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spacesnail3000 · 5 years ago

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Let It Snow Chapter 2/4: But The Fire Is So Delightful

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: She was his Omega, and Steve had a plan. She would love him. He knew she would.

Word Count: 5,485

Warnings: Dark!Steve Rogers, stalking, ABO dynamics, mating cycles/heat, nonconsensual somnophilia, masturbation, me taking extreme liberties with how ABO biology works, come eating (kind of), comeplay, and lots and lots of tension (18+ ONLY)

A/N: The much-anticipated second chapter is up! Sorry for the wait, it has been so busy lately. Thank you so much to my beta reader @jessieray98!! She's AMAZING!! Enjoy!!

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

They did a walkthrough of the house, and she appraised the workmanship of the construction; the carvings on the crown molding, the carefully placed light fixtures, the backsplash in the kitchen, and the coordinating brickwork and woodwork on the fireplace. As if she hadn’t already seen the house during its construction dozens of times, made all the design choices, picked out the type of tiles, the wood, the color of the walls.

She made suggestions for furniture and cracked a smile at the few pieces Steve had moved here the last time he visited. A small rickety table in the kitchen with two mismatched chairs, a small end table in the living room, and of course, the air mattress inflated in the master bedroom.

“That can’t be very comfortable.”

“It wasn’t, but it’s better than the ground.”

“How do you feel about a big canopy bed in here?” she asked, gesturing to the center of the bedroom. “And a storage bench at the end. Maybe an antique armoire over here. This room has great natural light. What do you think?”

“That sounds nice,” he nodded. “Whatever you think is best.” She gave him a soft smile that made his heart skip. “But, I do want it to be cozy.”

The sound of her light giggle sent his heart fluttering towards her, a hummingbird flying to warmer places for the winter.

“Oh, I can do cozy. West Elm has these huge fluffy pillows that are great for nesting, and—” She faltered at the mention of nesting, at the dark look that came over his face as he approached her. “Not that you’ll necessarily be—uh—nesting—or—have a-an Omega—who—who’s—"

“It’s okay.” He gave her an easy smile and placed a large hand on her upper arm, almost engulfing the whole thing in his palm. “I like that idea. Tell me more.”

Her smile returned, shy this time, and she continued. “Well, um, yeah, and we can get these huge fluffy blankets and really soft comforters that are really easy to clean.”

Steve hummed. “Is that what you do for your nest?” Her face heated up and she looked embarrassed, but he held her gaze, willing an answer out of her. She nodded and he smirked. “I’m sure your nest is very cozy, Omega.” As she became more flustered, he changed the subject, giving her bicep another squeeze before letting go. “I was thinking curtains here,” he gestured to the window, “What do you think?”

They made their way through the rest of the cabin, talking about furniture and décor and color schemes. She grew more flustered with each of Steve’s touches, each token of praise he gave her, and once they reached the last bedroom on the top floor, Steve noticed she seemed to be having pre-heat symptoms again—labored breathing, trembling fingers.

He knew it would only be a matter of time before she needed him to do something about it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, placing a hand on her back. He used the touch to get closer to her, discreetly scenting her warm aroma. Alcohol hadn’t been able to affect him since he received the serum but when he breathed her in, he felt drunk for the first time in decades.

“Y-yeah,” she nodded, putting some distance between them. “Let’s just finish up. The landscaping next—right?”

They reached the back door and Steve opened it, only to invite a force of cold air and snow inside the house. Neither had noticed how bad it had gotten outside, but Steve suspected the blizzard was picking up now.

He closed the door hastily and looked to the woman beside him, her face strained with concern. “It’s snowing way too hard out there for us to look at the yard.”

She frowned. “But we need to get back to the city before too long.”

“Let’s just sit down for a while and relax. I’ll make some tea and we can wait for the weather to calm down.”

Sensing the anxiety coming off her, Steve purposefully exuded calming pheromones to help ease her mind. Guiding her with a hand on her lower back towards the kitchen, he sat her down at the table and then got to work boiling some water.

He was prepared. At first, he had been worried about being too prepared, that he would draw suspicion. However, she was too wrapped up in her thoughts to pay him any mind, even as he brewed a cup of earl grey tea—her favorite—and made it how she liked, a splash of milk and two sugars.

“Here you go.” She took the steaming mug and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“S-Steve…?”

He kneeled in front of her, hands on her knees. Her eyes fluttered closed at his touch. “Yes, honey?”

She hesitated a moment before speaking. “What if we can’t make it back tonight?”

“Well…” he sighed, looking up at her earnestly. “There’s a blizzard coming. It’s already pretty heavy in the city—it’s only gonna get worse from here.”

“Oh my God…” Her hands were shaking again, almost spilling her tea on her white dress. He carefully took the mug from her and set it on the table.

“We’ll just see what happens. If we do need to stay overnight, you can have the air mattress.”

Her expression seemed to crack before his eyes, anxiety and panic taking her over. Mouth open in distress, she laughed humorlessly, hands covering her face again as she bent over to her knees. Once she straightened up, avoiding Steve’s gaze, she glanced out of the kitchen window, at the snow piled up halfway the windowsill.

“Oh God, oh God… We’re not gonna make it back home!” She shook her head, still laughing. “There’s no way. I knew we shouldn’t have come out here. A blizzard—oh my God—” she moaned, rubbing her face with her hands. “We’re trapped here!”

“Hey, honey, relax.” He placed gentle hands on her upper arms, rubbing softly. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got enough supplies to tide us over a few days. There’s plenty of wood in the shed. You’re gonna be okay.”

She shook her head rapidly, almost violent with it. Tears gathered in her eyes, making them shine in the dim light of the kitchen. “No, no, no, no, no—Steve—you don’t understand!”

He took her hands and held them on her lap. “Then tell me.”

Lips thinned into a straight line, she looked down at their hands. “My heat is soon… I’m sure you’ve been able to smell it on me…”

Steve was always prepared. He had practiced his reaction to this in the mirror so many times.

Letting out a deep breath, he said, “Your heat?” She nodded. “When is it due?”

“…Today…”

“Today?”

“I didn’t expect it so soon!” she said quickly. “I thought it would come later this evening but now—now—well, I’m in my pre-heat and I’m—” Tearing her hands away from Steve’s to cover her eyes from his furrowed eyebrows and concerned frown, her words cut off, a muffled sob coming out instead.

Now that she had broken, he could come in and comfort her, protect her, provide for her, be the Alpha she needed.

“Oh, honey,” he cooed, wrapping her in his arms, letting her cry against his shoulder as he stroked her back. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll take care of you.”

She pulled back, looking at him like he was crazy. “What?”

“I’ll take care of you,” he repeated. “I’ve got food. Blankets. Whatever you need.”

“You’re not mad?”

He chuckled and cupped her face. Big thumbs wiped away her tears. “No, sweetheart. You can’t control this.”

“But—but—”

“Shhh, sweetheart. It’s okay—I promise, it is.”

Her lip trembled again, and she said in a small voice, “But what will you do? During it?”

“Whatever you need me to do. It’s all up to you.” He knew that eventually she’d be begging for him, but he didn’t mention that. When the time came, he wanted her to think it was her idea—that is, if he could hold himself off.

Shy, she frowned and looked down. “I’ve never… never… I’ve never spent a heat with anyone else…”

A deep satisfaction swept through his chest, and his possessive Alpha howled at the thought of being her first mate during a heat. Her only mate. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll be here for whatever you need,” he repeated, forcing himself to relax before he did something to put her off.

She pulled further away, trying to distance their bodies. He allowed it for now, not wanting to distress her further by suffocating her. Steve needed her to come to him, seek out his affection and attention—and he knew she would eventually.

“I don’t expect anything of you,” she said quickly, looking away from him, embarrassed. “I can handle it myself, so you don’t have to—you know—”

His smirk went unnoticed by her. Of course she was going to be a little reluctant at first to accept him as a heat mate—she was a modest, proper woman, after all—but she would come around eventually. He was what she needed, and she belonged to him. Tonight, he would have her, and there was no way around that.

“Whatever you want, honey,” he repeated, “I’m here for you either way.” Rising to his feet, he smoothed his hand over her hair, his Alpha purring when she leaned into his touch. “Drink up. I’ll make us lunch in a little bit. You’re gonna need energy for once your heat hits.”

“Okay…”

“I’m gonna unload the car.”

It didn’t take long to get all of the boxes from the bed of his truck. Luckily he had covered them with a tarp, so they weren’t soaked through with snow, but the blankets would be freezing cold.

There were plenty of linens and pillows, along with some clothes for him (which she could wear too, if she was inclined, but he wouldn’t complain if she stayed naked the entire time). The boxes also contained food, cooking supplies, emergency supplies, and toiletries.

Once he got everything inside, his first objective was to light the fireplace. His Omega wouldn’t want to nest with cold blankets, and he knew that even if she felt warm due to her impending heat, the temperature in the house was frigid. However, the cabin wasn’t too primitive. It had central heating, so he set the temperature to the mid-70’s. After that, he unpacked the food into the new refrigerator before pulling out some ingredients for something simple, calorie-dense, and high in protein.

“I don’t have much… How about some toast?”

She nodded absently. “Okay…”

He cooked up a few pieces of toast and slathered them in peanut butter. On the side, he placed some dried fruit, dried meat, and hard cheese that he had on hand. He had brought plenty of meat, but it had to be defrosted first; he also had dried grains, beans, and legumes, but they would take longer to cook. This meal was quick, and the peanut butter, meat, and cheese had plenty of protein. She could pick at the small bite-sized pieces until she was full.

“Here you go, honey.” He set the plate in front of her at the table. “Once you finish, I have some linens for you if you want to make a nest upstairs. You might want to take a nap, too, before it really hits.”

She followed his instructions, wonderfully submissive for him, eating everything on her plate while Steve prepared a winter vegetable and lentil soup. He chopped up some turnips, leeks, shallots, carrots, kale, acorn squash, and fennel and started boiling some stock with lentils. Once he dumped all of the ingredients in, he left it to simmer and it would be ready later for dinner.

After she was finished eating, she wandered into the living room. He had left the blankets and pillows folded in front of the fire to warm up. From there in the kitchen, with the open floor plan that she designed, he had the perfect vantage point to watch her.

“Steve?” she said, turning to look at him, frowning when she saw him already watching her.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

She paused and then said, “I think I’m ready to nest.”

“I’ll help you take the blankets upstairs.”

“Yeah, it’s best if I stay up there for my heat. That way my heat scent won’t stink up the house.”

Approaching her, his chuckle echoed against the bare wood floors of the living room, sounding all too hollow in the empty house. “Your scent doesn’t stink, sweetheart, let me make that clear.”

Embarrassed, she looked away from him. “Steve…”

“Why don’t you get those pillows.” He pointed to a couple of pillows off to the side and bent down to grab most of the linens, easily bringing them upstairs. “I’ll grab the rest.”

When he turned to go back downstairs, he found her walking slowly into the bedroom, arms piled so high with blankets and pillows that her whole face was obscured. He chuckled low in his throat at the sight of his sweet little Omega before taking the blankets from her and depositing them near the mattress.

“I told you just to get the pillows, honey.”

She looked up at him, pouty lips and wide doe eyes. “I wanted to help more…” she murmured. He couldn’t contain his wide smile, the warmth in his heart for his wonderful Omega.

“I’m going to get some wood to light this fireplace for you. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you…”

“Of course,” he replied. “Anything for you, Omega.”

And with that, he went back downstairs. He collected firewood and supplies and went back up to make the fire for her. He kept on eye on her while he did, observing as she made her nest.

Every move from her was so thoughtful, careful. Steve had already fitted the mattress with a thick memory foam mattress pad, a thermal insulating cover, and a waterproof liner, and she added sheets and pushed the air mattress into the corner of the room nearest the fireplace. She felt each linen between her fingertips and sniffed each blanket, and then started layering them on the thick air mattress. After lining the walls with pillows, she layered a few quilts atop the mattress before loosely piling together the fluffy faux fur blankets, shifting them around and fluffing them up until she seemed to be satisfied.

Once she was done, she settled on the edge of the air mattress and yawned.

Steve stood, the fire lit, and he couldn’t help but praise her. “That looks like a lovely little nest, Omega.” Squirming at the praise, she avoided his eyes and rubbed her thighs together, thanking him with a small voice. “Do you want to take a nap? I can wake you up for dinner if you want.”

He noticed the shift of her thighs as she made herself comfortable. “That would be nice.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ll keep the noise down for you.” She hesitated and he said, “Why don’t you take off your shoes and jacket? Get comfortable.”

His Omega obeyed him once more and handed her jacket to him, toeing off her shoes, leaving her in thin tights and her white dress. Then she climbed underneath the blankets and disappeared amongst the fluff and fabric.

“Sweet dreams,” Steve said, hesitating to observe his Omega, comfy and cozy in her nest, before turning to leave.

She slept for a few hours, well into the evening, while Steve kept an eye on her. Watching over his sleeping Omega was familiar to him—something he had done plenty of times sneaking into her brownstone.

Sometimes he would be content to watch, committing the sight to memory of his Omega, sleepy, relaxed, at peace. Other times he would sketch her as she slept, trying to get all of the details right—the slope of her nose, the texture of her hair, the serene look on her face while she dreamed.

Occasionally, he had touched himself—only when he was really frustrated, really needed relief from his sweet Omega. And there were a few times that he had he touched her, too. It was the first time that started it—he simply couldn’t help himself, the temptation had been too alluring.

His cock was hard immediately after entering her room, overcome by the smell of her consuming him. He started by cupping himself through his pants, soft at first, then more firm as he neared her sleeping form.

Carefully, he displaced the blankets, pulling them back from her body. Usually she wore comfy pajama sets, occasionally a silky negligee, like she was dressing up just for him. But tonight—oh, tonight—she wore nothing underneath the blanket, her skin bared to him, glowing in the moonlight coming in through the window.

An invitation if he had ever seen one.

One hand groped his cock through the fabric of his trousers while the other started on her skin. First her face, trailing soft fingers down her cheekbone, her neck, brushing over her sensitive scent glands. Nipples hardened from the sensation and the cool air, and he couldn’t resist taking one in his hand and squeezing lightly, grazing his knuckles over one areola, then the other, until goosebumps rose all across her smooth skin.

Without making a sound, he took his dick out, letting his balls hang heavy above the waistband of his pants, his shaft pointing up and twitching as he took it in his hand.

It was meant to be quick, just like every other time—it wasn’t Steve’s intention to draw it out. He didn’t want to risk waking her, and so he worked himself to a quick completion, his orgasm easily approaching with how worked up he already was. But after he came over his fist, he stayed hard, the sight of her naked body making his blood boil.

He didn’t know how much longer he could wait for her to fall for him.

He wanted more.

Needed more.

His hand moved from her breast, down her beautiful smooth stomach, to the trimmed pubic hair on her mound, and down between her legs, where the folds of her cunt awaited. Soft, warm, velveteen.

She wasn’t wet, but he could change that.

He brought his hand to the tip of his cock and swiped up a big dollop of cum that was close to running down his shaft. Bringing it to her face, he smeared a little beneath her nose, a little on her lips, then went back to collect more from his knuckles. By the time he brought his hand back to her face, her Omega senses picked up the scent of strong Alpha pheromones.

Her mouth was opened just the smallest amount, and it allowed him to stick his finger in and rub his seed along her tongue, her gums, the insides of her cheeks, until her mouth was coated liberally, the corners of her lips glossy and glistening, everything slippery as he pushed his finger in and out of her mouth. Instinctually, she started sucking on his finger in her sleep, the taste and scent of his semen penetrating her dreams, her hindbrain telling her what to do to please her Alpha.

It was a risk, and his heart hammered inside his chest, but she didn’t wake, luckily. After she had sucked all of his seed away, her mouth went slack once more. A breath of relief escaped him, but he couldn’t stop now.

He collected more come and brought his fingers to her pussy this time. He could already smell her arousal within, the primitive nature of her body creating slick at the smell and taste of his come. Still, he rubbed his fingers around and inside her entrance, which would stimulate her Omega biology to produce more in anticipation of mating.

It wasn’t long until he saw her glinting up at him, inviting his fingers deep inside her pussy to draw as much of her cream out as he could. Every now and then she squirmed in her sleep, or let out the smallest whimpers or moans, but she remained unconscious despite Steve’s manipulation of her body.

He brought his hand to his mouth, tasting their combined juices, breathing her heady sweet scent in, and he let out a low growl, the noise rumbling in his chest. After dipping his fingers back inside her, collecting as much of her wetness as he could, he took his cock and worked it up and down, sticky and filthy wet, slick sounds reaching his ears, coating his cock in her beautiful scent as if he had just fucked her deep, full of his come—

A groan escaped his lips as he allowed himself to come, knowing the longer he stayed, the more of a chance there was that she’d wake up.

Spurts of come shot over his hand and in the air, some landing on her stomach and thighs. Mouth open, he continued to work his cock with his eyes on her limp body, her splayed legs, her swollen cunt, and the streak of cum on her outer labia, taunting him with what would one day be. He bit his lip once his cock got too sensitive to touch, and his hips jerked once, twice, a third time, as his body pulsed from his orgasm.

After he recovered, he took out a handkerchief and cleaned his hands. He left his cock sticky with her juices, hoping to preserve the scent of her on his body for as long as possible. As much as he wanted to leave his come on her belly, even rub it in, mark her in his scent, mark her as his—he knew he couldn’t, so he wiped the streaks away, doing his best to clean her up.

One day, he would come all over her, use his seed as a signature of ownership over her life, evidence of his love to his Omega. But not today.

Before he covered her back up, he leaned down, face right near her dripping cunt. He breathed in deeply, taking in her scent. Nudging his nose against her clit, he leaned forward, licking up the length of her cunt, tasting her sweet cream straight from the source.

He managed to stop himself after a few more tastes, committing the sweet, earthy, salty flavor to memory, and left her pussy soaking wet with her own juices before he slipped out of the house.

In the aftermath, he had been afraid of her finding out it was him, waking up disgusted and confused. However, she was none the wiser to his midnight excursions. She treated him the same as ever, greeting him with her lovely smiles, making conversation with him after their planning meetings were done, giving him baked goods for him to try whenever she made something she knew he liked. Never had she realized the depraved way he lusted after her or how he had manipulated her body as she dreamt.

Nor did she realize now, as she napped in preparation for her heat, that Steve watched her. In between unpacking the supplies he brought and preparing meals for the next few days, he came back into the bedroom to tend to the fire and watch her, leaning against the doorway and scenting the room as her aroma grew stronger. Then he would leave again, trying to keep himself busy so he wouldn’t feel tempted to take her while she slept.

He unpacked everything for the bathroom—towels and toiletries and anything she might need. All of the emergency supplies were put away in the hall closet, within easy access if either of them needed anything. He sorted through a box of books, choosing an old Agatha Christie book to read for whenever he had downtime—if he had downtime, what with the onset of her heat. Once all of the boxes were unpacked, he moved back to the kitchen.

It was necessary to have easy meals, things he could heat up quickly during the short times she would be sated in between their lovemaking. The soup would make plenty of leftovers for them; other than that, he cooked up some chicken breasts and marinated a few different cuts of meat. He prepared plenty of food for whatever she would want, depending on how her appetite was during and after her heat.

He was just finishing up preparing a meal for the next day when he heard her call for him.

“Steve?” Her voice sounded scared and a little wary. Immediately he ascended the stairs and reached her in no time. Trapped in the bedroom, her scent was much thicker, and she seemed to be sweating, her skin glistening in the glow of the fire. She was in the middle of pulling off her tights, and she lowered the skirt of her dress just as he entered, so he saw a glimpse of her navy colored panties.

“Hey, honey, how are you feeling?” His eyes tracked her movements as she pulled the tights off, following the line of her long legs.

She coughed, all too aware of his attention on her body. “Um… thirsty… can I have some water?”

“Of course.”

He was quick in getting her a glass of water, but when he left the kitchen, she was in the living room, looking around, stumbling steps and uncoordinated movements.

“What do you need, honey?” he asked, reaching her with two long strides. He took her arm to steady her when she almost tripped over her feet.

Her attention was diverted from whatever she had previously been doing by the glass of water in his hand. When she took it from him too quickly and wavered on her feet, her other hand came up to rest on his chest, allowing him to secure her with hands at her waist as she drank it down. A trail of water dripped down her chin and onto her neck, wetting the high neckline of her dress and darkening the white fabric.

When she was done, Steve couldn’t help but reach up and swipe away the droplets of water in the dip of her throat. Eyes wide and round, she looked up at him, licking her lips, chest heaving against his as she tried to catch her breath. Now her body was almost flush against him, drawn to his warmth and scent, eyes fluttering as she breathed him in.

“Steve…” she whispered, a little pitchy, almost a whine. He could feel her body heat radiating against him, her fingers grasping his shirt, trembling, sweet for him.

He had to use all of his restraint to not grab her and kiss her until she was begging for him. “What were you looking for, sweetie?” His tone was gentle, but deep, the rumbling of his voice through her body distracting her even more.

“W-what?” she asked, eyebrows furrowing, mouth parting with confusion, body pressing up against him the slightest bit more.

“Why did you come downstairs?”

That seemed to break the spell he had on her, and she pulled back, eyes a little clearer. “Oh… Oh, right. I was looking for my purse.”

“You left it in the kitchen earlier. Let me grab it. You need to go back upstairs, honey. Your heat’s right about to hit.” He was so close to losing control, her body pressed up against him tempting him so.

“I know…” Separating herself from him, she nodded, and he let her go, already mourning the loss.

After retrieving her purse and leaving her water glass in the kitchen, Steve led her upstairs with a hand against her lower back, which she leaned into, craving his touch now. It was there in the middle of the staircase that she fell off the precipice into her heat.

Suddenly, she cried out, one hand clutching the stair railing, the other clutching her stomach. She nearly stumbled down a few stairs before Steve caught her with his arms around her waist, purse forgotten and tumbling down the stairs, receipts and pens and lipsticks scattering across the floor.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, turning her to face him as he held her against his strong chest. Her body shook violently in his arms and she whimpered. “Honey, you’re okay—I’ll take care of you.”

Hiding her face in her hands, she shook her head, her words contrasting her body’s reaction to his touch. “No, no, no, no, no—Steve—no, you can’t be—this isn’t—I can’t—”

With one hand, he took both of her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face and keeping her body pressed against his. A firm hold on her jaw tilted her face up towards him; he was sure he’d leave bruises, though he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.

“Look at me,” he said in that commanding Captain’s tone, one he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. He said her name, firm and deep, and repeated himself. “Look at me now.” Her eyes opened, red and watery, tears overflowing her bottom lid and making shiny trails down her cheeks. When he caught her gaze, pinning her attention to him with the intensity in his eyes, he continued, “Tell me what you need.”

She bit her lip and kept her eyes on his, enraptured. “I—I don’t… I don’t know,” she breathed. “I-I’ve never done this with another person…”

“Omega,” he rumbled, the vibrations against her chest making her whimper.

Her tone got higher, hysterical, as she continued. “I’ve never done this outside my house! My nest doesn’t even smell right! I’ve never done a heat without my toys—I don’t have anything to—to—” She was sobbing now, breaths choppy and stuttered, face wet, mascara smeared. He needed to comfort her before she got too worked up. Using his hips to pin her against the wall, he took her face in both hands and repeated her name softly. Gentle fingers brushed over her cheeks, her temples, her lips, until she stopped sobbing and was looking up at him, scared and confused, still so distraught—his poor little Omega.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Steve whispered, trying to exude calming pheromones and a sense of security. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” she bemoaned.

Of course Steve didn’t tell her that it was supposed to be exactly like this.

“Oh, sweetheart—"

“We have to go!” She gasped, wincing as another cramp hit her stomach. “Maybe I can make it back to my apartment if we go right now—” Her desperate speech morphed into a grunt at the end, her hand breaking from Steve’s grasp to clutch her stomach.

Steve brought one hand down to her stomach, placing it on top of hers. She pressed her body forward into his touch, mewling, her instincts once again aching for him even as her mind resisted. “It’s snowing too hard, darling. It’s too dangerous.”

“But I—”

“I’ve got you, Omega,” he breathed, and her eyes shot up to his. Hers sparkled, so full of fear and lust and confusion, and he got lost in it for a moment before he realized how close their faces were.

“No, Steve,” she shook her head, “You can’t—we can’t.”

“We can—”

“I don’t want—”

He had waited too long for this moment. Steve was sick of waiting, too impatient now at this pivotal point to listen to her. Not now, when her scent was taking over his mind, clouding his thoughts, and her body was begging for him to breed her. Although she was saying no, her scent was telling him how much she needed him.

His voice hardened as he cut her off. “You don’t have a choice, Omega.” She shivered at the command in his voice, at the menacing tone underneath it all. His eyes suddenly seemed steely, like they were taking her apart with just a glance, like he wanted to consume her, destroy her. “Your body wants this. I know it does. You want me, just admit it.”

“No,” she whimpered, blood pounding in her veins, fear mixing with her primal instincts. A burst of lust went through her as he pressed one palm against her pelvis and wound the other around the back of her neck, thumb pressed against her scent gland. She moaned and pressed herself against him, slick leaking onto her thighs, a little gasp of air rushing over his neck. “Alpha!”

The look of strife in her eyes showed him how her brain was warring with her body, her instincts working against her own will. But she needed him now, her body knew it, and that was enough for Steve.

He smiled and shook his head, condescending tone laced through his words as he spoke. “You need an Alpha, honey. Pretty little Omega… You need a knot. You need my knot. There’s only one way this is going to end.”

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

Photo

Chapter poster by @/lovehyuck on Instagram

NCT One Shot Collection

Member: Taeil

Genre: Fluff, alot of it

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: I’m not an avid writer of fluff, so when I worked on this awhile back, I was extremely skeptical about how it would turn out. Do hit me with feedback if you’ve given it a read!

“Honey, he’s here, get up and change into something else,“ Your mother shook you awake and gently pushed your hair out of your face. You frowned and sniffled, stretching your mouth and realised you had dried drool lining from your bottom lip to your chin.

“Ugh–” Groaning, you sat up in your bed, a simple peach shade blanket twisted about your legs and your shorts pulling up way higher than your thighs. “What? Who’s here?” You closed your eyes and refused to get out of bed.

"Your boyfriend, who else?” Your mother snickered and picked up a pillow from the ground you most likely kicked off. Frowning and completely in confusion, you instinctively looked at the clock next to your bed. It was 9am on a Saturday, and he was here?

“What the– what for?! Yah! Moon Taeil!” You screamed from your bed, annoyed that his presence had woken you up. Your mother shot you an inappropriate look when the sound of some heavy footsteps ran up the stairs of your home. Soon enough, the brown haired 25 year old gently pushed through your door and blinked at your mother, then at you. He awkwardly scanned you, noticing that you were in a fitting long sleeved top and shorts that were rolled up near your butt. Taeil instantaneously shifted his eyes away and looked at your mother instead.

“I left the muffins in the oven, so just heat ‘em up when you’re hungry,” Taeil grinned and placed his hands over each other infront of him.

“Aw,” Your mother melted as she turned to you. “Thank you. Such a thoughtful young man,” She chuckled and headed out. The man knew your mother was a sucker for muffins. Toasted, hot, muffins.

“9am on a Sunday? Really?” You rubbed your eyes and fell back into your bed, pulling the sheets up and covering your face.

"Awh, come on, sugar. It’s our 6th anniversary. Don’t you want to do something fun? I mean, other than university, we’re both working and we barely have the time,“ You felt the side of your bed next to your legs sink.

"Exactly. We should just stay home and watch movies or something,” You mumbled through your lips, your eyes groggy and slowly closing back up.

"No, we did that the last two years. Come on, sugar. Six is a lucky number,“ He leaned over and lied down on your legs. You snorted and pushed the blanket off your face, looking down at those familiar pair of puppy eyes.

"Yeah? Says who? Satan?” You raise a brow.

“No, me.” Taeil sat up and quickly kissed your forehead. “I have a whole day planned out, sugar. You’ll have fun, trust me.” He got off the bed and headed for the wardrobe.

“Last I checked, sweet pea, we rarely enjoy the same things,” You sat up and watched him rummage through your wardrobe. “You like karaoke and chill days in the park and I’m… well, sports and the hot sun,"

"Well, news flash, we are doing both today,” Taeil smiled as he pulled out a sundress in one hand and held up a pair of your favourite black converse sneakers.

"What about the red one–”

"No, it shows your back.”

“But–”

“No.”

Sometimes, being Taeil’s girlfriend means being a daughter a second round. Every single thing in her bag had been packed for her, a bottle, an umbrella, some mosquito repellent patches and plasters. Everything else you needed to survive on mars was in a separate backpack that Taeil would be carrying the rest of the day.

“Enjoy yourself today, honey,” Your mom kissed you goodbye as Taeil threw his bag in the backseat of his car and got round to the passenger’s seat. Your mother let you go after a hug, gently pushing you towards the man who awkwardly leaned over the hood of the car to clean a patch of bird poop strategically located in a spot where it was tough for him to reach.

“He’s not what we both expected, but he’s a truckload better than any guy I’ve seen on the street,” Your mother whispered under her breath, loud enough for you to hear. You whirl around and watched him wince as he stretch for the spot. The corners of your lips curled upwards, nodding unconsciously as you realised both how long and how short 6 years was.

Dating him was like dating another mother. Nights passed in his arms that were never rock hard, but soft and gentle. He could sing until you fell asleep, and you’d wake up to the same voice. Though he was the moon who loved music and soothing winds and you were the sun who loved the heat on your skin and the sound of yelling when you scored a point and nobody could see the two of you dating, it still happened. Every single time you fought, he was the first to apologise but he’d have the patience to walk through the entire period of argument with you so that it wouldn’t happen again in the future.

"Hold on to him. He’ll be quickly fished up by someone else if you don’t,“ Your mother said again as you continued watching him finish up the cleaning job. He whirled around in about 3 or 4 circles, looking for a bin, before throwing the tissue away in a bin a considerable distance away from the car.

"I will,” Giving your mom a peck on the cheek, you head off into your boyfriend’s arms. He waved to her and opened the car door for you.

“So, event-planner,” You pulled the seat belt across your chest. “What’s today’s itinerary?”

Taeil gave a small laugh and started up the engine, refusing to say anything as he pressed a finger to his lips. You opened your mouth in feigned shock, honestly not the least bit surprised.

Taeil was one for planning small surprises, ranging from a single flower stalk to a grand dinner overlooking the city’s skyline. Of course, you didn’t mind the scale – being with him was enough.

As you predicted, the first stop was an amusement park. You loved everything there, the rollercoasters, the aggressive viking ride, walk-through horror houses, but you were a little taken-aback. Why? Because none of it was Taeil’s cup of tea.

You could tell from the way he nervously fiddled with the straps from his backpack and constantly shoving his hair out of his face that he was uncomfortable, almost like he was forcing himself through the ordeal.

“Pea, you don’t need to do this for me, you know? I know you’re scared of roller coasters and you don’t do horror walkthroughs, we can always come back another day whenever you’re ready,” He had his arms wrapped around your neck and you were leaning back onto him, waiting for the line to enter the amusement park to shift forward. He shook his head again, pressing his lips onto your temple and gently brushed the small, isolated strands of hair out of your face.

“I’ll have to get it over with, someday. Especially if it’s going to be with you for the rest of my life,” Taeil smiled and pecked your head.

You swore Taeil’s vocal chords would’ve been destroyed by the amount of screaming he did through all the rides. For awhile, you worried if you were ever going to be able to listen to his sweet, honey-like voice that sent you to dreamland or woke you up into a beautiful reality, but him being the person he was, he had small packets of honey and throat soothing sweets packed in his backpack to make sure his voice wasn’t going to be damaged. But what did get damaged were your eardrums when you walked through the horror house with him standing right behind you. He insisted on hugging you from behind and going through the horror house, and to make things even worse, the amusement park was rather empty for a Saturday. So the only target the scare actors had were the two of you, and who else to scare but the one who reacts the most and the loudest?

“You know, for a 25 year old who’s terrified of horror houses, I think you were pretty brave in there,” You sipped on your drink and reached for the burger.

“Oh, come on. He came at me from behind! Be prepared for that!” Taeil pressed out the remaining chilli sauce into a small sauce tray and placed it next to your fries.

“I was definitely not prepared for that note you belched out because of him,” You snickered with a full mouth. Taeil rolled his eyes and unwrapped his burger.

“Keep quiet and eat your food,”

Lunch went past with fries nearly being hurled at one another and people staring at you, and the next stop was at a dog cafe. The only things the both of you wanted if you guys ever got married were dogs, because children seemed too tiresome and too expensive. Unlike normal people who loved Pomeranians and golden retrievers, you were trash for German Sheppards. And there was a particular chocolate coated one with still folded ears and seemed reluctant to leave his spot in the corner of the room, it drawn you towards him more. The puppy nuzzled against your finger before carefully crawling into your lap, licking your fingertips as you fed him some dog treats Taeil had gotten you.

Taeil wasn’t interested in any other the other dogs, all his eyes could focus on were you, your patience with the puppy and how much you were obviously in love with him.

The puppy began licking the metal ring on your finger, then began trying to bite on it.

“Oh, no, no,” You removed your hand from the puppy’s reach, wiping the ring and finger on the side of your dress. The ring was given to you for your 3rd anniversary, from Taeil. A promise ring, and on it embedded the date of which he asked you to go out with him and it became official. On yours had a carving of the word “Moon” and his, “Stars”.

Oh, how fun it would be if I could bring you home. You smile at the puppy.

"How come we’re back at my house? The sun’s not even beginning to set yet–“ You looked over to Taeil as he slowed to a halt. He reached to the back and grabbed your purse, handing it to you and stroking your hand, along with the ring on it.

"I got us a nice table at that restaurant you always wanted to go to. So, you’re gonna go back in, change and dress up into something you make look pretty, and I’ll see you back out here at 7pm.” Taeil’s eyes folded into little crescents as he spoke.

“Awh, really?” Your heart died on the spot. “Doesn’t that mean I’m going to get to see you in a suit?” You raised a brow.

Taeil wasn’t one for suits, but he sure as Hell looked good in them. He laughed and sucked on his upper row of teeth.“Yes, yes you will,” Taeil nodded and looked at you straight in the eye.

“I’ll see you tonight, sugar. I love you so much. I just want you to be happy, especially with me,” Taeil leaned towards you and kissed your forehead, staying there for a few seconds.

"I am. I always am,” You pulled his chin down and kissed him on the lips. "I’ll see you later,” You pushed yourself out the car and dashed for the door, not even bothering to wave goodbye to him since you were going to see him again in less than 3 hours.

“Mom! Help me pick out a dress, please. Taeil got a table that amazing place we had for dad’s dinner a few years back and I want to look my best for him,” You kicked off your converse shoes and bolted up the stairs, yelling at your mom who was in the kitchen.

"What? He’s got a table there? That’s amazing!“ She laughed from the kitchen.

"I know! And I need help with picking out a dress!” You were already pulling out the pins from your hair and taking off the light makeup you had on. Your mother had come into your room.

"Calm down, honey,” Your mom pulled you away from the mirror, one eye cleaned and the other not. "You go into the bath and freshen yourself, and I will pull out all your good dresses and your color pallets,”

You were the luckiest daughter on earth.

“Oh my God, thank you mom. I love you to bits,” You kissed her on the cheek and gave her a tight hug before being pushed into the bathroom by her.

The dress was laid flat and pressed for you on your bed, with the most beautiful pair of silver heels to match the silver details on your dress.

You don’t remember getting that dress.

Nonetheless, on your skin it went and so did some makeup, definitely not forgetting your favourite ring. A silver purse along with the outfit and you felt excited, not only because it was at the best restaurant with the best food you had ever had in your entire life overlooking the city, but it was also with Taeil, the only person you’d rather be with besides your family.

“Mom?” You walked down the stairs and headed for the door. “Where did you get the dress from? I seriously don’t remember–”

“You look beautiful, my baby girl,” She appeared from the living room, a bright smile plastered on her face.

“Oh my, it’s like 5 minutes past 7, he’s already outside waiting for you, better not be late,” She opened the door for you. “Have fun,” Pulling you into the tightest hug in awhile, she brushed away the small strands that framed your face prettily, looking at the gorgeous earrings and necklace you had put on as well.

Taeil was looking like the most gorgeous man on earth, and for a moment, you refused to believe the man in a bow tie and a suit, leaning back on his car with his hands in his pockets was the same man who had trouble looking for a dustbin this morning.

A smile spread across your face unknowingly, carefully walking down the steps of the porch and towards him. His hair was done up and as he straightened himself, you saw the glitter from the ring he had on his finger as well.

"Well, you look handsome,“ You teased, walking up to him and realising that the heels brought your eyes up to his nose.

"And you made the dress look really pretty. Come on, we could flirt the rest of the night but our table would be given up if we don’t get there by 8,” Taeil wrapped his arm around your shoulders and turned you around to the passenger’s seat, opening the door for you.

As your mother watched from the window of her room, she couldn’t help but to tear up and smile to herself.

She knew.

A table by the window with the city lights as your view? Unbelievable.

But this moment with Taeil? This was everything.

It felt like it had been 6 seconds, the entire 6 years you had been with him. His heart was made of gold and he was more clumsy than careful, but he was patient and had the most considerate soul you had ever met. You must’ve saved a country in your past life, because you were sure you hadn’t done anything in this life to deserve him. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed, his pretty teeth that made his smile the most handsome one out of all the other guys you had dated before him, his calm and gentle voice when he spoke… he was perfect for you, and nothing could ever change it.

"Sugar,“ He called.

"Mmm?” You hummed in response, realising that your eyes were starting to notice the couple at the table behind him was now gone, the dessert in your plate was no longer and the wine glass was only filled with about a spoon’s worth of champagne.

"You okay? You’re zoning out,“ He laughed and finished his champagne.

"Oh, no, I’m good. Really good. Food’s amazing as ever, the city is beautiful and my view is to die for,” You smirked and raised a brow at him. He scoffed and shook his head, dabbing the corners of his mouth with the napkin.

“Isn’t the guy supposed to do most of the pick up lines? Why are you stealing my role?”

“Well, modern times call for… unconventional roles,” You shrugged and finish your drink. Taeil smiled and looked at you.

“Come on, we’ve done everything you love today, time to head to somewhere I love,"

Thank the gods your heels were surprisingly comfortable, though you also couldn’t remember how you got them. Taeil had brought you to his favourite park, one where you could see the river and the city lights on the opposite side.

The wind was chilly, but comfortable after he had wrapped his blazer around you and hugged your waist under the coat. There were two or three joggers every few minutes, but otherwise, a rather peaceful and quiet night, unlike the amusement park this morning.

"Sugar,” He said, only loud enough for you to hear.

“Yeah,” You put your forehead on his shoulder.

"Give me your hand,” He slowly pulled away and stretched out his palm. You looked at him weird, smiling a bit in confusion.

"The one with our ring on it,” Taeil nodded his head toward your right hand. You looked down at both his hands and noticed he wasn’t wearing the ring anymore.

You frowned, genuinely confused.

Why was he not wearing the ring anymore? Was it over? Did you piss this angel off?

He gently took your hand and pulled off the ring, and before you could process the action, he had knelt down and pulled out a velvet blue box.

“You’ve worn that ring for three years now, I thought it’ll be nice to have it… upgraded,” Taeil’s eyes were sparkling as he looked up at you. He pulled open the box and in it sat the prettiest thing you had ever seen in your life.

"I know it’s not the most common wedding ring you’d expect to see but–“ You knelt down and kissed him, shutting him up and feeling your nose turn sour and your eyes burn a little.

"You can fulfill your role now. The guy and his pick up lines,” You whisper, barely pulling away.

“Will you marry me?” Taeil smiled, already pulling out the ring from the box.

“Yes,” You nod aggressively and hugged him tightly, before he slid the ring on your finger again after 3 years.

“You’re welcome for the shoes and dress,” He smiled, admiring the ring on that fateful finger. “And also the puppy you’ll find at home later.”

#timetohajima #fluff #nctfluff #nct #taeil #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct taeil #nct scenario #nct one shots

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aquilaofarkham · 5 years ago

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title: asclepius rating: teen and up (medical procedures, childbirth, brief mentions of animal death) summary: After spending some time alone, Alucard decides to continue his mother’s work and becomes a local doctor—a choice that eventually brings unexpected consequences.

AO3

Alucard doesn’t need to look at a mirror to know the kind of sordid state he’s in: red watery eyes, sniffled nose flushed pink and disheveled locks of hair falling over his face after being tightly bunched up in his fists. It’s surprising how much crying can put certain things into perspective. With a trembling hand, he uses the end of his sleeve as a handkerchief.

He hasn’t cried this much since childhood. It feels... liberating. He was always so concerned with maintaining his composure while in the presence of others. Hide your softness; keep a guard around your exposed heart. Always be the cold spot in the room.

They say if you walk through one of those cold spots especially in an empty room, it means you have just brushed shoulders with a ghost. Not necessarily the worst thing to be. This castle might once again feel like home—or some semblance of home—should Alucard become more akin to a ghost. He would fit in better with its occupants that come and go, down staircases and across open doorways as fleeting visions of past memories.

Alucard places both palms upon his wet cheeks, trying to cool them. No more of those thoughts. In an hour or so, he will be fine. What he needs is distraction and there is plenty of that. He could continue wandering the corridors, inspecting whatever damage he missed during his first walkthrough. Make his favourite rooms more presentable and allow the sun to brighten up this dreary, death filled citadel, no longer to be hidden in shadows.

Standing up, Alucard sets off down the hallway. Cleaning, like crying, should help unclutter his mind. He starts by brushing aside larger pieces of rubble, stone, and splintered wood before realizing he needs a broom—and perhaps a shovel. There’s a substantial storage room in one of the neighbouring halls. Alucard recalls visiting it many times after accidentally breaking an entire set of Lisa’s vials or toppling over a row of candelabras when his powers were still new and difficult to control.

He hopes to feel some sweet nostalgia walking throughout the castle. A sense that he has returned to a past that kept him safe, gave him knowledge, and comforted him despite its bloodied history. A past that he loved.

There’s always the Belmont Hold should Alucard need it; the very thought causes him to stifle a chuckle. His relationship with that museum is certainly an interesting one. There was hatred, suspicion, even jealousy. All of which he made sure to voice very plainly to its sole heir. Alucard regrets those particular words, along with others that escaped.

You were right in calling me a bastard. Another memory that tugs at the corners of his lips. These days, he can’t help but respect those archives and their contents. He should, now that the Hold is his to own. Though the vampire skulls in their glass cases will have to be thrown out.

Tick, tick, tick. Alucard stops in the middle of another stone hallway. He almost moves on, thinking he misheard, until it occurs again. A few steps forward and the sound grows in volume. He follows and arrives at a closed door. Strange; he always remembered this to be one of many empty rooms. Most likely a stray cat or bat trying to claw its way out. Alucard grabs the doorknob. Might as well set it free else the noise echoing off the walls will drive him mad.

He’s right about it being a trapped animal, yet the reveal still surprises. Alucard backs away while a cat and what he thinks is a fox scamper out in a panicked dash. A few birds, including an owl, follow close behind. He doesn’t question where they came from or how they managed to get inside the castle yet; he’s more intrigued by the contents of the room. Nearly identical to his father’s workshops and studies with a large table erected in the centre. The only differences are the animal cages lining the walls. Curiosity develops into wariness when Alucard comes across splatters of red gracing the wood, too old and too dried to be washed away.

There’s another unexpected noise; a subtle, high-pitched whimpering that seems very close. Alucard searches around before looking under the table. Nestled in the farthest corner he sees a small black shape curled in on itself, shaking. He edges closer, noticing a tail and two folded ears.

“Where did you come from?” At the sound of his voice, the dog turns around only to cower even further away. Despite its bright blue eye, wrinkly face, and tongue that perpetually sticks out, its demeanour is one of debilitating fear. Alucard decides not to be concerned with the missing eye and exposed bone; Castle Dracula will always be home to a whole manner of colourful creatures.

“It’s alright. There’s no reason to be scared.” He holds out his hand, but the dog refuses to move. He needs to earn its trust in a different way—a palm full of food or stick as a plaything.

Something lying on the floor catches Alucard’s eye. A broken piece of bone, red as the stains across the table, should do just fine. Crawling back, he stretches his arm and offers it to the dog. Still shaking, but now with a slightly less apprehensive look in its eye. Ears and head perk up; its tail might even be wagging.

“Here. This is for you.”

The dog stands up, showing how small it really is. Nails tap against the stone floor as it walks forward. Its tongue flicks against the bone before opening its mouth to gently accept it. He relaxes, watching in delight as the creature happily gnaws on its new toy. It even allows him to reach over and pat the top of its head. Fingertips brush along its skull, but Alucard doesn’t flinch. He realizes how it might have come into existence.

Necromancy, alchemy, transmutation—these are not unknown concepts. Dracula dabbled in everything, including the sciences that fed a young dhampir’s insatiable curiosity. Or the medicinal practices he learned while sitting on his mother’s lap. No area of study was taboo in their household. Admittedly, the sight of a reanimated dog playing, panting, and barking like all others in the world (with their skin intact) isn’t that much of a shock to him.

Alucard had many pets; most humans would have called them unsavoury beings. He never cared then, so he doesn’t care now. He’s charmed by this little black dog. Picking it up, it drops the bone and starts licking his cheek, squirming excitedly. The castle doesn’t feel so empty anymore.

“Now what should I call you?” Nothing comes to mind, but a visit to one of the libraries might help instill some imagination into it. The dhampir prince leaves the room with his new friend, who had managed to calm down. “Let’s go find you one, shall we?”

A copper gear clicks into place, fitting with the others like the final piece in an elaborate puzzle. With a couple flips and switches, Alucard changes his multi-lensed glasses to the highest magnified setting. He makes a minor adjustment, wielding the needle-think pick between steady fingers. Satisfied, he picks up the polished cover, his own golden eyes shining in its reflection, and carefully presses it into place.

Alucard takes a well-deserved breath. The glasses weigh heavy on the bridge of his nose. He looks over his stagnant creation with its sleek body hiding an inside filled with gears and springs that in theory should work together in tandem. There’s only one more step, then he can at last call this project finished. Using a pair of pincers, he takes a ball of coal and delicately hovers it over a nearby candle. Not enough to light it ablaze, but enough to ignite a few embers. He then places the ball within his device through a hole in its back before closing it. All that’s left to do is wait in anticipation while thin billows of smoke drift out of every crack.

There’s one click. Then another, and another, coupled with a few whirs. Metallic eyes blink followed by a tail swaying from side to side. The fox with shining gold and silver in place of red fur exhales steam, stretching out its limbs one by one. A little janky at first but after getting used to how its mechanisms work, each movement becomes much smoother. Alucard removes his glasses, pleased at how his creation hops off the table to join the other fox with its exposed muscle.

If his father were here, he might call his animatronics frivolous (in a well-meaning tone). Mere toys showcasing spectacle and little else. True, they are for his own amusement and there’s not much brand-new knowledge Alucard can gain from them. He already knows how machinery operates. But it’s a nice feeing to create something for pleasure rather than defensive purposes.

“Would you like a companion for yourself, Agrippa?” He leans down to see a small black dog sleeping under his chair, no doubt having worn himself out from the hours he spent running around the laboratory. The name Agrippa comes from the author of three ancient books based on the subject of occult philosophy. Alucard found them by chance while rummaging through untouched shelves down in the Belmont Hold—it seemed the best fit for a creature of similar origins.

“No, I didn’t think so.” He doesn’t need a companion. He seems content enough to be on his own, free to run up and down the castle hallways until passing out on the middle of the carpet. Then early in the morning, before the sun has the chance to rise, he’ll jump onto Alucard’s pillow and wake him by nuzzling his face. Or tug and paw at the hem of his master’s pant leg while he’s at his workstation if he’s that starved for attention. But Agrippa never gets lonely.

Neither does Alucard—he tells himself this every day. He’s not lonely or bored. He needed distraction, he found it, and it’s been serving him well. Seldom spending his nights in bed, more so in the laboratory and libraries. His hours are filled with the sound of electricity sparking, liquids bubbling, and gears clanking.

Until he steps outside into the rest of the castle and it’s quiet again. Without Agrippa for company (and conversation), all that’s left are his footsteps and heartbeat. Not even the ghosts disguised as memories come to visit as often as they used to. Soon, his mind goes quiet as well. Quiet and slow. He stops walking and sits at the bottom of a stairwell, scraping some excess grime off his fingertips. The two foxes, both reanimated in different ways, bound across the corridor, their snouts rubbing against each other, before they run off, soft paws racing against hard ones. Such a marvel. What might they say if they saw what...

They. Alucard’s thoughts become clear. It’s been weeks since their shared farewells—or has it been a month? Time seems to pass differently for him. Before he can wonder how they’re faring or where they’ve gone to, Alucard realizes that he already has his answers. He always does whenever the need strikes. Making his way up the spine of the castle, he heads straight for the main study. All the paintings have been restored to their hanging positions; all the glass has been cleared away. That is until Alucard enters the room and the jagged shards spring to life, hovering gracefully in the air, mismatched and in disarray. He beckons one forward and uses an elongated nail to inscribe the first rune onto its smooth surface.

Sounding off a gentle chime, the shards twist and dance, forming a mirror. A few more ticks of his nails, a few more runes sink into the water-like glass. Alucard’s reflection dissipates, replaced by grass, trees, and the colours of dawn. The scene before him is humble, a small campsite with a familiar canvas covered wagon. Yet his eyes are immediately drawn to the extinguished fire pit where two travelers sleep side by side. This sight isn’t shocking; it’s still quite early in the day after all. What does surprise Alucard are their clothes. Sypha’s robes have been immaculately repaired while Trevor at long last got himself out of that old tunic and into something which brings out his better physical qualities.

Sypha lies comfortably with her head on his chest and arm pulling her closer. Alucard smiles softly, the sound of glass upon glass ringing in his ears. He raises a hand after debating with himself. This is a transmission mirror. 400 years old with the ability to push through solid matter—including flesh and blood. Easy as stepping through an open doorway. He could join them. Ask about their travels, their adventures, and how often they managed to get into trouble. He could enjoy their company one more time. He could...

Alucard’s fingers touch the glass, sending ripples across its surface. They stay. He stays. There’s nothing wrong with the mirror, not even as Trevor and Sypha fade away. He stares at his reflection, a combination of dejection and acceptance. He won’t forcibly insert himself into the life they now lead. It would be awkward reuniting with them this way. Give it time, they’ll see each other again somehow. Alucard recalls the advice he gave himself, about guarding his heart and the cold spot in the room.

Warm sunlight pours across the floorboards, the same that greeted his friends. He’s always been wary about leaving both the castle and Belmont ruins for too long. Short woodland walks with Agrippa bounding excitably by his feet have been the extent of his outings. But today the nearest village is hosting a market, and Lisa always wanted him to try existing among the same humans she cared for.

It’s strange walking down the roads that lead away from the Belmont grounds. Plenty of things feel strange now. There’s no worry of bumping into the night hoards that once plagued these roads. They’ve been left empty for some time, save for animals in the underbrush.

Alucard used to look out his window every evening, certain he would see carriages bearing emblems from across the continent, pulled along by rotting horse corpses. Up towards the steps of the castle they would arrive, letting out vampires dressed in silk redder than freshly spilled blood. One by one, their heads held high like a meticulous procession. Here on the resting place of a mad lord, after spitting upon the ruins of their oldest enemy, they would try removing Dracula’s bastard son from a nonexistent throne.

He hasn’t seen those carriages, the horse corpses, or the finely dressed vampires—not yet. Alucard can’t even bother viewing himself as a ruler to be dethroned. He takes after his mother in that aspect, preferring simpler things. She would be pleased to see him strolling through the gates of a lively hamlet, mingling with his other half.

Alucard wants nothing more than to continue honouring the memory of Lisa (perhaps now through less violent or patricidal means). Though his visit to the market is also for personal benefits. It’s good to see faces apart from his own in the Carpathian mirror. Despite how awkwardly he puts one foot in front of the other while wringing the leather strap of his shoulder bag, unsure of how to present himself to a world outside the castle. Trevor and Sypha would be so much better at this.

“Rabbit, wolf, and bear pelts!” Shouts one merchant with as much hair on his forearms as there is on his chin. Alucard avoids him.

“Fancy some cured and dried meats, sir?” A different one inquires.

“Not for me.”

Farther and further he explores. Soon the marketplace and its contents start blurring together. Food, clothing, daily tools to make the average Wallachian’s life a little easier. There are a few stand out vendors such as a woman selling jewelry that sparkles in the sunlight, the daughter of a blacksmith perfecting her skills in exchange for a few generous coins, and a pair of young men manipulating half-melted glass after heating it over an open flame while spectators watch in awe.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Asks a voice just behind him. Alucard spins around, wondering if the question was meant for him or someone else. He faces a man and a younger woman, one stocky and well-tanned, the other frail with pronounced cheekbones. Bushels of dried herbs coupled with root vegetables and jars of wild berry jam line their vendor table. “They’re brothers from Bucharesti but were raised in Constantinople. That’s where they learned their trade. Like magicians, those two. I could watch them work all day.”

“You’ll have to excuse my father.” Alucard steps forward and sees the wisps of thin hair beneath the girl’s multicoloured headscarf. The closer he looks, the more her weight—or lack thereof—worries him. “He likes to converse with anyone who happens to pass by, whether they wish to or not.”

“It is a rather fascinating sight.” One that Alucard has seen performed through magic many times before. Nonetheless, he cannot help but show his own amusement, even admiration at what human hands can achieve and create. The very same sensation he feels when Sypha bends the elements to her will or when Trevor wields the Morningstar with such ease and, dare he admit it, grace.

Humanity is violent, cruel, and more often than not operates solely on its own warped superstitions and self-preservation. Yet there are lights that can be found within it—a hunter who rose up and realized his true potential. The most powerful, fearsome, brilliant magician Alucard has ever had the pleasure of knowing. A marketplace where its residents no longer have to fear what might be lurking outside their gates. A doctor and mother who thought only the best of her own kin.

“Do you live in the village?”

“Close enough. My wife, this not so little one, and I live further out in the woods. Not a lot of land to call our own, but there’s no shortage of plants and berries. Plenty of game passes through too, boding well for us whenever we need meat and pelts.”

“And we’re about to be blessed with another little one.” The daughter speaks in a breathy tone, as though exhausted from nothing.

“Yes, of course! My wife’s heavy with our second child.”

“Congratulations.”

“I see you’ve got your eyes set on the jams.”

Alucard’s head perks up at the comment. He never had much of an enduring sweet tooth, at least not for the usual pastries and candies. As a child, he would sneak into the kitchen in the hopes of finding a few biscuits before bedtime. After growing out of that habit, what he craved instead were sweet marmalades and jams.

“Oh, right. I will take... those two.” He points to a bright red and dark blue jar.

“Would you like those wrapped?”

“Yes, thank you.”

While Alucard readies his payment, he notices how the young woman struggles to wrap two jars in a simple piece of brown parchment. Her thin lips chapped beyond remedy and her mouth seems incredibly dry. She hands him his purchase with trembling hands, unable to say much else. Alucard turns to her father, their expressions matched in concern.

“Everything alright, Daniela?” He asks, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“... I’m fine. I just need water... anything to drink, really. I’m going to the square to find something. I will return soon.” As she leaves, Daniela gives Alucard a friendly but weak smile. “Thank you, sir.”

An uncomfortable silence grows between the two men. Alucard thinks about walking away. Leaving this brief encounter as just that—an encounter, nothing more. It’s what he should do, it’s what anyone else in the market would do. Yet the image of Daniela, still young but carrying herself like an elderly woman, tugs at the impulse to know more.

“Your daughter seems very frail.”

“So you’ve noticed. Daniela wasn’t always that thin or weak. She used to be healthier than either myself or her mother. Then... I’m not really sure what happened.”

“Has she been eating?”

“Morning, middle of the day, and night. But nothing sticks to her bones. It’s like all that food just... goes right through and disappears. Every time she takes a bite, she starts complaining about chest aches. Drinks plenty, though. Enough to drown a fully-grown man.”

“How long has she been like this?”

The man furrows his brows. “You ask a lot of personal questions.”

Alucard feels his stomach drop. Spoke too soon, spoke too much. Will he ever learn? “It’s just that I know a fair bit about medicine and what causes illnesses.”

“Medicine? Like leeches and boiled pig fat?”

“No, nothing like that. Forgive me, but I was only concerned for your daughter.”

He crosses his arms, sizing Alucard from top to bottom. “Well, you’re an odd mister, but somehow I can tell you have good intentions. Name’s Mihai, by the way. If you’re really concerned for Daniela and you want to put that medicine of yours to use, you’re welcome to visit our cabin and see how she’s faring. Just follow one of the paths due east from here and you’ll find it.”

“I shall consider the offer.”

“In the meantime, enjoy that jam.”

Alucard nods before taking his leave. He meanders through the rest of the village, but not for long. Too much is on his mind and the market has become suffocating. This is no place to think about the condition of a sick girl who may need his help.

Metal paws clink against the stone floor, followed by the ever familiar, ever present sound of working gears and steam whistling like a kettle. The other fox, the one remade from dead flesh and bone, playfully pounces on its gold and silver mate as the two creatures run about in the kitchen. Alucard pays them no mind, nor does he pay much attention to his plate of stale biscuits, let alone the half-eaten piece still in his hand. Mihai was right about enjoying the jam; it’s the only enjoyable thing about his sad excuse for a meal.

His cup of wine remains untouched. All Alucard can focus on is the text in front of him, handwritten on pages of thick journal paper. One of the many notebooks Lisa thankfully kept in the castle as opposed to her clinic. Thoughtful eyes narrow as his teeth slowly grind down another uncaring bite. A fingertip traces down a list of symptoms he recognizes—constant dehydration, short of breath, weakness, and a dangerous lack of weight despite an increased appetite.

When he returned home and began searching for the right book, he hoped to prove his original predictions wrong. Daniela is merely a victim of stress; what woman her age and social stature wouldn’t be? Feeble thoughts driven out the moment Alucard opened the front cover. It’s an unsuspecting, insidious illness, like all the others. Commonly occurs in human bodies regardless of age or health and due to its long-term effects on sugars in the bloodstream, Lisa labelled it in her notes as “the sweet death”.

Alucard turns the page to a detailed diagram of an internal organ curved at its end. Beside the drawing with all its minuscule descriptions is a paragraph titled “insulin and its properties”. Accompanying it are instructions that fill up the entire opposite page. It will take time and there can be no error. Already Alucard feels overwhelmed even as he looks over the complicated procedure. All the more reason to get started. Closing the book, Alucard tosses away the rest of his biscuit and leaves whatever he didn’t touch for the foxes.

He stops just before reaching the doorway. The notebook tucked under his arm suddenly feels heavy. A voice that had always been locked in the back of his mind crawls forward like a near death cadaver digging its way towards the surface. This isn’t any of your business.

No, it isn’t. Just as it wasn’t any of Lisa’s. She had no obligation to seek out true medical knowledge all because she hated the notion of resorting to leeches and bloodletting. No one asked her to do what they considered to be the unthinkable, the unholy. Those patients from Lupu, Targoviste, even all the way from Bucharesti, would have gone about their daily lives had they never met her. They would have also died far too early. It was her life’s calling to help these people.

And look at what it brought her in the end.

Alucard’s thoughts push his conscience in opposing directions. There’s too much of his mother in him, no enough of his father. And yet he cannot forget what they did to her, how those strangers repaid her countless good deeds. Should this family discover the truth, will they repay him in the same way?

His sheer stubbornness undermines any lingering apprehensiveness. Damn his guarded heart as it begins to soften. Of course he wants to help Daniela; he’s the only one who can. Heading towards the laboratory, Alucard says a silent prayer for Lisa. I will be careful, mother. I promise.

He works nearly a full week before enough vials are made, filled to the brim with clear liquid. They should last Daniela for a month if not more. Along with a needle and syringe fashioned by himself, Alucard places each one into a bag. The glass vials gently clink together with every subtle movement, but he makes sure to secure them. At least until he arrives at the cottage.

Alucard waits until dark, patting Agrippa’s head as a goodbye (and for good luck). It’s a clear night, clear and quiet. Once reaching the roads most traveled, he slips into the forest, following the same route he took towards the village. It’s safer this way—no sightings, no questions, no suspicions. When the gates come into view, he follows Mihai’s directions, vague as they were. Go east along the paths, search for a cabin. Alucard holds the bag steady after hearing another round of clinking glass.

He thanks his eyes for possessing a keen nature and sharpness not found in mortal humans. There in the distance nestled between the trees with a thin stream of smoke wafting out of its chimney sits a small cottage made from wood and stone. Candlelight shines dimly through its windows. Alucard takes note of the wild berry bushes surrounding this humble plot of land. Walking up to the front facade, he raps his knuckles against the door and waits. His stomach feels heavy and there’s a sledgehammer banging away in his ears and in his heart. But it’s far too late to turn back; not after the work he’s done, not after the promise he made.

The door opens, revealing a surprised Mihai. “Oh, it’s you. I… I didn’t really think you’d actually come.”

“I wanted to come sooner, but—”

“Who is that, love?” A different voice calls out.

“The man from the market, the one I was telling you about.” Footsteps can be heard from within the house. After more waiting, a woman dressed in a thick handknit shawl appears by Mihai’s side. Alucard’s eyes are quickly drawn to her pregnant stomach hiding beneath layers of clothing. It tells him enough of her condition.

“This is my wife, Tobi.”

“Good to meet you, sir. Mihai tells me you bought some of our jams. And that you’re a doctor of sorts.”

“I do have the knowledge. I’m here f—”

“You came to see our daughter.” Tobi interjects, one hand around Mihai’s arm while the other rests on her swollen belly. “I’m not usually one to let strangers into our home. But our poor girl is on the verge of desperation... along with us. If you can tell us what’s wrong with her, that’ll be enough.”

“I can do more than simply tell you what ails Daniela; I made something that can help her.” He holds up his bag and reveals its contents. Mihai and Tobi stare inside with cautious interest. “Can I see her?”

The two turn to each other for assurance, contemplating their options (what little they have). Eventually, it’s Mihai who opens the door wider. “Come in.”

It’s a quaint home, warm and inviting. Better than most other woodland cottages Alucard has been welcomed into. There’s a well-fed fireplace and the smell of food cooked with heart; small enough to house three persons along with a fourth on their way, but no more. Hanging off the walls are rows upon rows of dried herbs and meats, tapestries of a hard-working family.

“She’s resting in there.” Tobi leads him through the main living space and points towards an open doorway. Alucard looks inside; a single, wavering flame lights the room, revealing a stool where the candle sits collecting drops of fresh and dried wax. Everything else is covered in shadows. A young woman lies on a narrow bed with her back turned towards the entrance, shoulders rising and falling at a laboured pace.

“Daniela…” The figure’s head turns around as she adjusts her position upon the creaking bed frame.

“You again. This is a surprise.” Daniela replies, trying her best to sound as welcoming as she did at the market. It’s difficult to greet her in this state—her cheeks look even more hollow and her neck thinner after only a week. “What brings you to our home?”

“Your father told me of your condition and I—”

“He told you?” She wants to sound angry but in her weakened state, it only comes off as mere annoyance. Daniela rests her scalp against the sweat stained, well-used pillow. “Thank you for the concern, but you shouldn’t have troubled yourself. It’s really nothing. I’m tired, that’s all.”

“What you’re afflicted with is far more serious than mere exhaustion.” He glances at Mihai and Tobi, who are just behind him standing in the doorframe. “You two should hear this as well.” They join Alucard by the bed; four persons crowded into a single claustrophobic room. He contemplates his next words, which ones would be better to use in order to describe this particular illness. How can he make this easy for them to understand?

“The reason why this is happening to you is because inside of your body, there is an organ that has stopped working properly. While your lungs help you breathe and your heart pumps blood, this one helps you ingest food and keep you as healthy as possible.” Alucard pauses to ensure that Daniela is still attentive. Her expression has grown considerably more anxious, but she doesn’t ask any questions yet. “However, because it no longer functions, the food you eat doesn’t get properly ingested. No matter how much you consume, you continue to lose weight and grow weaker.”

“I... I have something... dead inside of me?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it dead.”

“Is it the plague?” Daniela’s eyes grow wide with distress until Alucard quickly takes her hand to calm her.

“No, no. It’s not the plague at all. There’s no real term for it yet. Here...” He pulls out one of the vials and holds it up against the candlelight yet far enough as to not burn the clear liquid. Mihai and Tobi draw in closer, trying to get a better glimpse. “This will help. It acts as a substitution for the organ. You have to take a certain amount every time you eat a meal. The more often you do, the better you will start to feel.”

“Do I drink it?”

“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.” Now comes the most difficult part. His hand slips back inside the bag and retrieves a needle. Daniela begins to squirm at the sight of it; Alucard had the same reaction the first time Lisa showed him. His reluctant cries could be heard throughout every inch of the castle even before the tip punctured his skin. Fortunately, the initial act felt far less painful than he anticipated, and it was only beneficial for his health over the years, but he was a child. Daniela has most likely never seen anything like this before. Alucard won’t chastise her.

“You will need to fill this device with the liquid—not all of it, but enough—then insert the tip either through your arm, abdomen, or leg. I’ll do it first, so you know how it is done.”

The tension in the air remains steady as Daniela goes silent. Water pools up around the curve of her eyes, ready to break into tears running down her cheeks the moment she blinks. She bites her lip; she’s scared but all she wants is for this to end. So that she can stop feigning strength and indifference.

“... please make it quick.”

“It will be. Hold out your arm.” Trembling, she does just that. Alucard takes it in his gloved hand, his other one holding the needle after it’s been filled and prepared. He can feel her shaking, struggling to hold still. “Have you ever been stung by a hornet, Daniela?”

“Y-yes... it was awful.”

“Well, this will be considerably less painful.”

Daniela holds her breath, clutching the sheets in her fists, yet musters enough bravery to not look away even as the needle enters her upper arm. Though the same cannot be said of her parents who turn their heads. At least she now knows how to inject herself. With care, Alucard pushes the liquid forward and empties the container before removing the needle. Daniela will need more than the usual amount, only to get her through until the next morning. After so many hours of constant work, sleepless nights, and days gone without a proper meal, after all that fretting from both parties, the deed is done.

“That was it?” Mihai and Tobi nearly ask the same thing.

“How did that feel?”

“... felt like nothing. Now what happens?”

“It will take some time. But you need to continue taking the medicine.”

“For how long?”

“As long as possible. It will be hard, but this isn’t something that disappears after a few remedies. Although with enough work it can be made liveable.”

Daniela pauses, then nods. “I’ve been through harder times... I’ll do my best.”

“You did well tonight.” He shows her the rest of the vials along with the needle and what she’ll need to keep it clean. “Remember, take some before every meal and at night to be safe. Don’t empty the entire thing. Now rest, you’ve earned it.”

As Daniela lets relief and exhaustion overtake her, Alucard hands the bag off to Mihai and Tobi, who have both remained shockingly quiet throughout this entire ordeal. He at least expected some words of protest or disbelief. “The remainder should last for a month. I’ll return after that time with more. Try to keep these somewhere cold so that the liquid stays potent.”

Tobi speaks up, unsure if her response is what he wants to hear. “The ground sometimes freezes over during the nights.”

“That will do. Put these in the dirt until she needs them again.”

“When you said you knew about medicine, this was the last thing I expected.” Mihai speaks softly. He and Tobi exchange a glance—they know what the other is thinking. “We cannot thank you enough for this, sir. Would you mind sitting down with us for a moment?”

Alucard thinks about how late it is but traveling in the dead of night as never been a problem for him before. He follows them to the fireplace and seats himself.

“Do you have your own practice somewhere? A clinic, or something like it?”

“No. I wouldn’t call myself a doctor.”

“You should,” Tobi states. “People around here need one, especially someone with your knowledge and skills.”

“There was one people always kept talking about when we lived near Targoviste.”

Alucard leans forward after hearing the name of that forsaken city. “You used to live there... when did you leave?”

“Over a year ago. Long before all the... killing and dying started.”

“We never had to visit her, but a few of our friends did and sometimes we tagged along just to see what all the fuss was about. She turned out to be the best of them. Better, actually.” Mihai turns to Alucard, his eyes inquisitive yet serious—an expression even the dhampir has difficulty reading. “While I watched you help Daniela, I could have sworn I saw her again. The way you spoke, worked, and the sort of tools you used, it was like she had come back from the dead. What was her name, love?”

“Lisa, I believe. Can’t recall her last name. Did you know of her?”

A sharpness cuts through Alucard’s chest then down into his gut. This is what he feared most coming out here only because he wanted to help. He could lie, say he never knew this doctor named Lisa. His previous actions coupled with a current panicked expression across his still face betray him. “I did.”

“Did you study under her?”

No answer, but Alucard holds his tongue as Mihai raises a hand. “Not to worry, sir. No matter how you knew her, we won’t tell a soul either way. We never believed the horrid things they accused her of.”

“Even when...” Even when Dracula promised vengeance and kept that promise to the bitter, blood-soaked end.

“We always thought that what came after her burning was a sort of punishment, not from above but from below... ask me and I’ll say some of them deserved it.” Tobi refuses to waver from her comment, even when her husband turns in shock.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Course I do. Those people and their leaders were daft for staying in the first place. What sort of fool stands up to the Devil and challenges him?”

Alucard unwittingly scratches at the centre of his chest. What sort of fool indeed? Instead, he gives an obvious response. “It’s late. Your family has been through enough tonight. I should leave.”

Mihai stops him before he can take another step. “Let us give you your pay first.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Just wait here, I won’t be long—”

“I said no,” Alucard repeats with the right amount of force in his tone. Mihai and Tobi stare at him, baffled.

“You saved our daughter’s life. We only wish we could do more to repay you.”

“Make sure she takes her medicine just as I instructed until I return in a month and take care of each other. That’s all I ask of you.”

They barter some more, but Alucard refuses to change his stance. Mihai lets out a huff. “Odd as ever. Safe travels and remember we’re still in your debt.”

“Thank you, sir. And bless you.”

Much like his farewell at the market, Alucard nods courteously. His eyes linger on Tobi’s stomach for a second longer before exiting the cottage. She must be due soon.

He leaves the same way he arrived with much to think about. The looks of pure, unbridled relief and gratitude on the faces of all three family members linger in his mind. They knew Lisa, but what of others? How long have they gone without seeing a proper doctor to receive real medicine? He shouldn’t forgo the lives of innocent people only because a much larger existential threat has been eliminated. It’s not what Lisa would have done.

That voice, the one crawling and scratching about, returns as the cottage begins to shrink in the distance. You promised you would be careful. And he will.

Alucard is nothing if not observant. He attributes it to his natural born heightened senses—whether a blessing or curse, he hasn’t decided yet. For now however, he is grateful. It allows him to slip in and out of villages, including the one that played host to the market. He listens to people’s woes without making himself noticed; rumours, gossip, words of concern for friends and neighbours.

“The widow’s baby is sick. Refuses to eat or even cry.”

“My son can’t go outside. The chill in the air will kill him. Stays in bed all day.”

“It’s getting worse. He can barely speak without coughing.”

That’s all Alucard needs to hear. Day after day he makes his routine excursions then returns to the castle laboratory with enough work to keep his hands and thoughts busy. At night, he quickly goes from house to house, leaving an odd assortment of gifts for these people on their doorsteps. Tonics, powders, bottles filled with caplets; sometimes they find a handwritten note detailing instructions on how to take these remedies.

Others have started talking, of course. Alucard now hears the name “good Samaritan” whenever he visits these communities. Word hasn’t reached any church official, but it will. He’s certain of that. There’s some small comfort to be found in the constant reassurance that they won’t find him, not while Mihai, Tobi, and Daniela keep their promise. Only they know the truth and Alucard prefers it stay that way.

He hasn’t forgotten about them or their daughter’s plight. The stress and worry while he creates more insulin has significantly lessened now that time is on his side. Although it doesn’t stop Alucard from making a premature delivery before the month even ends. His impatience gets the better of him for two reasons: he wants to see how Daniela is faring and he needs to check on her mother’s pregnancy. His previous insistence of “not calling himself a doctor” is starting to hold less and less weight.

Alucard takes a familiar route, leisurely and unperturbed until he arrives at the family cottage, a stream of smoke still drifting from the top of their chimney. It’s not quite dark outside, but late enough for the skies to turn shades of red, orange, and gold. He barely gets in a few knocks before the door opens. A pleasant yet relieving surprise greets him; not Mihai, but the happy expression of Daniela. In the weeks since they met, she’s already gained a small amount of weight, filling out her once baggy dress, and there’s a light in her eyes that was missing before.

“Hello,” she exclaims. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“I thought I’d pay you and your family an early visit. How have the injections been treating you?”

“Well enough. I had some trouble getting used to it, but I feel much better. And I can do it myself. Whatever you gave me worked like a miracle.”

“It’s no miracle, only medicine. I brought more, so you won’t need to worry for the next while. How is your mother?”

“The baby’s been giving her more trouble recently.”

“How so?”

“She’s a lot more tired now and keeps complaining about backaches.”

“Do they occur often?”

“They come and go all day. She’s not in any great pain, at least that’s what she keeps telling us. Would you like to come in? We’re getting supper ready, you should join us.”

“Actually, I’m only here for a short visit. I won’t inconvenience you.”

“Nonsense. Come in, it’s the least we can do after all you’ve done for us.”

“That’s very kind of you to offer, but it isn’t necess—” But Daniela doesn’t give Alucard much of an option when she starts pulling him into the cottage. All the while, he thinks about Tobi. Perhaps he spoke too soon; perhaps he should stay longer.

“Mother! Look who’s come back.”

Tobi stands by the fireplace over a large black pot, stirring a wooden spoon in what looks to be meat stew with vegetables. She stands up straight (or as straight as she can) and turns around. “Welcome!” She smiles, wiping her hands on an apron. “Have you come with more medicine? Or just to say hello?”

“Both.” Alucard replies, a little meekly. He places another bag filled with new vials off to the side. “How are you?”

“Tired, but well. My husband’s off hunting for rabbit.”

“We already have some meat, but mother insisted he go find more.”

Tobi side-glances in Daniela’s direction. “Careful with that tone, my dear. It won’t get easier when there’s four mouths to feed instead of three.”

“You should sit down.” Without much resistance, she allows Alucard to gently guide her into a chair. Daniela tries to keep an eye on the pot and stew, but her attention is drawn elsewhere. “Your daughter tells me you’ve been experiencing terrible back pain.”

“It’s not terrible. Annoying is more like it, no worse than when the baby starts kicking.” She rubs her stomach, speaking between every breath as they grow heavier and more laboured.

“When did it begin?”

“A few days ago... it’s fine. I remember something like this before Daniela was born.” Tobi winces, sucking air through a row of gritted teeth, and Alucard feels a sting of worry. He read Lisa’s notebooks on pregnancy and childbirth but only as a precaution. These contractions that Tobi feels everyday—they’re normal during the later stages. Expected, even. Yet they are a sign of what is to come very soon.

“Rest, mother. I’ll prepare supper.”

“Have you spoken to any midwives?”

“The closest one lives in Arges—”

“And you’re in no condition to make that journey,” Daniela interrupts.

“No more worrying from you. We’ll send word to her when the baby decides for themselves.”

“The baby?” Alucard inquires.

“In the end, it’s not our decision to make. They’ll join this family when they’re good and ready to.”

The hint of a smile tugs at the corners of Alucard’s mouth. He lets Tobi rest and joins Daniela by the fireplace. Time passes, the aroma of spice of herb fills the cottage, yet there’s no sign of Mihai. Alucard listens carefully to Tobi’s breathing, arduous but steady.

Until they turn into groans, which then turn into shouts. Her hands fumble about, unsure whether she should rest them on her belly or the arms of the chair, so tight her nails might dig right into the wood. Blood drains from Daniela’s face.

“What’s wrong? What’s happening? Mama!”

“I, I don’t know, I just—” Her words are cut off by another cry of pain. “It, it hurts so much now...”

Alucard wretches himself out of a near frozen state and rushes to Tobi’s side. The immediate sight of her wet stockings coupled with faint splotches of red confirms his suspicions. She was right; newborn babes come when they’re good and ready, but most are impatient.

Arges is miles away. He’ll have to act in place of its midwife.

“Daniela, I need you to bring me a basin full of warm water and as many blankets as you can carry.”

“Is she going to be aright?” Her frantic tone betrays what little composure she’s desperately trying to hold onto.

“She and your sibling will be fine if you do exactly as I say. Now go, quickly!”

While Daniela runs off, he helps Tobi out of the chair. Before she can try walking on her own, Alucard has already scooped her up into his arms. It’s easier this way, and he has the strength to do so. He doesn’t care if it reveals the truth about himself—in this moment, he doesn’t care about anything that isn’t the safety of Tobi and her unborn child.

Alucard takes her into the bedroom, stripping off any excess clothing until there’s nothing except a simple, light underdress. Her skin feels hot, close to a fever. Daniela arrives with exactly what he asked for. “Lie down. Careful now...” He says after laying a blanket on the bed. Tobi struggles, her teeth grinding together, hand tightly grasped in Alucard’s, but she achieves this one small goal. As if by pure instinct, she spreads her sweat-drenched legs and bends them.

It’s alright. Everything will be alright. A mantra more for Alucard than anyone else. He removes his coat, gloves, and rolls up his sleeves before tying back his long hair. People give birth in their homes every day. Hands dip into the water basin. My mother must have assisted with over a hundred. I know what to do.

Tobi lets out another scream followed by a series of curses, loud enough to shred her vocal cords.

“Don’t push so fast!”

“Something’s tearing, I can feel it!”

“Nothing is tearing. You and your baby are both alright.” Daniela takes a step back, eyes watery and lower lip trembling, but she stands firmly by her mother’s side. Alucard is proud of her, of them both. “I need you to keep breathing and push when I tell you to.”

The air in the room, barely big enough for three persons, turns thick. Everything becomes sodden; wet with sweat, blood, and other fluids. All over the bed, Tobi’s legs, her dress, and Alucard’s hands. But she breathes and pushes when told to. There’s a glimpse of the baby’s head before it disappears.

“Push again. You’re doing well. Take a deep breath... and...”

This continues, push after push after push. Too many to keep count of. Daniela holds onto her mother’s hand, unsure of whose grip is closer to crushing the other. There’s the blood again—more than there should be. Yet the only thing Alucard sees is the top of the head until it vanishes for the umpteenth time. He hears crying, not the sort that would give him hope. It might be coming from Daniela or Tobi or both.

“I don’t understand...” But he does. His lowered tone does nothing to hide the panic rising up. This is unfortunately another common occurrence with pregnancies and just as dangerous for the parent as it is for the child. There is a solution—the thought of which sends Alucard’s mind and heartbeat into a frenzy. It will be worse when he has to tell Daniela and Tobi. What would Lisa say if she saw him in this state?

Calm yourself. You’ve been forced to do worse. You can take lives easy enough, but now you can save two.

He swallows hard, glancing down at his bloodstained hands. There will be more to come should he put this plan into action. “Tobi... can you still hear me?”

“Y-yes...”

“Listen to me very carefully. Something’s gone wrong, but I can make it right. I’ll need to cut open your stomach—” Shock. Horror. Angry silence from Daniela most of all. Just as Alucard expected, yet he explains further. “Right now, it’s the only option left. I promise to make it quick and painless...”

Daniela grabs his slippery wrist. “You’re not touching my mother again! You’ll kill her!”

“I won’t.” He doesn’t try to match the volume of her voice, nor does he wrench out of her grasp with more force than necessary. There’s no need for her to fear yet another thing. “You have to trust me.”

“She just needs to keep pushing!”

“Your mother has done all she can and it’s putting her life at risk.”

In the midst of their arguing, Tobi chokes out her decision. “Do it.” Tears mingle with the sweat upon her reddened cheeks. “If you have to save one of us... save my baby.”

Now you can save two. “Both of you are going to live. I swear that on my mother’s grave.”

Alucard instructs Tobi to lie back completely and for Daniela to stay by her side but not to look no matter what happens. Slipping a hand underneath her waist, he whispers something in an ancient language; dead to most Wallachians, alive and well in the Tepes castle hold. Only to help numb Tobi’s body from her abdomen to the bottoms of her feet. Lisa had her ice baths, Alucard has his father’s spells.

No more easy steps from now on. Using a sharpened nail, Alucard cuts a perfect line across the abdominal wall. A knife would have done the job just as well, but he fears what could happen if he leaves for the briefest moment. Eyes turn upwards to Tobi’s chest—still moving. No screams of pain or bloody murder. Alucard holds onto his composure, his need to be the cold spot in the room with a desperate grip as he makes another rupture along the uterus, cutting open the internal sac surrounding the baby.

The baby. There they are. One moment still inside their mother, the next in his arms, feeble limbs kicking and toothless mouth wailing. Smaller than Alucard expected, but healthy and loud.

“What is that? Is that my baby? Is my baby alright?!”

Alucard is speechless, not even able to muster a single “yes”. He cuts the umbilical cord, removes the placenta, and cleans the baby before handing them to Tobi. She holds their wriggling body against her chest, shedding tears of her own. Uttering the words “thank you god, thank you god, thank you god”.

The final step is quick. Alucard’s hands are deft at closing the uterus and abdomen (using a smear of his own blood to assist in the healing process). Still no words; he’s out of breath, out of strength both physical and mental. His shirt is ruined, and he couldn’t care less. He only stops himself from collapsing when Daniela suddenly embraces him. She buries her tear drenched face into his shoulder.

“Our saviour... you’re our saviour...”

Alucard stares at Tobi as she holds her newborn child with such tenderness. He raises a hand and places it on Daniela’s back. The other follows.

Mihai returns home to his wife and two children. Alucard watches him drop his bountiful game to the floor and run to Tobi, weeping over the baby. Did his own father ever weep? Did blood flow from his eyes at the sight of Lisa carrying their son for the first time? Alucard has difficulty keeping his thoughts comprehensive, stuck in a daze. It takes a moment to answer Mihai’s question of why he was forced to commit such an act on his wife.

“There are many reasons. Age, unexpected complications with the body itself. She needs to stay in bed and let the wound heal on its own.”

“What you did... for my wife and daughter... you work miracles, sir.”

Alucard lingers on that word again: miracle. The first time he argued with its use in an effort to seem humble and rational. Now, he’s too exhausted to further dispute its importance. This is not a family that uses “miracle” and “saviour” in a light manner.

“I’m sorry for screaming at you. I was a fool... I should have let you work...”

Alucard’s expression softens as he looks at Daniela. “There’s no need for apologies. You were only protecting your mother.”

Daniela wipes away another tear before it has a chance to escape her eye. After much convincing, Alucard leaves the cottage wearing a new shirt gifted by Mihai once they threw his old, blood-soaked one into the fire. They made him swear that he would visit again, not as their doctor but as their friend. It wasn’t hard for Alucard to agree.

He trudges down the path with the moon and stars lighting his way. They haven’t name the child yet; it’s a tradition within their family to name a baby at least seven days after they’ve been born. But Tobi said she liked the sound of Adrian. Alucard likes it as well. It’s a good name for someone who might hopefully grow up to do good things.

The castle is dark, illuminated by only a few sparse candelabras burning the night away. They turn the grand hall into a hazy smoke-filled chamber. Nothing has changed in his absence, just as empty and quiet as it’s always been. A strangely comforting thing to return to. Alucard’s first immediate stop is the kitchen and its pantry. He pulls out a bottle of red wine and pours himself a glass, then another right after downing it in a single gulp. It won’t do much—to him, alcohol is barely stronger than water—but temporary release is better than none at all.

Alucard doesn’t reach his bedroom. Instead he finds the nearest study and collapses onto a lush lounge chair, his body sinking into the cushions. The ceiling tiles begin to blur and mesh together the heavier his eyes become. Something tickles at his fingertips. He sees Agrippa licking his hand, waiting patiently to be picked up and placed on his chest. Like the castle, he hasn’t changed.

“Sorry for neglecting you all this time.” Without sitting up, Alucard grabs the dog and holds him close. Reverting to when he was a child, lying in bed, holding that old wolf doll as though it were his third guardian. He allows himself the luxury of sleep, deep and peaceful.

“He’s not in here either.” Another door closes as the repeated sound echoes down the corridor. The two travelers have searched the entire ground floor with little success. Outside, sitting at the foot of the castle steps, is a familiar canvas covered wagon that has seen much better days. There it will remain for the next few days while its owners reacquaint themselves with the very place their respective families always taught them to fear.

“Do you think he changed his mind?” Asks Sypha.

“About what?”

“About returning to his vault in Gresit.”

Trevor ponders for a moment, his face framed by the white fur of his new cloak. All that somber talk about going back to sleep, about the castle becoming his grave; the dhampir is just dramatic enough to let everything turn into a reality. He doesn’t say it out loud, but the possibility worries Trevor. He didn’t gift his childhood home for nothing.

“If he did, the castle wouldn’t be in the shape it is now.”

Sypha stares up at the vaulted ceilings and towering walls, still impressed by such an architectural marvel. Trevor is right, the structure would have fallen into ruin had Alucard not stayed. They move onto the second floor and its countless hallways hoping to have more luck in finding their strange friend.

“You think we’re lost?”

Sypha tsks loud enough for Trevor to hear. “Speakers do not get lost.”

“Right. Just like how they don’t break things.”

“I thought we already had this conversation.”

They have, but Trevor brings up the topic every so often just for a bit of fun without putting in too much effort. Their playful banter is cut short when Sypha absentmindedly opens a door and a small black object suddenly rushes past them. Trevor instinctively reaches for the Morningstar, starved for blood after weeks of hanging off his hip as mere decoration, until he realizes whatever that was poses no threat. However, the encounter leaves him no less confused.

“Was... was that a dog?”

“Shh! Keep your voice down.”

The two of them enter the room and Trevor sees why Sypha was so quick to shush him. Alucard lies passed out upon a full-length chair, breathing gently. Not unlike the first meeting between him, Trevor, and Sypha.

“I’ve never seen him out cold like this,” Trevor murmurs as they lean over him.

“Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. Just sleeping.”

Sypha continues to stare until she catches Trevor hovering the handle of his whip directly above Alucard’s forehead. “What are you doing?!” She whispers harshly.

“I’m waking him up.” His plan was to give him a careful tap on his skull, but Sypha has a much better idea in mind.

“Let him rest for a bit longer. We should make breakfast so that he has something to look forward to when he wakes.”

“Do dhampirs even eat real food? Or should we prepare him a nice banquet of pig and cow blood?”

Sypha decides to ignore Trevor’s sense of humour, even if he didn’t mean for it to sound so terrible. “Come on, you.”

She turns around and leaves, her blue robes trailing behind. Before Trevor can follow, he’s struck with a thought. Despite how he jests, he’s happy that Alucard seems to be taking care of himself. Even happier to be greeted with a few gentle snores rather than a middle finger to the face. Removing his cloak, now smelling of pine and smokewood, Trevor places it over Alucard’s body.

It seems he’ll always be there, offering dusty blankets to those he cares for.

#castlevania #alucard #adrian tepes #alucard castlevania #netflix castlevania #castlevania fanfiction #my writing #*cvfic #dear god i hope the read more works and if it doesn't i am SO sorry #long post

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nataliesewell · 7 years ago

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monster prom pop quiz results

I was bored, so I decided to try and record all the questions and answers in Monster Prom’s Stupidest Pop Quiz Ever(tm). It’s really likely I haven’t found them all, so I’ll come back and add to this from time to time.

The pop quiz consists of three questions; the first two go towards determining your highest stats at the beginning of the game, while the third chooses your possible prom date (this isn’t set in stone; you can still try to pursue a different character in the actual game). The order of the questions is randomized.

Other links: Vera Walkthrough

You can find the questions and their results under the cut!

stat questions

What is your spirit emoji?

a. Caucasian guy with a turban because fuck stereotypes. +CREATIVITY

b. Octopus emoji. Best animal on Earth. I know 5 mixed drinks, 3 drug cocktails, and 17 sex positions that involve one or several octupi. +FUN

c. Snowman, because that motherfucker is in the middle of a blizzard and he’s fuckin’ smiling. He doesn’t give a fuck about blizzards. And he has a kickass hat. +BOLD

It’s your chance to fix global warming. Go ahead!

a. Global warming isn’t real. I invented it, and now science is claiming authorship because science is a lame copycat with no original ideas. +CREATIVITY

b. Nah, the world is doomed. But I’ll start investing in ships and start a profitable business for the “soon to be covered by water” world. +WEALTH

c. It’s time to be a real hero: I’ll lead a mission to the sun in order to... invite the sun to the party of its life! We’ll have so many hilarious misadventures that the sun will eventually become... cooler. ;) +FUN

Be a visionary: what will the next big social media craze be?

a. Bull$hit: it’s Facebook, but each time someone shares news that isn’t supported by real facts, they’re taxed, and the money goes to the people exposed to that bullshit. +WEALTH

b. Greek Agoras: like literal Greek agoras re-instated in our cities. Places where philosophy and arts are discussed by the greater minds. That’s the social media I want to log into! +SMARTS

c. Rbert: from now on, a socially awkward guy named Robert will do everything he’s commanded to do through the app by its users! +CHARM

You wish you were raised by...

a. A mysterious old man who saved me from the streets in order to raise me as his disciple in the ancient ways of rad DJing! +FUN

b. A pack of wild wolves... who also happens to be tech moguls who own some of the most profitable companies of Silicon Valley. They would be kick-ass role models AND wild wolves! Sick! +WEALTH

c. A really progressive marriage between a kick-ass venomous snake and... actual fire. I love fire and I see no issue with being raised by it. +BOLD

You build a 100ft statue commemorating an event so that in 1000 years archaeologists can learn something about the people of our time. What does the statue represent?

a. That glorious instant when your friend stopped you from texting embarrassing stuff to your ex while hella drunk. +FUN

b. That mind-blowing twist in your favourite TV show that clearly changed the life of everyone forever, unlike all that boring stuff they show on the news. +CREATIVITY

c. Your least favourite political figure... being devoured by rabid rhinoceri... which are also covered in badass tattoos. +BOLD

Which is the coolest mythological creature?

a. The invisible hand of the free market. +WEALTH

b. A sphinx... who’s super turnt up and ready to party! And she raps all her riddles (she still kills you if you don’t answer them correctly... but she raps the riddles)! +FUN

c. This weird creature I drew when I was six and which is clearly super derivative from other mythological creatures... but it’s super cool and it’s my OC and my spirit animal, okay? +CREATIVITY

You’re elected president for a day. What’s the first law you pass?

a. You can deduct taxes by writing sonnets instead. Amount of taxes deducted are calculated based on the beauty of the sonnets. +CREATIVITY

b. Trivia fact: presidents don’t pass laws... so is this a trick question or are you just being an idiot? +SMARTS

c. One dollar bills will now include a picture of me and the inscription “Beware: Too Much Awesomeness.” My presidency might last a day, but my fame will last forever! +CHARM

A radioactive possum just bit you... what superpowers did you get?

a. The superpower of always choosing the right combination of emojis to get the desired reaction from all people: seducing my loved ones, burning my enemies, settling an argument, and even conveying complex emotional thoughts. +CHARM

b. Uh, probably rabies? I’d go to a hospital immediately. +SMARTS

c. The incredible power of writing fanfiction so compelling that the actual creators of the TV shows decide to go with my ideas and crazy ships. +CREATIVITY

School is outdated and lame. We need a new school subject asap!

a. Critical thought. I mean... damn, this country could really use a subject like that in schools. +SMARTS

b. Turning people into your puppets through emotional warfare and deception 101. +CHARM

c. How to correctly punch a crocodile without terrible consequences. +BOLD

If you had to have sex with animal... which animal would it be?

(You don’t get six answers; the three answers you get are randomized.)

a. A great white shark. I have to fuck an animal, let’s at least make it a story worth telling! +CHARM

b. A swan. They’re classy. Plus it reminds me of that myth of Leda and the Swan, so at least by bestiality standards it has a certain chic appeal. +CREATIVITY

c. A human being, because I’m the kind of douchebag who loves to find loopholes in stupid questions like this one. +SMARTS

d. A purebred horse. At least I can keep his semen and sell it. It’s worth a lot! Who said there was no silver lining to bestiality? +WEALTH

e. A dolphin. They’re the only other animal that fucks just for pleasure, so at least we can both do our best to have a good time, right? +FUN

f. No on can make me fuck an animal. If I fucked an animal, it’d be of my own free will. As a matter of fact, I already have fucked an animal, so the joke’s on you, pal. +BOLD

The coolest reality show would be...

a. Twelve experts on the various arts of seduction live in a house where they must face a common challenge: seducing a potato into marriage... somehow. +CHARM

b. Eight rich people fight in weekly challenges to see who’s the best at giving money to you. +WEALTH

c. People in various positions of power must face all sorts of questions relevant to their field, and if they fail, they lose their jobs... and society wins. +SMARTS

You get the chance to produce a movie. It’s based on...

a. The most influential Russian novelists of the XIX century... have gone nuts! They don’t remember anything about last night and now they can’t find the manuscript of The Brothers Karamazov; and Dostoyevsky has to deliver it TODAY! +FUN

b. Two cool guys walking away from rad explosions. And they don’t look at the explosions. THEY DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE EXPLOSIONS! They reflect on life and love... AND IT IS SUPER DOPE AND KICK-ASS BECAUSE THEY DO SO WALKING AWAY FROM NEVER-ENDING EXPLOSIONS! +BOLD

c. Something about superheroes, but with a love triangle between a beauty yet somehow relatable girl (maybe she’s always stating she’s a mess?) and two of the super hot superheroes, which are also like vampires or pirates or both. Instant hit! +WEALTH

Democracy is just broken. What would be the best way of choosing the leaders of modern society?

a. Whoever can play the most heartbreaking violin solo wins. +CREATIVITY

b. You put all the candidates in an empty room... with a wild grizzly bear. Whoever kills the bear should be our president. If everyone dies, then it’s obvious: the bear should be our president. +BOLD

c. We create a reality show called “America’s Next Top President” where the candidates compete in all kinds of physical and mental challenges. Voter turnout would increase and we would turn a profit on it! +FUN

If you could put a curse on your worst enemy, what would it do?

a. I’d curse them to fall in love with a wonderful person and be happily married before they realize that all this time... their partner was a wild panther in disguise! Then the panther viciously devours my enemy. Classic! +BOLD

b. The curse of always meeting obnoxious people at parties who are super into new fad diets that feel the need to explain them in detail. +CHARM

c. You can’t rely on the effectiveness of a curse. I prefer to take care of my enemies the old-fashioned way: by exposing them to unsafe doses of radiation over the course of several years. +SMARTS

What would be the coolest prize you could find in your box of cereal?

a. A tiny piece of sharp metal, so every scoop will be full of thrill and danger! +BOLD

b. The phone number of the sexy tiger on the front of the box. He’s so passionate about breakfast and health that he’s surely also a grrreat lover. +CHARM

c. A sample of a more nutritious breakfast option, so people are encouraged to stop eating that colorful crap. +SMARTS

What inanimate object do you think would make the best girlfriend or boyfriend, provided you went criminally insane?

a. A human-size pillow depicting a character created by myself. As a matter of fact, I have all the needed paperwork and I’m only waiting for the conservative narrow-minded laws of our country to finally step forward into waifu and husbando territory, as was clearly intended by God. +CREATIVITY

b. A dildo, duh. +FUN

c. An ATM. Sugar baby life, here I come! +WEALTH

Which god do you pray to each night before sleeping?

a. Praying is kind of lame. I have a group text set up with some deities: Dionysus, Bastet, Loki... coolest cats in town. +CHARM

b. Praying is for fools. I took some compromising pics of a god molesting a tree, and now I blackmail him for whatever I want. A lot more effective. +SMARTS

c. Oh, I pray to all kinds of gods. I have this business where people pay me to deliver their prayers every night. I’ve even started to look for a Chinese factory to outsource the prayers. +WEALTH

prom date questions

What is the sexiest type of knowledge a lover can have?

a. How to set stuff on fire. ❤️DAMIEN

b. All the principles to build a financial empire. ❤️VERA

c. Lyrics to all Disney songs. ❤️MIRANDA

d. Obscure 80s movie trivia. ❤️LIAM

e. Sports things. ❤️SCOTT

f. How to make a killer cocktail out of anything. ❤️POLLY

Your partner just gave you a cool gift for your anniversary but you totally forgot! Quick, come up with an idea for a great gift!

a. The head of their fiercest enemy. ❤️VERA

b. A silly toy that makes silly noises. ❤️SCOTT

c. The abstract concept of gratefulness. ❤️LIAM

d. A pony. Always a pony. ❤️MIRANDA

e. Anything on fire. Or a weapon. No, no: a weapon on fire. ❤️DAMIEN

f. Anything capable of leading them to an overdose of some sorts. ❤️POLLY

What would be a deal-breaker for a potential lover?

a. The person lacks taste. ❤️LIAM

b. The person is mediocre. ❤️VERA

c. The person is a coward. ❤️DAMIEN

d. The person is boring. ❤️POLLY

e. The person hates the outdoors. ❤️SCOTT

f. The person lacks manners. ❤️MIRANDA

What would be a killer accessory?

a. Sunglasses... at night. ❤️POLLY

b. A fabulous purse made from the skin of your worst enemy. ❤️VERA

c. Coolness itself. ❤️LIAM

d. Fancy brass knuckles. ❤️DAMIEN

e. A necklace with your own name... in case you forget! ❤️SCOTT

f. Shiny armor. ❤️MIRANDA

The world will end tomorrow... What will you do today?

a. Nobody ends the world but me! I’ll end the world today. ❤️DAMIEN

b. It’s okay! We invented the apocalypse to take care of the overpopulation of commoners. ❤️MIRANDA

c. I’ll finish my novel... whoever comes after the end should know my legacy! ❤️LIAM

d. 100 push-ups... no, no 200 push-ups! ❤️SCOTT

e. They always tell you the world is ending... I’ll profit on other people’s hysteria. ❤️VERA

f. I always party as if there were no tomorrow... so who cares? ❤️POLLY

Which criteria would you use to name your children?

a. Meh... no name? It’s just too much work! ❤️POLLY

b. I will research for a name that is pun-proof and joke-proof. No one will pick on them. ❤️VERA

c. A non-heteronormative name to give them freedom to define themselves on their own terms. ❤️LIAM

d. Just a swear word. ❤️DAMIEN

e. My name + “II” (the Second). ❤️MIRANDA

f. Something simple and friendly, like Bobby or Mary. ❤️SCOTT

If you were an ice cream... which flavour would you be?

a. Double creme de la Gruyere and meringues. ❤️LIAM

b. Spicy chocolate. No... chocolate on FIRE! ❤️DAMIEN

c. Success. ❤️VERA

d. Tequila and coke. ;) ❤️POLLY

e. Rainbows and gummy bears. ❤️MIRANDA

f. Meat! ❤️SCOTT

What would be your dream first date?

a. An art exhibition experimental enough to give you a seizure. ❤️LIAM

b. A sweaty and manly wrestling match. ❤️SCOTT

c. A professional meeting where you charm your date with some astonishing business advice! ❤️VERA

d. A wild party in international waters. ❤️POLLY

e. A lovely walk in the forest... after rescuing your date from a dragon! ❤️MIRANDA

f. Crimes. ❤️DAMIEN

You find a genie in a bottle. You can ask for whatever you want. What do you ask for?

a. A rainbow that you can eat! ❤️MIRANDA

b. I don’t ask for anything. I drink the genie from the bottle. I can grant my own wishes! ❤️DAMIEN

c. Before asking for anything, you try to negotiate up to the three standard wishes. ❤️VERA

d. Infinite confetti! ❤️POLLY

e. ...His friendship! ❤️SCOTT

f. Him to not be so cliched. Genies and wishes... so mainstream! ❤️LIAM

What would be the most appealing in a love partner?

a. A big... horn. ❤️DAMIEN

b. Sharp wits. ❤️LIAM

c. Kawaii eyes. ❤️MIRANDA

d. A very tsundere personality. ❤️VERA

e. Soft fur. ❤️SCOTT

f. A taste for party. ❤️POLLY

#monster prom #damien lavey #polly geist #vera oberlin #miranda vanderbilt #i'm also trying to do a 'walkthrough' for the events #i've only done like vera's and it's.... A Lot lads #long post for ts

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unite360media · 2 years ago

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Three Ways to Prepare a House for a 360-Degree Virtual Tour

The demand from clients for 360-degree virtual home tours has dramatically increased after the COVID-19 disaster. Both buyers and sellers want the ability to examine properties online and want the transaction to be as secure as it can be for all parties. There are several services available for making 360-degree tours, but it's your responsibility to make sure a listing looks its best before the shoot. For professional photographs, more work than simply fluffing pillows may be required. Here are a few advices:

Purge your home of clutter. A 360-degree camera will capture the area from every angle, so very little can be hidden. A photographer can control camera angles to cover clutter or emphasise less "show-worthy" aspects of a property. Sensitive documents, family photos, and valuables should all be hidden from public view by your seller, who should exercise additional caution in this regard. However, to give the 360-degree tour more life for a vacant property, you might want to think about virtual staging. Discuss this service with your provider.

Prepare for vendors and their dogs to depart. A 360-degree camera cannot be hidden, so advise vendors to leave themselves and their dogs at home while the shoot is taking place. You don't want to unintentionally capture vendors or animals that are lurking around corners or looking through windows and doorways because that would need you to reset for a new shot and cause delays.

Select the best virtual tour for your money. There are numerous 360-degree tour platforms, each with unique costs and features. Before making a reservation, check out the previous tours of your provider because different camera kinds produce photographs of varying quality.

Furthermore, the phrase "virtual tour" may be unclear. It's frequently used to describe 360-degree tours, online slideshows, and walkthrough videos (like Matterport and CloudPano). Make sure you understand the goods you are buying.

Consider a 360-degree tour as the online open house for your listing. You're merely attempting to seize the internet buyer.

#360° Photography WA #3d virtual tour seattle #virtual field trips #3D Virtual Tour Seattle #virtual tour photography

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inifdghatkopar · 3 years ago

Video

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farashasilver · 7 years ago

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hey! so, i realize im late af, but i finally took the plunge by binging yoi today. once i was done you were the first person that came to mind. idk if you give recs, but i was wondering - what would you say are some essential must-reads for a newbie to the fandom? fic that really blends into the canon and maybe fills those emotional gaps? (feel free to rec your own work as well ofc!) i'd really appreciate you pointing me in the right direction as i consider you a huge yoi resource! 💕

HI I AM THE WORST you asked me this literal months ago and I’m only just now getting around to making you a rec list. It’s been a real busy back half of the year.

OKAY SO I’m gonna put these behind a cut because this is a wall of recs. At least it’s somewhat organized. Some of these are very strong in the canon setting, a handful of them are AUs. You’re not going to get much plumbing of emotional depths from the PWPs, although there are one or two that stand out as really grounding their relationship in skating. Please enjoy this massive list of fic and mea culpa for taking so long to answer you (and I only recced three of my own fics lmao).

Cute short fics that are Safe For Work

Easy on my knees by ineptshieldmaid - Victor’s subby thing explored as a character studyAddicted (to the taste of you) by smudgesofink - After the Cup of China, Yuuri can’t stop kissing Victoryou’re like heaven to touch by lazulisong - Yuuri is wearing Victor’s jacket and Victor likes that a lotYuuri Katsuki Secret Route Walkthrough/FAQ by Metis_Ink - Meta fic written as if the show is an otome game/dating sim, really cutebetter than sliced bread by ebenroot - Victor owns a Yuuri body pillow because of course he doesthe naming of cats by csoru - Otayuri, a little bit of their careers and mostly them gravitating together for a relationshipa slow invasion of the heart by radialarch - Otayuri, Yuri is straightforward about what he wantsIf We Had No Winter by FreshBrains - Lilia/Minako fic where they maybe had a relationship when they were younger and reconnect nowStay Close to Me by dasedandconfuzed - AU where Vicchan doesn’t die before the GPF in Sochi and Yuuri just barely doesn’t medalNight is Young and the Music’s High by opalish - Yuuri somehow gets roped into another breakdancing contest at the press conference for Japanese Nationals. Outsider point of view.Of Love and Other Emotions by smudgesofink - Two fics of nothing but incredibly tooth-rotting fluffthe warmest part of winter by dadvans - Wedding ficThe Bulge (Don’t Bring a Weapon to a Public Beach) by nagoyadelay - Yuuri posts beach pictures. The internet gains an obsession with Victor’s dick.Feet first (Don’t Fall) by gunboots - Otayuri, awkward teenage romcom shenanigans

Smutty Victuuri one-shots

all the sparks you’re trying to hide by pageleaf - Yuuri gets in touch with his inner doma little love, a little sympathy by pageleaf - Yuuri figures out that Russian names have diminutives and uses it to his advantagea day for all the rest by Etharei - Morning after the Cup of China, a Victor introspective plus sweet morning sexStraight to Video by SocialDegenerate - Pre-canon, Victor’s sex tape leaks and Phichit promptly sends it to Yuuri because Phichit is the bro we all wish we could havei’ve come to be where you are (i can’t help it) by incode - Just some nice kinky sexsmoke and mirrors by grim_lupine - Victor randomly gets de-aged to his long haired teenage self and they bonePraise Please by surveycorpsjean - Praise kinkVictor Effing Nikiforov by shysweetthing - Yuuri doesn’t bomb Nationals and ends up at Worlds in the season before canon, is extremely confused as to why Victor is so interested in himTalk to Me by SuggestiveScribe - Yuuri has a language kink for Victor speaking RussianSubmission by SuggestiveScribe - Shibari bondage and orgasm delay with sub VictorStamina Should Have Been a Verb by scribblywobblytimeylimey - 12k words of completely unrepentant marathon sex where Yuuri’s epic inhuman stamina wrecks VictorIMG_20140215.AVI by neomeruru - Victor finds one of Yuuri’s old sex tapes from college where he one of his ex-boyfriends has organized a gangbang for himMaid to Love You by Kizuna_Auri - Victor in a french maid outfit with lots of kink because why notNot an inch of you I didn’t cling to by Farasha - Post-Rostelecom body worship fic, gentle dom Yuuri, Victor is the subbiest service sub who ever subbed, the YOI fic in my repertoire that’s most grounded in canon, I think

Smutty one-shots for Other Ships

Green-Eyed Monster by flammablehat - Victuuri + Yuri’s raging crush on Yuuri, Yuri overhears them having sex and has an angry jerkoff sessionsix feet under by knightswatch - Otayuri, Yuri has a pair of sexy leopard print heels and Otabek is really into them. someone on the dancefloor, waiting just for you by verity - Otayuri, kinky stuffHands On Education by BewareTheIdes15 - Otayuri, hilarious internal Yuri narrative during awkward loss of virginity shenanigansTeach Me Just What Fast Is by Zee - Otayuri, some kink but mostly them figuring out their relationshipDevour by dannydevito - Otayuri, face-sitting and rimmingKind, Sober and Fully Dressed by probablestars - Chris/Phichit, Chris and Phichit make a sex tape togetherthe taste, the flavor by pageleaf - Yuuri/Yuri, Yuri asks Yuuri to help him get rid of his virginity, hints that it could be future Victor/Yuuri/Yuri OT3crimson headache, aching blush by pageleaf - Victor/Yuri, Victor gets drugged with sex pollen and turns to Yuri for help, also features Victor/Yuuri/Yuri phone sexSoft as Snow (But Warm Inside) by Farasha - Yuuri/Yuri, Yuri gets drugged with sex pollen and Yuuri is the one who gives him a hand, plus emotional codaPino Grigio Boys by cherrybulesque - Chris/Victor/Yuuri threesome, they have some fun together in the hotel at a competitionTonight, You’re All Mine by doncastaway - Chris/Victor/Yuuri, Yuuri and Victor give Chris a booty call and he is not complainingOff the Ice by Halrloprillalar - Chris/Victor, someone throws lacy underwear on the ice as a post-skate gift, they have some fun with itwhat flattery gets you by tripcyclone - Chris/Yuuri, pre-canon, Chris expected Yuuri to be shy in bed and gets a lot more than he bargained forVice by Halrloprillalar - Celestino/Chris, Chris has had a crush on Celestino since he was young and seduces him at a bar

Longer Victuuri Fics (any rating)

Maybe It Started Like This by dance_across - Character study into both Yuuri’s anxiety issues and Victor’s insecurity issues and how they navigate those in their relationshipkatsuki_fc wrote by tetsurashian - Outsider POV fic on Yuuri and Victor’s relationship as covered by fan communities and social mediaMaelstrom by feelslikefire - Time loop/groundhog day alternate universe where Victor keeps repeating the Sochi banquet over and over againKintsugi by witchbane - Alternate universe where they’re both in the mafiaCall Everything on the Ice… by shysweetthing - Victor learns Japanese in order to better be able to communicate with Yuuri’s family, also a really sweet look at their relationship developing while they’re in HasetsuThe Boyfriend Experience by cryingoverspilledvodka - Alternate universe where Yuuri had to quit skating and became an escort instead, somehow he still ends up in Victor’s orbitlove like fools by lily_winterwood - Roman Holiday AU, Yuuri is modern Japanese royalty and Victor is a journalist, they run away togetherKings in Couture by slightlied - Devil Wears Prada AU where Victor is the fashionista and Yuuri is his brand new personal assistant (that he thirsts after like woah)we are lost, but we are not gone by persephoneggsy - Dollhouse AU based on the concept of the Joss Whedon show - programmable escorts that can be anyone you want them to be, heavy on the angst and mindfuckeryThe Lily of Kasagiya by Kizuna_Auri - Memoirs of a Geisha AU (kind of) where Yuuri is a famous Geisha and Victor is his favorite charming foreign clientnever stop until the grave by Naraht - A gritty, angsty look at Victor trying to balance coaching Yuuri and coming back to competition at the same timeFated by maydei - Technically a crossover with Loveless but the only thing you need to know about the Loveless universe going in is that everyone has cat ears and tails until they lose their virginity, the author does an excellent job of explaining everything else in the universe

Longer Fics for Other Ships (any rating)

adventures in personal growth by stutter - Otayuri, also features Yuri’s raging crush on Yuuri, series of three fics, Yuri completely and utterly fails at anything resembling “taking it slow”i walk my days on a wire by idrilka - Otayuri, long distance relationship with pining and Skype sexFrom Almaty, With Love by BoxWineConfessions - Otayuri, slow burn get-together fic where Yuri comes to train in Almaty for the summerNeon Pink Motorcycle by goldheart - Otayuri, soulmate/soulmark AU where Yuri’s soulmark is damaged so he can’t see ithe (walked like, looked like) burned like summer by foxfireflamequeen - Victor/Yuri, alternate universe where Yuri suffers a career-ending injury and seeks out the fae to get what he wants (in this fic, Victor is not a skater, he’s a faerie)Commemorative Photos by airspaniel & dance_across - Phichit/Yuuri, Chris/Phichit, Chris/Victor, Victor/Yuuri; a series of fics that starts with Phichit and Yuuri in college and leads into Victor and Yuuri’s wedding (where Phichit and Chris hook up)i know where my heart lies by orro - Yuuri/Yuri, an alternate universe where Yuuri is the 27yo champion, Yuri is the 24yo Russian ace who can’t quite keep up, and Victor is the bratty 16yo prodigyHalf a Chance by ratherunnecessary - Otayuri, also Yuri’s raging crush on Yuuri, a slow-burn fic of Yuri figuring out how the fuck to deal with his feelingsVodka Tonic by Halrloprillalar - Chris/Georgi, a hookup that starts after the Cup of China turns into something that resembles emotions over timeRed, Yellow, Green by dance_across - Chris/Yuuri/Victor, what starts out as a hookup turns into something like a relationshipbite down (to me) by pageleaf - Victor/Yuuri/Yuri, Victor and Yuri seduce Yuri through skating choreography because this is YOI and of course they doAn Excuse to Be There by shadow_lover - Victor/Yuuri/Yuri, Yuri kept the pole dancing pictures from the Sochi banquet on his phone, Victor and Yuuri know whyOpen My Heart by Farasha - Victor/Yuuri/Yuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega alternate universe where Yuri goes into heat unexpectedly, drags Victor with him, and they all have to figure out how to make it work

#yuri on ice #yoi #fic recs #ask box answers #twobrokenwyngs

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fevers-and-flus-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Prompt fill for @toosicktoocare – my typical party line of “sorry this took so long” definitely applies here. I am apparently incapable of writing a quick fic. It deviates a liiiiitle from the prompt, but hope you like it bb! Your fics always inspire me so I literally loved writing this for you.

⚠️: Brief mention of panic attacks, Alcohol mention (nothing crazy, Hunk just had Too Much Fun).

There’s an alarm going off. There’s an alarm going off and it’s getting louder and harder to ignore. Keith forces his eyes open - they’re gummy with sleep and he has to blink away blurriness. He reaches out to silence his phone, but accidentally knocks it to the floor instead. It clatters against the tile and he winces.

Keith’s never been more exhausted.

Every inch of him feels leaden and uncomfortable. He coughs weakly into his pillow. The alarm is still playing, and it’s making Keith’s skin crawl. He finally manages to reach down and turn it off.

He squints at the lock-screen. It’s 2am - officially time for rounds.

Keith pulls himself out of bed and dresses sloppily, throwing on a long sleeve and a sweatshirt over his leggings. All he has to do is check the halls, make sure no one is throwing up in the bathroom, and he can go back to sleep.

This was his always his favorite part of the night or, at least, it should have been: Keith loved walking through the empty dorm. The quiet never bothered him. He’d run his hands along the beige concrete walls which were textured and bumpy from too many coats of paint, and walk down each hall meticulously. Up and down the stairs, checking the bathrooms, and all the while knowing – this is safe. This is warm, and safe, and dry.

If someone was yelling, Keith could stop it. If someone was hurting, Keith could help.

Tonight though, tonight the concrete walls and empty stairwells only made him feel worse.

Please, Keith thinks, please don’t let there be an emergency tonight.

He starts his rounds on the first floor, like always. His footsteps scrape, but he doesn’t notice. All he can hear is the badum, badum, badum of his heartbeat. His head aches along with it.

He checks the first floor and then the second and the third, and on his final walkthrough on 4, he hears the stairwell doors slam shut. There’s a laugh, clear and familiar.

Keith groans and steps out into the stairwell himself. From below, he hears voices.

“Hunk, buddy, you have to help me out, I can’t carry you upstairs by myself.”

“Mmm well I always carry you.” Hunk is slurring a little. Keith’s surprised, he’s never had to worry about Hunk. In fact, Keith secretly thinks of Hunk as his favorite resident, the only responsible Sophomore on the 3rd floor (amidst what is a group of frequent, and often frantic, partiers).

You have to cut them some slack, Shiro always said, they’re learning their limits.

That’s exactly why Keith doesn’t drink. He knows that people never really learn their limits. Some people drink and drink and drink until they pass out on the grass, or vomit all over the bathroom floor. Some people drink until their blood boils - drink until their knuckles go numb enough to hit anything that moves or breathes or stares too long.

So, Keith doesn’t drink. He doesn’t understand the appeal, anyway, and the thought of going to parties makes his throat itch. He’s tried, but every time Shiro drags him out, Keith ends up in a corner, sipping water from a red solo cup and trying to ignore the heavy and familiar loneliness of being adrift in a room full of other people.

“Hunk!! Don’t - stop that - you can’t sleep on the stairs. You already have a bad back.”

Keith takes a deep breath in. Instead of settling his agitation, it wheezes through his chest and he ends up doubled over, hands on his knees with a cough that echoes through the stairwell.

“Well, that sounds terrible.” Lance says.

Keith takes a few shallow breaths and steels himself to move. And to deal with Lance. Mostly, to deal with Lance.

If Hunk is Keith’s favorite, Lance is Keith’s personal pain in the ass. He’s been written up twice this year already, mostly because he’s always loud and open about everything and never lets Keith look the other way.

Also, Lance has a way of being someplace at exactly the worst possible time. Like now.

Keith makes his way downstairs and crosses his arms when he gets to the landing right above Lance and Hunk.

“Step up. Perfect. Step up again. You got it!! Step…” Lance looks up and catches sight of Keith, who is standing ramrod straight and frowning.

“Fu–uuuck.”

“Bad word!” Hunk says gleefully. “You owe a dollar to the jar.”

“Uh, not right now buddy, we got company.”

Hunk looks up and sees Keith. He smiles widely and waves, stumbling on the next stair. “Keith! Hi Keith!”

“Hi Hunk,” Keith says. It’s the first time he’s spoken since dinner, and his voice is low and full of gravel. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yeah, it was so great. Lance is the best. I love him, he’s my best friend. Lance, you know you’re my best person right?”

“Yeah, of course, and you’re totally my best person too,” Lance says, because it’s Hunk, and because it’s true. “But also, shhhhhh.”

“Why shhhh? You said only shhhhh because we would wake up Keith but he’s already awake. He’s right here.”

“I’m right here,” Keith says. It’s hard to be annoyed with Hunk in general, but especially now. Keith wants to let them go, rules be damned. But he can’t make exceptions, not when Hunk is so clearly drunk, and not when Lance is so clearly…Lance.

“Oh boy.” Lance says. “Here we go.”

This is when Keith would normally offer up a dry response, Lance would come back with some sort of dumb insult, and they would volley back and forth until Keith got fed up and either gave a warning or walked away. Except Keith barely feels well enough to be standing, and he can’t find the strength (or the clarity of thought) to play that game tonight.

Instead, Keith just sighs. “I’m sorry Hunk, I’ll have to write you up.”

“It’s okay,” Hunk says. “I know everyone thinks you’re a jerk but you’re just trying to be the best RA, right? I think you’re the best.”

Keith’s throat goes tight.

“Thanks Hunk,” he says, quiet.

Lance doesn’t let it go so easily.

“Really? You can’t let him off with a warning? He never gets this drunk. It’s literally one time.”

Keith sighs. He agrees with Lance, actually, but he can’t bend the rules just because he likes someone. He goes to say just that but his chest seizes, and he has to lean against the railing while a few barking coughs claw their way out of his throat.

“Oh shit.” Lance says, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Keith pushes away from the railing, and blinks away black spots from the edges of his vision.

“Are you…sure?”

“Yes,” Keith says again, tone brittle.

“Okay, well. If you’re gunna write him up, can you at least help us back to our room?”

There’s one long, startling moment where Keith isn’t sure he has the strength.

You can do anything for a minute, Keith thinks. This is what Shiro says to him when everything gets too much, when he can’t breathe, when he finds himself at his brother’s door panting and pale and hopeless. You can do anything for a minute, and that minute builds into two minutes, then five, then 10 and on and on.

“Of course.” Keith says, walking downstairs and grabbing under Hunk’s other arm. “Ready?”

“Yup! Hunk, we’re on the move. You good?”

“So good,” Hunk says. And he is, with one person on each side, he’s good to finish most of the climb on his own. When they get to the third floor, Keith has to brace himself on the railing with his other hand.

He’s dizzy. It feels like the floor is tipping, just slightly, just enough to make him feel like he could stumble and fall.

“Uh, Keith?”

“What,” he snaps, blinking furiously, trying to clear his vision.

“You just - stopped.”

Fuck.

“Sorry. Let’s keep going.”

“Okay,” Lance says, drawing out the word like he’s lodging a complaint.

Keith let’s it pass, and they get Hunk down the hall. Lance pulls out his keys, and swings open the dorm door. There are a few neatly arranged clothes piles, and a garden of post it notes growing out behind Hunk’s bed like a makeshift headboard. They say things like, “ur the actual best!” and “hey sexy” and “bet u get 1 million percent on ur test tmw.”

Lance has polaroid pictures taped across the walls, big groups of people, all with wide, bright smiles. They look like Lance. Keith has never noticed the room before, not really. But it feels like theirs, not like any other dorm room. It feels like they’ve made it a home.

“Thanks guys,” Hunk says, crawling into bed and making a soft, contented noise as he burrows under the covers. “Is it gross I’m not brushing my teeth?”

“Nah,” Lance says, pulling out a bottle of water from the minifridge and placing it next to Hunk on the bed.

“Cool,” Hunk yawns.

“We can,” Keith clears his throat and does his best not to wince. “We can go over write up details in the morning, okay Hunk? But you should get some sleep”

“Okie dokie Keith,” Hunk says. He’s asleep almost immediately after.

Lance, on the other hand, watches Keith with narrowing eyes. “Are you alright?”

“What?”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m - fine.” Keith says.

“Well you sound really sick.”

“Go to bed, Lance.” Keith turns around and walks out into the hallway.

“Hey, wait up!” Lance follows him out.

“What.”

Now that they’ve gotten Hunk in bed, Keith feels everything acutely again. He leans back against the wall and tries to breathe. In through his nose, out through his mouth. It’s not working, and he wants Lance to leave him alone in case he has to sit down. Keith feels his heartbeat in his ears and his fingertips and his throat and his head.

“I just – hey, you’re really pale, are you –”

Keith is unmoored. The hallway tilts and his knees buckle and the ground rushes up.

“Woah!” Lance’s voice sounds tinny and far away. Keith suddenly and desperately misses the usual richness of Lance’s voice. Keith loves listening to Lance talk, he’ll pretend he’s not paying attention, but he always is. There’s something about the warmth, the clarity of Lance’s tone, that calms some of the anxiety roped in Keith’s chest.

“Keith! Keith?!” There are cool hands on his face and Keith’s vision snaps back to focus in one nauseating blink.

“Am I - on the floor?” It’s hard to string words together, but he knows something’s wrong, he knows he’s not where he’s supposed to be.

“You passed out for a second, you scared the hell out of me.” Lance feels for Keith’s pulse. “Jeez, you’re burning.”

“I’m…?”

Keith’s not burning, he’s cold. He’s freezing, actually. But Lance’s hands feel like heaven against his skin.

“Can you sit up?”

Sit up, Keith tells himself. But his limbs don’t listen. Something feels very strange and wrong and unreal. Like knowing you’re in a dream, Keith thinks.

Lance has to help Keith sit up against the hallway wall. In an instant he realizes where he is and what’s happened and Keith scrambles to his feet.

“Hey what are you, what are you doing?” Lance yelps, grabbing Keith’s arm.

“Sorry, I’m fine, just needed a - a second.”

“You’re not fine. Like, at all.”

“Lance, you should go to bed.” Keith says, and wants more than anything to be somewhere else.

“Are you insane? You just passed out in the hallway, I’m not going to leave you alone.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I mean, maybe, but I’m not a monster.” Lance grabs Keith’s arm to steady him. Keith makes a noise – he hadn’t even realized he was listing to the side.

“I can’t believe you helped carry Hunk upstairs. I can’t believe you’re even out of bed. What are you doing?”

“I was doing my job,” Keith says.

“I know but that’s - someone else could’ve done this tonight, right?”

“Uhm,” Keith wishes he had a conversational map. He’s not quite sure how they got here or what he’s supposed to say.

Lance tugs at Keith’s arm until they’re walking back toward Keith’s room. The door isn’t locked, and Lance pulls Keith inside and presses on his shoulders until he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Have you taken anything?” Lance asks, looking around.

“For what?”

Lance squints down at Keith. “Are you fucking with me right now, or are you really this out of it?”

“I’m –” Keith puts his head in his hands, because he can’t make his eyes stay focused. “Just confused about what you’re doing here.”

“Making sure you don’t die, apparently. Do you know how high your fever is?”

“No.”

“You’re an idiot.” Lance says, mostly to himself. “How are you at the top of our class when you’re such an idiot?”

“Oh my god,” Keith groans into his hands. “Please shut up.”

“Do you even have a thermometer?” Lance doesn’t wait for an answer. “Nevermind, I should know better. Stay here.”

“Where ‘m I gunna go,” Keith mutters under his breath, but doesn’t move until Lance gets back.

“Don’t even try to argue with me,” Lance says, hands full with a thermometer and a packet of blue pills and a bottle of water. He holds out the thermometer. Keith just stares, so Lance shoves it under Keith’s tongue.

Keith feels like he’s completely lost control of the situation.

The thermometer beeps shrilly, and Lance takes it back with a sharp breath. “Keith, what the fuck. You have a crazy high fever.”

The numbers 103.5 blink up at him.

“Is there someone I can call?”

Keith’s gotten that question a lot: after a high school fight that left him with a split lip and an expulsion warning, after his first panic attack, gasping and clutching his chest at a bus stop. After the first time he ran away and woke up on a park bench with two cops peering over him.

“No,” Keith says, prying the words from his throat. The answer is always no.

“What about Shiro?”

That get’s Keith’s attention. “How do you know Shiro?”

“Everyone knows Shiro.” Lance says. “And he’s your brother.”

“How did you - how do you know that?” Keith squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, trying to clear some of the haze in his head.

“It’s not exactly a secret, he talks about you a lot.”

“Oh,” Keith says, after a beat.

“Do you want me to call him?”

“No.” Keith says. “No. Don’t wake him up. I’m just gunna sleep.”

Lance rocks on his heels and frowns down at Keith. “I kind of feel like I can’t leave you alone.”

“You can,” Keith says, but his words are immediately thwarted by a deep, crackling cough.

“See! That sounds terrifying.”

“It’s just a cough.”

“You’re wheezing!”

“I am not.”

“You are, it sounds painful.”

“Lance…”

Lance bounces his weight from foot to foot. “What?”

“I’m supposed to be the one looking out for you, not the other way around.”

“Why not?!” Lance says, lips twisting. “You clearly need someone.”

“It’s unprofessional.”

“You’re my RA not my Professor, we’re the same age. And anyway who cares! You’re sick.”

Before Keith can argue, Lance shoves the packet of blue pills and the water at him. “Take these.”

“What is it?”

“NyQuil. Should knock you right out.”

At this point, Keith feels too terrible to argue. He claws the pills from the plastic packet and follows them with water. It stings to swallow at all, and swallowing the pills makes him gag. He manages to get them down, but he’s left panting.

He’s never felt this sick before. It’s an effort to even keep his eyes open. Each blink tugs him farther and farther into a fever fog. His thoughts dart like minnows, he can’t catch them all through the swamp in his head.

“Thanks Lance,” Keith says, his voice low and raspy.

“No problem.”

“You should go back to bed.”

“But –”

“I’m just going to pass out. You don’t have to watch me sleep.”

“But what if you get worse,” Lance asks, crossing his arms.

“I promise I’ll be fine.” Keith says, as evenly as he can. Lance can’t stand still. He’s worried, Keith thinks, he looks worried.

“Okay…” Lance says. “But I’m coming over to check on you first thing in the morning. Deal?”

“I have to talk to Hunk, so you’ll see me either way.”

“Oh my god, Keith!”

“I’m sorry,” Keith says, head spinning. “I have to.”

“Not about that, Hunk’ll be okay. But you shouldn’t be out of bed tomorrow! Like, at all”

Keith doesn’t know what to say.

“You look so sick, oh my god. Lay down.”

And Keith does. It’s about as surprising for Keith as it is for Lance.

Keith tugs his comforter up. It’s a silent, intimate moment. Lance watches with wide eyes.

Keith doesn’t have the energy to be ashamed.

“G’night,” he says, forcing his eyes back open. His eyelids are weighing him down. Each blink whispers sleep sleep sleep sleep.

“Night,” Lance says, voice low and gentle. “Feel better.”

Keith tries to answer, but he’s slipping deeper and deeper into the black, where it’s warm and quiet and still.

He feels someone push his hair back. Cool hands press against his face. It’s okay, he thinks, right before he fades to sleep. It’s okay.

#sick keith #keith kogane #lance mcclain #klance #i guess technically pre-klance????#hunk garrett #voltron #cait writes #sickfic #i love these fucking boys my god #i also love torturing keith so much #somebody Save Him

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theprisonboys · 7 years ago

Text

Walkthrough

I feel like theres no walkthroughs out there for this game, cause when i got stuck i got so frustrated but could not find any??!! I’ll only be listing the more complicated searches bc i think the other parts of the game is pretty straight forward. Also note that you can’t just enter in the codes for the locks until you’ve found the clues for it, otherwise even if the code is right it won’t open. Anyways hopefully someone will find my walkthrough helpful...

CHAPTER 1

Mr. Ohkawa’s house

1. Table, item: Memo pad

2. Lift red rug, item: A sheet of paper with designs

3. Lift pillow on sofa, item: Pencil

4. Click on the top of the shelf on the right and it will say that you can see something but can’t reach it. Select your sword and click on it again, item: A sheet of paper with designs. Combine both pieces of paper

5. Select the Memo pad and use the pencil on it

6. Click on the big cabinet on the left, item: A silk dishcloth

7. Use the dishcloth on the painting to clean it. Now study the paper you put together earlier along with the sheet of paper with colours and numbers. (blue-1, yellow-2, red-9, green-8, purple-5) go to the mirror and look at the reflection of the painting. Circle->blue-1, Star->blue-1, Triangle->yellow-2, Heart->red-9.

8. Go back to the painting and click the 4 digit lock. The order of the shapes is circle, heart, triangle, star= 1921

CHAPTER 2

The Caretaker’s Room

1. Open cabinet, item: Ripped note (red), leave janitors office for now as everything else is locked in the room.

2. Go to your room (room 330), on Tetsu’s desk there is a fountain pen, grab it, leave room and go to Cafeteria.

3. On the right table theres a bottle of cooking oil, select your fountain pen and dip it into the cooking oil, go back to the janitors office.

4. Select your fountain pen thats dipped in oil, click on the locker.

5. In the locker click on the uniform, item: Movie ticket

6. Click on the drawer beside the locker where the 3 digit lock is and enter the numbers from the movie ticket, 125. Item: Magazine, click on it and it will open and another Ripped note (blue) is inside.

7. Notice on the Magazine cover the words at the bottom, in each circle surrounding a character there is a small white dot, the 3 white dots are the clue for the radio. After turning the dials on the radio to the position of the Magazines the radio meter will swing to the numbers 1400 and 80.

8. Combine the ripped notes (red- blue). Use the numbers from the radio and subtract the numbers; red numbers (1400) and subtract the blue numbers (80) to get the code for the 4 digit lock. 1320

The Room 318

1. Go to Mitsuru’s bed (the messy bed) Click on the covers, item: Scissors

2. Grab the match box from the desk on Mitsuru’s side of the room, open his drawer and grab the envelope, open envelope, item: blank paper.

3. Go to Naoya’s bed click the covers and you’ll see that the bottom of his pillow looks shady, select the scissors and cut open the pillow, item: Key

4. Go to Naoya’s desk and select the key to open his drawer, item: Handkerchief, open the handkerchief and you’ll find a matchstick.

5. Select the matchbox then click on the matchstick to combine the items to get a lit matchstick. Select the blank paper and combine it with the lit matchstick to reveal the hidden message on the paper.

The Library

1. Click on the bottom book shelf on the left, select the mirror to light up the bottom of the shelf, item: piece of paper.

2. Click on the very back book shelf to read all 4 books (i can’t remember if theres any clues in the dialogs, but you should read it anyways)

3. On the left side theres a stack of books on the ground, click on them twice to clear them away. You’ll find a book on the ground thats locked.

4. The piece of paper you found earlier is the clue to opening the book, notice the the patterns of each arrows is the same as the ones on the lock. On the right side of the room on the wall is a frame, place the piece of paper on the frame and see where each arrow points to は(dots arrow), る(double line arrow), こ(wavy line arrow) grab back the piece of paper and flip the paper over and find where the 3 hiragana are located. To find out where the hiragana is located click on the sheet of paper lying on the floor in the middle of the room. Dot arrow is 5, Double line arrow is 1, Wavy arrow is 2.

5. Go to locked book and type in 512 to open it.

CHAPTER 3

The Room 330

Technically this isn’t a complicated search but when i was playing through i got stuck, bc i didn’t realize you could select characters?! Anyways theres no items in the room so don’t bother trying to find anything. After finishing talking to Nagi about all 3 things Tetsu still feels uncomfortable about something but he doesn’t know what. He also tells you to check the records again, so thats what we’ll do. Select Records and click the Character tab beside the item tab. Click on the character with no face and show it to Nagi.

Investigation: Chiyo Mochizuki’s lie

This isn’t a search but an investagation but it’s long and you have an HP bar lol

Ms. Mochizuki’s lie is... (The reason for running away)

The reason for Ms. Mochisuki’s change in attitude... (Select the handkerchief)

The person who had the handkerchief was... (Select Naoya)

The person who Ms.Mochizuki knew for some reason is...(Select Nagi)

The reason why Ms.Mochizuki came to Hyoutan Pond is...(She was looking for something)

The thing Ms.Mochizuki was looking for at the Hyoutan Pond was...(Select the Mirror)

The thing that indicates this hand mirror is special is... (Select the pocket watch)

Ms.Mochizuki...(She didn’t steal it)x2 it’ll ask you again but the answer is still the same.

The reason why Ms.Mochizuki had the mirror is... (Naoya gave it to her) Flip the mirror and select the part that says Chiyo upside down at the top.

CHAPTER 4

The 7th Basement -prison-

(unfinished?? Theres a hiragana puzzle in the 7th basement and you don’t need to solve it to move on to the next part, i tried every combination to unlock it and none of them work so who knows??) You can’t open the metal box with the hiragana until Chapter 5.

1. Click on the left cell and grab the item on the floor by using your sword, item: screwdriver

2. On the right side of the wall theres a panel, click on it and unscrew it with the screwdriver, item: small key

3. Enter the right cell and unlock the drawer with the small key, item: film, white chalk

4. Use the white chalk on the wall above the drawer (where the light bulb is shining...) to reveal the secret message. Leave the cell and click on the right cell again but look through the bars this time to see the code (512)

5. Click on the table where the camera sits and enter in 512 in the 3 digit lock, item: film

6. Go to the general’s office and use the key to open the door, click on the desk to find a piece of paper that says “We mustn’t forget the “War” thats the clue for the 4 digit lock in the room. To find the code for the lock select the book in your items list about the poisonous weeds and read it. Enter in the year of the war into the 4 digit lock (1839), item: lever

7. Go back to the prison, select the flashlight in your item list and use the screwdriver to unscrew the flashlight to get Battery. Click on camera and put in the 2 films and battery in.

8. Look at the projection on the wall from the camera. Go to the elevator and put the lever into the slot and click on it to turn it on. On the pin pad thingy, hit the areas the projection on the wall showed.

The 8th Basement -Torture room-

1. Use sword to cut down the wooden rabbit doll on the right side on the wall.

2. Click on the 3 chains on the back of the room, it shows you that the 3 chains are hanging down at different heights. Im going to assign numbers to the horizontal lines on the wall, the very top line will be 1, the line below 2, below line 2 is 3 and the very last line on the bottom 4. So the heights the chains hang from, from left to right is 4, 1, 2. Click on the panel on the right side of the room and pull the switch to the same heights as the chains. (4, 1, 2) Something will lower down from the celling, grab the wooden key.

3. Use the wooden key on the drawer, item: Old record. Put the record on the record player. Listen to the sounds very carefully. There’s 5 beats.

4. Click on the ?? blood spattered object on your left ( i don’t know what it is) and click on the buttons and you’ll hear beats that sound like what the record player was playing. Hit them in the order the record player plays it. If you're kind of tone deaf like me hit the 1st button, 3rd button, 2nd button, 3rd button, 1st button. Inside you’ll get an item: Flathead screwdriver

5. Use the flathead screwdriver on the axe to unscrew it. Select the wooden doll and use the axe on it, you’ll get an item: key to 9th basement

The 9th Basement -Laboratory-

1. Click on the gloves on the sink, select the gloves and grab the boiling purplish pink flask on the left. Pour the contents of the flask down the sink, item: key to 10th basement, metallic hook

2. Open the drawer you can open, item: Empty bottle.

3. The drawer beside it put the metallic hook into the hole, then use the pocket watch to hang it from the hook, item: film.

4. Go to the Prison room and put in the new film into the camera, look at the projection of the new film and you see V+H on the wall.

5. Go back to the Laboratory and select the empty bottle and click on the shelf with many bottles. It askes you if you’ll combine the chemicals in the empty bottle, choose “yes”, the first chemical you put in first is something that starts with a ‘V’ =Vernunft, the next chemical you put in next starts with an ‘H’ =Hilfe.

6. Now you’re prepared, so go to the door and enter the 10th basement.

The Cultivation room of Hades grass

You’re timed for this one, 249 seconds, thats like roughly a bit more than 4 minutes. There’s not much in this room. There is a piece of paper buried in the sand in front of you, it’s the clue to opening the door on your left. Notice on the celling near the back of the room there is a vent, but you can’t reach it. Go to your left where theres a door, click on it and you’ll find that theres 2 knobs, one with a Sun on it and the other with a Moon. For the Sun knob turn it to 1, and turn it to 9 for the Moon knob. The door will open revealing a stepladder, grab it and put it to the vent then grab your screwdriver to unscrew the vent and leave.

Unlocking Chapter 5

To get to chapter 5 you need to trust a certain someone in the chapters before. The hints is prepared in Chapter 1 Interrogation- A suspect/Chapter 2 Interrogation-Mitsuru/Chapter 2 The Opened Book. After you meet the requirements a new route will appear in Chapter 4.

In Chapter 1- A suspect, select the choices (I think the probability is low), (Lock the room)

In Chapter 2- Mitsuru, select (I have no objection), if you choose (I have an objection) I'm pretty sure if i remember correctly he will ask you one more time, but i think it’s important that you select the right answer the first time, because that’s sign of trust??

In Chapter 2- An opened book, select (Mitsuru Fuwa) for who to ask about the incident

After going through and doing the 3 above you should meet the requirements now, go to Chapter 4- Vanished Yamato (2) and choose (Let’s help Yamato), this time Nagi will say something about leaving a message for Mitsuru, choose (I agree) and leave a message for Mitsuru.

In Chapter 4- General Kongou, you’ll now have another route when you play it. First make sure you have the right liquid to save yourself. It will say the same dialogs as before except this time it will go to Chapter 5 when it ends instead of continuing on Chapter 4 stories.

Mitsuru finally arrives to save the day~ *cries*, sorry for doubting you this whole time Mitsuru, but i mean it was hard for me to trust Mitsuru because there’s several endings where you see a figure with Mitsurus hair kill you??

CHAPTER 5

The 10th Basement -Cultivation Room-

1.Theres nothing left to do in the laboratory, go to the Cultivation room. In the ground in front of you theres a piece of paper buried in the sand.

2.On your left theres a door with 2 knobs. Turn the Sun knob to 1 and the Moon knob to 9, item: a note. On the note it says “At 8:15, your time will stop” this is your clue to opening the door at the very back of the room. Go into your items list and click Nagi’s pocket watch, turn the hands on the watch to 8:15, item: key.

3. Now using the leftovers from the pocket watch combine it with the metallic seal stamp, item: list of members of Yozakurakai

4. Open the door at the very back of the room with the key and go inside.

The 11th Basement

1.Click on the tub that is against the wall, item: A letter.

2.Click on the body bag, item: Bloodstain Gloves. Take a closer look on the gloves and on the inside of the glove it says A.K. 226

3.Click on the door and beside the 3 digit look you will notice a weird symbol, turn your phone around and you’ll see that the symbol is actually the letters AK. From the gloves and letter earlier AK has 3 digits beside it which is 226, however AK is upside down so enter in 922, so that upside down it will read as 226.

In The Cage

1. Click on the metal box in the left corner. After pushing it aside it will reveal a metallic plate with hiragana on it. Turn the inside plate to に and outside plate toと. NOTHING will happen BUT, it’s ok nothing is suppose to. (You’ll notice on the opposite side it will read the 3 hiragana in red on the prison wall, and it’s because that’s what you were suppose to do that first because there is no other way of knowing what hiragana to turn it to, but i think it would be very confusing for me to explain that.. LOL...)

2. Click on the metal box and type in the clue from the metallic plate which is と, に, へ the metal box will open, item: Revolver

Nagi -Fighting- + 2nd Cards

This scene leads to 3 different endings depending on what you do. If you choose to not do anything when Nagi starts slashing you by just waiting 5 seconds the next story will start playing and you’ll get Tokkoh ending. If you click on the revolver before the 5 seconds is up it will lead you to Nagi ending. If you remembered about the singer that suicided and showed Nagi the mirror you’ll get Prison Boys and the final ending. Once you get the Prison Boy ending you can now go back and find the 2nd cards of each character. I think finding the 2nd cards were quiet easy aside for a few.

2nd cards, the ones that were a bit tricky to find were Nagi, Chiyo and the Generals. Nagi and Chiyos cards can’t be found through just searching bc you'll get a headache trying to find them and you won’t find it. To get their cards you have to talk to a character multiple times until they hand you the card.

For Nagi’s go to where the hint tells you to go (Chapter 1: Street investigation (1)) and keep talking to Nagi and choose to (No) everytime it asked you to leave the room or not. After talking to him and not leaving he’ll start yelling at you but keep talking to him and he eventually give you his 2nd card.

For Chiyo go to where the hint tells you to go (Chapter 2: Street investigation with Yamato (4)) and don’t talk to the man on the left, talk to the street vendor and keep talking to the street vendor again and again until the street vendor hands Chiyos 2nd card

For Generals card it doesn’t list where to find it other then being somewhere in Chapter 4. Where his 2nd card is found is The Cultivation room of Hades grass his card is found on the bottom left.

If you have any other troubles finding the 1st cards or any of the other 2nd cards visit this link:https://yurugame.info/novel/seec-kangokuboy/seec-kangokuboy-complete-01.html Although it’s in Japanese it has pictures showing where to find the 1st and 2nd cards :D

#walkthrough #escape game the prison boys #escape game #the prison boys #謎解きノベル×脱出ゲーム　監獄少年

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years ago

Text

Klaine fic - “All the Beautiful Pieces” (Rated NC17)

Blaine Anderson is spending the summer after graduation flipping houses with his brother for Cooper’s total home renovation show. The show features the worst houses Cooper can buy, with Blaine playing the role of lackey so that Cooper can torture him in front of his viewers. The last house Blaine has to renovate is an original Victorian House in San Diego, CA, which is in terrible condition. But this house turns out to be more than just another job. It was once owned by a famous Vaudeville ventriloquist by the name of Andrew Smythe. It houses a very interesting collection of items - among them, two life-sized puppets. Blaine isn’t sure exactly why, but he’s drawn to them - especially to the one with the beautiful blue eyes. He convinces Cooper to give him the puppets, and Blaine starts to restore them. In the course of the restoration, Blaine finds out that neither puppet is simply a run-of-the-mill puppet, and Andrew Smythe was hiding a secret that will be the key to saving two lives.

Chapter 2 (5904 words)

Cooper’s frantic screaming in Blaine’s ear scares the dickens out of him more than anything else. Cooper has a surprisingly shrill voice for a grown man. It falls somewhere between the sharp cry of a toddler who has skinned his knee and the wail of a damsel from a black-and-white monster movie. Blaine scrabbles to grab the Bluetooth, yanking the device out of his ear in an attempt to salvage what little hearing he has left.

Yes, the head lying on the floor, staring blankly up at him with one pale blue eye might look like a real human head, but Blaine knows right away that it isn’t from the way the light reflects off of its surface, and from the missing eye socket, the area surrounding it shattered in an unnatural star pattern. No, the head isn’t human. It’s porcelain - bisque masterfully tinted to look like human skin. It absorbs the ambient light around it and glows with an ethereal quality, giving off a halo of pinkish-white.

Blaine waits for the ringing in his ears to die down before he puts the Bluetooth back in his ear, catching Cooper mid-ramble.

“…and did you see, I mean, oh my God! That’s…just…creepy as hell!” Cooper’s excitement when he makes that statement startles Blaine. It shouldn’t, seeing as Cooper has crossed the line into the macabre more than once on this walkthrough alone, not to mention other times in other houses when Cooper had said that he hoped Blaine would uncover something gruesome beneath the piles of trash, like mummified cats or cockroach swarms.

As a joke, Cooper had emphasized. But still…

Luckily, Blaine had yet to stumble on either one of those.

Would Cooper honestly have been thrilled if Blaine had found an actual dead human body? Sometimes Blaine wonders exactly how far Cooper is willing to go for the sake of ratings.

At this precarious moment, Blaine feels it’s safer not to ask.

Blaine raises the webcam up along the shaft of light and sees scattered remains, each appearing remarkably human at first blush, but upon closer inspection, just as manufactured as the first.

“Let’s see more of the room, Blaine,” Cooper commands. “Get it all. Pan around.”

Blaine feels around the walls inside the doorway, trying to find a light switch, but there doesn’t seem to be one. He opens the door behind him wider to let more light from the workshop fill the room. With more than a single shaft of light to work with, he can see from wall to wall of this small room with ease. There are more body parts on the floor, including a second human-sized head, this one with piercing green eyes instead of blue. Blaine takes a step through the door, focusing his webcam on the pieces individually, and notices that all of these parts are exclusively life-size. The body parts are jointed, meticulously painted, made to look real and human, but they’re puppets – life-size puppets.

Human-looking puppets.

Blaine steps carefully over the broken limbs and shattered bits of porcelain to give Cooper and his viewers the full effect of this bizarre spectacle. Then he peels his eyes away from the floor to scan the rest of the space. On opposite sides of the room, there are beds, no more than army-issue metal cots by the looks of them, one on each end, pushed up against the wall.

Blaine approaches the bed to the left. It’s made up to be slept in, covered in stiff white sheets and a thin, olive-colored wool blanket, with a pillow at the head. Blaine glances over to the matching bed across the way and sees that it, too, is made. On both beds, the covers are thrown back and the mattress indented, indicating that they must have been slept in at one point.

Blaine turns back to the bed he’s standing beside, keeping the webcam trained on it as he examines the damp, grey stone wall. He sees marks cut diagonally into the stone, filled with shimmery pink porcelain dust.

Marks that look suspiciously like fingernail scratches.

Blaine’s entire body fills with a sudden chill. It starts where his hair stands on end and washes down to his feet. He swallows hard when it begins to fill his throat, knotting into a hard lump, choking him.

This room isn’t a closet or an extension of the workshop.

This is a cell.

Blaine doesn’t want to be an alarmist. He usually saves the drama for Cooper, and if it hadn’t been for the genuine note of nervousness in Cooper’s voice when he warned Blaine about the room not showing up on the blueprints, Blaine might consider this all an elaborate set-up. It wouldn’t be beyond Cooper’s scope to contrive some kind of haunted house inspired mayhem to freak Blaine out on-air, but Cooper Anderson isn’t that good an actor.

Blaine considers the bigger picture.

If this was a cell, who was kept in here with these puppet parts scattered all over the floor and why? Was this some kind of weird sweatshop, with the original owner of the house keeping a couple of poor slaves locked down here to create puppets in order to feed his demented doll fetish?

Besides the beds and the broken puppets, there’s not all that much to look at in this room, and Blaine can’t help but feel sorry for whoever might have been locked in here. Of course, he could be jumping to conclusions, letting the ghastly atmosphere of this house get on his nerves. Whoever owned this house was obviously a toy fanatic, who happened to have a healthy (for lack of a better term) puppet obsession. From the look of the workshop – the order, the organization, the wealth of materials, the half-finished projects – this space is the heart of the house. The owner most likely spent the majority of their time here. Maybe this room was a bedroom built to be as close to the workshop as possible. If the bedrooms upstairs look anything like the living room, the hallway, and the dining room, maybe this was the only place available to sleep.

Blaine sure hopes that’s the case.

He pans the camera one last time so that Cooper can get the footage he needs, but without realizing it, his eyes keep returning to the puppet head on the floor – the one with the sorrowful blue eyes. He shifts his gaze over to the green-eyed puppet, but he doesn’t stare at it as long as he stares at the first. There’s something in those eyes, which change subtly from blue to grey in the artificial light, that haunts him, and he can’t shake the feeling, even though reason and logic argue to the contrary, that this beautifully morose puppet is begging for his help.

Cooper’s voice pops back through the Bluetooth. “It’s like…night of the living dead…creepy…creepy ass dolls…”

Blaine rolls his eyes at his brother’s unoriginality.

My brother, the actor, ladies and gentlemen.

Of course, Cooper was always better at reciting other people’s lines, not so much with the coming up of his own.

“Well, let’s get out of the Valley of the Dolls and head upstairs to the bedrooms. What do you say, Blainey-wainey?”

Blaine nods, even though Cooper can’t see him. But Blaine is convinced that the puppet did; that the blue-eyed puppet with the glass eyes is watching Blaine pick his way through the debris to get to the door.

The puppet is watching him leave…and Blaine can’t do it.

He doesn’t understand why, but he can’t leave it. He can’t condemn it to a sentence of loneliness in the dark, or to the trash heap when the cleaning crew comes to the house tomorrow.

“Come on, little bro. This is giving me the super heebie-jeebies!”

“I want them, Coop,” Blaine says without really thinking about the consequences, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that tons of Internet viewers heard him. It doesn’t matter that Cooper will use this to his advantage. Blaine has a pressing need to rescue this puppet from this horrible house, and not abandon it the way it had been before.

“What?” Cooper asks, the delight in his voice evident.

“You heard me, Cooper,” Blaine says. “I want these puppets.”

“Turn the webcam around so we can see you,” Cooper sings. Blaine drops on to the bed - the springs creaking with his added weight.

Here we go.

Blaine turns the webcam on himself and adopts his most frustrated, put-off face, complete with pouty mouth.

This is another part of the game. If he plays it Cooper’s way, he gets what he wants, and Blaine wants those puppets.

“But, Blaine,” Cooper says in a condescending voice, “these disturbing puppet-things could be worth a lot of money, like the ones upstairs. We can fix them up and voila!”

“I don’t think they are,” Blaine negotiates, hoping that instead of doing something to make Blaine look like an ass that maybe, for once, Cooper will simply listen to reason. “I think these puppets were made more recently than those other puppets. And look here…” Blaine gets up off the bed and walks over to the green-eyed puppet, focusing the webcam on its smug face. “Look at the varnish work on this puppet head. It’s mismatched. I’m not sure that can be fixed. No collector in their right mind would buy it. There doesn’t look like there are enough salvageable pieces in here to make one complete puppet, not to mention two. So, my taking these off your hands won’t eat into your profits at all.”

He turns the webcam back on his face and waits for Cooper’s response.

A long silence meets his well thought-out argument, then the recorded sound of crickets chirping, and Blaine sighs.

He knows it didn’t fly.

“What do you want, Coop?” Blaine asks, running a hand through his sweaty curls.

“You know what I want, Blaine,” Cooper replies, and Blaine sighs again. “You know how this works. Make me a deal.”

This is part of a newer segment in Cooper’s show called Blaine Makes a Deal. In his mind, Blaine can see the graphic that Cooper already has cued up flashing across his face on Cooper’s screen.

Cooper devised this new form of torture a few weeks ago when Blaine had asked to buy a vintage upright piano from one of the other San Diego project houses. Blaine comes up with a compelling argument for what he wants. Cooper retaliates with a reason for why he needs to sell said item (to recoup costs because they are way over budget, because it’s worth more to the renovation than to Blaine, because Cooper is considering keeping it for himself, yadda-yadda-yadda). After some bickering and banter back and forth, Blaine gets his keepsake, but in return Blaine does something for Cooper – something embarrassing.

In the case of the piano, Blaine had to complete the rest of the renovation for the house wearing a chicken costume, which sucked because San Diego had been experiencing an unseasonal heat wave his first week there. But the torment was fortunately short lived and now Blaine has a piano.

After that episode, Cooper begged Blaine to find something in the next house that he wanted. Anything. It didn’t matter if he really wanted it or not. Apparently viewer response to the segment was so overwhelming that Cooper was desperate to repeat that accidental success.

At the next house, Blaine obliged, asking for a Wedgewood Jasperware music box. He had spotted it amidst a mass of cheesy faux Hummel statuettes and broken Happy Meal toys.

The music box, with its delicate pink coloring and the stark white figure of a woman carved on the lid, reminded him of his mother. She had collected music boxes as a young girl, but between going away to college, changing states, and then getting married, they had all been lost or broken.

Blaine thought that he could give this one to her if she ever spoke to him again.

He paid for it by having to dress as Shirley Temple, complete with a rainbow swirl-lollipop prop, red patent leather Mary Janes, and a curly blonde wig.

“Fine, Cooper,” Blaine says, “but here’s the deal - I want all of the pieces in this room, and anything I think I might need to repair them.”

“That’s a hefty haul,” Cooper says. “I’m not sure I can come up with a costume ridiculous enough to cover all that…unless you’re willing to do the rest of the remodel in only a diaper…”

“Nope,” Blaine says, “I have something better. Something you’d be stupid to refuse.”

“Oooo,” Cooper coos. “Better than my little brother running around in a diaper with a pacifier in his mouth?”

Blaine pauses and makes a face. “Oh my God, Cooper.” Blaine pulls back, shaking his head. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Cooper clears his throat. “You…uh…you said you had something better…”

Blaine keeps an eyebrow raised in disbelief as he continues.

“In return, I…” Blaine’s eyes drift back to the puppet’s face, which he thinks, insanely enough, has started to look hopeful. Can that really be it, or is something in the air he’s breathing getting to him? “I’ll give you my salary from the renovation, plus my commission.”

Another silence.

“Wh-what?” Cooper sounds stunned, and this time he isn’t joking.

“That’s right,” Blaine says, feeling the tables turn in his favor. “Everything that I was set to make on this renovation.”

Blaine can hear Cooper breathe but nothing else – no clicking of the computer keys, no scribbling notes, no recorded sound effects.

Cooper is rarely ever speechless, and Blaine wishes he could be there in L.A. with him to see the look on his brother’s face.

Blaine realizes that what he’s doing is ludicrous. There is no way these broken puppets are worth what his brother is paying him. And what about NYADA? Why is he willing to put his future in jeopardy for this? Blaine can’t answer that. If he were to voice all of that out loud, he might actually see how asinine his decision is.

But where intelligent arguments in every form should prevail, they are snuffed out by the feeling that this is what’s right.

“Blaine,” Cooper says, sounding more like his older brother than the conceited actor Blaine is used to dealing with, “I can’t…”

“Cooper,” Blaine interrupts, worried that Cooper is about to mature without warning and put a kibosh on the whole deal, “I want them. This is important to me.”

Cooper sighs. It’s heavy and unamused, but Cooper recovers quickly the way he usually does, and the mega ego he’s so famous for returns.

“Well, congratulations, Blaine!” Cooper says in his best game show announcer voice, which sounds a tad forced. “You have just bought yourself a bunch of broken doll parts and a stigma that will follow you around for the rest of your life!”

“Thank you, Coop.” Blaine flips the webcam back around. “As always, you are far too generous.”

“You’re welcome. Now that that’s settled, would you mind doing your benevolent brother one teensy little favor?”

“Name it,” Blaine says, too overjoyed to be worried about what Cooper might have in mind.

“Can you get the fuckity-fuck-fuck out of that basement?”

Blaine laughs. It ricochets off the walls with a hollow echo. “Sure.”

Blaine is relieved that Cooper agreed to let him have the puppet pieces. Though what would Cooper have actually been able to do to stop him, with him in Los Angeles and Blaine in San Diego? He might drive down, but knowing Cooper that was highly unlikely. Now that the puppets are his, Blaine feels reluctant to leave them. He wants to take them back to the beach house and work on them right away, but he still has the rest of this house to deal with.

He hopes there’s nothing upstairs that wants him to take it home. He doesn’t have much more to bargain with, and Cooper isn’t going to let him get away with not being embarrassed twice.

The next time, Blaine will be wearing a diaper.

Blaine doesn’t feel quite as guilty when he leaves the basement room this time, looking over his shoulder once to lock eyes with the blue-eyed puppet, silently reassuring it that he’ll be back.

It’s much easier to negotiate the house now that the electricity is switched on. Bulbs have sprung on everywhere, and whatever specters had been hiding in the shadows are banished by the light. Blaine comes out of the basement staircase and through the door to the dining room. He peeks down the hallway into the living room and sees the menacing shapes and silhouettes for what they are – toys and puppets and stuffed animals and junk.

With the flip of one switch, Blaine has brought the house to life and exorcised the demons.

“Okay,” he says, an added spring in his step as he heads to the upper level of the house, “I am going up the staircase. I believe you said the bedrooms are up here?” Blaine slips back into TV personality mode, more comfortable with his surroundings since he can see where he’s going.

“That would be correct,” Cooper answers. “There should be three bedrooms, a bathroom, and a door that leads to the attic.”

“I take it I’m going to the attic?”

“Exactly.”

There’s a distracted catch to Cooper’s voice. It’s not as teasing as before. Blaine tries to imagine what might be bothering him. This remodel is going to be Blaine’s last house for a while, and on top of that, it’s their most ambitious project house to date. If Blaine can help Cooper pull this off, it puts Cooper in line to make a worthwhile profit for his investment.

Blaine sees how that might be daunting, but his brother doesn’t buckle easily under pressure. It seems kind of odd for him to mellow out now.

Blaine reaches the top of the staircase and comes face-to-face with atrocious avocado-green carpet on the floor and faded pale-gold paint on the walls, but Cooper doesn’t rise to the challenge, and for the first time ever, Blaine fills in with the crude humor.

“My God, Coop. It looks like they hired the last guy who decorated your condo to do the upper level here,” Blaine jokes. “What was his name?”

“Hey, no hatin’ on Carlos,” Cooper says. “It was either let him decorate my condo or marry his sister.”

“Coop, Coop, Coop,” Blaine scolds with a tsk, “you need to learn when to keep it in your pants.” Blaine makes his way to the last door at the end of the hall – the door he assumes will lead to the attic. In a house this old, maybe there are possums nesting up there…or bats. That would bring the old Cooper back.

Blaine stops short. This house is seriously messing with his mind. What the hell is he thinking? He’s not going to contract rabies to cheer his brother up!

The attic turns out to be uneventful. It’s a smaller space than it appears from the outside. The door opens to a staircase that leads up to a tiny room, perfectly square, with neatly stacked boxes and a few older furnishings in storage. Cooper mentions nothing about selling them, nor does he do any Internet searches, which is a good thing. Blaine plans to bring this place back to its original splendor, and as many of the furnishings unique to the house that he can use, the better.

“Did you want me to check out these boxes, Coop?” Blaine asks, hanging around on the top stair and glancing them over, trying to find any writing that might indicate what’s inside. He sees some indecipherable scrawling (symbols, or maybe shorthand), but nothing he can decipher.

“Nah,” Cooper says. “This looks a little too normal for my taste. Let’s get to the bedrooms.”

“Still hoping for some mummified cats?” Blaine asks, bounding down the stairs.

“Aren’t I always?”

Blaine leaves the attic staircase and walks out into the hallway. He stops in front of the first door. He reaches for the doorknob, letting his fingers linger on the polished brass.

It winks up at him, gleaming, out of place in this house where every surface is covered in a thick layer of grunge.

“Are you getting any ideas for how we’re going to remake this disaster?” Cooper asks. “Or are you going to hire a decorator so you can have more quality time to spend with your creepy puppets?”

“I would like to bring it back to its original design scheme,” Blaine explains, brushing off Cooper’s creepy puppet comment. “I figure that I’ll do some research, Google pictures of the house in its heyday, maybe hit up the historical society for advice. We have to clear out all the stuff first. That’s going to be the bulk of the work, but I won’t know for sure how labor intensive that’s going to be until I get a look at these bedrooms.”

“And why’s that, Blainers?” Cooper asks with a yawn. This instructive chitchat, necessary if the show has a prayer of being taken seriously, bores the hell out of Cooper, and he has no qualms about showing it.

“Because it’s my experience, Coop, that the majority of the mess in a hoarder’s house can usually be found in the bed…rooms…”

Blaine turns the knob and pushes the door open, shoving it harder than he needs to, expecting to encounter a large mound of stuff blocking the entrance. The door flies open and Blaine falls forward, fumbling the webcam one-handed, but catching it before it hits the ground.

“Blaine?” Cooper calls through the earpiece. “Are you alright, squirt?”

“Yeah,” Blaine answers, righting the webcam so Cooper can see. “I kind of expected that door to be harder to open, but…”

His sentence cuts off again as he surveys the room.

“It’s…clean…” Cooper says, watching the view from Blaine’s webcam, staring at a room that has been surprisingly well kept.

Though preserved seems like a more accurate term.

The room is decorated simply by modern standards, but it was probably considered stylish in its time. The bed in the far corner consists of a full-size mattress in a mahogany frame, a matching dresser and wardrobe standing against the wall by its side. Above the dresser hang pennants representing baseball teams in the American League – the Chicago White Sox, the Detroit Tigers, and the New York Giants. Alongside those pennants hangs a framed jersey that Blaine doesn’t recognize. It’s a cream-colored baseball jersey that, miraculously, doesn’t appear to have faded with age. Maroon pinstripes run vertically from shoulder to hem, the name Smythe sewn across the back.

The jersey doesn’t look like a professional jersey.

It looks like it was made for a child.

Above the pennants sits a baseball bat sealed in a wood-and-glass shadowbox.

“Look up there, Blaine,” Cooper says with a touch of awe. “Is that a genuine…”

“Louisville Slugger? It looks like it.” The bat is mounted high above Blaine’s head, too high for him to see it closely. He doesn’t want to step on any of the furniture, so he raises the webcam over his head for Cooper to get a better look.

Cooper gasps.

“It’s signed, Blainey! That might be Mel Ott’s signature.”

“That would make sense,” Blaine says. “He played for the New York Giants, and there’s a New York Giants pennant on the wall.”

Blaine hears Cooper typing on his computer again. “Let’s move along to the next room, Blaine. We may have struck out in here, but I bet the real catastrophe is next door.”

Struck out, Blaine thinks. A baseball pun. Sigh…

Blaine takes one final sweep of the bedroom with his webcam before he heads for the next room. Blaine sees another polished doorknob, and that confuses him. With all the clutter downstairs making it difficult to walk around, who would bother to come up here to clean the doorknobs? Or to keep that one room spotless?

Blaine doesn’t push as hard on this door when he opens it, and it, too, swings in effortlessly.

This bedroom is as clean as the one before. It has a similar mahogany bed, along with a matching dresser and wardrobe, but with a few additional touches. There’s a wicker dress form in the corner of the room, and a cherry wood sewing table next to it, an antique Singer sewing machine set into the top. There is no sports memorabilia on these walls. The walls in this room are covered in posters, framed like the ones downstairs, but the glass on these is spotless.

Blaine goes down the line of posters, reading off the names.

“Porgy and Bess…Arabella…The Eternal Road…these are old operas from the thirties,” Blaine remarks. He walks to the dresser, where a leather box covered in deep purple velvet sits. Using only his fingertips on the metal latch, he opens the lid and aims the webcam inside.

“So, a sewing box, a sewing machine, a mannequin…thingie, theater posters…are we thinking a son and a daughter?”

“That’s a sexist assumption.” Blaine turns away from the dresser and walks toward the wardrobe, to root through the clothes and see if his brother might be right.

“True, but think about context, Blainey,” Cooper points out. “This stuff is from the thirties. If there was ever a time to be sexist…”

“You make a valid point,” Blaine interrupts, pulling a suit from the closet and carrying it to the bed to lay it out, “but I believe this room might have belonged to a boy.”

“A boy into sewing and musical theater.” Cooper chuckles. “You two could have been friends.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees, running his hand lightly over the expertly tailored suit – a suit that looks as if it has never been worn. “Maybe we could have.”

Blaine takes a moment longer gazing at it – the fine details, the even stitches, the amazing craftsmanship. This is a garment that was lovingly made, and has definitely withstood the test of time. It’s a shame it didn’t get any use.

“Okay,” Cooper says, clapping his hands hard, the sharp noise making Blaine wince, “you know what that means. The mess that we’re searching for is behind lucky door number three.”

Blaine grimaces. That’s Cooper for you. Always hoping for those mummified cats.

Blaine backs away from the bed, filming the handsome suit laying on it. A haze passes in front of his vision, and he suddenly sees an image of a young man standing before him – a man about his age - wearing that suit.

A man with fair skin, as fine as porcelain, and eyes bluer than the ocean - eyes holding such a depth of sadness that Blaine feels his heart stutter in his chest.

“Blaine?” Cooper’s voice cuts through, clearing the image from Blaine’s head like blowing away a wisp of smoke. “What’s wrong there, little bro?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Blaine asks, turning his head left and right, trying to find the heartbroken man in the suit. The suit is there on the bed, but the man is nowhere to be seen.

Why did he look so familiar?

“I mean, you made a sound like someone punched you in the gut. Are you okay? Did you run into something off camera? Because we talked about that…”

Cooper requires that all accidents be filmed - not for insurance purposes, but because it’s funny.

“N-no,” Blaine stammers, doing a full 360 to get one last look around. “No, I think I’ve been here a little too long, that’s all.”

“Well, we only have a few more rooms to go, and then you can go home and do the rest of the menial work. I’m not paying you for nothing, you know.”

Blaine scoffs. “In this case, you’re not paying me at all.”

“Exactly,” Cooper says, and Blaine can hear his brother’s irritating grin. “So get your tuchus moving.”

Blaine approaches the last bedroom, sure that Cooper is right. He’ll turn the knob, open the door, and something horrible will fall on him.

He doesn’t even want to consider what that horrible thing is likely to be.

Blaine wraps his fingers around the doorknob. This one’s polished too, but he’s concentrating so hard on formulating evasive maneuvers that he doesn’t notice. He turns the knob and pushes the door in, letting go so it can swing freely the rest of the way while he takes a huge step back.

But no avalanche follows him out into the hallway.

Blaine steps through the door to another pristine room. It, too, has a mahogany bed with matching dresser and wardrobe.

“Three children?” Cooper asks, but Blaine is already shaking his head.

“No,” Blaine replies, walking toward the dresser and a pile of overturned picture frames, shards of glass crunching underfoot. Blaine cautiously picks up one metal frame between his thumb and index finger. “Parent.” Blaine turns the frame over. The damage is extensive, so much so that the broken glass has torn straight through the photograph underneath.

All Blaine can tell is that the picture is black and white, and there are three people in it, but he can’t see their faces.

“Definitely a parent,” he repeats.

He turns over the frames, each one decimated, the glass smashed, the photographs desecrated beyond recognition. The trail of broken frames leads Blaine to a dark spot in the carpet, and a spattering of thicker, amber-colored glass pieces. Blaine crouches low to get a better look at it. The liquid has soaked through the carpet, all the way to the padding underneath.

No one even tried to clean it up.

A foot or so away from the stain, Blaine finds the neck of a liquor bottle.

“It seems like someone went on a bit of bender and did some damage,” Coopers says.

Blaine stands, his eyes fixed on the picture frames, the bottle neck, and all that glass. It reminds him of the scene in the basement room – the body parts, the fragments of porcelain everywhere, and the blue-eyed puppet staring up at him with longing.

Like the man in the suit.

Could this have happened the same night those puppets were destroyed?

Blaine walks away slowly, but he can’t stop staring at the glass, because the reality of it is all so horrible. These photographs, violated so senselessly, are horrible. The violence of this damage is horrible. This wasn’t an accident. Someone didn’t trip and fall into the dresser and knock these over. They were demolished out of anger.

“All of these bedrooms are…”

“Immaculate,” Blaine finishes.

“Yeah,” Cooper agrees with a disappointed sigh. “That bites. I was really hoping for a pizza box landslide at the very least.”

Blaine sucks in a shuddering breath as he sweeps the camera around, taking one last panoramic shot. He thinks about what it would take to push someone to do this. How much would a child have to disappoint their parents to make them want to obliterate the memory of their face?

Would going to the wrong college be enough?

“Let’s finish up downstairs so we can get you out of there,” Cooper suggests, mirroring Blaine’s thoughts from the past few hours.

Blaine backs out of the room, leaving the gut-wrenching scene behind him, and unlike the other two rooms, he shuts the door.

Blaine wants this to be over. He’s had enough.

He bypasses the upstairs bathroom, with surprisingly no complaints from Cooper, and hurries down the stairs to the dining room. He walks swiftly down the hallway and across the living room. He ignores the piles of toys and debris, not even thinking to put the mask back on his face as he breathes the foul air. He reaches the far end of the house – a section he overlooked earlier since he was so focused on not dying. This part of the house includes the kitchen, the downstairs bathroom, and a guest/servant bedroom, but all three rooms are nothing but floor to ceiling toys without an inch of space to spare.

“Well, I think that’s it for your house,” Blaine says, his heart racing at the thought of gathering up his puppets and heading out of there as soon as possible. “Was there anything else you wanted to see?”

Cooper seems to wait a breath on purpose before he answers.

“You seem kind of anxious, Blaine. Do you have a hot date or something?”

“Nope.” Blaine starts taking obligatory background shots of the rooms on the lower level, working his way to the dining room. “Just eager to get started on your remodel. I have a lot of phone calls to make, emails to send out, plans to sketch…you know the drill.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never been so Johnny-on-the-Spot before. I would have stopped paying you sooner if I knew that was the way to get you to bust your ass.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, big brother.” Blaine stops at the dining room table, leaning his hip against it. “I want to hit the beach. Go work on my tan.”

“Well, you do that, Blainey-boy. Just make sure you’re back there bright and early in the morning.”

“Will, do, Coop.”

“And all of you out there in computer-landia, be sure to tune in…”

Blaine turns off the webcam. He disconnects the call in the middle of Cooper’s PSA, and pulls the Bluetooth out of his ear. With his index finger, he massages his sore ear canal, glad to be rid of the stupid thing. Blaine breathes in deep and exhales long, trying to will his aching muscles to relax.

When Blaine started helping Cooper film these walkthroughs, he was amazed at how exhausting wandering through a house could be. Add to that the anxiety of not knowing what God-awful thing you might find, along with constantly trying to be entertaining and informative, and sometimes Blaine thinks that Cooper isn’t paying him nearly enough.

Most of the time, when Blaine does a walkthrough of a project house, someone accompanies him – a relative of the past homeowner, a member of the fire department, one of Cooper’s contractors, the realtor – even if that person doesn’t show themselves on camera. This time around, Cooper didn’t want to consult the fire department just in case they declared the house unsafe (the bastard), none of the contractors were available, there were no relatives to consult, and the realtor outright refused to come.

Blaine goes over the schedule for the rest of his day in his head. He still has so much work to do here. He has to move the puppets and some of the tools out to his minivan. He has about a dozen or more phone calls he has to make. He has to write up an itinerary and throw together some preliminary sketches.

Blaine can feel the aftermath of this walkthrough start to weigh heavily on his shoulders. So many of the houses he’s visited previously have had their fair share of ghosts, but this house seems to have them in spades. He shakes his head to clear his mind, letting the silence surrounding him bleed into his brain, and comes to an unnerving realization.

Without his brother’s voice in his ear, Blaine is completely and utterly alone.

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #freakingpotter #Frankie writes

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karninari · 8 years ago

Text

in one ear, out the other

Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki

Notes: Bakugou/Kaminari – adventure; “let’s get matching piercings!”

also on ao3

Upon entering the gas and market, Bakugou asks Kaminari the same question he'd used back in the car, "You do know that you can use your phone to take us there, right?"

At his side, Kaminari is disentangling a thick pamphlet in his hands, spreading fold after fold of the map he'd bought from a city back. He pauses to roll his eyes, the action just barely visible through his shades, "Where's the fun in that, Bakugou? Don't you want to experience asking around for directions and getting lost in an unfamiliar city?"

Usually it was just Kaminari that came down to take care of unnecessary stuff like this while Bakugou filled up the tank, but the needle has budged little since their stop in the last town, so he'd been ushered out of the truck and into this pasty white shop filled to its brim with junk food.

And not only that, but he's forced to stand in line while Kaminari browses the greasy shelves, enduring the unwavering stare of the young girl standing beside her father who makes casual conversation with the employee, popping bubbles as she cranes her neck to look over her shoulder at him. A few minutes pass before they finish their purchases and step out of the way, and Bakugou drops the glare on his face that had appeared fascinating on someone three times smaller than him, grumbling to no one, "Not when I'm the one paying for gas."

He doesn't bother initiating pleasantries. That's what he has Kaminari for, who returns in time to greet the tired cashier that sits up in her seat at the polite smile Kaminari flashes her, "Excuse me, do you happen to know where this place is?"

Holding the map up over the counter, Kaminari points to a secret destination, one that Bakugou couldn't catch a glimpse of before it had been lifted out of sight. It was meant to be a surprise, although he had a sneaking suspicion it was another tattoo and piercing shop for another of the latter to add to the collection decorating Kaminari's ear, and by default, Bakugou's as well.

Bakugou absentmindedly plays with the huggy on his lobe, wondering if the metal was starting to get worn from the constant rubbing, unlike Kaminari's persistence, which hasn't faded in the slightest since day one.

He misses the whole conversation conducted in hushed tones, but finds little need to catch every detail like someone who was owner to a wandering mind.

With a quick thank you to the cashier, Kaminari folds up the country map they had absolutely no need for, excitement radiating from him, "C'mon, I know the way!"

Speak of the devil. Dropping his hand, Bakugou pushes off the counter, shoving the glass door open and activating the electronic bell that signals their exit, "Then let's fucking get this over with so we can get back on the road. This place is already becoming an eye sore."

They've been on the road for a few weeks, stopping every night or so for some well-earned rest, interchanging the peaceful nights with late night driving, exploring the country by car to their heart's content. There was no real destinationーsometimes they found themselves in the same city more than once, but never in the exact place as the time before. This aimless traveling was sure to put a hefty dent in their pockets, or in other words, their parent's pockets, but nothing screamed ditching responsibilities like taking a road trip one odd summer between college semesters.

Thinking about coming back was not the kind of thoughts Bakugou liked to have in the middle of night, staring aimlessly at the ceiling until his vision blurred and faded to near darkness, only to come into fruition once he blinked again. It was nearly morning, but the world really did go out of its way to mess with him, reminding him that he still had a career to pursue and a life of his own to create. By all means, it isn't the most daunting task he's encountered, one that Bakugou can do in his sleep, but a vacation is called a vacation for a reason, and sleep should already be a given.

Releasing a sigh that does little to ease his strung shoulders, Bakugou tugs the sheets up until they're all he can see and closes his eyes, tempted to call for the dreams to come and stop evading him like a coward.

This creepy, not quite realistic motel, with its neon lights and faded wallpaper, was really giving Bakugou the chills, but perhaps that was due to the air conditioner that wouldn't turn off no matter how hard Kaminari had tried to turn down the temp that was blasting cold air through the paper thin coverings and keeping Bakugou from settling in comfortably.

With a groan, Bakugou abandons all care and rolls over the imaginary line his mind had created to divide the space on the bed, moving away from his side to the naturally warmer portion that Kaminari takes up, sound asleep and snoring ever since his head had hit the pillow.

Kaminari doesn't shift or wake as the bed dips and creaks with Bakugou, nor when he draws the sheets closer. Bakugou doesn't go as far as taking up the empty space left on Kaminari's pillow, scooting his closer so their pillows overlap crookedly. The last thing he wanted was to make the mistake of sleeping too close and getting drool in his hair again. His neck is slightly elevated, but he can worry about the soreness tomorrow. A few hours of uneventful sleep was all Bakugou was asking for.

Thankfully, it welcomes Bakugou with open arms, greeting him warmly and syncing his breathing with the soft eupnea filling the room.

With the aimless exploring comes the occasional visit to tourist traps. Exploring the Golden Pavilion's gold-leafed floors is peaceful, the sight of the outer gardens and ponds a welcoming turnaround to the dazzling sights of the city. Kaminari almost doesn't want the walkthrough to end, wholly enjoying the muted chatter of touring families, but it doesn't hurt to spare a few minutes away from preserved nature when he sees children of those same families gather around one of the smaller, older attractions here.

He tugs on Bakugou's arm, who'd been busy admiring at the scenery. This location had actually come up in a conversation the other day, suggested by Bakugou himself. But one look at what Kaminari excitedly points out to him has Bakugou cracking the thoughtful gaze he's wearing to pull a face and shake his head, "No way."

Kaminari gives him a grin, nodding insistently, "Come on, Bakugou, everybody who comes here has to toss some coins in for good luck! That's what I read online, anyways."

Even with the untimely confession of admitting to doing "research" for the first place that Bakugou has had a desire to visit since the start of the trip, the frown on Bakugou curls further downward, the unflattering yet cute wrinkling of his nose beginning to form as he says blandly, "I bet it was from a stupid traveling blog."

There's nowhere to go but forward, so Bakugou doesn't offer up much resistance when Kaminari pulls him off the path and towards the age old display of stone carvings that has garnered up its own crowd in the looming shadow of one of Japan's most popular buildings. The kids present here look to be aiming at the senescent, cracked bowls filled with change, a tough target for any young child who couldn't see much past the wooden railing.

Kaminari bounces on the balls of his feet, digging around in his pockets for a couple coins as Bakugou voices his distaste, "This is child's play."

It may very well be, but Kaminari is rusty and misses the first few throws. Miffed, Kaminari offers Bakugou to try, covering up his terrible aim to ask, "Then why not take a chance, Mr. I'm-too-cool-for-luck?"

Scowling, Bakugou snatches the coin from his fingers, looking down at the round piece for a moment. Kaminari expects to have it returned back with a half-assed excuse pinned to it, but in a stroke of luck, ironically enough, Bakugou accepts the challenge.

To no surprise, Kaminari hears the clink of stone and metal as Bakugou takes little more than a moment to draw his arm back and flick his wrist, successfully making it into the central bowls on his first try. Kaminari has to give him props for that one, clapping to the chorus of ooh's and wow's from the kids that had paused to watch, handing Bakugou another coin, "Now try throwing for me. I have bad hand-eye coordination."

Bakugou rolls his eyes as the coin is pressed into his palm, "No duh, I was in the same physical ed class as you back in high school, you were fu-" He appears to pause and bite his tongue before turning back to the stone arrangement, "-really terrible at basketball."

Pleased at Bakugou's attempt to smother his usual brashness for the sake of the children that are within earshot, Kaminari agrees, sitting his elbows on the fence as he stares at the way Bakugou scrunches his eyebrows in concentration, "I was, wasn't I? Probably because I was always watching you."

That causes Bakugou to miss by a mile, bouncing their last piece of spare change off one of the stone facets, but Kaminari is sure that, being a loyal believer of naive superstition, he's been granted enough luck to last a week when he's met with Bakugou's furiously flustered expression.

"What?" He asks, feeling the smile on his face grow obnoxiously wide, and a beat passes before he's being dragged away from the display.

"We're leaving. I wanted to come here to see the sights, not throw away money."

Spying a tea shop further down the path, Bakugou was sure going to eat those words once he tried out the tea they served here, even as a man of simple taste for tea. Mentioning the color riding high on Bakugou's cheeks would only backfire on Kaminari, so he lets Bakugou off easy this time, shifting his arm until they're properly linked together and Bakugou has no way of getting out without making a scene, "Lead the way, then."

They had just parked the truck for a minute to take a breather, but commotion to the left has Bakugou shutting his hardcover, a sharp clap of paper against cardboard to seek what's wrong: that catches Kaminari's attention as he's tugging a shirt the rest of the way over his head, one with an all too familiar skull printed to the front, "Is.... that my shirt?"

Combing the static from his hair, Kaminari checks the mirror for any flyaways before sitting back in the driver's seat, hands crossed atop the wheel, "Yeah, all mine are dirty." He smiles crookedly, and, in every sense of the word, cutely, "What, do I look bad in it?"

On the contrary, it fits him quite well for a tank top that Bakugou can hardly move in without the worry of stretching the seams.

He parts the pages again, going back to reading, "Just don't get it caught in the wrong laundry load when you wash it."

"You got it!" Kaminari gives him a quick salute before adding, "Oh, and I hope you don't mind me wearing your sweats either. You know, I don't I'll ever get over how small your waist is-"

Bakugou cuts him off with a wave of his hand, shooing away any further blathering before they could get carried away with it, "Alright, enough about me. Focus on driving."

Kaminari dutifully starts the engine, "Yes sir!"

Bakugou is still thinking about the clothes Kaminari had borrowed when they're a few miles down the road. Sorting through the mental inventory of his suitcase, Bakugou recalls having only one clean pair of sweats left that he kept for emergencies, which unmistakably falls into the same category as being the one he favors most over the rest.

His gut feeling proves right when he sees the district red string of elastic keeping the sweats snugly on Kaminari's hips. Kaminari had made mention of the size of Bakugou's waist, but neglects to remember that he always buys bottoms that are a few sizes too big.

Bakugou averts his eyes before he could judge his staring as too long for almost looking directly at someone's crotch. If not for the implications behind removing another person's clothes in a space as tight as this, Bakugou would've gone and yanked his favorite pair of sweats off Kaminari right then and there. Instead, he settles for crossing his arms and brooding over the odd satisfaction that's beginning to settle in from seeing Kaminari wear his clothes.

Doing laundry no longer sounded like a task of high priority anymore.

"I still can't figure out how the fuck you dragged me into getting piercings with you every goddamn time," Bakugou admits to Kaminari as he's laying back in the operating seat of a tattoo and piercing shop.

No matter what town they visited, scarce population and establishments or not, Kaminari would scour for a place to get a new ear piercing or two before the ones from last time have fully healed. If not for Bakugou's persistence in refusing to risk infection or whatever kinds of conditions came with "being an idiot and not following standard safety precaution," who knows what they could've contracted.

In all fairness, this is only the second shop they've stopped by after Bakugou said fuck it to waiting any longer than a six week period. They could be potentially playing with fire by extending the healing period in adding more piercings so close to the others, but here Bakugou was, sitting in the same seat that Kaminari had taken up earlier, so there was no point in turning back now. They were both strangely resistant to pain too, as it turned out, which is always a plus.

"I can be quite convincing," Kaminari reminds him, "and didn't you say once that getting piercings are badass?"

Bakugou doesn't look quite as threatening, wearing pink clips to pull back his hair and expose his ear, "Not when I'm matching with you!"

"Then what would you call this?" Kaminari asks, curious of what Bakugou thought of this rare but mutual arrangement that's begun to form in the few months they've been traveling. Sure, there were breaks when they came back home, but that only lasted a week or so before they were back on the road, hitting the three week mark today.

"It feels really..." Bakugou pauses as though to search for what to say, but any further prying from Kaminari is cut short as the body piercer rolls up in his chair, wiping the skin to be punctured with a wet swab, and holds the instrument steady so it hovers over Bakugou's ear.

Like the first time, Kaminari extends a hand to be taken, an odd happening for Bakugou who normally shies away from physical contact. But he was human like everyone else, and a little comfort never hurts where it's needed.

He can't quite piece together what word Bakugou would've used before falling quiet, but Kaminari can think of one word that encompasses this tradition as Bakugou squeezes his hand through the sudden sharp sting of the piercing gun forcing the adornment to pierce his skin. Bakugou doesn't blink once through the pain that fades like cool water on fire, pulsing yet bearable, but he does release the breath he's holding, scarlet eyes on him, and Kaminari can't find it in him to look away.

It feels almost... intimate.

The weather is never at its best, even during the summer. They've had their fair share of summer rain and gloom interlaced with the dry spells of nothing but sun, sun, and more sun. These days were filled with little activity and plenty of time to catch up on sleep, like Kaminari was doing, using Bakugou's arm, the most inconvenient replacement for a pillow, to cushion his head from the hard armrest.

Exiting the highway, Bakugou watches the wall of fog seemingly move with the position of the truck, an illusionary sight that he almost falls for with his lack of sleep. Once he makes it to the stoplight, Bakugou uses those precious seconds to close his eyes shut, forgetting the last time he's gotten a rest.

It wasn't really anyone's fault; he could've merely woken up Kaminari to take over for the night, but the point of this whole trip was to escape the rush, hustle and bustle of duties like arriving at a location at a designated time, when there was no real deadline to be late for here. Bakugou had felt like driving until he couldn't anymore, and now seemed to be the right time to retire from that task.

He remembers the directions his phone had given him before it had died, and makes a right before pulling into the motel parking lot, recognizing the glowing sign that he'd spotted from the highway, flickering sporadically like it was signaling him over through morse code.

Bakugou can hardly make out what time it is, as displayed by the old, rickety clock tower belonging to the motel, but instead of bundling up and toughing out the chance cloudy storm to pay for a room, Bakugou flicks the windshield wipers off and puts the truck into park as best he can with a person on his arm, and makes himself comfortable in the worn seat of his truck.

With the final seconds of caressing warmth from the heater before it clicks off with the keys now removed, and his arm extended in an awkward but not unwelcome position for Kaminari to lay on, Bakugou sinks into his jacket, eyelids heavy and beginning to burn from long hours of staring down a road that stretched no further than a car ahead in every direction.

Guess it was another night in the car. Not that Bakugou was complaining, soon to wake up a few hours later with his head laying against Kaminari's, soreness the last thing on his mind.

Morning comes, and the predicted pain turns out to be quite different than expected.

Seeing red through his shut eyelids, Kaminari sighs and shoves his face into Bakugou's shoulder, turning away from the blinding rays of the sun from its place above the buildings, the thick fog of yesterday a thing of the past. Bakugou is still asleep, a weight on Kaminari's head as they use each other as pillows in the upright positions they've maintained throughout the night. But as much as Kaminari wants to watch Bakugou as he rests, he really should wake him up.

It takes a few prods to Bakugou's side to get him groggy and grumbling about being awake, but he doesn't move far before Kaminari feels a tug on the shell of his ear.

"Bakugou, wait a sec," Kaminari holds his shoulder still, unable to move his head without feeling pain. Bringing his fingers to his ear that had also been pressed up against Bakugou prior to waking up, he searches for what's keeping him there, and finds a stud earring in his ear that's entangled in the loose threads of Bakugou's shirt, "Ow, I think I'm stuck."

Running a hand over his face, Bakugou remarks gruffly, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Kaminari clears his throat to speak, just now becoming aware of how close they were planted together, "Y-Yeah, this is a first."

"I'll do it." Bakugou bats away Kaminari's fumbling fingers so he can do it himself. Kaminari tilts his head, letting Bakugou work away the knots that had caught on his piercings, wincing every now and again when the metal dug into his skin in a certain direction, which was few and far between under Bakugou's attention and careful touch.

"There." Once releasing the final knot, Kaminari straightens his neck to alleviate the slight ache that had been developing in his crevical muscles. With Kaminari free, Bakugou snaps the useless thread sticking up from the brand new hole on his shirt before tossing it away, "Stupid fucking loose ends, high quality t-shirt my ass."

Kaminari rubs at his ear, only to have Bakugou stop him with a hand, "Don't touch it, idiot."

He lifts his hand up from irritated area of his ear, "Then what else are we gonna do to soothe the pain?" Kaminari tries to recall the instructions for cleaning a piercing, "Well, I have some hydrogen peroxide in my bag, and I think a few cotton balls-" He doesn't catch Bakugou taking matter into his own hands and leaning in until he feels the press of lips on his ear as he's rambling. Kaminari's words crumble and die, the heat rushing to his face and the awareness of Bakugou kissing his ear better cranking up to full sensitivity.

Bakugou pulls away after a few long seconds of wordless silence, and the place where he'd touched burns hot when Kaminari ghosts his fingers over it. He reattaches his jaw from where it'd fallen slack from shock, working it back into place as he finds the brain power to talk again, "... Or that could work too."

Bakugou is strangely silent when he reaches for Kaminari's backpack sitting in the back seat, grabbing the bottle of antiseptic and package of cotton swabs. Kaminari stiffens at the cold press of cleaning alcohol on his ear when a soaked swab is applied to the inflamed area, but Bakugou takes it as him tensing from the pain, and somehow his touches becomes more gentle. This is certainly a first in being under Bakugou's care without fuss or protest.

"Wanna kiss me somewhere other than my ear?" Kaminari punctuates it with a stuttering laugh, heart lodged in his throat.

"In your dreams," Bakugou speaks with usual snappiness, but he doesn't look at Kaminari once as he puts away the stuff and tosses the bag off to the side, the only hint Kaminari gets of Bakugou being embarrassed about uncharacteristic show of affection.

Being kissed by Bakugou is certainly a common occurrence in Kaminari's dreams, so that was already checked off long ago, not that Bakugou needed to know... just yet.

Biting his lip, Kaminari covers his burning ear, the pain forgotten with Bakugou's unorthodox remedy.

He can tell that Bakugou is getting annoyed with his antsy fidgeting, arms propped on the windowsill of the door and knuckles digging into his temples, but the anxiety-inducing motion doesn't last for much longer once they roll up into town and Kaminari spots the closest store that he's sure to hold a bathroom.

"Hey, can we stop here?" Kaminari pipes up, tapping on the glass window to point out the store where he could find sweet release in relieving his bladder.

Bakugou jerks his head around, hissing out the word in a reflection of his own annoyance, "Why?"

"I have to pee." He's straightforward about it, smiling diffidently as Bakugou sighs in response. There was no doubt that Kaminari was wearing Bakugou's patience dangerously thin with his words alone.

"I just asked you an hour ago if you needed to use the restroom. In the last town."

"I didn't have to go at the time."

"I'm dealing with a fucking child," Kaminari hears Bakugou says to himself, or perhaps directly to him. It certainly sounded better in Kaminari's head, but he doesn't have to think up a better excuse when Bakugou pulls over to the curb, "Fine, but make it quick."

Bakugou at the beginning this trip would've just kept driving or thrown a bigger fit before letting Kaminari off, but he's begun to stomach his complaints and let the minor inconveniences go, which Kaminari is eternally grateful for, and almost prideful about. His change in attitude wasn't just an individual effort.

"Thanks!" He'd kiss Bakugou right now out of gratitude, but his bladder would sooner explode before he could gather the courage to make such a bold move. Maybe later. For now, Kaminari unbuckles his seatbelt and runs out, albeit awkwardly with the sensitivity of each step. He can already hear Bakugou making a sarcastic mention of it when he returns, but lately, they've started to sound more like teasing and less condescending as the days have passed.

Having such odd, unreliable traveling schedules has really fucked up their sleeping and eating schedules, as Bakugou feels a rumble come from his insides and leave him with a strange sense of emptiness in the pit of his stomach. They're not far from the hotel, the place they've been staying at for the past few days to get their bearings on visiting a brand new prefecture, but in a moment of weakness and intense craving for food, Bakugou enters the shopping center a block away from the establishment.

Lightly sleeping at the time before Bakugou stops the car, Kaminari shield his eyes against the inner car lights that brighten to life, blinking them open to see better, or worse, in the drastic visibility change, "What time is it?"

"Ass crack in the morning. Hell if I know," Bakugou answers, not bothering to check. He feels the truck rock with Kaminari's stretching as he extends his arms to the high roof, "You coming or not?"

As he shuts off the light, he can make out Kaminari rubbing his eyes, "I thought we were going to the hotel?"

"I'm hungry, so I thought I might as well but some groceries. It'll only take a few minutes. You can stand up on your own two feet, can't you?" Bakugou asks, mostly out of sarcasm, which Kaminari doesn't catch in his somnolent state.

"Hm, I guess..." Kaminari shrugs, speech slurred from sleep. He doesn't have to join Bakugou, but despite that, has decided to do so anyways.

Bakugou gets out, shutting his door only to hear a suspiciously loud thud from the other side of the vehicle. Peeking over, he finds the car door swinging out wide and no Kaminari, but hears him groan out, "... Ow."

Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea to let Kaminari, who's been out like a light for most of the day, to be up and about.

Before Bakugou can call him, Kaminari picks himself up off what Bakugou can assume to be the floor, having forgotten in that moment that leaning on a door as he opened it would end with him falling out of the truck. He brushes himself off before prying his eyes open and flashing him a weak thumbs up, "I-I'm okay."

On the way in, Bakugou hovers behind Kaminari in case he's half as clumsy as he was getting out of the truck. Not that it wasn't funny to see Kaminari try to function while delirious with sleep, but a chipped tooth or broken nose could put a damper to the night or early morning or whatever hour of the day it was. He does lose sight of Kaminari when they enter the automatic sliding doors and asks him to grab a cart, but true to their plan, Kaminari comes over after a handful of slow-crawling minutes Bakugou spent weighing ramen versus yakisoba.

What Bakugou comes face to face with when he greets Kaminari really shouldn't have been as surprising as he makes it sound, "Why the fuck are you in the cart?"

Kaminari laces his fingers on his stomach, shifting his weight so his legs dangle from either side of the cart, "You've forced me awake, it's only right that you push me around in return."

Bakugou waves the noodle package in his hands as he speaks, "I didn't- Does everything I say just go in one ear, and out the other?"

"Just the stuff I don't wanna do." Closing his eyes, Kaminari waves him away like a king dealing dealing with flippant matters and a fickle audience, "Now onward, mush."

Bakugou checks the aisle they're in, seeing an employee at the other end that can care less about a grown adult crammed into one of their carts. They're both ready to turn in, so Bakugou lets Kaminari's lethargy slide for tonight. All he wanted was some noodles, and for convenience, stopping by for a snack was a better alternative to purchasing the overpriced ones courtesy of the hotel establishment looking to slip a few more dollars from their occupants.

"Whatever, just don't drop anything." Bakugou dumps the groceries onto Kaminari's lap, not caring if they spilled over. He pushes the cart, intending to stop by the snack aisle. They were running low on Kaminari's favorite candy, if Bakugou was recalling their stock correctly. He was already dozing in the cart, somehow finding a comfortable position in the metal bars and hard angles.

Bakugou purposely runs the cart into a pole on the way to the next aisle, jolting Kaminari awake for the sweet taste of petty satisfaction when he jerks up in a daze, and so he can ask him which one exactly is his favorite, but that's the only time. Kaminari doesn't need to know that Bakugou helps him out of the cart and buckles him into his seat once he's got everything they needed.

"How much money you got on you?" Leaving their hotel room for the day, Bakugou hands Kaminari the spare key, "As you know, this town only accepts cash."

Patting down his pockets for his wallet, Kaminari counts the bills inside, "Mm, not much."

"We are not living off gas station food for another week because you blew all your money on fucking souvenirs in the middle of fucking nowhere," Bakugou says, actually shuddering at the memory, like all the steel had left his spine.

"That was fun!" Kaminari begs to differ, putting away his wallet, but he goes back on his word in the next moment, thinking hard on it, "... Okay, yeah, maybe I did feel sick and throw up a little, but-" He stops to muffle a laugh as he remembers how Bakugou had groaned and griped about the stomachache he had from consuming more candy in one day than he'd ever eaten in his whole life.

That tourist trap from a few weeks back in the middle of nowhere had been a money pit, according to Bakugou. He was probably right, but Kaminari was pretty sure they still had the bag of knick knacks and goodies somewhere in the back, only granted the privilege to stay in their possession because he refused to let Bakugou toss them out. That meant they at least had some retaining value apart from "glorified trash".

Bakugou shoots him a glare, daring him to bring it up again as he gets into the truck, "I'm going to the nearest atm and we're gonna eat at a real restaurant, goddammit." Like any other place they've stayed in for an extended period of time, Bakugou has already memorized the layout of the streets they've frequented. For a Kaminari swears he has a photographic memory sometimes, which could be how he passes all their midterms with little studying.

He stops, forgetting Bakugou's impressive show of memory for a second to ask, "Wait, you're paying?"

"Who else is going to?" Bakugou questions back, as though it was obvious that he be the one to cover for the bill whenever they eat out at restaurants, like he always does.

"I could do it," Kaminari suggests as a last ditch effort. He did feel a little bad that Bakugou was always the one paying.

"I obviously have better taste in food, so don't bother." Well, Bakugou wasn't wrong about that. Kaminari snorts at the stubborn purse of Bakugou's lips as he backs out of their parking spot, allowing a minute to pass before he brings forth a compromise, "You can cover dessert, if you'd like. Your choice."

Kaminari looks at him incredulously, "Really? Anything?"

Bakugou glances over at him, choosing his words carefully, "Just... nothing I'm gonna get a damn heart attack from."

That still left a vast range of selections to choose from. Kaminari wholeheartedly agrees, grinning broadly, "Okay!"

Bakugou knows not to expect decisions to always come that easy. A perfect example of what their arguments normally tends to stem from is when he changes the radio station, but no sooner than when his finger leaves the buttons does Kaminari switch it back over.

Bakugou's eyes twitches. Being the driver, Kaminari has easy access to the wheel's system controls, including the secondary controls for the radioーand he's set on letting the song play out in its 10-minute entirety of indecipherable vocals and head-throbbing screeches of a guitar.

They glare at each other over the armrest. Bakugou meets Kaminari's stubborn line of a frown by flashing the barest hint of teeth, digging his elbow into the rubber and using his slight height advantage in the truck to tell Kaminari, "I'm not playing around. Get rid of this shit, or I'll gladly do it for you."

Kaminari glowers back with just as much heat, "You are not changing the station! This is my favorite song!"

A song that has been overplayed one too many times. It was as though the DJs seemingly used nothing but the same playlist every afternoon when they were stuck in traffic, appeasing Kaminari's peculiar tastes and sure to drive Bakugou crazy. "Keep talking, and this is the last song you're ever gonna fucking hear!"

"Ew, it's way too hot to be almost nighttime," Kaminari complains with a whine, peeling away the collar of his shirt from his skin. He's already unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, using one of the old magazines Bakugou kept stored in the back to cool himself down. Spending the day in a car with heat wave temperatures is one of many downsides to a road trip. "Can you turn on the AC, Bakugou?"

While Kaminari voices his complaints, Bakugou prefers to keep his to himself, sure to go crazy if they filled every minute of every day with protest. "You're hot?"

"Appearance-wise, yes. I'm glad you think so," Kaminari replies cockily, laughing into his hand when Bakugou feel his cheeks burn with the heat of the car and something else, "But yeah, I'm nearly drenched in sweat. We should be good regarding the engine, right?"

On the dash, the needle for the coolant temperature sensor twitches midway up the scale, but nowhere near the red line, meaning that the engine wasn't going to be overheating anytime soon.

Bakugou is all too aware of the sweat plastering his shirt to his back, and the mucky heat as he draws in a breath, so he grunts in agreement, turning the air conditioning system on. It takes a minute or two of bated silence before they feel the effects, and share a sigh of bliss.

Kaminari puts down his makeshift fan, bringing his face close to the vents, "Ahh, thanks."

The next hour passes with little interruption, Bakugou watching the forest scenery shift into one of the sea, and Kaminari alternating between leaning over his crossed legs to enjoy the refreshing air and asking if they were at their destination yet, incapable of understanding that posing the question every five minutes wasn't going to make time pass any quicker.

Reclining back into his chair once the heat becomes tolerable in the small space of the truck, Kaminari fixes his sunglasses back over his eyes as the sun reflects off the side mirror, still peeking out through the hills at their backs. It's impossible to distinguish between the blond of Kaminari's hair, and the orange light aglow on his skin as he quietly watches the sunset.

That thought drags Bakugou's gaze back to the road and away from the peaceful expression Kaminari wears, blaming the heavy thumping of his heart on the looming cliff that lingers mere feet from the truck's wheels. He has no fear of heights, but following his better judgement, Bakugou leaves it at that, knowing that lingering in his thoughts would only complicate his already convoluted feelings that he'd hoped to escape.

They set up camp in an empty yet modest campground, no less then a few hundred feet from the dirt road where the truck sits parked for the night, in a small cluster of trees where the outskirts crest into a small hill that overlook the beach. The ocean is obscured by this hill, but the larger waves that come with the rise of the moon are an indication that a little fun in the water was only a two-minute trek away.

Sitting together on the blanket Bakugou had thrown out from the trunk in their unpacking for the night came to be of some use with the discovery of a hidden box of beer that Kaminari didn't know was tucked into the furthest corner. According to Bakugou, he'd bought it a few stops back on that late foggy night in search of groceries, nearly a lifetime ago by traveling standards. It was only fair that they'd make use of the alcohol in the easiest matter possibleーby drinking it.

Kaminari finds his distracted thoughts yielded by Bakugou speaking, "My turn?"

Taking his eyes off the sea, Kaminari smiles at Bakugou in a challenge. He takes it, putting a bit of thought into his next words, probably concerned about how he was losing a game for the first time in his drinking years. "Alright. Never have I ever cried my way out of a speeding ticket."

"Three games, and you still haven't learned, Bakugou." Kaminari shakes his head, lifting the can to his lips and tasting the sharp, Tandy character of the beer. He's certainly had better drinks than this. "Can I replace the crying with flirting and call it a done deal?"

"You actually did that?" Bakugou raises an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief in his tone before the surprise melts away, "Shit, of course you would. Since you're so set on drinking for pleasure instead of following the rules of a game you suggested, be my guest. Don't expect me to pick your drunk ass off the floor later."

"I'll be fine." Setting the can to the side, Kaminari leans forward on his elbows, "Okay, okay, I got one for you, Bakugou. Never have I ever invited someone to join me in a crazy countrywide road trip."

Bakugou pauses with the can already halfway to his lips. Most of the things Kaminari says are strangely specific instances that hit a bullseye with Bakugou, so he's just begun to take a drink with every new round. Being friends with Bakuhou since high school has given Kaminari quite a lot of insight into Bakugou's exciting life.

"That's a low blow." But Bakugou downs the rest of his drink anyway like he'd done with the last two. Even with Kaminari purposefully taking more sips than needed, he rightfully assumes. his place as victor for the third time in a row.

Kaminari cracks up when he crushes it against his forehead after emptying it to its last drop, the weak metal no match to Bakugou's sheer strength.

"I feel like it's super late to ask this question," Kaminari starts, waiting for Bakugou to toss away his old can for a new one, "but why'd you ask me to come with you? On this trip, I mean."

It was something he's been meaning to ask Bakugou for a while, dating back as far as that first week of aimless driving and arguing over who would pay for gas, all while wondering if this was a good decision, and not a bust that would get old in a day. Kaminari hardly remembers the stress of being stuck alone in the same breathing space as Bakugou day in and day out. Nowadays, it was all second nature, being together, but it took a great deal of learning to find a kind of harmony in their travels.

Bakugou pops the tab, careful of the foaming bubbles that stir up from being jostled around back, "Why, you want me to take you home and leave you there for real?"

"It's quite the opposite, actually. As a matter of fact, I like being here, but I was just curious. You aren't the type to suddenly up and decide to partake in a road trip for the whole summer." It may come as a universal assumption to most that Bakugou is impulsive, but he doesn't always base his actions on a lack of rhyme or reason. Not the important ones that take up a few months of a person's life, anyway.

"Who doesn't wanna take a break from college?" Bakugou says in a blatant dodge of what Kaminari was expecting to hear.

"It's only been a few years," Kaminari notes. He also notes how Bakugou begins to bristle at that.

"I know that!" He hardly raises his voice before it falls back to normal. He scratches his head out of habit, but mostly frustration, "It's like I said, sometimes you just gotta get away for a while to, I don't know, find yourself or whatever inspirational crap you're time these days. Not that I have trouble with that. I'm right here."

Coming from Bakugou, those last three words sound like a reminder to himself more than anything, the type of mantra Kaminari would say when he'd find himself in a rough patch and in need of a little self-assurance. "Of course you are," Kaminari says softly, "I can see you crystal clear."

The frown lines etched into Bakugou's face fade, and he's back to playing with the drink in his hands, spilling a bit on his fingers with the constant swirling of its contents, "As for why I dragged you out here with me..." He has little more to offer than a brief shrug of his shoulders, "Who knows. I just thought it'd be... fun for us to do. Together. We never hung out a lot because of school, so..."

All this time, Kaminari had thought it was out of convenience. Kirishima was booked the whole summer with sports camp, and everybody but Kaminari had plans for the extended vacation between semesters. Being one of his three roommates, he was the only one free when Bakugou emerged from his bedroom one morning and asked him if he wanted to take a drive, luggage full of clothes dragging behind him. No simple drive involved needing a change of clothes.

To think that Bakugou had beat around the bush for so long that he couldn't find the right time to ask until everybody had left campus for the summer and Kaminari was eating away his sorrows with cereal that same day.

With the sun no longer in sight, the solar-powered lantern at their feet blinks to life. Kaminari watches the faux fire dance along Bakugou's features, and finds himself nodding along with his words. It's a very Bakugou answer, but one that Kaminari can understand. Not quite as many obstacles block Kaminari like they do with Bakugou, who aims as high as the sun, where everybody can see him, far out of reach but close enough to look up admire.

Bakugou and a star are almost one and the same. The only difference is that Kaminari can see and touch him in the entirety of his fiery presence.

Kaminari sips his drink, biting the brim of the aluminum can nervously. He never would've thought that Bakugou and love would go so well together until this very moment.

Silence falls with the night, and the telltale signs of buzzing insect life has Kaminari sighing in relief that he'd put on bug spray before all this. He uncurls his legs at the tell-tale urge to get up and stretch, maybe even take a piss before heading into the tent for some sleep, but Bakugou hasn't moved, still nursing his beer in his hands and watching for the stars that have begun to light up the night sky, so neither will he.

By now, his eyes have adjusted to the dark and the sparse lighting of the lantern, so much so that he's able to see Bakugou's lips move when he speaks.

"You ever heard of you can turn your ashes into a firework after you die?" An odd question to pop at a time like this, but from previous examples, Kaminari has heard worse. "Go out with a bang or some badass shit like that."

"Sounds like a lifelong dream you'd have on your wish list," Kaminari admits, imagining what a firework with Bakugou's face would look like. Comical, at the very least. But also nice, a sight that Kaminari wouldn't mind seeing if not for the whole dying part. He laughs a little at that, going back to drinking his bitter beer.

Bakugou has to snort at that. "A dream for when I'm dead, yeah." A carefree one, given the scale of goals and aspirations he possesses, but a dream nonetheless.

Kaminari splays his hands on the down blanket, planting it between them. Bakugou feels their shoulders brush, and peers at him as he stares up at the sky.

"You'd make a pretty firework. All orange and yellow, the kind that would go off with a deafening boom and light up the sky." Kaminari lifts a hand and extends his fingers out, making the motion and sound of an explosion for imagery effect before smiling. "That'd surely turn more than a few heads."

"Maybe a dash of red added into it, for your eyes." Kaminari's head finds its way to Bakugou's bare shoulder, nothing to catch him and keep him close but Bakugou's arm, which twitches at the idea as Kaminari stares up at him like he's kin to the luminous moon above, "Real bright... and beautiful." The look Kaminari gives him isn't unfamiliar, but the raw intensity of it spurs Bakugou to act for the first time.

Bakugou blindly puts down his can, not caring if it makes a mess of the blanket, and catches Kaminari's wrist, thin enough that he can easily wrap his index and thumb around it with no problem. He listens for the hitch of breath, feels the thundering of Kaminari's heartbeat in the vessels of his wrist as he accepts the gentle guidance into his lap, knees knocking before they settle with purpose on either side of him.

"Is... this okay?" A question Bakugou should've asked before everything else, but one that's needless once Kaminari nods fervently for him to continue.

Only after Bakugou lets go do those same hands creep up his chest, and Bakugou should regret wearing something thin, feeling the sweat on his brow and gathering in his palms, Kaminari's touch burning through his shirt like a brand, but instead, he leans into the heat threatening to consume him, resting his hands atop Kaminari's hips. The weight of Kaminari on top of him is a physical one, but Bakugou's heart is lighter than it's felt in days, the strange sense of dread that's been crawling all over his skin now lifting away.

But while the inner pent up turmoil disappears, the outer, more obvious problems come riding up with a vengeance. In hopes of alleviating the heat gathering in his cheeks from the intimacy of mere touch, Bakugou tries looking away, but his eyes don't stray far, falling on the red, tender skin of Kaminari's pierced ear, yet to house a new set of studs from their last visit. It doesn't help Bakugou's current state of sanity that he has matching holes along the helix of his own ear, like there was meant to be an underlying meaning behind sharing something so visible for everyone to see.

As each day passes, Bakugou is starting to think that maybe there is an explanation under all the layers they've kept these emotions trapped in; ones that he's never acknowledged until now.

He feels goosebumps rise on his arms as Kaminari curls his fingers around the side of his neck, thumb pressing into the skin below his ear, and Bakugou has always been sensitive about being touched, but there's something about Kaminari doing it, who relies as heavily on skinship as he does on his words, that makes this whole situation feel natural and right.

Bakugou is well aware that if he had really wanted to, he could've made a sharp turn back to home on that first day and ended it right there and then. No exploring, no quiet, bonding moments, no them. But having Kaminari agree to join him; the kind of guy that ran on a ride or die mentality for anyone he cared aboutーBakugou didn't know how dedicated Kaminari was, not just to this trip, but to being his company along the way.

Past the point of admiring, Kaminari quietly asks, in by far the smallest voice Bakugou has heard in juxtaposition to his deafening actions, "Can I kiss you?"

He's leaning as he asks, urging him on to answer. Bakugou answers in the same breath that Kaminari sighs against his lips, "Fuck yeah."

And Bakugou will own up to the fact that he rather likes the idea of them together, in any way possible.

He can stand the taste of alcohol this time, already looking forward to when he can kiss Kaminari tomorrow, with the spirits faded from his tongue but imprinted into Bakugou's memory as he kisses him again and again, as much as he wants. Maybe the next time will be when they're no longer under the moon with a view of the ocean, but those aren't what Bakugou wants to focus on, much more interested in how Kaminari breathes heavy on his lips. In a laugh or a sigh he doesn't know, for they sound the same as music to Bakugou's ears.

"You're drunk," Bakugou's voice comes out hoarse, and his throat is parched, but cheap beer isn't going to quench this kind of thirst with Kaminari sitting in his lap.

"So are you," Kaminari nudges back, "Doesn't change the fact that I really, really like you. A lot."

"I... like you too." There's nothing to it now that they've taken the leap. Confessing almost seems unnecessary after the physical display of emotions that Bakugou just experienced. Still, it's nice to hear the words themselves.

"Next time buy some choice alcohol for me, will you?" Kaminari asks kindly, laying his head and giving him those puppy eyes that he's perfected, learned from the best. And by the best, he means Kirishima.

Bakugou laughs from the back of his throat, perhaps one of the loudest he's ever let out, "You fucking leech."

"I do my part on this trip." Kaminari says with a teasing lilt, pleased with himself as he pats Bakugou's cheek, "Which now includes this." Bakugou doesn't get another coherent word out that night once Kaminari connects their lips again.

The crashing of waves wakes Kaminari from his light sleep.

He rubs from the sleep from his eyes, yawning. It's silent in the car, because Bakugou never likes driving with music in the morning, but he doesn't mind Kaminari rolling down the window and letting nature's music in.

His ears flood with the sounds of water below as they drive along. The desire to keep up conversation had long since died away before he'd turned in, letting Bakugou take over driving duties.

Following this oceanside road through Maizuru, they were bound to reach another multitude of campgrounds soon, where they had plans to spend the whole day, Bakugou's handy camping equipment packed away in the truck and still in good condition from yesterday's usage.

Maybe it was just him, but the ocean smelled the same no matter where they ended up. The time of the year and the weather conditions surely must have some effect, but beyond the traditional salty yet fresh smell of the sea, Kaminari isn't picky about it at all

He sits back down, hair unpleasantly ruffled from the strong ocean wind, which he reaches up to fix. Out of the corner of his eye, Kaminari can see Bakugou staring at him, but when he asks him what's up, Bakugou just shrugs and pays back attention to the windy road he seamlessly navigates through with one hand on the wheel.

This is a breezy ride compared to that one trip to the mountains where Kaminari had ended up stalling the car for overheating the engine from the climb. Bakugou has yet to forgive Kaminari, but thankfully he's granted him the privilege of driving againーon flat highways, that is.

They pass through a city by the beach, and like Kaminari had predicted, a familiar shop wedged between a flower shop and restaurant catches his eye.

"Hey, Katsuki." Bakugou twitches at the name. It's going to be a while before he gets used to being addressed as so. "Mind if we make a stop? I'm sure you'll recognize it once we see it."

The narrowing of Bakugou's eyes tells Kaminari that he already knows which place he's talking about.

Stepping into the tattoo and piercing shopping yet again fills Bakugou with a sense of déjà vu of a moment long time passed. It very well could've happened in another life, rather than two months ago, with how much has changed between him and Kaminari, who holds his hand tighter, leading him to one wall to take a look.

"Let's get matching piercings!"

"Again? I have enough damn holes in my ears to play connect the dots," Bakugou admonishes, but makes no move to drag them out and avoid another two-for-one piercing special, curious of what new stuff they have in store from last time.

"I just noticed. If you follow it, it's almost like a heart," At his side, Kaminari wonders aloud, tracing the shape of his ear, from helix to lobe, as he looks into one of the handheld mirrors on display.

"Then where's the other half?" Bakugou asks absently, eyes roving the selection.

Kaminari laughs under his breath, as though the answer is already obvious. Kaminari, with his finger sitting in the loop of his earring, long, untrimmed hair falling into his face from the slow-crawling weeks they've been on the road for the summer, escaping college and responsibilities after a late night whim of a requestーone of many decisions that Bakugou doesn't regret in the slightest.

"Maybe with you," Kaminari says softly, glancing over as he hides a smile with the back of his hand.

Bakugou gives him a good, long look, fighting off the rising blush from the honesty, "... Let's get your damn piercing, then."

Kaminari actually freezes, smile falling out of surprise, the hope coming back into his voice, "Really?"

He jerks in a nod, leaving the wall to inquire about a walk-in appointment, "Yes, now come on." It doesn't take long for his hand to be grabbed and thank you's to fall on his ear. Kaminari's sappy revelation certainly made zero sense, but perhaps a dash of impossibility is what Bakugou needs in life.

It's already bright enough in the back of the shop to be met with the brilliance of Kaminari's smile once a new temporary stud finds its way through his skin, so Bakugou blocks it out by shoving a mirror into his face, holding a cotton ball to the newest addition to his own ear, which is a familiar ache by now. It's certainly one he can associate with the fluttering of sickeningly sweet butterflies in his belly when Kaminari brushes away his fingers to take the cotton from his fingers and aid in soothing the stinging pain.

This may well be their last visit here, with the coming signs of fall that can only mean the start of the semester and classes. Still, Bakugou has just enough time to spare to kiss Kaminari before they have to head over to the front and payーand as long as he can make time for moments like this, Bakugou is sure that he'll be an unstoppable force to the not-so-immovable object that is the world.

#gracelessly smashes together every road trip cliche there is in the universe #bnhafest #boku no hero academia #bakukami #bakugou katsuki #kaminari denki #AU #my fics

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