensed suddenly as Ashley's hands lay on his bare chest and he remembered again.

The FUCKING cologne. He had to smell like a dog after training and not having showered. 

He felt a shiver as her palms ran over his serratus and lateral abdominals. His mouth spoke faster than his brain.

“ Hey Ash, I...I'll do it, I have to smell terri-”

“ No, it's okay.”

The softness of the response made him freeze.

“ I think you worry too much about my sense of smell Leon. When I said strong smells gave me a headache, I didn't mean simple sweat or body odor, but people bathed in perfume, or dirt accumulated from too much time...that sort of thing.”

She slid her fingers down to his hip and then pulled away to put what was left on his shoulder. Those blue eyes looked at her deeply.

“ I guess you've gotten used to it with Dana.” he smiled.

Ashley laughed, nodding and washing her hands of the remains.

“ As "Princess" as I am, Agent Kennedy, I don't mind getting my hands dirty.” She scoffed, looking at him in the mirror's reflection.

Leon scoffed softly.

“ Well, then you won't mind this.”

He went to grab her in his arms, intending to smear her with the cream, but she shrank back like lightning slipping between his legs. Leon blinked to look at the floor and then turned, perplexed.

“ Friday you caught me off guard for drinking, it's going to be hard for you to do it again.”

She walked over to him patting him on his broad back and putting the bottle away in the cabinet. They watched each other for a few seconds and Leon smiled playfully.

“ I'm going to have to be the one to get you drunk to catch you by surprise.”

“ Careful, maybe I'll get you drunk, Patrick told me you're very... deep when you're drunk.”

The agent rolled his eyes and shook her hair like a dog, drawing a laugh from the woman.

“ Hey, very convenient, this ointment of yours, it looks homemade.

Ashley toweled her hands dry.

“ When I started climbing I ended up with burned hands from the rock and cuts and abrasions from falling.”

Leon arched his eyebrows, following her down the hall to the kitchen.

“ And your father didn't tell you anything?”

“He didn't know until I started training with Dana.” She paused, turning on the toaster and turning back to the man. “He wasn't amused, but I told him I didn't plan to quit, not when climbing was the only thing that was making me get better.”

“ Was the adrenaline of being on the verge of falling helping you get better?” Leon's tone was skeptical, aware that seeking adrenaline rushes to fight trauma wasn't exactly the most recommended thing to do.

Ashley laughed, shaking her head.

“ No, it wasn't that. The knowledge that it's my mind, my body and a stone wall. To be aware that the only thing stopping me from being able to climb it or not is myself.” She looked at the dogs with a smile. “ When I rescued them from a cliff, when I had to use my hands to climb up that stone wall, when I dropped to the ground after I got there and even though I was crying in pain from my raw fingers, it felt good. For the first time I felt like I had accomplished something on my own, with my sweat and blood.”  Her gaze was lost in the memories, still with that sweet gesture on her lips. “For me it's a way to stay conscious, to know my body and my limitations, to improve them and maybe climb that wall I couldn't climb a week before. This is what has helped me get through the training with Dana.”

Leon was speechless listening to her. His blue eyes could only look at her as she spoke, as she showed him how vulnerable she felt, what forced her to get better...to get stronger. He did it for her and...for others. Her dogs were the first reason that made her understand that if she was lost, the people who depended on her were lost too.

Just like him.

The same as he felt when...he endured all that training...that hell in Spain...to get her out of there, because only he could do it.

The little chick that had become an eagle.

And he could only feel immense pride and joy for her.

He smiled hopelessly and picked up the coffee-stained shirt he had thrown on the floor. Ashley turned to Mint, who was still sitting, and sighed.

She gave him a reward for staying in place all that time.

“ All right, get up.” She nodded to him. Mint barked and wagged his tail.

Leon leaned against the counter and looked at the toast.

“ Are you going to make me breakfast, princess?”

Ashley smiled and pulled out the peanut butter.

“ I'll make it up to you for the coffee.”

He smiled and sat down in the dining room.

“ How long do I have to have this?” He pointed to the ointment on it.

Ashley smirked.

“ Are you uncomfortable being shirtless with me?”

He leaned back in the seat with a lopsided grin, clearly flashing his torso cheekily.

“ Lie to me and tell me you don't like your bodyguard walking around your house half-naked.”

The blonde rolled her eyes.

“ I really don't know how I put up with you.”

Leon grimaced, taking the toast Ashley was holding out to him.

“ I wonder too, I guess idiots are attracted to each other.”

She turned around with puzzled eyes and let out an indignant gasp followed by a warning smile.

“ We're going to have it, Kennedy.”

The agent hissed derisively and, his tone tinged with mockery and coquetry, replied cheekily.

“ How pretty you look when you're angry.”

Ashley pulled out the frying pan and Leon jumped out of the chair.

She was going to strangle him. Then she would revive him to choke him again.

*

She finished typing the last sentence of the report and sighed, dropping back into her seat. She shook her brunette hair and lifted her brown eyes from the screen.

Down the hall the door chime sounded and a tall woman stepped out of it carrying a towel.

“ Isn't it too early to get ready yet?”

The greenish-eyed woman turned to her escort.

“ I'm always late everywhere, I'd like to be on time for my student's graduation.”

Maria arched her eyebrows and put her laptop away.

“ Or be early to see Agent Kennedy.”

A chuckle escaped Narsson's lips.

“ Wow, you've decided to give me his number? “

Maria frowned, getting up from the couch.

“ Do you really think I'm going to do it?”

“ Are you jealous?”  Enma laughed, walking into the living room and watching her bodyguard roll her eyes.

“ As pretty as you are Narsson, no, I'm not interested in you and neither should you be interested in your student's bodyguard.”

The teacher grunted and went back into the room.

“ We're all adults here, besides, she's no longer my student when she graduated.”

“ Is that your excuse? Really? Is that what you're doing to annoy Ashley? Because if not, I don't get it.”

“ I don't want to bother her, but I will admit that I am intrigued by her relationship with Leon.”

Maria held back a surprised laugh.

“ You mean, you want to touch her buttons? Is that it?” she paused, crossing her arms. “Is that a game to you, Narsson? Why is Ashley's life so appealing to you?”

She heard a sigh.

“ I'm not interested in her life, it's just that...since she came back from those 5 days she was sick a year and a half ago, she looked different, as if she had seen or...experienced something disturbing. After that she asked to come with me to Amherst.”

Mary was impassive, but inside she knew what he was referring to.

The secret she had been keeping for over a year and a half.

Only she and a few other people knew about it.

But among them was not Narsson...nor Leon and for now, until Ashley told her, it had to stay that way.

The agent sighed heavily.

“ Enma, that doesn't mean you can just barge into her life like that. You're her teacher, even though she's graduated, you're an adult and you're supposed to be helping her develop, not getting in the way by wanting to sleep with her bodyguard.”

A closet was heard shutting and Enma's head peeked through the door.

“ Who said anything about sleeping with him?”

Maria was beginning to lose patience with Narsson's tactlessness.

“Look, I'm not your mother, I'm your escort, but I'm still going to give you some advice. Whether it's to sleep with Leon or get information out of him about Ashley, don't do it. She trusts you, when everyone around her is trying to mess with her, don't fuck up the friendship you have with her, you don't know the things she's been through, but if you trust her and love her, she might tell you at some point.” She paused, looking at her witheringly “but don't betray her.”

Narsson looked at her escort sharply, feeling the weight of each word fall on her like stones.

“ She is a person, not a specimen to be investigated.” concluded the agent, picking up her laptop and sitting back down on the couch, ending the discussion.

The professor stared at her for a few seconds and then closed the door to her room. She leaned against the wall and her greenish eyes remained fixed on an infinite point, thoughtful.

And she sighed.

Maybe...maybe she'd gone too far.

Ever since she'd met Ashley in Boston, she'd been intrigued by her. Something about her made her feel that those golden eyes hid secrets that very few people knew. 

And Narsson was known for her ambitious curiosity, which had led her to be a renowned Paleontologist at such a young age.

But when she saw Ashley...she wasn't curious, but...something more...personal.

Her curiosity sometimes brought out the worst in her and this time she had put her selfish desires for her student's bodyguard before Ashley's well-being.

And Maria had had to stop her. She had been blinded, but she could not deny that the sapphire-eyed man had an absurdly attractive aura.

It wasn't just his looks, but his voice, that deep gaze that hid something, that tilted smile that could have so many shades.

And when she met him she could see why Ashley radiated such a similar feeling. 

It wasn't the same, but there were aspects they shared in surprising ways.

And the funny thing was that they didn't even seem to realize it themselves when they were together. 

**

The dogs scampered around the park, playing with some of the children on the swings. Ashley stuck her hands in the pockets of her shorts and looked up at the treetops.

Her thoughts were forming traffic in her mind. She had been so focused on final exams that she had forgotten about the party she had planned to have when it was over.

And Leon's arrival had only accentuated it. She let out a long sigh, seeing the moment to tell him looming over her, but still having no fucking idea how to approach him. 

“ Is something wrong? - a soft voice sounded next to her, making her turn around.” You seem to be deep in thought.

And again she delayed the inevitable.

“ I was thinking about the dress for the party. -she sighed.” And that Casey is going to make me wear something with heels.”

A chuckle escaped the agent's lips.

“ You just sounded like a rich girl worried that her purse wouldn't match her earrings.”

Ashley rolled her eyes.

“ Forgive me for prioritizing my chances of running efficiently.”

“ You can always wear a suit like me. - he scoffed.

“ I thought about it.”  her amber eyes looked at the ground, dodging, and her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. “But... I just... I really liked that dress..." she murmured, wanting the ground to swallow her up.

Leon looked at her for a few seconds holding back a laugh, but without much success.

Ashley grunted.

“ Yeah yeah, laugh at the posh girl.”

Leon apologized catching his breath.

“ Sorry, sorry, you surprised me, but come on, you're telling that to the guy who bought a motorcycle last month when I already have a car.”

Ashley seemed calmer, but Leon lashed out again.

“ But that doesn't take away from the fact that you sounded like a posh girl.”

She rapped her knuckles on his shoulder.

“ I'm going to make Mint eat your jackets.”

The agent's lopsided smile darkened menacingly.

“ Be careful what you threaten me with, princess.”

Ashley approached defiantly.

“ Are you going to throw me down a waste chute again?”

“ I have other ways that could make you scream for mercy.”

A tingle ran down Ashley's back, but she didn't back down.

“ Sounds interesting, you could teach me.”

The dangerous purr in her tone made Leon hold back an uneasy sigh. That same impulse he had in the car began to peek out, smiling from a corner in his body...dangerous.

A ball hit Leon's leg, causing him to turn toward the toy. He saw the kids calling out to him in the distance in the park and Leon picked up the ball to kick it at them with a sharp kick.

“ I guess kicking heads did you some good.” Ashley scoffed, watching him come back. He scoffed, putting his hands down his jeans. 

“ I didn't think you'd be so nervous. “ Leon looked at her calmly. She turned around, surprised by his words.

“ Why do you say that?”

“ Because you're more of a tease and a joker when you are.”

Ashley looked at him puzzled.

“ Do I do that?”

“ You're not the only one who's learned things this time we've spent together.”

They both laughed softly, turning at the end of the road and Ashley's cell phone suddenly rang. The blonde looked at the number and saw it was Casey.

She picked up.

“ I have some ten-”

“ No.”

“ Then the stille-”

“ No way.”

“ Seven-centimeter ones?”

“ To sit still.”

They both fell silent and Leon listened to the situation with amusement. He heard Casey grunt.

“ The stilettos would look beautiful on you.”

“ I'll wear those when I want to stab someone.”

Leon smiled at the image his mind had created and let Casey argue in vain with Ashley.

“ Fuck, Ashi.”  mumbled her friend watching her run out of options.

“ Look Casey, I'll let you pick out heels for me if they're functional, something that I would wear, not YOU, okay?

The line went silent for a few seconds.

“ Okay, Ems told us there's a changing room at the hotel if we want to use it.”

“ I'll wear the dress there.” She paused with one last warning. “Don't even think of bringing the stilletto and saying you got them mixed up, I'll go barefoot if you do."

“ Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I'll get you to wear them someday.” laughed her friend, making Ashley sigh in exasperation.

“ See you tonight.” she finally laughed, saying goodbye.

Ashley put the cell phone away with an exhale and a snicker caught her attention. She glanced at Leon, who was walking with a smile on his lips.

“ What's so funny?”

The agent slid his azure orbs over her like a caress.

“ I wouldn't have guessed you despised heels so much.”

“ I've never been enthusiastic about them and after Spain I appreciated flat shoes even more.”

“ Hmm…” Leon murmured at his protégé's words, causing her to arch an eyebrow.

He was thinking about something, in that thick head of his there were things and he wanted to know what it was that was making him have that amused smile on his lips. Ashley glanced at him suspiciously.

“ Leon, what are you thinking?”

A sly chuckle came from him.

“ Nothing special.”  his smile widened and he looked at her playfully. “Just how you'd look in high heels.”

The woman's amber eyes widened like saucers and her mouth parted in puzzlement.

“ I beg your pardon?” her cheeks reddened hopelessly.

 Leon bit his cheek inwardly at the sight of those startled doe eyes.

“ I have to admit, I share Casey's curiosity to see what you'd look like in them.” Already flashing through his mind was the image of Ashley's figure wearing Friday's lingerie blouse and jeans, with high heels with a bit of a platform, black as ebony.

At how he would have to subtly raise his eyes to look at her.....

“ I can't believe it” the dramatic indignation in Graham's voice snapped him out of his thoughts..... “ I'm going to ask Hunnigan to change you, I want Patrick or Maria, anyone but you.”

Leon stopped dead in his tracks, holding his hand to his chest as if he'd been stabbed and dropping to his knees. Ashley went red in the face.

“ Please don't, I'll die without you princess!” he begged theatrically.

Ashley covered her face in shame.

“ Leon, please get up.”

But he kept up his act.

“I thought fate had brought us together again. Oh, how it pains me to hear you hate me! My heart bleeds at your hurtful words!”

She wanted to die. She looked at him burning with embarrassment. She grabbed his arm to make him get up and put an end to the circus he was putting on, but Leon grabbed her by the wrists, still kneeling in front of her.

“ I thought our love was strong, that it could get through any obstacle.”

“ I'm going to punch you, Kennedy.”  she warned, overcoming her tolerance for embarrassment.

“ Tell me that you love me, that you still WANT me to stay by your side, that you won't abandon me.”

If it was possible for Ashley's face to redden any more it did, causing Leon to smile victoriously. He grabbed her tightly when she tried to pull away from him and glared at him.

“ I swear Leon.”  she hissed in embarrassment at the eyes staring at them. - If you don't get up, Hunnigan is going to have to search my dogs' stomachs for your body. I WANT you to get up.

Leon widened his smirk, reaching over and pulling her close.

“ What little appreciation for the man who saved your life don't you think?”

Ashley growled rolling her eyes.

“ I'm regretting that you didn't shoot me by accident.”

Leon snorted a snicker and decided he had embarrassed her enough, so he got up.

Ashley wriggled away from him, but a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“ How sensitive you are.” Leon muttered, earning a punch in the ribs that made him double over and cough. He watched Ashley walk briskly away from him and let out a laugh.

It had been a long time since he'd made an idiot out of himself like that, Patrick may have stuck his dramatics on him, but he was a real jerk.

But he loved being a jerk with her.

Some people crocheted, others read...for him making her rage and embarrassing her to death was his favorite pastime.

His new hobby.

[ksyescribe]

Mellow

Prompt: Person A and Person B roast a marshmallow over a campfire. || “Why shouldn't they help themselves, after the way they'd been treated?”

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x Reader

Content: Fluff, Just two pals having fun

A/N: Trying to get the brain juices flowing during all this time in quarantine so I decided to use a prompt generator. And well now here we are. I’m having fun with these prompt generators so we’ll see what happens :D

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《 》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

“Marshmallows?” Todoroki tilted his head, eyebrows raised as he glanced at you curiously. Triumphantly, you hoist a bag of marshmallows up for him to see, a bright smile splayed across your face. 

“Yes! But not only that,” you pause as you bend down to rummage through your bag. It’s filled with all the essentials needed for your camping trip plus some extras for funsies. After a few moments of rummaging, your eyes light up as you find what you’ve been looking for. Swiftly, you pulled out two items from the bag, presenting them to Todoroki with a wide smile on your face. “I also brought graham crackers and chocolate!”

Todoroki’s eyebrows pulled inward, an inquisitive look present on his face. Why would you bring so many snacks for the two of you to share? Surely you’re aware that this was too much for the both of you. Especially seeing as how Todoroki wasn’t much of a fan of sweets. “Isn’t that a bit much for the two of us to share? I’d think the marshmallows would be enough for the two of us to share.”

His genuine concern causes you to burst into loud hearty laughter. He watched curiously as you threw your head back, gripping the bags tightly so they wouldn’t fall. He’s thoroughly confused; he hadn’t said anything particularly funny had he? No, he’d just made a factually correct statement. Nevertheless, a small amused smile made its way onto his lips. He had always found your laughter endearing. Your laughter died down after a moment, but the look of amusement was still present in your face as you spoke, “We’re not gonna eat them separately, Todo. We’re making smores!”

“Smores?” The word, although familiar, feels foreign as he spoke. To his recollection, he’d never heard of such a thing before. And looking at the three ingredients you held, he couldn’t fathom how they could ever go together. He doesn’t have to wait long for an explanation because you’re taking a seat next to him and speaking once again.

“Yeah! Smores!” The enthusiasm in your voice is near infectious as you continue to speak. “I haven’t made them before but, I’ve read a bunch of books where they talked about them. And well, I saw some videos, and they seem pretty easy to make!” You fuss about with the bag of marshmallows, attempting to open the bag as neatly as possible. Ultimately, the bag rips easily, which sends a few marshmallows flying. You blink slowly, a look of befuddlement spreading across your face. At this display, Todoroki lets out an airy chuckle, causing you to let out some small chuckles as well.

“I, uh,” you start off hesitantly, a small smile playing on your lips, “ also remembered how you said you didn’t get to do a lot of this stuff when you were a kid.” You pause for a moment before clarifying, “The fun stuff that is.” You speak softly, slow and cautious as if trying not to cause him discomfort. It feels intimate when you speak like this. As if your words are only for him to hear. “And well, since I didn’t have the best childhood either, I thought it’d be cool to do this together.” You end with a hopeful lilt to your voice, fiddling with the open bag as you avoid his gaze. 

He can feel a warmth blooming within his body as he observes you. Another unknown emotion stirs awake, deep within his chest. His breathing feels a little constricted now. No one’s ever thought about doing something like this for him. Usually, when he spoke about his past, where he mentioned the strained relationship he has with his father, he would just garner quite a bit of pity. No one had ever thought of helping him experience what he’d lost out on when he was younger.

No one but you, of course. The only other person who had the slightest understanding of how he felt would be the one to think up this idea. Sure, the days of your childhoods were long gone. The trauma that came with it was in the process of healing, nearing its completion. So why shouldn’t you help yourselves? After the way, you’d been treated? You wouldn’t be enjoying it any less if anything you’d be enjoying it more. It’d be an intimate celebration of how far you’d both made it since then.

“Alright,” he’s giving you a shy smile now, “show me how it’s done then.” At the sound of his words, he sees you come back to life. The bashfulness you held before completely melting off your body as you begin to get things prepared ready for your little activity. The air feels different now. He’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but it feels more lively, full of love. It’s comfortable and cozy as if there were a protective bubble protecting the two of you next to this fire from the rest of the world.

Together, you skewer your marshmallows and place them over the fire. The crackling from the fire fills the space between you, comfortable silence envelopes the area. Flames dance within their contained area, casting moving shadows through the area. Todoroki breathes deeply, attempting to memorize the smoky smell of the fire that mixed with the sweet smell of sugar caramelizing. 

“Thank you for doing this with me.” Softly, the words slip out of his mouth easily. They always seem to do that when he speaks with you. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the side of your mouth lift up, creating a lopsided grin. 

“Really. No one’s ever done something like this for me before.” He lets the words float there for a moment, hoping you can understand the underlying message he’s trying to convey before he speaks again.

“Perhaps, we could recreate more missing childhood memories together?”

For a moment, he’s worried he’s overstepped. You inhale sharply, stilling for a second as he waits for you to respond. Slowly, you turn to him; your face lit up. If he thought he’d seen you at your absolute happiest, he’d been wrong before. This was your absolute happiest. A smile, brighter and wider than any he’s seen you make, is adorning your face. The curves of your cheeks are amplified as well as the crinkling around your eyes. He’s positive you’ve never smiled at anyone else like this before. His body feels warmer now, not because of the fire.

“Of course! That sounds like it’d be super fun!” You tilt your head to the side, eyes closed, smile just as wide. He’s already making it his mission to try and get this reaction out of you again. 

“Oh! It’s time to pull them out!” Gleefully you pull the roasted cloud of sugar towards you. Inspecting the rich brown textured surface. “Okay, so here’s a trick I saw some people do.” You snap off a piece of the chocolate bar and slide it into the marshmallow through one of the cracked edges. 

“Just like this, so that the chocolate can melt!” You guide Todoroki through the process of building the smore. It’s not a complex concept, but he likes listening to your voice, and so he lets himself be guided. Once assembled, you look at him joyfully, practically radiating with excitement. 

“Okay, ready?”  

He gives you a small nod.

“Three, Two, One!” 

There’s a burst of distinct sugary flavors as he takes his first bite. All three of the pieces that made up the snack complement each other in a beautiful medley of flavors. It’s good. He probably would have loved this as a child. He watches you with interest, as you hum in satisfaction. Thoroughly enjoying the sugary delight. You open your eyes, the light of the fire highlighting the joy within them. 

“It’s delicious, isn’t it?” 

Words fail him now. He nods his head, unable to speak. He takes another bite.

It’s sweet. But spending time with you is sweeter.

Bonus: 

“Hey, do you think I can roast a marshmallow in my hand?”

The question throws you so off guard that you find yourself laughing at what Todoroki proposed. He’s eerily quiet, so you turn to look at him as giggles continue to escape you. He’s holding a plush marshmallow in his left hand, blinking owlishly at the treat.

The sight sends you into another stream of laughter. “You’re, you’re not serious ri-” You manage to squeeze part of your sentence between breaths before stopping for two reasons.

Todoroki’s left hand just burst into flames.

Reason #1 has sent you into another fit of laughter. 

After a few seconds, the flames cease. Curiously you lean closer to inspect the object in his hand, barely suppressing your laughter once more.

He blinks slowly as he stares at his hand.

“Oh my, oh my god.” You wheeze out, holding onto your sides. “You burnt it!”

[tagsecretsanta]

From @Fallenfurther

to @vegetacide

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

A night to remember

The crackle of snapping wood filled the air as John threw yet another chunk of driftwood onto the fire. Embers flew up towards the darkening sky, swirling on the gentle sea breeze. The smell of the sea competed with the smoke when Alan inhaled, but that was okay with him. His eyes were on his fingers as he scrapped the toasted marshmallow on his prong onto a graham cracker. A smile crossed his lips as he turned it upside down and onto the chocolate that he’d placed on top a second cracker. Squashing the sandwich between the fingers he took a bite. The sweet crunchy treat hit the spot and he devoured it hungrily, sucking off the bits of marshmallow that had stuck to his fingers, before reaching out for more supplies. 

“I’d be careful getting that close to Gordon, Penelope. You might find you’ll never get a s’more!” Virgil joked, as he toasted two marshmallows at once. 

Laughter rippled around the circle, as Lady Penelope settled down in the sand beside Gordon and allowed him to drape the offered blanket over her shoulder. She pulled it in closer, as Gordon wrapped the other half around himself. The two lovebirds, as Grandma called them, smiled contently at each other as Penelope rested her head on Gordon’s shoulder. Winters on Tracy Island were rarely cold, but they often involved late nights around a campfire when there was enforced downtime. It was a family affair, everyone coming down to the beach, to spend the evening in each other’s company. Alan had memories of it happening before Dad disappeared, though he’d only been present for some of them. They had stopped for over a year after Dad had disappeared, but as they grieved and learnt to continue without him, they started to occur again. It had been a way of bonding, remembering, and forgetting the troubles of the world. This was the first enforced downtime since Dad’s rescue that they were able do one, and his brothers were eager to take Dad down to the beach. So here they were, nine years since the last one, all older, wise and yet they were still the same family. Even though it still felt weird to Alan, having Dad around, it was okay. Everyone he cared for, except Brains who rarely joined them on the beach, was here. 

“Or he’ll let one rip like he did to me last time!” Scott chuckled before raising his beer to his lips. 

“Hey! That was so not last time, it was at least a year before that, and you’d just stolen the last marshmallow.”

Alan giggled at the memory. Scott had indeed taken the last marshmallow, and Gordon had sidled over and given Scott a side hug, in an attempt to relieve their brother of his freshly made s’more. Instead, Scott had pulled Gordon into a big tight hug and eaten the treat over Gordon’s shoulder, getting crumbs down the Squid’s shirt. Gordon had wriggled intensely, trying to free himself from their brother, which only prompted Scott to hold on longer, even after the s’more had been devoured. An angry and frustrated Squid had subsequently let off the loudest fart, not only prompting Scott to release him but also for evacuation of the log Scott, Kayo and John had all been perched on. Alan had cried laughing, and Kayo had stared daggers after Gordon’s retreating, chuckling figure. 

“Don’t remind me of the obnoxious smell. To this day, you still haven’t told me what you’d eaten that day.” John stated, in the way only he could, while entirely fixated on the careful construction of his own sweet treat.

“My bet is still on a rotten celery crunch bar.” Virgil piped in, having just passed one of his two s’mores to Grandma as he grabbed a beer from the cooler behind her. 

“Remind me never to go in Thunderbird Four with you again. The filth alone makes the craft smell without you adding to it.”

Kayo chipped in; her tone entirely serious as a small shiver rocked her body. She hadn’t been there for that campfire as she had been off the island trying to track down her Uncle. There had been so many small leads that led to dead ends, but they had all needed investigating, just in case. Alan glanced in her direction where she was sitting cross-legged to the right of Virgil, her beer half-buried but upright in the sand. Scott and Virgil were leaning against a small bench they had carried down and turned on its side. They both appeared relaxed, leaning back with a beer in one hand and marshmallow topped prong in the other. 

“I should hope Gordon knows how to treat his machine with respect by now. It is a rescue vehicle and should be in pristine condition, ready for a callout. Although, I could ask Brains to add extra air filters to the inventory if such foul smells are a common thing.”

The deep voice of his father still surprised Alan and always seemed to demand the attention of the room. It was something Alan was still getting used to hearing. This would be their first Christmas together as a complete family. His brothers would always say Mum was missing, and they were right, but Alan didn’t remember a Christmas with her. It had always been the seven of them for him; Grandma, Dad, his brothers, and him. His Dad was currently sitting on a blanket next to Grandma, who had one hand on his arm, almost as a way of keeping him there, and her s’more in the other. She had changed, in a good way, since Dad had come home. She pestered them less and chased after his father more. Dad always got first pick of her cooking creations, her excuse being he needed to make up for lost time, and Alan was not going to complain about it. The fewer of Grandma’s cookies placed under his nose the better.  

“There is no smell in Thunderbird Four and she is perfectly clean and ready for duty.” Gordon proclaimed. 

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I do a quick inspection first thing in the morning?” Dad countered. 

The sheepish look that crossed Gordon’s face briefly told the real story, though it was Penelope that tried to save his brother from the mess he’d gotten himself in. 

“That will not be necessary, Jeff. I was in Thunderbird Four earlier and gave it the once over. I can confirm that it meets all the required standards and is ready for immediate deployment.” 

“Sure you did.” Scott grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Heat rose in Alan’s cheeks as Penelope shot Scott a glance that radiated pure distaste for his vulgar mind. She managed to glare in the most ladylike way, but Scott just laughed. Alan just tried to get the thought out his mind. He did not want to know what his brother and Penelope did in their spare time; he was simply happy that they were happy. 

“I do remember you getting yourself into awkward situations as a teenager.” 

The sly grin on the space monitor’s face had Scott glaring a challenge at him. Scott had never been that open about his teenage years to Alan, though he had heard a few stories that had been told around the campfire. He’d also heard a few second hand from Gordon who remembered that time better or had eavesdropped on their older brothers’ conversations. 

“Don’t even go there.”

“I was only thinking of the time you got stuck in that tree trying to retrieve the model plane Alan had crashed into it. That woman really didn’t appreciate you hanging from the branches.”

John’s voice was dripping innocence as he lent back on his elbow. Scott shook his head. 

“I was worried when she called her husband, and so glad that he saw the funny side.”

“I remember that. The poor woman was distraught, despite her husband’s reassurances. She wanted to get the police involved. Thankfully he said was a waste of time because you were still technically a minor, it really was just a misunderstanding, and you were only in the tree for the plane. I had you apologise at the time as well as write an apology letter that went with the hamper I sent over.”

Scott groaned as Dad relayed the facts, his head falling into his hand. 

“How could I be so stupid?”

Scott had indeed gone up the tree to fetch the remote-control plane, which Alan had accidently got stuck in its branches. Alan had told Scott the wind had taken it, but he’d actually been trying to show off to Gordon by doing some tricks. Only he messed them up and sent the plane crashing into the top of a tree. He’d tried to climb the tree himself to get it down, but it was impossible as Gordon refused to help him. In fact, Gordon had laughed and chuckled the entire time, especially when Alan had to go up to Scott and his girlfriend and disturb their make-out session. Scott hadn’t been happy but had reluctantly gone up the tree to retrieve the plane. Unfortunately, a branch had snapped while Scott was up there, and he’d lost his footing. He’d ending up hanging upside right in the line of sight of the woman’s bedroom window. Scott’s relationship hadn’t lasted long after that either. His girlfriend had posted a running commentary of Scott’s ‘heroics’ on social media, including photos of the husband rescuing him, and she refused to take them down until a week later when Dad got involved. Scott had been upset by the incident and apparently some of his friends hadn’t been kind to him about it either. Alan had felt terribly guilty, knowing it was all his fault, but when he admitted it to Scott he was rewarded with a hug. Scott told him not to worry and was glad that he was no longer with such a horrible girl. They had spent the rest of that evening playing videogames together, his big brother trying to show of his skills and failing spectacularly.

“At least she got to eat her hamper. I remember quite distinctly receiving a lovely chocolate hamper that I never got to enjoy.”

Grandma’s voice was full of jest as everyone turned towards Gordon, who just shrugged awkwardly beneath the blanket.  

“I was young, hungry and it was chocolate. What was I meant to do?”

“Gordon Tracy! How could you be so mean to your Grandmother? I hope you replaced it.”

Alan sniggered along with his brothers as Penelope berated Gordon for his actions. There was a grin on Parker’s face, who was observing the couple intently over the rim of his beer. As her ever faithful companion, he always had Lady Penelope’s back. A little bark came from Sherbet, who had woken up from the nap he’d been having on Parker’s discarded jumper. There had been a grumble from the man about the fact that he’d only put it down for a second before the dog had claimed it. Alan hadn’t quite caught all the words, but it had sounded along the lines of ‘mangy mutt’. Penelope opened the blanket to the pug and allowed him to wriggle in and curl up on Gordon’s lap. Gordon gave Sherbet a scratch behind the ears as the dog settled down with a yawn. 

“Was that not the Christmas that Virgil got stranded at his friend’s ranch by the massive snowstorm?”

John shifted as he spoke, leaning back to snatch a chocolate bar and beer from the open cool box. The beer he passed to the man in question, who accepted it grateful. It was his father that answered John. 

“I believe it was. Mum and I went out on the tractor, as we had an old snowplough attachment, to some poor folk who’d gotten caught just a few farms over, so we ended up heading over and picking Virgil up too. It did mean we were out longer than expected.”

“Giving Gordon time to eat all the chocolate while under my watch! I caught him trying to make the hot chocolate, but I didn’t realise it was Grandma’s when I took over to stop him making any more mess on the hob. I got grounded because of him.”

Scott recounted with a sign. There was a clatter of glass as Scott dumped his and Virgil’s empties in the allocated recycling bag, before continuing. 

“Thankfully, that little hill was technically on our property, so I could still go sledging with everyone the next day. I remember the snow being so deep we had to carry Alan and we made a family of snowmen near the house.”

“I remember that,” Virgil interjected, “You and I raced the sledges while John judged who won. I had Gordon with me, and you shared yours with Alan.”

“And they both fought us for control. How many times did we almost hit each other?”

“Too many. I had to roll us off more than once, especially when Gordon had us going straight towards that big tree. Though I think Alan took it a step further when he tried to take you both off by steering you into the fence.”

His eldest two brothers were chuckling at the shared memory. Alan had a few memories of snowy winters in Kansas but had no idea if he remembered that one. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t tell if it was that day or another similar sledging day. They all seemed to merge into one in his head. He could only separate a few out as specific years thanks so unique events. Like Gordon’s bright yellow and orange wool hat that he got for Christmas only to lose it two months later, and the last winter before moving to the island as half the house was packed away and they had all enjoyed the snow for the last time together. There had been one Thanksgiving and Christmas on the island with Dad before the accident, so this would be the second. It felt weird to Alan. In a way, moving to the island was the start of his life without Dad. He had been at boarding school for most of the time and was only home-schooled after they had lost Dad.  

“Don’t forget the time Gordon aimed for me.”

There was a smile on John’s face and a glint in his eye that let Alan know there were no hard feelings, and no one had been hurt.

“Though I think my favourite was when Alan dragged Dad onto the sledge and demanded he be taken to space.”

Alan’s ears pricked up at his name as a deep chuckle rumbled from his father. 

“There was barely enough room for Alan once I’d gotten on that sledge, but we made it work. You managed to slip between my knees and yelled ‘To the moon!’ as we were pushed off. You were so disappointed when the ‘rocket sled’ got to the bottom and hadn’t launched into space.”

There were smiles on everyone’s faces while Alan’s cheeks reddened. His Dad’s blue eyes were on him, and Alan swore there were tears in them. He didn’t remember that day, but he did remember looking up to his astronaut father. Alan had loved the time Dad had made for him, when they would sit together, and Dad would recount his stories of space. He also remembered his Dad getting busier, and that time becoming less, as Dad started to set up International Rescue. John had filled in, telling Alan of the stars, while Scott, when on leave from the Air Force, told him of the thrill of flying in planes and going superfast. However, for Alan, there was nothing faster or cooler than a rocket. 

“Remember Alan’s first Christmas when we were decorating the tree with Mum?”

Scott asked the group, though his eyes were on Virgil, obviously expecting him to have the clearest memory. 

“Yeah. Mum was trying to keep Gordon from running around and breaking everything while we were emptying the boxes of decorations. She’d left Alan on the mat with some toys thinking he’d be happy and safe there.”

“He’d been oddly quiet at the time when you think back.” Scott slipped in, “We wanted to get the lights on the tree, only to find Alan had managed to roll over to them and was lying on his belly happily chewing on them.”

“Mum had rushed over, and Alan had screamed his lungs out when she’d managed to pry the light from his mouth.”

“He had refused to let go of them as well, to the point that we almost didn’t have lights on the Christmas tree. Mum managed to coax the wire through his little fingers, though we all spent the next five minutes trying to find a suitable substitute to stop Alan from crying. John then had to check over the lights, but Alan was too young to do any real damage, but Gordon managed to scatter baubles everywhere in the meantime.”

Alan watched his brothers gleefully relay the story between them. There was a hollow feeling in his chest at the mention of Mum and him. He’d been told how much she’d loved and adored him, but this was the first time this story had ever been told. Not that there were many to tell. His brothers had been young so didn’t always remember things and Dad; well, he’d always struggled to tell stories about Mum. It’d gotten better recently, but there still weren’t many of him and her. A hand fell on Alan’s shoulder and he turned, half expecting Scott to be there. He had to blink when it was his father, who lowered himself onto the sand beside him. The similarities between Scott and Dad were striking and Alan felt guilty for not thinking of his father first. It was no longer Scott’s responsibility to worry after him now. The hand slid along his back and pulled him into a side hug. 

“You okay, son?” His father whispered into his ear. 

Alan nodded, his head brushing against this father’s shoulder. There was no way Alan could express how he felt, especially not here and now, but the warmth that was seeping through from his father helped. It was new and it was different, but he had his Dad again. A Dad who was trying hard to fit back in and get to know his sons again. His father was being careful about not getting in the way or treading on their toes. Maybe Dad felt the same concerns that he did. Maybe next time they gamed together Alan would bring it up. He wondered if any of his brothers had asked how Dad was coping. He bet Grandma had and was paying close attention to their interactions. His father’s hand rubbed the top of Alan’s arm, bringing him from his thoughts and Alan shifted closer to the astronaut. 

“Talking about Christmas lights, I remember a December morning when a certain someone woke up strapped to the bed by a large tangle of lights. Fancy reminding me of how that came about Alan?”

There was a sparkle of mischief in his father’s blue eyes as he peered down at Alan, who gave the man a big grin back in return. Alan remembered that morning well, especially how hard it was to not giggle as he carefully wrapped those lights around his brother’s bed. 

“You mean the December Scott was been a really moody teenager and didn’t want to spend the day decorating the house with his family? Apparently, his girlfriend was more fun and a lot less annoying than us, and that he’d rather spend the day with her.”

Alan enjoyed taking the lead on the storytelling, especially when he got a satisfying groan from Scott, who appeared to have forgotten the events of that day until now. Alan’s body rocked as his father chuckled. 

“Gordon and I only wanted to help cheer you up and fill you with the same festive cheer we had. The night before, we collected up every string of lights we could find and hid them in my room, before setting our alarm clocks for seven am. We snuck into your room, quietly unravelled the lights, then we each started wrapping them around you and the bed. We wrapped them tight enough to stop you from getting out. Our PJs were covered in dust from wriggling under your bed, but we managed, and we even found an extension cord and plugged some of them in. Your room lit up with some many colours and cheerful flashing lights, it was the most festive thing we’d seen that year. You almost woke up too, trying to turn over. We snapped a few pictures, turned off the lights and your alarm before we snuck back out to my room where we fell on the bed laughing. Your angry cry of “GORDON!!” had been the loudest in a long while, though you weren’t happy when it took so long to free you. You ended up missing the time with your girlfriend. Dad told us not to cut the lights unless we were prepared to buy new ones, which we weren’t, and you couldn’t afford new lights as well as a present for you girlfriend. We did get to spend the day decorating the house together, so the prank worked!”

“Leanne refused to wait for me saying if I really cared about her, I would be on time. She dumped me four days later for a guy two years older. At least I hadn’t brought the present yet, so I didn’t waste my money.”

There was a little bitterness in Scott’s voice when he mentioned her moving on so fast. If Alan remembered rightly, they had been dating for almost a year until that point, though it must not have been going as well as Scott thought considering how quickly she replaced him. Bet she wished she’d made it work now he was the commander of International Rescue, though for all he knew she could still be bragging about it. Gordon had insinuated on many occasions to Alan that not all the business trips their brother took were all strictly business, though the fact that Scott often returned stressed and with more ‘urgent’ paperwork made Alan doubt Gordon’s claims. 

“That was the year you all ganged up on your father in that snowball fight, practically making him a snowman! You all came back inside red in the face, damp, and shivering. I had to get out so many extra blankets and make so much hot chocolate to get you warm again.”

“But you do make the best hot chocolate, Mum.”

“Seconded!” Scott cheered, raising his bottle to the sky. 

The stories and drinks continued to be passed around the fire, which John packed high with the last of the dry driftwood. The stories were now from more recent times, tales from the past eight years without Dad. The gentle rocking from his Dad’s chuckles reassured Alan, who offered his own versions into the mix. When goosepimples covered his arms and legs, Grandma wrapped a blanket around him and Dad. Even on a tropical island the evenings were cool, especially when you are still in shorts and a t-shirt. Alan’s head was comfortable against his father and he started to fight his eyelids that kept trying to close. It was a battle he lost. 

******

When his eyes flickered open again, the fire was dying. Alan was still beneath the blanket with his father’s arm firmly around him. He yawned as he rolled his stiff shoulders. Blinking, he took in his family who still circled the fire. John and Grandma were cuddled up in a thick patchwork blanket, while the legs of Scott, Virgil and Kayo were cover by a striped one, as they all lent against the bench. Lady Penelope had fallen asleep in Gordon’s arms, though they had acquired a second blanket from somewhere. Parker was still standing in the background, his reclaimed jumper now on, and there was a bucket of water in his hands. 

“Shall I h’extinguish the flames now, Mr Tracy?”

“Please do, Parker.”

The fire hissed out, sending steam into the night sky. Stars were scattered above them, and Alan’s eyes were drawn to the familiar constellations. With the fire out the cold started to creep in, and his family started to move, yawn, and stretch. With practiced movements, everyone started to collect their belongings and rubbish, shaking sand off everything and heading towards the path. John and Grandma held coolers, Virgil and Scott took each side of their bench, and Alan grabbed the rubbish bag as Kayo grabbed the recycling. Gordon coaxed Sherbet off his lap before sweeping Penelope into his arms and carrying her away. Sherbet and Parker, bucket still in hand, followed close behind them. As Alan started up the cliff path his Dad’s arm returned to his shoulder. He was staring up at the stars though Alan couldn’t place which constellation he was gazing at.  

“It’s good to see these stars again. Did I ever tell you about all the nights Lee and I would stargaze on Alfie? There was the observation deck with this massive glass window in the ceiling, and we’d lie beneath it….”

Alan smiled, remembering the story well, but wanting to hear it again. There was something special about the way his Dad told it. 

[anamelessfacelessnerd]

Mizumono by noisey_burlesque_peach

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: M/M

Fandom: Hannibal (TV)

Relationship: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Characters: Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Abigail Hobbs

Additional Tags: Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Bloodplay, Blood Kink, Biting, Love Bites, Hickeys, Coming Untouched, Coming In Pants

Language: English

Words: 1866

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Sometimes a single kiss can change everything.

“You were supposed to leave,” Will said, eyes filling with tears.

“We couldn't leave without you.” Hannibal took a tentative step closer to Will, one hand reaching for his face as the other drew a knife closer to his abdomen just out of sight. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but he had anticipated it nonetheless. He had known ever since he smelled Freddie Lounds on Will days ago that he was planning on betraying him, but still he hoped that Will would change his mind at the last second.

All of a sudden Will’s hands came to Hannibal’s face. Hannibal brought the knife to Will’s stomach, but hesitated just a second, wanting to see what Will planned to do.

Perhaps for the first time in his life, Hannibal was surprised by Will’s actions. Rather than attempt to attack Hannibal, he crushed their lips together in a searing kiss that immediately took Hannibal’s breath away. He kissed back as if it were a reflex. The hand that still clenched the blade loosened and then dropped it so that he could grab Will by his hips and pull him in close. Will squeaked as he was tugged forward and Hannibal took the opportunity to shove his tongue into Will’s mouth, lapping at the warmth he found there.

Will groaned loudly, snapping Hannibal out of his momentary trance. In his confusion and lust he had nearly forgotten about the situation they were in.

Hannibal pulled back reluctantly and had to stop himself from diving back in when Will attempted to follow his lips. Kissing the man that stood before him was intoxicating. He would be content to stay here forever, surrounded by the heady scent of blood, sweat, and lust.

“Hannibal,” Will whispered. His eyes fluttered closed as Hannibal’s fingers tightened at his waist.

“Time did reverse. The teacup that I shattered did come together. The place was made for Abigail and your world. Do you understand? The place was made for all of us, together,” Hannibal said. He had planned on saying these words to Will, but the tone was completely different. There was no hurt or anger, only adoration and a sense of excitement about what was to come.

“I want to go there,” Will said, “I want to be there with you.”

“Then we will go.”

Hannibal already had everything planned out. He had new IDs and passports for the three of them, a car waiting to bring them to the airport, and everything else Will could think of. It was too easy.

Hannibal ushered Will and Abigail down the stairs and past Alana. The three of them disappeared into the night, leaving a crime scene behind them. They got into Hannibal’s car and sped off into the night without a trace.

Will had so much he wanted to say to Abigail, questions, apologies, promises, but he remained silent, worried that if he spoke to her, somehow she would break again.

It wasn’t until they were in the car that Will had the opportunity to speak to her. He slid into the backseat to be closer to her and to put some distance between himself and Hannibal. Hannibal did not ask him about it, nor did he look surprised.

Abigail held her breath until the car pulled out into traffic. Then she let out a broken sob, curling up into herself. Will wrapped his arms around her and let her sob into his check, hands balling up around fistfuls of his shirt.

“It’s okay,” Will cooed, doing his best to soothe her, “everything is going to be alright now.”

Hannibal couldn’t help but smile as he glanced at the two of them through the rear view mirror. He couldn’t contain his pride as he saw these two radiant people that he had transformed. He wasn’t upset with Abigail for crying, he knew that she wanted this just as much as he and Will did, she was just overwhelmed and he understood that. He was quite overwhelmed as well, he just showed it differently.

Will caught his gaze in the mirror and gave him the most heated look he could muster. A thrill ran through Hannibal as he thought about what that look meant. Hannibal was a patient man, always willing to wait for what he wanted, but he found that he was feeling antsy now as he anticipated being able to touch Will again.

“You’re hurt,” Abigail said once her tears had stopped. Sure enough there was a splotch of crimson soaking into the fabric around Will’s abdomen.

Will lifted his shirt and winced as his hand brushed against the shallow gash in his lower abdomen. Hannibal must have pressed on his blade a little harder than he had intended and cut Will.

“Would you like me to pull over and take a look?” Hannibal asked.

“No, I think it’s fine. It’s not bad at all,” Will said. He ripped a piece of his sleeve off and held it to the cut to stop the blood flow.

Hannibal kept a close eye on the two of them until they boarded the plane. He didn’t think that either of them would be dumb enough to run, but one could never be too careful.

Abigail fell asleep almost immediately after they reached cruising altitude, her head leaned up against the window. She looked peaceful in a way that Will had never known her to be, while she slept. Even in her coma she looked tense with all of those tubes stuck in her.

“Will.” Hannibal’s deep voice brought Will’s attention back to him. He turned his head slowly, trying not to show how obedient he truly was. He may be willing to fully submit to Hannibal, but it was best not to let Hannibal know that.

“I am going to the restroom. If you’d like me to take a look at your wound, meet me in a few moments,” he said, then got up and sauntered off toward the back of the plane.

Hannibal didn’t have to wait long until he heard a single rap on the door followed by “it’s me,” spoken in a familiar voice. He unlocked the door and pulled Will inside, kissing him with double the passion as their kiss back at the house.

Hannibal’s hands worked their way down Will’s chest until they were slipping under his shirt to press against his hastily bandaged cut.

Will groaned in pain at the unpleasant sensation. He squeezed his eyes shut and his hand gripped Hannibal’s arm tightly to steady himself.

Hannibal withdrew for a moment in order to unbutton Will’s shirt and remove the now soaked bandages.

“It appears that the damage is only skin deep. I don’t think I did any damage to your internal organs,” Hannibal said. He dropped to his knees in front of Will and pulled out the first aid kit that he kept in his bag. First he cleaned the wound with some alcohol wipes. Will winced at the slight sting and Hannibal had to suppress a smile. His boy was so sensitive.

“I am afraid I did not bring the proper materials to stitch you up, but I do have this.” Hannibal flashed a small vial of liquid sutures. He swiped the clear liquid over Will’s damaged skin, holding the edges together as he did. When he was done and the liquid was dry he covered his work with another large bandage. He pressed a soft kiss to the bandage, looking into Will’s eyes the entire time.

“Thank you,” Will muttered breathlessly, his eyes half lidded and his cock half hard.

“It is a shame it won’t scar,” Hannibal said, his fingertips dancing around the sticky edges of the cotton. “I would have liked to have marked you.”

“You have already marked me in so many ways,” Will said, his hands drifting from the counter behind him to rest on Hannibal’s shoulders. “I am yours.”

“Mine,” Hannibal repeated, getting to his feet and smiling like the fox that has just seduced the rabbit. “Still, it would have been nice to have a physical mark to prove my ownership.”

“It’s not too late,” Will said, subtly bearing his neck to Hannibal.

“No, it isn’t.” Hannibal ran a hand over and the smooth, unmarred flesh, thumb pressing ever so slightly on his adam’s apple. “Would you wear my marks proudly? Would you want the world to know exactly who you belong to?”

“Yes.” Will’s voice was barely above a whisper as he grabbed Hannibal’s hips and pulled him closer, their clothed cocks rubbing against each other.

Hannibal brought his lips to Will’s neck, placing a few gentle kisses and lapping up his sweat before his teeth got involved. He bit and sucked at the skin mercilessly, always stopping before he drew blood. Despite his desire for a mouthful of that metallic tang, he held himself back, not wanting to scare Will off. His boy was still a little skittish, and he knew that if he went too fast he would spook him.

“Harder,” Will mumbled, as if he could read Hannibal’s thoughts and he wanted it just as much as he knew Hannibal did.

Hannibal didn’t need to be told twice. He dug his teeth into Will’s soft flesh, not letting up until his sharp canines pierced the skin. Will bucked his hips when he felt the tear, his hands scrabbling for purchase in Hannibal’s clothing.

“My dear Will,” Hannibal said between swipes of his tongue over Will’s weeping skin, “you enjoy this far more than I would have guessed.”

“Have I managed to surprise you Dr. Lecter?” Will laughed breathlessly.

“You have. Many times tonight.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Delighted. Thrilled even. I was worried I might get bored of you, but it seems there is still more for me to learn.” That wasn’t true. Hannibal would never get bored of Will. His mind and body were beautiful, divine even, and he couldn’t imagine ever tiring of exploring him.

“Hannibal, I’m gonna-“ Hannibal cut Will off with a hard suck just above his collar bone. He was rutting with abandon now, chasing the release that was quickly coming to him.

Finally, with one more hard bite, Will came right in his jeans with a muffled cry, as he clamped his hand over his mouth to silence himself.

“Fuck Hannibal,” Will sighed, his head dropping to Hannibal’s shoulder.

“That was quite something my dear boy,” Hannibal said.

“I- uh- I didn’t know that I liked it enough to, you know.” Will panted.

“Well I am certainly fond of this discovery. I look forward to taking you apart properly when we have some privacy.”

“In the meantime, we have another issue to sort out.” Will grinned and dropped his hand to the bulge in the front of Hannibal’s pants.

“Ah yes, what ever shall ever do about that?” Hannibal asked, mirroring Will’s smile.

“Well now that I know what your mouth does, it’s only fair that you get a taste of what mine can do.” Will sunk to his knees, hands coming to rest on Hannibal’s belt buckle.

“I think that will be a satisfactory solution.”

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Refuse to be a Named Character pt 4

Here is the next part! More Luke and Nameless! 

Part 1 Part 2 and Part 3 linked here! 

Enjoy!

__________________________

Please don’t let me be too late!

I pushed my horse ahead, racing towards the Scorpion Camp. While I rode, I tried desperately to think of everything that “Deadly Crown” had said about the bandits there. 

In the original story, Lucien had taken the Tarif of the Serpent Camp, forcing Graham and his group to go to the Scorpion Camp instead. At that time the leader of the bandits, who went by the name of Slash, challenged Graham to a contest of wills. He would place one glass of wine on the table for each person that participated in the challenge. Only one of the drinks would be poisoned. The more people who were part of the challenge, the less chance that Graham would drink the poisoned wine.

Needless to say, all of Graham’s harem agreed to help. It was a tense seen, as everyone worried that the wine in front of them might be poisoned. Graham had actually lifted his cup to drink, but a young woman, the daughter of the sixth Lord, grabbed his cup and downed it first, succumbing to the poison and dying painfully in front of him.

Even though everyone had chosen random cups, Slash had managed to poison Graham’s somehow. If the girl hadn’t sacrificed herself… I felt a moment of pity for such a selfless person, upset that I couldn’t remember her name from the book. Graham in the story had been sad, of course… but he quickly recovered from her death, and she was forgotten. 

Will Luke face the same test? I patted the antidote tube in my pocket, trying to reassure myself. We could face Slash’s test. It was Eric and his betrayal that was the most concerning. 

The book had been frustratingly vague on Eric’s attack and wounding of Lucien. Just that he had nearly been successful at taking his life, and Lucien had never suspected him until it was too late. 

I needed to find him now.

Even as a panicked feeling welled up in my heart, though, I saw a large group of people in the distance. Sighing with relief, I drew closer, pulling up my horse far enough away that I wouldn’t be mistaken for an attacker. The Scorpion Camp was much less organized than the Serpent Camp, with tents instead of constructed buildings. The Scorpion Camp tended to roam more, ready to move at a moments notice. All the tents were aligned in an incomplete ring, with a large table standing in the middle.  It was tall, too tall to sit at, but at the right height for multiple people to stand around.

The table for the challenge.

Distracted by the sight where the poisoned challenge would occur, I almost didn’t see Luke at first.

“What are you doing here?” His excited voice broke me from my reverie, and I ran towards him, grabbing his arms and looking him over from head to toe.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“…” Luke stared at me for a few moments, an amused smile on his face. “Did you race here just because you were worried about me?”

I nodded, looking around to find Eric. Before I could locate him, however, I was pulled into a tight hug, a happy sigh tickling my ear.

“Thank you.” I felt warm, reaching out and hugging him back. My heart was beating violently within my chest, a sense of relief so strong overpowering me.

He was still alive.

“Ahem.”

I was unsure how long we stood there, holding each other, before a voice awkwardly spoke out, interrupting us. I stepped away from Luke, feeling slightly embarrassed, only to see a large muscular man with a scarred face watching us impatiently.

“Is Prince Lucien going to attempt the challenge for the Tarif or not?”

“We’ll be right with you.” I answered, pulling Luke away from the group so we wouldn’t be overheard.

Luke followed behind me, a bright smile lighting up his entire face. You would never think that he was about to face a life or death trial by looking at him. I felt slightly annoyed.

“You’re facing a poison drinking challenge, what are you so happy about?”

His smile didn’t fade. “You’re here. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”

“…” I was speechless for a few moments at his simple reply, before forcing myself to remember why I had come.

“Don’t trust Eric.”

A painful expression flashed across his face, making me wish I could hug him again. Before I could move, he quickly forced himself to appear calm again. “Eric is a traitor?”

“He may be working for Fetter.”

At the sound of his younger half-brother’s name he closed his eyes and groaned. “Are you sure?” 

I thought it over. It was difficult to say how much the plot had changed. Luke was a very different person from the villain Lucien in the book. What if Eric wouldn’t betray such a good man? “It’s not absolutely certain. But please be careful around him.”

“I will.” There was no hesitation in his voice as he looked back at me. 

“You trust me so easily?”

“With my life.” He grinned, lifting his hand to show me his wrist. “Just let me know if you want your bracelet back.”

I stared at the dark beads, feeling a sense of longing deep inside. I had worn it for years, always thinking of him each time I touched it. But now… it had too many meanings. It meant being a major character, part of this bloody plot.

“I can’t take it yet.” I answered him honestly, wishing I could say something different. 

He looked disappointed, but smiled anyways, putting his hand down. “Well then, I’ll hold onto it. But just know that it will always belong to you, if ever you want it.” His gaze held my own, and I found myself blushing at the intention in his eyes.

“Just be careful.” I muttered, turning away.

He laughed, a low pleasant sound that made me smile along. “I promise.”  He glanced back towards the group and added. “Since it’s not certain yet, I won’t act yet. But I’ll watch him closely.”

We walked back towards the scarred man at the table, who I assumed was Slash, the bandit leader. “Now can we get back to the challenge?” He asked, looking pissed. 

“Of course.” 

As Luke calmly answered him, I looked around for Eric. He stood near table, studying it as if lost in thought. I walked closer, and he looked up as I drew next to him, his face turning pale as he met my eyes. I wasn’t sure how I looked right then, but I knew it wasn’t a pleasant, welcoming expression.

“Miss…” He started to speak but stopped as I held up a hand.

“I will give you one chance to survive.” I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “If you protect him, serve him well, then there is no reason for us to fight. But if you hurt him, you will die. Painfully.”

I stepped back  “I promise you that.” 

“...” Eric stepped back, his eyes wide, looking confused, before nodding silently.

Slash watched our interchange, seemingly taken aback by my threatening our own teammate, but soon shrugged, regaining his composure and explaining the challenge.

It was the same as the one described in the book: one glass of wine for each participant, including Slash himself. Each person picked a random glass and drank from it. Only one of the glasses would be poisoned. If Luke survived, he would get the Tarif. 

The scarred man finished with a lazy grin. “Do you understand?”

Luke nodded. “I do.”

“How many of your team will join us?” He glanced at me and Eric, raising an eyebrow.

Eric stepped back as I stepped forward, but before either of us could speak, Luke shook his head. “I’ll do the challenge alone.”

“Really?” Slash seemed surprised. “You’d have a much higher risk of dying, you know.” 

Luke didn’t waver. “I won’t risk their lives.”

Slash had them bring two glasses over, setting them both in the center of the table. “Then pick your cup, Your Highness, and I’ll drink from the remaining one.” 

Luke stepped forward, staring at the glasses intently. But as he reached forward to grab it… 

“Sorry.” I took it first with a smile, tipping it back and swallowing the wine.

“WHAT ARE YOU…?” Before Luke’s horrified gaze, I grabbed the second glass, finishing it off as well. 

“Are you suicidal?” Slash watched me with a curious expression.

I thought of the poor girl in Deadly Crown who died in Graham’s place, and shook my head. “Nope, I’m not important enough of a character to die here.” 

With a grin I took the vial from my pocket, drinking half of its contents before stoppering it and storing it away. Slash’s eyes widened at the sight of the clear fluid, before settling into a hateful glare.

“You’ve seen Blade. That’s her antidote.” 

“Yep.” 

“I’m going to kill her.”

“You can try.” I started to laugh. “She was calling you a ‘weak bitch’ who had to rely on poisons when I left.”

Slash sputtered with rage, his face an angry red, and i laughed harder, smiling widely with relief.

My laughter abruptly changed into a startled shriek as I was pulled off my feet, toppling to the ground with someone, landing onto that person’s lap. I was wrapped in a tight embrace, almost too tight to breath. Before I could struggle free, however, a familiar voice spoke up.

“Idiot.” Luke sounded near tears. “What were you thinking?”

I tried to pull back, acutely aware that we were sitting on the ground in front of a large group of bandits, but he was holding on too tightly. After a few short struggles I gave up and leaned my head on his shoulder, instead. “If I only drank one he might still make you drink the other. So I took both.”

“You drank poison.” His voice was angry. 

“Um… yes… but I had the antidote…”

I heard a long sigh. “And why didn’t you just give the antidote to me?”

“…” I paused, thinking it over. “I didn’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

His arms tightened, and I was surprised to find he was trembling. “Do you think I could bear you getting hurt in my place?” His voice was weak. “The crown isn’t worth it. I’m not worth it. Don’t sacrifice yourself for me.”

I didn’t say anything, allowing him to hold me for a few minutes. Slowly, we got up, and my face reddened as I realized we had been hugging in front of a large group of people. Trying to regain some composure, I held out my hand towards Slash.

“Tarif.”

He glared at me. “You cheated.”

“So did you. Both glasses were poisoned.” I was just guessing, but his eyes widened, confirming my accusation. 

“How did you…? Ugh, nevermind. You remind me too much of that woman. Just take the Tarif and stay away.” He through the bony amulet to me, and I caught it, feeling a sense of relief.

__________________________

Luke had survived the second task. Even as a sense of relief came over me, however, I felt a stab of anxiety.

Where is Eric?

I looked around frantically, but he had disappeared. Luke noticed my unease. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t move!” A knife was pressed against my throat.

“Eric!” Luke’s face was pale, his hand pausing in mid air as he reached out towards me.

I prepared to stomp on his foot and fight him for the knife, but as if he knew what I was considering, he spoke up quickly. “There is a poison on this knife. If I break skin, then you’re dead.”

I held myself very still, not wanting to test his statement. “You’re a traitor.”

“No! I mean… yes…” He paused, confused. “Prince Fetter wanted me to kill Lucien… but I didn’t want to.”

Luke’s face was cold. “Betray me or don’t betray me. Why are you holding a knife against an innocent’s throat?”

“Innocent?” Eric laughed bitterly. “It’s her fault you’re like this, Your Highness!”

“Like what?”

“Caring, forgiving… WEAK!” Eric shook his head. “You should be standing above the masses, without a hint of remorse for destroying your enemies. You should be strong, ruthless… but instead you worry that she will be disappointed in you! You’ve lost your strength!” The pressure of the knife against my skin increased. “But don’t worry, once I kill her, you’ll be fine! You’ll be the prince I know you can be.”

I couldn’t help it, I chuckled.

“Why are you laughing?” Eric’s voice was increasing, he sounded panicked.

“You’re an idiot. Even if Luke had been vicious and ruthless from the start you would have betrayed him anyways.” After all, he had attacked him in the book, even if they didn’t explain why.

“No…”

“Then why did you accept the money from Fetter? Do you think he’ll be happy enough by you killing a nameless woman at Luke’s side? You brought a poisoned dagger along on a trip where you thought it would be just the two of you?” I mocked him. “Stop pretending to be innocent.”

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” Eric’s face was distorted in the corner of my vision, his lips drawn back in a snarl. “YOU…”

I felt his hand move, and closed my eyes, expecting to feel my skin splitting under the blade. This is what I get for getting involved with this stupid plot. Even being a nameless side character wasn’t enough to protect me.

But there was no pain. Instead, I felt the brush of skin, and the pressure of the dagger receded. Surprised, I opened my eyes, my heart dropping at the sight in front of me.

Luke’s hand gripped around the blade, bright red blood dripping between his fingers. He had rushed forward and grabbed the poisoned dagger, preventing it was cutting my skin.

“Your Highness…” Shocked, Eric dropped the knife, it clattered to the ground with a dull sound. “You…” 

BAM! I punched him in the gut, knocking him to the ground.

“I’m glad… you’re alright.” Luke’s face was already pale, he smiled weakly at me as he sank to his knees. The poison was already acting. I reached out, helping him to rest on the ground, taking off my cloak and gently rolling it underneath his head, before turning to Eric with a snarl. 

“The antidote.” I barely recognized the threatening sound that left my throat as my own voice.

Eric shook his head slowly. “I don’t have one.”

He’s lying. No idiot would ever bring a poisoned blade without an antidote. What if he accidentally cut himself?

I needed to make him talk, and I didn’t have time to be nice.

���Slash.” I took out the Tarif and held it up for him to see. “ I need a poison.”

“Yes Miss.” He grinned and tossed me a vial with a light blue tinge to it. Eric stared at me with wide eyes, trying to scramble away.  I stomped down on his crotch, causing him to curl up with a howl of pain, as the bandits around me hissed with sympathy. 

Before he could recover, I uncorked the vial, grabbed his chin and forced the contents into his mouth. Then, covering his nose and mouth with one hand, I punched his throat with the other, forcing him to reflexively swallow.

As he swallowed the poison, his face grew pale. I pulled out the antidote vial from my pocket once more, it still was half full. “Give me your antidote and I’ll give you mine.”

“…” He stared at me in consternation.

“Vicious. I like it.” I heard Slash’s approval behind me but ignored it, every ounce of my attention focused on the man in front of me. 

“Quickly. Death from Slash’s poison is extremely painful.”

My words seemed to push him into action and he tore open his pant leg to reveal a hidden pocket with a small packet. “H-he has to swallow this.” He was already shaking with pain, barely handing over the packet. “Now give me…”

“Not until I’m sure it works.” I helped the barely conscious Luke swallow the granules in the packet, watching anxiously as his face slowly regained color. His eyes fluttered open, seeing me and smiling. 

“You’re here.”

Reaching out, I touched his head, smoothing back his hair. “I’m here.”

He whispered a word I hadn’t heard before, the unfamiliar sounds tugging at my heart.  Before I could ask it’s meaning, however, he had already fallen unconscious. I looked him over, feeling panicked, but noted that his breathing seemed even and his color good.

The antidote was working. I sighed with relief.

“See… see he’s cured! Now give me the antidote!” Eric’s eyes were bulging, his entire body shaking as the pain from the poison increased.

“As I promised.” I smiled, a cold expression, and opened the vial, dumping the contents on his head. “I’ve given you the antidote.”

He stared at me in horror. “You… you lied!”

“I never promised to let you drink it.” I stared back at him as he curled up in agony. “I warned you what would happen if you hurt him.”

“Please.”

“I made a promise.”

“PLEASE!”

I turned away from him. “I keep my promises.” Leaning down to look over Luke’s condition, I ignored Eric’s screams as they became weaker and weaker, fading into silence.

…

As I listened to him die, externally my face was calm, but on the inside I felt horrified. How much have I changed since coming to this world? My grim and violent actions disturbed me. How had I come so far from the girl who was disturbed even by written descriptions of violence to someone who wouldn’t shy away from killing another person? I was slowly losing myself, becoming more and more the type of person who belonged in this terrible plot. 

Who am I?

But even as I panicked inside, I stared down at Luke’s peaceful sleeping face, and my thoughts slowly calmed.

I’ve changed the plot so much. Luke was supposed to be a vicious killer. A terrible villain. But now he’s kinder… softer. I’m happy… but how is he going to survive in this bloody world? Can he be ruthless enough to protect himself?

I reached out, brushing his dark hair from his face, sighing quietly. 

Maybe it’s fine if I need to be a little bit of a villain, if he can live a better life. If he can be happy.

He’s worth it.

__________________________

I woke Luke up, helping him to climb into the saddle, and got up in front of him. Having him hold onto me, I slowly walked the horse away, ignoring Slash’s invitation to visit again soon. His approval only made me more uncomfortable. As we rode, I slipped the Tarif into Luke’s pocket, sighing with relief that we had survived the second task.

But there’s still the third task after this…

We rode for the rest of the day, coming up to the bridge as night fell. I helped Luke to the ground, making camp as best I could from the meager supplies in my pack. I started a fire, sitting us both next to it, and holding his injured hand carefully, cleaning out the wound.

Luke hissed with pain, fully awake for the first time since leaving Scorpion Camp. His eyes widened as he searched around, panicked, but on seeing my face he relaxed, leaning back once more.

“Are you alright?” He asked, watching me closely.

“So asks the man who grabbed a poisoned dagger.”

“Says the woman who drank poison.” He countered gently with a smile.

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m uninjured. Which is more than you can say.” I continued cleaning out his wounds.

“…Eric?”

“I killed him.”  I answered bluntly.

“…” He stared at me silently for a few moments, and then sighed. “I’m sorry you had to face that alone.”

I looked up to meet his gaze. “Do you blame me?”

He smiled sadly. “How could I? If he had hurt you, I would have done much worse.”

I finished cleaning his wound and began to wrap his hand, the motion practiced.

“You’ve gotten better at bandaging wounds since we first met.”

I chuckled at that. “Blade taught me to hunt and use a sword. She gave me plenty to practice with.”

“I’m glad you can protect yourself.” He whispered. “I wish you didn’t have to know how to.”

I finished wrapping his hand, and patted it. “Speaking of Blade…” I looked up. “Care to tell me why you used up your one favor with her to have her teach me how to hunt and fight, instead of getting the Tarif easily and not risking your life like a fool?”

He struggled to sit up, his face swaying close to mine. The firelight reflected in his dark blue eyes, making them seem as if they were glowing. I stared back, feeling my heart beat faster at the sight.

His smile was nervous. “You being safe means more than the Tarif.”

“The Tarif is the only way to win the crown.” I reminded him.

“You’re worth more than the crown.” His smile widened. “I love you.”

“…” I stared back at him, shocked. I had understood that he had on some level  had feelings for me, as he had given me his token, but I hadn’t expected him to so bluntly say it out loud. He laughed slightly at my expression, continuing.

“I don’t want to hear your answer yet, if that’s okay. I’m trapped in this race for the crown right now. I can’t even quit, no matter how much I want to.” He shook his head. “I’ll end up like Corran, dead even after I’ve surrendered. The only way to be free of all this is to beat that old man’s foolish game.”

“You’ve already been betrayed once.” I whispered. “You need someone to watch your back.”

He reached over and held my hand, squeezing it gently despite his bandaged wounds. “I’m fine. I’d rather you be far away from all these plots, and be safe.”

“…” I leaned my head against his shoulder silently, thinking.

“Do you want to know how I knew about Eric?” I hesitantly started to talk, feeling nervous.

He didn’t answer for a while, and then whispered. “You can tell me later, you don’t sound ready to talk.”

I nodded slowly. I wanted to answer Luke’s feelings honestly. But if I did, I would need to tell him everything. The thought made very uncomfortable. Would he think I was crazy? A liar? Would he look at me differently if I told him I read about this world in a book? Or worse… would he want to use the knowledge of the plot I had to win the crown, like Graham used Chloe?

Luke was right, I wasn’t ready to talk just yet.

After a while Luke turned to face the flames, and we sat silently.

“Wait for me, please. I’ll come find you in the forest, and then tell you I love you again. Then I would like to hear your answer.”

We spent the rest of the night sitting side by side, talking about everything and nothing, just like when we were younger in the Ninth Lord’s Household.

__________________________

In the morning, we silently crossed the bridge, entering the Eastern Forest once more. As we neared the branch point where we would have to part ways, both of us slowed our pace.

“You have to reach the Western City before two days are up.” I finally spoke up. “Otherwise you won’t qualify for the third task. “

Luke sighed quietly. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

He smiled at my words, leaning closer. “At least I know where to find you when this is all done.”

A gentle hand brushed my cheek, and he stepped closer, pressing his lips to my own.

A hesitant first kiss that slowly turned more confident as I returned it. Finally he parted the slightest distance, resting his forehead on my own.

“Stay safe.” He whispered.

“Be more worried about yourself.” I answered back, reluctant at the idea of parting.

But if I followed him, I was abandoning everything I had worked for. I would be jumping head first into the plot, becoming a main character. If I went to the Western City, there would be no turning back. 

I let him go.

But as I watched Luke walk away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had made the wrong decision.

__________________________

 Luke settled into his palace quarters looking around with a spiritless glance. The room was richly furnished, but felt cold and empty to him now.

Of course it does. She’s not here. He laughed at himself, sitting down with a sigh. He had known he would miss her terribly, known it would be painful to leave her behind. But he had done it anyways.

Because more than I need her to be by my side, I need her to be happy. He would never forget the disappointed look she had given him when she handed back his token. When she saw the greed in his heart, the desire to keep her by his side. It wasn’t easy. The more time he spent by her side, protecting each other, caring for each other… it was addicting. The feeling of having someone to worry about, who thought about you in return. He wanted to be with her, to see her every day. 

I hope she’s doing well. She would have arrived at her cabin in the woods a day or so before he made it to the Western City. She should be settled in, perhaps going hunting.

Luke rubbed his chest idly, the ache there growing worse. I miss her. 

But she’s safe. And that’s what matters.

He whispered a word he had buried deep in his heart, resting his head in his hands.

“Your Highness.” A knock sounded at the door.

“What is it?” Luke’s voice was cold as he answered. He had instructed the servants that he didn’t want to be disturbed.

“Someone is here to see you…”

Luke shook his head. “I don’t want…”

“A young woman. She says she’s here to get her bracelet back.”

Jumping to his feet, he flung open the door. “Where is she?”

As he breathlessly ran into the sitting room of his quarters, he was greeted by a familiar face smiling back at him. In the candlelight it was difficult to see her eyes clearly, but the joy in them was evident.

“Luke!” She called out sweetly, rushing forward to greet him. Her smile was bright and lovely, and up close Luke could see the beautiful golden color of her eyes as she stared up at him. “I’m come back to you!”

Luke smiled warmly, standing in place a short distance away, his hands resting comfortably at his sides, slowly clenching into fists. “Welcome back.”

__________________________

I came back from hunting, feeling tired. Staring around my cabin, I sat down and groaned. 

It was no use.

I couldn’t get back into the familiar rhythm I had lived in for so long. Even as I went through the motions, my mind was far away. Every spare thought was worrying about him, hoping he was safe. I already regretted not telling him more about the third task. It would be difficult, dangerous. A lot of people would die, in true Deadly Crown plot fashion.

What am I doing?

I sat in my safe, remote home, a nameless side character just like I always wanted. And I was miserable.

The plot is bloody and dangerous. Every important character dies and gets replaced… and then their replacement dies.

I stoked up the fire in the hearth, the heat of the flames reminding me of sitting by Luke’s side in the camp.

It’s not the kind of story to try and be a hero in.

Sitting back down, I stared at the fire, my thoughts racing.

Unless… I think he’s worth being part of the plot.

I laughed quietly. “Fool.” I wasn’t sure if I was talking about Luke or myself, or perhaps both of us.

Just as I stood up, a knock sounded at the door.

Luke? But should’t he be in the Western City. Excitement flooded my veins, even as I argued silently with myself that it wasn’t possible for him to be there. Cautious, I grabbed my sword in case it wasn’t him, opening the door carefully. 

“Luke...?” I started to call out, and then stopped.

Standing outside my home was a handsome prince. 

But not the one I wanted to see.

Graham smiled, stepping into my home. “Hello again.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Hello, I love your tagalong series. I always get so exited when you update it. I can’t wait for the next Chapter. Thanks, K

Your timing is perfect, @foreverawanderingkat, as I was just finishing up the next chapter. ~ Mod Lenny

The Tagalong - Part Seventeen

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen

*******************************************************

Claire went cold when the lights from Reverend Wakefield’s car shone through the trees and reflected off the stones. Brianna had managed to fall asleep in the Reverend’s arms while he sat on a fallen log, staring at the dark horizon. He didn’t even stir as Mrs. Graham slowed the car to bring it off the paved road and onto the dirt path the climbed partway up the hill.

There was still no sign of Fergus or Roger.

“Right,” she said, exiting the car and retrieving a sack from the passenger seat. She flipped a torch on and shone it on the path to help her keep her feet. “I take it from the silence that the lads are’na returned?”

“No,” Claire replied flatly, crossing to meet Mrs. Graham and take the sack from her.

“I found what ye asked after and let a few friends know what was happening.” At Claire’s wary expression, Mrs. Graham smiled soothingly. “They’re the others who come one feast days to perform the ceremonies. Ye’re the first traveler as we’ve had through in some time, but ye’re no the first the circle has seen, and I dinna think ye’ll be the last.”

Reverend Wakefield stood brought Brianna over to her mother. “How long d’ye think it will take?”

Claire held the sack open and checked over its contents while Mrs. Graham held the light. A few sets of clothes for her, Brianna, and the boys, all of them worn and shapeless—suitable enough to help them pass in whatever year they found themselves, at least long enough to find an appropriate substitute. There were provisions for at least two days, even split four ways. The knife was wrapped and the matches as well. Mrs. Graham had found Claire’s small emergency medical kit—thankfully, Claire kept hers in a durable wooden box with a latch and handle—and decided to include it. A drawstring purse bulged like it held the full contents of Claire’s jewelry box.

“How long should we wait for ye?” Reverend Wakefield asked, more insistently, his rising voice causing Brianna to stir.

Claire reached and took Brianna from him, slinging the sack awkwardly over her shoulder. Brianna settled down again and Claire took a deep breath, steadying her nerves for what she was about to do.

“We’ll stay until dawn,” Mrs. Graham decided, resting a hand on Reverend Wakefield’s shoulder. “I’ll set up a rotation with the others to come and check regularly for ye. It might take her a while to find them, after all. Ye needna worry for Roger. He’ll be safe wi’ Claire when she finds him. Whatever happens, he’ll no be on his own.”

The look Mrs. Graham gave Claire then told her the older woman believed this would be a final goodbye. Perhaps for that reason, they both refused to say it.

Instead, Claire turned to the stones and swallowed as she shifted Brianna to a more comfortable and secure position in her arms. She would find a way to make do without the pack if need be, but she would not let go of her daughter.

“Tell him I ken he didna mean to cause a fuss,” Reverend Wakefield called to Claire, just as she stood before the stone. “It doesna matter to me how long… Tell him I love him and I’ll be waitin’ and prayin’ to see him again. He’ll no be in trouble, however long it takes.”

Thinking of Roger—of how scared he must be, and confused—Claire reached out a hand and pressed it to the face of the stone.

*******************************************************

Brianna was crying and wriggling on top of Claire when she came to, her ears ringing and her back sore. She’d fallen backwards on the pack from Mrs. Graham.

But Brianna was crying and wriggling which meant that Brianna had made it through with her so, none of the aches and pains or nausea mattered. She clutched Brianna to her chest and pushed herself to a sitting position.

If Roger and Fergus were anywhere nearby, they would surely hear Brianna’s crying and come to investigate.

But she didn’t know where—or rather, when—she was, so perhaps calming the siren in her arms would be better than just letting her scream.

Claire struggled to her feet, shushing Brianna quietly as she tried to rub her back. Once they were upright and Claire had moved out of the circle of stones and trees, Brianna began to quiet, grumbling her displeasure and discomfort into Claire’s neck while one hand held tight to her mother’s curls and she gnawed on the first two fingers of the other hand.

It was just beginning to grow light—dawn must be less than an hour off. She didn’t know what time it had been when Mrs. Graham returned, but it couldn’t have been midnight… or maybe it had been…?

She fought to keep her footing as she made her way down the hill and the sight stopped her in her tracks.

A road. Not the dusty or trodden path through the grass that horses or people on foot left, overgrown from infrequent use. But a paved road.

Claire looked back and forth. No cars, no sign of Mrs. Graham or Reverend Wakefield. They would have stayed at least this long to be sure she wasn’t coming back… and if she hadn’t gone anywhere at all, they’d have been right there when she woke. So she had traveled…

Her steps were slow and wary as she looked back and forth along the road again. Which way to go to search for the boys?

Fergus would have headed back through the stones if he’d found Roger anywhere nearby. And Roger would likely have wanted to head somewhere familiar… which meant back to Inverness… But Fergus would have known that and found him sooner if he’d actually headed that direction, which meant Roger probably got turned around in his fear and confusion…

Claire turned down the road continuing to head away from Inverness.

It was apparently too early for there to be many—or any—cars about. With the weight of Brianna and the pack, it was slow going. How far could the boys have gotten before they grew too tired and stopped somewhere to rest? Where would they have gone to see such rest? They wouldn’t have stayed too close to the road—Fergus would have made sure they were safely hidden… if Fergus had reached Roger. Fergus wouldn’t stop until he had found Roger and Roger… fear could go either way in such a situation. Finding himself alone, he might have wandered a short way before giving up… or it might be carrying him further and further in the wrong direction.

Or maybe she was headed in the wrong direction.

She slowed further and began scanning the horizon in all directions looking for a place where frightened children might hide or seek comfort.

Brianna snuffled against her. “Mama, down,” Brianna murmured.

Claire moved to put her down but Brianna continued clinging to her. So Claire found a spot where they could sit down together. She pulled the pack around and found a bit of cheese for Brianna to chew on. The food appeared to lift her spirits.

“Mama, home?” Brianna asked.

“I know, love,” Claire said apologetically. “I want to go home too. But we need to find Fergus and Roger first. We can’t go home or anywhere else until we find them.”

“Gus go?” she responded, confused. Brianna looked around and pressed her palm to her forehead, squinting though there was no sunlight to shade her eyes from and the hand wouldn’t have blocked any of the sun’s rays in any case.

“Fergus is looking for Roger,” Claire explained, though she knew Brianna probably didn’t understand. Speaking it aloud was helping to reassure them both, however, so she continued. “And we’re looking for Fergus. If we find Fergus, we find Roger.”

“Find Roger, Gus,” Brianna summarized with a nod before taking another bite of her cheese. “Him cheese?” she asked, holding out the two bites she had squished together in her fist.

“When we find them, you can ask if they want cheese.”

“Go find,” Brianna said, gobbling the last of the cheese and then standing to toddle down the road.

Claire scrambled to catch her but a low hum stopped both of them and sent Brianna crying back to Claire, her hands over her ears.

Claire pulled Brianna further off the side of the road and into some brush. She knew that sound and her muscle memory had taken over.

When you heard planes overhead, you took cover and prayed they didn’t drop anything. She still knew how to tell the number from the drone, how to distinguish where one plane’s noise bumped against another and crossed it. Looking to the pink sky, she spotted them against the clouds and pointed them out to Brianna who took her fingers out of her mouth and stopped crying long enough to point and gape.

There were four, flying in tight formation. She couldn’t distinguish much beyond their coloring and size. She was fairly certain they weren’t German. They reminded her of the planes she saw the Allied troops flying in France, bringing supplies for the hospitals before their holds were refilled with more dangerous cargo to deliver across enemy lines.

They hadn’t gone back far enough. It must only be a few years into the past, the war still being fought and the countryside quiet behind their blackout curtains until the new day made it safe—safer—to come out.

Tears of frustration and despair pricked at Claire’s eyes. The thought of going back to the hill without either boy, of trying to pass through the stones not one but two more times…

She rested her head against Brianna’s. How could she put Brianna through that again—take that risk a second time with her?

The planes passed and the hum faded.

When it had been quiet for a few minutes, Claire began to loosen her hold on Brianna so they could fight their way free of the bushes that had concealed them.

“Mrs. Claire?” a frightened voice asked with disbelief.

“Find Roger,” Brianna declared, pointing to the dust-covered boy.

“Roger?!” Claire cried, rushing forward and leaving Brianna to toddle after her as she knelt beside him to conduct a cursory examination. His clothes were torn in a few places and covered with dirt and stains from the plants. It was clear he’d cried at some point, the tears leaving his cheeks streaked and his eyes a little red and puffy.

“Where’s my da?” Roger asked, his voice thick and his breathing threatening to catch in his throat at the slightest provocation.

“He told me to tell you that you’re not in any trouble,” Claire remembered, the message steadying her. “He said he loves you, and it doesn’t matter how long it takes for you to get home, he just wants you safe.”

“Did ye no bring a car?” Roger whimpered. “I wanna go home.”

Claire pulled him to her and rubbed his back as she’d done with Brianna earlier. The toddler had caught up to them and tucked herself into Claire’s side, refusing to be left out of the comforting embrace.

“Where’s Fergus?” Claire asked, pulling back and brushing Roger’s hair straight with her fingers. “He didn’t leave you behind while he went for help, did he?”

“I’ve no seen Fergus,” Roger said.

[initiala]

Hook-Echo (6/9)

Summary:  They’re in a rut. That’s what Deputy Emma Swan tells herself over and over again as her boyfriend, Killian Jones, grows more and more distant, and more frustrated, due to complications with his dissertation research on tornado formation. But storm season’s more than halfway over and this dry spell is doing nothing to make things easier for him–or their relationship. Will everything blow over, or is there a greater storm on the horizon?

Rating: E

Content warnings:  Graphic depictions of injury resulting from natural disasters, minor character death

I’m sorry. That’s all.

Thanks again to @optomisticgirl, @spartanguard, and @idoltina for all they did on this.

This is also on AO3 or FF.Net if that’s how you wanna roll.

There'd been more than a couple of times in Emma's life when she'd felt like she was preparing herself for war: her first day at the police academy, when she'd been outnumbered almost ten to one by the men; the first day of school in a new school district; every day she told her social workers about the abuse and neglect from various foster parents; the day she thought Ingrid was sending her back, only to have the whole day turned on its head when she was told about the adoption papers. She wasn't a stranger to conflict, and while her armor was a little rusty, it wasn't completely out of use.

However, she didn't like feeling like she had to prepare for war with Killian.

She'd gone to bed the night before and turned over all the usual self-pitying thoughts: what did I do? Why is he mad at me? Why didn't he call? What did I say? What, what, what. Why, why, why. She'd tossed and turned and made the sheets too hot and the pillow felt too warm to be comfortable, and when sleep finally claimed her, it was fitful and full of unsettling but ultimately forgotten dreams.

So going downstairs in the morning, she was tired, she was hurt, and she was pissed off.

"You painted," was Killian's mumbled greeting from the couch.

Emma stood in the doorway, her hands going to her hips as she tried to figure out if that remark would be the last straw or not. He lay prone on his back, one arm thrown over his face to block out the light from the windows over which she hadn't hung the curtains back up.

She didn't really feel bad about that.

"I did," she said. "Didn't really have anything else to do, what with all the last minute change of plans and all."

He sighed, heavily, and sat up with what seemed like an enormous amount of effort. He also looked like he'd been run over by a tractor, which gave her some kind of schadenfreude after how bad she'd felt for almost all of last night. "I did tell you-"

"No," she said, interrupting him. The last of her patience evaporated in that moment, gone over the last week of worrying about him and not hearing anything except for the national news, over a bad night of sleep and missing him terribly, over his fucking brother putting awful ideas into her head. "Do you know who told me you were just going to high-tail it out of here for a week or more? Your advisor. Dr. Bhavsar called me after you left to give me the head's up, because he thought you'd be too, what did he call it - forgetful about what was really important. And because I love you, I didn't say a word about it when you called me from Nebraska-"

"Kansas," Killian said quietly.

"Whatever. You were hundreds of miles away before you even thought to call me." Her eyes burned and she didn't know if she was just tired or if she was actually going to angry-cry over this. "Did you think I was going to stop you?"

"I don't know."

"Killian, I want you to be done just as much as you want to be done. You don't-"

"Do you?"

Emma blinked as he got to his feet, a hard look on his face as he stared at her. "What? Of course I do! I see how frustrated you are, how it affects us."

His hands flexed and she saw the silvery scars on his left hand standing out against pale skin. "If you really wanted me to be done, you'd take your ridiculous restrictions off of me-"

"Ridiculous? You could have died!"

He laughed without humor, holding up his hand. "But clearly I didn't, with only some scars and stiffness to prove anything happened. No, you just want to keep me coddled and tucked away, while the real professionals are out there at all hours to save lives."

Hot anger was giving way to cold rage and Emma tried to keep a handle on her temper, or else she'd say something she was going to regret. "First, if you want to save lives so much, become a first responder. We need that kind of help. Second, you don't have time to be out at all hours to save lives, because whenever you're not out chasing, Liam has you working yourself half to death at the bar."

Killian snorted. "You really think he doesn't want me to be done with this, that he'd rather I waste away at his dive bar for the rest of my life?"

"I think he's a little blind when it comes to you," she said, trying to remember what Ingrid had said. "And I think he wants to protect you, because that's what he's always done, and he can't protect you if you're out there throwing yourself into a vortex of death."

He scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Liam's not the one chaining me to the back porch like a dog who might run off after the slightest noise. Liam actually wants me to complete my program, to focus on what's important."

If she'd felt cold rage before, now her blood was turning to ice. "Oh right, I forgot. Liam knows what's best. Liam, who never wastes any time correcting me or talking down to me or treating me badly for no other reason than I'm dating you. Liam, who wouldn't raise a goddamn finger to help me if my car rolled over into a ditch."

"Don't you dare question what he would or wouldn't do-"

"He as good as called me a whore, Killian!" she shouted. "He calls me a whore and all you get is a slap on the wrist, because he's fucking blind when it comes to you. He just wants you to stop fucking some hussy and finish your degree, like the fact that I love you has nothing to do with it or the fact that I have no goddamn control over when the weather happens and it's fucking sucked this year! You and him are the same, you're both taking out all your anger about your fucking program on me, when I can't do a goddamn thing about any of it!"

"You could let me go!" Killian shouted, stalking up to her. Emma didn't flinch away, not now, not when she felt so cold she might actually break if he touched her. "I could have been done weeks ago if you weren't so selfish, that storm had an actual formation-"

"Selfish?" Emma asked. "Selfish? I'm selfish because you almost died? I'm selfish because I don't want to pay for your funeral?"

"Well at least one of us has the money to do it if I did die," Killian snarled, and her heart plummeted into her stomach. "You think I like living like this, waiting around and twiddling my thumbs because I can't contribute to anything? Because I'm constantly scraping to get by and paying for everything on bar tips and photos? You just went and painted our fucking house, Emma. You didn't ask, you just did it, because it was your money and you'd have the final say anyway."

"We talked about this!" she cried. "I didn't do it to throw money in your face, you know how tight our budget is anyway! We've been talking about getting rid of that stupid wallpaper, and I had nothing else to do while you were off doing fuck-all across the goddamn country, because my friends either work or are about to have a baby, and I'm not going to face your stupid brother when he's insulted me and you don't even have the balls to stand up to him for me."

His face was dark, his eyes like ice under his heavy brows. "Well I'm sorry that I'm all the entertainment you have," he said, his voice heavily layered in sarcasm. "I didn't realize I was your only plaything, seeing as how all of your friends seem to actually have their lives together. As for Liam, I did, as you say, have the balls to stand up to him - I told him to piss off about whatever we did together, that he had no right to speak to you as he did. And he reminded me that the last time I was this involved with someone, it ended badly then too."

She was trembling with rage and fear and dread, but she refused to look away from him. "Well I'm sorry you hate living here so much," she said coolly. "What with me flinging my paycheck around in your face and all, and dreading the day you don't come home because a chase went badly. If I knew that me caring about you at all was causing you so much pain, I would have told you to get out."

His eyes flashed, and in another moment he was stalking towards the door. "A fine idea that is," he snarled, grabbing his keys from the hook and slamming the front door behind him.

To her own credit, Emma managed to wait until she reached the couch, hearing the rumble of the TIV disappearing down the street, before she quite thoroughly went to pieces.

How she was able to pick herself back up, get ready for the day, and stomach any food, she didn't know. All she kept doing was replaying the fight in her mind over and over, like she was half asleep on the couch after watching a DVD and the start menu was playing on repeat again and again and she couldn't wake up enough to turn it off.

But she was awake. She couldn't turn off her brain. All she could do was kick herself for letting her temper get the better of her, for lashing out, for telling him to leave.

Remembering the look on his face as he'd left was like a dagger of ice in her heart.

"Emma?"

Graham was trying to get her attention, but Emma shook her head. "I'm fine."

He leaned against the door, arms crossed and a worried look on his face. "Sure, and I'm Bono. Just forgot me sunglasses. Did something happen?"

The word 'yes' stuck in her throat - admitting it to someone else made it real, made it not some kind of nightmare that she could shrug off and pretend never happened. So she stayed silent and just shook her head again, not even really aware of what she was writing at her desk. "Do you need to take some time off today?" he asked.

"No."

"Emma-"

"I'm fine, chief. I'll do patrol today, I need to go do something," she mumbled, and went to grab the keys to the cruiser before Philip, the usual patrolman, could.

She drove around town at random - Storybrooke wasn't that big, after all, so it's not like she had a really set area to stick to. She did have to make herself avoid Foxglove Lane - Killian would have no doubt gone back to his brother's place, and as much as she wanted to find him and try to make up with him, she also didn't know what to say to him.

Weirdly, all she really wanted to do was call him and tell him she'd had a fight with him.

Was that strange? Emma had several people she could call or go and see - Ingrid, Ruby, Mary Margaret, her cousins Anna and Elsa who lived in Missoula, any number of the people who have taken her in as their own over the years - people she could vent to and cry on their shoulders. But the only person she wanted to talk to was Killian.

Killian, who she told everything to. Killian, her best friend. Killian, who always made her feel better.

Except this time, Killian had been the one to make her feel this way.

She parked the cruiser near the edge of the road on its way out of town and watched for speeders, but this time of year and this time of day held little promise for anything interesting to happen. The fastest thing to cross her path was a squirrel, but even then it stopped a few times in its lazy hops across the road and she mentally scolded it to keep going in case a car actually went by.

She played with her phone for something to do with her hands as she watched clouds scuttle by above - puffy cumulus clouds, white and wispy at the top and carrying no sign of any rain that might wash away some of the dry dust that always seemed to settle over everything this time of year. She didn't know if she'd feel better if it was supposed to rain; at least a chance of rain might bring a chance for Killian to get another chase in, a chance to get the data he needed and be done with all of this.

Emma sighed, resting her head on her hand, her elbow propped up on the door. Even if, by some miracle, he did get everything he needed, would he still be mad at her? Would he forgive her for what she said?

Would he ask for forgiveness?

Would she even give it?

Her eyes blurred again and it stung, the skin around her eyes sore enough as it was, and she hated feeling this way. Blinking back tears, she threw the car into drive and headed for her mom's shop; it was the middle of the day, but Ingrid would put everything aside if Emma came in the way she looked right now.

Luckily, there was someone else helping at the front counter when Emma went in, the little bell above the door signaling her arrival. Ingrid smiled at first when she saw her, but the smile vanished into worry when she got a good look at her daughter's face. Without a word, Emma was bustled into the back room, the door to the front closed firmly behind them, and she fell into her mother's arms just as she started crying again.

Ingrid soothed her, drawing the story of what had happened out of her a little at a time; Emma was made to sit and given a bottle of water while she talked, and then she was given a milkshake that was made with rocky road and far more chocolate syrup mixed in than anyone was ever served out front.

She tried not to think about cliches and ice cream and things that soothed a broken heart.

They weren't broken up, they were just...

Broken.

"Oh my sweet girl, I'm so sorry," Ingrid said, holding her again and stroking her hair.

Emma leaned against her; her entire face hurt from crying so much in one day, how was that even possible? "I don't know what to do," she mumbled.

"You don't need to do anything right now. You both need space and distance from it before you can do anything rational."

"All I want to do is call him and tell him about it," Emma whispered. "Like when he's gone, we'll call and talk about our day, and all I want to do is be like 'hey, so I got in a huge fight with my boyfriend and it sucks' and talk it out with him, but he's the one I got into a fight with and he knows."

"I know, sweetheart."

"And he just looked so mad. He was so mad at me and I don't even know why."

Ingrid paused in her gentle ministrations for a moment. "I think he was mad about a lot of things and it just came out wrong. Same as you."

She thought back to that morning, wondering what the final straw would be, and thought maybe Ingrid was right. "I'm just... I'm just tired, Mom. I'm tired of missing him all the time when he's right there, I'm tired of feeling like it's my fault he's not done yet, I'm tired of feeling like I'm always putting him first and not getting anything in return. And I'm tired of Liam."

She felt Ingrid sigh more than she heard it. "I don't know what to tell you about Liam, other than you can pick who you love but you can't pick who they're related to. As for the rest... I can't fix any of it for you and I wish that I could. I'd like nothing more than to march over there and shake that boy until his teeth fell out for treating you so badly."

An immediate protest lept to the tip of her tongue - that Killian didn't treat her badly - but she stopped to consider her mother's words. If she were in someone else's shoes, looking at this, would she think the same way?

She was taught in school to look at a case from all the different angles, to try and distance herself from anything that might make her biased. She tried that now, looking over things as her mother might see it, as Ruby might see it.

They'd had their slips and rough spots before, but nothing that any normal couple hadn't faced. They'd talked and made up and compromised and worked together to make things better. And that had held true until the last several weeks.

Over the winter, as they'd gotten settled into the house, Killian had talked eagerly about the coming spring. He'd anticipated a wet spring with plenty of tornadic activity, his grant from the university to be renewed to continue chasing outside of the state, finishing his research and starting work on finalizing his dissertation. "This is it," he'd said one night as they lay together under the blankets of their bed. It wasn't even a proper bed at that point, they just had the mattress on the floor while they waited for the bedframe to be delivered. "This will be the last spring I'll need to finish everything, and then I'll be done. This is the start of something wonderful in our lives, Swan, I can feel it."

"There's probably something poetic in there about spring and new beginnings and whatever," she'd teased, her foot hooking around his calf and bringing his leg between hers.

"Probably and whatever," he'd agreed, and he'd kissed her, the sex that night giddy and full of hope.

But one wrong thing after another - the grant fell through, a dry spring, another delay on his work - and the stress started to grate on him. She understood and they'd still worked together to make do with what they could, but there was only so much she could do to support him, and she thought he'd understood that.

But maybe he did? "It's been a rough couple of months for him," Emma said finally. "I think it's like you said - he's mad about a lot of things and it came out wrong."

She wasn't angry anymore, not after spilling the whole story. She was hurting, yes - God, her chest ached and she missed him and she just wanted to sit down and talk with him. And she was hurt over some of the things he'd said, and she felt guilty about what she'd said in return, both of them spitting daggers before realizing they weren't actually mad at each other - they were just angry at the world and the things they had no control over and the final straw hadn't just broken the camel's back, it had caused the whole camel to shatter under pressure.

Okay, maybe she was a little mad at him about some things. Like he could have called. And he could do more to stick up for her to Liam.

But neither of those things were worth destroying everything they'd built together.

Ingrid pulled away, getting a paper towel and wetting it before coming to kneel in front of her, dabbing gently at Emma's cheeks. "I know you, sweetheart; you've already forgiven him, haven't you?" she asked softly, wiping away what was probably the worst raccoon eyes Emma had ever had in her life.

"No," she said, surprising herself. "But I'm open to the idea, if we talk first."

Ingrid smiled. "Look at you. You've grown so much in all the time I've known you."

Emma pushed herself off the chair and threw her arms around Ingrid's neck. "Thank you," she whispered. Not for today, though that helped; no, her mom knew what she'd been like for years, she'd commented on it just last week. Emma came to her a broken girl, hardened by the world, and it had taken a lot of patience and a lot of love from this woman to make her able to even consider having this kind of conversation with Killian in the future. "For everything, Mom."

She told herself she was imagining the little sniffle she heard, but she knew it was a lie as Ingrid's arms came around her and held her tight. "You're very welcome, my darling girl."

Three years ago…

To his credit, Graham did not, in fact, laugh her out of his office when she broached the subject of going out with Killian, but the look on his face said that he dearly wanted to. Emma would have been offended, except that she knew she was being overly cautious and ridiculous and, if she was being honest with herself, a little bit classically-Emma in trying to find a way out of entangling herself with another person romantically. Which was also why it had taken her two weeks to gather the courage to even ask in the first place. So instead of laughing at her (chuckling didn't count), she and Graham wound up having a very interesting discussion about how cops and criminals walked very fine lines around each other, how easy it was to befriend someone on the other side as long as they kept business out of it, and how this could easily wind up with cops turning dirty.

Most importantly, he told her that a simple spot check did not a criminal make, and if she really wanted to go on a date with Killian, she was allowed to.

"Now, if it turns out you break my bartender's heart, I might have a thing or two to say about that, but-" This time Graham did laugh as Emma reached across the desk to swat at him, her cheeks burning red.

"One dinner doesn't make or break anything," she huffed, sitting back down and avoiding looking at him.

He sounded odd as he responded, "One dinner can make or break anything, Emma."

She glanced up and was struck by the wistful look on his face; his gaze wasn't directed at her, instead looking off towards something she couldn't see. "Graham?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing. I think we've spent enough of the morning gabbing, let's get on with the business of the day."

By the time she got home, had dinner with Ingrid, and got up to her room, Emma had mostly forgotten the conversation she'd had with Graham that morning. She showered and got into her pajamas; it was early for bed, but she was just tired of wearing real pants and a bra. She was halfway through an episode of the show she was binging on Netflix before she remembered.

Hey. You busy?

She didn't think that blurting it out without knowing he could respond would help the cloud of butterflies that had erupted in her stomach. If he was working and it was a busy night at the bar, she didn't want to tell him and then sit there waiting and wondering and maybe he'd decided it wasn't worth it and he wasn't interested anymore and she wasn't worth it or -

Her phone buzzed. Got some time. How goes, Swan?

Emma swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry. Okay. You?

Keeping busy.

Cool.

A pause.

So I talked to Graham.

Another pause.

He said it's ok. He didn't laugh at me, but he wanted to.

Still no response.

For the dinner or whatever you'd asked me about.

Another minute ticked by.

My answer is yes, if it wasn't clear.

More silence.

I know I'm ridiculous, by the way.

Now when there wasn't a response she started to get worried. No, it wasn't worry, it was outright nausea. Emma fought the urge to just throw her phone across the room and ignore it and keep watching her show, and now she'd missed like ten minutes of the plot and she had no idea what was going on and -

Bloody hell, sorry, Liam has the worst timing. As do I, apparently. I'm very glad to hear you want to go to dinner and that there are no restrictions on it. And I will take you to a proper dinner, but it's going to have to wait a few weeks.

What happened?

I'm leaving tomorrow on a chase, I'll be gone at least a week. Maybe more, if another system crops up. My grant got approved so I have time/money to get more research done before the opportunities drop off.

Her stomach was now somewhere under her bed. Now Emma wanted to throw her phone across the room for another reason, mostly so she could pretend this conversation had never happened and she could ignore reality for a while. Oh, she typed back, not sure what else to say.

She set her phone aside and skipped back a bit on her show to pick up where she'd missed things, but as she settled back down on her bed, her heart wasn't really in it. She curled up with her pillow and tried not to beat herself up about it; if she'd talked to Graham earlier, if she'd just ignored her worries and said yes like she'd wanted to, maybe they wouldn't have to wait - or maybe it wouldn't feel like some kind of contrived excuse for blowing her off. Maybe she really had waited too long. After all, she hadn't gone to the bar since he'd asked her out, not wanting to give him hope or give him the chance to talk about it when she hadn't actually checked to make sure it was okay. So really, there were plenty of reasons why he may have changed his mind, thought it wasn't worth waiting around for her.

Her phone buzzed on the bed - not a text tone, but an incoming call.

Emma's brow furrowed as she picked it up. "Killian?"

"Love, I am not doing this over texts, it's far too easy to misunderstand intent. Please don't take this as an excuse, it's not. This is the first good system I've had a chance to chase in weeks, and the opportunity exists for more. I need to get more research in this season or else I get another delay on my dissertation and graduation. I very much would like to take you out this weekend, but unless you can spring for a surprise week vacation and prefer eating at whatever fast food establishment I can find in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming, I'm afraid we have to wait."

She reached over and paused her show; if she'd heard him right, he somehow had gotten into her head in the last ten minutes. "How the hell did you know that's what I was thinking?" she asked.

"You're something of an open book, Swan."

Emma made a face. "Not something a cop likes to hear."

"Well, maybe your tough policewoman act works better on the seedy underbelly of Storybrooke, but not on me."

She had to laugh at his phrasing and his half-smug, half-provocative tone. "Don't forget, I had to make sure you didn't count as one of those seedy underbelly people."

"Ah, but who's to say I'm not? Maybe you just haven't found that side of me yet. Please, though, just inform me beforehand if you have to do a strip search so I'll be sure to have on clean boxers."

Emma snorted and covered her face. He really was ridiculous. "Didn't picture you as a boxers guy," she said.

"What, picturing me as more of a Calvin Klein man?"

She bit her lip at the image that brought to mind. They'd definitely be an improvement over the tighty-whities she'd seen him in that first time. Still, she'd gone there and she was only giving as good as she got. "Actually, I pictured you as more of a commando kind of guy."

There was an odd noise on the other end, and then it sounded like he dropped the phone altogether. Emma blinked. "Killian?"

"Uh - yeah," he said, his voice sounding oddly high, then he cleared his throat. He stumbled over the start of another sentence and she raised an eyebrow, her amusement growing at how flustered he sounded. Giving him a taste of his own medicine seemed to be working out amazingly. "So - dinner. As soon as it can be managed. Two weeks?"

She settled back against her pillows. It was a bummer that they couldn't get together before then, but at least she wasn't feeling as low about it as she did before. "Are you going to be back by then?"

"Swan, after what you just told me, I'll put some damned wings on the TIV if I need to."

Emma laughed, her stomach resettling in her abdomen and the leaden feeling leaving her as he charmed and flirted her bad mood away.

They kept in touch over text when they could over the next week or so. He didn't have good signal that often and she was often out on patrol for work, so sometimes an hour or more would pass between exchanges.

So, tell me more about how I go commando?

That one came just after she'd gotten into the patrol car to start her morning shift. She replied after she parked on the edge of town to watch for speeders.

Says the guy who made his first impression in some tighty-whities.

Nothing came until she got to the school to help with the pre-school year safety checks.

Intimate details, Swan, I want intimate details.

Unfortunately for him, she had to let him sweat it out while going over the new safety rules and school safety officer schedules with the district's principals and superintendent. After that came a long discussion on how to handle the sports schedules and the station's plans for the football season, and she only managed to reply just as her shift was ending.

Imagine, I could be telling you those intimate details in person if we were on a date right now.

In fact, since telling him in jest, she'd definitely had a few thoughts about the matter and could probably offer a few intimate details. But given the circumstances, and his interesting reaction to the comment in the first place, she wanted to see what he'd do if she actually did tell him in person.

His reply to that came as she was getting into bed that night, and it made her smile wryly.

You know how to cut a man deep, love.

She kept glancing at the clock, her leg bouncing so much that it was causing the pens and miscellaneous knick-knacks covering her desk to rattle around. Ruby kept giving her a Look whenever she happened to walk by and hear the minor racket she was causing, and one of the deputies, Arthur, had complained about noise earlier until Graham had told him to shut it. Arthur had continued to grumble under his breath, just loud enough for Emma to hear, but Graham had to threaten to send him out on patrol duty unless he knocked it off.

No one really liked either of Graham's deputies, but Arthur was easily the most disliked.

Towards the end of the day, Graham sauntered over and perched on the edge of her desk, his added weight offsetting the relentless bounce of her leg and quieting the rattling. "Officer Swan, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were nervous."

"Shut up," she said, finishing up a report.

"Is that how you talk to your boss?"

"Shut up, sir."

He laughed, then pretended to think. "Now, why is it that you might be nervous? Do you by chance have something important happening tonight? A date, maybe?"

Emma glared up at him. Sometimes it was hard for her to balance the two sides of him that she knew: Chief Humbert was a sensible man, good-natured, but able to make you jump to attention with a single look. Graham, meanwhile, could be sillier than a basket of puppies and she'd been in a field of wildflowers with more sense than he had in his head. And God help her when the two occasionally mixed. "Did you need something, sir?" she asked pointedly.

"Nothing really, just checking to make sure you have the permission slip I gave you for your excursion tonight."

She groaned, dropping her head down on the desk between her arms. "God, shut up."

He chuckled somewhere above her. "You have to admit, Emma, it was a bit ridiculous."

"Like you didn't make any stupid mistakes when you were a rookie," she grumbled. She sat up and finished saving her report, moving the file to the shared drive and shutting down her computer. "I'm out for the evening."

Graham moved in her way before she could leave. "Seriously, though, have a good time," he said. "You deserve a bit of happiness, Emma, and I think he could do you a world of good in that regard."

She felt her face heat up; she never would have expected something like that to come from her boss. From Mary Margaret, sure, or even her mother, but Graham? "I - thanks," she said, her tongue feeling thick and clumsy over the word.

He let her pass and she went out to her car, still silently shaking her head over the exchange.

As she got ready, she kept second-guessing every single one of her decisions: did she really need to go out and buy this pink dress? Did it make her look too girly? Her hair - she'd curled it and then decided she wanted to wear it up, but would he like her hair in a ponytail like that? Should she go for false lashes? Did she really want to wear those shoes? Would they make her taller than him - come to think of it, there weren't many times when she'd seen him not behind the bar, and she couldn't remember how much taller he really was.

At some point she sat down on her bed in disgust and wondered if it was too late to call the whole thing off.

Then she remembered how she'd felt when he'd had to postpone everything, and thought better of it.

But the whole effort was worth it when she went to answer the door and his mouth fell open at the sight of her. "You look stunning, Swan," Killian said.

Emma's eyebrows rose as she took in the sight of him; she'd never seen him outside of a Pour House t-shirt and some worn out jeans - the first time in his underwear didn't count - so this well-dressed Killian was a treat in and of itself: tight black jeans, short-sleeved button-down shirt that brought out the color of his eyes, black vest. "You… look…"

He shrugged, an easy grin on his face. "I know." He pulled one hand from behind his back and offered her a single red rose. Emma took it, her face warm; she couldn't remember the last time, if ever, anyone had bought her flowers. "Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm.

Emma grabbed her purse and locked up behind them; Ingrid was working that night, after being sworn not to make a big deal about one date. She took his offered arm and he walked her down to a car she knew wasn't his; he'd told her about how he'd turned his truck into the TIV and hadn't bothered getting a second car.. "Liam's," Killian said, opening the door for her. "Only indulgence he allows himself, this old muscle car."

She knew nothing about cars past how to keep her vintage Bug in working order, so she just made what she hoped was an appreciative noise as she slid in and he closed the door behind her.

They were both oddly quiet on the drive to the restaurant; Emma fiddled with the hem of her dress, caught between wanting to talk and feeling like she had nothing interesting to say. Killian didn't seem too perturbed by it, opening the door for her and leading her in without pressing her about it; he'd made a reservation and they were seated almost immediately, and he even pulled her chair out for her. "Such a gentleman," she said finally, grateful for something to say.

"I'm always a gentleman," he told her, sitting across from her with a wink.

"I've seen you toss out disruptive patrons; the look on your face could hardly be described as 'gentlemanly'."

"Aye, well, ensuring the continued atmosphere and content of my patrons certainly is."

"Always worried about the atmosphere."

She wasn't sure at all how he managed to grin at her in such a pleased yet sultry way, but he managed to make it work, and from there the evening continued without any of the earlier awkwardness.

They decided to take a walk after dinner, continuing their conversation from dinner about her career plans, her hand grasped firmly in his. Privately, Emma thought they were just looking for an excuse to continue their time together, but waiting for some of the wine they'd had over dinner to work its way out of their system was as good an excuse as any. They meandered through the downtown area before slipping onto some of the side streets, the late-summer cicadas providing a soundtrack to their talk as it shifted to books. She wasn't as much of a reader as she used to be - she just didn't have the time - but she was able to hold her own when he started talking older books.

And she trounced him in Harry Potter trivia, which she delighted in teasing him about.

"I did move here when I was quite young, you know," he grumbled as they turned a corner.

"Doesn't matter, it was a global thing. You should at least know your House."

The street they'd turned down was less inhabited, or at least most of the houses on the block looked dark; after all the patrols she'd done and all the calls she'd gone on through town, she knew the area fairly well - retirees, empty nesters, no one who really went out past nine if they didn't have to. So when Killian turned her and pressed her back up against a tree, Emma felt quite reasonably assured that no one would be peeping on them at this point. She wet her lips, her heart racing as she looked up at his face - too close to hers to be thinking about doing anything other than what she hoped he was thinking - and in the dim light she saw his eyes flick down to her lips briefly before looking at her again. "You're kind of a geek, Swan," he told her softly.

"Says the giant science nerd who built a giant armored science tank."

"Then I'd say it takes one to know one," he breathed, his lips brushing hers, and a moment later he was kissing her fully.

She'd been kissed before. She'd had kisses that made her weak in the knees, kisses that stole her breath, kisses that made her forget her name. But never, before now, a kiss that did all three and then some. His hands came up to cup her face, his palms rough on her cheeks. She shivered as they moved down her neck, skimming her shoulders and down her arms. His lips were as gentle as his touch, dipping in once, twice, three times at different angles and with varying degrees of pressure. His hands settled on her hips and she felt intensely aware of every point where their bodies touched, but none more so than the feeling of his tongue tentatively tracing the seam of her lips.

She opened for him, eager for more; her arms went up around his neck and she groaned into his mouth as his tongue slid against hers. Her fingers slid through his silky hair and she was filled with the urge to grab on tight and use it as leverage to take this to the next level. She felt drunk, her skin tingling at every touch, dizzy and muddled and like she could do anything as long as he just kept kissing her.

She rose up on her toes, pushing off the tree, and he stumbled backwards a little; his hands slipped, her skirt bunching up, and she whimpered at the feeling of his fingers on her thighs. He made a questioning noise and she sighed an assent and her pulse quickened when he let the fabric slide over the hands that rose up to tease the edges of her lacy panties.

She actually squirmed when the tip of one finger caught under the edge and traced the line of her panties back and forth. There was a fire building between her legs and he was only stoking it higher and higher and she was definitely, definitely going to have to do something about this if he kept going -

A dog started barking down the street, distant enough that they weren't the cause but still close enough to make them jerk apart. Absurdly, she felt cold as soon as Killian stepped away from her, despite the warmth of the evening and how flushed she felt. "We should - we should head back," he said and she really, really liked how thoroughly wrecked he sounded.

He held out his hand and she took it, following him on legs that felt far too wobbly for some kissing and light petting. "I might not make it that far," Emma admitted sheepishly.

He just smiled at her. "I'll carry you if I have to."

But they made it back to the restaurant without having to resort to that, though she did entertain quite a few thoughts about how that might feel, and he drove her home without further incident. No driving down to the outskirts of town to go parking. Or kissing. Or hands where they shouldn't be.

Which was really disappointing.

He did insist on walking her to her door, though, and Emma claimed another kiss from him. This one was more chaste, with his fingers entwined with hers and her foot popping up precariously from sheer bliss. "Will you go out with me again?" Killian asked hoarsely, his nose brushing against hers and the question spoken against her lips.

She kissed him again instead of answering, squeezing their fingers together. "Text me."

Emma half expected her mother to turn on the porch light, they stood there so long lingering in each other's spaces, but Killian was the first to break, taking a reluctant step back. She moved to unlock the door, knowing if she didn't move now, she never would. "Good night, Killian," she whispered.

"Good night," she heard him reply, and then she slipped inside, closing the door behind her and leaning against it with a happy, yet a little overwhelmed sigh.

She was so, so fucked.

[fan-of-mulligan]

FOM BLOG: STEVE EVANS OPTING TO SIGN EXPERIENCED PLAYERS

Gillingham start The 2021 / 2022 Season with a home league game against Lincoln City At Priestfield Stadium On Saturday The Seventh Of August, And Steve Evans has been busy assembling the squad before the opening day of the season, and there has been a reoccurring theme in Gillingham’s Player Recruitment This Summer, And that is the fact that Steve Evans has signed players with plenty of experience, When Steve Evans was Interviewed roughly four weeks ago now, Steve Evans was asked questions about whether Gillingham will look to sign players who play for Kent Non League Teams, Sign Players who want to play in England who are currently playing for football clubs in other countries, and if we’re looking to sign young players released by Premier League and Championship Clubs.

The combined statements from Steve Evans being reluctant to sign players who play first team football in other countries, and taking a chance on a player who is playing for A Kent Non League Team suggests that Steve Evans is looking to sign proven established lower league players who know precisely the challenges of League One And League Two Football, And one of the reasons why I think Steve Evans is opting to sign players with experience is because Steve Evans went down the youth route last season, and the loan signings of Trae Coyle, Zech Medley, Josh Eccles, Declan Drysdale and Scott Robertson from Arsenal, Coventry City and Celtic respectively saw Gillingham put in a run of inconsistent performances, Gillingham would go five matches unbeaten, before going five matches without a win, and all five players who were signed on A Season Long Loan, were being sent back to there parent clubs in January, And when Gillingham signed Robbie Cundy, Callum Slattery, Tyreke Johnson and Olly Lee, Gillingham’s form in the second half of the season was much more consistent, And Robbie Cundy and Jack Tucker had a more settled centre back partnership.

Aaron Chapman, 31, Olly Lee ,30, Max Ehmer, 29, Danny Lloyd, 29, Rhys Bennett, 29, And Ben Reeves 29 have all been signed by Steve Evans so far, And With Experienced Midfielders Stuart O’Keefe and Alex MacDonald signing contract extensions, And Mustapha Carayol close to signing for Gillingham before the season starts, Gillingham are assembling a squad of players with plenty of experience, And Steve Evans will hoping that by having a core group of experienced players that Gillingham will not be troubled with the inconsistent run of form that severely affected Gillingham’s Form In The First Half Of The 2020 / 2021 Season.

Olly Lee sign’s for Gillingham having had three previous loan spells at the club and Olly Lee scored five goals in twenty six appearances for Gillingham Last Season, If Olly Lee was to replicate that goal-scoring form throughout The 2021 / 2022 Season, Then Olly Lee would score ten goals in fifty two appearances and Gillingham will be hoping that Olly Lee can score ten goals this coming season, especially with Jordan Graham signing for Birmingham City, I am delighted that Olly Lee has signed for Gillingham on a permanent basis and we know precisely what we are getting with Olly Lee, Decent Player, and a player who was performed very well in Gillingham’s Midfield in the past two season’s.

Max Ehmer never wanted to leave Gillingham last summer and Paul Scally was reluctant to offer player contracts until we knew precisely what was going on, and Bristol Rovers were ambitious in there player recruitment last summer signing both Jack Badwin and Max Ehmer to strengthen there defensive options, But Bristol Rovers had a horrendous season last season, With Ben Garner, Paul Tisdale and Joey Barton all unable to prevent Bristol Rovers from getting relegated into League Two, And how can any player settle into a new club when the club in question has appointed three manager’s in one season, Max Ehmer has made over 250 appearances for Gillingham Football Club, And In Max Ehmer’s final season, Gillingham had the fourth best defensive record in League One In The 2019 / 2020 Season, and the fact that Gillingham’s three best players from The 2019 / 2020 Season were Jack Tucker, Max Ehmer and Connor Ogilvie tells you just how well Gillingham’s Defence performed throughout that season, Steve Evans tried and failed to replace Max Ehmer with the signings of Christian Maghoma, Declan Drysdale and Zech Medley never really cementing a centre back partnership alongside Jack Tucker, So Max Ehmer returning to Gillingham Football Club is a very sensible signing.

Not only has Max Ehmer’s return to Gillingham Football Club see Gillingham sign one experienced centre back partner to play alongside Jack Tucker, But Steve Evans has also signed a second experienced centre back to really strengthen Gillingham’s Defensive Options With Rhys Bennett signing for Gillingham, Rhys Bennett’s versatility allows him to play at Right Back, Centre Back, And Defensive Midfield, And Steve Evans knows Rhys Bennett from there time together at Peterborough United and Mansfield Town, And Gillingham have gone from the inexperienced signings of Declan Drysdale and Zech Medley Last Season, to the experienced signings of Max Ehmer and Rhys Bennett this summer, And I am pleased to see both defenders sign for Gillingham this off season, especially Max Ehmer, Because Max Ehmer’s absence was very noticeable in the first half of The 2020 / 2021 Season.

Steve Evans has also signed Two Former Peterborough United Players In Aaron Chapman and Danny Lloyd, And prior to Jamie Cumming signing on A Season Long Loan Deal From Chelsea, From what I saw from Aaron Chapman in goal in pre-season for Gillingham against Welling United and Colchester United, If Gillingham started the season with Aaron Chapman as our first choice goalkeeper and Gillingham signed another goalkeeper to be back up, I would have no complaints with that decision, But Jamie Cumming and Aaron Chapman have both really strengthened Gillingham’s Options In Goal, And if Aaron Chapman is to play the role of the experienced back up goalkeeper to Jamie Cumming, then Gillingham have signed two goalkeepers who are more then capable of being our number one goalkeeper.

Whilst Danny Lloyd is an interesting signing, Because Tranmere Rovers wanted keep hold of the left sided winger and I can see why when looking at Danny Lloyd’s Stats, Because seven goals in thirty nine appearances last season is a very good goal tally for a winger and Danny Lloyd scored his first goal for Gillingham in our 3-3 draw against Welling United at Park View Road, and I do believe that Gillingham have managed to unearth themselves a gem signing, and maybe Danny Lloyd has fallen away and needs to recapture the form he had at Peterborough United earlier on his career.

And the final player from the six players I mentioned above from Gillingham’s Summer Signings Is Ben Reeves, And Ben Reeves played a fantastic pass through to John Akinde as John Akinde scored a late equaliser for Gillingham against Welling United and Ben Reeves has taken free kicks and corner kicks for Gillingham in the few matches I have watched in pre-season, If Ben Reeves can re-discover the form he had at Charlton Athletic and MK Dons during his time at Gillingham, then Gillingham have managed to sign themselves a very good player, and with Olly Lee, Ben Reeves, Stuart O’Keefe, Alex MacDonald, Daniel Phillips, Kyle Dempsey, Danny Lloyd and utility player Robbie McKenzie, Gillingham have got plenty of options to choose from in midfield, although Steve Evans is still looking to sign more reinforcements to strengthen our midfielder options before the transfer window closes.

And Gillingham are likely to add more experience to the first team squad before the season starts, and most likely, before the transfer window closes, and there are plenty of experienced players out of contract that Steve Evans can look to sign, Mustapha Carayol is close to signing for Gillingham, But Kyle Vassell, Kieran Agard and Bryon Moore are all currently unattached and looking to sign for clubs, and all three players could sign and strengthen Gillingham’s Attacking Options Before The Start Of The Season.

I can understand why Steve Evans has opted to sign experienced players, Gillingham do not have much room to manoeuvre in the transfer market, So, Gillingham cannot take too much of a risk on a promising young player who is currently playing in Non League Football, or, take a chance on a player who is playing competitive first team football in another country, but perhaps needs time to adjust to the combative nature of Lower League Football, And Gillingham have signed players like Tomas Holy and Paulo Gazzaniga, and both Goalkeepers struggled to begin with before performing exceptionally well in-between the sticks for Gillingham, and both goalkeepers were fan favourites during there time at Gillingham as well, But Steve Evans perhaps doesn’t want a player to take the time to adjust to League One Football, and if Gillingham are to be genuine playoff contenders, then that run of games where Gillingham lost five league games in a row without scoring a goal is the type of run that can rule you out of playoff contention early on in the season, and it is the kind of run that we will be hoping that Gillingham do not experience again in The 2021 / 2022 Season.

But even with the experienced players signed so far, I still think Gillingham can do with signing three attacking players, whether that will be one striker, one right sided player and one left sided player, or, one striker, and two additional players signed who can play anywhere in the front four, only time will tell, But Gillingham really need reinforcements in attack, And Gillingham can really do with signing attacking players with pace, because the lack of pace Gillingham have got in the final third is very concerning, Gillingham can do with signing another Left Back, And either that Left Back is A First Choice Left Back who is signed to replace Connor Ogilvie, Or, David Tutonda is Gillingham’s First Choice Left Back, And Gillingham sign a versatile left back who can play anywhere down the left side of the pitch.

The final signing I am suggesting will be A Centre Back who can fill in at Central Midfield, I would like the additional insurance of a third choice goalkeeper, But I cannot see Gillingham signing a third choice goalkeeper unless we strengthen the squad in all area’s of the pitch that we will be hoping that Gillingham can strengthen the squad before the transfer window closes, and only if there is some room in the budget to bring in another keeper, And Gillingham could sign Kyle Vassell, Kieran Agard, Bryon Moore, And if we could find another Alfie Jones and Tom O’Connor, those five additions would greatly strengthen Gillingham’s First Team Squad for this coming season.

Steve Evans tried to go down the youth route with the signings of Declan Drysdale, Josh Eccles, Zech Medley, Trae Coyle and Scott Robertson on loan last season, this time round, Steve Evans is looking to sign for proven experienced players who know precisely how to deal with a long and challenging season in League One, and with a small first team squad, And Gillingham having a disrupted pre-season schedule, make no mistake, this is going to be a challenging season for The Gills, and the challenge starts with a home league game against A Lincoln City Side who reached the playoffs last season, And Gillingham can just ease the burden off this challenge by winning the opening league game of the season and pick up three points just so that we’re not chasing our first league win of the season in match-day four, or five.

Signing five players, and in-particular, the five players I have mentioned is right now extremely unlikely, But with players out of contract and sitting on the sidelines whilst the football season has started, there will be players who perhaps are willing to lower there wage demands to earn themselves a professional contract, And then there is the loan window with Championship Clubs looking to sign players on loan from Premier League Clubs, and then those Championship Clubs can send there fringe first team players out on loan, And while it is less then ideal, Gillingham are perhaps waiting and seeing who is available and affordable to strengthen our first team squad, with extra empathises being put on affordable.

[d2kvirus]

Dickheads of the Month: November 2020

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of November 2020 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

Nobody was expecting Donald Trump to concede defeat gracefully, but bloody hell, between the completely batshit insane conspiracy theory bollocks from himself and the rancid Trump offspring to Rudy Giuliani making complete fools of themselves even before he had to give a press conference from the parking lot of a landscaping firm as nobody checked which Four Seasons it was, before threatening to outlaw Twitter because people made fun of his little table (yes, that sentence does make sense), nobody could have expected just how tempramental toddlers are now thinking it's a bit much

...although somehow the Tory government managed to have an even worse response, because not only did posting a boilerplate jpeg to congratulate Joe Biden for his victory the laziest response possible, but then it turned out that they only had a celebratory jpeg for a Trump victory and hastily edited it on Paint so that Biden’s name was on there, but did a cack-handed job of it even though a.) Common sense dictates you have one for each candidate ready in advance, and b.) Given they had several days to accept which way the wind was blowing, the fact they did the most cack-handed job says everything you need to know 

Smirking cretin Priti Patel has bullied Home Office staff and, having initially tried to bury the report, the best the Tory government could come up with to try and make this go away was claim that she was bullying her subordinates by accident while proven liar Boris Johnson claimed she had done nothing wrong, numerous members of the Tory government either said that as they hadn’t seen her bullying anyone she must be innocent or tried claiming she was “accused” of bullying instead of found guilty of bullying, and to top it all off we had Michael Gove’s wife Sarah Vine accused anyone calling Patel of being a bully racist while Alison Pearson said Patel can’t be a bully as she isn’t tall enough. Also, did I mention this came out during national Bullying Week?

...and just a thought for Jess Phillips after she decided to weigh in, considering it’s on record that you bullied Diane Abbott (and have gleefully said how you told her to “Fuck off” on various occasions) it's not a good idea for you to try and act as you’re above bullying as you will get called out for your hypocrisy

Murderer Amanda Knox thought it would be a really funny joke to suggest that, no matter what the election result, the next four years couldn’t be as bad as the four years she spent studying abroad.  You know, those four years where she murdered Meredith Kercher and got away with it

So it turns out that the moral compass of the Tory government says that it is fine for Dominic Cummings to be happy to sacrifice the elderly if it protects the economy during a pandemic while displaying that he doesn’t know how herd immunity works, purging 21 MPs from the party for not buying into his No Deal Britait Jonestown, siphoning hundreds of millions of pounds into the pockets of his mates in various dodgy contracts, or flagrantly violating the lockdown rules by driving several hundred miles to Durham (where he owns a house he doesn't pay council tax for) after testing positive for Covid - but as soon as he calls Carrie Symonds “Princess Nut Nuts” he’s out the door...for a staged photo op, even though he is remaining in his job until December, which is when he was going to leave anyway

...and we should mention Laura Kuenssberg bullishly stating that Cummings was going nowhere in the wake of Lee Cain being told he could leave when his contract is up in December but they want to make it look like he is being fired, but within twelve hours saying that Cummings would always be leaving in December as a blog post in January stated, which not only asks if anyone has checked the archived version of that blog in case any edits were made in mid-November, but also how she can justify her £290k a year salary if she can get a story that badly wrong that Cummings’ blog disagreed with her

There’s a reason why Lindsey Graham isn't popular in the Senate and it isn’t because he questions if Biden won the election, it's because he’s telling people to “misplace” the votes for Biden which they are counting so that Trump could claim that he won Georgia instead of losing Georgia, demanding a recount, then losing Georgia

Once again proven liar Boris Johnson demonstrated that lockdown rules apply to the little people but not to him or his inner circle, as he met with fellow Tory MP Lee Anderson in person rather than via Zoom as the lockdown rules state, didn't wear a mask as lockdown rules state, and clearly didn’t social distance as a picture of him with Anderson taken during the meetings shows they are not two metres apart as lockdown rules state, which means that he had to spend two weeks self-isolating as a direct result 

Has anyone told Keir Starmer that The Board of Deputies weren’t on the ballot for Labour leadership?  Because by his performative act of refusing to restore the party whip to Jeremy Corbyn after his performative suspension, which he did after the BoD stamped their feet and demanded the whip not be restored, he’s not doing a good job of demonstrating leadership

First of all it was news that Steve Bannon uses Twitter, as surely he should have flounced off for Parler years ago.  But secondly, the real news is how he used his Twitter account to call for Anthony Fauci to be beheaded - at which point he suddenly couldn’t use his Twitter account anymore

According to Iain Duncan Smith putting the UK into a second lockdown is “giving in to the scientific advisors” as if during a pandemic, which the last time I checked was a scientific matter, you should instead be listening to Julia Halfwit-Brewer, Dan Wootton, Alison Pearson or Isabel Oakeshott rather than people qualified to talk about what to do in the face of a global pandemic 

Nice Guy Rishi Sunak proposed a return of Eat Out To Help Out for Christmas.  You know, the thing which has been directly linked with causing a spike in Covid numbers in August?

Tory arrogance was neatly summed up by George Eustace casually saying that, if Lurpak didn’t want to incur the massive price hikes of Britain crashing out of the EU without a paddle, all they have to do is move their entire base of operations to the UK

The fact that Disney have been trying to justify their refusal to even issue royalty statements to Alan Dean Foster for his novelisations of the Star Wars and Alien franchises and have simply been pocketing the revenue made by the books continued sales by claiming they only purchased the license and not the liability, which is a particularly unique interpretation of copyright law

It was only a matter of time before The Daily Mail started trying to create dirt about Marcus Rashford because he has the sheer gall to say that feeding children is not a bad thing, which they did by reporting the horrors of him...buying a house for his mother

Twitter troll Ben Bradley had a stellar month, first by standing up in Commons and asking why there isn't a Minister for Women while also showing a terrifying inability to understand what equality is, and soon followed that up by quoting Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech by claiming that it was about equality - only for Bernice King to tell him that, no, her father’s speech was about eliminating racism from our society

I think that it's time for The Daily Express to admit that, when they're running articles saying that it’s Remainers who are to blame for Trump getting dumped onto the street, that maybe they have a problem

The Streisand Effect still hasn’t reached WWE judging by their continuing to double down on demanding their employees independent contractors stop earning money via third-party platforms manifested in their releasing Thea Trinidad from her contract in spite her Twitch account always being under her real name and not her WWE moniker of Zelina Vega

It was a coincidence that the Jewish Labour Movement decided to hold their annual conference on the Palestinian Day of Solidarity.  Of course it was...

This month it was Fin Taylor who demonstrated just how far from satire HIGNFY has strayed with his “Bomb Glastonbury and kill all Jeremy Corbyn supporters” joke in response to Joan Bakewell lying about Corbyn breaking the law - and, afterwards, Taylor was generally being a smug twat about it on his Twitter - which also serves to show how Tim Davie is fine with booking comedians whose acts have plenty of questionable content contained within it if it guarantees the Tories escape criticism

This month’s example of Steve Baker making himself a walking punchline with no self-awareness came from him howling that further lockdown measures would be a violation of terms set out by the European Convention on Human Rights - yes, the exact same convention that Baker has a.) Repeatedly accused of meddling with British affairs and is an example of the EU nanny state, and b.) Frowns upon things such as Steve Baker repeatedly voting against allowing child refugees to be reunited with their families

Nothing says “worker happiness” quite like GameStop running a competition for their stores to post Tik Tok dances where the store which is voted the winner receives prizes such as an Amazon Echo, a Visa gift card, and the privilege of working an additional ten hours during the week of Black Friday.  Wait, did I say “worker happiness”?  I meant to say “Dickensian shithousery” where employees are expected to compete so they can work more hours

Of course the “We’re not racist”s of Twitter had an issue with Sainsburys Christmas ad because it didn’t appeal to white men due to having a black family, in much the same way that Compare the Market’s ads don't appeal to white men as they’re not Russian meerkats

Professional victim Laurence Fox thought it would be a good idea to get into a slanging match with The Pogues while lying that Fairytale of New York would be banned from the airwaves.  It went about as well as could be expected

It wouldn’t be Remembrance Day without The Sun or The Daily Mail exploiting it for some obvious ragebait, and this year was no exception with both “papers” posting a photo of Extinction Rebellion posting with a banner in front of the Cenotaph protesting climate change - a photo taken two days earlier, but they held off on posting it until the day itself to get the rage flowing, because they needed something as neither Jeremy Corbyn nor Meghan Markle were within a mile of Whitehall

This month it was Ernest Cline who demonstrated a lack of understanding of the Streisand Effect by ordering DMCA takedowns on anyone who posted an excerpt of Ready Player Two online, which mainly served to help the internet realise which the actual excerpts were and which the parody versions were - because it was pretty hard to tell them apart otherwise...

“I’ve been silenced”, shrieked Suzanne Moore in an interview with the Telegraph, fatally undermining her argument in the process.  Funny how the people who have been “silenced” keep doing that, isn’t it?

Because we haven’t heard anything idiotic from Jake Paul in a while, Jake Paul decided to say Covid isn’t real and flu has killed just as many people.  So I give it a week before his older brother Logan feels he has to one-up this and say the Holocaust was fake...

And finally, not for much longer, is Donald Trump and his complicity in trying to organise a coup - but not a very good coup, as his minions at Fox News had to exaggerate how many people were actually protesting about him losing an election and crying about it - which was further undermined by his inability to tell Michigan and Minnesota apart

[twatkcox]

[#2020]

All right, so another year has passed. Despite the anticipation of the (supposedly) good things to happen, most of them are satisfactory. This year is nothing short of expectation versus reality.

All right, so I’m here to round up the things that happened in 2019. This can be a pretty lengthy read.

I’ve published a total of 36 posts on TWATKcox-WP this year, down from 58 last year.

Celebrating TWATKcox-WP’s sixth year in the cyberspace, a special post about me and my interests was written, revised, and published by none other than your host, Keihancarl. Despite feeling sick and lethargic at the time, I managed to finish this one as I’m already way behind my schedule and may soon become overdue if I didn’t work on it as fast as I could.

I bought a lot of books this year, which consist primarily of second-hand and discounted manga books. I also bought all three books in The Doppel Ganger Chronicles series by G.P. Taylor, as well as Adeline Yen Mah’s Falling Leaves, a more complete version of her autobiography and a compelling read as well.

Switching to fiber optic internet back in February, I managed to do a lot of downloads at a much faster speed. I began discovering some awesome anime series like Amagi Brilliant Park, Orange, and Tsurune, among others. Of course, I can finally enjoy music streaming via Spotify without having to deal with slow and/or intermittent internet connection most of the time.

I went on a lengthy hiatus from publishing new posts twice: a planned six-week break from February to March and an unplanned break from July to December. These lengthy breaks are necessary since I really need to focus on finishing the seven stories for a literary special, which is originally due for publishing last May but ultimately moved to either April or May next year. As for the unplanned break, I was completely pissed off at the dummy Gravatar accounts (PLR and cryptocurrency accounts) liking my posts, hence the need to move away from WordPress for a while.

Aside from my favorite cafes near my high school, I also found a perfect writing spot at the Fairview Terraces rooftop garden where I can write (on my smartphone) comfortably under a clear, moonlit night. I just happened to visit a couple of rooftop parks at Circuit Makati and Glorietta malls, complete with fake grass and some nice shade that the tall buildings can offer. Unfortunately, Fairview Terraces doesn’t have fake grass on its rooftop garden or some tall buildings to provide shade, but at least I’ve found a relaxing place to write.

I’ve found my very own cross stitch masterpiece from eighteen years ago. This small piece I created back when I was in fourth-grade (which is not a school project) is currently displayed in my room.

In late March, some reddish-orange ants have invaded my books on the shelves, forcing me to take an entire afternoon just to clean the shelves, rearrange the books, and get rid of these pests. Aside from that, I noticed that most of the books in my collection are showing brown spots, possibly due to exposure to light and dust. Among those affected are my treasured books Battle Royale (Koushun Takami) and Sadako And The Thousand Cranes (Eleanor Coerr). I was initially planning to divest two-thirds of the books in my collection (most of them unread), but I decided to hold off for now.

In April. a strong earthquake hits Central Luzon and is felt in nearby areas, including Metro Manila. Both my brother and I felt the intensity of the earthquake at work and at home, respectively. More earthquakes occurred in various areas in the country, mostly in Mindanao.

A series of concept posts, All In The Books series, was published on TWATKcox-WP from April to May, along with a throwback post about my reading habits. The aforementioned series is all about books, being a bibliophile, and being a bookworm. It also includes some informative stuff about book hunting, e-books and audiobooks, and the things that can ruin your precious book collection. Of course, I’ve also listed down some of my favorite books as well.

I get to see MNL48 at a mall tour in Starmall San Jose Del Monte back in March, and I get to have a selfie with Ariel Villasanta of Maverick and Ariel at Pinoy Otaku Festival: Asobu 2019 in May.

Of course, I get to enjoy the three-day Pinoy Otaku Festival: Asobu 2019 which is held at Robinsons Novaliches. I did save up a lot just for this. I bought some awesome pins from Pixel Hero (especially the otaku pin), a red anime shirt featuring Izaya Orihara of Durarara!! (a.k.a. the red “People Are My Play Things” shirt), and a small dinosaur plushie. I actually get to dine in at Yoshinoya SM Fairview one last time before it closed down. And I get to enjoy my salty cream jasmine tea from OTeaHamaru while watching the bands compete in the Battle of the Bands segment.

#TheFourWeekendPlan, which includes the POF: Asobu 2019 and the Quezon City-Manila mall-hopping trip, went well, despite some disappointments and inconveniences.

I bought another shirt (the gray I Am Not A Latte shirt) and a Rockman mug during the final week of #TFWP, which serves as an addition to the merch bought at the otaku event.

TWATKcox-WP and its Tumblr blogs had a makeover. The main blog initially chose the Lodestar theme, which is actually a good-looking theme, but the missing categories on every blog post become one of my biggest headaches. I eventually switched to the Twenty Seventeen theme, though I’m not completely satisfied with it no matter how much I customize it. That should do for now. TWATKcox-Tumblr uses the Black Rabbit theme (its preview shows Ayato Kirishima of Tokyo Ghoul), and The Quirk Concept (QuirkCon) uses the Astralis theme (some of the latter theme’s fonts didn’t look good when viewed on Firefox). Both my Tumblr blogs’ themes are from Glenthemes.

I created my public Instagram account, @kcox_105, where I post some of my awesome, non-selfie pics. The pictures featured on The Keihancarl Diaries posts are still sourced from my private Instagram account, though, as not all of the pics uploaded there are worthy of being called awesome.

June 2019: My tenth year on Facebook... like I really care about it, anyway.

In July, I’m starting to get fed up with all the spam likes from dummy Gravatar accounts which are associated with WordPress-hosted PLR (Private Label Rights) sites, so I’m considering moving out of WordPress. I was thinking of hosting my blog to Weebly (as TWATKcox-Main), but the process of transferring every blog post manually is stressing me out so I gave up. I set my WordPress blog to private in the meantime, but I eventually reopened it and resumed posting new content there in December. From September to November, there were no blog posts on either my WordPress or Weebly sites.

I was thinking of creating spin-off blogs, all within the Weebly site. These are The Otaku Diaries (focusing on anime, manga, the otaku culture, and everything Japanese), The Literary Corner (focusing on my own literary works, including my upcoming literary special), and The New Quirk Concept (focusing mostly on edited cellphone and smartphone pics, as well as some of my notable selfies). None of these materialized as of this writing, however.

I created a new set of post banners for both the WordPress, Tumblr, and Weebly sites. I already updated all of TWATKcox-WP’s post banners, but I haven’t updated the ones on its Tumblr counterpart yet.

I attended the 40th Manila International Book Fair 2019 last September. While I never bought anything there, I did saw a lot of interesting books (original Japanese manga, vintage Filipiniana books, and Wattpad novels), check out Pop X Hub and The Bazket, and saw Pol Medina Jr. in person (I didn’t get to have a selfie with him, unfortunately). There are a lot of people inside the venue, but it didn’t take me long to get in.

I celebrated my 29th birthday (XXIX In MMXIX) with a Red Ribbon Black Forest cake, which isn’t really that good, with an extreme amount of sweetness and all that. I had a mall-hopping trip a few days later as well, but it didn’t go smoothly as planned.

In October LRT Line 2 temporarily suspends operations from Cubao/Anonas to Santolan stations due to a rectifier fire in Katipunan Station. I decided not to push through with the intended mall-hopping trip in UP-Marikina-Masinag areas for November and opted for Eastwood-East Ortigas instead. Right now, only the Cubao-Recto portion of the line is operational, with the affected portion of the line to be operational again by July.

A surprisingly feel-good announcement: Automattic acquired Tumblr from Verizon Media. Sorry porn trolls, but they’ll maintain the lewdness ban in hurr.

The follow up to The Noir Project is still in the works, with the first set of pics expected to be published on QuirkCon by January 2020. It is originally slated for November this year, supposedly the debut post for the scrapped The New Quirk Concept on TWATKcox-Main, but I had to postpone it due to an extreme case of procrastination and lethargy due to stress.

For the first time in three years, I decided on a graham cake as the official dessert for the Christmas and New Year’s Eve feasts, which is topped with sliced peach halves. To be honest, I kinda missed making a cheesecake, which is actually more of an ice cream cake since it only sets when frozen or chilled.

All right, so a lot of interesting things happened this year. So what should I look forward to next year?

Chinese New Year (January 2020)

TWATKcox’s 7th year (January 2020)

The Noir Project II (January or February 2020)*

The Otaku Diaries on TWATKcox-WP (February 2020)*

TWATKcox’s 300th Post (February or March 2020)*

TWATKcox’s Special Literary Post (May 2020)*

Pinoy Otaku Festival: Godai (originally Tanoshii Matsuri) (May 2020)

#TheFourWeekendPlanY2 (May to June 2020)

41st Manila International Book Fair (September 2020)

My Autobiography In 5000+ Words (TWATKcox’s 350th Post) (October 2020)*

My 30th birthday celebration in all-black (October 2020)

Project:Upgrade (2020)*

My first novel (2020/2021)*

(* Tentative, subject to change without prior notice)

And what are my plans for 2020?

I’m spending too much money on second-hand manga books, so I’ll probably have to restrict myself to just buying one or two books a month. Of course, I need to save up for the upcoming otaku event (POF: Godai 2020) and the MIBF 2019. And hopefully, a third one.

I’m planning to update the post banners in Tumblr posts.

I’m also planning to edit some of the earlier blog posts, the ones published between 2013 to 2015. It’ll be an exhausting and extensive editing job so I’ll only do this in phases.

A new header for my blog, plus some customizations in my Tumblr blogs.

I need to finish writing the seven stories for a special literary post, to be published (tentatively) in May. And then I’ll treat myself to a bowl of ramen after that, probably within #TheFourWeekendPlanY2.

I’m planning to write a novel, I’ll probably just start from scratch. I’m aiming to finish it by the end of 2020 or by mid-2021.

I need to read more books especially manga and graphic novels. I’ve bought and collected about 20 books this year, but I only read a handful of them.

I’m planning to organize everything inside my room, as well as the files on my PC. I hope I can persuade my brother to buy a new hard drive to replace the failing one, which is already long overdue.

I’ll probably start eating something healthy, but I can’t just ditch meat (especially pork and chicken) just yet since I’m pretty much obsessed with consuming a lot of protein. Oh well...

An artistic concept + handmade posters. I’ll get these done within the year.

I’ll probably invest in some black clothing, from shirts (plain or graphic tees) to pants (preferably slacks). I’ve already owned some black jackets, cardigans, and coats, but I’ll probably need more. And I’ve got to have a pair of black sneakers as an alternative to my dark olive green Converse.

I might need a new pair of eyeglasses since I’m having a hard time seeing everything clearly with my current pair as of the moment. I’m already thinking of switching back to wire-framed glasses, preferably round ones. I had a feeling I’ll look good on it.

More importantly, I should brace myself for a hectic life ahead. Of course, I’m not willing to give up my coffee frappe and mall-hopping weekend, which is becoming a ritual for my loner self.

As with 2018, the year 2019 isn’t really the best year for me. I somehow managed to get through this crazy, chaotic year, but at least I enjoy every bit of it. All right, now time to move on to a brighter new year ahead and make it awesome!

From Keihancarl in Manila, HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone!

[kei-oh]

Titile: (Untitled at the moment)

Verse: Batman

 Patient Name: REDACTED, Makeda

Date of Birth: REDACTED

Place of Birth: ALIEN OF SOUTH SUDANESE ORIGIN; DATE OF NATURALIZATION REDACTED

Sex: FEMALE

Hair: SILVER

Eye: Brown

Height: 5’5

Weight: 115 lbs

Previous Associates: Slade Wilson, William ‘Billy’ Wintergreen (decd.), Talia al Ghul, Jade Nguyen

Arkham Inmate No.: 57821

Intake Notes:

             Sentenced to Arkham Asylum following several premeditated attacks on REDACTED and its known associates. Patient exhibits symptoms of disassociation and selective mutism throughout trial, but shows no outward signs of aggression. No further information or previous diagnoses were released by government sources. Due to weight of her crimes and knowledge of her skill, it was recommended by government sources that she be confined to the maximum security wing. No evidence, besides the crime and evidence submitted to the court, was provided to back up the recommendation. Police and guards in the court room noted a relatively calm demeanor. Still unsure why the judge sentenced her to Arkham- only that evidence provided suggested a mental disturbance. Such evidence, like most everything about the patient, was withheld on grounds of compromising national security.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jonathan Crane closed the thin, manila file on the newest patient assigned to his care, wondering how exactly to proceed with such little information on a patient who refused to talk.

His gut reaction was to add her to his growing list of patients to experiment his toxins on, but that wasn’t an option. Not yet, at least. Given the tight-lipped nature of the CIA on the nearly catatonic woman sitting before him, this was someone they would keep tabs on- at first. He’d seen it before. Agents check in bi-weekly on the patient to obtain any useful information; ensure they would do no more harm to the people or their operations. Gradually, depending on the patient’s mental state, their visits became less frequent as their egos’ were reassured the patient was no longer a threat- or, in the cases the patient managed to escape (none of his patients ever managed to get that far), they were transferred to a secret location to never be heard from again.

He would just need to bide his time. Satiate their hunger on other patients, long forgotten by their family and friends until her fate was the same as theirs.

Looking up, his icy stare found its way to rest upon the woman barred down with straps across her chest and hips and shackled at the wrists. It all seemed silly. Here was a woman, clearly underweight and lacking substantial muscle mass strapped down like an animal. Physically, there was no way she could overpower the orderlies and guards around here. The video evidence submitted to the court only showed her assembling and making explosives. Anyone with a basic understanding of chemistry could do that. Still, airing on the side of caution was always advisable, particularly when the recommendations were coming from government actors that had dealt with her.

The patient stared at a fixed point on the ground, eyes blank and seemingly lifeless. “Miss Makeda, my name is Dr. Jonathan Crane. I am the psychiatrist assigned to your case.”

No response. Not even her eyes drifted up towards him. The patient gave no indication that she had even heard him.

“Miss Makeda?” Jonathan questioned, raising an eyebrow as he waited for a response that never came. Sharply sighing and rising to his feet, he got out his penlight and strode over to the patient. “Makeda, I need you to look at me if you can.” Still no response. God, she looked pale. Had they given her Droperidol or some other form of antipsychotic to restrain her without consulting him first, or was she in shock at being here? If the orderlies had screwed up and given her something they shouldn’t have… “I’m going to tilt your head up and shine this light into your eyes-“ no acknowledgement was expected, but procedure called for it.

Pupils were dilated, unchanging when they were exposed to light, and her skin was cool to the touch as he noticed its sheer, slickness reflecting the office light. Her chest barely rose, indicating a slower intake of oxygen, as her whole body seemed to shake. “Mr. Blake, Mr. Graham, I need one of you to get the bag valve mask. The other, go tell the doctors and nurses we have a patient experiencing an overdose.”

Nimble fingers made their way down to the point under her jaw where the head and neck connected as he took note of her pulse. He didn’t need a clock to tell him it was irregular. Someone had given her something without his consent, and not just that- given her too much.

Stephen Graham was instantly at his side, respirator in hand, stumbling over his words as fear of both the situation and the doctor himself consumed him, ”She wasn’t this bad when we restrained her and brought her here. This wasn’t us, Dr. Crane. I don’t- I’m not-“

Look at him cowering before us…

Jonathan held up a hand to silence both the orderly and the voice in his mind as he reached out and snatched up the ventilator. He secured the face mask and the valve and began compressing the bag ever five seconds he nodded to the orderly to begin wheeling her out of his office.

He matched the orderly’s quick pace down the hallway, all while maintaining consistent compressions to ensure the patient was getting enough oxygen. “Did either you or Mr. Blake administer any drug?” he asked coolly, studying Stephen’s face for any sign of a lie.  

“No, Sir, we met with them agent-guys for the exchange, and we restrained her as you see here and brought her to you, just like we was told.”

Jonathan remembered why he rarely spoke to orderlies. They were unintelligent, obedient monkeys, usually possessing little more than a high school education. “And you stated she wasn’t ‘this bad’ when the transfer occurred?”

“No, she just was quiet and still, with that dead look in her eyes- like she’d given up.”

“And you didn’t think that was strange?” Usually, every patient Arkham took in was lively and difficult in some form, whether they were yelling and screaming that they were innocent and sane, or got physical with the orderlies…

Suddenly, Makeda’s amber eyes found his, and for a brief moment, they registered his face, wide with uncertainty before trying to look at her surroundings. Zs she began to frantically move her head to look around, his other hand firmly held her head still. “I need you to remain still. I am manually helping you breathe.”

And just as quickly as her focus came back, the blank stare returned and she went limp once more. He picked up his line of questioning. “You didn’t think it was strange that she was so quiet, despite being told to keep her restrained?”

“No… Well, yes, but-“

They entered into the emergency wing of Arkham, his colleagues were at his side, stopping the orderly in his tracks and barking orders to get the patient out of her restraints and onto the hospital bed.

“Thank you, Dr. Crane, we’ll take it from here,” a nurse stated, taking the respirator from him and edging both the orderly and himself out of the room as they were followed out by the lead emergency doctor, Dr. Eighan.

“Thank you for your quick response, Dr. Crane. We’ll do what we can for her, and we’ll let you know if and when she recovers.”

And just like that, Stephen and Jonathan were left alone outside the emergency room, but not before shouting came from inside the room.

************

It was black, and then it wasn’t.

Makeda’s eyes shot open as she bolted upright, gasping in as much air as she could.

Brightness. White light. Silence.

Then pain tearing at the very seams of her soul. Limbs on fire. Thoughts whirling. Bones collapsing.

World ending pain.

It came flooding in with images of a sterile room like a tide she couldn’t hold back that wracked her entire body, and the nausea. Spinning, everything was twirling around her as the world moved quickly passed. She reached around the bed she found herself on for any sort of container before a trash bin was thrust into her hands, just as she retched into it.

It was an odd feeling. She couldn’t hear anything, not even her own vomiting. If it weren’t for the pain, she’d have assumed this was just another dream. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flurry of motions from the people in the white coats as she continued to empty the contents of her stomach into the bin, before being sent into a state of panic.

Where was she? Who were these people? More scientists?

Drawing from the new adrenalin pumping through her veins, Makeda leapt up out of bed, only to be met by orderlies that attempted, in vain, to restrain her. With ease as though she were possessed by a god, she shook them off and took off running on unsteady legs, pushing through those that were trying to stop her. The pathway to the door was blocked by two larger men in uniforms that tried to restrain her as another person entered the room, watching the chaos unfold.

Thrashing against the grips of the burly men, she lashed out, body moving primarily on instinct.

Flashes of red painted her vision, met with blue and a distinct pinch in her trapezius, and then black. All consuming black.