#just ate the sausages like that with a little cheese

[ynsvnte]

The way I had to just avoided making my hotdog only bc my mom would’ve judged me for eating bread.. 😔😐

[jazzfromthevoid]

Me and my friend made a horrid creation called a fear sandwich, each ingredient is based of a tma fear.

1. The end: the bread, specifically the butt end of the bread that had been slightly burnt by the manufacturer.

2. The fleash: some kind of mystery meat. A horrid combination of a bunch of different meats.

3. The slaughter: a nother meat, but it has metal shavings in it.

4. The hunt: a mixed greens but it's poison ivy and grass. (With a bit of blood on it)

5. The desolation: a REALLY hot sauce, like inhumanely spicy.

6. The buried: an entire truffle. Dirt and all.

7. The dark: just squid ink. Way more than is necessary.

8. The lonely: a single very sweet pickle that does not go well with the rest of the sandwich.

9. The vast: a thousand island dressing that is actually just salt water. It's also really cold.

10. The corruption: very moldy cheese, it's just all mold, with maggots in the senter, as a suprise.

11. The eye: one of those toothpicks that goes through the sandwich holding it together. It also has a little olive with the capsicum in the middle of it on top. (The olive is uncomfortably moist)

12. The spiral: a very strangely cut onion that doesn't even really taste like onion, but you can't tell exactly what it tastes like, so you just sit there in mild confusion and terror of what you just ate.

13. The stranger: a sausage that you think is normal meat but is actually a vegan sausage.

14. The extinction: a very rare very endangered animal filled with micro plastics.

15. The web: what looks to be sesame seeds on the bread, but are actually very small spider eggs. (It's a delicacy in some places, it would be rude not to have it)

A million notes and I will attempt to make it. (Please don't I don't want to make this. I don't even know where to get half of these ingredients)

[waughymommy]

MOMMY KNOWS BEST

Chapter 5

            They pulled into a McDonalds and Rebecca opened Brian’s door. He had successfully finished his second juice of the morning. She smiled as she unbuckled him. She unclipped his pacifier and stuffed it into her purse. “I will give you a break since we are out in public,” Rebecca whispered. “But remember, if you have to go potty, you tell mommy.” She grabbed his hand and led him inside. At the counter, Brian started to make his order, but Rebecca stopped him before he could get two words out. She shot him a look that let him know mommy was in charge. “Good morning. He will have a sausage biscuit and an apple juice. I’ll have a bacon, egg and cheese with a large black coffee. Thank you,” Rebecca said confidently, knowing that the cashier was giving the couple strange looks.

            Rebecca grabbed their tray and they made their way to a table. Brian started to complain, “Why can’t I have a coffee?”

            Without missing a beat, Rebecca answered, “Coffee isn’t for babies.” Disappointed, Brian went to grab his breakfast, but she slapped his hand, “Let mommy do that.” She opened the rapper and began cutting the sandwich into bite size pieces. She opened his juice, but reminded him to be super careful since she left his sippy cup in the car. “Now eat up sweetheart.”

            Brian kept his head down, certain that every person in the restaurant was staring at him, but the truth was every went about their own business. The two ate in relative quiet. He finished his juice. “My baby must have liked his food, you finished it so fast. Mommy is almost done.” Brian cringed and his eyes scanned the restaurant, praying that no one could hear her. “Alright sweetie. Before we leave, do you need to go potty?”

            Brian was mortified, “NO. Can we just go please?”

            “Relax cutie,” Rebecca was thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

They walked to the car and once again she buckled him in. She pulled his pacifier back out, “Be good for me and suck on your binky. We will be at the store in just a few minutes.”

            They arrived at a department store, “Mommy wants to buy some clothes. If baby is on his best behavior, maybe you will get a treat.” As they walked inside, Brian realized that he still had is pacifier in his mouth and quickly shoved it into his pocket. Rebecca pretended to not notice, but it just reinforced that Brian was never going to let himself be little on his own. The two walked inside and found the women’s clothing section. Brian had always been a patient husband and bought whatever her heart desired. He had endured countless shopping trips, but this was different. With every step he took, he could feel the material of his pullup. He felt paranoid that everyone in the store knew his secret. He just stood behind his mommy as she perused the racks. She made sure to take her precious time.

            She picked item after item to try on. Brian squirmed knowing that this was going to take awhile. Every minute felt like an eternity. He just stood outside the stall as she tried on different outfits. He was unsettled and bored all at the same time. He just wanted to get out of there. But then he noticed an ache in his bladder. No way in hell was he going to ask her to take him to the bathroom. He would just wait till they got home where he would hopefully be able to slip away and use the bathroom on his own. With every passing moment, his need for the bathroom grew more and more intense. Rebecca opened up the stall to model a new outfit, “What do you think sweetheart?” She immediately recognized the look on his face. “Brian, baby, do you need to go pee-pee. Mommy can take you. All you need to do is tell me.”

            “No, Im fine,” Brian responded hoping that she believed him.

            “Ok baby. I’ve got a few more things to try on,” as she walked back into the stall. Brian took a deep breath, desperately trying to will away his need to pee. He crossed his legs hoping to relieve some pressure.

            “Are you almost done,” Brian asked in a whiney tone.

            “Not quite sweetheart, be patient for mommy just a little bit longer,” Rebecca said from behind the stall door.

            Brian tried to take his mind off of his predicament. He tried looking through the racks, but his mind kept racing back to the fact that his wife of nearly ten years was turning him into a baby. He had always fantasized about it, but it was always just that: a dream. This was real life and it terrified him. How could he give up control? He needed to be the provider so that his wife didn’t have to be. She had always been so sweet and supportive of him. The least he could do was work hard so she didn’t have to. He could still remember the day he saw her. He was absolutely smitten. He saw her in a coffee shop on his way to work. Her wavy brown hair flowed over her shoulders. Although she sported a hoodie and jeans, he could tell she was curvaceous. Something about her drew him in like a moth to a flame. Brian was never one to openly flirt with women. He was always a bit shy and reserved. But with her, he had to try. He plucked up his courage and walked up to her table, “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Brian and I couldn’t help but notice you. I don’t normally do this, but would you grab coffee with sometime.”

            Rebecca looked up at the dapper man standing before her. She flashed him a smile. She could sense the shyness of him which conveyed a genuineness about him. He was tall and fairly fit. Why not, he seems harmless.

            “I would love to. How about tomorrow at noon?”, she asked. He was thrilled, over the moon happy. That moment of bliss Brian daydreamed about was soon shattered by a sound that jerked him back. It sounded as if someone was peeing. He was confused, until the warmth spread across his crotch. The daydream had broken his concentration and he was flooding his pullup.

            “Ok, I am all done baby boy…Brian are you ok?” Rebecca asked as she exited the stall. She saw the look of total panic on his face and a growing wet patch on his pants. His pullup couldn’t handle it and pee dribbled down his legs. Brian burst into tears. In that moment all he wanted was mommy. Rebecca flung into mommy mode. She set aside her clothing and went to comfort her baby boy. “Why didn’t you tell mommy you needed to pee-pee? I guess you aren’t ready for pull ups? Where is your paci baby?” she asked.

            Brian could only point to his pocket. She reached into his pocket and then nestled it between his lips. “Come on baby, lets get you home.” Rebecca grabbed his hand and led him out into the parking lot. Every patron in the store just witnessed a grown man with a pacifier and wet pants, be led like an overgrown toddler out of the store. But Brian was too upset to notice. They reached the car. “Brian before you get in, we need to take those pants off,” Rebecca said.

            Brian fearfully scanned the parking lot to see if other people were watching, “But but people might see me.”

            “Brian I can’t put you in the car with soaking wet pants,” she said forcefully. She unbuttoned his pants and starting pulling his pants down to his ankles. “I need you to step out baby. Mommy packed another pullup, but she didn’t bring any pants.” She ripped open the sides of the pullup, leaving his bare bottom exposed. He closed his eyes and just prayed no one could see him. He felt the cold touch of baby wipes around his crotch. “Ok baby step into this pullup. There, nice and dry. Hop in the car for me sweetheart.” She leaned in and buckled him up. She then kissed the top of his head, “Everything is ok sweetheart. You were so brave while mommy changed you. I promise, mommy will never get upset at you for having accidents. Lets get you home.”

[geminislays]

Breakfast for Dinner

THIS AU HAS BEEN EATING ME ALIVE! SO HERE'S THIS!!

1,121 words; Trail's Gone Cold AU; Etho and Gem; approx. 7mo after the expedition.

Knock knock.

Etho rolled over to face his sister, who stood in the doorway to his bedroom. Gem's hair was pulled into a single braid that she'd draped over her shoulder. She twirled the end of it with her fingers, leaning against the door frame.

"Dinner's almost ready- I made your favorite," she said softly. Etho nodded, moving his blanket to the side to make it easier to stand. Immediately, the chill that had taken hold of him in the cave descended on him. Not that it had ever left him- the ice in his bones was just another inescapable fact of life since the expedition. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he caught Gem watching him carefully. Seeing that he'd noticed her, his younger sister gave a somewhat forced-looking smile, turned, and returned to the kitchen.

For a moment, it was as if a harsh breeze had hit him. Gem had been... weird... since he'd come back. After Tango's and Pearl's celebrations of life had come and gone, there had been a little while where things almost felt like they used to. Etho knew Pearl's death had hit Gem particularly hard. She had lost her best friend and her first long-term partner in one fell swoop- and that was without adding Tango to the equation.

He stood, feeling all the blood rushing to his legs. It nearly made his knees buckle, but he gripped the post of his bed frame tightly and managed to support himself while he acclimated to standing. As he rounded the corner of the hall that led to the living and dining rooms, he drew the sides of his hoodie more tightly around his body in a futile attempt to warm himself. From the kitchen, a warm, cheesy smell was wafting towards him. Etho nearly fell from the force with which he slammed his shoulder into the door frame to the kitchen.

"Damn this eye."

Shaking his head, he pressed on, nearly body-slamming Gem, who was coming back in from the dining room.

"I heard a big slam- are you okay?" she asked nervously, eyes scanning Etho's face. He nodded. "Just me being clumsy," he said, putting on his best approximation of a smile. He wondered if it looked as fake as it felt.

Turning his attention back to the wonderful smell in the air, he made his way to the table. He perked up a bit at the sight before him. Breakfast for dinner. He took his usual place at the table. Gem smiled - "this one looks real-" as she sat down what Etho hoped was the last of the food she'd prepared. There was already a huge array of plates- bacon, sausages, cheese-covered eggs, toast cut into triangles, a bowl of oatmeal, several fruits, and now a plate of waffles- and his appetite was far smaller than it had been before the expedition.

Having finished her work in the kitchen- "Thank goodness," Etho thought- Gem took her own usual place at the table, looking vaguely expectantly at her brother. "What's she waiting for?"

He leaned forward and took a piece of toast. At this, she smiled again, reaching for the sausages. "Is she worried I'm not eating?" He hated how worried he made her.

"I shouldn't have left the others. If I'd stayed down there, at least she wouldn't have to fuss over me while grieving."

Etho grabbed the bowl of oatmeal, dipped the corner of his toast into it, and took a small bite. Gem snorted softly, trying to hide her laughter. "Don't laugh at me, Gem. You've known me your whole life, you already know I'm weird." He hadn't seen Gem look so happy- so normal- since before-

Etho stopped himself. "Let her have this."

They both continued eating, Gem only pausing to take sips of orange soda. She hummed quietly, almost imperceptibly, as she ate, wiggling slightly in her chair. Etho only noticed it because he'd known Gem her whole life. He found himself mirroring her smile.

"This is why you had to run. You selfish idiot."

The toast Etho was holding fell from his hand, landing on the table with a crisp shhk. Gem stopped mid-sip.

"You good?" Her voice echoed slightly, reverberating in Etho's head. As quickly as the feeling of being underground again hit him, the ice chill in his veins shocked him back to the present, where his hand currently hung in midair, trembling violently. Stopping for a second then shaking his fingers purposely this time, he looked back up at Gem.

"Yeah, you know my hands don't.. feel properly anymore. Just didn't realize I was losing my grip on it."

She only looked suspicious for half a second, but Etho saw it. "Okay." There was an edge to her voice that he didn't like.

He could feel his hands begin to tremble again. He shoved them into his pockets rubbing them against the lining for warmth instinctively. Logically he knew he wasn't going to feel it if they ever did warm up- his nerve damage from the cold and the sculk was extensive. He looked at Gem, who seemed to be chewing her words before she spoke. He couldn't bear to hear pity in her voice, so he spoke before she could.

"I think we should go back to the cave."

Gem's face went blank with shock. Her large round eyes studied his face, worry creeping across her features. "Sorry? I thought you just said you think we should go back to the cave. Surely, I misheard you."

Etho swallowed. He wasn't sure where that had come from. The last thing Etho wanted was to return to that freezing maw of the earth. But something sung in his chest when he thought about it again.

"I want to find them. Maybe Pearl found Tango and led him towards the entrance before they-" he paused. Gem had a look of utter horror on her face now, but the thought kept rushing out. "They're probably close to the entrance."

Gem pushed her plate away. It clanked loudly, making Etho jump.

"Absolutely not. We are not even going to have this discussion, Etho, you are not going back into that place." Gem crossed her arms, brow furrowed. "Our best friends died down there, and you got so sick you can barely get out of bed. That cave is evil, Etho. The answer is no."

Etho paused. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. "You're right. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. You're right." The cold in his bones made him shake even more. It seemed to seep even deeper into his body, if that were even possible.

Despite his fear of returning, something was calling to him.

[AN: the blue and red text are his Warm and Cold Thoughts (this is how i imagined etho thinking about the cave and the others. the cold thoughts being due in part to the cave and the sculk he's absorbed as well as his survivor's guilt, and the warm thoughts being influenced by his memories from before the expedition and his interactions with gem, who is untouched by the cold.) also shoutout to @wasyago for this incredible au]

[softcitrus2345]

Midnight Cravings

I wrote another thing!! :DD This is the canon?? scenario where they both find out they're into the same stuff~ >;3c

Same as "Full Tank", Vanessa's dialogue is in pink, and Damien's is in purple

Hope you enjoy reading~!! ;3

The nearly full moon peeked through the curtains of Damien and Vanessa's bedroom, a reminder of the upcoming monthly transformation the couple had to endure

The bed creaked slightly as a figure sat up at the edge, slighty hunched and groggy. A long, low rumble that echoed through the room caused the werewolf to wince and curl into himself in discomfort, gritting his teeth, his lengthy canines flashing momentarily.

<<Come on, dinner was just a few hours ago, you already ate so much..>> he thought to himself, blushing slightly as he looked down at the little belly he'd recently grown, not that big, but compared to his previous rail-thin frame, it stuck out more, giving Damien the appearance of a beer gut. He rubbed it lightly, in hopes of calming the gnawing hunger to no avail. His pointed ears flicked as he checked to make sure that his wife remained asleep, a bit shy about his appetite

He glanced over his shoulder, listening and watching intently for any sign she might be feigning sleep, but was relieved to find her fast asleep, the vampire’s sweet face appearing just as beautiful in the dark as in daylight.

Another pang of animalistic hunger brought his attention back to the present, a low, frustrated growl escaping his lips. He began to salivate, longing for something to sink his teeth into. He needed to bite down on something, he needed to eat, and soon.

Damien stepped into his slippers and made his way out of the room, down the long hallway and staircase, and into the kitchen.

His pace quickened as the scent of food crept closer, taunting his howling stomach even more.

He practically tore the fridge door open, grabbing the first thing he could reach. Some meaty lasagna, from a lunch date they’d gone on the day before. The smell of the italian sausage in it only enticed him more, his body craving it. He showed some restraint, haphazardly tossing it onto a plate and into the microwave to warm it up. They’d ordered a few extra portions of the lasagna the day before to take home with them, so the plate definitely had some weight to it as he took it out of the microwave, still hot. He quickly set it down, waving his hand to cool it off and sucking his slightly burnt thumb.

The smell of the lasagna was intoxicating, the meat, cheese, pasta and marinara filling his nostrils. He fished out a fork from the silverware drawer and cut off a sizeable hunk from the main piece, cheese stretching as he pulled the fork to his mouth. He blew on it and brought the fork to his lips, moaning in delight at the taste.

He couldn't tell whether or not it was due to his lycanthropy-induced hunger, but it tasted like the most magnificent thing he’d ever had. The sudden surge in euphoria finally sent him over the edge, Damien beginning to shovel mouthfuls of the lasagna at a time, completely absorbed with his eating. In just a couple of minutes, the whole plate had been scraped and licked clean, virtually spotless.

As if he hadn't just eaten several servings of rich, calorie-dense food, he set his plate down and grabbed the next available dish in the fridge, a large container with pasta and some garlic bread left over from last night's dinner.

His patience growing thinner, he didnt even bother heating it up this time. Even cold, the pasta was creamy and the sauce was well seasoned and delicious. Damien continued eating, ripping off hunks of garlic bread between bites of pasta and dipping it in the sauce. He gratefully finished up everything in the container, scraping it clean and licking the fork, putting it aside and reaching back into the fridge once again for the next dish.

A batch of Vanessa's homemade soup dumplings. Those tiny, addicting little pockets of gold.. Damien peeled off the lid and tossed it onto the counter, popping them into his mouth one at a time, humming happily to himself and delighting in the way they would burst with flavor into his mouth as he bit down. They were the perfect size to eat in one bite. There were about eight in that container, each no bigger than a fist, and he polished off every single one with ease.

The werewolf licked his lips expectantly, letting out a few small burps as he reached back in yet again, rubbing his bulging belly absentmindedly

His hands found a nearly-full container of hearty potato and bacon soup, set it on the counter and removed the lid, running his tongue over his teeth hungrily.

No longer caring for manners, he scooped up the whole container and tipped it just enough to flow into his mouth. He gulped it down thickly, moaning lowly as it joined the rest of his meal in his bottomless belly. He paused a couple of times to chew the bigger pieces of potatoes and broccoli and other ingredients in the soup, but mostly just drank it down like it was nothing.

As the last dregs of the soup were swallowed down, he let out a wet belch, the contents sloshing inside his stomach.

His breathing grew heavier as his hunger continued, Damien growing visibly frustrated as he growled, feeling another rumble deep in the pit of his stomach. He sniffed the air, gruffly shoving the other foods aside and grabbing several packets of raw meat from the fridge, ingredients for tomorrow's meals no doubt.

He tore the plastic wrap off the tops of the styrofoam packages and one by one, wolfed down the hunks of meat. From full steaks to pork chops to chicken feet, he downed it all, his lupine side taking the wheel.

After that, everything sort of blurred together, he didn't really pay attention to what he ate, as long as it filled his belly.

Raw vegetables and meat, fruits, cold cuts, cheeses, leftovers and desserts, nothing was safe if it was in his reach.

He was now sitting on the floor, his legs spread out in a wide criss-cross position, licking up the remains of his feast, some frosting from a now devoured cheesecake decorating his fingertips and face.

It had probably been over an hour since he had gotten out of bed. It was a miracle Vanessa hadn't woken up to discover him yet, the vampire still fast asleep in bed, curled up in the comforters, blissfully unaware of her husband's midnight gorging.

Damien's mind started to clear now that he had satisfied his stomach, allowing him to come back to reality.

He was a complete mess of burps and hiccups, his stomach gurgling and churning loudly. He took short, huffy breaths, his stomach rising and falling like an overinflated balloon.

His waistband dug deeply into his underbelly, stretched to the max. This discomfort, bordering on pain, made Damien look down and face the results of his binging.

His throat made a sound between a squeak and a whimper as he saw himself for the first time since coming down into the kitchen.

The entirety of the fridges’ contents were now packed into the heaving mass that kept him pinned to the ground. Every rumble and gurgle was visible across the stretched surface of his flushed skin. Damien was in shock and disbelief, his mouth agape and his face and ears practically glowing red.

His heartbeat quickened, feeling something strange stir inside of him, causing him to squirm. He whined, clutching one of his burning hot cheeks in his hand, while the other kept him propped up off the ground.

He felt a million butterflies flutter from his stomach up and down his spine and settle between his legs, gasping, recognizing this feeling but confused by the strange cause.

His heart still beating at a million miles a minute, he removed his hand from his face and slowly placed it down onto the dome-like surface of his belly, feeling another small jolt of energy run through him.

He stifled a moan, feeling pleasant shivers run through him as he slowly became familiar with the shape of his belly, the way it felt when he rubbed it and the way it looked, sagging between his legs as he sat on the ground, surrounded by the evidence of his indulgence.

He bit his lip, trying to come to terms with these new feelings as he attempted to come back down from that sudden spike in excitement, feeling fuzz beginning to form on the sides of his face and not wanting to cause any further changes to his body.

He slowly got to his feet, heaving himself up by using the kitchen counter top. His gut sloshed and swayed as he stood, propped up on the counter and catching his breath.

“Hhhokay.. ffuck- hhhuff- that… I- I don't even know where to begin unpacking all that-” he panted, covering his flustered face with one hand, still bent over the counter

“I.. I should clean up, I cant *bwOorp-* believe I made such a mess..” he said, a twinge of guilt building as he looked around at the containers and small bits of food strewn around the floor of the once pristine kitchen.

He did his best to pick up the mess, struggling to bend over now that he had this massive boulder in the way of everything, but he refused to leave Vanessa with the mess, even if it left him winded beyond belief

A bit more time passed and he groggily picked up the last of the dishes, leaving them in the sink to wash in the morning.

There were still a couple of spots of food here and there that he couldn't reach or just didn't see because of his bloated belly, but it was certainly an improvement.

Damien's belly growled unpleasantly, upset by all the bending and moving. He burped and panted as he tried to calm his stomach, rubbing one hand over it cautiously

After a bit, he decided to finally make the journey back up to bed. He clutched his belly as he made his way back up the stairs, down the hallway and into his bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief as he entered the room

Damien sluggishly approached the bed, relieved to see Vanessa still cozied up under the covers, just the way he'd left her. A small smile and a gentle blush crept onto his face, gazing affectionately at his sleeping wife.

He was startled by a loud gurgle from his stomach, finally sitting down on the edge of his side of the bed. His eyes darted back to Vanessa several times as he tried to settle himself into bed without her noticing.

Finally, he felt relief as he settled into bed, the weight of his overfed tummy now resting on the plush mattress. He groaned with relief, glad to be back in bed.

His ear twitched as he heard Vanessa stir behind him, mumbling and whining sleepily as she reached for the warmth of her little spoon.

Damien squeaked as he felt her fingers graze the curvature of his stomach as it continued to churn and bubble audibly.

Vanessa shuffled closer to him, still mostly asleep as she pulled herself closer to him and holding onto the pillow he was hugging. But it was much too firm, and.. warm to be a pillow..? What else could it be though, sticking out so far in front of..

“..Baby..? Is that- you?..” she asked, her voice just above a whisper and her cheeks growing warm. Vanessa's eyes fluttered open, Damien's back facing her. His heart beat wildly in his chest, her husband remaining quiet as a mouse, tensing up slightly as she felt around, trying to determine what she was holding onto.

She squeaked and drew her hand back quickly as another long rumble echoed through the room, feeling the vibration against her fingers as her suspicions (or hopes) were confirmed.

That warm, round, mass she was feeling was his stomach.

Her sleepy and flustered mind tried to make sense of it all.. Yes, she had been trying to ease him into eating more, and was delighted to see the gradual effects of all her cooking going to his waistline, but this was something entirely different.

She had nothing to do with this, who knows how much he'd eaten to get this big. A shiver ran down her spine as her face turned red, her mind beginning to wander, though she tried her best to stay focused on the present

“I-it's okay, honey, um, are you.. okay..? You sound like you're in pain..”

Damien nervously replied, averting his eyes from his abdomen. “Hhh- I'm.. I'm *urp-* okay.. I'm just- really embarrassed.. and f- *hic-!* full..”

“Here, turn around, I can help you feel better” she said, her heart beating faster as she prepared herself to see the damage

“..Okay..” he muttered, grunting and huffing as he adjusted himself in bed, holding onto his stomach as if it would roll away if he moved too carelessly. He rolled onto his back, taking a second to catch his breath, before allowing his gut to spill back out in front of him again, sloshing and gurgling angrily at the sudden movement. Vanessa tensed as she felt his belly rub up against her, sticking out far from the rest of his body

Damien burped and groaned, his face and ears feeling warm, feeling Vanessa’s gaze, and hearing her heart race inside her chest

“O-oh.. wow… You- you must've been.. really hungry..” she said in a quiet tone, awestruck with the sheer size of his gut

“I’ve.. I don't think I've ever seen you this full.. you poor thing, it looks so- tight..” she said, putting a bit of emphasis on that last bit

Damien watched bashfully as she reached her hands out to caress his belly, hearing her struggle to keep her breaths steady

As her hands gingerly rested on the warm, taut surface, another lengthy rumble reverberated against the surface, sending shivers through her fingertips and all throughout her body. Her husband let out a small, needy whine, which was quickly cut off by his own embarrassment

“S-sorry-” he stammered, his face growing redder by the second “I r-URP-eally tried not to wake you.. God, this is so embarrassing..” he groaned, hiding his face in his hands

Vanessa began rubbing her husband's aching belly, trying to stay level-headed, though she was becoming extremely flustered

“You have nothing to apologize for, you can't help it that your appetite gets stronger around this time of the month..”

“I know, but- it's never been this much before.. I don't kn-*ourp-* know what got into me.. I mean.. look at me. I-I’m huge!”

Vanessa turned a bit red at his acknowledgement of his size, trying not to stare too much at his belly as she rubbed her thumbs in gentle circles over the topmost section of the dome

“H-how much did you eat, anyway? I didn't even think it was possible for you to get this big in one sitting-” she asked, letting the question she’d been wanting to ask slip

The werewolf’s eyes widened, embarrassment creeping up on him again

He averted gaze as he spoke “Uhm.. I didn't mean to, but- I-I ate everything in the.. the fridge.. I just couldn't really- stop…” he muttered, his eyes darting for a second to meet Vanessa’s before quickly looking away

Vanessa's breath hitched, feeling her heart nearly leap out of her chest

“...No way..” she whispered, “You mean all this-” She put one hand on each side of his belly “is.. everything we had..? The pasta.. steak.. all our leftovers..e-everything.. you- ate all that..?” She asked, fighting to contain herself as her fingers grabbed a bit tighter onto him subconsciously

Damien gulped, his heart racing “M-mhmm…” he replied, nodding slightly, trembling a bit as her nails grazed his overly-sensetive skin. Blood pumped furiously through his body, something that did not go unnoticed by the vampire

She began trailing her hands along the surface of his belly, feeling every inch of the distended mass, little jolts of electricity running through her as her husband wordlessly whimpered at the sensation, his breaths coming in winded huffs, too full to inhale all the way without feeling like he might burst.

Vanessa became entranced, getting a bit more handsy and exploring more of his underbelly, shifting it slightly to hear the labored gurgles from within. She glided a hand down near the spot where his belly met with his waistband, and felt something she wasn't expecting, the momentary contact eliciting a shuddering moan from her husband. She let out a tiny gasp and withdrew her hand, feeling herself go red as a cherry. The room was dead silent for a few moments as the two of them processed what just happened

“Damien.. a-are you-?”

“I-I’m so sorry, I'm sorry- I didn't know that was still there- I didn't mean-!”

“Nonono- I-it’s ok- really, honey- I just- I didn't expect you to be.. enjoying this, too..”

Damien was about to reply when her last words registered in his head

“Too..? You mean you.. you're into this..??” He asked, with a flustered and surprised expression on his face

Vanessa blushed deeply, unable to stop the corners of her mouth from curling up, a bashful smile adorning her face

“I, um, yeah.. hahah- I- I've kind of.. always been into.. this kind of stuff..”

“Whuh?? S-since when??! I-I never noticed-” he trailed off, his mind looking for any signs he might've missed throughout the years they had been together

Vanessa always had these little habits that he could never really understand, always eager to fill up his plate, always making or bringing sweet things for him to eat and cheer him up.. the way she watched him eat whenever he was particularly ravenous.. and how much she loved rubbing her cool hands over his tummy when they cuddled in both his human and wolf form.. even back when it was flat as a board…

So many of the small things he hadn't paid much mind to began to add up, piecing together the puzzle

“Oh.. ohhh.. Oh. My god, how did I not notice sooner, you little sneak.. you've been fattening me up!” He said, a flustered and indignant expression on his face

It was hard to take him seriously when he clearly didn't look as upset as he intended to, his blush and trembling lip giving him away completely

Vanessa held back laughter, flustered as she was caught “I knowww, I'm sorry, you just always seemed so excited for meals, and you always look so content when you're eating, I just wanted to spoil you, it makes me happy to see you enjoying yourself, hon.. You deserve it.. Besides, who's the one asking for thirds at dinner, hmm?” She lightly poked his belly, making Damien huff and blush deeper “You've always had a big appetite, I just.. fed into it a little more.. that's all..” she purred, a cheeky grin forming across her face

Damien was lost for words, unable to stop himself from grinning back at her, his face and ears radiating heat

“Okay, I might’ve enjoyed the extra pampering.. a little..” he said, unable to look her in the eye, feeling the hairs on his neck stand on end as her fangs flashed in a toothy grin in his peripheral. She knew just how to push his buttons, it’s hardly fair at all..

Vanessa grinned widely, squeezing his swollen underbelly, pressing her thumb into him and making his stomach gurgle loudly

“Come on, we both know it was more than a little~” she purred teasingly

Damien yelped and burped, his whole body lighting up with electricity “O-ok-! Yes! I did like it-! I liked it a lot!” He panted as she released him “I.. I just didn't know how I felt.. not until tonight..” he looked down at his stomach, his heart fluttering in his chest

“It feels.. so fucking good… I couldn't stop because- I didn't want to.. I just- wanted to have more.. g-get tighter.. Knowing I could finish all that.. just makes me wonder what it would feel like if I could fit more..” he continued, the words flooding out of his mouth before he could think

“I wanna be good for you- I wanna finish everything you give me.. even if I end up not being able to see my toes, I don't care, being with you makes all that worth it..”

Vanessa’s eyes sparkled, her heart beating wildly in her chest, staring into her husband’s violet eyes

“You.. You’re okay with that? You wanna keep.. ah.. growing..?” she asked timidly, in near disbelief

“I- think so, yeah.. it would be a nice change of pace, I'm still kind of figuring out how I feel about.. this..” he said, gesturing to his gut “But, I wanna see where this goes… a little relationship weight never hurt anybody.. Besides, it's fun seeing you all stirred up like this~” he whispered, smirking

Vanessa stared at him for a moment before practically lunging at him and kissing him, pawing at his distended belly, the two huffing noisily, Vanessa beginning to work her way down from his mouth, to his cheek, his neck, chest, and belly, peppering in a few bites here and there to hear him moan

She planted kisses all over the surface of his belly, nibbling on the white colored happy trail below his navel, feeling a rush as he whimpered needily, her sharp teeth teasing the taut surface

Damien’s hands gripped her shoulders tightly, the werewolf panting heavily and causing his massively bloated gut to expand further with each heaving breath

“I want you as big as this bed.. Just a big, chubby hubby, all for me..” she mused between kisses. All of those urges she kept hidden away over time bubbled to the surface as she whispered sweet nothings to Damien, toying with him the way she'd been wanting to for so long

Damien was in pure bliss, unable to respond other than small moans and delighted whimpers, squirming beneath her

“I think you've earned yourself breakfast in bed, big boy~ Hope you bring your appetite, ‘cause I plan on going all out~”

Damien blushed heavily, his mind growing pleasantly foggy from all the excitement “Hahh- huff.. Do your worst, I'm all yours~”

[yanderesimp2000]

Yandere Adam x fem reader chapter 4/6 'This is for your own good" MINORS STAY AWAY

GONNA DO 6 INSTEAD OF 5 CHAPTERS SO THIS IS Chapter 4/6 baby been out of ideas for a little bit but then I got one what is it keep fucking reading ya lazy fuck

TW,NON-CON TO CON, Brainwashed reader, reader has had their mind broken, reader breaks out of their mind control, EXTREME POSSESSIVENESS, Adam being an incel as usual, degradation, smut,Light violence, Abuse then comfort, Adam being a delusion prick, and reader pushing their limits

MY REQUEST ARE OPEN SO PLEASE REQUEST ME

BTW TO CLEAR THINGS UP MY PRONOUNS ARE SHE/THEY

After that lovely night with Adam you woke up alone in the bed he was in the shower so in the mean time you should make him breakfast you don't wanna make him mad right? You walked downstairs into the Kitchen were you went and made Adams favorite breakfast Pancake breakfast sandwich 2 pancakes with eggs,bacon,cheese, and sausage in between. He was always so happy when you made them and when he was happy something in your brain just turned into mush for him trying so hard to please him

you heard him come out the shower as he got dressed and when he smelled that your were cooking he yelled "LETS FUCKING GO THANKS BABE" he said before practically falling done the stairs to come get the food he basically ate it in one bite barley even chewing like a rapid animal he then stretched and said "thanks bitch" you got used to his mean words by for some reason your brain didn't think of it as hate just you were the one that failed him and you should be ashamed of yourself and do better. he then plopped himself done on the couch and said " what to do what to do hey what do you wanna do babe" you mind raced with excitement at him giving you the slightest bit of free will thinking of all the possibility you said you wanted to go to that new big park by the beach in the Chasity region

He yawned again and said "wow for once you had a good idea, don't take this as mean or anything but your not the best decision maker your a good housewife though like any proper women" this tone of misogyny should of made you upset but for some reason at first you were upset but something just washed it all away and you just again thought he was correct.

He then mockingly told you "your not going out in that outfit" he laughed referring to your clothes they were just pajamas and you agreed he could go out with his precious wittle trophey if shes ugly no no no she has to look marketable and good yes that's much better. He walks you over to the closet where he picks out different outfits until after a couple minutes of shuffling he finally finds one he likes its a

knee-length dress with a gently cinched waist that accentuates your feminine figure. The fabric is a soft, flowing chiffon in a delicate pastel shade, a pale lavender. The bodice features a subtle sweetheart neckline adorned with intricate lace detailing, adding a touch of romanticism to the design. you felt so nice in the dress and Adam agreed "damn I really did splurge on all these dresses but playing dress up with you sure is fun your like my little doll for me to play with and dress up to my pleasing" he teased

adam put on his normal robe before saying "welp guess its time to go" before you two walked out the door together into the streets of heaven the flight their was relaxing he was carrying you because he didn't want you do get tired and seeing heaven from that high up was just so nice but when you finally made it to the park you could see why it was so good The sound of waves crashing against the shore provides a soothing soundtrack to the park's ambiance, creating a sense of harmony with nature. Seagulls soar overhead, their cries blending harmoniously with the rhythmic lull of the ocean Adam seemed surprised and said "nicer then I expected you chose a good place I'm not gonna lie" before you two started to walk across the wonderful coast line off the coast of the park you saw the patience borough of heaven it was a small island off the coast of main land heaven which was Chasity,temperance,charity and diligence boroughs you saw the view of the skyline and you just watched it you decided to say "hey can we go over there" you said in a soft tone Adam sighed and said "not right now babe its to far of a flight for today

something in you snapped it wasn't you usual self you started to see a hint of rebellion in your mind you got angry and said "no I want to go NOW" you said starting to get angry Adam was surprised but brushed it off "come on dont be such a fucking brat we can do it tomorrow you started to yell "NO NO NO TODAY" then something broke inside of you and you just started to fly there to the borough this infuriated adam and he quickly flew after you catching up to you trapped you against his body he started to fly back to his house at a speed you could of never imagined it felt like only 3 minutes before you were in the door after taking off.

Adam SLAMS the door behind him and say's "you've been a bad GIRL A VERY BAD GIRL" you've never seen him this way he then said "how to punish you how to punish you ahh I got one I'll make sure you don't fly AGAIN until I feel like letting you fly"he said this in a light sadistic tone but he then sighed and said "then I'll put you under my little "spell" again you seemed to partially broken out of it but I can always reapply it, after my old 2 UNGRATEFUL SLUTS left me I've learned how to make people more "reasonable" and you've seems to have broken out of it partially"

he said this with a low coo before grabbing a knife from the counter and saying "cmere" before pinning you down this adrenaline brought back ALL your old memory what happened how he kidnapped you how Abused you it all came flooding back in you winced again and said "GET OFF ME YOU CRAZY PHYCO" Adam just giggled and said "broken out of my spell that's okay I'll just reapply it once I'm done with your wings" all you could think about was how could heaven allow this god, and seraphim they were okay with this one of their first man kidnapping and brainwashing a poor human soul so he could use you to not feel lonely it was all to much and you tried to beg Adam to stop "p-please Adam" you pleaded he looked like a felt a little bad but he seemed to shake it off when he said "this is all for your own good" before slicing off the front half of you right wing

You screamed in pain "Plwease Please s-s-s-s-stop" you pleaded but Adam when and clipped the left wing he used some angel magic to seal up the wounds and stop the pain but you were just left their a whimpering crying mess flapping your now useless wings Adam said "yknow what I'm not even gonna fell bad for you you got this coming this was all on you" he starts to rub his fings in-between your wings "maybe in a couple century's I'll fix your wings IF Im feeling generous I might just keep you like this forever my little peguin my little bird that's YEARNING to be able to fly but no matter how hard you try you just cant" he mocked causing you to sob more "awwwwww don't cry even if it's adorable it hurts my heart" he giggled You sobbed helplessly it felt like the teasing was just relentless you kicked and thrashed but he had a firm grip on you you couldn't escape he said as he stood looking down at you he laughed and said "are you sad don't worry try and fly yeah try and get an inch off the ground you can't oh no you can't you're too your wings that they're too small and too weak now "he laughed sadistically as he said that "you really are perfect now it's just time for the fixing of your brain"  to begin you start flapping you're useless little wings you don't know why you knew they were useless but it was just instinctive somehow you felt powerless completely at his Mercy you don't even know how you got out of his hypnosis but all you know is he's going to put you back in it back into the helpless little play thing you were before

"Now look at me "Adam shushed you just look at me don't try and fight it you know Ill win he said as he started to force your head to look into his eyes yes just fall deeper and deeper you didn't know it was happening you started to feel delirious sleepy starting to go into a gray space between awake and asleep  your eyes butterflied a little as you try to resist squirming but weaker and weaker whimpering and Wincing your pleas meant nothing if anything he enjoyed them  "damn you're so fucking  hot when you like" Adam moaned " you know what I think I might fuck you while I put you back into your submissive state, Yeah bitch doesn't that sound like fun trying to squirm away from me but falling deeper and deeper into my hypnosis it's just too much to resist I'm so sorry" he started to undress himself as you slowly backed away into the corner whimpering and wincing as you went "oh don't be scared" Adam teased "I'll be gentle oh so Gentle"

He started to approach you his erect cock visible " try not to struggle too much it's quite annoying, but don't worry you'll be wrapped around my little finger soon enough Like any proper women meant to serve their husband" just as he said this he started to pin you down you whimpered kicked but that didn't stop them he teased the tip of his cock right against the entrance of your pussy he was clearly getting off to you fear enjoying every second of it the more you cried the more you try to fight back the more you whimpered the more turned on he got " shut up bitch" he growled "at first you're begging was cute but now it's just pathetic you're not getting out of this and you know that " he said that and even deeper growl as as he slowly put his cock deeper and deeper into your pussy 

Eventually it was just a full flown thrust " fuck  baby keep looking into my eyes little bicth this will be so much more enjoyable if you fuckin  cooperate" he said but as he kept looking at you and deep into your eyes something in your brain started to change as much as you try to fight it you know that you weren't going to win your mind was too weak easy to be taken control of manipulated turned into as Adam said your fate  would keep going like this for the rest of Eternity the Injustice in heaven was all you could think about how could he do this how could he threaten to banish you to hell just for not wanting to be with him how could he do any of this but that was quickly wiped away by the thoughts that you were the problem that you should apologize to Adam that he was just doing what was necessary and that you were the crazy one you are unstable you needed him that's all you could think you started to enjoy him on you he giggled when he noticed that " are we done with our little tantrum" Adam said softly but firmly " yes Adam I'm so sorry for disobeying you this won't ever happen again" you pleaded to him " good that's what I thought, now let me fucking finish inside you bitch" he said approaching his climax  his cock was deep inside you it was 38 cm there was even a little bump in your stomach from where it was since the height difference between you guys was like nine feet you were helpless  he had all the control he wanted over you and that was just the way he liked it you started to grip onto the couch he was fucking you on you you were also reaching your climax but Adam beat you to it as you let out a moan long strings of cum started to fill you " yes baby" he said as you also climaxed " see I told you you would like it" Adam said smugly 

You were under his spell again condemned to the same fate for the rest of enternity but hey atleats you enjoy it even if your brainwashed

[redflagshipwriter]

Reassembly 5

Masterpost

(What the frick is the bat guy about???)

They did serious damage to Lexy’s credit card in the form of a cast iron pan, a pot, basic cooking utensils and a four-person set of dishware before they even made it to the grocery store.

Peter tried not to go nuts there. He really did. But Kon had that empty kitchen! And to be honest, shopping was major wish fulfillment. Even though he knew he wouldn’t be eating all of the food he got way into it. They stocked up on easy freezer food like pizza rolls and fries. They got pasta mixes and jarred sauces and they got snacks and sweets. He even got Kon baking basics. It might take Kon a while to get into his fresh bread era, but it was going to happen. Peter was calling it now. Kon was just that kind of guy.

The last thing he got was meat. Meat and cheese and fresh vegetables. Peter ended up putting back half of what he initially put in the cart because, honestly, Kon didn’t have a massive super appetite and he didn’t know how to cook yet. Vegetables were just going to go bad, so he only got what he planned to use that night. He also stocked Kon up on breakfast supplies- bread and jam, eggs, sausage, coffee and tea and juice.

‘I wish I was staying with Kon to eat this. I’m going to be hungry again tomorrow.’

Peter pushed down that greedy little thought where it belonged. He was going to be eating lunch and dinner with Kon tonight, since they were cooking together. That was already really generous on Kon’s part. He couldn’t ask for more.

The boys ended up making spaghetti. Peter wasn’t the best cook in the world, but he could cut onion and garlic to cook meat in, shred in carrots and zucchini, and add a jar of red sauce to make something nutritionally dense that tasted really good. Kon hovered over his shoulder watching this process and making faux sports commentary. 

“Go away!” Peter shoved Kon with his shoulder, laughing. “Go start the garlic bread.”

“...Garlic bread?” Kon asked hopefully. He seemed way younger than he was sometimes. “You can make that at home?”

“You can, if you get to cutting garlic really small.” Peter tossed him a bulb without looking.

They ate dinner while watching some drama that Kon picked out on a streaming service. “Holy shit,” Kon said quietly after his first bite. He put down the plate and took a photo.

Peter snorted. Kon must have sent it to someone because his phone went off constantly after that.

He wasn’t even done eating their late lunch when he first wondered where he was going to sleep tonight. Peter stared down into his pasta like it might have some answers. When should he leave? What would he say if Kon asked for his phone number? He didn’t have one. He couldn’t give Kon the number to the phone he had on him– he was pretty sure that he really should get rid of it in case someone was tracking him. 

He should ask first. If he directed the conversation it would be easier to be normal than if he was just answering questions. So Peter swallowed hard, made himself smile, and said, “This was fun. Wanna hang out again?”

Kon noisily slurped down some sauce and wiggled in place while he chewed and swallowed. “Yeah, we should!” he agreed. “You uh, free later this week?”

He was jobless and homeless with no other acquaintances. 

“I have some time,” Peter said casually. “I’m kinda busy tomorrow, but the day after? Should I come over in the afternoon?”

“Yeah!” Kon bounced up off his seat for a moment. “We can finish the projects. Or work on them, at least.” He screwed his face up with a thought. “Can I get your handle or number, in case my work pops up?”

Peter’s smile turned fixed. “Actually, not now,” he said as casually as he could manage. “I dropped my phone in water. I just have my Dad’s old phone right now for emergencies.” He didn’t need to add that lie, but what if he needed to pull out the flip phone later? He didn’t want Kon to think that he just hadn’t wanted to give his number.

Kon laughed. “That sucks, man,” he empathized. 

Oh thank Thor, he bought it. 

The fabric was dry by then, so Peter helped Kon cut it out and sew it into place. Kon modeled his new look in the living room and then took approximately two hundred selfies while Peter worked on his project. Kon eventually flopped down on the sofa upside down and started sketching out design ideas. Peter glanced over and saw what looked like a boob window cut into some kind of top.

…Kon would look great in it. Peter didn’t comment. He smiled a little more when he went back to cutting out pieces for his own jacket.

“Smile!”

Peter looked over on reflex and cheesed. A shutter went off. “Can I send that to my friends?” Kon asked, so casually that Peter knew it mattered a lot. “Cassie says no way did I meet someone without her.”

“Go ahead.” Peter gave a thumbs up for reasons even he did not understand. Good thing he wasn’t a weird little guy! 

Kon looked relieved. There was less tension when he went back to looking at his phone. “Thanks, man. You want to think about dinner soon? You’ve been working for a couple of hours.”

Peter had to blink a few times to process that. Oh yeah, he was pretty stiff. He stretched experimentally. “You’re right,” he said, mildly surprised. “Huh. What did you have in mind?”

Kon shrugged. “Pizza?”

Peter hummed. “We can pull that off,” he decided. “We have… two more jars of marinara, one will do. Cheese, the bell peppers- yeah, that’ll work.” He stood in a smooth movement. “Could you get the flour down from where we put it- yeah, thanks.” Kon hovered back down and handed him the bag.

“I meant that we should order it,” Kon said, but he didn’t protest. “You can make pizza? At home?” He was delighted by this new information.

“You can make basically anything at home,” Peter said, because it apparently needed to be said. “Can you look up a pizza dough recipe?” He got out the salt and tried to remember where he’d put yeast.

Pizza did not go quite as smoothly as the pasta had. Kon brutalized the dough by over mixing it and the gluten developed bonds strong enough to rival the Hulk. But it was still edible! Kon was openly delighted with what he had made. Peter stole sideways glances at him, wondering if he should reassure that it was a great first try.

‘..I’m not sure he knows that it’s really tough,’ Peter decided. He said nothing. They watched one episode of Kon’s selected drama before Peter decided it was time to go.

Kon seemed surprised when Peter said that. He blinked at him a few times. “It felt like I was at the tow- a sleepover,” he said self consciously. He forced a laugh. “Yeah. You wanna leave your stuff here?”

Peter looked around Kon’s surgically clean living room and wondered if Lexy’s cleaning staff would throw away his stuff. “Yeah, sure,” he said, because it wasn’t like he had a place to store a project. “I appreciate that.”

He left not much later, making his excuses and backing out into the night with dread that he didn’t want to face curling in his gut. The feeling intensified as he got down to the lobby of Kon’s apartment building.

It was dark out, even with the streetlights on. The air was cold against his face. Peter huddled into his jacket, hand wound tightly around the strap of the bag with everything he owned in it.

At least he knew the time. It was a little past 10 pm.

He needed a shower and to sleep. The gym should be empty now. He could break back in, shower, and then go sleep on the library couch again. Even if the librarian came in early again, he could get a few hours of sleep.

He woke up again to the sound of keys in the door downstairs. This time he woke up feeling much better rested. Peter wandered blearily until he found a clocktower and realized it was nearly 9 am. Nice. He was working on his sleep debt, then. He surely hadn’t spent more than an hour between traveling to the gym, showering, and getting to the couch last night. That was maybe 9.5, 10 hours of sleep?

He left to a new hotel for a breakfast buffet. This one was particularly sad. He had two pieces of peanut butter toast and a glass of milk before he heard the front door staff quietly phone someone else asking if they had any teenagers staying at the moment. He left pretty quickly after that and walked for a while, heart pounding. The police didn’t descend on him with sirens and lights, so he was probably okay.

‘I can’t go back there.’

Later that day, Peter grimaced and took a moment to indulge in burying his face in his hands. He was overwhelmed and he still felt shitty and dirty and gross despite his shower. Maybe it was getting spotted as a homeless teen eating from the buffet? Yeah. Probably that.

He was in the library again, sitting in front of one of the older computers and hoping he'd get a reply from a potential client who had asked for some information. 

Maybe it was a little weird to spend all day in the library. He was on notice for librarians acting like they wanted him to clear out, just in case.

But, assuming no one had any problems with it, why not spend most of his daylight hours there? He could study computer science, use the computers to do his work, and be somewhere temperature controlled for free. They also had pitchers of coffee and tea for free that he took advantage of. 

He was hungry, though. He was always hungry. Maybe it had been a mistake to go to Kon’s house. It almost felt worse to be hungry again after eating everything he wanted two meals in a row. Peter suppressed despair. He was doing his best! He was taking care of himself.

"Is everything alright?" 

Peter shot up and gave a sheepish grin to the librarian. He hadn't noticed her approaching, but he'd been lost in his head. "It's fine," he said. 

The older woman gave him a sympathetic smile. "Well, let me know if there's anything I can help with. It's what I'm here for." 

Oh. Before she could turn away he blurted out, "College!" 

Her face lit up. "Are you applying?" 

"I need to." Peter wrung his hands together. "But I don't know where to start. I want to go somewhere with a strong sciences program but I think I need to go there on scholarship." 

She sat down beside him, an easy smile on her face like this was a topic that she enjoyed. “Do you care about where it is?”

Peter shook his head. “It would be best if I could stay in NYC since I know here, but I’m willing to go anywhere that meets those conditions.”

She nodded slowly. “There’s a few places I can think of.” She hesitated. “Do you expect to be eligible for testing related scholarships?”

“Yeah,” said Peter, who was so good at tests but would probably falsify the results that he needed if he didn’t manage to take tests in time. “I test well. Very well.”

“That’s great! And you said sciences? Technological sciences?” she didn’t glance at his current computer science book, but she didn’t have to. 

“Yes,” he said, not entirely sure what he should be focusing on. Engineering, to build some kind of portal? Astrophysics like Dr. Foster, to find an Einstein-Rosen bridge? He’d have to get his foot in the door to figure out what was going on in the fields here. Shit, he should have looked into that already. 

“And you would be looking to live by yourself, on campus? Or off? With family?”

“By myself,” Peter said, and wow that was depressing. “And whichever way is cheapest.” He cringed as he said it. That felt pathetic too. He wanted to say he wanted to live on campus since he’d be more likely to meet people that way. But honestly, he had no resources, at all. He couldn’t afford to be picky. 

The librarian’s smile was a bit fixed now. “I… I almost hate to suggest it, but have you considered Gotham?” She continued before Peter had to decide whether or not he should admit he didn’t know that university. “It’s a dangerous city to live in, but it’s very affordable, and there’s extensive funding for the sciences and student support services.”

“...Because it’s a dangerous city and doesn’t get many people?” Peter confirmed.

She was doing her best to keep a poker face. “That’s right. They have a brain drain situation at the moment, so the sciences are really well funded. I think you could probably go there with full support, though that might be contingent on taking an internship or job in Gotham after graduation.”

Huh. He considered it. He’d never heard of Gotham, so it had to be a city that didn’t exist back home. But so what? How bad could it be? It was like, Chicago or something? He could handle that. He was Spiderman. He was an Avenger, sort of. So he directed a real smile at the librarian. “If I could get a full scholarship there, I would go in a heartbeat,” Peter said. “Thanks for the suggestion! I’ll look into the university there.”

The librarian patted the side of his chair as she stood up. “Wonderful! Let me know if you change your mind or have any questions!”

He ended up having a lot of questions, actually, once he started looking into Gotham, but he didn’t think, “What the frick is the vampire bat guy about?” was what she’d had in mind.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Silas and Wren #3

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: briefly mentioned past non-con, implied future non-con

After the tour, Master still wanted to play a game. Wren braced himself for something painful, or at least embarrassing, but to his surprise Master led him to the sitting room and got out a box of dominoes. 

Oh. That kind of game.

Wren didn’t know the rules, but Master seemed excited to teach him. It was kind of fun playing games. Wren would never have been allowed to, in another Master’s house. 

It was thrilling to play like he was a person instead of a slave.

At first he wasn’t sure if he should lose on purpose, but Silas kept showing him the winning pieces he could play so he figured it must be okay to win. 

They played a couple of times before Wren’s stomach began complaining. He wasn’t going to say anything, but one of Master’s pointed ears twitched. Silas glanced at the clock. 

“I suppose it’s dinner time for you, isn’t it?”

“I can keep playing if you want me to, Master.”

“No, no. You should go eat.” 

Wren helped Silas gather up the game pieces. Master led him back to the east wing, thank goodness. Wren wasn’t sure how to get back.

Master Silas ordered him to return to the sitting room after he ate. Well, he did say “please” and it was more of a question, but Wren knew better. He could spot a trap. 

Was Master going to drink from him after he ate? He seemed friendly so far, and it was a considerate gesture. It didn't hurt either. Dealing with Master’s vampiric diet might be the easiest job he’d ever had.

He opened the pantry. He’d never been assigned cooking before, but he had a little experience. Lots of Masters wanted a bite to eat after sex, and sometimes their cooks weren’t up at that time.

Hmm. What should he have for dinner? There was a coldbox too, with butter, eggs, cheese, fresh meat, and lots of veggies and fruit. 

There was no way he could eat so much before it went bad. He would have to tell Master carefully. He was pretty sure Master Silas had no humans before him.

He found a small package of what looked and smelled like ground sausage. There was spinach in the coldbox as well, and a jar of tomato sauce and dried pasta in the pantry.

That sounded pretty good all put together.

The box of pasta had a lot written on it, but ‘8-10’ caught his eye. Experience told him that meant ‘cook for eight to ten minutes’. Perk of making friends with servants.

There was a bottle of oil in the cupboards. He drizzled a little in a deep pan and began browning the sausage. After it looked done, he opened the sauce jar and poured it in. He added a handful of spinach. Yum.

The pasta did take eight minutes, and he smothered it in the sauce. Could he really pick his meals every day? 

He considered doing the dishes, but Silas was expecting him. He’d do them later.

He got turned around a little, but eventually he found the sitting room again.

Master was sitting in an armchair, a book in his hands. He knelt at his feet and waited for instruction. 

“You don’t need to do that. These chairs need someone to sit in them besides me, after all,” said Master, closing his book. Oh, that was nice. Wren sat on the adjacent couch.

“Do you like to read, Wren?” 

“I can’t, Master.” Silas set the book on an end table.

“You never learned? I thought humans had schools for their children.”

“Slaves aren’t sent to school. There’s no use for it, and a waste of time when we could be working.” Master frowned.

“I suppose that makes sense. But aren’t there tasks that you need literacy for?”

Wren shrugged. “There’s servants for that.”

___________________

Silas made a note to teach Wren how to read. Books were one of life’s greatest pleasures. He couldn’t imagine not being able to read his novels. And it would be easier to make conversation if they could talk about books.

“Master, may I ask a question?”

“Of course. Please, always feel free to speak your mind,” he said. Thank goodness, it was hard to start every conversation.

“Thank you, Master. I was just wondering, aren’t you hungry? You haven’t eaten all evening.” It hadn’t occurred to him that Wren might know as much about vampires as he knew about humans.

“Vampires eat once a day. I ate this morning.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t drink from you often, I promise,” he reassured Wren. That was probably what he was getting at, in his own roundabout way.

“I, um, I don’t mind that much. But won’t you need to drink from me every day?”

“Nope. Vampires buy blood. It would make you sick if I drank from you that much,” he explained. 

Wren thought it over. He looked like he had more questions.

“You can ask me anything, if you want. I don’t mind.”

“It’s nothing, Master.”

___________________

Well that answered one question. And now he had permission to speak, which was new.

But he still wondered when Master Silas would expect to bed him. Asking would be rude, no matter what privileges Silas gave him.

He was handsome, at least. Tall, dark black hair, gray eyes. Wren couldn’t deny how attractive he was. Even the sharp teeth were... something.

He wanted to believe that would make his duty easier, but experience had almost always proved him wrong in that department.

It was never easy, it could only be not as bad. 

Master would be in the latter category. He didn’t need to numb Wren’s neck that afternoon, but he did. And his lips were so soft. Silas didn’t need to provide him a bedroom, but he did. And his eyes were so pretty.

Master Silas wouldn’t need to be gentle either. But maybe he would.

Hopefully he would.

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone @paintedpigeon1

[luimagines]

That Dragon au Part 9

Hallo hallo! It’s that time of the month again! :D

We catch a little more about what’s been happening on the sidelines.... Kinda

@cafecourage

Masterlist

First Chapter/ Previous Chapter/ Next Chapter

Chapter 9: Catching up?

When Wind sat up Enno was quick to help Warriors. 

"Here, let me take something." They said, grabbing the pitcher and walking with him back to the spot. "I still don't see why you said this place was nothing much. I think it's very pretty here."

Warrior smiles. "We'll come back at some point then. I just meant that it was small. Hyrule field used to a beautiful place for a picnic-"

"But it's all destroyed here." Wind takes a sausage and bread for himself, sneaking over to steal the cheese and cut it up for all of Enno. "So this tiny park is the only thing they have until it grows back."

Enno shift awkwardly. They take a little bit of the food and drink for themselves to ignore it. That took a bit of a dark turn. "It reminds me of a park back home. I lived near a city that basically had a man made forest in the center of it. It was made to create jobs back after a war years ago." 

"A man made forest?" Warrior takes his share, putting the extras in the middle for anyone to reach. "How does that even happen?"

Wind takes a big bite of his food. "When can we go visit your home, Enno?

"I- Hold on." Enno digs through their pouches to find their phone. Enno leans over to show him some photos as they explain. Warrior leans over while Wind practically throws himself onto their lap. "I don't think I have photos of that but I have pictures of something else. There was a place we called the 'highline'. It used to be a small train shipping rail between factories back when the area was still the meatpacking district. Because the city doesn't have that much nature they decided to make it into a park. I used to hang out there while waiting for my dad to get out of work when his office was there and I was still in school." 

Only the trees and benches look familiar but they can tell that their world is very different to their own. 

"Enno, which one's you?" Wind asks. "Who are these people?"

Warrior smiles and leans against them. "Looks nice."

"Uh… Some are tourists, some are just people going to work." Enno shrugged. "I was always doing homework, eating lunch, or writing while sitting here. It's a good people watching spot." Enno said, putting their phone down and turning it off. "I don't know if you guys will ever come around to my world but I would like to show you both around. The city is loud though."

Warrior shrugs. "A city is still a city. It can't be much louder than here on a festival day."

Wind frowns and pouts. "I'm not good in loud places.... Is there any way that it quiets down at all?"

"Probably, I can also help you muffle the noise. We have some things." Enno pats his head. They took a bite of their food, wondering what they could do to help Wind. "We could start around my home, then see if we can go into the city."

"Earmuffs, Kiddo." Warrior ruffles his hair right after. "Remember when you were here and saw snow for the first time? Those could work too."

"Maybe.." Wind hums, looking at the pictures some more. "It looks pretty warm there."

“It was taken in the summer. I might live on an island like you, but the difference is that for me it’s not a tropical one.” They lean on Warrior. “We get a lot of snow in the winter. But I really prefer summer and spring.”

Warrior grins, wrapping his arm around Enno’s shoulders, biting into his food. "Let's hope we get good weather when we visit then."

Wind appears to be thoughtful as he chews his food. "I like snow... but I don't like the cold."

“I agree. But it gets fairly cold there. If we were to visit I hope it would be spring or fall. Mostly because we have different things to offer, but also because the weather is just right.” Enno starts purring. They closed their eyes and rested again now that they ate. “It would be another family day out.” 

Warrior slowly rubs his hand up and down their arm, resting there contently, watching the sun go down over the horizon. "Sounds perfect."

"I'd like that." Wind's head is placed on Enno’s lap, beginning to purr as well. Warrior runs his hands through the boy's hair, purring as well, feeling content and whole that this little family is within his arms.

"Just don't fall asleep yet." He warns you both. "We still have to go back to the castle."

“What are you gonna do about it?” Enno looked up at him with the most lazy smile. They still sat up. “Just kidding. We should head back soon.”

Warrior pouts from behind their back, wiping it from his face before they could see it. "Well I didn't mean now."

Wind snickers, having seen it all. 

"Hush you."

“Well yeah,” Enno pinches Warrior’s cheek like he was a kid. “I don’t want to get too comfortable that I fall asleep.”

Warrior pulls away from the pinch, snapping his head to try and bite their fingers playfully. "I could carry you no problem if you did."

Wind rolls his eyes, pretending to gag. "Go be cute somewhere else."

“First you couldn’t, we bought a lot of stuff today.” Enno pulled their hand back and stuck out their fingers. 

“Secondly-” Enno pulls Wind to hug him and just snuggle, fully teasing him at this point.. “We can’t compare to how cute our son is.” 

"Hey!" Wind struggles in their grip, turning around to face Enno. He sticks his tongue out.

Warrior snorts. "He gets it from his father, clearly."

Warrior then nudges Enno’s shoulder. "And you underestimate my determination."

But he sighs and moves to stand. "But you're right. It's a bit of a walk back and we should be there before dark? We should go."

“If we must.” Enno follows him and gathers their stuff, making sure to dust off their stuffed animal. “Come on,Sailor.”

Wind hops up and joins them, picking up his stuff on the way. Warrior is left sitting on the ground.

Wind doesn't hesitate to grab Enno’s hand and begin to lead the way back. 

Warrior smiles to himself, picking up what was left behind. He trails behind them both as Wind entertains Enno with stories of the three Links' time together. He feels whole.

Enno listens intently and lets Wind talk their ear off all the way back to the castle. Swinging their hands together. 

"Are you going to sleep with us tonight? Or are you going to sleep in your room with Four?" They asked Wind.

"A..ha...." Wind’s grip on you tightens. "I shared a room with Time. ...Can... Can I stay one more night with you guys?"

"Oh- my bad," They bring Wind closer "I'm ok with it." 

they turn back to Warriors. "Is it ok with you?"

Warrior nods. "I don't mind. My bed is big enough as it is."

Wind grins and sways his hands back and forth, still holding onto Enno. "I’d like that."

"I'm probably going to sort out my stuff before we sleep though." Enno says. They had only just remembered that they moved all of their stuff into Warrior's room. "We kinda just left it on the bed." 

 They entered the castle's walls and things weirdly felt calm... Enno didn't know why but that was enough to set them on edge.

"Well you look like you all had fun." Cia says, waiting for the three of them at the entrance. "I was wondering when you'd come back."

Warrior shifts into half dragon immediately and steps in front of both Enno and Wind. "I'm going to ask you to move now, Cia. Don't make this worse."

Wind frowns and grabs a few bags from Warrior, lessening his load. Wind's grip turns fierce in Enno’s hand as he stares down the threat.

Cia's face gives nothing away. "I just wanted to chat."

Enno’s face doesn’t really change. They just blink. “Ok. What’s up? I’ll cut back my slang just because I realize that maybe won’t be ok for me to say to you. You… might be offended. My bad.” They say casually, actually meaning it. “I’m not going to be alone with you though. That’s asking a bit too much for what’s been going on.”

"Not you." She waves her hand, opening her mouth to speak again.

Warrior lets out a deep and threatening growl. 

Cia shuts up with a click of her teeth.

Warrior does that over the shoulder look. "Enno, Wind, go inside. Don't wait for me."

“Ok, but please both of you. Don’t burn down the place.” Enno takes some of the stuff Warrior was holding and walks past Cia, keeping up this is the ‘everyday’ kind of behavior. Heading to their room, Enno managed to remain fairly calm. 

"Mm, yes, whatever, go now." Cia waves them away nonchalantly.

Warrior growls his claws sharpening subconsciously. "I won't be long."

“Soooo there goes my plan.” Enno said once the two of them were far away.

Wind pulls them along, happy to be away from the magic practicing woman. "Your plan?"

“Well I was hoping to have you give him the pocket watch.” Enno sighs a bit, worried about Cia and him being together. “I should probably find Impa, Zelda or Lana….” They said out loud, knowing that those two are going to be at each other’s throat.

Wind hums. "I'll figure it out. It's not like we're leaving him behind. There will be other chances."

Wind leads them through the castle with practiced ease. They find themselves in front of Warrior's bedroom soon enough and Wind opens the door.

They both hear a roar from outside the castle.

Enno flinched and ushered Wind inside, not really paying attention to Warrior’s room putting the stuff down. 

“Stay and lock the door.” Enno closed the door and ran back, not trusting that those two should be alone anymore.

Wind runs after them and grabs their arm before they can go too far. "Don't Enno. If you get hurt, it'll crush him."

He looks up with pleading eyes. "Please...let's just go inside."

They stopped and looked down at him. “I am just going to go to get Zelda.”

They bent down and kissed Wind’s forehead. “Just give me five minutes, I will be back before you know it.” They said, taking Wind’s hand off. They smiled and slowly backed away. “Don’t worry. Five minutes.”

"I don't like this." Wind stays put. "I'm counting five minutes!"

Enno takes off running and finds Warrior. It's not hard to miss him.

He's turned full dragon and he's larger than they thought he would be. He already has a gash on his shoulder.

Enno bounces back to hide behind the corner. Seeing the gash made them angry to the point that they didn’t realize they had transformed half way. They wanted to catch Cia off guard but knew it would be difficult since they didn’t know how to control their magic. BUT THERE WAS A NEED TO SMITE HER.

Warrior shifts down halfway, holding his shoulder. He curses and turns to run into the castle. "I can't let her get to them."

He turns the corner and takes a deep breath and suddenly freezes.  Warrior turns to look at Enno, shock all over his face. "Enno... what... why.... I thought you were with Wind."

“I was. You're hurt. Who is she after and I swear if you said Pinky I am going to start swinging.” They growled. “Either way you need to go to the medical center.” They take the arm that wasn’t hurt. “Come on.”

Warrior shakes his head, letting them lead him anyway.  "I need to find Cia first. She was going after you. Pinky might be on the list but she's convinced that if she can either send you away or disfigure you, then we'll leave you both alone."

Warrior growls and whips his arm around to unleash a fairy. "I said I'd save this but I'm about to tear into her. I don't care what Lana or Zelda say anymore."

“Oh good. Fun even.” Enno was angry, running down the stairs two steps at a time. They didn’t know what they were going to do when they saw her but they had some choice words for her, not really caring anymore. They try to gather themselves though since it felt like they were getting close.

Warrior was able to keep up better once the fairy healed his wound. "Enno."

They keep running.

He called out to them again. "Enno?"

Still nothing.

A third time. "Enno. Enno!" He pulls them to a stop. "Where's Wind?"

“He is in your room. The door is locked.” They pull their wrist away “He is fine, Link.” They turn back and  continue to stomp down the hallway. “I know I’ve known her for less time but I want to do something.”

They wanted to just shock some sense into her. Literally or mentally, hopefully both.

Warrior nods and follows them once more. "If she can't get to Wind, she'd probably go after Pinky as an easier target. She might still be in the medical bay."

He looks Enno up and down appreciatively as he sees their half form once more but he doesn't comment on it. "What are you planning?"

“Sadly it seems like we share something. Which is being able to know and slightly witness things that we really shouldn’t. I have a sinking feeling that, while I can’t talk to her out of it. I gotta somehow wear her down. Her behavior is almost like Ganon took control over her again.” Enno said, wanting to get there quickly as possible. “Well first I want to just spice up something.”

The door was slightly opened. There was shouting already from the inside. Enno peaked through to see what was going on in there. Cia’s back was to them, they felt sparks inside of their hands. 

“Change of plan. Don’t kill me” They whisper, shooting through the door and tackling Cia down, acting like a human taser, hoping to just knock her out. They didn’t realize that their magic was a lot wilder than they thought.

Pinky opened her mouth to speak but she recoiled in fear from the sudden lighting in the room. It appears she was already crying. It's too bright and she was too busy covering her head, ears and eyes from the onslaught of information, sound and light.

Time, seemingly in Fierce Deity form, had thrown himself over Pinky to block the sudden barrage of magic, forming a barrier over the bed she was in.

Warrior dives in after Enno but is forced to take a step back from the sudden burst of magic. He's knocked off his feet, hitting his head on the door frame before he tries to get up again.

Cia screams and her staff goes flying through the room. She doesn't scream for very long before she falls unconscious.

Time shrinks back down to his hylian form and tries to calm Pinky by purring and shielding her from seeing the outcome of what’s happened. He wasn’t expecting Enno to just explode like that. He turns to see them rolled onto their back next to Cia. “Are you ok?”

They shakily gave a single one thumb up, magic disappearing quickly. They feel low and semi-nauseous again, both tired and awake. “She did this to me so it's just her actions catching up to her.” They pant, dropping my arm down. “Wat ‘bout you two?”

Pink stayed curled up for a moment, letting the silence drape over her. Slowly, she unfurls, the pain pulsing through her body. Her previous injuries have been irritated. It’s hard for her to move. "Is she gone?"

Pinky looked up and around. She opened her mouth to ask Time a question before she caught sight of Enno for the first time since the party. "Oh my god, what happened to you?"

Warrior shakes his head, rubbing the spot where he was hit, focusing on one person only.

"Enno!" He runs to them and drops to his knees beside them. "That... was frankly very impressive but stupid. Are you hurt? Are you ok?"

“I think we need to call a nurse to check on Pinky but for now we are both ok.” Time says holding her. “We should probably get her out.”

Enno sighed and turned to Warrior, “m low again.” They couldn’t even keep up the dragon form as they shrink back to their hylian body. Pinky’s comment then registers, “’m dragon now Cia’s fault idk why.” 

They rolled over to their side, groaning.

Pinky whimpers as she moves, holding onto Time as she tries to get over her pain. "Is she dead?"

Time shakes his head. “Only knocked out. That's why I want her out of this room.” He honestly doesn’t know how more people aren’t alerted and it's this calm within the medical bay. “You fell on your back. How are you feeling?”

"It hurts." Pinky whispers, trying to sit up. It feels like electricity is blooming over her back while it's pulled taut against itself. She lies back down and curls up. "A lot. It hurts Link."

Time gives Warrior a questioning look before returning to Pinky once more. “Do you want me to put the cream on?” He whispers to her, trying to ease her to lay on her side instead. 

Pinky bites her lip, the tears slipping out despite her efforts. "Yes please."

Pinky takes a shaky breath, trying to roll over. "God, I feel like I've been ripped open."

Warrior takes a deep breath, he checks Enno’s pulse and their temperature. He fishes in his belt for a magic potion and uncorks it for them. "Here Sweetheart. You scared me."

Enno drinks a bit of the potion, “I promised Wind I would be back in 5 minutes.” It’s probably been more than five minutes.They were slow in drinking the potion as they stared at Cia. “So what now?”

Warrior sighs and looks over. His hand comes up to where his injured shoulder once was. "I'll take her out, check her in. Enno, stay with Pinky until you drink it all, ok? Wind can wait a bit. Or he can come find us. He's a smart boy."

Enno didn’t like Warrior’s idea but they sigh once more. “Yeah yeah. I’ll head to your room soon though. We have to put things away.” They stumble up and walk over to Pinky and Time, sitting on the floor.

Warrior soothes Enno over first, completely sidestepping Cia.

He runs his hands through their hair and over their shoulder before kissing their forehead. "We'll head back together when she's taken care of ok? If you're feeling better after the potion that is. Don't drink it too fast. Don't move too much. If it doesn't get better we might have to check you in as well, ok?"

He stands and looks at Time. "Watch them, please."

Warrior then turns and picks Cia up effortlessly, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

He leaves.

Time nods, watching Warriors leave, he sees that Enno was already looking away and grabs the cream. “Afterwards, I can get someone to look at you. While it doesn’t look like it's too bad, we will still need to double check.” Time states, he hears Enno growl softly. “She will get punished for this. This is too far.”

“You don’t- she” Enno sighs, bonking the back of their head against the bed lightly, “Pinky would probably know what I mean, but Cia sounds like those fans that claim ownership of a character and attack people for even mentioning their names.”

Pinky hisses when Time applies the cream on her back. The area is the most sensitive as it has been the entire time. "Link please ...calmer."

Pinky tries to steady her breath and looks at Enno through her peripheral vision. "I vaguely know the people you're talking about. I avoided their circles on principle. I never met one of them. Until today, I guess... I thought she was gonna kill me."

“Sorry.” Time lightens up and does it more slowly “She wouldn’t have… not with me around.” 

Time massages her back lightly, frowning at the amount of pain she must be in after that attack. It’s clear that her nerves were shot. Enno snickers in the background, taking a swig of the potion.

“Did you guys plan the wedding yet?” They asked. “You guys sound like an old married couple. Or at least Time sounds like a true husband.”

Pinky grips the sheets around her and tries to relax. "No plans, just engaged."

Time tries to help ease her out of it. He doesn’t turn to Enno but he answers what they’re no doubt wondering. “You probably can't tell since you're so young and not used to everything still. But I’ve marked her.”

"To dragon standards, I guess we’re married?" Pinky sighs, trying to get the last of the tension out of her shoulders. She gulps and slowly forces herself out of the fetal position. "What about you and Warrior? You both suddenly seem very close."

“Ahhhhhhhh, that's why. There was a vibe, now I know.” Enno turned to face the two of them, crossing their arms on the edge of the bed. “I’m still unsure? Like how it was explained we are dating, yet we have Wind who is our son, and calls us by mom and dad. So it's just a thing? Right now?”

"From what I've gathered, you two would technically be dating." Pinky snickers. "But between you and Wind, I think you both just leaned into it. You've been calling Wind your son for years. That carries over."

"Besides... Wind also knows Warrior for longer. He might just feel more comfortable with it now that you're here. Like a missing puzzle piece." She finally relaxes fully, trying to ignore the pulsing on her back. "What does Warrior think about it?"

“About Wind? Warrior is loving it- being called Dad all the time. About me? I don’t think Wind has ever acknowledged me as a parent in front of him. So like that's going to be a thing.” Enno downs the rest of the bottle and rests their head on the bed. “So like are you guys going to have two weddings?”

"...Why?" Pinky hums. She closes her eyes, trying to keep her emotions clear from her face. "It's not like we had a dragon one. It just happened."

“We will get there when we get there. All I want is for you to get better, my love.” Time stops putting on the cream and puts it back. “Two sounds equally fun but stressful. Even though it would even be easiest to have two in each world.”

“Sounds like you're a man with a mission.” Enno teased. “As long as I’m invited.”

"You're mandatory at both." Pinky huffs. "You better show up."

The door creaks open. Warrior raises an eyebrow and puts his hands up in mock surrender. "And what am I walking into?"

He laughs a bit to himself and reaches down to help Enno to their feet. "Can you stand?"

“I can. We were talking about marriage and weddings.” Enno lets him help them. “I’ll probably be back down here tomorrow. So I’ll see you then?”

“If the nurses don’t move her to a different room, yes.” Time sighs, rubbing circles on Pinky’s arm.

“Yeaaaah….” Enno looks around. “Well… good night, have fun with that.”

Pinky waves slowly. "Goodnight. Expect an interrogation when I'm better."

Warrior grimaces. "I'll get some supplies in the morning for her. I'm sorry I couldn't stop Cia in time."

Warrior wraps his arm around Enno’s waist, holding them close as he leads them through the castle. He takes a breath, a deep one and pauses in the middle of the empty hallway.

What a mess.

[tempobrucera]

Token of Love

Pairing: Thomas x Reader x Vic x Ethan Wordcount: 12.5k Description: For some reason you think it’s a good idea to gift a box of love tokens to your partners. Maybe it ensues more chaos (and sex) than you would have thought. Warning(s): Fluff, some (playful and not so) fighting, smut (foursome, no panties, public, orgasm denial, D/s dynamics, safeword use)

Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist .#####. Thomas hugs you close from behind, his arms securely around you. It’s early, the sun has barely risen and you can feel tiredness still washing over you.

“How come you’re already awake?” You ask and strain yourself to put a kiss on his lips. “Before everyone else? Are you okay or did you have a nightmare again?”

“I’m okay,” he is pressing kisses to your shoulder, “No nightmare this time. I wanted to get up so I could make breakfast.”

“You? Offering to make breakfast? In the morning? Are you sure you are okay? Or is … Oh.”

Oh. It’s Valentine's. Which explains why Thomas is up too early for his own good.

“I thought the other two wouldn’t complain about food … but it could still be … romantic.” 

The other two, Vic and Ethan, are laying next to you in Thomas’ bed. Which was one of his only requirements when he looked for a place for himself, a bedroom to put a bed big enough for all of you in there and a roof terrace. Ethan is hugging his pillow and Vic is snoring at his side.

“You’re cute, Thom.”

“Well, knowing all of you, I’m the only one who thought about it,” he says but he still has a smile on his face.

“Maybe.”

You’re smiling as well and yawn before you fall asleep again. Only rummaging around you, is waking you up again. Victoria bickering, Ethan laughing. The clattering of plates against each other, liquid filled into glasses. Thomas’ lips on your forehead.

“Breakfast is ready!”

The bed turned into a minefield to get up, it’s hard not to put your hand somewhere or into something, Ethan has the courtesy to help you while Vic laughs at Thomas’ shoulder and Thomas beams at you. For Thomas’ standards the food looks good, there’s some fruit, some scrambled eggs that only look a little bit off, some absolutely burnt sad looking toast, some pancakes that are only burnt at the edges, some sausages, some cheese and there’s a little heart shaped box of chocolates on everyone’s plate, next to a flower.

“Thank you, caro.” You give him a kiss on the cheek. Vic just rolls her eyes, it’s just another day and Thomas is trying to make everything as special as possible all the time but all of you three know that this day is still important to him. 

Vic and you both know better, but you still try the toast and the scrambled eggs while Ethan sticks to the least burnt pancake and carefully bites into a sausage. The toast isn’t palatable, and it’s hard to swallow, while the eggs are mushy, salty and something else. It’s a taste experience you wish you wouldn’t have had, you’re sure Vic’s face mirrors yours. Thomas is still smiling, so is Ethan who seems to have made the better decision. 

“Please tell me, you also have something to drink for us?” Vic looks at him, grimacing.

“Oh, I forgot, yes. What do you want? Tea, milk, hot chocolate, juice, tomato smoothie, water, champagne?”

Vic and you both flinch at the mention of a tomato smoothie: “Something which makes me forget that I just ate this out of love for you. So maybe give me the champagne, the bottle should do.”

“That was horrible,” Vic says after Thomas skipped out of the room to get drinks. “Please tell me this is edible.”

“It’s not too bad, a bit burnt, a bit sugary, there’s some kind of vanilla in there?” Ethan looks at his plate. “And some … orange juice, I believe? You can eat it though, maybe it would be actually nice without the burnt bits and much less sugar. And the sausages taste like sausages.”

“You already had me at it’s not too bad,” you say, “This was not good for my stomach.”

Thomas is coming back with the bottle of champagne, something that looks suspiciously like the tomato smoothie and something you hope will be juice, normal juice. Vic and you both put the rest of your food on Thomas’ plate, shaking your heads. He pouts but when he looks at the plate he carefully scraps the scrambled eggs to the side. 

“I actually have something as well.” You get yourself out of bed and shudder, it was warm and cozy next to the others in bed and you’re just in your panties and one of Thomas’ shirts. You get the box from your bag and put it down between them. 

Thomas, looks at the box first. It’s in the shape of a heart, you handpainted it with some flowers and little things that remind you of each of them. Then he looks at you wide eyed, excited. Ethan and Victoria are sighing, annoyed. You even catch Victoria how she rolls her eyes at Ethan, who tries not to laugh but he fails when Thomas is squealing.

“God, this will break him.” 

“Thank you!” “You don’t even know what it is yet.” Victoria reminds him.

“And? At least I’m saying thank you,” Thomas says, “Are you gonna say thank you for the breakfast I served you in bed?”

“You want me to say thank you for burnt toa-” You whack Vic over the head and he beams at you. “Thank you, Thomas.”

“Can I open it?”

Thomas opens the box carefully, almost as if he doesn’t want to break it or afraid he will have paint stick to himself again. Like the last time when you painted and he touched it before it was dry.

“Oh no, that’s a never ending box of bullsh-” Vic says when she sees the little envelopes in the box. This time it’s Thomas who whacks her over the head.

“Hey, you can’t read them yet, that’s not how it works.” You lightly slap Thomas’ hand when he greedily wants to open one of the envelopes. “I thought one of you could pick one out of the box every few days?”

“God bless tour life,” Victoria mumbles.

“Maybe we could take some and take them on tour with us?” Thomas looks at you, pleading eyes. “Use them when we want to? And the rest we can pick when we are here?”

“Okay,” you sigh - you can’t say no to the pouting, “I’ll give each of you three for tour, but I’ll give them to you.”

“That sounds great and then we c-”

Victoria interrupts him mid-sentence, slapping his ass. A small yelp comes from Thomas’ lips but nothing else.

“You can talk somewhere else now, caro, like here.” Ethan and you laugh, but Thomas obediently crawls between Vic’s spread legs, his head disappearing under her nightgown. “That’s better.”

Ethan sits behind you, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your shoulders, your neck. There’s no urge for him to do anything else, just leaving soft kisses all over your skin. Meanwhile you can hear Victoria moan, the wet noises Thomas’ tongue makes. Little whimpers coming from him and Vic getting louder. You know Vic is giving him exactly what he needs, she always does. While you often give him everything he wants - and more. You couldn’t just interrupt him in the middle of a sentence, you love him talking, hanging on every word coming from his lips. But he needs it. And Ethan somehow always finds a balance. There’s one more loud moan from Vic and then she lets him go. He looks a bit like a deer in headlights when he’s rolling himself together in your lap not even a minute later, you can see that he’s hard. Ethan is still kissing your neck when you card your fingers through Thomas’ hair. 

“Sleepy.”

“I know, babe, I know.” You press a kiss to Thomas’ forehead, he blinks at you when you put him into Ethan’s arms. “Vic and I are gonna clean up and do the dishes, you can sleep.”

“Your boyfriend has the most talented tongue, almost makes up for that box of horror.” Vic says when you’re both in the kitchen, she is sitting on the counter while you're discarding the scrambled eggs into the bin. “I’m glad that you’re sharing him, and I know Ethan is really grateful for that as well.”

“It’s not like I’m not getting anything out of this,” you smile at her and kiss her. It’s tame but not unpleasant. “And I love seeing Thom with both of you. It’s what he wants, it makes him happy and I am glad that he’s sharing this with me.”

“Do I have to participate in this?” Vic changes the topic.

 “There’s not only romantic stuff in there, also some other things.”

“Please say dirty stuff,” Vic is crossing her fingers, “please say dirty stuff.” 

“If you make the fill out the blank cards dirty then maybe.” 

“Oh god, he will be even more insufferable.” 

“These tokens are Thomas' proof. I’m planning on taking them out before it’s his turn.” 

Victoria grins at you: “So even you have your limits?”

Your answer is just a sigh when Thomas comes barging in, looks at you without saying a word, grabs a bottle of water and then vanishes again without looking back. It’s bizarre, he’s behaving weirdly. Victoria doesn’t notice, or she decides not to mention it when you clean up. Back in the bedroom Ethan and Thomas are cuddled up together. Ethan spooning him from behind, his arms around his waist. If you wouldn’t know him as well as you do, you wouldn’t notice but you can hear the soft purr, the tiny little whimpers, coming from Thomas. With one hand he’s twisting one of Thomas’ nipples, the other one sprawling out over his stomach, just over where he’s still bulging his briefs. You know it’s not what he wants, but Ethan knows it’s what he needs. Thomas’ little noises speak for themselves.

.#####.

“Can we open one before tour starts?” Thomas asks one evening, and you can’t do anything about it, he smiles at you sweetly, and you can just give in. Before he can take the box from you, Vic already took it out of your hand.

“Ladies first,” she says and grins at a confused Thomas. Takes an envelope, looks at it and then at you, “This isn’t too bad. Create your own Cocktails.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ethan says. You can see Thomas taking the little envelope of Vic and pocketing it. “We could make it a challenge and only use things we already have here.”

In the evening you’re all in the kitchen, looking at different bottles of alcohol, other bottles, fruit, some random boba pearls in too many flavours Thomas has stacked away in his cabinets, juices and mixers, edible glitter you used for baking a while ago, some random stuff Thomas puts out with a shrug. It’s fun, seeing what everyone else is doing, trying random stuff for yourself, Ethan and you both drawn to the boba pearls, and everyone laughing at Thomas and the monstrous thing he creates. 

By the end of the evening, you have four cocktails. Some are more enjoyable than others but no one is saying it. There’s Ethan’s coffee cocktail - you laughed earlier when he was brewing coffee, cooling it down, trying to find the perfect mix of coffee and Kahlua and finishing it off with some tapioca boba and milk. You saw him sniffing the milk that came out of Thomas’ fridge longer than is normal, Thomas looking at him offended in return. It tastes nice, but Vic announces it is nothing special. There’s your own cocktail, it shimmers and it’s way too sweet, especially for Thomas who’s wrinkling his nose. It’s prosecco, jasmine tea, rose syrup, too much glitter - your hand slipped for a second, lychee bubbles and strawberry boba that’s shaped into little hearts. Ethan seems to enjoy it more than the other two but Thomas’ finger poking you is getting you out of your thoughts. He delicately has one of the strawberry hearts between his teeth and you’re happily kissing the sweetness off his lips, taking the heart off him with your tongue.

Then there’s Thomas’ cocktail that looks intimidating to everyone, even to Thomas himself. No one wants to take the first sip until you show mercy. You don’t know how Thomas always does it but the texture has you shuddering. If you would take another sip, you are sure you would go off the walls or won’t sleep. It’s the mix of the coffee he stole of Ethan, the vanilla coke and the chocolate liqueur. There’s something alcoholic you can’t place and a slight hint of banana as an aftertaste, you shudder again. And there’s the misplaced popcorn, that should have gone on Ethan’s cocktail you think, on top of the drink. When you try to pass it on to Ethan, he shakes his head but Vic is brave enough once again.

“This is disgusting.”

“I have done worse,” Thomas smiles at her. Nipping at his straw and slurping his cocktail, all three of you watching on in disbelief.

And then there’s Vic’s. Which just is tequila, some ice, Corona and topped off with a lime.

“I won,” Victoria says. Ethan scoffs at her. “Simple, but at least you can drink it.”

“I didn’t know this was a competition,” Thomas says.

“It’s not like you would have won against me, if I would have told you about it beforehand.”

.#####.

Tour starts again, somehow comes earlier than it felt like a few days ago, and you’re back home alone, once again. They all received their tokens from you before leaving, Thomas kissing you goodbye and Vic mumbling something that sounded like And here I was hoping you forgot about it. First you just wanted to give them at random but too many tokens you would like to be part of crossed your way, which is why you selected tokens for each of them.

It doesn’t take long, a few days, and Ethan is posting a photo of a token in your group chat - One uninterrupted afternoon nap, whatever happens.

I am cashing this in, I’m tired!!!! Don’t annoy me.

Later Ethan is sending you a photo from bed. He has a cup of tea and the book he packed to read on tour. 

Thanks for giving me a break from the chaos these two are causing! 

A few hours later, Vic is sending you a photo. It shows Ethan snoozing, sleep mask over his eyes, but there’s also Thomas next to him, rolled up as small as possible in Ethan’s arms. Slumbering blissfully as well.

.#####.

“Thomas,” Ethan sighs, “you really have to clean this. I can’t clean up after you in every hotel we step foot in.”

He looks up from his phone, isn’t saying anything but then wanders over to his suitcase and puts a tiny envelope into Ethan’s hands. 

“Any household chore done for you,” Ethan reads and he sighs. Thomas picking the little envelope out of his hand again. “You want me to clean here and pack your suitcase, don’t you?”

He still isn’t speaking, smoking at the window, but nodding his head. It doesn’t take Ethan too long, Thomas is chaotic and it looks shit but most of it just needs folding and some things have to make acquaintance with the bin but nothing worse than that. 

“Are you okay?”

Thomas just mumbles a Thank you against Ethan’s shoulder when he hugs him and Ethan leaves it at that.

.#####.

Vic puts a token into the chat on a concert free day.

One day of no complaints or reminders.

Ethan and Thomas both text you, upset and displeased. It’s quite comical to witness and a reason why you handed it to them. Funnier when you aren’t involved in this one.

Boys, it’s just for a day! You can make it!

By the end of the day, you yourself aren’t sure if you will make it through the whole day. Instead of complaining to Vic, the boys complain to you. A lot, and you understand. Vic is using her power with them not being allowed to talk back or complain about her demands. Ethan loses it when she asks him for a foot massage, he isn’t doing it, Thomas doesn’t mind and takes over. But he loses it a few hours later when she demands to deal with some stuff for her, and to listen to her for the evening when they’re going out. 

“Can you believe that?” Thomas snorts over the phone. “She called me a kitty and told me to behave in that sweet voice, all while she was scratching me behind my ears.”

You have to cackle, you’re sure he purred, but Thomas groans - he doesn’t sound happy. 

“What was the problem, Thom?”

“She did it in front of Damiano and Ethan…. In a car with someone driving who I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, “That wasn’t okay of her. The day is over soon, Tho and tomorrow you can tell her to piss off.”

“I don’t want to go out now,” he admits. Something else is behind this statement, at least you have the feeling but he isn’t saying more.

After you hang up, you call Vic.

“I know, no complaining,” you start and once again you sigh, “but … You’re taking it a bit far, don’t you?”

“But it’s so fun to see them suffer,” she laughs.

“Fair enough. But could you … could you not do that with Thomas again without asking him first. Or not in front of people, that’s his limit and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t cross that.”

“Yes, okay, sure.” Victoria’s voice is small. “He looked fine, he could have told me.”

“Vic, we both know when he isn’t allowed to do something, he won’t if he can avoid it and …,” you smile, “You know his brain stops working when you’re scratching behind his ears.”

“I don’t want to make him uncomfortable with it,” Vic admits. “I know he likes it when it’s only us, I won’t do it again in front of people. I … I somehow never think about Thomas’ limits, I need to change that, I know but he also never talks about it, I know that isn’t making it better, I should know better. You don’t have to tell me, I know that’s bad, actually it’s horrible, thanks for calling me out on it.”

Vic apologised to me

It’s what Thomas texts you a while later and you finally feel like you can go to bed without everyone ending up in a fight.

.#####.

The next morning there’s another picture in the chat, it came from Ethan. It’s the blank token you gave him.

I would like Thomas to tell me why he’s upset lately 

You would like to know as well, you feel relieved that you aren’t the only one thinking something is off with him. 

Nothings wrong

It’s only two words but it’s two words and you know he’s lying. He only picks the phone up after you try to call a third time, he rejects the video.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Can you turn on your camera? I just want to talk, we can talk about something else if you want to.”

He looks dishevelled and tired. A bit too tired, even for Thomas’ standards.

“Did you sleep well?”

He shakes his head: “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Did you sleep the night before?” You’re worried about him.

Again he shakes his head, he doesn’t look at you. 

“Thom?”

“I can’t sleep,” he bites his lips, “I don’t want to sleep alone, it sucks.”

“Honey.” You know Ethan and Vic would be there but you also know they wouldn’t just climb into Thomas’ bed. It’s the first tour after you figured things out between the four of you, after Thomas admitted that him staring at Ethan and having thoughts beyond friendship and the one time he dreamt of Vic holding him down might deserve an honest conversation. They are part of it when you want but he’s yours, they respect that. It must be tough for Thomas, he struggles. And it must be even harder having them with him and still staring at the ceiling not having anyone next to him. “You can tell them, you don’t have to sleep alone.”

During the evening Ethan asks you, if you’re okay with them sleeping in Thomas’ bed, without you. You are, there’s nothing you could have against it when it makes him feel better. There’s just one rule you set, no sex with Thomas in any way, you don’t care what Vic and Ethan do with each other. Ethan asks if he can cuddle. You imagine that he laughs when he reads your I am not a fucking monster. Just no sex, not with Thomas on top or as a bottom, especially not the second. It makes you squeezy, you are open to renegotiate at a later time but now you don’t feel comfortable. But cuddling, he can have all the cuddles he wants to have.

Victoria and Ethan both end up in Thomas’ bed. They are watching a film, while you’re out for wine with a friend. Ethan sends you a pic of Thomas sleeping in Vic’s arms after midnight and your heart is a little bit lighter again.

.#####.

The Italian leg of the tour comes around faster than you thought. Thomas catches you when you jump into his arms. You took the time to go to two concerts, there’s nothing better than to see them live. To see Thomas doing what he loves, what brings him joy and how it puts that huge grin on his face. There’s nothing better.

“It’s time to redeem this token,” Vic says after the show in Milan, “Night at your favourite nightclub, maybe this box isn’t a box of horrors after all.”

You’re all getting ready in Vic’s hotel room, Vic having fun doing Thomas’ and your make up, she puts glitter eyeshadow on Thomas’ eyelids and you might love her a little bit more for it. Ethan already opened a bottle of prosecco while Victoria tells you which club she wants to go to, she puts some pink-coral-toned red lipstick on Thomas’ lips. 

“Are you for real?” He furrows his brows at her. “That’s the best club you can choose?”

“My token,” she grins at him, “my choice.”

Ethan and you roll your eyes while they bicker like a couple that has been together for the past twenty years, married, divorced and remarried again. They are still having a go when you reach the club almost an hour later. You take Ethan on the dancefloor with you.

“A day without them having a quarrel with each other,” Ethan laughs - putting his hands on your waist, “And they would die.”

Thomas turns up behind you, kissing your neck: “That’s not the best club,” he grumbles into your ear.

“You can still have fun and now you’re dancing with me, doesn’t matter where that is,” Vic is squeezing herself between Ethan and you, “Usually you don’t care, you can always have fun.”

Ethan sighs and gets something out of his jeans pocket, you can see it’s a token and you have to laugh. You know what he’s going about to do. 

“You leave me no other choice,” he clears his throat and reads: “You win the argument. Wanted to keep this to for one of your fights but it’s enough, I win the argument, clubs are shit, no matter what. And now behave and have fun.”

You dance the night away, you watch Vic dancing with Thomas, Thomas climbing on a table, Ethan kissing him. He dances with you, the glitter looks adorable on him when he leans down to kiss you. And you only stumble out of the club when they kick you out hours later.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Vic asks. 

Thomas kisses her while holding Ethan’s and your hand.

.#####.

Thomas sends you a voice message when you’re back home again.

“We noticed something. Did you take any of the tokens?” You press pause, you’re surprised. You made the tokens, they aren’t for you. “We know you made them, but you should take some as well, just some. It should be fun for you as well and we’re insufferable, I know, but it’s fun, even with all the complaining, really. I don’t think any of us said that yet. And I just want you to have some for yourself. I am gonna give my token to you, you can use it whenever you want. You get some flowers. You can’t say no by the way, it’s yours now.”

He’s the sweetest, you think. And you love flowers, he knows, which makes it even sweeter.

I would love some flowers, Maso!

The next morning there’s a little ivy plant in front of your door. A bouquet of white and rosa flowers with some green eucalyptus twigs strown in. And a lovely bouquet of dried wildflowers. It has a note on them: Love you! I know you like to keep them but the other one was catching my eye as well. Thom

.#####.

You can’t wait for Thomas to come home, for them to come home. It's been two months since Milan and now you are the one who can’t sleep alone. When they are all together in bed with you again, Thomas hugging you close, it’s better again. You missed them. 

“I still have this token from tour,” Vic says in the morning - you almost forgot about it, “One day without the others most annoying habit. Finally I can have a day with all of you but Thomas is shutting up.”

Thomas and you are both looking at her, you furrow your brows - Ethan looks at you with a little bit of concern. 

“But …”

Vic shakes her head: “No talking, Thomas.”

During the morning it works, you’re in bed, he cuddles up to you, bumps his nose against your skin. He gets his head scratched and scratches behind the ears before he starts purring happily on your stomach and then on Ethan’s chest. He avoids Vic, he looks at her carefully from time to time but if any of you looks at him then, he turns his head back.

“Hey,” you try to get his attention when Vic is leaving to have a shower, “This isn’t a punishment, okay?”

He only shrugs, pretending not to care but you know he does. He watches something on his phone, while Ethan reads a book next to you - glasses low on his nose, and you write in your notebook. The next time you look, Thomas fell asleep.

When you’re all sitting for dinner in a restaurant, Vic is the only one talking. Ethan is too busy studying the menu to care. You’re too distracted looking at every little gesture and facial expressions Thomas shows and when she asks you something directly, you just shrug. Vic snorts, but you can see the tiny smile appearing on Thomas’ face. 

“Anyone?” Vic looks at all of you.

Thomas raises his hand and Vic looks at him expectantly but he isn’t saying anything.

“God, please talk. Please!”

He takes his phone from the table and types:

I’m sure you can beg better and a bit longer

Ethan and you have to laugh, so loud that some people look at you.

“Thomas, please. Everything, just talk, god that was a shit idea.”

Everything?

“Everything. Just talk, please.”

“Okay,” he grins, “My turn to talk and you can shut up and I might have another idea.”

He winks. And Ethan and you laugh again.

Later Victoria follows you when you go to the bathroom: “I fucked up again, didn’t I?”

“Not talking out of context is like a punishment for him.” You look at her through the mirror. “He needs context, Vic. And we need to talk, all of us actually, we need some ground rules and limits. I don’t want him to think, he can’t share a bed with you on tour again or Ethan thinking he can’t touch him when I’m not around, and I made this box to have fun.”

“Okay. Ground rules and limits.”

.#####.

Thomas is the next one who draws a token out of the box.

Movie marathon - Your choice of films

“I’m getting the snacks and drinks,” Thomas says and looks at you, “But you can choose the movies.”

In the end, you can’t decide. You’re overthinking it, Thomas tells you to chill, no one will judge you for your choice of films. That’s why you go for your favourite childhood movie, Thomas’ favourite film and after snooping around the favourite films of Ethan and Victoria. By the end of the evening, you’re picking popcorn that Vic threw at him out of Thomas’ hair.

.#####.

“Thomas,” you aren’t annoyed but you’re running around like a headless chicken cleaning around him, “Could you at least vacuum?”

“Hmmm.” He gives you something and you groan, you almost forgot that you gave that to him. “Next time.”

Any household chore done for you.

“It’s our turn to clean up,” Ethan says a few days later after dinner. Vic helped you cook pasta earlier, and the boys will clear the table before you move to the couch for a lazy evening in. “Thomas?”

You furrow your brows when he gives a token to him, Ethan also raises his eyebrows. But Victoria is the one speaking up: “You used that on me three times already.”

“On me as well,” Ethan says.

“And you only gave that to me not even a week ago.” 

He looks at you sheepishly and pouts. 

“Oh, you’re in trouble,” Ethan comments.

Thomas still smiles, there’s a blush creeping up his throat for being called out but then he turns over another token to you.

Get out of trouble, no questions asked.

.#####.

“What is the token?” Vic asks him. “You went a bit pale.”

Ethan takes it out of Thomas’ hand: “One wild fantasy fulfilled.”

“Thomas' wild fantasy is probably having dinner under the eiffel tower or some shit,” Vic jokes.

You can see how he swallows heavily. And you know it’s nothing like what Vic imagines at this moment.

“No … no panties for you,” he steps closer to you and you just nod, “when we go out.”

“Uhhhh, interesting.” Vic’s eyes light up.

The day comes sooner than you think it would arrive. One morning you’re already dressed when Thomas comes out of the shower, only a towel around his hips, and looks you over. That he puts one of his hands down your tights isn’t too surprising, that he rubs you through your panties until you can feel yourself getting wet isn’t either. But then he’s getting you out of your tights.

“Thom, we don’t have time to fuck.” You’re supposed to meet Vic and Ethan for a shopping trip and a day out, and you’re already running late, thanks to Thomas’ talent for oversleeping.

“Oh, don’t worry, we aren’t fucking.” He frees you from your panties as well. “Open your mouth for me.”

When you woke up a few hours ago you wouldn’t have thought that today is the day where Thomas would use your own panties as a gag on you while he feels you up and then starts fingering you without warning. You grab onto his hair to have some kind of stability but your legs are violently shaking. Just before you cum, he stops, it’s almost a ruined orgasm and you mewl around the panties in your mouth. Sometimes you forget that he can be much more cruel than Ethan and much cruller than Vic expects him to be.

“Don’t think you will need them today.” He takes the panties out of your mouth and kisses you sweetly. You put your tights back on while Thomas rummages through the wardrobe naked and then gets dressed, you try not to stare too obviously. “You ready?”

You aren’t ready at all.

Thomas and Ethan are in the seats in front of the car, while Vic is in the back with you. She’s almost sitting on top of you, letting her fingers wander. Over your knees, up your thighs, Thomas is smiling at you wolfishly through the rearview mirror. And then Vic’s hand is in your tights before you can stop her, there’s no obstacle of more fabric in her way and you whimper.

Vic smiles: “You already got her wet.”

“No touching,” Thomas scolds her, “That goes for both of you and for you.”

Whereas you nod obediently, Vic and Ethan try to question his authority but Vic pulls her hand back and lets the elastic of your tights snap back onto your skin, you yelp.

Shopping always is a blast with them, you almost forget that you aren’t dressed appropriately and about the wetness between your legs. Sometimes, when Thomas puts his hand a bit too low on your hips, you have to swallow. But then Vic puts a silly hat on Thomas’ head and you have to laugh instead.

Somehow Thomas shoves you into a fitting room, all three of you. It’s cramped but before anyone even has the chance to complain about it, Thomas already pushes you against Ethan and both of you against the wall and then he’s on his knees. He deliberately pushes down your tights and he looks at you with big eyes before his head ends up under your skirt. You can’t stop the moan that follows when he starts to lick and Ethan heavily breathing into your ear. Your consciousness tells you that you’re way too loud for such a tiny space but you can’t bring yourself to stop. On the contrary, it feels like you are losing your mind when Thomas licks through your folds and presses his wet lips to your clit now and then. You’re only getting louder - until Ethan puts his hand over your mouth and you can just pant.

There’s someone clearing their throat in front of the fitting room: “Everything okay in here?”

“Yes,” Vic answers happily and to your shock even pulls back the curtain a little bit to pop her head out. Your only comfort is that the curtains are floor-length, so the store assistant can’t see Thomas on his knees, you still blush furiously and gasp into Ethan’s hand when Thomas sloppily presses his tongue deeper. “My friend has a busted arm, I’m just helping her with some tops. I hope that is okay?”

“Sure, please let me know if you need any help.”

As soon as you hear how the footsteps are getting more distant, you cum all over Thomas’ face. You can hear him laugh under your skirt. When he emerges again, he cleans his face, Ethan cleans his hand but when you take the tissues from Ethan, Thomas takes them away from you again. Maybe Thomas looks more fucked then you when you leave the store, he’s dishevelled, lips swollen, and a clear outline in his tight jeans which he partially tries to hide under his coat and partially doesn’t give a fuck about. You’re only ruining your tights and your mind is racing, maybe you don’t look any better.

You’re grateful that the restaurant you go to later isn’t anything fancy. The waiter doesn’t look at any of you twice, just wants your orders, a photo with Vic while ignoring Ethan and Thomas and then he pisses off again. Waiting for food is a test of patience for you, you’re hungry, and Thomas dipping his fingers under your skirt from time to time almost has you jump. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom but when you look at yourself in the mirror Vic is standing behind you, she’s dragging you into one of the cubicles wordlessly. 

The kiss you’re sharing has you gasp for air. Vic easily guides your hand into her underwear, she doesn’t have to tell you what to do or what she wants. Your fingers find their way into her pussy easily, finding a rhythm, you moan into her mouth when she slips her hand into your tights in return.

“No … no touch-,” you moan again, “Thomas said no touching.”

“Can’t see him anywhere,” she laughs but she seems to see your pleading eyes, “Don’t worry, he was really happy about the idea. Just be good and make me cum, honey.”

You know how to touch her, you know how to move your fingers in her, how deep you have to go for her, which rhythm she likes - you know how to get her off. How she will always moan loudly when someone sucks at her collarbone - Thomas, Ethan or today you. She only needs soft pressure to her clit and then she cums, moaning into your mouth. Her fingers are still playing with you when you try to pull back.

“Vic,” you whimper, “please let me cum.”

“No,” she smiles at you sweetly, “Thomas said no.”

“Pleeease,” you beg, “please, Vic.”

“That isn’t my decision.” But she gets out her phone and you can hear Thomas’ voice not even a few seconds later. “Someone has a question for you.”

“Please.” Vic is moving her fingers in you faster. “Can I cum, please, god, I need to …”

“No.” You know he says it with a smile even when you can’t see him. “Only when I want you to.”

“I love when he is like this,” Victoria whispers into your ear after hanging up.

Thomas kisses your nose sweetly when you’re sitting back next to him.

For some reason Ethan is the one who wants to go dancing, it’s so suspicious that you think it’s Thomas’ idea after all. The club is dark and you’re dancing between Ethan and Thomas, Thomas lightening himself a cigarette without care. The beat is vibrating through your veins, it’s loud, Ethan has his lips against your neck. They both take your hands, dragging and pushing you at the same time until you end up in a small room with a couch on which Ethan takes a seat. It’s not like that they were people all around you making out a few seconds ago, and doing worse than fucking. You wouldn’t have had a problem for Ethan showing you off like this, but this is Thomas’ game. Not Ethan’s, and certainly not yours. 

Thomas is undressing you slowly and to your surprise fully. He kisses along your neckline up to your ear, leaving sloppy kisses on the shell. His hands caressing your hips, then your thighs and you whimper.

“I think it’s Ethan’s turn.”

You don’t need another invitation, Ethan is sitting on the sofa, his jeans and his briefs partially pulled down. He’s soft with you, helps you getting on top of him, kisses your hair. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear while Thomas watches your every move. You whimper even more when his dick stretches you out, how he finds a slow but no less torturing rhythm. You moan into the kiss he gives you. For the thousands time your head spins today and it spins even more when you think about Victoria and the girl she vanished with, a girl she will make cum, while you’re still going to be denied. 

“Please,” you whimper again but you lose your train of thought when Ethan bucks his hips up into you and Thomas steps behind you, pinching your nipples. “Please.”

“No, honey, no.” Thomas coughs sweetly and pinches your nipples harder. “I promise, I’ll make it hurt when you cum. I’ll ruin it for you.”

Ethan cums with a loud groan and you lose your mind completely. 

“I’m gonna clean you up when we’re home,” Thomas says and kisses you between your shoulder blades.

He does make good on his promise when you’re home, Vic in tow again - her smile satisfied. Your eyes roll back on their own accord when Thomas cleans you with a warm wet washcloth. It’s too much, but at the same time not enough. You’re already overstimulated but you still can’t cum. It doesn’t help that Thomas has you in front of the bathroom mirror and that you can see yourself.

“Please … let me … please.”

He laughs, you can hear, you can see it through the mirror. How are you this in love is the only question in your mind for a few seconds until Vic and Ethan enter the bathroom as well.

“No,” he still laughs, “I told you, if you’re even thinking about it, I’ll ruin your orgasm.”

Almost you say fuck it, you want to see what happens, you want to know how it feels. Thomas sometimes threatens you with it but you never misbehaved as much to have him do it. The thought comes and goes when he presses himself against your body and you realise that he cleaned you up just to fuck you again.

Your brain is in overdrive, there’s no way to calm yourself down. Thomas isn’t letting you. Ethan and Vic are watching, he has her in his arms. Your sanity suspends when Thomas enters you. Your fingers tighten around the bathroom sink, just to anchor yourself to something. His groan is loud and too close to your ear. And Ethan and Vic make it their challenge to make you cum while Thomas still tells you no. Vic is going down on her knees, licking over your clit, Ethan is kissing you. And everything drives you crazy. But in the end Thomas’ no still rings louder in your head than anything around you. He holds you up and then everything stops, Thomas cumming over your thighs, he kisses you behind your ear. He cleans you up again and Ethan carries you to bed, you are sure your legs wouldn’t have worked.

Thomas caresses your back, kisses you, just holds you in his arms until he falls asleep. You can hear the evenly breathing of all of them all around you. His heartbeat under your ear. But you still … You still want to cum. If you wouldn’t be so sure to wake him up from it, you would use Thomas’ thigh. You yelp in surprise when Thomas catches your hand between your legs and looks at you out of wide eyes. 

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Please.”

“Come here,” he gets his thigh between your legs and you rub yourself against him without thinking, “When you cum, you’ll cum as many times as I want you to, okay?”

“Yes, just …” You whimper and it just washes over you. You crash and then you crash down on Thomas who holds you close.

“And now again.” 

.#####.

“Your turn,” Thomas shoves the box in front of Ethan’s face.

“Oh, nice.” He turns it over - it’s blank.

“Why is he getting all of them?” Vic is looking at you.

“Luck?” You shrug.

“I want to plant a fig tree.”

You doubt that any of you has a clue how to plant a fig tree but Ethan looks happy with his choice. You already see yourself washing dirt out of Thomas’ hair.

.#####.

“How about we all get a token for the weekend and try to combine them with each other?” Thomas says one Wednesday evening. They are off for the weekend and it’s the perfect opportunity. 

Thomas picks an envelope but Vic takes it out of his hand before he can open it: “My one, thank you. Uhhhhhhh, massage night. I’m up for that.”

Ethan picks next and reads it to you: “Weekend getaway to a destination of your choice. That’s nice, we will take my car, and I’ll drive, that’s my only condition.”

“Shotgun, I’m sitting in front!” Vic looks at him. “No way, I’m putting my legs in the back of that convertible.”

“Okay, now you.” Thomas passes the box to you. You want to protest but they all shake their heads at you.

“Back kisses.”

“Wonderful, and now me.” Thomas picks the last envelope before putting it back where it lives on the windowsill. “A post sex snack. Nom, that’s better than a massage.”

“You’re just greedy for food,” Vic laughs. “Where are you carrying us off to?”

“Alberobello.”

“Albe-what?” 

“Alberobello, Thom,” you say, “I want to go there. I said I want to see the trulli houses and I want to go to Lecce to the botanical garden and I want to see Martina Franca.”

Thomas blinks at you: “Okay, how about we start tomorrow, go to Alberobello, stay there for a night and then stay in some town?”

That’s what you do, the next day all four of you scramble into Ethan’s car. You marvel over the architecture, take photos of the houses and silly photos of Ethan who seems the only one to care. Victoria and Thomas are sitting on a bench in the sun, drinking Aperol. Someone carefully approaches them and asks for a photo. You stay for the night and Vic gets her token out.

“Massage time.”

“I definitely have to massage Thom’s nose with suncream.” There’s a sunburn blooming on his face. “Or at least some aftersun, you will look like a crab by Sunday otherwise.”

“You can nurse him,” Vic laughs, “Ethan can take care of my back.”

Ethan is sitting on Victoria’s thighs, massaging her shoulders, sometimes dipping lower to her waist, she’s blissfully sighing. On the other side of the bed you’re taking care of Thomas’ nose and his face, there’s no blissful sighing, he looks like he’s being tortured. His mood changes when you scratch behind his ears, his eyes flutter shut and he hums. After a while Ethan and you switch places. You massage Vic’s back, Ethan massages Thomas’ shoulder. Vic is pushing you down between her legs after a while, you can hear Thomas’ breath hitch before there’s a loud whimper. You can’t see, Vic holding you down, but the next morning there’s a massive bite mark where his throat meets his shoulder.

Friday you spend in Martina Franca, this time you put suncream on Thomas before leaving the house. Ethan and you are restlessly wandering around the city, ancient walls around you. There’s too much to see, too many photos to take, food to try, you stopped counting the amount of drinks Thomas and Vic already had. They giggle when you’re visiting a Basilica and at Ethan and you looking at the ceiling. Too many narrow streets to walk, Thomas finds some traditional cured ham that he’s munching next to you while you take a photo of Ethan who is leaning down to Vic. You just fall into bed when night comes.

Lecce is a beautiful baroque town. More narrow streets, another Basilica that took 200 years to build as Ethan and you learn, more food, more drinks, the botanical garden you want to see. At one point Thomas just sits down and refuses to walk another step, you can only coax him with the promise of getting lasagna for dinner. You took a photo of an angel on one of the walls. Another one of Thomas kissing it hands, and Vic jumping his back. Ethan is immersed in the tourist guide book but you can hear him laugh.

“I want my back kisses now,” you say even before your head hits the pillows of the hotel bed. Waiting isn’t your strong suit, and luckily you don’t have to wait, Thomas’ hands are freeing you from your dress and then your bra. His lips on your shoulders, Vic’s on your lower back, Ethan’s somewhere in-between. Thomas sucks a love bite into your skin, Vic biting and Ethan licking over the skin she bit mere seconds ago. You don’t know who initiates it but you end up on your back, Thomas on top of you - between your legs, Vic playing with your nipples and Ethan’s hands on Thomas’ hips. Everything's a blur, even when you cum, until he crashes down on you, panting and heaving, still in you.

“Snack?” You can hear Ethan whispering into his ear and Vic giggles.

“I want chicken nuggets.”

“That’s not a snack,” Vic reminds him but Thomas doesn’t care.

“That counts as a snack for me.”

He rolls you around until he can kiss your back again.

.#####.

“I would take one, if that’s okay?” Ethan looks at you and Thomas. You’re sure Vic would raise her eyebrows if she were there. You nod your head. “One Knock-Your-Off-Your-Feet Kiss. Exactly what I need right now, can I cash this in with everyone of you?”

“No.”

Thomas immediately shuts up when you both look at him: “I don’t think, you have any right to say that, Mr. I’m using this token until I drop dead.”

“Good,” he gets closer to Thomas’ face, “I’m starting here.”

You have seen them kiss before but it’s breathtaking. Thomas leans into every of Ethan’s movements, his hands tangled up in Ethan’s hair and Ethan pulling his hair in return. Thomas’ eyes are closed, there’s a tiny bit of spit on his chin and you can hear him moan into Ethan’s mouth. It would be a lie to say that it doesn’t get you hot and bothered.

Your kiss happens a few hours later when you’re both on the balcony. Ethan is smoking and then he’s pulling you close, cigarette still in hand. Where with Thomas he was still careful to not scare him aware, he isn’t with you. His tongue is everywhere where you want it and you finally kiss back. You know, Thomas isn’t busy with his phone anymore.

Ethan gets his kiss from Vic a few evenings later. And Thomas and you are both staring.

.#####.

Your choice of date night.

Thomas is delighted when he reads it to you. You step on Vic’s foot when she says something that sounds like You should’ve taken this one out as well. Somehow she thinks it’s the worst thing to have Thomas plan a date night, but you know it’ll be nice and still chill, he just puts more thought into it.

You kiss his cheek when he gives you some flowers on the evening of the date. 

“Giving you some flowers, would be like throwing money out of the window,” he says to Vic but gives her a bottle of wine before he gives some flowers to Ethan as well. “Looking at you, I am hilariously underdressed.”

It’s as chill as you thought it would be, he takes you to a small but not too fancy restaurant. He doesn’t complain when it’s time to pay, he gets Vic some gelato when she’s whining. And you’re watching a film in some outdoor cinema, hidden in the back, so no one of them is drawing any attention, before heading home.

.#####.

Vic takes a token out of the box without anyone bullying her into it one weekend. Which earns her some comments out of Thomas’ direction.

“Paint something together.” She smiles at you and wiggles her eyebrows, “You could have just asked, this doesn’t involve body paint by any chance?”

Ethan rolls his eyes and Thomas giggles.

“No,” you smile back, “painting on a canvas.”

“Can I just fling paint at it?” Thomas asks but he looks interested.

You should have known that he would fling paint at everything that moves, including you, as well.

.#####.

Spend a whole day in bed.

It’s almost funny that Ethan draws this one as well. It would have been the perfect one for Thomas but he didn’t get this or the one for a nap. You aren’t sure if he really pouts or if you imagine it. Luckily Ethan is taking everyone to bed with him, he reads, immersed into another world. Vic is listening to music, scrolling her phone, poking Thomas’ side when she gets bored. You’re listening to the video Thomas is watching on his laptop while embroidering but you’re thinking about knitting a beanie for Thomas - like a grandma Vic would say. And not even ten minutes into the day, Thomas is out. He falls asleep on Ethan’s stomach, Ethan mindlessly scratching his head and playing with strands of his hair.

“Does this include dinner in bed?” Thomas asks yawning when he opens his eyes again.

.#####.

Thomas and you are both alone when he picks another envelope out of the box. There’s one with a bend, you’re sure you know which token it is but Thomas isn’t getting the hint when you put it directly under his nose.

“Ugh,” he says, “Can I take a different one?”

You shouldn’t allow it but he looks at you with puppy eyes. You want him to get the bend one, you choose it with Thomas in mind from the beginning. That’s why you take the envelope from him and give him the other one: “Here, that one is better.”

“Is this because you’re keeping the blank ones from me?”

“You …” 

“Yes, I know,” he shrugs, “I … The only funny thing is that Vic isn’t getting them either.”

“Mysterious,” you smile at him. The truth is, you trust Ethan to be responsible with them. “Open your token, Maso. I’m sure it’s a good one.”

“Watching the sunrise and sunset on the same day,” he reads - his hands shake a little bit, “Oh my god, that’s perfect. Can we do that somewhere at the beach?”

“There’s a token for a beach picnic somewhere in here.”

He looks at you pleadingly again, you skim through the envelope until you find the token.

Picnic at the beach.

“You know this is cheating,” Thomas laughs at you. You don’t care, as long as it makes him happy. “Can we do this alone? I want to spend some time with you, without the dickheads.”

Victoria is happy to get out of the whole thing, no questions asks, only the plea to Thomas to not send her pictures of the fucking sun. Ethan doesn’t complain, somehow he still ends up in the supermarket with you when you have a grocery run for your beach picnic. Thomas goes crazy, it’s on brand but Ethan still looks confused.

“Is he about to buy the whole place?” Ethan asks you.

You don’t even have time to answer: “Do you think I could afford that?”

“I guess?” He looks around. “It’s small, so they don’t have that much inventory but … before I give you silly ideas, that’s a lot of perishable food, Thom.”

There’s no doubt that you’ll have enough food for the next week when you step out of the supermarket again. 

For once Thomas is awake when he has to, yawning but vibrating with excitement so much that he doesn’t care about the tiredness. It’s still dark outside and you’re happy that he agreed to driving, you fall asleep for most of the ride.

You’re happy that Thomas knows his secluded beach spots, you’ll be alone for most of the day. You’re still half asleep when the sun rises, you don’t stop him when he sends a photo to Vic and captions it with The fucking sun. By the evening you have the second bottle of wine between your legs, Thomas smokes and you couldn’t be happier when you lean your head on his shoulder and the sun goes down.

.#####.

Vic is crinkling her nose looking at the token she got out of the envelope: “This sucks.”

“Why?” 

“Can I put it back and take a different one?”

No one answers her, but Ethan takes the token out of her hand: “That isn’t bad,” he says, “One screen free evening - no phones.”

“That is hell,” Vic corrects him, “I can’t do that, I’ll miss something.”

“We could go out for dinner,” Thomas suggests - he might be feeling bad for her drawing the token he put back, “or have some drinks, go out for the night, go to a concert. Fuck, if that helps.”

“Can we do all of that?”

After the third time Vic is reaching for her phone, Ethan takes it away from her.

“But I’ll miss something,” she complains.

“Yes, you’re missing what’s going on around you,” he says, “Believe me you can have a conversation with us without clinging to that.”

“But what is the time? We’re gonna be late to ....”

Ethan looks at his watch: “It’s quarter to eight.”

“Good that we have someone sophisticated enough to wear a watch in our midst,” Thomas jokes and Ethan pockets Vic’s phone under loud protest coming from her.

When you’re laying next to her in bed, heavily breathing, hours later, she fumbles for her phone again. Thomas catches her wrist: “What do you possibly need your phone for now? Do you want to tweet how much you love my dick?”

“You would love that.” Ethan and you snort, but Victoria doesn’t stop there. “Next time you can blow yourself.”

“I might just do that.”

“Careful,” Ethan interferes in the conversation and puts his hand on Thomas’ throat - you can see him swallow, “Don’t promise me anything you can’t deliver. You know how that ends, kitten, don’t you?”

Thomas swallows again and nods.

“That might be more interesting than my phone.”

.#####.

The seasons are slowly changing from summer to autumn when Ethan picks the next token, and this time he’s delighted while Victoria and Thomas already roll their eyes and high five each other.

“Antique market and thrift store shopping,” he reads, “I decide how we use this, right? I want some decor and have a look around for some books.”

“Some weird lamps again, perhaps?” 

Thomas laughs about Vic’s joke but Ethan’s gaze is shutting him up.

“You’re all going to accompany me,” he announces and Victoria rolls her eyes once again.

“It can’t be that bad, right?” you whisper to Thomas.

He looks at you amused: “You clearly are underestimating the amount of weird shit Ethan is into.”

You know hours later when Thomas is carrying around some of Vic’s purchases and Ethan is still looking at some antique clothes racks. Thomas seems to give up on life when you enter a shop for antique clocks. His hands are shaking, and you suspect it’s the cut off of nicotine as he chain smoked the whole mid-morning. It doesn’t surprise you when he wanders outside to light another one.

“How many clocks can he look at?” Vic asks when she joins you outside.

.#####.

They are releasing a new single, you know that they’re excited but that means a few weeks on your own again while they are on a promo tour. It eases you that you talked about stuff like this a few months ago. 

“You should take one,” Vic says and gives you the box.

Board Game Night.

Not the best thing to do on your own, you think sarcastically. Thomas seems to see the annoyance on your face.

“We can have one online when we’re gone,” he says, “and then we can have another one when we’re all together? You can choose all the games.”

When the time comes, they are all on their laptops in their own hotel rooms - you’re grateful for it, that you’re all on your own and it isn’t only you. You play Monopoly for hours and Vic is the first one to accuse Thomas of cheating when he wins. He does that when you play at home, taking money out of the bank when he thinks no one looks at him, somehow having a house or a hotel on one of his streets where the last time you looked was none. It got so bad one time that Victoria announced she would rather piss herself than leaving Thomas unattended or even out of her eyesight with the board. Board game nights were usually them bickering and Ethan and you picking up the pieces afterwards, but after every night they swore that they loved it. Sometimes the competitive aspect just turned their heads in. You can’t wait for the game night in person after everyone says their goodbyes and Thomas blows you a kiss.

Could we puzzle?

No!

No!!!!

You didn’t expect anything different from Vic and Thomas. He lacks the concentration for it and Vic admitted it drives her insane. At least they can hate something together, you giggle to yourself.

YES!

On the other hand Ethan was always up for a night in with a puzzle.

You two think puzzle mats are the best invention of the century. You shouldn’t have a vote in this.

Somehow Vic seems to have forgotten that you can choose every game you want, and you want to puzzle.

It’s the best, go die mad about it. Anything in mind?

You send a link to a puzzle with 42.000 pieces. It’s more of a joke but at the same it’s a dream.

Noted 

Wait what? That’s against the geneva convention and my human rights!!!!!!

You’re a bit dramatic, Thomas.

Do you want me dead or something?

Victoria and Thomas try to argue that a puzzle technically isn’t a board game but they both take defeat when you remind them that Thomas said everything you want, their opinion on the matter doesn’t count. It’s fun, for once Vic and Thomas are helping each other without noticing it. Vic takes Thomas’ hand when she sees that he’s getting frustrated with himself and how he loses focus. Thomas helps her looking for the piece she’s missing when she groans. And Ethan and you are looking at each other knowingly, smiling.

.#####.

The next is one of Vic’s token again, and this time she’s happy about it. 

“Dress up for dinner and dancing or a movie at home,” she grins, “This is gonna be a party, you’re all gonna dress up pretty for me and we’re going to decorate this place. I want a mirror ball.”

You don’t question it but Ethan gets her the desired mirror ball, he goes so far to order some buffet style catering and turns up in a fancy suit. Vic is dressed in a fancy short dress, your dress isn’t showing as much but it’s fancy enough. Thomas is dressed in wide suit pants, for some reason he’s barefoot, and in a shirt that’s mostly unbuttoned showing off his chest hair. If you could, you would be on your knees for all three of them but you’re sure that’s a different kind of party.

“Here,” Thomas blushes furiously when Vic puts a collar around his neck. His fingernails are digging into the skin of your hand he’s holding, “You should be thankful that I’m not putting you on a leash.”

You can see how the blush deepens.

“Say thank you.”

“Thank you.”

You can hear how she whispers to him, you’re sure that you can hear her asking if this is okay, and the grip he has on your hand loosens.

All four of you are dancing, drinking, kissing, your hand wanders into Thomas’ trousers while Vic and Ethan are whispering into his ears, he blushes and moans and then you dance again. Thomas looks a bit lost and wobbly on the legs when you get him to dance again. Until one of Thomas; neighbours threatens to call the police on you as the music is way too loud. 

When you clean up a little bit, so you don’t have to do it the next day with a horrible hangover, you see that Victoria really brought a leash. It surprises you but out of fun you ask Thomas to give it back to her. He swallows, hard. But he’s still doing what you asked of him.

“Oh,” you can hear Vic laugh, “You want me to leash you?” 

“Or I can spank you with it,” you see Thomas squirm on the spot when Ethan speaks, “Your choice.”

“No-none,” he almost chokes on his words, “None, please. Please. Red.”

And then you’re all three all over him, you’re kissing his face, Ethan and Vic hugging him. 

“I’m proud of you, Maso.” He looks at you confused, he’s sniffing. “For knowing it’s enough and using your safeword.”

.#####.

After the party at home, you should have known how serious Ethan can take some things when he’s allowed to do so. It turns out that he can still surprise you when he gets the token Have a tasting party with a box of chocolates.

The box of chocolate is some quality chocolate but you all thought you would eat it, joke around a bit and otherwise enjoy the evening. Somehow Ethan has other plans. Every chocolate is on a tiny plate, with some tiny plagues on which he wrote what it is, some tasting notes on the side and he serves wine with it. He’s in a waistcoat, when he starts a speech which he’s reading from a handkerchief, Thomas sitting next to you loses it and snorts the wine almost through his nose. Vic is biting her lip so hard it almost starts bleeding.

“Silence,” Ethan claps into his hands, “Your undivided attention on chocolate number one, please.”

.#####.

There’s some confusion the next time around. Thomas tells you that Vic took a token but when you ask her she denies it. Problem is, you know Thomas is right, as there’s a token missing out of the box. After closer inspection you know why, someone doesn’t want to go stargazing - it’s the token missing out of the box.

Spend an evening stargazing.

“Would it help if we take a bottle of wine?” You ask her when you’re all on the couch, Thomas caressing your feet in his lap.

“We could use mine,” Ethan shrugs when you look at him, “I took someone earlier, it says Champagne and strawberries on it. I don’t know if that would help.”

“Does that somehow make stargazing more appealing to you, Vic?” 

“Only if I can watch Thomas lick that champagne from your nipples.”

You sigh but Thomas all of a sudden is way more interested in the conversation than before, even stargazing didn’t have him pique up like this.

“As long as we can do that after and not in the park.”

.#####.

Thomas is next up for a token and he already blushes when he reads it, and even more when he shows it to the three of you.

You get a compliment every day for a week.

“Oh, you will blush a lot the next seven days,” Vic laughs.

There’s a range of compliments from, you’re the loveliest clown - Vic, you have the prettiest eyes - Ethan to you’re the best person to wake up in the middle of the night to go on a walk with me - you. But there’s also the compliments that make him blush like Vic predicted. All the pretty noises you make - you, the way your blush starts on your chest - Vic, the way you look when you come - Ethan.

You can see how he gets more and more flattered day by day but there’s something else. And he breaks one night when you cuddle up to him and whisper against his lips: “You’re the best and loveliest chaotic idiot to me. God, I love you.”

He squirms, he’s getting uncomfortable, he looks like he isn’t believing you.

“It’s true, I -”

You kiss him instead.

.#####.

As soon as Ethan is smirking at Vic, you’re sure that she isn’t going to like whatever he has planned.

“You choose who is boss for the day.”

“Oh, you’re choosing me, right?” 

“No, I’m choosing Thomas.” He’s still smirking at her.

“What?” She looks at him. “Are you serious?”

“I thought you’re into Thomas being more bossy?” You have to laugh as well.

“In bed,” she looks at you, furious, while Thomas laughs, “With you.”

“We can arrange that,” Thomas says, “I can boss you around both.”

To no one's surprise Vic has to suffer the most under Thomas’ regime and you have to try not to giggle when she groans at him for the billionth time. 

“He deserves that,” Ethan whispers to you.

.#####.

“Recreate your first date. Does that mean ours?” Thomas gestures between you and him, “Or does that mean ours?”

“What was your first date?” Ethan asks.

“We went to a museum, Thom took me to a wine bar,” you smile at the memory, “And then I fell asleep on him drunk a few hours later.”

“Yes, and we had pasta,” he smiles at you.

“What was our date again?” Ethan asks.

“We fucked,” Vic laughs, “First Thomas confessed a lot of kinky shit to us and then we fucked for like two days.”

“Oh,” Ethan grins, “How could I forget that?”

“How about both?” 

.#####.

“I’m gonna already start arguing that I think this should translate to sex,” Vic says before reading the token to you, “Dessert only dinner.”

“You have a problem,” Thomas comments, “I am not getting reduced to dessert.”

In the end, Vic is outvoted and Thomas isn’t getting reduced to anything but he’s patting his stomach by the end of the evening. You all had too much food and somehow Vic managed to eat the most. You had cheese and grapes, cake, tiramisu, dessert wine, cannoli and florentines.

You pass out in Thomas’ lap while he smokes. Overindulgence.

.#####.

Ethan takes one of the last tokens, it’s a blank one once again.

“How is that possible?” Vic looks at Ethan, then at you. “Why am I not getting one of them?”

“Maybe they don’t like you,” Thomas winks at you, “They don’t like me either.”

“Back to my token, I want a night in a honeymoon suite.”

“Okay?” Thomas looks interested.

“I want room service, a pool or a whirlpool,” he looks directly at Thomas, “a bed big enough for us and where I can tie up Tho.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think they have beds where you can tie him up,” Vic says - her phone is already out, “And can you compromise on having a butler but no hot tub?”

“Can you look for a room with a terrace then? I can tie him to the railings as well.”

“Would that be okay, kitten?”

Thomas only shamelessly moans and then hides his face on your shoulder.

The suite Vic chooses in the end, does have room service for food that’s too fancy for your liking (who pays 12€ for blueberry juice you ask but Ethan just looks at you and deadpans me) and a terrace, just as he requested.

Thomas adam’s apple bobs, he already whimpers.

.#####.

There’s only two tokens left and one you kept hidden for last.

“Last one,” Vic says before opening the envelope, “before I can forget about this box of horrors.”

She squeals - it’s a blank one.

“Oh no.” As if Thomas already knows what’s coming his way.

“I could do with some new lingerie,” she muses, “A lot of new lingerie actually and Thom is going to pay for it.”

“Anything else?” he groans.

“Hmmm, I could do with a new strap,” she sticks her tongue out at him, “You know … to fuck your girlfriend.”

.#####.

“The last one is yours,” Thomas says and gives the envelope to you.

Swing on the swings at a nearby playground.

“I want to give that one to you.”

“No,” he protests, “you barely took any. It’s yours.”

“You should have it. I know it’s cheating, but …,” you smile at him, “I want you to have it and you can use it with me whenever you feel like it.”

“That means I can take you tonight?” He looks at you as if he doesn’t trust what he just heard. “We can take a bottle of wine and when I feel like it next week or next month we can repeat it?”

“As often as you want,” you assure him.

That night you end up drunk on a swing set with Thomas for the first time.

.#####.

“I have one last one, just for fun.” You feel like making an announcement. Vic is blinking at you confused but Ethan takes the envelope from you.

“Gift hunt. At the shopping centre everyone is getting 15€ for each partner and an hour to buy something for the other.”

“That sounds like fun.” You’re surprised to hear that from Vic but you’re happy about it, she seems excited.

The array of gifts and your reactions is cute to look at. Vic gives her presents to you first. There’s a pair of nicely padded handcuffs for Thomas, he blushes and you suspect that she used more than her 15€ she had to spend. There’s a beautiful strappy bra with embroidered flowers she gives to you, and then you’re sure she used more than she should have. Ethan grins when she gives him a leather paddle and your head spins. There’s something else everyone gets: It’s a little V on a keychain.

“Are you trying to mark me?” Ethan asks amused and gives her smack on the thigh.

“Yeah, I sure feel pissed on,” Thomas says and she wiggles her eyebrows at him suggestively, “No, no, no, no. We talked about this, Victoria!”

She shrugs and you laugh but Thomas looks at you terrified: “If you ever change your mind …”

The next round of gifts comes from Ethan. It’s little portraits, a bit bigger than a business card. After closer inspection you can see that they differ slightly. Ethan has the “original” of the four of you for himself, he is carrying it in his wallet. On Vic’s version she makes bunny ears behind Thomas’ head. On Thomas’ version you’re kissing his cheek, there is a headband with kitten ears on his head. On your version Thomas is kissing your cheek.

There’s no theme to the gifts you got for everyone. You have a poetry collection of Rainer Maria Rilke for Ethan. There’s lipstick in a deep burgundy red for Vic. A coffee table book of sunsets for Thomas and a little box - it has love tokens written on it.

“You gotta be joking?” Vic looks at you in disbelief.

“It’s not for you,” Thomas says and kisses you on the cheek like he does so often, “That’s for me only.”

And lastly there’s Thomas, you hope that you didn’t stress him too much, you know he takes his buying presents for people business really seriously. You can imagine how he was biting his nails because of the time restraint. He gives his present to Ethan first. It’s a notebook with a matching pen and a small puzzle that shows a Roman alley. For Vic he got something that looks a lot like lube and a book titled “Getting Off: One Woman's Journey Through Sex and Porn Addiction” - Vic only rolls her eyes at him. And then there’s the one for you, it’s a little flower press.

“You know that the place will be plastered in flowers?” 

“Good,” he smiles at you.

.#####.

A few evenings later Vic and you find Thomas sitting on the floor, hunched over. He happily hums to the vinyl that plays in the background. When he hears you, he tries to hide what he’s doing but Victoria steps behind him.

“That’s why all the tokens were puzzle pieces?” she laughs, “And why you pocketed them all? Are you going to betray me and enjoy puzzling now?”

“I’m missing one,” he tells her.

“I think, I can help with that,” you give him the chore token you took off him.

And he puts the last piece in place.

.#####.

END.

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[b-afterhours]

Avenue of Sins: Neon

A Sequel to Avenue of Sins

SUMMARY: ‘90s. It’s the aftermath. Jaded, Bill and Alma navigate their new lives as they try to drag themselves out of the dark debacherous trenches they had once ensnared themselves in. It’s easy to forget their evils when a silver lining introduces itself into their lives but can they create a less hedonistic life that would be just as satisfying?

WARNINGS: adult content, mature readers only.

The completed first series can be read and found here.

Chapter Twenty-four

September 1993

Bill was woken up with Echo's foot wiggling and digging into the side of his face the next morning. She was sitting against the headboard when his eyes narrowly peeped open. He didn’t exactly know when he had fallen asleep; he just watched mind-numbing TV until his eyes could no longer stay open. Alma had woken at a point in the night and took the remote control out of his loose grip while he slept to turn the TV off and swiftly went back to sleep. He was still tired. Instead of choosing to rise and be present with his daughter, he tugged her foot, pulling her down to lie, but he hadn’t realized that her hand had a grip on Alma’s hair. In the action, Echo inadvertently tugged her mother's hair harshly. 

Alma sucked air through her teeth, and her hand reached for the sore patch on her scalp. She squeezed her eyes tightly when the memory of Craig violently pulling her by the hair came to her. She took a deep, shaky breath, then grumbled in her sleep from being woken abruptly. As she began to shift her body, she was suddenly reminded of her period. She could feel the flow wanting to creep farther back than what the long nighttime pad could contain and stilled. Huffing in irritation, she turned her head. Echo was awake, playing with her father’s ear while he snuggled her in his arms, still asleep. 

After a piping hot shower to help relieve her cramping, she reentered the room in just a long band tee and comfy granny panties. The room was empty, only momentarily, when Echo came running to her legs once Bill opened the door holding plates of complimentary continental breakfast from the hotel. He was in a simple black sweat set after having slept in black boxer briefs.

Alma planted kisses on her daughter's cheek as she giggled in her little princess nightgown. She still had messy bed hair, so Alma smoothed it down, but it wasn’t much help. Bill kicked off his Adidas sandals by the door and situated the plates he was once balancing along his long arm, on the unmade bed. 

“Feeling okay?” he asked caressing Alma’s cheek after kissing her good morning. It was very early—hardly 7 a.m.

“Eh,” she grimaced. “I was about to take some ibuprofen.” 

“I’ll grab it.” He then gestured to the food so that she would eat. 

He brought back a hodgepodge of breakfast foods from the lobby. Overripe fruits, watery scrambled eggs, paper-thin bacon, sausage links, and plain bagels that were warm to the touch as if they were toasted but yet still oddly pale. It may not have been the best breakfast they ever had or could even make themselves, but it would suffice. Echo was given the best plate, a waffle Bill took the time to make at the waffle station. Warm and crispy, buttered and drizzled with syrup, and topped with a dollop of whipped cream.

After fiddling with the in-room coffee maker to start brewing, Bill approached Alma, who was holding a bagel, and put three tablets in her hand, which she dry swallowed. He couldn’t dry-swallow pills like she could; it made him gag any time he tried. He pulled his pockets inside out, produced packets of jam and cream cheese, and sprinkled them on the bed. 

They spoke about their plans for the day as they ate. Their main event would be visiting Alma’s dad in the afternoon, but when arriving in Springfield, they saw signs advertising a weekend swap meet. It sounded like something nice to do while in town. Before they realized it, they had eaten all the food without complaint. The only complaint uttered was from Bill, who commented on the brewed bitter, watery coffee. He said it probably wasn’t to drink but for the aroma only.

“Mo’ joos, mama,” Echo asked, waving her sippy cup in the air. 

“Please?” 

“Peeze!” 

Alma grabbed the jug of apple juice she left by the side of the bed to fill it up for her when she started speaking to her father.

“‘Nana, papa?”

“You want some, baby?” He asked, tearing a piece from the one he was eating. 

Alma passed the sippy cup back to her daughter, to which she thanked her without needing to be reminded of her manners. She began to gather the paper plates to throw away when Bill got up to rip off the top duvet, which got messy with syrup. Luckily, they still had three more. He laid back on the bed after and sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

Once Echo was settled and sitting at the foot of the bed watching children’s educational TV, Bill felt Alma’s hand on his chest. Then she laid her body over his. He appreciated her relaxed weight over his body, and tightly wrapped his arms around her. 

“You look tired, love.” She mumbled.

“I am.” He admitted, which was a rarity.

“We’ll be gone by tomorrow night.” She reminded. “Just take a nap; we’ve got time.” 

She began to scoot off of him, but he held her firmly, keeping her from doing so. His hand slid down her back to grope her ass cheek.

“Stay.” He said squeezing it, making her giggle. “You feel nice on me.” 

They lay silently while Echo exclaimed and giggled along with the TV. Bill thought it was endearing that Alma reminded him of when they’d be leaving. Despite dragging her there, it was nice that she recognized that he didn’t want to be in Missouri either. But he had something to do, and today was his day to execute it. He was nervous, and he wondered how he'd be able to approach it without Alma suspecting something or overhearing. He’ll figure it out; he knew he could always find a way. Even with his confidence, it didn’t ease him. 

…

As they left, the hotel Bill looked down at Alma with a smirk on his face just before they exited the lobby. They were going to the post office to ship Alma’s old things back to Seattle.

“Yeah?” Alma flippantly questioned his smugness. 

“I saw your old skates in one of the boxes. Do you think you can still skate?” 

“What? There’s no way!” She scoffed, shaking her head. 

Suddenly she was sitting on a curb by the SUV, lacing them up. Bill had dared her to try, and she couldn’t back down from that. She remembered begging her parents for roller skates for Christmas her junior year. They were white, with pink glitter laces and pink translucent wheels. However, they were used, so they were scuffed, the trucks looked slightly rusted, and they had collected dust. Echo was next to her, intrigued and touching them just before she stood up. She stood there for a moment, a bit hesitant, before she pushed off and slowly rolled on the stiff wheels, trying to catch her bearings. It had been about a decade since she’d donned skates. Bill picked up Echo, and they watched Alma do a slow arching semicircle before them until she stumbled a bit. 

“I got it,” she said, putting her hand up when Bill stepped forward. “I rolled over a pebble.” 

She steadied herself again, and then she began skating with more confidence. Echo was giggling with fascination. Meanwhile, Bill watched her hair flow behind her with a pleasant smile on her face. He was seeing the young girl he fell in love with so long ago again. Alma skated up to them and was confident enough to take Echo in her arms for a slow, cautious ride. She instinctively wrapped her little arms around her mother's neck and just snickered to herself. 

“One mo’!” She asked when they completed the ride back to where Bill stood. 

She obliged her, going a little bit faster, and then handed her back to Bill, much to Echo’s dismay, to take the skates off. 

“And you said you couldn’t,” he chuckled. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she smiled. “All the kids' rollerblade now, though. I’d look like a dork with these out at the park.” 

“They’re the dorks,” Bill retorted. 

…

It was a hot and muggy day in Springfield. The air hung humid from the late-night rain, and besides Echo, who was appropriately dressed in light colors and shorts, the sun was beating down on Bill and Alma, especially as they wore their typical black garments. Bill was even wearing the same black shirt he wore the day before. They took brief refuge just outside the parameters of the outdoor swap meet at a small record shop, where they had spotted some local teens loitering about. It seems like some of that Seattle grunge aesthetic has made its place even in this small town in southwest Missouri with the youths. 

Echo was wriggling in Bill’s arms as he and Alma walked around the humble music store, speaking to each other. She felt familiar with being in this environment and was becoming a little frustrated that she couldn’t just run around like she was able to at Sheisty Sound. 

“Down, papa!” She whined, trying to push away from him. 

“Down? Or up?” He asked, inadvertently cutting Alma off mid-sentence. He put Echo on his shoulders, and she giggled, satisfied with the compromise. “Sorry.” 

“I was saying like, Darby basically hired me. It feels weird to surpass him.” 

“I mean technically… you would.” Alma rolled her eyes at that. “So you really want Ash as a manager? Why not Ulyssa?” 

He hadn’t questioned Alma about it until now. When she informed him that she’d be training Ash to replace herself, he just chose to trust that she knew what she was doing. After all, she understood the dynamics between the coworkers much better than he did. He was an interloper, but Alma was his guide in. 

Alma paused, leaned her hip on a record table, and looked at him. “I know you trust her, but I trust Ash too. She’s good with numbers and people. She’s a lot more patient than I am regarding customer service, too. Anyway, Ulyssa is still in school, and she might be moving.” She said, looking a bit sad, passing along the news. 

“Moving for what?” He balked with furrowed brows in shock. 

Alma sighed. “Well, she’s got an opportunity to finish her degree at NYU.” 

Bill raised his brows. “Impressive. But what the hell?” 

“Yeah. But that won’t be until next year, so...” she trailed off and began perusing again. 

“Still… Alright, and then Darby. He stays the head manager, okay?” He said it as if he were checking off boxes in his mind. 

Before they left for Missouri, Darby had asked Bill if he’d like to go for lunch sometime when they got back. He knew it would be a discussion about his paycheck, but Bill was already a step ahead of him on that front. He saw what all the employee's hourly pay was, and with what he knew from Alma’s information, Lewis was ripping them off a little. 

“I’ll handle the live events, you know. It is separate from sales. I could work in-store or at home when I need or want to.” 

Bill puffed his bottom lip out and nodded. He agreed with her line of thinking. They had been subtly hinting to each other about possibly growing their family in the future. Neither just hadn’t outright said as much to each other. 

They were back-to-back in an aisle, flicking through records. The shop they were in didn’t seem to be big on keeping up with the decade, but there could always be old hidden treasures. Bill had no such luck as he looked, but Alma found two records of interest. He pulled one out of the plastic sleeve and saw that it was an original pressing. Alma, having worked in a record shop, now had a better eye than he did.

…

On their way to Alma’s father's that afternoon, Bill noticed her spinning the rings on her fingers nervously. She had her gaze fixed out the passenger window, seemingly in deep thought. 

It had taken her so long to get ready, too. As if she were trying to push the visit back by being picky over what to wear. She changed her top four times and switched between jeans and a respectable knee-length skirt. She ultimately chose the first outfit she had initially tried on. A sleeveless black button-down and a pencil skirt. The only change she made was to tie the bottom of her shirt together. She wanted to look like an adult, but now, looking at herself in the wall mirror, she thought she looked so plain and lame. Bill could see her second-guessing herself again.

“Babe... That’s nice. It looks better when you tie it.” 

Alma nodded, smoothing her skirt on her hips, appreciating his reassurance. “Okay... Just let me do something with my hair.” She said, striding to the bathroom.

Bill inhaled deeply and then smiled at his daughter, who was dressed in a lavender-colored dress that had the flowers embroidered along the bottom hem. She was passing him one of her hot-wheel cars while holding onto a knockoff troll doll from the swap meet in the other.

“Dwive!” She said, “Vwoom!” 

At least he had his daughter, helping with distracting himself rather than absorbing Alma’s nervous energy. God only knew he didn’t need any more of it. 

Bill parked right behind Antonio’s red Chevy Silverado. He turned to Alma, who was nervously chewing her pink, balm-covered lips. 

“What are you thinking?” He asked her softly. 

Alma flashed a wary glance at him. “It’s just… last time. Last time I came back, my mom was sick, and, uh…” her voice wavered. “I’m scared. He’s old.” 

Bill wasn’t sure what words he could provide to ease her. He was old, and the grim updates he’d give over the phone, he was sure, were anxiety-inducing for her. Reimagining his tales and inserting her father in those situations. This is what she wasn’t mentioning to him. Worrying that her return would just reveal that her father wasn’t doing as well as he let on, just like her mother did to her. 

“Well. He doesn’t look too bad…” Bill said, looking out the windshield. 

Alma followed his gaze. Her father was standing on the porch, squinting with his hand over his brow. He looked the same as the last time Alma saw him, and she felt some relief. Just then, his wife Connie appeared to take a peek from the screen door, and Bill bit his cheek, looking at Alma.

“The wife?”

“Mm. She doesn’t speak English, but she understands it well. She’s actually… a nice lady,” Alma admitted. “It’s just… weird. I don’t get why my parents, uhm. I never asked.” 

“I get it. I get it.” He nodded. “I’ll be right behind you.” He encouraged. She reached for her door handle to let herself out, just to get the ball rolling. “Wait.” He said, placing his hand on her knee. “I have to do that, especially with your dad watching.”

He stepped out of the SUV and waved to Antonio, who only gave him a curt nod back.

“Ugh, shit,” Bill muttered under his breath. 

He swiftly helped Alma out of the car and planted a reassuring kiss on her lips. Discreetly, she palmed his package. She thought he would flinch, but instead, he pressed himself much more firmly. Calling her tease and making her lightly laugh, which was the goal.

“In front of your dad? Sicko!” He said in a hushed tone, before letting her go on her way. 

While Bill was busy gathering Echo and her things, Alma quickly made her way up the porch steps. Before her father, who used a cane to support himself, could start making his way down them.

“Mi Almacita!” He said with a big grin on his face, embracing her. “I was getting worried you weren’t coming,” he winked at her as he held her face, examining it. Her brown eyes were so bright again.

With her wedge heels on, they were close to the same height. Her father wasn’t a short man, but with age, it looked like he had shrunk a bit.

“I wouldn’t come all this way for nothing.” She said, making him laugh. “You miss me?” 

“All the time, amor.” He said, caressing her cheek with the back of his weathered hand. “All the time. Y esta muñequita quien es?” He nodded his head, and Alma looked behind herself. 

“You know Bill?” She said to him, and they both laughed. 

Bill stood there, unsure of what was said, but the laughter was good. He’ll take it, even if it was some joke about him. He couldn’t claim to be fluent in Spanish, but having taken it for his foreign language credit so long ago in high school, he could somewhat follow the context. However, he had too much on his mind for his feeble grade school knowledge to help him now. 

“She’s like a little doll,” Antonio said in English, and then he greeted Bill with a polite handshake. “Come inside. Connie’s almost done with the cooking.” 

When entering, Connie had come to say hello. If Alma wasn’t wearing her optical aids, she could easily mistake her for her mother. They looked eerily similar, yet at the same time, they weren’t. Alma asked Connie in Spanish if she needed any help in the kitchen, but she told her to sit and to make herself at home instead.

They were in the den, where there was a needlepoint project on a side table, newspapers, and TV guides scattered about. The TV was on mute, broadcasting local news. Bill’s attention went towards a shelf full of pictures of other kids who were Connie's adult children and grandchildren. And then he saw the JC Penney's portrait of Echo in the bunch. As well as a shot of Alma and Echo together, and right by was their family portrait. So he made the cut. That was nice to see. Reassuring, actually.

Antonio sat in his designated brown suede recliner, which had the imprint of his body indented into it. He watched his daughter and her family situate themselves on the couch for a moment until Alma took Echo into her arms. 

“Do you want to hold her?” She asked him.

“Echo.” He tried to acclimate to her name, but when he said it, she looked at him with her hazel eyes, curiously.

“Put her down,” Bill suggested when he noticed his daughter wasn’t behaving as timidly as she was at his brother's house. 

Alma placed her on her feet and she began walking towards her grandfather.

“Aye, big girl,” Antonio said, making her smile. “Soy tu abuelo. Pero tú sabes, si?” He said, petting her light hair. 

She took notice of his hand then. A russet, calloused hand, but it was the soft, wrinkly skin on the back of his hand that she was fascinated with. He let her pull and tug at it, as she found it peculiar. The parents were just letting her sus the mood out and navigate herself. Alma’s fingers inched across the suede couch they were on and found Bill’s hand to hold unconsciously. It hadn’t ever occurred to Alma that Echo really hadn’t been around old people. She had seen them at the quad apartment, but she’d never interacted with them before.

“Look, I have two,” Antonio said, introducing his other hand. “How many do you have?” he pointed at her little, stubby hands. “Two, too?” 

“One, two, twee!” She exclaimed.

“Three! That’s too many!” He said, making her laugh. “She looks like you when she laughs.” He said, looking at his adult daughter. “But she looks the most like you.” He said to Bill. 

“‘Tonio,” Connie said from the dining room. 

That was odd for Alma to hear, as that is how her mother would address him too. 

“The food is ready,” Antonio informed them, since his wife was a little shy to do so herself. “Let’s eat.” 

Antonio slowly got up with the help of his cane, and Alma had to resist helping him get upright. He was too proud to accept it, and he didn’t want to have his daughter worry about him that way. Echo returned to Bill and held his hand as they followed the other father-and-daughter pair. 

As they entered the dining room, the food was perfectly presented in Mexican terracotta cazuelas. A spread of carne asada, frijoles molido, arroz, roasted jalapeños, fresh tortillas de maiz, guacamole, quartered limes, and pico de gallo. 

Connie finally sat down with them after making Echo some quesadillas that she cut into the shape of stars. Alma thanked her and complimented the food she had spent time making for them all on behalf of her family. As they ate, Alma found the food to be really tasty and perfectly seasoned. However, being stubborn, she couldn’t admit that it was better than her mother's food. That, she would keep to herself. 

During dinner, the parents shared funny anecdotes about their daughter and spoke about how she was smart for her age, sweet, kind, and maybe a little too rambunctious at times. Bill was telling Antonio about Seattle, but all he did was nod, mostly. To Bill, it felt like he was playing nice with him for Alma’s sake.

“And you know, once we get our house,” Alma continued for Bill as he was adding more guacamole to Echo’s plate upon her request. “You should visit.”

She noticed her father’s gaze stayed on Bill and their daughter while she spoke. Echo was telling Bill that the food was yummy and was holding her spoon out for him to try a mixture of beans, guacamole, and rice she had stirred together. He lightly chuckled at her generosity and redirected the spoon towards her mouth. Connie had spoken up then, and Alma turned her attention towards her.

Bill sat there, wishing to understand what she had said, because suddenly Antonio looked uncomfortable, and Alma flashed him a look of frustration and surprise.

“You’ve been to San Antonio?” She questioned.

“Mhmm,” he said, wiping his mouth nervously. “Well-” 

Alma’s gaze fell, but she then set her feelings aside. “Was it nice?” She asked, pushing her rice into the beans on her plate. “How was it?”

She wanted to be upset, but she hadn’t ever invited him to visit her until now. There was no way in hell she’d ever invite him to New York; he’d just kidnap her and take her back home if he had seen how she was then. It didn’t help that he was also weirdly stubborn about travel and used his age as an excuse. However, she wanted to be happy that at least he was traveling and that somehow his new wife had encouraged him to. 

“It was nice to be back in Tejas,” he lightly chuckled. “But anyway, it’s nice to hear that you’re doing big things in Seattle. But it rains a lot there, and I have arthritis.” 

“Really?” Alma bit her tongue to keep from saying anything else. 

There was a smile creeping on Antonio’s face; sometimes he just liked to mess with her. She was as stubborn as he was, and it was undeniable. Alma shook her head, amused and annoyed that he didn’t give her a straight answer.

As they wrapped up dinner, Connie asked anyone if they’d like coffee, but Antonio asked her to bring back some beers instead. He watched Bill clean his daughter's hands and face with a napkin. He liked that he was so attentive to her. However, it was so strange to see, after having known the young, rough, and tough boy, that his daughter had taken a liking to sitting in his home. Now he was a well-put-together man. He was nice and polite, even. 

Noticing the amount of jewelry they both wore was not lost on him, though. They smelled of expensive complimentary “his and hers” perfume that even the baby smelled as if she had gotten a few spritzes. However, with the state Alma was in when she arrived in Missouri after years of being away, he was still wary of him. He knew how his family—specifically his father—was. 

He observed how Alma and Bill could silently converse with only their eyes, and they remained close to each other. Their bodies always met, no matter if it were their knees against each other or Bill idly touching the material of her clothing. They had an unspeakable bond and understanding with each other. They were both quite intense to experience in person.

It was quite clear that they were in love. Alma had made her choice, and they had a child that bonded them for life now. To interrupt them at this point would just be futile. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d listen to his bargaining anyway.

They had all gone out to the back porch to enjoy the evening so that Echo could meet her chicken cousins. The women walked out to the yard, where the coop was, and joined the flightless birds. Meanwhile, Antonio and Bill stood under the back porch, sipping on their cold beer in awkwardness.

“Duck!” Echo pointed.

“Huh?” Alma said, and then, looking in the direction she pointed, there were indeed two pekin ducks living with the horde of hens. “Yeah, those are ducks!” She said proudly that Echo was able to identify and recognize the difference. 

Antonio looked up at Bill, who smiled proudly overhearing the exchange, and then sighed. “So.” 

“Hmm?” 

Just then, Echo squealed with fright, and Bill’s eyes darted back to her. Alma was picking up the chickens and tossing them up, their wings flapping rapidly as they clumsily settled back down on their feet, stupidly clucking as if nothing had happened. She had been laughing before, but one chicken plummeted too close to her, and she didn’t appreciate that. 

“Uh, Echo’s got a weird thing about animals.” Bill lightly chuckled under his breath. “She likes them, but she thinks they should behave like her stuffed animals. You know, just sitting there looking cute.” He explained. “We went to the zoo in Kansas City, and, eh, she was into it and recognized that they were actual living things. But the heat got to her, so we left early.���

Bill was preserving Echo’s dignity a bit because she actually had a full-blown meltdown from the heat and the overstimulation. She completely fell out like a deadweight on a trail, screaming and crying in a tantrum. It was too hot for Bill and Alma, too, so they resigned and left after wrestling her into the stroller. 

“Ah,” Antonio nodded. “Well, the zoo always seems to be a thousand degrees for some reason.”

“Um, thanks for having us over–” 

“Thanks for getting Alma here,” Antonio interjected. “I know she wanted the deed to the house, but, still… How’d you manage that?” 

“Eh?” Bill shrugged. “I have ways. But I wanted to come here to speak to you in person, actually.” 

“Mm,” Antonio said, raising his brows and taking a sip of his beer. 

“Well,” Bill bit his lip, figuring out his wording. “I want to marry your daughter.” He said it plainly. “And… I’m not asking for permission, frankly. But I just wanted to let you know because I just wanted to do something the right way for once. So I guess what I’m asking is your blessing.” He scratched his neck, feeling a little confused by his own wording. He didn’t want to come off as rude because it was going to happen despite his opinion, but he wanted him to feel included. At least that's what he supposed he was doing now.

Antonio stood in thought for a moment and gazed out to look at his daughter, who was crouched down holding a chicken under her arm and guiding Echo’s hand to pet its brown feathers as she giggled enthusiastically. Bill was bold to say he wasn’t asking for permission, but he knew his daughter would do what she wanted to do regardless of what he thought. As he looked at his daughter and grandchild, he saw the common ground that he shared with Bill. They were both fathers to daughters. 

“That’s a bit tough for me…” 

Bill took a sip of his beer then, feeling a bit tense and wishing he had a lit cigarette between his lips. He had gotten over with what he had traveled so far to say. Why couldn’t Antonio just play his part and say yes? Alma’s decision was as good as concrete, even without having been asked for her hand in marriage yet. 

“You know,” Antonio continued. “There was a moment when I thought Alma may not like boys at all. If you get me,” he peered up at him. “But that was just wishful thinking. I just… Well, you have your daughter, so one day you’ll get it. You won’t think anyone will be good enough.” He sighed. “Maria and I raised Alma to be headstrong, independent, and sure of herself. We feared a lot about the fact that she’d be alone without us much sooner than most. But I see, maybe that wasn’t the best way… Not because, even after being taught all of that, she chose you. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s because we never let her just be a kid. We…” He cleared his throat and seemed to hold back on what he was going to say initially. “She found someone who could let her be just as she is. Just sit back for a moment without having to worry, you know.” 

Bill was surprised; this was the way her father saw things as an outsider. It was so easy to reflect on all the worst things they have been through together. How awful they could even be. Forgetting that even in the self-destructive chaos they had created, they were the only two who could give each other peace as well. In his thoughts, he just resented how much time he wasted deflecting a life he could have lived much sooner had he given in to love and stopped punishing himself. Perpetuating his father’s abuse onto himself and continuing to believe the ugly, harsh words he even beat into his subconscious, making him feel unworthy.

“She can be a bit, eh,” Antonio said, tilting his hand from side to side. “But I’m sure having the baby probably puts a break on some of her antics, too.” He lightly chuckled. Bill thought if only he knew, but then he became serious again. “But… I saw how she looked when she came back from New York. And it didn’t make me like you any more than I already did. It was my daughter who came back, but it wasn’t.” 

Bill frowned apologetically, but he didn’t have any excuses, nor did he want to give them. Antonio took Bill’s obvious remorse as enough. 

“She told me nothing when I questioned her.” He continued. “She defended you so much, it even made me angry. Then I stopped. My ex-wife was sick, and I was just making it worse for both of them at that time.” Antonio shook his head, disliking his behavior at that time. 

“Could I ask why you and Maria divorced?” Bill blurted out of curiosity. He even felt it was such an odd thing for them to do just as much as Alma did. “Actually, you don’t have-” 

“She asked for it.” Antonio frowned. “I told her no. I was in it to the end, but she felt I was unhappy. That she wasted my life being with her, which wasn’t true. At all,” he adamantly stressed. “But then I met Connie at the senior center, and, well, I thought on it for a long while. And eventually, I went through with the divorce. I never cheated. So when you tell my daughter, make sure she knows that.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Bill nodded, surprised to be privy to such information. 

“Are you coming?” Alma hollered at her dad from the yard. Connie was showing off her salsa garden now and plucked a cherry tomato off the vine for Echo to try. 

“Yeah,” he waved, and that sufficed. “She doesn’t care if I go out there or not, she just wants to see what the hell we're doing.” Antonio laughed, knowing his daughter all too well. “How do you support her? And don’t bullshit me. Entertainment business?” He shook his head. “You want my blessing; you tell me the truth.” 

Shit. Bill grumbled internally as he stood up straighter and held his chest out. “I own a gentlemen's club in New York City. That’s why I have the money to buy a record shop slash venue. It’s how we can afford a new house in Seattle while we have a penthouse in New York. I have investments here and there, as well as stocks, too.”

Antonio was quiet for a moment, almost as if waiting for Bill to say he was joking, but he said it all straight, no chaser.

“And… Alma worked–”

“She was only a bartender, that’s true. She never danced. I would never—I didn’t allow it.” He said it truthfully, even if he didn’t like how it sounded a little controlling. 

“Hmm.” He contemplatively rubbed his mustache. “So in Seattle, the record shop is really a record shop. It’s not another gentlemen's club?” 

“No, that's real.” He said, leaning against the porch railing. “We brought copies of the magazines with her concert photography if you want some proof.” 

“She went to night school?” 

“She did. She passed and has her accounting certificate.” Bill answered his questions, but he felt bad that he was somewhat skeptical of his daughter's affairs, but at the same time he understood. “Her doing that helps us with our businesses and such, so I’m happy she did it. She worked hard. Work, school, and a baby all at the same time, you know.”

Antonio nodded and then scratched his salt and pepper hair, a bit stressed and in disbelief. “Well, okay... I can’t change what I can’t change.” He resigned begrudgingly. He could see that Bill was one of the better ones out of his family, but he knew he’d still be up to mess, it was just in his blood. “I’m happy to see that she looks well compared to how she returned the last time. All I ask is that you take care of her. There’s no reason she should ever look like that again. She’s the mother of your child, and that is a sacred thing. What I’ve seen today, gave me a little more faith. So yes, you have my blessing.” 

It was as if a weight fell off of Bill’s shoulders hearing that from him. “Alma will be happy to know that you’ve given it. Like, really. She does do whatever she likes, but your blessing will mean a lot to her.” 

Antonio nodded. “How do you deal with that?” 

“With what?” 

Antonio sipped his beer and looked at his daughter enjoying a fresh cherry tomato. “Disobedience.” He raised his brow. 

Bill smirked, licking his lips. “There’s nothing to deal with when you like it.” 

…

They were all back in the den and Antonio and Connie presented Echo with some gifts. They bought her some dresses, bows, and a baby doll, which she was very happy about. While it was her first time meeting these people, it was written all over her face that she didn’t find them half bad at all. Especially when Connie gave her a grape-flavored tootsie pop to occupy her while the adults spoke as the visit was winding down.

Alma had brought a few family photos to show off to her father, but now he was looking at her photography in the magazines. They had given him his own copies, and he seemed quite impressed and proud. 

“And this band is all over the radio?” He asked, peering through the reading glasses he wore on the end of his wide nose. 

“Yeah. Very famous,” Alma said.

“Maybe not very famous if Antonio hasn’t heard of them,” Bill said softly, directed more for Alma’s ears, and winked when Alma tilted her head at him. 

“Hmm. Were you on Bill’s shoulders? You’re above everyone from where this was taken.”

Bill lightly laughed. “No…” 

“I was on the shoulders of a biker friend of mine, Zeph.” 

Antonio side-eyed his daughter and lightly shook his head, a bit displeased. Even surprised that Bill, who wanted to claim her, was unbothered with her on some other man's shoulders and biker at that, but what could he say? His daughter was just always going to be too out there for him. She was a modern woman. Maybe even something completely different from that. 

“Uhm, would it be okay if you watch Echo for an hour, Apá?” She pointed at her daughter, who was putting her lollipop on the baby doll's plastic plump lips to share. 

Bill peered down at her where he sat, giving her a strange look, but was interested in what this was about. 

“Sí, podemos cuidarla. Está bien.” Connie said it with certainty, peering over at Echo and smiling. 

“Gracias.” Alma smiled appreciatively. “Uhm, I’ll change her before we go.” 

“Where are you going?” Antonio finally spoke up. 

“We. I,” she corrected because she was going off script. “I want to check out the bar before we leave tomorrow.” 

“The bar?” Bill said, surprised, scooting up and turning to look at her. 

Antonio was happy that he was questioning her instead of having to do it. She rubbed his arm as she stood up to grab Echo. 

“Yeah, for like an hour.” She assured. Leaving the scene and helping herself to one of the rooms for privacy. 

“Uhm,” he pursed his lips. “Do you mind if I,” Bill pointed and stood up when Antonio gave him a nod. 

Bill walked down a long hallway and cracked open the closest door to find no one. He heard Echo's little shriek from further down, and as he made his way, he passed by Alma’s brother and sister. The altar wasn’t too different from how he remembered it, only this time the urn was arranged in a small alcove where you’d typically keep a telephone. 

“Leo. Liliana. Hi again.” He said under his breath in passing. “What the hell?” Bill said, shutting the door behind him after finding the correct room. 

Alma was placing a new diaper on Echo, who was pulling on her feet and wiggling over her head. “I know, I know.” She sighed while she kept a hand on Echo’s tummy as she dug into the backpack for a onesie. 

“Well? I thought we said no townies?”

“We’re never coming back here again. Why not?” She said, gently tugging Echo’s arms through the sleeves. 

“Your dad hasn’t even given you the deed to the house yet.” 

“He’ll give it to me when we get back. It’s an hour of our lives,” she shrugged. “I’m not trying to stay late. It’s like, what, eight?” 

Bill checked his Rolex watch and felt a little better about it, seeing that it was fairly early. “Almost. Yeah… fine, we better start going then.” 

[destinyc1020]

Destiny...

FYI: You missed a great soulfood night! Girl... mac n cheese, yams with marshmallows, fried cabbage with beef sausage, honey corn bread, fried chicken. It was awesome!! Im tired at work, but, I get to work out on my lunch hour. 🤣 Can you believe my scrubs tried to fight me putting them on this morning. Had to grab a larger pair in the locker room. I hollered. I'm a new RN by the way, just passed the NCLEX-RN exam. Still giddy, i guess. That test is a beast, by the end my critical thinking was out the window. 🤪Oh well...Tonight is Taco Tuesday with sweet potato fires. Your invited. 😉 I ate your plate last night 😁. I saw that you wanted to crash...anytime. ❤️

Back to work on this 12 hr shift.

Tom and Zendaya are definitely engaged, she just doesn't show the ring. Or she shows it in plain site, yet the public doesn't realize it. I mean she stated she bought it for herself. And they knew journalist would check. You have to cover all bases and come up with a story to keep them at bay. Of course, manipulating the truth is par for the course. Too many eyes on them, and they want to protect what belongs to them. I definitely get that.

Have a great week, peeps! ✌🏾👋🏾

P.S. I have a small slice of apple pie with french vanilla ice cream left over. I will think about the blog upon my first few bites. 😂😂

GIRL!!! You have my mouth salivating over here when you're mentioning all that good soul food!! Rofl 🤣 😭

That sounded fabulous!!

I haven't had soul food in sooo looong..... 😢😭😭

Now that I eat a plant-based/vegan diet at the moment, you might have to modify some of the chicken and dairy options for me lol 😆

But it's all good 👍🏾

I'm cracking up at you not being able to fit your scrubs lol. 🤣

Re: TZ....

I def think they're engaged too but just aren't saying anything. I'm sure they would want to keep that private to themselves. But the signs are all pointing to engaged.

I felt that way ever since they attended that wedding together, and Tom was stroking some ring that Zendaya was wearing on her LEFT ring finger BTW 😏 👀.... Also, her saying "my fffffamily" in that interview with Timmy for Dune lol 😆 That has always been incredibly sus to me lol 😆 💖 😄

There are little signs here and there that fans have picked up on for years. And we all know celebrities are not above lying if it means they are able to maintain their privacy! 😏

They've been moving like a couple shots been integrating their lives wth each other for years imo. 🤷🏾‍♀️

[ereborne]

Ask 18 A memorable meal this year?

At some point while my fever was high and my mental capacity was low, I decided I hated every food in the house and was going to get something different delivered. I opened up doordash, and got a pop-up notification telling me there was a new Turkish restaurant, and I could get a big discount on my first order from them. So I got Turkish food. I got, in fact, a great deal of Turkish food. Three bags of food, which appeared on my doorstep what felt like seconds after I ordered, tops tied closed and then the bags also boxed in with twine like someone was worried they'd burst (the food was very hot and the bags were very thin plastic. it might've been a valid fear), and by the time I got them open I had completely forgotten what all buttons I'd clicked while ordering.

Falafel and hummus and labni, which are staples for me (the day I realized how easy it would be to make my own labni was like seeing the sun for the first time), but also chicken shawarma (I've had shawarma twice before and it's always a treat) and lahmacun (which I'd heard of and always wanted to try! I've seen it described as Turkish pizza but the dough was rolled so thin and the spread of minced-meat-onion-spice mix on top was so smooth and rich. 'pizza' to me always implies a lot of sauce and cheese and this was not that) and spinach gozleme (a spinach-stuffed flatbread, not quite like any other spinach-stuffed bread I've had before but there is not a spinach-stuffed bread in the world I wouldn't like. it wasn't flaky so much as it just tore beautifully, and there was a lot more spinach than cheese, and it was a little spicy and somehow almost sour? mouth-watering in the most literal sense) and mixed pide (also a stuffed bread but of a completely different style. Almost like if you made a boat of pizza crusts and filled them with. well. I ordered the 'mixed' and I don't know what I expected them to be like? Truly I do not remember making the order. I didn't know many Turkish foods until after I ate these and looked up the stuff on the receipt, so if fever-me wasn't googling while she ordered she may genuinely have had no idea what to expect. But in this case, 'mixed' meant ground beef and egg and thick-sliced smoked sausage coins and spinach and onion, all tucked into the bread together and topped with little cheese curds and some sort of crushed red pepper that was so intensely flavorful I kept picking up just the pepper flakes to eat on their own).

I may have been delirious with fever going into it but honestly the food would've knocked me off this plane of existence on its own. It was magic.

[breadraptor]

what i ate in toronto last week

felt like food blogging hehe

Day One

The first thing I got was a tea and donut bites from a new donut stand in the Portland airport. Yum! Then I remembered I had a long day of traveling ahead of me and went back to the Tillamook store for some real sustenance. Honestly I thought a chive biscuit egg sausage cheese sandwich would be a slam dunk but it wasn't that good.

Donuts: 8/10 (had them over the course of 3 days)

Sandwich: 5/10

Even on long flights, Air Canada only offers paid options. I got this BBQ chicken wrap for $11 CAD or something. Tortilla to filling ratio was bad but it did the job. 4.5/10

I got into the hotel late at night and just decided it wasn't worth the effort to get more food, so thats all for day one lol

Day 2

Met with Suyasha and had Cafe Landwer! Was starving and it took forever for the food to come out. This is the Mediterranean shakshuka. Bread was so fluffy. The presentation is gorg but i wasn't obsessed with the tomato-y sauce I guess. 7/10

In the afternoon I got a matcha at the library cafe where we worked (it was average, so I guess 7/10 because me love matcha). Later, I went to Fuwa Fuwa Pancakes for pre-dinner dessert. I'm glad I went when I did, because they cook everything fresh, and the wait was long even when I was the only customer. So fresh, fluffy, and refreshing - not too sweet. Yum! 9/10

After that, some folks told me they were getting dinner, so I said I'd join assuming I'd get an appetizer. Well, they decided on all you can eat hotpot, so that was unfortunate lol. We had a good time, food was good but not really noteworthy. I tried a mussel, gross! Also ate a pepper wrapped in beef that had been soaking in the spicy side for too long. That shit HURTED. 5/10

Day 3

I needed something fast to keep me going before the wedding - sadly the only thing I could walk to in time was McDonalds. The tzatziki seasoning was bad and basically ruined my fries. Chicken wrap was just whatever. 3/10

Unpictured: Shirley's wedding food! I forgot to take a pic sadly. I had chicken, kimchi mac and cheese, and other things I don't exactly remember, but it was all yummy! Plus the signature cocktails were really great. 8/10

Day 4

Niagara falls tour with Alyssa, Hwee, Jen, and Alex(?)! we shared between 4 people. It was steaming hot and yummy. I love cheese curdsss. 7.5/10

While the group went to go on the boat, I got a prosciutto goat cheese salad and a cocktail at the Queen Alexandra. Cocktail was a bit watery and salad was 90% arugula with not enough dressing - but the point was I could see the falls from my seat and they had ceiling fans (IT WAS SO HOT) 6.5/10

When we got back from the tour finally (took 3 hours to get back in traffic), we got Mr. Tonkatsu! The katsu was really flaky and good. 8/10

We also went and got asian shaved ice after this - one with red bean paste and one with almond and soybean. i wasnt really into these so i only had a few bites.. i miss hawaiian shaved ice fr. oh yeah i got some baked walnut balls here too, they were ok, would be better if they were warm. 3.5/10

Day 5

gochujang mushroom tofu banh mi at rustle & still cafe.. OH MY GOD. spicy, creamy, a lil crunch from the pickled carrots and peanuts. i might try to replicate it, it was everything. 10/10

chicken biryani from rikki tikki, with Alyssa, Shendy, and Matt. another HUGE W meal... spicy, scrumptious, perfect. the rice had pomegranate seeds in it which was such a nice little sweet crunch. it came with yogurt sauce which i adored with the spicy meal. im drooling thinking about it. 10/10 my only complaint is that i like more pillow-y naan

Day 6

Lunch was leftover Rikki Tikki!

Forgot to take a pic before it was gone, but I had a chai latte at the cafe we worked at today. It was meh, 4/10. at least the cafe had ok wifi and good a/c lol

After work, I started wandering around and went to a matcha cafe called Tsujiri. All the stuff on the menu looked amazing but I got a peach yogurt matcha frappe. It was so freaking good and those big slices of peach on top were yummy too. 9/10

While walkin' I had to stop at this Vietnamese cafe because the cake looked so yum. And it was! Fresh mango with layers of shortcake, mango pudding, and cream. i just wish it was a little smaller so I hadn't felt so bloated from eating it lol (it had to stay cold and it was a hot day so... I had to just eat it) 8.5/10

For dinner we went to a Jamaican/Chinese fusion place called Patois with Shirley, Jeremiah, Alyssa, guy who I forgot name, and his old WoW guild leader or something haha. We got a "feast for two" to share with the table, plus pork belly yakitori, becuase some of us weren't hungry. I didn't eat much but my fave was the yakitori. The rest was just ok. 5.5/10

Day 7

For my last day Suyasha and I went to Tibetan Cafe and went shopping afterwards. The reviews for this place were so high, but we were both underwhelmed by these "momos" (chicken dumplings). The dipping sauce was tomato-y but overall it was a bit bland. Suyasha is Nepalese and she said this was low-end by her standard lol. I'll try Tibetan food another time. 6/10

This was the first canned diet coke I had all week and man, how sweet it tastes - new jeans

At the airport I shared a snack of poutine and a maple moscow mule with Shirley :3 This poutine wasn't as good as the one I had before. Moscow mule was nice, the maple flavor was mild. 5.5/10

And yes, to give me the energy to travel until 3am EST, I got another BBQ chicken wrap on the plane. So nice I had it twice. Jk, it was not that nice, but actually this time it had a better filling to tortilla ratio lol. 5/10

[rhetoricandlogic]

Playing God By K.J. Parker

Issue #366, Fourteenth Anniversary Double-Issue, October 6, 2022

He who trusts the wind trusts in Satan’s compassion

—Richard Wagner, The Flying Dutchman

“Hello there,” said the Goddess, gazing at me hungrily. “Have you brought me something nice?”

She had big yellow eyes, the colour of hot iron in the forge just before it’s ready to weld. They were so bright, I almost didn’t notice the crow’s feet. “Yes, my Lady,” I said. I put down the basket and pulled off the cloth I’d covered it with, to keep the flies away. “A few token offerings, to show my—”

“Not too token, I hope.” She reached past me, brushing against my arm, and I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. “Honey-cakes,” She said. “I like honey-cakes.”

I’d also brought dried figs, a cheese, a two-pound wheat loaf, a dozen olives, a bunch of grapes, a slice of honeycomb wrapped in vine leaves, half a dozen dried sausages, and a jar of pickled walnuts. She grabbed the handle of the basket, pulled it toward Her, and began stuffing Her face. She ate quickly, like a slave.

“This is particularly good cheese,” She said, with her mouth full. “So, what can I do for you?”

No beating about the bush. My arm was starting to blister, where She’d touched it. “I want to know the future, my Lady,” I said.

She looked at me. Honey glistened at both corners of Her mouth. “No,” She said, “you don’t, trust me.” She picked up a sausage. “What you want,” She went on, “is happiness, prosperity, honour, and wealth. Am I right or am I right?”

I hesitated. Her temple—bigger than a hut, smaller than a barn—was rendered inside with plaster and painted white. At one time, I’m guessing, it was a tomb, from back when they buried rich men with their chariots and horses and armour. The plaster was beginning to flake just above the doorframe. She filled the place like a hermit crab. “I’d like that,” I admitted, because lying to the gods is a mug’s game. “But that’s not why I—”

“No, of course not.” Her fingernails were gouging into the beeswax that sealed the pickled walnuts. “You’re far too earnest and high-minded for that, of course you are. You want to know if there’s anything the Erymanthians can do about their plague.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

She nodded. “Because they hired you to come here and ask.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Of course,” She said. “And the answer is, no, there isn’t. They’re screwed.” She gave me a dazzling smile. “But they paid you in advance.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“So that’s all right. I do like these walnuts. It’s the quality of the vinegar that makes all the difference.”

I felt like I’d been slapped across the face. “Is there nothing the Erymanthians can do?”

She shook Her head. “Nothing at all,” She said. “It’d be a complete waste of time and effort trying. They brought it on themselves, needless to say. Why do people do that? It’s so silly.” She bit into a fig and spat out the stalk. “Still, that’s mortals for you. Anyway, not your problem. You’ve done what you were hired to do, and you brought me these delicious figs, so everything’s fine.”

I wanted to say: surely there must be something—repentance, prayers, sacrifices, gift offerings, building a temple. She shook Her head. “Waste of time,” She repeated. “Once I’ve made my mind up, that’s that.” Then She grinned. “Unless I choose to change it, of course. But in this case I don’t choose, so that’s that.”

I didn’t want to ask. But since She could read my mind, there didn’t seem much point in staying silent. “What did they do?”

“None of your business,” She said sharply, and I felt my guts twist. She tapped the side of Her nose with Her finger. “Thou shalt not pry,” She said. “But I forgive you, just this once, because of those heavenly walnuts. So instead of smiting you, I’ll let you do a little job for me. How does that sound?”

I bowed my head. “I am yours to command, my Lady.”

“Well of course you are, silly.” She wiped Her mouth on Her wrist and stood up. She was well over six feet tall, maybe nearer seven. I hadn’t appreciated that when She was sitting down. “That’s what you people are for, that and baking.” She smiled. I never saw anyone who could communicate so much diverse and complex information with nothing but a few face muscles. “Now then, what I want you to do for me is this.”

She crossed the room in three strides, lifted a vase off the cedar chest standing against the wall, came back, put it on the little folding table next to where She’d been sitting, frowned at it, shook Her head, went back and replaced it exactly where it had been on the chest. “I want you to sail your ship to Iden Astea,” She said. “It’s on a bay about twelve days’ sail north of here. Know it?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Of course you do. In that case, you know the city?” She laughed. “Call it a city. There’s a hundred and sixteen families living inside the wall, plus another forty-odd scattered about the island. Used to be a lot more of them five hundred years ago, but there you go. Times change,” She said, “or so they tell me.”

“I know the city.”

“Betterer and betterer.” She beamed at me. “I want you to burn it down for me,” She said. “I want you to kill all the men, then round up the women and children and sell them to the Sherden. You can keep whatever you get for them. Oh, and while you’re at it, round up all the sheep and goats on the island and sacrifice them to me, there’s a sweetheart.”

She looked at me. You’re not supposed to look directly at the sun, because it’s bad for you, but what can you do when the sun looks directly at you?

I’d thought it before I could stop myself: or—what did they...?

“They were very naughty,” She said. “And rude. But you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about that. What you need to do is sail your ship to Iden Astea and do as you’re told.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“That’s my brave little soldier. And if you do that, I’ll give you something nice. What would you like?”

Not to have to go to Iden Astea. “I don’t know.”

“Now you’re just being silly,” She said. “I know exactly what you’d like. You’d like to be a landowner. You’d like a place of your own to call home.” She smiled again. “You’d like to be monarch of all you survey. Yes?”

I nodded.

“Well, of course you would. Now run along and see to it, and do try and get a move on. It’s a funny thing, but being immortal doesn’t make you patient. Quite the opposite, actually.”

She was right about one thing. More than anything else in the whole world, I wanted my own place.

I don’t suppose you can really understand what that’s like. I’m assuming you’re like everybody else, except me and a very few others. You were born on the land your family’s owned and worked for generations; it may be four acres or four hundred, that doesn’t really matter, it’s just a question of scale. You have a place of your own.

Everything else about you comes from that. It decides, for example, who you marry, who gets to be the mother or father of your children: one of the neighbours, inevitably, so already the field narrows from half the human race down to maybe eight or ten; and one of them’s the prince’s daughter, so you can forget all about her, and two of them come from those no-good families we don’t talk to, and two of them are already spoken for, and one of them can’t make cheese to save her life— The same sort of process of elimination brought you into the world; simple rural logic. You are where you live; you are what you own. And people and cattle die and barns burn down and trees snap off in the wind and locusts wipe out a whole year’s crops, but the land, the crumbly black soil and the stones (eight generations of your family have picked out every last one and tossed them into the hedge, and still there’s more of them) aren’t ever going anywhere; the most you can do is plough in lime and cowshit, or let it all go back to briars and withies (but someone else will be along sooner or later, your son or your great-grandson, to root them all out, plough in lime and cowshit, then let it all slip back into jungle again...) You have a place of your own, which defines you, and everybody knows exactly who and what you are because of it, from the day you’re born until the day you die. And if you’re wise you know your place, and everything is just fine.

It doesn’t matter that you’re bound to the soil. Legally, a serf can’t go more than five miles from his farmhouse without his lord’s permission. Some people say that that makes him property, like the house and the barns and the fence-posts and the plough and the oxen. You plough when he tells you to, not when you want to or when the time is right. You need the lord’s permission to marry and to breed children. When the lord dies, his son inherits: the land and the fixtures, the live and dead stock, including you. But you still have a place; a place of your own. The lord giveth, but there are constraints on what he can take away. He can’t evict you, unless you neglect to pay your rent and work your allotted time. Maybe you’re property, but you’re not his property. You don’t belong to him, you belong to the land.

And by me, that’s a small price to pay for belonging. Everyone belongs somewhere. A place for everyone, and everyone in his place.

Except for people like me, the very few, too few to matter.

Once, presumably, generations ago, we had a place of our own too. But something must have happened—war, plague, drought, flood, one of those tiresome Acts of God—and we lost it, let it slip through our fingers.

Well, now. The fact that I was born proves that it’s not the end of the world. There’s a place for people like me; all over the place, in fact. We walk from district to district, looking for work; a week here, a month or so there if we’re lucky—and our luck is usually someone else’s misfortune; a broken leg, a fall from a ladder, an old man getting too weak to fulfill his obligations to his lord at ploughing or harvest and too poor to hire regular help. Serfs have a place of their own, even if it’s just a single room you share with the pigs. I don’t.

Neither did my father. But he wasn’t the sort of man who takes it on the chin and gets on with it. So, when he was younger than I am now, he walked down from the hills to the coast and waited till a ship put in for the night. The sea, after all, is different: different rules; freedom. He walked up to the ship and asked the skipper, you wouldn’t happen to need an extra hand? Are you kidding, the skipper said; and my father left the land and went to live on the sea, which proves that people will do anything when they’re desperate.

I bet you shuddered just then at the very thought of it. Actually, it could be worse. Yes, it’s a dangerous life, a great many sailors die. You never know from one day to the next. A storm can come up, faster than a horse galloping, and smash you into the rocks or sweep you out of sight of shore into the vast emptiness, and nobody will ever know what became of you except that you went to sea and never came back. That aside, though, it’s not so bad.

It worked out for my father. He started as an oarsman, and the palms of his hands and the skin on his buttocks rubbed away raw and grew back hard as boot-soles. In return for rowing all day he got his bread and cheese and a pint of wine and his oar-bench to sleep on; and then one day his ship came across a smaller ship, and it was in a remote place, with nobody about to see... He and his pals killed all the men, scuttled the ship, and divided the cargo between them, strictly fair and egalitarian. My father sold his share at the next landfall they came to, and instead of drinking the proceeds he bought a few carefully chosen bits and pieces, small tools, arrowheads and trinkets, which he kept in a jar under his bench and sold at the next place they came to— And ten years later, he bought a third-share in the ship, when one of the owners died.

I take after him, so people tell me. I own a third share in a ship, but not the same one. My ship has fifty oars and carries twenty-five tons. It’s faster than anything except a Sherden cutter, and it has a mast and a sail, though we don’t use them unless we have to, for obvious reasons. I sleep under a roof in the wheelhouse, not on an oar-bench under the stars, and there are times when I can almost kid myself I’ve got a place of my own. But then I wake up in the morning and the view I see isn’t the same as it was yesterday, or the day before, and a gust of wind reminds me that I exist on sufferance, relying every minute of every day on the sea’s compassion... That’s no way to live, people tell me, and I’m inclined to agree with them. But I do it anyway.

“So,” Enki said, as I reached the ship. “What did She say?”

“Don’t ask,” I told him. He pursed his lips. He knows me.

Enki reminds me of me. Actually, he gives me an unpleasantly convincing idea of what I’ll be like in ten years time, if I live that long. His third of the ship belonged to his uncle, and he’s been sailing her since he was nine. He still gets sick in a storm, but we all pretend not to notice. “Fine,” he said. “So, back the way we came.”

“No,” I said. “North.”

He frowned. “But aren’t we supposed to report back to the Erymanthians?”

“No point,” I told him. “Besides, by the time we get there they’ll all be dead.”

He thought about that. Enki thinks like the sun, brilliant but a bit slow-moving. “Fair enough,” he said. “No skin off our noses. So, on to Celeuthoe.”

“Yup,” I said. “And then Iden Astea.”

The name rang a bell. He closed his eyes for a moment until he’d placed it. “What do we want to go there for?”

“She said so.”

He went a colour he usually only goes in very bad weather. “Fair enough,” he said.

That night we put in at Toliethron, which is basically just a beach between two spits. A freshwater spring comes tumbling down the cliff, so you can fill your jars, but otherwise the most you can say for it is that it keeps still in bad weather. “So,” Enki said in the wheelhouse, lowering his voice, “why are we going to Iden Astea?”

That’s Enki. He fondly believes that if we’re fifty miles away and he keeps his voice down, the Goddess won’t hear him.

“She wants us to burn down the city,” I said.

“Ah.”

“And kill all the men, and sell the women and children, and slaughter all the sheep and burn them.”

He nodded slowly. “Who gets the money for the women and children?”

“We do.”

He looked at me. He had that look on his face, as though he’d heard his mother coughing in that particular way and knew what it meant. “Not so bad, then,” he said.

“Pretty bad,” I said.

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not if it’s the Lady’s will,” he said firmly. “Thy will be done, remember. We’re covered. And let’s say a couple of hundred women at a drachma a pop—”

“Don’t,” I said.

“I’m just saying, that’s all.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

He shrugged. “Mind you,” he said, “it’s a big ask, storming a city. Like, there’s fifty-five of us and what, a hundred of them, fit to carry a spear, I mean. It’s not going to be like picking an apple off a tree.”

“The Goddess will be with us,” I said.

“Yes, of course.” He nodded. “We’ll have them for breakfast, no doubt about it.” He paused. “Why us, did She say?”

“No.”

“Did you piss her off or anything?”

“I might have done, I don’t know.”

He looked at me. Relieved, I think, rather than angry; if it was my fault, then it couldn’t be his. “Easy done,” he said. “You’ve really got to watch your mouth, talking to—-” Quick skyward glance, then eyes back on his sandals before anyone noticed— “Them.”

“I don’t remember saying anything bad,” I told him. “I think She was just looking for an excuse.”

“She doesn’t need an excuse,” he said.

I remembered the way She’d gobbled the cheese, and the olives. “I’m not sure about this,” I said.

“What do you mean, you’re not sure?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But there are other gods.”

He looked at me, that don’t-do-anything-stupid look I know so well. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said. “But there’s fifty-five of us, and we live on a ship.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “I know what I’m doing.”

Why would anyone deliberately piss off a god? They’re stronger than us. They control our lives. To them, we’re just property. Unlike mortal lords, they can kill us at will, or (worse) displace us, pull us up by the roots and leave us in the sun. I am the Lady’s, to use as she commands, on the strict understanding that what I do in her service is her fault, not mine.

Even so. There are limits.

For me—and you can see how stupid and flaky I am—the line gets drawn when it comes to enslaving my fellow man. A slave isn’t like a serf. A slave gets pulled up by the roots and taken from his place and put forcibly where he doesn’t belong. That’s not right.

People say I’m idiotic for making such distinctions. Slave or serf, they say, what’s the big deal? And slaves get treated well, because they’re an investment. You spend good money on plant and equipment, naturally you take good care of it. You’d be crazy not to.

I can’t argue with that. Correction: I won’t argue with that, because it’s not my place to do so. But I’m outside all of that. My privilege, on account of not having a place of my own. I draw my own lines, even if it means annoying the almighty. I can do no other, gods help me.

I knew what I was doing all right. I was telling a lie.

But what the hell. There are other gods, ever so many of Them, and if the poets are to be believed They spend Their everlasting lives fighting like cats. And our next stop but one was Choris Seautou.

Everybody knows the white temple on the promontory at Choris, even if they’ve never seen it, never left home in their lives. Choris is where the Archer God lives. Getting in to see Him costs you a sheep, but in this case I reckoned it’d be a sheep well spent. So I bought one in the market at Celeuthoe and we rigged up a pen for it on the aft deck. “What do we want a sheep for?” Nijah asked. I tapped the side of my nose with my finger, and he shrugged and got on with his work.

Getting from Celeuthoe to Choris can be a breeze, or it can be several days of sheer misery. I had a bad feeling about it, because unlike Enki I don’t believe you can get past the Goddess by whispering. But instead we got a nice brisk north-westlerly wind. Bani said we could raise the sail, but I gave him a look and he dropped the subject. A sail, after all, can take you to all sorts of places in no time flat, including places you hadn’t intended to go. I’ve spent my life trying to avoid unintended destinations, and look where it’s got me.

I was standing up in the prow, searching the skyline for the first gleam of the white temple, when Enki suddenly appeared next to me. I hadn’t heard him, but it’s noisy up the front end of a ship.

“We should raise the sail,” he said.

“Don’t be an idiot,” I said. “We’re making seven knots. That’s plenty fast enough.”

“I want you to raise the sail.”

I turned to face him. His eyes were the colour of hot iron, just before it’s ready to weld. “Oh,” I said.

“It’s all right,” She said. “I’m here, aren’t I? What could possibly go wrong if I’m here?”

You can’t lie to the gods, everybody knows that; nor can you keep anything from them. I’d thought it, so I might as well say it. “Why are you here?”

“To make sure you get a move on,” She said. “Otherwise you’d just dawdle. You people are great dawdlers, which is odd, when you come to think of it. Bearing in mind that you’ve got so little time, I’m amazed at how willing you are to waste it.”

A white flash, at the edge of my peripheral vision. I tried really hard not to think what it meant. “Nijah,” I called out. “Raise the mast.”

Nijah was amidships, messing about with a coil of rope. “Seriously?”

“Do as you’re damn well told.”

I didn’t look at him, so I didn’t see the expression on his face. “All right,” I heard him call out, “you heard the man. All stop.” Everyone stopped rowing, and the ship began to slow down.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I have to go and see to the mast.”

“Of course you do.” She smiled at me. It wasn’t quite the same, on Enki’s face, but the meaning was clear nevertheless. “Remember, no dawdling.”

Enki’s face went blank, and a seagull that hadn’t been there a moment ago spread its wings and launched off the rail into the air. I tried very hard to keep my mind from thinking. She might be flying away, but She was still listening.

I turned my head. Just because you mustn’t think doesn’t mean you can’t use your eyes. I’d been right. The white flash I’d seen was the sun on the walls of the white temple.

“Are you all right?” Enki asked me.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was miles away.”

He looked at me. “What are we raising the mast for? I thought you wanted to stop at Celeuthoe.”

“I do.” I made a colossal effort and got a grip on myself. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking of. All right,” I called past him, to Nijah and the others, “forget about the mast, we’re closer than I thought we were. Carry on rowing.”

Nijah gave me a look, but I couldn’t be bothered with him. I was too busy trying to figure out where I was. I could see the white temple, and the Goddess had left in a hurry. That meant, surely, that we’d entered the jurisdiction of the Archer God—

On whom, I reflected unhappily, everything now depended. Not a pleasant thought.

The drill is, you lead your sheep on a bit of string up the hill to the gatehouse of His temple, where a porter takes it from you and tells you to wait. My sheep didn’t want to be led, which meant I ended up back on the beach with rope-burns on both hands. We tried again; me leading the sheep, Nijah and Bani behind it, pushing. “That’s a really bad omen,” Nijah told me, “the sheep not wanting to go.”

“Shut up, Nijah,” I said. “You’re not helping.”

We got there in the end, and I handed the bit of string to the porter. The sheep grabbed its chance and made a dash for it, ripping the string out of his hand. He yelled, two of his pals chased after the sheep and flipped it onto its back.

“I know,” I told him. “Bad omen.”

He took a deep breath. “You’d better go straight in,” he said.

“What, no waiting about?”

“I got a feeling He wants to see you right away.”

The Archer God isn’t like the Goddess. For a start, He comes originally from the other side of the Friendly Sea, where most of His temples are. He has a reputation for being fair and sensible, at least compared to other gods. He’ll listen to you, they say, instead of just barking out orders and smiting. Also—well, He’s a man or at least a “He”. I know where I am with men.

You reach Him by walking through the main room of the temple, which is this big square building with nothing in it. Round the back of the high altar there’s a door, and then you go down a long, scary spiral stair, with no light except the stupid little rush taper the porter gives you; and just when the darkness and the dizziness from winding round and round and round is about to get too much to bear, you find yourself in this sort of cellar. The walls are covered floor to roof with weird frescoes, but you can only see little patches of them by the light of your pathetic little taper; wrists and ankles and ears and noses of huge, incredibly lifelike painted men and women, and the tails of horses and the claws of lions. Then there’s a sudden sharp draught, which blows your taper out.

But that doesn’t matter, because He’s arrived, and He glows in the dark. “You’ve got a nerve,” He said.

“Lord?”

“There are two commandments,” He said, “and thereby hang all the law and the prophets. One: Thou shalt not go over the head of the Lady thy Goddess. Two: Thou shalt not drag the Lord thy God into a row with His kid sister. Got that?”

“Yes, Lord.”

He sighed. “Oh for pity’s sake, stop looking at me like that and sit down.” The light of His countenance revealed a three-legged stool. I sat on it. He closed His eyes and rubbed them with His thumb and forefinger. “I know what you’re thinking,” He said. “You’re thinking, that’s a piss-poor return on a perfectly good sheep, and yes, I agree with you. But there you go,” He said. “My hands are tied.”

I looked at Him. “To the gods,” I quoted, “all things are possible.”

He scowled at me. “Well of course they are,” He said, “in theory. I mean, yes, if I really wanted to, I could cast my mantle over you and protect you, and not a hair of your head would be harmed. Only that’d mean a flaming row with my sister, who between you and me and the bedpost isn’t the easiest person in the world to get along with, and to be perfectly frank with you, I don’t think you’re worth it. Which isn’t anything about you personally,” He added. “You strike me as a decent enough sort, and not wanting to kill a bunch of strangers who never did you any harm is definitely to your credit.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. But what you’ve got to remember is, I’ve got to live with my sister. For ever and bloody ever.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“There you go again,” He said, “looking at me with those great big puppy-dog eyes. And I know what you’re thinking. I’ve got a conscience, you’re saying to yourself, I can’t go doing something I know is wrong. Well, bully for you.”

“Lord?”

“You can afford to have a conscience,” He said. “It’s one of the benefits of being here-today-gone-tomorrow—you can allow yourself to think in terms of right and wrong and all that nonsense. I can’t.”

“To the gods, all things are—”

“Yes, I know,” He snapped. “Except for that.” He turned His head, almost as if He didn’t want to look me in the face. “You don’t understand,” He said, “how could you? No, sorry, I feel for you, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’re just going to have to do as she tells you or face the consequences. Which won’t,” He added, “be pretty.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Sorry about that,” He said. “I’ve got half a mind to let you have your sheep back, except it might set a precedent, and we don’t want that.”

“I’m not worried about the sheep, Lord.”

“Good man. All right, then, off you go.”

I turned away from His light, trying to remember where the stairs were. I found the wall with the tip of my nose. “Just one thing.”

I turned back. “Yes, Lord?”

He gave me a solemn look, as though I was costing him money. “I can’t help you,” He said, “because I’m on land. Nobody on land is free, not even me.” He paused, then added, “Do you understand?”

“No, Lord.”

“Then try thinking about it,” He snapped. “Now get out.”

Enki thought it was a terrible idea, but I decided to tell the crew what we were going to do next, and why. They took it well, all things considered. I told them that if anyone wanted to jump ship at Antecyrene or Moas they were welcome to do so, but nobody showed any interest. They knew that the Goddess had her eye on them, and she didn’t suffer men of conscience gladly; besides, there was money to be made, and opportunities like that don’t come along every day. My father had gotten his lucky break by robbing and murdering strangers and it never bothered him. And in this case they had a rock solid assurance that they were doing the Goddess’s will; what more can you possibly ask for?

Try thinking about it, the Archer God had said, so I did.

To a certain extent, He was simply stating the obvious. Everybody on land—everybody with a home—is a serf, to a greater or lesser extent; we’re all bondsmen of each other, in a circle, like the snake that eats its own tail. The bought-for-money slaves serve the serfs, who serve the princes, who serve the king, who serves the Great King, and even he isn’t at liberty to do whatever he likes. He has responsibilities, like all other landsmen; he has borders to protect, people to save from drought, earthquake, and famine, gods to answer to; we’re his bondsmen, and he’s ours. The Great King could no more marry for love than you could, he eats what’s put in front of him (after it’s been tasted for poison, naturally), and his clothes are laid out for him each morning by the chamberlain, in strict order according to ritual and precedent; wearing a white shirt when there’s an R in the month would be unthinkable. It goes with the territory. It goes with having a place.

The sea, on the other hand— The sea is a remarkable thing, when you come to think of it. Nobody owns it. It’ll kill you if you give it half a chance, but it’ll take you anywhere you want to go, it’ll even carry your luggage for you. It can turn a nobody like my father into a person of consequence, owner of a third of a ship— Think about that. The third third of our ship is owned by a prince, and it’s one of his most prized possessions. You can’t bring the sea up in front of the magistrate if it murders your entire family, but if you come from the sea you can’t be held accountable either. You can rob other ships, murder people and throw them over the side, swoop down on cities and steal and slaughter to your heart’s content, and nobody will come after you, because of jurisdictional issues. The sea isn’t a place, it’s a state of mind. The sea is freedom.

The Archer God couldn’t help me because He was on land. Oh, I thought.

I was letting these issues develop and mature in the compost-heap of my mind when Enki came and leant on the rail next to me. He doesn’t do that. “I hope you’re not planning anything stupid,” She said.

In the liturgy we say; Almighty Goddess, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hidden... We say it like it’s a good thing, because we’ve never actually had one of Them up close and breathing in our ear. “You know what I’m thinking,” I said. “So why ask?”

“No my Lady this morning,” She said. “I ought to smite you for that.”

“You won’t, though,” I said. “You want me to do a job for you.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of other people.”

“But you chose me,” I said. “Why was that?”

The smile didn’t look nearly so fetching on Enki. “I have my reasons. Partly because you annoyed me.”

“But partly—?”

She laughed. “Partly because you’re the right man for the job,” She said. “You’re smart, and your crew love you—”

News to me. “You’re kidding.”

“Oh yes. It’s amazing who you can get attached to. They’d do anything for you.” She grinned; what fools these mortals be. “I knew your father, you know. You’re quite like him.”

“No,” I said. “I’m not.”

“Thou shalt not contradict. You’re quite like him in some ways.”

“Thank you.”

“But not in others. For instance, he didn’t answer back.”

A thought struck me. “Is that how he got his lucky break?” I asked. “Was that you?”

“That’d be telling. Actually, yes, it was. You see, I had my eye on you before you were even born.”

That made me shiver.

She laughed again. “Oh come on,” She said. “That’s a good thing. It means that nothing you ever did was your fault, it was all me. Now isn’t that a comfort?”

I thought of all the horrible things I’ve done, the ones I’m truly ashamed of. “No,” I said, “not really.”

“Oh you,” She said. “You worry too much. That’s probably why I like you so much.”

Cold fingers closed around my heart. It’s scary when a goddess likes you. It means She’ll be back to play with you, again and again. “Is that right?”

“Oh yes. I like men of principle. They’re so sweet.”

A seagull erupted off the rail in a flurry of wingbeats. It hadn’t been there a moment before, and it scared the life out of me. Then Enki looked at me, as if to say: why am I standing here leaning against this rail?

We put in at Leucopolis, which is as far north as we usually go. Any farther and you run into the nasty currents in the bay, which can suddenly whisk you away, far out of sight of land, and that’s the last anyone ever hears of you.

Actually, it’s not that bad. I’ve been out of sight of land six times and I’m still alive. It was, of course, utterly terrifying, a cross between drowning and falling off a cliff—neither of which I’ve ever done, needless to say, but I’ve been underwater and I’ve fallen out of trees, and I can extrapolate. I can extrapolate because I have something in my experience to extrapolate from; which is a way of saying that I can still see land on the horizon even though I’m out on the water. But when you’re completely surrounded by the stuff, there’s no seamarks, nothing to orient yourself by, unless you count the sun. But the Sun’s one of Them, a god, and I’ve learnt (from the sad histories of others and my own bitter experience) that if you try and navigate by gods, you’re liable to come to a bad end.

We had a buyer at Leucopolis for the hundred and sixty ingots of copper of questionable purity that we’d got stuck with the year before, the consequence of doing business with dishonest people. In exchange we got three hundred jars of dates, stamped with what looked very much like the royal seal of Heddo but in fact wasn’t. But down south no one would know the difference, so that was all right. Just to make sure, though, I bought a jar of genuine Heddo dates, emptied out one of the dubious jars, refilled the dubious jar with the good stuff, and carefully repaired the seal with a brooch-pin heated in a charcoal stove. We tried eating the replaced dates ourselves, but they were horrible, so we chucked them over the side.

That night, when everybody else was asleep on the beach, I went back on board the ship, knelt down beside the socket the mast fits into, and prayed, a thing I don’t usually do as a rule. I said, Seafather, can you hear me? or words to that effect.

There was no sound except the lapping of the water round the hull. Ah well, I said to myself. It was a pretty terrible idea anyway.

Then I looked up, and there He was, sitting on an oar-bench. He looked like—

“Dad?” I said.

He shook his head. “Though I knew him quite well,” Seafather said, “back in the day. You’re like him, you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said.

“Yes, so you have. Oh, and the answer is yes.”

“But I haven’t asked the—”

He looked at me. All desires known, and from whom no secrets are hidden. “You want to find a way of not doing what my niece told you to. My nephew couldn’t help you, but He hinted I could. Well, call it a hint; it was a bit obscure if you ask me. But you’re a smart boy and you figured it out. And the answer is yes.”

“You can help me?”

“Sure I can.”

“And will you?”

“If you want me to.”

I waited for a moment. Some details would be nice, I thought.

“You want details,” He said. “Fine. Close your eyes.”

So I did that; and at once I saw a black sky and felt rain and spray stinging my face, wind ripping at my skin, and the deck under my feet heaving. The mast had been up but had snapped off. Then a wave came up out of nowhere and everything turned upside down, and I fell, a short way, and my nose was full of water and I couldn’t—

I opened my eyes and looked at Him. “Really?” I said.

“Sure,” he replied. “Freedom.”

I gazed at him. “I don’t understand,” I said.

“And you were doing so well.” He smiled. It was a kind smile, compassionate, fatherly. Everyone who comes from the sea lives every moment of his life by Seafather’s compassion. We stand on the palm of his open hand; he forbears to close his fingers and crush us. “You want to get out of doing the job my niece gave you.”

“Yes.”

“In other words, you want to be free.”

“Yes.”

“Very well, then,” He said, and for a moment I could feel the water in my nose and throat, killing me. “You want to be free of the evil task, and the guilt. I can do that for you, easy as falling off the rigging.”

Then I understood. “But I’d be dead,” I said.

“Exactly,” He said. “You’d be free.” He clicked his tongue, as though I was being deliberately obtuse. “And you know what, I envy you people sometimes. Really, I do. You have a freedom I can never share. You can choose for it all to be over, where nobody can hurt you ever again. You can opt out. I can’t do that.”

“Yes,” I said. “But I’d be dead.”

He laughed. “There’s worse things, trust me. There’s living in pain. Did you ever see a sick person die slowly? Yes, of course you did.”

I nodded.

“But at least she died eventually, didn’t she? It was long and horrible, but eventually she was free. And of course there’s other sorts of pain. There’s prison. And living with things you’ve done.” He frowned, then went on: “Pain is a prison. Guilt is worse. The only true freedom is death.”

I must’ve pulled a sad face or made a sad noise or something, because he nodded again. “No,” he said, “trust me, it is. Everyone living is a prisoner, except for us. Well, us too, actually, but I’m not supposed to say that. Mostly, chained to duty, or love. Basically the same thing.”

“I don’t—”

“Understand? Yes you do. Your life is wretched, nothing but misery and pain, but you can’t just run away, because you have obligations. You’re chained to the people who depend on you, the people who love you. You can’t escape, because of the pain they’d endure if you weren’t there any more. The only way out is when death sets you free.”

“Yes,” I said, “but like you said, I won’t be there any more.” I hesitated. “I like being there,” I said.

“You enjoy pain and suffering? There’s a word for that.”

“Yes, but if I’m not there, surely that’s missing the point. What good is freedom if you’re not even there?”

There was such deep compassion in His eyes, as deep as the sea. “You want to be free and still be there? How charmingly naïve.” He looked away for a moment, then looked back. “Actually, it’s possible, but only for us. That’s our privilege.” I felt the weight of his presence on me, as though I was at the bottom of the sea with all that water pressing down on me. “Listen carefully,” He said, “because this is gospel truth and divine revelation. People would pay good money for what I’m about to tell you.”

He paused for a moment, then went on: “There are only two ways to be free, death and not giving a damn. We chose the latter option, leaving you people the former. That’s how we survive, by not giving a damn—about what we do, or what happens to anyone else, about anything. Giving a damn is binding yourself in chains that even we can’t loose.” He grinned. “Which is why we’re incapable of it, simply a matter of survival. If we cared about anything, we wouldn’t last five minutes. How you people can endure it I have absolutely no idea. You’re tough little buggers, I’ll say that for you.”

I took a deep breath. “What She wants me to do,” I said. “It isn’t right.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s right,” He said, “it’s the divine will. That’s the definition of right, you halfwit. She’s a goddess, and where the hell were you when She laid the foundations of the Earth? But if you refuse to let Her set you free, that’s your own stupid wilfulness and I have absolutely no sympathy.”

“But what She wants is murder. That’s wrong. It’s a crime.”

“What’s a crime?” He was being patient, trying to keep his temper. “The definition of a crime is something that’s against the law. Who makes the law? She does. We do.”

“It’s wrong,” I said.

“Says who? All right, try this. Would it be wrong to kill and eat your firstborn child?”

Here we go, I thought.

“In Tidor it’s the law that you sacrifice your firstborn to the Good Goddess and eat the body. You invite all the neighbours and make a party of it. People look forward to it, it’s a sacrament. And if you don’t do it, they drench you in tar and set fire to you in the marketplace, as an awful warning to other sinners. Anyway, that’s what they think in Tidor, and they’re advanced. They have plumbing and indoor sanitation. You don’t even know that that is.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t.”

“Well then, there you go. You’re ignorant.” He breathed out slowly, then breathed in again. “Laws and rules are just arbitrary things. We invent them, and on top of that you think up even more of them, as if you hadn’t got enough chains already. You know, you people really enjoy making life difficult for yourselves.” He shrugged. “The point is, they’re just conventions, like fashion. They don’t actually mean anything, any more than a side parting or a floor-length hemline means anything. They’re just whims, really. Whims of iron.”

I thought for a moment. I think he had the decency to look the other way while I was doing it. “So,” I said, “what am I supposed to do?”

“What we tell you.” Then suddenly He grinned again.

“And since there’s a hell of a lot of us and we all want different things, all you need to do is shop around till you find one of us who wants the same things you do, and put yourself under his protection. Easy as falling off the rigging. You know what the difference is, between gods and men?”

“Tell me.”

“Gods are stronger. That’s it.” He paused. “I’d have thought you’d have known that by now.”

“But what if what you want is wrong?”

“Oh for crying out loud,” He said, and vanished in a clap of thunder.

All the next day I had this sort of buzzing in my ears. It drove me mad. It eased off at nightfall. She knew that if she pushed me too far, I’d be no use to Her.

Enki said; “How are we going to do this?”

I hadn’t given it much thought. “Piece of cake,” I told him. “The Goddess is on our side, remember? She’ll think of something. Which means we don’t have to.”

While I was saying it, my poor worm-eaten brain was whirring. How precisely do you capture a walled town when outnumbered three to one? It’s happened, because I’ve seen it. At least, I’ve sailed past places where there was a city last time I passed that way but now there’s just a heap of stones and some ash; and I ask, what happened? And people tell me it was just one or two ships; usually also, it happened so quickly, they came charging in before anyone had a chance to shut the gates... Usually unspoken; it must have been the will of the gods, or how could such a thing happen?

Fine; quite reassuring, in its way, if you happen to be the Hand of God. But even so, there’s such a thing as practicalities. We had weapons; you don’t entrust your life to the freedom of the seas without a bare minimum of either a spear or a bow and two dozen arrows. In addition I have a sword and a helmet, taken off the body of a rich bastard I’d killed, and so did Enki and three or four of the others. Now, the recipe for a soldier is weapons plus experience... I guess we had plenty of that, too, between us. One aspect of the freedom of the sea is that people are free to take the valuable things in the hold of your ship, if you let them; by the same token, you’re at perfect liberty to stop them, if you can, by any means necessary. We knew about as much about fighting as the average landsman knows about hedging and ditching—enough to get the job done.

Storming a city, on the other hand... One time, when I was much younger, we got caught up by the wind and blown right the way down to Coelesyra, the furthest south any of us had ever been. While we were there, we thought we might as well see the sights—outstanding among which is the temple the Great King built to commemorate his victory over some unfortunate enemy or other; the walls are floor-to-roof carvings, life-size and amazingly realistic, of the King’s army storming cities. An amazing thing, and truly one of the wonders of the world, so three cheers for the King in his aspect as patron of the arts, and as good as a seven year apprenticeship in the craft of storming cities.

According to the King, you pile up a huge mountain of earth against the city wall so your soldiers can walk straight from the top of the mound onto the ramparts; or you build wooden towers on wheels; or you knock holes in the walls with massive rams mounted on carriages; or you dig tunnels under the walls and get in that way. Thanks to the Great King I know all about it, including the ridiculous amount of time and manpower and wealth it takes to turn a few buildings into rubble...

Either that, or a god helps you.

I had eight days to think about it, as we worked our way up the coast towards Iden Astea. It was one of those trips where everything seemed to work out perfectly. You arrive in A with a cargo of bleached linen cloth; people in A are desperate for bleached linen and in return they give you lemons, of which they have so many that the town stinks of lemons squashed under cart wheels because nobody can be bothered to pick them up. So onwards to B, where early frosts buggered up the lemon harvest that year but the walnuts more than made up for it... So you carry walnuts to C, where walnut trees don’t grow and where they mine copper, and on to D, where they have no copper and are at war with C, so they can’t get any but need the stuff desperately to make arrowheads to shoot at C’s invading army. Everywhere we went on that trip, we supplied deficiencies and were amply rewarded out of surpluses and people were genuinely pleased to see us, which was by no means always the case. “It’s because the Goddess is with us,” said the intellectuals in my crew, and I had a horrible feeling they were right.

Your first sight of Iden Astea is when you sail up the coast from Nöon Egno and come round the headland into the bay. The first time I went there was when I was eleven years old; the first time I was allowed to go out with my father on a run. I was standing next to him in the prow—that was the old ship, not the one I have now—and he pointed, and I saw a hill on the far side of the bay with something black on it. “That’s Iden,” he told me. “We always do well in Iden.”

This time, we got there early, just as the sun was rising. That meant we had to round the headland in the dark, a bloody stupid thing to do. “It’ll be fine,” Enki said, “the Goddess will see us right,” and evidently She did, because we had no trouble at all. We’d done it like that with a view to hitting the city while they were still asleep, but it didn’t work out that way; a current held us back, and by the time we got close it was nearly light, and people would already be up and about and making their way to the fields.

“Plan B,” I told them. “We hang about here until everyone’s gone out to work and there’s only women and children in the city.”

Nijah didn’t like that. “That means we’ll have to go out and get them, in open country.”

“No,” said Rami, “because as soon as we set the city on fire, they’ll see the smoke out in the fields and come running, and then we’ll be trapped inside the city and burnt to death—”

“Fine,” Enki said. “So we don’t set fire to anything. We round up the women and children, and when the men come home at night—”

“We’ll be inside and they’ll be outside,” Nijah said, “and they’ll outnumber us three to one. Sort of like, oh, I don’t know, a siege—”

“Screw Plan B,” I said. “We’ll go now. The Goddess got us into this, She can get us out of it.”

That actually seemed to make sense to the rest of them. By that point, I was past caring.

So we took a line on our usual seamarks and went straight in, the way we always did when we came to Iden. I noticed that there were more fishing boats drawn up on the beach than usual. At that time of day they should be at sea. Still, no matter. We pressed on. When we got there, we all jumped out with the ropes and hauled the ship up out of the water. I was looking over my shoulder, watching for people coming down from the town to see who we were and find out if we’d brought them anything nice. No sign of anyone.

“Nijah,” I said, “run up the beach and see if the gates are open.”

They were. If they’d seen us and suspected trouble, they’d have shut them. So why was there no-one about? “I don’t like it,” Bani said. Neither did I. “Shut up,” I told him.

Enki wanted us to run up the beach, but it’s a long way and uphill and you don’t fight so well when you’re gasping for breath, so we walked. Of course, I’d never been inside Iden before. They always bring their stuff down to the beach and take back what they get from us. No big deal, it was just the way we’d always done it; and there’s nothing to see in Iden, so why walk a mile uphill when you don’t have to?

“Is there more than one gate?” I asked Enki.

He looked at me. “I don’t know, do I?”

City gateways are special places, of course. At that time of the morning, you know what you’d expect to find there. People and carts on their way to the fields; traders setting up stalls; a priest sacrificing or a magistrate getting ready to hear cases. When we got there, the gateway was deserted. We went inside, feeling like idiots with our spears in our hands and arrows nocked on the bowstring. Nobody to be seen anywhere.

It took a while before we figured it out. Actually it was Nijah, not usually the sharpest arrow in the quiver, who guessed the reason, or at least said it out loud. “There’s nobody here,” he said, and then, “they’re all dead.” As soon as he said it, I knew he was right. And then, when we tentatively poked our heads into a few houses, we found them.

“Fuck,” said Bani, who doesn’t usually swear. “Plague.”

He backed out again, dropping his spear and pulling his tunic up over his face. I didn’t doubt he was right, but I decided I had to make sure. So I pushed past him and went inside, and there was a whole family; man, woman, old woman, three children, all dead. Their faces were grey and shrunken, like a desiccated rat you find on the floor of the barn. The room stank of shit, and flies were buzzing. I decided I’d done my duty and seen enough.

We ran through the gate and down the beach to the ship. When we got there I stopped to catch my breath. Enki came up beside me. His eyes were yellow.

“You idiot,” She said.

My nose was still full of the smell, and I felt as though there were flies crawling in my hair. “What happened?” I asked.

“You didn’t get here fast enough, is what happened,” She said. “While you were dawdling your way up the coast buying and selling, they all died. Before you could kill them for me. I have to say, I’m not happy.”

“Plague,” I said.

She shot me a don’t-give-me-that look. “Of course it’s plague, you fool. And you know who sent it?”

“You did.”

“No I didn’t.” She remembered she was a lady and lowered her voice. “Why would I do that, when I’d already sent you to deal with them? No, this is all my sainted brother. They did something to piss him off, and while you were lazing around sunning yourselves down south, he nipped in first with his poison arrows and wiped them all out.”

I tried to meet Her gaze, but it hurt my eyes. “Well,” I said, “they’re all dead. Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters, you clown!” She was yelling again. “How do you think this makes me look? They offend me and nothing happens to them. They offend my wretched brother and two minutes later they’re all dead. I’ll be a laughing stock. And it’s all your fault.”

I closed my eyes. “Yes, my Lady,” I said.

“Oh shut up,” She said. “No, it wasn’t your fault, strictly speaking, but that’s not doing me any good, now is it? It still makes me look like I’m soft and weak and He’s strong and powerful, and I’ll never hear the last of it.”

I realised I was shaking. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. She must have noticed me thinking about it. “Oh don’t be such a child,” She said. “You haven’t caught it.”

So that was all right. “What about—?”

“Oh for pity’s sake.” She paused for a moment. “All of your men are fine, apart from Adonijah.”

“He’s got it.”

“Not any more. I just cured him.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

She looked at me. “You care about him, don’t you? That’s so sweet. Anyway, he’s fine now. The point is, what are we going to do about this appalling mess you’ve made of everything?”

“I don’t know, my Lady.”

“No, of course you don’t. Now shut up and let me think.”

“How would it be,” I said, “if you brought them back to life? And then we could kill all the men and—”

She scowled at me. “Half-wit,” She said. “You know I can’t raise the dead. Well, I can, of course I can, but uncle Death would be livid.” She stopped and peered at me, as though She’d just found me floating in her drink. “Oh, I see. That way, at least the women and children wouldn’t die. That’s extraordinary,” She said. “You tried to trick me. You don’t even know these people, but you’d risk annoying me to save them.” She sighed. “You’re the sort of man who goes around rescuing flies from cobwebs. Don’t you realise, there’s no point? You’re all going to die sooner or later, so what does it matter?”

I forced myself to look at Her. “What does matter, my Lady?”

“I do,” she said. “Now then, where were we? Right, I’ve solved it. When the plague hit, there was one fishing boat. It was blown out to sea by uncle Seafather, almost as far as Aelia, and it’s on its way back and it’ll be here this afternoon. All of its crew were drowned except one man, so he’s the last surviving Idenite. Kill him and we’re all square. Now I can’t say fairer than that, can I?”

“My Lady—”

“Don’t even think,” She said, “of refusing. Because if you do, I’ll sink your ship and drown the lot of you. I mean it.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

She rolled those terrible golden eyes, so monstrously out of place in Enki’s eye-sockets. “All right,” she said, “I don’t know why I’m pandering to you, but here goes. You can fight him honourably in single combat, if you feel any better. A fair fight, and may the best man win.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“You’ll win, of course, but it’ll be a fair fight. Oh come on, be reasonable. Even your wire-thin sensibilities can’t object to that.”

“My—”

“It’s that or I drown your crew. And when you’ve done it, I’ll reward you. Everything you always wanted, on a silver platter.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but Enki’s eyes had gone from golden to their usual turd brown.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he said.

“Why?” asked the fisherman, after we’d dumped him on the beach. “And who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Doesn’t matter why,” I snarled back. “Fight me or die where you stand.”

Most of my fighting’s been done on beaches, in the disputed area between land and sea. Some of the time it’s land and belongs to the Archer God or Her Ladyship; some of the time it’s sea and belongs to Seafather. It’s a shifting jurisdiction, so conflict goes with the territory, like a serf.

“This is stupid,” the fisherman said, as I tossed two spears at his feet and took a long step backward. “I don’t want to fight anybody. I just want to go home and see my wife and my kids.”

“They’re dead,” I said.

He stared at me. “You what? They can’t be. What—?”

“The god sent plague.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. At which moment, it suddenly occurred to me to wonder. Plague had wiped out his entire city and Seafather had drowned all his crew, but he was still alive. Therefore— I was a moron not to see it earlier—

He himself was under the protection of a god. In which case, I couldn’t hurt him. Or at the very least, his god and my goddess would cancel each other out and it’d be a fair fight. I might lose. Or if I won, it wouldn’t be cold-blooded murder...

“Which god?”

He said it twice before I realised he’d been talking to me.

“Does it matter?” I said. “Your people offended a god, so naturally you had to be punished. You’re the last survivor, so you’ve got to be killed. Now defend yourself or I’ll cut your throat.”

He looked at me long and hard, then stooped and picked up the two spears. “The hell with you,” he said.

“That’s the spirit,” I said, and backed off ten paces.

He knew the rules too, and backed off another ten. I was the challenger, so he got the first throw. He shifted his back foot, lining himself up; clearly, he knew what he was doing, which comforted me. I settled my weight equally on both feet, standing square on to give him the best possible target. It occurred to me that I was preparing to give my life for a perfect stranger, a man I’d never met before and owed nothing to. It was so silly I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t see that I had any choice.

He threw. He missed.

With hindsight, I know exactly why he missed. He was anticipating me moving out of the way at the last moment, which is of course what everybody does in a formal duel. He’d seen I was left-handed when I dropped the spears at his feet, so he knew I’d instinctively dodge left. He’d allowed for that when he threw. But of course I stayed perfectly still, to make it easier for him to hit me.

We looked at each other. It was my throw.

Now then, I thought, how can I be absolutely sure I’ll miss? Because if I missed, we’d close with our second spears and slug it out; I’m no great shakes at the hand-to-hand stuff, whereas I’m probably the best spear-thrower I’ve ever come across. He’d thrown right handed, so he’d flinch right—or he might be really clever and stay put, like I’d done, expecting me to aim left into his flinch. So, I figured, if I threw a whole pace wide to my right, that ought to do the trick.

I threw. He flinched left. I hit him in the hollow between the collar-bones, and he was dead before he hit the sand.

I walked over to get my spear. His dead eyes lit up yellow. “You clown,” She said.

“You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“Don’t talk to me like that. And you do realise, you were being horribly irresponsible.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Don’t yes-my-Lady me, you idiot. If he’d killed you, I’d have had to drown your entire crew. Don’t you care about them?”

I looked right back. “To be honest,” I said, “I don’t think I care about anything any more.”

That got me a foul look; then the eyes went cold again. A fly landed on one of them and started bustling about, like flies do. I couldn’t be bothered to shoo it away.

I walked back to the others. Nobody spoke.

“What are you standing about for?” I said. “Get on and loot the city.”

Nijah looked at me. “Do you think we should?”

“Why the hell not? Nobody owns it any more.”

“It’s crawling with plague.”

Valid point. Still, I wanted them to get something out of the whole ridiculous affair, so we traipsed round the countryside looking for anything worth having. There wasn’t much. The figs were ripe and ready to pick, but you could hardly give figs away at that time of year in any of the places we were going. We ended up with a few hoes and brush-hooks, worth their scrap value but not much more, and the dead fisherman’s nets. I’ve never had much luck with piracy, though my father did well at it, as I think I mentioned.

Before we left we set fire to the city. Not because She’d told me to do it, but because fire stops the spread of plague. And yes, because She’d told me to do it. She was perfectly right; I had my crew to think about. Even on the sea, there’s no freedom, not from the chains of responsibility and love.

Halfway to Anticonessus, a storm struck. It was all very quick. One moment we were rowing steadily across a placid wine-dark sea. The next, the ship was at forty-five degrees and my friends were hurtling into the water like windfalls from an apple tree. I wrapped both arms round an oar-bench and hung on, eyes shut, screaming prayers to Seafather, and then there was an almighty crash and the sound of wood splintering, and something hit my head and I went to sleep—

And in my sleep I dreamed that I saw Seafather, and he gave me a look of deep compassion. “Not your fault,” He said.

“Really.”

He nodded. “The fisherman was under my protection,” He said. “So you weren’t at liberty to kill him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t to know,” Seafather said generously. “And you’re under my niece’s protection, so you’ll be all right. The rest of your crew—well, that’s how it goes. No hard feelings,” He added, and then I woke up.

...on a beach.

Lying next to me on the sand were a spear, a cloth bag, a brush-hook and a hoe. The tools were from a hut just outside Iden Astea. The spear was the one I’d killed the fisherman with.

She was standing over me. She reached out a hand and helped me up. Touching Her was like touching fire. “Don’t say I don’t ever do anything for you,” She said.

“You spared me,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about that,” She said. “If I’d let my stupid uncle drown you, how would that make me look? No, I mean giving you your heart’s desire. What you always wanted.”

“A brush-hook and a hoe. Thank you.”

“Funny man.” She spread her arms wide. “All this,” She said.

“All what?”

“All of it.”

I was, I realised, on an island.

It’s not a bad island, as islands go. It’s about half a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide. I found a stream of fresh water, and a small flock of wild goats, and grapevines and a couple of fig trees. I looked in the cloth bag she’d given me; seed corn. I walked all round the island looking out to sea, but there was no land in any direction.

I’ve been here twenty years. It’s not so bad. I have a place of my own. I am monarch of all I survey. And, in spite of all that, I guess you could say I’m free.

[missguomeiyun]

Homecooking [May ed]

Anyone else reading who has "Sun-jae fever"? lol my month of May was basically suffering from this disease. .. & now that the drama Lovely Runner is over, I'm suffering from Monday illness T___T

Leftover gumbo soup (Campbell) with pasta & more veggies. Having rice & long pasta together was kinda weird but you know. .. some Korean soups contains noodles (usually the japchae glass noodles) & that's eaten with rice as well :O

JJM =]

I personally prefer jjambbong but you know. . haha once in a while, jjajangmyeon is great! This wasn't from a kit; I purchased the noodles & the sauce separately. & also added beef to the sauce instead of pork.

My version of a "bun" - aka Vietnamese rice vermicelli with various toppings. I have chicken breast (seasoned with lemon pepper), cucumbers & spring rolls.

Wanted to make a "big pot" item.. . made this ramyeon ddeokbokki. Contains: rice cake, carrot (need carotenoids), cabbage, kimchi, & pork belly.

Ate it with rice & topped with seaweed~

The leftovers tossed into soup form with vermicelli noodles. Who else out there converts leftovers into soup dishes?? :S I don't like making big batches of food bcos I get sick of eating it but things like ramyeon ddeokbokki with a bunch of ingredients is hard to portion down. Normally, it's eaten with rice but I don't like rice that much. .. so oftentimes, I make a soup with some form of noodles with what I have left.

As I was saying. .. I don't like rice that much xD here is a rice bowl =P

& more rice! The soup is a cross between budae jjigae & deonjang jjigae. As deonjang soup base but I added sausage & kimchi to it.

Another one of this Bon-juk congee. This was sooo tasty! I liked this one more than the previous kimchi & squid one.

Anita's creative cooking using expired garlic & chive cream cheese.

I made meatballs & stuffed cream cheese into them. For the sauce, I added more cream cheese, butter, lemon pepper seasoning & black current balsamic vinegar. But then it got so thick so I added milk...

The above was made as a pasta sauce.

It tastes better than it looks, okay? haha You might not believe me but it's true! I am honest when it comes to personal opinions :D I think it could use a little bit more "lemon" but I don't regularly have it available. It's missing a little zesty/tangy kick, you know what I mean?

Black peppercorn steak with ramyeon. SO GOOD!!!

Oh look- another rice bowl. Ribs + air-fried eggplant.

Thick rice noodles with baby bokchoy & fatty beef, feat 1 spoon of my friend Susan's mom's special hot sauce.

Beef & seaweed soup & rice. .. Wow, didn't realize I had so much rice this month HAHA this is crazy!

Thick rice noodles with bokchoy & Busan fish cake. I normally have the flat ones & recently got a bag of these hollow ones. It was okay; I prefer the flat ones personally. They're easier to cut & maybe it's just a psychological factor but I think those ones cook faster. Could also be the brand/ingredients of the fish cake. In theory, if the thickness is the same, & it's just in a diff form, they should take around the same time to cook, right?

That's it~

Sorry for taking sooooo long for this post. Been busy/lazy / fangirling ... hehe