#not for sale unfortunately… maybe next year whenever i try to open a shop

[goomyloid]

hehehe look what i made

[harveywritings92]

Welcome home!: Hawks x Older! OC

Summary: Keigo (Hawks) age 23 pro-hero #2 and a model who can't cook for crap! so one night after patrol he's wandering back home with his convenience store dinner, and notices a lady, Tsukino Akibara age 27 occupation: Librarian; walking home by herself when he noticed a man was following her, he decided to intervene and walk her home, and as a thank you she makes him dinner, now Keigo can't seem to stay away, though a lot of people are wondering if it's the food or the pretty girl that's keeping him around.

Kino's quirk is called Push-pull: she can telepathically pull people or objects towards her or push them away, the drawback is that is she overuses her quirk can cause temporary blindness.

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"Whoa! you seriously need to eat six bowls of rice for dinner?!" The brunette said gawking at Hawks who nodded downing his fourth helping of rice, he just got done telling the older woman the strict diet the commission had him on since childhood a healthy light breakfast, lunch was always his call, and end the day with a hardy dinner, they're starting to not really care what he eats so long as he does his job! Kino gawked at the winged hero in astonishment she knew Keigo ate lot... but six with every meal?

"How much food should I even cook with that much rice..." she muttered then looked at her tiny blue rice cooker that she's had for years. *The poor thing will never make it...* she mentally shuddered then snapped out of it when Keigo held his bowl out for another helping to go with his hamburger steaks, Kino complied and watched in awe as Keigo downed the half the steak in one bite. *He kind of reminds me of my old dog Poro...* she hummed having mini flash back of her late childhood pet... then was brought out of her reminiscing by the blond holding his bowl out to her. *Another?!* You smiled tightly and went to the kitchen while thinking back to how this all started...

[Tsukino was walking home late after a long day of work walking this late in the night would invoke fear and wariness over every movement creeping in the shadows... Kino however was numb to it all it had been three years since her ex husband left her... the empty silence and loneliness seemed to be her only companions... The brunette didn't even noticed the sleazy man eyeing her, from the bus stop she passed nor did she hear his footsteps coming up behind her...

She was almost in his grasp when a chipper voice called out. "Hey honey! Sorry for not meeting you at the station I fell asleep!" a blond man with red wings smiled sheepishly as he walked up to Kino who looked at the young man bemused, before his gold eyed glanced behind her and he frowned. "Who are you?" he asked briskly the brunette women turned to see her stalker gawking like a deer in the headlights, before putting his hand in his pockets and walking away with his head down. "You gotta be more careful being out this late, I saw him tailing you from the bus stop." Tsukino eyes widened as her hands gripped her bag.

"Thank you...I" she was cut off by the man's stomach growling he blushed putting he hand on his belly. "It was no problem I should probably grab some dinner now." you saw him walking away with bag convenience store bentos, and in a moment of pure impulsiveness Kino grabbed his arm."Say eating premade store food all the time isn't really good for you, um why don't you come over to my place? I'll make you something."  

She wasn't expecting him to say yes, but next thing she knew was making him homemade onigiri which the blond man who introduced himself as Keigo ate in under 30 secs and was getting ready to leave when, Kino stopped him again. "Why don't you comeback whenever you feel hungry after I've grocery shopped of course." again you weren't expecting Keigo to say yes. "All right gimme your number." and with that an odd friendship began....]

That was nearly six weeks ago...

Kino was slack-jawed as she was watching the winged hero still in awe as he asked for another bowl of rice, only to find the cooker completely empty. "I'm outta rice!" she said eye twitching, Keigo said that was fine and continued eating the rest of his food, after his plates were clear; Kino still felt guilty for losing the battle to his monstrous appetite, so she cut up some apples and sprinkled them with some cinnamon sugar and brought them out to Keigo. "Hey, I know you're still hungry sooo..." she trailed off seeing Keigo slumped over her table with his head resting in his arms as his breaths came out steadily. "Huh...ya gotta be kidding me, he fell asleep?" she said surprised putting the bowl of apple slices on the table; Kino went to get a spare blanket and draped it over Keigo's shoulders the wing man didn't even twitch.

"Hero business must really take the wind out of you..." Kino hummed patting him on the head before going back to the kitchen to do the dishes as she was finishing up she heard Keigo wake up. " mm, *checks clock* Oh crap! it’s already this late!?" he sputtered quickly grabbing his goggles and jacket. "Well it looked like you were sleeping well, I didn't want to wake you." Kino said wiping her hands on her apron. "Oh by the way I left some apples..." Hawks cut mouth full. "Aw rlawredy tate em'! (I already ate them!)" he tossed the bowl her way which the brunette caught with her quirk she gawked at the empty bowl astounded and gently set it down on her counter and went to meet Keigo by the door and the winged hero turned to her.

"Thanks for meal Kino, I'll text if I can come again?" 

"You don't have to ask my answer will always be the same."

With that Hawks took off for his night patrol, and Tsukino when to look through her mail pile for that electronic store catalog she saw earlier... 

The next day the silver eyed brunette arrived to a large electronics store, intending on buying a brand new rice cooker, but first decided to have a little fun. testing out video games, playing on the display tablets and lounging in a massage chair for few minutes, Before finding her way to the small appliances aisle.

Kino felt a little overwhelmed by the different Rice cooker brands and tried to remember when she bought her old one and how much it cost, but then remembered she was a broke high schooler living on her own bought it at a yard sale, that was like eight years ago! and she didn't know how long previous owner had it for!

 Eventually a clerk noticed her looking lost and decided to help her, unfortunately the clerk was obviously looking out for their quota and Kino found she'd gone a bit over budget with her new toy..."Looks like I'll be taking double shifts..." she mumbled to herself patting her new Rice-cooker while continuingly telling herself it was a very necessary purchase, and as it turned out it was able to meet all of Keigo's rice needs when he stopped by for dinner again that night! 

a month later...

Kino was woken up by a text from Keigo. {Hey I'm pretty busy tonight, so I won't be able to come over sorry 😞] the short woman blinked as she re-read the text. {Okay! don't push yourself to hard! 😊] she sighed before rolling over to looked at the ceiling wondering what she'll do today... Keigo told her he's interested in western cooking and has never tried pulled pork before she was gonna make that tonight! even searched the internet for a slow cooker recipe that she'd been dying to try out! she puffed out her cheeks as she got up and her vacuumed her living room, then went to do the laundry...

{not noticing the little red feather following her around.} 

"Hmm, maybe I should go visit auntie's grave." She said to herself it had been a while since she went to clean the headstone, she got on the phone with her friend Shun. "Yeah I was thinking of going this Tuesday… yeah I can meet you there, haven't been there since school!" she hung up and looking at the tv to see a KFC Commercial with Hawks flying around eating a bucket of chicken and her stomach growled. "It's lunch time!" She cheered deciding not to cook and got some cup noodles and peach juice, before sitting down to read something...

"I've already read this book." She huffed decided to go to the library (the feather from earlier snuck into her bag) and went to get a few new books and she spied a few magazines with Hawks on the cover, but decided it was too weird reading about someone that she cooks dinner for almost every night and left them alone... 

On her way back the owner of the butcher shop she frequents called to her. "Say missy those Chicken legs you were asking about are on real cheap today!~" Kino smiled at him. "that's okay I'm fine today!" the man looked at her like she grew three heads. "Hey... ya better not be cheating on me with another meat vendor!" he joked the brunette giggled and waved him off.

"Tonight dinner will be whatever I want." she mumbled as made her way home as soon she got home Kino sat down to read a book on the rules soccer as her cousin's son had joined a club was curious. "Holy crap!...I never thought kicking a ball around would be so complicated!" she sputtered gawking at all the rules and regulations. "Urhg, all this sports jargon making my head spin, think I'll take a bath." she said getting up from the beanbag she was sitting in and going over the a pink drawer and pulling a purple bottle out of it.

"Shun gave these bath-bombs for a birthday gift, never really used them before." she said getting the bath ready as Kino was opening wrapping on the bath bomb, nearly choke on her spit when she saw it was Easter themed it was supposed to looked golden chicken but instead "hehe.. it-IT LOOKS JUST LIKE KEIGO! HAHA!" the feather that was chilling outside her bathroom bristled as she burst out laughing as she put it in the water. "Oh wait... I should've taken photo, dang!"

Now that she got a few minutes to think to herself quietly Kino didn't realize how lonely she was feeling. "Spending the whole day alone like this... feels long and tiring." she sighed then noticed her arms and belly were looking kind of gummy... "Jeez... A month of eating the same meals as Hawks and without excising I'm starting to get pudgy..." she huffed getting out of the bath, later when she was getting ready for bed Kino stayed up to do a word search puzzle when she heard something on her balcony... scared she looked around for a weapon as using her quirk would be a bad call in this situation, as she didn't want to accidentally kill someone; grabbing a random object she crept towards her balcony door.

The short woman swallowed hard as she opened the door only be greeted by Hawks sitting on her railing sipping a can of coffee. "Keigo?" Kino blinked bemused as the blond turned to look at her. "Oh hey you are awak...why are you holding a toaster for?" he asked brows scrunched up in confusion, the silver eyed brunette looked down at what she was holding, sure enough! in her frazzled she grabbed the toaster to defend herself with. "Uh.. I was just putting it away..." she said using her quirk to put it back on the counter, the wing hero hummed as the brunette cleared her throat.

"So what are you doing here?" 

"I'm taking a break from mid-night patrol, figured I'd see if you were awake.."

"Oh, so you going back out?"

"In about five minutes, why?"

Hawks cocked a brow as Kino was quiet for a moment he frowned mentally preparing for her to try and kiss him or try and drag him to bed with her, (like all the other girls that just wanted to be friends...) instead he was confused when she told him to sit tight for a second, and disappeared in inside she came out couple minutes later. "Hold your hand out." she said Keigo complied and Kino grab his hand the blond felt shock go through him, and his wings fluffed up a little as the brunette woman gave him this a small bundle wrapped in a cloth. "A bento!" she chirped as Keigo's jaw dropped slightly he looked down at the bento then back at her stunned.

" I don't have anything warm other than onigiri though..." she said apologetically as Hawk kept looking at her wide-eyed then shook his head. "Urm, it's fine thank you...I gotta go." he muttered avoiding eye contact his ears were burning as he took off into the sky. "Goodnight Keigo! be safe!" Kino called after him before turning in for the night.

{Meanwhile the head of the commission received pictures of Hawks frequently visiting as certain brunette and did not take kindly to this one bit. and decided to put an end to to these little trysts at once. "I look forward to meeting you miss Akibara." she smirked confidently... Not realizing just who she was threatening.} 

[jeranasblog]

Not good enough for you

Summary: When a stranger accuses Tony of taking advantage of Peter, the Omega wants to cheer him up. 

Rating: E

Notes: This story is my 11th @starkercestevent​ contribution and it might be better to read the other parts first. Kink for the 11th story: Cock Worship (didn’t stick to the kink that much though xD). Click here for the Bingo Masterlist.

Warnings: Adoptive Father/Adoptive Son, don’t like it, don’t read it

Read on Ao3

It happened on the only day Peter came home before Tony. Peter’s classes had ended early since one of his professors gave a lecture on his research topic in another country, and his friends had accompanied him on his way home. Although Tony finished a lot of work at home these days, he was still obligated to show up in the office every now and then, so Peter was alone when he opened the door and he was alone when he found the piece of paper. 

 He didn’t see it at first. Like every day, he hung up his jacket and made himself a cup of coffee before he went back into the living room, crossing the hallway, and therefore the front door as well. On the floor was a small piece of paper someone has probably slipped under the door. It was a folded page of a notebook that was ripped out, with two handwritten words in the middle.

 Two days.

 Peter immediately knew who send the paper and froze in fear. How had Pierce passed the security man in front of their secluded building? Tony had given them instructions not to let a single unfamiliar face pass the door. He clenched his hands to fists, accidentally crumpling the piece of paper he was holding in his hand. He checked the lock again, making sure the door wouldn’t open, and it stayed shut. When Pierce had managed to enter the building, he could easily enter the apartment as well.

 Shivering, Peter sat down on the couch, his coffee already forgotten and cold. He waited for his Daddy, waited for someone who could tell him what to do, and when he finally heard a key in the lock, tension fell from his shoulders. Peter didn’t even have to say a word before Tony knew something was wrong and the Alpha sat next to him, pulling him into an embrace.

 “What happened?”

 Peter didn’t answer and showed him the piece of paper that was still clutched in his fist. Tony took and unfolded it until he could read the words again. His jaw twitched, but he stayed calm otherwise, hugging Peter even closer. 

 “I won’t let you go to your classes anymore, baby,” his words were certain, leaving no room for discussion. “You’ll stay with me. You’ll go to work with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

 Peter didn’t even want to argue, he was totally fine staying with his Alpha 24/7. “Yes, Daddy.”

 “I will speak with a few of my colleagues, tomorrow. We’re going to find something, anything that threatens Pierce enough to let you go. I protect you, baby, I promise. Please, just listen to me, okay?”

 Peter nodded and pressed a kiss against his Daddy’s lips. He wanted to be protected, wanted to be safe. His Daddy would find a way to get rid of Pierce and in the meantime, Peter only had to stay with him. Still, in the back of his mind, he could hear Pierce’s voice. ‘Only two days left. Come to me or I will find you.’ Peter closed his eyes and inhaled his Daddy’s calming scent. No need to panic, he had to trust his Daddy. 

 Since Tony didn’t let Peter out of his eyes anymore, they did everything together. They went to work together, they went grocery shopping together, and Peter even accompanied him when Tony picked up his suit from the laundry service. His servants had forgotten to pick it up in time for the business meeting with the German Strategic Sales Manager of a supplier company, and Tony had decided to do things himself. Unfortunately, all parking spots close to the laundry service where taken, so they had to walk a while and Tony carried the suit over his arm. 

 Shortly before they got back to the car, a woman, who had watched them for quite some time, crossed their way and snapped at Tony. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Corrupting your own kid and showing him off for anyone to see after?” 

 Tony was taken aback and could only stare at her, unable to respond. Before she could accuse him further, Peter decided to step in. “Excuse me, Mam,” his voice was soft and deescalating. “I don’t think it’s your place to judge.”

 Her expression changed and anger turned into pity. “Oh, poor little Omega. I’ve read everything about your ‘relationship’ online.” Her voice changed when she said ‘relationship’. “It’s not your fault that this- this child molester uses you. You don’t have to stay with him just because he pays for you. You could always lookout for help. There are tons of people willing to support you. Omegas don’t have to depend on Alphas anymore.”

 Tony growled, but still didn’t say anything, leaving Peter to deal with the situation. He chose his next words wisely, didn’t want to make a fuss in public. “It’s considerate of you that you wanna help me, and it’s right that Omegas doesn’t depend on Alphas anymore, but I want to be with Tony. It’s my free decision. We aren’t even actually related, you know?”

 But as nice as Peter had tried to be, the woman didn’t want to listen. “He’s forcing you to say this, isn’t he? Poor baby, I can help you right now. You don’t have to stay with him.”

 “Don’t call him ‘baby’,” the Alpha was snapping, but he still didn’t answer to the accusations. 

 Immediately, the woman’s expression turned angry again. “You stay quiet, you bastard. You’re sick, he’s twenty years younger than you. You raised him. How dare you touch him?”

 Slowly, Peter could feel how anger bubbled up inside him. Tony was still quiet, and the silence worried Peter. Usually, his Daddy was fierce, defending Peter whenever it was necessary, but now he was only standing there, the words of the woman washing over him. Seeing that the Alpha wasn’t even reacting, made Peter only angrier. 

 “No, you listen to me now,” he pointed his finger at the woman, his voice raised and ice-cold. He had never been so angry before in his entire life and he could see in her face that she was shocked by his temper. “It’s my life and my decision. I’m sick of people trying to help me because they think they know me better than I know myself. I. Love. Tony. And as long as our relationship is legal, none of you pretentious little hypocrites have any right to intervene. Just get your sorry ass away from here and. Leave. Us. Alone.” 

 He had successfully dumfounded her and she was gaping at him like a fish before she scoffed and walked away. Peter sighed. She finally left. But one gaze at Tony confirmed that the damage was already done. “I love you, Daddy. Nothing is wrong about this. You know that, don’t you?” 

 Tony smiled, but it wasn’t carefree as usual but forced. “Sure, baby.”

 Peter decided to leave it be until they were at home. He didn’t want everyone on the street to know about Tony’s thoughts and feelings, and he definitely didn’t want to distract the Alpha while he was driving, so he held back until the door of the apartment finally closed behind them. Tony had tried to be normal during the ride, joking and talking like he always did, but the car was clouded by his scent, revealing how sad he truly was. 

  Once they were alone, Peter couldn’t hold back anymore. He pushed his Daddy onto the couch and the Alpha didn’t expect his dominance, so he didn’t stop him. Peter climbed in his lap and wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, pressing himself to his Daddy’s chest.

 “I love you. So much,” Peter whispered into his ear. “Tell me you don’t believe any of the shit this old bag uttered.” 

 “I don’t believe any of the shit this old bag uttered.” Tony tried to joke, but his voice was too tight to sound funny. Peter knew immediately that he just wanted to distract, so he pulled back enough to give him a berated gaze. 

 The Alpha sighed and lowered his gaze, but his mask fell off and his real feelings came to the surface. He looked hurt. Hurt and… disgusted? “Baby, I know she wasn’t wrong,” Tony said slowly. “I know I didn’t force you, I know you want this and I know you love me. But don’t you see the power imbalance between us? Don’t you see that I’m twice your age? Maybe they have a point. Maybe I am a child molester that took advantage of your feelings.”

 Peter had to swallow. Anger was bubbling up inside of him, but it was soon replaced by horror. He hadn’t noticed that his Daddy felt like this, hadn’t noticed that he doubted himself. All the time, Tony always seemed to be the strong Alpha, self-confident and resolute, but just like everyone else, he was a human being too. He had fears and regrets, and apparently one of them was forcing Peter. 

 Peter picked his next words carefully. “Daddy, I’ve always loved you. When I was younger, I loved you as a mentor, as a hero who saved me and when I grew up the feelings were getting deeper. I’ve desired you since the moment I presented, since I knew our bodies are compatible, but we didn’t act out on it for years. I told you I want this, more than once, and now I beg you to trust the decision I made. If I were anyone else, an Omega you didn’t raise, would you still feel this way? Would you still think you’ve taken advantage of me?”

 Tony stared at him in silence before he answered truthfully. “Probably not.”

 Peter sighed in relief. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. “There are a million relationships out there with age-gaps and thousands with power imbalances. How many rich old Alphas have young beautiful Omegas on their side? How often do you hear about Alpha’s rescuing poor Omega’s to mate them? It’s even called a romance. No one calls those pairings out because it’s common the Alpha is providing for the Omega, it’s common that Alphas are richer and more experienced. We are no different, Daddy. We aren’t even related by blood, no one should care.”

 “But they do. They don’t judge only me, they judge you as well. I don’t want you to suffer because of me,” Tony’s voice was small and vulnerable, something Peter had never heard before and he forced himself to stay calm, forced his scent to remain soothing. Getting angry with the world wouldn’t make anything better now. 

 “When Piece threatened me, he didn’t say I would regret rejecting his offer. He said we would regret it,” Tony flinched from the words, but Peter continued anyway. “I know he will come for both of us when the time is up. How would you feel if I would break up with you to protect you? To make the thing between you, me, and Pierce a thing between only me and Pierce?”

 He could see the fury in his Daddy’s eyes, could see the hate for Pierce but also the fear Peter might leave him, that Peter might confront the Senator on his own. “Exactly, Tony. I trust you that we are in this together. I know that you can make your own decisions and that you want to protect me. There’s nothing I’d rather do than keep you out of this, but we are a team. We’re doing this together. So please let us do the rest together as well. Don’t pull back to protect me from pretentious snobs.”

 His Daddy smiled, the first real smile of the day, and then he nodded carefully before he pressed a kiss on Peter’s forehead. “I love you, baby, you know? It makes me so proud that you choose to belong to me.”

 “It makes me proud that I belong to you as well, Daddy. Most perfect Alpha in the whole world.”

 Tony chuckled and pulled him ever closer until there was no space left between them. It felt nice being held like this, it always did, but today, Peter wanted to give something to his Daddy. He was always so strong for him, managing the situation with Pierce and protecting him from possible enemies. Peter just wanted to give something back. 

 “Daddy, can you just relax for me today? I wanna show you how much you mean to me; how much I love you.”

 The Alpha looked at him curiously but didn’t protest, handing over control he usually loved to have for himself. Peter savored his trust. He wouldn’t disappoint his Daddy, wouldn’t break his trust. He loved surrendering to the Alpha, loved to be dominated, but today he wanted to prove Tony that nothing mattered more than them being happy together.

 Peter slid from his Daddy’s lap and kneeled in front of the couch. Although he was taking control, his position was so submissive, the Alpha would be comfortable enough to let himself go. “Stop thinking, Daddy,” Peter said while he opened the Alpha’s pants and took them off. “I’m gonna show you how perfect I wanna be for you. That you are everything that matters to me.”

 “I love you, baby.” Tony was watching him with pride while he was shuffling closer. Immediately, the familiar scent of his Daddy was clouding his mind and he could feel himself getting slick. Already. He really was easy for the Alpha. 

 This time, Peter decided to take it slow. He pressed soft kisses on his Daddy’s thighs, every one of them a sign of his love, of his devotion, and he did his best not to touch the Alpha’s cock. He wanted the sensations to build up, wanted them to dominate hid Daddy’s mind until he was as desperate for the Omega as Peter was always for him. 

 “You’re so beautiful,” Peter whispered when his kisses were slowly wandering higher. “You’re so strong, so handsome. Your cock is gorgeous.” His sounds were muffled against his Daddy’s thighs, but the pleased noises of the Alpha showed Peter that Tony understood every word. “It’s so thick, stretching me so good. One day, I want you to breed me, fill me up with your pups. Every single time you open me up, I’m losing my mind. I can’t believe you think I wouldn’t want this, wouldn’t want you to fuck me with your big knot.”

 “Baby,” Tony growled impatiently, his fingers itching to take over. Peter could feel that his Daddy wanted to grab his hair, to force him down until he was choking on his cock, but he clenched his hands to fists, fighting the urge to take control. 

 Peter rewarded him with the first kiss pressed against his Daddy’s tip. It was light and chaste, his lips didn’t even stretch around the Alpha’s length, but Tony was riled up. His hips surged forward, pressing his cock against Peter’s face and the Omega couldn’t suppress the loud moan that was falling from his lips. God, there was nothing better than his Daddy losing control, nothing better than the thick cock pressed against his face. Well, maybe except for the thick cock inside of him.

 He had wanted to drag it out, had really wanted to tease his Daddy, but his patience was running thin. Without second thoughts, Peter opened his mouth and swallowed the length in one go, humming when he felt the tip pressed against the back of his throat. They were moaning at the same time, Tony because Peter was swallowing him like he had never tasted something better in his entire life, and Peter because the taste of his Daddy made him feel like he was high on endorphins.

 Peter was savoring every second, moving his head up and down. His mind went quiet as his mouth was stuffed full; his Daddy’s cock too big for him to swallow it whole. Pleasing his Alpha was the only thing he could concentrate on at the moment, the only thing that truly mattered. He was drooling all over the Alpha’s cock, it was running down his shaft and making his Daddy messy, but they didn’t care. Peter could die like this, happily sucking his Daddy’s cock. 

 “Baby, you are stunning, taking my cock like you was made for this,” Tony’s voice was hoarse and arousing. “You look perfect like this. One day, I stuff you with a toy while you’re sucking my cock, fill both of your holes at once. Would you like that, sweetheart? Your Daddy plugging you up like a desperate little slut?”

 “Uh-huh,” Peter couldn’t do anything but moan, unwilling to let the Alpha’s cock go. The words were making him wet, slick dripped out of him, ruining his pants. He wanted this, wanted his Daddy to plug him up, and stuff him full all day long. Sometimes Peter wondered if their obsession was healthy. They were together for a few months and they didn’t spend a day without sex when they saw each other. Peter felt like he was addicted to him, but he didn’t care.

 The moment Tony was getting close, Peter pulled back. He didn’t want the Alpha to come like this, wanted to ride his Daddy until he was feral with lust. Instead, Peter tried his best to look seductively when he stood up and took off his clothes. He was already too far gone to play coy, but his Daddy’s hungry gaze confirmed that the Alpha didn’t care. Tony’s entire body was tense, his feelings pent-up, but he fought his Alpha-biology anyway, fought the urge to bend Peter over and bury himself in the tight heat without thinking further. 

 Knowing that his Daddy held back for him, made Peter feel warm inside. His Daddy was perfect, not only the possessive feral Alpha who wanted to fuck Peter over every available surface but also his considerate lover who cared for him and trusted him. He planned to reward his Daddy, to show him that Peter could take care of his needs. 

 Peter made sure to move his hips seductively when he stripped off the last piece of clothing, his panties. He could feel his Daddy’s hungry gaze on him, could feel how slick was running down his thighs and the scent of his own arousal was filling the air. His plan had been to seduce the Alpha even further, tease him until he was snapping, but when his Daddy let out a growl, Peter couldn’t wait even a second longer. He climbed back onto Tony’s lap and pressed his lips on the Alpha’s. 

 Tony kissed him back brutally, his teeth pulling on Peter’s lower lip until the Omega was whining in pleasure. Every lick of Tony’s tongue was filled with pent-up arousal and Peter struggled to keep control. He wanted to let go, wanted to present and be taken, but he had to stay levelheaded. Pulling together all his willpower, Peter ended the kiss. His head was still pressed against the Alpha’s neck, but he felt a little better now, a little more in control of himself.

 The Alpha growled, a sign that he didn’t agree with his Omega pulling back, but thankfully he didn’t push. Peter knew he would have lost it if his Daddy decided to take the lead. The Omega’s hand wandered behind his back, dipping lower and lower until it wandered between the cleft of his cheeks. He could already feel his slick spread everywhere and when the first finger touched his hole, Peter let out a small cry.

 “Fuck, baby, hurry,” the Alpha’s voice was deep and desperate, so much closer to the edge than usual. His hands were clenched to fists and Peter could see his knuckles whitening. “I’ll lose it soon, baby. Open yourself up, don’t tease me anymore.”

 Peter whimpered and obeyed like he always did, the first finger immediately replaced by two. His own digits didn’t feel as good as his Daddy’s, didn’t stretch him as perfectly, but everything was better than being empty. He was sitting on his Daddy’s lap, his entire body on display while he prepared himself for Tony’s cock. The Alpha’s eyes followed every movement, every twitch of his body and every twist of his face. It felt so good being watched as if he was one of the most beautiful Omega’s made for his Daddy’s gaze. 

 Two fingers became three and Peter’s desperation was taking him under. The lazy movements of his hands were replaced by desperate bounces of his hips. He was fucking himself on his fingers, whimpering his Daddy’s name while he yearned for a cock inside. When a new wave of slick dripped down his thighs, Tony snapped.

 “Let me in now, Omega,” the Alpha’s said through gritted teeth. “If you want to keep control, if you want your plan to work, you should listen to me know. I can’t hold myself back when you squirm on my lap, crying for a cock like a slut.”

 Peter’s eyes rolled back, and he lost the last ounce of patience. With a whine, he pulled out his fingers, grabbed his Daddy’s cock, and positioned the tip against his dripping hole. Both of them moaned when he finally bore down, impaling himself on his Daddy’s length. 

 “You feel so good, Daddy,” Peter slurred while he savored the delicious stretch. “Filling me so good like no one else can. Please, don’t leave me, Daddy. I need you, I need your knot. You’re it for me.”

 Tony growled and his hips thrust up, unable to keep them still any longer. He made Peter bounce on his lap, like a rag doll that was being tossed around, and every time his Daddy’s cock opened him up, he could feel the tip pressed against his sweet spot. Not even a minute in and Peter was already moaning like a whore, a whore for his Daddy. 

 “I won’t leave you, baby,” Tony promised, his hands clutching Peter’s hips and forcing the Omega to move. “I promise. Once I’ve dealt with Pierce, I’m going to mate you and I’m going to marry you afterward. No one will be able to separate us, you belong to me. You were made for me, and I was made for you. Now bounce for me, show me that you need me. Show me that you chose me.”

 Peter cried out, the words of his Daddy hitting his core. This was exactly what he wanted, what he needed to be happy. Mated to his gorgeous Alpha, loved by this gorgeous Alpha, and fucked by him every single day until they were getting old. His Daddy’s cock had never felt this hot, this big before and he immediately knew that his Daddy was close. 

 “Stroke me, Daddy. Make me come at the same time,” Peter wanted to order him, but his request came out as a beg, pathetically whimpering for his Daddy. He had wanted this, had wanted to take control to show his Daddy how much he meant to him, but he has reached his breaking point. The control was back in his Alpha’s hands again and he couldn’t imagine anything better.

 He was sobbing when his Daddy touched his leaking cock for the first time, the entire length fitting in Tony’s hand. He felt owned, surrounded by his Alpha and the only thing he could still focus on was moving his hips. When his Daddy reached his limits, he clutched Peter’s cock tightly, thrusting his own length again and again in Peter’s hole. The Omega’s walls fluttered around him, urging him on to come inside the tight heat. 

 Peter could feel every inch of the knot expanding inside of him, could feel every surge of seed the Alpha pumped into his body. His sweet spot was assaulted by Tony’s knot, his cock milked by his Daddy’s tight grip. Peter sobbed when the first of his orgasm was washing over him, leaving him twisting and squirming on his Daddy’s lap.

 Coming on Tony’s knot was incredible, his entire body was throbbing and arching for the Alpha’s seed. Nothing had ever felt that good and Peter knew he would always be happy, his Daddy would make him happy. He wouldn’t allow anyone to plant toxic thoughts into Tony’s head, he would reassure the Alpha over and over again that Peter would always choose him. 

 “I love you,” Peter whispered, his body still shaking from the orgasm. “You are perfect for me.”

 Tony hummed and they stayed silent, both of them enjoying the afterglow. Peter cuddled closer against the Alpha’s chest, contently knotted by his Daddy. They stayed like this for a while, listening to each other’s heartbeats, and keeping the other one close. 

 “Today meant much to me, baby,” Tony confessed after a while. 

 Peter smiled at him and pressed a kiss on his lips. “I’ll always stay at your side, Daddy. We protect each other. Once Pierce is gone, we’ll mate. Forever.”

 “Forever,” Tony answered with a smile and buried his face in the Omega’s hair. 

[mikauzoran]

Ladrien/Adrienette: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Twelve

Read it on AO3: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Twelve: The Realization

Adrien scooted away, back to a suitable distance on the picnic blanket. “Um…so…maybe we should talk about, like, normal things now?” he suggested, grabbing a petit four from the tiered tea tray.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Ladybug chuckled nervously, scratching at her cheek as she tried to take deep breaths to get her racing heart rate and flaming blush down. “What would you like to talk about?”

“You,” he replied immediately.

Her blush only worsened. “What about me?”

“Personal things…but not incredibly personal things,” he gave a temperate response, reaching but not pushing too hard. “You know. Things like your favourite book, favourite movie, favourite colour. What kind of music you listen to. Hobbies. Tell me about you.”

“Only if you tell me about you too,” she haggled.

He chuckled as his own cheeks started to heat up. “You haven’t had enough of getting to know the real Adrien Agreste yet? I would have thought I’d have scared you off a dozen times over by now.”

She shook her head and smiled shyly. “Definitely not. What you’ve told me has only made me more intrigued.”

He gave her an appraising once-over, debating before finally giving in. “All right. So long as you’re not sick of me yet.”

“Never,” she assured. “First question?”

“What colour are your bedroom walls painted?” he inquired.

She quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected question and took a minute before answering cautiously. “…Pink. Why?”

“What shade?” he pressed, wanting to be able to envisage it exactly.

“Light pink. Like cherry blossoms,” she granted, giving in to his curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering about the girl on the other side of the mask,” he confessed. “Sometimes I think about what she’s like, what kinds of activities she does in her free time, what kinds of things she surrounds herself with.”

She shrugged, shaking her head as she looked away. “I don’t know if I’m worth that much thought,” she chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’m just a normal girl. Not that interesting.”

“You’re interesting to me,” he informed gently, a soft affection in his eyes that made her chest feel tight.

“Oh…. I…I’m glad,” she managed with a bashful smile, wishing she could get across what his words truly meant to her. “Well…in that case…what’s your next question?”

The rest of their rooftop picnic continued in that vein with Ladybug sharing that she was a huge fan of Jagged Stone but had developed a liking for the music XY was putting out since he cut ties with his father’s label and started collaborating with Luka Couffaine.

Adrien confessed that he didn’t do well with scary movies because they gave him nightmares and made him afraid to shower.

“What horror movie had anything to do with showers?” Ladybug replied quizzically. “You mean because of the shower scene in The Shining or Psycho?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never seen those movies, actually, and the trailer for The Shining freaked me out enough that I feel like I’ve experienced enough of it for one lifetime,” he chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s just…I feel so vulnerable in there. Naked. Alone. I feel like a sitting duck. Anything could come and get me while I was defenseless. I’m really easily startled after I see a horror movie, so I’m always anxious about showering for at least a week afterwards.”

Ladybug nodded, trying (and failing) not to picture Adrien in his shower complete with a stereotypically sexy backing track. It also took some effort not to volunteer to sit in his bathroom with him while he showered to protect him after he next watched a horror film.

She was very tempted to suggest watching a horror movie as part of their date so that she could make the offer.

Instead, she replied, “I can see why you would feel that way. I’m always jumpy after watching horror films too” like a normal, non-psychotic person.

They cleaned up their picnic and stowed the leftovers in the wicker basket, tucking it back into the seam between the roof and one of the small white domes topping the church for Ladybug to return for later.

She got out her yoyo and surreptitiously dropped them down into an alley a few streets over so that they could nonchalantly walk out and join the crowd of visitors enjoying the iconic sights and locals going about their daily lives.

“Um…I thought we could do some window shopping?” Ladybug tentatively suggested. “Walk around? People watch? Browse? It’s a nice day, so… I mean, I know it’s a little touristy, but—”

“—That sounds great,” he cut her off with a wide grin, slipping his hand into hers. “I actually haven’t seen much of Paris, despite growing up here,” he confessed sheepishly. “I’ve always been a little…um…”

He tried to think of a nice way to say, “held prisoner”.

“…sheltered, I guess, so I wouldn’t be opposed to playing tourist, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. No. Sure!” she agreed, a little flustered by the proximity of his radiant smile in the narrow alley as well as the weight and warmth of his hand in hers. “I’m happy so long as you’re happy.”

“I’m happy just being with you,” he countered with a wink, not noticing how she turned into a puddle of goo in response.

He gave her hand a squeeze and turned to guide them out of the alley and onto the cobbled street where visitors from all over the globe were moving from one shop to the next.

They too began to browse, chuckling at the whacky souvenirs for sale in shop after shop: cheap plastic trinkets, shirts, hats, magnets, shot glasses, snow globes…

Adrien held up a Paris-themed oven mitt in black, white, pink, and grey. “This is actually kind of cute,” he chuckled, musing, “It reminds me of Marinette…. I wonder if she’d like it.”

“I think she’d like anything if it was from you,” Ladybug sighed, heart filling to the brim once more as his thoughts drifted to her civilian identity.

Why had she never seen how much he liked her, how much Marinette meant to Adrien? She’d been blinded by his not obviously reciprocating her romantic feelings, so she’d missed out on how much he truly cared for her.

“You think?” he hummed, pleased at her response. “Maybe, but it’s not really practical. I’m sure she has dozens of oven mitts already with her parents being bakers, but… Could you do me a favor?” He looked to her with earnest eyes that made her gulp.

She bit her tongue to hold back the automatic, “Anything for you” that wanted to come out. “Uh, yeah. Sure. What do you need?”

“Could you take a picture and send it to me so I can text it to Marinette later? I left my phone at home so that my family couldn’t track the GPS,” he informed sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” she readily agreed, taking a peek around to make sure that no one was watching before she flipped open her yoyo and snapped a quick picture, forwarding it to him.

“Thanks, Nelle,” he expressed warmly, as if she had fulfilled one of Princess Kaguya’s impossible quests.

“Sure thing.” She blushed as she boldly dared to join their hands once more, interlacing her fingers with his.

He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze.

She loved when he did that.

 “They even have the stereotypical accordion music,” Adrien snickered in amusement as he tossed a hundred euro note into the performer’s case as they passed. “It’s just like in the movies.”

“You’ve never been up here to Montmartre before?” Ladybug tried not to laugh as the accordionist quickly snatched the bill and tucked it into his inner jacket pocket.

Adrien shook his head. “I mean, I’ve been for work, but I’ve never been able to just wander around like this. It’s so different, seeing it in a relaxed, natural atmosphere.”

Ladybug nodded, guiding him towards the Place du Tertre, a little cobbled square where artists had set up to sell their work. “Yeah, I’d imagine a photoshoot wouldn’t provide a very calm environment during which to sightsee.”

“Yeah, unfortunately not. It’s kind of…structured,” he sighed, getting distracted by a middle-aged artist setting out beautiful pastel watercolors of Notre Dame in different seasons at sunset as seen from the Left Bank.

“I wish I was artistic,” he hummed mournfully, moving along to peruse the other artists’ wares before he was tempted or coerced into buying something.

“You could be,” Ladybug encouraged, stepping in closer to avoid a collision with a young American woman who was also browsing.

He shook his head, laughing good-naturedly at himself. “I have, like, zero talent. I can’t even do stick-figures well.”

“You could if you practiced,” she insisted. “It’s true that some people are born with innate talent, but drawing and painting can be learned even if they don’t come naturally. Being artistic is a skill, and, with enough practice, you could learn to be artistic too.”

He hummed as he stopped to admire a medium-sized canvas where an autumn scene set in the Bois de Boulogne was taking form with scarlet, ochre, and tangerine leaves peppering the trees.

“I think ‘enough’ practice would take many years. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try,” he reasoned. “I’m definitely not going to magically gain the ability to produce anything close to that just by whining about how I wish I could do it.”

“You’re not whining,” she assured, inching in closer so that their shoulders brushed. She gave him a shy, heartening smile. “You’re just being honest about what you want for yourself, and it’s okay to do that. It’s not whining.”

She knew his father was often very critical and chastised Adrien whenever he seemed to slide even one toe over the arbitrary line Gabriel had mentally drawn for him. If possible, she wanted to help Adrien to see that it was okay to voice his desires and complaints from time to time without it being considered “whining”.

“Thanks,” he replied softly, the warm look in his eyes partially obscured behind his movie star sunglasses, but she was close enough to see it. “I really appreciate the encouragement. I don’t exactly get a lot of that.”

“Well, I’ll have to see about changing that,” she declared, giving his arm a squeeze.

He smiled affectionately, and they walked on around the square, continuing to browse the various artists’ renditions of many a famous Paris landmark.

“…You know,” he remarked thoughtfully. “My father actually does a fair amount of drawing for work. Maybe I could ask him to teach me.”

“That could be a good way to spend time together,” she agreed, nodding with a supportive smile.

Adrien cringed. “Except that my father isn’t the most patient man, so he’d probably get frustrated with my turtle’s pace progress and end up berating me instead of helping me get better. That’s kind of how our relationship works,” he admitted with a discouraged sigh.

Ladybug bit her lip, searching her mind for a way to build up his self-esteem and lighten the mood. “Well, Marinette isn’t the best artist around, but she does do some drawing as part of her own designing work, so, if you really want to learn, maybe she could get you started in the right direction.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Adrien chuckled, turning his head to look at her. “Marinette…”

His brain ran into a mental brick wall as it processed for the first time how close she was and how familiar she looked…and not only because of how long he had cumulatively spent over the years staring at her as Ladybug.

“…Marinette…” he whispered, a revelation shaking him to his very core.

Ladybug had known him and fallen in love with him as a civilian, yet she didn’t think he’d say yes if she asked him out as herself. Ladybug and Marinette had intended to ask him out to coffee at the same time. The way Marinette acted around Chat Noir… He’d always marveled at how sassy and fun she was with him when he was the masked superhero as opposed to how she could barely talk to Adrien for about a year after they’d first met. In those moments when it was just Marinette and Chat Noir hanging out and being goofballs, she had reminded him so much of his Lady.

Now that he was looking at Ladybug and saying, “Marinette”, it all seemed so obvious.

Ladybug tipped her head to the side, waiting for Adrien to continue. “‘Marinette’…what? Is something wrong, Adrien?”

“Nope. Everything’s wonderful, Nette—uh—Nelle. Sorry. Just…” He mentally scrambled to pull together his thoughts and snap back into the moment because she was not going to be happy when she found out her secret was blown, and he really just wanted this date to continue forever, so…

“Sorry.” He covered up his flurry of thoughts with a practiced smile. “Just got distracted thinking about how wonderful Marinette is.”

“O-Oh,” she coughed, a crimson blush swelling up in her cheeks as she bashfully looked away. “Yeah. That’s…Marinette is…good.”

It had to be her…didn’t it? He was almost ninety-nine percent positive. There had to be some way to explain away the times he’d thought he’d seen them together over the years. Both his Lady and his Princess were smart enough to orchestrate some kind of elaborate scheme to throw him off the scent.

“Marinette is amazing,” he stressed, trying to keep his cat-that-ate-the-canary grin under wraps. “She’s super talented and such a fantastic person. If anyone could teach me how to draw, it would be her.”

Ladybug’s blush deepened. “You should ask her, then.”

“I think I will,” Adrien chuckled. “…Do you happen to draw, Nelle?”

“Uh…a little,” she answered, slightly thrown off by the question and still unsettled by his effusive praise of her civilian self. “I mean, I’m not very good, but I enjoy sketching and doodling.”

“What do you draw?” he inquired as innocently as possible.

“Oh, this and that,” she hedged with a shrug.

“Do you ever draw clothing?” he pressed, throwing his scruples out the window along with his resolution not to try to figure out her identity.

“Uh…sometimes,” she admitted. “I mean, like I said, I’m not very good, but…I like designing clothes and accessories. It’s always fun, especially when I have someone in mind I’m designing for. It’s fun to see how I can make their personalities come out in whatever I’m making.”

“I bet you’re amazing at it,” he cooed reverently, remember all the things he’d seen Marinette make for him and their friends over the years. “Have you ever thought about pursuing fashion professionally? Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Actually…” She bit her lip, wondering if she was giving a little too much away.

He smiled at her, hanging on her every word as if entranced.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I have given it some thought. I mean, somewhat. I don’t know that I’d make it in the big leagues like your father, but…maybe it would be nice to have a little boutique where I took commissions and did a lot of custom pieces.”

“I bet you’d be wonderful,” he replied enthusiastically, face glowing. “If you ever need help with anything, please feel free to use me as a resource. I’ve got all kinds of contacts I could set you up with. Whatever you need,” he stressed.

“Thank you,” she shyly responded, cheeks darkening to match her dress.

“Anytime,” he assured, giving her arm a playful nudge.

 They completed their loop around the square and continued window-shopping, ending up at a little café called La Gallete des Moulins for a snack because Adrien thought the fig tart that they saw through the window looked scrumptious.

“You haven’t had enough sweets for one day?” Ladybug teased, waggling her eyebrows at him. “Better be careful or you’re going to lose your girlish figure.”

Adrien waved her away as he handed the money over to the young woman manning the cash register. “I never get sweets, though. I’m running on a sweets deficit, so I have a lot of catching up to do while I’m not being strictly monitored.”

“You poor thing,” she sighed, pitying him in earnest as they headed out to the fenced-off patio area to sit. “That can’t be fun having people telling you what you can and can’t eat all the time. I’m sorry, Adrien.”

“Thanks. Though, it’s not so bad.” He smiled and shrugged it off as he set down the tray on one of the small green tables right alongside the fence and pulled out one of the wicker chairs for her with a bow. “Nino shares junk food, and Marinette, bless her, sneaks me pastries from time to time. That girl is a saint.”

“I’m glad someone is taking care of you. Thank you,” she chuckled as she took the seat.

He settled in across from her and started on his tart. “You sure you don’t want a bite?”

She eyed the tart appraisingly and considered how much she had already eaten in front of him so far. She didn’t want to look like a pig, but…

“Is it good?” she inquired.

He made an evaluating noise. “Meh. It’s not bad. The crust is nice, and the custard is nearly perfect, but it just doesn’t compare with the raspberry custard mini tarts we had earlier,” he replied honestly. “I’m sort of spoiled on Tom and Sabine’s, and the delicacies that Marinette made for us earlier just blow this out of the water. It’s not bad, though,” he judged fairly. “The figs are delicious, for one.”

“May I try a fig?” she asked, reaching out preemptively, fingers hovering over a slice.

“Go for it,” he encouraged, motioning for her to help herself. “…Hey, so…do you mind if I ask you more questions about yourself?”

She laughed, quirking an eyebrow. “You haven’t run out of questions yet? You were pretty thorough earlier.”

“I don’t think I asked the right questions,” he confessed, watching, mesmerized, as she licked the custard off of the fig.

“What kinds of questions do you have for me?” she hummed, pretending to entertain the idea of answering.

“Do you like video games?” he inquired, keeping up an innocent front, despite his firm intention to delve deeper.

In addition to Ultimate Mecha Strike, Adrien had found out as Chat Noir that Marinette was into some pretty niche games. She hadn’t mentioned them to Adrien, so Ladybug shouldn’t have any reason to suspect the trap. While it was possible that people besides Marinette had played games like Pyre, Titanic: Adventure Out of Time, and The Missing: J.J. MacField and the Island of Memories, it was unlikely that Ladybug had coincidentally played all of the same niche video games as Marinette unless they were, in fact, the same person.

One way or another, Adrien was going to find out because if they were one and the same, if it were possible to be with the woman he’d fallen for twice, Adrien was more than willing to bend some rules and break some promises. He’d waited so long already, and if she really did love him in return, maybe she’d find some way to forgive him.

 Ladybug humored him for almost an hour, answering question after question as they sat and talked and people-watched at the café.

Slowly but surely, Adrien became increasingly certain that he knew who the elusive girl behind the mask was. There was still a part of him that worried it was merely wishful thinking, but the more they talked, the more breadcrumbs she unknowingly dropped until he wanted to scream in jubilation because he had finally found her, and she had been right in front of him the entire time.

They continued their stroll around Montmartre, looping around until they came back to Sacré-Coeur. They leisurely made their way down the hill, arm-in-arm, chatting and enjoying the brisk autumn evening.

When they arrived at the Place Saint-Pierre, Adrien spotted the carrousel, and his eyes lit up. Slowly, he turned to look at Ladybug and casually inquired, “Is it uncool for adults to ride a carrousel, do you think?”

She tried not to laugh as she smiled indulgently. “Adrien, if you want to ride the carrousel, we can ride the carrousel.”

His eyebrows dipped into a slight frown. “Are you sure? We don’t have to. I don’t want to make you do something embarrassing. I mean, I know carrousels are for little kids, so—”

“—Adrien,” she cut him off with a fond chuckle, pulling him gently yet firmly by the arm towards the merry-go-round. “It’s fine. There’s a carousel by my house that I ride with the kids I babysit all the time. I’m not embarrassed. It’s fun.”

“Oh,” he breathed, recalling the park next to Tom and Sabine’s bakery. “Okay. If you’re sure. I mean…”

She stopped and turned to look him full in the face, inquiring earnestly, “Adrien, do you want to ride the carrousel?”

He nodded. “I used to really love them when I was a kid. My mom and I would ride the one over by the Eiffel Tower sometimes when we snuck out to have adventures, so…yeah. I’d like to ride it.”

“Okay.” She gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand, guiding him over to the merry-go-round. “You pick our horses. Whichever one you want.”

He pursed his lips and surveyed the ride with great concentration before deciding, “If it’s okay, I’d like the black one on the outer ring of the bottom level. Would you be okay with the white one next to it?”

“Sure, but don’t you want to go to the upper tier?” she asked, a little surprised. A double decker carrousel was a bit rare, even in Paris with its many carrousels, so she would have thought that Adrien would have taken advantage of the opportunity to ride on the upper deck.

He blushed as he averted his eyes. “I mean, the upper level would be cool, but all of those horses are single file, and I’d rather ride on the lower level and be next to you.”

“I can’t take it,” she confessed, catching him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, fearing he’d done something wrong. “I didn’t mean to. What can’t you take?”

She shook her head, face absolutely magenta. “No. No. I mean…you’re trying to kill me with how sweet and perfect you are,” she attempted to explain through her flustered state. “Like, everything that comes out of your mouth is like some line out of a romance novel, and you are just too cute and too sweet, and I’m going to overheat and die because I like you so much.”

His eyes went wide momentarily in shock at her bluntness, but then a wide smirk slowly spread across his lips.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, gasping at her unintended forwardness. “Oh my gosh,” she breathed, a giddy laugh rising in her throat. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Me either,” he hummed, clearly pleased with himself and her and life in general.

“I’ve been trying to say something like that to you for seven years now,” she snorted.

“And I’ve been waiting just as long to hear it,” he assured, leaning in to kiss her temple.

“How are you so smooth?” she groaned through a broad grin of her own.

He shrugged and looped his arm through hers, leading her over to their mounts. “I consume an indecent amount of shoujo manga and romance novels,” he confessed. “It’s rubbed off on me over the years.”

“And here I thought it was natural talent,” she snickered.

“I’m sure there’s a certain amount of that as well,” he hummed happily, giving her a hand up before ascending himself.

 The sun began to dip low towards the horizon, and Ladybug tugged Adrien inconspicuously into an alley so that they could take to the sky on her yoyo without anyone seeing her take off.

“I’ve got one last surprise for you,” she informed, carrying him back towards the heart of the city.

“Is that surprise that you’re kidnapping me and never making me go home ever again?” he inquired hopefully, knowing that the bliss he’d felt with her the past few hours was coming to an unavoidable end.

“I wish,” she snorted. “If I could, I would definitely keep you, but I don’t think even Ladybug could get away with kidnapping Adrien Agreste. Your father would have my neck.”

“Unfortunately, you’re probably right,” he sighed, letting his head come to rest on her shoulder. “All right. I guess all we can do is enjoy the time we have left.”

“I think you’ll enjoy this,” she chuckled. “We’re going to one of my favourite spots in all of Paris. Super exclusive with a view that can’t be beat,” she promised.

“Oh,” he breathed, realizing that she was taking him to the top of the Eiffel Tower to watch the sunset.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that at first. Ladybug and Chat Noir had often met there to hang out and chat, and many a sunset had been watched over the years. He’d come to think of it as one of “their spots”, so the fact that Ladybug was bringing Adrien there felt like a bit of a betrayal.

But then, on the other hand, he was the one who had betrayed Ladybug first by bringing Marinette there on several occasions. And if Ladybug was, in fact, Marinette, she knew what Chat Noir had done.

Ultimately, he decided to be honored that Ladybug thought Adrien worthy of sharing such a special spot.

They touched down at the very top, and Ladybug gently deposited him back onto his own feet.

“Ta-da,” she chuckled, pushing a bang back out of the way as the evening breeze licked it from its place. “This is the best view I know of, so… You’re not too cold, are you?” she inquired, surveying his sweater and undershirt combo and wondering how insulating they would be against the higher winds at that altitude.

“I’m fine,” he rushed to assure. “…Unless you’re suavely trying to get me to cuddle with you. In that case, I’m freezing,” he amended with a flirty wink that made her crack up.

“Actually,” she drawled mischievously, going over to where a second wicker picnic basket had been stowed near the center of the tower. She checked inside and pulled out a thermos, two mugs, a Tom and Sabine’s takeaway box, and two blankets. “I thought it might be nippy, so I planned ahead.”

She spread one of the blankets for them to sit on and set down the thermos, mugs, and pastry box upon it, holding out the other blanket towards him. “Here you go. If you need it, I mean. I know it gets a little brisk up here in the evenings once the sun sets.”

He took the proffered blanket with a warm, “Thank you. You’re always so thoughtful, Nelle,” and sat, wrapping it around his shoulders to fight off the autumn chill.

She settled in beside him and set to work lifting the lid of the takeaway box to reveal the most perfectly baked chocolate chip cookies Adrien had ever seen before moving to unscrew the cap of the thermos, announcing, “I give you Dupain-Cheng Special Hot Chocolate—recipe known only to members of the Dupain-Cheng family.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow, grinning cockily. “Then how did you get the recipe?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted, voice pitching high in her panic. “I just ordered it from Marinette along with the cookies.”

“It was awfully nice of Marinette to cater our date,” he hummed appreciatively, leaning in to survey the chocolate chip cookies.

“I do a lot of business with Marinette,” Ladybug fibbed, pouring the hot chocolate from the thermos into the mugs. “My kwami Tikki loves her cookies, so Marinette has kind of ended up being Tikki’s preferred supplier.” She smiled sheepishly as she handed him a mug and took the other for herself.

“I am exceedingly excited to try out this super-secret hot chocolate and these Tikki-approved cookies,” he chuckled, bringing the mug up to his lips.

In truth, he had had Marinette’s cookies and Dupain-Cheng Special Hot Chocolate before when he’d spent time with Marinette over the years as Chat Noir, but Maribug didn’t need to know that yet.

He purred happily as the chocolate washed over his tongue, coating his mouth in the rich, luscious taste of the special blend of spices Marinette was so secretive about. “This is amazing,” he praised. “What do you think I’d have to do to get the recipe because this is to die for.”

Ladybug gave a snort, sipping smugly from her own mug. “Marry Marinette.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he snickered. “The hot chocolate recipe would only be the icing on the metaphorical cake, if you’ll excuse the baking pun.”

“Try the cookies,” she urged, turning her head so that he hopefully didn’t notice her rampant blush and the way she couldn’t hold in an effulgent grin.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he assured, helping himself and then savoring the way the cookie almost melted on his tongue.

“…By the way,” he thought to ask a minute later, “how did this stuff get up here? There’s no way you could have dropped it off before our date. The hot chocolate wouldn’t still be hot.”

“I actually called in a favor from a friend,” she confessed. “The new Turtle hero, Michelangelo, picked up the basket from Marinette’s house and dropped it off here for me.”

Adrien blinked slowly as his brain tried to process what she was saying. “New…Turtle hero?”

She nodded. “Chat Noir has been pestering me about adding another full-time member, and I finally decided he was right, so we’re bringing Michelangelo on for a probationary trial period.”

Adrien had to keep a tight grip on his poker face to ensure that he didn’t react to this news because it sounded like Ladybug had brought Nino back onto the team like Chat Noir had asked but made him leave the Carapace identity behind so that no one would suspect that the “new” Turtle hero was really the same holder who had had his identity compromised six years prior.

“Oh, cool,” Adrien remarked in as neutral-to-positive a tone as he could manage. “I think that’ll be good. I’m glad that someone else will be out there watching your back.”

“I’m actually bringing him on to watch Chat Noir’s back because he already has mine…maybe a little too much,” she sighed, brow creasing in worry as she thought about her partner.

Adrien set down his mug and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it supportively. “Hey. It’s okay. I know sometimes that it doesn’t feel like it, but…it’s okay, Nelle.”

She smiled weakly, returning the hand squeeze. “Thanks.”

“Here.” He scooted in closer, unfolding the blanket she had given him and draping it over both of their shoulders. “Is this okay?” he inquired, slipping an arm around her waist.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a tired sigh, letting go and resting her head on his shoulder. “This is perfect. …Thanks.”

“Any time,” he whispered, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. “I know you’re tough, but you don’t always have to be around me. It’s okay not to be invincible and perfect. It’s okay to just be a twenty-year-old girl trying to make it all work.”

“Thanks,” she repeated softly, sinking into him.

They watched the sun gradually float towards the horizon for a while in contented silence as they snuggled and enjoyed their cookies and hot chocolate.

“…What are you humming?” Ladybug inquired curiously some time later.

Adrien gave a start and pulled back. “Oh. Sorry. I…I spend a lot of time alone, so I’ve developed the bad habit of talking and singing to myself. Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it,” he explained sheepishly, cheeks going as red as her dress in embarrassment.

“Oh, no. Don’t be sorry,” she entreated with a kind smile. “I was just asking because it’s pretty and I wanted to know what song it was. Your humming is lovely, and lots of people do that. Chat Noir, for one, is always singing under his breath to himself, so it’s not uncommon or weird at all.”

He tried not to grimace as a part of him wished she would just see Chat Noir inside of Adrien already.

“Oh? Chat Noir does too?” he forced himself to chuckle.

She nodded completely unsuspectingly as she asked again, “What song were you humming?”

“Have you seen the movie Tangled?” he inquired even though he had shown it to Marinette himself when he’d learned that she’d never watched it before.

“Mmhm,” she affirmed as a rosy blush spread across her cheeks. She looked down at the blanket with a fond smile. “A good friend of mine is a bit of a Disney afficionado. He kind of flipped out and strapped me down and made me watch it when he found out I’d never seen it.”

He grimaced at her description. “Was this a positive experience or torture?” he had to wonder.

“Oh, no! It was fun!” she insisted, wide-eyed, flailing her hands and nearly upsetting the hot chocolate mugs and the cookies. “I had fun.”

“Oh, good,” he laughed in relief. “Otherwise, I’d have to say that maybe you shouldn’t be friends with this guy. He sounds kind of extreme.”

“No,” she hurried to correct his misconception. “Watching the movie was completely voluntary. He…He’s a good friend.” Her voice dipped low with feeling and softened as she added, “He’s very important to me.”

“Oh,” Adrien breathed, his own cheeks starting to glow. “That’s…good. I’m glad,” he replied genuinely.

There was a beat, and then he cleared his throat. “…Well, the song is I See the Light from Tangled, so…”

“Will you sing it for me?” she asked so earnestly he couldn’t refuse.

“You want me to serenade you, Nelle?” he chuckled, eyebrows dancing jocosely.

She nodded eagerly. “Please? I really love your voice.”

“Is that the only thing you love?” he teasingly fished, holding out hope.

She rolled her eyes, blushing as she gave him a playful shove and commanded, “Sing.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and obediently began the song, tenderly and vulnerably, “All those days watching from the windows…all those years outside looking in…”

He sang in English, so she struggled to understand some parts, but the lyrics didn’t really matter to her. She could feel the emotions in his voice as he sang of being isolated and lost and then suddenly finding where he was meant to be.

He opened his eyes and stared into hers, and she couldn’t help but be drawn into him, losing herself in his song as he confessed, “And at last I see the light…and it’s warm and real and bright…now that I see you.”

He stopped singing then and smiled bashfully, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand as he whispered, “Ladybug?”

“Hm?” she blinked dreamily, still swimming in his piercing peridot eyes.

“I need to tell you something. You’re not going to understand,” he informed sadly, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “And you’re not going to think that I’m serious because what I’m about to say is going to sound impossible, but please know that I’m telling the truth.”

“Adrien?” she replied uncertainly, brow beginning to crease in confusion. “What is it?”

“I love you,” he breathed with a tortured smile. “I love you more than anything, and being here with you is a dream come true.”

She gasped, stunned by his heartfelt confession, mind spinning as he began to lean in, his eyes slowly drifting closed.

The clear choice was to let him kiss her. The obvious course of action was to wrap her arms around him and kiss his face off like she’d dreamed of doing for more than half a decade now.

But, in that moment, no matter how romantic the set up, it didn’t feel right.

Alya had a point.

Ladybug was misleading Adrien by not telling him the whole truth, and, however much he liked Marinette, he was bound to be upset when he found out who was behind the mask because she wasn’t being honest with him, and how was that going to provide a foundation upon which to build a relationship?

She pulled back and looked away, hating herself for what she was doing to him.

“Sorry,” she whispered, the word sounding hollow even to her own ears. “I just don’t think it’s fair to you, not knowing who you’re kissing.”

He bit his lip, mentally debating how much she’d freak out if he told her he was ninety-nine percent certain that he knew exactly whom he’d been about to kiss.

“Knowing your name isn’t important,” he responded gently instead, resting his hand on top of hers. “What really matters is knowing who you are as a person. I know you, Ladybug, and I know what I want.”

She winced, averting her eyes and turning her head further.

He froze. “…Unless…Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” he rushed to apologize as a realization made him feel sick. “I didn’t even stop to think that you might not want to kiss me. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to—”

“—No!” she interrupted, grabbing his hand and turning back to face him. “No, Adrien, I definitely want to kiss you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I did.”

“Ladybug, no,” he tried to protest, but she shook her head and wouldn’t listen.

“No,” she repeated decidedly. “I’m the one who messed up by asking you out as Ladybug in the first place. None of this has been fair to you, and I’m really sorry, Adrien,” she sighed.

A twinge of guilt struck him as he was reminded of the very similar ways in which he wasn’t being completely honest with her. “Ladybug…that’s not…” he tried ineffectually.

She shook her head, her mind made up. “I’m sorry. I think maybe I should take you home now.”

“Please, no,” he pleaded weakly. “I don’t want this to be over yet.”

“Me either,” she agreed melancholically. “But we need to get you home before they notice you’re missing.”

He didn’t bother voicing the fact that, likely, no one had noticed that he’d been gone for hours and no one was likely to discover his absence now.

Instead, he reluctantly submitted, helping her clean up and then obediently slipping his arms around her so that she could carry him back to the lonely Agreste Mansion just a few blocks away.

He tried to concentrate on the way she held him, the warmth of her against the chill of the wind as it whipped against them, every point of contact between their bodies, the scent of her oatmeal body wash and strawberry shampoo melding with the faint, lingering scent of bakery.

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Eight

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

I’m a tiny bit late getting this latest chapter of my @cssns story posted this evening but I'm going to try my best to get back on track with posting updates every other Monday as long as the real world doesn't get too crazy.

The last chapter had Emma reacting to learning she was related to the Mills sisters, angrily lashing out at Regina about keeping such a huge secret from her before getting drunk and having a heartfelt talk about it with Killian. As she settled in to sleep off too much rum, Killian was rendered unconscious by an invisible attacker. This chapter picks up the next morning and by the end of this installment, you'll have a good idea who the real villain of this tale is and an inkling of what Emma has gotten herself into.

As always, I want to thank the event organizers for all of their hard work.  Definitely looking forward to the completion of all of this year’s stories and for the newly announced 2020 event!  I also want to extend huge thank yous again to @lassluna for all of her help as a beta reader and to @cocohook38 for the incredible art work featured in the header.

Catch up from the beginning on AO3, FF.net or here on Tumblr:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven

The morning sunlight filtering through the break room mini blinds was every bit as unpleasant as Emma had expected when it hit that perfect angle to land directly on her face. Her head throbbed from her over-indulgence in rum last night, but she had no one to blame but herself. Tossing the blanket unceremoniously over the back of the sofa, she pushed herself up to a sitting position just as a somewhat bewildered Graham strolled in to brew his morning coffee.

"Emma? What are you doing here?" he asked, face scrunched in confusion. "Did you sleep here?"

"Yeah," she replied groggily as she stretched and forced her feet to the floor. She stood up to find the room only spinning slightly but increasing her nausea. "Had a little familial disagreement so after a few drinks with a friend, I came here to sleep it off."

"Must have been one rough night…"

"You don't even want to know…" she insisted as she made her way into the locker room in search of a change of clothing. She'd learned a long time ago to always keep a clean shirt and a pair of jeans on hand for emergencies. This way, she knew she had something available to make herself feel a little more human and look at tad more presentable before she embarked on her quest to confront those who'd kept her mother's real identity a secret from her. "Are you making coffee?" she called out to Graham as she changed from yesterday's attire.

"Just starting it now."

"Think you can make it extra strong?"

"I think I can manage that," Graham replied as he fished two mugs out of the cabinet mounted above the break room sink. He placed the mugs on the counter, knowing better than to ask anything else about her night. He'd slept off his own drunken benders in some unusual places too, so before switching on the coffee pot, he removed the bottle of aspirin that they kept in the cabinet and placed it next to her mug. He knew she'd appreciate it.

Emma emerged a few minutes later sporting a clean, rust colored tee shirt and blue jeans, eagerly inhaling the enticing aroma of the fresh brew. Graham was no longer in the break room but she immediately smiled when she saw the aspirin bottle atop the counter. Coffee and a few pain relievers were just what she needed right now before she set off down the street to have a chat with a squirrely pawn shop owner.

**********

Fueled by caffeine and a reinvigorated desire to get some answers about her mother's mysterious past, Emma stormed her way across and then down half a block of Main Street with Gold's potion booked clutched tightly in her left hand. Since the aspirin hadn't yet had time to kick in, her head was still pounding which was leaving her in no mood to take any crap from the pawn shop's owner.

Gold had opened up the shop for business at exactly 8AM, mere minutes before Emma shoved open the entrance door and stomped her way to the counter where the proprietor stood. She dropped the book onto the display case in front of him, almost hoping that the glass would break. Unfazed by her action, Gold glanced down at the potion book resting on the countertop then back up at the deputy's irate face.

"Good morning, Deputy Swan," he greeted her with little emotion in his voice and showing a considerable lack of interest in the very item that he'd requested her to retrieve for him.

"I found your book," she informed him very matter-of-factly, patting it with her fingertips to ensure she had his attention. "Found the little surprise inside of it too…"

"Surprise? Whatever are you talking about, Ms. Swan?" She wasn't the least bit surprised that he'd feign ignorance of the photograph and letter and she wasn't buying it.

She flipped open the book's cover to reveal the photo of her mother as a child and the faded, handwritten letter from her grandfather. "I suppose you're going to deny that you knew these were inside the book?"

Gold shrugged nonchalantly as he carefully lifted the aging photograph to examine it. "I loaned this book to Cora a very long time ago. I certainly can't speak for what she might have stuck inside it's covers."

"But you knew…"

"Knew what, Dearie?" he rudely interrupted her statement.

"You knew that Cora and my mother were sisters," she stated, undaunted by his apparent disinterest. "Why is it that everyone in this town thinks that it's such a horrible thing for me to know who I'm actually related to around here?"

"I would suppose it is because they weren't certain how you might react to learning the truth about your mother."

"And I suppose that it should have been left up to me, not them!" she countered, raising her voice angrily. "I've had it with all of the secrets! I want those items that belonged to my mother as I kept my end of the deal and I want you to spill what you know about my history!"

"Do you think you can handle the truth about your lineage?"

"I'll let you know. Now, why don't you start telling me what the big secrets are?"

"Fine," he relented as he made his way over to the ornate cabinet where he'd stored the items belonging to Ava Nolan. "You fulfilled your end of our deal by returning my book so your mother's items now belong to you." He tugged open the cabinet door and removed the small box and books he'd shown Emma the previous day and then placed them atop the counter. "I will answer some of your questions as a courtesy to your mother as well, but not out here. How about we go have a seat in my office where it will be more private for you to interrogate me?"

"Lead the way…"

Gold held the heavy beaded curtain aside as he gestured for Emma to pass through the doorway to his office and storeroom that lay beyond the sales floor. The decor of this not-for-public-eyes area was even more eclectic and disturbing than the shop itself but since she wasn't here to debate his decorating choices, she withheld commentary. She was only here this morning to learn about her mother, not discuss interior decorating.

"Have a seat, Ms. Swan," he said, directing her to a fancy upholstered chair that was probably as old as the town itself. Emma sat down on the offered chair, but she didn't allow herself to get too comfortable. She wasn't planning this to be a long, social visit. "I don't have all of the answers you seek, but what would you like to know?" he asked as he took a seat to her right on a burgundy divan.

"I guess we'll start with the same one I've been asking since last night - why was my mother's identity and place in this town such a secret?"

"That was a choice made by your family, I'm afraid. As you know, Storybrooke is a town with an unusual pedigree that they sought to protect. How much of the history of this town do you know?"

"I know a little. I know it was founded by the Blanchard family after the Civil War, in the late 1800's."

"That is correct - your great-grandparents founded the town in 1872, selecting this remote area of Maine to create a safe haven for those who wished to practice the magical arts, both dark and light. They welcomed fellow witches and warlocks and opened a portal across the bay to connect to other magical realms. However, the magic that Storybrooke was founded upon came with a price. To secure the magic that supports the town's infrastructure, your great-grandparents formed a pact with a very powerful warlock from a distant realm. That warlock agreed to share his extensive powers with the town of Storybrooke in exchange for an agreement that he could return whenever he chose and demand a duel for the powers of any practitioner he chose. Should his chosen competitor lose, he would gain their powers, Should the opponent win, the warlock would consider the debt paid and leave forever."

"That seems like an awfully big price to pay just to have magic in this town, but I don't get what that has to do with my mother…"

"I'm getting to that," he assured her, frowning at the young woman's impatience. "The warlock has returned to Storybrooke twice since the town's inception and has won the challenge both times. Your mother was his unfortunate second victim."

"She lost her powers?" Emma asked, partially for clarification, although she'd understood Gold's explanation of the warlock's competition, so she already knew the answer.

"She did. Her challenge caused her to be tricked into making an ill-advised choice, but that's really all I know of it. After losing her magic, she attempted to stay here in town and live a normal life. She married widower Robert Nolan, had you, but then one day, something changed and she took you and disappeared."

"When I was growing up, she never once mentioned that she'd had powers of any kind," Emma stated as she attempted to process all of this new information. "I always thought that she'd run from something bad, maybe something abusive, but after meeting David and learning about our dad, that didn't make sense anymore and now it makes even less sense… What caused her to run away from her home and family?"

"I'm afraid that you'll need to ask those questions of your family. I can't tell you what pushed her away or why they kept her identity a secret from you, but now, if you don't mind, I should be getting back to work."

"I understand. One last question though," she began as she stood up. "Do you have any idea what ill-advised choice she had to make?"

"Afraid not, dearie. All I know is that the warlock came into town and weaseled his way into her life, leading her to that decision. She chose poorly."

"What the hell did she have to choose?" Emma repeated the question to herself while exhaling a deep sigh.

Gold shook his head and shrugged as he ushered her out of his office. "I don't remember much from that time, but from what I do recall of your mother, it likely involved a man."

"What?" she exclaimed as she crossed the threshold back into the main shop. "What do you mean by that?"

"Growing up, your mother had very bad luck with the men in her life. Your grandfather died when she was still rather young and she had a string of boyfriends but few serious relationships. Perhaps your brother or your cousins will remember more?"

"Well, this just keeps getting better and better…," she muttered under her breath as the old man disappeared behind the curtain without another word. Befuddled, she gathered up the few belongings her mother had left with Gold, collected the photograph of her mother and aunt along with her grandfather's letter and wandered out to the sidewalk completely lost in thought. She now had the knowledge that her mother had once possessed magical powers but lost them after being on the losing end of some sort of challenge from an evil warlock - a challenge that had involved some sort of choice - but what? By Gold's description, this challenge had taken place a few years before her mother had run away to Boston so it didn't seem as though the loss of her magic had been the catalyst that caused her to bolt. So, what had it been? What choice had the warlock forced her to make? Had it actually involved a man like Gold had suggested or was there more to it?

She was anxious to see what was inside the mysterious box Gold had held onto for all of these years and to learn more about the books that accompanied the box. First though, she had to take a break and feed her grumbling stomach. The coffee had been a good way to start the morning, but she needed to fuel her growling belly and Granny's was tantalizingly close… Three or four more cups of industrial strength coffee couldn't hurt either.

She took a step into the street, barely noticing the car parked curbside in front of the pawn shop and too distracted by her own thoughts to realize that there was another person in her path. She walked straight into that unseen pedestrian, the collision sending them both tumbling to the asphalt. Emma managed to hold on to her mother's box, but the books fell from her grasp.

"I'm so sorry…,' she began to apologize profusely to the man she'd collided with. "I wasn't looking where I was going…" She pushed herself to her knees and began to gather her belongings, almost afraid to look to see who she had so awkwardly run into. "Are you alright? I hope I didn't knock you over too hard…"

"It's alright, Emma…," the familiar voice said with a chuckle. "This isn't exactly how I planned to run into you, but I'm not going to complain." Recognizing the voice, she flushed with embarrassment. It may have only been Walsh, but she would rather he not see her this flustered.

"Walsh, I guess we literally ran into each other," she said with a shy, awkward grin. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"No worries. I wasn't really paying attention either. I was just heading over to visit Mr. Gold and see if there were any updates on my incoming shipment. What about you? I thought you were off today but that intensity in your gaze says otherwise."

"Oh, I was just returning a book to Gold in exchange for this old stuff that used to belong to my mother. Now I'm heading over to Granny's to get some breakfast and take a look at this stuff. Wanna join me? I'll buy to make up for getting your suit all dirty…"

"I just might take you up on that offer," he said as he brushed some invisible dust off of his dark, coffee bean brown suit. Yeah, she had coffee cravings on her brain again… "Let me finish up my business here but I'll stop over when I'm all done."

"Sounds good," she replied with a hopeful smile. "I'll take my time. After last night, I'll probably need to go through a couple of pots of coffee…"

"Last night? What happened last night?"

"Let's just call it an interesting night that ended in a few too many drinks after having way too much unloaded on me too quickly…"

"Ah… I have heard that the full moon can lead to some overwhelming revelations around here…"

"Oh, just a few revelations… But I'd better let you get back to business. I'll save you a seat if you decide to take me up on the breakfast offer."

"Sounds great, Emma. I'll try to keep things short," he offered, not exactly promising that he'd make it but leaving her hopeful that she might gain some company for breakfast. She had so much to process and she hadn't even gotten to the relatives yet. Maybe it was best to have someone to share the discoveries with her instead of sitting in the diner alone?

Walsh held the smile on his face until as Emma continued (cautiously this time) across the quiet street towards her intended destination of Granny's diner. Once her back was fully to him and he was no longer in her purview, he straightened his sport coat and reset his composure. Projecting a decidedly more business-like demeanor, he entered the pawn shop to seek out its owner.

Alerted by the jingle of the bell attached to the door handle, Gold knew that someone had come into the store, but believing it to be the deputy returning with more inquiries, he responded before poking his head around the curtain.

"If you're back for more, there's not much else I can tell you," Gold said as he stepped around the room divider to see that the person awaiting him in the lobby wasn't Emma Swan, awkwardly finding the face of Walsh Gibbons instead.

"More about what?" a confused and curious Walsh asked as he noted Gold's reaction.

"Mr. Gibbons. My apologies. I thought Ms. Swan was returning with some additional questions about the items she just obtained from me." Gold did his best to conceal his embarrassment over his faux pas of making the statement before confirming his audience.

"Ah, yes, she mentioned that she'd traded for some old items of her mother's."

"A few small things," Gold said, not intending to go into further detail. "So, how can I help you today, Mr. Gibbons? As you're aware, the ship carrying the items you desire isn't due into port until Monday. The captain expects to be in the harbor around noon should fair winds prevail."

"Yes, I'm aware of that delay. I'm actually here for something else, specifically some assistance with a particular potion…," Walsh informed him as he reached into the right hand pocket of his sport coat, withdrawing a folded slip of paper that he slid across the glass countertop to Gold. "Think you can put that together for me?"

The pawn shop owner picked up the paper warily, slowly unfolding it to see what was being requested of him. "I believe I have all of the ingredients for this but whatever do you need it for?"

"That is my business," Walsh replied with haughty tone. "Your business is to make it for me, right?" Gold found himself reminded of his conversation earlier that week when he'd assured Emma that his dealings with Walsh were strictly business. Clearly word had reached Gibbons who was now throwing it back at him. "How long will it take?" Walsh asked to snap Gold back to the present.

"If I have everything required, I can have it to you in about an hour. Let me take a quick gander at my storeroom."

"Please do. I'll wait."

Gold vanished behind the heavy fabric divider while Walsh waited impatiently to learn if the potion could be completed in a timely manner. The shopkeeper was out of sight for less than two minutes when he returned with his response. "I do have all of the necessary ingredients. The potion will be ready for you in an hour."

"Perfect. I guess I'll go take Emma up on her breakfast offer while I wait," Walsh grinned. "See you in an hour."

Gold stood silently behind the counter as Walsh exited his shop. He'd made many potions for Gibbons over the years they'd been doing business together, but this latest request had him puzzled. It was unusual, even for Gibbons, but business was business.

**********

Elsewhere in Storybrooke, (at least he hoped he was still in Storybrooke) Killian Jones had awakened in near total darkness. His last recollection was of walking a very tipsy Emma to the Sheriff's station then returning to the Jolly Roger - but how long ago had that been? There was no way to know if it was day or night or whether minutes or hours had passed. He vaguely recalled a choking sensation that he might have dismissed as a dream were it not for the lingering ache in his neck.

He knew he was no longer aboard his ship as there was nothing familiar to any of his senses - no gentle rocking and swaying on the bobbing waves nor any scent of marine air or teakwood. No, wherever he was, it was dank and dark. There was no light filtering in through any crack in the stone or cement walls of this chamber and there was a musty, earthy odor to his surroundings.

Where the hell was he?

Using the nearest wall both for support and to gain his bearings, Killian pushed himself upright, immediately realizing that he was missing something - his hook. He knew he'd been wearing it when he'd left Emma but now its familiar weight wasn't there. He still wore the brace that secured it yet the prosthetic implement itself had been removed.

A renewed vulnerability washed over him as he inched his way along the wall in the inky blackness yet he was determined to take stock of this prison. His hand felt for any recess or crack that might signify a possible exit as he made his way to the chamber's first corner. He continued moving to his right along the second wall discovering that it was little more than an arm-span distance between the corners. Whatever this awful hole was, it was narrow.

The third wall proved to be only slightly longer than the second which provided him a rough estimate of the room's dimensions - approximately six or seven feet wide and perhaps nine or ten feet wide. It would be about the size of a small storage room or closet - or even an actual prison cell.

But at least there was some hope. As he reached the next bend, his hand came in contact with wood. A door frame. A doorway. At least if the room had a way in, there was a chance he could find a way out, although that might prove a tad more difficult without his hook. His hand surveyed the frame and door in search of a key hole or some type of locking mechanism but he found neither. Whatever purpose this chamber served, it was secured from outside which left him with the chilling realization that it just might be a prison cell and he was its unfortunate occupant.

Questions flooded his brain as his psyche tried to make sense of his situation. Where the hell was he and how the bloody hell did he get here? He didn't remember leaving the Jolly Roger, at least not willingly. He'd sensed no one else on deck with him and a skirmish would certainly have drawn the attention of his crew.

Someone had brought him here and locked him away in this miserable, lonely pit, but who? He'd barely been in this port for a week but had he unexpectedly crossed someone unwittingly? There was so much he needed to know…

"Hello?" he shouted in the direction of the sealed door, unsure if anyone would even be listening. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Hearing nothing except the echo of his own voice and the pounding of his heart, Killian slumped against the nearest wall. He knew he needed to think this through and to conserve his energy. There was no indication of any water or provisions left here for him so either his captor planned to bring him sustenance or he was intended to slowly starve to death - the latter being an option he wasn't prepared to consider.

[delicatelyherdreams]

Teardrops on Lashes (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After New York, you moved to Bucharest to get away from the superhero stuff. You simply wanted an uneventful, ordinary life. But when a stranger moves into the apartment next to yours, you begin to question those aspirations and choose to risk it all for love.

Warnings: Mild Language; baking fluff

Word Count:  4052

Teardrops on Lashes Masterlist      

Previous: Part 2

Next: Part 4

After the longest day of work you had ever experienced, you found yourself at the bike store to look for a replacement for the one that had gotten stolen. The price tags made your head spin. Since when did bikes get so damn expensive? When you bought your old bike it was a little less than a hundred dollars and now they were running a little over three hundred.

Looks like you’d be walking everywhere for a while.

You thanked the sales associate for helping you before leaving the shop.

The busy streets of Bucharest were packed with people on the sidewalks and maneuvering around the street vendors that were selling various goods. The chatter of the people having their own conversations filed into a buzz in the background that made the walk back to your apartment feel much quicker than it actually was.

As you rounded the last corner to get to your building, you stopped dead in your tracks when the last thing you ever expected to see was sitting right outside your apartment building.

Parked outside and chained to the bike rack was your bike. The (f/c) bike you had bought all those years ago was sitting there like it had never left. The only thing that was different was a white slip of paper taped to the handle bars.

You ran over to the bike and peeled off the note. In James’s handwriting, you read, “I found your bike :) I think that earns me a pie.”

You barked a laugh. How in the hell had he found your bike? It was stolen for crying out loud! You looked down at the chain to see a pretty good combination lock holding it to the rack. Well, time to go figure out what your new combination was.

You entered the building and began to scale the stares to the ninth floor. You propelled yourself onto the landing and made your way to James's door. Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the wood.

There was a small scuffling before the door slowly opened. His eyes peeked out of the door suspiciously, and when they saw your face, they visibly softened. "(y/n)," he said in a simple greeting and opened the door wider.

You looked at him. "How did you get my bike back? Where was it? How did you even know it was mine?" you asked in a shotgun style, firing one question after another without giving him a second to answer.

James patiently waited for a pause in your rambling before he responded. “First, I saw it outside the building when I first brought my stuff up, and when it went missing and you were upset, I put two and two together and guessed it was yours. It’s good to see that my observations skills have yet to let me down.” He paused and leaned against the door frame. “Second: I saw some scumbag trying to sell it in the market and took it back.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You stared at him. “That’s it? You just took it back?”

“Yeah, what else was I going to do? I locked it up for you too, so that way it wouldn't get taken again. The code is 147.”

You blinked. “W-Wow, I, uh, I don’t know how to thank you,” you stammered.

He smirked. “I could use another one of those plum pies. The last one barely lasted twelve hours.”

You pursed your lips. “Really? C’mon, even my neighbor’s three kids have more self control than that,” you said with a laugh.

“Hey, plums are my favorite,” he said holding his hands up in defense. “And that pie was amazing.”

“Well, unfortunately for you,” you started, glancing down at your shoes, “I’m out of food money for the month and I have no more ingredients for it.”

“Well lucky for both of us, I have some extra money.” James gave you a smile.

The sight made your heart flutter. This had to be the first time you saw him truly smile.

“Oh really? Then I guess I have no reason not to make you a pie.” You paused, looking down at your work attire. “Give me a second to get changed and then we can go shopping. Then I’ll teach you to make it so you can have it whenever you want.” You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you walked the couple of steps to your apartment. “Be back in a bit.” You quickly unlocked the door and slipped in.

James stood in his doorway, slightly taken aback by your promise of teaching him to make your pie. He had been expecting you to just agree, take his money, and do it all by yourself. He had not been expecting youto instigate something that would lead you both into spending the whole afternoon together. He had known he was taking a risk making steps to get closer to you, but there was just something about you that intrigued him. He found himself waiting out in the hallway for you to come back out, anxiously clenching and unclenching his fists.

What was he doing? He moved here to get away from HYDRA, or SHIELD, or whatever government organization that would hunt him down to fill their own agendas. “Completely off the grid,” is what he had told himself when he decided to rent his dingy old apartment. “Leave no trace,” is what he had made himself promise. So why was he waiting to go grocery shopping with his neighbor whom he had known all of one day?

The logical side of him was saying to just go back inside and finish the emergency exit supplies. Pretend he got sick or something and never talk to you again. Disappear off her radar. After all, being around him would only get you hurt.

The human side of him, however, was trying to coax him out of his cold shell. “This is what we wanted. A fresh start,” it said. You didn’t know him or what he had done before Bucharest. You didn’t know Bucky or the Winter Soldier and so you didn’t expect anything from him. You only knew James, the quiet new neighbor with a love of plums.

A small smile crossed his lips. Maybe that’s all he needed.

Meanwhile, you were dashing around your apartment in a frenzy as you undressed, dressed, undressed again, and once more got dressed. No outfit seemed cool or casual enough to go out to buy things with James. You wanted to make a good impression on him, and seeing as how the first thing he saw you in was covered with flour and the second was your uniform, you weren’t doing so hot. You rummaged through your closet looking for a decent shirt with minimal holes. “Come on, (y/n), keep it together. You’re going shopping, not to the met.” Finally you settled on a plain orange v-neck, a pair of skinny jeans, and some fuzzy boots. You threw your hair up into a messy bun and quickly exited back out into the hallway. “Phew, sorry about that. I just had to get out of that skirt,” you said locking the door once more.

James’s eyes snapped towards yours. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” he quickly replied. “I was okay with waiting.”

“Still,” you shoved your keys into your pocket. “I hope you didn’t have to wait too long.” You shot him a grin and jerked your head towards the stairs. “Now come on, this pie won’t make itself.”

He stepped back from the stairs. “After you.”

You smiled. “Such a gentleman,” you teased and took the stairs first.

As you reached the main floor, James turned his gaze to you. “Do we need my bike again?”

“Oh, no. The store isn’t too far away from here,” you said walking down the sidewalk. “It’s only three blocks... I think. I can never remember just how much distance it is. It’s about a six minute walk though.”

He paused as if doing the math in his head. “So yeah, about three to four blocks. Huh, it’ll be nice to have a grocery store so close to home," he remarked as you started to lead him in the direction of the store.

“Oh it is. Especially when you’re craving ice cream,” you admitted with a laugh.

He smiled. “Wouldn’t want it to melt.”

You nodded with a smile.

James glanced over at you before walking behind you to your other side so you were stationed on his right side. At your puzzled look he just shrugged. “Habit. I prefer people on my right.”

Okay, little strange, but you weren’t one to argue. After all, you had your own little quirks as well.

As the both of you walked down the street, you looked up at James. “So did you end up finding a job?” you asked curiously.

He nodded. “Yeah. The moving company on thirty first street needed some extra hands. So I’ll be working there moving people in and out of houses or apartments.”

“Oh, movers,” you said with a chuckle. “They saved my life when I first got here. There was no way I could’ve moved my bed all the way to the ninth floor.”

“We are helpful,” he admitted. “And they already gave me a bonus, which I’ll be using to get pie ingredients.”

“Oh well lucky you.” You shook your head with a laugh.

The two of you rounded a corner for the final stretch to the store.

“So, Cyrotechnics?” he asked. “What do you do there?”

“Cyber security and programming,” you answered. “I basically hack our site over and over again and build software to protect it from people who would do the same thing.”

“So you’re good with computers?”

You nodded your head. “In a way. I’m much better at hacking. If you ever need to hack into government secrets, I’m your gal.”

James bit his lip to hide a grin. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

After walking a few yards, you pulled up to the grocery store.

“Okay, we’re going to need flour, sugar, butter, and salt for the crust and cover, and for the filling we need lemon juice, nutmeg, sugar, flour, salt and cinnamon,” you rattled off. The recipe, thankfully was committed to memory after making it so many times.

He frowned as he grabbed a basket. “What about the plums?”

“Don’t worry, we get those last,” you reassured. “Now come on.”

Up and down the aisles you both walked, throwing in the ingredients you needed.

James pulled the cinnamon off the shelf and looked at its price. “Just how much are these things?”

“For a decent pie, roughly ten to fifteen dollars total. For an excellent pie, it might cost you an arm,” you said teasingly. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you buy the most expensive things for a pie. I’m not that evil.”

“Mhmm, well I appreciate it. I don’t have any more arms to spare.”

“I don’t think any of us do,” you said shoving the flour into the basket. “Alright, that should be everything.”

“Alright, now for the plums,” he said walking towards the produce section.

“Ah, James!” you called to stop him. “We don’t get those here.”

He frowned. “Is there another grocery store somewhere?”

You bobbed your head. “Something like that.” You led him over to the check out aisles.

He pulled out his wallet as you loaded up the conveyor belt.

The cashier told him something in Romanian. You only caught a few words like “pie” and “hot,” but it must have been something pleasant because James gave her a small smile. You noticed, however, that it wasn’t like the few he had given you before. This smile didn’t quite reach those gorgeous eyes of his like they did for you.

You quirked an eyebrow at him as you grabbed the bagged goods. “What was that all about?”

“Oh, she just told me that it’s too hot out to be making a warm pie. I don’t really care though, not when it involves your pie."

You smiled slightly. "Good, then you won't mind taking some of the bags?" you asked holding out the one with the heavier ingredients in it.

James cracked a grin. "I guess not." He took the bag and continued to follow you as you exited the store. "So where do we get these plums?"

"The market," you answered. "There's a plum cart run by an older lady named Lucinda and she grows the best plums for pies. Not too hard but not too soft and easy to get the pit out of."

The market was a small walk away, maybe only a minute or two, and, like always, it was bustling with people running their daily errands.

James stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the large crowd of people. His left hand clenched tightly and his lips formed a thin line.

You looked over your shoulder when his presence disappeared from your side. A concerned frown covered your lips. “James, you alright?”

He took a few moments to respond. “Y-Yeah, fine.”

He wasn’t fine. He didn’t look fine by a long shot, and you sure as hell noticed. You swiveled your head in between him and the crowd of people in front of you before it finally dawned on you that he could have crowd anxiety. Instead of encouraging him to follow you, you dug into your pocket and fished out your keys. “Here,” you said tossing them to him. “Head back and preheat the oven for me?” you asked sweetly.

He caught the keys in his right hand. “Y-You trust me to go back to your apartment alone? You don’t think I’ll rob you or anything?”

You shrugged. “There’s really nothing of material value in there. And besides, you’ve never given me any reason not to trust you and I kinda know where you live.” You shot a teasing grin his way. “Go on, I won’t be long, and it’ll get done that much faster if we divide and conquer, right?”

He paused to consider it before nodding his head. “I’ll see you back there then...”

“Just don’t burn the place down!” you called out to him as he began to retreat.

His shoulders shook slightly with a bout of silent laughter. “I won’t!” he called back.

You settled back onto your heels as you watched him walk away. The smile on your face slowly melted away as he disappeared from sight. You wondered what had happened to him to make him nervous around crowds, but it wasn’t your place to pry or ask. After you couldn’t see him anymore you turned and plunged into the crowd.

Familiar street vendors waved at you from their carts and shouted greetings.

In return you did the same as you walked to Lucinda’s plum cart.

The old lady was sitting in the shade of her awning knitting a pair of electric blue socks. She looked up with a bright grin when she saw you approach. “(y/n)! What a lovely surprise! Making another pie?”

“Always am, it seems,” you responded with an exasperated sigh. “Got any good ones?”

She gave you a knowing smile. “Check the left bin towards the top right,” she said in a low voice.

You did as she suggested and sure enough, when you felt the plums, they were perfectly ripe and just right for the pie you were going to make. You picked up one of the grocery sacks she provided and began to fill it with at least a dozen of the most perfect plums you could find. “Alright, I have thirteen plums. How much?” you asked for what seemed to be the millionth time.

Lucinda had to constantly change the prices from day to day depending on how many people were buying. She, like everyone else in the world, had to make ends meet and the plums were really her only source of real income since she refused to use her husband’s life insurance unless she desperately had to.

She pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “Well, we are having a good day, so your total’ll be seven *leu.”

Thank god you never left the apartment with anything less than twenty because you had forgotten to ask James for some money to buy the plums. You pulled a couple of bills from your pocket and handed them to her. “Thanks again, Lucinda!” you called as you tied up the bag.

“Anytime, (y/n). Any time.” She gave you a lazy smile before returning to her knitting.

You took your bag and began to speed walk the couple blocks back to your apartment. Once there, you climbed the stairs two at a time to the ninth floor. Your door was already open a crack and you heard the small clatter of feet and metal on metal behind the door.

You smiled softly and pushed the door open. “I got the plums!”

James jumped at the sound of your voice and turned to face you faster than you could blink brandishing one of your knives as a makeshift weapon. His eyes were hard and fierce in a way you had never seen them before. When he saw you, he lowered the knife. “Holy crap, (y/n), you scared the daylight out of me,” he said putting it down on the counter.

You closed the door behind you. “Sorry, the door was open so I just thought you were expecting me.”

He shook his head. “I was, just not so soon.” He rested his hands, which were still gloved, on the counter and hung his head. His long hair fell forward and covered his face. “I couldn’t figure out how to work your oven,” he admitted with a weak laugh.

Walking behind him, you quickly pressed a couple buttons to get it started and set the plums on the counter. “Don’t worry about it,” you said with a smile. You swiped your baking outfit from the oven’s handle and tied it on over your clothes. “Anyways, now that we have everything, we can get started.” You glanced down at his hands. “You might want to take off your gloves. We’re going to be working with a lot of flour and I’d hate for you to get them all dirty.”

He clenched his left hand into a fist. “Ah, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather keep them on,” he said coldly. “I don’t care about the flour.”

You hesitated before nodding your head. “Alright. You’ll be on filling duty then.” You handed him the grocery bag of plums. “Go ahead and slice enough of these to make four cups.” You pulled a chair from your dining room set over and mounted it. Balancing to counteract its wobbliness, you opened the top cabinet and pulled out your large and small mixing bowls. “Then sprinkle it with about a tablespoon of the lemon juice. It’s okay if you’re a little off. Then after those are done, you’re going to want to mix together a half cup of sugar, maybe a bit more if you like yours sweeter, a fourth cup of flour, and a fourth teaspoon of salt and cinnamon. Once you’ve got those all mixed...” you continued to rattle off instructions to him as you pulled out the things to make the crust. When you had finished you looked at him to make sure he was still with you. “Got it?”

He stared at you dumbstruck. “How the hell do you have this all committed to memory?”

You shrugged with a grin. “My best friend has three kids who love this thing. I’ve made it for nearly every birthday in lieu of a cake. After the twelfth time, you learn you don’t need the recipe card anymore.”

The laugh that came from his mouth made butterflies erupt in your stomach. You wanted to make him laugh again it was that amazing.

“I can see that. I think I’ll be good for now and if I start to screw up you can correct me.” He smirked as he pulled one of your sharper knives from the knife block.

You pulled some measuring cups from a drawer. “You bet your ass I will. You will not defile my glorious pie with your inability to follow directions,” you said waving the teaspoon at his face.

He picked up the cup and began to slice the plums into it. “I’ll do my best.”

The two of you worked side by side, methodically helping each other out when necessary.

James actually wasn’t half bad with the filling. He cut the plums with expert hands that seemed to know exactly how to work the knife. He must have been a chef or something wherever he was before here. He kept up with your instructions and finished the filling in half the time it would normally take you to do it. Impressed with his speed, you tasked him with making the topping while you finished the crust.

All the while you two talked about random things: favorite foods and colors, which was better, cats or dogs, and yourselves. You found out that he had left America for a reason similar to yours, but instead of getting away from super heroes he was trying to get away from his past. He didn’t go into any detail about said past but you understood that whatever it was had to be really bad if it drove him halfway across the world where he knew absolutely no one. From there the two of you talked about future plans. You wanted to someday move out of the apartment and settle down to build a family and he just wanted stability. He said he had been searching for a place to settle down for a year, and was hoping that this place was good enough to stay for a good amount of time. He didn’t sound too optimistic about it though. You tried to tell him it would be okay but he just brushed you off saying, “Whatever’s gonna happen will happen, I just have to deal with it.”

Finally you finished your crust and it came time to assemble the pie. You had him pour the filling while you finished off the topping. After the filling was set, you crumbled the topping over it and stuck it in the oven. “Now we wait an hour,” you concluded as you untied your apron.

James bent down and looked through the glass at the pie. “That’s actually not as complicated as I thought it’d be.”

“Right?” You looped the apron back through the handle. “I’ll make you a copy of the recipe card so you can have it whenever.”

His smile faltered a bit. “I’ll never make it right.”

“Nonsense. You did half of this one and I’m sure it’ll be fine.” You bent down next to him and peered in. “See? It looks just like how it normally does.”

“Looking the same and tasting the same are two very different things,” he pointed out.

You shrugged. “You’ll figure it out. I can’t keep making pies for you otherwise I’ll have to start charging for my services.”

“And if I’m willing to pay?” he asked raising an eyebrow as he turned his head slightly towards you.

“I’ll consider it,” you answered quietly. “C’mon.” You stood up fully and walked over to your couch. “I’ve got Netflix so we can watch whatever you want for an hour while we wait.” You plopped down on the right side.

James smiled and joined you sitting on your left. “Alright.”

He chose an older comedy but in truth neither of you really watched it. Instead, like before, you carried out a conversation, talking about whatever came to mind. The hour passed quicker than either of you realized and the timer on the oven going off made the both of you jump in your seats. After the pie had cooled, you both agreed on sharing a slice to test its taste. Much to your delight, you found that it had to be one of the best pies you had ever made.

*leu: Romanian Currency; 1 leu is equivalent to about 0.25 USD 

Teardrops on Lashes Taglist: @fuckthatfeeling

[keyofjetwolf]

Jet Wolf Summarizes Act 39

The manga and I kind of hate each other. This is unfortunate, but still, I’m determined to come out of this with something. Rather than spend energy on a liveblog that’s increasingly negative, I’m reading each manga act (mostly) silently, and then writing up summaries at the end. I won’t pull my punches. There’s going to be criticism and snark about the manga, either wholesale or in details. If that isn’t a thing you feel like reading, please skip this post!

On the one hand, when I started this act today, I thought I was still in the Infinity Arc, which was bound and determined to live up to its name. I was not! I am even closer to the conclusion of the manga than I realized!

On the other hand, I’m in the Pegasus arc.

Dear god help me, I’m in the Pegasus arc.

We open with the Inners, but don’t get excited, this will be the last time you’ll see them for the next hundred pages. They’re gathered together at a park to watch the eclipse. Where’s Usagi, you ask? At another park somewhere else with Mamoru and Chibi-Usa, because if they were there, we might feel for a second that Mamoru was not the center of the universe, and can’t possibly risk it. CAN’T MINGLE WITH THE HELP YOU KNOW.

That little girl I posted earlier wishes to become an actress, and Minako whirls around, Kill Bill sirens blaring. "My dream is to become an idol!” she says to her friends for what is almost certainly the tenth time that hour. However this prompts the others to say their dreams (PS: THIS IS THE DREAM ARC) and they are every bit as obvious and lacking in character development as you’ve come to expect.

“I want to be a bride!” Mako says as I cry inside. "And then maybe have a flower shop or cake shop, but mostly bride!”

“I wish to become an elegant doctor!” Ami does not care that I am crying harder. Not brilliant. Not genius. Not lifesaving. ELEGANT. AMI MIZUNO’S PREFERRED ADJECTIVE IS ELEGANT AND I AM ON PAGE TWO OF THIS ACT

As for Rei?

While you will pry International Success Life Rei Hino from me absolutely never because my grip will only become stronger in death, fair enough, but for fuck’s sake, AMI ALREADY SAID ELEGANT REI I REFUSE TO BELIEVE YOUR EGO WOULDN’T DEMAND ANOTHER DESCRIPTOR.

Meanwhile, at No Senshi Allowed Park, Mamoru doubles over with chest pains. FINALLY SOMEONE HAD THE CORRECT DREAM. Unfortunately it passes quickly, just in time for the Dead Moon Circus to arrive on their fucking giant flying stingray shark pirate ship what the fuck??

THINGS ONLY GET MORE HORRIFYING

Of course if one thing is going to be consistent for me from the anime to the manga, it’d be how much the Dead Moon Circus creeps me the fuck out. OF COURSE THAT.

The Circus disappears then, and I’ll give the manga credit where it’s due here, it doesn’t have thirty fucking installments of no one seeing the bloody ten block giant floating circus tent.

Back to Peon Park, the Senshi also saw the circus arrive, and this apparently freaked Phobos and Deimos out so badly they had to to fly to Rei on her day off and bring her a newspaper and some feathers AND A FUCKING TAROT CARD ARE YOU KIDDING ME THESE GUYS NOT ONLY FOUND REI’S TAROT DECK BUT SORTED THROUGH THE CARDS TO FIND THE EXACT ONE TO BEST COMMUNICATE THEIR MEANING MEANWHILE I CAN’T GET MINA TO BRING ME THE GODDAMN BALL WHEN SHE WANTS ME TO THROW IT

Armed with this information, Rei, my beloved, light of my life, favourite character for over twenty years, concludes

Really, Rei. Really.

The Senshi rush to Usagi, though not one of them wonders why they bother, and that’s the real tragedy in this.

At the other, better park, for characters the author actually cares about, Mamoru thinks traffic will be bad getting home and suggests they wander around the shopping district instead. Hey look, there’s a sale on! This doesn’t seem strange at all!

Nobody thinks to mention the timing of this sale or arrival of an imminent circus alongside THE FLYING SHARK PIRATE CIRCUS SHIP, so maybe I was too quick with my credit-giving a minute ago. They wander around the stalls and shops, until something catches Usagi and Chibs’ eyes.

HMM I WONDER IF THESE WILL BECOME IMPORTANT

They convince Mamoru to buy them at $100 for the pair, which breaks down, in overall kaleidoscopic entertainment value, to about $100 a minute. As Usagi and Chibs rapidly burn through that minute, the Senshi show up, relieved to find everyone okay. “Should we join them?” Ami asks. “God no,” replies Minako, dragging everyone off to do jello shots for the rest of the issue.

God knows how many hours later, it’s 5pm and everything’s still just as packed as it was this morning, making Mamoru’s whole thing about having trouble getting home particularly dense because everyone’s fucking HERE and not on the road. But everything’s about to get a thousand times stupider.

Usagi says that it’s getting late and maybe Chibi-Usa shouldn’t go home until tomorrow. I was busy trying to puzzle out what that meant, like sleep-over in the park? No, no, she means home to the future, to which Mamoru says:

IT’S A THOUSAND YEARS IN THE FUTURE MAMORU THE DAY YOU’RE ON IN 1995 IS COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT TO THE 30TH FUCKING CENTURY WHAT SENSE DOES THIS EVEN MAKE

AND THEN CHIBS JUST MUDDIES IT EVEN FURTHER

HOW DOES

WHAT DOES THAT MATTER WHAT SENSE DOES ANY OF THIS MAKE THIS IS SO NONSENSICAL AND I’M LEGIT IRRITATED ABOUT IT

And then it’s Usagi’s turn to just make shit up as she goes.

SHE WON’T BE LATE IT’LL BE THE SAME FUCKING DAY BECAUSE IT’S A THOUSAND YEARS IN THE FUTURE AND THAT IS INDEPENDENT OF WHAT DAY IT IS IN THE PRESENT TIME IS NOT LINEAR FOR YOU PEOPLE AND YOU KNOW THAT BECAUSE YOU ARE HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH YOUR DAUGHTER FROM THE FUTURE

And I can’t even see why there’s all this bending over backwards trying to explain any of this away when plot coherency is something Takeuchi wrestles with on a daily basis about as much as she does character development.

SPEAKING OF

Cut to Mamoru’s apartment. Chibs is getting ready for bed.

Recognize the mirror?

JUST AS WELL BECAUSE THE MANGA COULDN’T CARE LESS IF YOU DO OR DON’T

FOUR TAGS WITH SQUIGGLY LABELS FOR MAMORU’S SHIT

THE PJS OF WHICH WILL BE MENTIONED IN-TEXT AT LEAST ONCE MORE IN THIS SCENE

FUCK ALL FOR MICHIRU

IT MANAGED TO BE EVEN WORSE THAN “MICHIRU WAS ALSO THERE” BECAUSE YOU CAN’T EVEN KNOW MICHIRU IS ALSO THERE UNLESS YOU ALREADY KNOW IT

WE DIDN’T THINK IT WAS POSSIBLE TO BE MORE DISMISSIVE OF MICHIRU BUT THE MANGA FOUND A WAY

Meanwhile Usagi is lying to Ikuko about sleeping over at Mako’s, and I’d like to think Usagi cleared that with Mako first, but that would’ve required thinking about her, and there’s just no way. The next three hundred pages are basically Mamoru and Chibi-Usa and I’d summarize what happened but I’ve punished myself enough today, and also NOTHING HAPPENED.

Over to the Dark Moon Circus, where we don’t begin with the Trio but with the Quartet.

Not that I expect anyone to have any personality. And just as well! Here’s a sample.

PALLAPALLA HATES BORING INTERCHANGEABLE DIALOGUE

Chibi-Usa has finally fallen sleep. I know what this means. I feel my mind, my soul, my very sense of self trying to shrink away, but to no avail. It comes.

AAAAHHHH

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

For relief, please join me in imagining for a moment a Sailor Moon SuperS revival featuring, as Pegasus, BoJack Horseman.

Pegasus and Chibs fly over Tokyo and then he gives her a little bell so she can summon him whenever she wants. In return?

CHIBI-USA TSUKINO I KNOW YOU READ A LOT DO NOT TELL ME THAT YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THIS IN ENOUGH STORIES AND FAIRY TALES TO WANT TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS IMMEDIATELY YOU ARE SMARTER THAN THAT YOUNG LADY THIS IS HANSEL AND GRETEL WITH WINGS

The next morning, Usagi and Mamoru wake up and realize they were both dreaming about Chibi-Usa and her new horse friend. Nothing about this alarms them anywhere near the correct degree in this humble Jet Wolf’s opinion. Mamoru has another partial heart attack but again does not die because I never get what I want. They realize Chibs left without them, and if I were Chibs, I’d do the same.

In the park (probably The Creator Loves Us And Only Us National Park), Chibs digs in her pockets for her Time Key, and I know Chibi-Usa is concerned about wanting to be an adult and all, but she has literally never been more hashtag relatable.

She pulls it out, but also pulls out the bell. GASP IT’S REAL. She thinks about Pegasus and how creepy he is and how she should never talk to him again and then she shatters the bell on the pavement. IF ONLY. She also thinks about her mother, specifically how she said “Leave and don’t come back until you’re pretty and useful.” YOU THINK I’M KIDDING I AM NOT KIDDING

Chibs’ first action as queen? ABOLISH MOTHER’S DAY

She wonders if she’s okay to go home yet, but when she uses the Time Key, it rejects the shit out of her, so guess not. Mamoru and Usagi run up and Pegasus appears again for no particular reason that I can figure out. Then there’s a tiger attack (NO REALLY) and everyone runs off, except for Mamoru, who once again is taunting me with his imminent death that never comes.

Usagi and Chibs try to transform, but can’t, because they don’t have all the Senshi around to power them up. “God, what a stupid requirement anyway, like I ever see those guys,” says Usagi, and so she just makes a new transformation happen because that is a thing she can do.

The Quartet are behind this attack, and Usagi and Chibs try to fight them, but are apparently powerless without a new toy from Bandai, so it’s marketing to the rescue! Chibs calls for Pegasus and begs him for a new weapon. He complies!

AND I FUCKING SCREAMED. While Usagi and Chibs power up on their own -- which I actually thought was a better turn from the anime for a second -- all it functionally did was change their outfits. They don’t even try to fight or attack, I presume because they know they can’t, so while they look neat, they’re powerless and helpless until they beg Pegasus for help. Until Pegasus arrives to give them power.

Power that came to them BY WAY OF MAMORU ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW

So one of my biggest sources of anger and frustration with SuperS? ACTUALLY IMPROVED ON THE MANGA.

Also the Moon Gorgeous Sex Toy is sentient and can talk so. Yeah.

Back at the Dead Moon Circus, Zircon is all “The people of the White Moon reincarnated, god I fucking hate that,” so the Quartet respond by turning their tiger, hawk, and fish into, you guessed it.

They also see Chibs and Usagi and wonder what their dreams are.

APPARENTLY THE ANSWER IS ONE OF THE WORST EPISODES OF THE WORST SEASON OF THE ANIME JESUS WEPT WHEN WILL I KNOW REST

[michelemoore]

Takhuk

May 28, 2019

Michele Moore Veldhoen

Glow Worms, Men in Stone, Boiled Octopus, and More...

 Hello, I hope you are well and heading in your intended direction!

As for me, I am enjoying the wonder of the shrubs in the nearby forest releasing their green scent, and watching a great horned owl mother guard her growing owlet.

Meanwhile, Rogerio and I have been scratching our travel itch.  

Whenever we talk about where we might go next, we like to recall past adventures. We make it a rigorous mental exercise, beginning with trying to identify the actual departure date. (I’m happy just coming up with the right year.) Then, before consulting Google Earth we try to name each place we visited, how long we stayed, and what we did there. This is the biggest challenge because we are usually gone for a month or more and travel by train, car, bus, and boat to see a country or a chunk of a country.

Of course the pleasure in this re-take on our trips is remembering the details. The things we did, the human activity we observed, and the amazing natural landscapes we witnessed. Such as, on a pitch black night, finding our way through Australia’s stunning Otway Forest to Melba Gully in hopes the glow worms (not actually worms but rather gnat larvae) would be on display. Which they were. Imagine standing in total darkness, on a wooden boardwalk in a cool damp rainforest hollow (likely crawling with poisonous snakes and spiders), under a forest roof made of leaves the size of picnic benches, surrounded by millions of twinkling white lights. Above, below, and beside us, glow worms displayed their bioluminescent magic, creating a sense of floating in space enveloped by stars. A miraculous display of nature’s playfulness.

Another bright image in my mind is sitting at the top of the centre stadium at Rome’s Foro Italico, a sports complex (originally named Foro Mussolini) watching Swiss tennis legend (and my favourite player) Roger Federer perform his ballet like moves in a match against French player Jo-Wilfried Tsonga.  While the unexpected (and dirt cheap) opportunity to see Federer had me giggling on the bus all the way to the Foro, it was the setting of the match that sent me into fits of joy. We were at the very top of the stadium which seemed as steep as the Coliseum, and the sun was just beginning to set. Decorating the perimeter of the stadium were classic Italian marble statues, all of scandalously over-sized muscular male athletes. (Not sure if Mussolini was making a tribute to himself or the Gods). I happen to love love love the marble statues of Italy, so this view of incredible male form in stone lit in all their splendor by the setting sun, along with the living version down on the court, was almost more than I could bear. I giggled so much at the spectacle the hot calzone in my hand that I had grabbed on the street on my way in became stone cold.

There are stories of hilarity too. Like the crazy bus driver (we thought he was drunk) in Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, who either did not understand or did not care that in the dark night and pouring rain we could not be sure of our bus stop. Wanting to get as close as possible to our hotel, we requested the help of others on the bus to try to figure out the right corner. This resulted in several false stops, each of which caused an increase in the driver’s voluminous expressions of contempt. His shouting and cursing (I’m sure he was cursing), did not seem to be disturbing the Vietnamese people on the bus, nor even the other English speaking people trying to help us. Meanwhile, I was whispering to Rogerio that it might be better to ‘just get off the bus right now before the driver slams into a cluster of motorcycles’. But Rogerio was not to be dissuaded, the rain was coming down in sheets and we had no umbrella. (It helps to travel through insane cities like Saigon with someone raised in Rio).

As we squinted out the dirty steamed up windows trying to identify a landmark, the driver seemed to be getting angrier. Suddenly, he hit the brakes and came to a squealing halt, opened the doors, shouted and swung his arm. We looked blankly at the people around us. “He wants you to get off”, someone said. Below us on the road was a pool of water deep and wide as the bus itself. “No no!” we called out, “not here, not here!” But this time the bus driver was not to be dissuaded. With a demented laugh he yelled at us while millions of motorcycles and cars ripped by, lights flashing, and brakes and engines screeching. “Rogerio, we have to get off!” We stepped down into the shin deep lake of rainwater and ran through it and toward the nearest building before the driver could douse us in more water. We looked at each other and laughed. Our hotel was around the corner.

But on the hilarious scale nothing can top the octopus story.

Octopus is a very popular appetizer, or tapas, in Spain. On our trip to the Spanish Canary Islands, we first spent a week in Madrid, where we discovered a tapas dish called pulpo a la gallega, which is boiled octopus served in bite sized pieces each floating in delicious olive oil and sea salt, and topped with something (pimento?) to become this chewy, sweet and salty snack served appealingly on a wooden board. I have never liked octopus but learned in Madrid that when it is truly fresh and properly prepared, it can be delicious.

Octopus and all seafood also happens to be one of Rogerio’s favourite things to eat. So when he discovered on Gran Canaria Island that fresh octopus is as plentiful and cheap as bananas, he went overboard. Meaning he decided he wanted to make and eat his own pulpo a la gallega – everyday.

When we arrived at our little apartment tucked away in the far southwestern reach of Gran Canaria, we went grocery shopping. While I went about selecting the basics, coffee, bread, milk, and so on, Rogerio beelined it to the seafood department. “I’m just going to see what they have”, he said. We agreed to meet at the checkout and I tried to caution him not to buy anything complicated for dinner that night.

Twenty minutes later my basket was filled and I was in the queue waiting for Rogerio. When it was almost my turn and he still had not appeared I abandoned my position and went to the seafood department.

There he was, with the kind of childlike Christmas morning grin on his face he only gets when he has discovered something that I know I am not going to be excited about.

“Michele, look at this octopus, did you get olive oil? I’m going to make it the same way they did in Madrid!”

I looked at the case of ice on top of which lay a display of freshly caught squid and sardines and, in the middle, stars of the display, were at least a half a dozen huge creamy pink octopuses, laid out to showcase their key body part, the tentacles.  

“Oh no, not tonight, please Rogerio, it’s too complicated. Let’s have something simple or just go out.”

“Don’t worry, you can relax, I’ll do all the work.”

“How much did you buy?”

“It’s so cheap I bought a whole one!”

He pointed to a man in a white apron hunched over a cutting table, working a big knife around the limp body of an octopus.

“That’s Alberto*, he’s chopping it for me, isn’t that great!”

“But you don’t know anything about how to prepare it properly.”

“Alberto gave me a lesson, no problem, you just boil it!”

I stood by, dreaming of a simple dinner of chorizo, cheese, bread, and wine, while Rogerio shouted to Alberto in Spanish something or other, and Alberto laughed and nodded as he handed over a large white plastic bag so heavy he kept one hand under the bag to pass it over the seafood case.

“My God Rogerio how many pounds is that?”

“I think maybe 6 or 7, it’s a lot I know, but it was so cheap Michele!”

“Rogerio, I am not going to eat octopus every day. I want you to know that right now.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry, I’ll eat it.”

Then he dropped the bag in my basket and said, “I’ll meet you at the checkout.”

He had gone to find plastic containers for the 6 or 7 pounds of chopped octopus we were taking home.

Unfortunately, Alberto’s advice to just ‘boil it’, was not the entire story of how to properly prepare pulpo a la gallega. However, Rogerio came up with his own twist and was immensely satisfied with his results. I stuck to the cheese and bread, and stayed out of the kitchen.

Two weeks later, when we took a three day trip to another island, Rogerio packed the two remaining containers of his now frozen because he could not eat it all himself concoction and took them with us. “But Rogerio”, I said, “we will be there only three days let’s just eat out, it will take too much time to shop and cook.”

“What, you want me to throw it out?”

And so, by car and ferry, we travelled between islands with our light luggage and Rogerio’s frozen containers of boiled octopus.

In the end, he did have to throw out some of his octopus but this did not prevent him from wanting to buy another one when we were back on Gran Canaria for another two weeks.

“If you buy another octopus I’m going out to eat every single night, with or without you.”

Fortunately, in our new location in the mountains, there were no octopuses for sale. Up in those delightful mountain villages, one must be satisfied with chicken or pork with one’s gofio and papas arrugadas and mojo picón. All of which was beyond delicious!

We have all known for decades that tourism brings economic benefits to both developed and developing countries and increases collaboration and co-operation (and therefore peace) in the world. But we also know that there have been devastating environmental outcomes from tourism. I have thought a lot about this in the past couple of years, as I watch the world struggle more and more with huge environmental challenges. The good news is that travelers are aware of this and choosing to visit countries that are addressing these problems. It seems tourism has become a key driver of environmental remediation and protection. Certainly this is the case in famous examples such as Uruguay and Costa Rica. In Africa, game parks that cover vast areas anchor that continent’s hope for a burgeoning commitment to sustainability. And then there’s home. Canada attracts millions of visitors because of our sustained commitment to preservation through our national park system. In fact, there are more and more countries seeking recognition as sustainable destinations. For more information take a look at the website for a non-profit that has been tracking these issues for years: Ethical Traveler.

Great to be writing to you, thanks for reading!

www.thetreeswallow.com

[changspain]

Going out, but not out out

Barcelona beach is long and picturesque, looking along its boardwalk the hordes of lounging bodies are framed by grand red mountains at one end and a huge glass hotel at the other. We walked towards the enormous hotel and guessed how much a penthouse room would cost for one night and what perks you would get. As we were all financially stricken the conversation soon moved to what self-deprecating act we would perform for one night of luxury – a recurring topic of conversation throughout our trip was how much of our dignity we would lose for what gain and it turns out I would do essentially anything for £50. We passed a volleyball court and were too nervous to ask to play but justified our decision by stating that the players weren’t to our standard. At the hotel, which had a huge W on it like Wayne Towers, we turned and headed back along the boardwalk to find a spot to sit and swim. We passed a nude part of the beach and looked at the naked Spaniards with curiosity and a sort of respect. I do not know whether the section of the beach with the most nude people was the nude part or they just naturally gravitated to each other. Walking by was like watching an episode of Naked Attraction[1], there was a huge range of body shapes particularly between two men – one was stacked and had a massive dick and the other was slightly podgy and had what I can only describe as a child’s penis. I didn’t point this out to the others because saying that somebody has a small penis is the hallmark of somebody who has a small penis themselves. We bought some cheap beers at a corner store and settled on a patch of bare beach next to two American college students and an extremely fit topless woman, in our defence we didn’t notice her until we had sat down. Seamus had bought a 40oz and had probably poured away a quarter “for the dead homies” before we actually sat down but at 30 cents a litre the homies can have it. We drank and listened to the two American college students call over a random girl and start chirpsing her. Slowly their conversation became dominated by the hotter American and the random woman as the podgy ginger American stared solemnly into the blue waves, wondering where all the time went. The main American had an interesting flirting technique – he asked questions in with such rapid speed the woman barely had time to answer like he was on a speed dating evening and another random girl would appear any second. Also, because the questions shot out at such quantity they were often vacuous and nonsensical, he asked “Do you like travelling?” which seemed pretty fucking obvious considering she was on holiday in Barcelona. This was followed by “What is your favourite sangria?” which I didn’t hear the answer to as our own random woman sat down opposite to us stating she was tired. I thought perhaps the whole beach was a mass speed dating session and I perked up ready to ask my own meaningless questions. Unfortunately, it became clear she was only trying to sell a bar crawl to us. Me and JUGB became bored and laid back as Ivy took the brunt of the sales pitch, she caught our attention when she said that it was 4 euros more expensive for boys than for women – it made complete sense but was still entertaining for us to take an ultra-liberal stance against the apparent sexism. She clearly believed she may have had 5 prospective punters as she panicked slightly as her sales pitch was being blown wide open by these irrational tourists. She fell back on some stereotype about her being Russian or something but we had become bored by her again. Me and JUGB got up and went to the sea and dove into the temperate, salty Mediterranean. A rogue volleyball smashed me in the head and out into the sea, I swam out further to get it and I found out I couldn’t swim to save my life, I looked back at the 20m to shore and thought I may need JUGB to rescue me which I’m sure wasn’t far off a few girls’ fantasy but for me would have been highly embarrassing. I made it back but probably looked like a floundering spider struggling to not fall down the plughole of a shower.[2] I dragged my body out the sea then back to where Ivy, Luke and Seamus were sat, saleswoman of the year had left but was soon replaced by another offering a different deal but we sent them away. Behind us some Dutch 30 year olds had started kicking a ball around and I went to join. The game was very lawless and I gradually worked out we had to vaguely keep the ball in the air in the most inefficient way possible, any sort of safe touch was frowned upon but smashing it in the air was applauded. I was instantly named Crouchy due to my lanky pale physique, apparently this is still good chat in Holland. The game was to a relatively high standard and I got chatting to one of players and found out he was an Arsenal fan which didn’t sit well with me I was a Spurs fan, I told him this expecting some more 4/10 banter but he replied saying he also loved Spurs. Luke called me away from the game and I left more bemused about football than I had ever been before. We walked down the boardwalk back to a Metro station with plans to get bottles of sangria and smash the clubs.

We picked up some Don Simon for such an unbelievable price the store owner may as well thrown in his eldest daughter as well. Our particular hostel did not allow drinking inside its walls[3] so we ran into the room to get changed and grab some more money. The male half of the Spanish shaggers was still in bed and I doubted he had moved at all that day – his life of lying in bed and waiting for his girlfriend to come back and have sex seemed pretty cooshti but I didn’t have time to throw him some quizzical looks as we had sangria to attend to. We drank the sangria in double cupped plastic beakers with heaps of ice in the street whilst listening to the weirdest songs I could find on Ivy’s iPhone[4]. We then headed for a cheap tapas bar the receptionist at the hostel had recommended us, I had developed an imaginary narrative where the reception girls were all intensely in love with me simply because they told us not to buy a tourist bus ticket because it was a rip off, in my eyes that translated to true love. Due to this relationship, I was confident she had sent us to the best tapas bar in Barcelona, but it turned out it was maybe 50m down the road and she was simply trying to get rid of me. We had to queue for a table but sat at the bar and had some beers. One thing that I’m sure annoys every English person in Spain is the way they pour beer, essentially with massive head. It would be acceptable if the head remained but it always instantly dissipated leaving a tear evoking gap at the top of the beer like a ghost has swigged a bit and evaporated. This phenomenon is especially frustrating to me and JUGB who both work or have worked in pubs.[5] Me, Luke and Seamus all ordered the vegan hamburgers whereas Ivy and JUGB ordered a highly eclectic mix of tapas. Our hamburgers came and were decent for the price we paid but weren’t anything to write home about, however 3 sangrias deep and 3 more beers on top we couldn’t have cared less. Meanwhile, JUGB and Ivy had received some delicious patatas bravas (that I also promptly ordered after tasting theirs) then a single croquette that looked awfully lonely on an empty plate – they romantically split it. There was then a long, increasingly anxious wait for the rest of their food and 30 minutes into this wait they asked where the rest was, the waitress stared at them blankly and explained the kitchen was shut. Panic ensued and the kitchen whipped up some sort of spicy pork dish but on closer inspection we found it to be entirely fat and inedible, JUGB offered the theory that perhaps that’s how the Spanish liked it – but we all knew they had just thrown whatever was in the bin onto a spicy bowl of tomato. I prodded the gelatinous blob and turned to see Seamus asleep in his chair, clutching his tote bag – a portrait that would very much become a theme of the trip.

We sent Seamus on his way home and headed towards the clubbing area of Barcelona that was perhaps a 30 minute walk. Ivy and Luke were craving some fags and insisted on stopping at every corner shop and asking if they had any, I didn’t understand why they wanted some pre-emptively or why no shops actually stocked them. They darted off part way down an avenue and sourced one, probably out of a bin or man in a drench coat. As we reached the clubbing district we were inundated with offers of ice cold beer for a euro by man clutching packs of Estrella. I thought that if we were here another night we could have played a drinking game which consisted of shotgunning every beer that is offered to you – even if you didn’t drink anything previously you probably wouldn’t make it to a club which in my books is the criteria of a successful night. I ushered every salesman away because I wasn’t really drinking and for a euro the beers were a rip off when you could spit on the face of a supermarket employee in exchange for a bottle of premium beer elsewhere. I had received a tip from a friend that a fun, cheap night out was Jamboree and this was consistent with other suggestions we received from various locals so our first port of call was Jamboree. We arrived and were greeted by large neon red letters and a dark entrance shrouded in velour curtains and burgundy rope barrier, I thought for a moment that this had all been a stitch up and Jamboree was an exceptionally boisterous strip club. This thought was quickly destroyed when I spied the customary conceited ticket girl sat on her throne of bureaucracy. I am yet to find anybody more unreasonable than the attractive girls sat at the entrances of clubs, I rarely remember the ticketing girls exist as they lie in the liminal space between the gutter-thug bouncer and the void of the dancefloor but whenever I attempt to communicate with them I am treated to a glare that very effectively conveys the phrase: “I’m stamping you with this random logo, or you’re fucking off. Either way - I don’t give a shit.”. The other part of my tip was that Jamboree was free but the bouncer quickly explained it wasn’t. I don’t know whether it had been free when my friend went or whether she had got in free because her and her four friends were all fit[6] – I heavily suspect the latter. We stepped out the queue and back into the clubbing plaza.[7] Me and Luke had made an ultimatum on the way down that if the club cost any money we would go home, but something between JUGB’s bubbly attitude and Luke shotgunning a beer in competition with Ivy persuaded us that 5 euros entry was a reasonable offer. I was the most sober and therefore the most unwilling to go in but I am sure there is some sort of mathematical coefficient between amount drunk and accuracy of value assessment, in the daytime offer me a 1kg of chips smothered in cheese for £3 and I’d probably rather blow my brains out but the same deal 27 beers deep and I’ll snap your hand off – clearly to JUGB and Ivy 5 euros was the deal of the century.

We re-joined the queue and I had to face the smug smile as the same bouncer we had previously turned away in disgust to. I then had to depart with a crisp 5 euro note that was snaffled up by the girl on the till, I have seen more personality in a Tesco self-service checkout machine than that girl had but at the same time she had probably seen more original chat from a brick wall than I possessed. We headed downstairs and to the dancefloor, it was maybe half full and I vividly recalled the moment the ticket girl snatched my money out my hand and felt a grave misjustice had occurred. I couldn’t decide whether a snide Trip Advisor review or a letter to the Industrial Tribunal of Fair Transactions was the best course of action but JUGB interrupted this thought saying that he was going to the bar for a drink. On the main dancefloor was a couple erotically grinding on each other, who I had to check were not the couple from the hostel, and three drunk Australian girls. There were also the regular rogue men who had stumbled out of some bar crawl, enticed by the femme fatale from the beach earlier, and had found themselves in a club playing music 10 years too modern for them. I began my standard ironic dancing routine of whipping and performing ridiculously large, yet careful foot and arm movements. This was relatively well received by my fellow clubbers and the Australian girls curiously watched me from afar, this attention vanished when me and Luke started taking pictures with a large fake Hennessy logo located near some seating. The music was mainly popular R&B but not the good kind and the DJ separated the Drake that wasn’t Drake with the J-Dilla horn that constantly tricked me into thinking he was about to play something from Donuts, I thought ‘Last Donut of the Night’ would be a fittingly melancholic song to the motley crew I saw before me. Gradually, the club filled up but our neighbours on the dancefloor remained the same except for the introduction of a camp Asian man who kept crouching very low and cocking his head to one side and cupping his ear whilst pointing at women, I didn’t understand what it meant but his fans fucking loved it. Me and Luke went to the bar to get some water, I accepted they probably wouldn’t give us a free glass because we weren’t absolutely smashed but it was worth a go. I stood next to a 40 year old Spanish man who kept pushing into me then smirking and staring at me when I looked at him, I thought about carefully explaining to him how ridiculous it was for him to be here in excruciating and depressing detail but ended up saying: “Y’alright there mate?”. He didn’t answer. He became less verbose when his girlfriend/wife came over and dragged him out the queue for some sort of telling off – perhaps I was the lame one and he was operating on several levels of irony higher than me. The bar staff predictably refused us our water and we headed upstairs to find Ivy and JUGB. I hadn’t realised there was an upstairs and preferred its atmosphere, mainly there was no couple rubbing alongside my leg – I got enough of that at my hostel. We danced on a raised stage for a bit then went back downstairs then decided it was time to leave, it was about 3am but the club was still filling up but we were all shattered. On the walk home we waved away 138 beer sellers and several taco sellers. The tacos were tempting but after seeing the fourth man selling the exact same tacos I became more interested in the wholesaler who had a monopoly on the drunk taco market than the potential of buying an actual taco.

When we arrived back at the hostel I sat down on a chair in the communal room to check my messages and drink some water. JUGB came out of our shared room instantly and told me a woman was now sleeping in his bed. It later turned out to be an Algerian woman who had introduced herself earlier that day and I firmly stand by the opinion that she wanted JUGB to join her, the other idea was that she had moved beds to escape the noises of the Spanish couple. Me and JUGB went to the reception and explained the situation to the young guy behind the desk. He said: “This is impossible, you need a bed to sleep in.”, he had hit the nail on the head but his attitude very much implied that this was JUGBs fault – I later told JUGB to be less alluring. The receptionist stormed to our room, slammed on the lights, luckily the Spanish couple weren’t having sex for once, and located him another bed. I too found a different bed, one further away from the Spaniards and fell asleep researching the best way to drive to our campsite tomorrow.

[1] I don’t know where this is a popular reference or an obscure one. Basically, it was a show on Channel4 where you stare at naked people – would recommend.

[2] This often occurs in my shower at home because I never notice them hanging around near the taps. I’m forced to watch helplessly as they battle with the inevitable, I tend to step out the shower before I start developing a metaphor between the spider’s battle and my life.

[3] I know, not a fucking hostel is it.

[4] Wu-Tang Clan and Danny Brown didn’t match the mood of a quiet medieval Spanish street, but neither did our unapologetic English street-drinking.

[5] I have seen someone hung for pouring a bad pint.

[6] Shouts out Mady Dean.

[7] Very much NOT its official name.