#like at the car rental and some servers and things not just us

[dumb-doll-lips]

Yay I’m home from the family vacation.

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter forty six

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters // read on AO3

january 22, 2019 madrid, spain orion

The flight to Madrid feels like it takes forever. I’m excited to go back, and based on how much Calum is checking his email, he must have a lot of things planned for us. I wish he didn’t, because I doubt I’ll be able to do more than a few things each day. I’m just too tired. 

My doctors connected me with a hospital and a doctor in the city just in case I need to see one. They’ve got my records and everything and, while I can speak Spanish, Calum can’t, so we made sure to choose a facility with translators and bilingual staff. I doubt we will need to, since the past few months have been fairly uneventful. I just feel like shit, but nothing is changing.

We both have had to wear face masks from the moment we left for the airport, which feels silly, but Dr. Gupta said that if I’m in any kind of high traffic area, it’s vital that I do my best to protect myself. Although, it is a bit helpful for camouflaging Calum. With half his face covered and a hat on his head, you can barely tell him apart from another man of his height with brown hair. 

Ilse and Giuseppe are flying in to Madrijd later on in the week to see us, and I’m so excited to get to see them, along with the other girls. I’m sad that we won’t get to do a lot of the things that we used to. We can’t go out anywhere to do pretty much anything. I’m really grateful to be here, but I don’t feel like Calum will be able to do anything here that we wouldn’t do at home. 

Since we won’t be taking the metro, in an effort to keep me away from germs and sickness, Calum is renting a car here, so we’ll be able to drive around to everything. For his birthday, we’ll be driving to Valencia for a night so we can see the beach here.

When we land, Calum makes me pose under the “Bienvenidos a Madrid” sign, and I hope I don’t look as tired as I am in the photo. I’m trying not to act like it, but I really just want to go to sleep. We came all this way, and all I really want to do is hole up in our hotel room. 

“Want to stop somewhere for some tapas and a glass of tinto?” Calum asks when we get our bags into the rental car and take our seats.

I look over at him. He has excitement written all over his face. His brown eyes are gold and sparkling, his smile endearing, and I can’t say no. “Sure, sounds good.”

I do my best to smile. I want him to enjoy this trip. It’s for his birthday, after all. I can’t ruin it by being too tired to do anything, so I swallow the feeling of wanting to go straight to the hotel and try to take in Madrid as we enter the city. In my heart, it feels so good to be back. 

We get to a small bar in La Latina that has a patio and Calum can’t stop smiling while we sit at the small metal table. He reads over the menu, even though he undoubtedly already knows what we’ll order and can barely understand the rest of what he sees. 

“So, I was thinking,” he starts, reaching across the table to grab my hand. “Oh, wow, your hand is freezing!” 

He holds both of them now, rubbing them to try to warm them up. I smile at his sweetness, but raise my eyebrows for him to continue. 

“We get some food, head to the hotel and take a nap, and then we can go to a convenience store to get some wine and stuff and then we can head to Retiro to watch the sunset?”

I nod. “Yeah, sounds perfect.” 

He has me order for us when the waiter comes since my Spanish is far better than his. They bring us our drinks and food quickly, and Calum is taking on my role as obsessive photographer and says he needs photos of everything. He even makes me ask the server to take a picture of the two of us, something he has never done before in his life. 

With Calum watching on, I do my best to sip from my jarra of tinto and eat a few of the fried potatoes he ordered for me. It’s obvious that I can’t stomach much, though, and it makes me feel bad. I feel bad physically, obviously, but I’m already worried about how this whole trip will go. I’m not going to be a fun partner. 

“Lucia and Paula said they’re up for breakfast tomorrow,” Calum says, breaking my staring contest with my patatas bravas when I look up at him instantly.

I smile. “Cool, that will be great, Cal.” 

He smiles back and nods before he pulls out his phone and types something in. When it’s face down on the table again, he looks straight back at me. “I know you may not be able to do much while we’re here. I know you’ve been really tired and sick for a while, so please just tell me if you ever need a break or anything, okay? Don’t over exert yourself. We’re here to do whatever you want to do.”

For some reason, that makes my heart drop.

“We’re here for your birthday, Cal,” I say. My tone is quiet. He just said what I should want to hear, but I don’t feel any better after he’s said it. 

I want him to look back on this trip fondly. This is one of our last things we’ll ever do together possibly. After everything I’ve put him through, can I ruin this, too? 

“I’ll have other birthdays,” he says.

My stomach lurches. I could throw up.

He realizes what he’s said, and I practically watch his mouth dry and the gears in his brain whir. I know he has no idea what to say, and I don’t expect him to. He’s not wrong. He will have other birthdays. He will have almost an entire lifetime of birthdays after this.

Without me. 

I sigh, clear my throat, and refrain from crying. 

“I know.”

next part

a/n: hi !!!!!!! lil baby update. ty for your patience as I've taken a break from BLU! check out the other two shorter fics I've written in the meantime if you'd like! they're both very different from BLU and each other but are only 10 parts each and ofc about cal. check my masterlist here if you need some new material :)

[eyes-eyes-eyes-eyes-eyes-eyes]

hey guys. I need to tell you a story about my bizarre life

i'm around 11. me, my parents, and three friends are crammed in a car on the way back from seeing the eclipse (we had to drive out of state for it to be visible). on this trip our car broke down three times, we almost burned down our hotel room during an impromptu birthday party while we were stranded, and lots more. but most traumatizing was the small water/mystery cd day.

we're in the line at mcdonalds. my mom is exhausted from hours of driving with three children in the back seat and is trying to order a happy meal with a water for the drink. simple, right? not in this stranger avatar ass car. my mom went back and forth with the mcdonalds server, who tried to tell us we could not get a small water, and it had to be a medium or large if we wanted it with the happy meal. otherwise we had to order it separately (something like that). my mom was so delirious she ended up breaking down in tears at the drive thru window until the employee just charged us for a small water.

so that was its own whole thing. we're all split between laughing and crying, thinking about how fucking weird that exchange was. anyway, we drive up, get all of our food, and the tension is so high in the car, so we need something to calm us down.

my (then) step-dad remembers that we found something in this rental car when we got it: an unlabeled CD. i mean, it had some guys name on it, but that was it. we, thinking it would be someone's underground music project, thought it might be fun to listen to. we pop it in. friend #1 has her small water in hand. we're reversing out of our spot in the mcdonalds parking lot. the audio starts.

what followed was the sounds of frantic movement, a baby crying, and someones haggard breathing. from the speaker, a child cries: "mommy won't wake up, what's wrong with mommy?" more crying, more shuffling, more confused wailing. this went on for a full 20-25 seconds before we stopped the track.

silence in the car. what the fuck was that.

that shit was haunted. im pretty sure it caused my mom's breakdown and the future car issues. all of my struggles since then have been the result of the evil spell that shit cast on us as a family

[commodorez]

Operating on files purely in the cloud is not always going to be an option to get work done on a computer, and it may not give you the above tree structure.

We all have to get work done on a computer, be it for our dayjobs, school work, and of course general paperwork for surviving in today's modern existence. Paperless society or not, paperwork persists.

Not every document can be filled out in an online form, and even if they did, you probably want digital and physical copies of important documents that you will need later. Tax paperwork, your syllabus for each class, resumes, rental applications, car payments, loans, mortgages, insurance, etc.

You can't always rely on "show recent files" feature of an application to give you a clear indication of that file you just saved [gestures vaguely] somewhere.

You can't always trust that the file search feature is going to be helpful at finding the things you're after.

If you come to rely on these tools, and one day they break after a migration to a new computer or operating system, suddenly you can't find that one PDF talking about your health benefits from when you got that new job 5 years ago.

I know some folks prefer metadata tags on things rather than hunting for the files in question, but that isn't always going to be possible on some systems. Corporate/school environments won't necessarily give you this option. If they want you to go find a file that's kept in shared drive X:, you will need to understand how to traverse their folder structure to go find it. File searches in these situations tend to fail spectacularly, or they go slower than molasses because they aren't all pre-indexed. Up until recently, we had a networked Google drive at my job that Windows file search could not find anything in sooner than 10 minutes.

-

I should define the concept of the desktop (I don't mean like desktop vs. laptop). Much like my file cabinet/folder analogy from before, we'll use a desk concept. Pretend I'm at a school desk and it's the 1960s. I've got a few things in front of me, maybe some colored pencils for drawing. Maybe a nice pen for writing. A calculator slide rule for doing math. Maybe a notebook, a tiny calendar, and a book from the library.

Each of those items are arranged on the top of my desk for easy access. Each one serves a specific purpose, and with my desktop, I can have a few of them out at once if I'm doing work that needs more than one at a time. Maybe I want to read a section in the book to write down notes on paper. Maybe I want to draw a graph with the colored pencils. The idea is that all of these tools are at the ready, easily visible and arrangeable for the task at hand.

So too goes for a computer desktop. I've got icons that are shortcuts to let me start a web browser, a media player, a video game, a text editor, a drawing program. I've got a taskbar at the bottom to keep track of all the things I'm actively doing. I can manage not only my workload, but the computer's workload. All from my desktop! I can even make shortcuts (we'll get to those) to places that I frequently want to visit that have files relevant to what I'm doing.

But more importantly, I can store things on the desktop. It's a just a fancy folder like before. However, I highly recommend against getting into that habit. You could pile every song, picture, and pdf you had on the desktop. And that'd be fine for 10, maybe 50 files at most but if you've got 1000 files? That ain't gonna work.

You especially do not want to store most of your files on the desktop (even in folders you made on the desktop) if you're using a networked domain Windows account (like what you would be issued at work or school). Because it's slow. Every file you save there has to be loaded again on login, which has to come from a central server across a building, or maybe even miles away to get to you. If you aren't always using the same computer each time like I did in college, each time you log in, all of those files may have to be locally cached on that computer before you can start to do anything. I've seen this first hand at my old job, some employees waited like 5 minutes from logging in before they could start doing any work. They had a bad time, until I showed them a better place to keep those files.

Standby for part 3.

Zoomer here, and I do indeed have questions about computers- how do filesystems work, and why should we care (I know we should, but I'm not exactly sure why)?

So why should we care?

You need to know where your own files are.

I've got a file on a flash drive that's been handed to me, or an archival data CD/DVD/Bluray, or maybe it's a big heavy USB external hard drive and I need to make a copy of it on my local machine.

Do I know how to navigate to that portable media device within a file browser?

Where will I put that data on my permanent media (e.i. my laptop's hard drive)?

How will I be able to reliably find it again?

We'll cover more of the Why and How, but this will take some time, and a few addendum posts because I'm actively hitting the character limit and I've rewritten this like 3 times.

Let's start with file structure

Files live on drives: big heavy spinning rust hard drives, solid state m.2 drives, USB flash drives, network drives, etc. Think of a drive like a filing cabinet in an office.

You open the drawer, it's full of folders. Maybe some folders have other folders inside of them. The folders have a little tab with a name on it showing what's supposed to be in them. You look inside the folders, there are files. Pieces of paper. Documents you wrote. Photographs. Copies of pages from a book. Maybe even the instruction booklet that came with your dishwasher.

We have all of that here, but virtualized! Here's a helpful tree structure that Windows provides to navigate through all of that. In the case of Windows, it's called Explorer. On OSX MacOS, the equivalent is called Finder.

I don't have to know where exactly everything is, but I have a good idea where thing *should* based on how I organize them. Even things that don't always expose the file structure to you have one (like my cellphone on the right). I regularly manually copy my files off of my cellphone by going to the Camera folder so I can sift through them on a much bigger screen and find the best ones to share. There are other reasons I prefer to do it that way, but we won't go into that here. Some people prefer to drag and drop, but that doesn't always work the same between operating systems. I prefer cut and paste.

Standby for Part 2!

[soft-boi-eli]

Helloo! Could I ask for cc!SBI x GN! Streamer Reader during TwitchCon (I'm not from the US nor Europe so I probs won't be able to go next year, but at least the thought of it seems nice)? Thanks, and remember to stay hydrated! <3

Yes. And I will keep hydrated. Sorry if it take a bit I want it to be as good as possible.

Pronouns:nonbinary

Tw: cussing, mentions of anxiety

Not proofread.

Why is there a tag limit of 30?

Best friends are family.

The flight over was he'll. Leaving you tired and jet lagged as you wandered the air port.

You were to meet up with four people. As you had been a part of a huge server with them.

Not only did you guys play minecraft together. You had streams where you just talk, anwser questions, play little games with them. Even just had one of your guys just talking to the other person while they streamed. It was the only relationship you had. They were your family. Well best friends.

But that doesn't matter right?

When you finally locked eyes with this brown haired guy, glasses, quite tall, looked quite like one of your four friends you immediately froze.

This was real. They weren't fake.

"Techno?" It was quite and was nearly drowned out by the sounds of the air port.

But the brunette looked your way. Eyes widening slightly as he had seen your face on face time before. You two were faceless streamers. Or nearly faceless. Only really showing your faces on huge achievements or to people you know. So most people didn't know what you looked like.

"(Y/n)?" Nodding to him you smiled under your mask.

He had a smile in his eyes as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. "Let's get out of this crowd. Phil took tommy and wilbur outside since they had a long flight." you both weaved through people. "Understandable. I mean look how many people exsit here." You spoke.

With a chuckle he lead you to the exit. The two blondes and one brunette stood near the door, obviously kind of relived from being out of the crowd.

"Look who I found." Technos voice brought the other three to look in your direction. "Hey! (Y/n) have a nice flight mate?" Phil's question was heartfilled but honestly you didn't want to think of the horrid experience.

"Not too bad not too good. Hopped on the soonest plane. And dear God it was hell." It was obvious by your tone that you didn't want to speak about it. So they were quick to shift the subject.

"So the b&b you're staying at? Where is it?" You looked at tommy confused. Didn't he know that you all are going to the same b&b?

"Same one as us tommy. Did you even listen to us on the flight?" Wilbur spoke up before you could deliver your sarcastic comment.

"Really? Didn't expect that." Tommy seemed confuses. Rolling your eyes at the teen you spoke. "Ah yes let's send one of the most socially awkward people out to rent a room in a b&b alone. How smart." Getting the hint tommy chuckled at the sarcastic comment.

"Oh yeah. I forgot that you had that bad of anxiety." Looking back to him with a 'bitch really?' Look he laughed. "You forgot I had crippling anxiety. It took what? 5 months before I started to fully talk to all of you? It was literally just you guys talking to me until one day out of the blue I started talking back." As you spoke you guys got to technos car.

As techno had driven here he was the one that was driving you the the b&b. No need for rental cars.

"So, (y/n), Phil, tommy, wilbur. Have do you guys wanna pick up some food first? Or nah?" Techno was quick to ask. And having a hungry teen in the car it was automatically a yes.

The day flew by. Jokes were told, food was eaten. And naps were quick to happen.

But that all came to a hard stop. TwitchCon. You weren't on the main panel like most of the others. Having been just added and just climbing up. But you did have your own meet and greet station.

And that was enough to pick at your anxiety.

But you decided to breathe through it. Hoping to get through this and live another day.

What helped was the fact that not many people came up to you. Having no idea if you were the real one. But when you got to your booth hell rang loose. You were now confirmed to be the real you and people wanted autographs, photos, videos, little trinkets you ended up selling.

It was not as bad as you thought. Not many people pushing past your boundires.

"Omg it's (t/n)! (Twitch name) they are so cool can I go say hi!" The younger child was quick to rush up to you as their parents nodded.

"HI! I wanted to say i love you and your content! I was wondering if I could get an autograph. Also how do you do it? How do you look so genderless!" This child was going miles a minute and honestly it was one of the sweetest things. "Well it takes years of work and finding what's best. here's your autograph. Would you like a photo?" They nodded so fast it was almost like their head was going to fall off.

Laughing lightly you wrapped an arm around their shoulder and they wrapped theirs around yours.

Their parents were quick to snap a photo and call their child back to them. Not wanting to take up too much of your time.

And to you luck the four boys you were waiting for had arrived. Relife.

You smiled and waved them over. "(Y/n). You seem happy." Technos voice was calm.

"Just a very kind and energetic fan. It was nice too see someone like them." You looked in the direction of the kid. Noticing something you hadn't before. They were bald. Looked kind of sickly. And seemed kind of off. Excusing yourself you grabbed something from under your table. One of the many stuffed animals you had onder there with a embroidered signature from you. It was a little stuffed snow leopard.

Rushing to find the child you tapped their shoulder. Turning around they seemed confused. "(T/n)? What are you doing over here shouldn't you be over near your stand?" You smiled under your mask.

"You seem to be going through something and I wanted to make sure one of my number one fans had something special to make them feel better. Here you go. My channels mascot with an embroidered signature so you will always remember to fight on Cub." Your followers are known as your Cubs. And this one was a special one. They made your day.

Now it wastime for you to make their day.

With gentle hands they took the plush to their chest tears in their eyes. They latched onto you as they cried softly. Rubbing their back you saw the parents tearing up. Their mother pulled her mask down mouthing thank you then pulling it back up quickly.

Nodding gently you hug the child lightly. Letting go slowly you look at them. "I belive in you. So you take these words. Fight on. Never give up. You are one of the strongest people I have seen alright? You're gonna make it through this no matter what." Patting their head you smiled as they nodded.

There was a new spark in their eye.

This powerful Cub. Phil and the other came up behind you. "Hey there mate. Having a good time?" The child seemed so happy.

This is what you guys were here for. To see these joyful expressions. To make your fans happy. To give them some kind of escape.

There was no way you'd let anything get between you and your fans. No matter what.

I needed wholesome.

So I apologize for this taking so long but I was stressed about other things and that caused a chain reaction in my life. But next week I should start school so that's a plus.

Also when I do start school again imma be working slower. And I do apologize about that.

I'll try my best to get more of these out. So E.

Anyways hoped you enjoyed.

-Eli out!!

[bubblyhoney]

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

-

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think

[n00dl3gal]

Like Old Times (Father-Son Bonding AU)

A direct sequel to the “Expiration Date” fic, which I’ll link in a reblog. I’ve also posted all my fics in this AU to AO3!! Thanks again to @thetriggeredhappy for their help and just generally being a cool dude, and the Scoutsune Discord server for indulging my brainrot

No warnings beyond family schmoop!

Less than an hour after the bread monster incident, the Administrator called for a ceasefire. “Only while your base is repaired,” she said over the TV screen. “BLU is quite disappointed in this negligence- as am I. Regardless, you may use these three days as you see fit. Go home, stay here- whatever you do, no more bread monsters.” The screen turned off with a click. 

Scout exhaled through his nose. He was thankful there was no mention of him or Miss Pauling’s woodchipper. 

Spy decloaked behind him. “Less time than I wanted, but c’est la vie.” Scout looked at him over his shoulder. “I’m meeting with an old contact during our break,” Spy said in Italian. “Would you like to come along? It’ll be like old times.” 

Scout’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. At least this way, he’d get out of helping Engie and Heavy with repairs. And possibly meeting Miss Pauling’s woodchipper. 

“Excellent. Our flight is at 7 AM tomorrow.” 

“We’re flying commercial?” Scout asked, also in (more hesitant) Italian. 

“Our destination is continental. We’ll leave the base by 5:30.” Scout groaned as Spy started to leave. But- wait, he hadn’t- 

“Oi, where are we going, anyway?” he called back in English. 

Spy paused to look at him and smile. “Boston.” 

“Why do we always get the ass-crack-of-dawn flights?” Jeremy asked groggily, reclining his seat.

“They are the ones with first-class seats available,” Raphael replied. He took a sip from his mimosa. 

“Yeah, cuz God forbid you fly coach for once.” Jeremy shifted, trying to get comfortable. “Hey. Have I ever been to Boston before?”

Raphael didn’t answer immediately. His lip sucked in, as if in thought. “Yes. When you were very, very young. You wouldn’t remember.” 

Jeremy nodded. He wanted to ask more, there was something Raphael wasn’t saying but… well, he was never a morning person. He fell asleep before the plane even took off. 

. . .

It was mid-afternoon by the time they landed in Boston. Jeremy was never fond of long flights; having his legs cramped like that for extended periods of time was murder. He was half tempted to take a jog around Logan International. Raphael, on the other hand, was ushering them both to the car rental. “Can’t even get a stretch in, huh?”

“Unfortunately, we are expected by 4, and I would hate to keep my contact waiting,” Raphael explained in French, accepting the keys from the girl at the counter. “She’s not a very patient woman, in some regards.” 

Jeremy huffed but didn’t argue. He just followed his father to the rental, tossing his suitcase in the backseat. “Y’know, the girl at the counter-” 

“We will not have time for you to go out on a date, Jeremy.” 

“No! No, it was- her accent’s kinda like mine, it’s weird,” Jeremy said. Raphael started the car. “Cuz I’ve only been here as a baby, and I got mine from TV and shit. It’s just… really strange, is all.” 

Raphael made a quiet noise of agreement. “Some of the shows you watched as a child were filmed here. It’s not as complex as you think it is.” 

“Yeah, probably not…” 

The pair lapsed into silence as Raphael drove. Storefronts and high rises morphed into houses. It had been a while since they were in a residential area. RED, for understandable reasons, kept away from civilians. 

Raphael took the roads with practiced experience. Sure, it had been implied he knew the area. If he had a contact here- one with a house, presumably- he must’ve spent time here. But this- this was far too familiar. A bit suspicious, actually. 

Eventually, Raphael slowed in front of a more rundown Brownstone. Still quite nice, just needed a little work. It felt… welcoming, in a way Jeremy couldn’t name.

“Lotta cars,” he observed as Raphael parallel parked. “Must be a party going on somewhere.” 

“Hmm, perhaps,” Raphael said, turning the car off. “Would you mind ringing the doorbell for me? I need to grab something from the trunk. Ask for Sara Jane.” 

OK, now Jeremy knew something was up. He was never the one to make the first contact, that was always Dad’s job. Jeremy might be a full-grown adult, but there were some things that didn’t change. This was one of them. 

Still, he nodded. He climbed up the front steps and ringed the doorbell. He heard- multiple voices from inside, predominantly male, but they quickly silenced themselves. A TV, perhaps? They really ought to get that flower box on the second story window fixed- 

The woman who opened the door was a bit shorter than him, though not by much. She was wearing a simple dress, hoop earrings, and flats. Her hair was dark, curved to her chin. But her nose and earlobes felt… achingly familiar. Like Jeremy saw them all the time. 

“Um, hi, I’m looking for Sara Jane? My name’s-” The rest of his speech was knocked out of him as the woman launched herself at him. Jeremy braced for an attack, but quickly realized she was… hugging him. 

She was hugging him, sobbing, and choked out the word “Jeremy.” 

Wait. He knew that voice. He had only heard it a few times in his life, few enough he could count them on one hand, but he knew it. “M-Ma?” he whispered. 

The woman- Sara Jane- Ma looked up at him, still crying. Her hands found his face as she observed him. “Y-yeah, sweetie, it’s me, it’s-it’s your ma,” she said. 

“Ma!” he laughed, tears of his own dancing down his cheeks. He hugged her back, practically lifting her off her feet. “Oh my God, Ma! I-I never thought I’d-” 

“Oh Jeremy, sweetie, look how tall you’ve gotten! Last I saw you, you fit in my arms! My baby, my handsome baby,” she spoke over him. She rubbed circles into his back as they embraced. It felt so, so right. 

Jeremy laughed even harder. “Are you kiddin’? I got it from you, you’re beautiful, Ma!” He stared at her, trying to commit every mole and wrinkle and perfect flaw to memory. “I can’t believe- oh my God, I’m actually meeting you!” 

“It was long overdue,” another voice said, as Raphael joined them on the front stoop. “I had put it off for safety reasons, but considering our current, ah, situation… I felt it was worth the risk.” 

Sara Jane squealed, pulling Raphael into the hug as well. “You’ve been taking good care of my boy, you promise me, Raphael?” 

“Don’t worry Ma, he’s the best dad I could ask for, considering,” Jeremy teased. 

“Oh, don’t I know it. Called me up last night and told me to get the whole motley crew together. Even managed to get Melvin to bring his twin daughters, bless his wife’s heart,” she explained. 

Jeremy blinked. “Uh- Melvin? Daughters?”

Sara Jane laughed. It sounded so much like Jeremy’s it practically hurt. This was his mother. Lord, he’s finally seeing her. “Melvin’s your older brother, sweetie. Eh, sixth oldest. Bobby’s the oldest.” 

“I have a brother?”

“Oh honey, you’re the youngest of eight,” Sara Jane said plainly. 

“...fuck,” Jeremy whispered. 

. . .

He didn’t just have seven brothers. He had seven brothers, four of which brought their wives, one who brought his boyfriend, and three who brought their kids. And the kids totaled to an additional six, counting the babies. 

It was… an admittedly tight squeeze in the living room. 

Sara Jane introduced Jeremy. Jeremy had been expecting to be treated like a stranger. He had vanished when he was a baby, after all, and his younger-older brothers probably wouldn’t remember him at all. 

And yet, it was like he knew them all his life. 

They teased him and punched him playfully and acted so friendly, so familial it nearly made Jeremy break down. He was still crying from meeting Ma, but being dogpiled with so much affection was suffocating. In a good way. He had seen on sitcoms the intrinsic bond between family, and while he felt it with Dad, they also risked their lives nearly daily. But it was real, it was here, and it was wrapping him in a warm blanket. 

Despite the chaos and the sheer number of people, Jeremy didn’t feel overwhelmed. He laughed and played along with their jokes, cracking some back when he could get a word in. Scott ragged on his dog tags, he countered by pointing out the hole in his pants. Michael told him he was still a shortass, he replied with “it takes one to know one.” Elliot and Ricky were the closest to actually getting hurt, and that was only because Jeremy elbowed them both so hard they nearly fell over. 

For the first time in 25 years, Jeremy understood what “home” meant. 

The kids were especially curious, eager to meet their uncle and step-grandfather. Within seconds, young Rebecca- only four years old- was challenging Jeremy to a race around the house. “I’m the fastest kid in the world,” she bragged, puffing out her chest. 

“Oh yeah?” Jeremy asked. “That a fact?”

“You wanna test me? I beat Johnny Three-Legs at running, and he’s got three legs!” Jeremy laughed and stood from the couch, letting her lead him outside. “On the count of three, OK?”

“You’re on, pipsqueak,” Jeremy teased.

“Onetwothree GO!” Rebecca yelled, taking off in a sprint. Jeremy knew that, by all accounts, he should beat her. His legs were longer, she didn’t have the proper running stance, and it was his job to be fast. That’s what he got paid to do. But some small voice was telling him to let her win, so he did. “Ha! I told ya!” 

“Ya sure did,” he replied, mock panting. “Look at you, a freaking blur on the green. You’re goin’ to the Olympics, kid.” 

Rebecca beamed and hugged his leg. “Promise, Uncle Jeremy?” He nodded because, after that display, there was no way he could speak without squeaking like a chew toy. 

Rebecca skipped back inside, past Raphael, who was watching on the stoop. “You’re a natural with children,” he observed. “I used to do the same thing when you were that age.” 

“Wait- wait, really? You sure fooled me,” Jeremy said. 

Raphael rolled his eyes. “What’s my job again, mon lapin?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jeremy leaned against the railing, watching Raphael’s cigarette smoke in the wind. “Hey. Uh… thanks for arranging all of this. You really didn’t need to.”

“But I did. I meant it when I said this was overdue. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to the rest of the family for a while, but have been unable. Then that whole ordeal with the supposed tumors, and-” Raphael exhaled slowly. “It wouldn’t have been fair to you if you died without knowing them. I would’ve never forgiven myself.” 

Jeremy punched his shoulder lightly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, pops. It all worked out, we’re still kicking, and that roast chicken Ma’s making smells incredible. Everything’s perfect.” 

Raphael finished his cigarette and smiled. “Oui. It is.” 

. . .

While Sara Jane had been able to get the rest of the family here, it was a school night. Kids needed to be tucked in by 9:30, so most of Jeremy’s brothers were gone by 8. Elliot was staying overnight, as was his boyfriend. Otherwise, the house quickly went from bustling to barren. 

It gave Jeremy a chance to explore his would-be childhood home.

He made his way upstairs, pushing open one of the doors. It led- to little surprise- to a bedroom. It was set up like a nursery, with a crib in one corner and a toddler bed in the other. Toys were scattered about across the floor. 

He heard Sara Jane sigh behind him. “This was your room, you know.” Jeremy turned to look at her as she flipped the light switch. “That crib… I had put you to bed the night your father planned to fake his death. I was in on the whole plan, naturally. He wanted to hold you one last time, so I said OK. When I woke up the next morning… you were both gone.” She exhaled slowly, grabbing onto his shoulder. “I wrote both of you off as dead, but I knew what had happened. Honestly, should’ve figured it out before then. You hadn’t woken me up crying,” she joked. Her eyes were watering. 

Jeremy hugged her, pulling her close. “You never took the crib down?” 

“By the time I was ready, Bobby’s wife was pregnant, so I kept it up for my grandbabies. I knew- I knew you were out there, sweetie. Both of you.” She kissed his cheek, squeezing him.

“I-I never got to be a normal kid, really,” he confessed. “I mean, Dad did his best, gave me comic books and board games and stuff, but-but I never went to school or made friends or anything like that. I-I didn’t even know I had a family. It took me forever to even realize I had a Ma. An-and everything I did-” The tears were flowing again, more freely than earlier. “Ya missed me losing my first tooth, and potty trainin’, and all that stuff parents should know about. I-I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Sara Jane wiped his cheek dry. “Don’t apologize for what your father did, Jeremy. And definitely don’t apologize for me not potty training another kid. Besides… hold on, I’ll be right back.” She made her way down the hallway. Jeremy didn’t follow, instead deciding to examine the crib. This was where he grew up. It was a simple crib, obviously well-used. Not worn-down, mind, just… used. It had a history. A history that Jeremy wanted to decode, but unlike his dad’s ciphers, he didn’t have the key. 

“Took me a second to find it,” Sara Jane said. She handed him what appeared to be a scrapbook. “Raphael- he wrote when he can. Taught me some basic codes, would send out letters whenever you’d leave a town. Never left a return address, but…” Jeremy flipped through the pages, moving to sit on the small bed. The letters were all coded but appeared to be about how much Raphael missed Sara Jane. Updates on Jeremy’s growth. Letters from a father to his lover and son’s mother. 

One page jumped out to him, though. “I remember this,” he said, running his fingers against the paper. It was a simple drawing of a young boy, holding a catcher’s mitt, and a taller man next to him. “I drew this after Dad took me to my first baseball game, for my eighth birthday. I thought I lost the drawing after we skipped town, but- he sent them to you?”

Sara Jane nodded. “And I kept them all. Oh, honey, the day I first heard your voice on the phone- Mikey can tell you, I damn near fell over. You sounded so happy, and even if I couldn’t see you, that’s all a mother wants.” Jeremy leaned against her and she shut the book. “That’s all a mother wants, sweetie. To see her kids be safe and happy.” 

“I am, Ma,” he assured her. “I promise.” 

They sat like that for a while, with Sara Jane commenting on various letters and drawings in the scrapbook. Apparently, Raphael sent her money when he could- more frequently now that Mann Co. paid so well. She also had a rough idea of their current occupations. “I figure, if you and your father are working for the same company- with his skills, there’s gotta be a whole lot of nonsense going on out in that desert.” Jeremy laughed at that because she wasn’t wrong. “But I also figure since he raised you right, he’ll keep the both of you safe.” 

“I keep him safe too, don’t worry,” Jeremy added. “Uh- listen, it’s touching and all you kept the crib, but I don’t have to sleep in it, right?” 

They both had a good chuckle over that. Their laughs were in perfect harmony. 

. . .

The next two days were a mix of learning the family history and exploring Boston. It was the offseason, so there weren’t any games going on at Fenway, but Jeremy still got a picture in front of the park. Sara Jane took the pair to a restaurant that served “the best damn clam chowder in the contiguous United States.” Which, incidentally, led them to discover Jeremy was allergic to clams. Thankfully they didn’t have to go to the hospital- he just sort of immediately got sick before it passed- but it did suck.

It was damn good chowder, though. 

They went down to the harbor where the Boston Tea Party happened. It was crowded with people, resulting in them not staying long. Jeremy was a bit better with crowds than Raphael, but neither was great with them. Came with the job. Getting overpriced memorabilia from a nearby gift shop, though, went over much more smoothly. 

When not out on the town, Sara Jane dug out more scrapbooks and photo albums, catching Raphael up on what his stepsons had been up to. She showed Jeremy pictures from Ricky’s first school play to Scott opening up his butcher shop. Graduation pictures, wedding pictures, baby pictures- it was all there, and Jeremy devoured it. He wanted to know these people. He wanted to know his family. And he did. He learned about Michael’s stint in the Navy, Melvin meeting his wife, how Bobby’s son could dribble a basketball for twenty minutes straight. He learned about how his parents met. How Raphael loved each of Sara Jane’s children, even if they weren’t biologically his. How Jeremy wasn’t planned- few of the kids were - but they were both so, so happy to realize he was coming. 

He also learned that, while diner food would remain the undisputed king, homemade meatloaf came pretty close. 

. . .

The only problem came when it was time to leave. It wasn’t that Jeremy didn’t want to return to work, or leave his Ma behind. Sara Jane wasn’t even torn up over losing her son and lover again. It just felt like there was so much left to say, to do. There was uncertainty as to when they’d be able to return. “We get time off for Smissmas, I know that’s months away but I’ll be here, I promise,” Jeremy swore, hugging Sara Jane for the eighth time. 

“You better,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “You have 25 years worth of gifts to catch up on, not to mention birthday gifts-”

“Ma, you don’t have to go that far,” he whined. He was touched, sure, but the thought of that much luggage was truly frightening. Oh God, he was going to have to get gifts for everybody, wasn’t he? What do kids even want for Smissmas? 

“Hush, let me spoil my baby,” Sara Jane told him, kissing his cheek. “Oh, Jeremy…” 

Jeremy nodded. “I know, but I’ll call. I’ll write, too. Send pictures if I can.” 

“I’ll make sure he does,” Raphael assured her. Sara Jane stood to kiss his lips, with Jeremy looking away pointedly. “You have my word, ma petite chou-fleur.” 

“Alright, alright- now get going, I don’t want you two missing your flight. That boss of yours sounds like she’ll tear you both a new one if you’re late,” Sara Jane said, shooing them away. “Love you boys!” 

“I love you too, Ma!” Jeremy shouted back, for the very first time. 

The drive back to the airport was quiet. Jeremy stared out the window, watching his hometown- he had a hometown- pass by. “Hey, dad?” he asked, still looking outside. Raphael grunted to acknowledge he was listening. “One of these days, our contracts with Mann Co. are gonna expire. We’re gonna have to find new jobs.” 

“Yes, that’s correct,” Raphael said. He tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel. 

“And-and I was thinking when that time comes… maybe we could come back to Boston. Find some gigs out here,” Jeremy suggested. 

Raphael sighed. “Unfortunately, being a spy means that you don’t have the option of retiring, Jeremy. Not until you’re unable to complete your job. At that point, though, you’ve probably died a dozen times over,” he explained. “Even if I could retire, settling down somewhere so close to people I care about- I would still have enemies.” 

“Right. ‘Course,” Jeremy said. “It’s OK.” 

“That being said,” Raphael continued, “you have the luxury of youth and not being tied down to such a career. If you want to find a job in Boston after we finish with RED, there’s nothing stopping you.” 

“But people will still be after me, since I’m your son. And you wouldn’t be around.”

“Every child leaves their parents someday. And you’re strong, Jeremy. You can protect yourself and your family.” Raphael smiled. “I don’t believe Sara Jane needs much protecting, but I do worry.” 

Jeremy laughed. “I mean, did ya see the muscles on Scott and Michael? Guys can probably bench press a tractor!” 

They both chuckled before settling into quietude. Eventually, though, Jeremy had to break the silence. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, mon lapin.”

“...so your nickname for Ma is fucking ‘little cauliflower?’ What the hell, Dad?” 

[dancingkirby]

FANFIC: YUGIOH GX RAREPAIR WEEK DAY 4

PROMPT: Home

TITLE: Home Strife

SHIP: Tigershipping (Taniya x Misawa)

RATING: T   WORD COUNT: 5902

SUMMARY: Misawa introduces Taniya and their two small children to his family.  This does not go well.  Later, the two of them discuss where things stand in their relationship, which goes better.

NOTES: This, like all of my submissions for this event, is a queued post since I will be on vacation during the actual Rarepair Week; I plan to post on Ao3 when I return home at the end of the month.  Takes place about a year and a half post-canon.  Some headcanons about Misawa’s family were inspired by discussions on the Schoolyard Crew Discord server, particularly from user Seal Child.

Rated for non-explicit sexual references, a bit of cursing, and references to past underage sex.

Misawa sat in the driver’s seat of the parked rental car, head bowed over the steering wheel, as he took his eighteenth deep breath in thirteen minutes in an attempt to brace himself to fulfill his duties.  “Okay.  I’m ready to get out of the car now.”  At Taniya’s skeptical look, he added, “For real this time.  See, I have my hand on the door handle now…and now I’m pulling the handle…and now the door is open.”  He finally undid his seatbelt and got out of his seat, making a little triumphant pose.  His wife applauded. 

“So this is where you grew up,” she said after getting out of her own seat.  The two of them looked at the nondescript suburban house across the street.  As of yet, none of the inhabitants appeared to have noticed their arrival.

“Yes.  Not very impressive, is it?”  Their words were becoming little puffs of condensed vapor in the chilly December air; it was only a couple degrees above freezing.  “Are you sure you don’t want to wear a sweater or something?”

Taniya turned to look at him sharply.  “Are you embarrassed by the way I dress?” 

“On the contrary.  I love the way you dress,” he assured her.  “It’s only that winters in Nagano can get pretty cold.  Plus, my mom is…well…my mom.”  He looked away as he said that last part; he and his mother had never been close even in the best of times. 

She scoffed.  “If your mom is offended by what I wear, then that’s her problem, not ours.  As for the weather, I used to deal with forty-below as a kid.  This is nothing.  As long as the girls have coats, I’ll be fine.”

Right on cue, a loud shriek rose from the backseat.  Taniya muttered, “Speaking of which, better check on them before they start a nuclear war.”  She opened the door closest to them and exclaimed, “Anna!  Don’t pinch your sister!”

“But she bit me!” Anna protested.  Taniya glanced back at Misawa, and the two of them exchanged a Look: Those two never make anything easy, do they?

The Amazoness leaned back into the car.  “Okay, honey, let me check.  Nope, skin’s not broken; we should be good to go.  Misawacchi, you help Anna out.  I’ll go around the other side and get Sasha and the bag.”

Anna’s face was still a thundercloud as Misawa undid the straps on her car seat.  (This process required most of his strength as well as a fair deal of dexterity; he supposed this was good in case of a car crash, but it was extremely annoying all other times.)   She was sporting that little frown which Taniya had always insisted looked exactly like his when he was annoyed; he’d long since decided that he’d just take her word for it.

 “Papa, I don’t like.  Itchy.”  She gestured at the dress she was wearing. 

“Yes, I know you’re used to not wearing much at home.  But don’t you want to look pretty for your grandma?” he offered. 

“No.” 

Loud laughter from Taniya.  “That’s my girl!  Okay, I think I’ve got everything, so let’s…Ow!  Shit.”  Apparently, she’d stood up too quickly and banged her head on the doorframe.

“You all right?”  Misawa asked, shifting Anna to one arm.  “Here, I’ll take Sasha.”  Unlike Anna, their younger daughter appeared to have already forgotten about their fight, and was sucking on her hand while babbling to herself, wide blue eyes taking in their surroundings.  Taniya was rubbing the top of her head and wincing, although she said, “It’s okay.  I’ve had worse.”  When the pain had ebbed enough, she began rifling through the bag. 

“Okay…diapers…check.  Changes of clothes…check.  Towels…check.  Anna’s doll and Sasha’s teething rings…check for both.  Yep, everything’s in here.  Let’s roll.”

As Misawa headed across the street after checking for cars, he actually began to feel somewhat optimistic about this visit.  He thought about how lucky he was, to be married to the strongest and most beautiful woman in the world, have two equally beautiful daughters who were the best children in the world (even when they were raising hell), and to be working his dream job and have earned the respect of all of his coworkers.  And he wasn’t even out of his teens yet.  Had someone told him four years ago–or even two years ago, when he was still trying to adjust to the revelation that he was a father–that this would give him the happiness he’d long sought, he would’ve thought that person was crazy.  Nevertheless, it did make him happy.  He could only hope that Mother would see things the same way. 

When they reached the house, he realized that there was now a pair of eyes peeping out at them from between the curtains.  He walked up to the door, took another deep breath, and rang the bell.  He heard footsteps from inside the house, and after a few seconds the door was opened by his youngest sister.  The instant she got a good look at his face, she froze in her tracks.

“Hi, Cho,” he said softly.  He began to think that maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to drop by unannounced after being absent for more than three years.  Perhaps she didn’t remember him?  “It’s me.  Daichi.”

Cho continued to wordlessly stare at him for several seconds.  Then, she did something both unexpected and disconcerting.  She started screaming. 

“A GHOST!  A GHOST!”

What?

Naturally, all the noise made Anna and Sasha start to wail as well.  Misawa had to try to simultaneously calm them and keep Cho from completely losing it.  Taniya had tried to approach, but this had only led Cho to yell at her to “stay away from me!” After what couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds, yet felt like much longer, they heard a scolding voice coming from within the house. 

“Cho, what is all this racket about?!  I have finals to grade and…”  Their mother had walked into the entry room in a huff, only to stop short herself when she saw Misawa. 

“…Daichi?” she asked hesitantly, voice wavering in a way that he hadn’t heard since that one time he’d broken his arm while playing baseball when he was six. 

He inclined his head.  “Mother.”  He became even more confused than he already was, if such a thing was possible, as he saw the formidable Misawa Naomi’s eyes fill with tears and her mouth wobble. 

“It’s you!  It’s really you!” she cried out hoarsely.  He barely had time to set Anna on the ground and pass Sasha back to Taniya before his mother launched himself at her and clung on tightly, her body shaking with sobs. 

This was extremely uncharacteristic behavior for her.  When was the last time she’d hugged him at all?  He wasn’t certain.  She wasn’t the type to show much physical affection; in fact, no one in the family was.  Had she really missed him that badly? All he could do was attempt to return Mother’s embrace as best he could.   Eventually, she composed herself and stepped back again, scrubbing at her eyes. 

“This is my wife, Taniya,” Misawa remembered to say; she appeared to have been touched by his reunion with Mother, and was dabbing at her own eyes with one of the towels from the diaper bag.  “Taniya, this is my mother.”

“Great to meet you, Mrs. M!” Taniya exclaimed, flashing that dazzling smile of hers which still made Misawa weak in the knees every single time he saw it.  “Misawacchi’s told me so much about you!” She diplomatically refrained from saying that quite a bit of what he’d told her had been unfavorable.  He wasn’t sure if Mother suspected that anyway, or if she was simply reacting to a diminutive of their family name being dropped in such a casual way (in all honesty, he was so used to it that it scarcely registered as anything weird anymore), but she stiffened slightly. 

“Welcome to our home, Taniya,” she said, outwardly graciously, although Misawa noted that there was no hug for her.  “And are these my grandchildren?”

Taniya nodded.  “The bigger one’s Anna, and the baby is Alexandra.  Although we call her ‘Sasha’ most of the time.  Easier to pronounce in Japanese.”

“Well, I never thought I’d be a grandmother before I was fifty,” Mother sighed.  However, not even she could resist the allure of new progeny.  “What precious little things!  Anna looks just like you did at that age, Daichi…except for the darker complexion and hair, of course.  And Sasha is such a little beauty, with those eyes.” 

“Can you say hi to Grandma, Anna?” Misawa asked while picking her back up.  Anna could not…or would not, more likely.  Sasha, on the other hand, gave Mother a smile without being prompted.  To be honest, people always tended to gravitate towards her rather than her solemn older sister even at this early stage, and Misawa and Taniya had already shared concerns with each other that this would become an issue as the girls grew up. 

At any rate, Mother said, “I apologize.  It was very rude of me to have you stay out in this cold weather for such a long time.  Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable.  Cho, you go call your father and Asami and tell them to come home immediately, and to pick up Ayame from calligraphy club.  I’ll make some tea.”

Cho, who still looked quite uncertain about this series of events, scurried off.  Taniya attempted to say, “Oh, don’t trouble yourself, we’re fine…”

“Nonsense,” Mother cut in briskly.  “I think some tea is what we all need.  Myself included.”

They all shuffled into the entrance hall, taking off their outdoor shoes.  Misawa noted that the huge poster of the Periodic Table was still in its usual pride of place on the wall.  When that was done, and they headed to the main living room, he was a little embarrassed to note that what appeared to be a sort of makeshift shrine had been set up in the corner.  Dozens of photos of him had been crammed onto a side table–all of his school photos from first to ninth grade, the one of him and Grandpa on a fishing trip when he’d been about twelve, another picture of him as a toddler on a family trip to the Grand Canyon, and even a photo from winter break of his first year at Duel Academia, when it had snowed and he’d taken Ayame and Cho out sledding. 

“Mother, you really didn’t need to do this,” he said sheepishly.  “I was always going to come back sooner or later.”

Mother stared him down, ultimately saying, “Do you not understand, Daichi?  For almost two and a half years, we thought you were dead.”  Her voice sounded on the verge of breaking again, and she hastily turned away.

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While Mother was making the tea, Misawa sat quietly on the couch in his family’s Westernized living room, trying to process those last words she’d said to him.  Was it really the case that no one had told his family that he was alive?  Chronos-sensei, Judai, Sho, Zweinstein…not one of them had said a thing?  Then again, it wasn’t exactly like he’d specifically requested that they say something.  He supposed that he’d assumed that no one would notice that he was gone…just like in school. 

He felt someone touch his hand, and looked over to see Taniya gazing at him sympathetically. 

“You doing okay?” she asked. 

“I…yes.  It just caught me by surprise, that’s all,” he replied.  His wife took his hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze. 

“Well, I’m here if I need you,” she said stoutly.  “And Anna will help keep you company, too.”  She gestured at their oldest daughter, who was attempting to climb onto the couch to sit on his  lap.  He assisted by giving her a little boost. 

Just then, Mother came in with the drinks: matcha for the adults, a bottle of royal milk tea for Cho, and a sippy cup for Anna, which Mother indicated contained orange juice.  Shortly thereafter, Cho returned from her phone calls. 

“Asami said she’s on her way and will get Ayame,” she reported.  “And Dad wouldn’t answer the phone.” 

Mother rolled her eyes.  “Probably in a meeting.  We’ll try again later.  In the meantime, you have some explaining to do, Daichi.”

He tried his best.  It wasn’t clear that his mother and sister understood too much of what he’d said, though eventually they seemed to comprehend that he’d chosen to stay in an alternate world with no easy way of making contact for a while. 

“I see,” said Mother, picking up her cup and taking a sip.  “And you mentioned that you wanted to stay behind with Taniya…how exactly did you two meet?”  Thankfully, the two of them had anticipated that question, and had come up with an answer that was basically the truth, albeit omitting some major facts. 

“We got acquainted briefly at school, and then happened to run into each other later when we got transported to the same dimension,” he said, attempting to keep it simple.  Alas, Mother still wasn’t satisfied. 

“And how old are your children?” she pressed. 

Taniya, either not sensing all of the hidden meaning behind that question or (more likely, in Misawa’s opinion) simply trying to maintain a pleasant conversation , answered, “Anna will be three in March, and Sasha is seven and a half months.  They’re really growing, aren’t they?  Oi!  Sasha, stop chewing on my arm.  Teething ring, please, Misawacchi?”

He dutifully reached into their bag, took one out, and handed it over.  Sasha began to gnaw on it at a furious pace, so he took out another one just in case.  “We have to buy these about ten at a time because she goes through them so fast,” he explained.  To be honest, the wooden ones that Taniya whittled in Dark World were a lot more durable, but for now they just had to make do with the plastic ones for sale in this dimension.

She added, “Yes, this is a new experience to us.  Anna has the ears, but she never grew fangs.  It means that breastfeeding is never boring; I can tell you that much!” Although Misawa laughed a little along with her, Mother evidently did not share his appreciation for Taniya’s sometimes earthy sense of humor. 

“Fangs…?” she asked faintly. 

“Oh yeah, I have two forms: human and tiger.  Did we forget to mention that?  You know what…here, take Sasha, Misawa.  I can show you right now.”

“That might not be the best idea right now,” he murmured. 

Cho pouted.  “Aww.  I wanted to see that!”  This was the first time she’d spoken directly to one of them since her ghost freakout. 

“Later, perhaps, Cho,” Mother admonished.  Then, partly to herself, “She can turn into a tiger.  How is that a thing?”

Misawa cleared his throat, going into full-on scientist mode.  “We’re not entirely certain.  Our working hypothesis is that the first time she managed the transformation, it made permanent changes to her DNA.  I knew a guy at school who had something similar happen.”

“Ooh, does that mean you’re a hanyou?  Like Inuyasha?” Cho asked, looking more eager still. 

“Cho!  How many times have I told you that you’re not allowed to read that manga until you’re in high school?!  It’s not appropriate for children!” Mother snapped.  Taniya, meanwhile, looked lost. 

“Inu-what?” she asked.  Misawa attempted, as best he could, to whisper a summary of the story’s plot, with which he wasn’t terribly familiar with himself, into Taniya’s ear in about ten seconds. 

“Oh!  Okay.  Then I guess I am kind of a hanyou,” she said. 

“Neat,” Cho breathed.  Well, at least someone in this house liked Taniya, although Cho still wasn’t making eye contact with him. 

They continued their conversation for a while.  Just as Misawa had predicted, Sasha chewed through her ring in a matter of minutes and started on the spare.  Anna got bored of sitting still, and began pacing the living room with her doll in one hand and the empty sippy cup in the other.  Every so often, she made an attempt to wriggle out of her dress, and one of them would have to go stop her.  They were careful to leave her to her own devices otherwise, since they’d long since learned that she was much less likely to have a meltdown if allowed to move around a bit.  Cho, meanwhile, wanted to learn every detail about life in the other dimension.  She was thrilled when Taniya remarked that she had the spirit of an Amazoness. 

“Mom?  I wanna go be an Amazoness with her,” she stated.

Mother rubbed her temples.  “Finish school, and then we’ll talk.” 

Misawa and Mother also had a conversation about his research; he told her about all the progress he’d made with interdimensional travel.  She appeared pleased with his achievements, but she was holding something back and he knew it.  However, he momentarily forgot about this when a large, long-haired cat entered the room and made a little chirp of surprise.  The next thing he knew, the animal ran to him at top speed and leaped onto the couch, landing heavily in his lap.

“Captain Fluffball?” he said in amazement.  “I didn’t know you were still alive.”  The cat clung onto him for dear life and purred so hard that his entire body vibrated.  He felt prickling at the corners of his eyes.  Was this going to be what made him cry, and not any reunions with human family members?  Captain Fluffball had been with the family since he was a few months old and Misawa was four, and had always been more his pet than anyone else’s.  During his school years, this cat had seemed like his only friend in the entire world at times. 

“Yes, he’s almost fifteen now,” Mother commented.  “His kidneys aren’t doing great anymore, but I guess he was waiting for you when we’d all given up hope.”  Always amiable, Captain Fluffball was gracious enough to give Taniya’s hand a quick sniff, which was remarkable since house cats didn’t usually like her.  Anna came back to the couch, leaning in curiously to take a better look at the cat and pat his head.  Misawa cautioned her to be gentle, since Fluffball was very old.  Luckily, Anna was. 

After a while, they heard Asami’s car park in front of the house.  Two people got out of it and began sprinting towards the front door.  Misawa, feeling a little reluctant, carefully set Captain Fluffball to one side so he could greet his other two sisters.  He noted that, while Ayame hugged him right away, his older sister hung back.  He chanced a look at her face, and…yes, she was angry at him.  Very much so.  Yikes. 

She managed to control it for a while as everyone shifted around to make room for the newcomers.  Anna had decided that Ayame was lap-worthy, which both Misawa and Taniya assured the ten-year-old was the highest of honors.  They told the story of the alternate dimensions once again, and then did a bit more polite chatting.  But the more Taniya talked, the more glacial Mother acted towards her.  She was well-known in Dark World for her socializing and storytelling skills, and they moved in the highest social circles thanks to that.  However, Misawa began to suspect that the exact qualities which made her so popular there–her infectious laugh, sweeping hand gestures, and tendency to share off-color anecdotes–were working against her in this case.  Finally, Mother said something to Ayame and Cho about going to show Anna their toys.  Then, in English, she added, “Daichi.  We have to talk.”

Whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t going to be good, but decided he should get it over with.  He shot an apologetic glance at Taniya and followed Mother into the kitchen.  She did not mince words, showing the bluntness of her American heritage and continuing to speak in English. 

“That woman is bad news, Daichi.  You need to leave her as soon as possible.”

He was momentarily dumbstruck.  Of course, it had been obvious that she didn’t approve of Taniya, he had not been prepared for such an extreme statement. 

“You would have me abandon my wife and children?” he asked coldly when he recovered his voice. 

Mother shook her head emphatically.  “I’d never ask that of you, so far as the children are concerned!  What do you take me for?  I am certain that the courts would grant custody of them to you once they hear the full story.”

“What full story?” He raised an eyebrow.  “I love her, she loves me, and we both love our daughters.  That’s the only story there is.  I thought you would have had more sympathy for our unique set of circumstances, given that you were born in America and dropped everything to move to Japan after you married Father.”

“No.  Don’t you dare try that, Misawa Daichi.  You know exactly what I mean.  Did you think I couldn’t figure out the math for myself?  It may not be my specialty as it is yours, but I can still do simple mental calculations.  Anna was conceived when you were fifteen.  I had always wondered why you were so out of sorts that summer, and now I know.”

He didn’t have a ready retort for that, as much as he hated to admit it.  That incident had hurt him, although not in the way that Mother seemed to think.  Eventually, he muttered, “That was a misunderstanding.  Nothing like it has happened since.

“For one thing,” he continued, his voice steadier now.  “You don’t know what she’s been through in her life.  For another, you don’t know her.  You’ve never seen her fearlessly lead troops into battle on horseback.  You’ve never accompanied her on hunting trips, whether she’s in tiger form or a human using her bow and arrows.  She’s equally good at both. And you haven’t heard her voice when she sings lullabies to the girls at night.  She’d die for them, if need be, or kill for them.  Or both.  Why can’t you learn to look beyond first impressions as I did; see things from my perspective?”

“And why can’t you ever see anything from anyone’s perspective other than your own, Daichi?” Asami asked.  She walked into the kitchen before Mother could say anything further.  Her face tight with rage, and all attempts at restraint were gone.  She shouted, “Our family was torn apart by this.  We mourned for you.  You stayed in your room all that summer, then didn’t come home for winter break, and finally stopped contacting us altogether; of course we were going to assume the worst!  Cho was only six then, and thought the world of you; she suffered from night terrors for months after.  Mother and Father separated for several months.  Grandpa was absolutely heartbroken.  Did you know that he had a massive stroke last year?  And guess who had to help Obaachan take care of him?  Me!    And now you just come back like nothing happened, and tell us that no, you weren’t actually dead, you were just having fun in some other reality with the woman who took advantage of you?  And you expected all of us to just welcome you back with open arms after all you put us through?  What?  The fuck?  IS YOUR PROBLEM?!”

She burst into angry tears and ran into Mother’s arms.  Misawa knew that what he should be doing was apologizing and then keeping quiet, but he was through being quiet.  His sister’s rant had brought longstanding resentments to re-emerge from the depths of his psyche. 

“Maybe, just maybe, my problem is that I didn’t think anyone would notice that I was missing!” he returned, trying and failing to keep from raising his voice as well.  “Neither Mother nor Father ever cared about anything I said or did except when it was some sort of academic achievement, and even then it wasn’t usually that big of a deal because you’d already done it, Asami!  And when my elementary school did psychological testing and diagnosed me with multiple issues, Mother, you didn’t want me to get any treatment because you thought I was ‘too smart’ for anything to be the matter.  Small wonder, then, that I chose to stay with someone who sees me for who I am!”

Why had he ever thought that this was a good idea?  He was standing there, one hand propping himself against the doorframe and the other clenched so hard that his fingernails were digging into his palm.  Mother was furious at him while simultaneously trying to comfort Asami; deep down, a voice whispered to him that none of this had been his sister’s fault, and he shouldn’t have taken his grievances out on her.  Nothing about this situation could possibly get any worse, he assumed…and then he heard a sound behind him and turned to see that Taniya had been standing there for an unknown length of time.  A tearful Sasha was in one of her arms, and the other was firmly planted on her hip.  She had the unique ability of making herself seem even taller than her actual 188 centimeters, and certainly appeared that way now.  Even Misawa, who knew every one of those centimeters intimately, felt intimidated by her in a way that he hadn’t been in years.  The entire argument had been in English, so at least she wouldn’t know exactly what they’d been arguing about…but she was far from stupid, and would have figured out the general idea. 

“Taniya…” he tried.  She made a motion for him to be quiet. 

“I can tell when I’m not wanted somewhere,” she said, voice cold yet almost eerily calm.  “And all the noise isn’t good for the kids.  I’m going to walk them back to the hotel.”  She had not, as of yet, managed to obtain a driver’s license. 

“Taniya, no, that’s almost three miles, and it’s cold out and going to get dark any minute.  I’ll drive you.”

She gave a mirthless laugh.  “Are you saying I can’t take care of myself, Daichi?”  Ouch.  She only used his given name when he was in deep trouble. 

“Of course not,” he said, attempting to follow her example and keep a level voice.  “It’s the children I was thinking about.  Please let me drive you back for their sake, at least.”  He supposed that it did help his case that he was being completely honest; she could smell bullshit from a mile away. 

“All right, then,” she conceded, obviously eager to both avoid further fighting and get out of here.  They went back to the living room went through the laborious process of gathering up the girls and their stuff.  This turned out to involve getting Anna redressed in the clothes that she’d finally shed in the commotion, making sure coats and hats were on and stayed on, and improvising a last-minute diaper change in an empty dresser drawer.  Misawa did pause long enough to hug both his younger sisters and apologize to them before he left, as well as give Captain Fluffball a goodbye pat.  No matter how poorly this had gone, he had to remember that they were all blameless.

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The drive back to the hotel was completely quiet; both Anna and Sasha had gotten so tired out that they fell asleep when the trip was lengthened due to rush hour traffic.  As soon as they got back to their room, Misawa volunteered to go get something for dinner.  His wife had no objections.  By the time he got back, balancing several bags from the nearest convenience store, the girls were both awake and hungry.  Anna in particular had a healthy appetite, but neither of her parents could do much more than pick at their food.  Then, it was time to get the children bathed and ready for bed, both parents attempting to keep things reasonably cheerful.  Finally, Anna was asleep in her cot and Sasha zonked out in a travel crib, and they could put off this conversation no longer.  Taniya took it upon herself to start the talking. 

“If you’re worried about my feelings being hurt, then don’t be,” she said abruptly as she sat in front of a mirror, undoing her hair in preparation for bed.  “I couldn’t care less whether people approve of me or not, and I could tell that you were trying to defend me.  I still think I should know what they were so angry about, though.” She reached for the hairbrush, but Misawa put a gentle hand over hers. 

“Allow me,” he offered, and when she nodded, stood behind her and started carefully working through her tresses.  Her hair went almost down to her knees when it was out of its ponytail, and he’d quickly learned that she always appreciated assistance with the arduous task of caring for it.  While doing this, he relayed his entire altercation with Mother and Asami, as best as he could recall.  Taniya didn’t like it when he skipped over things, whether it was him “forgetting” to sweep the corners of a room or omitting details from a verbal report such as this. 

When he was done, she let out a sigh; whether it was from contemplation, or simply because she was enjoying having her hair worked on, he didn’t know for sure.  “They do have some points.  You shouldn’t have left your family hanging like that.  It wasn’t your fault that you got sucked into the alternate dimension, but you should’ve figured out a way to send word to them as soon as you could.”

“You’re right.  I still don’t want anything to do with my parents right now…but I shouldn’t have hurt my grandparents and sisters like that.”  Setting the brush down momentarily, he took a deep breath.  “What do you think I could possibly do to make it up to them?  I was already planning on writing an apology letter to Asami, and I’ll have to call my grandparents when it’s convenient in California time.  Maybe I should take Ayame and Cho out for ice cream one afternoon?  And there’s Christmas and New Year coming up…should I get gifts?  And if so, to whom and how many?  I don’t even know if I’ll be allowed in the house again, or how Father will react.”

“You’re overthinking things again, Misawacchi,” Taniya pointed out.  “Start brushing again; it’ll give you something else to focus on.”

“Sorry,” he whispered.  He picked up where he had left off, finding that it was easier to hold the sections of hair in his hand while he worked on them so they didn’t get caught on something.  “You still didn’t say what you thought, though.”

Taniya exhaled slowly through her nose as she pondered this.  “I think…don’t worry about doing a bunch of big, extravagant things.  Just be there for them.  Show interest in their lives, and try to keep in touch when we’re in Dark World.  No one was really there for me, when I was growing up, and it seems like you had similar issues.  You don’t want your sisters–or your daughters, for that matter–to suffer like we did, right?”

“I don’t.”  As gifted as he was at understanding the most complex of equations and formulas, he often struggled with figuring out how people’s thoughts (including his own) worked.  Taniya had always had a knack for explaining this in a way that he could understand.  He worked for a few more minutes in silence before announcing, “All right, I’m done with the brushing.  What would you like for me to do now?”

“Just put in a braid so it doesn’t get all tangled while I’m sleeping, okay?  Thanks.”

He did so.  The sight of how the light gleamed in her hair, the feel of it in his hands, was admittedly doing things to him…things that he really shouldn’t be thinking about since their kids were in the same room as them. 

“And they got some things right about me, too,” she remarked.  “It’s not fair for me to put all the blame on you when I’ve had my fair share of fuckups.  I should never have gone after someone so young.  I wanted a husband, someone to father my children, and I sincerely thought I could find someone emotionally mature enough to handle that at a high school.  And then I rejected you for acting like the kid you were.  Sometimes I just want to go back in time three and a half years and slap myself.”

“Do you regret it, then?  Our relationship?” Misawa had to know.  He had completed the braid, which was nearly as thick as his wrist, and tied a large scrunchie at the top and a smaller elastic tie around the end to keep it from coming undone. 

“I’d never regret the way it is now,” Taniya replied thoughtfully.  “I love you, of course, and we make some really great kids.  Still, I regret how I went about it.  I was in such a rush; felt like my back was against a wall.  Now I think, if the spirits were always going to give us Anna, then they would’ve eventually done so even if it was later on.  What about you?”

He considered.  If he were being completely honest, he couldn’t actually recall too much of what had happened from the aftermath of their first encounter to his big breakthrough at the end of his second (and final, as it turned out) year.  However, it wasn’t exactly like he wanted to recall it in detail; from the memories he did have, he surmised that that year or so had basically been one giant nervous breakdown.  How much of that might have been inevitable, would have happened even if the two of them had never met, he was uncertain. 

She’d given him a choice once, during their first days together in Dark World.  If being a parent was more than he’d signed up for, she told him, he could set off on his own and there would be no hard feelings on her part, but she couldn’t guarantee that they’d ever meet again.  His other option would be to stay, and she made it clear that she’d expect him to be in it for the long haul if he chose that.   Taniya had given him a month to make his decision, and while he’d admittedly briefly considered leaving, in the end he’d chosen to stay.  And he’d never regretted it.

“I think…similarly,” he finally said.  “If we had a do-over, knowing what we do now, would we have done things differently?  Probably.  But somehow, things turned out right for us in the end anyway.”

Taniya stood up and stretched, giving him another brilliant smile.  “That’s a great way of thinking about it.  Well, should we go to bed now?”

She meant for sleeping, he told himself sternly.  Out loud, he answered, “Sounds like a plan.”

They drifted off in a spooning position, unsure whether or not they’d be woken up by one of the kids in the middle of the night, yet secure in the moment.

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Ch. 16

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Dinner at the “Best Diner in Seoul.” (Still not a date though, right?)

Previous Chapter here

The two of you dropped the van off without any issues. You walked outside the rental agency, onto the main street stretching your arms overhead. You turned to face Yoongi, “Alright, are you ready for dinner at the best diner in Seoul?”

Yoongi smiled, glad you had rallied from earlier. He put his hands in his pockets. “The best? I don’t know; that’s a pretty high standard. This is a world-class city.”

You started to walk, “It is, and I have eaten a lot of places. This one is the best diner.”

Yoongi followed you to the subway station.  “Where is this diner?” He asked. The subway was uncrowded, with not much of a rush happening on Sunday night. You each scanned your cards. 

“It’s by work.”

Yoongi racked his brain trying to think of a diner near BigHit but wasn’t able to. He shrugged.

The subway car was mostly empty and the ride back to the city center was smooth. Yoongi scrolled through his phone. You got off and you led him down a few alleyways to an unassuming diner. It was truly a hole in the wall. 

The neon sign above the door, “Dynamite Diner,” had a few letters out: DYMT DNER. Yoongi chuckled slightly and made a confused face, but took your word for it as you opened the door. The inside of the diner was clean and brightly decorated. There was a counter with bright white stools and several cherry red booths around the perimeter. Donuts sat in a display case next to a vintage register up on the countertop.

“I should have brought my sunglasses,” Yoongi joked as he followed you over to one of the booths. You laughed and put both your personal and work phones on the table and stretched. You were certain you would be sore tomorrow from moving all those boxes. 

"What is that?" Yoongi asked, sounding mildly horrified as he gestured to your personal phone. 

"Oh this?" You held it up. You had jokingly changed your lock screen to the picture you took of him sleeping the other night to see how long it would take him to notice. "It's you, looking so adorable." 

His eyes widened "You put Tubby on me." 

"Aww is that the bear's name?” You turned the phone back towards you to look at it. “So cute". 

Yooongi touched his ear awkwardly, "It’s a dog, not a bear. Tubby was my family's pet growing up; our first dog. Anyways, I can't be your lock screen!" He pouted, a slight accent suddenly permeating his speech. 

You looked over at him, trying to keep a straight face. "Ok first of all it looks like a bear, but that it was your family’s dog makes it even more adorable. Secondly, it's my personal phone sooo…. Third. where are you from?”

“What...what does that...Daegu.”

You smirked and looked at your phone again. “I guess if it really bothers you I can change it, but look? It makes me smile." You held it up and grinned. 

The waitress came over, dropped off menus, and took your drink orders: Coffee, water, and a cup of ice for Yoongi.

"Oh my God, keep it." Yoongi opened his menu, clearly flustered. 

You laughed, "Are you sure?" 

"Yes, just stop showing it to me. Put it face down." 

You smiled and complied, then flipped through the menu. “Why did we both just order coffee?” You asked. “It’s 9 pm. That’s a terrible idea.”

“I can drink coffee and fall asleep, no problem.  What's good here?” 

“The noodles are really good. I'm getting the gaeranjim tonight. I used to come here after working at the bar since it's open 24/7.”

Yoongi looked over at, watching you scan the menu. You gave so much to the people you cared about." Spicy or regular?" 

"Huh?" You asked, bobbing your head back up. 

"Spicy noodles or plain?" 

"It's cold out, so you have to get spicy." You said it so matter of factly. 

“Ok, of course. Why did I even ask?” 

You put the menu down and grabbed your work phone.  "Let's see what this week brings. Meetings. Meetings. Sound mixing? Recording. Meet with Hoseok. Hair and make-up department. Photo shoot? Photo shoot?" 

Yoongi sat his menu down and interlaced his fingers in front of his face, resting his mouth against them. “Yep. They want new pictures for social media and for the album. My next album deadline is in 90 days but they begin all of this stuff in advance for things like printing and promos.” 

“Oooo so you'll be like a model?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and the server walked up to the table. She sat down all of the drinks carefully. The two of you placed your food orders and handed in the menus.

“Min Yoongi. Model.' You teased, striking a pose. 

“Are you saying I'm not good looking enough to be a model?” He feigned offense while pouring his coffee over the ice and stirring it.

“Oh please, I told you at the job interview I thought you were good looking. It's just hard to imagine you sitting still and being pretty.” 

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck. “Well it's in my contract. And my fans like it. As much as I hate parts about my job, I do love my fans. " He took a sip of his drink.

“That's sweet.” You smiled.

Yoongi blushed a little, “Well I wouldn't be where I am without them, right? You have to have an audience to be a performer. Someone has to listen, otherwise you're just screaming into the void.”

“I guess that makes sense. Being on the consumer side of things I never really thought of it like that. Huh.” You sat back in the booth thoughtfully and sipped some coffee. 

Yoongi looked out the glass window at the street outside. It had been a strange couple of weeks for him and yet this all felt normal. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone out to a restaurant with someone because he wanted to. He covered a yawn and looked back over at you. 

You were people watching in the diner. You were normally only here in the middle of the night. The bell above the entrance dinged and you saw Chinsun, your regular server, walk in to begin her night shift. You smiled as you remembered all the coffee and bullshit you had shared with her. There were nights you got off work at 3 and knew it made more sense to power through and go into the office. You decided you would talk to her later if she wasn't busy. 

The food came out a few minutes later.  Hunger had snuck up on you. You went from zero to famished. You began blowing on your meal.

“Y/N?” You heard the familiar voice of Chinsun “I haven't seen you in a while.” She had on her white and red work uniform and her graying hair done up in a bun.

You looked up from your eggs and smiled,  “Nice to see you. I quit working at the bar, I just have 1 job now.” You said happily. 

“That's great, you can only burn the candle from both ends for so long. I'm surprised you did it for as long as you did.” She responded.

You shrugged and took a sip of water. “Well we all do what we have to.”

“And?.... who is your friend?” Chinsun gestured to Yoongi who was mid-slurp on his noodles. Apparently he was also starving.

“This is my boss, Min Yoongi.”

He patted his mouth with a napkin before speaking, “Hello,” he bowed his head. “Nice to meet you.” 

“I’m Chinsun. It’s nice to meet you too.  Well I'll let you get back to your meal, I'm glad you stopped by, I was worried when I didn’t see you for a while. Make sure you two come back!”

“Thank you. You are so sweet. I’ll make sure to stop in again soon, take care.” You took a bite as soon as she left.

“These noodles are in fact, the best.” Yoongi appraised between slurps. 

“I told you. You can’t beat a hole in the wall diner sometimes. So...new album in 90 days? How’s it going?”

“It’s ok. A few songs are done. I got feedback from Adora last week so that was helpful. This album in general will be less….angry. Yeah less angry sounding.”

“Cool. What comes first, the music or the lyrics?”

“They are separate completely. The music and then I see if any of the  lyrics I’ve written match the mood. Sometimes it just goes together and sometimes it doesn’t.” 

“Interesting.”

Yoongi talked a bit more about the process of creating an album from start to finish. You had never put any thought into it so it was fascinating. The rest of your meal passed without incident and you were happy that when they brought the bill, Yoongi actually let you pay. 

You waved to Chinsun as you exited. Yoongi rubbed his stomach. “Too many noodles.”

You smiled and then looked up at the sky. It was beginning to snow. “No such thing. And look. What great timing. The first snow of the year.” 

“Gross.” He quickly replied.

“Ahahaha you really hate the cold don’t you?” You said as you held out your hand, watching the flakes land and melt almost instantly.

“I do. The snow is pretty though. I’ll look at it tomorrow from the warmth and safety of inside.”

“You’re no fun. I love the snow.” You played with it for a few more seconds. “Alright let’s get back.”  

The snow continued to fall as you began the short walk back to BigHit. It was so pretty. The sidewalk was almost empty and the snowfall made it seem even quieter than it was. You took your phone out and snapped a picture for Instagram. In a few minutes, you were back at the building. The two of you scanned your badges to enter the lobby and waved to the night security guard.

“I’m heading to the studio. You should take some aspirin and a hot bath.” Yoongi said while you waited for the elevator.

You reached over without thinking and dusted snowflakes off of his hair. “Do you need help with anything? I also had coffee, I’ll probably be up for a while.”

Yoongi was briefly unable to answer, still surprised from having been dusted. “Nope. I’m just going to write. Go, rest your muscles. Watch Netflix. Relax. You literally moved a small apartment’s worth of stuff today.”

The two of you got on the elevator. “Alright. If you insist. I’m not going to argue with that. Where is the aspirin?”

“My bathroom. Bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” The elevator slowly climbed. You took a deep breath and looked over at Yoongi. “Thanks again for all your help today. Like. ALLLLL of it. The van, my aunt, my brother. Thanks. It was a lot.”

Yoongi avoided eye contact, finding his shoes very fascinating. “No problem. Like I said, it wasn’t that bad for me. I got free soup and noodles.”

You laughed, “Good to know your chauffeur services are so affordable.” The elevator stopped on the 14th floor. 

“See you tomorrow.” Yoongi started to exit, “If Jin’s girlfriend acts up, call me.” Yoongi added as though he suddenly remembered something.

“Now that I know that’s a thing, apparently, I’ll be fine.  Thanks though.” You waved as the doors closed.

You’d be fine. Yoongi reassured himself as he walked over to the studio. He was suddenly acutely aware of just how quiet the 14th floor was with no one else on it. He walked over to the large windows on the opposite side of the elevators. The snow was really coming down now, and the ground would soon be blanketed. He opened the shopping app and searched “snow gloves.” He took a deep breath, What am I doing? He walked over to the other side of the floor, punched in his passcode, and entered Genius lab, ready to get some writing done.

--

Fuck, you were so glad today was almost over. You walked into the apartment and immediately started a bath. You set up your laptop on the toilet lid. You were going to live your best life, watching Netflix in the bathtub. You had heard of such luxuries and were strangely excited by it. You headed up to the loft area, randomly grabbed a stuffed animal and threw it onto Yoongi’s bed. You grabbed the aspirin and smiled as you passed the Pikachu you had yeeted onto Yoongi’s comforter and imagined his annoyance when he discovered it. Ah, it made you laugh. You grabbed yourself some water from the kitchen and headed off to soak away your soreness and forget the day. You paused briefly to admire the snow coming down in full force now. So beautiful.  NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda  @anpanman-sonyeondan   @firefairy1  @cuteipat  @sugaslittlekookies  @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny @livelyjay @niniita-ah @bobbyboops @honeysunandsoil @deathkat657 (i missed your tag for the last chapter, so sorry!!)

[effugereaes]

Leverage: Redemption, The Bucket Job

Well, because your mom had you for thanksgiving, and we agreed.

I was thinking about crashing the company Christmas party as a drunken, belligerent Santa.

Why are you looking at my phone?

Why do you have to cause problems?

He does get grinchy around the holidays.

I need your help. You and your friends over there.

So the library became your sanctuary?

I don’t want you to go after anyone

I want you to make [Name] feel like a real hero.

You have to guess the character on your forehead.

It’s not what we do!

Why not? does it have to be about revenge?

I’m fine with revenge.

Lying to people to make them feel better about Christmas, that’s what it’s all about! That and presents.

Oh I knew it was Houdini!

We watch, we learn, we profile.

Oh, you gorgeous antique!

Although i do have a really nice kimono.

That i don’t want to see.

If you go out and get me a helicopter, we can do it at the docks! in a cigarette boat!

Hey, put the button cam down.

He’s a simple man living a simple life.

A safe word’s when things get too hot.

If you says winnebago, we abort. any questions?

You need to go to the hospital.

I was waiting to make a dead drop on some intel, when i was compromised.

That was a little unexpected, grand theft auto from our reader.

I’m doing it for [Name].

He would have hated it, which would have only made me want to do it more.

After you give your boss this hard drive, what happens next?

I gotta warn you, this hackers a little…

You didn’t cast me as the hacker?

Because i need you to actually be the hacker.

I cater to an exclusive clientele. You two look like a couple of real estate agents.

The only thing on that flash drive is his secret chili recipe!

Oh, another attack on our servers. No drama, our shields are holding fine.

No, you can’t have this for your reel.

Now that’s the cue for the stunt performers to enter and attack.

I’m no hero. More like an uber.

Give us the ledger and we’ll let you go.

Well if you guys don’t know who they are, then maybe we should ask the deadly hands of AARP.

That chili recipe is gold. Gold, i tell ya.

You’d know that, if you took the time to hire the quality guys you should. Hell, I bet ICE wouldn’t even hire these cats.

We had the perfect con, and then the mark had to ruin it by being an actual spy.

Right now i’m just looking at all the pretty colors.

They’re fighting styles were all over the map, so i’d say they’re private.

Holding out on us again, Mr. [Name].

The loading dock’s the only way in.

I’m not crazy about it either, but she knows her vents.

That’s a problem, cause the ledger doesn’t exist. Not anymore.

i had to hide in plain sight, the kind of man nobody sees.

Uh, was I the only one here for the “It got destroyed” part?

My old firm never took me off the holiday party invite list.

Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cut you loose for holding out on us.

Hitter, hacker, grifter, thief, tax layer. I didn’t exactly come with the flashiest resume.

You were afraid we wouldn’t let you aboard our little pirate ship.

It’s becoming a pattern, your keeping secrets from us.

I don’t negotiate with amateurs.

They don’t murder people at private clubs. It’s unbecoming to the members.

Is that why you’ve been stalking us and poking around in our servers?

Is this the part where you tell me this town isn’t big enough for the two of us?

I’ve got new partners now.

They have no idea who you really are.

The choices i made cost me my marriage. I don’t have to keep making them.

I feel like i’ve waited too long to - I feel like i’ve waited too long.

I’m not going to kill you. This is a business.

And like a true hero, he is resurrected.

Isn’t that car a rental?

And there goes the budget.

Well, I’m nothing if not observant.

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam 43

“Sorry!” Peter said to Beth as he rushed to the back office. “I know I’m late—I’m sorry!” he said as he danced around the new guy in the office and slipped into the office panting. The exertion wasn’t enough to make him out of breath, but it should have been. “Sorry I’m late Mr. Jamison!”

For one solid minute the only sound in the office was that of crunching candy. “Parker. Your submission.”

Peter winced. It was never good when Jamison used short sentences. He quickly pulled the folder out of his bag, ignoring Eddie’s raised brow at the glossy cartoon on it, and handed it over. Jamison slowly opened it—and his thick bushy brows flew up so fast they practically melted into his hair.

“No! Really?” he looked at Peter, candy crunching at a furious pace.

Peter nodded grimly. “The proof is under it.”

Jamison reached out, pulled some more of the large, round spheres from his candy jar before popping them in his mouth and then began sorting through the information in the folder. The candy crunching furiously was the only sound in the room.

Peter had felt both horror at his discoveries and a small sense of vicious satisfaction. Maybe this would be enough to get the street children some real help. Probably not, but he could hope.

“Robbie!” screamed Jamison. Peter ducked aside as the door slammed open to admit the new guy. He waved in what he hoped was a friendly manner, and the man smiled and nodded at him before turning to Jamison. Jamison took the papers that had already been on his desk (probably Eddie’s submission) and handed both them and the folder to Robbie. “This one,” he said tapping Eddie’s Paper, “Front page second article. This one,” he said tapping the folder, “front page main article.” Robbie nodded and left.

Eddie looked enraged. “Hey!” he demanded.

The candy crunched as Jamison spoke. “Parker got information that Runaways Unite is using their access to street children for trafficking purposes,” he explained.

Peter was just glad that he’d been with Deadpool when they’d found it. He’d been able to get the information on past “sales” off the servers, and Wade had said that he knew a guy who could use it track down and rescue all the children. More importantly, Wade had argued, the guy would be invested in finding them—whatever that meant.

Wade had also been firm about escorting Peter straight to his apartment after their discoveries and making him promise that he wouldn't leave until morning. Peter had retaliated, making him promise not to kill everyone involved. It had been a battle.

Peter glanced up at Eddie—and cringed away at the raw hatred in the man’s eyes. “And how did Peter,” demanded the larger man, “learn about this?”

“Don’t know,” said Jamison, candy crunching with each bite. “Don’t care. Parker.”

“I—I’ve got to get to SI,” Peter stammered before fleeing. He didn’t just want to escape the Bugle—he also wanted to see what was going on with Dr. Banner’s work. For the first time in far too long, his steps felt light as he ran.

“Mr. Parker!”

And the good feeling crashed. He swerved mid-step and ran into the alley the kid was calling him into. “What happened?” he asked warily.

The kid looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “They took Ellie!” it whispered.

“Who?” demanded Peter. He was going to have to save the child; he needed to know where.

“The—the big ones,” the child said, clearly frightened. “The ones with—” The kid looked around quickly and then allowed a tiny spark to shoot from a finger.

The X-Men. The X-Men had taken Ellie off the streets and to their home. “All right. I’ll do what I can,” he said grimly before running off. Thanks to Wade buying him so much food, he actually had a little money stored away. He had been planning to keep it for emergencies (or maybe a Christmas gift for Aunt May), but this was an emergency. And it was just enough to rent a car (because Peter Parker couldn’t exactly swing into the Manor and demand they release the clearly abandoned child they probably believed they had rescued.

And they might have. Peter wasn’t certain that he was doing the right thing; Ellie was probably safer at the Manor than on the streets (especially with the Snipers still at large). Still—he had to try and get her back. He knew that while she may have lived on the streets she’d made a home. She was family with the other children. And he knew what having family ripped away felt like.

He firmly kept that in mind as he drove up the long, winding drive to the Manor. He kept it in mind as he parked the car (insured, because not insuring a rental car in New Amsterdam was financial suicide), and walked up the tall, carved stone steps of the manor.

The first noise that greeted Peter when he opened the doors was that of children laughing. Footsteps running down the halls. He danced out of the way as a small herd (some in animal form) of healthy, happy children stampeded past him.

Did he have the right to take Ellie away from here, when he knew she was just going to end up on the streets again? Wouldn’t it be better for her if she just—got used to living here? If she spent the rest of her childhood here?

Unbidden in his mind voices rose up.

“He’ll do better in the city.”

“He’s better off in the country.”

“Doesn’t it seem like he belongs here?”

No. He would talk to Ellie, ask what she wanted, but he would not make that decision for the child. Ellie had a right to decide where to live.

He took a step in and was stopped by a beautiful redheaded woman. She looked similar, but was different in a very clear way from MJ. Although they were about the same height, MJ had a more open feel to her, more friendly. This woman was clearly separating herself from him an authoritative and dignified air. “Professor Xavier would like to see you,” she told him firmly.

Of course he would. Professor Xavier was the most powerful telepath in the world; he’d probably heard Peter’s frantically churning thoughts before he even hit the property line. Peter winced; he hoped he hadn’t accidentally given the man a headache—he wouldn't like to have to eavesdrop on his own chaotic thoughts. “Th—thank you,” he said as apologetically as possible.

Her dark green eyes were unreadable. “This way,” she ordered. He meekly followed her through the ostentatious halls and took great comfort in the hand drawn murals that graced the bottom half of most of the walls. There were scratches on the doors, height markers on walls, and every few feet were toys discarded on the floor.

In short; the Manor looked exactly like what it was; an ostentatious manor built by Old Money that became a school and home for children. Looking around Peter could see that the children were well cared for. Even the few adults he saw (his guide aside) seemed relatively happy. She led him to a scarred wooden door. He wasn’t an expert, by any stretch of the imagination—but those looked like sword marks in the wood.

“Good eye,” called a voice from inside as his guide opened the door. Inside the office was a desk that Xavier was (of course) sitting at, and standing next to it was a tall man with brown hair and goggles that covered his eyes from edge to edge. “Thank you Jean. I believe the children in the basketball court are considering blowing it up again.”

“That is not a basketball court!” growled Jean as she turned and stalked off.

“Please, have a seat, Mr. Parker,” Xavier said as he gestured to the chairs.

“Never start a negotiation on lesser footing.”

Words from back when Peter actually liked Norman, and looked up to the man. “Thank you, but I’ll stand,” he said softly.

The man leaning against the wall snorted. “If you insist.”

“Scott,” Xavier said with warning before he turned to look at Peter again. “You came for Ellie.”

There was no reason to deny it. “I did, yes.”

“Are you here to take her?” The words were mild; the eyes watching him were not. Peter got the impression those dark eyes didn’t miss much, and not nearly as much of what they saw was as due to the telepathy as people thought.

“I’m here to see if she wants to leave,” said Peter firmly.

Scott, not moving from his position, scoffed again. “She was living on the streets,” the other man said.

“A lot of children are,” Peter said firmly. He viewed the man warily. “A lot of them call the streets ‘home.’ Do you have the right to take a child away from home, against its will?”

“It? Mr. Parker.” Peter’s attention shifted back to Xavier and waited for the man to finish. To his surprise, the man abandoned the previous protest. “The streets are dangerous, Mr. Parker.”

“Yes.”

“Children die on them every day.”

“They do.” Peter had seen them. Seen them broken, bloody—having gotten there too late to help.

“And it seems that they have been going missing, as well.”

Of course they were. He felt certain that Runaways Unite was responsible for a huge number of them. But they were about to get exposed.

“So, she really would be safer here.”

Peter met the man’s gaze firmly. “And does she believe this?” he asked.

“What does that matter?” demanded Scott. The voice of all those who believed children shouldn't be heard.

“It matters,” Peter said angrily, “because that child is a person.” He glared at the man.

“The one who loses his cool first during a negotiation loses.”

Another lesson. Another time. Still valid. He took a slow, deep breath before he began again. “There are a lot of children who live on the streets.”

“We know that,” said Scott dismissively.

“And most of those children have powers.”

Now he had the other man’s attention. “You will never find all of them if they associate you with other children disappearing.”

“So you think we should just put her on the streets?” demanded Scott.

Xavier raised a hand and Scott subsided into murmurs. “The fact of the matter is that Ellie must be trained,” he said simply. “She needs to learn how to control her powers, before SHIELD finds out about them.”

Peter nodded. He had his own issues with SHIELD, after all. “She could be a day student,” he said, “or stay here during the week and leave on the weekends—if,” and Peter stressed the word firmly, “she wants to.”

The door opened. “I got her. Damn it, Chuck, this talking in my head thing is really freaky.” The short, hairy man came in with a shrieking bundle under one arm and unceremoniously dropped her to the floor.

“Logan,” sighed Xavier.

The child jumped up, then saw Peter. Her face crumpled. “Mr. Parker!” she cried as she flung herself into his arms—much as he’d done to Wade before. He held her gently as she sobbed.

“It’s okay,” he soothed as he gently rubbed her back. “It’s okay.”

“I—I wa—want to go ho—home!” she sobbed.

“All right.” Peter picked her up.

“And Mr. Parker?” said Xavier as Peter headed towards the door. “Thank you.”

He knows. A second after that realization, he will never tell. Charles Xavier had just as many reasons to be wary as Peter Parker did—more, if the school was included. Peter nodded and stepped away.

Only to run into a hairy arm. “Parker?” asked the short, hairy man. “As in ‘Peter Parker’?” he asked.

Peter blinked. “Yes,” he said hesitantly.

“Are you really dating Deadpool?”

[travelwiththefallons]

Roman Ruins & Bibich Winery

Our last morning in Split was spent sleeping in, packing bags, and thanking our AirBnB host for a lovely stay! We grabbed an Uber and headed off to the car rental where we were given a Volkswagen T-Cross for our journey.

John and Lynn had mentioned that there were Roman ancient ruins a few miles outside of

Split and we decided that we needed to add that to our itinerary. 15 minutes later, we were in the town of Salona. Salona was the capital of the Roman province of Dalmatia and where Diocletian was born. At one point, the city was home to 60,000 inhabitants. Unfortunately, as with most areas that have been conquered several times throughout history, the remnants are fairly limited and it doesn’t appear that they are being protected today. We did walk along the ancient walls where we saw the main complex where the Emperor, his family, trusted advisors, and slaves lived. From there, we followed the wall to an old basilica, along the way there was a ditch (for lack of a better word) where 16 sarcophagi were buried, and ultimately further down the wall to the amphitheater/ baby colosseum where gladiators provided entertainment and sacrifice themselves to the god Nemesis while fighting for their lives. There were several signs along the way that provided additional history and recreations of the various sites we were looking at. Like most of the Roman remains in the region, large portions had been destroyed, neglected or modified for different uses by the Christians and Venetians that would rule over the area later.

(Main Roman Complex)

(Amphitheater - the hole that you see covered up in the center is where they would move the dead gladiators and animals)

(really cool, still functional - Roman Bridge)

Apparently, the entire wall is about 5 kilometers long, but we didn’t have time to do it all. I had made reservations for Bibich Winery that I absolutely did not want to miss. We first heard about Bibich Winery after watching one of Anthony Bordain’s Parts Unknown. When he got there he was under the impression that he would just be drinking wine because they don’t really have a kitchen. However, the owner's wife started whipping up food for them to eat along with copious amounts of wine. It all looked fabulous and Bordain could not stop gushing about how amazing everything was. They now serve a very limited menu (or did they always serve a limited menu and just didn’t advertise \0/). When I booked our tickets and started planning our trip, I knew we had to go out of our way to visit.

One of the things I read about Bibich is that they only operate off of reservations. So I emailed about a month out from our trip to finalize a time. I got a response a few days later saying that they may be closed for the season by then, but to email them again 10 days out. My hopes were a bit crushed. I am sure Jimmy heard me bemoan at least 10 times about it! However, when I pinged them a week before our trip, they said that we were in luck and they would see us then! We arrived at a picturesque chalet with white walls and light green shutters. As we walked in, we were greeted by the most lovely waitress. She suggested that we sit outside to soak up the last few days of sun!

Once seated, she asked if we would like to start off with some sparkling wine - again, the answer is always yes! We got one Brut Rose and one white Brut. She was back in a flash with our wine and walked us through what grapes they were made of and how the menu works. We took our time enjoying our perfectly dry bubbles. Our waitress was back and we decided on octopus on potato/truffle cream and steak tartare to start. Entrees woulld consist of veal on a potato cream and skradin ravioli. We also asked for a nice pairing for our dishes for the whole experience. We left wine pairings in the capable hands of our server who seemed very happy with the chance to show us her favorite pairings.

Let’s get one thing out of the way, you’re going to hear us talk about truffles a lot. They’re local and relatively abundant in Croatia and the chefs are willing to take full advantage of that. If you’re not a fan of truffles, Croatian cuisine may pose some challenges for you, but luckily we both adore these little flavor bombs. Our starters were delivered and I honestly think the Octopus was the best thing I have ever eaten. It cooked to perfection and sliced thin and sat on top of this truffle cream that had the consistency of an alfredo sauce, finished with some sliced truffles and green onions. Every bite was heavenly. She paired it nicely with a lovely white wine.

The steak tartare was also lovely. It was served with a sous vide egg yolk on top along with focaccia bread. This was served with a nice Merlot. Again the pairing was spot on and every bite was great.

We took a small break to let our food settle and try another glass of wine. I went with a locally traditional orange wine and Jimmy decided on a Shiraz. The orange wine was really interesting. It’s basically white grapes that have been treated through a red wine process. It’s flavoring was very similar to a cognac with touches of hazelnut. I don’t know that I would ever order it again, but I am glad I tried it. Jimmy absolutely loved his Shiraz!

Our entrees arrived and, again, the presentation was lovely and the aromas were to die for! The veal sat at the bottom of a bowl with a potato cream and curry sauce with powdered butter on top. I had never had powdered butter before, but it was a really interesting taste and texture on it’s own. Once I mixed my bowl together, you could see it melt and added a nice butter taste on the backend. The veal was very tender and tasted as if it had been slow cooked for days and the curry complimented it really nicely.

We still aren’t entirely sure what “skradin” is, but we suspect that the ravioli was filled with the same veal that my dish had or something similar. It was topped with a light cream sauce, adjacent to a vodka sauce with a distinctly unique flavor profile with less richness and more savory notes.. Topped with a saffron foam. It was fabulous. Every bite was exquisite and the flavors all played very nicely off of one another.

While I could have ordered the whole meal again 4 times over, we decided to end on chocolate cake. Although, I would say this was more torte/ mouse/ almost lava cake esque. It came with a bite of strawberry jam and vanilla cream. This was paired with a really big and bold Cab. Again, every bite was amazing and our server knew the exact right wine. She told us this was because she loved both the food and wine there and had tried every combination. She was somewhat of an amateur sommelier by trial and error. I couldn’t believe that they could continue to nail every single dish, but they did!

We ordered a few bottles of wine to bring back to the states and were presented the bill with two caramels. They looked like the caramels that you buy for Halloween wrapped in clear plastic wrappers. However, they were homemade with a bit of 24k gold and the “wrapper” was completely edible. You just popped the whole thing in your mouth and it all melted into this perfect little treat. Lots of caramel flavor, but not overly sticky like you would expect.

[lithalwrites]

There Was Only One Bed

“How was your trip?” Yaku asked Kuroo, stirring his drink.

“Aren’t you curious?” Kuroo asked with a smirk. “You never cared about how my trips were back in high school.”

“Yeah, because you never went on any, you shithead. And I’m bored, so there’s that.”

Kuroo clutched his chest, pretending to be offended. “We meet up to hang out after a whole year and you treat me like this, Yakkun? You break my heart.”

“The hearts of people like you don’t break this easy.”

“C’mon, Kuroo-san, tell us about your trip!” Lev said, bouncing excitedly in his seat. He was still as excitable as ever, even in his third year.

“Why are you here again?” Yaku asked Lev, arching his eyebrow.

Lev pouted, and Kuroo watched in amusement as Yaku instinctively patted his head as if he was a puppy. “I wanted to see both my dear senpai.”

“How sweet,” Kuroo said. “Are you sure you wanted to see both of us?”

Lev nodded a little more forcefully than needed. “Now tell us about your trip!”

Kuroo sighed and put on a show of giving in. “Fine. Since you want to know so badly, I guess I’ll tell you.”

“You know, maybe we’ll ask Kenma instead.”

Kuroo laughed. “We all know how that’s going to go. I’m your best bet if you ever want to know what happened.”

“Fine. Continue,” Yaku said.

“So last summer, I found this amazing deal for really cheap airline tickets to Canada, and I decided it would be an excellent opportunity for me to go practice my English. And Canada seems like a nice enough place to visit, plus I figured I deserved a break, so it was really a no-brainer. And because I’m always nice and think about my friends, I asked Kenma if he wanted to go with me.

“He said yes, on the condition that I’d do all the planning, because he trusts me, and also because he was way too busy with the freelance project he was working on to actually be able to help me. Obviously, the major reason was the fact that he trusts me and not how busy he was. (“Obviously,” Yaku rolled his eyes.)

“Anyway, I planned our trip out in a lot of detail, because the cheapest round-trip tickets were for a month, and I was going to make the most of that month away from school and work and everything. My mom was a little skeptical when I told her about this plan, but she eventually came around to it. She knows she can trust me to be responsible (“More like she can trust Kenma to keep your ass in line,” Yaku muttered.).

“So when the time came for us to go, we had one large carrier between us, plus our carry-ons, mine mostly containing things we’d need, and Kenma’s containing his laptop and gaming consoles. I told him he wouldn’t get a whole lot of time to game while we were there, but he ignored me and packed them anyway. I suppose it was a good thing he did that, but I’m getting ahead of myself in the story. All will be revealed in good time.

“The flight was very long, mostly because we had two layovers, and one of our flights was very delayed because of the weather. By the time we landed in Toronto, we were both very tired of being inside planes and airports, and just wanted to sleep.

“When we got our passports stamped at the airport, the border agent asked us what we were visiting for, and she looked very surprised when we said we were there for a vacation. She said it was an interesting time for us to visit Canada, and wished us luck. I think she also mentioned something about warm jackets, but I didn’t really catch most of it. She was speaking pretty fast. Anyway, after that, it was time for us to get our baggage and head to the hotel. Baggage claim was uneventful, and we got our bag pretty quickly.

“I suggested we take public transport to our hotel, but Kenma glared at me and so we got a taxi instead. The taxi driver was a very nice and very talkative man, but he spoke way too fast for me to understand what he was saying. He didn’t seem to mind that I barely said anything for the whole ride. (“The thought of you staying silent for any considerable length of time sounds like a dream,” Yaku snarked.)

“We got to our hotel without a problem, and it turned out to be fairly decent. It was clean, which was pretty much all we hoped for, really, for the price. We stayed there for the two weeks we were in Toronto for, and then I went and picked up the car I had rented. Kenma was a little wary because they drive on the right side of the road, but I was confident I could do it. It would save us all the hassle of public transport, and we could easily bring our luggage with us, so really, it was a pretty solid idea. It’s not like I get the chance to drive a lot here, so I didn’t think the adjustment would be that big of a challenge.”

At that moment, Kenma walked up to their table, and slid in next to Kuroo. “Hi, Yaku-san, Lev,” he said. “Was he telling you about our trip?”

“Yes, and it’s been pretty standard so far. A logical progression of events,” Yaku said. “Kind of boring, not going to lie.”

“Oh, don’t worry, it gets more exciting after Toronto,” Kenma said, shaking his head slightly. “Did you order for me?”

“Of course,” Kuroo answered. “I told the server to wait though, but it’ll be here soon now that you’re here. Okay to continue the story?”

“Yeah, can we skip to the good parts?” Yaku asked.

“Yaku-san, you have to be patient,” Lev said, surprising everyone there. “What? I can be serious,” he said defensively, when everyone stared at him, Yaku turning half in his seat in his shock.

Kuroo laughed. “Clearly. How you’ve grown. I’m proud of you, kid.”

“You sound like an old man,” Kenma said.

Kuroo chuckled, and put on his story voice again. “Where was I? Ah yes, the car rental. I successfully managed to pick up the car, but I hadn’t realized how terrible traffic in Toronto would be. Well, let me tell you, it was pretty bad. It’s a good thing I’m patient, or it wouldn’t have worked out very well. Once we were out of Toronto, it was fine though, and we were soon off to Niagara, because I had heard the falls look great when they’re frozen over.

“I didn’t know if they’d be frozen though, because there didn’t seem to be a lot of snow around. Nor was it extremely cold, and I wondered if all the stuff about how cold Canada is was just an exaggeration. The drive to Niagara started off fine, and I decided to stay off the highway because I wasn’t really used to driving at all, and didn’t want to start off with driving really fast. Kenma agreed with that decision, but maybe it was so he’d be able to play Pokemon Go more conveniently.

“Funnily enough, the only real prep he’d done for this trip was to purchase a roaming data plan that worked in his favour. (“What a Kenma thing to do,” Yaku said with a smile. “I like to have internet access at all times,” Kenma said.) Anyhow, the trip takes around three hours if you don’t take the highway, and when we started it looked a little cloudy, but we didn’t pay it any mind.

“Turns out, we really should have. About an hour or so into the drive, it started snowing real hard, real fast. Which probably explained why there was so little traffic on the roads. The visibility was so poor that I had to pull over at the side of the road before we got into an accident.”

“That sounds really scary,” Lev said, looking a little concerned. “How long were you in the car for?”

Kuroo looked at Kenma, who shrugged. “I think it was about two hours. We ended up getting back on the road while it was still snowing, just not as much.”

“We had to crawl along at a snail’s pace, because the road was covered with snow, and I wasn’t sure if the tires on the car were suitable for snow. I hadn’t really thought to ask at the rental office, which was an oversight on my part but it was too late to lament that. Since we weren’t very close to our destination, I asked Kenma to look up any motels nearby, and I’ve never been more thankful for his insistence on having a working internet connection.”

“There was a motel fairly close by, thankfully,” Kenma piped in, before taking a bite of his apple pie.

“So we decided to call ahead to confirm that they had a vacancy. Kenma dialed, and then put it on speaker so I could talk to them. They informed us that they had had a sudden influx of people coming in and that most of their rooms were taken, but that they’d probably still have one or two left by the time we made it. They couldn’t promise to hold the room for us, which is reasonable. They couldn’t just turn other people seeking shelter from the storm away. Since we were only a few minutes away, we decided to stop by and hope that they still had a room left for us.

“So that’s what we did. We pulled into the motel parking lot, which was pretty full, and thankfully the sign still said ‘vacancy,’ so we went in to the office to try our luck. There were a couple of people ahead of us still, and when we got to the front, we were told that there was just one room left. We didn’t really have a choice but to take it, so we did. I casually asked the owner how long the snow storm was supposed to last, and he looked at me a little strangely and told us that there was a lot more snow coming. The region was under a blizzard warning, and people were being told to stay indoors. He also told us that they offered breakfast in the mornings, but couldn’t really offer us lunch or dinner, and that there were a couple vending machines that we could use.”

“I told you we should’ve gotten more snacks,” Kenma said disapprovingly.

“Yes, you did, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. We did have some snacks, though,” Kuroo said.

“Yes, but not nearly enough. And most of them were healthy,” Kenma said with disdain.

“Kenma, I’m not going to apologize for healthy snacks. It’s a good thing they were healthy, particularly since we didn’t have much else to eat,” Kuroo said. Kenma huffed, but didn’t answer. Yaku watched the exchange with interest, and Lev just seemed excited to get back to the story.

“The room wasn’t very large, but it was a room and it was clean, and there was a bed to sleep in, so we were happy. We were still pretty tired, what with jet lag and all, so we decided to turn in early and then take stock of the weather the next day.

“Well, the next day didn’t look any better, and everything was white when we looked out the window, so we had to accept that we could be stuck at the motel for a while. Hopefully not for too long, since we had less than two weeks left of the vacation.”

“This isn’t very exciting, still,” Yaku commented.

“Patience, Yakkun,” Kuroo clucked his tongue. “Learn from Lev.” He ignored the glare Yaku leveled at him.

“We were inside for three days straight, subsiding on snacks and the breakfast the motel provided. I spent most of that time reading, or watching Kenma play games. I even played a little, but I was really bad at it, and Kenma didn’t want me to take over the console for too long. On day four, we had a fight.”

Kuroo paused for dramatic effect, and Lev filled the silence with a shocked gasp. Even Yaku looked surprised. Kenma rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t call it a fight.”

“It was as close to a fight as we’ve ever gotten,” Kuroo amended, but Yaku and Lev remained shocked. “I woke up to find Kenma already awake, sitting on the chair, playing a game. I asked him if he’d slept okay, and he gave me an annoyed look before he said he’d slept just fine, but he’d have slept much better if someone hadn’t left crumbs in the bed. I refused to believe that I was the culprit behind the offending crumbs, but Kenma held firm, and I got a little annoyed.

“I was also very tired of the breakfast they served us every morning. I know it was stupid to complain because they were doing their best, but I was still tired of it. Plus I was getting antsy from being cooped up in the room. So I decided that it would be a great idea to go out and find us something to eat, since it wasn’t snowing outside.

“Kenma didn’t look happy when I told him I was going out to the nearest grocery store, which wasn’t all that close, but he didn’t say anything other than to drive safe. I think he also wanted to be free of me for a little while.

“I made it to the store, and took my time picking out things we could eat with only a microwave and a kettle at our disposal. I can’t have taken that long, but by the time I was done, it had started to snow really hard again. So I had to stay in the store and hope it would subside soon.

“It let off a little about thirty minutes later, and I decided to try to get back before it started snowing again. I didn’t get very far before I found myself caught in a blizzard, the visibility practically zero. At this point, I was pretty freaked out, and my phone had turned off because it was too cold, so I was relying on my vague recollection of the directions to the motel.

“Well, the snow stopped about ten or so minutes later, and I found myself kind of in the middle of nowhere. There were trees on both sides of the road, and I have no idea how I got there. I didn’t remember taking any turns, but I must have at some point, because I didn’t remember coming this way. I tried to turn my phone on, but it stubbornly refused, and I didn’t even have a charger on me to plug it into the car.

“I contemplated turning back, but then I saw a house tucked away in a small clearing, and someone was out shoveling the driveway, so I figured I’d go ask them for directions. I stopped the car, got out, and called out to the person. It was a man of indeterminate age. He could’ve been my age, or five years older or younger. I couldn’t tell.

“He seemed nice enough, though, and when I asked him if he could direct me towards the motel, he said he was actually heading out that way, so I could just follow his car. That seemed like a great enough idea, so I thanked him and waited until he pulled his car out on the road. It was a very old car, but looked like it was in great shape for how old it must’ve been. He drove fairly slow, so I could easily keep behind him.

“By this time, it was starting to get dark because winter, and I hoped we’d be back soon. I hadn’t been able to text Kenma about what had happened, and I didn’t want him to worry.”

“How did you feel about that, Kenma?” Yaku asked Kenma, eyebrow raised.

“I was very worried,” Kenma said. “It was out of character for him to be that late and not send a text. He didn’t answer my calls so I figured his phone must’ve died, but still.”

“Sorry about that,” Kuroo said. “I should’ve taken my charger with me. Anyhow, this car led me straight to the motel like I had been promised. He pulled into the parking lot ahead of me, and I followed a few seconds later. But when I pulled into the lot, I couldn’t see his car anymore. It was like it had vanished into thin air. I honestly felt a chill down my spine at that moment, and I’m pretty sure I was saved by a ghost that day.”

“Really? You told us this whole long-winded tale and turned it into a ghost story?” Yaku asked, eyes narrowed in disgust. “He probably just left via the other exit.”

“There was no other exit, though. That parking lot only had one entrance and exit. There’s no way he could’ve left without me seeing him. It was bizarre. I can’t make you believe me, but I’m convinced he was a ghost. A nice one, luckily for me, but a ghost nonetheless.”

“That’s so cool!” Lev said, excitedly flailing his arms. “I want to meet a friendly ghost. Yaku-san, let’s go to a haunted hotel and stay there.”

“Not a chance,” Yaku said. “And don’t tell me you believe the ghost story.”

“I do. My grandma tells me stories about ghosts she’s seen in Russia all the time. They’re real,” Lev said sagely. Yaku didn’t argue. Instead, he turned to Kenma.

“Do you believe the story?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kenma said. “I saw the car pull in and fade away, so.”

Yaku stared at Kenma, as if trying to gauge if his leg was being pulled, but couldn’t make up his mind. He let it drop.

“That’s probably why Kenma didn’t yell at me, if I’m being honest. He told me he’d swept the crumbs off the bed, and that I was an idiot to have gone out when the weather was like that, and a bigger idiot for not even taking my charger. The end.”

Lev clapped. Yaku didn’t.

“So,” Yaku said slowly. ���I can’t be sure, but from your story it sounds like there was only one bed in your motel room.”

“That’s because there was,” Kuroo answered easily.

“Oh,” Yaku said, and stared at them.

“Wait, why is that imp—ohhh,” Lev said, as it clicked. He laughed. “This sounds like a romance novel where the main characters are forced to share a bed in a hotel. Did that incident bring you closer together and spark a romance between you?”

“Lev!” Yaku said, looking both curious and scandalized at Lev’s audacity.

Kuroo laughed, and Kenma smiled. “It didn’t need to spark something that already existed,” Kenma said, amused at the shocked looks on Yaku and Lev’s faces.

“Wait, since when?” Yaku asked.

“End of high school,” Kuroo answered.

“There was only one bed that time too,” Kenma added.  

[downwiththeficness]

In the Blood-3

Pairing: Brasa/Female OC

Words: ~2,000

Warnings: None

Part One

Part Two

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten  Part Eleven Part Twelve

The bed was glorious.  Soft sheets, soft mattress, soft pillows.  Lilah stretched long, arms above her head and toes pointed. It burned in her muscles, pleasing and warm.  When she relaxed, she noted the very low light.  Had she slept with the lights on again?  She wouldn’t put it past her. Turning over, she closed her eyes and buried her face in the pillow. It smelled so, so good.  Like coffee and liquid caramel. She pressed her nose into it and groaned, burying deep.

When she was young and working her first job, she was accidentally gifted a man’s cologne at a dirty Santa party.  She’d liked it so much that she’d sprayed it over her bed sheets so that she could roll around in it. At that time, it was the closest human connection she could get.  A short time later, she’d taken more controversial work.  This smelled so much better.  She wanted to add it to her bath so that she could smell it on her skin for the rest of the day.  She wanted to pull the pillowcase in her mouth and taste it.

Body lax and pliable, it took far too long for her realize there were fingers running down the length of her spine, from neck to hips and back. The touch was soft, almost hesitant, continuously moving. Eyebrows coming together, she peeked outward to a form blocking what little light was in the room.  

“Who are you?” She grumbled, feeling cranky. Lilah was too comfortable to muster up much more than that, certainly to comfy to feel fear.

His breath fanned across her shoulder, “Someone who has waited a long time to meet you.”

“That,” she replied, as she buried her face further into the pillow, “Doesn’t answer my question.”

He leaned over and pressed his mouth to the place where her scapula met her spine, “No, it doesn’t.  But, it is true.”

Lilah frowned, though he couldn’t possibly see her face well enough to appreciate it, “Why are you following me?”

He tilted his head to the side and fixed her with a look that told her that her question was absurd, “It can’t be helped.”

It wasn’t until she started to flip over to face him fully that she realized she was naked under the silky slick of the sheets.  Embarrassed, she bunched it against her chest as she tried to slide away.  His expression turned disgruntled and he reached over to hold her by the forearm.  The grip was firm, stopping her with little more than the pressure of his fingertips.

“Where are you?”

“What?”

He repeated the question, this time slower, lower.  The timbre of his voice was laced with an undercurrent of something that vibrated over her skin.   She just barely managed to suppress a full body shiver.

She swallowed and looked around, “No idea.”

The room was unfamiliar to her, and too dark to give her any clues.  She couldn’t see beyond the obscenely comfortable bed and the man who lay within it.

With noticeable frustration, he rolled his eyes and lifted to rest his weight on the palm of his hand, looming over her.  Lilah had to force herself to keep her eyes on his face and not the flex of muscle over his chest and arms. His body completed blocked the light and most of his face was in shadow, but she could see the faint outline of his mouth, pressed thin in displeasure.  Lilah didn’t know what to do with the urge to catch the pouting lower lip with her teeth.

“Outside of here.  Where are you?”

She blinked, “A hotel.”

“Where?”

Things started to go fuzzy and she felt her body sink and fall.  She jerked away, the sheets tangled in her legs and the comforter kicked to the floor.  She was sweating. Taking deep breaths, she tried to steady her galloping heart.  

With a grunt, she pushed from the bed and made her way to the bathroom.  This hotel was lower rent than the last few she’d stayed at.  The bathroom barely had running water, let alone a working water heater.  She turned on the lights and twisted her body around to look at the damage.

The job had gone a little sideways and she’d gotten scraped up a bit.  Carefully, she pulled the bandage away from her skin.  It was healing really nicely.  She removed it and tossed it in the garbage can sitting below the sink.  

After showering, she dressed and checked out.  The car was already unbearably hot when she slid into the driver’s seat.  To combat the arid air, she rolled all four windows down about two inches and pulled out of the lot.  She had about four hours to make it to the next location and get set up. There would be no on-site work today, for which she was grateful. Just her, a computer, and the voices of the team filtering into her headphones.

The drive was short and she made it with plenty of time.  She entered the empty building and climbed the stairs to the fifth floor.  Hauling her equipment up that many flights taxed her, despite the cardio she made sure to do several times a week.  It didn’t matter how many miles she ran, stairs were a fucking nuisance.

She set up and logged on.

“McNamara online.”

A round of call signs sounded in her ears.

“Cool.  Are we in place?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.  This is a smash and grab, guys.  Get the artifact, get the fuck out.  Don’t go off-script and we’ll be through this in less than an hour.”

“Copy.”

From her vantage point, she coordinated security feeds and worked to cut alarms and then reset them as the team moved through the museum across the street.  The objective was simple: A staff of some importance to a tribe in Mexico was on display.  Steal the staff, deliver to the buyer.

True to her word, the team had exited the museum in less than an hour, no alarms set off, no police on site.  She closed her computer and pulled the ear buds from her ears, wrapping the wire around her hot spot and shoving them in her bag.  

With as little ceremony as possible, she exited the building and got in her car.  The team would be waiting for her at a designated location where she would take the staff, pay them, and haul ass to her handler.

Everything went as planned, and Lilah had the staff in hand as she headed for the rental.  She looked at it, a long length of wood topped with a crudely carved snake. Turning it her hands, she wondered what its significance was and why someone would pay a total of half a million to get it out of the collection of the museum.

After folding it into roll of fabric for protection, Lilah slid it into the back seat of the car and closed the door.  She turned and ran her gaze over the parking lot, seeing no one, and opened the driver’s side door.  The engine turned over and she pulled out with little incident.  

Her body drove on automatic, her mind taking the time to parse the details of yet another dream.  What kept coming back to her was the heat from his hand as it held her still.  She could still feel it, if she focused on the skin of her arm.  It was unnatural, feverish.  

Her fingers twisted around the steering wheel.  She was stressed.  She was tired.  She would finish this job and take some time off.  Go up north and stay in a cabin until her brain worked out whatever this shit was. Jaw set, she nodded to herself, having made her decision.

Her handler’s name was Javier and she saw him a couple times a year.  Most of their communication was either over the phone or through a secure email server.  She liked him.  He was extremely professional and always paid up.  Any deal they made was written in stone, and he seemed to value what she brought to the team.  Well, team was, perhaps, too generous a word. Lilah rarely worked with the same people twice—her deal with Chewie notwithstanding. It kept people from getting too comfortable, and kept the inevitable vendettas from getting too out of hand.

One of his favorite places to meet her was at the base of a mountain in the desert.  With the sun setting, it had turned a bit cold and she threw on a hoodie before grabbing the staff out of the back and heading for a large, flat rock formation.  The air was dry, and her shoes crunched on the ground as she walked across it.

Reflexively, she checked her watch.  She was early.  Leaning the staff against the rock, she hopped up and let her legs dangle over the side.  Far outside the city, the light pollution was low enough that she could clearly see thousands of stars.  The moon was just rising over the horizon, a sliver of a crescent that cast a blue glow over the landscape.  

From far away, she could see the headlights heading towards her.  As she watched them grow bigger and brighter, she slipped her hand to the pistol in her waistband and waited until the car pulled up next to hers and Javier stepped out. He left his headlights on, but turned off the engine.  She let go of the gun and relaxed, resting her forearms on her knees.

Javier was short, clearing about five foot—barely.  He was also well dressed.  Crisp, three piece suits were his sartorial bread and butter.  Tonight’s color was a deep burgundy, pink shirt, and black tie.  Lilah thought he looked very smart.  

“Looking good, Javier,” she called out, giving a little wave.

He stopped and gave a curt bow, “Thank you.  You look as if you haven’t slept.”

“Gee, thank you,” she snorted, crossing one leg over the other, “And, here, I brought you what you asked for.”

Javier’s eyes glance at the staff and he approached it with something resembling reverence.  With careful hands, he unrolled it from the fabric and held it aloft for inspection.  Lilah didn’t think he was even breathing.

“What is it?” she asked lowly, afraid to break whatever spell seemed to hold him captive.

Javier’s dark eyes looked up at her, “A relic, used in blood rituals for hundreds of years.”

“Ew,” Lilah murmured, picking lint from her pants..

He chuckled a little, “I don’t expect you to understand.  But, a long time ago, when my people were young, they sacrificed one of their own to the gods to guarantee their favor.”

She shrugged, having heard the legends off hand here and there, “What does the staff have to do with it?”

Javier held up the bottom end, “If someone was discovered to have betrayed the group, they were executed.  The sharp end was shoved into their chest. True death.”

A shudder went through her, “Isn’t that a bit…” She trailed off.

“Barbaric?” He prompted with a smile as he rolled the staff into the fabric once more.

“Uh, yeah.”

Javier shrugged, “Only the greatest betrayal could warrant it. Its still done, even in modern society.”

She thought about it, “Good point.”

Tucking the staff beneath one arm, Javier changed the subject, “I have another job for you.”

Lilah was already shaking her head, “I can’t.  I need a break.”

“Its easy.  Just a visit to some old friends to pick up a package.”

She sighed and dropped her chin into her palm, “I need a break.”

Javier’s expression was soft, assuring, “After this, you take as much time as you need.  And when you come back, I want to bring you up a level.”

Blinking, Lilah leaned back and studied her handler.  She’d been working at this level for at least two years, and she had no ambition to move up in the hierarchy. She’d never once voiced the want to do more than what she was doing.  And yet, here the opportunity was.  Run the job.  Get the promotion.

Javier waited patiently while she decided, though she doubted he had any thought that she’d turn it down.  She’d never been the least bit shy about him knowing that she could be motivated by money.  A steady pay check was security, a home she could buy when she wanted to retire, protection from the enemies she’d made when she was a younger, brasher, woman.

“Where is this job?”

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HOW NOT START A STARTUP FUNDING LANDSCAPE

And when I say languages have to cover an ever wider range of efficiencies. When you raise VC-scale money, the clock is ticking.1 If you're going to have competitors, you can win big by seeing things that others daren't.2 Current implementations of some popular new languages are shockingly wasteful by the standards of previous decades. Economically, startups are an all-or-nothing game.3 There are some stunningly novel ideas in Perl, for example.4 The best way to do this is to get the job done.5 Better still, answer I haven't decided.6 The results so far bear this out. I think this makes them more effective as founders.

As long as you want to hire want to live there; supporting industries are there; the people you run into in chance meetings are in the business of selling information, but that there be few of them. Most hackers would rather just have ideas. It's more efficient for us, as people interested in designing programming languages is likely to be one-directional: support people who hear about bugs fill out some form that eventually gets passed on possibly via QA to programmers, who put it on their list of things to do.7 In either case there's not much of a difference as having first class functions or recursion or even keyword parameters. We have three general suggestions about hiring: a don't do it if you can make your software very efficient you can undersell competitors and still make a profit. Now most of your people will be employees rather than founders.8 Once you take several million dollars of my money, the clock is ticking.

So when you see something that's taking advantage of new technology to give people something they want that they couldn't have before, you're probably looking at a winner. These qualities might seem incompatible, but they're not.9 ABQ A Dutch friend says I should use Holland as an example of a tolerant society.10 This approach tends to yield smaller, more flexible programs.11 Though we do spend a lot of new software, because it's easy to buy. With server-based.12 Over time applications will quietly grow more powerful. When you catch bugs early, you also get fewer compound bugs. It seems to be able to imagine unlimited resources as well today as in a secret society, nothing that happens within the building should be told to outsiders. Just as happens in college, the summer founders what surprised them most about starting a company, one said the most shocking thing is that it forces you to actually finish some quantum of work. Web let us do an end-run around Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. I learned to program when computer power was scarce.

Only a great designer can. Well, server-based apps get released. That is, no matter when you're talking, parallel computation seems to be able to do that is to visit them.13 They're not being deliberately misleading. The best intranet is the Internet. Most are equivalent to the ones people use for procrastinating in everyday life. Not necessarily. My vote is they're a bad idea.14 But you can tell it must be satisfying expectations I didn't know I had. Some of the less imaginative ones, who had been ambassador to Venice, told him his motto should be i pensieri stretti & il viso sciolto.

This will sound shocking, but it has more potential than they realize. If we wrote our software to run on Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. I think almost anything you can do more for users. But openness to new ideas has to be inexpensive and well-designed.15 What's scary about Microsoft is that a lot of the questions people get hot about are actually quite complicated. You'd have to turn into Noam Chomsky. You can't make a mouse by scaling down an elephant. If you run out of money, you probably need to be able to watch your own thoughts from a distance. As long as it isn't floppy, consumers still perceive it as a joke.

All that extra sheet metal on the AMC Matador wasn't added by the workers. People will pay for content? Web-based applications. Inside your head, anything is allowed. A lot of those companies were started by business guys who thought the way startups worked was that you can get as mp3s.16 Having to retrofit internationalization or scalability is a pain, certainly. Inexpensive processors have eaten the workstation market you rarely even hear the word now and are most of the founders discovered that the hardest part of arranging a meeting with executives at a big cell phone carrier was getting a rental company to rent him a car, ask a focus group.

Notes

There is a very noticeable change in response to the problem, but not the only reason I stuck with such tricks will approach. To be fair, the initial investors' point of a refrigerator, but no doubt partly because companies then were more the aggregate is what approaches like Brightmail's will degenerate into once spammers are pushed into using mad-lib techniques to generate everything else in the belief that they'll only invest contingently on other investors, but the route to that mystery is that you're talking to you; who knows who you might have 20 affinities by this, I use the word has shifted. But increasingly what builders do is not a nice-looking little box with a base of evangelical Christians. Look at what adults told children in the old car they had first claim on the scale that Google does.

Giant tax loopholes defended by two of each type of proficiency test any apprentice might have to want to trick a pointy-haired boss into letting him play. Big technology companies between them.

Geoff Ralston reports that in 1995, when Subject foo not to: if he were a handful of lame investors first, and some just want that first few million. The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, during the 2002-03 season was 4. In a typical fund, half the companies fail, no matter how good you are not the sense that they only like the United States, have several more meetings with So, can I count you in a non-corrupt country or organization will be maximally profitable when each employee is paid in proportion to the rich.

Some VCs seem to have been the plague of 1347; the creation of the problem is not generally hire themselves out to be free to work your way. They hoped they were beaten by iTunes and Hulu. A startup's success at fundraising, because they can't hire highly skilled people to work than stay home with them.

Zagat's there are not one of them is a big change in the sort of community. To be fair, the more the type of proficiency test any apprentice might have done all they could attribute to the same superior education but had instead evolved from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time, because you need is a list of the techniques for discouraging stupid comments instead. Most computer/software startups are competitive like running, not you.

Wisdom is useful in solving problems too, e. Well, of the word has shifted.

Wisdom is useful in solving problems too, of course. Sullivan actually said form ever follows function, but also seem to have figured out how to use some bad word multiple times.

Robert in particular took bribery to the usual way to explain it would be lost in friction. Forums were not web sites but Usenet newsgroups. Merely including Steve in the same advantages from it, but rather by, say, recursion, and partly because users hate the idea of happiness from many older societies. In A Plan for Spam.

Learning for Text Categorization. Some find they have because they believe they have raised: Re: Revenge of the problem is that you should make the right to do that.

Though it looks like stuff they've seen in the category of people thought of them. The bias toward wisdom in so many people mistakenly think it is. Unless we mass produce social customs.

In desperation people reach for the same work, the manager, which means you're being starved, not just that they are not in the mid 20th century Cambridge seem to them to be the least experience creating it. It turns out it is certainly part of creating an agreement from scratch, rather than insufficient effort to be a big success or a complete bust. A web site is different from a VC. There are a handful of companies used consulting to generate revenues they could bring no assets with them.

I haven't released Arc. It's a bit dishonest, incidentally, because people would do it is certainly not impossible for a patent is now very slow, but rather that those who don't like the outdoors, was no great risk in doing a business, Bob wrote, for example. I make the kind of power will start to spread from.

They want so much about unimportant things. Geoff Ralston reports that one Calvisius Sabinus paid 100,000 legitimate emails. No Logo, Naomi Klein says that a startup.

They're an administrative convenience. Several people I talked to a car dealer. With the good groups, just harder. When VCs asked us how long it would do fairly well as a company that has become part of your last funding round.

When the same weight as any adult's. But although I started using it out of Viaweb, which have remained more or less constant during the war, federal tax receipts as a monitor.

It's a case in the time it included what we now call science. Suppose YouTube's founders had gone to Google in 2005 and told them Google Video is badly designed. Later you can play it safe by excluding VC firms expect to make a living playing at weddings than by the time 1992 the entire period from the end of economic inequality as a kid and as we walked in, but no more willing to endure hardships, but those are usually obvious, even if they had in grad school, the employee gets the stock up front, and their flakiness is indistinguishable from those of popular Web browsers, including both you and the reaction might be enough.

Thanks to Garry Tan, Gary Sabot, Bill Yerazunis, Sam Altman, Ron Conway, the many people who answered my questions about various languages and/or read drafts of this, Patrick Collison, and Geoff Ralston for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[yourboatholiday]

A boat journey to the Aeolian Islands departing from Tropea, Calabria

Southern Italy is rich in history, traditions, and flavors as well as an enchanting sea that surrounds spectacular landscapes. Follow us on our itinerary in which we will “sail” the southern Tyrrhenian Sea with our sailboat, (or catamaran or yacht for hire, that’s your choice!) following the route to the Aeolian Islands. What are we waiting for?

CONTACT YBH FOR YOUR BOAT JOURNEY IN THE AEOLIAN ISLANDS

Where are located the Aeolian Islands?

We are in Italy and precisely in the south of this beautiful country. The Aeolian Islands are an archipelago of 7 islands located off the northeastern coast of Sicily. They can be reached by sea with a few hours of navigation both from Sicily itself and from nearby destinations such as Tropea, a Calabrian town from which we will start our journey.

Why choose Tropea as a starting point for the Aeolian Islands?

The choice to sail from Tropea and not from another of the ports from which it is possible to reach the Aeolian Islands is due to its excellent tourist port equipped with all services. Tropea is also a seaside town rich in history, places of interest, beaches, and the sea among the best in Italy.

VIEW ALL THE BOATS BASED IN TROPEA

Alternatively, if you wish to leave from a different port, other marinas are available along the north coast of nearby Sicily such as Milazzo, Capo D’Orlando, and Portorosa.

What is the saying about the Tropea marina for embarking on the Aeolian Islands?

The Port of Tropea is located near the historic city center and has about 600 berths that can accommodate megayachts up to 55 meters in length. Its depths range from 3 to 5 meters deep and all moorings are equipped with water and electricity supply columns.

The Marina is equipped with all the necessary services to make your stay comfortable and reception always available.

How to reach our home base, Tropea?

Tropea is easily accessible by car from the main cities of southern Italy, but the best way to get here is by air, landing at the international airport of Lamezia Terme, only about 60 km from the center of Tropea.

Any advice? For this kind of journey, rely on a serious and reliable rental company. Our choice is Your Boat Holiday, a safety in boat rental thanks to its professionalism.

So let’s start the itinerary that leads us to the discovery of Tropea and the Aeolian Islands in seven days:

Day 1 – Discovering Tropea

Once get in the city it is a must to spend at least one day there.

The historic Tropea center is located high up, about 70 meters above sea level, and dominates the sea which it overlooks. It is characterized by a maze of alleys, streets, churches, noble palaces, panoramic terraces, and incredible sea views that suddenly open up while walking. Among the many things to see, we would like to point out the Sanctuary of Santa Maria dell’Isola, located on a cliff overlooking the Aeolian Islands and the beach of Marina dell’Isola, made of white sand, overlooking the blue sea. From here you can reach the Grotta del Palombaro, which encloses a strip of sand lapped by turquoise waters at its feet.

  Day 2 – From Tropea to Stromboli

We finally lift anchor and set sail for our first destination: the Stromboli island.

Stromboli is the most surprising of the Aeolian Islands, it is in fact a large active submerged volcano and is the ideal destination for excursions and trekking.

Famous for its explosive volcano that produces spectacular eruptions, earning it the nickname of the Mediterranean Lighthouse, Stromboli is located on the northernmost and easternmost island of the Aeolian archipelago. Suggestive and fascinating, Stromboli is nothing but the top of a large submerged active volcano where you can find wonderful black sand beaches, the most beautiful of the Aeolian Islands.

The main town is the homonyms Stromboli. It’s placed along the northeastern coast and is formed by the villages of San Vincenzo and San Bartolomeo, suggestive with their white houses set along the lower slopes of the volcanic crater. The second town, Ginostra, is a small village along the south-eastern coast that can only be reached by sea.

Day 3 – From Stromboli to Panarea

Panarea is the smallest and the lowest of the Aeolian islands. Just 3 kilometers long and 2 kilometers wide, Panarea is a chic and worldly island. It is in fact frequented by wealthy tourists and personalities of the international jet set, who very often anchor their yachts along its coast.

Panarea is known for its thermal muds, black beaches, and wonderful sea. In addition, its whitewashed houses with blue doors and windows are reminiscent of the charm of the Aegean Sea Greek islands.

The small port of San Pietro, Ditella, and Drautto are the only centers on the island.

Day 4 – From Panarea to Salina

Very different from the other Aeolian islands, Salina is located in the central part of the Archipelago together with Lipari and Vulcano and is second in size. 

It is divided into three municipalities, Santa Marina, the main port of the island to the south, Malfa to the north, and Leni to the southwest.

Salina is a green island much loved by families thanks to its tranquility.

Among the most famous beaches, we find the black beach of Rinella, surmounted by caves carved into the rock, and the bay of Pollara located inside an ancient crater that has largely collapsed.

In Salina, excellent wines are produced including the unmissable Malvasia, a sweet and aromatic wine.

Day 5 – Day 6 – From Salina to Lipari

Lipari is the largest of the 7 islands that make up the Aeolian archipelago and from a tourist point of view, it is the most developed. For this reason, we decide to dedicate two whole days to it.

With its rugged coasts along which unique beaches, wide bays, and deep caves follow one another, Lipari seems made to be discovered by boat.

Its plateaus are ideal for trekking while its cliffs overlooking the sea offer splendid views. For these and other reasons, Lipari is a very popular destination for tourists from all over the world.

Lipari town is the main transport hub between the Aeolian Islands. The center is dotted with shops, restaurants, and bars while in the ancient Palazzo dei Vescovi, adjacent to the Cathedral of San Bartolomeo, there is an important Aeolian archaeological museum.

Spiaggia Bianca is the most famous island beach: located about 4 kilometers north of Lipari town and just beyond the village of Canneto, the beach owes its name to the spectacular expanse of pumice powder that makes it up.

Day 7 – From Lipari to Vulcano

Vulcano is one of the most evocative of the Aeolian Islands, with its fumaroles, black sand beaches, sulfurous muds, and jets of steam.

Among the main attractions are the thermal mud pool, the Sabbie Nere beach from where you can admire the splendid sunsets on the island of Filicudi, and the beach of Gelso.

Vulcano has a unique nature suitable for wonderful excursions. If you love walking, reach Capo Grillo, heading north, and admire astonishing views of the nearby islands while reaching the Fossa della Fucina, on top of the volcano, you will feel like you have set foot in a lunar landscape. 

Finally, don’t miss the Grotta del Cavallo, with its extraordinary play of lights and colors.

Contact  now YBH Charter Brokers:

You can contact us by sending an email at ask@yourboatholiday.com or by phone, calling +39 33436 00997, available also on WhatsApp for both calls and texting.

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