#not meant to rag on anyone but this was something that bugged me in previous entries

[cherrypikkins]

"The Veilguard romances aren't nearly as flirty/steamy/explicit as the previous DA games"

Me:

[starryseung]

lee felix + smut

☾

word count; 1.6k words

warnings; stimulation using a knife, fingering, royalty! au

prince! felix bites back a smile as he walks up the stairs. he looks up at you, only to see your mother, the queen, staring down at him with a graceful, elegant smile, welcoming the king and queen of their neighbouring kingdom who had arrived at their palace for her daughter’s hand in marriage.

celebrations, festivities were organized all around the kingdom, as the news of the princess getting married wasn’t to be taken lightly; especially if the royal lee family’s son was the one she was going to be married to. women and girls of all ages were dying to see a glimpse of the charming prince’s smile, his sweet gaze overturning their hearts. but you, you were the lucky one who was going to have him to yourself the rest of your lives.

“psst,” felix whispers, grabbing your attention. the servant standing between you smiles, and you simply wave her off. “hey,” you smile back, fingers messing with your gown as you look back down to avoid the attention of anyone else.

felix feels like he’s about to burst into tears, the fact that he was going to marry the love of his life constantly bugging him, making his heart bloom. you two had met each other in the woods towards the outskirts of your town, when you were practicing horse riding, and he was out hunting. since then, it’s been a frequent meet, and felix couldn’t express in words how much he was head over heels for you.

“you look beautiful today,” the prince flaunts, still keeping his voice low. you’re a blushing mess by now, it was obvious. you couldn’t control your feelings in front of the man, and it had been so long since you’d met him. “thanks, you too.”

“a—are you calling me beautiful?” felix grins, and you giggle softly, covering your mouth as you shake your head. “no no, i meant—”

“now that we have agreed with the wedding,” felix’s father’s voice echoes throughout the marble and concrete castle; “it’s time that the prince and with your permission, your highness, the princess, shall spend some time alone.”

your mother nods in understanding, smiling at the two of you as she gestures you and felix to head upstairs. you send felix a look, standing up to leave before bowing to the others. he follows your actions, smiling sheepishly as he trails behind you.

you open the door to your room, standing aside so felix could walk in through the door into the room he had sneaked into multiple times through the window in the past.

“ah, after you, princess,” felix bows, feigning respect while you giggle at his antics, rolling your eyes before walking and pulling him inside. you hum before plopping yourself onto your bed in the far centre of the room, draped with a white and pale blue canopy. felix laughs before walking in further, sitting himself down onto the mattress as he eyes your room, smiling at the small drawings you had made on the walls as a child.

you sit back up, nudging closer to him and resting your head on his shoulders.

“it’s finally happening,” you smile, thinking about how you were finally going to marry the love of your life about whom, surprisingly, your parents did not know about.

“yeah, it’s gonna be weird walking into your room from that door instead of jumping in from the window,” felix laughs and you chuckle beside him, holding his arm as you play with his fingers. he tangles his fingers with yours, smiling softly at the soft feeling of your hands against his calloused ones.

“felix?”

“hmm?”

“i love you,”

the prince sighs, smiling so hard his jaw hurts. he turns around to face you, pecking your lips as if replying to your sudden confession— the one out of thousand times you’d already exclaimed your love for him.

“you do?” he asks, smiling before kissing you once again, this time deeper, biting your bottom lips ever so lightly.

“yeah, a lot,” you breathe out, focused on the intoxicating feeling of his lips on yours. he pulls open a knot on the back of your dress, letting the corset untie itself as it falls loose. felix pushes you slightly backwards, so you’re back to lying on the bed. easily swinging a leg over you, he rests a hand beside your head so he’s upright, pushing his tongue in you when you gasp at his quick actions. he fishes out something from his pocket, something you can’t recognize, but it comes in your view when he moves lower to your jaw, nipping at the skin. for some reason, he had his pocket knife out in his hand, and for some reason, even after spending so much time with him, you hadn’t ever seen it. 

he moves lower, pulling your gown off of you in nearly two swift attempts, the lack of the heavy garment on you making your skin feel relieved, the warm air of the room engulfing you. he snaps open the knife and you can only see a glint of the small letter engraved on it, y/n, and when he subconsciously flips it, you see his name, felix. he kisses lower and lower against your skin, stopping when he reaches your bra.

“is it pretty?” 

you bite your lip to hold back a smile, realizing he had created the blade, just for you.

“yeah, it is,” and it’s only a split second since the words have left your mouth, before the tip of the knife gently comes in contact with your temples, the cold tip grazing against your warm skin as he brought it lower, eyes glinting in fascination as you whine at the cold feeling, a wave of sensitivity taking over you.

“you like that, princess?”

you nod, biting your lips to hold back any more noises to create suspicion outside your room. felix smirks, gliding the metal down to your bra, unbuckling and tossing the clothing away before bringing the tip back to your exposed breast, placing the cold surface flat against your perked nipples. you whimper softly, mouth hanging open at the sensation against your buds, your panties uncomfortably sticking to yourself.

“tell me if it feels bad,”

you nod again, too focused on the blissful feeling as he moves lower, dragging the knife carefully along with him. he reaches your white underwear, smirking as he cuts the fabric in a second before pulling it away from you, chuckling at the wetness slowly dripping out of you due to his previous teasing.

“is this because of me, princess? i did this?”

“y—yeah, felix, you did,”

he smiles, bringing the wide part of the knife carefully against your heat, and you bring your hand up to your mouth, shielding back the loud moan. it felt heavenly, the cold metal pressed against where you needed it the most, the mere sensation sending your brain in a frenzy.

felix knows the effect it has on you, bringing the knife away before cleaning it against the sheets; bringing it back to your cunt. this time, knowing how you feel about it, he presses it straight against your clit, and the effect it has on you has him grinning from ear to ear. your back arches away from the bed, thighs trembling as he rubs the metal against your folds, mindful of the sharp edge. your small whimper and moans make him fall further into the want of making you feel pleasure, and he pulls away the wide knife before bringing it back onto your clit, rubbing it in circles. 

“mmh felix, please,” you groan softly, clawing at your sheets, half sorry for the maid who will have to come and clean up your room. but that thought stays just for a mere second, felix’s fingers replacing the knife as he pushes it back into the pocket, tossing it on the bed. he rubs two fingers against your hole, spreading open your folds as he prods his digits.

he’s pushing them in ever so slightly and you clench around him at the foreign feeling, toes curling in pleasure when he pushes them deeper. he groans at the tight feeling you provide around his digits, breathing erratic from the way his fingers curl in you, scissoring you as you feel your high closer, like a thousand pins pricking at you. he thrusts his fingers quicker, gyrating his palm against your clit in a way you’re seeing stars.

“i— ah, felix,” your thighs shake violently under him, his fingers continuing their movements in you as he rides out your thigh. you drop your head back on the sheets as you finish off around his fingers, trying to even out your breaths as felix cleans you up with a rag he found on the chairs, cleaning up his knife as well before stuffing it back in his pocket.

he helps you get into your dress, tying your corset as he looks at you through the mirror, and you break out a small giggle at his focused expression behind you as he tightens the knots once again, double-checking you out in the mirror.

he kisses the side of your head and then your cheek, smiling before holding your hand to escort you out of your room.

he leans in to whisper into your ears, a quick ‘i love you’ before leaving you blushing, walking ahead to reunite with the rest of the royal heads to continue with the discussions of your wedlock.

—

a/n; welcome to ep. 1930127495124 of my fics aren’t showing up in the tags :D i was gonna post something else today but lets keep it for next time hehe ;) and i honestly thought about keeping changbin in this, but i realized there was like 1 felix fic on this blog, so that’s changed now >:D thanks for reading!!!!

taglist; @joengni @cherryeol04 @lomlminho @bruh-changbin @yooniversalstudios @ann0325441904 @yourdaddychan @nightshade-minho @yangomangos (message me if you want to be added!)

@stayverse

[devnicolee]

The Chosen Ones (One-Shot): Surprise

A/N: Very random but it is what my brain wanted this weekend lol Also I miss Asha lol my fav! Anyway, enjoy!

***

Asha’s hand covered her mouth as she yawned, resting her book on her chest and letting her head gently fall on the mountain of propped up pillows behind her.

“You have been really tried lately, firecracker?” M’Baku called as he walked out of their bathroom to grab his pajamas at the foot of the bed. Asha nodded lightly, her mind immediately distracted, like a child with a new toy, as her eyes gazed over his naked body. They had only known each other for a year, been married for six months, and his body still managed to take her breath away.

She licked her lips lightly, desire flaring in her eyes as she ignored his question and her previous exhaustion. M’Baku chuckled as he examined her.

“Are you listening, my queen?”

She smiled slyly, pulling herself from under the covers, sexily crawling down to the edge of the bed where he stood.

“I’m sorry, my king. You are just my greatest distraction,” she whispered seductively in his ear, her teeth gently nipping at his earlobe, his favorite spot.

He groaned before pulling back slightly. “There will time for that later. But I am serious, Asha. Are you sure you are feeling ok?” His eyes examined her closely as if he could see a mysterious illness in her eyes. “You usually only sleep one or two nights a week and you have been dead to the world every night this week.”

“Maybe it is our late night activities,” she winked before kissing his neck. She ended her ministrations as she heard the frustrated sigh leave his lips. Her usual methods of distraction weren’t going to work this time.

He wasn’t wrong, she usually didn’t need sleep or, at least, not much of it. She spent most nights working with T’Challa, who was usually awake as well, or reading in the library. That is, after she and M’Baku finished their intimate time, which was continuing at a rate of every single night. She was wondering when he would slow down, get tired of her… but that day had yet to come. She was convinced that was part of it, M’Baku had more energy than her. He pushed her body to its limits most nights, even after a long day, he was rarely satisfied with lazy sex.

“Sorry, I know you are serious. I don’t know what it is though… nothing has changed. I-I’ve just felt really tired the last week or two. I’m sure it will pass, don’t worry about it, ok?” She kissed his cheek.

Silence fell over them as his eyes examined her. “If it continues, you will go see a healer, yes?”

“Of course. Now…” her small hands drifted to the hem of the shirt he just pulled onto his broad frame and started to pull it back off. “Why don’t you come over here and give me a reason to be exhausted?”

M’Baku climbed over her as their lips connected and their tongues explored each other.

“Anything you wish, my queen.”

****

Asha groaned slightly as she turned over in bed, the sheets sliding off of her naked body. M’Baku instinctively turned with her, his arm resting over her hip as she tried to get comfortable again. She glanced at the clock, surprised at how long she had slept. But she wasn’t surprised, M’Baku seemed determined to send her to new heights that evening, pouring all his love and energy into worshipping her body. She reached for her beads, finding a missed message from T’Challa.

She groaned as she remembered she was supposed to be going over some treaties with him that evening. She quietly got out of bed to get her tablet to call him. However, as she stood up, she felt her stomach start to turn, an unfortunate wave of nausea overtaking her. She sat back on the bed, her mind running through the food she ate throughout the day to determine what caused this.

After a few minutes, she felt that unmistakable churn that forced her to leap off the bed. She barely made it to the toilet before she began throwing up. It felt as if her body was trying to rid itself of every substance she ever consumed. After a few minutes of heaving, she rested her head on her arms, exhaustion settling in, as she waited for the next wave she knew would be coming.

When the second wave hit, she didn’t even notice M’Baku behind her, holding her braids back for her. When she was done, she felt a damp rag wiping her forehead. She offered him a small smile and a feeble ‘thank you.’

“What happened, baby?” He whispered as he rubbed her back.

“I-I don’t know. Just one of those stomach bugs probably,” she waved his concerns away.

“Maybe we should go see a healer tomorrow, firecracker?”

Asha immediately shook her head. “No, no. I promise I’m fine.”

She pushed herself up and walked slowly over to their wooden counter. She discreetly leaned against it as she reached for her toothbrush. “Look, if I get sick again, I promise I will go see a doctor. But there is no need to fuss. I feel much better already.”

“Ok, one more incident and you are headed to the doctor, no complaints.”

“Yes sir. Now let me brush my teeth and then we can go back to bed. I’ll be there in a second.”

She watched M’Baku’s back retreat from her as he returned to their bedroom. She slumped forward, her head resting in her hand. Something was off, she knew that much.

***

“Are you sure you are ok?” M’Baku asked as Asha wrapped her arm in his as they strolled through the market. She rolled her eyes.

She appreciated M’baku’s protectiveness, truly. But sometimes it felt overbearing. Aside from that bout of sickness two days ago, Asha had felt fine. Still tired but fine. And yet, he has asked her how she was feeling every hour for the last 48 hours. But when she thought about the husband she almost had, she chose to be grateful for this quirk of his. It just meant he cared deeply and wanted her to know that. She would always appreciate that about him… the lengths he went to ensure she felt loved, cherished and protected every single day. He wanted her to be around as long as she possibly could be and wanted to protect her from anything that could stop that.

“When are you going to stop asking me if I am ok?“

“When you are back to my usual energetic, non-sleeping, sickness-free fire goddess,” he mused.

“I promise, it was just one night. Even goddesses get sick, my king,” she teased, as she waved at a few vendors as they passed by. “Seriously, I’m good.”

“If you say so,” he muttered, his usual response to her assurances, an indication that he didn’t really believe her.

They approached Asha’s favorite shop in the market, a dressmaker who was a true magician with fabric. Asha had dragged Nakia, Okoye, and Shuri here to see Adisa, firmly believing her dresses were better than 99 percent of the dressmakers in the Golden City.

“My king, my queen,” Adisa saluted them as they entered the shop.

“Asha!”

“Neema! It is Queen Asha, you know that. Be respectful,” her mother called as the little girl barreled toward her chief and chieftess.

Asha smiled as Adisa’s daughter came rushing up to her and rammed into her legs for a hug. She didn’t particularly care about the young girl, or anyone in the tribe, calling her by her title. She was still getting used to that part.

“Oof!” Asha exclaimed as she wrapped her small arms around her legs. “Have you gotten stronger since I was last here? I think you have found your next great warrior, M’Baku,” she mused, sharing a wink with her husband.

The young girl glanced up at M’Baku, her eyes big with wonder and excitement. “Reallyyyy?” Her baby voice asked. M’Baku swooped down and picked her up, the girl immediately resting her head on his shoulder.

“I agree! We need strong warriors like you. You will train hard, yes? I will be looking for you to join us in a few years,” he remarked, smiling at the young girl.

It always made Asha’s heart melt watching M’Baku interact with children throughout the tribe. They all adored him. He had such a way with them, gentle and loving.

He placed her feet back on the ground, offering her another big smile before she turned her attention back to Asha.

“Can you make the fire, Queen Asha, pleasseeeee?”

Asha smiled before taking a few steps back, to put a healthy distance between her and the young girl, and stretched out her hands. While she enjoyed free use of her powers in Jabariland, she honestly didn’t think much about them anymore or use them often, especially this time of year. They were a joy for everyone during the winter months, instant fire at her fingertips whenever they needed it. But in the summer, Asha’s gift wasn’t as necessary as others were. Only one year into living among the Jabari and she truly appreciated how the Chosen were seen as gifts and help to the tribe, each one stepping up to fill a need or a gap when necessary.

Asha concentrated as she stretched her hands out, several flames emerging before forming three small gorillas. She and Neema watched as the gorillas ran around in her palms, the young girl getting close enough to watch but keeping a safe distance to ensure she didn’t get hurt.

She giggled and clapped her hands at the show, before Asha closed her palms, causing the fire to die out.

“What do you say?” Her mother prompted as she carried several large garment bags out of the back of the shop.

“Thank you!”

She gave Asha another hug before running to the back room. As she straightened back up, Asha swayed slightly for a second, unexpected dizziness washing over her. She took a deep breath, ignoring it briefly.

“Thank you for always entertaining her. She just loves that.”

M’Baku took the long garment bags out of her hands, trading them for a stack of Wakandan dollars.

Asha waved her hand, “It is nothing. She is a dream, so sweet. And thank you for the new pieces. So happy I have something for King T’Challa’s birthday this weekend.”

“I hope you like them! Will I see you again next week? I will have some new things for you to try?”

Asha nodded, “Of course!”

She and M’Baku said their goodbyes before heading back into the market toward their carriage. She leaned against M’Baku, using him to help her walk as the dizzy feeling grew. She wanted to ask him to stop but didn’t want to send him into a frenzy in the middle of the crowded market. But after a few more paces, she realized she couldn’t take it any longer.

“My love, can we s-slow down for one second?” She asked, her feet coming to a halt.

“Of course. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just felt dizzy all of a sudden. I am sure it is nothing.”

His hands went to her waist as he examined her. After a few minutes of deep breathes, Asha finally opened her eyes to see the extreme concern in his.

“Better?”

She nodded, “Much. Thanks.”

“Good. And we will have no more of this. I am calling a healer as soon as we get home.”

“M’Baku…” Asha whined. “Please, don’t make a big deal out of this. I just needed a minute.”

“And I need for you to be ok, really ok. And you aren’t. Lying about that for my benefit isn’t helping either of us. Even if it is something small, I would rather know about it so we can deal with it. Understand?” He kissed her forehead gently.

Asha nodded, accepting that this was not a battle she could win. “Understood.”

***

Asha paced up and down their bedroom as she waited for M’Baku to come home from his office. He had demanded she take the day off and rest, rearranging her entire day for her and arranging for his private healer to come check in on her.

The healer had left over an hour ago, leaving behind a diagnosis Asha hadn’t never thought to consider.

She was pregnant.

She almost fainted when he told her. She even asked him to check again to be sure.

Asha couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t tell whether to be excited or terrified. Asha had always wanted children but convinced herself for years that she would never have them. And then M’Baku came along and changed all of that. He made her impossible dreams feel possible again. And they both wanted children, him an army of them. But not this soon, they had barely been married.

She worried they were moving too fast. After all, they had dated, gotten engaged and gotten married all in less than a year. Asha regretted none of it, even if the move to Jabariland came with a steep learning curve. She had figured it out and she had never been happier. However, children were not something you rushed, they were something you planned for. And they hadn’t done any real planning yet.

Part of her worried how M’Baku would react, but only for a second. Regardless of the timing, he would be ecstatic, beside himself.

She had spent the last hour pacing their quarters, wondering how to tell him. However, she wouldn’t have to wait much longer as she looked up to find him walking into their quarters.

“My love, you are supposed to be in bed,” he chastised lightly, kissing her on the forehead. “What’s wrong?” He asked immediately as he took in the stressed look on her face. “What did the doctor say?”

Asha stared at his chest. She knew there was a better way to tell him this, something cute and romantic. But she was freaking out and needed him… his strength, his steadfastness, his wisdom. He would forgive the lack of fanfare in the announcement.

“Nothing bad. I’m ok… I-I’m just pregnant.”

She stole a glance at his face, finding a smile slowly growing there like a blooming flower.

“What?” He asked for clarification.

“I am pregnant.”

“Ah!” Asha let out a light scream and laugh as she was suddenly swept off her feet. M’Baku captured her lips as he spun her around. She giggled lightly.

“Are you happy?” She asked.

“You have made me the happiest man in the world, Asha. I love you more than anything.” He kissed her deeply.

He clapped his hands and laughed as they broke apart, immediately launching into a speech.

“We have to celebrate! In the Golden City this weekend! Oh and we have to tell our families. AND the Council. They will be ecstatic at this news… an heir. Wow. Oh he or she will be the greatest leader the Jabari has ever seen.” Asha watched as he paced and talked, his excitement flowing out of him like the rivers cut the mountains. “I will carve them a knobkerrie and I s-should start on the crib now. Do you th-“ he stopped as he looked over at his wife, his words dying at the sad smile on her face.

“What’s wrong, usana?” He asked, immediately coming up to her and rubbing her bare arms. As he looked at her, he could see the signs of her anxiety and fear, the unshed tears she was desperately trying to hold back glistening vin her eyes. “Are you not happy?”

She shook her head immediately, “No, no. I am happy. Of course, I’m happy,” she emphasized looking up at him. “I ju-“ she shook her head again, hesitant at sharing her fears with him… fears she knew he wouldn’t share. “N-nothing, it’s nothing. I am happy, really.”

“Stop. No, do not do that. Something is bothering you. Tell me.”

Asha looked away from him, her fears growing as she struggled to voice her anxieties to her husband. This was the part of marriage she still struggled with, being vulnerable and letting him in.

“Hey, look at me, baby.” His hand gently guided her chin so her eyes were back on him. “Whatever you have, whatever you are feeling… the good, the bad, all the complicated feelings in between, I want to hear them. I want all of you, always, Asha. Please, tell me what is troubling you.”

“Do you think I would be a good mother?” She whispered.

M’Baku tilted his head in confusion. Of all the things he expected her to say, this was not it. “Of course. Why would you ask such a thing?”

Asha sighed, a tear falling down her cheek. “Y-You know how my parents were. I mean, I basically died a-and my mother didn’t even check on me. She never protected me o-or loved me. The moment she could rid me from her life, she did. I probably don’t have a mothering bone i-in my body. I don’t know how to do this a-and I thought we would have more time for me to figure it out. A-and I am terrified… terrified I will disappoint them a-and you.”

M’Baku settled next to her, a comforting hand rubbing her back. “You are nothing like your parents, Asha. What’s that American saying, ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?’ Well, you and your siblings seemed to have fallen in a different field.” His heart lifted at the little smile at graced her face at his joke. It shattered him to hear how little she thought of herself, how her parents’ actions still haunted her. He understood, saw it every time they were in the Golden City.

She had begun healing from her relationship with her father since she spoke with him in the Ancestral Plane… she had closure at least. But her mother… that was a minefield he, T’Challa, and Shuri tried to avoid, at Asha’s insistence. They maintained pleasantries at official events and in front of the Council, for the sake of optics. But other than that, M’Baku couldn’t think of the last time she and her mother had uttered two words directly to each other or been in the same room without T’Challa and Shuri. However, that didn’t stop the snide remarks sent her way from her mother.

Asha pretended it didn’t bother her to be ignored, disrespected by her mother continuously. But M’Baku saw it, the way her heart fell - even just for a second - every single time. He remembered her coronation 6 months ago, two days after their wedding. He still remembered her face when the rest of her family and friends descended from the Talon but her Ramonda didn’t. T’Challa’s sorry attempt to find an excuse for her couldn’t hide what they all knew: the Queen Mother simply didn’t care to attend. It crushed her, he knew, to never be accepted by her. He cursed himself for never thinking about how that might affect her feelings about parenting their own children.

He wrapped his arm around her, her body immediately nestling into his. “I have seen the way you are with our nieces and nephews, the other children here. They all love you, Asha. You are nurturing and kind, gentle. But most importantly, you affirm them always, you uplift them and do everything in your power to ensure they know how valuable and important they are. You are already leagues and bounds ahead of your mother. I have no doubt in your mothering abilities because you are a mother to everyone in this tribe who needs you. I have no doubt you will be the same for our child,” his hand rubbed her stomach through her thick knit sweater.

“You think so?” She asked quietly, wiping her tears.

He kissed the side of her head, “I know so. And I also know there is no shame in fear, usana. Fear is the consequence that comes with growing and stretching ourselves as people. Parenting is hard, it will be the hardest thing we ever do. And I am scared too,” he nodded, nonverbally reiterating his statement at her skeptical eyebrow raise. “I am. But I will lean on Hanuman and I will lean on you, as I always do when I am scared. And I hope you will do for me. We can do this, Asha. You can do this.”

Asha nodded, smiling at him, “You are amazing. How did I get so lucky?” Her lips connected with his cheek, his coarse beard tickling her lips.

“I ask Hanuman the same thing everyday about you,” he whispered back, kissing her forehead. “Come on firecracker,” he laughed as he watched her try to hide a yawn. “My Queen deserves all the rest and relaxation.”

He helped her strip down to her undies before giving her one of his sweaters to sleep in and helped her into bed. Before she settled fully, she waved her hand to extinguish the fire across the room, her body heat being enough for both of them. Once she was settled, he joined her as she draped her body over his bare chest.

“This will be good, Asha. We will be great parents,” he said as they laid in the darkness.

Asha smiled, the first genuine one since she found out the news.

“I think we will too.”

***

Tag List: @destinio1 @muse-of-mbaku @jellybean531 @skysynclair19@ashanti-notthesinger @gloriousgam3r @archivistofwakanda@leahnicole1219 @mygirlrenee @dramaqueeenamby

[pascalls]

Huzzah! A romance prompt:

Hot Chocolate

I finally wrote something for this and it’s so dumb but I hope you all enjoy it. Featuring Charlie, Sam the Barfly, and Moe (and also Barney a little bit). 

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

With the taste of malt liquor stale on his tongue, Charlie found himself coming back to consciousness, a musky scent filling his nose and making him want to gag. The greasy floor he was laying on was hard and uncomfortable, having left his bones aching and his back feeling like he’d just been hit by a car. His eyes opened, despite his brain not wanting to, and for once, he was thankful that the lighting in Moe’s was subpar, at best. The dusty interior was not an aggravated assault on the senses, but still, he would have liked to have woken up in a bed instead of on the hard tile. 

“Ugh… What time is it,” he groaned, not yet sitting up, but at least trying to peer over to where Moe was hovering, lazily wiping down the bar top with an overused rag. There was no way it was morning yet. Or, at least, it wasn’t past sunrise. Otherwise Moe would be pouring vodka into his bowl of Froot Loops. It didn’t seem like he’d gone to bed yet. 

“Two-thirty,” the bartender responded. He didn’t seem very bothered by the fact that Charlie had passed out on the floor. Not like it was the first time. As of late, the hybrid had a bad habit of finding some kind of substance, chasing it with his body weight in whiskey, and then promptly falling asleep before he could make it back to the reverend’s. “You slept with Barney.”

“I what-?!” Charlie exclaimed, pushing himself up, only to whack his head on the underside of the table he’d holed up under. His ears rang and he groaned again, reaching up to rub at his scalp. Ow.

“Oh. Hah. Sorry. I meant you fell asleep under the table next to Barney.”

Charlie glanced over to see that Moe was correct. Barney had somehow rolled off the bar stool he’d been sitting on a few hours prior, passing out unceremoniously underneath the large circular table that was neighbor to Charlie’s. The hybrid muttered to himself before eventually crawling out from under his sleeping spot, making his way over to the bar to sit and glaring at Moe. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that ever again.”

They weren’t alone. While Barney had opted for a nap, Charlie recognized a few others still lingering in the wee hours of the morning. He assumed both Lenny and Carl had staggered home not too long ago, but both Larry and Sam remained, neither seeming to be very invested in their own consciousness. As was the usual. Charlie’s stare lingered for just a moment before Moe was pulling his attention back. 

“You wanna nightcap?” He asked, already in the process of grabbing a nearby bottle which Charlie quickly refused. His stomach was churning a bit from his previous binge. He didn’t need to lose everything he’d eaten during the day on top of his splitting headache and exhaustion. 

“No, m’fine. I should probably… go before somebody gets on my ass about not being where I need to be.” 

“Alright, but you better not be drivin’.” Moe pointed at the hybrid with a squint; one that Charlie returned in kind.

“I don’t have a car.” 

“I figured you’d steal one.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because that’s what I’d do.”

Rolling his eyes, Charlie scooted off the stool and made his way to the door, passing the other two men briefly and giving them a passing wave. He’d talked to the pair once or twice. They were wordier when they were drunk, but only just so. And somewhere in the back of his mind, Charlie reminded himself, that Sam knew a little more about Charlie by pure happenstance. Thankfully, he’d remained fairly quiet about that too. 

Swinging open the door, Charlie took a few steps outside before he realized - a little too late - that rain was coming down fairly heavily. There was no wind to carry it in one direction or another, the drops simply pouring onto the pavement and soaking Charlie entirely. The hybrid stared dully into the distance. This might as well happen. 

He didn’t move from where he was, just sort of standing there on the sidewalk and feeling his clothes get more and more soaked through. His brain didn’t seem to think that was much of an issue, but his feet refused to carry him in the direction of home. Instead, he continued to stare into nothingness, exhaustion - and a sudden heavy veil of listlessness - keeping him rooted to the spot. Somewhere along the line, he began to realize that his temperature was dropping. That was probably not good. He’d have to fix that before long.

“...You’re gettin’ all wet.”

The voice pulled him back to the present, turning and noticing that Sam and Larry had finally made their way out of Moe’s, presumably to retire for the night before they too passed out next to Barney. Larry was already walking away, his jacket collar pulled up in a fruitless effort to protect him from the rain. Sam, on the other hand, at least had an umbrella keeping him dry as he stared at Charlie with some manner of concern. 

“...Uh. Yeah. I guess I am,” Charlie replied, blinking once or twice and then glancing down at himself. Hm. Well. Yeah. He was wet. Wow.

Sam glanced around briefly before taking a few steps over and placing the umbrella over the both of them. As he spoke, his words slurred, but Charlie didn’t notice over his own foggy state of mind. “You’re not some kinda marine iguana or somethin’ right? I think they like water. Saw it on uh… Mm… That… science… channel once.”

“National Geographic?” Charlie asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Nah…” Sam replied. “ESPN 2.”

The hybrid snorted in amusement. “No. I’m not a marine iguana. I’m just… really drunk, I think.” Among other things. He’d taken some mixture of pills that he would not recommend to anyone else. But they would make their way out of his system eventually. “Uh… Thanks. For the…” He gestured to the umbrella. 

“Honestly, this weather ain’t great for walking. Y’think Moe’s got anything to eat in there?”

Charlie seemed to give that some thought. It was already the middle of the night. And if Lovejoy wasn’t blowing up his phone by now, the chances of him noticing any time before sunrise was slim. He hummed a little under his breath before shrugging. It was probably best he filled his stomach with something other than booze and pills. 

“Let’s ask.”

Sam didn’t need much convincing himself before he moved to keep them marginally dry as they wandered back into the bar. Moe had been in the process of trying to roll Barney over with a broom so he could sweep up underneath him, but glanced up when the door opened again. Charlie shook the water from himself as best as he could, but it was to little avail. He’d probably just need to wait until he was dry.

Closing the umbrella, Sam tossed it against the wall near the door and settled himself back on the stool where he’d been before, Charlie scooting up and onto the one next to him. As long as Barney was passed out, the hybrid took some time to pull off his mask and other effects which were fairly soaked through, placing them on the stool next to him and breathing out a little sigh. Moe had seen him a few times by now. It seemed like more and more people knew what he looked like as time went on. At that particular moment, he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“Tell me you’ve got something to eat,” Charlie asked as Moe drifted back over, looking over the rain-soaked man with some scrutiny. 

“I’ve got uh… Probably some Spam sitting around somewhere. Lemme look.”

“I’m having a hard time turning that down.” Charlie wasn’t going to be picky. And apparently, neither was Sam, as the man said nothing.

Moe disappeared in the back room for a time, clattering around among his shelves and god knew what else. Charlie watched as a roach slid out from the doorway and promptly disappeared into the nearest electrical socket. There was a little buzz, a hiss, and the roach did not re-emerge. The hybrid assumed that whatever it saw in the back room was heinous enough for the little bug to end it all.

“Well lookee here!” Moe proclaimed as he re-emerged, holding a half-empty jug of milk and a bottle of chocolate syrup that looked like it came from the 70’s. “It ain’t Spam, but it’s somethin’, huh? Check this out.”

“Chocolate milk?” Sam asked, staring at the bartender. 

“Nah. Even better.” Moe brought over the ingredients, pouring the milk into a few glasses and squirting the chocolate… syrup (it looked more like sauce at this point) into it soon after. He then held up each mug in turn, using a lighter to heat up the bottom of the glass before plopping a few stale marshmallow Peeps that were sad and dull from their time spent hidden somewhere in the cabinets beneath the bar. Presumably from Easter. ...This past Easter, hopefully.

Pleased with himself, Moe offered two of the glasses to Charlie and Sam who stared at the brown concoction that was making short work of dissolving those Peeps into rainbow mush that floated at the top of the layer of milk. “See? Hot cocoa! PERFECT for them rainy days like this one.” As if to sell the mixture, he took a long swig of his own, choking back the drink with a few hacked coughs and then offering his two patrons a grimacing smile. “Eh? EH?!”

Charlie squinted down at his own before coming to the conclusion that… he really didn’t even care what he put into his own body at this point. And the chocolate DID smell at least a little enticing. So with a little glance at Sam and a shrug, he upended his own into his mouth. It was not great. In fact, one might even say that it was terrible. The milk was absolutely close to spoiling, if not already spoiled, and the Peeps floated around in his mouth in chunky bits. But he downed the drink dutifully. It was warm, if nothing else. And it’d keep him from drifting off into a hypothermic coma. 

“...It’s great, Moe,” Charlie replied once he was able to say anything about it at all. A blatant lie, but the bartender was content with the review. The hybrid just hoped he wouldn’t put it on his ‘menu’ as a permanent addition. 

“Uh… yeah. Really… great.” Sam added, having had a bit of a harder time with his own, but he too didn’t find it very necessary to spoil Moe’s spirits. But the two shared a knowing glance, watching as Moe, triumphant that he’d created something worthwhile for once in his life, scurried off to write down his ‘recipe’. 

Charlie pushed his empty glass away, poking his tongue out a little in disgust. Egh. “We can never tell him.”

Sam did the same with his own, wishing that he’d just ordered another beer instead. “...Yeah, I’m on board with that.” 

“And so the pact is sealed,” Charlie joked, reaching up with a hand to offer his pinky claw to the other. “I would say we should seal it in blood, but I’m already suffering with this aftertaste.” 

Sam offered a little smirk before reaching up to hook his own pinky with Charle’s. “Takin’ it to the grave.” 

Their hands remained touching for a few seconds, a delayed reaction only bringing Charlie’s back to himself after a prolonged met gaze, his eyes flicking away in mild embarrassment. He was drunk. They were both drunk. Reaching up, Charlie absently ran a hand through his hair to try and make it a little more… presentable. He wasn’t sure why. 

Well. He wanted to pretend that he wasn’t sure why.

Moe’s return chased away the moment. He’d come back with more random ‘ingredients’ he’d found in the back storeroom.

Charlie and Sam gave a few little groans. Had Charlie known they’d be given the job as taste-testers, he might have just walked back to Lovejoy’s in the storm. 

But… he wasn’t alone here. Even if he’d never get the taste of stale Peeps off his tongue, he at least felt content with the knowledge that there was a warmth keeping him from drifting too far into the cold loneliness of the rain. 

Yeah. This was better.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  Breaking the Curse

Chapter 9:  Birds and Bugs

Just because he was anticipating the breaking of the Curse didn't mean he was going to be stupid about it. There were things in his life that were important, things that he couldn't risk losing, and if a girl like Ashley Boyd could break into his shop, he had to assume others could as well. He'd disabled the camera so that he was safe, but the downside was that now he couldn't use it himself. So, his conclusion was: if it was important, it needed to be transferred elsewhere, somewhere he still considered safe. The morning after the robbery, he'd packed up Bae's shawl, Belle's chipped cup, and the long slim box that held his dagger. He'd gone home and taken those items with him. Now he had to decide what to do with them.

His house was a mess. It always had been. He had hazy memories of it being that way since his aunts died, which meant it had been that way since he'd arrived in Storybrooke. It didn't particularly bother him; he only lived in a few rooms. But it would have bothered Belle. She'd have set herself to cleaning it and keeping it organized. And so, he placed her cup nicely on a table that was more or less uncluttered, somewhere that was safe from his bad habits, a place he could see it every day, but it would appear to simply be a decoration to anyone else. Baelfire's shawl wasn't so much a shawl as it was a scrap of cloth. It looked like a rag, and when he reflected on the life that they'd lived before, he hated to admit it, but the truth was that it was a rag. He folded it as nicely as he could and then set it in a drawer in the kitchen reserved for the rags. It concealed itself.

But as for his dagger…that was going to be harder to hide. For now, it was stashed inside his pillowcase. He went to sleep feeling it beneath his head each night and woke each morning ever aware of its existence. There was something ironic and yet familiar about that. But the pillowcase wouldn't do, not forever. He needed to make alternative plans for it. Bae's shawl and Belle's cup were items he didn't want to lose. But losing the dagger was a lot more dangerous. And without magic, without the ability to constantly feel for it and be aware, he needed something much more creative for it.

He spent the next two days brainstorming ideas for where to hide the dagger and how to hide the dagger. Much like he'd found Maleficent if Regina was watching, he needed to come up with a time when he knew that she would be distracted. That should have been something easily handled, it should have been something he could rely on Dove for, but as of right now, he was having a hard time thinking he could rely on Dove for anything.

The previous night, he'd been in the shop when he'd felt the Earth shake, the power flicker, and heard the sounds of half a dozen car alarms blast to life. He'd sent Dove, who was still tailing Emma, to investigate, and he'd reported a few hours later that the explosion had been in one of the old town mines. Regina was using it as an excuse to finally shutter the mines. He'd thought nothing of it at the time. Something like that seemed too natural for it to be part of the Curse breaking. But he'd been shocked earlier today when Dove had sent him another message today. Henry had gone into the mines. Archie had gone with Emma and Graham to try and get Henry out of the mines when it appeared that somehow Archie and Henry had become trapped inside. Emma, along with half the town, was working to free the pair.

"And Regina is allowing such a thing?" he questioned through a quick text message.

"In all the confusion, I forgot to tell you. Emma Swan was the new deputy, appointed by Graham. Today's her first day."

That was all it had taken to anger him. He was paying Dove good money to watch the girl, paying him to be his eyes and ears. And he'd just "forgotten" to tell him that she'd found a job? A job working for the man that the Evil Queen shared her bed with? A job that gave her access to damn near anything and everything in Storybrooke?! If he'd had magic, Dove would have found himself on the other end of a tight fist. Fortunately for him, there wasn't magic. And he didn't dare show up at the mine site. He had a role to play. Being curious and caring were not words that were in Mr. Gold's dictionary. He couldn't show up at the scene because he wanted to watch, and he couldn't think of a reason to go down on his own.

Dove sent him messages throughout the day, messages that he must have thought he cared for. "Half the town is here working to free the boy." "They found an old shaft they're trying to use as access." "Boy and Doc pulled from the shaft." He didn't care for any of them except for the last one. "Going home," was all it had said. Going home? He nearly laughed out loud at that one. First, he'd forgotten to share crucial information. Then he'd decided to share unimportant information while being certain where the girl was. Now that she was going to be leaving, he was leaving her too. His thinking was backward. And now, to top the encounter off, he'd been sending messages to Dove telling him not to go, to keep watching the girl. Now that Henry was free, he needed to know what Regina's reaction was to her, what Henry wanted to do. But suddenly, Dove had stopped responding to him.

"Home," he'd said. It appeared that Dove needed some reminding of his job. Fortunately for him, he knew where Dove had disappeared to. And better yet, he owned the town, which meant that he happened to have a key to damn near everything, including Dove's apartment.

He sneered at the two useless puppets he kept in his shop, Marco's parents, not that he knew that at the moment. He kept that sneer the entire drive across town. He knocked once on the door, but there was no answer. He had a key. Legally he was the property owner, and if he was worried for the safety of his tenant, he was allowed access. For all he knew, the rush of water he heard coming through the pipes could have drowned out poor Dove's cries if he slipped in the shower. That would hold up in court.

Inside the apartment, he heard nothing but water running through the pipes. The shower was running. Dove's phone, listing his messages, and jacket were left haphazardly on the kitchen counter, along with a can of beer that appeared to have been pulled from the refrigerator. That was all good. That meant he'd be back before falling into bed.

And Dark Ones did love dramatic entrances.

He took a seat across the living room and waited for his time to come. He waited patiently. Patience was his gift, after all. Finally, the moment came. The water in the pipes stopped. There was a pause and then the sound of a door opening. Barely a second later, Dove strode out of the hallway, towel slung across his waist, still wet from the shower. He took it as an opportunity to turn the lamp by his chair on.

"Shit!" Dove cried, jumping nearly six feet and making a motion for his jacket. He preferred not to know, but he suspected he had a gun hidden there. "Fuck!" he cried again when he finally realized who it was. His shoulders relaxed a bit. He stepped away from his jacket. His chest continued to heave. "You scared the shit outta me."

He ignored the language. Nothing he hadn't heard or said before himself, though maybe not word for word. He refused, however, to smile gleefully at the result of his little surprise.

"Remind me why I hired you, Mr. Dove."

"What?"

"Why do I employ you?"

"Sir?"

"You see, I've been asking myself that question all day. Why do I hire you to give me necessary information, and why do I continue to pay you when you don't tell me that important information. Information like…like Emma Swan having a job."

Dove took a breath and shook his head, looking baffled. Did the boy not even understand what he'd done? "I only found out last night, after the mine explosion. Given the circumstances, I thought-"

"I don't pay you to think, Mr. Dove, I pay you to tell me what I do not know," he growled through his teeth. He held up Dove's cell phone, the one that had his unanswered messages on it. "I pay you to answer your phone!" he roared, throwing it at him. The boy managed to catch it before it could shatter on the wall behind him.

"I'm…I'm sorry. It was a long day up at the mines. I was filthy, I needed to-"

"You don't finish your work until I say you have," he interrupted, rising from his seat. "Emma Swan is your assignment. Instead of leaving her at the mine to handle your own…business, you left when she did. Do you even know where she is at this moment?"

"She was just as filthy as the rest of us. I assumed she'd rush right home and take a shower herself."

"This isn't a time for 'assuming,' Mr. Dove. This is a time for knowing. And I need to know everything about that girl. This is a warning…don't disappoint me again." And then, with his assistant good and rattled, he set his sights on the door and-

"Is there something going on?!" Dove shouted at him before he could leave.

He turned to face him again. "Something going on?"

"This is a sleepy town, Mr. Gold. And don't get me wrong, I love my job, but working for you is usually status quo, and now all of a sudden…this girl shows up in town. Storybrooke hasn't seen this much excitement since…I can't remember the last time it's ever seen this much excitement. It's just got me thinking there might be something going on…something you're not telling me."

"I was under the impression, Mr. Dove, that part of your employment included discretion. I don't ask you questions about where you get your information, and you don't ask me questions about the jobs that I have for you," he corrected. "If I'm wrong, perhaps it's time I found a new associate. One of your cousins, perhaps."

Dove stood up a little taller, a little prouder, a feat for someone wearing nothing but a canary yellow towel. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Gold. I'm just…curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Mr. Dove. Imagine what it'll do to a bird. Don't make me have to track you down again, Mr. Dove. I find it tedious work, the sort of work I'd prefer to pay you for."

Without another word, he left to go back to his car. But he didn't get far, barely halfway across the parking lot before he heard…crickets! Crickets! The sound caught him off guard, and for a few moments, he couldn't understand why until, off in the distance, he heard the clocktower chime the hour, a noise that was still foreign to him, and he realized. There had never been the sound of crickets in Storybrooke before. Coincidence? Like the mines? Or something more?

Angry as he was, he felt himself smile as he opened his door and slid into the driver's seat. First the clock, then David…now there were crickets. What next, he wondered. What next…

[igottoomuchwriting]

Dave Meets the Hargreeves

Series: Part One/Previous Chapter/Next Part

Dinner finished rather quickly in Dave’s opinion. When they had all sat down, it was silent. Everyone ate their food and never once looking up at each other.

“Um, is everyone alright?” he asked. There were suddenly seven pairs of eyes on him, all filled with confusion.

“Yeah?” Diego asked.

“This is the quietest dinner I have ever been apart of.” Dave looked around and saw everyone slowly brighten up, as if Dave pointed out something they hadn’t realized. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve even seen you be this quiet,” he joked and a gentle shove to Klaus’s shoulder. Klaus hit him back with a laugh.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, babe.”

“It’s dinner,” Luther spoke up. “We don’t talk at dinner?”

“No, Dad never wanted us to talk at dinner,” Diego snapped. “But Dad isn’t here now.”

“So, Vanya!” Allison spoke up, stopping the fight. “How is the orchestra going?”

And it went on from there. Conversation was able to bloom like a flower, easy going and light, as long as Luther didn’t get involved. Dave didn’t know a lot about Luther because all Klaus told him was his number and power, and that he and Diego would get in a lot of fights. He never once told Dave that he was built like a tank or that he seemed to be really strict with rules and everything their dad has said.

He can see why Diego would get annoyed with him. He hasn’t been around Luther that long and doesn’t know their full past, but he just feels that Luther thinks he is above everyone else. Whether he is above or below Five in that sense, Dave doesn’t know.

“You really don’t have to help, darling,” Mrs. Hargreeves spoke kindly. After everyone had finished dinner Dave started to help clear the table, feeling bad that she had to do it on her own.

“It’s no problem, Mrs. Hargreeves,” he smiled. “Really. I would hate for you to have to clean this up all on your own.”

“Just Grace is fine.” She didn’t push again, just went back to humming and washing the dishes as Dave stacked the plates next to her.

Klaus had tried pulling him away. He didn’t want to be alone with his siblings for a long period of time, but Dave had convinced Klaus to let him stay behind to help his mom and then he would go find him again.

“Five, sweetie,” Dave heard Mrs. Hargreeves—Grace—call. “Are you still hungry?”

Dave turned his head and saw Five leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and a deep scowl on his face. It felt weird to call him Five instead of an actual name, and that he looked younger than everyone here but was technically older by fifty years. He had tried explaining it to the family when Klaus came here for their dad’s funeral, and then Klaus tried explaining it to him, but Dave didn’t have a clue of what any of it meant. It would help if he went to Five directly instead of talking through Klaus, but what can you do?

“No,” he hummed. “Just watching.”

“Don’t be afraid to ask if you want a snack!” Dave watched Five shoot her a smile, a rare softness in his face.

“I will. Thank you, Mom.”

Dave went back to washing the table. He was almost done and he just wanted to go find Klaus. He was fine with being in here alone with Grace, but now that Five was in here it was a little weird.

“Dave, right?” Dave’s head snapped back up to the boy.

“Uh, yeah.”

“What are you doing here?” That was a little rude. Dave glanced down at the wet rag that was still in his grasp.

“Cleaning?”

“No, you idiot,” he snapped. “I mean what are you doing here, in this house?”

“Oh! Uh, Klaus wanted me to be here…” he trailed off. Was that a good enough excuse? Of course it was, why wouldn’t Dave come here for his boyfriend. Though it seemed in front of Five, the truth was no longer enough. “He really wanted me to meet the family, so I came along.”

“What are you doing with Klaus?” Five pushed himself off of the wall and walked towards Dave. He held a burning glare with Dave’s terrified gaze. “What’s your motive?”

“I-I, don’t really uh, know what you mean?” Five rolled his eyes.

“Klaus is from a rich family and has years of fame, but now he is a drug addict who doesn’t know his left from his right, let alone know how to—”

“Recovering drug addict,” Dave stopped him. Five’s glare seemed to lessen, though not by much.

“What?”

“He’s been clean for a month. He has been on and off with his addiction, struggling with his ghosts and powers, but he’s been clean for a month.” Five stared at him in disbelief. Whether it was because Dave had the audacity to interrupt him or he truly didn’t know that about Klaus, he doesn’t know.

“Anyway,” he snapped. “Klaus doesn’t know how to fend for himself, nor does he know what is good for him. So I will ask again.” In a flash of light Five was standing on the chair Dave had pulled out to reach the other side of the table and his face in Dave’s. Dave jumped back with a shout. “What is your motive?”

Dave stared at the fifth Hargreeves for a second before it clicked. He doesn’t know or trust Dave, and he thinks that Dave is with Klaus for some stupid reason. Money, fame, easy guy to be with, easy person to abuse, something like that.

Thinking about someone doing that to Klaus made Dave sick.

“I want to love him,” he spoke. “My motive is to show him the love that a relationship needs, help him through the hardships and understand that he doesn’t need to sacrifice his happiness for anyone else's.”

It was truly a thing that Klaus struggled with. He would constantly bug Dave to talk about his feelings, push him to cry, but the moment that Klaus was going to cry, he would lock himself up in their bedroom and refuse anyone to talk to him, only yelling ‘I can handle it!’. There have been times when he tried giving Dave his whole paycheck so he wouldn’t feel guilty about living there, or he would walk home in the rain because he didn’t want to bother Dave at work.

He would tell Dave that he was raised to handle things on his own, that any sign of weakness meant the mausoleum. Crying made his Dad mad and his siblings uncomfortable, and then on top of that, none of his past relationships really cared what happened to Klaus. They either wanted him as a trophy boyfriend, a good fuck, or easy punching bag. Dave made a vow to help him work through that, to not be afraid of asking people for help and understand that crying may make people uncomfortable, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t want to help you.

Five seemed shocked by that answer. He hadn’t moved from his spot, and Dave was certain that there was some sort of weapon in his hand, but he dropped his glare. He was thinking about what Dave said. That’s what Dave hoped.

“Okay.” Five teleported back onto the floor. “If you have good intentions with Klaus, then understand that if you go against that, I will make sure you will never be found.��

Was he getting the shovel talk from a thirteen year old? “What, are you gonna bury me six feet under?” he snarked. It was something he has heard over and over, and though he has never hurt anyone in his past relationships, no one held through to their threats.

“No, that would be stupid.” Five walked over to the counter and started the coffee pot. Dave was really starting to wonder if people are going to stop him. That can’t be good for his growth. “I’d take you fifty years back, and then put you six feet under.”

“...What?” Dave asked.

“I have spent the last five years traveling all over the timelines. I have done things that you would not even be able to comprehend, killing people in history books and down the street, never ever heard from again.” He turned to Dave with a dead look, no hint of joking in his eyes. “It wouldn’t be hard for me to kill you and hide you where no one would even begin to look.”

Dave was actually fearing for his life. Klaus has said that they were all trained to kill, but it seemed that Five would actually use that training and more to hurt Dave.

Five turned back to the coffee pot and pour himself a cup, not at all affected by Dave’s shocked face.

“But of course I won’t have to do that because you won’t hurt Klaus.”

“Right. Yes, of course.” He sounded fake and he hoped Five didn’t take that out of context. He didn’t do anything though. He just shot Dave a smile and teleported away with his coffee, leaving Dave alone with his thoughts.

He was going to have to talk to Klaus about what the hell Five did over the years he was missing. Also if Grace cared about what her kids did. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that she was still there, washing the dishes and humming without a care in the world.

Yeah, he was going to find Klaus.

---

Dave found Klaus talking to Diego in the second—third?—living room in the house. Klaus was sitting criss-cross on the armchair in the corner while Diego was laying on the couch across from him. He has no idea what they were talking about when Dave walked in and Dave didn’t get a chance to learn.

“Dave!” Klaus cheered as soon as he saw him. “You’re free from cleaning!”

“It’s not free if I chose to help,” Dave scoffed. Klaus rolled his eyes.

Klaus stood up from the chair and walked over to Dave, placing a kiss on his lips.

“Can you stop being in love for five minutes?” they heard Diego groan from the couch. Klaus turned around with a pout and Dave wrapped his arms around his waist. People think Klaus is the touchy one, and it’s mainly true. He is more touchy in public and parties or anywhere they are, but once they are alone Dave will cling to Klaus as much as Klaus does. He loves just holding him.

“You’re just jealous because Patch doesn’t love you.”

“Shut up,” he snapped. Klaus laughed anyway so Dave was hoping that there was no actual anger behind it.

“Don’t your feet hurt?” Dave asked. He had looked down and saw that Klaus was still wearing his heels. He doesn’t think that they are that tall, but from what he knew about his sister, heels hurt in general.

“Eh,” he shrugged. “I guess? I’m just not used to walking around this house without something on my feet.”

“There was a while where there was always a lot of shattered glass on the ground,” Diego commented. He was sitting up now, watching the couple. “We all just learned that with our powers, we probably should have more things protecting our feet.”

“Did we ever learn what the broken glass was from?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You never found out what the glass was from?” Who just has broken glass and not know what it’s from?

“We just assumed it was from one of us,” Klaus mumbled. “But after a while none of us could figure it out, Mom wasn’t telling us, and we were all too afraid to ask our Dad.”

“Afraid isn’t what I would say,” Diego mumbled.

“Of course you wouldn’t say that, oh dear brother.”

“Was there ever a time you two didn’t bicker this much?” Dave asked with a laugh. It seems the Hargreeves siblings never seem to stop.

“The only time was when Klaus broke his jaw.” Dave felt Klaus stiffen under his arms to which he tightened his hold. “How long was your jaw wired shut?”

“Eight weeks,” Klaus mumbled.

“Eight weeks of pure bliss.” Klaus didn’t reply and Dave knew that Diego had struck a nerve. There was only one point in Klaus’s life that Dave knew he broke something, he just wasn’t sure this was the same time.

“Is this when you wore your heels?” Dave asked. Klaus nodded his head.

“Yeah. Young Klaus thought he would be able to walk down the steps in heels even though he had never worn them before.” Diego started laughing. “I swore Allison told him that it was a bad idea.”

Now Dave was confused. “Didn’t your dad break his jaw?”

“Dave—” Klaus warned. Dave shot him a look of confusion. Why was Klaus getting angry?

“Our Dad never broke Klaus’s jaw,” Diego stated.

“Didn’t he? When Klaus wore those heels—”

“Dave, stop!” Klaus snapped. He wasn’t looking at Dave or Diego, just down at his feet. He moved his arms from around Dave’s neck to his own chest to hold himself. Dave tried to pull him closer but Klaus just pushed him away, taking a step back. Dave still had his hands on his waist but he wasn’t allowed any closer.

“Klaus,” Diego cautiously asked as he watched his brother. “What is he talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Klaus, baby,” Dave mumbled. He didn’t dare try to move closer. “Does he not know?”

“Of course he doesn’t know,” Klaus snapped. “Why would they know? You were the only one I told.”

“How did you break your jaw, Klaus?” Diego asked once again. He was standing now, staring at Klaus with a look that one could easily mistake as anger.

“You should tell them,” Dave mumbled. “He’s not here. He can’t do anything with them knowing the truth.”

“But he can.” Klaus shook his head as if he was shaking away a bad thought or ghost. “He can come back as a ghost and scold me, scare me, never leave me alone.”

“I will help to make sure that doesn’t happen. And I know Ben wouldn’t let him anywhere near you.”

Klaus nodded his head. Dave knew it was something he and Ben would talk about. Klaus was afraid that if he went sober his dad would be able to find him. Ben assured him multiple times that if their Dad did appear that he would tell him off and make sure the he didn’t bother Klaus.

“It was when I was wearing the heels,” Klaus started. He didn’t look up at either Dave or Diego. Diego stood still. “I did walk down the stairs in my heels and he was the first to see me. I told him that I was going to go out like this because I felt nice, but he said no.”

He let out a laugh, one that Dave has hear when he was mocking something or high on drugs. “Of course I said fuck off. I didn’t care what he thought, I cared about the fact that the heels actually fit me and made my legs look great. But he hated that I thought that, so with one quick swift, he hit me with his cane and tumbling down I went. I still don’t know if it was the force of the cane that broke my jaw or the force of the fall.”

“How come you didn’t tell us?” Diego snapped. “Thats—Klaus, that’s horrible! He shouldn’t have done that!”

“Yeah, well there was nothing I could do.” He finally lifted his head to shot a glare at Diego. “Like you said. It was eight weeks of bliss. I couldn’t talk. Dad told you all that I broke my jaw walking down the stairs, and by the time my jaw healed you all believed him. I felt like none of you guys would believe me, so I just went along with the lie he fed you.”

“You could have told us!” Diego yelled. “We would have believed you!”

“Would you?” Klaus and Diego were fully facing each other now, both angry at the past and the fact that Klaus hid secrets. “Or would you have brushed me off as someone who is just high and trying to get everyone to hate Dad as much as I did?”

Those words sounded rehearsed. Those words didn’t sound completely like Klaus. It was as if Klaus has heard those words his whole life and committed them to memory. Dave wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“Klaus—”

“I think we should go,” Dave finally interrupted. “It’s getting late and Peter wants some of the bean dip before he has to leave for work tomorrow.”

“That sounds like a great idea, Dave!” Klaus clipped. He shot Diego one more glare before storming out of the living room.

It was silent for a second. Dave felt as if he should say something, anything to relieve the tension.

He couldn’t. This problem went way farther than Dave could have thought. This was something that happened when they were kids, this was a secret that Klaus has been keeping for twenty or more years. Diego has now hear that their horrible father has done more to their siblings than he originally thought and now he has been reminded of the tension that all of the siblings have had.

“I thought you knew,” Dave decided to say. “Truly, I did.”

“I think you should go.” Dave nodded his head and stepped out.

He felt bad that he brought the topic up. Klaus didn’t tell him that his siblings had no idea the truth behind his jaw breaking. He wanted to clear it up, but instead he caused a fight between the siblings.

Klaus already had his jacket on when Dave entered the room. He had his back turned to the stairway while he played on his phone waiting for Dave.

“Klaus?” he called.

“You ready to go?” he asked, not looking up from his phone. Dave sighed. He was in the doghouse.

“I need to grab the bean dip,” Dave mumbled.

“I’ll get it.” Before Dave could stop him Klaus walked into the kitchen, leaving him alone.

He understood why Klaus was mad. This was a secret that he had kept to himself for years, something he decided he would never tell his siblings. Then Dave comes around and ruins that, sharing something that their shit father had done in the past, effectively upsetting Diego and possibly their other siblings. Whether they are upset because they don’t believe Klaus or because they are mad at their already dead father, Dave had no idea.

“Dave?” he heard a voice ask. Dave lifted his head up to see Luther standing at the bottom of the steps. How did he not hear him coming down the stairs?

“Oh, hey Luther,” he greeted.

“Where’s Klaus?”

“He’s uh, getting the leftover bean dip.” Dave looked back towards the kitchen. He has no idea how long it’s going to take Klaus to grab it. Hopefully he was quick because Dave did not want to spend another moment with anymore of Klaus’s siblings.

“Is he?” Dave gave him a confused look.

“Yeah?” Where else would he be?

“It’s just—” Luther was looking around anxiously. Dave doubts he had much interaction outside of his family. “He would never go where he said when we were kids.”

“Well he’s not a kid,” Dave began. “I trust that he took the few steps to the kitchen like he said.” Luther nodded his head.

“You never know who you can trust.” Dave’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“What are you talking about, Luther?”

“I’m just saying he hasn’t been the most trustworthy guy.” Dave watched him shuffle around, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You should keep track of your things and where he goes.”

“Are you warning me against my own boyfriend?” Dave snapped.

“He isn’t the most trustworthy person—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Luther snapped his mouth shut. “You don’t know anything about Klaus, alright?”

He was pissed. Here comes this man who Dave knows never gave a care about what Klaus did with his life. He hasn’t tried holding an actual conversation with Klaus before he was sent to the moon and he wasn’t trying very hard to keep the relationship strong since their Dad died. Now he was here warning Dave against Klaus, saying that he should watch his every move in case Klaus decides to steal something.

“Klaus has been trying his fucking hardest to be clean and be the best man that he can. He has been clean for a month and was able to get a stable job! He has helped my roommate and I out in all the ways that he can!” Dave had been taking steps closer to Luther. He stood far enough away that he was still able to hold eye contact with Luther. “He has showed that he is the most trustworthy person in my life, and he is more trustworthy than you could ever hope to be!”

“Dave,” he heard Klaus mutter behind him. He felt hands pull on his triceps to pull him away from Luther. Dave fought back as he tried to shake the hands off his arms. “Dave, hey, come on.”

“You should listen to him,” Luther warned.

“Oh, like how you listen to him?”

“Dave!” Dave finally turned around and let Klaus pull him away.

“He can’t get away with it,” Dave growled. Klaus kept a tight grip on his arms and held eye contact with him. “He’s insulting you and disrespecting your hard work!”

“I know, Davey,” Klaus mumbled. “You can’t fight him though.”

“But he can’t say those fucking things—”

“He has super strength,” Klaus snapped. “Alright? You may work out, lifting tires and jacking cars on a daily basis, but he was born ten times stronger than you.”

Dave took a deep breath. He knew Klaus was right. If he tried fighting Luther, nothing good would come out of it. He would probably end up in the hospital or dead, depending on how hard Luther decided to fight.

“Let’s go home,” Klaus muttered.

---

Peter wasn’t at the house when Klaus and Dave arrived back home. Dave was thankful. He and Klaus had a lot to talk about and it would be really awkward if their roommate was there to witness a possible fight. It wouldn’t be the first one but Dave doesn’t want to make it a habit.

Klaus walked directly to the kitchen before Dave closed the front door. Dave watched him walk away with regret.

“Klaus?” he called. No response. “Klaus, baby?”

“What,” a voice snapped back. Dave walked into the kitchen to find Klaus wrapping the top of the bean dip with plastic wrap.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Klaus still hadn’t looked up. He wasn’t giving him the silent treatment anymore but he still wasn’t giving Dave the attention he wanted.

“I shouldn’t have started a fight with Luther. Or told Diego how you broke your jaw.”

Klaus let out a sigh. “You didn’t know that it was a secret.”

“I should have asked.”

“No,” Klaus snapped. “You didn’t know.” He turned back around to Dave with a mix of anger and anxiety. “I should have told you beforehand.”

“In both of our defense, we didn’t know it would come up in conversation.”

“But,” Klaus cooed. He walked over and wrapped his arms around Dave’s waist. Sometimes it seemed his moods would go from one to the other real quick. “I thought it was hot that you were willing to fight Luther in my honor.”

“You find a lot of things I do hot,” Dave laughed. “Are you still mad?”

“I think I will be for a while,” Klaus mumbled. “Yeah, I’m mad, but not at you. Diego didn’t know and Luther is a bitch. You were just trying to defend me and get the truth out there.”

Dave nodded his head in understanding. It was fair that he would let Klaus be mad for a bit.

“Alright, let me go.” Klaus slapped his arm with more strength than Dave thinks he met to. “My feet are actually going to kill me if I don’t take these heels off right now.”

[thewildwaffle]

Abduction - Chapter 3

This is going pretty well, I think. Thanks again for all the support! It’s really helping me stay motivated to keep writing!

This is a continuation from Chapter 1 and Chapter 2

Chapter 4

It was really bright. Like, stupid bright. Who has lights this bright? Ow.

Mike had to squint long before he could even think about opening his eyes. His nose really itched too, it felt like it was stuffed up. He reached up to scratch, but his hand was stopped by something that felt almost like a soft plastic dome. Maybe it was rubber? What the heck is this? He felt around, there were a lot of wires and tubes. Was he in the hospital?

“Ohhh…” his voice caught on his dry throat. “My… everything hurts. What the heck did I do this time?”

He moved his hand up to his eyes, shielding them from the light to try to get a look at the room he was in.

There were instruments attached to the walls, standing on wheeled carts, or hanging from the ceiling. Some were connected to hoses and nozzles. There were wires, screens, cupboards and drawers against several walls. The platform he was resting on had most of the wires and tube connected to or around it. There were diagrams posted on the walls, but not in a language Mike recognized. There was a beeping sound, like a heart-rate monitor, but the tone was higher and sounded like it was coming from some sort of musical instrument.

It certainly looked like a hospital. Just not like one he’d ever been in before. There was something… alien about it.

Oh.

Alien.

Mike gave a start as the events from the past few months rushed back. His scout ship, sent to do a quick orbit of Saturn to pick up an observation drone. The mysterious ship. Bright light. Then darkness. Cages. Food that could hardly be considered edible. Aliens that kind of looked like some ugly, hairy bug. Different needles, blades, vials, injections. He’d felt treated more like an animal than a human being. No, not even treated like an animal. More like a science experiment. Or a punching bag.

The machine in the background started beeping faster.

Oh no, he thought, Oh no, no, no, no. Where am I? What happened?

Clawed black hand reached to undo the lock. Exoskeleton clinked against the bars. They’d become relaxed around their prisoners. Thought they’d broken them. Complacent. Still dangerous. Just waiting for the right moment. That moment.

Them.

Two.

Where was Wenona?

The beeping was getting faster. A new sound started, a lower, longer sound.

They had snatched the guard’s weapon, knocked him unconscious. Locked him in one of the cells they’d been held in. They snuck their ways through the halls, taking out guards or officers when needed until the alarm sounded. They’d been found out. Even though they’d both been weakened by their time aboard the alien ship, there wasn’t a creature aboard that could stop them. Cuts. Burns. Scratches. Barricades. Blasters. They fought through them all to get to and take the control bridge. Wenona had been trying to figure out their position when another alien ship appeared on the screens.

Pain. Blood. The adrenaline was wearing off. It was getting harder to see, harder to stand up straight. Wenona helped him to hide. Tried to stop the bleeding.

Mike tried propping himself up to see if he could find Wenona. They’d both been captured around the same time. They’d been each other’s sole companionship during their time as prisoners. She’d saved his life. He needed to make sure she was still nearby, still okay.

The heart-monitor beeps got faster. The lower, longer sounding beeps got louder.

Mike pushed against the strange plastic-y cover. It moved easily enough, swinging away on hinges of some sort. He tried turning around to get a better look of the rest of the room. Owwww… ahhhh. It felt like every muscle in his body was made out of frozen rubber. He had been covered by a thin, soft blanket from the neck down. As he sat up, it slid down. He wasn’t wearing anything. The torn, bloody rags were gone. Probably a good sign, right? Whoever’s ship this is, at least cares enough to clean me up, and…  He felt his side with his hand, Those are new scars. Completely healed scars.

How long have I been out?

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was definitely alien.

If Mike had been standing, the alien would probably have been as tall as his chest. Looking at it quickly, one might mistake it for some strange, dry octopus, but the legs under the main part of the body was long and sturdy, ending in four stockier tentacle-feet. It’s skin was varying shades of brown ranging from the color of a dark chocolate candy bar to a lighter brown of a cardboard box with spots and streaks of purples and blues that must have formed some sort of camouflage pattern back on whatever planet it must have originated from.

“Krouschee fen glub you een denoo ing? You are abrehmf kroot. Dooka you understand kama I’mehs seraying?”

“What?”

“Dook. You. Underswand. Kat. I’mehs. Seraying?”

Mike looked puzzled at the alien. It didn’t seem dangerous. The features on its face looked… curious? Maybe even concerned?

“Umm… I understand you? Mostly.” Which was already saying a lot more than the previous aliens he had encountered. Good step. Good step.

“Kold on a momentehk. We’ve equipped you koob ap translator. It eereha take a momentehk to adjust, so I goos I will just keep talking until everyshringreh is sounding the way it should to you. Let’s see, I’m trying to thinkek of things to say, things to skray. My name is Demfar, I am the head medic. Todayshk I ate three kerber patties for my meal. Uh, I’ve been assigned to the ESS Gladius for nearly six of my world’s solar cycles. That’s about, oh.... I want to say about seven and a half deca-partecs?” He paused, he looked like he was running out of things to say. “Is this working yet, or not? Sometimes it takes only a few words to sync, but I’ve heard instances where it took half a day before it started getting everything translated properly. Can you understand me?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s working. I, uh, I understand you.”

A smile spread across Demfar’s face. Was it a smile? It at least it looked like it should be a smile. His large eyes creased slightly and the fins on the side of his face moved almost comically far upwards. Mike smiled back.

The fins on Demfar’s face dropped and his eyes widened. “Oh, my, I apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you. I meant no offense.”

“What? No, I was... I was smiling, it means I’m happy. I thought you were smiling, so I smiled back.” Demfar tilted his head to the side slightly. He lifted one of his tentacled arms and a small holographic display appeared and seem to hover over a small watch-looking device on his… um, wrist? Or wherever his “wrist” would be in comparison to Mike’s own arm. He seemed to be reading something. “Ah, yes. A smile. Your species often display your happiness by baring your teeth like that, I see.” He smiled again, though the fins on the side of his head did not reach quite as high. It was still enough to make Mike smile a little bit, though he made sure he didn’t show his teeth this time.

Demfar looked at Mike and then to the display again. “I do apologize. We learned as much as we could about humans from our ship’s internal database, but seeing as we did not have any humans aboard, it was quite limited. We’ve managed to send for more information, but it’s been slow. We’re still a ways out from the nearest Federation outpost, and communication is often disrupted by cosmic interference during warp.” The display disappeared and Demfar stepped toward Mike and lifted the blanket that was still partially covering Mike’s torso.

“Incredible,” Demfar murmured quietly.

“What?” Mike’s muscles tensed and he felt himself leaning ever so slightly away from Demfar. Breathe, he thought, it’s okay, he seems nice. He’s a doctor. I’m his patient. It’s okay. I’ll be okay. He’s a doctor… an alien doctor.

Demfar paused and gave Mike the same concerned look he had when he first came in.

“I understand you’ve been through quite an ordeal, but I can assure you, I mean you no harm human… uh, human…” the fins on the side of his face tilted back closer to the side of his head. “Oh my, do excuse my lack of manners. I have told you my name, but have not asked for yours.”

“Captain Michael Rockwell,” he responded automatically. “Uh, but my friends just, most people just call me Mike.”

“Mike, yes. Very good. Well, human-Mike, as I was saying, I mean you no harm. No one on this ship does. We are on an exploratory and diplomatic mission for the Galactic Federation to the outer sectors. Those that abducted and harmed you and your companion have been taken into custody and will be punished for their crimes. Now, about your injuries, we’ve done our best to-”

“Hold on, hold on, my companion? You mean Wenona? Where is she? How is she? Is she okay?”

“Wen-no-na? Is that her name? Yes, she’s fine, or at least as fine as one can be in such circumstances. Most of her wounds, much like yours, have healed remarkably fast. She’s been awake off and on for about half the day-cycle, but she has so far refused to speak to anyone. She took a good swing at me earlier when I tried to check her wounds after she first woke up.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” So she was awake. Good. Maybe if he could convince Demfar he was well enough, he could go see her. He scooted over and dropped his legs over the side of the platform he’d been resting on.

“Whoa now, hold on! Where do you think you’re going? I still need to check you out and make sure you’re alright!” “I’m fine. I need to make sure Wenona is okay. She’s probably freaked out right now, she needs me. She needs to know I’m alright.” He stood up, the muscles in his legs and lower back protesting the movement. The blanket that had been on him slipped and fell. Mike tried quickly to grab it before it reached the ground, and in doing so nearly lost his balance.

Oh boy, dizzy.

He righted himself again and wrapped the blanket around his midsection. Demfar looked more than a little dubious. “I’m fine, just a bit sore. I need to see Wenona. And I need some clothes.”

[metaldragoon]

When I was younger, I was really excellent at most athletics.  Not the best sprinter, but I still represented my school in the 100M and was unbeatable at 400M, 800M, 1500M, and high jump.  I played on the best school for soccer and basketball, and while I would never say I was “sociable” I was still surrounded by friends.  That was only until I was 10, so you might attribute to physically maturing at a faster pace than most kids, since I was also the tallest to go along with the fastest and most athletic.  My parents were starting to split up, they never officially divorced until I was like 14 but at around 8 they started living separately with small stints of living together again, and so I was mostly a daycare kid but I was with one of my best friends there and the only kid as athletic as me, though fortunately for track day he was a year older than me so I never had to compete against him.   My mom decided to get back in to teaching once I turned 10, which she had stopped since she was pregnant with me to take care of me, which I feel like makes so little sense because she worked at casinos and stuff until like 2 AM so I never saw her anyways, but, digressing, she found a full-time position.  Some desolate northern town where it reaches -50 and it’s a 4 hour drive to the next town.  I honestly was quite okay with the idea of moving.  I feel like most of my friends had moved and i was like cool, sick of being the lame-o with 40 year old parents and only lived in one house.  Also, being in a tiny town with no competition and training for sports all my life, I was like a whale shark in a fish tank, destroying all school records for my track events, and I feel like success never really mattered even, it just felt nice.  But each year there, being that it’s winter for about 7 months a year, and, weird of an excuse as it may be, the bugs and mosquitoes there are... so aggressive, it’s either too cold or I’m going to be choking on bugs and scratching my self of all my bites or getting bitten by fruit flies.  The sun is so affected by seasons, it’s dark at 3 PM in winter and sunny until 2 AM in the summer.   The point of these excuses is just that I lost my athleticism.  I am still above average, I guess, but I was slower than the year previous each of my 3 years living there.  People never ragged on me about it, I guess they just assumed I didn’t care was the reason, but I knew I just wasn’t as good as people anymore.  Kids that didn’t even play sports could keep up with me.  This is not very pitiable, but after losing all my friends from moving away, to lose my athleticism took it’s toll. My dad moved away from that northern town as my parents were officially done trying to be together, and I moved with him because I don’t know, I guess again it just felt exciting to be somewhere new.  I feel like as a kid all those complaints still didn’t really bug me, this is just looking back at the things that made me.  We moved in to some apartments, and while I would say I really enjoyed my time there, I guess this would be when I started having “depression.”  I never really felt like that’s how I felt.  My dad would work 3PM until midnight, sometimes I’d see him before he’d go to work, he’d make me dinner for me to eat later, and then I’d be by myself, playing computer games and listening to music and talking to lots of people online.  I’d make sure to go to bed around 11 so he wouldn’t know I stayed up, maybe have a little cry some nights because I don’t know, that just felt relieving, which of course it is, but whatever.  I lived about 20 minutes from school, so I’d walk myself to and from basketball practice and soccer was on the weekends so my dad would drive me there, and outside of that that’d be the only time I left the house unless my dad wanted me to go grocery shopping or something.  Something about my dad is that he is... stoic? completely unemotional? I don’t know.  I love him, and think he’s great, but he is not one for talking to his son about anything at all.  He disciplines me on the important things of life and is very reliable, but I feel like there’s no joy in his life or joking around, which I guess I just felt was normal since he was my only real contact.  I guess that’s why I liked being online so much.  I could be emotional and talk about things and be silly without thinking I’m disappointing my father, since he has no idea what I’m doing. I started having a lot of ankle problems, which I feel like honestly didn’t really affect my life, it just meant I missed time in sports, and eventually in Gr. 10 my knees started to go, which came to me giving up sports in Gr. 11 because the pain of practices just became too much and coaches weren’t willing to let me just use that as an excuse to only play in games.  Gr. 11 I moved with my mother who once again moved to some tiny remote town and I followed her, this time definitely under the influence of her emotional instability and feeling guilted about that.  I feel I really hit my low there, as I talked about with my injuries.  The town didn’t even have a soccer team and our basketball team was a joke anyways before I quit.  I was weighing about 250, I still feel like I was pretty athletic, but my knees would give out on me even just walking.  I feel I’ve always had this “pushing my body to extremes” from childhood that I’ve never adjusted to, because in my head I know I can work harder than anyone and succeed because I’m more athletic, and eventually they’ll give up, but they don’t because I’m not more athletic and it just destroys my body.  Maybe my adrenaline rush is just stronger than others because I feel like coughing and being completely out of breath, knees stinging and it being hard to walk because my feet are throbbing was just regular after a game but looking at it now I’m like there’s no way other people dealt with that.  Anyways, I don’t know, I’m just trying to say it was a very low point.  Ever since I heard Caitlyn Jenner talk about how all she did was train for the decathlon and football and everything when she was younger as just being referred to the “great distraction” for her transgender thoughts, which she didn’t understand and just thought were wrong ro something, I’ve found that pretty relatable.  Sports to me were the same things, a way to not be thinking about everything shitty about life.  Without that it was pretty much thinking about is killing my self worth disappointing my parents and making them think they did such a shitty job of raising me? Because that’s not what my suicide is about, and I don’t want them to blame themself, but I know it’s impossible to not.  That was basically my saving grace.  I’d also become pretty infatuated with a girl who I’d been friends with for about 3 years or so.  I know she didn’t like me back, as I had told her my feelings and she told me hers, but there’s always hope that she just hasn’t noticed what there is to like about me yet.  Looking back I feel like a “white knight nice guy here’s my fedora” fucking loser, but I like to also think I was a lot better than that too.  We were best friends and basically all my life was just typing to her and attending school.  My general sadness became directed towards her not liking me, because I always felt that yeah I’m a loser but I know I’m just in a bad spot and I have a lot of potential to be great... and for the person closest to me not to see that or be attracted to it when everything about her is attractive to me was really like a crushing blow to any kind of comfort I would have found in her.  Of course, she still was a great comfort but y’know, you go to bed alone and have insomnia and it’s hard not to focus and drive yourself down this negative road of how pathetic you are. I don’t know, Gr. 12 got a lot better as I moved back with my dad and got in much better shape and actually wasn’t afraid to express myself in English and actually got above C-’s in class.  My dad was living with another woman who’s now my step-mother and her son, who served as a wonderful little brother for me.  I still was a shell hiding in my room at home, but at least I’d have someone in person to joke with instead of devoting it all to my best friend with whom I would throw my emotions up and down on the roller coaster of my mind.  The year went by fine, I played more basketball and soccer and football.   I wasn’t the best, but I was still good I guess My dad, cold as he can be, had no interest in taking care of me past school, so the day after I graduated I moved away to my mother, where I stayed for a few months before moving with my friend in Winnipeg.  I went thinking one, she’s the only good thing in my life so I’ll at least be happy there, and two, hey, most people online “overrate” them self so it can be hard to be attracted when there’s that doubt, maybe the in-person version of me is what she’s been missing out on and I can still make her love me! Naive, of course, but I lived there for a few months.  It was good, but unfortunately I just wasn’t able to get a job and frankly I don’t know how the fuck people figure it out at that young of an age where they just get good jobs or apply to all the right things for post-secondary.  I moved back to my mom’s place, but she had moved in with her then-boyfriend, so I lived in her house she owned as just like an actual tenant, alone in a basement suite.  Those were some very cathartic times, I had a job as a dishwasher with 4 days on 4 days off, 6 hour days, so it would just be me doing absolutely nothing for 4 days until I worked.  Art, or talking to my friend more, drawing a bunch and reading and stuff.  Forming an obsession with Depeche Mode and anime.   Anyways, after moving away from Winnipeg, you know, it was really clear she wasn’t ever going to love me, I mean, it was probably plenty clear objectively a long time ago, but to the blinded fool that is metaldragoon he still always had hope.  But you know, I tried my best, showed her everything I was, and all I would do is cry all the fucking time about it and be miserable so to me I just decided I can’t be friends with her, ‘cus this is killing me.  I don’t remember what I said, but basically just said I didn’t want to talk to her.  I feel cutting her out made everything grey in life, I honestly didn’t get sad anymore, sure I’d cry here and there, but for the most part I didn’t feel negative because I wasn’t trying and failing, but not trying didn’t bring much happiness either.  It was an interesting time in my life, maybe a couple years, where I just wanted to exist and do whatever I did with my life back then.  Playing old games. Eventually I moved out of my mom’s and in to my aunt’s, got a job and moved out there to a basement once again, and lived there for I guess about 6 years.  That’s when I got in to Tumblr, a nice grey place for my grey existence, mindlessly reblog and eventually I got in to GIF making and I got praise for work, even if it waesn’t really “praise” but let me tell you a fucking like or a reblog on a GIF is some real juice and I became pretty devoted to that.  I’d just come home from work, scroll through my entire dashboard, and watch anime just to make GIFs of it.  Fa’ years!  Eventually I started befriending fellow GIF-maker unit-02, dishing out hot GIF tips with her, but of course no one can dish hot GIF tips without getting to know eachother a little better.  Eventually we started really talking the way I hadn’t talked in a long time, and it really felt great to have someone like that in my life again, and it’s gone so much further than any kind of relationship I’ve ever had with anyone.  I told her once I’ve never felt like I was truly the single most important person to anyone before, and it’s true and really quite... I don’t know how to put it better than extremely lame, but, quite a good feeling. Anyways, that’s basically my life.  I wanted to explain all that just to kind of not find a good way to talk about what I wanted to.  Over the last four years, I’ve started working full-time, 40hr weeks.  I’m married now, for almost a full year, and doing okay in life.  I own a house that costs me a lot of money and I make more money than I was ever thinking I would.  But the problem is, work has robbed me of self-reflection, it takes up so much time, I just don’t have time to think of things, sad or otherwise.  I’m married now, I always have someone who wants to talk with me, so even on the free times I did have to think about things, there’s someone there “for me” which is, of course, good, but it prevents me from delving in to my true mind.  I just want more freedom in life again, and all that negative shit that comes with it, I want it back.

All the important years of my life I’ve been depressed, and it’s what makes me who I am.  I want happiness, but I want to be the real me, more.  A man of self-reflection and deep-thinking.  Instead I barely pay attention to conversations because I have too much other shit I have to deal with, and I don’t even have shit to deal with, but my mind is just melted or something with all the shit I have. For now I tell my self to keep grinding, and eventually I’ll have everything and I can stop and return to who I was, but that’s a lot of time and who knows if by then I’ll ever be able to recover who I was?

[kuriquinn]

Sex Ed [1/5]

Blanket Fic Disclaimer

Summary: Raising a teenage daughter in a modern world is no small feat. For some reason, Sasuke always ends up being the one having to deal with the hard questions...and the most awkward situations. 

Author’s Note: So, I had this really weird dream last night, and just had to sit down and write it down. It takes place in my crackish ANBU ‘verse. Parts 2-5 of this actually will fill a few prompts I got a while back, so it works out neatly. 

Beta Reader: None yet. I’ll edit it when the whole thing is finished, and then post it as a one-shot on Ao3 and ffnet. 

Warnings: M for mature subject matter being discussed and comrpomising positions that certain characters may or may not be caught in. Also, I don’t particularly ship Sarada with anyone, so over the course of this fic I pretty much stuck a bunch of names in a hat when I needed someone and went with whatever I pulled out. It made things...interesting, to say the least. 

Sasuke Uchiha sits at his kitchen table, tools and rags spread before him as he examined the blade of his katana. There are several nicks near the tip that have inexplicably appeared since he last used it, and he frowns, drying to decide: Sarada or Boruto.

Between his student and his daughter he’s surprised he has any weapons left in the house, let alone slightly damaged ones.

They were taught better than this, he grumbles to himself and adjusts his glasses.

(He’s only wearing them because he’s trying to preserve the strength of his dōjutsu for the next time alien ogres attack. It has nothing to do with the fact Sakura mentioned something about finding him ‘sexy in specs’.)

SLAM!

Sasuke immediately whips his glasses off and stows them under a rag lest his sixteen-year-old daughter see him wearing them and start asking about his eyesight. At least, it has to be Sarada, judging by the not-so-dulcet stomping. She’s in her combat boot phase.  

“I hate being an Uchiha!” she screams at the top of her lungs, stalking past the kitchen and down the hall. There’s another slam of the door, this time much stronger; the foundations of the house rattle, and Sasuke physically braces in case he has to make a quick escape out the window.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

When dust settles and windows stop vibrating, Sasuke takes a moment to contemplate what drama has impacted her remarkably danger-free and privileged life this time. Sarada has been more prone to bursts of temper in the past few years, the cause of which can range from Boruto making a particular fool out of their team to the lack of pockets in women’s clothing.

(He completely agrees with her on the latter; what function do fake pockets serve? Where’s a kunoichi supposed to store her shuriken?)

As usual, he debates the merits of going to check on her or waiting for her to seek him out. On the one hand, she’s his little girl and he wants to deal swiftly with anything that upsets her. On the other, he remembers Sakura at that age, and the broken bones that came along with incorrectly deciphering her tempers.

Best to wait. She’ll come out when she’s calmed down.

Like her mother, she isn’t shy about sharing how she really feels about things.

And so, Sasuke gets up and boils some water, then surreptitiously opens a new packet of black tea and cardamom biscuits on the table. Fifteen minutes later, as he steeps his own cup of tea, he hears the door to her room open and her stomp—quieter now, it seems she’s removed the boots—as she returns to the kitchen. Her face is flushed and eyes rimmed red with frustration as she slumps to the table, sits and picks up a biscuit.

She doesn’t eat it, though, so he assumes this is a more serious case than usual.

Just as he wonders if he should provide an opening line for her, she speaks.

“Papa,” she starts, not meeting his gaze and shifting uncomfortably. Classic embarrassed behaviour. Coupled with her vocal denouncement of her entire family earlier, he wonders if she’s been dealing with bullies again and who he has to pay a not-so-friendly visit to tonight. “Have you ever…I mean…did it ever happen that…did you ever accidentally…”

He takes a sip of tea, because the flustered stuttering sometimes takes a while.

“—usegenjutsuonsomeoneyouweremakingoutwith?”

The scalding tea promptly goes down the wrong tube.

Sasuke chokes and splutters in pain, eyes bugging out at Sarada in shock, because that is the absolute last question he ever expected from her.

She goes, if possible, redder than before and looks at her lap.

“I’d ask Mom, but that’d be kind of…she gets way too technical,” she trails off with a shudder. “Also, you’re the only one with a Sharingan I can ask. At least without it getting creepy, because I’m pretty sure if I asked Uncle Kakashi he’d just make me read one of those novels of his, but I already have, and none of them ever has anything to do with accidentally using genjutsu when you kiss someone.” Sasuke opens his mouth, but the words get stuck. Sarada doesn’t notice and just keeps talking. “And it’s just so frustrating, because the whole point of making out is that it’s just you and the other person and your thoughts are supposed to be out of control, but the minute I let go of my control, my stupid Sharingan took over, and the minute he looked at me, it was all over, and I just…how am I supposed to control that when I’m—”

“Stop,” Sasuke rasps, holding up a hand.

He doesn’t want to hear this. He should not be hearing this. And yet, it’s better that she’s being open with him, right? And he is the only person with a Sharingan she can ask. Even if he never accidentally used genjutsu on Sakura when they were…intimate.

Any use of genjutsu was entirely planned out and consensual.

Not that his daughter needs to know that.

Ever.

This is just…what did she say? ‘Making out?’ Making out is what, kissing? Clothes stay on. That’s not so bad. Unless he’s been out of the loop for so long it means something else. Then it’s bad. Then he might just have to kill someone.

No, best not think of that. Sarada can do her own killing. He just has to be around to dispose of the body. On that note—

“Who?” he asks.

She narrows her eyes. “Why?”

Clearly knows his previous line of thought.

“So I can tell if they’ll be brain damaged by the genjutsu. Yours is stronger than most.”

“Oh. Oh!” Now she looks worried. “You don’t think I broke Shikadai’s brain, do you? His mom would kill me if I did that.”

Shikadai. Nara’s kid. Decent genjutsu abilities, off-the charts intelligence, doesn’t like cheating and, according to Sakura’s stories, has always treated Sarada with respect.

Well, it’s not as bad as it could be.

“No, he’ll probably be fine. You dispelled the jutsu?”

“After I figured out what happened, yeah.”

“Good.”

“He was not happy with me. As if it was my plan for that to happen? Shannaro!”

Might have to talk to Shikamaru about training him better. The kid must have been really caught off-guard if he couldn’t stop Sarada’s genjutsu.

The activity that must have caused that off-guardedness makes Sasuke pick up his sword again, but now he stares at it, unseeing.

“So how do I make it stop?

He blinks. “What?”

“The genjutsu thing. How do I not activate it…you know. During?”

“Don’t ‘make out’ with boys,” he says before he can think it through. He almost uses damn air quotes.

Sarada looks thoughtful. “Okay. Girls it is then.”

Sasuke drops his sword and stares at her, because that is not what he meant at all!

But Sarada is grinning at him.

“Just kidding, Dad,” she laughs. “I know you mean it’s something I have to get control of so it doesn’t control me before I try again. It’s what you’re always saying, right?”

“About combat,” he grunts. Not…amorous pursuits. “This is…” He swallows painfully as a sudden thought occurs to him. “Sarada…do you and I need to have the Talk?”

“Oh, gods no,” she wrinkles her nose. “Mom handled that when I was six. Unless you’ve got something to add from a non-medical perspective?”

“No,” he says immediately. “Nothing.”

“Okay. Thanks!” she beams, popping the uneaten cookie in her mouth, before taking a handful of others and prancing back to her room. Crisis averted, apparently.

Sasuke stares after her and then realises he has been tearing the oil rag into bits in his hands.

It’s been fourteen years since he made himself a very serious vow, but it doesn’t matter just then.

“I need a drink.”

つづく

Thanks for reading my story! To find out more about supporting my writing endeavours, or just donating to the fund that helps feed my three furry overlords, I have a tip jar on ko-fi and a patreon account.

All the best!

クリ

Next Chapter

[bedlamgames]

Q&A #107

Today we have revisiting Rough Landing, a question I don’t need to answer in the best possible way, double bimbos, tumblr being tumblr, me possibly somewhat going off on one in regard to what NOT to do, and more.

[Anonymous said:] Had a Corruption rank up and one of the slaver options had both Depraved and Spiritual, which are supposed to be mutually exclusive I thought: Choice 4: Madeline Crakewyne - Human Wastelander Futanari - Competent Skybreaker - (Spi)(Fly)(Res)(Clu)(Cun)(Usc+)

- You’re right, those should be mutually exclusive. 

[Anonymous said:] There is an event where one of your slavers will slip into your tent at night and have their way with you. Can you explain some of the mechanics that govern this event?

- My absolute favourite kind of question. Mainly as there exists a resource in game already which I hope should be able to fully explain all the details. Please see under Help and Prefferences -> Forced Encounters. 

[Anonymous said:] Need to ask; any chance for standard dwarf female commission, or this one is considered up to date?

- There technically is one in Scout the Coast though I’d prefer to get another one for the examine. I’ve been trying to get one done for ages through the commission polls that would serve to be a fun NH take on Dorf Fortress. I’ve also got a set of portraits potentially coming as a bonus though there’s some health issues getting in the way of that.

So it’s not consided up to date, there is a chance, but maybe not for awhile. 

[Anonymous said:] Bug report: orc cum addict training on bimbo slave results in double bimbo.

- That’s hilarious, and far too appropriate. Alas, I must say that has been found and will be fixed for the update. 

[Anonymous said:] the links to pixiv have disappeared

- Oh tumblr... why must you be so well tumblr. Tried adding a link to the twitter which has a link to the pixiv and that’s not showing either as an active link. Thankfully if you go the tumblr directly (i.e not on the dashboard) there’s an embed of the twitter so you can access them that way.

[academiy-blog said:] Hey man, Love the work you do, please don't give up on this path, you're so talented and creative. I am in love with your game No Haven and want to make a game like it but don't know where to start or how to do it. I am a complete stranger to coding and game making but I want to create adventures that people can lose themselves in like you do. Can you please tell me where should I start learning and what skills would I need to make a game like No Haven? You're awesome, take care Your big fan, me

- First seriously appreciated!

But oh man do not like it like I did as it was the complete wrong ass-backwards way to do it :D

Starting with RAGS meant I learnt a rather terrible system like the back of my hand which I worked how to break horribly to do what I wanted it to do. Doing it that way meant I often learned the wrong lessons when it comes to coding more in general, and didn’t know that, cause it worked. 

Then moving onto Twine without the time to really take a break to learning coding properly meant I was having to pick up concepts on the go, and again made a bunch of mistakes. 

Personally if I could somehow start over I’d do a coding course of some kind, and then use that knowledge to make games rather than deciding to make games, and still at times be lacking vital knowledge about what I should be doing or indeed not doing. 

Saying that I’ve found freecodecamp (especially the emails with five things to read each week), and w3schools to be great resources so maybe you could try starting there?

[Anonymous said:]   If someone hates being spiritual leader, they won't leave role when asked. In fact slavers leave this role only if they dislike it. Is this a bug?

- I’m pretty sure that’s been fixed, but will double check. 

[From the Patreon:] Short question:How do i transform my Character or another Slaver into the opposite gender? Male -> Female or Female -> Male.Are there certain assignments?

- There's a couple of different ways. 

Biomancy and Corruption can both do it for Male>Female. So you can either work towards doing it on purpose using the encampment activities, or you can run assignment that can result in Corruption like Changing Places and it might well happen. 

There's assignments that can do it one way or the other like Keldan Alley or Into the Depths. 

Then there's the option of getting too deep in debt with the Ensnared Rose.

[From TFgames:] The game is very fun and enjoyable.How to actually win the game?I gained a lot of money, trained the slavers and slaves.What to do next?I got tired of repeating tasks.

- Hi, I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Currently there's a placeholder win condition of reaching 10k gold. Honnestly it's not very interesting as is and purely in there as a placeholder, and most players from what I've heard prefer to set their own goals like aquiring certain uniques and training them up. I know one player on my discord server always goes for the full collection of cheerleaders, along with making sure they have their own 'assistants'. 

There's also the golem scenario which has an alternate win condition which is more involved complete with patron submitted art for the final victory. 

I do have plans to address the win conditions by making them more interesting and varied. So that will be coming down the line. 

[From the Collective:] Some theoretical questions:a slaver promoted witch with Racial:Wyrdcraft is supposed to go away after some time. How does this combines with aspect Bimboborn ? Does she comes back after some time? Is there a way to keep her? What happens if a slave version of her is given as a slave to a dominant slaver with the appropriate aspect. What does she gives as traits to her master? any magic or Elementalist traits ? Can she go away?

- Bimboborn would not apply like if they were sold. She does not. There isn't but certain slave training and levelling her up can get her to stick around for longer. Witches can't be given with that aspect and there's a special scene to reflect that. 

[From the Collective:] My MC gained this Debauched Exaltation:  Caress of Bone -40 And the Mal Trait that goes with it.Does it make him immune to mind control events ?Apparently not if I look at the Mashlands Witches but there's other events I haven't tested.

- Call it Malevolence light so it mainly just works on assignments. Also those totally-not-witches have all sorts of tricks so who knows what they're actually fully capable of.

[From the Collective:] Negotiate entry of the Lord's gate: It doesn't trigger a level up if your slavers win enough xp to level up at the end of the mission. You need another mission to level up.

- Doesn't surprise me. It's a miracle that utter mess of an assignment hangs together at all so something minor like that is a small price to pay. Had to try to pull it apart recently for the Twine conversion and man it is so much yikes you would not believe. 

[From the Collective:] Not really a bug, per se, but still:I want to do the Mistress of torments mission (For the Normal Success result). When my slaver number is at maximum I can't do this even if I set the general orders to "Don't recruit anyone"I think it's the case for all missions with potential slavers. You should be able to do them with the "Don't recruit anyone" option on.

- I'd need to go back and do an alternate result where no recruitment is possible for that to happen. It's something I've been trying to do a lot more with the slave taking assignments recently especially, as I know it's also annoying when you're full up on slaves and are then locked out on too many assignments.

[From the Collective:] what's the requirement for crafting traits and Artisan/Artificier aspect? leaving a slaver on crafting assignment for months doesn't seem to trigger lvl ups.

- Currently impossible as Crafting xp isn't really a thing. Saying that the first Crafting assignment is currently walking the commission poll (along with the Insatiable fuck off fight) on the patreon so now it's just a matter of time for that to change. 

[From the Collective:] Imperial Muse I don't understand a part of the rewards Rewards Diplomacy rank up bonus: large wood elf shaft x4

- That's an amusing, if very annoying bug as I keep forgetting about it (happened with this update that's about to come out too though did get to hotfix it before the public release), if I don't add a new Diplomacy assignment to a certain condition.

[From the Collective:] at the moment no enchantement. As far as  I know there is only one enchanted item, from the ooze mission, maybe a proof of concept.the tinkerer encampment position is also in development.

- There's also the enchanted armours possible to find from corruption, there's a late game assignment in the city that can provide some, certain uniques start with one, and the next update will have an update which can also provide some. 

[From the Collective:] I have just realized that the bug that allowed to promote slaves even after you have reached 20 slavers had been fixed (sometimes I hate myself) Can you do something to expand the number of slavers - Do not count slavers and slaves in camp position - Do not count unique slaves and slavers (this way you will not be blocked with new missions of the update that have a story role), the 2 golems the witch queen, the fallen paladin and his demi angel friend, maybe also the cheerleaders, was unable to have more than one until slavers were 20) - Have a small number of places that can on be used by promoted slaves - a unique mission, perhaps  one for each region that allows additional camp size. - Some camp positions can be unlocked by missions. Taskmaster at Mountains, Alchemist at City, brewer at Coast, Cook at Forest, Emissary at Plains

- The current limits are in place due to RAGS (along with partially due to how I've set up the arrays, see previous answer about mistakes being made), so for now I'm not planning to change that or add ways to get round it in RAGS. However I do plan to change this I hope in the Twine conversion. There I can redo arrays on the fly which should make changing that more reasonable. 

[From the Discord:] Favorite Boardgame?   

- I’ve played much better, much designed games and certainly much more well regarded ones, but if I’m being honest for the best memories attached to it then absolutely Go. Not the one with the black and white tiles. The International Travel Game which came out in the early 60′s that my grandparents had a copy of. 

Thinking about it I suspect how willing it was to utterly screw with the players by diverting them on a flight to Paris to ending you up in some tropical island on the other side of the world you were trying to get to might have some influence on my approach to game design :D

[From the Discord:] What are the chances of a 10 Year Anniversary Remastered Edition of RL in 2024, complete with CHAPTER 3 (j/k... but I would play it)

- Honnestly, with what I’ve learned doing WR and NH I’m reasonably confident I could do a combined RL1 and 2 in Twine in a couple of months max if I dropped everything else. So not something I’m likely to do anytime soon with so many other priorities, but one I have thought about. 

[From the Discord:] What are the most recent major Scientific, Magical & Cultural innovations in the land of NH?

- I have an assignment chained to discuss that. 

[From the Discord:] Do marlsunes get fleas?

- Yes, occasionally if they let themselves go, but it’s treatable. 

[From the Discord:] With the existence of a Horned One camp... is there any credence to the rumoured couples only Horned Two camp?

- Given how well the double horned one idea is doing in the commissions recently, looks so. 

[From the Discord:] Specifically, how advanced is the art of glassmaking in the land of No Haven? Are glass panels a thing? Maybe even one-way mirrors made by the foremost guilds that employ E:Ea?

- See that’s a more tricky question than it sounds, and it’s all down to the Neko Protection League.

One thing I’ve found with commissions is it’s often a negotiation to get everything you want, and in that sacrifices end up being made, and/or details that were important in the original pitch get overlooked to focus on something else that is more urgent to be amended. In this case the glasses I wanted to look even more archaic didn’t get reflected as much as I’d have liked. 

Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a bloody fantastic pair of pictures. Just a minor regret you know that I feel as is they don’t quite fit what I had in mind for the tech level of the setting.

[From the Discord:] Draki harpies - possible or UFO-like sightings?

As cool as a visual that suggests, which is tempting don’t get me wrong, draki are of elvish and human origins only. 

[furilia]

Strange letters from my father

New Post has been published on https://www.furilia.com/strange-letters-from-my-father/

Strange letters from my father

I never do paid posts but I’m doing this one for two reasons.  1) Because I was already going to write about this.  Stick with it and you’ll see why in a second, and 2) because the 8th Annual Jame Garfield Miracle is going on and I needed more money to help kids in need and this was a super easy way to do it.  So if you’re reading this, you are helping needy children.  EVERYONE WINS.

So, StoryWorth advertised on my blog this year and I loved it so much I paid full price to buy one for my dad.  Here’s how it works:  StoryWorth emails your family member weekly story prompts in the form of questions.  They reply to the emails and you get to read their amazing family stories that you never knew existed.  Then at the end of the year StoryWorth binds the years worth of stories into a keepsake book.  My dad has been doing it for about six months and the emails I get with his answers are so insane and lovely that I often have to call and ask, “Is that true?”  Stories about my grandparents and great grandparents that I may never have known are now being shared with family.  It is awesome and I highly recommend it because it’s a gift for you and for them.  It’s normally $79 but right now (until 1/31/18) it’s only $59 through this link. 

The stories my father shares are really too good to keep to myself so I’m sharing a few snippets of my favorites here.  You may think they’re strange and terrible but I love and treasure them.  I suppose that’s how family stories work though.  (BTW, Nelda is my mom.  She types the answers as my dad dictates.)

Have you pulled any great pranks?

I was prying something loose one day, and I broke off half the blade of my skinning knife. Stupid! Now the six-inch blade was only three inches long. It was now perfect for prying things loose, but it was also perfect for a practical joke.

We have an electric knife sharpener at the taxidermy shop, and I don’t allow anyone to use it except me. If you’re not paying 100% attention to what you are doing, the high-speed sharpening wheel can throw the blade back at you. Bad news.

I went to my own working area where I hide from the other workers and went to work on my joke. I super glued the tip of my broken knife blade to the inside of my inner right arm. Next I built up the wound area with 2-part epoxy. It’s a product we use in the taxidermy shop like modeling clay to make artificial skin on a mount. I smoothed out the epoxy, texturized it to make it look like my own skin and modeled it to look like that knife is really embedded deep in my arm. I used an airbrush to paint the epoxy area to match my skin. Next I feathered in some white, purple,and red paint to make a realistic cut. Finally I mixed up some blood- red and black paint. I added a little glycerin to give the fake blood a wet glossy look. I poured the blood where it needed to be, and splashed the rest on an old rag that I used to cover the gag.

I staggered into the shop and sat down, not saying a word.

Don was the first to notice the blood. “Holy Crap! What did you do?” Helen came out the office, and I removed the blood-soaked rag to show my work of art. Everyone gathered around me to either gawk or help. Helen hollered out, “Don’t put it out. He’s on blood thinners! He”ll bleed to death!”

No sooner did she say that, Jonathon grabbed the knife and pulled it out. I quickly covered the wound with the bloody rag. I figured the joke was over till Jonathon looked at the knife and screamed, “It broke off in his arm!”

I didn’t get any compliments for my realistic art work. I cleaned up my mess and came back in the shop. I sat down next to Jonathon and asked him if it looked real. He said. “Yeah, I thought it was real……..What are blood thinners?”

What have you changed your mind about over the years?

I use to think that dogs are a man’s best friend, but I’ve changed my mind. Dogs will always forgive you quickly if you ask them to, but they don’t do laundry, they don’t cook, they don’t scratch your back, and they don’t clean house. They are pretty good at doing dishes, as long as you smear left-over gravy over the whole plate.

I use to think that a loving wife would see the humor in that previous paragraph. Dogs will still always forgive you quickly if you ask them to.

I use to think this was funny.

  If you could choose any talents to have, what would they be?

I asked Nelda what this question meant. Any talent? She suggested singing, or playing an instrument , or maybe x-ray vision. X-Ray vision might be cool only if it is selective. Some old fat guy crossing your path of vision could ruin your day. A cute young chick could also ruin my marriage. I’ll stick with my near- sighted astigmatism with floaters.

I already sing beautifully. I have that talent even though no one else thinks so. My ears are so good that in my head the notes sound pitch perfect. Self corrective hearing is what I call it.

I might like the talent to finish everyone’s sentences before they could say it. Unfortunately I hang around a lot of people that don’t make a lot of sense. I’m not going to take credit for a bunch of nonsense.

I would like the talent to communicate with animals. I would like to understand their thoughts. Someday I will.

What is one of your fondest childhood memories?

One of my fondest memories is going perch fishing with my mom. When I was about five years old, I got the fishing bug. I couldn’t get enough fishing. My dad had a farm out at Eola, about twenty miles from home. The whole family would pack up before daylight, and drive out to the farm to work. My dad would usually be on his John Deere tractor. My mom would be either building electric fence or picking rocks out of the field. My sisters would be together hoeing weeds. I, being the baby, stuck with my mom. We would work till noon, and then drive to our neighbor’s pasture to have a picnic lunch. A small dirt tank with green water surrounded by large mesquite trees was one of my favorite places to spread out our homemade quilts, and rest in the shade. We would eat bread, summer sausage, longhorn cheese, and drink Cragmont orange soda water. After lunch, I would get out my cane pole. I always saved some of my lunch to use for bait. Those perch would bite on anything, but bread was my favorite cuz it stayed on my hook the best,

My dad would usually sleep and rest while my mom would watch me fish. She was actually watching a five year old kid making sure I wasn’t gonna fall in the water. The fish would bite as fast as you put the hook in the water. They weren’t very big, but I kept anything that had eyes. I even kept a little turtle. When I caught a water snake, my fishing was over.

Have you ever won anything?

The last year that the famous Sam Lewis put on the World Champion Armadillo Races, I won. Actually, my armadillo won. All I did was get behind Army and stomp and holler and chase him across the finish line. I guess I came in second. I released the armadillo back in the woods, but I kept the silver ring. My daughter Jennifer has the ring (I think).

I probably wouldn’t have given her the ring if it was gold.

What inventions have had the biggest impact on your day-to-day life?

The cube is probably the greatest invention of my lifetime. Before the cube, there was really not much stability in my life. Spheres were the rage when I was growing up. How can one build anything on a sphere? No matter how you slice it, you end up with just a lot of wheels.There was hope for wheels in those days, although someone took the idea too far. The whole world revolved around wheels and anything that could be made with them.  Donuts were one of my favorites. It was like a wheel inside of a wheel. Clever. But look at a really fat donut from the side. It’s a cube. Give the cube the credit due. You eat a donut from the side, don’t you?

Cubes were the true building blocks of the future. The Egyptians knew this. They even made huge cubes all over their back yard. Then they sliced the cubes diagonally, tipped them over so they would rest on their most stable side, and “BAM”! They had yard art that would last for decades. People would ride by, see the yard art, and ask the age-old question, “Do you think that’s a cube cut in half on its axis, or is that cube half buried in the sand. If someone ever invents the wheel, we could build a big bulldozer and find out.”

Ice cubes. How would you like living in this planet without ice cubes. Sure, there’s people up north that don’t appreciate ice like we do, but what if they want to sit down for a while. Up north, chairs don’t grow on trees, but a big cube of ice would make a wonderful chair. You could probably build a house out of ice if you had enough of it laying around. An air-conditioned house. With an ice box.

I really don’t dislike spheres. After all, a sphere is just a well-rounded cube that likes to travel.

I changed my mind. My favorite invention that has changed my life is a 19 volt battery-operated screwdriver with an extra lithium battery. Made by Craftsman.

  How has the country changed during your lifetime?

The country hasn’t changed at all. The cities are all screwed up. I lived in the country when I was a kid, and I live in the same country now. The trees I remember as a kid seemed to be a lot smaller back then. The country roads I use to walk down seem to be a lot shorter when I drive them.

Water skiing, tubing and fishing wasn’t good at all on our local lakes, but I got pretty good at skipping rocks. The trick was to find flat rocks about three inches across. If you could find rocks that were flat on the top and bottom, you were in business. With a little practice, you could get thirty or more skips out of one perfect rock. You could get even more skips if the lakebed wasn’t sandy. When you found that perfect rock, you didn’t squander it. You walked out in the lakebed and retrieved it. Once when I was retrieving one of my dad’s washers (sometimes I used artificials),I found a rowboat. It was a Sears/Roebuck 10 foot aluminum just like the ones in the catalogs. This boat was mine.There wasn’t a drop of water in my new boat, and I started dreaming about all the adventures I would have on Lake Nastywater. (We use to called it Lake Nasworthy, till the water level went down and old tires messed up our rock skipping). I named my boat S.S Minnow. Gilligan’s Island was my favorite after school tv show. I liked Gilligan the best, but Ginger and Mary Ann got a lot better over the years. My Dad enjoyed that show too. I knew he was really gonna get excited when I showed him The Minnow. We walked out on the lake and gazed down on our boat.

“Oh My Gosh! Look! ” Daddy saw my boat. He was excited. He peeled off his sweat stained farmers hat, smiled, sighed, and said something that I couldn”t believe. “There’s my old boat.”

“What! Your boat?”

“Sonny, I lost “The African Queen ” about forty years ago.” I was noodling for yeller cats down here when this was the Middle Concho. You know what noodling is……Catching them with your hands. It wasn’t against the law back in them days. Now, they would throw you in the pokie. I found this big rock right here and knew this was where the big one lived. Right under this rock. Your Uncle Sam, my older brother, was a better swimmer than me ,and he had more experience at catching big fish. Sam jumped in the water, took a deep breath, and went underwater. He came back up about 30 seconds later ,and told me the good news. “There’s a big hole under that rock, and there’s a catfish down in there. His head is as big as a five gallon bucket. As soon as I catch my breath, I’m going for him. My brother, Sam went under. He was down there a long time. He was down too long. I jumped in the water, and found the hole that Sam had entered. I reached in, and found Sam’s legs kicking up a storm. I grabbed his legs and started pulling him out of the hole. It was a struggle,but I pulled him out. We surfaced, and Sam was as white as a sheet. We looked around and couldn’t find “The African Queen”.

We sat up on the rock, Sam caught his breath finally, and told me what happened.”That monster fish was deep in the hole. I was rubbing his belly with both hands. My arms were extended, reaching for his gills. He kept swimming further in the hole. I didn’t realize that the hole was getting tighter, and I was running out of breath. My arms were out in front of me, and I couldn’t push my way out. I was stuck underwater. I was ready to give up when I felt you pulling me out. You saved my life!

We reached down to release our boat from the encrusted mud, and it proved to be a lot lighter than expected. There was no floor in the boat. It had rotted out years ago, but it still held some shared memories for my dad and me.

Uncle Sam and Daddy are both gone now. Maybe they’re floating down the Middle Concho in an old rowboat with a floor in it. Maybe they’re fishing for big yeller cats. They’re not noodling though because Sam promised God that he wouldn’t fish that way anymore.

Do you have any particularly vivid memories of your grandparents?

All of my grandparents were Czech. They didn’t speak English but they were successful farmers. They figured out early in life that to be wealthy, you had to have good discipline. They saved their hard-earned money that they made sharecropping. Then they bought land. They made do with growing their own fruits and vegetables. They raised chickens for eggs and meat. They had cows that they milked daily and butchered their own beef and hogs.They made their own clothes, churned butter, canned produce from the garden, made cheese , flour, cornmeal, and bread.  The only thing easy on the farm was falling to sleep at night.

Butchering hogs in those days was a big deal. There was too much work for one family to do all the work in one day. There would also be too much meat and sausage to cure, smoke, and package. The meat from a three hundred pound hog would go bad before one family could eat it.

When the first cold day would come around, all of the aunts, uncles, and third-generation heathens would meet at my grandparents house with all their butcher knives, tow sacks, hog scrapers, seasonings. We were having a butcher day. There was going to be a lot of work and a lot of fun for everyone except two fat hogs.

The women would build a big hot fire under a wash kettle full of water. The men would get the hogs up out of the mud, and wash them off. The hogs didn’t know what was going on with all this special treatment, but I bet they thought they were family and they were being invited for dinner. Smart pigs.

My uncles would build a sled,and then would position our dinner guest close to it. A shot would ring out and an unhappy but short squeal would alert the second dinner guest that now might be the time to cancel his reservation. The relaxing swine napping on the sled would be given a ride to the kettle area. Tow sacks (burlap bags) were pulled out of the boiling water and spread over a portion of the sleeping porker. The scalding loosens the hair on the pig and a dull butcher knife is used to scrape the hair (root and all) off of the pig.

The whole process is repeated on a new area of the pig until the whole hog is as balded as the top of my head. That pig is also pretty and pink like the top of my head.

Now it’s time to gut the clean “organ donor”. The liver, kidneys, and heart are saved. The small intestines are also saved. It was my job to clean out the green juice out of these long tubes. I liked attaching a garden hose to one end and let the water pressure do the work. My job was taken away from me because of the mess I made all over the porch. I think years later Whamo made a fortune with a toy called a Water Wiggle. I guess I was just ahead of my time on inventions, but my marketing skills had not yet been perfected. Sometimes, poop happens.

The rolls of fat from the hog is collected for later use. The ashes from the fire were shoveled into a tilted wooden trough. Water was poured over the ashes and drained into another container. This was lye. The fat is put in the kettle and rendered down to lard. Some of the lard was saved to cook with. It was poor man’s shortening. Then the belly meat and flanks were cut up (with the skin still attached), and the small pieces were fried in the lard. This was cracklins. You eat them hot with molasses and homemade bread. You now have a lot of lard in the kettle. Dump the lye in with some kind of perfume and boil the devil out of it. Let the whole mess cool down and you got soap. Cut the soap into bars with a butcher knife and let it get cold. It will last forever. I think it has such a long shelf-like cuz no-one wants to use it. It stinks, and it takes your hide off with the dirt. It will cure a young boy from cussin .

Cut up the pork chops,cure the bacon, cure the hams and hocks, and start turning the grinder. It’s “SAUSAGE TIME”.

Those casings that were rescued from me are refilled with seasoned ground pork and tied into links. Hang ’em in the smoke house.

It’s now pretty late, and everybody’s tired. We sample the sausage and clean up the huge mess. I clean the front porch.

I give Babuska (Grandmother) a hug goodbye. I smell like the front porch, but she returns the hug anyway. That was sixty years ago, but I can still smell the aroma of fresh baked poppy seed kolaches from her homemade apron.

I still smell like her front porch.

My dad with his sisters and his mother. Wall, Texas.

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