#ken block drift stick

[scapegrace74-blog]

Lucky

A/N  I’m enjoying going back and filling in some of the missing Metric Universe details.  This one is set during the time of Jamie’s injury, so just after The Beginning, and it introduces some important secondary characters.

Inspired by the Radiohead song “Lucky”, and particularly by Thom Yorke wailing “it’s going to be a glorious day” as though he is trying to will it to be true from the depths of his agonized soul.

The entire Metric Universe is available on my Ao3 page.

January 6, 2015, The Royal London Hospital

Sterile hallways.  The noxious funk of London smog blending with the antiseptic sting of the Intensive Care Unit.  The endless thrum of traffic, bleep of life-saving equipment, squeak of rubber soles on linoleum.  It was only when she left the Highlands that she realized how much she took their clean air and miles of quiet for granted.

A few feet away from where she kept vigil in a stiff avocado chair, her brother lay in a medically-induced coma.  An orchestra of machinery beat out the tempo to his survival.  The zigs and zags of his heartbeat against the ivory background of an electrocardiograph called forth memories of their youth, racing like wee fiends down the snow-laden slopes behind Lallybroch.

Younger by four years, Jamie had long been larger-than-life, even before he surpassed her own diminutive stature at age eleven.  Lying now under hospital sheets carefully draped to avoid his flayed back, she remembered the tiny babe in arms their mother had carefully lowered into her lap all those years ago.  Fragile, as though life clung to him with only a provisional grip.

“Dinna ye dare think of leaving me, Jamie Fraser,” she softly threatened for what must be the hundredth time since arriving at her brother’s bedside five days before.  “I ken ye miss them, but Mam and Da have each other now.  I only have you.”

January 11, 2015, The Royal London Hospital

“Fer the love of Christ and all the saints, jus’ drink the damn water ye clotheid!” an all-too-familiar female voice rang out.

“Leave me in peace, Janet.  I dinna want any water,” a masculine growl replied.

Ian Murray was still some distance from Room 418A, but he could hear the siblings bickering just fine.  Doubtless a good handful of staff and other patients were within earshot as well.  He rounded the corner and observed a scene that was equal parts poignant, comic and exasperating.

Immobile by necessity while the surface of his back slowly reinvented itself, his best friend lay facing the door.  Ian’s fiancée stood beside the bedrail, five feet of visible agitation.  She held a cup of ice water so tightly in her right hand, the straw quivered.

Jamie was no longer the pallid husk who awaited them at the end of a frantic race from Lallybroch to the Royal London that first morning of the new year.  Normally hale and over-flowing with vitality, it was distressing to witness him so motionless, eyes sunken and muscles slack.  Unfortunately for both Jamie and Ian, Jenny’s sharp tongue increased in direct proportion to how much emotional turmoil she was forced to cope with.

“Och, ye’re finally here,” the woman in question exclaimed.  “Will ye explain tae this bampot tha’ he willna improve if he doesna listen tae what his doctors tell him?”

“And what of no’ getting me riled up, hmm?  Ye dinna seem tae care what the doctors say when ye stick yer neb in my face every twa minutes.”

“Mebbe the doctors dinna realize that ye’re a muckle-sized bairn with the sense God gave an...”

“ALRIGHT, THE BOTH OF YE!” Ian yelled over the melee.  “I am tired of hearing ye bicker an’ so is the entire fourth floor.  Jenny, ye’re tired.  I’ll take o’er for the night while ye get some rest.  An’ Jamie, drink yer water before I pour it over yer bloody hot head.”

Both Frasers froze with their mouths open in retort, surprised by Ian’s uncharacteristic outburst.  A deafening minute of silence elapsed before Jenny silently gathered her coat, cap and purse, wished the two men a curt goodnight, then left in a swish of gabardine and discontent.

“Ye’re gonna pay for that later,” Jamie remarked, bending a rueful smirk around the extended straw.

“It’ll be worth it no’ tae hear ye two scold each other fer eight hours,” Ian retorted, taking Jenny’s place in the uncomfortable avocado armchair but sliding it back a foot so that it no longer blocked Jamie’s view of the hallway.  

“Jen could harry Auld Nick inta church, and ye ken it well, a charaid.”

“Grant her some mercy.  She’s scared witless, Jamie.  After yer Da...” Ian left the rest unsaid.

His childhood friend nodded against the bleach white pillow, weariness and something more insidious weighting his eyes closed.  Minutes passed, but Ian could tell from his irregular breath than Jamie was still awake.

“How is it today?”

A shoulder twitched in a minute shrug which still caused its owner’s brows to furrow with pain, though his eyes remained closed.

“Hurts like hell, if ye must know.  But I’m told I should feel lucky tae be alive by a team o’ London’s finest medical minds.”

“And do ye?” Ian persisted, trying to excavate the kernel of anguish that lay almost hidden beneath all the layers of physical pain.  It had been nagging at him since Jamie first woke three days earlier.  It wasn’t only the extensive physical damage to his body and daunting road to recovery that was afflicting his friend.  The blast had shifted something nearer his foundation, destabilizing the very structure of the man he’d known since childhood.

A long, hissing breath told him Jamie understood what Ian meant by his question, and was giving it due consideration.

“Mebbe feeling lucky is wha’ led me tae this hospital bed.”  He spoke quietly but urgently, with the tone of a penitent in the confessional booth awaiting divine judgement.

“Ye dinna mean ye think ye deserved tae be burnt near tae death?  Christ, Jamie, twas an industrial accident and ye’re a firefighter.  Awful luck, aye, but twasn’t something ye did or didna do that brought it upon ye.”

Another long pause, and this time Ian thought his friend may have fallen asleep.  Finally, almost drowned out by the whir and whisper of life-giving machinery,

“I dinna ken what I think anymore, a charaid.  I got lost, an’ this is where my mindless feet brought me.”

Long after Jamie drifted to sleep, Ian sat in the awkward chair, listening to his breathing and trying to make sense of what he’d just been told.

February 13, 2015, The Royal London Hospital

Beads of sweat furled down his neck and his back burned anew.   Aegrescit medendo, he thought wryly as he readjusted his grip on the wheeled walker and continued his unsteady progress.

“Very good, lad.  We’ll have you running again in no time!”  Dauntlessly cheerful and deceptively matronly, Jamie soon learned that Maureen Graham was an exacting physical therapist as well.  It was exactly what he wanted, when he wasn’t cursing her for it.

“Can we no’ take the elevator to another floor?  Mebbe down tae the A&E?”  Jamie tried to pass it off as an offhand request, but silver-grey eyes narrowed shrewdly.

“That’s the third time you’ve asked to go downstairs this week, Jamie Fraser.  I’m beginning to think you don’t like my ward.”

Thwarted, he carefully pivoted in a half circle and began the arduous trek back down the hallway to his room.  Six weeks spent nearly immobile while the surface of his back was slowly reborn had sapped all his strength.  Even if permission had been granted, he wasn’t certain he could navigate his weakened frame all the way to the emergency ward he’d last visited the night of his accident.  The last place he’d seen her.

“What’s her name?” Mrs. Graham asked as he shuffled the final few feet and sank gratefully against his bed.  He thought about deflecting her conjecture, but it posed an opportunity too good to pass up.

“I dinna ken”, he confessed.  “Twas the nurse who saw tae me when I was first admitted.  Curly brown hair.  Eyes the colour o’ ripened barley.  I think she served overseas fer a time.  Afghanistan, mebbe?”

He was doing his best to appear nonchalant, aided in part by the fact that his muscles twitched violently after every therapy session, but he still didn’t think he was fooling Mrs. Graham.

“Oh, I know just the one.  You were lucky to be in her hands.  No wonder you pulled through.”  She poured a large amount of fresh water into his re-useable bottle.  He drank it down in rapid gulps that leaked over his chin.  He realized his was beyond pride at this point.

“Her name?” he begged.

“Nurse Beecham.  Spelled the French way, but she’s as English as they come.”

Nurse Beauchamp.  She finally had a name.  He vowed he would recover his strength so that one day he could walk up to her and properly express his gratitude.

[tact-and-impulse]

With These Hands Chapter 11

Look, I say we’re ending 2020 with affection and fluff! Also, now that I know what it’s like working in a hospital, I can write this AU better, and this episode has heavy influence from my first night call shifts. For my fellow healthcare workers, because this was...a year. Here’s to staying safe in 2021!

The rest of this chapter is under the cut or on FF.net and AO3

Chapter 11: Endurance

Admittedly, Kenshin’s stomach dropped when he saw her. She was limp in her chair, arms dangling at her sides and her face turned away.

“Kaoru-dono?!” He rushed to her desk, panic overriding sensibility. But before he could touch her, her eyes snapped open and her right fist lashed out in a glancing blow that brought him to his knees. Acting on instinct, he latched onto the edge of her desk, elbow colliding with the hard surface. “Oro!”

At the contact, she blinked away her drowsiness. “Ken…shin? Oh, no! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” She sat up, her fingertips brushing his aching cheekbone. The pain was already fading, and he resisted leaning in.

“This one is fine. It was this one’s fault, surprising you.” He managed to answer. Despite how his skin was buzzing, he was not going to behave like a hormonal teenager.

“I still shouldn’t have punched you.” She withdrew, her voice full of concern. “I hope it won’t bruise.”

“There have been worse hits that this one has taken, so don’t worry.” And on that same side as well, he ruefully thought. “Are you still working?” It was already past seven.

“I’m on night call.” Her explanation contained no small amount of misery. “And I had a meeting in the afternoon, so I only got an hour of sleep before I came here. It’s going to be a long Thursday night; at least, I have the weekend off. What about you?”

“This one is also in the same situation, filling in for a colleague who was supposed to work tonight. There was a family emergency, so this one is here instead.”

“Oh, good. Not that you have to work on short notice,” She hastily added. “But we can keep each other company.”

“That’s true. It will be easier to stay awake.” He would have been content to stay at her desk; he had nothing urgent at the moment. But she did, as signaled by her blaring pager. She mouthed an apology, before taking the call. Leaving her to her responsibilities, he drifted back to his spot across the room, to print his list of patients.

***

He was reading the interim notes on his patients when she commented.

“By the way, I forgot to mention earlier. I like your scrubs.”

“Oro?” The faded magenta met his downward gaze. “These are very old.”

“But you look so cheerful! The other male doctors stick to blue or black.”

“So did this one, in the past. However, brighter colors can be comforting or distracting for the children, so that’s something this one can do for them.”

“You also can pull it off, because you’re an attending.” She pointed out, and he laughed.

“There’s nothing wrong with navy either.”

“It’s not navy, it’s indigo.” Grinning, she tugged the front of her scrub top. “But it’s my favorite color.”

“It suits you very well.” Belatedly, he wondered if that was harassment, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she blushed. At the sight, his own face warmed.

“Thanks.” For a heartbeat, the only sound was the humming of their computers. Abruptly stretching her arms over her head, she declared. “I need coffee. The cafeteria’s closed, but do you want anything from the vending machine?”

“This one can join you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy, and you can just text me.” They had already exchanged numbers, thanks to the group chat Misao had started for the workroom.

“No, it will be a long night and this one prefers not to stay in one spot.” He pocketed his pager and stood from his chair.

Her smile widened. “Yeah, I won’t argue with that. And I’m glad! It’s more fun with you.” Her blush had not faded, and his cheek tingled.

He replied honestly. “This one feels the same way.”

Unfortunately, the closest machine had its interior lights off and the glass front bore a paper sign. ‘Out of Order’ was written in large block letters, punctuated by a frowning face. If he had to guess, it appeared to be the handiwork of either Sano or Misao, perhaps even a joint effort.

“That’s a shame.” He said. “Should we search for another?”

“Sounds like a plan! Let’s hope the others are still functioning.”

Their workroom was at the injunction between the main building and the children’s hospital, so they had options. He allowed her to decide, and she headed for the pediatric side. She swiped her badge to access a corridor that was glass on both sides, from ceiling to floor.

“This part is one of the best, in my opinion. Well, at least during the day.” Outside, it was dark, except for the street lamps. Occasionally, a car zipped past on the road below, illuminating the surrounding greenery. But he understood her. When it was sunny, they were provided with a scenic view of the city beyond.

“Yes, it’s the closest we have to stepping out. It’s important to have something to look at, other than the interior of the building.”

“Right? I always feel more rejuvenated when I go through this way. Although, I do love the murals in the children’s hospital.”

“Which do you like best?”

“Hmm. I think the bamboo forest, on the sixth floor. The animals are cute, the pandas and the tanuki.”

“Also, because that is where shinai come from?” He innocently referred to her love for kenjutsu.

“Okay, a little bit.” But she laughed. “Well, which is your favorite?”

He already had an answer. “The fourth floor, with the countryside motif. It reminds this one of his childhood.”

“You were a country boy?”

“In the Kansai region, yes. However, it has been almost twenty years since this one lived there. This one doesn’t even remember the closest town. We did grow rice and vegetables, and there were some chickens.” He pieced together the fragmented memories. “But it was a very long time ago.”

“It must have, I couldn’t tell at all.” She was thoughtful, and he realized he might have shared too much. But she didn’t pry, instead asking. “Did you have any baby chicks?”

“Not that this one can remember.”

“That’s too bad.” Disappointment showed on her face.

He smiled. The image of Kaoru, cradling fluffy chicks in her arms, was sweet.

In a corner near an empty waiting area, they finally found a working vending machine. Kaoru cheered at its presence, peering within to decide on her snacks. She was terribly adorable, depositing her change and punching the buttons. Holding her coffee and a package of chocolate-covered biscuits, she beamed. “Alright, your turn!”

As she walked past, he caught the scent of jasmine flowers. Too subtle to be perfume, it must have been her shampoo. He thought it was pleasant.

“Kenshin? Aren’t you going to buy something?”

He jolted, realizing he hadn’t moved. “A-ah, yes.” Breathing deeply to settle his nerves, he chose a bottle of green tea, and the same cookies she picked. She had already opened her drink and sipped it as they walked back.

“Whew, I feel a lot better.”

“That’s good. You need your strength for the hours ahead.”

“Yeah. I still wish I had more sleep, but I just remind myself that at least, I’m not in one of the hospital beds. That was much harder.”

“And now, you’re here. Your patients are extremely fortunate to have you, because you understand what it must be like.”

Her blush had returned in full force. She nodded, before her brows drew together. “Wait-”

Overhead, the loudspeaker crackled, calling for a medical response team. They both stopped, listening attentively. The alert meant that a patient’s condition was deteriorating. He checked his list as the room number was announced. It did not belong to any of his charges, and judging from how Kaoru exhaled, it wasn’t any of hers either. But elsewhere, someone was struggling and their colleagues were doing everything they could to save them.

As they approached familiar walls, it was his pager’s turn to vibrate, and reluctantly, he excused himself.

***

After midnight, he had one emergency surgery, for a patient that had gone into hemorrhagic shock. Two hours later, he emerged from the operating room, the worst outcome kept at bay. He ordered for two units of blood, to be transfused if the patient was anemic, and headed back to the workroom.

Kaoru had her earbuds in, obviously engrossed. Upon his entrance, she removed them and greeted him. “Hey, Kenshin. How’d it go?”

“Well enough. The patient is stable for now, but this one will keep a close eye. Did you have any new admissions?”

“Just one in the emergency room, who’s waiting to be placed in a room, but it seems like a straightforward case. History of glycogen storage disorder, so I’ve been reading up.”

“This one didn’t realize articles were accessible on CD.” He had noticed the small player next to her keyboard, that had appeared in his absence.

“Oh, no, this is an audiobook. It’s an old one, I already know all the twists. I only replay it because of the narrator.” Her expression became very fond.

“Ah.” Inwardly, he was caught off guard, but he maintained a neutral face. “Is he a good actor?”

“I think she was. This book is one of my mother’s recordings, after all. Would you like to hear her?”

Somewhat embarrassed, he agreed, and she transferred the CD to her computer. Momentarily, a woman’s gentle voice filled the air. Her cadence and intonation were similar to Kaoru’s, and she switched between characters with impressive ease. It seemed to be an anthology of short stories.

“You were not wrong; her performance is wonderful.”

“I’m glad you think so! She’d be happy to hear that, if she were alive.” Kaoru clarified. “She had lupus, and she passed away from kidney failure when I was young. She couldn’t get a transplant in time. The Mirror Wing in the main hospital is named for her.” The dialysis unit was located there.

“You must miss her.”

“I do, but at least, I have Okaa-san in this way. Not many people can say the same.”

He definitely couldn’t. Then, the staccato beeps of her pager interrupted them again. He was beginning to dislike that particular ring.

By three in the morning, Kaoru was starting to falter. She was continuing to type on her computer, but her head nodded and she occasionally jolted, unconsciously trying to stay awake.

“Kaoru-dono.”

“Hmm?” Her gaze lifted, though not quite focusing.

“Please, get some rest. The work can wait.” He gently said. “This one can turn the lights off, if that would help.”

“Would you? That’d be really nice.” She murmured.

He flipped the switches, leaving the glow of his monitor. “If there was a bed, that would be better.”

“It’s okay. Hospital beds aren’t very comfy.” She certainly spoke from experience. She opened one of her desk drawers, taking out a spare surgical mask. “Please don’t tell anyone else in your department.”  Before he could inquire further, she proceeded to wear it over her face, and it was large enough to cover her eyes.

He had to stifle his laughter. “This one promises.”

It was uneventful afterwards, without beeping pagers or loudspeaker announcements. He lasted another hour and a half, before he felt the familiar pull of exhaustion. He logged off and sat back in his chair. He could never fully sleep while on the job. That was especially true now, with Kamiya Kaoru in the same room, softly breathing.

It was Director Kamiya who had offered him a place at Kamiya Kasshin, while he was still working for Katsura. He had been disillusioned and burnt out, entertaining ideas of quitting medicine. He was too ashamed to talk to Hiko, but he caved to the “fates” as his guardian liked to refer to them. Akane, Kasumi, and Sakura had sat him down, persuading him to take the new job before deciding anything further. Akane was particularly fervent, she had never liked Katsura.

So, he had accepted the position and adjusting to the new work environment occupied him. Then, the accident happened. It was on a night not too different from this one, and he had also been on call. He heard there was a group of people, on the phone with the director at the crash site, trying to obtain details. He had run to that desk, preparing to encourage the man who had helped him so far. It was at the other end of the hospital and he was relatively late, everyone else mobilizing for the victims’ arrival. When he picked up the phone, he was out of breath. “Kamiya-dono?”

Instead of Director Kamiya’s voice, there was a young, feminine one. Choked with tears, but still strong. “Hello? Please, can you hear me?”

One fateful conversation, and she reminded him of what he loved about his profession. But she didn’t seem to remember. That was alright, the memory was wrapped up in tragedy, and he didn’t want to hurt her. Getting to know her was enough. Even after six years, she was very much the same woman he had spoken to. Compassionate, brave, honest.

Hiko, being his usual infuriating self, had accused him of having a crush, although Kenshin was disgruntled. Not that Kaoru wasn’t attractive, but it was not the point. It wasn’t a crush, he was immensely grateful to Kaoru as well as her late father, for his current life. Originally, he was trying to repay their kindness, in what little he could manage on his part. So far, he enjoyed spending time with her, even when on call. Around her, and for that matter, their other workroom colleagues, he felt at ease in a way that he hadn’t experienced in decades.

But if she asked about him…? He hadn’t decided what he would do yet.

***

Kenshin slowly emerged from his trance. The blinds had been opened, the sky pink with dawn. He clicked his mouse and the monitor lit with the time. Just past six. Night call was almost over.

Kaoru’s chair was empty, and he drowsily recalled her rummaging about, before the door closed. She must have gone to pre-round on her patients, to check on them before meeting with the rest of her team. He hoped they would let her go before noon.

He relayed the night’s events to the day shift’s surgeon, who insisted that everything would be taken care of and please get some rest, Dr. Himura. But he went to check on his shock patient, who was thankfully stable. Then, the parents arrived in the waiting area, and he took the opportunity to speak to them. By the time he returned to retrieve his things, it was already ten. Kaoru was also there, greeting him as if she hadn’t spent the night at the hospital.

“Morning, Kenshin!”

“Good morning. How were your rounds?” He inquired, clearing his desk.

“Quick, thank goodness.”

“And how are you?”

“I feel fine. Well, I know it’s fake, I’ll probably crash once I get home. I’m just going to submit my notes, and then, I’ll go.” She didn’t sit down, her eyes glued to her screen as she logged in. A few clicks, and then, she grabbed her bag. “Done! Geez, I’m ready to leave.”

“Good work, Kaoru-dono.”

“You too.” Despite how little she must have slept, her smile was as radiant as ever. “But you’re still here? I thought you would have been out by now.”

“This one had a few tasks, but this one was just about to leave as well. After you.” He urged her ahead of him. They shared an elevator down, luckily without any stops.

“Have you already eaten breakfast?” She asked.

“This one had a leftover rice ball. The cafeteria is…” His weary mind searched for a word that would be appropriate.

“I know, I really want Tae to expand her hours, but she can’t while she has her regular job. I think I have cup ramen in my pantry.”

“Next time, this one will bring enough onigiri to share.”

“Next time?” She repeated, emphasizing the implication of another call shift in the near future, but she was laughing. “Would they have caffeine in them?”

He smiled at her. “For you, this one will make an exception.”

Her cheeks grew pink. “Thank you, I’ll look forward to it.” After a pause, she added. “What would even be inside such onigiri? Instant coffee?”

Matcha powder actually, but he needed to perfect that recipe. “It would be a surprise.”

“Geez!”

They passed the lobby, and bright sunshine filled his vision. After spending so long in the hospital, it was a relief to be out in the open again. The cloudless sky was an immaculate blue, the fresh air crisp. Beside him, Kaoru sighed, her lips curving. The wind tossed her ponytail, and she shoved her hands in her pockets, continuing on. Suddenly aware that he was staring again, he picked up his feet. Then, they were already at the garage and had to part ways. Work had truly ended.

“Drive safe and sleep well! I’ll see you on Monday!” She waved and he did the same.

“Take care.”

There was no traffic, and his empty apartment was cool. It was quiet as he meticulously cleaned his belongings. As he walked to his bedroom, he barely made a sound. The shower seemed too loud, and so did the hair dryer. Slipping between his clean sheets, he noticed the lack of scent. After leaving his glasses on his nightstand, he checked his phone again. Nothing new, which was supposed to be good. He hovered over Kaoru’s name in the group chat. Well…it wouldn’t hurt. His thumb pressed down, and he began to type.

This one hopes you returned home without issue and that you have a relaxing weekend.

With the message sent, he locked the screen. She could reply on her own time.

And at last, he closed his eyes.

[yusuke-of-valla]

like rats fleeing a sinking ship, pt. 9

Whumptober Day 20: Toto I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore

Prompt: Lost

TW: Panic attacks

<-Previous Next->

AO3

~

The first thing Futaba realizes when she drifts into consciousness is how cold she is.

“Sojiro, did you forget to pay the heating bill?” Futaba asks, reaching out to pull her blanket tighter. 

Instead of her comforter, she smacks her hand against old rotting wood. Futaba’s eyes snap open, and she realizes she’s not in her room.

It all comes back to her.

The announcement, the crash, Sojiro.

Futaba must have passed out against this tree while hiding from the search party. 

Futaba starts breathing heavily. She has no idea where she is, she has not idea where she’s supposed to go, she’s in the woods alone and covered in scrapes and bruises and she is so, so  hungry.

Tears in her eyes, Futaba tries to go through the breathing exercises Makoto taught her. It takes a few tries to get her breath to stop hitching and everything to even out, but eventually Futaba manages to calm herself down. She pokes her head out above the tree. There’s no signs of people, and she’s about to try and get up, when a twig snaps behind her. 

If she were Oracle, this wouldn’t be a problem. Nothing would be able to hide from her. But she isn’t Oracle right now, she’s just Futaba and all she has are her instincts screaming at her to get out of here.

Futaba scrambles over the log, just as she hears shouting behind her.

“Hey, wait up!”

Futaba pumps her legs even harder. She remembers a game like this where the character was being chased by a monster and zigzagged through the woods to get it off his trail, so that’s what she does.

Futaba moves back and forth, thoroughly confusing herself and thus hopefully confusing her pursuer as well.

Suddenly she trips over a rock and tumbles into a bush. Bites her cheek to keep from crying out and presses herself as close to the ground as possible, hoping the mud in her hair and jacket will work as camouflage.

She holds her breath when she hears the footsteps getting nearer, and doesn’t let it out until they’ve faded away completely. Futaba gives it a few more minutes to be sure that her pursuers are gone, then gets up and starts in the opposite direction.

She walks for… well it feels like an hour but it’s probably closer to fifteen minutes, shivering when something rustles in the bushes beside her.

Futaba only has time to grab a large stick before the thing in the bushes jumps out. Her intention is to bat it away with the stick, but Futaba just falls over.

She sits up to see a white shiba inu staring at her.

“G-get away!” Futaba says, swinging the stick. To her surprise, the dog listens sitting back. The dog actually looks kinda concerned. 

They stare at each other for a while, before Futaba slowly lowers her stick. “You don’t work for the police do you?”

The dog shakes his head, and looks at the stick, as if asking permission to come closer.

“Well, ok if you’re not gonna make any noise, I guess you can come over,” Futaba says, putting the stick down. The dog approaches her slowly, and starts to lick her face. “Ah, don’t do that I’m dirty. You’ll get sick,” Futaba says, gingerly petting him. 

Oh wow, this dog is soft and warm. Futaba moves closer to scratch him under the chin.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Futaba says, relaxing a bit.

“Koromaru?” A voice calls. Futaba stops petting the dog and grabs her stick, turning around to point it at the newcomer. The boy doesn’t look that much older than her.

“Oh, you’re Sakura-san right?”

“No,” Futaba says, thinking quickly. “I was… camping! With my parents, but I got lost.”

The boy smiles. “No, you don’t have to lie. It’s fine, I know you’re a Phantom Thief.”

“What’s a Phantom Thief?” Futaba says. “My parents and I have been camping out here for a long time so we’ve missed a lot of news.”

“Seriously, it’s fine. I promise I’m not going to turn you in. Koromaru seems to like you, and he’d never forgive me if I let that happen,” the boy says, throwing a look at the dog, who is by Futaba’s leg.

“You can say that, but how can I trust you?” Futaba asks, looking for an opening to make a break for it. This boy doesn’t look much older than her, but he’s certainly taller than her and would probably catch her if she ran.

“Ok how about this.” The boy takes out a gun, and Futaba stumbles backwards. Instead of pointing it at her, though he points it towards his own head and pulls the trigger. 

Instead of blood, blue light fills the woods and Futaba stares up at what is undoubtedly a Persona.

“H-how are you doing that in the real world?” Futaba gasps, barely registering the stick falling out of her hands.

The boy grins. “I’ve had a lot of practice. Look, my name’s Ken Amada, and my friends and I are all Persona users like you, and we want to help.”

Futaba gathers herself. “Just because you have a Persona doesn’t automatically mean you’re trustworthy.”

Amada’s smile drops. “I guess not. But, I promise we want to help. We investigate things related to Shadows and Personas but Shido’s been getting in our way for over a year now. We’re on the same side.”

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, but something in Futaba tells her she can trust him, almost as if the sight of another Persona has stirred Prometheus within her.

“And who are you and you’re friends?” Futaba asks.

“We’re called the Shadow Operatives.”

That name rings a bell, and Futaba remembers seeing them mentioned in her research into Cognitive Psience and when they hacked Sae’s computer.

“Ok.” Futaba says. “I-I’ll go with you. B-but if you try anything, I won’t hold back! I am a Phantom Thief, and you don’t want to be my enemy.” To prove her point, Futaba picks up her stick again.

Futaba follows Amada and Koromaru until they arrive at a car by the road. Amada waves to the driver then opens the door for Futaba to get in. She does so, and Koromaru sits on her lap. Amada makes a call, and soon three other people arrive. 

A gorgeous woman with voluminous red hair gets into the back with her, followed by Amada. A stern looking man in a suit gets into the front, and soon they’re on the road.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” the man in the front says, looking at her in the rearview mirror. “I’m Detective Kurosawa. Sojiro called me for help after you left Tokyo.”

“Oh, really?” Futaba asks, still gripping her stick. She’s getting wood and dirt all over this fancy car, but she doesn’t care.

Kurosawa nods. “I used to work with him, and your mother.”

Futaba’s eyes widen. “Seriously? You know my mom?”

“Yes, you’re a lot like her,” Kurosawa says. Futaba blushes, and turns to the woman in the back seat with her.

“And you are?”

The woman smiles, and reaches out her hand. “My name is Mitsuru Kirijo,” she says as Futaba shakes her hand. “Ken has already told you about the Shadow Operatives, no?” the woman asks.

“Yeah.”

“We’re an organization that looks into threats from shadow activity. As I’m sure you can guess, that means we get involved a lot with Cognitive Psience, and we were following your mother’s work before she passed away.” Kirijo offers Futaba a sad smile, but Futaba waves her off. “Our group has been trying to look into the mental shutdown incidents for a long time now, but at every level we’ve been blocked by Masayoshi Shido. We know you aren’t involved with them because the Phantom Thieves only recently became active, so we were hoping you would be able to help.”

“What do you want my help for?” Futaba asks.

“We’d like you to tell us everything you know about the mental shutdowns and Shido.” 

Futaba looks between Kirijo, Amada, and Koromaru in her lap. “Fine.”

She tells them about her mother, about how the Phantom Thieves helped her, about Shido and Akechi and how they were set up. When she finishes, Kirijo has a serious expression on her face, and Amada looks like he wants march into the Diet building and smack Shido himself.

“We’re here.” Kurosawa announces as they pull up next to a fancy looking building.

Kirijo leads Futaba into the building, nodding at the receptionist, and finally they arrive in what looks like a living area.

“You’ve been through a lot, Sakura. Why don’t you get some rest,” Kirijo says. Futaba wants to argue, insist she’s fine but even she can feel how sluggish she is. The last time she slept in two days was in the woods in the freezing cold, and the adrenaline that had been keeping her going for the last few hours is starting to wear off. Futaba finds a guest room, kicks off her boots and passes out before her head even touches the pillow.

-_-_-

“... been asleep for how long?”

“Can you blame her, she’s exhausted. The doctor said she should wake up soon.”

Futaba opens her eyes and sees two people talking just outside the open door to her room. One’s a man with a cross necklace, and the other is…

“Excuse me, are you Yukari Takeba?” Futaba blurts out. The two people turn in surprise, then the man laughs.

“Let me guess, you’re a fan of Featherman?” he asks.

“Obviously.”

The Yukari Takeba elbows the man, then turns to Futaba. “Yes, I’m Yukari Takeba, and this is Junpei Iori. Are you feeling alright? You’ve been asleep for three days.”

“That’s not really weird for me,” Futaba says, throwing off the covers. Her discarded jacket and boots have been cleaned, though the clothes she fell asleep in are still pristine. Her stick is also propped up next to her boots, and that makes Futaba happier than she would have expected.

“Go get yourself cleaned off, and then you can meet us in the meeting area.” Iori says.

“I will, thanks.”

Futaba has what is probably the best shower in her entire life, and puts on the clothes that have been laid out for her. The blouse is a bit nicer than Futaba is used to and she has to roll up the pants, but they’re comfortable and smell nice so she walks into the meeting room feeling confident and refreshed.

When she gets there, she sees the Shadow Operatives she’s already met, along with a woman with light blue hair, a blonde woman who Futaba quickly realizes is actually a robot, and a man with silver hair.

“Futaba, you’re just in time!” Iori says when he sees her enter. “You’ve already met pretty much everyone here, but this is Aigis, Akihiko Sanada, and Dr. Fuuka Yamagishi.”

The blue haired woman smiles. “I’m not quite a doctor yet, I still need to finish my dissertation.”

“Eh, you’re practically there already,” Iori says.

“I-It’s nice to meet you all.” Unfortunately, no amount of showering is going to help her when she knows everyone in the room is staring at her, but Futaba tries to keep her calm. “So, you guys said we might be able to help each other?”

“That’s right.” Kirijo says, standing up.

“Well then, can you help me figure out what happened to Sojiro?” Futaba asks. “H-he’s probably worried about me.”

Yukari Fucking Takeba’s face falls. “Sojiro Sakura has been arrested.”

Futaba pales. “What are they doing to him?” She remembers going to see Akira after his little stint in a police station. He’d been asleep and Morgana had warned her not to wake him, but even from the other side of the attic, Futaba could tell he’d been absolutely riddled with bruises and his breathing sounded labored.

And that was after less than a day. Who knew what they were doing to Sojiro, all because he decided to help her. He’d warned them. He’d suspected Shido and didn’t tell her because he thought they’d go after him and get themselves killed and now it’s actually Sojiro who’s going to end up dead.

“Futaba!” A voice pierces through her thoughts. Futaba blinks and realizes Iori is kneeling next to her. “Just breathe ok. In and out.”

Futaba follows his instructions and lets herself be guided to the couch. The blonde robot woman— Aigis? It was Aigis, right?— offers her a glass of water that Futaba takes.

“Listen, Sojiro’s going to be fine.” Iori says.

“We know that there’s plans for him to go on trial, there’s going to be an announcement tonight,” Aigis says.

“It’ll be public, I doubt they’ll do too much to him before then,” Kirijo says.

“But after that, they’ll throw him in prison,” Futaba says. “Or make him disappear or-”

“We won’t let that happen,” Kirijo says. “We will do everything in our power to make sure your father is alright. You have my word.”

Futaba drinks her glass of water and doesn’t say anything.

“We need to change Shido’s heart.,” Futaba says. “Then he’ll admit to everything and our names will be cleared.”

“What would you need to do that?” Sanada asks.

“Ok, well then we need to get back to Tokyo and find my friends,” Futaba says.

Kirijo frowns. “That will be difficult. Apparently the police force is watching all the entry points into Tokyo, and we’ve all been blacklisted.”

“There has to be something .” Futaba insists.

“Actually. I have an idea,” Yamagishi says, quietly. All eyes in the room turn to her. “Sakura-chan, your Persona is suited towards navigation, right?”

Futaba blinks. “Yeah, why?”

“Mine is too, and navigators get stronger when they use their abilities in tandem. There’s a device we can use to amplify the power of support personas. If we used that, and had Mitsuru and Rise to help, we might be able to generate enough of a range to reach Tokyo. It wouldn’t be amazing but at least you could talk to your friends or maybe keep track of enemy weaknesses.”

“Wouldn’t we still need access to that… uh Metaverse you told us about?” Sanada asks.

“I can do that,” Futaba says. “I-” she reaches into her pocket, and then remembers she lost her phone. “Ok… Uh, I’ll need a laptop or something. I have backdoors into all of my friend’s phones. And Akechi’s, I guess. I can hack into their phones and copy it off of one theirs, and then we can boot up the app and run it here.”

Sanada and Kirijo share a look. “Think it’ll work?” Sanada asks.

“It’s possible,” Mitsuru says. “It would be rather draining but-”

“We have to try .” Futaba insists. “Please, Sojiro-”

“We understand,” The Actual Yukari Takeba says. “We’ll help you in any way we can.”

The Shadow Ops continue the conversation and say a few things, Futaba doesn’t pay attention to. She looks around the room for a laptop or something to get on line.

They insist Futaba eat food and rest a bit before letting her at a computer. It’s simple enough to hack into Akechi’s phone through the backdoor she left earlier and download the MetaNav onto the computer. 

What’s less fun is the official announcement that night that Sae’s been arrested too and would stand trial with Sojiro. 

Futaba doesn’t sleep that night. She sits up and wonders what the hell could have happened if Sae’s been caught. And where Makoto is, until finally she’s had enough of being in her own head.

Instead Futaba hacks into the Shadow Operatives files, and gets as much dirt on them as she can. She finds the schematics for the amplifier Yamagishi was talking about and starts taking notes.

The next morning, Futaba goes to the living area and sees Yukari “Feather Pink Herself” Takeba.

“Do you know where Mitsuru is? I’ve been looking through the schematics on the amplifier and I think I’ve figured out some ways to make it stronger.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Nah, but it’s fine.” Futaba says. While she’s here, she might as well get something to drink. She wants coffee, but that makes her think about Sojiro too much, so she grabs a hot chocolate packet and some marshmallows out of the counter.

Yukari Takeba, Seriously It’s Really Her, sits down on the counter across the table. “Is it alright if I call you Futaba-chan?”

Futaba nearly chokes on the marshmallows she’d been stuffing into her mouth. “I mean, yeah sure, if you want. That’d be cool.”

“Listen, Futaba-chan,” Yukari “Holy Shit She’s Using My Name” Takeba says. “I know you’re worried about your friends, but you can’t spread yourself too thin. You’re just doing yourself a disservice by wearing yourself out.”

“I did everyone a disservice by running away,” Futaba mutters.

“You’re not, though. You’re safe, and I’m sure your friends would be happy to know that at least. And we will get you out of this mess.”

“Yeah, you need our help or whatever and-”

“We also wanted to make sure as many of you were as ok as we possibly could. You’re kids-”

“Are you saying we can’t handle this?” Futaba snaps.

“Not at all. I’d be a hypocrite if I did too, considering what we got up to at your age. But that means you still deserve to feel safe and not have to watch your backs, especially since you were almost certainly innocent. I’m sorry you feel like you have to push yourself this much, but let me tell you, you don’t. Things will be fine, better even, if you let yourself relax and recover.”

Futaba stares at her drink, then back at Takeba. Then she feels the tears start.

“I just… I can barely do anything, and-”

Futaba doesn’t realize Takeba’s walked over to her until Futaba feels arms wrap around her. “You’re stronger than you think. I promise. You can do this, your friends can do this, and everything will be fine.”

Futaba lets herself cry into Takeba’s shoulder for a long time, all the fear and worry of the situation finally catching up with her.

When Futaba’s all cried out, she pulls away. “Thanks, Takeba-san.” Futaba says.

“You can call me Yukari. You’re an honorary Shadow Operative now, after all.”

“Really?”

“Oh, definitely.” Ta- Yukari straightens and pulls out a mug of her own. “Now, do you want sprinkles on your hot chocolate?”

After that, Futaba takes Yukari’s advice and gets some sleep, then works with Kirijo and Yamagishi on her device.

Oh she also meets Rise God Damn Kujikawa, who has a Persona, which is insane.

The day after her conversation with Yukari in the kitchen, Futaba opens her computer and runs the MetaNav, inputting the coordinates for Shido’s ship. This won’t do anything if no one’s there, but hopefully they can figure out something. 

Yamagishi, Kirijo, and Seriously Is That Actually Rise Kujikawa, summon their Personas, and Futaba does the same, pleasantly surprised to feel Prometheus, even if she can’t manage to fully bring him into reality like the others.

“Alright, let’s start.” Futaba reaches out, feeling around Shido’s ship. It’s fuzzier than usual, but her breath hitches as she gets a familiar ping from Prometheus. 

“I’ve got a reading.”

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Whumptober No.20

“Ow! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Rios hissed through clenched teeth, staring at his shoulder in disbelief. An arrow was protruding from it, its head deeply buried in his flesh.

“Cris!”

Agnes dropped to one knee beside him, blue eyes anxious.

“Stay down!”

That was Elnor, his phaser spitting fire at the handful of natives they definitely shouldn’t have underestimated. More arrows clattered against the pile of boulders they were sheltering behind.

“Ow, dios, fucking hell!”

Rios was writhing on the ground like one of those idiots in an old cowboy movie, too stupid to take cover when the shit hit the fan.

“Don’t move! Stay still! Cris!”

Agnes had her hands on his chest and hip, trying to keep him from rolling. She looked afraid but determined in that shaky, fierce way she had when things went out of control. And keeping still was probably a good idea when you had an arrow stuck in you, so Rios made an effort at complying, hissing another curse to channel his pain and fury.

This was not how a first contact was supposed to go down.

“That’s it. Hold still.”

Rios rolled his head as much as the pain allowed to see what Agnes was doing. She took one look, then ripped his shirt open around the arrow shaft and inspected what they were dealing with. A little nauseous, Cris saw the arrow sticking out of his skin below his collarbone, shuddering with each breath he took, blood oozing up around the shaft and smearing his chest.

“Shit.”

Agnes tore her bandana from her neck and pressed it down around the wound. Rios bit back a scream.

“Picard!” She shouted into her comm badge. “We’re under attack! The captain’s been hit! Beam us up immediately!”

The reply was quick and disheartening: “Negative. Their defense system is blocking our transporter signal. I can’t get a lock.”

Oh, come on! They were shooting arrows, but their technology outsmarted La Sirena’s?!

Cris groaned.

Over Agnes’ shoulder, he saw Elnor rise cautiously and sweep the sight of his phaser across the landscape. But he’d stopped shooting, and the shower of arrows had ceased.

“Cris is hurt,” he heard Agnes shout urgently. “He needs medical assistance, and he needs it now!”

“I’m sorry, doctor Jurati,” the Emergency Engineering Hologram’s voice responded in Picard’s stead. “We’re tryna find a work-around, but I dinna ken how long that’ll take.”

“And Emil?” Agnes sounded anxious. “Can you send him down at least?”

“Negative.” That was the clean British accent of the EMH. “Holographic patterns are blocked as well. I will have to assist you from here. At least the bioscanners are working. Captain Rios’ vitals are indicating a traumatic injury including blood loss. What exactly is the nature of his medical emergency?”

Agnes groaned, tipping her head back to close her eyes for a second of endless frustration. Rios fought down a surge of fear. They were stranded, he was wounded with no help available, and if Agnes fell apart now…

But she didn’t. Rios saw her pull herself together. She took a deep breath, murmured a quick “okay”, and when she opened her eyes again, they were filled with new determination.

“He has an arrow stuck in his left shoulder, below his collarbone, close to the joint,” she reported. “There’s bleeding, but it doesn’t look arterial.”

“Copy that,” Emil’s voice came back. “Your observations concur with my readings. Do you see an exit wound?”

The bastard sounded intrigued.

Agnes touched Rios’ face. “Can you roll a little? I need to check your back.”

Cris nodded back and did as told. Gingerly, he shifted his body weight to his right side and lifted his left to turn on his side.

Ow. Ow. Ow.

He felt Agnes slide her hand behind his back and run it across his shoulder blade.

“Okay. It didn’t go through.” She exhaled. “No exit wound.”

Gently, she helped him back into his flat position.

“Meaning the head’s embedded inside,” said a matter-of-fact voice. “It will be all the more difficult to get it out.”

Elnor had joined them, apparently finished with their attackers. Judging by his usual efficiency, they were all lying stunned in the grass, out for the next hour or so. He’d had orders from Picard not to shoot to kill, and he mostly took orders seriously.

“Thanks for your candor,” Cris gritted out. “As usual, it’s very refreshing.”

The Romulan squatted down beside him, unperturbed, but he rested one hand on Rios’ arm in a comforting gesture. His honesty had nothing to do with unkindness.

“We’re not taking the arrow out here, Elnor,” Agnes informed them both. “We’ll leave that to Emil once we have Cris back on board.”

“Good idea,” Rios rasped. Agnes was still pressing the bandana down on his wound, and every time her fingers only so much as brushed against the arrow shaft, pain flared up sickeningly, burrowing along a fiery path through his shoulder. He couldn’t even imagine the agony of pulling the damn thing out without anesthesia.

“I’m afraid we can’t wait that long,” the EMH chimed in. “The scans tell me that Captain Rios’ system is being compromised by a class B biotoxin. I assume the arrowhead was coated with it.”

Chesumadre.

At least it explained the curious pins-and-needles feeling that had sprung up in Cris’ hands and feet. Unless that was related to shock, and Cris was pretty sure that shock was an item on the getting-shot-by-an-arrow checklist.

He craned his neck to look at Agnes. She looked… spooked.

“What’s a… class B biotoxin?” Elnor asked, sounding both curious and worried.

“It’s a type of poisonous agent that affects the central nervous system,” she explained, reverting to professionalism while Cris could see the worry in her eyes. “It paralyzes the muscles. Type B means it’s slower-acting, which is good, because it gives us a little time, otherwise…”

She put one hand against Cris’ neck, feeling his pulse, and bent lower to check his eyes.

“Do you feel any symptoms? Any numbness or weakness?”

Cris swallowed. “I have pins and needles in my hands and feet.”

Admittedly, the pain and the fear were slowly getting to him. He was used to the EMH materializing by his side in any case of emergency, wielding his tricorder and hyposprays and generally getting on his nerves while fixing him up. He was also used to stoically waving the hologram away and dealing with minor injuries on his own. But this wasn’t minor, and he could feel it.

Agnes’ cheeks flushed with worry.

“Can you squeeze my hand?”

She’d placed hers into his right, good one. Rios closed his fingers around hers and squeezed, but his grip felt odd, tingly, and from the way Agnes’ forehead creased he could tell something was wrong.

“Weakness in his right hand,” she spoke loudly into her comm unit. “I can’t check his left because of the injury.”

“Noted.” There was a moment of silence before the EMH spoke again, his voice sounding uncommonly grave. “Doctor Jurati, you have to remove the arrow, and you have to do it quickly.”

Oh fuck.

To Rios’ surprise, Agnes nodded without hesitation. She looked shaken, but like someone who had seen this coming. Her hand still held Cris’, and it was dry and warm.

“Affirmative,” she said. “How do I do it?”

“There is a small med kit in your backpack,” the EMH replied.

Elnor grabbed the backpack that she’d shucked off during the attack and pulled a silver case out from its bottom.

“I have it!”

“Open it,” Emil instructed. “It should hold disinfectant, bandages, a laser scalpel, a dermal regenerator and a hypospray with several loading vials.”

While Rios watched Agnes rifle through the kit, her lips moving as she read the medication labels to herself, he noticed a certain detachment overcoming him. Pain was still fanning out across his shoulder, reaching into his back and chest, but he somehow seemed to care less. The tingling sensation was creeping up his arms and legs. Was this shock or the poison?

“Agnes,” he rasped. “I… I feel strange.”

She stopped rummaging and stared at him. Her eyes were intense.

“What do you mean, ‘strange’?”

“I don’t… numb. Weird.”

It was true. His body felt heavy, and the tingling sensation had reached his stomach and neck. His thoughts as well felt… shrouded.

Agnes tore her eyes away from him and looked up, into the sky. “Emil? Did you hear this?”

“I did. We need to hurry, Doctor Jurati.”

Rios listened with increasing difficulty as the EMH listed instructions. Something about cutting wide enough to evacuate the arrowhead in one piece and about using the dermal regenerator to help get the bleeding under control. Something else about not cutting the axillary artery and staying clear of the radial nerve. Sadly, he didn’t catch anything about anesthetics, and he felt too sluggish to ask.

Agnes’ face reappeared in his line of vision. She brushed her blond curls out of her face and gave him a shaky smile.

“Okay, Cris. I’m going to be as quick as I can, but it’s going to hurt. Elnor will help you keep still.”

She blinked, blue eyes braver than anyone could have guessed she could be, and he met her gaze in silent trust. Elnor’s face hovered into view next to hers as he got into position, giving Cris a firm, wordless nod.

The EMH’s voice returned: “Ready, doctor Jurati?”

“Ready.”

Agnes pressed a hypospray to his neck that made him feel lightheaded. Elnor’s arms came down across his chest and hips, and Cris saw white-blue light flash as Agnes lifted the laser scalpel. Then the pain came. It bit into him, the smell of blood mixing with that of cauterized flesh, and he gasped. But the pain didn’t let up, and Agnes didn’t stop. He felt the laser cutting deep into his shoulder, relentless, and Cris arched his head back and released a scream. Elnor held him down, murmuring strings of Romulan - prayers? And Cris screamed, and Agnes cut, and the disembodied voice of the EMH drifted from the sky, and then Cris thought he would lose his mind as Agnes grabbed the arrow tight and pulled it up, pulled it through muscle and tissue and skin with a sick, slurping sound, and then, gracias a dios- darkness.

The pain wasn’t gone when he came to, an indefinite amount of lost time later, on La Sirena’s transporter pad, cradled in Elnor’s and Agnes’ arms, but the EMH was already bearing down on him with a hypospray. A hiss. A cool sensation, and then the pain ebbed away, and so did his fear at seeing his own chest splattered with blood and smeared all over Agnes. Cris heard voices, saw faces, but he couldn’t move, didn’t want to move. He only wanted to know if it was over and if he could go to sleep without worrying if he would ever wake up again.

He felt himself being lifted onto something soft, and, on his back, stared at the ceiling of the transporter room, then at Agnes leaning over him as they moved.

Her cheeks were wet, but she was smiling as she placed her hand on his forehead.

“It’s over. You’re okay.”

Cris closed his eyes and went to sleep.

[fandomoniumflurry]

Anise

Sam Winchester x OFC Marta

for @spnabobingo​ Square: Gunpowder/Leather/Anise

for @spnkinkbingo​ Square: Free Space

for @deanandsambingo​ Square: A/B/O

Rated M for Mature: some sex and swearing, abo dynamics, rut/heat

“I swear to God, you take one more step, I will pull this trigger.” The fire in her eyes proved the seriousness of her statement. Her hands didn’t shake and her body gave no hint of relaxation nor fear, only determination and steadfastness. Seeing that she would not be backing down, Sam stopped and slowly raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t even think of playing hero, Hercules. Toss the gun.” Her head gestured as if she could see the pistol in the back of his jeans, right through his stomach. 

Sam’s nostrils flared, more out of annoyance than intimidation or defiance. He pulled the gun from its resting place and made a show of slowly tossing it in her direction. “Call off your bodyguard too.” The Winchester’s face fell and his eyes turned to where his brother was waiting in the shadows. “If you don’t want a bullet through Shaggy’s head, I’d come out and play, Scooby Doo.” She held her gaze on the younger man as she addressed the eldest that stepped out of the brush. “Seems like I’ve found the island of the Amazon Wonder Men.” She stated with a straight face and Dean’s eyes rolled. “Get rid of your piece too, Ken Doll.” Her head gestured again as she eyed Dean from the corner of her peripheral.

“How did you know I was out there?” The elder questioned as he pulled his own gun and tossed it to her feet. 

She scoffed a light laugh as she turned her gaze slightly more toward him, Sam still clearly in her sight. “Are you shitting me? You two are the smelliest Alphas I’ve ever scented. I could smell you coming a mile away.” Dean’s lips pursed as he internally cursed his own genetics. “Gotta say though, you two do smell good. Mixture of gunpowder, leather and …” Her face wrinkled in thought before she sniffed the air. “Anise.” Dean seemed confused by the word and looked to his brother for explanation. The younger shook his head, this not being the time for an herbalism lesson. “Just take it as a compliment, will ya?” 

They couldn’t pick up any kind of scent from her however. This caused Sam’s face to wrinkle and she caught him trying to catch a whiff as a breeze blew through her hair. “You won’t catch anything. I got a good witch doctor that whips me up some damn good suppressants.” 

Dean’s head nodded slowly as he flashed a crooked smirk. “So you’re an Omega. Pretty tough and feisty for a ‘Mega.” 

Her eyes lit up again with a burning flame as her head jolted toward him. “You’d do good to keep your fucking mouth closed about things you don’t understand.” He saw her finger twitch and he quickly took a half step back, lowering his head as if in submission. 

“What do you plan on doing with us? We can’t just stand out here like this until the end of time.” Sam spoke, grabbing her attention away from his brother once more. “You don’t seem like the cold blooded killer type.” 

“You don’t know me!” She growled, pushing her gun out further, her arm rigid and tight like a coil that could unfurl and fire at any moment. It appeared that she was losing her edge, whatever insecurities she had were being prodded to cause her rage to rise. This made her even more dangerous with a gun in their direction. Sam nodded and silenced himself, lowering his head in mirror to his brother. 

The heightened emotions seemed to burn through her suppressants because it was that moment that a new scent wafted through the air. Sam’s head shot up at the smell and fear flashed in her eyes when she realized what was happening. The arm with the gun fell and with a spin on her heels, she darted off in a flash. Sam moved to take chase but Dean was there with a firm hand to his chest to stop him. The taller man took in a slow breath, cleansing his nostrils of the lingering smell and composing himself, offering Dean a nod of thanks. 

“Do you think she’s the one that kidnapped the tourists?” Sam questioned as they made their way back to the Impala. 

Dean adjusted the collar of his jacket to block out the cool air before shrugging. “She’s our only suspect right now. The sooner we find her the better and hopefully, when we do, she’ll be in a better mood. And not have a gun.” Sam chuckled lightly, nodding in agreeance before they both climbed into the car, missing the fact that their perp was lingering in the darkening blackness of the treeline. 

She was coated in sweat, body quivering and her breathing quick and labored as her heart thudded rapidly in her chest. The suppressants were supposed to prevent this and yet here she was, thrown into the worst heat she had ever experienced since she presented at sixteen. She knew what had triggered it but didn’t want to accept it so it was just time to disappear again. She was good at that, running away without leaving a trace. She’d been doing it her whole life and she never really planned on stopping. No matter how good he smelled and no matter how much she wanted to chase him down, she took off running in the opposite direction. 

They weren’t even back to the motel before Sam was in full blown rut. The fever was so bad that Dean had to put him in an ice bath the moment they got to the room. It took far too long to fill the tub with one ice bucket and an ice machine all the way down the hall. Neither brother could understand why it had come on so early and so fast. The boys had a routine, their ruts usually coming around at the same time. They had time to prepare and make plans but this came with no warning so there was no preparation for this. 

She didn’t get very far either before she was down for the count. But unlike the Alpha, she was alone deep within the mountains, a tiny shack hidden in the trees. She had been alone for years but this time, all she wanted was to be held, to be knotted, to be loved. She wanted someone to help her through this time to the point it made the ache even worse. She had never wanted to have an Alpha to rely on until that damn Sasquatch showed up and destroyed the walls she had tried so hard to build up. 

“I can’t just leave you here and go out to look for some mysterious Omega!” Dean hated arguing with the stubborn younger Alpha. The eldest Winchester was tired and frazzled, without an idea of what else to do. 

“Then fucking call Cas!” Sam growled, his hair sticking to the sweat coating his face. His brother heaved a sigh, nodding in acquiescence. 

“You don’t know her name and you can only give me a brief description of how she looks. And you expect me to just magically find her?” Castiel’s deadpan expression caused Dean to narrow his gaze at the angel standing before him. 

“She smells like cocoa!” The youngest Winchester pushed out through ground teeth. Cas looked judgmentally toward the older brother and Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. 

“The last place we saw her was out in the woods. She headed north up into the mountains. That’s all I got, man. You gotta find her somehow. He refuses anything else and this rut is bad. He’s gonna let himself die. If he’s like this, I can only imagine what state she’s in.” Dean explained, his arms crossed over his chest, his concern and fear not hidden well beneath the firm wall of composure. 

Castiel’s shoulders lifted as he took in a slow breath and let it out with a nod of his head. “I will do the best I can. I will help Sam rest first.” He made his way to the bedside, placing his hand upon the thrashing Alpha’s forehead. Within a moment, the man calmed and drifted off into a deep sleep. The angel looked to the other Winchester now before the rush of wings preceded his disappearance. For the first time in a few hours, Dean finally sat down.

She had tossed her guns outside just because she couldn’t tolerate the lingering scent of gunpowder. Her leather jacket was locked away in the car with the leather interior. And yet the smell of him still lingered, like it was permanently burned into her nostrils. She swore and cursed in Spanish, yelling at God for besetting her with such horrid genes. 

But these prayers didn't reach God. No, they reached the ears of a blue eyed angel that was on the hunt for her. The lack of scent hid the angel from her senses until she spotted him out of the corner of her eye, standing near her bed. Letting out a scream, she slid off the bed and dropped to the floor. She didn’t get a good look at him and didn’t even cover her nakedness before everything went dark. 

“I had no time to explain.” Cas stated flatly, Dean covering his eyes with his hands the moment he spotted the naked women in the angel’s arms. 

“You couldn’t have at least gotten a blanket or something?” The Winchester questioned, his nose wrinkling when he caught her scent. Castiel didn’t answer, simply pushed past him to lay the sleeping Omega next to the knocked out younger Alpha. “We might wanna get outta here before they wake up. I really don’t want to see that side of my brother.” Cas didn’t give him time to prepare before he teleported them both away, leaving the pair in the bed. 

She was the first to wake, confused and groggy as her eyes slowly adjusted to reality. Her brain processed things slowly and it wasn’t until she began to sit up that she was reminded of her uninvited visitor. She was still naked but she wasn’t in as much pain, as a matter of fact she felt calmer, peaceful, safe. As she took in a breath, she would know why. The sweet smell of anise, coated in leather and dusted with gunpowder. 

Her head turned and there lay the large stranger she had ran from hours before. He was sleeping peacefully and she had never seen anything more beautiful. She didn’t even question how she had made it here, how he had found her, simply accepted the fact that they were back together. She didn’t know his name, where he lived, what he did for a living, it didn’t matter. He was hers and she needed him more than anything. 

She didn’t wait for him to wake up before she straddled his hips and began to roll her own against him. She groaned, throwing her head back as her slick coated his erection. He was definitely proportionate, perfectly long and thick just like the rest of him. Her hands came to rest on his firm chest and his eyes slowly opened to meet hers, a fire of lust and desire flashing in his hazel hues. 

“I’m Marta and I need you to fuck me now.” She spurted out, thick with her arousal, quiet and timid. He swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he seemed to hold himself back. “Please.” She whimpered as she rolled her hips. 

His fingers dug into her hip bones as he growled deep in his throat. “I’m Sam and I’m going to take care of you from now on.” His mouth crashed against hers and he easily rolled them over, wasting no time burying himself inside her. This first time would be quick and hungry but the couple would get to know each other deeply over the next few days. The final day of Sam’s rut, he would claim her, making her his forever. 

“Is it safe?” Dean asked after he knocked on the motel door. The two chuckled, cuddled up, a naked mess of limbs in the bed they barely got out of the past few days. 

“Give us another half hour.” Marta called out to the man she couldn’t wait to meet, having heard so much about him already. 

“Make it an hour!” Sam called before burying his head in her neck and nipping at the flesh.

There was an audible from outside the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” He stated flatly.

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Thanks for reading so far. This is the penultimate chapter in the story.

Thanks for @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and support.

Wee bit of angst... at first

Chapter 31: A Legal Precedent

Professor Callahan : Would you rather have a client who committed a crime malum in se or malum prohibitum?

Elle: Neither.

Professor Callahan: And why’s that?

Elle: I would rather have a client who’s innocent.

Legally Blonde

Jamie said nothing as Isobel drove them across the city to Geneva’s house. He sat still, his jaw clenched in tension, hands splayed on his knees. Isobel did not try to start any conversations. She wasn’t really sure what she could say anyway… nor what she should say to her mother and Geneva, especially if they expected her to ‘choose a side’.

Contemplating the situation, she felt that her best role would be to try to provide a calming and objective influence, much as she did with her students when dealing with hormone-fuelled teenage arguments.

Jamie was also contemplating the situation, but was not as clear as Isobel on his best role. His instinct was to go in all guns blazing, ready to shout and swear at Geneva and her mother, demanding that he be legally recognised as William’s father. He knew, however, that threats and demands would not help here, and could potentially harm his case, should it end up in court.

But there was also a sadness. He had believed that Geneva and her mother would stop the game-playing once William had arrived, that they would understand there were no winners or losers, just everyone wanting the best for the baby. And now, realising that his trust that they would  ‘do the right thing’ had been totally misplaced, he was hurt and, being honest, was annoyed with himself and his naïveté. He had assumed everybody possessed a vein of decency, no matter how deeply hidden. John had tried to counsel him, to get him to seek advice, but he had been sure it would all work out, that there was no need to involve lawyers. And now he was paying the price.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as Isobel pulled up outside Geneva’s house. Unfolding himself from the confines of Isobel’s Fiat 500, he quickly strode up to the door and pressed the bell. A murmur of voices floated out from the other side of the door before it was opened by Louisa. Geneva was nowhere in sight.

“Jamie.” Louisa acknowledged his presence sternly.

“Louisa, can I come in? I dinna think we want tae be havin’ this conversation in the street.”

Reluctantly, she stepped aside to allow entry into the hallway, but no further.

“I think I made our… that is, Geneva’s position clear over the phone...” Louisa began, before noticing Isobel standing behind Jamie. “Isobel, what are you doing here?”

“I went round to see how Jamie was doing after your, er, news this morning. You can’t expect him not to be affected by it, so I wanted to check he was ok.”

“He was ok? Ok?” Louisa’s voice began to climb in pitch. “It’s not him you should be worried about. He had his chances, plenty of them. Both before and after William’s birth. A father should support his child and the mother. If he can’t, or won’t do that, then he’s no right to be called a father. It’s about honour and decency.”

Jamie had remained silent throughout Louisa’s diatribe, but could no longer hold his tongue.

“God, how can ye talk about decency tae me? I have been nothin’ but decent throughout these months. I’ve treated Geneva with respect, even wi’ the games she’s been playin’. She told me and ma friends that the bairn is mine. So now, what is she sayin’? I’m no’ the father? And that makes her, what? A liar and a fr...” Jamie quickly stopped himself from telling Louisa what he really thought of her daughter. This was not the time or the place.

“That’s right, Mummy. She said that to me too. She can’t just change her mind because it’s not gone the way she hoped!”

Louisa turned angrily to her daughter. “How dare you stick up for him? Where’s your support for your sister? Do you not want her to be happy?”

Isobel opened her mouth to respond as a baby’s cry cut through the air.  

Jamie reached his hands out to Louisa, tears filling his eyes. “Please, Louisa, that’s ma babe, let me see him. Ye canna keep me from him. Let me through.”

Louisa remained motionless, her face like stone.

“Geneva!” Jamie yelled. “Come out here. Let me talk tae ye. Let’s clear this up. Geneva… Geneva!”

Gradually, William’s cries died away. Geneva remained out of sight. Jamie slumped against the wall, not knowing what to say.

Louisa broke the silence. “I think you should go.”

Isobel took his arm. “Come on, Jamie, I’ll see you home.”

Jamie passively let Isobel lead him away. Just outside the house, he paused and turned back to Louisa, framed in the doorway.

He spoke quietly, his eyes blazing, his voice cold with fury. “William is ma son. We all ken that. Geneva has been tryin’ to play me fer months but tae resort tae this… blackmail is what it is. Well, I hope ye’re proud of yer daughter. Ye talk about honour and decency, but the two of ye dinna even ken what the words mean. If ye did ye wouldna even think about depriving that bairn of his father jes’ out of spite. And this isna the end of it, Louisa, I mean it. Get a lawyer. I’ll go tae court if I have tae. What lies will the pair of ye tell under oath, eh?”

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

Once Isobel and Jamie had left, Claire drifted aimlessly from room to room unable to settle, her mind whirring with all the possible scenarios that could be playing out over at Geneva’s. She was thankful that Isobel was with Jamie, providing a calming influence and hopefully preventing him from doing, or saying, something he would regret.

She opened the door to the recently decorated nursery. It was all there, just waiting for an occupant. The pale wood cot, the matching changing station and wardrobe, and the rocking chair in the corner all stood barren and unused. The set of twinkling fairy lights she had bought that week were still unopened in their packaging. Who knew when that would change now? She sat down on the floor, leaning against the cot’s bars and wept.

The tears were not for herself, as she had not had the opportunity to meet William, to form any bond with him. No, the tears were for Jamie and for William. Jamie had had several months of anticipation, readying himself to be a father, only to have that snatched away from him. And William, unaware though he was, was losing a parent.

Drying her eyes, Claire switched into her practical mode. If they had to go to court, they would. John would give them details of a suitable lawyer and they would win. Surely no Sheriff court would decide in favour of that bitch and her mother.

But until Jamie returned, she needed something to occupy her mind. She suddenly remembered the half stripped bed, and then planned to clean the bathroom.

********

Finally, after thoroughly cleaning the bathroom followed by a much-needed shower, Claire heard Jamie’s key in the front door. She rushed downstairs to meet him. Jamie sat on the bottom step, his face tired and drawn.

“I couldna see him, Claire. I heard him greetin’ but Louisa wouldna let me near him. Geneva didna show herself either. I hope that's due tae shame, but I am no’ holdin’ ma breath on that.”

Claire sat on the step above him. He leant back between her legs and looked up into her eyes, searching for comfort. She stroked his face, her hands gently trying to sooth.

“I’m goin’ tae ring John. He’ll ken what tae do, won’t he, Claire? It’s goin’ tae be alright, isn’t it? It has tae be.”

She brought her face close to his, her curls, still damp from the shower, falling onto his cheeks.

“Of course,” she replied, forcing a bright smile. “It will all work out, you’ll see.”

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

The floor to ceiling windows of the ultra-modern city centre office block afforded magnificent views across the city. However, the spectacle usually went unnoticed by those waiting in the chrome and glass reception area - they tended to be more preoccupied with the legal issues that were about to be discussed (and also the bill that would no doubt swiftly follow).

Jamie and Claire were no exceptions to this, and John took no interest either, having looked upon that view many times before. The three sat together, Jamie in the middle. Claire’s hand rested reassuringly on Jamie’s constantly jiggling knee. Only the chewing of her lower lip gave an indication of her nervousness.

John broke the silence. “You know I’m here as your friend, Jamie. The only lawyer charging his usual hourly rate will be Ned. Don’t be misled by the way he looks, by the way. He’s one of the best in family law. He can be an absolute arse when he needs to be, scares the shit out of other lawyers too.”

“Mr. Fraser? Mr. Gowan will see you now.”

John led the way into a large office dominated by a wall of floor to ceiling windows. The furniture was a light wood throughout. One corner of the office housed a black leather sofa next to a bookshelf full of children’s games. The whole room was bright, airy, and modern.

John warmly greeted the human anachronism seated behind the desk. “Ned, good to see you again. How are you?”

“John, man, I’m champion.” Ned moved from behind his desk to shake Jamie and Claire’s hands.  

A small man, he was dressed in a three piece tweed suit in earthy greens and browns, with a green paisley bow tie. A pocket watch chain dangled across the waistcoat. He in no way resembled a serious lawyer commanding an eye-watering hourly fee, but appeared more of an Edwardian gentleman ready for a spot of shooting or deer stalking across the Scottish moors.

“Mr. Fraser, I’m Ned Gowan, and ye are…?” He addressed Claire.

“I’m Claire Beauchamp, Mr. Gowan”. Claire held out her hand to him.

“Claire is ma girlfriend,” Jamie interjected. “She’s here fer a wee bit o’ moral support, as is John.”

He thought for a moment, then hurriedly carried on talking. “But she wasna ma girlfriend when all this started. That was afore I met her, ye ken.”

Ned smiled politely. “Och, Mr. Fraser, I’m no’ here tae pass judgement on ye or yer choices. Jes’ to sort out any, er, inconveniences from the choices ye may have made.”

Ned returned to his chair and motioned for the others to sit. Ignoring the large computer screen perched on his desk, he rifled through a stack of folders before selecting one and opening it.

“Now, John here has given me, wi’ yer permission, the background tae this, er, situation, but I do have a few questions I need tae ask ye before we agree the next steps. It may become a wee bit personal. I dinna ken if Miss Beauchamp will wish tae hear the details.”

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Gowan, but I am fully aware of the details. I’ll stay if that’s ok.”

Ned nodded his assent and, unscrewing the cap of his fountain pen, began to make notes.  “Right so, a few questions, Mr. Fraser. Were you in a relationship with Miss Dunsany at the time of the child’s conception?”

“No’ at that time. We had been in a relationship the year before, but I… we… had finished a few months before the, er, conception.” Jamie was unsure how to answer the lawyer’s questions, but decided on a formal response.

“Mm hmm. But you did have sexual relations with Miss Dunsany around the time of the child’s conception?”

“Aye, we went out for a drink and I… slept wi’ her. But I decided it wouldna work between us and told her so. Then I had nae contact wi’ her until she told me about the bairn two months later.”

“So, at that time, you only had sexual relations once?”

Jamie blushed and studied his hands.

“I shall rephrase that question, Mr. Fraser. You had sexual relations with Miss Dunsany on only one occasion?”

“Aye.”

“And did you use any form of contraception?”

“Geneva, that is Miss Dunsany, told me that she was on the pill. I had nae reason tae doubt her as she’d been on the pill previously.”

“When she informed ye that she was pregnant, did she explicitly state that ye were the father?”

“Aye, she did. She told me straight that the bairn was mine. And she told our friends and her sister that same thing. I can gi’e ye names. I visited the hospital wi’ her.”

Ned finished writing and leant back in his chair. “Why do ye think she has no’ included ye on the birth certificate?”

“Geneva made it clear that she expected us tae become a couple again. When I told her that wouldna happen, she spent the next few months trying tae get us together and fer me and Claire tae break up. As ye can see, we are still together, so I think Geneva has done this tae spite me. She couldna get her own way, and, like a child, she is lashin’ out. Trying tae hurt me.”

“And what do ye want, Mr. Fraser? What are we workin’ towards here? Full custody o’ the child? Shared custody?”

“I want tae be on the birth certificate, I want parental responsibility. I’m no’ looking for full custody, jes’ a fair access tae ma son, wi’ agreed times fer him tae stay wi’ me.”

“A fair ask, Mr. Fraser. I will write tae Miss Dunsany’s lawyer and ask fer a meeting tae agree to a settling o’ this wi’out goin’ tae Sheriff’s court. If that meeting does no’ resolve this issue, we will make it clear that we are prepared tae go tae court, and that there are people willin’ tae testify that she acknowledged ye as the father. And we can remind her that denying this in court could lead tae a separate case against her fer perjury. The court can also demand a DNA test be carried out. But we hope it willna get that far.”

Claire sensed Jamie relax in his seat. She felt a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. There was light at the end of this tunnel.

Ned carried on talking. “Now, if ye are looking tae share the child’s upbringing, her lawyer will no doubt be askin’ for assurance about yer personal life and stability. Which is where ye come in, Miss Beauchamp.” He turned and spoke to Claire directly. “They will be askin’ questions about ye and yer relationship wi’ Mr. Fraser. Are ye currently co-habiting wi’ Mr. Fraser?”

“No…” Claire started to answer.

E“Aye,” Jamie interrupted. “Ye are. I mean it’s not official and ye still have yer flat, but we’re together more than we’re apart. We’ve spent months tiptoeing around Geneva, trying no’ tae upset her, but nae more. I want it tae be official. I ken this is no’ the most romantic place, but ye canna get more reliable witnesses, so what do ye say? I love ye, Sassenach and I ken ye love me. I’ve not planned this like this, but it’s been on ma mind fer months now. I have nae ring...”

Jamie took Claire’s hands in his and knelt beside her chair. “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, I love ye, I ken I always will. Ye’ve been with me when it’s not always been easy for ye. Ye are the only one fer me and I want tae spend ma life wi’ ye. Truly, ye are more than I could have hoped for and I count ma blessings every day that ye are with me still. Sassenach… will ye marry me?”

Claire stared into Jamie’s deep blue eyes, so hopeful and focused only on her. She tried to speak, but somehow the words wouldn’t come.

“Come now, ma dear,” Ned said encouragingly. “Remember, ye’re still on ma time and I’m chargin’ by the hour.”

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes and spilling over onto her cheeks. “Oh, Jamie, yes. Yes I will.”

Jamie reached up and pulled her head down to him, laughing and kissed her tenderly, tasting the salty tears on her cheeks. She held him close, oblivious to Ned and John watching with some amusement, pleasure and perhaps just a hint of jealousy. Breathing in the scent of Jamie’s hair, a new sensation crept over her, a feeling of unbounded happiness and… home.

[hayatadairhd-blog]

Ford, Focus RS ile drift stick ‘i tanıttı! Ford, "drift stick" isimli yeni donanımı ile Focus RS sahiplerini drift yapmaya davet ediyor! Artık sizde…

[crossinginstyle]

Outlander Fic: First Time Here?

Work Title: First Time Here?

Rating: M Summary: Inspired by that one tweet I saw posted on Tumblr, the one that says; "Shoutout to my bartender. I've been here on dates with 4 different dudes in the last 6 months and he hits me with "Ma'am, is this your first time here? every time. #GoodLookinOutMyMan" Or, the one where Jamie is a bartender and Claire is a long-time customer who keeps bringing in disappointing dates in the months after dumping Frank. Ao3 Link

(Special Shoutout to @sassy-sassenach for the amazing moodboard! Pretty sure she’s psychic considering she made this before reading the fic lol.)

Chapter 1/2

“Nice place,” Garret said, looking around the dimly lit pub.

“Yeah,” I agreed, trying to look at the mahogany furniture, the tartan wall tapestries, and hear the soft plucking of guitar from the eyes of someone who’d never seen it before. But I was very familiar with Fraser’s Ridge…especially of late.

“Kind of kitschy though,” he said, and I bit back a retort of defense.

It had been like a second home in college, my friends and I had relied on it for a late-night greasy burger on school nights, and cheap beer and whiskey shots on the weekend. And when Frank and I had started dating, it had more or less become our place.

But after four years of dating, and an additional three years of engagement, I discovered that Professor Frank Randall was providing study help with a certain buxom, blonde student named Sandy that didn’t end with flash cards.

Maybe I shouldn’t have relied on my best friend Joe’s advice, which had been to get off the sofa, put away the ice cream, and get back out there and date. Date as much and as frequently as possible. And if those dates ended with a good shag, all the better.

Well, none of my dates so far in the four months since I’d gotten back in the proverbial saddle had ended up in my bedroom, but I had been rather hopeful that maybe Garrett would be the lucky one.

He was tall, handsome, and since we met at the gym I’d seen him shirtless and found the sight very pleasing.

But the way he was sticking his nose up at the pub was making me start to wonder if he wasn’t a bit stuck up himself.

Meanwhile, my other friend, Louise, had advised me against continuing to bring my dates to the pub.

“They’ll know you’re a regular,” she had said. “Someone is bound to ask about the other guy you took there last week. Not to mention it was where you and Frank used to frequent.”

But the pub was where I felt most comfortable, had been long before Frank, and I wasn’t about to let him take it away from me.

And besides, I had an unspoken arrangement with the owner and bartender, Jamie Fraser.

“First time here, lass?” he said, appearing on the opposite side of the bar, wiping a glass.

“Yeah, for the both of us!” I said cheerfully. “What do you recommend?”

“Our cheeseburgers can’t be beat,” he said, simply offering my favorite item on the menu.

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “And a whiskey, please.”

“Same for you?” Jamie asked Garrett, a little less cordially than he had spoken to me.

“God no,” Garrett wrinkled his nose and quirked a grin at me. “You think I got abs like this eating red meat? What vegetarian options do you have, mate?”

Jamie narrowed his eyes at my date, looking like he was just barely managing not to roll them. “Weel, ye can have a cheeseburger…minus the cheese and burger.”

“I’ll just have a wine spritzer,” Garrett said impatiently.

Jamie froze, his rag and glass hanging limply in his hands as he just stared at Garrett in disgust. His gaze slowly drifted to me, and I fixed my own eyes on a water ring on the bar instead.

“I’ll…just get those started for ye,” Jamie said quietly, and I looked up in time to see the bastard’s shoulders shaking as he walked away.

“Weirdo,” Garrett muttered before beginning to regale me on the amount of weight he was able to bench press.

Jamie returned a few minutes later with our drinks. One wine spritzer, and one whiskey – two fingers, a splash of water, exactly how I took it.

He gave me a quick searching look, then one of his characteristic “winks” which amounted to him just blinking with both eyes like a sleepy owl, before walking away again.

“Can you believe that guy?” Garrett said once Jamie was out of earshot. “Here you are on a date and he’s checking you out.”

“He is not,” I laughed. “He’s just being a good bartender.”

Garrett snorted. “Yeah. Sure. How much you think he lifts?”

I glanced over at Jamie, at where his biceps bulged under his rolled up sleeves. “How would I know?” but I did know that while he spent his nights working at the pub, he spent his mornings at his family’s farm, breaking horses, hauling hay barrels, carrying calves. I imagined he could probably lift twice what Garrett could, only in the form of bags of feed.

When I’d been in college, Fraser’s Ridge had been run by Jamie’s father and godfather. I had the fondest memories of Brian and Murtagh bickering behind the bar, teaching a teenaged Jamie how to mix drinks.

When Brian died, Jamie took over his father’s share of it, and the family farm had been left to Jamie’s sister and her husband.

Because I knew all of this, I knew Jamie hardly had time to frequent the gym.

The date never really looked up after that. All Garrett would talk about was exercising and clean eating, and he stared in disgust at my burger.

All of that didn’t stop him, however, from asking to come back my place.

“Um, no thanks,” I said, trying to remain polite about it. “I think I’m going to just call it a night.”

Garrett’s brow furrowed. “The hell you mean? I thought we had an understanding here.”

“Understanding?” I asked. “And just what does that mean?”

He scoffed. “Come on, you hit on me at the gym, flashing your low-cut tank top, invite me to a bar you admit is down the block from your apartment. I buy you some drinks and a burger. What am I supposed to expect?”

I straightened up on the stool, glaring at him. “You’re supposed to expect to have a nice evening of getting to know me. That’s all you get to expect. As for the drinks and burger, thanks, but I can pay for my own.”

“Don’t be a bitch!” he snapped, catching the sight of a shadow appearing over the bar beside him.

Jamie stood there, large and forbidding. “Everything alright here?” he asked, his voice calm and polite, while his eyes were anything but.

“Could I get another drink?” I asked quietly, resignedly. It was our code. If the night was over, but I had no intention of leaving the bar with my date, I’d ask for another drink. Jamie knew that to mean my date needed shown to the door.

“Aye lass, right away,” Jamie said, eyes never leaving Garrett. “You can settle your tab wi’ Murtagh over there, sir. And it will include th’ burger and whiskey.”

Garrett leapt to his feet, chest puffed out. “Like hell it will.”

Jamie slowly came around the bar to our side. What I don’t think Garrett realized was that there was a step there that brought Jamie up to his true height, which…even though Garrett was tall…Jamie had almost a whole head on him.

Garrett snorted and backed down, heading for the register where Murtagh was standing, glaring as forebodingly as his godson.

I sighed in relief once Garrett was gone, and slumped against the side of the bar. And here I’d gone and bought a brand new little black dress for this. Jamie sat down on Garrett’s vacated stool and eyed my sympathetically.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just…” I groaned. “Tired.”

“Well I must say, I didn’t think I’d ever see a date of yours I like even less than Frank, but that one came close.”

I chuckled. “Oh come off it, you didn’t dislike Frank when I was dating him. You only hate him because of why I do.”

Jamie wrinkled his nose, but it was considerably cuter than when Garrett did it. “Och, no. I only put up wi’ the bastard for your sake.”

I laughed and shoved at his shoulder. “Well you might have said something sooner! Maybe I would have dumped him before he had the chance to cheat on me.”

“If I’d known ye would have listened to your bartender, I would have!”

I smiled in thanks at Murtagh, who set two glasses of whiskey before us. “Come on, Jamie, everyone knows there’s no one in the world you can trust more than your bartender. Besides, you’ve known me forever.”

“Aye, I have,” he said softly, and I looked over at him puzzledly, wondering at that tone.

He shook it off though and straightened, taking a sip of whiskey. “How many is that, anyway?”

“How many drinks or how many guys?” I clarified, and he gave me a teasing look.

“I ken exactly how many drink’s ye’ve had, Sassenach.”

I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling. “That’s…oh God…six! Six different first dates in four months…and no second ones. What’s wrong with me, Jamie?”

“Not a thing,” he said firmly. “You’re intelligent, witty, no’ to mention gorgeous.”

My eyebrows raised in surprise. In all the years Jamie and I had been friends, he’d never showered me with compliments like this…nor had he ever looked at me that way before.

“Ye may no’ have th’ best taste in men though,” Murtagh muttered as he passed by.

“Be nice, ye auld coot,” Jamie chuckled.

“He has a point,” I admitted. “But I’m done. I am swearing off of men. I’ve lasted this long with only my vibrator for company, after all.”

Jamie had been mid-sip when I spoke, and he inhaled suddenly, causing him to cough and splutter and turn a marvelous shade of red that matched his hair.

“Christ!” he exclaimed, but whether it was about choking or what I’d said, I didn’t know, but I laughed hysterically either way.

“You’re so easy to fluster!” I cried, nearly falling off my stool.

He glowered at me, though he face was still pink. “Not as easy as that other guy. What, two, three dates ago? Karen?”

“Casey,” I corrected drolly.

“Casey,” Jamie scoffed. “Ye crossed your legs in that wee green skirt of yours and he near went into cardiac arrest.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, he was cute.”

“So why didn’t ye see him again? At least he was a gentleman.”

Shrugging, I re-crossed my legs, and didn’t miss the way the movement drew Jamie’s eyes. “I don’t know. I just didn’t feel any spark with him I guess. Hey wait…you remember what I wore three weeks ago?”

Jamie huffed and shrugged his own shoulders. “Oh…well…I didn’a know for sure. Lucky guess.”

“Sure,” I said, smirking. “So…how are things going with that girl you were seeing?”

“Annalise?” he asked. “Oh…no, we broke up months ago.”

I frowned. “Really? You didn’t tell me. What about that other girl? The one Murtagh said was following you around like…and these are his words…a dog in heat. Leghair?”

Jamie laughed, and my eyes were curiously drawn to the way his jugular moved. “Laoghaire? Christ no! After trying to let the lass down gently, I later found out that she’d gotten hold of a lock of my hair somehow and made a fucking voodoo doll!”

I laughed along with him, hand over my mouth. “How do you think she got your hair?!”

“Dinna ken…but I think she paid one of my nephews for it.”

I shook my head. “So basically we’re both bad at relationships.”

Jamie frowned in affront. “I’ll have ye know I’m a verra good boyfriend.”

“That so?” I asked, wondering how a man could smell so damned good between working at a farm and a bar.

“Oh aye. If you’re ever in the mood tae find out, just let me know.”

I glanced up at him in surprise, and found him looking away, his fingers tapping nervously on his jean-clad thigh. I reached over and covered his hand with mine, drawing his eyes back to mine.

“And just…what would you do? As my boyfriend?”

“Well…” he began, smiling shyly. “I’d start wi’ taking ye out to a nice dinner. Watching ye eat a burger is a treat tae be sure, but our first date should be different. We could go dancing, then walk through the park.”

“Sounds romantic,” I said. “And I suppose you’d walk me home?”

“Of course I would. Straight to your door, as is proper.”

“And then what?”

His cheek dimpled as he fought down his smile. “Weel, a kiss on th’ first date may no’ be proper, but perhaps if the night has gone well, I might ask if it’s okay.”

I let my hand run over his, delighting in the feel of the calluses on his palm. “And if I say yes?”

“Then I will,” he said quietly. “I’ll try tae make sure it’s one to remember.”

“And then?”

He chuckled. “And then I say goodnight, and that I’ll call ye the next day, only I’ll probably text you that night, since I can hardly wait to talk to ye again.”

“And…what if I ask you inside for coffee?”

Jamie affected a mock scowl. “Now then, lass, I’m no’ that kind o’ man. Ye’ll have to wait until at least the…third date.”

I nodded solemnly. “Quite right. No sense rushing. I suppose the only step now is…to ask me out.”

A hand suddenly slammed down on the bar next to us, making us both jump. Murtagh leaned over, eyes dancing behind his scowl.

“If you two dinna stop your blathering and get out of here, I’m going tae pour a bottle of seltzer on ye.”

“You heard the man,” I said, hopping off my stool and dragging Jamie with me.

“But all th’ restaurants will be closed now,” Jamie pointed out.

“You can still take me on a walk through the park. Besides, how many drinks have you bought me over the years? If you count those as dates, this has been our, what, fiftieth? Don’t you think it’s time to…come over for coffee?”

Jamie’s eyes widened comically, and I used his surprise as distraction so that I could stand on tiptoe and kiss him.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t always somewhat wondered what it would be like to kiss Jamie Fraser. And right then the only thought it my mind was…

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ why haven’t I done this sooner?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jamie whispered, and I blushed at the realization that I’d said the words out loud.

We left the pub hand in hand, Murtagh shaking his head at us as we went.

[automobilesz]

Ken Block taught his 13-year-old daughter how to drift

Ken Block is passing his drifting skills onto the next generation. The YouTube star taught his 13-year-old daughter Lia how to drift and posted a YouTube video of the madness on Thursday. Proving the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, she seemed to get the hang of it pretty quickly.

Having just taught her to drive stick three days prior (in a Ford Focus RS), Block put Lia behind the wheel of…

[mobileautorepairpros]

Ken Block is passing his drifting skills onto the next generation. The YouTube star taught his 13-year-old daughter Lia how to drift and posted a YouTube video of the madness on Thursday. Proving the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, she seemed to get the hang of it pretty quickly. Having just taught her to drive stick three days prior (in a... Stephen EdelsteinKen Block taught his 13-year-old daughter how to drift https://ift.tt/2WYR95l

[takemeawaytocamelot]

Speed Dating - The Morning After

Alright alright!! You guys were so excited about @outlanderedandoverhere‘s speed dating prompt that I wrote more! Now y’all got my brain going so I’ve got at least four different thoughts going for this story. I guess we’ll just have to see what happens! Catch up below!

ONE -- TWO

I woke to the sound of something cooking in my tiny kitchen. I looked around my bedroom and didn’t see Jamie (not that he could really hide anywhere). For the first time that I could remember, I was happy and content. Not that I was unhappy with my life, but it had been missing something.

After a luxurious stretch, I pulled the sheets on my bed into a little more order before hunting for something to wear. Stepping into a fresh pair of knickers, I spotted Jamie’s undershirt on the floor. Then I headed out to my small table, watching him with a smile.

“Do you always make breakfast on the… would this be the fourth date?”

Jamie laughed, turning to give me a grin that warmed my whole body.

“Aye, well… I figure if ye were kind enough to gi’ me a place to sleep, least I could do was make ye a decent breakfast.”

I laughed, taking the coffee he haded me.

“Sorry you didn’t get very much sleep last night…”

“I’m not!” he said with feeling. “And this isna breakfast so much as it’s an early lunch.”

“That’s fine with me. I’m just interested to see if you can actually cook or not.”

He was quiet for a few minutes until he turned and set two plates on the table.

“Weel… Dinna ken if I’m any good or not, but my mam had me take cooking lessons.”

“Really?” I asked, surveying the food in front of me. “Why?”

“The Fraser’s are a stubborn clan, ken? Thick heided, as my Da always said. Mam thought that if I kent how to cook, I’d maybe no’ run any lasses off wi’ my stubbornness.”

Taking a bite of the fried egg, I felt my brows lift. It was cooked exactly right.

“Well you know how to make a good breakfast, I’ll give you that much.”

“If ye wouldna mind, I’d like to make a nice dinner for ye. Tomorrow night, maybe?”

I thought over my schedule.

“That would be wonderful. Does this mean I’ll get to see your flat?”

With a pleased smile, he took a long drink of his coffee.

“Play your cards right and I might even let ye see my bedroom.”

“How could I refuse with a tease like that?”

Both of us subsided into a fit of giggles, broken by the sound of ringing coming from the bedroom. Jamie hopped up and jogged the short distance to get his cell, answering it as he came back to the table.

“Hello? Aye, I’m no’ dead. … Why the hell would ye ask me that? That’s no’ your business … No, I’m no’ home. Did ye need something? I, uh…” Jamie glanced sheepishly up at me. “I’m no’ sure when I’ll be back.”

A few moments of silence followed before Jamie hung up.

“Someone checking on you?”

“Just my godfather. Said he stopped at my… flat earlier this morning to see how my night had gone.”

“And your answer?”

Jamie leaned across the table and kissed me.

“I told him it wasna his business. But, when he interrogates me later, I’ll tell him that ye have me completely under your power and happy to be there.”

“Completely, is it?”

“Aye,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose. “Every bit o’ me.”

I cleared our dishes, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.

“Is that my shirt?”

My cheeks flushed.

“Yes. I couldn’t find mine.”

“I think it looks better on you than it did on me.”

Arms wound around my waist and I leaned back against him.

“Are you leaving now?” I asked, knowing we both probably had things that needed doing.

“Are ye kicking me out?”

“Of course not! I just don’t want to keep you if there’s things you need to do.”

He sighed, breath hot on my neck. I couldn’t hold back a shudder.

“Aye, I should go. I need to get things to make ye a nice dinner and I should stop by the office and make sure my lads havena done anything stupid yet.”

“Perhaps I could persuade you to delay your departure just a little?” I asked, pressing my backside into him.

The grunt I got in return was exactly what I wanted to hear.

“No’ that I mind, but if this is how things will always be, perhaps ye shouldna wear knickers anymore.”

“Go pants-less? Oh I don’t think so. Can’t have you thinking I’m that easy.”

“So I’m to work for it, then?” he asked, his hands drifting over my stomach.

His left hand slid down and he began massaging between my legs. My heart began racing as he touched me.

“When I was younger, before I kent my way around a woman, I had this notion,” he said quietly in my ear.

“Oh?”

“Aye. I thought when ye had a woman, ye had to do it the back way. Like horses, ken?”

I started to laugh, which quickly melted into a sigh.

“You’re kidding.”

“No’ even a little,” he said, walking me forward until I was pressed against my countertop. “I learned the truth of it, obviously. But I’ve always wondered…”

“About doing it the back way?”

I felt my knickers fall around my ankles as Jamie nudged my legs apart. I bent over a little, gripping the edge of the counter. My hips pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts. He seemed to have learned from the night before, keeping his rhythm strong and even. It wasn’t long before I pressed my face to my counter as pleasure pulsed through me. A moment later, Jamie grunted and muttered something in Gaelic.

“Did you just…” I paused to catch a shaking breath. “Call me a stick of dynamite?”

“What?” he asked, shock in his voice. “No, I didna call ye dynamite. I should think, between the two of us, I would be the one with a stick of dynamite.”

I started laughing until tears leaked down my face. Jamie stepped back and pulled me into his chest. He kissed me gently.

“No, I said I thought my heart was gonna burst. I’ve never kent a woman like you, Claire Beauchamp.”

“Oh darling,” I said, kissing him swiftly. “They broke the mold after they made me.”

He chuckled and patted my rump.

“Would ye mind if I used your shower?” he asked. “I dinna have any fresh clothes wi’ me, but I should like to clean up a little.”

“Of course. Towels are in the small cupboard.”

“Thank ye.”

------------

They were reluctant to part ways, though he knew he’d be seeing her again soon. After he’d retrieved his car, he drove to his home and changed. He’d intentionally left his undershirt with Claire, though he didn’t think she’d seen it yet.

He parked his car at the stables and headed to his office to do some paperwork. When he came around the corner, a group of men stood outside his office door, muttering to each other.

“There he is!” Angus bellowed.

Angus, Murtagh, and Rupert all looked him up and down.

“Murtagh said ye werena home, so we thought ye might be here,” Rupert said.

“He’s wearin’ different clothes,” Angus said in a whine. “No way he spent the night wi’ the lass.”

Murtagh frowned at the other man.

“Oh, ye think he’d drive straight here? No’ stop at his house and change first?”

“Go away,” Jamie grumped, pulling out his keys.

Angus pushed closer to him, blocking the door.

“Ye look tired, lad,” he said. “Did ye no’ get any sleep?”

“I got plenty of sleep, no’ that it’s any of yer business.”

Rupert and Angus devolved into crude remarks in Gaelic, sniggering amongst themselves as they did. Murtagh followed Jamie into his office and closed the door behind them.

“Did ye sleep wi’ the lass?”

“You’re no’ my father, Murtagh, and ye ken I’m an adult. I dinna think it’s your business if I slept wi’ her or no.”

“Tell me ye used protection.”

Jamie glared at his godfather as he turned his computer on.

“Why do ye assume I slept wi’ her?”

“Because, ye fool. If ye hadna, ye would have said so straight off. Damn it, Jamie! Ye kent the woman for only a few hours! And ye jump straight into bed wi’ her?!”

“I didna!” he yelled back.

A sudden flash of memory hit him hard, Murtagh accusing him of something and him arguing back. It was eerily similar to this conversation.

“Look. I went to her flat and we talked. It was late and she offered me a place to stay the night so I wouldna ha’ to drive home. Everything that happened after that is no one’s business but mine.”

Murtagh’s bushy brows dropped into a deep frown as Jamie sat down at his desk.

“That isna like you, lad. Ye dinna just hop into bed wi’ anyone. Did she force ye?”

“Force me? Christ, Murtagh, no! She’s… I dinna ken how to say it. But she’s different. I think she could be it.”

“I hope ye both can come to some sort of agreement about that before ye get her wi’ child.”

Jamie huffed a sigh and began looking through his bills.

“It isna the dark ages, Murtagh.”

“Maybe no’... Just… Be careful, Jamie. I dinna want to see ye get hurt.”

“I ken that, Murtagh. Thank ye.”

A muffled sound outside the door drew their attention.

“Jamie! Jamie ye ha’ to tell us! What did she look like under that dress? Was she as-”

“I’ll go take those buffoons away,” Murtagh said loudly, glaring at the door. “I’ll see ye around, Jamie.”

Continue to Dinner Date

[carreviewnow]

Personally, we think 2018 ford focus wagon is a topic that required in the web. Do you want to know about 2018 ford focus diesel. Alot of people are looking for 2018 ford focus vs chevy cruze. The maker are very happy to present you this video about 2018 ford focus transmission. At first, we also puzzled about 2018 ford focus bluetooth. With a standard Drift mode that uncorks the torque-vectoring back pivot for more prominent readiness in corners, the Focus RS can play alongside your internal Ken Block. Float mode is aligned to do what the name suggests: let you hoon around corners sideways with the tires smoking. We don't underwrite this sort of conduct anyplace yet on a track, however the Focus can and will enjoy your free wheeler inclinations if inquired. (Expect huge tire bills in the event that you do it frequently.) There likewise are Normal, Sport, and Track drive modes, which adjust the auto's throttle reaction and dependability control parameters by means of a catch on the middle reassure. We won't call the RS anxious, yet it is nervous and rides solidly even with its versatile dampers in the milder of their two settings. Its unpleasant ride on poorer streets is aggravated by the discretionary, track-arranged Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 tires; they stick like Gorilla Glue and upgrade the Ford's as of now great grasp. (Our test auto was on the standard Michelin Pilot Super Sport tires.) The settled proportion directing is exact and snappy, yet not all that delicate as to make the RS jittery at higher paces. The RS's ceasing execution is respectable, with zero blur in our testing and a pleasingly firm and responsive feel to the pedal. Additionally, that pedal is splendidly situated between the grip and quickening agent for simple racer-type foot rear area and-toe downshifts. Be that as it may, all players in this class at present trail the Honda Civic Type R's stellar braking exertion. Passage's EcoBoost process daintily pulls at the RS's controlling wheel under hard increasing speed, utilizing its all-wheel-drive hold to make up for its chunkier check weight. A standard dispatch control framework guarantees steady, unstable departures, however coordinating our execution from the test track requires a fierce grasp dump. The force is solid up to the RS's 6750-rpm redline in each rigging, yet its 5-to-60-mph moving increasing speed uncovers that the less-capable front-wheel-drive Civic Type R is really a tick speedier. The maker are very happy to bring you this video regarding 2018 ford focus electric. Sooner or later, i consider 2018 ford focus hatch is a topic that needed in the web. 2018 ford focus pov maybe one of fascinating matter to be discussed. Maybe, you are one of some people that in the need for vids about 2018 ford focus estate. 2018 ford focus blue is really intriguing to be talked about. #carreviewnow Car Review Now https://twitter.com/carreviewnow https://ift.tt/2GOhhag https://ift.tt/2FVUDeY https://ift.tt/2GNBPjo https://ift.tt/2HQEwzM https://ift.tt/2GKU8Wg

[jesusvasser]

Ford Performance Launches Drift Stick for Focus RS

Ford Performance and Ken Block want to help you drift like a pro with the first-ever electronically controlled performance handbrake. Called the “Drift Stick,” the new part applies the rear brakes to lock the wheels of a Focus RS and induce a drift.

The Drift Stick was developed by the same team that brought us the Ford Focus RS’ Drift Mode, with Rally driver and “Gymkhana” star Ken Block consulting on the part’s design and function. The aluminum lever is installed in place of the normal handbrake between the driver’s seat and shifter.

When you pull the lever up, the RS’ all-wheel drive system opens the clutches on the rear axle and the brake system applies pressure only to the rear.

The system is entirely electronic and doesn’t require an extra set of rear calipers like you’d find on an aftermarket hydraulic setup for drift or rally cars.

The Drift Stick also comes with a built-in calibration tool that can plug into the onboard diagnostics port and download certain data that can then be transferred and fine-tuned via USB.

“I think it’s really cool that Ford Performance is offering customers a way to create large-angle drifts in the Focus RS,” said Ken Block, in a release.

“Obviously it’s something that I’m really passionate about having been a part of the development of the production vehicle, so it’s exciting to see it come to life. It definitely makes the car even more fun to drive.”

But just like the RS’ Drift Mode, the Drift Stick is made for track use only. The part is priced at $999 and will be available to order for U.S. and Canadian customers by December 1.

Watch Ken Block demonstrate how the Drift Stick works in the video below.

The post Ford Performance Launches Drift Stick for Focus RS appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

from Performance Junk WP Feed 4 http://ift.tt/2AiRPWS via IFTTT

[perksofwifi]

Watch Ken Block’s 13-Year-Old Kid Drift an old Ford Escort Like a Pro

Ken Block‘s family seems to be having a particularly good time in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic. Earlier, Block and his entire family filmed an episode of Gymkhana Grid without the help of their normal crew. But Lia Block, Ken’s 13-year-old daughter, was apparently bummed about the fact she didn’t get any time behind the wheel of her dad’s car.

Instead of making her wait to get her driver’s license, Block took his teenage daughter to an empty race track in the middle of Utah to teach her how to do donuts in his 355 horsepower Gymkhana Ford Escort. And after she learned how to drive stick less than a week ago, no less! Oh, to be young and an absolute devil behind the wheel. That’s not really how the saying goes, but it applies perfectly to Block’s daughter.

The younger Block seems to have taken after her father, too. In the video, we get a little montage of some of her exploits, which includes time spent driving go-karts and racing a UTV. It’s safe to assume most young teenagers—and most adults, too—don’t have the same level of race experience as the little Block, and eventually, she’s tossing the old Ford Escort around like a seasoned pro. We’re going to go ahead and say that type of talent has to be genetic.

Admittedly, we’re pretty jealous of Lia Block. Maybe one day she’ll even take the keys to her father’s Gymkhana garage. With a little more seat time under her belt, it looks like she won’t have too much trouble filling her dad’s shoes.

The post Watch Ken Block’s 13-Year-Old Kid Drift an old Ford Escort Like a Pro appeared first on MotorTrend.

https://www.motortrend.com/news/gymkhana-ford-escort-block-video/ visto antes em https://www.motortrend.com

[jonathanbelloblog]

Ford Performance Launches Drift Stick for Focus RS

Ford Performance and Ken Block want to help you drift like a pro with the first-ever electronically controlled performance handbrake. Called the “Drift Stick,” the new part applies the rear brakes to lock the wheels of a Focus RS and induce a drift.

The Drift Stick was developed by the same team that brought us the Ford Focus RS’ Drift Mode, with Rally driver and “Gymkhana” star Ken Block consulting on the part’s design and function. The aluminum lever is installed in place of the normal handbrake between the driver’s seat and shifter.

When you pull the lever up, the RS’ all-wheel drive system opens the clutches on the rear axle and the brake system applies pressure only to the rear.

The system is entirely electronic and doesn’t require an extra set of rear calipers like you’d find on an aftermarket hydraulic setup for drift or rally cars.

The Drift Stick also comes with a built-in calibration tool that can plug into the onboard diagnostics port and download certain data that can then be transferred and fine-tuned via USB.

“I think it’s really cool that Ford Performance is offering customers a way to create large-angle drifts in the Focus RS,” said Ken Block, in a release.

“Obviously it’s something that I’m really passionate about having been a part of the development of the production vehicle, so it’s exciting to see it come to life. It definitely makes the car even more fun to drive.”

But just like the RS’ Drift Mode, the Drift Stick is made for track use only. The part is priced at $999 and will be available to order for U.S. and Canadian customers by December 1.

Watch Ken Block demonstrate how the Drift Stick works in the video below.

The post Ford Performance Launches Drift Stick for Focus RS appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

from Performance Junk Blogger Feed 4 http://ift.tt/2AiRPWS via IFTTT

[eddiejpoplar]

Ford Performance Launches Drift Stick for Focus RS

Ford Performance and Ken Block want to help you drift like a pro with the first-ever electronically controlled performance handbrake. Called the “Drift Stick,” the new part applies the rear brakes to lock the wheels of a Focus RS and induce a drift.

The Drift Stick was developed by the same team that brought us the Ford Focus RS’ Drift Mode, with Rally driver and “Gymkhana” star Ken Block consulting on the part’s design and function. The aluminum lever is installed in place of the normal handbrake between the driver’s seat and shifter.

When you pull the lever up, the RS’ all-wheel drive system opens the clutches on the rear axle and the brake system applies pressure only to the rear.

The system is entirely electronic and doesn’t require an extra set of rear calipers like you’d find on an aftermarket hydraulic setup for drift or rally cars.

The Drift Stick also comes with a built-in calibration tool that can plug into the onboard diagnostics port and download certain data that can then be transferred and fine-tuned via USB.

“I think it’s really cool that Ford Performance is offering customers a way to create large-angle drifts in the Focus RS,” said Ken Block, in a release.

“Obviously it’s something that I’m really passionate about having been a part of the development of the production vehicle, so it’s exciting to see it come to life. It definitely makes the car even more fun to drive.”

But just like the RS’ Drift Mode, the Drift Stick is made for track use only. The part is priced at $999 and will be available to order for U.S. and Canadian customers by December 1.

Watch Ken Block demonstrate how the Drift Stick works in the video below.

The post Ford Performance Launches Drift Stick for Focus RS appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

from Performance Junk Blogger 6 http://ift.tt/2AiRPWS via IFTTT